The Ninth: Invasion

by Benjamin Schramm

  “If he’s going to make admiral, then I’m going to be elected grand emperor,” Doyle said haughtily.

  “Morning,” Vincent said with forced politeness.

  “How long until we jump?” Doyle asked.

  “Another ten minutes.”

  “I still say this is nothing short of madness.”

  “I guess it is a good thing you aren’t in charge then,” Nadia said before taking a long sip of the tea. “If we had listened to you, we’d all be dead right now.”

  “The staging point?” he asked with a slight tremble.

  “An hour ago,” Vincent said grimly, “we detected several outgoing jump vectors, none matching Navy signatures.

  Doyle stared at him for a moment before falling to his knees. Neither said a thing as he struggled to hold back his tears.

  “Any survivors?” Doyle asked quietly.

  “We don’t know,” Nadia said gently. “We can’t scan the staging point directly, the area is still being jammed.”

  “Ma’am,” the meek voice from the corner of the bridge spoke hesitantly.

  “What now?” she asked, holding back a sigh.

  “We’ve lost contact with the nav network over Trica.”

  “Then the invasion has begun,” Vincent said, deep in thought.

  “We are too late,” Doyle said in a discouraged tone. “We’ll never get to Trica now.”

  “The jump coordinates are only a few minutes old,” the meek voice countered. “We could probably jerry-rig the . . .”

  “It would take us an hour to override the fail-safe built into the jump drive,” Nadia said, slouching in her chair. “And that’s being optimistic. By then there would be too many PSF units on the ground for us to retake the world. Beyond that our data wouldn’t be safe. Doyle is right.”

  “Not necessarily,” Vincent said slowly.

  “What now?” Doyle demanded. “Got another pearl of wisdom from the Navy playbook to make everything all better?”

  “Can we contact Trica itself?” Vincent asked, ignoring Doyle.

  “Not really,” the meek voice answered. “Most of the news feeds are being either jammed or looped. The ITU are completely in control over all data going in and out of Trica.”

  “They might have overlooked this,” he said, not giving up. “Try to contact the central weather agency.”

  The meek boy glanced at the captain for approval. She nodded urgently. They all stared at him for what felt like an eternity.

  “I can’t contact anyone,” the meek voice said at last.

  “That’s it then.” Doyle shook his head.

  “However,” the meek voice said slowly.

  “Yes?” Nadia pressed.

  “Someone left the system open,” he said with a hint of hope. “I’m getting detailed surface scans.”

  “From the weather agency?” Nadia asked in surprise.

  “I get it,” Doyle shouted. “Trica is a formed world! They have to monitor the surface constantly and adjust for any irregularities.”

  “We should be able to use those scans to extrapolate jump coordinates,” Vincent said. “But there is one slight problem.”

  “Slight?” Nadia asked.

  “The data being gathered is surface conditions,” Vincent said hesitantly. “At best we’ll get some information from the cloud layers, but we would have to jump into the atmosphere.”

  “Low atmosphere,” the meek voice added. “The ITU are jamming the high orbit scanners.”

  “I say we go for it,” Doyle said as he clenched his fist.

  Everyone stared at him in surprise.

  “Those Union dogs killed our friends and plan to take our worlds from us,” he said, not even bothering to hide his rage. “I say we jump right underneath them and let them have a taste of the might of this battleship.”

  “It’s your call, ma’am,” Vincent said.

  Nadia stared at the two men and then rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  “You said they are jamming the high orbit scanners?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can you use the strength of the jamming to make a guess where the ITU ship responsible is?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Find where they are lurking and jump us in a suitable firing position. Sound the alarm. Let the crew know it is going to be a rough jump.”

  The entire bridge crew went to work, preparing for the last jump the Stewart would ever make.

  “I’ve done the best I can,” the meek voice said. “I’ve narrowed it down a little, but it is a pretty big area.”

  “More than enough,” the hulking man at the weapons console said, “I’ll have the main batteries shift to position as soon as they are free from the Wall and have a firing solution ready the second we clear the Wall. All I need is one glimpse at those ugly Union dogs.”

  “Jump drive ready, capacitors at charge,” Doyle said as he read the displays. “Outer decks evacuated, volatile ordinate secured, and the trooper division reports they are ready for ground combat. The Steward is ready to jump, ma’am.”

  “Give me ship wide,” she said as she readied herself.

  Doyle nodded to her.

  “As most of you know, the Commonwealth is under attack,” she said with all the strength she could muster. “Navy staging points have been attacked and the condition of our forces are unknown at this time. The core world of Trica has just gone dark. We will be jumping shortly onto the planet’s surface and engage the invasion force. I don’t know how well the Steward will fair jumping so low, but I do know this: As long as I draw breath we will fight to protect our homes and our loved ones. Prepare for final jump! Battle stations!”

  A tiny speck of light pierced the space just head of the Steward. It slowly grew outward, forming a rectangular stillness in the darkness. Small whips of yellow lightning danced around the stillness as the Wall took shape. Fear and anticipation filled the ship as the Wall reached full size and the engines of the battleship slowly pushed it forward into the stillness.

  “Here we go,” Vincent said quietly.

  A gentle breeze wafted between the majestic skyscrapers of Trica. The massive towers reflected the perfectly maintained greenery around them as the citizens left for the day. A few knew that an invasion ship was high above, preparing to conquer the peaceful stillness, but most continued their routines in blissful ignorance. A bright flash of yellow light suddenly replaced the gentle warmth of the setting sun.

  The masses paused to turn their glances skyward. Hanging listlessly between two of the massive towers was a small point of light, surrounded by tiny arcs of yellow lightning. Terror filled the citizens as the point expanded into a black stillness. Not one person in the mass was uncertain of the sight above them. A Wall was being opened right above them. The sounds of panic were drowned out as the arcs of lightning carved jittering paths through the reflective surfaces of the nearby towers.

  The sounds of crashing metal ripped from the towers blended into the screams and panicked mad dash of the people below. The mass transit system switched to manual as the operators held them long enough for the crowd to pile in. All available transit lines switched to send as many support craft as possible as the fevered words of alarm spread across the planet’s surface. As the mass transit cars sped off, a collective held breath broke through the panicked screams. The bow of a battleship was emerging between the remains of the skyscrapers.

  Massive jets of flame erupted out from under the bow as the ship struggled to compensate for the massive surge in gravity as it entered just above the planet’s surface. The perfect streets and well-groomed lawns were incinerated in an instant as the barrage of inferno slowly crawled out of the unsympathetic Wall. Massive cannon turret barrels slowly started to pierce to the top of the Wall as the ship slowly emerged. The second the rear edge of the massive gun emplacement cleared the Wall the massive barrels swung upward. The jets of flame shifted color as their heat increased to deal with the increased weig
ht.

  The tips of the barrels slammed into the remains of the once pristine towers of man and sent what was left of the reflective plates crashing downward. The massive battleship slowly crawled outward, undeterred by the remains of the city. A second turret on the bottom of the battleship emerged. The jets struggled, but the weight was more than they could handle. The second turret slowly shifted downward as the armor of the ship wailed against the strain. The formerly straight lines of the ship’s edges slowly started to sag and the turret ran aground. Sparks and explosions lit up what was left of the city streets as the leading edge of the turret drug through the scorched earth. The hatches of the side missile silos rocketed off as the twisting hull pressure mounted around them.

  As the center of the ship started to clear the Wall another set of massive jets roared to life. They strained with all their might as they tried to aid the failing engines on the bow. The ship slowly tried to correct itself, but the damage was done, the ship’s spine was shattered. The front turret finished its angling and held eerily still for a moment. The roar of the cannons dwarfed all other sound as they launched their barrage toward the skies above. The shockwave of sound ruptured the reflective surfaces of the nearby towers, sending a rain of metal plates crashing downward.

  The battleship continued undeterred by the chaos and destruction around it. Small beam turrets emerged from any undamaged surfaces of the ship and started flinging small shafts of light upward. The speed of the streaks of light was incredible, flying almost too quickly for the citizens in the neighboring cities to track. A third set of barrels slowly emerged from the wall. The massive turret on the top of the battleship started to shift to join the first.

  “Lock confirmed,” the hulking man said in triumph. “Chew on this you mangy dogs.”

  The bridge shook as the cannon launched another volley.

  “We are losing structural integrity,” Doyle shouted. “The hull can’t take the strain.”

  “Will we clear the Wall?” Nadia asked.

  “Barely,” Doyle said as he double-checked the console. “The Steward wasn’t designed for this, but we’re giving it all we can.”

  “Status of the ITU ship?” she demanded.

  “Two direct hits,” the hulking man said with a dark grin. “Caught them off guard. Never saw this coming.”

  “We’re still being jammed,” the meek voice said.

  “I said we hit them, not downed them.” The hulking man shifted back toward his console. “Another salvo should finish them.”

  “They’ve got a target lock,” the meek voice said as the owner trembled openly.

  The massive gun emplacements of the battleship roared again as they launched their ordinance. The ruins of the city shook violently as the shockwave battered the remaining structures.

  “Incoming,” Vincent shouted.

  Three dull blips of light raced down toward the battleship. The first crashed behind the Wall, reducing what was once an elaborate plaza into a smoldering crater in an instant. The force of the blow slammed into the rear side of the Wall to no effect. The direction of the Wall had been set, and not even the mightiest of weapons could change that. The large chunks of topsoil slid down the rectangular stillness as the yellow arcs of lightning ripped at the still flying bits of dirt.

  The second slammed into the side of the battleship. A small chunk of the battleship was momentarily engulfed in the flash of the impact. The once thick plates of armor had been weakened by the strain of the pull of gravity and buckled against the tremendous force. Several of the massive jets of flame under the wounded section faded to silence as smoke drifted out of the gash in the ship’s armor. The battleship started to list to its wounded side. Like an animal protecting an injury, the ship seemed to curl toward the smoking gash in its side.

  The third impacted the base of the remains of the skyscraper just in front of the battleship. The massive structure wailed as the support struts buckled and gave way. For a moment it remained firm and upright, but gradually the sides wavered and the shattered superstructure fell. The massive tower rolled as a few of its supports futilely struggled to hold firm. It slammed onto the battleship as the ship’s guns fired again.

  Between the strain of the gravity and the impact of the second shell, the ship was in no condition to endure the toppled tower. As the metal beams of the tower ruptured and fell, they sliced into the remains of the once imposing ship armor. Alarms flared to life in the bridge as the tower eviscerated the hull. In an instant all the lights cut out as the terrible wail of grinding metal filled the bridge. In the darkness the howls of destruction mixed with violent trembling as the ship struggled to clear the Wall.

  “Anyone still alive?” Doyle called out in the darkness.

  “I am, somehow,” the meek voice said softly.

  Dull emergency lighting filled the bridge in a pale red light.

  “A few cuts, but I’ll live,” the hulking man said between coughs.

  “Captain!” Vincent shouted.

  They all turned to find a massive metal strut had breached the bridge and had impaled Nadia. Vincent scrambled over the debris to her side.

  “Is the ship safe?” she asked weakly.

  “We’re almost through the Wall now,” Vincent said comfortingly.

  “Good.” She coughed violently and groaned in pain. “Looks like you are in charge now.”

  “Get a maintenance team up here, now,” Vincent roared.

  “It’s too late . . .”

  Vincent slammed his fist against the metal beam.

  “We are on Trica,” he said through grit teeth. “The best doctors in the Commonwealth live here. We are going to cut you out of there. We will get you to a hospital.”

  “Ensign . . .”

  “I won’t give up,” he said as he squeezed her hand. “Don’t you dare give up on yourself.”

  Doyle put a hand down on the boy’s shoulder and shook his head. Vincent violently shoved off the hand. The hulking man pushed past both of them and jammed a large needle into the captain’s arm. She screamed in bloodcurdling pain.

  “What are you doing?” Doyle demanded.

  “Gravity treatment,” he said as he wrapped his arms around the metal strut. “Slows my heart rate. Should keep her from bleeding out.”

  The sound of grating metal echoed out of the bridge as the hulking man’s muscles tensed. The metal strut resisted him but finally started to shift. Nadia cried out in agony as he finally ripped it free.

  “Get her to Medical,” Vincent ordered as the hulking man lifted the screaming woman.

  The meek man gave chase and the two made their way through the wreckage of the ship. As the sounds of her wail faded into the distance, the pair stared at one another and what was left of the bridge.

  “Your orders?” Doyle asked at last.

  Vincent stared at him for a moment, unable to process the words over his thoughts of the captain.

  “Your orders, sir?” Doyle repeated.

  Vincent surveyed the damaged bridge and thought.

  “Have the troopers and any surviving crew start disassembling the ship,” Vincent said at last.

  “Disassemble?”

  “The Steward is dead, Doyle. Gave what it had left to get us here. The ITU will return and this smoldering hulk won’t be able to do anything about it. We need to get every last working weapon off his ship and get them set up in defensive positions around what’s left of the city.”

  “Yes, sir,” Doyle said with a salute.

  He watched as the man raced off to find any working communication terminal. With a deep sigh Vincent placed his hand on the twisted bulkhead.

  “You did good,” he said quietly. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “This might work for history, but how are we supposed to follow instructions we can’t see?” Dante asked.

  “Now watch very closely.” Cain joked. “I want everyone to do exactly what I’m doing. Now be careful, if you do it like this you’ll break you
r arm. But if you do it properly, like I’m demonstrating for you, this will be the most valuable thing you’ll ever learn.”

  The other troopers started laughing. Even Ronald thought it was funny.

  “So, what now?” Kindra asked.

  “This definitely won’t work.” Sanderson took a seat next to Kindra. “Even if one of us watched the screen up close and told the others what to do, we can’t pause the feed from here. We’ll waste more energy trying to keep up than actually learning.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Humphrey mumbled. “How about instead of wasting our time straining our eyes, why don’t we fix our wall? It got pretty cold last night.”

  “Your wall?” Tyra asked in surprise. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s not as vertical as you’d hope,” Cain said as he held out his arm horizontally.

  “You guys broke your barracks?” Angela burst into mocking laughter. “On the first night!”

  “I thought I heard a thud last night.” Erin started laughing with Angela.

  “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose!” Mr. Springate said in his own defense.

  The girls eyed Frank as he realized he just taken personal responsibility. The troopers all started laughing. Mr. Springate’s head drooped. Together the squad pitched in to raise the wall and secure it in place. In the end it was more stable than when they had first landed. After that they checked the other walls, making repairs here and there as necessary. As they finished the last of the minor repairs, a small group of Protectorates passed out lunch. It was another set of bread rolls. They were exactly the same make up with the goopy center, but the meat taste was slightly different. Cain had taken a bite and said with a shrug that it all tasted like chicken to him. When they were finished with the meal and were confident the barracks would survive the night, they all moved on to the girls’ barracks. It was in far better shape, relatively speaking. There was still plenty that needed some fixing. It was getting towards dusk as they finished.

  “Well, that’s all for today.” The Administer’s voice boomed from the monitor no one was watching. “Enjoy your evening and we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”