The Ninth: Invasion

by Benjamin Schramm

“The governor’s daughter was really the leader of the rebels!” Erin laughed as she rubbed her temples. “Who knew?”

  “Where’s Tyra?” Kindra asked with a grin. “She’s got to see this.”

  “What happened to you two?” Owen asked Brent.

  “Owen, you shouldn’t ask rude questions like that,” Hiroko corrected him.

  “Cassandra didn’t want me to spoil the surprise,” he said with a grin. “She wouldn’t let me join you guys. Said my acting was ghastly.”

  The troopers burst into laughter. Liz looked at Cassandra for a moment before smiling widely at Brent. Cassandra’s face was as red as he’d ever seen it. He couldn’t tell which he preferred, the normal Cassandra or the ultra red one before him now. Marie noticed Liz’s smile and chuckled to herself.

  “You guys sound like you had almost as much fun as I did,” Cain said while tapping on his pad.

  “Oh, Cain!” Brent got up and stretched. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me? For what?”

  “If you weren’t such an incorrigible bookie, I might have missed out on that 3P.”

  “You’re welcome?” Cain was taken by surprise.

  The crewmembers in the room burst into laughter. Even the solemn crewmembers Cain had just finished fleecing were laughing. Kindra drug Sanderson out of the room in search of Tyra. When Brent thought about it, the 3P’s surprise at the end did resemble their squad leader somewhat. A governor’s daughter was sick of the abuse her people had endured under her father’s cruel rule. Switch mother for father, and you had a perfect caricature of Tyra. Checking his pocket watch, he realized they had missed lunch. He turned to invite Cassandra to join him only to find she had already left. When he noticed the other girls were also missing, Brent smelled a plot. If he knew those girls, they were no doubt grilling Cassandra for information.

  “Hey Brent, mind giving me a hand?” Mr. Springate asked as he tapped on his shoulder.

  “What do you need?” he asked, trying to hide his surprise. Mr. Sneaky was too good at his craft.

  “The bartender says he wants Doug out of here. He’s starting to drool.”

  “The bartender is drooling? Is he a cannibal?”

  “No, Doug is,” Mr. Springate said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Doug’s a cannibal?” Brent asked in mock shock.

  Frank burst into laughter despite himself.

  It was difficult to get through the narrow corridors with an unwieldy cargo in tow, but somehow together they lugged Doug’s limp body back to the bunks. With a mighty heave, they tossed him into his assigned filing cabinet.

  “I’ve seen bad drinkers in my day, but this boy takes the cake,” Mr. Springate said.

  “Takes all kinds, I suppose,” Brent said with a quick shrug.

  “Listen, now that we are alone I’ve got a question for you,” Mr. Springate said, as he double-checked to be sure they were alone.

  “Is this going to have something to do with relationships?” Brent asked with a grin. “You can’t torment Doug if he isn’t conscious.”

  “Not that.” Mr. Springate chuckled. “Back on Deriso, you wiped the floor with me. I was dead certain I had you licked. How’d you turn the tables on me?”

  “Simple, you use the same pattern in your attacks.”

  “I do?”

  “Here, pretend to attack me.”

  In the cramped space, he could only get minimal distance from Mr. Springate, but it was enough. After deflecting a few blows, Brent showed him his pattern.

  “I had no idea,” the stealthy man said as he examined his fists. “What really surprises me is that you figured it out.” He started swiping at the air, trying to mix up the pattern.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been in the SW a long time. Penny likes to brag that I was the best in singles combat. While I might not have been the best, but I was in the top. Not once did one of my opponents notice I had a pattern. I didn’t even know I had one. I’ve had a lot of duels, and you were the first to figure out how to beat me on the first try.”

  “What can I say? I’ve got a strong instinct to win.”

  “How about an instinct to eat?” Marie asked from the doorway. “We did skip lunch after all.”

  “I’ll pass,” Mr. Springate said. “I ate more than my fair share of overly salted nuts while watching over the big nut drooling in the bunk.”

  “Suit yourself. Brent?”

  “I could stand a bite; lead on.”

  Even though the tabled room was deserted, it still felt cramped. Sanderson had been correct about the food dispenser; it took a little extra effort to get it to produce a meal and the selection was very limited. Thankfully, Brent didn’t really mind the D rations all that much. He had gotten used to their taste during his early days in the academy. As he took his seat across from Marie, he noticed she was idly playing with her food.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked, before taking a bite out of his meal.

  “What?”

  “Well either you plan to stir your meal into submission, or something is on your mind. How is Liz?”

  “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

  “Don’t mind me. They tell me I think too much.”

  “Liz is just fine. In fact, she’s better than she’s been in a long time.”

  “What was the matter?”

  “She was just working through some things. You were right, though; she was hoping I’d ask her what was wrong. She told me she was happy I was concerned in the first place. She’s braver than before, but, more or less, she is back to her clingy self.” Marie chuckled to herself.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Enough about that. Tell me . . . what do you know about Dante?”

  “Dante? Not much really. He keeps to himself mostly; seems to have taken a liking to Mahoney.”

  “Who?”

  “The heavy weapons expert from Tyra’s old division. The guy that speaks less often than Mr. Springate. The two of them love to discuss weapons. I suppose it’s more accurate to say Dante talks about weapons while Mahoney listens, adding a word or two here and there.”

  “So, I guess he hasn’t mentioned me.” Marie stopped playing with her food.

  “This may come as a shock to you, but the guys don’t make a habit of discussing their feelings or interests that much. In fact, Doug actively discourages it. Although, all that seems to accomplish is to urge Cain on to pester him.”

  “I see . . . Maybe you could put in a good word for me.”

  “Interested in him?”

  “You could say that.”

  “So why come to me?”

  “Well, he seems to respect you a lot. I thought if you said something . . .”

  He stared at her for a moment and thought it over. Abruptly, he shook his head and set down his food.

  “Forget it,” Brent said. “I’m not making him go on a date with you.”

  “I wasn’t asking . . . I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Look, if you like him try the direct approach. He seems to respond well to that. Otherwise, I’d ask Liz for advice; she’d keep the matter private at least. As for me, I’d rather not interfere.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, think about it. Let’s say I went to Dante right now and sang your praises, told him he’d be a fool to ignore you. Next thing you know he’s showering you with attention and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.”

  “I doubt it would happen like that.” Marie blushed slightly.

  “For the sake of argument, hear me out. Now, at that point you’d have to ask yourself if he was genuinely interested or if he was only there because of me. Even if he really did like you, you’d always be worried – doubt would always nag you when you were around him. On the other hand, if he didn’t like you but you started to think he did, down the road the truth would come out, and it would be far worse than if he had just turned you down in the first place.”

/>   “You certainly give these things a lot of thought, don’t you?”

  “You’d be surprised how varied Weaver training can get.” Brent smiled to himself as he recalled some of the better training sessions. “Emotions are tricky things, love most of all. How did Davis put it? ‘Romance is the Achilles heal of our species, master it and there isn’t a civilian that can escape your power.’ I think that’s how he put it.”

  “Who?”

  “The Master Weaver who taught us.”

  “I understand. It was dumb of me to do this.” Marie started to stand. “I’m sorry if I was out of line.”

  “Hold on.” Brent pulled her back down to the table. “I’ll tell you what. I won’t play matchmaker for you, but I’ll ask him what he thinks about you. At least that way you’ll know where you stand. Sound fair?”

  “Thank you!” Marie lunged across the table and hugged him. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  “Now, I can’t make any promises, and I won’t sugar coat things. Don’t expect miracles.”

  “I’ll try not to, but with you around miracles seem to be commonplace,” Marie said with a smile as she happily dug into her meal.

  She devoured her meal while humming a light melody. As they finished their meal, Brent couldn’t help but smile to himself. Normally he was too busy concocting battle strategies or fighting for his life to really get to know everyone around him. Sure he had his “fan club” as Cassandra called them, but he really didn’t interact with them much. He honestly found their attention uncomfortable.

  However, listening to everyone in the squad and getting to know then in a non-combat situation was a pleasant experience, if not a draining one. It might have been an exhausting morning, but he found he enjoyed it and couldn’t really fault the others. A war had dropped right in their laps. If things like this helped them keep their minds off that fact, so be it. After all, the troopers should enjoy their break as much as they could. Brent had a nagging feeling that once they reached Eos, life would stop being so carefree.

  The ship jumped like clockwork. It did Captain Perez’s heart good to see his crew performing so well, particularly after they had stared down a Union warship. Every two and a half hours the Wall would pass through the ship, getting them that much closer to Eos. Before each jump he would warn the passengers. Sometimes he would even stop by the cargo bay in person. It was astonishing. An entire cargo bay filled with people and not one of them responded negatively to the jumps. As he watched them, he could feel his own anxiety fade away. An entire lifetime of experience turned on its ear because of one Weaver.

  He had noticed his own crewmembers were more relaxed as well. They never let him catch them, but he knew they would occasionally visit the cargo bay before a jump as well. Perez had regarded his orders lightly when he first received them. Interrupting a lucrative trade route to play lifeguard. A tad demeaning of course, but the central office was compensating them handsomely for their time. There was even a bonus waiting back on Eos for the safe delivery of their human cargo. However, after the chaos on Deriso, Captain Perez had decided to look over those orders again. Something was bothering him.

  “Report.”

  “All systems normal, Captain,” the navigation officer said distractedly.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Almost one third to Eos and not a single Union ship.”

  “You did plot us a course that avoided planetary systems after all, Mr. Riley.”

  “As you ordered, Captain, but after our departure from Deriso I would have expected at least an attempt at pursuit.”

  “Take it as a good omen.”

  “I’d like to believe fate is on our side as much as the next person, Captain, but isn’t that a bit too convenient?”

  “Fate may have nothing to do with it,” the woman manning the communications station sighed.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “The Commonwealth’s gone silent. I can’t get a peep out of anyone, Captain. Even the core worlds have gone silent.”

  “There’s your answer, Mr. Riley.”

  “Captain?”

  “He means the Union is too busy to deal with us. The fact I can’t contact anyone means the Union has blockaded every world in the Commonwealth.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “For anyone else it would be impossible,” the woman said distractedly as she scanned the lack of local chatter again, “but remember this is the Union we are talking about. Even if they didn’t have enough ships, they had the credits to buy as many as they needed before the shooting started. After all, they wouldn’t start a war if they weren’t certain they would win it.”

  “Miss Carrero, have you had any problems reaching Eos?”

  “None, Captain. Looks like the Union doesn’t want to tangle with the nebula.”

  “Speaking of which, Mr. Riley, I trust you have the latest jump coordinates?”

  “Roger that. Our cargo must be important. I’m getting up to the minute coordinates after every jump.”

  “With Master Hooten on the ship, I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me. The ship is yours, Miss Carrero.”

  Passing through the corridors with ease, Captain Perez quickly reached his private room. Mr. Riley had complained at first about the cramped conditions the crew had to endure, but to Captain Perez they were downright spacious. He had gotten his start on a three-man trade vessel, as the fourth man. Most nights he would sleep with the cargo in whatever tiny space was left. It took him four years before he caught the attention of Core Industries. He spent his first year on one of the smallest ships in CI’s entire trade fleet.

  Despite its small size, he had managed to squeeze more cargo into it than was thought possible. Sleeping with freight for so long had taught him a few tricks. After that, he was given his first command, another tiny tradeship. He built a reputation as the fleet’s pack-mouse, as he was too small to be a rat. After another two years, he was given a promotion and his current ship. Since then, he’d gone through over a dozen crews and turned down twice that many promotions. Captain Perez was comfortable with the Subira, and the thought of being assigned one of the massive barges turned his stomach.

  “Captain Perez?” the intercom asked.

  “Yes, Miss Carrero?

  “We are about to jump. Are you ready to address the crew?”

  “Why don’t you handle it this time?”

  “Captain?”

  “You are the first person not to request a transfer after a month on my ship. I think you’ve earned it.”

  “Are you sure, Captain?”

  “You’ll do fine. After all, you are our communications officer. What’s a simple announcement?”

  Captain Perez pulled up the orders on his pad as the P. A. sprang to life. He could hear Miss Carrero’s breath as she prepared to make her announcement.

  “Attention crew. We are about to jump. Please prepare as . . . you . . . see fit? That is all.”

  Captain Perez couldn’t help but laugh. He’d seen her talk her way out of sticky situations on multiple occasions. She even outsmarted a particularly nasty pirate once. For a simple announcement to trip her up was unexpected to say the least. He was still chuckling as he reread through his original orders. His laughter came to an abrupt end when he noticed something he had missed before. It was an understandable mistake; it had been a single sentence. Near the end of the formal assignment guidelines was a single addendum.

  “Trooper Brent’s safety is paramount above all others,” the captain mouthed silently. “Use any means necessary to secure his transportation to Eos.”

  Above all others. They knew Master Hooten was on the planet. Captain Perez quickly scrolled to see the authorization signature. It was none other than Alden Hooten himself. For a father to put another over his only son was a disturbing thought. A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the calm citizens in the cargo bay. Who exactly was he transporting?

  Galen ru
shed with as much dignity as he could manage. His secretary was a wonderful young man who was almost always a step ahead, but today his slip-up was downright cataclysmic. If only the boy hadn’t been born on the rim. The fact that Galen was a director of the Independent Traders Union filled the boy’s head with the notion he was working for someone of great importance. Perhaps on the rim such a position was impressive, but there were hundreds of directors on Reloas at all times – it was the homeworld of the ITU after all. For the boy to delay a summons from the Grand Executive herself because he thought his lowly boss was so important was unthinkable!

  Galen thought about breaking out into a mad dash to make up for the lost time, but arriving out of breath would have been far worse than simply being late. Grand Executive Rita was the most beautiful woman born in hundreds of years, but that beauty hid a temper that rivaled the most violent of super novas. To walk into her presence, panting for breath, would be begging for her wrath. She demanded near perfection from her subordinates and had no qualms about berating those that slipped beneath her standards.

  The large double doors ahead signaled the end of his miniature race. He paused outside the elaborate meeting room and straightened his tie and steadied his breath. With complete calm and forced composure he gracefully pushed the door open and entered. Waiting for him was a massive circular table with far too many seats. Galen quietly walked past the others, hiding his growing alarm. There were too many high-ranking directors assembled. The Grand Executive rarely gave away the purpose of a meeting in advance, but the powerful crowd let the assembled venture a guess or two.

  As he reached the seat set aside for him, his mind was racing with the implications. There had to be at least three-dozen of the most important directors on all of Reloas. Most hid it well, but some betrayed the fact they were as nervous as he was. Something big had happened. A light sprang to life over the center of the table and it shifted until it illuminated an elaborate single door.

  “Good afternoon, Directors,” a silky smooth voice caressed their ears as the single door opened. “We have much to discuss.”

  The tall woman strode in with practiced grace. Her beauty reminded him of his third wife, but without the gentle face. Grand Executive Rita’s face had a sharpness to it that sent a shiver down his spine. She took the central chair, one purposefully a step higher than the others.