The Ninth: Invasion (40 page)

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 collapsing 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.”

“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.

Slowly but surely, the troopers got used to the combat suits and urban combat.  Save for Cassandra, she was already a master of the combat suit.  By the final 3P of the day, they had all the basics down.  Tyra congratulated the squad as they ate dinner.  A couple of times, the Harbingers tried to hassle them about disappearing, but the squad ignored them completely.  Any persistence abruptly ended when Angela gave them a murderous scowl and they remembered just what she could do to them.  The entire squad was looking forward to a good night’s sleep as they made their way back to their bunks.  The Harbingers in the room eyed the squad as they passed, but no one said anything.

After a good night’s sleep, the squad was refreshed and ready for more.  They easily managed to sneak away while the Harbingers sat down for their morning meal.  After a few basic 3Ps to rehash the fundamentals, the squad moved onto more complex scenarios.  When lunch rolled around, Brent guided a few to the mess hall where they gathered enough for everyone.  The Harbingers either didn’t notice them or were intentionally ignoring them.

After they finished their meal in a secluded section of the 3P repository, the squad got back to work.  Before long, the squad had gotten separated as part of the 3P’s narrative.  Brent and Mr. Springate had gotten themselves into a tight spot.  Cut off from the others, they were quickly surrounded.  As the two made their last ditch effort to take out the overwhelming number of opponents, he noticed Mr. Springate’s movements seemed sluggish.  When Brent had first run into the SW, they seemed like impossible speed demons with inhuman agility.  He ignored the slow response as the squad retried the scenario after failing.  This time they managed to stick together before the ambush.  Together, the entire squad took on the horde of generic enemies.

With a startling revelation, Brent realized Mr. Springate wasn’t slowing down, but the rest of them were catching up to him.  The gap between the troopers of the SW and the rest was quickly narrowing.  After another meal run and several more scenarios, the squad called it a night.  The Harbingers were so completely wrapped up in their own training regimen that not a single one of them had noticed Tyra’s squad had gone missing in the first place.  In the morning, the squad returned to the 3P repository and continued where they had left off.  It was hard work, but the squad pulled together and completed one difficult 3P after another.  Penny and Mr. Springate led them in exercises in between to make sure their muscles could keep up with what they were learning.