The Ninth: Invasion

by Benjamin Schramm

  “That’s enough excitement for one morning,” Chelsea said, trying to regain composure. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before we get to Reloas.”

  After a brief salute, Chelsea turned and quickly walked away. Liz grabbed Marie’s collar and started pulling her.

  “Would you please wait a moment,” Liz called out to the quickly retreating Chelsea.

  “What is it?” Chelsea asked, without turning to face them.

  “Could you take us to the stalls? I don’t know my way around the ship,” Liz asked in her usual shy voice.

  Chelsea’s demeanor softened as Liz caught up to her.

  “Guess we should hurry.” Ronald started following Liz. “Unless we want to be left behind.”

  With a few more yawns and some minor grumbling, the squad followed Chelsea down the corridors to the stalls. As they made their way, Brent couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of the familiar surroundings. He knew he was on a warship, but everywhere he looked, something reminded him of the academy. Brent was surprised there was no line for the stalls. The Harbinger either had a smaller crew than expected or they were all late risers. Before he could make his way to a free stall, Owen grabbed his shoulder. He waited but Owen didn’t say a thing until Chelsea was inside her own stall.

  “What’s wrong?” Brent asked.

  “Not so loud,” Owen said as he gestured for him to whisper.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  “I didn’t want to alarm anyone, but we need to talk about your leg.”

  “Is something wrong? It feels fine.”

  “That’s the thing. There is nothing wrong with your leg. Nothing I can see at least. If I hadn’t tended the wound myself, I’d have to wonder if you’d been shot at all.”

  “It healed overnight?” Brent asked in surprise.

  “Something like that. You’ll have a scar, but it is going to look like you cut yourself while shaving or something. Not like a rifle blast almost severed your leg.”

  “Shaving my legs?” he asked with a grin.

  “Sure, joke around. I’m worried.”

  “Well, what can we do?”

  “Nothing at the minute. But please take it easy on the leg. It looks good, but I don’t have the equipment to get a full scan. I don’t want you straining it and injuring it again.”

  He nodded and patted Owen reassuringly on the shoulder. With a sigh, he headed toward a free stall. By the time the squad was finished, Chelsea was long gone. The job was left to Brent to lead the group back to their bunks. When they made it back, the troopers from the ship were starting to form neat rows.

  Cain tried to start up a conversation or two, only to be shut down. Apparently Tyra’s squad had yet to earn the privilege to speak freely with them. Despite their rudeness, Brent had to give them some credit; they were a very close group. They called one another Harbingers, not troopers. When Harper addressed them as “Harbingers of the Abyss,” their chests swelled with pride. Of course, he continued to call Tyra and the rest, recruits.

  Harper ordered Tyra’s squad and the rest of the his troopers through intense drills. From the significant amounts of sweat saturating the Harbinger’s shirts, Brent gathered the drills were much more difficult than they were normally accustomed to. Harper was giving it his all to break the newcomers. After a fair bit of intense exertion, the first started to collapse. To Harper’s chagrin, those who couldn’t take any more were not from Tyra’s squad. Several in her squad were panting heavily, but they still had more in them.

  After a long pause for a jump, Harper pressed on, increasing the difficulty of the exercises and drills. It took a while, but eventually the first of Tyra’s squad was done. Twenty-seven of Harper’s Harbingers had collapsed before Angela gave up. Brent noticed with a smile she had given up, not collapsed. Harper looked like he wanted to slaughter her as Angela casually walked off and took a seat with the unconscious Harbingers. Harper took out his frustration on those still left. As Harper increased the difficulty of his orders, the rate of dropping troopers increased.

  After a seeming eternity, there were only a handful of people left. Those who had collapsed or given up earlier had started cheering on the survivors. The sound of their cheering almost masked the panting of those who remained, almost. He wondered if Harper planned to keep it up until every single member of Tyra’s squad had given up. Unfortunately for Harper, he still had several to work through. Beside himself, Cassandra, Ronald, Hiroko and Dante were still ready for more. Mr. Springate was the last one to have dropped.

  Brent had thought he’d last longer, but it was obvious Mr. Springate’s training was in stealth. His movements were almost silent, but they used up too much energy. Tyra and the rest of the squad showered him with praise for lasting so long. Tyra herself had waited until about half her squad had given up before throwing in the towel. He could clearly make out the seething hatred on Harper’s face as he surveyed the remaining seventeen Harbingers. Brent had tried to keep count, but it was near impossible to keep up with the drills and keep track of every person who had given up. Although he didn’t have an exact number, he had a rough idea of their size.

  The Harbingers of the Abyss numbered about twice as large as a normal division, with somewhere between two hundred and two hundred fifty troopers. As they completed his last drill, Harper would call out the next one without allowing a moment’s rest. Hiroko and Dante both gave up before they completed the drill, along with five Harbingers. He was exhausted, but through sheer will alone managed to keep pressing his body to move. Cassandra seemed tired but not as much as she should have. Being a heavy-worlder must have made it easier for her to keep going.

  Brent started to wonder how many of the twelve Harbingers left were heavy-worlders. He hadn’t noticed anyone else coping with the added gravity when the ship had left Eos, but it wouldn’t be hard to miss a few out of a couple of hundred faces. As Harper was about to give his next set of orders, the P.A. alerted them the ship was jumping. With a wicked grin, Harper ordered them all to continue despite the coming Wall. Some of the Harbingers seemed to be disturbed by the idea, but Ronald and Cassandra remained perfectly calm. Brent was actually looking forward to the Wall. For a few moments the Wall would hold him still; it would almost be a rest.

  It took the Wall forever to get to them. The living quarters for the troopers must have been near the rear of the long ship. As the Wall approached them, Harper made them take a strenuous position that put all their weight on their left legs. Brent wondered if Chelsea had told Harper about his injury or if he’d noticed it last night. Cassandra and several of his friends looked at him in concern as he took the directed stance. Cassandra had been so caught up with Brent she had forgotten to take the position herself, and Harper gleefully ordered her to sit with the rest of those who had given up. Three of Harper’s men followed Cassandra in missing the stance, with their eyes firmly fixed on the Wall.

  The tingling sensation of the Wall was incredibly refreshing to Brent’s aching muscles. After it had passed through the room, Harper shouted his next orders. They were down to Brent, Ronald, and nine of his Harbingers. Two more Harbingers gave up before the next drill was over. Harper stared down Brent and Ronald with rage in his eyes. Brent had to wince when Harper gave his next order. The volume of the shout had no doubt strained his vocal cords. As he hopped to the orders, he spied Harper rubbing his neck.

  A loud gasp diverted Brent’s attention from Harper. Ronald was on the ground. With the last of his strength, he slammed his fist on the floor plating. Tyra quickly rushed out to help him. Ronald was breathing deeply, on the verge of losing consciousness. Tyra shot a dark stare at Harper. The diminutive commander ignored her completely as his gaze locked firmly on Brent. Now he was in trouble. There was no way he could let Tyra down now. Harper pressed on with drills so difficult he wondered if they were safe.

  Brent lost track of time as he forced his body to move on. The only measure of time was the infrequent thuds made by the collapsi
ng troopers. He let out a labored sigh of relief when he heard the last of Harper’s men collapse. Brent’s heart sank when he heard Harper give the next set of instructions. Harper wasn’t going to quit until Brent had given in to him, physically in collapse or mentally in defeat. Every muscle in his body begged him to stop as he continued to follow the demented orders. As he was nearing the end of a complex drill, he saw a figure approaching Harper. He had to work to focus his mind on anything but continuous movement. The figure was Chelsea. She was leaning over Harper’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. He started to protest, but she kept whispering. With a startled look on his face, Harper pulled out his pad. Harper’s eyes widened as he stared at the pad.

  “Good work everyone. Dismissed,” Harper said curtly as soon as Brent finished the drill.

  The commander and the rest of the Harbingers silently left the room, all of them watching him in disbelief. Cassandra offered a shoulder, but Brent waved her off; he wasn’t about to give Harper the satisfaction. It took every ounce of strength left in his body to keep himself from toppling over. The moments seemed to pass in slow motion as the two hundred plus Harbingers left the room. As the last one filed through the door, Brent held his breath as he waited for it to seal. As soon as it shut, he collapsed in place.

  “Are you okay?” Marie asked in a panic.

  “After that?” Sanderson asked. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “Give him some air,” Liz said in a panic. “Owen, is he going to be okay?”

  Owen checked his pulse and vitals as the others waited anxiously.

  “Their commander is a killer!” Kindra shouted.

  “How could he have done that to his own people?” Tyra asked.

  “Brent’s weak but he’ll be okay,” Owen said, helping him to his feet. “I don’t recommend we do that again.”

  “Don’t worry,” Humphrey mumbled as he balled a fist. “I don’t plan on letting anything like that happen again.”

  “Revenge,” Mahoney sneered.

  “I don’t think he’d like us starting trouble,” Cassandra said, taking Brent from Owen.

  “Just give us the word, sir,” Dante said, joining Mahoney and Humphrey.

  He didn’t have the energy left to respond in any meaningful way.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Cain said, putting a hand on Dante’s shoulder. “After all, Ronald is barely with us. And I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty exhausted myself.”

  Dante looked at Cain angrily but relaxed his fist.

  “Where exactly did they all go?” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Humphrey mumbled. “We don’t need those sheep. If they want to follow someone who has no regard for their well-being, that’s their business.” Humphrey clenched his fist so tightly it started to turn red.

  “Well, something stopped them,” Rhea said, putting a hand on Humphrey’s fist. “Maybe we should follow them.”

  “Does anyone have the time?” Angela asked, sounding perfectly well rested in stark contrast to the rest of the weary squad.

  “What?” Doug asked.

  “The time. I was the first to call it quits and that was forever ago. What time has it gotten to?”

  Cain quickly pulled out his pad. After a glance he started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Tyra asked.

  “It’s past lunchtime. Brent kept up with that idiot for the entire morning!”

  “No way . . .” Cassandra stared at the barely conscious Brent.

  “If you don’t believe me, take a look for yourself.” Cain tossed his pad to her free hand.

  “I don’t believe it.” She rechecked the pad twice.

  “If he calls us recruits after this,” Humphrey mumbled in a low voice, “I say we toss him out an air lock.”

  “I second that,” Doug said with a smile.

  “Third,” Mahoney seethed.

  “At least we know where they all went,” Tyra said shaking her head. “But to think they could eat after watching that . . .”

  “Attempted homicide works up quite an appetite,” Cain said with a grin.

  “That’s enough jokes for now,” Angela said, putting a hand on Cain’s shoulder.

  “She’s right.” Sanderson hefted Ronald. “Lets try to get these guys to the mess hall. Something to drink and a bite to eat would do them good.”

  Humphrey quickly helped Sanderson carry Ronald. He moaned slightly at the indignity of being carried but was in no condition to resist. The squad slowly made their way into the hallway, carrying and dragging their exhausted friends.

  “Fantastic,” Hiroko grumbled. “They left us behind without a map. Anyone have a clue where we should head?”

  “I could guide you,” a small voice said.

  Standing in the hallway just ahead was Chelsea. She had obviously been waiting for them. Tyra stared at her with murder in her eyes.

  “If you’d rather wander aimlessly.” Chelsea shrugged.

  “Just shut up and take us,” Sanderson said forcefully.

  Chelsea straightened in response. Kindra raised an eyebrow as she studied Sanderson. As Chelsea guided them down the corridors, she’d pause every now and then to make sure she wasn’t leaving the slow moving squad behind.

  “I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kindra whispered to him.

  “Guess I’m more than just a stuffed shirt.”

  Sanderson smiled slightly as they made their way to the mess hall. About halfway there, Ronald tapped on Sanderson’s shoulder.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as he set Ronald down.

  “Like I was just run over by one of those containers from Eos.”

  “At least you’re back on your feet,” Humphrey mumbled.

  Without having to carry Ronald, the squad was able to move at a more normal pace. Cassandra easily kept up as she single-handedly supported Brent. The mess hall was about a third full when they all reached it. Tyra picked out an empty spot as far away from the Harbingers as possible. Half the squad helped the exhausted to their seats as the rest fetched their meals. When the others returned with food, they spotted Chelsea following them.

  “Mind if I join you?” Chelsea asked.

  “Yes,” Mahoney said coldly.

  “Don’t mind him,” Angela said. “Have a seat.”

  “Is the Weaver all right?” Chelsea asked in a small voice.

  “Brent is fine,” Cassandra said. “No thanks to all of you.”

  She helped him carve up his meal. His bites were slow and labored, but he managed to start eating by himself.

  “So, what’s next?” Cain asked. “Death march? Water torture? Duels to the death?”

  “Nothing like that . . . we don’t normally do things like that,” Chelsea said, stirring her meal absentmindedly.

  “Lucky to be us, eh?” Ronald asked.

  Chelsea didn’t answer him. The group ate in silence. After she finished her meal, she quickly left the group.

  “So does she feel bad for us, or just not like us?” Marie asked, watching Chelsea leave the mess hall.

  “Probably a bit of each,” Tyra said. “What do you think, Angela?”

  “She doesn’t like us much, but it’s not hate. Just irritation.”

  “That’s it? Irritation?”

  “Pretty much.” Angela shrugged. “There is a hint of concern, but it’s not really for us. She feels it strongest when she is around Harper.”

  “Hold on a second. You’re telling us the only reason she’s being nice at all is because she’s concerned over that maniac?” Erin asked.

  “That’s my guess.”

  “Guess? Don’t you know?” Doug asked.

  “She’s a Weaver, Doug, she’s not psychic,” Cain said with a smile. “She knows what you are feeling, not why.”

  “So does anyone know how long until we get there?” Marie asked.

  “Does it matter?” Humphrey mumbled. “We probably won’t last long enough in any case.�
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  “Think of it this way,” Brent said weakly with a faint smile. “There is no way the ITU could do worse to us.”

  “Welcome back to the land of the conscious. Did you enjoy your trip?” Cain asked with a playful grin.

  “I thought I told you not to strain yourself,” Owen said with a small smile.

  “Good to hear you’re with us, sir.” Dante shot a glance at Humphrey.

  “So what do you plan on doing?” Humphrey asked Brent.

  “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

  “Vengeance,” Mahoney said flatly.

  A smile pulled at his lip as he let out a weak laugh. Before long the chuckling turned into a sickly sounding cough. Brent put up a hand to the worried Cassandra.

  “I’m okay, just a little weak. Why would I need vengeance?” he asked.

  “How can you ask that?” Dante asked. “After what he did . . .”

  “What he tried to do. Maybe I dreamed up the whole thing, but I think I was still standing when he left. This victory is clearly ours.”

  “But, sir . . .”

  “No buts. Whatever Harper has planned is meaningless. Before long we’ll be dropping into a combat zone, and I don’t think playing these stupid games will prepare us for that.”

  “He has a point,” Ronald said, trying to sound stronger than he was.

  “So, what should we do?” Erin asked. “Don’t we have to follow Harper?”

  “Do we? Last time I checked we are recruits. He might be the leader of the Harbingers but, as he’s made abundantly clear, we’re not worthy of being one of them,” Brent said weakly with a tiny grin.

  “I love it!” Cain chuckled. “He can complain all he wants, but he has no formal power over us.”

  “Sounds like it’s time to do our own thing,” Tyra said with a smile.

  “Let’s show Harper what recruits can do!” Sanderson said, with an eager grin on his face.

  With Brent’s assistance, the squad made its way to the main 3P repository on the ship. Rhea helped pick combat 3Ps that had similar conditions to Reloas. For the rest of the day, Tyra’s squad ran through every possible scenario. They attempted everything from sub-orbital combat drops to ship-to-ship combat. At first, the results were downright pathetic. As they became more comfortable, they started winning more and more scenarios.