“I must acquire a bot like you, TO-96.” Rohoar turned to Ezo. “If you would like to part with him…”
“He’s not for sale.” Ezo added in a whisper, “As much as Ezo would like to sell him at times.”
“I heard that, sir.”
“To answer your question, you are right in discerning the time dilation between our worlds. While it has been several centuries since we last measured it, I can tell you that it is not static.”
“I beg your pardon?” TO-96 asked.
“It is not static. It is dynamic. In fact, by our calculations, it is accelerating more every day.”
“So you’re saying it has an exponent?” Ezo asked. “The time dilation is growing wider?”
“Yes,” said Rohoar. “So your readings are probably accurate, nav bot. We have been away from our people for a little over two thousand years. But if the current time-dilation ratio is used, the total elapsed duration would appear to be more than ten thousand years.”
Magnus whistled. “That’s a long time.”
“Which means,” Ezo said, “if we’re not careful, we could end up living an entire lifetime in a matter of minutes.”
“That is correct, sir,” TO-96 said.
“Which means the clock is ticking,” Magnus said. “And we don’t have time to waste.”
29
This was, by far, the most diverse team Magnus had ever trained. It was one thing to take a group of humans from different planets and get them to work together. Splick, just getting people from the same planet to operate as a cohesive unit was stressful enough. But to have multiple species with differing languages and various levels of combat training, all attempting to achieve the same objective, was downright infuriating.
“Cease fire, cease fire!’ Magnus yelled. “Computer, end simulation.”
“Acknowledged.”
The open field and metal targets faded away to reveal a room of flat gray panels seamlessly joined from floor to ceiling. A few panels remained on, filling the ECSE with blue-tinted light. The room was full of Jujari, humans, and whatever else the rest of Abimbola’s Marauders were. Some of them cursed, while others examined their weapons as if the fake blasters had misfired. They hadn’t.
“Bliss, you just shot what’s-his-face in the back.”
“Saladin,” snarled a Jujari. “And I’m female.”
Magnus winced. “And you—” he snapped his fingers, trying to remember another Jujari name.
“Longchomps.”
“Longchops, you just killed—” Magnus snapped his fingers again. Mystics, memorizing everyone’s names is a pain in the ass.
“Robillard, sir,” said the Marauder who’d been shot. “But people just shorten it to Robi.”
“You just killed Robi, Longchips.”
“And I don’t appreciate that,” Robi added. “Really puts a damper on my day.”
“He stepped in my way,” Longchomps protested.
“You shot him three times,” Magnus said without emotion.
The Jujari’s eyebrow lifted.
“Yeah, that’s right. Three. And you, Cheese?”
“Czyz.”
“You’ve gotta wait to bite the targets.”
“But, but—”
“No buts. You were already struck four times before you got to the closest one. In real combat, you’d have been dead. You wouldn’t be biting anything but dirt. Shoot first, chase down, and then bite. We work with what you can do, not in spite of it.”
“Maybe if these blasters were real, he wouldn’t have to bite anything,” Bettger insisted. She was one of the few human women on the team, and Magnus could already tell she was going to be a handful.
“You don’t get real blasters until you can master these—as one,” Magnus said, placing extra emphasis on the last two words.
“And what real blasters are we getting?” a Marauder named Shorty asked. “Some old extras you’ve scrounged together?”
Magnus thought about the weapons he and Azelon had designed. But not even those beauties could shrug off the sour mood he was speeding toward, thanks to these dimwitted noobs. The way they were headed, Magnus didn’t want to share any of his new toys with them.
“If you don’t know how to work together as a team first, it doesn’t matter what weapons I give you. Understand?”
The team responded with a series of nods and grunts. The truth was, these recruits would all have plenty of time to work with the new weapons once Azie had them ready in a few weeks. With any luck, Magnus would get several months to whip these troops into an effective team. In his experience, it took a year to build a cohesive combat unit. It could be done in less—they’d just suffer more friendly losses. Even six months would be better than nothing. But at their current rate, Magnus feared they’d need a year. And somehow, he thought, I don’t think I’m going to get anywhere close to that.
Suddenly, a sliver of bright light appeared from one side of the hall. A figure stepped through from the outside. When the door slid shut again, Magnus saw Awen. He smiled at her and gave a small wave, asking her to stay where she was. “Everyone, stand down. Take a ten-minute break. Hydrate, stretch, then we’ll rerun this one until we get it right.”
The team piled through the exit beside Awen and into the afternoon light.
“How’s it going?” Awen asked, sounding tentative.
“We’re all gonna die.”
“That bad, huh?”
Magnus shook his head. “No, not that bad, but bad enough. They don’t need advanced tactics and warfare—they need boot camp.”
“How’s that?”
“None of them are working from the same base level. They’re all at different places, and most never having had basic combat training before. The Jujari want to maul everything they see, the Marauders are reckless and unorganized, and my Marines are too cautious. It’s like trying to herd cats.”
“So… we’re all gonna die.”
Magnus laughed, running a hand over his face. “I need a drink.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Awen replied. The two of them shared a look and then fell silent. “So? What’s next?”
“I’ve got to slow things down. Get them working from some common baseline. The problem is, we don’t have time for that. You can’t rush this sort of thing. And there are so many intangibles, like personality chemistry and experience. I’ve worked with various teams before, but nothing this extreme. Without a whole lotta time, I just don’t know how we’re going to take on a unit like Kane’s in Itheliana. They’re pros. No mercy. One shot, one kill, repeat.”
“You’ll find a way,” Awen said. “I believe in you.”
“I’m not sure belief is enough.”
“Well, someone once told me that we train who we’ve got, find their strengths, and cover down on their weaknesses, and we get the job done. Isn’t that right?”
She was using his own call to action against him. Damn, she’s good. “Something like that,” he said.
“So, do it.”
“Huh?”
“Cover down on their weaknesses. A herd of cats is nothing I’d want to cross. Maybe instead of getting individuals to work together like you would in one of your special-units teams, you look at each group as its own team. That way, you don’t have to worry about individual personalities—you just have to manage groups who already are used to one another.”
Magnus looked at Awen, considering what she’d just laid out. He could hardly believe it, but she had a point. In fact, it was a great point.
Why didn’t I think of that?
“What,” she said after a few seconds. “What’d I say?”
“You’re a damn genius, lady, that’s what.”
“Really?” Color filled her cheeks.
Magnus liked when she got embarrassed—he knew it didn’t often happen with a woman like her. “How about you?”
“With Piper?”
Magnus nodded.
“It’s going well. Ver
y well, I’d say.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Awen got a far-off look in her eyes. “It’s like she was born to live inside the Unity. Like the natural world is an inconvenience.”
“An inconvenience?”
Awen waved him off. “Maybe that’s too strong a word. I just mean she seems like she is more capable when it comes to operating in the Unity.” Awen looked to be considering her next words carefully. “You ever heard of a savant?”
“A what?”
“Guess not. It’s a person who is so gifted in one particular area that they have deficiencies in others. Like people who are really good at advanced physics or politics but—”
“But have no social life whatsoever.”
“Exactly.”
“I knew a few of those.” Magnus eyed Awen.
She paused. “Hey, I have a social life!”
“Really?”
“Totally.”
“When was the last time you went out on a date?”
Awen frowned, her mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. “That’s none of your business,” she finally said.
“Like I said, no social life. You’re a savant.”
“Anyway,” Awen said, “Piper will be the most powerful operator in the Unity that I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Well, it’s true. She’s a true blood, a natural. It’s almost like all the power that Willowood had—the power that was supposed to go to Valerie—skipped a generation and went to Piper, but it was three times as much.”
“Like Piper got Willowood’s, Valerie’s, and then her own dose of Unity-power juice?”
“Juice?”
“Fuel, giftedness… whatever.”
“Yeah,” Awen said. “Something like that.”
“So I take it that’s not how this stuff normally works… like, passing on traits from one generation to the next. I’m guessing Valerie being skipped and Piper getting a double or triple dose is unusual.”
Awen nodded slowly. “Very. I’ve never heard of it happening before. In fact, I don’t even know how it’s possible. The only explanation I can think of is that Valerie is hiding her gifts.”
Magnus shook his head. “And I doubt that very much.”
“How so?”
“We’ve been through enough together that if she had any Unity juice, she’d have used it already.”
“Maybe she has, and you’re just not aware.”
“Nah,” Magnus said. “Being around you and Piper has taught me a few things about people who dabble in the Unity, and Valerie ain’t like you at all.”
Awen seemed taken aback. Magnus couldn’t tell if she was upset or flattered. Either way, he liked when she was caught off guard. Just like when she was embarrassed, her nose twitched. It was… adorable.
Pull it together, Adonis. You’ve still got a job to do.
He wondered when that job would be over. When—if ever—was he going to be able to settle down and have a normal life? Somehow, deep down, he doubted there was an end point. There was always a job to do, ever “one more mission.” And the way things were going at the moment, he wondered if he would come home from these next two missions—wherever home ended up being. If he lived through the assault on Ithnor Ithelia against Kane’s operatives, he still had to survive the attack on the Luma, and then clear his name before the Republic hunted him down for treason.
Listen to yourself, man! What Marine talks about survival?
Marines only spoke of victory, of winning against all the odds. But he felt himself… getting soft, perhaps, or tired. Or maybe it was that he still felt lost—disenfranchised from the Corps—from his unit.
“What’s wrong?” Awen asked.
“Huh?”
“You look upset. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Awen scoffed. “Listen, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying…” She was staring straight at him.
Dammit. Magnus hated trying to explain what he was feeling, but this woman had a way of pulling it out of him. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“What? Why?”
“Because you are.” Magnus folded his arms. “What did you call the Novia who lived here again? The Gladio…”
“Gladio Umbra. Why?”
“It’s what we should call you.”
“Call who? Me and Piper?”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s what we should call all of us.”
“Why would you say that?” Awen asked with a peculiar smile. It was almost as if… she’d been thinking the same thing.
“Well, I’m not a Marine anymore, and you’re not a Luma. If that’s the case, then what are we? We need to call ourselves something, don’t we?”
Awen crossed her arms and stared at him.
“We might as well not reinvent the wheel,” he continued. “And it seems like we have enough Jujari around to make it legitimate.”
Awen opened her mouth then closed it without saying anything.
“Now it’s your turn,” Magnus said. “Spill your guts.”
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it already. Truth be told, I like the idea. But I’m not sure it’s our call to make.”
“You mean… Rohoar needs to decide?”
Awen nodded. “I feel like we’d be intruding. How would you like it if some alien up and decided they wanted to be a Marine without going through any initiation or training—without passing any sort of test or rite of passage?”
“Point taken.”
“I’m up for it,” she said. “Really, I am. But let’s ask him first, shall we?”
“Agreed.” They shared another long silence before Magnus asked, “So, what do you make of all that?”
“Of Rohoar’s history lesson?”
Magnus grunted in assent. It had been twenty-four hours since the former mwadim dished on his people’s ancient history, blowing everyone’s mind in the room—including his own people’s, it seemed. This was the first time Magnus had been alone with Awen since, so he wanted to take the opportunity to debrief her.
“Well, it certainly is fascinating.”
“Ha!” Magnus barked. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.”
“Well, it is, isn’t it?” She put her fists on her hips.
“It’s more like universe shattering if you ask me, but fascinating works if you want to undersell it.” The two of them shared a smile. “So, you believe him?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “You?”
“I’m not sure how I couldn’t. I mean, I’m not gonna argue with their ancient history. And he clearly seems to know what he’s doing here. Piper already mentioned that the temple lit up when he knelt at the stone table.”
“It was pretty amazing to see. When I walked in on it… well, I was blown away.”
“Was it fascinating?” he asked. Awen hauled off and punched him in the arm, and he rubbed it in mock pain. “Ouch! Easy!”
“If it is all true,” Awen said, “it means we have a lot to catch up on. Everything as we know it is about to change. I mean, it already is changing.” She brushed a hair behind her ear. That was adorable too. She really did have cute pointy ears. “Once the galaxy finds out about quantum dimensions, the tunnels, the Novia, and the Jujari, it’s going to be… I mean, it’s the greatest discovery anyone’s ever made beyond subspace travel.”
“And you made it,” Magnus said, hoping to remind her of the role she’d played in all this.
“Eh, I don’t know about that.”
“Come on, Awen, give yourself some credit here.”
“It seems like the Jujari already had it all figured out. They just used me as their messenger, that’s all.”
“Messenger or not, you were the one who did what they never chose to do. That’s saying something, in my book.”
“Oh?”
“Knowing the mountai
n is high is not enough. Anyone can see that. But it’s those who risk everything to climb it who get to say just how tall it is. They’re the ones with bragging rights. Unless you climb the mountain, you don’t get to say. And you, Lady Awen, climbed the damn mountain.”
“Lady Awen?”
Now it was his turn to feel heat in his face. Why had he even said that? “Sorry. It just kinda slipped out.”
“Slipped out from where?”
“From…” He had no idea how to answer her.
“Don’t answer that.”
Thank the mystics, he thought.
“I liked it anyway. No one’s ever called me that but my father.”
“Great,” he said. “Now I’m acting like your dad. That’s not weird or anything.”
“He is a good man. And so are you.”
That was unexpected. “Thank you?” He made it sound like a question.
“I’m not paying you a compliment because I want something.”
“Who said anything about wanting something?” he asked. “I didn’t say I wanted anything either.”
“So… let’s drop that part, then,” she said.
“Roger that.”
“Don’t even know what we were talking about.”
“Me neither…” And what were they talking about again? “The Gladio Umbra,” Magnus finally said.
“Right, the Gladio Umbra. You want me to talk to Rohoar?”
“Why don’t we do it together?”
Awen smiled with a twinkle in her eye. “I’d like that.”
“Let me finish this next training rotation, and then we’ll connect with him. Copy?”
“Copy that, trooper.” They held each other’s stare before the door opened and bright light spilled into the space between them.
“Looks like it’s time to get back to work,” Magnus said.
“Have fun.” Awen winked. “I know you will.”
30
When Magnus saw Saasarr walking toward the OCSE—open combat simulation environment—his heart froze. He instinctively drew his Z from his chest plate and held it in low-ready position. What in the hell is he doing here?
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 92