The Ninth (47 page)

“Want to run that by me again?”

“Give me a minute to collect my thoughts; I’ve never been good under pressure.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”  Jack chuckled.

“Before I took that accursed position at Lazarus, I was a general researcher for the Commonwealth.  I’ve probably told you about my exploits to the point you know them better than I do.  In any case, I was sent here and there to study this and that.  I made a number of friends back then, friends I’ve kept in contact with over the years.  We argue about theories, gloat over our latest accomplishments and the like.”

“Okay, so you are popular.”

“You don’t have to sound so skeptical.”

“I never said you weren’t, so how does arguing about theories put Brent in mortal danger?”

“I was getting to that!  Well, recently they’ve been getting nervous.  The ITU is acting funny.  They wanted to know if I knew anything more.”

“Funny ha ha or funny odd?”

“Funny peculiar.  They’ve been moving around their security forces.  Getting too close for comfort.  Nothing worries a researcher like a warship in orbit.”

“Great, so they want to pressure some world to capitulate on a trade dispute, or convince some policy maker to leave them alone.”

“That’s just it.  There isn’t a single world they are trying to establish trade arrays on right now.  And there isn’t a single policy coming up anytime soon that would effect them.”

“So what?  You think they are up to something else?  All the ITU cares about is credits, credits, and more credits.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but after the three titans incident the ITU has had a lot more power to toss around.  The whole thing changed how PSFs are calculated after all.”

“Or it could be they are just reorganizing their trade routes to save a credit or two.”

“That’s another thing; the trade ships haven’t deviated at all.  They are still jumping along the same old routes.  With the security forces as they are now, there are even a few ITU trade lanes that are completely unprotected.”

“Any pirate activity?  Could it be a trap to lure them into the open?”

“For a while they were raiding the trade lanes nonstop.  The security forces ignored them completely.  Recently, the pirates pulled back.”

“Even they know something isn’t right,” Jack said, finally accepting Nathan might be on to something.

“It all fits.  The ITU wants Brent out of the picture.”

“Hold up, how do you make that connection?”

“Think about it.  Our spy was well paid, and who has deeper pockets than the ITU?  When their spy failed to terminate Brent we hid him in Medical.  For all the ITU knew, we could have moved him to another academy.  Right about that time they started shuffling their security forces around.  We’ve crunched the numbers, figured out where they are headed.  Their fleets will soon be in position to strike at any of the academies.”

“Okay, I see it now, but I don’t buy it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why move their entire military force for a single boy?  Why expose their trade lanes to pirates and other riffraff when a single professional assassin could get the job done for a fraction of the price?”

“After the incident in the mess hall, maybe they didn’t think an assassin could cut it.”

“But that was yesterday.  You said they started moving last week.”

“But Jack . . .”

“Don’t worry; you’ve convinced me.  I’ll check with my contacts in the military; see if your scientist buddies are getting you worked up over nothing.”

“Believe me, I’d be happy if that were the case.  I’ve had too much excitement for one . . .”

A gentle knocking interrupted.  A man in gray stepped into the room timidly.

“Weaver Davis?” the man asked slowly.

“That’s me.  What is it?

“You wanted to be informed if there were any developments with the boy.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“He’s changed divisions.  Was made official last night.  He’s now in the SW.”

“Under who?”

“Division leader Valerie Murdock.  He’s in the second squad under Tyra Lucchesi.”

“That will be all.”

The maintenance man saluted and quickly left the room.

“Wonderful.  Of all the divisions, he had to end up in Murdock’s.”  Jack sighed.

“You know her?”

“Not personally, but I’ve had dealings with the family.  They’ve despised Weavers for generations.”

“Well, it could be worse, right?  After all, hunting Weavers is against the law nowadays.”

“I suppose that’s true.  However, blood feuds don’t resolve without blood – hence the name.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’s where the expression comes from.  You don’t think she’d
really
take up the old family hobby in plain view.  Do you?”

“You make a point.  Murdocks are anything but fools.  Plus, he isn’t reporting directly to her; there might be enough buffer between them that she’ll forget he’s there.  Wasn’t Tyra the leader of the SF?”

“No doubt abandoning the division before it sunk completely.  Hold on, what was her last name again?”

“Lu-kess-e, I think.”

“Lucchesi!  Why do I know that name . . .”

“Is there anyone you haven’t heard of?” Jack asked with a grin.

“Maybe I do watch too many 3Ps.”

“One of your scientist friends perhaps?”

“Don’t think so.  It’ll come to me sooner or later.”  Nathan shrugged and rolled back into bed.

Jack didn’t protest as his friend drifted back to sleep.  He could feel Nathan’s exhaustion.  Nathan had always been a worrier, and recently there was more than enough to worry about.  If the ITU was getting involved with the boy, things would only get worse.

The three tones awoke Brent.  For a while he laid still, collecting his thoughts.  His dream had been different.  Instead of the fifth exam and the metal world, Brent had been in peaceful grassland.  Rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see.  Large herds of animals moved about under an auburn sky, freely roaming and eating as they pleased.  It had been a soothing dream, a new experience for him.  After the turmoil of the last few days, it was refreshing to get a decent night’s sleep.

Remembering where he was, he started to get up.  As he stirred, he realized he couldn’t move the left side of his body, and there was a weight on his chest.  Looking down, he found a large tangle of hair resting on him.  After the initial shock, Brent looked around.  The bunk overhead was empty.  Cassandra couldn’t have fallen out of the bunk; there was no way he could have slept through her crashing down on him.

Suddenly, a warm soft material caressed his immobilized hand.  She was holding his hand close to her chest even in sleep.  The sensation hinted she was well endowed beyond what he had pictured.  She shifted subtly; through the blanket he could feel her legs wrapped around his.  Apparently Cassandra clung to things in her sleep.  From his position he could only make out the top of her head, but her slight movements gave him a mental picture.  Brent wondered how she had managed to tangle herself so intricately without waking him.

She never ceased to surprise him.  Despite her magnified strength, she could be incredibly gentle.  The same girl that had flung a trooper like a rag doll the night before was now snuggled up to him, clinging as softly as a breeze.  With his free hand Brent grabbed his pad.  Working with only one hand was troublesome, but he found himself not wanting to wake her.

Focusing as best he could, despite Cassandra’s occasional slumbering cuddle, he turned his mind to business.  He had signed up with Tyra under the condition that he picked the troopers.  As he started searching for prospects,
every
trooper on the station came up as candidates; evidently single digit divisions got whomever they wanted.  Brent quickly searched through the names, making mental notes of talents and weaknesses.  It had taken a little over an hour, but he had managed to construct a squad that he could live with.  He was actually quite proud of the squad he had assembled.

Cassandra’s knee rubbed against his inner thigh as a reminder they were still intertwined.  As he sent the list to Tyra, Brent wondered if Cassandra always slept in late or if she was suffering from exhaustion.  After all, he had no idea how long she had been by his side after the trial.  This might have been her first good night’s sleep in quite some time.  A figure was moving in the distance.  As it got closer, he identified it as one of the SW troopers who had joined him the night before.  The girl in black and red was moving her head about as she studied the bunks.  When she noticed Cassandra on the floor she paused for a moment.  As she made eye contact with Brent pinned under the girl, her eyes widened.  He shrugged nonchalantly as the trooper turned away.

“Excuse me, Weaver.  I thought you might like to know basic starts in forty minutes,” the SW trooper said with her back turned.

“You can drop ‘Weaver’.  Brent works just fine,” he whispered back.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to referring to people so informally, sir.”  She spoke in a whisper to match Brent’s.

“I see.  So you want me to refer to you as ‘trooper’ then?”

“I see your point.”  She chuckled to herself.  “My name is Williams, Penny Williams.”

“Could I ask you a favor, Miss Williams?”

“What can I do for you?”

“My friend here has had a very long couple of days, and I can’t bring myself to wake her.  Would you mind waking her in fifteen minutes or so and escort her to the stalls?”

“What about you?”

“I can find my way; thank you for the offer.”

“One more thing, sir.”

“What is it?”

“The division leader isn’t exactly the forgive-and-forget type.  She’s called a special training session tonight, a whole hour earlier than normal.  I doubt it’s a coincidence.”

“When is it exactly?”

“Right after the evening meal; she’s not giving us a free minute tonight.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

With Cassandra’s wake up call taken care of, all that remained was to escape her grasp.  Using slow movements, he managed to break free without waking her.  As he was about to snake out his hand, Brent hesitated.  He had forgotten his dependence on her.  Slowly he pulled his hand away, bracing for the worst.  Surprisingly, nothing happened.  No strange emotions assaulted him.  The memory of the other Weavers and their jumble of emotions didn’t rush over him.  He slowly waked away; ready to return to her if any emotions cropped up.

As Brent entered the common room, his mind was clear.  The traces of the other Weavers were gone.  He let out a sigh of relief.  At least for now he was independent again.  Not that Cassandra’s snuggling hadn’t been
pleasant
.  The common room was full of troopers.  All of them were training, even at this early hour.  Push-ups, weight training, and even some sparring occupied the troopers.  The division leader ran a tight group.

He quickly made his way to the stalls.  The etchings above the doorways made the station quite easy to navigate once his had figured out the patterns.  Brent didn’t even need to hold up his pad to read them clearly anymore; the faint indentations were as apparent as any street sign to him now.  As he made his way, he noticed that, despite the large number of troopers, they were cleanly arranged in neat lines.

They reminded him of Sanderson’s squad.  Even before they had washed for the morning, they were parading around.  They regarded him largely with indifference, whether out of fear of his status as a Weaver or out of some feeling of superiority, Brent couldn’t tell.  He actually found it refreshing.  For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t some public spectacle.  To these troopers he was just a nameless Waver demanding no special focus or regard.

As he reached the stalls, he had noticed the troopers bow to one another like the tripods only twice.  His fan club didn’t have many members in the higher grades, or at least they hid their membership better.  Despite the different behavior of the troopers, the facilities were exactly the same.  At breakfast, the troopers of the SW were eerily silent.  The playful banter of the FF was nowhere to be found.  Basic was similar to what he remembered, the lifeless droning about past battles and basic combat techniques.  Only problem was Brent was incredibly behind.  It took him a while to understand the new exercises.  Lunch was about as exciting as the monotone history lecture had been.  The specialized training was incredibly difficult.  Having missed so much, Brent had to struggle just to keep up with the others.  Despite it all, he managed to avoid complete disaster.  Dinner was as solemn as a funeral.  Cassandra took a seat next to him.  It had been the first time he’d seen her since that morning; a downcast look dominated her face.

“We are gathered here to morn the loss of our dear friend Hue.”  Brent smiled as he spoke.  “He was an endless inspiration to some of us, and a respected colleague to others.  None of us will forget the effect Mr. More had on our lives.  I ask that we now have a moment of silence for our departed friend, Hue More.”