The Ninth

by Benjamin Schramm

  “Any permanent damage done?” Nathan asked nervously.

  “Thankfully, no. Somehow, he undid every change he made in her with just as much skill as he used making the changes. I reinforced her cheerfulness enough that she would leave without question, but that has, no doubt, already worn off.”

  “That explains the skipping. Never seen combat armor skip before.”

  “An odd sight, I have to admit.”

  “So it turns out that you were right. Again. He is the most powerful thing we’ve ever encountered.”

  “He does have limits.”

  “A ray of hope. It’s about time. What kind of limits are we talking about? Range? Duration?”

  “Neither. He doesn’t seem to have a range, and these changes didn’t seem temporary.”

  “So then, what limits him?”

  “He can only sense emotion from certain people. If he can’t sense emotions, he can’t alter them. It’s not much, but it is something.”

  “Great,” Nathan said with obvious sarcasm. “That makes our job so much easier. Now all we need to do is figure out why he can sense some people and not others. If we can figure out the chain of events that gives Brent the ability to sense emotions, we can limit the number of people he can affect.”

  “Precisely.” Jack futilely tried to stand again.

  “Could it be touch? Maybe he needs physical contact to sense someone’s emotions. I’ll have to make sure I wear gloves from now on . . .”

  “I doubt that,” Jack said with a grin. “I helped him up last night. He was exhausted after the two young Weavers attacked him. I offered him my hand and then helped him keep his balance. But today he couldn’t sense a thing from me.”

  “So much for that theory. The gloves wouldn’t hurt though. Wait a minute. Two Weavers attacked him? I don’t remember you telling me about that.”

  “It wasn’t important. They tried to alter his emotions. Brent resisted until the two boys tired out. I was monitoring them all closely from just outside the room.”

  “Well, aren’t you a protective one.” A female voice intruded. “And here I thought Weavers ate their young.”

  Doctor Benedict was heading toward the pair with a stern look on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but this is a private conversation.” Nathan worried she’d heard about Brent.

  “Don’t worry, Administer. Unlike your Weavers, I don’t eavesdrop.” Dr. Benedict looked at Jack distastefully. “I just wanted to give you my report.”

  “Can’t that wait until later?” Nathan was relieved.

  “No, it can’t!” Dr. Benedict’s shouting startled a few nearby medics. “I’ve got twenty-seven critical Weavers, fifteen with severe trauma, and eight who can’t move and have, as they put it, ‘the migraine to end all migraines.’ And to top it all off, I don’t even have a clue as to what happened to any of them.”

  “Now, Doctor Benedict, I know it’s difficult, but this is a matter of utmost importance.” Nathan tried to soothe the raging doctor. “Any details beyond what you’ve been told are classified. I’m sorry, that’s just . . .”

  “That’s the problem! I haven’t been told anything!” Dr. Benedict was furious and wouldn’t be placated. “Yesterday I had every doctor who didn’t have the day off scrambling to deal with wounded recruits, and now I’m in some dirty old building treating Weavers. I can’t even begin to guess what’s wrong with them. It’s a kind of exhaustion I’ve never seen before. Add in the fact I have no idea how they got this way and I’m shooting in the dark. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Twenty-four hours of sensory deprivation for the critical with nutrients administered remotely by machine,” Jack calmly listed the treatment as if schooling a first year medical student. “At least twelve for the ones with severe trauma, and a good night’s sleep for the ones with a bad headache.”

  “So, you’re a doctor now, too?” Benedict hissed.

  “No, but I know how to take care of myself and others like me.” Jack weakly sat up to face the doctor. “Now please calm down. Nathan and I aren’t doing this to torment you. The situation is what it is.”

  A thought suddenly hit the doctor, and she took a step back and blinked.

  “I’m mad at you.” Dr. Benedict stared anxiously at Jack. “I’m downright furious with you. Why aren’t you ‘handling’ me?”

  “Really, doctor, he’s in no condition to do something like that,” Nathan protested.

  “He might be fatigued, but he’s in better shape than the rest. He could if he wanted to. Why aren’t you?” Dr. Benedict pressed.

  “As you put it, you’ve been handled enough. I think you are entitled to feel angry when you are in an unfair situation.”

  The doctor flushed and angrily stomped off. Nathan watched as she left, unsure what had just happened.

  “She’s lived with a Weaver before,” Jack answered Nathan’s stare.

  “How can you tell?” Nathan was startled.

  “Whoever the Weaver was, they weren’t very skilled. It’s imprinted in her. The Weaver continuously abused their power over her. There are scars there deeper than any blade could have made.”

  “Poor dear. I had no idea.”

  “We’ve got to get a handle on Brent. I don’t even want to imagine the damage he could do if we botch this one.”

  “Agreed.”

  Chapter 11: The Mess Hall

  Brent wasn’t sure which was more disturbing, the bloodthirsty angry Cassandra that tried to rip Cain limb from limb, or the prancing little girl in desperate need of either a jump rope or a good game of hopscotch. He kept a fair distance behind the frolicking suit, uncertain if he was responsible for her change in behavior. However, as they got farther from the examination room, Cassandra seemed to return to normal. The skipping reverted to a mechanical walk, and her pace seemed to slow. Suddenly, she came to a complete stop and turned to face him.

  “Planning on stalking me all day?” Her muffled voice was clearly irritated.

  “Sorry, just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He was pleased she was back to her grumpy old self.

  “I’m just fine. You, on the other hand, not sure what’s wrong with you.”

  “Oh? What do you mean?” Brent closed the distance between them to a more polite one.

  “You’re not what I figured. After your performance yesterday I figured you to be some conditioned military dog. More like a lost puppy. Plus, what kind of lame Weaver are you supposed to be? I didn’t feel a thing. You sure you’re not making the whole thing up?”

  “You think I’m making it up? All of it?”

  Brent blinked at her in honest surprise as she looked him over.

  “You’re right,” she said at last. “That’s giving you way too much credit.”

  “If this is how you treat those who are nice to you, I’d hate to be your enemy.”

  “Who said you aren’t?”

  “Oh, come on! I could have kept that helmet of yours. I didn’t have to return it, you know.”

  “I would have made you give it back,” Cassandra grumbled.

  “Please, do you really think I’m scared of the ‘blushing beauty’ of the FF?”

  A thick black aura enveloped the girl. With a swift movement the armor lunged at him. Brent dived out of the way at the last moment. Grabbing hold of the right leg, he forced the stumbling suit to the ground. As she tried to right herself, he twisted one of the arms behind her back.

  “Had enough?” Brent gloated.

  With a single fluid motion, the twisted arm grabbed hold of him and tossed him like a rag doll down the hallway. As he skidded along the floor plating, he was painfully reminded she had the strength of ten troopers. This would not end well. Cassandra was already on her feet and charging him. Focusing on the outline, he imagined the black fading but was careful not to do anything to it that Davis had tried to stop.

  As she got closer the black faded but did not disappear. Rolling out of the way, he
barely managed to avoid the suit’s fists impacting the plating. As he scrambled to his feet, he noticed the large dent she had left. With a sweeping motion of her right arm, she slammed Brent against the wall. There wasn’t anything for him to work within the aura, and it was painfully obvious he didn’t stand a chance against her in a fair fight. However, he stood by his decision not to hurt her and left the outline alone.

  The suit swung a fist squarely at his head. While he was swiftly ducking, an idea occurred to him. Jumping back a few feet, he quickly studied his attacker. The vulnerability was still there. Cassandra charged at him again. She managed to grab hold of his uniform and slammed him violently against the floor. With the wind knocked out of him, Brent’s reaction time slowed. Her left fist landed a hair’s width from his face as he barely managed to avoid the fatal blow. Quickly, he grabbed hold of the arm and slammed his fist on the touch pad located mid wrist. An error tone was his only reward. Again he brought down his fist. Again, an error tone sounded, but there was also a familiar hiss. Brent quickly crawled away as the suit lunged to maintain striking distance. The helmet jiggled.

  After the girl swung and missed, he thrust with all his might against the midsection of the suit. Caught off guard, she fell on her back, and the helmet rolled off. Brent was face to face with Cassandra again. Her face was a deep, burning red. Horror filled her expression as she realized he was staring directly at her. Her eyes grew moist, and tears fell down the sides of her face.

  Tossing Brent aside, the girl curled up into a ball. He slammed against the wall and slowly slid down its surface. As he got back to his feet and rubbed his sore spots, he heard the unmistakable sound of a girl crying. The suit was hunched over itself as the girl tired to conceal her face and hide her tears. The aura around her was a torrent of churning blue and orange. Brent grabbed the loose helmet and sat next to her on the floor plating. She didn’t seem to notice him as she continued weeping.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Brent said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  Suddenly the suit turned on him and a fist swung at his face. Reflexively his eyes flung shut.

  “You’re not going to try and dodge it?” Cassandra sniffled.

  Opening his eyes, Brent was face to face with the bawled fist of the suit.

  “I deserve it. If it will make you feel better, go ahead. Just try to leave something for Medical to work with, okay?” Brent tried to joke.

  A faint chuckle escaped between tears. She lowered the fist and rested her chin on her folded arms.

  “You don’t have to cry. I’m not too badly damaged. A little banged up, but I’ll live.” Brent tried to comfort her.

  “Like I care.” Cassandra swiped at her eyes. “I wouldn’t shed a tear over you if I was cutting onions.”

  “Then why the waterworks?”

  Angrily, she thrust her face toward him. It was as if she was completely covered in red paint. The puffy eyelids didn’t exactly improve the look.

  “Like you need to ask. I’m a freak. The blushing beauty of the FF, remember?”

  More tears flowed down her checks. She didn’t notice as he brought up his hand. When his hand wiped away the tears on her left cheek she instantly lurched back.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” Cassandra rubbed at her left cheek. “Do you enjoy making fun of me?”

  “Keep doing it?” It took Brent a moment to remember when he had placed his hand on her forehead. “Oh! Last night. I was worried you were in trouble or something. I was checking your temperature.”

  “You were worried? Checking my temperature? Are you a moron or something? I could have ripped your arm clean off.”

  “To tell you the truth, I had no idea you were a heavy-worlder when I first saw you. Cain explained it to me later.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Just the basics. Strength of ten troopers. That kind of thing. I’m guessing the skin color has something to do with living on a heavy gravity world.”

  “You know I could crush you like a bug and not break a sweat, and yet you ask something like that?”

  “Maybe I am a moron, but I don’t think you want to hurt anyone.”

  “How could you say that? I just wiped the floor with you, literally.”

  “Let’s just say I know something about explosive tempers.” He smiled to himself weakly.

  The girl sniffled loudly a few times as she wiped her eyes dry.

  “There really is something wrong with you.” The girl shot a troubled look at him. “You know that, right?”

  “How so?” The statement had surprised him.

  “Not more than a minute ago I was trying to kill you, and now you are talking with me as if I was any other trooper on the station.”

  “You mean I’m not supposed to like people who try to kill me?” he asked with mock surprise. “Wow, I had no idea. I’m going to have to start strongly disliking most of the instructors I’ve met so far.”

  Cassandra’s face became even redder. Brent forced his eyebrow to stay still.

  “Okay, if you want to belt me one, that’s fine, but I’m going to ask anyway.” He tried not to visibly brace for a blow. “You are okay, right? It doesn’t hurt or anything?”

  “You really are worried, aren’t you? It doesn’t hurt. In fact, I can’t feel it at all.”

  “Mind if I ask why it happens?”

  “I do, but I’ll tell you anyways.”

  She turned to face him; completely forgetting she wasn’t wearing her helmet.

  “Okay, you know when you get really embarrassed and your face turns red, right?” Cassandra started lecturing.

  “Of course. You blush.” Brent responded to the prompt.

  “Well, what is really happening is blood is rushing to your face,” Cassandra continued. “Now, when this happens to a normal person their face grows a shade redder, nothing very noticeable. It’s the same on any world, heavy gravity or light. The problem is when you mix up gravities. On my world I’m not much stronger than the average person. However, here I’m only working in a fraction of the resistance.”

  “I get it. When we landed on the heavy gravity world during the exams, we moved sluggishly and everything was harder than it should have been. For you, it’s the opposite sensation.”

  “Right. There are some problems, though. Mixing up gravities is very dangerous, particularly in the long term. My heart pumps an amount of blood that is exactly what my body needs to function back home. Here it’s working over time. If I didn’t undergo treatments every now and then, it would pump so much blood through my arteries they would rupture.”

  “You sure do know a lot about this, don’t you?”

  “If you had to get painful shots from a very big needle every few weeks, you’d ask why too.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Now, those shots regulate things so I can live on this station and not, well, die. However, they are not exactly perfect. While blood flow is mostly controlled, some spikes are missed – particularly involuntary ones like blushing. They assure me it’s nothing dangerous to my health, so you don’t have to worry about me. It’s just terribly embarrassing to turn a freakish red every time something surprises you.”

  “I can’t imagine. I couldn’t stand the attention yesterday after the exams, the staring and murmuring. It must be horrific for you.”

  “You’re right; you can’t imagine.”

  “Feel better?”

  “What?”

  “That speech sounded overly rehearsed. I bet you’ve been waiting a long time to say all that to someone.”

  “You know something? You think too much.”

  Brent hadn’t noticed, but while the two had been talking, her face had returned to a normal hue. If anyone saw her right now they’d have no clue she was any different from any other trooper. Suddenly a low growl came from Cassandra’s suit. Her face instantly reddened.

  “What was that?” Brent wasn’t sure if it had been Cassandra or the suit making the no
ise.

  “Had to skip out on breakfast this morning when I volunteered,” Cassandra said sheepishly.

  “Same for me. Wonder what time it’s gotten to.”

  “Almost ten.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Well, training starts at eight sharp. We started a couple hours early, but that Weaver kept the two of us for a while. I checked when we left. We’d been walking aimlessly for quite a while. Then we . . . well you know.”

  “So, is it time for a late breakfast or an early lunch?” Brent rubbed his shoulder.

  “It’s a free day. Administer gave us a second one while the recruits are retested. So the mess hall should be fully stocked all day.”

  “Wait, the recruits are being retested?”

  “That’s what I heard. We can check the observation deck of you want.”

  “I’m guessing that’s where everyone watched me from yesterday. How about a bite to eat first?”

  She nodded and finally realized she was missing her helmet. Brent quickly handed it to her. For a moment she stared at the helmet, an odd expression on her face. The outline flashed a color Brent couldn’t identify, something he had never seen before. As she donned her helmet, he wondered exactly how little he knew about his “abilities.” Together they walked down the corridor toward the mess hall.

  “I just had a horrible thought.” Brent groaned. “I have to show up at that time every morning. Does this mean I’m going to miss breakfast every day?”

  Cassandra laughed. The mess hall was lightly populated, nowhere as full as it had been when he had been there last. He hoped it would also be lacking in a post meal brawl.

  “Let me get the meals – an apology for . . . earlier.” Cassandra started off in a seemingly random direction.

  Brent quickly reached out and grabbed her suited hand.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Brent quickly joined her side. “Yesterday the maintenance guys served us. If that’s not the norm, I need to know how to feed myself. Last thing I want is to miss breakfast because of Davis and then lunch because of ignorance.”