“Not saying it wouldn’t be fun, boys. But I leave that to you. I can barely handle one as it is. I’m just saying, all I need is the love of one woman, and that’s enough.”
“Now there’s an old-school romantic for you,” Mouth said.
“So who is she?” Flow asked, leaning in.
“Nobody right now,” he replied, nodding up to the stars. It was a half-truth, of course. He was seeing someone if it could be called that. But in his gut, he wasn’t convinced the relationship would last. “But she’s out there, somewhere.”
There was a momentary pause. For a second, Magnus wondered if he’d gotten through to his philandering fire team. Then Cheeks asked, “You know what this means, boys? Sergeant’s just been banging Nimprinthian babes when we’re all asleep.”
Laughter filled the firelight. Magnus let the three of them carry on for a minute, before saying, “Alright, alright. Ease up on the natives, boys.”
The crackle of the fire and the distant murmurs of other teams enjoying the peace and quiet retook the plaza. The humid smell of the salty air and flowers had replaced the odors of burnt ozone and charred flesh. Magnus could stay here like this all night. It was nice not hearing the constant whine of blaster fire or the screams of the dying. For a moment, it almost felt like he was back home, sitting with Dani and enjoying the warmth of her body against his, resting in one of Capriana’s parks. Of course, there was no way in hell he was telling that to these bastards—they’d have a field day with it. But when he got home, maybe he’d make something of their relationship… if there was anything left to salvage.
“Did I hear your brother is joining us?” Flow asked.
Magnus looked over at him, surprised the news had spread so quickly. But with a last name like Magnus, he supposed it wasn’t entirely out of the norm for intel to pass among the ranks. “That’s what I hear. Fourth platoon should be pulling in sometime after midnight.”
“He anything like you?” Mouth asked.
“A whole lot better looking.” Magnus checked the time. “Well, it’s getting late, boys.”
“Aw, no, sergeant,” Cheeks pleaded. “Say it ain’t so…”
“I know, I know,” he said, pushing them back with open palms. “I’m the life of the party here, and things just won’t be the same without me. But you think this face pops off the pillow every morning looking this good on its own?”
The three men shared a glance. Then Mouth said, “Yeah, actually we do.”
“Nice try, Franklin,” Magnus said, using the man’s last name. “But I’m leaving you three to enjoy the night air and free cocktails without me.”
“Sounds good, sergeant,” Mouth replied. Then he seemed to think of another question. “You’re not waiting up for your little brother?”
Magnus shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll catch up with him in the morning. If you see him, just stay away from his left hook.”
The three men raised their eyebrows.
“He draws your attention in with all those right jabs and then—bam!” Magnus mimed the boxing combo, delivering the left hook with a vocal flourish.
“Sounds like you’ve been on the receiving end of that before,” Flow said.
Magnus grunted. “More times than I care to count.” He reached down and picked up his helmet, tucked it under his arms, and bid them goodnight. For their part, the three men sent Magnus away with farewell wishes for a good night’s rest and dreams of big breasts.
Magnus walked toward the tents set up on a quad near the beach. Secretly, he’d hoped to obtain a bunk in one of the bungalows—who wouldn’t—but all those had been reserved by the officers before they’d even taken the island. And why not? It wasn’t like anyone here made enough scratch to come back in the future—that was, assuming the Marines or the Navy didn’t blow this place to hell by the time this was all said and done.
* * *
While Magnus wished he’d been in the middle of a dream with the blonde and the brunet on Cheeks’ thighs—minus Cheeks—he was really in the middle of fitful sleep when the sound of blaster fire startled him awake. He could already hear glass windows shattering above him, evidence that the main hotel was being targeted by ’kuda anti-ship munitions. Magnus didn’t even put on his armor. Instead, he grabbed his MC90 and stepped out of his tent wearing only his workout shorts and slip-ons.
Blue blaster bolts buffeted the building overhead, blowing holes in several floors. He knew that people were in there. Third platoon had been assigned a dozen rooms since arriving to the newly created and over-capacity COP. Fourth platoon had probably been pointed there as well. Like the officers who’d gotten the bungalows, Magnus had envied the two platoons. But not anymore.
Several people fell from the gaps in the windows. Most of the bodies were maimed or dismembered, but at least two Marines screamed as they fell to their deaths. For a fleeting second, Magnus wondered if one of those bodies was his brother’s.
“Dammit!” Magnus yelled to no one in particular, then he reached back inside his tent for his helmet. As soon as the AI fired up, a topo map appeared, lit with icons denoting Marines and Akuda forces not in the tens, but in the hundreds. The chat section was streaming faster than he could read, so he pinged Wainwright for a situation report.
“SITREP, LT?”
“We’re getting three-sixtied! Get your ass to that hotel and start clearing Marines out! They’re sitting ducks!”
“Copy,” Magnus replied. Then he pinged the remaining Fearsome Four. Flow and Mouth were already standing outside their tent, reaching for their MC90. Cheeks stepped out of another tent, butt naked. He stared aloft as more artillery rounds pummeled the hotel.
“Cheeks!” Magnus yelled through his external speakers. “Get something on your ass! All of you, weapons hot, covers on. We’re running exfil on the hotel!”
Cheeks ducked inside and returned fewer than ten seconds later with a pair of boxers, his helmet, and his blaster. The four Marines raced through the tent village, each wearing next to nothing, and headed for the hotel’s main entrance. Far fewer Marines were leaving the building than Magnus had hoped, which meant they were dead, dazed, or trapped.
“Magnus,” Flow said, “data shows the ground floor is storage, floor two is admin only.”
“That puts barracks on three, four, and five,” Magnus concluded.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Flow replied.
“Then let’s get a move on,” Mouth said, bolting toward the nearest stairwell. Just as he was about to pull the door open, it pushed out. Two Marines limped through the doorway, one with a serious head wound and the other cradling the bloody stump of a forearm.
“Splick!” Mouth yelled, backing away so the two men could pass by.
Just then, another large-caliber round rocked the building. The chandeliers swayed, and bits of plaster and glass fell on Magnus’s bare shoulders.
“Clear,” Mouth said, barging through the door and up the first flight of stairs. Magnus and the others followed him. It didn’t take long, however, for more Marines to appear, many suffering from severe injuries like the men they’d passed earlier. Those who didn’t appear to be wounded were helping the least lucky Marines down the stairs. One woman had both legs blown off—two tourniquets were cinched around her upper thighs. Magnus stepped aside as she passed, then continued ascending toward the top floor. With every turn he took, he half expected to see Argus limping down the stairs missing one limb or another. Mystics knew the kid had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The line of Marines heading to the exit was becoming more constant now, which was a good sign. What wasn’t a good sign was how bad the injuries were and how many more Marines Magnus knew were still in the building. If the warriors passing him represented the best conditioned Marines, he feared what they were going to find once in the rooms.
Magnus pushed the fifth-floor door open and stepped into a hallway filled with the shouts of Marines, the smell of fire, and the re
mains of broken walls. Another hit slammed against the building so hard that Magnus was thrown sideways against the hallway wall. His helmet took the majority of the hit—a flash of static fizzed out the display for half a second. But his shoulder and hip weren’t without their own damage. He righted himself and saw two indentations his body had left in the wall. Feeling the pain of the impact and looking ahead to the patches of fire that emanated from several holes in the hallway, Magnus was beginning to regret not taking the extra minute to don his Mark IV armor.
“Look for survivors,” Magnus said. “Focus on those who can’t move themselves.”
The three other men confirmed the order and started clearing rooms. Magnus moved furthest down the hallway, stepping into a room to his left. The large suite looked south toward the beach and had suffered a direct hit that blew out the main windows and toasted what he assumed had been a central living room. Two Marines in their underwear lay crumpled on the floor—one missing half his chest cavity, the other staring at the ceiling with dead eyes.
Magnus turned into the main bedroom and, aside from the sleeping bags on the floor and the upturned bed, found a woman leaning outside the bathroom wall. Her legs looked too burned to be used, but she was awake, clutching her left arm.
“Are you able to stand?” Magnus asked through his helmet.
“No,” the Marine said. “I can’t feel those burns. I think something hit my spine.”
“I’m going to pick you up,” Magnus said.
“Copy that, sergeant.”
Magnus bent over and scooped her up, bringing her to his chest. The woman groaned as he moved her, but that was all. Whether or not she could feel anything in her legs, he knew she must be able to feel everywhere else, and from the looks of it, the pain had to be intense.
“What’s your name, Marine,” Magnus asked, trying to start a conversation that might take the woman’s attention off the agony.
“Saba,” she said. “Lance Corporal Melany Saba, with Fourth Platoon.”
“Copy that, lance corporal.” Magnus was back in the hallway, heading for the stairs.
“And you?”
“I’m with First Platoon. You can call me Adonis.” Magnus was hustling down the first two flights of stairs, noting how the woman’s lifeless legs slapped against his hip.
“That’s your last name, Marine?”
Magnus shook his helmet, reluctant to say anything more. But what the hell does it matter now? “Last name’s Magnus,” he added.
“Well I’ll be…” The woman seemed to blush as they descended, catching up to some slower moving Marines. “Never thought I’d actually get to meet Argus’s big brother.”
“You know Argus?”
“Course I do. Who doesn’t know a Magnus when they’re in your own damn—” Saba winced as Magnus landed a bit too forcefully on a landing. But he’d halfway tripped on his slip-on sandal.
“Sorry,” Magnus said.
“When they’re in your own damn company,” Saba finished through gritted teeth.
“Know what room he was in by any chance?”
But Saba shook her head. “He was supposed to be two doors down from me.”
“Supposed to?” Magnus rounded the last landing to the ground floor.
“He and a few of the others said they needed to blow off some steam before hitting the hay. Said they were sneaking off to the basement, I think. Then all this happened.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty damn sure,” Saba said. “Platoon commander sent…” Saba winced, then took a few short breaths. “Sorry. Sent another squad to look for them, but no one’s reported back. Might be a good thing, for Argus’s sake.”
“How’s that?”
“He and his crew take their playtime seriously.”
“Don’t I know…” Magnus was at least relieved to know that Argus hadn’t been near any windows when the attack began. But he was apprehensive about what condition his brother might be in if left to his many vices. Chances were high that he was disabled during this firefight but for completely different reasons than being shot.
Magnus carried Saba across the lobby and filed out onto the hotel’s front lawn. The sound of blaster fire behind the edges of the village had increased since Magnus entered the hotel just a few minutes prior. He gave his topo a quick scan and saw that even more enemy forces were driving toward the village, most gathering on the beach. He’d expected to hear the mortar’s going off on the roof—the fact that they weren’t meant one of several things, none of them good.
A medic raced toward Magnus and Saba. The man seemed to size up Saba’s injuries fast, then said, “That way!” He pointed Magnus toward some more medics moving the wounded away from the hotel and toward a cluster of tents.
Magnus jogged toward the makeshift medical unit, careful not to jounce Saba too hard. But he needed to get back in the hotel and save more Marines… and find his brother.
“We’ll take her, Marine,” said another medic, insisting that Magnus lay the lance corporal on the grass. He did so, then removed his helmet to wish the woman well.
“Thanks, Adonis,” Saba said, touching his bearded face. “It’s not every day a Magnus saves you.”
“Just make sure you live to tell about it,” Magnus replied. He gave her a wink and was about to put his helmet back on when the lance corporal put a hand on his bare arm.
“Take care of him, okay?”
The gesture, as well as the comment, caught Magnus off guard. He opened his mouth to give her a quick reply, but she added more.
“People misunderstand him a lot. But I know he’s a good man. Just… he’s trying to meet his needs in the wrong ways, you know? And you’re his big brother, so he respects you even though he doesn’t always show it.”
Mystics, is this lady a shrink or something?
“I’ll look after him,” Magnus said, doing his best to ignore Saba’s comments. But the woman clearly had keen insight into the Magnus Family relationships. For all Magnus knew, Argus had bedded this woman on more than one occasion.
He replaced his cover and turned for the hotel again. “How we looking, Fearsome?” he asked over their squad comms channel.
“We’ve evacuated the last survivors on the fifth floor,” Flow said. “Moving down to the fourth floor now.”
“Copy that,” Magnus replied. “I’ve got word there might be Marines in the basement. Going to check it out.” He was back in the lobby, dodging the steady stream of injured Marines.
“Be careful,” Flow replied. “Heard some chatter that supports are collapsing—they think some explosions went off down there when this first started.”
“Copy that, Flow. I’ll keep an eye out.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before Flow added: “You think baby brother’s down there?”
Magnus swallowed, pulling open a separate door marked Basement. “I do, yeah.”
“Be careful then. I know how thick-headed we can get when it’s family.”
“Roger that.”
* * *
Magnus plunged down two flights of stairs in total darkness. He switched to thermal optics since the power in this section of the building had apparently been knocked out. When he got to the lower level, he scanned down the corridor to his left, then to his right. Increasing the sensor’s sensitivity, he noticed movement roughly one hundred meters to his right. Several figures appeared to be inside the back room.
Magnus switched to night vision, relying on the light cast from small fires further down the corridor. Just as Flow had mentioned, several load-bearing columns had collapsed in the building’s center. Magnus detected the sharp odor of synthetic explosives still lingering in the air. Black blast marks raced away from several flowering holes in the metal infrastructure.
When he got close enough to the fires, he switched back to optics and then double-checked that his air filtration system was operational. He also ran a finger along the soft seal around his neck. The last thing he wanted w
as to die of asphyxiation down below when there were far more heroic ways to die up top. Still, if it meant saving his brother’s life, then he could think of few more meaningful ways to perish. Mystics know I’ve saved his life a hundred times before… the ungrateful little ass.
Magnus’s skin prickled against the heat as he tried to skirt the damaged superstructure, before moving further down the corridor. Several pipes spewed water into a few-centimeters flood that his feet slashed through, but it was nothing to be overly concerned about. He did, however, wish he’d been wearing his boots—escorting injured Marines back this way with his slip-ons would be a pain.
He switched back to infrared to try and isolate an exact direction. Closer than before, Magnus noticed four… maybe five individuals a little further down and to his left. At least one of the individuals looked injured, lying prone on the ground. Another looked to be sliding off a table or crate—Magnus couldn’t be sure. The remaining two or three Marines looked to be attending to the fallen. Splick, Magnus thought, this is going to be bad. But as he switched back to optical and approached the door, he wasn’t prepared for just how bad it really was.
4
Magnus pushed open the door and stepped into the room marked Boiler. At first, he didn’t know how to process what he saw. A young Nimprinthian woman was bent over a desk, her bare breasts pressed into the metal top while two half-dressed Marines assaulted her from behind. Neither man registered Magnus’s presence—they were too busy with their conquest.
The third nearly naked Marine had a second girl’s hands and thighs pinned to the floor while he forced himself on her. Between the sounds of battle and the women screaming, Magnus suspected none of the men had heard him enter. He pointed his MC90 at the ceiling, aiming as far back as he could, and fired three rounds.
The Marines looked around, seemingly less than surprised to hear weapons fire—which meant they were extremely desensitized, on something, or experiencing some sort of a psychotic episode. None of which were exciting explanations for Magnus.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 65