The Ninth: Invasion (44 page)

A massive flash of white light erupted from one of the monitors showing the two fleets.  The Prudence was gone.  The monitors shifted aft to focus their view on the absent ship.  Movement in the distance behind the fleet betrayed a great many things hiding in the darkness.  The things were a pitch black that blended completely into the dark abyss.  The only traces of their presence were the stars they blotted out.  As they grew closer, more details became visible.  His heart stopped for a moment as he recognized them.  A single thought shouted at him.

“Jump away!” Brent screamed with all the force his lungs could muster.

The navigations officer didn’t wait for confirmation from the captain or the admiral.

“What are those
things
?” Mrs. Miron shrieked.

“Citadels.  Shard Citadels,” Brent said, struggling to stand.

“My children of the Independent Traders Union.” Rita shouted over the transmission.  “Embrace your new masters, and we shall create a glorious new Order!”

“All ITU ships!” an unfamiliar voice shouted over Rita.  “Code Omega Black.”

The sounds of a fight could be heard before the CI transmission cut out.  The ITU ships began maneuvering away as jump windows opened.  One of the Citadels pulsed with unnatural green light as it unleashed a long solid stream of energy.  The stream sliced cleanly through an ITU battleship.  Countless secondary explosions ignited its surface.  In a blinding flash of light, the ship was gone, completely annihilated.  All the gathered ships started opening their jump windows as they tried to escape the attacking Citadels.

“If we are hit by that thing we are dead!” the communications officer shouted.

“Jump us out of here,” Shen bellowed.  “I don’t care where as long as it’s not
here
!”

Brent urged the Wall to come.  With all his body and mind he begged for it to save the ship.

“Jump window opening,” the navigation officer said, panting.  “The Wall is passing over the ship now.”

“The Shard ships have gone quiet!” Mrs. Miron said in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Shen asked.

“Just what I said, the ancient enemy isn’t firing on the fleet anymore.  Hold on . . . they are targeting
us
!”

The bridge crew braced for the worst.  For a seeming eternity the bridge crew remained frozen, awaiting their unavoidable destruction.  As they waited, the Wall moved completely through the bridge.  When they realized nothing was happening, they started feeling themselves over to prove to their minds they were still alive.

“What’s going on?  Why aren’t we dead?” the captain asked.

“Hold on . . . the Shard fleet is using small weapons only,” Mrs. Miron said in surprise.  “They seem to be focusing their fire on a small area of the ship.”

“Which area?”

“I’m working on that.  It’s hard to interpret data when the ship is jumping.  Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” Shen said forcefully.

“I’ve got it!” she shouted in triumph.  “Oh, no . . .”

“What is it?”

“They are targeting main engineering!”

Brent bolted out of the bridge before listening to another word.  Cassandra was stationed in that section.  He pressed his body forward as fast as it would move.  Dodging crewmembers and obstructions, he made his way aft.  Suddenly, the lights went out and he tripped over some unseen object in the darkness.  Feeling around in the dark, Brent continued to press aft.  After a few agonizing minutes, the lights returned somewhat.  The hull plating was cast in a dim light, some form of emergency illumination.  Under the newfound light, he doubled his pace.  Finally, he came to a sealed bulkhead in the center of the corridor.  A small side panel next to the wall proved to be useless; it was only an internal communication terminal.

“Brent,” Shen’s voice called from the communication terminal.  “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you, Admiral,” Brent shouted at the terminal.  “Can you open this hatch?”

“I repeat – can you hear me?” Shen asked again.  “Brent are you there?”

Brent’s shoulders dropped as he realized the admiral couldn’t hear him.

“Listen, I don’t know if you can hear me, but we have a serious problem,” Shen sounded desperate.  “The hull has been compromised, and we are venting atmosphere.  If we don’t seal off the damaged sections we’ll run out of breathable air.  But we can’t . . .”

“Save my girl!” Mrs. Miron shouted, interrupting the admiral.  “Please!”

“Harper, restrain her!” Shen shouted.  “I’ll put this in quick terms.  The damaged section is the forward crew quarters; we seal it we kill everyone inside.  Most systems seem to be down, and even if they weren’t, we don’t have the people to evacuate the area in time.  We need the help of a
Weaver
; please save my crew.”

“Do you think he heard you?” the navigation officer asked.

Brent started running down the corridors toward the crew quarters.

“We sent the transmission to the aft most sections, so maybe,” the captain urged.  “Keep repeating the message.”

In the distance, Brent could hear Shen pleading his message over again.  His progress was slower than he would have liked, but in the dimness making out the impressions above the doorways was difficult.  As he ran into crewmembers, he would ask them for directions before ordering them to head to the bridge, saying the admiral asked for them
personally
.

His body was begging for a rest as he reached the crew quarters.  Dozens upon dozens of confused and frightened women and men were frantically trying to use the internal communication system to get answers.  He tried to convince them to leave, but they all ignored him.  Brent wanted to scream.  He was supposed to be a Weaver, but he couldn’t do a thing.

If Angela had been there, she could have calmed them down enough to listen, or at the very least scared them to the point they would leave of their own accord.  A sudden thought hit him, a way to get them to
want
to leave.  Pushing his way into one of the rooms, Brent grabbed a mattress and some blankets.  Tossing them all into a large pile at the edge of the room, Brent pulled out his side arm and opened fire on the pile.  The mattress burst into flames, setting off an alarm.

“Fire detected.  Initiating counter measures,” a prerecorded voice announced.  “. . . Warning.  Unknown error.  Counter measures unable to engage.  All hands evacuate the area.”

The crewmembers started running for their lives as the sirens continued to blare.  Brent worked tirelessly to organize the flow of crewmembers.  Like a herd of cattle, the people trampled over anything and anyone to escape the fiery death they believed awaited them.  With only a few minor injuries, he had managed to clear the entire section.  He let out a sigh of relief as the last one ran out of the section.  As Brent headed to leave, a strange sensation tugged at him.

It was a sense of fear similar to the one he had felt on the bridge, only impossibly small.  Like a faint scent wafting past on the breeze, Brent felt a pang of foreign fear.  Someone hadn’t gotten out yet.  Rummaging through the remains of the crew quarters, He searched for the source of the fear.  No matter which way he went, it didn’t increase or decrease – it just was.  Resigned to his task, he started searching the rooms one by one.  As he finished checking the twentieth or so room, he heard a faint sound coming from the communications terminal.

“. . . we can’t wait any longer, let’s hope he got them all out,” the captain’s voice sounded resigned.

“But we haven’t heard anything!” Mrs. Miron shouted hysterically.  “My daughter could still be in there!”

“Internal communications are down,” the navigation officer said, cracking her knuckles.  “We wouldn’t be able to hear from him even if he had already saved everyone.”

“Seal it off,” Shen said somberly.  “We have to think about the good of the survivors.”

“Wait please!” Mrs. Miron shouted.  “Another minute is all I ask, please.”

The others tried to reason with her as she broke into tears.  Brent knew his time was up, but that nagging feeling wouldn’t let him leave.  With a sudden thought, he ran to the directory and scanned for any listings under Miron.  There was only one, a single woman with
no
children living in a private room.  Brent bolted to the indicated room.  He arrived to a locked door.  Pounding on the door he could feel the foreign fear growing.

“Is there anyone in there?” Brent called out.

While there was no audible response, the fear grew exponentially.

“Please come out.  We have to get out of here . . .”

Despite Brent’s pleading, there was no response from the room.

“Your mother is calling for you!” he pleaded with the sealed door.

“Mommy?” a small voice asked.

“That’s right, she wants you to come quickly.”

“Mommy told me not to talk to strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger.  I’ve known your mom for quite some time.  You must be proud of her since she works on the bridge with all the important people.”

“. . . But she told me never to leave the room.”

“She changed her mind.  She wants to see you right away.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all.  She just wants to see you.”

“You promise I’m not in trouble?”

“I give you my word.”

“Okay, but if you are lying I’m going to scream, and
you’ll
be in big trouble.”

The doorway slid open revealing a small girl not older than six.  Brent offered his hand to the girl and quickly led her out of the crew quarters.  A loud alarm sounded, one different from the fire alarm.  This alarm sounded far more urgent.

“Attention.  Sealing section in sixty seconds,” the prerecorded voice announced in an inappropriately relaxed tone.  “All hands evacuate.”

Brent pulled the girl as quickly as he could.  She tried to ask what was going on, but he ignored her as he focused completely on getting out in time.  Jumping and scrambling around the debris left by the crew, he pulled the little girl along.  Finally, he spotted the main entryway to the crew quarters ahead.

“Section sealing in ten seconds,” the voice gave its unpleasant reminder.

Brent forced his body to move faster than he had ever before, pulling the girl behind.  Just as he reached the doorway, it started to seal.  Large metal shutters closed in from all four sides of the doorway.  He tripped on the rising bottom edge and plummeted into the hallway, slamming against the far wall.  He rubbed his head as he turned.  His heart sank as he saw the small girl on the other side of the closing bulkhead.  The four metal shutters created a small window in the center that grew smaller and smaller.

Diving in its path Brent wedged his arm in the way of the closing shutters.  He let out a terrible wail as the incredible pain lashed through his right arm.  He could feel the metal slicing into his flesh.  Miraculously the shutters halted their movement when they reached bone.  The little girl started backing away from him, heading deeper into the doomed section.  Brent tried to speak, but the pain was too intense for him to form words.  The metal shutters surged as they tried to seal, doubling the pain.  The only sensation greater than the pain was his sorrow as he watched the girl helplessly.

With all his might, he reached out his left hand toward the girl.  She paused, looking at the arm, but didn’t come any closer.  Brent pleaded with everything he had for the girl to come closer.  As she stood still, the metal shutters tried again to seal.  As the incredible pain flashed through his body, Brent noticed something else, that tiny pang of fear.  Focusing what was left of his conscious mind on the fear, he urged it to change.  As he worked on the intangible fear, the small girl started walking toward him.  Just as she was about to reach out for his hand, the metal shutters surged again.

The girl quickly took a step back as he lost focus.  Pressing everything he had into her emotions, he begged her to come closer.  One agonizing step at a time, she returned.  Brent knew he wouldn’t be able to endure another surge from the metal shutters.  As soon as the girl was in reach, he lunged his left arm for her and pulled her out of the room with all his might.  A sudden crushing surge of pain filled Brent.  It was impossible for him to focus.  His vision became blurred.  A small blurry figure loomed over him.  The shape grew distant and faded to nothing.

“Report,” Vincent said over his shoulder as he studied the battle plans for the coming week.

“We’ve got most of the civilians evacuated from the outlying cities,” Gazsi said with a brief salute.  “The fortress is a little banged up, but with the additional firepower we salvaged from the Steward we can hold this city indefinitely.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Vincent said somberly.  “Indefinitely is a
very
long time.”

“Don’t you worry your head, Navy boy,” the trooper said with a proud grin.  “We used the old standard.  Our perimeter is up to snuff.”