“Yeah?” Ezo dodged another of Gormar’s blaster bolts as more people screamed.
“She’s back.”
17
“Lieutenant?” the man in the holo-vid said, an urgent tone in his voice.
“Go ahead, Colonel Caldwell,” Magnus replied.
Magnus sat in the comm officer’s seat of a Sparrow-class LAT—light armored transport—trying to ignore the gawks of the two private first-class Marines. They stood abnormally close to the bridge door, acting as if there was some important business with the keypad or magnetic door sliders. He didn’t blame them—not for the gawking part but the being bored part. On such a small craft, there wasn’t much to do. These old ships were used as a last resort for moving small units around quickly. The Sparrows—which resembled a slender bird’s beak with split-V tail stabilizers—were fast but lacked anything in the way of comfort. It was no wonder that this was one of the only military transports left for the sector chief’s disposal.
“Seems someone else needs your help more than the seventy-ninth,” Caldwell said.
Magnus’s heart sank. “Colonel, sir. You just—”
“Listen,” Caldwell said with a raised hand. “We both know you don’t want to be headed anywhere else but Oorajee right now, but this is direct from Brigadier General Lovell. Change of plans, son.”
This week can’t get any stranger. Magnus nodded at the two privates in the entrance.
* * *
After saying goodbye to Awen and stepping off Geronimo, Magnus pulled up Plumeria’s map in his HUD and left the starport. It had been a while since he’d wandered any city alone, much less a thoroughfare in a veritable paradise. He wondered if there would ever be a day when he enjoyed a place this beautiful while not in Mark VII armor. He realized, then, how truly out of place he felt—a Republic Marine in full kit walking through a city of diplomats, academics, and students with large endowments. If Plumeria had a nice beach, which reports said it did, he might be back. One day. But not as a Marine. He suspected that moment would be a long time from now—if he even survived the next decade.
Magnus finally arrived at the substation headquarters and reported to the sector chief.
“Well, look who we have here!” The gray-haired officer rose to his feet, clenching the stub of a cigar in his teeth.
“Colonel Caldwell, sir?” Magnus could hardly believe his eyes.
“In the flesh, Lieutenant.”
The two men strode across the room and clasped forearms, the more personal greeting of Marines who’d seen battle together.
“I’m—I’m surprised to see you here,” Magnus said.
“Really, son?”
“Well, it’s just that—”
“You never saw me as a desk jockey? Well, neither did I. Which means you probably don’t ever see yourself in an office like this either. All I can say is get ready.”
“Copy that, sir.”
“Let me look at you,” Caldwell said, stepping back to size up Magnus. “You look like splick, son.”
“And you look like the medals got too heavy, sir.” Caldwell’s Repub uniform was unusually spartan, given all the accolades Magnus knew the man could have displayed on his chest. But the colonel was among an ever-shrinking minority who consistently placed unit above career. Less fanfare, more warrior. Which was why this office didn’t fit what Magnus knew of the man.
“Come on, have a seat.” Caldwell gestured to one of two leather seats and took the other himself. “And let’s dispense with protocol, Magnus. We’re both sirs here.”
“Copy that. When did you take the promotion to sector chief?”
“They promoted me after Caledonia. I knew my time outside the wire was done, and I was offered any sector I wanted.”
“As you should have been. But I gotta ask… Worru?”
Caldwell chuckled and blew out a plume of smoke. “I know what you’re thinking, Magnus. Repping the Marines for the Luma isn’t where any cold-blooded Midnight Hunter sees himself retiring, right? But I’m playing a hunch.”
Magnus raised his eyebrows. “A hunch?”
“Even the biggest bull loses its way after dark and needs light to get it home.”
“How poetic.” Magnus grinned, but for the life of him, he couldn’t tell whether the colonel was comparing the Luma or the Republic to the bull. This was not what he would have imagined from the war hero.
“Poetic? I live in Plumeria. What do you expect?”
“Fair enough,” Magnus replied.
“Enough about me. When they announced you, I nearly fell over.”
“It has been a long time.”
“There’s that, yes. But we all thought you were dead, son.”
“So, you’ve heard about Oorajee?” Magnus asked.
“Heard about Oorajee? Splick, son! Someone went and organized themselves a war, and the Fearsome Four was handed the first grenade. The whole galaxy has heard about Oorajee!”
“So, it’s bad.”
Caldwell forced a blast of air out of his nostrils. “Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it, son. Everyone’s scrambling from here to Pellu, when who walks through my door but the lone survivor of the attack!”
“Excuse me,” Magnus said, his stomach tightening. “Lone survivor?”
Caldwell’s mouth froze agape. Magnus had visited this particular darkness several times before. Too many times. His mind went to Flow, Cheeks, Mouth, and the others, a few of whom he’d only met before the mission brief. The uncertainty he’d felt when talking with Awen now threatened to spawn into a demon that was nearly impossible to tame. He’d become an expert at avoiding it. The beast haunted him at night and stalked him during the day. Its claws hunted with anger, its mouth dripped with guilt, and its feet slogged forward with grief. Keeping it at bay took everything Magnus could throw at it.
“Damn, son. I’m sorry. You must’ve got comm’d out then.”
“Lost contact after the attack,” Magnus said with a nod, his eyes distant. “TACNET went down. Guessing the Jujari jammed all comms but their own. We were lucky enough to get out of the city in one piece. Then I found a way to get my asset off planet and back here. You’re my first debrief, Colonel.”
“You were assigned the Luma contingent, then?”
“Yeah.” Magnus nodded, his mind bringing up an image of Awen. “Wainwright had the Repub ambassador, I had the Luma emissary.” Then his mind went to Wainwright. “Are you telling me that not even the captain made it out?”
Caldwell took a deep breath. “That’s what the intel coming out of the system suggests. I’m sorry, son. Granted, we have only visual and thermal scans at this point, but they’re not picking up any non-Jujari movement from the mwadim’s tower.”
“Any word of a search-and-rescue team going in?”
“I’m afraid not. Orbital bombardment is being considered, but right now, there’s a multi-fleet standoff.”
Magnus’s eyes snapped to Caldwell’s. “Did you say a multi-fleet standoff?”
“Republic and Jujari-allied ships are jumping into the system. Second Fleet has joined Third, and there’s even talk that First will be called up from Capriana Prime if the Jujari continue to amass ships.”
“But, sir,” Magnus said with squinted eyes, “you’re talking over half of the Republic’s warships.”
“So you understand how big this is.”
“But that’s… that’s…” It was even worse than he’d projected to Awen.
“It means the Republic is looking at a doomsday scenario. It’s beyond conceivable, maybe even suicidal. I agree.” Then the colonel turned thoughtful again. “Maybe we’re finally paying the price for turning the helm over to bureaucrats and not warriors.”
“Says the man who’s put up shop with the Luma.” Magnus suddenly remembered his place. “I’m sorry, Colonel. That was out of line.”
“I said bureaucrats, not mystics,” Caldwell replied, waving Magnus off. “The way I see it, the only way back from this is with something we hav
en’t tried.”
Magnus wanted to argue that they had tried it the Luma’s way… and it had cost lives.
“The truth is,” Caldwell continued, “we may not get the chance to try anything at all. Granted, no one’s fired the first shot yet. But if you ask me, we’re sitting on a good old-fashioned powder keg.”
Both men stared at the floor, lost in thought. Finally, Caldwell said, “I’m sorry about your platoon, Magnus. It’s times like this when I wish I hadn’t given you and your boys a shot at RIP.” Caldwell took a drag on his cigar. “I know it must bring up memories of Caledonia. I’m sorry, son.”
Magnus pursed his lips. He didn’t know what to say. Admitting that the colonel was right would give the demon ground, and he didn’t want to concede more than he had already. But denying Caldwell meant lying to himself, and he was tired of that. Either way, I’m screwed and inviting the demon a little closer.
“Thank you, Colonel. I’ll be okay.”
“Will you, though? I suppose the pain is what makes us who we are. It’s what makes or breaks all of us who’ve worn that armor. It’s what made your grandfather great.”
“Copy that.” Magnus nodded, meeting the colonel’s eye. “What are my orders, then, sir?”
“As much as I wish you could stay, you’re heading back to Oorajee. Brigadier General Lovell’s orders. But I see that you need medical attention.”
“Nothing shipboard sick bay can’t attend to.”
Caldwell raised an eyebrow as he surveyed Magnus’s armor. “I know the Mark VII can take a beating, but you gave it a run for its credits, son. You sure you don’t want to visit the infirmary?”
“Let me get back to my unit, sir.” Magnus realized his error. His unit was most likely gone. “My battalion.”
“There’s a Sparrow leaving in five.”
“I’ll be ready in four.” Just have to work out an issue with my bladders. He looked at his thigh. He could almost hear Awen laughing at him.
“One more thing,” Caldwell said as they stood. “With most units on their way to Oorajee already, your shuttle crew is made up of a corporal escorting two PFCs back to the front lines, piloted by a navy chief warrant officer and an NCO. So, play nice.”
“Fabulous.”
* * *
“We’ve received a distress transmission from a light civilian cruiser in the Kar-Kadesh system,” Caldwell said in the holo-vid. “Night Wing class.”
Magnus let out a short whistle. “Someone’s got nice taste, Colonel.”
“That’s because it belongs to a senator.”
“A senator? If you don’t mind me asking, what’s a senator doing all the way out there?”
“We’d like to know the same thing,” the colonel replied. “Seems it was a last-minute flight. But the order, flight log, and manifest all cleared. Our guess is they dropped out of subspace due to a drive-core failure.”
“So you want me to check it out,” Magnus said with no attempt to veil his lack of enthusiasm.
“That’s correct. As much as I want you back with your company, you’re our closest asset. Investigate, lend aid, and if your crew can’t get them on their way, transport them to the closest sector station.”
Magnus rubbed his face. “I’m not questioning your judgment here, Colonel, but there’s got to be—”
“Lieutenant, I don’t think you understand what’s happening over Oorajee. We can’t spare anyone, and this order comes at the personal request of Brigadier General Lovell himself. It has a need-to-know designation, and apparently, the general doesn’t trust anyone else. Once he heard you were topside, he contacted me directly. I don’t think I need to explain the uniqueness of that to you.”
“No, Colonel, you don’t.”
“Good. It seems this senator”—Caldwell looked off-screen at a data pad—“Senator Stone has two family members and a small crew on board as well. Sending you the roster now. Make sure they’re okay, get them on their way, and then get to the front.”
“Copy that, Colonel.” Magnus glanced down at the dashboard, eyes unfocused on the myriad of blinking lights, their colors blending together in a kaleidoscope of shapes. All he really wanted was to be back with the Recon, prepping for whatever ground assault the fleet commander had in mind. Instead, he was going on a mission that he knew was a distraction, and he felt powerless to do anything about it.
“Colonel, if you would just hear me out—”
“Magnus, please don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”
“They’re my men, sir. What would you do in a situation like this?”
Caldwell sighed. “I’d be wondering why my CO was ordering my ass to some no-good senator’s busted-up party barge when I should be looking for my brothers in hostile territory.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
“However, Lieutenant,” Caldwell said, emphasizing Magnus’s rank as if to remind him of his duty, “your orders stand.”
Magnus worked his jaw. If the holo-vid had been steel, his eyes would have burned crimson holes right through it. He turned his head away and swallowed. This was the difference between Recon and civilians. Civilians faced hard choices, but Recon were paid to wrestle hard choices to the ground and slit their throats.
He looked back at the colonel and replied in a smooth, even tone, “Yes, sir.”
Magnus closed the connection and rocked back in the comm officer’s chair, rubbing his face. He knew the mission was a total waste of time, and if anything embodied Colonel Caldwell’s suspicions that the Republic was going soft, this was it. The fact was, the Marines were attending to bureaucrats when they should have been saving those who were saving everyone else. The Republic was eroding. No, it had been eroding for a long time. They should never have been on Oorajee, and Magnus shouldn’t be going to—Where is it again?—Kar-Kadesh.
“You got all that?” he asked the pilot.
“Laying in a course for the cruiser now, sir.”
“Good. I’ll ready a boarding party.”
“We’re ready to go, Lieutenant!” came an excited voice from the bridge’s entrance. Two PFCs stood at attention, eyes locked straight ahead.
Magnus raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath. “You most certainly are, Privates. You most certainly are.”
18
Piper clutched Talisman in her arms as she fell asleep in her stateroom aboard Destiny’s Carriage. Her fingers had been treated in sick bay earlier that day and were healed within the hour. She tried to explain the dream to her mother—tried to explain that she had really been falling within the mountain—but Valerie insisted that Piper had scuffed her fingertips on the wall. No matter how hard Piper tried to argue, her mother found one excuse or another to explain it away.
Now Piper dreamed again, only this time, she was in her home on Capriana Prime. She was back in her bedroom, Talisman in one hand, her holo-pad in the other. Warm sunlight tapped on her bedroom window like a next-door neighbor asking her to come out and play. She smiled at the sun and swiped open her door, only to discover that she was alone in the apartment. She didn’t remember her parents saying they’d be gone.
Despite explicit instructions to the contrary, Piper decided to venture outside by herself. Well, I do have Talisman. He’ll protect me. She opened the front door and walked onto the veranda, the sunlight playing peekaboo through serpentine arches overhead. The rays of sunlight kissed her face and dispelled any sense that this was a dangerous thing to do. She took in a deep breath of the lavender flowers that grew beside the apartment’s front door, then she walked toward the fountain. Beyond it lay the elevator, which invited her down.
Ground floor. I should go to the ground floor. To venture so far away from her family’s apartment was wrong, though. She was never allowed to do that without supervision. One of her security guards was always beside her when she went outside. Still, in her dream, it seemed all right. Plus, there weren’t any other people around that she could see, and she still had Talisman.
Piper felt like a storybook fairy floating over the city as the pod descended one hundred flights to ground level. She had never been afraid of heights. If anything, her mother had to keep her from getting too close to edges for fear that her “impetuous daughter might take to the sky like a falcon.” Piper didn’t know what the word impetuous meant, but if it was wanting to jump into the air and fly like a bird, then she agreed.
The elevator chimed, and the doors parted. Piper stepped into the lobby and noticed that everything was in perfect order. The carpets were vacuumed, the wood floors glistened, and fresh flowers blushed from countless planters spread around the room. Water caressed three tiers of marble landings and splashed down into an emerald pool. The only thing missing was any sign of people.
Clusters of chairs sat without bodies in them. The recreation area to the far end was empty. All the other doorways and elevators were closed. How strange. Piper wondered where everyone had run off to.
Piper clutched Talisman in her arm and hunkered down inside her coat as a chill tickled the back of her neck. She walked across the lobby to the main doors, where the three sets of glass partitions separated before her with hushed whispers. As Piper walked between panes of glass, the sunlight flickered, casting prismatic flares across her face.
Once on the street, she looked left and right, hoping to finally see where all the people had gone. Perhaps an important person has come to the city. Maybe there is a parade. Or even a ball! Her heart thrilled at the thought of a real ball with music and dancing and food. The costumes would be extravagant, and all the attendees would be so handsome.
Piper walked toward the setting sun—a warm orb on the horizon, peeking between buildings and reflecting off the great ocean. Suddenly, she thought the city’s inhabitants might be near the shore. Her excitement mounting, Piper began to run, Talisman jostling from under her elbow. She felt her fingers slipping on her holo-pad. But the thought of seeing where all the people had gone excited her. She just had to know!
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 14