Her boots pounded down the pavement, and Piper felt her lungs burning like they did when she’d exerted herself too hard on the playground. She should probably stop and rest, maybe take a drink from the water fountain. But no, the people waited. She wanted to know where they’d gone off to and what had captured their attention. It had to be marvelous if everyone in the city was there!
Her mother would be there. And her father too, surely. They’d most likely saved her a seat, so she didn’t need to wait in line. She didn’t want to miss a minute of whatever they were looking at. Piper stared at the setting sun. It was so bright. But unlike every other sunset she’d ever witnessed, it was getting brighter. And brighter. Until finally, she had to shield her eyes.
She tasted something salty in her mouth. Her hair began to dance. The wind whipped, and she covered her face with Talisman. The sun had become so bright that she could hardly look at it, stealing only the smallest glance to see that the horizon had turned white. As white as the sun.
Piper became afraid then. The sun was no longer friendly, and the wind no longer smelled of lavender. Talisman hid her eyes as the bright white encroached from every side, gusts nipping at her coat and her boots. A sense of panic rose in her stomach. There was nothing she could do, nowhere she could run. All around her, the white consumed everything. Not even Talisman or her holo-pad was distinguishable anymore. Power surged through her like a lightning bolt splitting a tree. The sound was deafening. She shrieked in pain, feeling as though her soul had been torn from her body at the hands of a merciless giant.
Then all at once, it was over. Piper could hear herself breathing in short panicked breaths but heard nothing else. She was alive, or at least she thought she was. So she chanced a look from between tight eyes and clenched fists.
Piper stood alone in a completely different place than the one she had stood in moments before. The white was gone, replaced by gloomy blackness. The wind was also gone, as were the buildings. In their absence stood ruins, gnarled hands of steel and concrete reaching angry fingers toward a murky sky.
But this isn’t a different place. It’s the same place, just a different time.
Piper looked behind her and noticed her apartment building surrounded by all the other once-beautiful buildings of the capital district, now shadows of their former selves. Where there had been gleaming spires in a pastel sky, ashen ghosts now stood, torn apart by an evil spirit. Their contents lay on the streets like bodies whose entrails had spilled out on the execution floor.
Piper felt herself crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her holo-pad on the ground. It was cracked. Talisman had been burned beyond recognition. And she had the distinct sensation that her parents were nowhere to be found.
I am alone. Truly alone.
She reached down and picked up Talisman’s remains, weeping for her dear friend. Then she heard something—heavy footsteps clomping through the rubble. She looked up and mashed the tears from her eyes with a dirty palm.
There! She spotted a mound of debris near the place where the sun had exploded on the horizon. A figure rose from the heap, walking up the back side and looking toward her. Piper squinted, trying to make out details. This was, after all, the first person she’d seen since arriving here. She was curious, but she was also afraid. Very afraid.
“Hello?” she called out, wiping another tear from her vision. “Who’re you?” But the figure kept walking toward her, boots mashing the metal and dust.
Piper could finally make out the outline of a suit of armor, not like in her storybooks. No, like… the Republic troopers. But this armor was darker and scarier. It was as if any remaining light around her was sucked into this warrior, like a black hole on the edge of the cosmos. Nothing escaped him, and Piper knew right then that she could not escape him either. She would never escape him.
“Stay away from me,” she said then repeated it with more confidence. “Stay away from me!”
But the trooper kept walking toward her, one foot after another. Piper turned around and started running toward her apartment building, hoping she might find a passage back inside. She’d be safe there. But when she looked down, her feet weren’t gaining any ground.
“Just let me get home!” she yelled. It was so frustrating. Infuriating! She had to get away!
Piper stole a glance over her shoulder. The trooper was upon her now, able to reach out and snag her if he wanted. His armor was huge, and she knew he could crush her in one hand. She tried to run harder but still failed to make even a meter of progress.
“It’s all right,” the trooper said, his voice coming through a speaker. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Piper froze, shocked at how soft the words felt despite the warrior’s evil appearance. She turned around, clutching Talisman’s burnt corpse to her chest with both arms. “Who—who are you?”
The trooper reached up, unlocked his terrifying helmet, and pulled it over his head. Piper stared at his face, studying it. Memorizing it. And then woke up to a warning klaxon blaring in the ship.
19
Admiral Kane sat alone in his quarters while his flight crew brought the Peregrine into orbit over Worru. The Stiletto-class corvette loomed over the lush green-and-blue planet like a hungry raptor searching for prey. Made to be both visually and functionally aggressive, the Peregrine’s fuselage was flat on the bottom and sides. The rounded top, however, swept from bow to stern in an arc. Large twin stabilizers raked forward like the ears of a prowling predator, and small port and starboard wings supported oversized weapon pods.
“What do you mean you let them get away?” Kane hissed over the holo-vid.
“I didn’t let them get away, Kane,” So-Elku retorted. “I only said that they escaped.”
“There’s a difference?” Kane waited for the Luma to say something meaningful but realized it was a waste of time. “And I suppose you failed to open the stardrive as well?”
“I did,” So-Elku said. “The woman still has it.”
Kane was growing impatient. The only thing he despised more than failed plans was an inept leader. “So she’s on the run with the stardrive, and we have nothing.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say nothing.” So-Elku lifted a small device and wiggled it between his fingers. Kane’s interest was piqued.
“You planted a tracker?”
“A maintenance crew had access to the vessel that brought her. Those Bawee can be bought for next to nothing. Regardless of whether she fled, I wanted to know who’d helped her and tie up any loose ends.”
Kane hated that the mystic had left so much to chance. The man was not as reliable as he’d assumed, even though he’d managed to salvage the situation by planting the tracking device. “Forward the identification codes. We’ll send you destination coordinates once we know where she’s going.”
“I want reassurances on our deal,” the Luma leader said.
“Reassurances?” Kane was beside himself, but he couldn’t let his emotions show. The wolf pack would circle for the kill at the slightest sign of weakness. This is the reason partnerships fail. Because no partner is ever your equal.
“This escapade has cost me many students,” So-Elku said. “I need to know it was not in vain.”
“Then you should have counted the cost before you agreed to this escapade, Luma Master.”
So-Elku cleared his throat. “I want sole access to the temple library.”
“As I said, I have no interest in your metaphysical dealings.”
“I want the woman too.”
Kane’s eyes studied the man. He had no use for the Luma, let alone their female “expert” on the Jujari. But further negotiations always meant more opportunities for gain. “Additions to the agreement are not in your best interests, So-Elku.”
“Do you have any use for her?”
“No. But ensuring her survival will cost me. Discretion in violence is expensive.”
“I’m not sure I have anything more to offer,” So-E
lku said.
It was unfortunate that he was so honest. The admiral laced his fingers together and leaned forward. “You will, Luma Master. You will.”
* * *
Kane returned to the bridge and lost himself in thought as he stared over Worru, hands behind his back. While things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, So-Elku’s placement of the tracking transponder had probably saved the Luma master from an inconvenient assassination.
“Captain, sensors are picking up a Republic distress transmission,” the comm officer said. “Looks to be heavily coded.”
“Log it, and keep scanning,” replied the captain. “Navigation, how much longer before we achieve synchronization with the—”
“Wait,” Kane said, raising a hand. “What’s that distress signal coming from?” He turned and walked to the comm station.
“Seems to be a civilian transport, sir. A light cruiser. Looks like it’s in the Kar-Kadesh system.”
“Captain, we have synced with the transponder,” the navigation officer said.
“Good. Set course and prepare to jump.”
“Belay that order,” Kane said. “I’m curious about this transmission.”
“Sir, there’s no reason that we can’t—”
Kane silenced the captain with an upraised hand then leaned closer to the comm officer’s station. “Can you decode the message?”
“Working on it, Admiral.” The officer’s fingers tapped the black dashboard, working with the ship’s AI. Kane waited but had a sense it couldn’t be cracked. Finally, the officer let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, sir, but they used a variable quantum algorithm that—”
“It’s not breakable?” Kane asked.
“I’m sorry, no. All I have is basic intel. The ship’s ident, basic data on the flight log—”
“Bring it up.”
The officer swiped up on the dashboard’s surface and sent the field into the holo-feed. Kane scanned the text and then froze on something. He leaned in even closer. “It can’t be,” he whispered. Under the flight’s log order was a name he had not seen in a very long time. He double-checked the date. It was only three days old. She’s alive.
“Admiral, sir. Do you want us—”
“She’s alive,” he whispered.
“Who, sir?”
Kane turned toward the captain and stared at him, aflame with dark fascination, like a Venetian mawslip observing a squirming rabbit pinned under its talons. “What an unexpected turn of events,” he said, wringing his hands.
“Sir?”
The admiral paced a few steps, holding up a finger to silence the overeager captain. Kane looked again at the holo-feed, trying to see his way through the ether, but there wasn’t enough light to outline the shapes. He needed more of the picture before anything would come into focus. However, he could at least make sure no one stole the parts of the scene he already possessed.
He looked up from his scheming and eyed the captain. “Order a Bull Wraith to that cruiser’s position. I want the whole ship, and I want the passengers and crew alive. If anyone kills them, they forfeit their lives as payment.”
The captain nodded, confused but agreeable. “Yes, sir. And Geronimo Nine?”
“We follow her. Proceed with the jump.”
20
“Destiny’s Carriage, Destiny’s Carriage, this is the pilot in command of Republic light armored transport Sparrow Two Seven One.” Silence filled the bridge as Chief Warrant Officer Nolan waited for a reply. Magnus stood over Nolan’s shoulder and studied the light cruiser through the cockpit window.
“All scans show the ship’s systems nominal,” said Petty Officer Rawlson, the sensors officer. “No hull breaches, no exterior damage.”
“Understood.” Nolan gestured to the comms officer to open the channel again. “Destiny’s Carriage, Destiny’s Carriage, this is the PIC of Republic light armored transport Sparrow Two Seven One. Do you copy?”
More silence followed Nolan’s second hail attempt. He ran a pale hand through his auburn hair. “I don’t like this,” he said to no one in particular.
Magnus felt that sensation in his gut, the one that prepared him to deal with bad situations—like finding a ship full of lifeless bodies. But I thought you didn’t care about a senator and his family. Magnus knew he could not win the battle of wits with his inner self. People in distress were people in distress, and he was a Marine who was called to defend the weak.
But are all Marines also traitors, Magnus? Or are you only a traitor if you get caught?
“Hail them again,” Magnus ordered.
“Destiny’s Carriage, Destiny’s Carriage, this is—”
“Sparrow Two Seven One, this is Destiny’s Carriage. We read you, Captain.”
Magnus hit Nolan’s shoulder with a fist—perhaps a little too hard. Nolan shrank away from the blow.
Don’t care too much, Magnus. It’s just a senator.
“What’s your status, Destiny?” Nolan asked, rotating his shoulder.
“Boy, are we glad to see you. Drive-core failure knocked us out of subspace.”
“How many souls aboard?”
“Six souls, including myself. All accounted for, no injuries.”
“Copy that, Captain. Good to hear. Is there any known reason we should not attempt to dock with you for boarding and situation assessment?”
“Negative. Core is contained, all systems nominal.”
“Permission to dock to starboard?”
“Permission granted.”
“See you shortly.” Nolan closed the channel and turned to Magnus. “We’ll have a lock in ninety seconds, Lieutenant.”
“Copy,” Magnus replied. “We’ll take it from here.”
Magnus left the bridge and walked into the cargo bay to address the three privates. The flight engineer and medic were each nose down in two rucksacks while the corporal was checking an MX13 subcompact blaster.
“Expecting heavy resistance from the senator, Corporal?” Magnus asked.
The young woman looked at him with a measure of surprise and perhaps a little embarrassment. Her flight uniform name tag read Dutch, followed by her designation number. She was small in stature and wore her dark hair cut just below her ears, parted to one side with a few strands falling over her face. She had intelligent brown eyes and seemed reluctant to give up the weapon.
“You can never be too sure, Lieutenant,” Dutch replied.
“No, you can’t, Corporal. I like that. Never know what uninvited guests we might encounter.” Magnus tapped the receiver of his MAR30 and smiled.
“Uninvited guests, Lieutenant?” Gilder, the flight engineer, asked.
“In this part of the void, you never know what sort of things can find their way into a disabled starship.” Magnus could hear Caldwell rebuking him. Go easy on them, Magnus. He tossed them each a handheld comm. “Since you’re not in armor, we’ll use these. Channel’s preset. One click up will get you the bridge if needed, but only I should be talking to them. Copy?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” they replied, catching the radios one at a time.
“You ever see anything like that, Lieutenant?” Haney asked. “You know, like really out of the ordinary?”
Magnus tried his hardest not to smile at the medic’s question. He knew the holo-vids these boys were raised on. Heck, he’d been raised on them too, and he’d seen enough of the real world since then to know that the movies were fake. The real stuff was way worse.
“Yeah,” Dutch said. “We heard stories about you on Caledonia.”
“Stories? What kind of stories?” Magnus was genuinely intrigued.
Gilder stood up, lifted his chin, and pushed out his rather large chest as if he was about to recite the Republic pledge in front of a review board. “Some said you took on twenty ’kudas at once with your bare hands. Then, after that, their ghosts came after you and tried cooking you inside your armor. But you MAR’d them all, held the position for days until reinforcements arrived.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what crazy version of reality this boy was talking about. Top Shelf Pass. He nodded, connecting the dots—the real dots. It was three ’kudas, not twenty. He’d stabbed two of them and shot the third with his sidearm. Then he recovered his MC90—that was long before the MAR30 came into being—and cooked their spawn for about ten minutes before his platoon realized what hellhole he had fallen into. It had been a total accident, one that led to finding a back door into the enemy’s main fortification. But no use breaking these Marines’ hearts.
“Well,” Magnus said, charging his MAR30, “then I guess it’s a good thing for you that I’m taking point.” The privates spoke their assent and stacked up behind Dutch. “If I duck, just make sure you’re not standing.”
“Copy that, Lieutenant,” Gilder said. “I’ll stay hidden underneath you and let you take the fire.” He winced. “I mean—”
“Stow it,” Magnus said.
“Copy.”
“Thirty seconds, Lieutenant,” Nolan yelled from the cockpit.
“Roger that,” Magnus replied then turned to his makeshift away team. “Lock it up, Marines. There’s no reason this should be anything but rudimentary, but you never know. In the Recon, we say OTF—own the field.”
“OTF,” they replied as one.
For Magnus, the next thirty seconds were a strange mixture of boredom and anxiety. Boredom because… well, he wasn’t expecting any action, and this was the last place in the cosmos he wanted to be. And anxiety because he had a sudden urge to find out how Awen had fared with her debriefing. Sure, she was a prude. Altruistic? Check. Naive? Double check. Still, there was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on—something that he hadn’t felt toward a woman in a long time. Not since…
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 15