The Ninth: Invasion (53 page)

“Do not tell me you are suffering from amnesia; that is so clichéd.  Do you plan to deviate from our arrangement?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Brent thought as he shrugged.  “I know that I was born a little over seventeen years ago.  However, I don’t have a single clear memory before I stepped foot on the academy, and that wasn’t so long ago.  I’m told I was part of some secret experiment dealing with time and that I might come from the past.”

“You have offered me additional information not relating to my question.  Why?”

“You asked a question, I gave you an answer.  It seemed wrong to conceal part of the truth because you didn’t ask directly.”

Third paused for a moment.

“Fourth mentioned something about an incident that would coincide with the timeframe stated.”

“Giving me extra information to even the score?” Brent couldn’t help but smile.

Third didn’t respond as an image formed off to the side of the room.  The floating image was of an impossibly old man.  His dry, pale skin hung limply like it was a sheet that had been thrown over him to conceal his bones.  What was left of his hair was frail and pure white.

“What do you want, Third?  Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I have an inquiry about a certain report.”

“You have an injury about a certain resort?  I don’t think I knew you were the type to take time off, Third.  Where did you go?  Was it a beach?  Wait, why would you go to a beach?  Wouldn’t all that water
rust
you or something?”

“Fourth, focus!”

“I am focused!  You’re the one who is confused.  Silly bucket of bolts, going to the beach for a vacation.”

“Fourth, I’m asking about an event.  One that has to do with the organics.”

“An orgasmic event?  I had no idea you were capable of something like that.  I knew you were male like me, but I had no idea you had those . . . urges.  Must be tough on you.  Maybe you can build yourself some kind of girlfriend.”

Brent tried not to laugh as he sensed a mixture of frustration and embarrassment from Third.  A second image appeared that hovered close to the one of the old man.  The new floating screen featured a beautiful woman, maybe thirty years old at the most.  Brent realized with a jump that she had to be Rita when he spotted the ITU emblem on her lapel.

“Fifth, can you deal with Fourth?” Third asked, almost sounding desperate.  “You know I lack the skills to properly interface with him.”

“Of course, Third.  What do you want to know?”

The voice confirmed she was Rita.

“Fourth mentioned an incident that happened eighteen years ago.  However, I can find no record of a report on the matter.”

“He probably just forgot to finish the report.”  Rita sounded defensive.  “You know how hard it is for him.”

“I do not seek to place blame; I merely desire the details of the incident.”

“You’re being unnaturally understanding, Third.  I’ll see what I can do.  Fourth, are you listening?”

“Is that you, Fifth?  You are as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you for the compliment.  Now, I need you to listen closely.  Can you do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.  Now, eighteen years ago you said there was some kind of incident.  It was something important.”

“Eighteen years ago . . . hmm, that is a dreadfully long time ago.”

“I know it is, but I really need you to try and remember.  Third even asked nicely.”

“He did?  I didn’t know that man cared about tact.  I do seem to remember something.  An explosion.  Regrettably, it didn’t kill many of them.”

“Do you remember what caused the explosion?”

“Now I remember!  Those idiots were messing around with time.  Guess the universe decided to teach them a lesson.”

“Time?  What are you talking about?”

“Something called Lazarus.  Bringing back organics they lost or some stupidity like that.  Didn’t do them any good.  Wasted so much time.  In the end it blew up right in their faces.”  Fourth started a raspy laugh that sounded like the rubbing of two pieces of sandpaper against one another.

“Does that answer your questions, Third?” Rita asked.

“Almost.  Can you ask Fourth for some details?  Did the project ever produce results, and if so, when did those results originate from.”

“I can hear you myself, Third,” Fourth rasped.  “The project was a complete bust; in its entire history it never produced a single thing.  Serves that meddling organics right.  Although, there was something odd about the explosion, now that I think about it.”

“How so?” Rita asked.

“It had a strange signature to it.  I can’t remember exactly, but I remember it scared the living day lights out of me.”

A thought hit Brent.

“Third, ask him if it was the same energy signature as the planet killers,” he urged with his mind.

Third hesitated for a moment.

“Fourth, I want you to ready yourself.  What I am about to ask could be disturbing.”

“I’m not a child, Third.  In fact I’m not much younger than you are!”

“Did the explosion have an energy signature similar to the planet-destroying weapon used by the organics?”

Fourth’s eyes widened.  The ancient skin coiled and looked for an instant like tanned leather as his face tightened.

“That’s it.  That’s what I forgot to tell all of you.  I detected that very energy signature.  I thought that maybe the organics were making that weapon again, but instead it was a silly project of theirs that blew up in their faces.  I thought you’d all get a laugh out of the whole thing.  I’m so sorry I forgot to tell everyone.  Please apologize to the rest for me.”

“It is okay, Fourth.  You have done well.”

“Really, Third?  I can’t remember you ever praising me.”

A wide grin enveloped the old man’s face.  His lips seemed devoid of moisture and looked like a sun-parched desert.

“What’s this about?” Rita asked as Fourth’s image faded away.

“I am currently investigating the matter.  I will inform the Forged as soon as I have something to report.”

Rita eyed Third suspiciously as her image faded.

“How did you know about the energy signature?” Third asked after she was completely gone.

“I don’t know of anything else that would scare a Shard . . . or Forged, or whatever you want me to call all of you.”  Brent shrugged.

“There has only been one recorded use of the organic planet-destroying weapon.  There were no survivors on either side.”

“So, the Commonwealth
did
leave behind all those troopers.”

“If the organics succeeded and brought back one of their own from that day, it would still fail to explain your ability to communicate with me as you do.”

“So, you are saying I’m one of you?”

“That is impossible.  The Forged were constructed long before . . .”

Third paused.  Brent found it oddly disturbing.  Third didn’t seem like the kind of being that would end his sentences prematurely.  Third rose from the extrusion he had been resting on.  For a moment, he saw Third as an ominous creature readying itself for some terrible act.  As Third silently moved toward him, Brent felt a strange amalgam of emotions.  Third was desperate about something; a sense of supreme urgency filled him.  As he edged closer, Brent felt an odd mixture of concern and aversion.

He couldn’t form rational thoughts as Third came to a stop.  The tall black and green form loomed menacingly over him.  He forced his body not to shake as one of the huge arms raised.  Brent’s momentary fascination with the workings of the green energy joints faded as he saw the three sharp claws move together.  With a single swift and brutal motion, Third plunged his “hand” into Brent’s chest.  Brent tried to breathe as his chest instantly went numb.  Lightheadedness shook him from his composed state.  His mind demanded he scream in terror but his lungs and vocal cords were completely gripped by the numbness.

Forcing his head to look down, Brent’s eyes widened at the sight.  The first thing he noticed was there was no blood on the ground.  Forcing his mind to focus on Third’s limb, he found that, instead of piercing him like a weapon, the claw seemed to have
phased
into him.  Surrounding the claw was a burning green light.  The numbness of his chest was rapidly spreading throughout his body.  Brent felt faint as Third held him still.

“Report,” Vincent said through grit teeth as he fired another volley from the beam turret.

“What happened to the others?” Doyle asked as he stepped over the haphazardly strewn cables lining the floor.

“Sleeping,” Vincent said as he realigned for the next shot.  “We’re working around the clock.  Daler took a bit of shrapnel and can’t see accurately enough to do the job.  I had to take his shift.”

“Have they let up at all?”

“Since that cursed Citadel imbedded itself in the planet it has launched one assault at us after another.”  He fired a volley and started preparing for the next.  “I don’t think they’ve taken as much as a five minute breather.”

“You need to come with me,” Doyle said hesitantly.

“You can’t be serious.  If this turret stops for even a second our artillery is gone.”

“Then maybe I can help,” a soft voice said.

Vincent froze as he slowly recognized the voice.  Remembering how important his job was he fired off the volley before glancing around the screen.  In a wheelchair next to Doyle was Nadia.

“You made it,” he shouted gratefully.

Nadia nodded as she smiled weakly at him.

“She’ll never walk again,” Doyle said hesitantly.

“Better than being dead,” she added quickly.  “Now help me get in there.  They need you Vincent.”

As soon as he fired the next volley he jumped from the controls and helped Doyle lift her into position.  He hesitated for a moment before giving her a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you again, Captain.”

Vincent saluted proudly.  Doyle quickly followed suit.

“Can’t be a captain without a ship,” she said with a light blush as she calibrated the screen for her height.

“You’ll always be our captain, ma’am,” Vincent said.

“I was going to say that,” Doyle said irritably.

“No fighting you two,” she said distractedly as she lined up a shot and fired a volley.

“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.

Doyle tapped Vincent’s shoulder and nodded toward the entrance.  They carefully navigated the wires lining the floor as Nadia fired another volley.

“What’s so important?” Vincent asked.

“Gazsi called for you, and anyone awake enough to fight.  He thinks there is going to be a massive surge soon.”

“Any chance he’s wrong?”

“He hasn’t made a bad call yet,” Doyle said as he wrung his hands.  “We barely repelled the last one.”

“We’ll hold,” Vincent said confidently.  “We
have
too.”

The two raced through the city to join Gazsi in the northwest.  The streets had been kept clear for the flow of the defenders, but every other inch of land had been converted to support their efforts.  The once lush lawns had long since been trampled by heavy equipment or covered by hastily assembled structures.   Vincent shot an enviously glance at the large tents which housed the bunks filled with Navy personnel, troopers, and any citizens that had volunteered.  It was obvious they weren’t enjoying pleasant dreams, but at least they were resting.  Doyle veered to the right and ran into a meal tent.  The anxious anticipation of returning to the front covered the tent in a somber silence.

“Gather your gear and head out,” Doyle called out.  “We’re needed on the northwest front.”

The hardened troopers of the military instantly jumped to their feet and marched out.  The Navy personnel hesitated for a moment, but they too got up quickly and headed out.  The civilians looked around nervously, their courage wavering.  Once a few stood, the others reluctantly followed suit.  Vincent couldn’t blame the civilians.  They hadn’t trained for this.  A month ago their only task in life was to do their day job and maybe be a good parent.  Now they had a rifle in their hands and a merciless enemy that never tired, bearing down on them at all hours.

Doyle patted the side of a transport to get his attention.  As Vincent jumped into the transport, the sitting troopers saluted.  He saluted back and focused on the coming battle.  In a way he was like the civilians.  A month ago he was just a lowly ensign on his first patrol.  The only things he had to worry about were following the rules and quoting regulations.  It was the duty of the Navy to do more than just oppose pirates.  It was their job to safeguard the civilians of the Commonwealth from any foe.

Vincent’s mouth twisted as he thought about those loathsome pirates.  They had hid when the ITU had declared war.  They had hid when the Shard came back.  They were nothing but cowards.  He had no doubt that if they survived this war, only
then
would the pirates come out of hiding – to steal, kill and destroy whatever was left.  As the transport neared the front Vincent made a silent vow that he’d devote the rest of his life to bringing those cowards to justice if he survived the day.