The Ninth: Invasion (20 page)

“That I can’t tell you, don’t really know myself.  It’s just a feeling I get from her.”

“Fair enough.  Made for an exciting meal.  There might be a future for that pair in dinner theater.”

“I doubt that, sir.  It would be too expensive to repair the damage they cause during their
act
.”

“Good point.”  Brent chuckled to himself.  “Enough with Cain and his nonsense.  Tell me, what do you think of that Marie girl.”

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“I ran through a 3P with her today.  Knocked me clean over with what she called a ‘pat.’  Said she hits you twice as hard.”

“Oh really?  Well, isn’t it lucky to be me.”  He rolled his eyes and flexed his shoulder.  “She’s okay, I suppose, but kind of a nuisance.”

“How so?”

“Too outspoken for my taste.  Plus those wallops to the back get old quick.”

“I guess.  Never really thought of her as outspoken.  Then again, with Cain blathering on and on, everyone else tends to fade into the background.”

“I’ll drink to that!”  Dante grinned widely.  “Speaking of which, did you have anything planned for this evening, sir?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.  Why?  You got something in mind?”

“Not really.  How was the 3P?  Tyra said she was going to run through it.  Thought I might tag along.”

“It was . . . interesting.  Make sure to bring some bug spray.”

Dante nodded with a chuckle as he got up and left.  Once again Brent was alone with nothing to do.  Back on the academy there was always something to do or that needed to be done.  Deriso hadn’t been as exciting, but there was still plenty to do to pass the hours away.  The same couldn’t be said for this crate; for the first time Brent could remember he was bored stiff.  The idea of running the same horrid 3P a second time in the same day was totally repulsive.  Losing what credits he had to Cain was even less attractive.  The only task he really
had
to do was relay Dante’s opinion to Marie.

There was a fun idea, telling her he thought she was a nuisance.  A shiver ran down Brent’s spine at the thought of what her “pat” would be like when she was upset.  Leaving the miniature mess hall behind, he wondered what to do.  A sudden idea sparked into his mind.  Tell Liz.  She would certainly inform Marie for him and there was no way Marie would slap Liz’s back so hard.  He quickly moved down the corridors toward the stalls.  To his surprise, they were all unoccupied when he arrived.  Like the rest of the ship, they were barely large enough to fulfill their function.  Brent knew he had heard Liz say she was going to use one.  Could she have already finished?  Had he waited in the mess hall
that
long?  Pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time.  It was later than he expected, but not overly so.

Sneaking up on the recreation room, Brent stole a glance into the interior before anyone could notice him.  Just as he expected, Cain was knee deep in another game.  Several other troopers were “enjoying” the 3P, and a few were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink or two.  However, Liz wasn’t one of them.  He checked their quarters to no avail, as the room was completely empty.  Made sense though; their bunks were too small to really enjoy using them.  Scratching his head, Brent wondered where else the remaining troopers could be hiding.  With a resigned sigh, he headed back to the recreation room and pulled up a chair at Cain’s card game.  He’d endured incredible pain and been to the brink of death; surely a simple card game couldn’t be worse than all that . . . right?

“Brent!” Cain shouted excitedly.  “About time you showed up.  I knew you couldn’t keep yourself away from the real action.”

“Not like I had a huge wealth of options.”

“I guess, but you decided to come here of your own free will.”  A long grin lined Cain’s face from ear to ear.  “Remember that.”

“Are we going to play or chat?” a crewmember with a uniform covered in a mystery fluid asked impatiently.

“Relax, Robert, relax.”  Cain started dealing the cards.  “The night is young.”

“Seriously, are you in that big of a hurry to lose again?” a second crewmember asked with a chuckle.

“Like you did any better?  What’s Mrs. Riley going to say when you tell her you lost so badly?” Robert asked with a slight smirk.

“Him? Married?”  A tall slender female snickered as she took a seat.

“Miss Carrero!”  Cain retrieved the cards he’d already dealt and reshuffled the deck.  “I was worried you might miss tonight’s game.”

“After this afternoon?  I have to earn back what I lost to you.”

“Give it up.”  Robert anxiously drummed on the table, waiting for the new cards.  “What Master Hooten takes, he keeps.”

“No need to be so formal.  Call me Cain.”

“So, who’s this?” Miss Carrero asked.  “Clearly not a citizen of Deriso nor is he any crewmember I’ve met.  After a month I doubt there is a single person I haven’t met, so that means you’ve got to be one of Cain’s friends from the academy.”

“Please to meet you, Miss Carrero.  You can call me Brent, or Cain’s next victim.  Whichever you prefer.”

The crewmembers around the table chuckled as they studied the cards Cain had dealt them.  Cain had taught the game to Brent back on Deriso.  It was a deceptively simple game at first glance, but in reality it was quite troublesome to play well, requiring a great deal of observation and memorization.  The object of the game was to collect certain cards, while passing off others to your opponents based on the top card of the deck.  There was no time limit, so in theory a game could go on forever, although he had more than enough time on his hands.  Cain dealt the final card and flipped over the top card, placing it in the center of the table.  In the center of the card was an illustration of a man holding a two-pronged sword; the number nine surrounded the edges.

If what Cain had told him was correct, that meant that he had to obtain nine mêlée weapon cards while getting rid of all his ranged cards.  The deck was divided into the four groups of swords, spears, rifles, and rockets.  His hand had an over abundance of rifles and rockets; this wouldn’t be an easy game for him.  Brent smiled to himself, even a simple card game tended to be an uphill battle for him.

As he was sitting to Cain’s right, Robert had the first move.  He was shifting his cards around nervously.  He had been so anxious to start, that his sudden trepidation had to mean he had a bad hand.  Casting fleeting glances around the table, Robert decided his move.  Picking out a card, he placed it face down in front of him.

“All right, Master Hooten, let’s see what you’ve got.”  Robert tried not to look nervous.

Cain quickly glanced through his hand and put down a card.  Robert and Cain flipped over their cards at the same time.  Cain’s card was a rifleman with the number eight around the border.  Robert’s card was a rocket man with the number ten around the edge.  Cain discarded his card as the number around Robert’s reduced to two.  Brent would have thought the effort to make the cards change numbers so elaborately was a waste, but he had seen the impressive hauls Cain had fleeced out of newcomers to the game.  The expense of the card’s design was nothing compared to the winnings exchanged after a long night.

Cain collected Robert’s used card, while Robert drew a fresh one from the deck.  From his expression, Robert had clearly gotten a ranged card.  Mr. Riley was much harder to read.  He calmly and quietly looked through his cards and placed one face down.  Without a word, he pointed at Cain.  Cain put down a card, and the two flipped over their cards.  Cain had reused the rocket man card he had gotten from Robert.  Mr. Riley’s card was a spearman with the number one ringing the illustration.  Mr. Riley discarded his spearman as Cain’s card reduced to one.  With a quick gesture, Mr. Riley pointed at a card from Cain’s hand, and Cain handed it over, face down.

Mr. Riley smiled for an instant when he placed the card in his hand, probably a
mêlée card.  Cain drew from the deck.  Brent looked through his hand as the others watched him expectantly.  Using a card of middle strength, he challenged Miss Carrero.  Her card was of the same strength as his, so they both collected their cards, the attack a bust.

However, he had learned she had a ranged card of middle strength and that she was very good at the game.  As she made her turn, she gave away no hints as to what she was thinking; he couldn’t even be sure if she was satisfied with the card she had drawn.  Cain went about his turn in the same fashion.  Brent was against two experts, an average player, and a poor player.  There went his hopes for a light game to pass the time, Cain and Miss Carrero were playing for keeps.  Robert and Mr. Riley wouldn’t pose much of a threat, but even with them out of the running, he wasn’t certain he could beat two experts at once.  When Cain had been teaching him the game, Brent rarely won, and that was just against Cain in teaching matches when he was obviously going easy on him.

“I didn’t know you played cards,” Cassandra said, taking a seat next to him.

“No talking!” Robert said in annoyance as he shifted through his cards.

“Really?” she asked quietly.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sandra, it’s not a rule or anything.”  Cain’s face looked like a bird of prey circling a wounded animal.  “Feel free to talk as much as you want.  Just try to let Robert have his moment of peace.”

Cassandra sighed.  Cain had to be in a good mood if he called her that again.  Politely, she watched silently as Robert made his move.  Another attack against Cain; this time he lost.  As the pair swapped and collected cards as necessary, Cassandra tapped Brent on the shoulder.

“Can I talk now?” she whispered.

“Of course you can, dear,” Miss Carrero said warmly.  “Another one of Cain’s friends?”

“You could put it that way,” Cassandra said frostily.

“Aw, you wound me.”  Cain leaned back in his chair as he smiled at Cassandra.  “I thought we were good friends by now.”

“The only true friends you have are your credits,” Angela said, taking a seat between Cain and Robert.

Cassandra snickered as Cain sat forward again.  Angela wouldn’t let him relax, and he knew it.  As Mr. Riley took his turn, Brent noticed that Angela had sounded like she was attempting to provoke Cain.  Dante might have been right about her starting the fight in the mess
room
.  Thinking of it as a mess hall was giving it more credit than it deserved.

“So, who’s winning?” Cassandra asked as Brent looked over his cards.

“That’s hard to say at this point,” he said as he put down his card.  “We just started after all.”

“I’m glad you know what you are doing.”  Penny took a seat next to Miss Carrero.  “This whole thing makes no sense to me.  I gave up learning it after five minutes.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Mr. Springate said as he scooted his chair over from the bar.  “Does he
really
know what he’s doing?  He did take on Cain, after all.”

“He managed to beat
you
, Frank,” Penny said, gloating.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a crowd,” Miss Carrero said with a warm smile as she made her move.

“Lovely,” Robert groused.

“Relax, the more the merrier.”  Cain quickly made his move.

“You mean the more to fleece, don’t you Cain?” Mr. Springate asked with a grin, ignoring Penny’s jab.

“I’m hurt.  Do you really think that is my intention?”

The troopers lining the table all nodded.  Miss Carrero let out a small giggle at the uniformity of the response.  As the game progressed, the troopers made only light small talk as they watched the game.  Robert always hushed them when it got to his turn preventing any sort of detailed conversation.  As the game went on, the observers grew quiet.  Some were fascinated by the showdown and watched every move with intense interest.  Others, like Cassandra, had no idea what was going on but remained quiet out of respect for the calculating gazes of the players.  As the game went on, Brent built up his hand while memorizing the cards held by the other players.

Cain was a single card away from victory, Miss Carrero was two, and he still needed three.  Robert challenged him.  From the previous rounds, Brent knew he had to be using a
mêlée with strength of four.  Robert had the bad habit of attacking with whatever card he had that was the strongest.  Putting down a ranged card with a power of three, Brent took Robert’s mêlée card.  When Robert drew another card, he slammed down his fist against the table in frustration, obviously not what he wanted.

Mr. Riley wasted no time in attacking Brent.  Mr. Riley had been harder to read through the game, but he had a basic idea of the card he would be using and knew he always selected the right most card of someone’s hand.  Brent Subtly shuffled his hand as he put down his strongest ranged card.  Mr. Riley lost the battle and selected Brent’s right most card – his second to last ranged card.  As Brent drew a card from the deck, he put up a face devoid of all emotion.  He had drawn a mêlée card but dared not show satisfaction or disappointment.  From Robert’s performance, he knew that letting out
any
details would lead to disaster.  Brent studied his hand.  One more mêlée card and he’d win.