The Ninth (38 page)

“This is madness,” a trooper grumbled.  “All someone has to do is figure out our weakness and they’ll take us out no sweat”

“Maybe if they knew what to look for.”  Brent faced the grumbling trooper directly.  “However, in this academy every division is made in the same fashion.  Five squads made up of a smattering of abilities and talents.  Each one able to hold its own no matter the situation.  However, they are never able to truly excel.  Instead of five average squads, I have assembled you into one unbeatable whole.  Each group is able to do things a normal squad couldn’t dream of.  Every weakness is countered by another group.”

“I say we listen to him,” Cain said with a shrug.  “What’s the worst that could happen?  We fail – worse?”  Cain cackled.

A few troopers bust into laughter and nodded in agreement.

“Fine.  I’ll play ball,” the grumbling trooper said resignedly.  “How are we going to know what to do?  I don’t see a squad leader in my group.”

“Good point.  Kindra, Rhea, Humphrey, Sanderson, Greg, and Leonard, would you all be so kind as to check
your
pads and join the proper group?”  Brent called out to the leaders standing on the sidelines.

“Now wait a minute!” Leonard protested.

“His world is law!” a trooper mocked.

“No disputing him!” another joined in.

“No one is above him!” Cassandra added, laughing.

The squad leaders chuckled to themselves as Leonard angrily joined up with a group.

“Everyone is all set then.  Let me explain how this works.”  Brent walked down the line gesturing to the groups as he announced their name and purpose.  “Greg is in charge of the Beaters.  Every trooper under his command has amazing strength.  He will deal with hand-to-hand and construction projects.  Sanderson has the Blasters.  You’ll be hard pressed to find better marksmen anywhere.  Kindra has the Bunkers.  Masters of defense and first aid.  Rhea has the Blitzers.  None quicker, they’ll be on the enemy before they have a chance to react.  Humphrey has the Bombardiers.  Heavy weapons and stronghold busters.  The enemy will cringe as his ordnance streaks through the skies.  And, last but certainly not least, is Leonard with the Brains.  Communications experts who won’t lose their cool no matter how hot things get.”

“He’s really thought this out,” Cassandra heard Humphrey mumble.

“Now here is how we will prepare for the trial.”  Brent joined Greg’s group.  “Each of the groups will have one of Leonard’s Brains integrate with them.  Check your pad for your sub-assignment.  Leonard will then issue directives.  How you carry them out is up to you.  No silliness about formations and lines of fire.  You are the masters; you get the job done as you see fit.”

As they were commanded, most of the troopers in Leonard’s group joined the others.  Each group had two Brains, one for receiving orders, the other for relaying status reports back to Leonard.  Brent took the place of a Brain in Greg’s Beaters.  Every trooper and group leader stared expectantly at Leonard.

“I think you overloaded him,” Greg chuckled to Brent.

“How long did it take you to think this all up?” Cassandra asked.

“Not as long as you’d think,” he answered with a smile.  “The hard part was figuring out how best to divide the division.”

Leonard finally realized everyone was waiting on him.

“All right, everyone . . .”  Leonard started shouting.

“No, no,” Brent corrected Leonard.  “Don’t tell us; tell your Brains.  That’s their job.”

After the momentary surprise, Leonard started barking angrily at the troopers in his group.  A few moments later the Brains relayed his orders to the ones who would carry them out.

“He wants a trench, wide enough for three people.”  The Brain in Greg’s group gave the orders.  “It needs to face the mound everyone keeps talking from.”

At once the troopers pulled out their shovels and rushed to the proper place.  Ripping at the sand, they had the trench fully dug in only a few minutes.  The other troopers filed in as their individual orders dictated.  In less than thirty minutes the entire division was in a bunker in the sand completely protected from sniper attack.  The barrels of rifles poked out and scanned the horizon.

“I’ll be.”  Kindra was amazed.

“I don’t think I could have done better.”  Sanderson was equally surprised.

“I doubt the best divisions in the best grade could top that.”  Rhea jumped for joy.

“We might just win this,” Humphrey mumbled.

“Well, that settles it.”  Greg nudged Humphrey.  “If he is optimistic our victory is assured.”

The troopers whooped and hollered.  They might just stand a chance after all.  For another hour Leonard thought up simple battle plans, and the groups jumped to it.  As they practiced they got even faster.  Before they called it for the day, Leonard ordered another trench built.  They had it dug out an fully manned in fifteen minutes flat.  As they walked back to their quarters, the division acted like a group of completely different people.  Brent noticed quite a few did, in fact, have their heads held high – just as he had promised.  A pair of hands grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the main group as they neared the common room.

“I’ve gotta know; how’d you do it?”  Leonard asked as the last trooper left hearing range.

“Well, I thought about the war room.  How I did so well with the Shard units but so poorly with the Commonwealth ones.  I realized it was because of how they are set up.  Each Shard does one thing, but incredibly well.  The Commonwealth forces try to cover all the bases.  In the end it’s the difference between a scalpel and a shovel.  Certainly the shovel can perform a wider range of tasks.  And both can cut if you try hard enough.  But the scalpel can do the most damage if used properly,” Brent explained.

“In other words . . .”  Leonard was stunned.

“I converted our division into a small Shard army.”  Brent nodded.

Day after day the division continued its new routine.  Leonard drilled the division on every maneuver he could think of over and over.  As the trial approached, the mood of the division shifted from dread to excitement.  However, they never showed their excitement in public.  Brent had demanded that they keep the other divisions oblivious to their new strategy.  Leonard had happily ordered the division to remain silent and downcast when in public.  As the division got used to the new command structure, the evening training sessions grew shorter.

Things gradually returned somewhat to the routine they had previously been before the FF had started its special training.  While they didn’t have as much free time at night as they had enjoyed previously, there was still enough time for Brent to watch a 3P with Cassandra – when Cain didn’t get to him first.  He started to hate it when Cain dragged him off to the war room.

The war room troubled Brent more with each passing day.  It became more and more crowded each time he attended.  Among the crowd the copycats increased.  Soon enough there were more troopers in dark cloaks than not.  He had also noticed they bowed as his so-called “fan club” did.  They weren’t the only ones.  As Brent walked down the corridors of the academy, he would occasionally spot a trooper out of the corner of his eye bowing as the tripods did.  They saluted properly when superiors or instructors were around, but in private they mimicked the Shards.

He didn’t know why, but for some reason it bothered him deeply.  Thankfully, he had the trial and the 3Ps to keep his mind distracted from the trooper’s odd behavior.  Ever since the night Brent had commanded the division, Cassandra had acted differently around him.  She actually let him pick the 3Ps they watched.  Even when he would ask her opinion, she would always deflect.  “Whatever you’d like” was her only response.  It puzzled Brent no end.  He had learned enough to know she wasn’t afraid of him, but there was an excited melancholy that enveloped her whenever he was around.  As the division finished the last training session the night before the trial, she was completely encased in a deep blue aura.  She was depressed beyond that which words could describe.

“Tomorrow’s the big day!”  Kindra marched with a bounce in her step

“Don’t remind me,” Cain sighed.

“What’s got you?”  Brent nudged Cain.

“There are going to be a lot of credits changing hands tomorrow, and I won’t get a slice of the action.”

“They bet on the trials too?”  Brent was surprised.  “Wait, I thought everyone had trials.  Who’s doing the betting?”

“Trials take place over five days,” Cain explained half heartedly.  “Five grades compete a day while the rest watch and wait their turn – and make credits hand over fist.  We will be fighting against the other three divisions in our grade while every other bookie on the station gets rich off us.”

“Why not get it all done at once?”

“Simple, not enough room.  The trials use the largest of the exam rooms and take most of the day.  There simply isn’t enough room for everyone.”

“Don’t forget, it’s important to have
someone
watching.”  Kindra waved her finger at Cain.  “There is more to life than credits.”

“Well, for everyone
else
it’s important.”  Cain stuck out his tongue.

“I’d normally agree with you, but we might just pull off a win.”  Kindra looked up at the ceiling lights as smiled.  “The division leaders watching over us will be quite surprised.”

“Watching over us?  You make them sound majestic or something.” Cain said as he rolled his eyes.  “More like a pack of vultures eyeing their next meal.  They see something they like, they dive down and scoop it up.”  Cain flapped his arms like a bird.

“Your descriptions are always so . . .
colorful
.”  Kindra chuckled.

Cassandra brushed forcefully against Cain as she ran down the corridor ahead of the division.  The force of the suit’s passing sent Cain tumbling.

“Was it something I said?”  Cain watched Cassandra run off dumbfounded.

“Well, you know how she detests your occupation.”  Kindra shrugged.

“Maybe so . . . hey, Brent!” Cain called as he jumped to his feet.  “Ready for another night in the war room?”

“Maybe another . . .” he started to protest.

“He isn’t going anywhere!” a loud voice bellowed from behind them.

“Leonard?”  Kindra spun around at the sudden shout.

“No one is going anywhere.”  Leonard shouted to the whole division despite staring Cain down.  “Everyone is to head to their bunk and get some sleep.  I won’t have all this training wasted because you are all too tired to stand in the morning.  Save your celebrations for tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sir!” the division shouted back in unison.

Brent had to blink at the division’s reaction.  A few weeks ago, any order Leonard bellowed would have been ignored or met with griping and complaints.  Now, the division was acting like a proper military unit.  As he and the other troopers marched to their bunks, he couldn’t help but wonder what was bothering Cassandra.  While he couldn’t sense the emotions of the others, it was obvious she was the only one depressed.  The memory of the blue aura haunted him as he drifted off to sleep.

Morning came too soon.  As Brent stretched, the last images from the fifth exam faded.  He was getting used to watching the massive maw destroy everything around him.  It was a very effective alarm.  He instinctively felt his forehead.  Not a drop of sweat.  Gathering a spare uniform, he joined the rest of the division in the common room.  As they set out to the stalls, Brent noticed something was different.  Instead of a long messy line in front of them, the path was cleared.  Every other trooper lined the walls, saluting the division as it passed.

“Dead man’s march,” Cain mumbled.

“What?”  Brent watched the troopers as they passed.

“Today is our trial; they are saluting us for the last time.”

“Tomorrow the FF will line the walls and show the same respect to the other grades,” Kindra added.

“After the trial, the FF won’t be the same – none of the divisions will be.”  Cain smiled to himself.  “Troopers will shift around and find new homes.  Five days from now it will be a new division; only the name and a few familiar faces will remain the same.”

As Brent took in the deeper meaning, he spotted a few familiar faces.  Doug and the rest of his “fan club” were lining the walls, searching the division.  When Marie spotted him, she nudged the others; each of them stiffened.  Puzzled, Brent noticed there were others who were stiffening as well, others he
didn’t
recognize.  As he was about to reach them, they swung their arms into an X in front of them.  As Brent passed, the troopers lining the walls bowed deeply.

A few troopers in the lines remained in the proper salute, confused at the actions of those around them.  A hush fell over the division.  As they marched down the corridor, more troopers bowed at Brent’s approach.  Shock and surprise filled the faces of the division.  No one dared speak, in fear of disturbing the strange sight.  Brent tried not to show his discomfort at all the attention.  As the division entered the massive room of stalls, the spell wore off.

“Did I just see that?” a trooper mumbled to himself.

“I did wake up right?  I’m not still dreaming.  Pinch me,” another rambled.

“Brent.”  Kindra leaned over toward him.  “What was that?”

“Wish I knew.”  He shrugged.

“Looks like the competition for you will be more intense than the trial itself,” Cain cackled.  “I might have to work some sort of commission of selling you.”

“Enough,” Leonard shouted.  “We have places to be and a trial to win.  Everyone to their stalls.”

The division jumped to it, each taking a stall and waiting for the walls to rise.  Brent absentmindedly took a free stall while the memory of the bowing troopers replayed through his mind.  Suddenly, two arms wrapped around him, holding him perfectly still.  Struggling was futile as the arms easily overpowered him.  As the walls rose around him, Brent realized he was trapped with the stranger.  When the walls reached the ceiling, he tried again to break free.  His captor held him tight.  It was obviously a girl.  He realized with a start that the back of his shirt was wet.  The girl was holding him tightly while weeping into his back.

“Don’t leave us,” a weak voice trembled.

Brent thought he recognized the voice, but something was different.  Struggling, he tried to steal a glance at the girl behind him but she held him too tightly.  Long dark hair rolled over his shoulder as he struggled.

“Cassandra?”  Brent guessed aloud.

The girl released him and took a step away, hiding her face in her hands, tears escaping through the gaps between fingers.  He instantly recognized her outline, although she was in the standard uniform of the FF.  A sight he had only seen on rare occasion in the 3Ps.

“It’s not fair,” she cried out.

He hesitantly took a step toward her.  Her body was caught in a swelling blue that churned like an ocean in a tempest.

“It’s not fair to leave us like this.  Don’t leave me alone again.”  The girl wept openly.

As he got closer she lunged at him, embracing him.  She dug her head into his shoulder.  He knew she didn’t intend to hurt him, but her strength sent small waves of pain radiating through his shoulder.  Tears ran down the shiny black of his Weaver’s uniform.

“Ever since you showed up I’ve felt . . . normal.  You are different; you didn’t see me like the others.  Please . . .
please
don’t leave me behind.  I can’t go back to that life.”  Her hands clung to him desperately.

He wrapped his arms around her.  It was odd to feel her warmth.  He had spent so much time with her in the combat suit he had subconsciously imagined she would be as cold as the suit itself.  She stirred uneasily.  Her head pulled back from his shoulder and stared into his eyes.  Brent cleared the hair obscuring her deep red face.  A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Why don’t you turn away?  Why don’t you look at me with disgust?  You can’t look at me like that and then leave,” Cassandra sniveled.

“Then I won’t.”  He wiped the tear away.

As another tear swelled just below her eye, Brent pressed his lips to hers.  He could feel the heat of her aurora envelop him.  The rest of the world faded away until it was just the two of them caught up in an endless sea of warmth.  In a blissful eternity they joined as one.  When he finally pulled back, he found her blushing an even deeper red.  He smiled to himself.  Her skin was the same color as her aura.  He had always thought her pretty, but at that moment he couldn’t imagine any sight would ever compare to her beauty.  For a while she just stared at him.

“What now?” she asked timidly.

“Now?  Now we win a trial.”  He nodded with confidence.

“I see.”  She looked down at the ground, a faint blue intruding on the red aura.

He lifted her face.

“
We
will win. Whatever the Administer throws at us.  Whatever the universe throws at us.”  He took her hand and intertwined their fingers.  “
We
will overcome it.  I won’t leave you. 
Ever
.”  Brent meant his words.

She trembled for a moment before kissing him again.  She held him tenderly for a long while.  Again the world melted away.  With a start, Brent realized it wasn’t the world, but the facilities.  The walls had started sinking into the floor.  Cassandra realized what was happening and stumbled away from him.  As the walls disappeared back into the floor, a wolf whistle rang out.  Cain and a couple dozen troopers were waiting.

“Casanova.”  Cain winked.

Cassandra flushed and tried to run from the others.  Brent grabbed her hand and pulled with all his might against her strength.  He skidded a few paces before his boots gripped the floor and he slowed her progress.  Realizing she was being held back, she turned to face him; embarrassment and anger smoldered on her face.

“This ends now.  If any of you have a problem with Cassandra, you have a problem with me.”  Brent held Cassandra’s hand firmly.  “You think there is something funny about her face?  Let’s hear it!  I’ll give you one of black and blue.”

The troopers looked at one another then burst into laughter.  Cain walked up and patted Cassandra on the shoulder.

“Good for you.  Bagged yourself one heck of a boyfriend.”  Cain chuckled.

The rest of the troopers dispersed, chuckling to themselves.  A few winked at the couple.  One even shook Brent’s free hand.

“Enjoy the show?”  he asked Cain as he released Cassandra.

“I expected more from you.”  Cain winked.  “A couple of kisses.  I’ve seen medical training 3Ps that were more
exciting
.  Might have to rescind your title of Casanova.”

“What’s going on over here?”  Kindra was still drying her hair with a towel as she approached the group.

“Nothing, just some pre-battle jitters,” Cain blurted behind him as he quickly fled.

“Who’s this?”  Kindra faced Cassandra.  “Trooper, identify yourself.”

For a moment she stared at the squad leader disbelievingly.

“Cassandra Foster,” she said hesitantly.

“
Cassandra
?  That’s really you?”  Kindra was stunned.

“The one and only.”  Brent prepared to stop her from running again.  “Looks good without the suit, doesn’t she?”

“What’s the delay?” Leonard demanded as he approached the group.  “Kindra!  You’ve got a pair of troopers who haven’t finished yet?  Brent, is that you?  Why is your uniform soaking wet?  Stall malfunction?”

“Something like that.”  He appeased the division leader.  “We’ll be ready shortly; sorry for the hold up.”

Shrugging, Leonard walked off, checking up on the rest of the division, barking orders at every opportunity.  Kindra looked down at Brent’s uniform, noticing for the first time his chest was drenched.

“Okay, now I
know
something is up.  Whatever it is you two are up to, finish it quick.  If Leonard’s head gets any bigger he’ll explode.”  Kindra followed after Leonard, chuckling to herself.

When they were alone, Cassandra turned to him and planted a small kiss on his cheek.  Without a word she ran off.  Brent felt his cheek.  It had been an
interesting
morning.  He wondered what the rest of the day had in store.

The entire observation deck was abuzz.  Normally, trials started off slowly as they worked from the lowest ranked grades upwards.  Each day was normally more entertaining than the last as the more skilled divisions put on better shows.  Today was anything but normal.  Everyone who wasn’t participating in a trial was in the observation room.  Every trooper eagerly awaited the trial of the twenty-fifth grade.  Any other day they’d be written off as a joke, a series of blunders and mistakes leading to the invariable success of the drifter from the twenty-fourth grade.  It was the same every time.  The FF, TA, and RG would try their best, but to no avail.  Despite having failed their last trial, the division from the twenty-fourth grade
always
outclassed those in the twenty-fifth.  However, that was before Brent had showed up.

Before him there had
never
been a case of an entire group of recruits passing their exams.  Brent was the breaker of absolutes.  Even though all the recruits had all been retested, the first run was the one that stuck with the troopers of the academy.  Cain had been right, of course; the bookies had been frantically busy for the better part of three weeks.  Only an ITU trade array could boast a larger number of transactions.

“Not going to place a bet on Brent?” Jack asked, coping with the headache the excited troopers were giving him.

“Who said I hadn’t already?”  Nathan chuckled to himself.

“I should have known.”

“It’s a shame though; the odds on the boy are downright offensive now.  I doubt there is a single bet against him.”

“They learned their lesson last time.”

“I suppose.  Any progress so far?”

“None, I’m sad to say.  I’ve studied every one of Brent’s actions from the point he boarded the academy to the point he altered the girl’s emotions, and not one lead.”

“The other recruits?”

“Dead ends.  The two he sensed the aura from had nothing useful to say when I interviewed them.  The boy, Owen, had shaken his hand and thanked him a few times, but we’ve already ruled out physical contact.  The girl, Hiroko, now she had extensive contact with Brent.  For a while I even considered blood transfer as the foundation of his ability to sense others, but had to rule that out too.

“How can you be sure?”

“The girl, Cassandra.  She is the
only
one he can sense.  I’ve gone over each of their interactions leading up to his alteration of her emotions.  There wasn’t a single opportunity for blood transfer between them.  In fact, there wasn’t much opportunity for
anything
.”

“What do you mean?  I haven’t exactly been able to focus on Brent for a while.”

“I know, Nathan, but you did a fabulous job on the trial.  The first time he met her was the night before.  She snuck up behind him in a combat suit, tried to scare him.  It didn’t even faze him.  A moment later she tries to attack one of the FF regulars, a Mr. Cain Hooten, but fails, and her helmet falls off . . .”

“Hooten, why do I know that name?” Nathan interrupted.

“Alden Hooten.”

“Of course!  One of those big wigs from Core Industries, a magnate I think he calls himself.  I didn’t know CI was sending its youth to
Commonwealth
academies.”

“Normally not, but Alden’s beef is with the Independent Traders Union not us.  He thinks there is still a possibility for profitable relations with the Commonwealth military.”

“Great, so he sends his son here to show the universe he is all chummy with the Imperial Armed Forces.”

“That about sums it up.  But you’ve missed the point.”

“I have?  Oh yes!  We were talking about Brent.  I’m sorry, Jack.  I spent more all-nighters on the trial than I should have.  I’ve recently become aware I’m not the youth I once was.”