The Ninth: Invasion (9 page)

The large home of the Governor and his wife was completely out of place.  It was as if someone had taken a plot from another planet and dropped it in the center of the town.  Everything from its architecture to its color was a stark contrast to the other nearby buildings.  The other structures were short and box-like with brown and red walls.  The Governor’s residence on the other hand was made of long smooth edges, giving it an organic feel.  Its walls were a gleaming silver green color that glinted in the morning light.  It looked like some fossilized sea creature trapped in the middle of a bunch of dirty shoeboxes.  Brent noticed some movement at the base of the large structure.  Two guards in the uniform of the Protectorate were sleeping, one on either side of the rear entrance.  He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the sleeping guards.  He suddenly realized he knew both of them.

The one on the right was the young boy he had helped after they landed, and the other was one of the guards Cain had been gambling with the night before.  Brent studied the young boy.  He was too short, and his face still had the overly soft quality of youth.  There had been some younger troopers on the station, but this boy was easily much younger.  Brent carefully kneeled beside the sleeping boy and shook him gently.  The boy slowly opened his eyes and jerked away.  The boy was more startled than scared.

“Don’t do that!” the boy complained in a strange accent.  “Scaring people isn’t nice!  You almost gave me a heart attack.”

The accent was different from Owen’s and was completely different from the one the local Protectorates had.  The boy cut off his words too early and slightly over hissed the letter ‘S’.  It wasn’t distracting but noticeable.  The boy suddenly recognized Brent and jumped to his feet, saluting stiffly.

“Relax, I’m not here to inspect you,” Brent said with a smile.

“Is that what you were doing yesterday?”

“Not exactly.  I saw you needed a hand and I offered you one.  So, what’s your name?”

“Philip,” the boy said with a smile.

Brent shuddered slightly as he briefly thought of the vile Weaver with the same name.

“My name is Brent; pleased to meet you.”

“Could I ask you a question, Mr. Brent?”

“Just Brent.  What would you like to know?”

“That dance thing you did, what was that?”

“Dance thing?  What do you mean?”

The boy tried to imitate the action as best he could remember.  It was crude and a bit off, but the boy was bowing like the tripods.

“Oh that.  Bad habit of mine.  It’s not a dance, it’s a bow.”

“A bow?”

“It’s a way to greet others and show respect for them.  Instead of saluting, I sometimes bow like that.”

“I see . . .. Why is it bad?”

“That’s complicated.  It’s not exactly
bad
; it’s just not as well accepted as saluting.  Probably because it’s strange.”

“That’s not the only strange thing you do.”

“Oh?”  Brent asked as a small grin pulled at his lip.

“Sorry!  If my mom were here she’d scold me something awful for being so rude.  I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Relax.  I’m not upset with you.  Tell me, how else am I strange.”

“You sure you won’t get mad.”

“I promise.”

“Well, you haven’t noticed how I talk.”

“I see.  Do other people make fun of it?”

“
Everyone
does, at first at least.  When they get used to it they don’t say anything, but at first
everyone
asks me about it.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not really.  I’m used to it.  It’s stranger
not
to be asked about it, really.”

Brent chuckled to himself.  This boy was the opposite of Cassandra; he actually enjoyed the attention his uniqueness brought him.

“Would you mind if I used that bow of yours?” Philip asked.

Brent eyed the boy and thought it over.  He knew he’d bow like the tripod without thinking about it, and eventually someone would end up mimicking him.

“I suppose there’s no harm in it.  That is if you do it correctly, of course.  Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

He showed Philip step by step how to perform the bow correctly.  The boy was a quick study, mastering the technique on his first try.

“Philip, would you mind holding your rifle for me?  As if you were back in the rows?”

“An inspection?  I’ll try.”

As he thought, the boy held the rifle exactly like he had been shown.  In a single demonstration the boy had completely relearned how to properly hold a rifle.

“I’d imagine your superiors praise you for being such a quick learner,” Brent said with a smile.

“How’d you know that?”

“Just a guess.  Could I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” Philip said with wide eyes.

“Could you take me to your morning facilities, you know showers and the like.”

Eager to please, the boy shot off like a rocket.  Brent almost had to run to keep up.  After he thanked Philip, the boy performed a perfect bow and ran back to his post.  As Brent went through his morning routine, it dawned on him he had been in the uniform of the Weaver since he landed.  No one had seemed to notice.  The citizens were frightened of the troopers as a group; not one of them had singled Angela or him out.  He remembered that the Governor hadn’t understood Angela when she said she wasn’t a trooper.  They seemed to be familiar with the term Weaver, but that seemed to be the extent of their knowledge.  Brent wondered if these people had any idea what a Weaver
really
was.

The other troopers had always inferred he must have come from a rim world every time he hadn’t understood something.  Were the rim worlds really that oblivious?  The showers were in the same state of disrepair as everything else here.  Halfway through, all the warm water had disappeared, only to return with force a minute later, nearly scalding him.  Refreshing wasn’t exactly the correct word for the experience.  As Brent finished, the first few Protectorates were starting to emerge from their barracks.  Returning to what was left of their barracks, he found the other troopers shielding their eyes as they pretended to sleep.

“Rise and shine.”  Brent shouted to the troopers.  “Stalls are filling up fast.  If you want any warm water you’d better hurry.”

“You mean the water temperature isn’t controlled?” Doug asked, rubbing his head.

Brent gestured to the fallen wall as a response.

“Good argument,” Cain said with a yawn.

The troopers sluggishly wandered off in the direction Brent had just come from.  He sat on his bunk.  It creaked as he put his weight on it.  Facing the fallen wall, he let out a laugh; this place was falling apart.  He hoped Cain would be right and CI would be able to turn this place around.  As Brent folded and put yesterday’s uniform in his bag, he noticed a small box.  It was the one Davis had given to him when they left the academy.  In the commotion of Cain’s punch and the invisible ribbon, he had completely forgotten about it.  He quickly corrected himself, the others called it the Wall, not an invisible ribbon.

Brent carefully unwrapped the box, making sure to preserve as much of the wrapping as possible.  He couldn’t remember ever receiving a gift before, and he didn’t want to damage any part of his first one.  Opening the box, he found a flattened silver sphere.  A long chain was attached to a small wheel at the top of the circle.  The small wheel had tiny grooves in it.  When he turned the wheel, a low clicking could be heard.  Instinctively, he pressed down on the wheel.  The front of the silver circle flipped open, exposing three thin sticks of metal pivoting around a center spoke.  They each moved at a different pace, pointing to odd symbols that were intricately carved around the edges of the circle.

Brent had never seen anything like it before, but he knew it was called a pocket watch.  The wheel at the top calibrated the device, and when turned in the opposite direction, wound the device, giving it power.  The strange symbols were ancient numbers that represented the hours of the day.  He had no idea how he knew the details of the device, but he knew it was very old and very precious.  Brent carefully set it to the proper time and gently set it in his pocket.  As he finished placing the box back in his bag, he heard a great commotion coming from the courtyard.

A group of Protectorates were assembling something not too far off.  As he got closer, he realized it was some form of portable monitor.  He guessed the academy was going to send a feed to the troopers planetside.  Just like the troopers watched trials and exams in the observation deck, they’d probably be watching the daily training in a little while.  He wasn’t the only one who had heard the commotion.  The entire female half of the squad was approaching the construction team.  Brent started to worry as he noticed most of them were giving him an odd look.  Some started giggling as they recognized him.  Understanding hit him when he spotted Cassandra.  Her face was so red it looked like it was about to burst into flame.  Apparently they managed to drag some details out of her.  He held back a chuckle when he noticed Liz was actually
skipping
toward him, a look of supreme satisfaction on her face.

“What’s up with them?” Cain asked as he handed him a bread roll.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast.  They serve it outside the showers.  Looks like they set it up after you left.”  Cain took a hearty bite out of his.

“At least we don’t have to soak this one in soup,” Sanderson said with a chuckle.

“Hey! There’s something inside,” Doug shouted.

“It tastes like meat, but has the consistency of runny eggs,” Dante said as he examined the red goop.

“I wonder if this is a local
delicacy
, too,” Cain said with a grin.

Distracted by the bread, Brent failed to notice as Liz skipped right up to him and gave him a quick hug.

“I’m glad you’ve got a nice girlfriend,” she whispered warmly.

Caught off guard, Brent almost dropped his bread roll.  The others stared in amazement at the normally shy girl as she skipped back to the rest of the female half of the squad.

“Great, the food is drugged,” Doug said, eyeing his bread roll.  “I’m seeing things.”

“Strange,” Mahoney said in agreement.

“Hey, where did you knuckleheads get the grub?” Marie shouted.

“By the showers.  They take their time setting things up around here,” Ronald shouted back.

“Sir?” Dante asked.

“Yes?”

“I did just see Liz give you a
hug
.  Right, sir?”

“Unless the food
is
drugged, that’s what I saw.”

“Don’t just stand there, go grab us some!” Marie shouted again.

“Why do we have to get
you
food?”  Doug shouted back.

“Chivalry is dead,” Marie shouted with a grin.  “Tyra says it’s an order!”

Tyra stared at Marie in surprise.  The other girls laughed.

“Better do what they say; it is an order after all.”  Cain pushed Doug toward the showers.

“Oh no, you don’t!”  Doug pulled Cain along.  “If I have to go, you’re coming with me.  I can’t carry it all by myself.”

“I’ll lend a hand as well,” Mr. Springate volunteered.

Doug, Cain, Mr. Springate, and a reluctant Humphrey headed back to get some food for the girls.  Ronald headed toward Tyra.  Dante watched the construction crews work.  Brent studied his food.  It was remarkably good, despite the odd appearance.  The goop in the center kept the whole thing warm and soft without being so hot he couldn’t eat it.  It did have a runny consistency, though, so he had to cradle it a bit as he ate it so it didn’t spill out on his black shiny shirt.  Brent heard Ronald and Tyra discussing something in the distance; they were too far off for him to hear clearly.  Glancing up from his meal to see if he could figure out what they were talking about, he found himself surrounded by four girls from the squad.  All at once they started talking.  He had no clue what any of them were saying as they all spoke at once.  Some seemed to be asking questions, while others seemed to be talking with no desire for his input.

“Back, back you foul beasts!” Doug shouted, although Brent couldn’t tell if he was being humorous or serious.  “We brought you food; now leave him alone!”

“Plus I doubt he’d taste good; hardly any fat on him.”  Cain burst into laughter.

Brent could hear Kindra and Rhea laughing in the distance.  He quickly ducked away from the girls as the returning troopers started passing out breakfast.  Marie, Penny, and Hiroko had been the ones rambling, while Liz had been trying to get them to leave him alone.  Brent quickly made his way to Cassandra, keeping a wide distance between himself and the quartet.

“What exactly did you tell them?” Brent whispered.

“Everything,” Cassandra answered as she stared at the ground.

“Certainly got those four worked up.  Liz even hugged me.”

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have told them.”