Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “Saasarr,” Sootriman ordered, standing to her feet. “Stay yourself!”

  As if the lizard had some sort of digital processor hardwired into his reptilian brain, Saasarr froze. Then he looked over his shoulder at Sootriman and blinked a wrinkly eyelid at her.

  “Please, restrain yourself and return to your seat,” she said.

  “Yes, my lady,” he hissed. Then he turned on the table, bringing his tail over everyone’s heads in a smooth whipping motion, and returned to his chair.

  Sootriman regained her composure as if nothing had happened. “Of course, we know this man under a different name.”

  “Kane,” Valerie said. “Fleet Admiral Wendell Kane of the Black Labyrinth and commander of the Republic’s Third Fleet.”

  “Correct,” Magnus said.

  “Then, why the name change?” Dutch asked.

  “That’s what everyone would like to know, including Ricio,” Magnus replied.

  Dutch raised an eyebrow. “Ricio?”

  “Our prisoner’s first name,” said Magnus.

  Abimbola’s brow furrowed. “You are getting friendly with the prisoner… just before you kill him? That seems unusually cruel, even for you, buckethead.”

  “I’m not gonna kill him, Bimby. In fact, if he keeps this up, he may one day be a Gladio Umbra.”

  Rohoar seemed shocked by the news. “But… he’s a—”

  “Republic fighter pilot who killed Jujari?” Magnus pushed his lower lip up and nodded. “Absolutely. But he’s also a sane, rational man who I believe genuinely wants peace in the galaxy, just like we all do. Isn’t that right?” He looked at Rohoar first to make sure his point was understood. “That’s what I thought. Which brings up another important point. We’re going to need to get used to this kind of thing with Ricio. If our cause is the right one, and we’re all able to stay alive, we’re going to attract more and more people who are tired of their current allegiances—whether that’s Luma serving So-Elku, or Marines and Navy sailors serving under a nefarious leader. Copy?”

  There was only a moment’s hesitation before everyone said, “La-raah.”

  “So, Moldark?” Dutch asked, tipping her head toward the holo display.

  “As far as Ricio can tell, the former admiral has undergone some sort of change.”

  “What kind of change?” Abimbola asked.

  Magnus caught site of Awen eyeing the image. “No one’s sure, but…” He stared at her. “Awen, you wanna say something?”

  “It might be nothing but…” When she didn’t continue on her own, Magnus prompted her to keep going. “It’s just…” She looked over at Sootriman and Ezo. “You both remember back in the rotunda?” They nodded. “I saw something. Something evil. Something that, as you both well know, shook me. I… I’m used to seeing evil in the hearts of people—I doubt anyone is fully immune to hostility or narcissism. But what I saw in Kane was…” She looked back at the holo. “As if this is a physical manifestation of the presence I witnessed. I mean, not exactly, but enough for me to know it’s what I saw in the Unity.”

  “It’s dark magic voodoo,” Abimbola said, drawing a strange shape in front of his chest with his thumb and forefinger. Magnus guessed it was to ward off whatever mystical spirit he supposed Awen was referencing. Magnus didn’t believe any of that splick, of course, but he knew the Miblimbians were devoutly spiritual.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Awen said. “But I know he’s evil—it’s evil.”

  “So you’re saying Admiral Kane is now Moldark, is that it?” Valerie asked.

  “I am. And it seems that both of our prisoners here have had contact with him.”

  “Both?” Awen looked shocked. “You went back to talk to Nos Kil again? Without me?”

  “It’s okay, Awen. I had it under control.”

  “But you know what he—”

  “I said, I had it under control. Trust me.”

  She didn’t look pleased. But she at least relented and sat back in her chair.

  “Both men have confirmed—in their own way—that Kane is now Moldark. Only he’s no longer a fleet admiral.”

  “Then what is he?” Valerie asked.

  Magnus hesitated. Despite how outlandish Kane’s physical change had been, this part was even more far-fetched—at least for those who had served in the military.

  “What? What is it, Magnus?” Valerie prompted Magnus to speak.

  “He’s taken control over the Republic’s entire Navy and is demanding that his subordinates refer to him as lord.”

  “Lord Moldark?” Abimbola snorted through a wide smile. “What in all the cosmos is becoming of the Galactic Republic!”

  “You joke,” Magnus replied, “but I can assure you our two prisoners back there are quite terrified of him.”

  “Terrified?” Abimbola tilted his head at the image on the holo. “He looks more like an overripe Paluvu sea pear than a warlord. And I know warlords.”

  “That aside, word is that he’s wrested control of the armada from the Republic and is calling it the Paragon.” Magnus could tell he was losing the room. This was too fantastical for them to believe. Hell, it was too fantastical for him to believe. “I had my doubts too. Until Ricio showed me this.”

  15

  Ricio had been standing outside the conference room for about twenty minutes before the robot named TO-96 appeared.

  “Hey, good looking,” Ricio said.

  “Hello, Commander Longo. Magnus would like you to come in now.”

  “And my restraints?” Ricio held his hands up. They were still bound in plasma shackles, as were his feet.

  “He gave me no instructions on those.”

  “Which is a perfect opportunity to read between the lines.”

  TO-96 turned his head slightly. “I’m sorry, sir. Which lines am I supposed to be reading between?”

  Ricio blinked. “Take me inside.”

  “Right this way, sir.”

  The bot led Ricio through two security doors before entering a dimly lit room surrounded by stars. A dozen people sat around a large black table, each regarding him with expressionless faces. He recognized several of them but the rest were new. Another bot stood beside Magnus at the far end of the table in front of the main holo display.

  “Please, come in,” Magnus said, inviting Ricio to the front. He walked around the table, careful to stay clear of the Reptalon and the Jujari especially. And the Miblimbian. And the Elonian. Splick, pretty much everyone.

  “How’s it going, people,” Ricio said as he came to stand beside Magnus. Their eyes were suspicious, however, despite his attempts to soften the room. “Yeah, sucks here too.” He raised his hands and smiled at them.

  “Ricio,” Magnus said, “these are members of my team, the ones that you tried to kill.”

  “Ouch. But… it’s the truth.”

  “And team, this is one of our two prisoners, Commander Mauricio Longo of Viper Squadron.”

  “Guilty. Nice to meet you all.” Ricio looked at Magnus. “So, you want me to show them?”

  Magnus nodded.

  “And our deal?”

  “Wait, what deal?” The Elonian said, looking at Magnus.

  “He wants a data pad to read on,” Magnus said.

  “Oh.” The woman eased up a little.

  “You have any idea how boring it gets down there?” Ricio asked her.

  “Go ahead,” Magnus said.

  Ricio nodded and tapped the Republic Navy insignia on his flight suit’s left breast. The standard issue media recorder—used to record actions and evidence on all military missions—suddenly projected a miniature scene about a meter above the black table. In it, Ricio could see Fleet Commander Brighton and Lord Moldark. The recording reproduced the entire conversation in which his commanders outlined his mission to eliminate the threats on the other side of the quantum tunnel.

  Ricio noticed how everyone listening winced at the sound of Moldark’s voice. “Do not fail us, commander. We are looki
ng for you to be thorough. Execute your orders with extreme prejudice. There must be no survivors.”

  Ricio wasn’t entirely sure what Magnus was after, but he guessed that he wanted his team to see what they were up against. Which meant this next part was extremely important. As if reading his thoughts, Magnus rolled his index finger in a circle for Ricio to let the recording keep playing.

  “You are dismissed,” Moldark said. But Ricio’s view of his two commanders didn’t change.

  “What is it, Commander Longo?” Brighton asked.

  “Sirs, if you will pardon my asking, what is to be your larger will in all of this?”

  “Commander Longo,” spat the Fleet Admiral, “remove yourself from this board room at once!”

  “No,” Moldark said, lifting a hand with a gold pinkie ring on it. “Let him speak.”

  “But, your lordship, he is just—”

  “He honors me by the magnitude of his request.”

  Brighton looked like he’d swallowed a bug, squinting in Ricio’s direction again. “Proceed.”

  “What I mean to ask is, if you have been given command of the entire Republic Navy, what would you have us do from here?”

  Moldark stood from his chair atop the dais and moved down the stairs in a jerky motion. It was as if the man’s joints and limbs were held together by elastic bands that snapped back and forth as he walked. Even rewatching this again, Ricio felt a chill go up his spine.

  “I have not been given anything,” Moldark said, his face filling the camera’s frame. “I have taken what I want. Your Republic is weak. It has been co-opted by fools seeking their own self-interests. They do not deserve such power. So I am wresting it from them to do with it as the galaxy deserves.

  “And you, Commander Ricio, no longer serve the Galactic Republic”—Moldark spat the words like an expletive—“you are pledged to the Paragon. The Paragon of Perfect Rule. Which means that when you return from your mission through the void’s horizon, you will return to aid me in bringing all wayward factions into subjection to my supreme justice. And we will not stop until the offenders have been subdued and my people vindicated for the atrocities done to them.”

  There was a long moment before the recorded sound of Ricio’s voice said, “Thank you, my lord.”

  Moldark sneered, before saying, “Go. Your mission awaits.”

  Silence replaced the holo recording as the content blinked out.

  The Nimprinth leaned forward. “You actually followed that guy’s orders? Damn, Ezo is not impressed with you, Longo.”

  But Magnus raised a hand at the man. “Let’s hold off on the personal attacks, Ezo.”

  “Wait,” Ricio said, jerking his head down the table. “So his name’s Ezo?”

  The Nimprinth rolled his eyes.

  “Yup,” said Magnus. “You get used to it.”

  One of the women raised her hand and addressed the room. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and spoke like she owned the place. “I’d like to know what you have to say about this, Commander Longo. Your commanding officers say you are the highest-ranking fighter pilot in the fleet, which means you’re not only dedicated to the Republic, but you’re smart. You agreed to the mission, but I honestly can’t believe you’d align yourself with that given your track record. Unless I’m misjudging you, in which case I think we jettison you out the nearest airlock.”

  Ricio had been nodding with her right up until the bit about the airlock. “If you think I’m so smart, what makes you think I’m not going to feed you some line just to keep you from flinging me into the void?”

  “Because we have a Luma, remember?” The female Jujari said.

  “And she reads minds a lot less obtrusively than Reptalons do,” the large, tan woman said.

  “Okay, okay,” Ricio said, pumping his palms in an attempt to slow everyone down. Having a Reptalon stab his brain with the needle at the end of its tail wasn’t something he had on his life’s wish list. “No, I don’t particularly like Moldark. I mean, the guy’s insane or possessed or something. I can assure you, I have no idea what’s happening to the Republic, but that thing—as you say—is not a friend of mine nor the Republic’s, and neither is Fleet Admiral Brighton if he’s in league with Moldark, as he clearly seems to be.”

  “So you’ll join us?” the Elonian asked.

  “Lady, I still don’t even know what you’re all doing. I mean, aside from Magnus’s talking points, but who knows if any of those are true.” Ricio’s assertion was met with growls by both the Jujari and the Reptalon. Go easy, Ricio, he reminded himself. “Granted, you all look like reasonably sane people, apart from him” He nodded toward Ezo. “And mystics know I can’t think of any good reasons for such a diverse group of enemies to be working together. So my gut tells me you’ve got something powerful enough to hold this group together, and Magnus says you even have a plan. But if I’m going to turn on the Republic…”

  “We’re not asking you to turn on the Republic,” Awen said. “We’re asking you to help us fight Moldark and anyone in league with him.”

  Ricio thought about it for a second and then turned to Magnus. “A few days ago, when you first questioned me, you said you had proof. But your AI was malfunctioning or something. What were you going to show me?”

  Magnus seemed to think about it, and Ricio wondered if the man had changed his mind. “Azelon, bring up Nos Kil’s confession.”

  The bot acknowledged the request and sent a recording to the main holo display. In it, Ricio watched Magnus and the Marine called Nos Kil bicker back and forth. Finally, when the man said something about killing Marines in the mwadim’s palace, the image of Magnus lunged at the prisoner and the holo froze.

  Ricio looked at Magnus for a moment and considered him. “What did he mean about the mwadim’s palace and your men? Was that… is this about the ambush on Oorajee?”

  “You mean the one that started this whole war?” the blonde woman added with a sarcastic tone.

  Ricio looked at her and then back at Magnus. “You mean to tell me that you were on the mission that—”

  “I helped lead the mission that got dozens of Marines killed by bombs planted by Nos Kil, who was following orders from—”

  “Moldark.”

  Magnus nodded.

  “Mystics.” Ricio swallowed. “You mean to tell me he started this whole conflict just so he could take control of the Republic armada?”

  “We’re not entirely sure of his deeper motives, but it certainly seems that way,” Awen said.

  Ricio stood in front of everyone, assembling the pieces in his head. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But then again, it made more sense than he cared to admit. And the people before him certainly seemed to be united over the common goal of stopping the enemy. Still, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a part of it. He had a wife and a son. And this deployment was to be his last. Instead, now he was stuck in a different damned universe, according to Magnus, and was being asked to go on another mission if he switched sides. Not to mention the fact that this particular side looked painfully outnumbered even with their fancy starship.

  Then again, Moldark didn’t sound like he’d be letting Ricio head back to Capriana anytime soon either. Not that this was all about turning a blind eye to ethics just so he could see his family. But then again, he’d always said that nothing meant more to him than his wife and son—and that he’d do anything to see them again. “Even come back from the dead,” he’d whispered in his son’s ear.

  “I need more time,” was all Ricio could think to say. He tried to summon all the sincerity he could for this next part. “And please don’t take my hesitation as me questioning your integrity. It’s simply that… well, I have a family. And I was hoping to see them when… when…” But the more he thought about his wife, and the more he imagined how much his son must have grown since they last held each other, the more the words caught in his throat.

  “You have some time, commander,” the blonde haired woman said.
“If you have family, we understand that.”

  “Thank you,” he replied around the lump forming behind his tongue.

  “But not too much time,” she added. “Or else we’ll get that airlock ready.” Ricio studied her face and watched a small smile play at the edges of her eyes.

  He smiled back. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  “You’re dismissed, commander,” Magnus said. “’Six, please see him back to his cell. We’ve got some planning to do.”

  “As you wish, sir,” the bot replied. Ricio turned at TO-96’s insistence and headed for the exit. Just before he passed through the door, Ricio looked back and said, “Thank you. Each of you. For doing what you’re doing. I don’t pretend to understand it all, but I do believe you’re trying to do the right thing even if you’re outgunned and outnumbered. You’re good people.” He searched their faces, waiting for someone to say something.

  “Thank you, commander,” Magnus said. “That will be all.”

  Ricio sensed a certain amount of reservation in Magnus’s tone. Despite their present circumstances, Ricio far outranked the former Marine lieutenant, so that might have been part of it. But there was something else too. Ricio couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a deep sadness behind Magnus’s eyes, one that made Ricio recognize just how deeply the former Marine cared about this mission. That’s when the thought struck Ricio that maybe he should be just as concerned.

  16

  After another day, Magnus felt confident in the plan that he and his team had come up with to raid Worru. It wasn’t perfect, of course, but no plan ever was. Especially after the enemy got ahold of it and shook it to death. But that was why the Republic paid him all those creds. Or, rather, had paid him all those creds. Now he was a…

  A Gladio Umbra, he reminded himself, still drilling the new identity into his psyche. Which, he knew, was far easier to do for himself than it was for his two brothers in arms, Michael “Flow” Deeks and Miguel “Cheeks” Chico.