The Ninth: Invasion (35 page)

“Angela is out of commission,” Humphrey mumbled, “and Brent’s not going to be doing any acrobatics for a while.  I hope somebody
else
is ready to pull a miracle out of their hat.”

The troopers waited anxiously in the container as it quickly moved through the city.  Several small lights lining the ceiling were the only sources of illumination.  There were no windows, and the door had sealed completely shut so there was no way to be sure where they were going.  With an abrupt lurch in the direction opposite the one they’d been traveling, the container came to a stop.  Several troopers were thrown against the far wall.  Apparently, the containers hadn’t been designed with the comfort of passengers in mind. The armed troopers aimed their side arms at the door as it hissed and slid open.

The troopers quickly filed out of the container.  It struck Brent as odd that there weren’t any other containers around.  In fact, the entire area was devoid of personnel.  There wasn’t a single soldier or dockworker to be seen.  Cain quickly led the squad down the hallways of Control.  As they moved deeper in, Brent became alarmed as they failed to run into anyone.  If this place really was the nerve center of Core Industries as Cain said, shouldn’t there have been more people?

“Is it just me, or is this place understaffed?” Dante asked.

“So, it’s not just me?”  Brent asked.

“It’s odd,” Cain said, rubbing his chin.  “We should have run into someone by now, or at least had to avoid a patrol.  It’s almost as if . . .”

“This was a trap?” a deep voice asked from behind them.

Turning, the squad found dozens of soldiers pouring out of side passageways.  Brent could hear the clacking of boots all around them.  The squad of troopers was completely surrounded by security forces.  An old looking, fat man stepped out from behind an archway after the security forces were in place.  He had a pig like nose that flared when he took breath.

“It’s good to see you again,
Master Hooten
,” the man said with a smile that shouted victory.  “It’s been too long.”

“Is that your father?” Angela whispered.

“Don’t be silly.  My father would never let himself get that fat.”

She raised an eyebrow, as she looked Cain over with his plump waistline.

“
I
don’t have to worry about press conferences,” he said with a wink.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get here,” the fat man said.  “I had assumed Alden’s son would make it here
much
sooner.  Plus, your squad moves dreadfully slow.  We’ve been waiting . . .”

“For us to get far enough away from the container that we can’t use it to escape,” Dante interrupted the fat man.

“I
hate
it when people finish my sentences for me!” the fat man shouted.

Suddenly, a tall man casually walked through a hallway some distance behind the fat man.  The tall man glanced in their direction but continued walking right past them.  A moment later, the same man walked back the other way.  Pausing in the middle of the hallway, the tall man turned and headed toward the mass of soldiers and troopers.

“Good evening, Director Cartier,” the man said in a cheerful voice, seemingly ignorant of the armed men.  “Have you heard the news?”

“What are
you
doing here?”  Cartier was flustered beyond words.  “I thought . . . shouldn’t you be . . . when did . . . what news?”

“Well, apparently someone sent the PSF after a small group sheltering someone who had a family connection to the ITU.”

“What?” Cartier asked in a stupor.

“The PSF opened fire on the fugitives as they were caught fleeing the scene.  Now, here’s where it gets interesting.  They planned on using a container, of all things, to get away.  Imagine that.  Anyway, before they departed, the fugitives apparently found some children had stowed away in their getaway container.  I can only imagine what kind of shock that had to have been.”

“Children?” Cartier asked, still in a daze.

“That’s right!  Little kids, seven of them, too.  I guess the fugitives didn’t want to become kidnappers or something because they helped the kids out of the container and returned them to their mother.  Well, not all of them.”

“What?”

“The woman only had two children; the other five were just friends.  In any case, as a lone fugitive that had been
so
nice to the children had almost made it back to the container, the PSF opened fire on him.  Looked like they even hit the poor guy.  The story is all over the local news feeds.”

“What are you talking about?” Cartier shouted, finally returning to his senses.

“Long story short, there is a
riot
in city block thirty-seven A.  I guess the neighborhood took offense at the PSF shooting up a guy who’d just saved the kids of
five
different families.  The PSF tried to deter the populace, but that’s just made things worse.  Here’s the best part.”  All levity drained out of the man’s features and voice.  “Turns out, some fat moron was responsible for the whole thing.  I expect your resignation on my desk within the hour.”

Cain leaned over to Angela.

“
That’s
my dad.”  His voice was full of satisfaction.

The fat man sputtered and his nose flared, unable to form a response, as the armed soldiers escorted him away.  The tall man’s face instantly brightened as he spotted Cain.

“Cain, my boy!  It’s been too long, far too long.”  The tall man spoke quickly but clearly.  “And as much as I’d love to greet you properly and regale you with tales of the last few years, but we have more pressing concerns.”

“You weren’t kidding about the riots?” Cain asked.

“Unfortunately, no.  We are stretched thin as it is with all the refugees, so I can’t risk sending more armed forces.  Plus, that would no doubt only make things worse.”

“What do you want from us, Magnate Hooten?” Rhea asked.

“Please don’t call me that, dear.  Only bloated businessmen seeking to buy my favor call me that.  Call me Alden,” he said with a warm smile.

“Well . . . Alden, what
do
you want from us?” Tyra asked, obviously uncomfortable using his first name.

“It’s not actually something I want from all of you, but rather something I need from that boy there,” Alden said, pointing at Brent.

“What do you
need
him for?” Cassandra asked defensively.

“No need to worry.  I just need to borrow him for a few minutes.  I’m hoping we can allay the rioters if they know that he’s alright and that Director Cartier has been brought to justice for his
moronic
sense of timing.”

“I warned you he’d be trouble,” Cain said with a grin.

“Once again, you were right.  Although, I got many years of use out of him, plus, he’ll make the perfect scapegoat for a half dozen things he wasn’t involved in.  The crowd loves it so when they hear the criminal mastermind responsible for most of their woes has been unmasked and brought to the light of justice.”

“I see where you get your sense of melodrama,” Dante whispered to Cain.

“Seriously,” Hiroko said with a chuckle.

“Come, come,” Alden said quickly.  “We don’t have much time before things get completely out of hand.  If you’ll come with me, young man, we can nip this in the bud.  I’ll have the PSF detail take the rest of you to an unused room where you can take a break from your game of cat and mouse.”

Cassandra helped Brent follow Alden as the rest of the troopers reluctantly followed the same soldiers who a moment ago had been pointing weapons at them.  Cain’s father quickly led them to a small room.

“We’ve made the announcement, Alden,” a man in uniform said, handing him a pad.  “Hopefully someone will be watching.”

Brent recognized the uniform as the same kind worn by the man at the transit bureau.  It was mainly burgundy with a single gold stripe.  Apparently it was the equivalent of the gray uniforms worn by maintenance personnel back in the academy.  A second man in the same uniform was holding a small device; the way he held it and pointed it betrayed it for a camera.  No doubt they were being broadcast to every monitor in the riot area.  Alden moved with a practiced air as he readied himself.

“Good evening everyone!” he sounded like a game show host.  “I’ve been informed there has been a terrible mix-up.  Acting independently, Director Cartier sent a security force into your neighborhood.  During his unsanctioned escapades, a young boy was wounded while trying to save some children.  I’m broadcasting this message to let you all know that Director Cartier has been taken into custody with a full investigation pending.  I also wanted you to know the young boy survived and is here with me right now.”

Alden gestured for Brent to join him.  The assistant in the burgundy uniform held Cassandra back and assured her it would be all right.  Brent tried not to hobble as he walked over to Alden.

“What’s your name, young man?” he asked.

“My friends call me Brent.”

“A Weaver with friends, imagine that.”

“I can safely say I’m not like any Weaver you are likely to meet,” Brent said with a smile.

“I see you are protecting your left leg a bit.  Are you all right?”

“My friend Owen looked it over.  He said I’ll live.”

“Is this Owen a doctor?”

“No, but he is the best medic I’ve ever seen.  One of the finest troopers I’ve ever met.”

“Are you a trooper, as well?”

“I am.”

“Amazing.  Not only do you think about the safety of children before your own, you’re a trooper too.  You certainly are an odd Weaver.  You’re probably here to help us put an end to the war.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I wish you luck; we all do.  Is there anything you’d like to say before we end transmission?”

“While my fellow troopers have arrived here safely, I do have friends out there as well.  I want to ensure their safety, so I’m asking everyone to cease any violence.  I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of my actions.”

Brent turned to the cameraman and bowed like the tripod as gracefully as he could.  There were several moments of complete silence in the room before anyone moved.

“We’re clear . . .” the assistant’s voice trailed off.

Cassandra quickly moved to Brent’s side and let him lean on her.

“That was impressive.  What exactly was that though?”  Alden asked.  “I’ve never seen anyone move quite like that.”

“It’s a bad habit of mine,” Brent said apologetically.

“Mr. Alden, I’ve gotten a report from the PSF in city block thirty-seven A.  They say the riot is starting to disperse,” his assistant said with a wide smile.

“Excellent work.  I’m willing to wager that we owe you the credit for that,” Alden said with a nod to Brent.  “Well, you two no doubt wish to return to your friends.”

Alden had a wide smile on his face as he guided the two troopers down the convoluted hallways.  Despite their weight difference, the resemblance between father and son was unmistakable; their mannerisms were almost exact duplicates.  Maybe that explained the nasty expression that filled Cassandra’s face every time she looked at Alden.  As they walked along, Brent noticed hundreds of people darting around them.  He wondered if they always moved around so hectically, or if ex-director Cartier’s plot was responsible for their frenzy.  They would appear and disappear in the blink of an eye as they rushed through the maze of hallways.

Like the city, the hallways were constructed out of the same dull gray metal.  A vast array of lights embedded in the ceiling gave the otherwise featureless corridors personality.  The light cast on each hallway was a unique textured color with no repetition in conjoining hallways.  It was like walking through some sort of subdued fun house.  Although jarring at first, Brent was surprised how quickly he got used to it; in no time at all he barely noticed the colorization.  As they rounded a corner, he spotted a pair of soldiers standing on either side of a wide doorway.  The way they slumped showed they weren’t looking for a fight.  They were just like the lighting, decoration.

As Alden approached, they straightened slightly and saluted briefly – Sanderson looked more professional at breakfast.  The two guards immediately went back to their original slump after Alden passed through the door.  The rest of the squad was waiting in the room.  They tried to look relaxed, but it was obvious they had been anxiously awaiting the return of their squad mates.

“I hope these accommodations are to your liking,” Alden said as the door sealed behind him.

“Compared to hiding in the basement of a rundown bar?” Humphrey mumbled.

“At least the drinks were free,” Doug said irritability.  “Not that I got to enjoy that fact.”

“We weren’t about to drag your sorry behind through the city, Dougie,” Marie said with a smirk.

“The room is fine,” Ronald said flatly as he eyed the complaining troopers.

“What is the situation?” Tyra asked.  “We’ve been locked up in a transport for the last three days and are eager for any news.”