The Ninth: Invasion (12 page)

“Need something, Philip?” Brent asked.

The other guards in blue exchanged shocked glances.

“See!  I told you he was friendly.  Brent, could you help us out for a bit?” Philip asked nervously.

“I might have to check my appointments.”  He smiled.  “I might just be too busy doing
nothing
all night to help you out.  What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was telling everyone about how you helped me out, showed me the proper way of doing things.  They were wondering if you could show them, too.”

“Fair enough, but not here.  Let’s get a little distance from the barracks, where we have plenty of room to move around in.”

Philip led the group out to a wide-open space in the compound.

“Okay, this spot looks good,” Brent said with a nod.  “So, what did they want me to show them?”

“Just the basics really, how to hold our rifles and things like that.  So we can look professional like your squad does.”

“Okay, everyone, get into rows.”

The Protectorates moved into a loose formation.  There was no doubt they were amateurs, but after a few practice orders, it was obvious they suffered from a lack of training, not skill.  There was definitely potential in the squad, they just didn’t know what to do.  Brent worked with the group for quite a while, showing them how to position themselves to make a neat formation.  It took several tries, but he managed to get them to hold their rifles properly, too.  Not everyone was as quick a learner as Philip, but they were anything but slow.  After that, he instructed them how to take better care of their uniforms.  He figured they’d never be as proper as Sanderson, but they were eager to learn anything.  Philip brought the group dinner, which was another serving of the meat goop filled rolls.  Brent wondered if that was the only type of food available on the plant.  By the time the sun had set completely, he had taught them enough to give the appearance of a well-trained group.

“Thank you for helping us,” Philip said as he gestured to the other Protectorates.

The Protectorates formed two neat rows, just as Brent had showed them, and together bowed to him like the tripods did.  He had to blink as the sudden action caught him completely off guard.  Together, the entire group of Protectorates marched off toward the barracks in near-perfect formation.  Brent made his way to his bunk, scratching his head.  He wondered if it had been such a good idea to show Philip the bow.  The motion had an odd way of spreading.  When he got back to his bunk, the other troopers were already back from the town.  Doug was passed out in his bunk.

“You missed a killer game,” Cain said while tapping on his pad.

“Apparently Cain wasn’t the only one playing nice the other night.”  Sanderson gingerly laid back on the creaking bunk.  “Tonight they showed their true colors.”

“They are almost as good as I am. 
Almost
,” Cain said with a grin.

“How much did you make tonight?” Brent asked.

“Enough.  They probably think I was just lucky.”

With the wall back in place, the barracks were a little stuffy, but no one complained.  No one tempted fate, knowing what the little heating unit was capable of.  When Brent settled down for the night, he suddenly became aware of just how sore he was.  Fixing the barracks hadn’t been
that
strenuous, and training the Protectorate had been easy.  Given how people seemed a bit shorter on average, he found himself wondering if perhaps the gravity was just a bit heavier than normal.  It took him a while, but he managed to drift off to sleep.

In the morning another ray of light awakened him.  The wall was back in place, but a poorly placed window let the light blind him anyway.  The showers were just as temperamental has they had been the day before.  The image on the monitor had been larger than before but still too small to see clearly.  It was about as large as a clenched fist.  Tyra led the squad in an informal training session.  Without the assistance of an exam room, all they could do was practice formations and work on their reaction time.  It did help pass the time, though.  When Tyra called it a day, Cain rushed off to raid the local bars.

Brent had to chuckle as Cain showed more effort in his mad dash than in any of the day’s training.  Some of the troopers went with him, while others searched for other sources of amusement.  Before the squad had dispersed far, he spotted Philip approaching.  When the two reached the same training spot from the day before, Brent couldn’t help but notice the waiting group of Protectorates had increased in size.  Thankfully, the training made quick work of the remaining day, and the new guards in blue
desperately
needed the help.

Before Brent even knew it, he had forged a routine on Deriso.  Battling the sun and the shower in the morning.  Laughing as the image on the monitor grew ever so slightly or distorted wildly each day.  Training with Tyra until they ran out of things to do. The only real change in his routine was the size of the waiting Protectorates.  Every night, Brent found an ever-larger group of Protectorates eagerly awaiting his instruction.  It wasn’t exactly a riveting way to spend a day, but it was better than doing nothing at all.

After another long day, Brent settled down for the night.  He couldn’t believe that more than a week had already passed.  It was amusing to think that after so long a time they still hadn’t gotten the monitor in the courtyard working right.  The group he had instructed had been the largest yet, easily the size of a division.  His last thought as he drifted to sleep was how much larger could the group possibly grow.  His reverie didn’t last long.  It felt as if he had just gotten to sleep when two hands roughly shook him.

“Brent, get up, we’ve got trouble!” Cain shouted at him.

“What’s wrong?  You lose your game of cards?” he asked drowsily.

“We’re at war!”

Cain pulled Brent out of bed before the words had sunk in.

“What you do mean,
at war
?” he asked as the drowsiness faded.  “Over a card game?”

“Forget the card games!  The ITU has declared war on the Commonwealth.  We have got to get out of here.  There is a CI ship at the landing pad.”

“A CI ship?”

“Focus, Brent!” Cain said forcefully.  “There is a trade ship from Core Industries waiting for us.  My father had it hiding nearby in case something like this happened.”

“Have you awoken the others yet?”

“I was just about to, but you have to get out of here
now
.”

With a single shove, he pushed Brent out of the barracks.  The calm of the night was eerie.  Cain had said they were at war, but the city was still fast asleep, the citizens content and warm in their dreams.  If the Commonwealth was indeed at war, Brent knew what he had to do.  As he dashed off, he was relieved to see the girls already leaving their barracks for the landing pad.  The command building at the center of the Protectorate compound was just as run down and dilapidated as the rest of the city.  Brent opened the door with more strength than was necessary, knocking it off its hinges.

“What’s the meaning of this?” a wrinkled Protectorate asked, half asleep.

“Get me a communications link to the other cities,
now
!” he shouted at the lethargic guard in blue.

“Who do you think you are?  You can’t just barge in here in the middle of the night and start giving out orders.”

“We don’t have time for this.  Every moment you delay is going to cost lives.”

“I don’t care if the sky itself is falling.  If you don’t have authorization from the Governor, there is nothing I can do for you.”

A doorway on the opposite side of the room gently swung open.  A young Protectorate was swiping at his eyes.

“What’s all the racket out here?” the young guard in blue asked with a yawn.  “Don’t you have any idea what time it is?”

“Philip!  I’ve got to get word out to the other cities, and I’ve got to do it
now
!”

“Brent?  Word out about what . . . Never mind, I can tell it’s important.  Jackson, get him a link.”

“But I need . . .”

“He’s a
trooper
of the military.  Do you
really
want to argue with him?”

The lethargic guard finally jumped to action, fiddling with toggles and switches.

“Thanks, Philip,” Brent said as he waited.  “I’ve got a mission for you.”

“A mission?  A real live mission?”

“An important one, too.  Get
everyone
up.  Have the Protectorate evacuate the city.  There is a trade ship at the landing pads; get the citizens onboard as soon as possible.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“The
how
doesn’t matter.  If they don’t get on that ship before it takes off, they are dead.  Do whatever it takes.”

Philip turned white.  After the shock faded, he ran off, almost tripping over himself.  As the lethargic guard handed him a primitive looking microphone, he could hear an alarm sounding in the background.

“Attention, all Protectorate forces,” Brent started.  “This is an official alert from the Commonwealth military.  Evacuate your cities.  I repeat, evacuate your cities.  Abandon the cities and hide out in the mountains and countryside.  Any place with thick enough cover to blot out the sky.”

“This is Protectorate sub-commander Tsuchiya.”  A speaker hissed and groaned to life.  “What’s the meaning of this order?”

“The Independent Traders Union has formally declared war on the Commonwealth.  We have reason to believe they are headed here as we speak,” Brent said into the microphone.

“You can’t be serious.  Why would the ITU declare war?”

“Does it matter at this point?  The ITU is on the war path and we are in the way.”

“Regardless, it is our duty as Protectorates to safeguard this world.  We will not abandon our homes because a bunch of traders want to play war.”

“No offense, sub-commander, but I’ve worked with your Protectorate forces, and they don’t stand a chance against an organized enemy.  If you stand your ground, the ITU will destroy you
and
the citizens under your guard.”

“Are you saying we are outclassed by
businessmen
?”

“No, I’m saying you are outclassed by the soldiers those businessmen can afford to pay.  Tell me, sub-commander, what is the condition of your orbital defense array?  Do you even have one?”

“. . .”  The speaker went silent.

“Sub-commander?”

“Point taken.  We couldn’t shoot down a fly, let alone a warhead.  But what good will evacuating into the forests and mountains do?”

“We are in the process of evacuating the capital city.  We are taking the populous off world.  If the ITU invades, they will find the city completely empty.  With some luck they’ll think it’s the same story for all the other cities.  If they believe the entire planet had been abandoned, they’ll most likely loot what they can and move on.”

“I see.  We’ll begin evacuating immediately.”

“After you get the word out, maintain silence.  We don’t want the ITU picking up a stray transmission.”

“Understood. Good luck, sir.  Take down a few of those Union dogs for me.”

“I’ll do my best.  Good luck to all of us.”

The lethargic guard was white as a sheet.  The speakers hissed and hummed as the Protectorate forces all over the planet started relaying the order to evacuate.

“Tell me, do you have a family?” Brent asked the pale guard.

The guard nodded glumly.

“Then what are you doing here?  Get them to the landing pad!”

“But my post . . . I
have
to man the communication network.”

Brent took the guard’s firearm and fired two shots at the console.  In a large burst of sparks and smoke the station went dead.  The speakers faded to silence.

“It looks like this station is temporally out of service,” Brent said with a wink.  “Go take care of your family.”

The pale guard nodded and rushed off toward the city.  The compound was completely empty as Brent ran across the empty courtyard toward the Governor’s mansion.  Every Protectorate and trooper was no doubt busy coordinating loading of the transport.  It was pandemonium inside.  Loud blaring alarms were echoing off the tall ceilings.  Making his way deeper into the structure, Brent found it completely empty.  Broken plates and dropped finery covered the dining room.  The servants had apparently left in a hurry.  Every room was similar, with half completed tasks littering the floors.  Finally, he made his way to the throne room.  Jumping over the fountains, he entered through the massive door at the rear of the room.

The Governor and his wife had entered from behind the doorway on the first day the troopers had landed.  With any luck, they would be somewhere beyond.  An elaborate foyer greeted him.  Dozens of doorways led to several smaller chambers.  Through open doors he could make out bathrooms, reading rooms, and other rooms designed for daily life.  At the farthest edge of the foyer was a large closed door standing imposingly.  Brent quickly charged the heavy door and pushed it open with all his might.  The door slowly creaked open.  He ducked as a projectile flew at him.  As it rested on the floor, he recognized it as a pillow.