“What’s that?”
“You’re the one I want pulling the trigger.”
“Mystics, Magnus,” she said, folding her arms. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true, Awen. Maybe the Luma taught you that all war is bad. That all fighting is evil. I’m not sure what they teach in that school. But if all war is bad, then doesn’t that mean it needs good people involved? Because if they’re not, what are we fighting for anyway?”
Awen stood there, unsure what to say. She felt both honored and sick to her stomach at the same time. “I never asked for this, Magnus.”
“Yeah, you did.”
She cast him a sharp look. “No, I really—”
“The moment someone picked on the new kid in school and you stood up for them? You asked for it. When some government made some stupid-ass decision that hurt an entire section of its constituents and you got pissed off? You asked for it. You’ve always been asking for it. I don’t think you get that, Awen.”
“Get what? What don’t I get?” She heard the frustration rising in her voice.
“You were born for this.”
She blinked away the tears that flooded her eyes, but she refused to look away from him. Hot lines parted her cheeks and she held her arms tighter to her chest. “That may be so,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I’m still afraid.”
The words had barely left her mouth when Magnus reached out and pulled her into his chest. He pinned her there, still with her arms crossed, while she cried. She felt his lips kiss the top of her head. The care he was showing her made her cry even harder because—perhaps for the first time—she was worried about losing him. Not because he was a valuable asset to the team or someone she’d grown accustomed to. But because she was actually falling in love with him.
“I want it to be you, Awen,” he said in her ear. She thought he was referencing what he was saying before, about the trigger and killing the enemy and everything. But then she wondered if he meant something else. Something deeper.
Instead of trying to define it, of trying to put it in a black and white box, she let it be what it was. Instead, she allowed the warmth of his embrace to pull her back from the edge of fear and keep her hidden for just a little while longer.
* * *
Someone cleared their throat from across the hangar bay. The noise startled Awen and she looked up to see Valerie and Piper standing near an entry door. Valerie wore a lab coat more appropriate for her role as a doctor than a trooper, while Piper donned a pair of black crew shorts and a white t-shirt with the Gladio Umbra’s insignia emblazoned over her left breast.
Magnus let go of Awen and motioned the two over. “Whad’ya got, doc.”
Valerie pulled Piper forward. Awen could have sworn the little girl was intentionally falling behind.
“Is it my lab coat that gave it away?” Valerie asked.
Magnus nodded. “I’m guessing it has to do with Flow and Cheeks.”
“It does, but…” Valerie looked at Awen. “If I’m interrupting something—”
“It’s fine,” Awen said. “Please. Go on.”
Valerie brought out a data pad and showed it to Magnus. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Let’s start with the good news.”
“The good news is that Flow and Cheeks have agreed to stay behind and provide orbital oversight for the mission.”
Awen couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Magnus relax a little.
“That is good news,” he said.
“The bad news is that that little show of yours really messed with their heads.” Valerie raised the data pad for Magnus to see.
“What am I looking at?”
“Brain activity,” she said. “It’s a scan of a normal human male in their early thirties. Then this”—Valerie swiped to another screen with a dramatically different graph on it—“is Cheeks’s scan.”
Awen really had no idea what she was looking at, but the plot points were much higher and far more erratic. Based on the concern in Valerie’s voice alone, Awen could tell the results weren’t good.
As Valerie went on to explain the severity of Cheek’s PTSD, elaborating even more on his severe head trauma, Awen noted Piper looking down at the floor. In fact, Awen was pretty sure that her protege was hiding behind her mother’s leg. Awen sidestepped the conversation that Magnus and Valerie were having and knelt behind Valerie.
“Hey, doma,” Awen said, using the Novia word for student.
“Hi, shydoh.”
“What are you doing back here?”
Piper’s eyes darted around. “Back where?”
“You can’t fool me,” Awen said, trying to keep her tone light and happy. “You get in trouble with your mom or something?”
Piper shook her head.
“No?” Awen scratched her chin like they were playing a puzzle game. “Hmm. Forgot to pick up your dirty clothes?”
Piper smiled for a second but then shook her head. “Mmm-mm.”
Suddenly, Magnus coughed and Awen watched Piper jerk away. Her little hands clutched her mother’s coat. What in all mystics is that about? Awen wondered.
“Piper.” Awen was on her knees now, leaning toward the girl. Valerie’s body blocked them from Magnus’s views. “Are you certain you’re okay?”
Piper nodded again. “I’m okay, shydoh.”
“But… you seem anxious.”
“I don’t really think I know what ackshnos is.”
“Anxious. When you’re worried about something.” Awen studied Piper’s face carefully and contemplated slipping into the Unity. But Piper would notice that, and the last thing she wanted to do was put the girl on guard further. “Are you worried about something?”
“No, shydoh.”
That was when Awen knew Piper was lying. A little girl, on the horizon between universes, caught in the middle of a galactic war, and less than a day away from going into combat on the Luma home world—and she wasn’t worried about something?
Awen could either press the matter now or wait for a better opportunity. Given the current stress that Piper was clearly exhibiting, Awen thought it would be safer to wait. “Well, if you need to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Okay, shydoh.”
“Flow isn’t as bad,” Valerie said as Awen stood back up. “But they’re both unfit for duty, as you suspected.”
Magnus sighed. “Thanks for the report.”
“I’m sorry, Adonis,” Valerie said, putting her hand on his forearm. “I really am.”
Magnus covered her hand with his own. While Awen didn’t suspect him of any false motives, she did think that Valerie’s contact was unnecessary.
Valerie let go. “I’ll see you both later then.”
“Sounds good.” Magnus looked around Valerie’s hip and waved. “Bye, Piper.”
But the little girl only waved back at Awen.
As the pair went back through the door, Awen stared at Magnus with a concerned look. “Something’s not right.”
“No kidding. That Jujari procedure must’ve done something that—”
“Not them.” Awen crossed her arms again. “Piper.”
“Oh.”
“What do you think Nos Kil said to her?”
Magnus seemed to hesitate—which felt odd. “Could have been anything.”
She cocked her head a little. “You know something.”
“Me?” He pulled his head back a little. “I know as much as you. And, according to Azie, Piper made sure no one is ever seeing the footage of what happened in there.”
Awen bit her lip. “You don’t think that he… you know…”
“Mystics, no.” Magnus pressed a thumb into his temple. “Don’t talk like that, Awen.”
“I’m just making sure.”
“Valerie said there was no evidence of physical contact.”
“I know. It’s just that…” Awen felt like she was underwater and gasping for air. “I don’t know. She seemed afrai
d of you.”
Magnus blushed. Which seemed strange. “Afraid of me?”
“Yeah…” She squinted. “You sure you don’t know something?”
Magnus raised his eyebrows. “Maybe Nos Kil got in her head or something. Maybe it made her scared of men right now. Or maybe she’s just tired. Could be a lot of reasons for her behavior.”
“Could be…” Still, Awen felt like there was something more. And, for whatever reason, she felt like Magnus was hiding something. She hated herself for feeling that way. But she couldn’t help it. Something was off.
“Magnus,” came TO-96’s voice over the hangar bay’s speaker system. “Please report to the bridge for the jump to protospace.”
“I’ll be right there, ’Six.”
“Very good, sir.”
Magnus glanced at Awen. “We good?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I still think something’s wrong with Piper though.”
“We’ll figure it out. Promise.”
“Okay. I just… I don’t want her getting hurt.”
“That makes two of us. Now, come on. We have a universe to skip out on.” Magnus took her by the hand and led her out of the hangar bay. “Time to go free your friends.”
18
The Paragon Navy followed the Black Labyrinth’s example and drove hard into the Jujari fleets, following Admiral Brighton’s forceful orders. Moldark had listened to the entire transmission, noting how the admiral’s voice trembled when he spoke. He could feel Brighton’s disgust, quivering at the horror of his orders. But there was something visceral about the admiral’s state—as if the more he spoke, the more he believed in what he was saying. Moldark knew that his celestial presence was beginning to influence Brighton. It wouldn’t be long now before the man was consumed with hate for the enemy.
The whole episode was like watching a boxer step away from the first man he’d killed in a ring. The laws spared him from any charge of homicide, of course, but they could not spare him from the reality of taking another life. That would mar the fighter forever. But it also did something else—it awakened the demon. If he could kill once, he could kill again. And he would fight to kill whether he meant to or not.
Moldark heard the killer in Brighton now. He heard it so distinctly that his own soul quivered in delight. The admiral had seen what unbridled violence of force had done. And he would want it again. And again. And again. Until the only thing that would stop him would be for someone else who’d tasted the sweetness of taking life to remove Brighton from the battlefield.
Moldark watched as a disabled Sypeurlion battleship carved a hole through Oorajee’s atmosphere, its belly consumed in fire. Flames cascaded up the sides, fluttering wildly as the great ship plunged to its death in the dunes of the desert planet. With any luck, the ship would impact the planet and create a debris field that blotted out even more Jujari lives.
Just behind it, a Dim-Telok battlecruiser broke apart, its two halves flipping into the atmosphere amidst a conflagration so great that black plumes of smoke raked across the planet for hundreds of kilometers. It seemed as if a hellion monster had drawn its claw across the sky in a final act to protest its death. In the end, however, even the beast’s staunchest refusal to be put down could not hold off the inevitable.
“And I am inevitable,” Moldark whispered. “I will come for you all.”
The alert tone from an incoming call trilled in the background. This was maybe the fifth or sixth time Moldark had ignored it over the last ten minutes. But anyone who needed him had access to his private channel, so whoever this was could wait. Though Moldark’s comms officers did have control over what transmissions were routed to his private quarters. So the fact that they had not prevented this one from coming in meant that it was important. At least according to their standards, he thought.
Moldark sighed, spun away from the windows, and sat down in his chair, looking at the arm to review the comms display. The transmission data read Forum Republica and gave no other information about the caller. Moldark tried to ignore the request again but thought better of it—he had a feeling that whoever this was wouldn’t stop until they spoke to him.
As soon as Moldark pressed the Audio icon, a voice said, “Admiral Kane, I order you to put me on screen.”
Moldark thought for a moment. The voice sounded like it belonged to a senator. On Capriana. Curious, Moldark leaned forward and swiped the comms transmission open. The face of a stately man appeared, grey hair groomed meticulously around his mouth and temples. Moldark went through Kane’s memories and found the name. “Senator Blackman.”
The moment the senator saw Moldark—the moment he heard the strangeness of his voice—Blackman reared away from the holo cam. “Mystics, Kane. What’s… what’s happened to you?”
Moldark felt a certain measure of pity for the old man. It wasn’t the senator’s fault that he’d never seen the manifestation of an Elemental before. Then again, no one had in this gods forsaken universe—at least not to their knowledge. If they had, the rumors likely flew that someone had seen a goblin, a ghoul, or a ghost. Moldark certainly felt the same disgust when he viewed humans. But watching the senator wince in revulsion gave Moldark a certain satisfaction in knowing the man would be dead soon.
Moldark ignored the senator’s question. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, senator?”
Blackman’s lips were set in an awkward sneer of disgust as he still hadn’t recovered from Moldark’s appearance. His eyes searched the screen as if something might explain Moldark’s blistered skin, black eyes, or razor-like teeth. But there was no explanation, at least none he’ll be content with, Moldark thought.
“We’re getting reports of catastrophic enemy losses,” Blackman said, finally finding his nerve.
Moldark waited for more, expecting some judgement to be rendered, but nothing came. “And you consider this a bad thing?”
“Well,” Blackman huffed, “when your orders were to defend Republic interests and prevent—”
“You trained me to start wars, senator. Further, you charged me with subduing the enemy at all costs.”
“Yes, but the mere presence of a fleet does the majority of that work on its own. Wouldn’t you agree, admiral?”
“So your philosophy allows you to build weapons but subsequently compels you not to use them?”
Blackman scratched the top of his forehead. “Honestly, I don’t know who I’m talking to here, Kane. And I sure as hell don’t know what you did to yourself. But our agreement was that you would look to obtain the device from the mwadim and deliver it to us. Instead… well…” The man’s face grew red and his voice rose. “Instead we have a PR nightmare on our hands that we may not recover from for a century. I can’t reach any of the other fleet admirals, and I want to know what in mystic’s name you’re doing out there on the edge of the quadrant! On top of it all, you completely failed to kill So-Elku like I ordered you to! Need I remind you that the Nine gave you control of Third Fleet to serve our purposes and not your own?”
Moldark let the exasperated politician catch his breath before speaking. “Are you done?”
Blackman looked left and right as if checking the room before he exploded. “What do you mean am I done? Is that all you have to say for yourself? Kane, you’re clearly out of control out there. We’re hearing that you’re quite literally crushing the Jujari fleet and their coalition forces using not just your fleet, but all Republic fleets. You’re breaching all rules of engagement, and I have a media hailstorm erupting outside my office as we speak.”
“Senator, I—”
“No, Kane! This is not what we agreed upon. You’re out of line, you’re… you’ve… We’re calling you in.”
Moldark wasn’t sure what the term meant. He let his mind search Kane’s and found the words tucked away in an emotionally debilitating compartment reserved for only the gravest of circumstances. “Calling me in,” he repeated without emotion.
“Yes,” Blackman blurted out, s
weat forming along his forehead.
“I see. And when would you like me to return?”
The senator looked incensed, his lips sputtering in a failed attempt to form coherent words. “Now!”
Moldark considered this and felt the timing rather amusing. He turned his enormous captain’s chair around until he faced the waning space battle. While the Republic’s technology was inferior to that of his people, it did serve the purpose of defeating the Jujari. That, and the archaic nature of it all had a certain charm, one that made Moldark smile. He watched as another Jujari vessel rolled out of orbit and began its death plunge toward the orange planet’s surface.
“Mystics, man. Answer me!”
“Answer you,” Moldark restated for clarity, lifting an eyebrow for emphasis. “Very well. I will come to you as soon as my affairs here are in order.”
“Your affairs? Once your affairs are in order? Admiral, I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. You are being charged with treason. Treason! We have already ordered your arrest and you will either come willingly or by force.”
“My arrest?” Moldark chuckled. “How quaint.”
“Quaint?” Blackman seemed flabbergasted, unable to breathe. “You will surrender yourself to—”
“To who?”
“To the crew of—”
“To the crew of my ship who bow to my every whim? To the other ships in the fleet who are taking orders from me and me alone? And if not them then who, exactly, are you sending to fetch me, dear senator? It seems that the prudent course, if I were you, would be to not rush this last part. One never knows the peril they hasten when driven by fear.”
The senator wrinkled his nose and leaned in to the holo cam. “Do I detect a threat from you, admiral?”
“Not at all,” Moldark said like an animated parent speaking to a child. Then his voice darkened with delight. “It’s an omen.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 115