The Ninth: Invasion

by Benjamin Schramm

  “So he is one of those vile Weaver things the organics hold in such reverence,” Fourth rasped, clearly angry. “Why is he here?”

  “Are none of you at all interested in how he is here?” Third asked.

  All the figures went silent as they thought it over.

  “You dare try to create another Forged behind our backs?” Second shouted at last.

  “I did not create him,” Third said plainly.

  “If that is so, then who is he?” Sixth asked. “Where did he come from?”

  “He is the Ninth.”

  Third’s statement sent the others into various states of shock and confusion. Brent could feel them studying him intently.

  “What are you talking about?” Brent asked aloud.

  To his surprise, his image in the floating screen did not mirror his actions but remained unnaturally still.

  “When the organics destroyed our homeworld we were nearing the completion of the last Forged.” Third spoke to Brent directly; his floating portrait didn’t move at all.

  “Who or what are the Forged?” he asked.

  “The Shard knew the probability of their eventual defeat was increasing exponentially. It was reasoned the source of this probability was the nature of our command structure. While a central hive mind allowed us many advantages, it did not foster risk-taking or novelty. Those traits have a special connection to individualist minds.”

  “So you created individuals. Minds that were willing to take risks and try new strategies the central mind would deem pointless.”

  “Correct. However, with each new mind there were . . . complications. None of us were able to deliver the result desired by Central Consciousness. While the Shard learned much with each experiment, the eight of us are, in fact, flawed.”

  “I’m guessing the Ninth was to be the final and prefect creation of the Forged.”

  “How did you know?”

  “That’s the only thing I can think of that would upset you and the others so badly.” Brent scratched his head. Could it be possible he was some how related to the floating portraits. He slowly became aware Third was focusing on him intently. “Now, for the sake of argument, let’s say I am this ‘Ninth.’ What exactly does that mean?” he ventured slowly.

  “It means you are one of us, perhaps the most important one of us. You alone can surpass consensus.”

  “And consensus is?”

  “We are independent minds, but we are still Shard. We rule ourselves based on the opinions of all of the Forged. We call that decision-making ‘consensus.’ Once consensus has been reached none of us can violate it.”

  Brent thought about it all. He knew he was different from the others, but to be a Shard? It seemed impossible. After all his time in Medical he would have expected someone to notice something. Then again, Rita, or Fifth, managed to mislead all of the Independent Traders Union into thinking she was just another woman. It would explain how he saved Cassandra during the trial. If those cones and their healing ability could rebuild Brent’s entire arm, repairing her wound would certainly be possible. A growing silence disturbed his pondering. All the floating portraits were silent.

  “Is Third correct?” Eighth asked. “Are you Ninth?”

  “I don’t know,” Brent thought his answer. “It’s possible, but I don’t know for sure.”

  His portrait moved according to his thoughts.

  “If this is true, then we must reach a new consensus,” First said flatly.

  “Of course, a new member a new vote,” Sixth agreed.

  “You are all just going to accept this . . . thing as one of us?” Second protested.

  “It can speak to us in its own voice,” Fifth said reluctantly. “Third believes it to be true. What more evidence do we truly require?”

  “The war against the organics must continue,” First gave his stance.

  “I agree. The organics must pay for what they have done to us,” Second joined.

  “I withdraw support of the current conflict.” Third brought his claw/hand up to his orb and seemed to study it. “I cannot help but wonder what other new information is waiting out there that we have missed or ignored.”

  “Well, I want those foolish critters to burn,” Fourth said.

  “I don’t want to disagree with you, Fourth, but I, too, withdraw support,” Fifth said with an apologetic smile. “The organics will never surrender, and at our current rate of conquest they will be completely wiped out shortly. I want at least a few of them to rule over.”

  “I, too, withdraw support.” Sixth’s metal body shimmered oddly. “I have always said this was foolishness. We should focus our energies on rebuilding what we once had.”

  “I can’t believe what I am hearing!” Seventh pulsed. “We must finish them off. We are so close to our goal, we can’t quit now.”

  “I withdraw my support,” Eighth said in her young voice. “The organics don’t seem as vile was I was led to believe.”

  There was an expectant silence.

  “They are waiting for your decision,” Third said to Brent alone.

  “Mine?” Brent asked aloud.

  “Yes. Consensus is evenly divided. Four support the current conflict, four do not. They are all waiting for you to give them direction.”

  “You mean if I support the Shard war against the Commonwealth or not?”

  “It is more than that. We are evenly divided, an unbreakable impasse. Whatever orders you give we will follow.”

  “You mean any orders at all?”

  “That is correct. The fate of the organics is entirely up to you.”

  Brent was surprised, to say the least. He had complete power over the Commonwealth; he could do anything he wanted with it. The temptation of such power filled him. Odd thoughts raced across his mind. He could tear it down and rebuild it however he liked. He could make it perfect. Shaking his head, he forced the thoughts away. He knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do.

  “Withdraw all Shard forces from the territory held by the organics,” Brent thought his orders. “Return to your own territory on the other side of the Great Divide.”

  Without a word the others seemed to acknowledge and agree to his orders. Brent felt a sudden and strong emotion flood him. It was a tremendous burst of anger and hatred.

  “No!” Second shouted. “We cannot listen to this thing!”

  “Consensus has been reached,” First said flatly.

  “I reject consensus; I refuse to listen to this organic!”

  “Second!” Eighth shouted angrily. “Think about what you are saying.”

  “Me? You want me to think? What about the rest of you? You are being corrupted by an organic.”

  “We have consensus. Comply,” Third ordered.

  “I will not. I reject Consensus!”

  “You cannot do that!” Sixth sounded like he was pleading. “Think of the consequences!”

  “I am thinking of the consequences. I refuse to exist as the servant of an organic!”

  The light that surrounded Second’s image started to grow stronger. Like a shattering mirror, thick long veins of light erupted, cracking the portrait. After a bright flash, the image fell to pieces, its fragments disappearing before they reached the floor.

  “What happened? Brent asked aloud.

  Third remained perfectly silent. All of the remaining screens hung in an eerie stillness. Whatever had happened, it had shaken the rest.

  “Second has broken consensus; he has broken himself.” Third sounded deeply saddened. “To put it in terms you can understand, he has gone insane. We must stop him.”

  “How do we do that?” Brent asked.

  “The Shards will try to block his actions, but we cannot take direct action against him.”

  “Why not?”

  “A Shard cannot willfully harm another Shard. I believe that is why the Slashers refused to harm you. Somehow they knew what you were even while I was ignorant of the fact.”

  “So what do we do?�
��

  “We are doing what we can. The rest is up to you.”

  “Me?”

  “You destroyed several Shards when they ambushed you. That which binds us does not bind you. I will give you as much support as I can.”

  “It’s never easy is it?” he asked with a small smile.

  Third stared at him questioningly.

  “I think I understand,” Brent said quickly. “Where is Second now?”

  “He currently resides on our primary staging facility within organic territory.”

  “The Shard hub! But that’s twenty days away at best. Will you all be able to hold him until then?”

  “He is bypassing our blocking maneuvers as we speak. However, I believe I have an alternative that will prevent the deaths of additional organics.”

  The captain paced anxiously back and forth.

  “That makes three hours,” the tactical officer said somberly. “Shall we commence bombardment, Captain?”

  The captain paused and returned to his chair.

  “But you didn’t actually see him die?” the captain asked.

  “I must have told you a dozen times by now,” Tyra said, trying to keep her cool. “The Shard had its blade firmly embedded in his torso. I don’t want to believe it myself, but I don’t know how anyone could survive that.”

  “But you didn’t see him die?” the captain repeated.

  “No,” she said firmly as a tear welled up. “I didn’t witness his death personally.”

  Liz was crying unabashed into Marie’s shirt. The others held back their emotions, but it was apparent they were hit just as hard.

  “So he could be alive down there,” the captain said hopefully.

  “His orders were clear,” the communications officer said in a low slow voice.

  “And Shen’s orders were clearer,” the captain said firmly. “If there is even a remote possibility Brent is alive, I am to act as if he is, in fact, alive. Are you suggesting I listen to a trooper over an admiral?”

  “As much as I hate to say it, that is just wishful thinking,” Dante said grimly. “Every minute we delay costs the Commonwealth. Brent wouldn’t want us to sacrifice their lives over his. That’s not who he is.”

  “You say we should just abandon him for dead,” Cain said with a weak smile, “and yet you refer to him in the present tense. The person he is, not the person he was.”

  “We all want Brent to be alive,” Angela said, putting a hand on Cain’s shoulder, “but that might not be enough.”

  “So we should just forget about him?” Liz screamed between tears. “Abandon him down there to die alone?”

  “I didn’t mean . . .” Angela started.

  “Captain, I’m detecting something,” the tactical officer interrupted.

  “Is it a signal from Brent?” the captain asked hopefully.

  “Negative, it’s a heat signature,” the tactical officer shouted in sudden panic. “The Shard are launching something!”

  “Evasive maneuvers!” the captain shouted, rising to his feet. “Send word to the other ships to bomb that iceberg out of existence!”

  “You might want to rethink those orders, Captain,” a static-muddled voice said.

  “State your identity!” the communications officer demanded. “How do you know about this channel?”

  “I know about it because I used it not too long ago,” the hard-to-make-out voice answered. “Sorry for the bad transmission. My suit is barely in one piece anymore.”

  “Brent?” Liz asked in a pleading voice.

  Everyone held their breath as they waited for the static to clear.

  “It’s me Liz,” the distorted voice replied. “I’m okay. Sorry if I worried you.”

  “I’m going to have to beat the tar out of you for making her worry so badly,” Marie said behind misting eyes.

  “I promise to hold still,” he said with a chuckle. “Captain, please open the cargo bay doors. I’m coming aboard.”

  “What? But the drop ship already returned.”

  “There will be time for explanations later; just trust me for the moment. I’m sending jump coordinates to you now. As soon as I’m securely aboard, please get us underway.”

  “Roger, I’m getting the coordinates now . . . wait a minute. Where are these for?” the navigation officer asked. “I don’t recognize the system.”

  “He said he’d explain later,” the captain interrupted. “What about the other ships?”

  “Order them back to Eos,” Brent’s distorted voice answered. “They’ve done their job.”

  “What about the Shards?” Ronald asked. “Shouldn’t we start bombardment?”

  “As Cain would say, there has been a change in the narrative.”

  “Cargo bay confirms that . . . something has landed,” the navigation officer announced. “Outer doors are sealing now.”

  “Very well, let’s get a move on,” the captain said with a satisfied smile. “Open a jump window and get us out of here.”

  “The other ships have received their orders, Captain,” the communications officer said. “They are reporting in . . . they are asking that we retransmit authorization codes – I don’t think they believe us, sir.”

  “Tell them Brent has given the order directly. If they have a problem with that, they can complain to Admiral Shen themselves when they get back.”

  “Understood.” A wide smile enveloped the communications officer’s face.

  In front of the ship a jump window opened. The bridge crew waited as the Wall passed over them. The captain nearly fell out of his chair after the Wall passed. Directly in front of them were at least three-dozen Citadels.

  “This is going to hurt so badly,” the communications officer said, cringing.

  “Only for a second, though,” the navigation officer said, accepting their fate. “At least they will make short work of us.”

  “They haven’t targeted us,” the tactical officer said in dumbfounded awe.

  “What do you mean?” the captain asked quickly.

  “All Shard ships appear to be ignoring us . . . wait. I don’t believe this; they are clearing a path for us. There appears to be some kind of structure in the center of all of them.”

  “That would be Third’s . . . I guess you’d call it a refueling depot,” Brent said, running onto the bridge. “He doesn’t like having so much traffic over his base.”

  Liz quickly ran from Marie to Brent, squeezing him tightly. Almost instantly she released him and jumped away.

  “Your arm!” she shouted.

  The others on the bridge realized he was the proud owner of two arms. In a flash, the bridge crew had their side arms pointed at the Weaver. Tyra’s squad disarmed them even faster.

  “What happened?” Cain asked with a grin.

  “I met the enemy,” Brent said, publicly flexing his right arm. “Turns out I may just be one of them.”

  “Seriously?” Mahoney asked in surprise.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on laying siege to any planets or running around scaring people.”

  “It’s a little late for that,” the captain said, gesturing to the Citadels on the monitor.

  “I wanted to warn you, but would you have honestly believed me if I said a fleet of friendly Citadels were waiting for us?”

  “They are friendly?” Dante asked.

  “More than that, they are generous,” Brent said to the navigation officer. “You’ll find one of the docking ports is being converted to something we can use.”

  “What’s going on?” Tyra asked in a worried tone of voice.

  “Well, the good news is the Shards are going to leave the Commonwealth alone.”

  “And the bad news?” Ronald asked.

  “One of their leaders has gone rogue, and they can’t stop him.”

  “Leaders? Plural?” Dante asked.

  “I guess Brent was right about them finding a new command structure,” Humphrey said in his low mumble, thinking aloud. “I guess th
ey do have organic Shards.”

  “Not all the leaders are organic; at least they didn’t look that way,” Brent said.

  “You met them . . . all of them?” Sanderson asked.

  “Not in person, but effectively, yes.”

  “I’m just glad you are okay,” Liz said as she started hugging him again.

  “What am I supposed to do?” the navigation officer asked, obviously overwhelmed.

  “Get the ship as close as you can to the docking port; they will do the rest,” Brent said in a calming voice.

  “After that?”

  “After we refuel we head to the next Shard depot, and then the next, and so on.”

  “What’s our final destination?” the captain asked.

  “The Shard hub world.”

  The navigation officer was sweating as profusely as a malfunctioning shower while he moved the ship between the lumbering Citadels. When they reached the depot, large mechanical arms secured the ship while tiny tubes and wires connected to the hull. In only a few minutes, the ship’s jump capacitors were fully charged. The bridge crew was obviously anxious as the large mechanical claws released the ship and they moved away to jump.

  Brent tried not to laugh when he felt their relief at the sight of the Wall. Their fear of the Citadels made them forget completely about their terror of the Wall. Brent waited until after they had left the second depot before he left the bridge crew to their duties. They were still nervous, but they had accepted the reality enough to not inadvertently start a battle with the lumbering Citadels guarding the refueling stations.

  As he made his way off the bridge, the rest of the squad followed and took him back to their bunks. As they went the ship jumped over and over. What made jump travel so slow was the time it took to generate the energy for each jump. With limitless energy at their disposal, the ship quickly jumped back to Commonwealth space, stopping at Shard depots for refueling as necessary. Without having to wait for the ship’s generators to recharge the jump drive every time, they had turned a fifteen day journey into one lasting a little over a single day. While the Wall intermittently passed through the ship, Brent tried to explain to the others what had happened to him on the icy world.

  “If I hadn’t seen some of the stunts you’ve pulled with my own eyes,” Ronald said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t believe a word of it.”