The Ninth: Invasion (52 page)

Brent focused on the squad’s emotions.  Using what Angela had taught him and his previous experience, he wrapped his mind around the entirety of their emotions.  He knew he’d only have one chance so he had to make it count.  Readying himself, he strained his mind to put as much fear into the others as he could.  Silence fell over the troopers.  He made a mad dash for the approaching Slasher.  He heard one of the others try to shout, but against the fear he was forcing on them they couldn’t speak.

As Brent ran, the ground illumination followed.  In the dim moving light he spotted a Slasher ahead.  He was approaching it faster than the tripod was expecting.  The Slasher dug its third limb into the ground and lifted both its blades high.  As the Slasher swung down violently on him, he bowed like the tripod.  Missing an arm and being in the bulky combat suit slowed his movements and ruined the gesture.  Brent felt a bitter pain lashing through his shoulder.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t as intense as he had imagined it would be.  Forcing his eyes to open, he found the Shard perfectly still, its left blade lightly sunk into his flesh.

“They’ve all stopped!” Tyra shouted over the communications link.

“Get out of here!” Brent ordered with all his might.

“What about . . .” Liz asked in a pained voice.

“Get out
now
!” Brent shouted.

In the distance behind him he saw the dancing suit lights cast by his fellow troopers.  The tripod standing before him shifted at the movement.  Brent struggled to raise his left hand and placed it against the glowing sphere of the Slasher.

“Don’t hurt them,” he thought with all his might.

“They are clearing a path!” Ronald shouted in disbelief over the communications link.

He relaxed his hand.  They were safe now.  Even if the Slashers broke free of his command, his friends would make it to the airlock first.  They’d only have to deal with one facing then; they could handle that, even without him.  Mahoney no doubt had something stashed away that would be able to blast open the outer door.  Eyeing the Slasher, Brent smiled to himself.  His fate was unimportant now that his friends would make it.

Suddenly, a strange sensation tickled across his midsection.  Looking down, he found three coils wrapping around his suit.  Not resisting, he let the tripod lift him off the ground and take him into a cradled position.  Memories of the fifth exam came flooding back as the tripod lunged down the corridors.  Green light started to fill the grooves in the walls around them, lighting their path.  The tripod moved with incredible grace and speed.  Turning corners at breakneck speeds, the Slasher was careful to protect its cargo.

Finally, the Slasher entered a large room.  Large floating images hung in the air.  Brent could see his friends and the fleet in orbit above.  Looking around, he couldn’t find anything but the free-floating images.  The room was completely empty.  A familiar clacking sound assaulted his ears.  Looking down, he found a black cone waiting.  The tripod gently placed him in front of the cone as it released a green mist of energy.  A warm sensation filled Brent as the tiny lights extinguished themselves on suit.  With terrifying swiftness, the Slasher behind him swung down its blade against Brent’s right side.

After the momentary shock faded, he realized he felt no pain.  Examining his right side, he found the tripod had shredded his suit.  Brent had to blink a few times at what he saw.  A bright green latticework was jutting out of his shoulder.  The black cone in front of him started to shift the green mist toward the latticework.  As more of the green mist fell on him, the latticework took on a more defined shape.  Realization hit him as he recognized the shape.  They weren’t just healing the wound inflicted by the tripod, they were rebuilding his arm.

Brent watched in fascination as bone and tissue formed within the green latticework.  He watched as muscles and nerves developed, working from the bone outward.  Starting at his fingers and working back, a new skin grew over his new arm.  Once the skin reached his shoulder, the green latticework faded.  He slowly pulled his right hand close and tried to flex his fingers one by one.  Instantly complying, the fingers bent and moved as he commanded.  The cone suddenly retreated to wherever it waited for its next use while the tripod visibly cowed.

From one of the many connecting hallways, a tendril entered the room.  It was a think thing made of the same black metal as everything else.  Small specks of green light danced down the grooves that lined its surface.  It snaked along the ground and came to rest on one of the extrusions jutting out of the floor on the far side of the room.  Following it shortly was a second and then a third.  When the main form entered, Brent knew he was dealing with something new.  He vaguely recalled the thing leading the Shards in the fifth exam resembling a thin metallic cylinder with countless thin squid-like arms.  It had been a tall thing, but was no wider than himself, maybe even a bit thinner.

This thing that was now entering the room was something completely different.  It was easily twice his size, if not three times.  Several large, thick tendrils snaked around, seemingly independent of the central mass.  They appeared to move based on their own desires, often moving in directions contrary to the central mass.  While the tendrils were made of the same black material of the walls, they didn’t have the same grid work of grooves, the green light channeled through them almost like veins.

The central mass had a strong resemblance to a human torso but, at the same time, was completely different.  Its long, smooth flowing surfaces were intermixed with angular, almost sharp looking extrusions.  There was nothing below where the human ribcage would have been, just a large plume of bright green light.  Brent couldn’t be sure if the glowing, pulsing light at its base was holding it up, or if that was thanks to the tendrils.  The torso was also made of the same black material, but instead of plates, it seemed to be made of a single solid piece.  It resembled a massive, solid black bone from some prehistoric monstrosity.  The green specks of light danced around the torso through etchings in the black metal that vaguely resembled tribal war paint.

The chest swept back into two exaggerated shoulders.  Human shoulders extended out of the chest opposite one another, giving a flat, broad image; this thing’s shoulders were pushed back to the point the chest looked more like a V with a sharp set of ridges in the center.  Hanging from the shoulders were large black cylinders that ended in three long sharp claws.  Brent realized the same green, pulsing light connected the hanging “arms” to the shoulders – there was no physical connection.

Featured prominently on top of the floating torso was a large central prong that curved like a raven’s claw.  The claw cradled a single large orb of glowing green light.  Dozens of green veins of light snaked around the spike leading to the glowing sphere.  The figure moved through the room paying no attention to Brent.  It moved over to the extrusion at the far end of the room and seemed to settle a bit.  He realized with a start the extrusion was the creatures’ version of a throne.

He quickly stood and, after brushing off the tattered remains of his combat suit, bowed like the tripod to the hulking figure.  The glowing sphere pulsed brighter than it had before.  Brent stared at the sphere, uncertain how to react.  If this thing spoke in pulses of multicolored light, there was no way he could communicate with it.  He suddenly felt a strange sensation from behind his eye.  As he focused on the sensation, it seemed to grow and spread.  It suddenly grew unbearably warm.  It felt as if a red-hot poker was trying to escape from within his skull.  Brent tried to cope under the pain when he felt an odd pinching sensation in his ears.  Just as suddenly as the odd sensations had hit, they left him.

“What have you done to my Shards?” a smooth voice asked.

Brent looked up to face the creature resting in its throne.  The green sphere was pulsing, but for some reason he understood its meaning.  He couldn’t be sure if the voice in his head was the creature’s voice, or one he supplied for the soundless pulsing.

“I asked you, what have you done to my Shards, organic?” the light pulsed

“Are you their leader?” Brent asked.

The creature visibly cringed at his voice.  Brent bowed apologetically and gestured for the tripod to come closer.  The Slasher kept its focus on the large creature but obeyed his urging.  Gently, Brent placed his left hand on the tripod’s orb.

“Sorry, is this better?” he thought.

“You can speak to us without using your mouth?” the massive creature asked.

“Apparently so,” Brent thought as his mouth smiled.

“Impossible!  You speak as one of us but are organic.  Furthermore, you are clearly not a member of the Forged.  Your existence is impossible.”

“And yet, here I stand.  Are you the leader of the Shards?  Who are the Forged?”

He could feel the annoyance in the creature; it had said more than it had wanted.

“Okay, let’s start with the basics,” he thought, wondering how exactly to think
politely
.  “I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the creature,’ so can I ask your name at least?”

The creature seemed to relax, and Brent felt that if it had been possible it might have even smiled at him.

“You naturally think of me as a creature, not a terror or machine.  Interesting.  I have observed your race for no doubt longer than you can comprehend and have come to the conclusion that fear is the natural response to the unknown.  The fact you show no fear and are hesitant to label me intrigues me.”

“Does that mean I get to learn your name?”

The creature shifted around in an odd manner as the green light pulsed sporadically.  Brent assumed it was something similar to a chuckle.

“Fair enough, organic, I shall tell you my designation if you tell me yours.”

“My name is Brent.”

“And mine is Third.  Now, what have you done to my Shards?”

“You use the possessive form, and speak of yourself independently from them, so I can gather that if you aren’t their leader, you are at least in a position of power.”  Brent could sense Third’s annoyance.  “Don’t get mad.  You refuse to answer me, so why should I automatically answer you?”

“You are indeed fascinating.  Plus, you seem immune to coercion.  I doubt ordering a Slasher to cut you to ribbons would put you in a mood for discourse.”

“I’m guessing you already have tried that once or twice.  The Shard I’m speaking through seems to hold you in a sort of reverence, but yet still listens to me over you.”

“I gather that you do not fully understand what you have done, or for that matter how you are doing it.”

Third seemed to concentrate in thought as its emotions churned.

“I’ll make you a deal, Third,” Brent thought.

“A deal requires that both parties have something the other wants and are willing to agree to terms for an exchange.  What do you think you possess that I desire?”

“At this point, a great many things, but most likely information.  I’ll agree to answer a question or two if you agree to my terms.”

“What exactly are those terms?”

“Let my friends go.  I haven’t felt a tremor, so they must not have had enough power to break free of this place.”

Third shifted in place as if trying to get a better look at him.

“Strange.  I had anticipated your request for freedom, but not your target.  Does not your own survival merit a higher place of importance than those of other organics?”

“I’ll answer if you agree.”

Third shifted around again in what Brent gathered was a full bore laugh.

“Very well, I shall release them.  The air lock is pressurizing now.  Exactly how many questions have I just agreed to?”

“To be fair to you Third, I’ll answer one question for each ‘organic’ that safely leaves the planet.”

“I am detecting an odd sensation within myself.  I believe you would call it ‘Enjoyment.’  Something about you . . . amuses me, Brent.  I suppose I could ask what I really want to know first and end this quickly and efficiently, but for some reason I find I do not desire that outcome.”

“I guess talking with a new friend isn’t supposed to be efficient.”

“A friend?”  Thirds voice shifted from gentle to angry.  “You would lower me to the same level as those organics?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, after all, I just gave up my chance at freedom for those organics.  If I hold you to the same standard, that’s quite a feat, organic or not.”

Third went silent.  Brent sensed a strange emotion coming from Third, one he’d never sensed before.  It was an emotion he wasn’t sure a human
could
duplicate.

“Why have you come here?” Third asked at last.

“To be perfectly honest, to stop you.  Or at least the Shards that are destroying the Commonwealth.”

“Why do you desire this?  Are they all your
friends
?”

“Not really.  In fact there are several out there I would consider enemies.  People who have attempted to take my life.  However, simply letting them all die is something I couldn’t just let happen.”

“Where do you come from?  I cannot seem to locate a file on you.”

“That seems to be the big question.  To tell you the truth, Third, I have no idea.  I don’t know who I really am or where I come from.”