The Ninth: Invasion (8 page)

Tyra got up from the table and left the dining room, wiping at her eyes as she left.  Ronald got up and saluted Mrs. Lucchesi before following after his squad leader.  The troopers were stunned.  Cain continued eating.

“What a mood killer,” Cain said with a half full mouth.

Some of the troopers chuckled.  Cassandra threw her hard bread at Cain.  Mrs. Lucchesi was staring deeply into her plate.  Her entire demeanor had changed.  Brent wondered if there was any place in the Commonwealth he could hide from such drama.

Brent waited until a few troopers finished their meals before he got up and left.  He hadn’t wanted to leave too early and draw attention to himself.  Cain was full of surprises.  He had gathered from the altercation on the ship that Cain was a supporter of Core Industries, whoever they were.  Either they kept their followers well informed of company endeavors, or he had a contact inside the corporation.  In either case, all it amounted to was Cain had out foxed the Governor’s wife.  After her defeat and what Tyra had said, Mrs. Lucchesi was bound to be paying close attention to the squad’s actions from this point on.  More than anything else, Tyra’s speech had bothered him.  As Brent left the large structure, he made his way to the girl’s barracks.  Just as he was about to reach it, Cassandra came out of nowhere, grabbed his arm, and pulled him behind another empty barracks.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“I was going to talk to Tyra.  Our performance in the Gauntlet was mostly due to her actions.  I didn’t contribute as much as she thinks I did.”

“Good luck convincing her of that.  Anyway, I have something I need to talk to you about.  Dante said you were using your Weaver abilities the first day he met you.”

He stared at her for a while as he thought about it.  He recalled a cool foggy sensation the first time he had met Dante, but he hadn’t sensed anything remotely like an emotion.

“That’s impossible.  I didn’t even know I
had
any abilities until I saw the aurora around you.  And that faded a long while ago.”

She shifted uncomfortably, but continued.

“He was
insistent
that he felt it then and has ever since.  I thought you said you couldn’t sense emotions anymore – not even from me.”

“I’m not lying to you; don’t jump to conclusions.  I do remember feeling a cold fog from Dante that first day, but that was it.”

“A cold fog?”

“That’s the best I can describe it.  I can tell when other people are trying to block Weaver abilities.”

“Well, if you can tell when people are blocking your abilities. . .”

“Then I must have those abilities in the first place.  I figured that.  But I still have no idea why I can’t sense emotions.”

“So, you can’t feel anything from me at all?” Cassandra asked with a worried expression.

“Well, that’s not entirely true.  Don’t get mad at me, but there is this kind of . . .
warmth
I get from you every now and then.”

“Every now and then?”

“Let’s just say times that would make you blush if I recounted them.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were making all this stuff up,” Cassandra said as she flushed red.

“Sometimes I wish I were.  The Weavers probably would have left me alone if I wasn’t branded as one of them.  Wait a minute; Dante’s story
can’t
be true. 
Master
Weaver Davis himself confirmed I couldn’t sense anyone.”

“Dante said you didn’t alter people.  It was more like you were snooping around or something.  Maybe Weavers can only see the effects other Weavers cause.  If a Weaver doesn’t do anything, maybe the other Weavers can’t tell.”

“Snooping?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  “He said I snooped around?”

“Not exactly.  I forget the phrase he used.  But he didn’t make it sound like a bad thing.  He actually seemed to praise you for it.”

“Odd.  Well, as interesting as that is, I doubt it will help me any.  Knowing that I’m snooping around doesn’t mean much if I’m not even aware I’m doing it.  I can’t alter emotions when I can’t actively sense them.”  Brent sighed.

As he took a step toward the girls’ barracks, she pulled him back.

“Something else?” he asked as he readjusted his collar.

Cassandra looked at the ground; her skin was deep red.

“Yes?” Brent asked again as she stood silently.

“What should I do about Liz?”

“What’s wrong with Liz?”

“She keeps pressing about . . . us.”

“Oh?”

“When we were getting settled in the barracks she started asking questions.  She had just asked if we had ever kissed when we heard Cain shout.”

“So, what have you told her?”

“Nothing!  I’ve managed to avoid saying anything so far, but I’m going to have to spend the whole night with them.  If she doesn’t ask, one of the other girls will!”

“Doug was right; you really
are
all matchmakers.”

“Brent!”

“Sorry.  Well why not tell her the truth?”

“
What
?”

“Don’t tell me you regret it or something.”

“It’s not like that.”  Cassandra reddened.

“Well then, I leave it up to you.”

“What?”

“I’m not embarrassed by what we’ve done.  We haven’t done anything to be ashamed
of
.  Unless this world forbids kissing.  Something I find highly unlikely.  But if it embarrasses you, tell them whatever story you like.”

“You’re mad at me aren’t you?”  Cassandra looked down at the ground.

Brent lifted her chin and kissed her on the cheek.

“Don’t be silly.  If it makes you feel better to keep things a secret, I’m not about to stand in your way, let alone get mad at you for it.  I’m happy with us.  Why would I let what others think change that?”

“Sometimes I wonder if you are
too
understanding.”

“You’d prefer if I was a smart-aleck like Cain?” Brent asked with a grin.

“One pain in the rear is enough for me, thank you.”

“Is there anything else, or can I get to Tyra now?”

“That’s it.  Good luck.  You’ll need it to convince her of anything.”

Brent smiled and started walking toward the seventh barracks.  Peeking in the window, he spotted the other girls in the squad, but Tyra was missing.  Heading back to the fourth, Brent noticed the other guys were sitting on the dirt outside.

“Something wrong?” Brent asked.

“Two things.”  Sanderson held up two fingers.

“One,” Owen said as Sanderson lowered one finger, “the temperature control is on the fritz, so it’s an oven in there.”

“And two, Tyra is in there with Ronald,” Doug groaned as Sanderson folded the other finger, “probably crying her eyes out.”

“Ronald left strict orders no one was to enter until they were finished,” Sanderson said.

“Not like he had to order us out; I could hear my brains sizzling,” Humphrey mumbled.

“So you’ve all just been sitting here ever since?” Brent asked.

“Not like we have a lot of options,” Cain said with a disappointed moan.  “No observation deck on a planet.  And I’m not exactly in the mood to do laps around our makeshift common room out here.”

“I expected more from you, Cain,” Brent said with a growing grin.  “A true bookie would never give in so easily.”

“What
are
you talking about?”

“You had the wife of a Governor over a barrel in her own house, but you have to think this one out?  Think about it.  Not all these barracks were empty when we got here, but now they are.  What does that tell you?”

“That everyone left?” Doug asked.

“Precisely.”  Brent gestured to the empty training area.  “A large force of bored Protectorates.  Now unless someone at the academy is teaching stealth classes through distance learning . . .”

“They are out on the town!” Cain said as he jumped to his feet.

“And where there are soldiers in search of entertainment . . .”

“There are credits to be made!”

“I’m so proud of you, figuring it out all on your own.”  Brent wiped at a mock tear.

The rest of the men burst into laughter as they got to their feet.  Cain acted almost like a bloodhound with the scent of a juicy bone as he left the compound.  At first, the locals kept their distance.  When the troopers stumbled across a bar filled with Protectorates, Cain was the first to break the ice with a rousing card game, one he lost of course.  As the night progressed, and the locals warmed up to the troopers, Cain started winning.  By the time they headed back to the barracks, Cain had made exactly as many credits as he had lost.  Heading back to the compound, the troopers moved quickly, as it was a bit on the chilly side.

“You could have taken them for everything they were worth.”  Mr. Springate patted Cain on the back; breaking the silence he had been maintaining the entire night.

“True, but we might be here for a while.  What would I have to gain by alienating every Protectorate on the first night?  I’d make more by winning small amounts every night than I’d ever make in a single night.”

“And tonight?” Sanderson asked.

“A wash.  Get them warmed up.  Tomorrow they will be back for more; they won’t even mind when I win just a
little
more than I lose,” Cain said with a grin.

“That’s all well and good, but could I get a hand here?” Humphrey mumbled as he carried Doug.

“Who knew Mr. Manly couldn’t handle his drinks?”  Mr. Springate gave Humphrey a hand with Doug.

“Oh, I like that!”  Cain smiled sinisterly.

“Don’t start, Cain.  Tell me, is there anything you
don’t
like?”  Dante asked with a chuckle.  “So far the list is up to betting, stories, games, nicknames, and tormenting girls.”

“Good question.  I’ll have to think about that for a while.”

“Is that Ronald sitting outside our barracks?” Sanderson asked.

Ronald was resting against the wall of the barracks, his shirt completely soaked.

“Did Tyra do that to you?” Cain asked.

“Don’t get cute,” Ronald said, fanning himself.  “It’s boiling in there.”

“Please tell me this is your idea of a joke,” Cain said with a moan.

“Sorry, my jokes don’t go higher than simmer.  Full boil is beyond me.”

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Humphrey asked, dropping Doug.

“As I see it, we have two options.”  Sanderson paused as he surveyed the grounds.  “Either we bake until we reach a golden brown, or we camp out here.”

Entering the barracks, Brent confirmed Ronald’s story.  It was hotter inside than their soup had been at dinner.  Mr. Springate rushed in behind Brent and quickly ran to his bunk.  The other troopers entered and quickly started packing up in preparation for their camp out.

“I can’t believe this.  This is down right inhuman,” Mr. Springate said as he pounded the wall next to this bunk.

A load creaking groan startled the troopers.  Dust fell from the roof, as the sound grew louder.  They all gasped as they watched the wall behind
Mr. Sneaky
start to tilt outward.  With a tremendous thump the wall crashed to the ground.  A burst of wind entered the remains of the structure.  The chilly breeze mixed with the overactive heating unit to create a surprisingly comfortable temperature.

“I don’t even want to ask,” Ronald said as he entered through where the wall had previously been standing.

The troopers settled in for the night, the dim moonlight providing a constant soft illumination on the rooftops, blending them seamlessly into the night sky.  As Brent drifted off to sleep, he wondered exactly how the academy planned to continue the troopers’ training on a planet in such poor repair.

Brent was awakened not by the familiar three tones of the academy, but by a harsh beam of light focused directly on his eyelids.  As he sat up he realized the configuration of rooftops that had seemed so beautiful the night before created a sort of sun block that cast the barracks in shadow as the sun rose.  All the
other
bunks were still in that shadow; his bunk alone was covered in morning light.  In the distance, Brent found the culprit, a single break in the rows of rooftops.  As he got out of bed, he stretched silently.  Judging from the slow crawl of the growing light, it would be a while before anyone else was woken up.

He walked over the remains of the wall they had knocked down.  Rust caked the torn edges.  The wall had planned on falling over of its own accord; Mr. Springate had simply sped up the process.  The large courtyard was completely empty.  The gentle cool breeze of early morning was his only companion.  Normally, Brent would head to the stalls, but he doubted he’d be able to find them on his own – assuming this world even had such things.  The last thing he wanted was to get lost this early in the morning.  Casually, he walked around the parameter of the compound.  The dirt underfoot was well trampled; thousands of footprints pointed in every direction.