The Ninth: Invasion

by Benjamin Schramm

“Liz!” Marie’s shout reverberated down the corridor. “Did you find Brent yet?”

  “I’ll distract them,” Liz whispered to him.

  “Thanks in advance.” He quickly headed toward the stalls.

  When in the privacy of a stall, Brent finally relaxed. He never would have expected Cassandra’s bold actions, or their sudden interruption. As he went about his routine, a thought hit him. Were they going to have to go through the whole thing again? They were still a couple of days away from Eos. Cassandra was sure to work herself into an early grave if every morning was this eventful. He wondered if he could find a way to unlock their old bunks. Not exactly a pleasant alternative though. A tone interrupted his thoughts.

  “This is the captain speaking. All hands prepare for jump.” The P.A. was muffled by the stall walls.

  With a shrug, he went about his business. A few moments later the Wall ate through the edge of the stall. Brent marveled as the beads of water from the shower paused midair as the Wall intercepted them. They hovered motionless in the Wall, their surfaces distorting the stars behind them. As he took in the sight, he noticed a strange break in the background. In the center of the sea of twinkling stars was a small green smudge. It seemed to pulse like a lighthouse trying to break through some green fog.

  As the Wall passed over him, Brent wondered if that thing was their destination. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he finished his morning routine. With the stall walls receding into the floor, he checked his pocket watch. He couldn’t believe it. They had slept in until a little after lunch. No wonder the girls were interested. Remembering he was being chased, Brent scanned the corridor. It was completely empty; Liz had done her job well. A single stall was still in use. No doubt Cassandra was taking her time in an attempt to delay her eventual run in with the others.

  With a start, he realized he could roughly make out her silhouette in the stall wall. She was apparently showering. His mind quickly worked away, creating a detailed mental image of the inside of the stall. Brent quickly turned his back on the white wall. He could feel his pulse racing. Maybe Cassandra was right about people acting strangely. He’d fought side by side with her dozens of times but never thought twice about it. Now a simple silhouette was enough to get him hot and bothered.

  Brent shook his head as he tried to erase the mental picture that was taunting him. If he had been like Owen, he could blame his odd behavior on jump-based anxiety, but he had no fear of the jumps. He worked his mind on the problem and any other random thought he could think up, anything to distract himself from the stalls. A hand came down on his shoulder. The surprise made Brent jump.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Cassandra paused. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. You just look a little distracted. You’re not upset about this morning, are you?”

  “Not at all. I’m fine, really. Want to join me for a late lunch?”

  “Lunch? Don’t you mean breakfast?”

  Brent took out his pocket watch and showed it to Cassandra. She looked at it quizzically.

  “What are those odd shapes along the edge?” she asked.

  He checked the watch and realized she had never seen the numbers before.

  “They are Roman numerals.”

  “What?”

  “A very, very old number system.” He dug into his pocket and presented his pad to her.

  “Is it really that late?” she asked in surprise.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “There’s no hope of convincing Penny and the others that nothing happened, is there?”

  “Probably not.” Brent chuckled.

  “Oh well, might as well enjoy my last meal.”

  Cassandra took him by the hand and started down the narrow corridor. He noticed a content smile on her red face. Liz was apparently very good at distracting people. The two of them enjoyed an entire quiet meal without any interruption. As they ate, he couldn’t think of anything to talk about. His mind always jumped back to that morning every time he tried to think up a conversation starter. Cassandra was unusually quiet, as well. He wondered if she was thinking along the same lines he was. After they had finished the last bites of the second rate meal, they sneaked to the recreation room. Cassandra figured if they were in a 3P no one could really ask them questions.

  Sneaking in had been easier than Brent had expected. Cain was at the card table, a look of deep concentration on his face. When they approached the 3P, he was surprised to find most of the squad already using it. Of course, Liz, Marie, and Penny were missing. Hiroko must have given up the search, as she was reclining next to Owen. With a shrug, Cassandra took an open seat. Together they joined the rest of the squad in the 3P.

  They quickly found themselves in a large field with a bright blue-sky overhead. Off in the distance Tyra was leading most of the squad in some exercises and drills. The two easily joined the other troopers without drawing attention to themselves. It was actually refreshing to go through some training. Brent was grateful for the distraction. While Tyra was setting up the next scenario, she noticed him. She quickly set the others on their orders as she gestured for him to come closer. The other troopers went about their game of capture the flag as Brent made his way to Tyra. The troopers were sneaking through the tall grass as they readied their rifles. A large explosion startled everyone.

  “I told Mahoney to stick to the standard weapons load out,” Tyra moaned more than said. “That boy never listens.”

  “Was that a grenade . . . in capture the flag?” Brent asked as he tried to figure out the best use for a grenade in the exercise.

  “You know all about Mahoney’s love of ordinance. Used a couple of his grenades to take out most of my division back in the trial.”

  “You gave a valiant effort in the trial.”

  “Save it. I know we were out classed. Although, things turned out well.”

  “That they did. Did you want to talk to me about something?”

  “I heard about last night. Is there anything I need to know about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know I’ve been out of it since we landed on Deriso, but I’m still the squad’s leader.”

  “Never questioned that.”

  “So then, I can assume there won’t be any complications?”

  “Complications?”

  “Let me put it this way: You conducted yourself like a gentleman, right?”

  “Of course I did. Do you doubt me?”

  “Not at all. It’s just that Cassandra is . . . well developed for her age, and I wouldn’t want you to fall prey to . . . impulses.”

  “Her age?”

  “You accessed her personnel file, didn’t you?”

  “I was focused on building a squad,” Brent said irritably. “My attention was on capabilities, not age and bust size.”

  “Really?” Tyra raised an eyebrow. “If you were any other guy, I’d wonder. But now that I think about it, you are too much like Ronald.”

  “So, is my good name restored?”

  “Of course. But I’m trusting you to keep that name clean.”

  “I’ll do my best. It’s good to have you back.”

  “What?”

  “The mopey Tyra would be too worried about my reaction to ever ask pointed questions like that.”

  “I suppose you are right,” she said with a small smile.

  “Was there anything else?”

  “Not really. You can join the others or wait for the next round.”

  “I think I’ll sit out this round. I’m going to wait until Mahoney uses up the rest of his grenades.”

  “There’s a good idea.” Tyra chuckled.

  “So I’m guessing things are going well with Ronald. You are keeping your good name clean, I trust.” He smiled mischievously at Tyra.

  She instantly blushed and coughed nervously.

  “That’s a completely different matter,” Tyra said, recovering.

&nbs
p; “No worries. I don’t see any problem with it. Just remember to invite me to the wedding,” Brent said with a wink.

  Tyra stammered for a bit before walking off toward the other troopers. Brent laughed to himself as he heard her barking at Mahoney. The poor guy had no idea he was getting chewed out for things he had nothing to do with. Pulling out his pad, he quickly pulled up Cassandra’s personnel file. Scanning through it, he quickly found what he was looking for. She was sixteen years old. According to the file, she had joined the academy at the age of fourteen, and had been almost instantly placed in the FF.

  Brent paused for a moment. He wondered how he would have fared if he had taken the exams three years ago. His interest peaked, he started going through the academy records. It took about six years for the average recruit to go through the academy and graduate as a full-fledged trooper. Ages for recruits varied from fourteen to eighteen; he had been on the older cusp. Brent looked deeper into the personnel files. Most recruits passed through basic education in government facilities before choosing a career in the military. Some did go a different path and underwent years of special training on the core worlds. Those few mostly came from families with long histories of military service. Brent’s investigation came to a halt as he stumbled across his own file.

  He had never thought of really inspecting his own file before. As he read through it, his brow furrowed. While he made a point never to dwell on it, Brent knew he had barely any memories from before six years ago. Even those few memories he did have were hazy, to say the least. However, the more he read the more he felt it was all wrong. Worlds he’d never heard of, places he couldn’t imagine, and names that sounded made up. There wasn’t even a last name on the file; he was just “Brent.” He pressed his mind, forcing it to go back. He remembered some kind of hospital, lots of tests.

  An image of an unhappy doctor giving him shots came to mind. He felt he knew the doctor, but he couldn’t recognize the face. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember anything else. Everything before the academy was fuzzy. The few memories he could call up seemed like a dream. It felt as if he was trying to remember someone else’s life. Suddenly, a pang of pain surged through him. A massive headache ripped at him. Pressing his hands against his head, he tried to stand. Another surge of pain tore through his nerves. Despite himself, he yelled in pain. The ground rushed at him. Brent realized he had fallen as a third surge of pain washed over him. The world was beginning to fade. All the lifelike detail of the 3P was washing away into a bright white light. His mind started to haze over. As he slipped under, a single thought ran through his mind. Who am I?

  Chapter 7: Sickbay

  “What did you say to him?” Sanderson asked as he carried Brent.

  “Nothing!” Tyra said defensively. “We were just talking about last night. That’s all.”

  “Last night?” Penny asked, obviously terrified. “You don’t think this is our fault?

  “He seemed fine.” Tyra threw another box out of their way. “When we spoke, he didn’t seem at all upset.”

  “He told me he even enjoyed it,” Liz said in a shy voice.

  “Then you must have said something to him,” Humphrey mumbled as he helped Sanderson. “Is that all you talked about?”

  “I tell you we didn’t talk about anything serious. Nothing that would do this to him.”

  “Everyone calm down,” Cain said soothingly. “Panicking will get us nowhere.”

  “Easy for you to say; you’re not unconscious,” Cassandra shouted angrily. “I’ve never heard him scream like that.”

  Cain shied away from Cassandra. Mahoney rushed the closed doorway ahead, and the door slowly started to slide open. Shoving his hands through the open space, Mahoney forced the doors open, creating a loud grating sound. A short, fat man in the white uniform of a doctor almost fell out of his chair at the noise.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” the short man asked irritably. “Can’t you read? Keep your voices down while you’re in my sickbay.”

  Cassandra approached the man and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. She carried the man over to Brent’s side before dropping him.

  “Drop the attitude and help him,” she said forcefully.

  The short doctor coughed and rubbed his neck as he recovered. A nurse entered from a side room, a complete look of panic on her face.

  “What have you done?” she shrieked as she noticed the gasping doctor.

  The troopers all started talking at once. The nurse became more and more panicked.

  “That’s enough!” Cain shouted over everyone.

  Everyone in the room went silent as they stared at him. No one had expected the playful bookie to possess such a booming voice.

  “Nurse, we have an injured man here,” he said diplomatically. “We don’t know exactly what’s wrong. Would you have him taken into proper care and inform the captain immediately? Please.”

  “At once, Master Hooten,” the nurse said, sounding frazzled.

  The nurse disappeared back through the doorway she had entered from. A moment later, a dozen nurses entered the room and a most carted Brent off. A few remained behind to help the doctor to his feet. Tensely, the troopers waited as the crewmembers with medical training worked behind closed doors. A seeming eternity passed before the captain showed up.

  “What happened?” Captain Perez looked around the sick bay. “I heard there was an injury.”

  The troopers hesitantly looked at one another.

  “Trooper . . . excuse me, Weaver Brent has fallen unconscious,” Miss Carrero said, emerging from within the sickbay. “The good doctor informs me he’s stable but unresponsive. Robert from engineering is looking over the 3P, but so far he can’t find anything wrong.”

  “How’d you beat me here?” the captain asked as he looked over Miss Carrero. “Oh never mind. What happened to him? I’ve never heard of anyone being injured inside a 3P.”

  “We don’t know,” Sanderson explained to the captain. “He seemed fine. We were conducting a little training drill then we all heard him scream.”

  Cassandra covered her ears, tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “The 3P shut down by itself after that,” Mr. Springate added. “Brent was already unconscious.”

  “I see. Did anyone talk to him before the incident?” the captain asked.

  Tyra reluctantly raised her hand.

  “I did, sir.”

  “Well then, what did you two talk about?”

  “Nothing important.” She ran her hands through her hair. “All we did was talk about last night. We talked about Cassandra for a moment and then about me a little. Nothing major or all that important.”

  “Last night?” the captain asked, confused.

  “Marie and Penny set up a little . . . well I guess you’d call it a prank or a date or something. I’m not sure what you’d call it.”

  “What exactly did they do?” the captain asked with a raised eyebrow

  “We had the Protectorates set up a room for them, sir,” Marie said in a low voice.

  “In the cargo bay,” Penny said with a sniffle. “We just wanted to give them some alone time. They’ve done so much for all of us, it was the least we could do. We never though this would happen.”

  “Who’s them?” the captain asked as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “Cassandra and Brent,” Liz said shyly.

  “The same Cassandra you were talking to Weaver Brent about?”

  Tyra nodded to the captain.

  “Why were you talking about me?” Cassandra asked, her eyes as red as her face.

  “We were just talking about your age,” Tyra said defensively. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “My age? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “You’re sixteen. According to Commonwealth law you are still a minor. It’s illegal for you to get married or engage in sexual activity without consent from your parents or a legal guardian.”

  The troopers and
the captain all stared at Tyra.

  “You’d be surprised what you pick up as the daughter of a Governor.”

  “Oh! So you’re that dreadful woman’s daughter . . . no offense.” The captain quickly apologized.

  “None taken, sir.”

  “That could trouble him, sure enough.” Doug stared at the closed doors leading further into sickbay. “But I can’t see that taking him down. The guy is tough; a little bad news couldn’t have done that to him. After all he could out drink me any day, and he never showed any signs of it in the morning.”

  “That’s not saying much, Dougie,” Marie said in annoyance. “What about the scream? What could have caused that?”

  “He didn’t make a sound when he was tossed around in heavy gravity,” Ronald said. “If he cried out so loudly, the pain must have been unimaginable.”

  Kindra put her arm around Cassandra as she started to cry openly. The other troopers tried not to make eye contact; a few batted at misty eyes. A man covered in grease entered through the damaged door Mahoney had ripped open.

  “Chief engineer Robert reporting, Captain.” The man saluted briefly.

  “Well?” the captain asked expectantly.

  “Nothing wrong with the 3P. According to the internal log, it shut down due to a sharp influx of random data points that resulted in a cascade failure of the secondary process flow control system.”

  “Right . . . here’s an idea,” Cain said. “Let’s pretend for a minute that we haven’t spent the last decade studying engineering and have no idea what you just said. You know, for kicks.”

  “Basically put, the 3P got too much information too quickly and overloaded.”

  “Why couldn’t he have just said that in the first place?” Humphrey mumbled under his breath.

  “Knock it off!” Kindra said while consoling Cassandra. “Show some sympathy.”

  Cain and Humphrey looked at the floor in shame. The short fat doctor entered the waiting room, cracking his knuckles as he walked.

  “Never seen anything like it,” the doctor said more to himself than anyone else. “He should be awake, but he’s not. He doesn’t even have the common symptoms of a coma patient, not that I’ve had many of those. Brain waves, pulse, respiration, eye movement – all of it’s normal. The lights are on but nobody is home. There is no reason for him to be unconscious.”