Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  Stop! Stop! she cried over and over. You’re hurting me! You’re killing me! But they could not hear her any more than she could hear herself.

  It was then that fear swallowed her like a gaping maw that formed in the ground beneath her feet as if the mountain wanted to swallow her whole. No, it was swallowing her whole, pulling her through its gullet, into a stomach devoid of light and beauty. She grasped at the stones around her, fingers digging into the throat of rock that gave way to the shadowy depths below. There was only darkness and fear—the fear of being alone and never being discovered again.

  Lost. I’m really, truly lost and alone.

  * * *

  “Piper? What’s wrong, sweetie? Baby, you have to wake up. Piper!”

  Piper jolted awake. She sat on her acceleration couch, Talisman under her head, holo-pad clenched in her hands. She looked up at her mother. “Mama?”

  “Piper, baby! You were dreaming.”

  “It was… it was horrible.”

  “A nightmare, love,” Valerie said, smoothing back Piper’s hair with the warm flat of her hand. “But you’re okay now. I got you.”

  “It was real.”

  “No, baby. Those dreams aren’t real.”

  Piper became indignant and sat up a little. “No, Mama. It was real. I felt it.” She shook her head. “I was there.”

  “Baby, you just—”

  “Mama!” Piper sat upright. “You don’t understand! I was there.”

  Valerie looked at her daughter and took a deep breath. “Okay, my love. You were there, but now you’re here, see? Wherever it was you were, that place is gone, and now you’re here with me. With Talisman. Look,” she said, grabbing the stuffed animal and placing it in Piper’s arms. “He’s with you. And everything’s okay, my heart. I’ve got you.” Valerie wrapped her arms around Piper and squeezed.

  Piper could feel her heart pounding in her chest, sweat beading on her forehead. No matter how much her mother insisted otherwise, she had been there, wherever there had been. On that mountain, looking over that valley and sinking into that mountain. She envisioned herself falling down, down, down within the throat of that terrible mountain beast, hands grasping at the stone walls, hoping for something to hold on to. But it all broke away, and she fell into the darkness.

  Then she felt something in her hands beneath the holo-pad. Something loose and wet. She wasn’t there anymore. She was definitely here with her mother, with Talisman between her arms. Piper pulled the holo-pad away and looked in her palms, letting Talisman drop to the side. There were bits of rock and dust mixed with blood from her fingertips.

  14

  “The captain would like to inform you that we are nearly there,” TO-96 said from the lounge doorway.

  “Thank you, Ninety-Six,” Awen replied, looking up from her conversation with Magnus. The bot hesitated and started to turn back. She wondered if she had been too hard on him in sick bay. “Hey, listen. Do you want to come sit with us?”

  “Why, Madame Luma dau Lothlinium, I would be delighted.” He shuffled toward them, and Magnus gestured toward the open bench seat beside him.

  “I don’t suppose you want any tea?” Magnus asked with a smirk.

  “Ha, ha, ha,” came TO-96’s mechanical laugh. “That’s a good one, Lieutenant Magnus.” The bot looked back at Awen. “I must say, it is truly a joy to have you both on board. It’s not often we get guests. In fact, the last time we had guests was precisely one hundred four days, sixteen hours, twenty-three minutes, and forty-eight point six two nine seven seven—”

  “We get it,” Awen and Magnus said at the same time. They looked at each other in surprise.

  “My apologies,” TO-96 said. “Ezo often grows weary of my accuracy as well. Anyway, I’m afraid the trip did not end well for those clients.”

  “And why’s that?” Magnus asked.

  “It turns out our clients were wanted in three systems.”

  “Sounds like your boss didn’t do his homework, then.”

  “No, no, he did. Our clients had done a masterful job at recoding their records. In truth, I had missed it myself until I discovered a modular algorithm variation in the compression codec.”

  “A what?” Magnus asked.

  “A pattern,” Awen explained.

  “That’s correct!” TO-96 exclaimed, pointing at her. “Well done, Madame Luma dau Lothlinium.”

  “That’s such a mouthful, Ninety-Six. Do you mind calling me Awen?”

  “Very well, Awen it is.”

  “So, what happened to these clients of yours?” Magnus asked. “You turned them in?”

  “Turned them in? Why, no, Lieutenant. That would break the third universal rule of bounty hunting.”

  Magnus jerked back, eyeing the bot with something between skepticism and incredulity. “There are rules for bounty hunting?” He looked to Awen. “You know about this?”

  Awen laughed. “Nope. Now I’m curious.”

  “The third rule states that under no circumstances shall a bounty hunter ever go back on his, her, or its word for the initially stated intent of the contract, regardless of any provisos that may otherwise place the contractor in financial, corporal, or mortal peril.”

  Magnus laughed out loud. “So you’re telling me that bounty hunters have a code?” He shook his head. “And here I thought they were just out for themselves.”

  “Oh, some are, Lieutenant. That is quite true. But they are untrustworthy.”

  “This is fantastic,” Magnus said, clearly entertained.

  “I’m not sure I understand your conclusion, sir. These types of bounty hunters have the lowest earning potential and are, more often than not, wanted by governing agencies, former clients, and other bounty hunters. Moreover, their life expectancy is minimal. Therefore, fantastic is not an accurate descriptor.”

  Awen laughed at the exchange, delighted by the unexpected levity. She liked this bot if for nothing more than making Magnus laugh. Seeing a battle-hardened Marine interact with a high-functioning android unit was pure poetry—awkward poetry, but poetry nonetheless.

  “We’re going to have to agree to disagree, bot,” Magnus replied. “I’m sticking with fantastic.”

  “Very well,” TO-96 said. “The fantastic clients were deposited on their planet of choice, which ended rather poorly for them.”

  “But not for you,” Magnus concluded.

  “That’s correct, sir. We were paid before delivering them, and we escaped without taking too much damage to our ship.”

  “Too much damage?”

  “Geronimo Nine is equipped with an impressive array of armaments. You’ve also no doubt noticed that my master has modified me with state-of-the-art weaponry.”

  “I see that, yes,” Magnus said.

  TO-96 lifted his forearm in front of Magnus. “Would you like to touch my missiles?”

  “Would I like to touch your—what? No!”

  Awen burst out laughing, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said between fits. “He asked me the same thing.”

  “Keep your missiles to yourself, bot.” Magnus shoved TO-96’s arm away.

  “Very well, sir.”

  Awen was still doubled over, laughing so hard that her injuries pained her. “I have not laughed this hard in a long time.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It hurts.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  When Awen finally caught her breath and composed herself, Magnus looked back at TO-96. “So, aside from your armaments, what else has your master done to you?”

  TO-96 hesitated. Awen realized he was filtering his answer.

  “The armaments are all, sir,” TO-96 said.

  “He’s lying,” Ezo said from the doorway. “Just following orders, though.” Heads turned to watch the captain stroll over and take a seat next to Awen. “His AI has expandable architecture. Clients almost never notice. Which is a shame, as TO-96 is Ezo’s crowning achievement.”

/>   “Expandable architecture?” Magnus asked. “As in, his AI is giving itself new directives besides the ones you programed it to have?”

  “That’s pretty much the sum of it, yes. Not bad.”

  “You did this?” Awen asked.

  Ezo nodded. “It’s taken nearly ten common years and every extra credit Ezo could siphon. But yeah, Ezo did this. Well, we did this,” he amended, indicating TO-96.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “A true unrestricted AI,” Magnus mumbled. “In a single bot. That’s—”

  “Illegal?” Ezo asked. “Quite so. The only thing scarier to the Republic than an autonomous android is a bot with an infinitely learning AI.”

  “Then how’s it not considered sentient?” Magnus asked. “I mean, it’s not—he’s not—sentient, right?” He glanced at TO-96.

  “You’d have to ask him that,” Ezo replied with a smirk.

  “That means he’s banned throughout the galaxy,” Awen remarked.

  Magnus nodded. “Which makes him—”

  “One of a kind, sir,” TO-96 said. “As are you both, I might add.”

  “He’s even self-deprecating,” Awen said with a smile. She studied the bot for a moment. “Do you feel lonely, then?”

  TO-96 tilted his head. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

  “Does being the only one of your kind in the galaxy, maybe even in the universe, make you feel lonely?”

  “I suppose I’ve never thought of that, Awen. I find Ezo’s companionship quite acceptable.”

  “Thank you, Ninety-Six.” Ezo gave the bot a pat on its shoulder.

  “Though, now that you mention it, meeting others of my kind could be rather… stimulating.”

  “Hey,” Ezo said with mock outrage.

  “I do apologize, Captain,” TO-96 said. “I meant no ill will. Protecting your ass, as you call it, is certainly thrilling. But if there were others like me, I would surely enjoy meeting them.”

  “Remind me to build you a girlfriend,” Ezo replied.

  “Duly noted, sir.”

  Ezo addressed Awen and Magnus. “Ninety-Six here is Ezo’s insurance and guardian angel. Been through plenty of hell together. You can’t be too careful in this line of business. In any case, you’re both very perceptive. You work together a lot?”

  Magnus laughed and looked at Awen. “Yeah… no.”

  “You should consider it,” Ezo said. “You make a good team, it seems. Anyway, Ezo would appreciate it if you kept your observations to yourself. Best not to let the Repub know, as none of their engineers would be able to sleep at night.”

  “Copy that,” Magnus said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to either.”

  “Thank you for your discretion, sir,” TO-96 added.

  “No problem.”

  “And in exchange,” Ezo said to Awen, “Ezo won’t tell anyone that you’re carrying a stardrive.”

  Awen didn’t even flinch. “What stardrive?”

  Ezo winked at her.

  “Sir,” the bot said, “I believe that—”

  “Yeah, yeah—we’re about to jump out of subspace.” Ezo turned to Awen and Magnus. “Did I mention that hyperintelligent companions with advanced powers can also be—”

  “A royal pain in the ass?” Magnus said, eyeing Awen. “I know the feeling.”

  * * *

  “We know each other, don’t we?” Magnus said to Ezo. He rarely played a card in his hand without being assured that he knew what he was doing. Seeing as how he would most likely never see the bounty hunter again, however, he had to ask. They stood alone on Geronimo Nine’s bridge. They would be orbiting Worru for several more minutes.

  “Know each other? Ezo and the lieutenant?”

  Magnus waited for the captain to finish his own question. It was an awkward tactic but effective.

  Ezo shook his head, seeing that Magnus wasn’t going to jump in. “I think Ezo would remember a trigger-happy trooper.”

  “Trigger-happy?”

  “You did almost blow Ezo away over a simple handshake.”

  “You wanted to do a little more than shake it, as I recall.”

  “So you remember that but not if you’ve met Ezo?”

  “Never mind,” Magnus said, waving a hand. “Listen, I’m leaving, but I want you to do me a favor.”

  “A favor? More than take you halfway across the galaxy on Ezo’s own credits? Ezo doesn’t—”

  “They were Abimbola’s credits. And I can always tell him that you did a lousy job.”

  “No, no.” Ezo waved his hands. “That’s fine. What’s the favor?”

  “Hang out in Plumeria for one more day.”

  “Come again?”

  “Check in on old friends, rustle up a new job, you know—bounty-hunter stuff. Whatever.”

  “Bounty-hunter stuff? That’s not a thing.”

  “It is now. Just hang out for one more day in case she needs you. Got it?”

  Ezo placed a hand on his chest, a smile growing on his face. “Needs me? You think she might need me?”

  “Careful. I’m trigger happy, remember?”

  Ezo’s smile disappeared. “What’s in it for Ezo?”

  Magnus had been afraid he might ask that. Ezo was a glorified fence, after all. No one gets past this sort without a fee. “Let’s just say I’ll owe you one.”

  “As in, a favor?”

  Magnus closed his eyes and shook his head. “Something like that, yes.”

  “Ezo can hang out one more day. Plus, Plumeria is lovely this time of year.”

  “That it is,” Magnus said, knowing that the weather on Plumeria never changed. It was beautiful every time of year. He eyed the man. “Thank you, Ezo.”

  “Happy to help.”

  * * *

  “You thinking of opening it before you leave?” Magnus asked her. They stood in the cargo bay, preparing to disembark, while Ezo and TO-96 conducted their postflight checklist.

  The landing on Worru had been uneventful, aside from Awen’s ritual of taking a purloined vomit bag from TO-96 and filling it. She and Magnus had joined Ezo on the bridge as they touched down, admiring the city’s blend of ancient and modern architecture. The result, Awen always noted, was a city birthed from antiquity but formed by the future. Hand-cut sandstone ribbed high-density pyraglass towers like sail battens, while granite arches supported iridescent plastigon domes that filled the city with color. Whenever Awen left Worru, she felt homesick, and whenever she returned, the world was right again. Worru felt like home.

  Like Elonia? she asked herself. No. Elonia never felt like home.

  She waited a beat, giving the voice in her head a chance to argue. But it didn’t. And why should it? Worru had been her home for the last six years—the best six years of her life, when she’d learned so much and had been permitted to dive into her research and form her own worldview on justice and the preservation of galactic cultures. Not only that, but she had thrived and become… What? An asset to the Order? Awen could only hope as much. But more than that, she wanted to be an asset to the cultures she was called to serve. But had she really served the Jujari? Or had she just been part of beginning their genocide?

  That wasn’t my fault. That’s not how the pursuit of galactic peace is supposed to work out.

  “Awen?”

  Her eyes snapped up to Magnus’s. He stood beside her, holding his helmet and blaster.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I was just…” She shook her head.

  “So, are you going to open it?”

  “No, the Order’s rules don’t permit me to.” She finished securing the stardrive in a small leather satchel that Ezo had given her. “It was entrusted to me by way of my occupation as a Luma. That is sacred and eclipses whatever individual interests I may have.”

  “I can respect that. Although, it is a stardrive. When will you ever see one again?”

  “All the more reason to get this back to the Order. It’s well above my
pay grade”—she tapped a finger on his armor—“and yours, trooper, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Magnus sighed. “Fair enough.”

  Awen put the strap over her head and patted the satchel on her hip. “So, you headed back, then?”

  “To Oorajee? Probably. I’ll report to the sector chief here, then they’ll contact my battalion commander. He’ll decide what to do with me from there. But I’m guessing I’ll rejoin my unit over Oorajee—or what’s left of it, anyway.”

  “What’s left of your unit or what’s left of Oorajee?”

  “Both,” Magnus said. A look of anger and sorrow washed over his face.

  “I’m sorry for those you’ve lost,” she said, lowering her voice.

  “And I for yours,” Magnus replied, looking into her eyes with something like…

  What? Genuine care? Or is it desire? she thought then scolded herself. Don’t be foolish. Why would you want that, anyway?

  “Chances are, we’ll be seeing action around that system for years to come,” Magnus added.

  “Years?” Awen snapped out of her thoughts. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  The two of them looked at each other for a moment, then Awen turned her head. Why does he keep looking at me? “They’re expecting me. So I guess this is goodbye.”

  “Yup.”

  “Yup. And I just wanted to say thanks again for, you know, all of the protecting. You can tell your commanding officers that you did well.”

  “We don’t really self-report that kind of thing, but I still appreciate it,” Magnus said.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll put in a good word for you with… whoever it is I have to put in a good word with.”

  “You do that, Awen. And thank you for saving me too.”

  “You’re welcome. Just be careful telling your troopers that a Luma kept you alive. That might not go over too well.”

  “I think I’ll keep that to myself.”

  Awen extended her hand. “Take care of yourself,” she said, chin raised.

  Magnus looked at her hand and paused.

  Why isn’t he shaking it? Her mind raced through a myriad of cultural protocols. Wasn’t shaking hands still an accepted form of professional interaction in humanoid relationships? Yes, yes. Of course it is.