The Ninth

by Benjamin Schramm

  “The next grade?” Cassandra asked, half interested. “Shouldn’t you still be taking bets?”

  “Nope,” he said, sounding downright gleeful. “Apparently there hasn’t been a case of retesting in the last few hundred years, so as far as procedure is concerned, this is a new run of exams. We won’t manage an exam for a while now. Good thing, too. Our young friend really caused us some pain yesterday.”

  “What did I do?” Brent asked defensively.

  “Not much, besides almost bankrupting us. For the first time in a very long while, a recruit passed all exams. Not just that, a recruit with no formal training and without a military heritage. When all was said and done, the odds against you were forty-one point two to one.” Cain chuckled.

  “Sorry to be such a burden to you.” Brent wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “No worries. You put on such a good show, people were tripping over themselves to place more wagers. Even with the chunk Administer Bloom took out of the profits, we actually managed to make some spare credits for ourselves.” Cain winked at Cassandra.

  “So, if you aren’t taking bets, what are you doing here?” Cassandra sneered

  “Just trying to keep boredom at bay. The other troopers are lazing around; nothing interesting there. The leaders are locked up in Leonard’s quarters, no doubt strategizing on how they’ll use Brent in the next trial.” Cain idly watched the monitors for a moment before growing bored with them. “Speaking of which, how did Weaver training go?”

  “How did you know about that?” Cassandra probed.

  “Give me some credit. Even a second rate bookie keeps a hand on the pulse of the academy. You’d be surprised what I know,” Cain gloated.

  “If that’s the case, then why don’t you tell us how I did?” Brent asked.

  “Touché.” Cain chuckled. “Any plans for the rest of the night? Despite my best efforts, I’ve run out of things to do to amuse myself.”

  Brent noticed Cassandra’s suit stiffened.

  “Not really. Have something in mind?”

  “It’s funny you should ask . . .” Cain grinned.

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?” Cassandra moaned.

  Cain jumped up and headed toward the exit. As Brent got up, Cassandra grabbed his arm.

  “Thanks for not telling Cain about the 3Ps.” Cassandra was earnestly thanking him.

  “It’s none of his business. If you want it a secret, I won’t tell a single person,” he reassured her.

  Hesitantly, Cassandra followed after Cain. After a long stroll down the corridors, Cain stood beside a doorway, gesturing them inside like a waiter. The door slid open to the sounds of cheering and other sounds of an excited crowd. Cain easily guided the two through the large group of troopers to the center of the room. A thick blue haze filled the room. In the center of the room was a large glowing table. Miniature troopers were firing at one another. An actual trooper sat on each of the four corners of the large table. Brent noticed the replica troopers on the table were divided into four different colors. When one of the miniatures was hit by an energy burst from an enemy rifle, it burst into a small explosion of light.

  “What is this, Cain?” Cassandra asked uncomfortably.

  “Technically? This is the ‘historical reenactment center.’ Unofficially, it’s called the war room.” Cain grinned as he eyed the crowd. “That grid can mimic any landscape from any battle in the mainframe. Troopers then guide the forces present in the actual battle – see if they could have done better than the generals of the past. I’m no good at it, but then I can’t bet on myself, so I don’t have any reason to be.” He winked at Cassandra before laughing.

  “Betting?” Cassandra was obviously annoyed. “Is that all you ever think about?”

  “A man’s got to eat. Plus, I didn’t bring you here for that. I thought Brent might like to give it a try.” Cain patted his shoulder.

  “Me?” Brent asked in surprise, his focus mostly on the illuminated battle rather than the bickering.

  “After yesterday I thought you might like something with a little more challenge.” Cain was waving at someone in the distance.

  “What’s up, Cain?” A short trooper with a lisp seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “Got you a new commander.” Cain turned Brent toward the short trooper.

  “Now wait a minute . . .” Brent protested.

  “Doesn’t look all that tough,” the trooper said with his lisp as he looked Brent over in a manner that vaguely reminded him of show animal inspections. “You sure he’s commander material?

  “I personally guarantee he will give you a decent show.” Cain smiled like a blissful idiot.

  “Good enough for me.” The trooper grabbed Brent and drug him into the crowd.

  “Where are they taking him?” Cassandra asked when she lost track of the two.

  “Getting him suited up.” Cain patted her shoulder. “Can’t have him in a Weaver’s uniform; put off too many troopers. Don’t worry. He’ll do fine. Enjoy the show.”

  A disappointed groan filled the crowd as the table dimmed and the battle ended. The victorious trooper stood up and waved his hands in triumph while the others slammed the dim table with fists of anger and disappointment. The short trooper with a lisp whispered to one of the losers. Angrily the loser got up and left the table, instantly blending into the crowd. To Cassandra’s surprise, Brent took his place, dressed in an overly dramatic black and red cape with a collar that reached above his ears.

  “What exactly is he wearing?” she asked.

  “No idea.” Cain shrugged. “Looks like some kind of vampire doesn’t he? Rick used to be a tailor before he took over this place. Likes to use his leftover costumes. He says it spices up the action.”

  Despite the ridiculous outfit, Brent seemed calm. The table illuminated again.

  “Well, no surprises there!” a loud voice shouted over the PA. “Terrance wiped out the enemy just as it happened in the history books. Now we have a treat for you, an untested commander! Fresh meat. Being put to the ultimate test for the first time. Place your bets and select the battlefield. I have it on good account this new commander isn’t to be taken lightly. It’s up to you to prove me wrong. Don’t you dare go easy on him!”

  “Rick always had a flare for the dramatic.” Cain laughed.

  “We pick the battle?” Cassandra was skeptical.

  “Of course.” Cain was already tapping on his pad. “When we entered the room your pad was synced up with the grid. It’s all hush hush, but the boys down in maintenance get a discount when they attend, so no one makes a fuss.”

  A long list of planets waited Cassandra’s selection. When she tapped on one at random, a list of battles popped up. Selecting again at random, a map of the battlefield showed the main forces and prompted her to select which commander would control what forces. Not remembering the particular battle Cassandra randomly selected. When she finished, a new screen displayed, prompting her how much she wanted to wager on which commander.”

  “Cain!” Cassandra was furious.

  “Don’t blame me. How else do you think Rick pays for all this? Just put some paltry sum on Brent and try to enjoy yourself.” Cain had already finished and was awaiting the start.

  Angrily, Cassandra moved to tap the cancel prompt. Hesitating, she changed her mind and reluctantly wagered twenty credits on Brent. She then folded her arms and honestly tried to relax.

  “That’s it! All wagers are in. Let’s see where the new commander is fighting today . . . that’s just mean!” The crowd was eating up Rick’s overly dramatic announcing. “You all must be the most detestable gang of scum the academy has ever seen – I love it. Our newcomer will be fighting on none other than . . . Listrad!”

  The crowd roared with approval, although the world didn’t mean anything to Cassandra.

  “One of the most gruesome, bloodiest, contested worlds of the Great Divide!” the announcer shouted. “Let’s see if you are all as depraved as I hope y
ou are . . . you don’t disappoint! I’m so proud. The battle of three claws! Of all the history of Listrad, you picked the most grisly battle of them all. It brings me to tears.”

  “Laying it on a bit thick, isn’t he?” Cassandra asked Cain.

  “Yeah, isn’t it wonderful?” Cain chuckled.

  Brent couldn’t make out the crowd beyond the blue haze of the large table. A prompt appeared in front of him explaining the battle. The battle of three claws was a massive assault on the Shard Citadel on the southern coast of the main continent. The other three troopers were to command the human forces while Brent got the losing position of the Shard Citadel about to be overrun. He couldn’t resist chuckling at the familiar scenario.

  “Would you listen to that?!” the announcer shouted instantly. “He mocks you!” The announcer stirred up the crowd. “You throw the best you’ve got at him, and the new commander laughs at you! And I thought you all were cruel; this guy is downright evil!”

  Brent couldn’t see them, but he could hear the laughter and jeering. The crowd was being whipped into a frenzy. Apparently, the announcer was good at his job. The prompt continued on that his objective wasn’t just to defend the Citadel but to wipe out the opposing forces. They really didn’t want him to succeed. A list of units at his disposal came up. He found it odd that he was defending with Commonwealth troops. At the bottom of the prompt, it asked him if he was happy with the make up of his forces.

  Brent tapped “no.” A new screen popped up. On the left hand side were dozens of possible units; on the right was his pre-selected force. He searched the page until he found what he wanted. A small font on the extreme bottom edge of the screen read “historically accurate units.” He tapped it and a large red prompt flashed asking if he was sure he wanted to use historically accurate units. Tapping in the affirmative, Brent read a second prompt in an even brighter red warning him that he was about to use Shard units. Finally, he was prompted what units he wanted to use. There were no preset configurations.

  “We got ourselves a thinker! His foes have already selected and placed their forces.” The announcer was keeping the crowd interested while Brent selected his units. “Our new commander likes to take his time. Only time will tell if that will save him.”

  Content with his choices, Brent accepted them and quickly placed his units strategically around the Citadel. At once the battle began. Smoke trails etched through the simulated sky; the opposing commanders were already bombarding him with artillery. He feverously tapped at his command console. His units snapped to his orders. The warheads impacted in bright flashes. The flashes subsided, leaving small craters.

  “Ouch!” the accounted shouted almost melodically. “That’s got to hurt. Terrance takes a commanding lead, bombarding seven of the new commander’s units out of existence. How will the new commander respond? Looks like he is mobilizing his . . . what are those things the new commander is using?” The announcer tripped over his own tongue.

  Brent pressed the momentary lull as the artillery reloaded. A half dozen large silver cubes on dual treads moved into position. With a single order from him, they launched their ordinance. Each one spilt down its middle as a swarm of small missiles erupted from within the cubes. A second barrage of artillery fire smoked through the sky. The missiles from Brent’s Strikers intercepted the warheads and zeroed in on the artillery platforms. His three opponents gasped as their entire set of artillery pieces erupted in flashes of light. With his three enemies stunned, he launched a counter strike, moving a squad of Slashers toward each of their main bases.

  “Looks like the new commander threw us all a curve ball.” The announcer recovered from the surprise. “Instead of using Commonwealth forces, he has chosen to go for pure historical accuracy. The new commander is fielding Shard units against our seasoned commanders. I guess it’s official. He is evil. Take him down a notch boys!”

  The shouting of the announcer snapped the other commanders out of their confusion. They each mounted defensive lines against the approaching Slashers. The fire from the Commonwealth troopers didn’t phase the tripods. The enemy commander in green had focused almost entirely on artillery and other heavy weapons; the Shards ran through the few base defenders he had chosen. The Shards sacked the base, eliminating the commander from the battle.

  “The first kill of the match is also the first kill of the new commander’s career! Curtis is down for the count. Can Terrance and Kinsley hold him off?” The announcer tried to hide the fact he was as stunned as Curtis.

  Terrance’s brown forces managed to destroy the shards before they could reach his base. Kinsley’s blue hadn’t been so lucky, as two tripods survived long enough to decimate most of his forces. Whatever he had left abandoned the base and hightailed it to Terrance’s base. Brent moved the Strikers back; with no long range units left, their interceptor missiles would be useless now. Terrance and Kinsley fortified their combined base. Without their ranged units, the two had to rethink their battle plans. All Brent had to do now was bide his time. Terrance moved a squad of heavy armor toward the Shard Citadel base while Kinsley followed a fair distance behind. Their treads menacingly ripped at the terrain as they edged closer to the Brent’s forces.

  It was apparent they were trying to provoke him into moving some of his defensive forces into an ambush. Brent ordered the surviving Slashers in the green base to head toward the remains of Kinsley’s base. Terrance continued to edge closer to the Citadel, his armor training their turrets on the weak points of the Citadel. When the armor was just far enough from Terrance’s main base Brent ordered the Slashers in Kinsley’s old base to charge. With incredible speed the tripods lunged down the path Kinsley’s forces had used only minutes prior. Kinsley panicked and moved all his remaining forces to intercept. With Terrance’s armor unprotected, the Slashers on defense rushed them. Hastily switching targets, the tanks fired everything they had on the approaching tripods, but the targets were too nimble and dodged most of the massive bolts of energy. Kinsley annihilated the Slashers running in from his old base, but it had cost Terrance dearly. From beyond the grid, Brent watched Terrance throw something at Kinsley.

  “Looks like a division in the ranks! The new commander used a brilliant feint attack to take out some of Terrance’s main forces.” The announcer almost seemed to be rooting for Brent. “Looks like all that thinking paid off in the end. Terrance has a single squad of heavy armor left and he’ll need to keep it safe if he plans to put a dent in that Citadel!”

  Brent was only moments away from the end game, but his foes weren’t in the right position. He ordered the Strikers to take firing positions on the enemy base. He knew they couldn’t do anything, as their interceptor missiles were useless without something to intercept. He hoped the opposing two commanders were ignorant of that fact. Kinsley’s forces quickly returned to Terrance’s base. Noticing the moving cubes, Terrance positioned all his forces in a circle around his remaining armor. Kinsley joined Terrance’s forces, making a looser circle around the armor. Almost there.

  Brent ordered the Strikers to space themselves equally around the enemy base. As the cubes complied, Terrance’s forces trained their weapons on them. Kinsley’s forces followed suit. Every remaining unit in the Commonwealth base was completely focused on the Strikers. Perfect. Brent tapped a single command and rested back in his seat. Terrance noticed his opponent relaxing; his eyes widened. Out of the ground burst seven Slashers. They instantly started swinging their blades in their dance of death. Before Terrance or Kinsley could even realize what was happening, their forces were completely wiped out. Terrance jumped to his feet and pointed at Brent.

  “Cheater!” Terrance was nearly foaming at the mouth. “He rigged the grid!”

  “Now, now Terrance. No name-calling.” The announcer tried to calm down the irate commander. “Let’s see if we can’t shed some light on this mess.”

  The grid seemed to pulse as the terrain turned transparent. Just outside the Citadel where the initial arti
llery had impacted were seven tunnels. The “craters” were mole holes where Brent’s Slashers had dug into the ground when the warheads flashed. Everything that followed was a diversion as the Slashers tunneled under the map. The four tunnels headed toward the green and blue bases changed course about half way across the map toward Terrance’s base. With all of his foes amassed in one spot and their attention diverted, the ambush went perfectly.

  “I’ve heard of the hundred meter dash but the hundred meter burrow? Looks like we have a new one for the tactic books.” The announcer shouted over the crowd. “The new commander pulls it off. A first time win!”

  With the volume of the crowd’s shouting, it hadn’t been so easy a feat for the announcer to be heard. Over all, it wasn’t a supportive sound the crowd was making. Jeering and protests were the loudest. Brent felt a tug at his elbow. The short trooper with a lisp was gesturing for him to follow. Quickly complying, he could hear the sounds of a fight breaking out behind him. The short trooper guided him to the rear of the room and out a side doorway. The other troopers were too busy shouting angrily to notice his departure.

  “Now, I don’t want to hear you saying I never take you to nice places.” Cain was already waiting for him in the hallway.

  “Are they going to be all right in there?” Cassandra asked the short trooper.

  “You kidding? They love this kind of thing,” the trooper lisped happily. “We’ll have twice as many troopers tomorrow!”

  “See?” Cain grinned. “Everyone had a pleasant evening, I trust.”

  “Evening?” Brent was puzzled. “How long were we in there?”

  “Time flies when you are teaching troopers a lesson in humility.” Cain chuckled.

  “It’s a little after eight.” Cassandra didn’t sound bored at all.

  “And you’ll never guess. Sandra didn’t complain once!” Cain grinned. “Well at first she did, but after things started, I dare say she got into it. She was one of your most vocal supporters.”

  “That’s enough, Cain,” she said irritably.