Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  Finally, Magnus removed his glove and took her hand. His eyes lit up as she placed a small piece of paper between their palms. Awen liked that she had surprised him by using the Marines’ military tradition of exchanging challenge coins in a handshake.

  “Take care,” she repeated.

  “Take care,” he replied as the ramp door cracked open and let in the Worruvian sun’s warm light. He palmed the paper and replaced his glove. Awen watched as he walked out of the ship and passed two Luma escorts who waited on the landing pad. He tipped his head to both, replaced his helmet, and disappeared around the side of the ship.

  15

  The two Luma escorts bowed to Awen and informed her that Master So-Elku requested an audience with her at once. She thanked them and asked them to wait. “I need to settle things with the captain.” They nodded and walked back to the transport skiff. Awen returned up the loading ramp and found TO-96 stowing crates in the cargo bay. “Have you seen Ezo?”

  “He will be down shortly, Awen. It’s time for you to leave, I take it.”

  “That it is.”

  “I see.” He stood upright and walked toward her, extending his hand. “Please accept my warmest regards. It has been inspirational making your acquaintance.”

  “Inspirational,” she repeated with a chuckle, reaching to shake his hand. “I need to meet more people like you.”

  “More people, Awen? I think you have me confused with a sentient.”

  “The way I see it, Ninety-Six, if we could all learn to be a little more thoughtful like you, the galaxy would be a better place. And for your sake, I hope you find others like you out there in the cosmos.”

  The bot recoiled, head turning side to side, then looked back at Awen. “Why, I don’t even know what to say, Awen. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, smiling. She could have sworn she saw the bot blush.

  “Leaving so soon?” came Ezo’s voice from up a side stairwell. He let his hands slide down the rails and took the steps three at a time. “What a shame to bid farewell to our prettiest client in—what would you say, Ninety-Six? A year common?”

  “Based on your promiscuous activity with that Dellophinian last week, I’d say it was more like—”

  “And that’s enough of that.” Out of the corner of his mouth, Ezo whispered, “It was a rhetorical question, you wire brain.”

  “In any case,” Awen said, stifling a laugh, “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality and the use of your ship.” She looked down at her clothes. “Should I get these back to you?”

  “Please keep them. And think of Ezo fondly,” he said with a wink.

  “Charming.” Awen suddenly savored the thought of getting into new robes and burning Ezo’s clothes. “Will business keep you on Worru for any length of time?”

  “Just long enough to refuel and take on some minor supplies. Maybe secure a job worth paying for this jaunt, you know. Just the usual bounty-hunting stuff.” Ezo seemed oddly anxious.

  “Bounty-hunting stuff? That’s a thing?”

  “It is now.”

  “Well, I hope you find compensation. And please be sure to relay my thanks to Abimbola the next time you see him.”

  “Ezo most certainly will.”

  “But, sir,” TO-96 interrupted, “I thought you said you never wanted to see the warlord again.”

  “Rhetorical,” Ezo seethed between clenched teeth.

  “Safe travels, then,” Awen replied. “May you find the desires of your heart in the unity of all things.” She waved her hand over them in the sign of the Luma and bowed.

  Ezo tried to mimic the gesture, but the effort was clumsy. As Awen walked away, he said, “And may you find your unity in unifying your desires by—”

  “You don’t need to say anything back, sir,” TO-96 whispered.

  “Splick. Thank you. That was awkward.”

  * * *

  Sunlight flashed between sandstone colonnades as the skiff moved quickly through the interconnected plazas. Luma crisscrossed the open squares en route to any number of destinations, from lecture halls to practice chambers. Others walked along cloisters and moved in and out of their cells.

  Awen drew in a deep breath of the flower-scented air and savored the sweet smell. It felt good to be home. It was almost as if she’d never even left, such was the pleasant pace of life here. Only now Plumeria is missing some of her most beautiful souls. Awen saw the second-story windows of the classroom where Elder Toochu taught first years the fundamentals of meditation. That was where she’d first met Matteo. She imagined him sitting beside the fountain where they spent evenings discussing particle physics—one of her favorite pastimes when not immersed in all things Jujari. He was one of the few people who never laughed at her for geeking out over string theory or advanced quantum dynamics. I’ll never have that again. Her heart ached.

  The skiff turned into a wide circular thoroughfare that led up to the Grand Arielina, the structure that the Luma had esteemed as their core sanctuary since antiquity. Bordered by colorful gardens and flowing streams, the building seemed as though it were hewn from a single block of sandstone stretching several hundred meters into the azure sky. Moreover, unlike other buildings, which betrayed the angular manipulations of cutting torch and diamond blade, the Arielina looked as though it had grown up from the ground itself.

  The foundation undulated like the base of massive trees, rising to gentle archways and porticos. The structure continued skyward, providing cover for increasingly smaller verandas before morphing into spires made of twisted stone branches. Brilliant iridescent orbs punctuated the spires and could be seen from almost any point in the city, while a single waterfall cascaded down from among the orbs, redirected at various landings, and finally splashed into a massive pool below the building’s main steps.

  The two escorts climbed out of the skiff and helped Awen stand. They walked beside her, moving up the grand steps to the sounds of splashing water. How Awen wished she could jump in and rinse herself of the memories of the last days.

  At the top of the steps, the escorts bowed and left her in the care of Elder Willowood. The old woman wore Luma robes, but that was where her similarity to other elders ended. She donned a dozen bangles on each wrist and just as many necklaces, each abounding with gold and colorful stones. As attractive as the baubles were, her aging blue eyes radiated even more brilliantly. And capping it all was a mass of wiry gray hair that made her look as if she’d been unwittingly charged by an energy pack.

  “Awen,” Willowood said, moving to embrace her. “What a joy it is to see—”

  Awen cut her off, fell into the elderly woman’s arms, and began to weep. She hadn’t expected to break down here in the open, but when she saw Willowood, it was like a dam that had grown too fatigued from having to hold back a body of water had finally given way. One minute, the structure looked sound; the next it had broken apart and let through a flood of tears.

  Willowood was safe. Not that any of the other elders weren’t, but the two of them had formed a special bond the first day they’d met. And in a place as overwhelmingly cerebral and intellectually diverse as Plumeria, connecting meaningfully with others was important. It kept the soul grounded to the beauty of personal relationship when it could easily be lost in the chaos of galactic cosmology. In fact, given the rift that had developed between Awen and her mother, Willowood had become like a surrogate mother. Awen had often wondered if the elder didn’t get her more than anyone else in the galaxy—maybe even more than she got herself. All the emotions Awen had kept bottled up poured out onto Willowood, tears turning the elder’s robes deeper shades of maroon and black.

  “There, there,” Willowood said, rubbing her old hands along Awen’s back. “You’re safe now.”

  “But Matteo,” Awen whimpered. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The pain stood on her chest like a pillar of granite. “He’s gone.”

  “Yet he lives in the Unity of all things,” Willowood replied. “
From one form to another, and you will see him again. But what’s done is done, and Matteo’s part is over.” She pushed Awen’s shoulders up, held her biceps with aged hands, and looked her in the eye. “Your part, however, is just beginning.”

  “But I don’t want to do this anymore,” Awen confessed. “It’s too much. It wasn’t supposed to go like that, and I don’t want the chance for anything like that to happen again. It’s got to be over for me. It’s over.”

  “That is a choice you can make, dear, yes. And no one would blame you for it.” Willowood let go of Awen. “The time has come for you to stand on your own two feet and make your mark on the galaxy, Awen. You cannot control what is done to you, just like you could not stop those people from dying.”

  “But—”

  Willowood silenced her with a raised finger. “The only thing you get to control is your today. You choose, and the universe responds. The Unity can no more control you than you can control it. In the end, all you can control is yourself, and that is enough business for several lifetimes.”

  “But those poor people didn’t even get to live out one lifetime.” Awen wiped the knit turtleneck’s sleeve across her face. “It was terrible. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

  Willowood sighed, holding Awen’s arms again. “No, it wasn’t supposed to go like that at all. We saw the holo-feed the Republic forwarded.” The old woman grimaced. “I’m so sorry, dear.”

  “All their bodies, and the fire, it… did the report say if anyone—”

  “There will be time for grieving the dead, Awen. But not now.”

  “Wait. You’re saying no one survived?” She felt torn apart by the look of immense sadness in Willowood’s graying eyes. Awen searched them for some sort of reprieve, some sort of reassurance, but found none.

  “I’m so very sorry,” her mentor said.

  Awen swallowed the lump in her throat. “So am I.”

  “Listen,” Willowood said, brushing Awen’s sleeves with her hands. “You need to compose yourself. You need to finish your mission and make a final statement. Meet with Master So-Elku. Then we can mourn together and figure out the future.”

  “I would like that,” Awen said, trying her best to rein in her emotions. Her eyes felt puffy, and her ribs ached. “I would like that very much.”

  “Good. Now, then, let’s get you to Elder’s Hall. So-Elku arranged a private audience.”

  “Alone?”

  “He figured it would be too much for you to address everyone. I agreed. Although, So-Elku…”

  But Willowood never finished her thought.

  “So-Elku what?” Awen asked.

  “It’s nothing.” The old woman waved her hand. “He’s been under a lot of stress lately, that’s all.”

  “Well, it’s kind of him to grant me an audience without all the other elders,” Awen said. “I don’t think I could handle that many people right now.”

  “And so it is. Come, let’s walk.”

  Awen was grateful for Willowood’s arm. Still, Awen couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering her mentor. The two of them strode through the central hall as birds chirped in the upper arches. The calls tried to lift Awen’s soul away from the shadows that plagued her. But she was pulled back down, the sound of her boots clumping along the marble floor—boots in the mwadim’s palace—reminding her of death. It was as if clinging to Willowood’s arm somehow kept her from falling back to Oorajee.

  “Do you think I can change my clothes first?”

  “Change? You do look rather fetching in street clothes, you know.” Willowood cast her a wry smile. Awen laughed and felt her mood lift ever so slightly. “Never mind me. To answer your question, yes, we’ll get you to the hospital as soon as So-Elku is finished with you, and I’ll prepare new robes and slippers for you.”

  “After So-Elku, though? Must it wait?”

  “I’m afraid so, dear.”

  “Very well,” Awen replied.

  * * *

  “Thank you, Elder Willowood.” So-Elku bowed to the woman, his green-and-black robes brushing the floor. He offered Awen his arm as Willowood backed away. The massive wooden doors started to move. Awen felt them close behind her with a deep whoomph.

  Awen found herself in the vaulted room of Elder’s Hall, a spartan circular space whose perimeter was lined with hundreds of seat cushions and whose domed ceiling was a holo-projection of the entire galaxy. Each cushion on the floor was reserved for an elder who had achieved Seventh Level and served a star system. Awen hoped she would be permitted such an honor one day. Until then, she only had access to this hall when she was being assessed or in certain cases, such as when she’d been commissioned to lead the Jujari mission.

  It felt very strange to be back. The last time she’d been here, the hall had been alive with anticipation and… something else. Her mind raced. Hope. Being selected from amongst the Order’s very best candidates for what was surely the most important mission in hundreds of years had been the highlight of her life. Now, however, the hall was eerily still with only So-Elku’s and her footfalls echoing throughout the cavernous space.

  So-Elku walked her to the far side of the room, a curved wall lined with large windowed cutouts. The portals opened to a vibrant garden lined with paths and streams and covered by the broad bows of seratathia trees. Several dozen butterflies danced across the foliage, flitting from one perfect flower to the next. Awen took a deep breath of the moist air and let her shoulders relax. The scene offered to wipe away everything that had happened if she could only stay here, surrounded by the beauty of this place. But she knew such a reprieve was not meant to be.

  “That’s it,” So-Elku said. “You’re safe now.” He released her arm and turned to look down at her. He had a bald pate but still wore some dark hair tight to the sides and back of his head. The wraparound connected to a thin line of facial hair that rose over his top lip in sharp angles and then ran along his jaw, missing his chin completely. He had dark, penetrating eyes and wrinkles that reinforced the years of intellectual and mystical mastery of the Luma traditions. As the grand master of the Luma, he was the embodiment of their legacy and the director of their future.

  “So, you have returned from the other side of the galaxy, young Awen dau Lothlinium. Dare I ask how you are?”

  “Right now, I’m tired, Master So-Elku. But I’m happy to be home.”

  “I’ll have you on your way in moments, I promise.”

  “Thank you.” Awen took a deep breath. “I’m sure you have many questions for me, and I still have plenty of my own. While I can only thank you for selecting me for such an important mission, I fear that I’ve failed you and the Order in ways I can only begin to count.”

  “My child, please. You have no need to thank us. It is we who need to honor you.”

  “But the mission was—”

  “Attempted. Sometimes, that is all we can do—attempt the improbable and hope for the impossible. You, I would argue, have succeeded at both.”

  “Success is not exactly the word I was thinking of, master. If you had sent someone else, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

  “If we had sent someone else?” So-Elku let out a small laugh. “I fear the team would have lost their heads long before gaining access to the mwadim’s palace. No, Awen,” he said, taking her hands, “it is because of you that we got as far as we did. No one, and I mean no one, could have done it more skillfully. That is why we sent you, child. Do not think for an instant that we were doing you a favor. We are not so foolish as you may believe.”

  “I don’t believe you’re foolish.”

  “Then trust me when I say that we were doing what was best for the mission.”

  “Thank you, master.” She took another deep breath and rolled her neck, trying to release the tension she felt. “Don’t you think someone with more sensitivity than me would have sensed the explosion?”

  “A worthy question. But do you so soon forget that you were not
alone? I can think of fewer more sensitive elders than Toochu. It was hard to make everything out in the holo-feed that we received, but I didn’t see any of your team react as you did. It seems you placed a shield around you and the mwadim? The helmet holo-cam cut out after the detonation.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but it wasn’t strong enough to save him. It barely saved me.”

  “It’s a wonder you survived at all, then.”

  “I wouldn’t have, had it not been for a certain Marine.” Her thoughts flitted back to Magnus like a butterfly seeing a flower it liked. She had trouble remembering the details of how he’d done it, but she knew he’d saved her and made sure she got out alive when all the others hadn’t. “I couldn’t save them,” she added. “I couldn’t even save myself.”

  “That may be the case, but you were the right emissary, and you had the right team. Nothing more, Awen. Some things are just out of our control.”

  “Like the war forming over Oorajee,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. She could feel the fatigue betraying her emotions, which were coming to the surface more quickly now.

  “Yes,” So-Elku said, lowering his head. “That is unfortunate. I fear that we may never…” The master lost himself in thought. Awen wasn’t sure if she should interrupt him. Suddenly, his eyes snapped back to her face. “Forgive me, child. Sometimes I lose myself in the Unity.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” she said, putting her hands on a smooth sandstone ledge. The two of them stood, observing the flowers and butterflies under the shade of the seratathia trees. Awen soaked it all in, looking forward to a long night’s sleep after her medical review. She was so tired.

  “I did notice Ambassador Bosworth speaking with you before the mwadim called you to his dais.”

  “That’s correct, yes.”

  “May I ask what he said?”