The troopers looked at one another then burst into laughter. Cain walked up and patted Cassandra on the shoulder.
“Good for you. Bagged yourself one heck of a boyfriend.” Cain chuckled.
The rest of the troopers dispersed, chuckling to themselves. A few winked at the couple. One even shook Brent’s free hand.
“Enjoy the show?” he asked Cain as he released Cassandra.
“I expected more from you.” Cain winked. “A couple of kisses. I’ve seen medical training 3Ps that were more exciting. Might have to rescind your title of Casanova.”
“What’s going on over here?” Kindra was still drying her hair with a towel as she approached the group.
“Nothing, just some pre-battle jitters,” Cain blurted behind him as he quickly fled.
“Who’s this?” Kindra faced Cassandra. “Trooper, identify yourself.”
For a moment she stared at the squad leader disbelievingly.
“Cassandra Foster,” she said hesitantly.
“Cassandra? That’s really you?” Kindra was stunned.
“The one and only.” Brent prepared to stop her from running again. “Looks good without the suit, doesn’t she?”
“What’s the delay?” Leonard demanded as he approached the group. “Kindra! You’ve got a pair of troopers who haven’t finished yet? Brent, is that you? Why is your uniform soaking wet? Stall malfunction?”
“Something like that.” He appeased the division leader. “We’ll be ready shortly; sorry for the hold up.”
Shrugging, Leonard walked off, checking up on the rest of the division, barking orders at every opportunity. Kindra looked down at Brent’s uniform, noticing for the first time his chest was drenched.
“Okay, now I know something is up. Whatever it is you two are up to, finish it quick. If Leonard’s head gets any bigger he’ll explode.” Kindra followed after Leonard, chuckling to herself.
When they were alone, Cassandra turned to him and planted a small kiss on his cheek. Without a word she ran off. Brent felt his cheek. It had been an interesting morning. He wondered what the rest of the day had in store.
The entire observation deck was abuzz. Normally, trials started off slowly as they worked from the lowest ranked grades upwards. Each day was normally more entertaining than the last as the more skilled divisions put on better shows. Today was anything but normal. Everyone who wasn’t participating in a trial was in the observation room. Every trooper eagerly awaited the trial of the twenty-fifth grade. Any other day they’d be written off as a joke, a series of blunders and mistakes leading to the invariable success of the drifter from the twenty-fourth grade. It was the same every time. The FF, TA, and RG would try their best, but to no avail. Despite having failed their last trial, the division from the twenty-fourth grade always outclassed those in the twenty-fifth. However, that was before Brent had showed up.
Before him there had never been a case of an entire group of recruits passing their exams. Brent was the breaker of absolutes. Even though all the recruits had all been retested, the first run was the one that stuck with the troopers of the academy. Cain had been right, of course; the bookies had been frantically busy for the better part of three weeks. Only an ITU trade array could boast a larger number of transactions.
“Not going to place a bet on Brent?” Jack asked, coping with the headache the excited troopers were giving him.
“Who said I hadn’t already?” Nathan chuckled to himself.
“I should have known.”
“It’s a shame though; the odds on the boy are downright offensive now. I doubt there is a single bet against him.”
“They learned their lesson last time.”
“I suppose. Any progress so far?”
“None, I’m sad to say. I’ve studied every one of Brent’s actions from the point he boarded the academy to the point he altered the girl’s emotions, and not one lead.”
“The other recruits?”
“Dead ends. The two he sensed the aura from had nothing useful to say when I interviewed them. The boy, Owen, had shaken his hand and thanked him a few times, but we’ve already ruled out physical contact. The girl, Hiroko, now she had extensive contact with Brent. For a while I even considered blood transfer as the foundation of his ability to sense others, but had to rule that out too.
“How can you be sure?”
“The girl, Cassandra. She is the only one he can sense. I’ve gone over each of their interactions leading up to his alteration of her emotions. There wasn’t a single opportunity for blood transfer between them. In fact, there wasn’t much opportunity for anything.”
“What do you mean? I haven’t exactly been able to focus on Brent for a while.”
“I know, Nathan, but you did a fabulous job on the trial. The first time he met her was the night before. She snuck up behind him in a combat suit, tried to scare him. It didn’t even faze him. A moment later she tries to attack one of the FF regulars, a Mr. Cain Hooten, but fails, and her helmet falls off . . .”
“Hooten, why do I know that name?” Nathan interrupted.
“Alden Hooten.”
“Of course! One of those big wigs from Core Industries, a magnate I think he calls himself. I didn’t know CI was sending its youth to Commonwealth academies.”
“Normally not, but Alden’s beef is with the Independent Traders Union not us. He thinks there is still a possibility for profitable relations with the Commonwealth military.”
“Great, so he sends his son here to show the universe he is all chummy with the Imperial Armed Forces.”
“That about sums it up. But you’ve missed the point.”
“I have? Oh yes! We were talking about Brent. I’m sorry, Jack. I spent more all-nighters on the trial than I should have. I’ve recently become aware I’m not the youth I once was.”
“Nonsense! You’ve always needed your sleep, even as a youth.” Jack chuckled.
“Very funny. So the boy only had a single encounter with the girl?”
“As I was saying, the girl’s helmet had fallen off and Brent did make physical contact – but only for a second or two. After that she ran back to her bunk, and the two don’t see one another until my training session the next morning. Being generous, there were three to four seconds where the girl wasn’t completely protected by a sealed combat suit. If that tiny amount of exposure is all it takes . . .”
“Maybe we aren’t thinking about this right,” Nathan said, interrupting again.
“What do you mean?” Jack asked, hiding his annoyance at his friend’s lack of focus.
“Well, you told me you first thought Brent was a Weaver back on Trica, right?”
“Yes, he changed the local population.”
“But besides that, you first figured it out when he changed a suicidal doctor, right?”
“Your point?”
“What if it’s not something physical that gives Brent the ability to sense your emotions? What if he can only sense people if their emotions are strong enough?”
“I hadn’t considered that . . . however, there is a problem with your idea, Nathan. I’ve been watching over the boy ever since he got here. When he was with the girl he surprised her, no doubt about that. But since then he’s been in fights and around others who have exhibited much stronger emotions.”
“Every time I think I’ve got a handle on things, it’s just a shot in the dark.”
“Even blind shots can occasionally hit their target,” Jack said with a warm smile.
“Not exactly reassuring that our only hope is in figuring things out by mistake. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to wait in the lounge for a while.”
“Why? What’s in the lounge?”
“It’s not what’s in the lounge, it’s what isn’t in the lounge. They are about to start the trial. They had me explain how it works, and you know I can’t stand hearing my own voice.”
“I’ll save your seat,” Jack called after Nathan as he fled to the lounge.
/> The monitors sprang to life. Jack noticed that almost all of them featured the twenty-fifth grade; the other four grades were barely being shown anywhere as they warmed up for their trails later in the day. It was obvious the other grades were only shown because the division leaders couldn’t completely ignore them. Although, he wondered if anyone would protest if all the monitors showed only the twenty-fifth. A silhouette took form and filled with color; it was Nathan’s speech.
“Greetings, troopers, and welcome to the trials! Today will feature the twenty-fifth through twenty-first grades competing for advancement. You all know the rules, but I’ve been asked to explain them anyway. The divisions are given standard combat gear and tasked to battle one another in an arena of my design. The divisions that do best will move up a grade, while those that do the worst will drop down a grade. I’ve put a lot of work into this trial and am quite proud of it.” Nathan’s double explained while the real thing hid in the lounge, his fingers in his ears.
The screens changed to a desert scene. The camera flew over countless dunes. In the distance a single point broke the flat horizon. As the camera grew closer, the point reached higher and higher. When the camera reached the spire it orbited it, showing off the surface detail. It was obviously an ancient fortress of some kind, a single tall tower with tiny holes in its sides from about half way up to the top. Its surface color wasn’t the gray of metal but a light pink. Its surface looked like a smoother more sturdy form of the sand that blanketed its base. The base had four wide openings, each one pointing in a different direction, giving the base a square shape. At the top was an open veranda. The camera swooped into the open area where it could survey the ground far below.
“For this trial I thought I’d take a page from the play books of the other instructors. Instead of a modern scenario, we will be looking back for inspiration. Before you is a massive tower. Instead of metal plates, it is completely constructed out of dried clay with metal wires interlaced. According to the Datanet, it’s a process known as ‘adobe,’ although I have substituted metal for straw to give the structure a bit more ruggedness.”
The prerecorded Nathan tended to ramble just as much as the live one did.
“I’ve tested it thoroughly, and you can trust me when I say it will prove a match for the weapons fielded by the divisions. It reaches twenty-five stories, with turrets and other firing vantage points starting at the thirteenth floor. Now, this exam will use a point system. The first division to reach six hundred points wins. For every enemy trooper a division takes out they will earn six points. Every enemy they capture is worth twelve. Now, you are probably wondering how the tower plays into this. Well, once a division captures the tower by climbing to its top, they will earn a single point for every second they hold the tower. Now, for those of you who have some difficulty with mathematics, what this all means is the first division to hold the tower for ten minutes wins the trial.”
With the explanation over, the monitors focused on the troopers entering the area. Nathan quickly returned to his seat.
“So? How was I?” Nathan settled in his chair.
Jack made a snoring sound.
“That bad? Well what can I say? I’m a scientist, not a game show host,” Nathan grumbled in his seat.
“I’m only kidding, Nathan, you did fine,” Jack apologized. “Do you think the divisions will figure out the trick to your exam?”
“Don’t tell me you figured it out already! I spent hours working it out.”
“Don’t worry, Nathan. It’s nothing more than a hunch of mine.”
“Well, let’s hope it takes the divisions a little longer to develop their own hunches.”
“Good morning, ladies and gents!” an overactive voice boomed from the PA. “And what a morning it is too!”
“Who is that?” Nathan scanned the observation deck for its owner.
“From your home away from home I come to you to give you the play by play of today’s riveting trial!” Rick shouted over the PA. “I’ve been begged by several troopers with large lists of wagers to give the rundown on today’s grudge match. Some of you might know me from the historical reenactment center, although I won’t hold that against you!”
“Looks like we’ve got an announcer.” Jack chuckled to himself. “All we need now is license from the Commonwealth, and we could broadcast this as a sporting event.”
“Sometimes I start to wonder if this is really an academy anymore,” Nathan sighed. “When did the inmates start running the asylum I wonder . . .”
“Without further delay, let me introduce today’s main players. In the twenty-first grade we have . . . Ha! You thought I’d bore you all to tears. We’ll get to them after the main show is over! Let’s skip past the formalities and get right down to the meat. The twenty-fifth grade is made up of four divisions. We have the blood thirsty RG, well known for the brutality of their troopers and their leader. The solid TA, renown for digging in and doing ab-sol-ute-ly nothing until someone else wins. Ouch. Of course there is the one time favorite to win, the SF. Some of you might remember the glory days of the SF when they were in the top three grades.”
The monitors shifted to show highlights of the SF’s previous trials.
“However, the glory has faded as the division has plummeted all the way to the bottom. Will they manage to climb back to the top? Does anyone care? Who knows! And, of course, there is the one, the only, the FF! Up until a month ago they were the lowest of the low, famous for their critical blunders and in-fighting. Today, they stand before us with a secret weapon.”
A roar of excitement rippled through the troopers like a tsunami of sound.
“Some of you have watched him slice through his opponents with a blazing sword of Shard units and unconventional tactics in the war room. Some of you even share his affinity for dark flowing capes. But today, all of you will be able to see if the new commander has the stuff to drag an entire division out of the ashes. Will he be the fire to ignite the phoenix? You all know whom I’m talking about. The cunning, the calculating, and, as his friend tells me, the Casanova . . . Brent!” The announcer had the entire room cheering.
“Now there is someone who knows how to work a crowd.” Jack nudged Nathan.
Nathan made a snoring sound. Jack burst into laughter. Nathan grinned and joined the laughter.
The FF was ready for the trial. Every trooper was in full armor. Brent chuckled, as the squad now resembled an army of angry snowmen. He was the only exception; his suit remained the shiny black of a Weaver. He felt even more on display than usual, and that was saying something. Leonard stood at the lead. Brent watched as Reggie stepped out of a side corridor, taking a place next to Leonard. A moment later Tyra took her place on the other side of Leonard. A fourth trooper he had never seen before took his place and yawned. He was rotund with the gold emblem of a division leader.
The doorway in front of the division leaders slid open, and a tall man in the gray uniform of maintenance passed a pad to Reggie. He glanced at it for a moment, nodded, and firmly ground his thumb into it. The man in gray took the pad and handed it to Leonard. He took longer, obviously actually reading it. After a moment he pressed his thumb on the pad, although not as forcefully as Reggie had. The man in gray then passed it off to Tyra who read it quickly and lightly tapped the pad. The fourth division leader yawned and pressed the pad without even glancing at it. The man in gray double-checked the pad before disappearing back through the doorway he had just come through. Reggie quickly dashed off to the left, his division keeping step. The fourth division leader sluggishly took off to the right, his division even more sloth-like in their pursuit. Tyra shot a glace at Brent before heading off down the left path. Her division moved with hardened military precision.
“So what’s the damage?” Kindra asked, when the other divisions were gone.
“Looks like a siege, a single tall tower in the center of four encampments,” Leonard announced to the whole division. “We’ve got the south spot with
the SF to the west and TA to the east. On the opposite side of the tower is the RG in the north. I’ve sent you the full details already, Brent. Feel free to go over them. We are going to crush them.” Leonard ground his fist into his open palm.
“How do we want to do this?” Sanderson stood beside Kindra. “March in there in standard squad formations and break when the trial starts, or just break up now?”
“Break up now,” Brent ordered with a firm nod. “Greg, set up defensive positions – one facing the northeast, and a second facing the northwest. Sanderson, you take the northern sections of Greg’s positions. Kindra, fill out the edges. Rhea, you get to the west as fast as you can. We need to strike the SF before they expect us. Humphrey, you start setting up your heavy weapons; focus on the west. Tyra is probably going to dig in before she assaults the tower, and you’ll dig them right out again.”
“Hold up, you’ve got a plan . . . already?” Rhea protested.
“Obviously you haven’t seen him in the war room,” Cain said smugly.
“Sounds like we’ve got a battle plan; everyone form your groups!” Leonard was giddy with excitement.
“Thirty seconds until go time,” Kindra called out.
“Everyone got their assignments?” Leonard called out one final check.
“Let’s show them what we are made of!” Rhea shouted. “For the glory of the Commonwealth!”
“Forget the Commonwealth; we do this for ourselves!” Humphrey mumbled loudly, well louder.
“It’s time; all groups fall out!” Sanderson was already rushing toward the doorway.
The division quickly filed through the doorway and ran toward the tower. As they passed over the sand, the bright white suits shifted color to match the terrain, a patchwork of tan and light brown. Brent’s remained black; he would be an easy target out in the open. He momentarily wondered if Weavers demanded such out of foolish pride, or if the designers had a deep hatred of them. Greg and his Beaters ripped at the sand like dogs searching for lost bones. As they got the sniper cover over their trenches, Sanderson’s Blasters filled out the northern edges. They had a wide firing arc that completely covered the south facing of the tower. Kindra’s Bunkers filled out the space between, lining their sights along the most likely path of attack from the nearby camps. Humphrey had his mobile artillery half assembled; another few minutes and they’d be shelling the SF. The Comsat crackled.
The Ninth Page 32
