Read Online The Ninth: Invasion by Benjamin Schramm - Free Book Online
Authors: Benjamin Schramm
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aren’t interested in the military, so why would you want to know about my squad?”
“That’s simple,” Cain said distractedly, trying to cut through something on his plate. “She’s hoping we’ll give away more than we realize. Once she knows our secrets, she has a measure of control over us. It’s blackmailing basics.”
“You must be Brent, then,” Mrs. Lucchesi said with a forced smile. “You are rather quick.”
“Sorry. Nice try, but wrong,” Cain said with a wide grin. “What are the stakes of this little game? Normally I’d play for credits, but in a game like this information is far more valuable than a handful of credits. How about we play for information itself? When you guess wrong, we get to ask you a question.”
Mrs. Lucchesi eyed Cain cautiously. Suddenly, she let out a laugh that was more of a squeal.
“No deal. You’d have the advantage. I obviously don’t know you all very well, and if I had to answer a question every time, I’d run out of secrets.” Mrs. Lucchesi sounded more like a bookie than a Governor’s wife.
“You cut yourself short. I’m sure you have secrets to spare,” Cain said with a small smile. “But I see your point. How about this? When you make a wrong guess, we can ask you a question, but you get to decide if you answer it or not. You can reject up to two questions before you must answer one. Fair enough?” Cain asked.
Tyra wasn’t sure how to react to the interplay between her mother and Cain. Mrs. Lucchesi thought about it for a moment before nodding.
“Sounds fair to me, so what’s your question. I did guess incorrectly, after all.” Her mother sounded like she was actually looking forward to the game now.
“Is this meat or some kind of building material?” Cain asked staring at his knife embedded in the food. “I can’t seem to cut it.”
Everyone at the table laughed at the sudden shift from seriousness. Even Angela was forced to laugh at the joke.
“Neither, that’s a local delicacy. It’s a kind of hardened bread. You are supposed to dip it in the soup until it becomes soft again. The mixture of flavors and textures is divine.”
“ Now you tell me.” Cain lifted his knife, taking the hunk of bread easily off the table. He dropped both into what was left of his soup. It looked like a harpooned whale swimming in an orange sea. The troopers restrained bursts of laughter at the sight.
“I suppose it’s my turn now,” Cain said as he waited for the bread to soften. “Let’s see, one of us comes from five generations of farmers.”
Mrs. Lucchesi studied the table. After a short while she pointed firmly at Owen.
“You,” she said confidently. “Do you like the life of a farmer?”
“It’s good clean work. What am I supposed to do now?” Owen asked.
“You give me a hint about one of your other friends.”
“Oh, right! . . . Should I say him or her?” Owen cast a glance at Cain.
“Just say ‘one of us’ Owen,” Cain answered.
“Okay, one of us switched everyone’s partners on the fourth exam.” Owen chuckled to himself as he remembered the scene. As Mrs. Lucchesi stared at him blankly, he realized she had no idea what he was talking about. “Sorry, ma’am. That was the combat exam. We were dueling sims. Wouldn’t have won without him . . . one of us. Sorry Cain, I blew it.”
Cain shrugged and Mrs. Lucchesi looked around the table. After a while she randomly pointed at Ronald.
“Sorry, not me. Do you play this kind of game with all your guests?” Ronald asked idly.
“Maybe not this one, but ones like it. It’s a sign of a good hostess to keep her guests entertained.”
“I see. I suppose it is my turn to give you a hint.” Ronald thought for a moment. “One of us nearly bled to death after a heavy-gravity sparring match.”
Mrs. Lucchesi’s eyes widened and the Governor dropped his spoon into his
“That’s simple,” Cain said distractedly, trying to cut through something on his plate. “She’s hoping we’ll give away more than we realize. Once she knows our secrets, she has a measure of control over us. It’s blackmailing basics.”
“You must be Brent, then,” Mrs. Lucchesi said with a forced smile. “You are rather quick.”
“Sorry. Nice try, but wrong,” Cain said with a wide grin. “What are the stakes of this little game? Normally I’d play for credits, but in a game like this information is far more valuable than a handful of credits. How about we play for information itself? When you guess wrong, we get to ask you a question.”
Mrs. Lucchesi eyed Cain cautiously. Suddenly, she let out a laugh that was more of a squeal.
“No deal. You’d have the advantage. I obviously don’t know you all very well, and if I had to answer a question every time, I’d run out of secrets.” Mrs. Lucchesi sounded more like a bookie than a Governor’s wife.
“You cut yourself short. I’m sure you have secrets to spare,” Cain said with a small smile. “But I see your point. How about this? When you make a wrong guess, we can ask you a question, but you get to decide if you answer it or not. You can reject up to two questions before you must answer one. Fair enough?” Cain asked.
Tyra wasn’t sure how to react to the interplay between her mother and Cain. Mrs. Lucchesi thought about it for a moment before nodding.
“Sounds fair to me, so what’s your question. I did guess incorrectly, after all.” Her mother sounded like she was actually looking forward to the game now.
“Is this meat or some kind of building material?” Cain asked staring at his knife embedded in the food. “I can’t seem to cut it.”
Everyone at the table laughed at the sudden shift from seriousness. Even Angela was forced to laugh at the joke.
“Neither, that’s a local delicacy. It’s a kind of hardened bread. You are supposed to dip it in the soup until it becomes soft again. The mixture of flavors and textures is divine.”
“ Now you tell me.” Cain lifted his knife, taking the hunk of bread easily off the table. He dropped both into what was left of his soup. It looked like a harpooned whale swimming in an orange sea. The troopers restrained bursts of laughter at the sight.
“I suppose it’s my turn now,” Cain said as he waited for the bread to soften. “Let’s see, one of us comes from five generations of farmers.”
Mrs. Lucchesi studied the table. After a short while she pointed firmly at Owen.
“You,” she said confidently. “Do you like the life of a farmer?”
“It’s good clean work. What am I supposed to do now?” Owen asked.
“You give me a hint about one of your other friends.”
“Oh, right! . . . Should I say him or her?” Owen cast a glance at Cain.
“Just say ‘one of us’ Owen,” Cain answered.
“Okay, one of us switched everyone’s partners on the fourth exam.” Owen chuckled to himself as he remembered the scene. As Mrs. Lucchesi stared at him blankly, he realized she had no idea what he was talking about. “Sorry, ma’am. That was the combat exam. We were dueling sims. Wouldn’t have won without him . . . one of us. Sorry Cain, I blew it.”
Cain shrugged and Mrs. Lucchesi looked around the table. After a while she randomly pointed at Ronald.
“Sorry, not me. Do you play this kind of game with all your guests?” Ronald asked idly.
“Maybe not this one, but ones like it. It’s a sign of a good hostess to keep her guests entertained.”
“I see. I suppose it is my turn to give you a hint.” Ronald thought for a moment. “One of us nearly bled to death after a heavy-gravity sparring match.”
Mrs. Lucchesi’s eyes widened and the Governor dropped his spoon into his
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