Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  As he rolled to his knees, trying to push himself up, Magnus saw Valerie’s body. He looked back at Piper and saw that her eyes were fixed on her mother’s open helmet.

  “Splick.” Magnus lowered his head. How had everything gone so horribly wrong? They’d come so far and were about to exfil when… when I pushed Valerie away from the incoming weapons fire.

  Magnus looked down at his hands and saw that his gauntlets had been blown off. His fingers were bleeding. Hell, it felt like all of him was bleeding—skin raw and blistered.

  He gritted his teeth and willed himself to rise. He heard himself roar in defiance to the pain—to the anger of knowing that Valerie had been killed. That Piper was now an orphan.

  When he was finally upright, he started to limp toward the little girl. Then his legs froze solid.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Piper said, holding out a hand.

  Magnus looked down at his feet and then back at Piper.

  “Piper, no,” Awen yelled. “He’s not the—”

  “No more talking, shydoh.”

  Awen’s mouth snapped shut.

  “I… I don’t want to go with you anymore. I don’t. So I won’t.” Piper’s lower lip trembled. But she seemed to fight it by lifting her chin. “I want to be by myself.”

  Magnus made to object, but before he could inhale a deep enough breath, Piper looked back at her mother’s body, and said, “Goodbye, momma. I will miss you.”

  Then without another word, Piper blinked out of existence.

  Magnus fell forward and landed on all fours. His hands and arms and knees screamed in pain. He yelled and resisted the urge to pass out.

  “Piper, nooo,” Awen screamed. “Come back!”

  Magnus watched the Elonian fall on one hand while the other reached to where Piper had been seconds before. Empowered by Awen’s deep sorrow, Magnus regained his footing and limped toward her. She hardly seemed to recognize him as he tried getting her attention. Her eyes seemed elsewhere—frantic, darting left and right.

  “Awen, it’s me, Magnus.” He tried catching her gaze, but she was inconsolable.

  “LT? Can you hear me?” Flow’s voice crackled to life in what little remained of Magnus’s helmet. “Come in, dammit.”

  “Flow!”

  “LT? Oh, thank the mystics. You’re alive, you son of a bitch. What in hell’s name happened to you guys down there?” Magnus didn’t even know how to respond to the question. He hesitated long enough that Flow had to repeat himself.

  “You tell me,” Magnus replied. “Something… something hit us hard.”

  “From up here, we just saw everyone get laid out. Seems like your armor took the brunt of it. But all the Marines? Splick, LT. They…”

  Magnus waited for Flow to finish his sentence, but he didn’t. More like he couldn’t. “What is it? They what, Flow?”

  “They’re dead, man. All of ’em. Everyone three blocks out too.”

  Magnus wasn’t sure he heard right. He shook his head, looking at the lines of Repub-clad bodies that stretched out of the docking bay and into the street beyond. “What do you mean everyone three blocks out?”

  Flow seemed to choke on his own saliva. He coughed, then tried to clear his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “The Spire’s sensors are showing a total loss of life for three blocks in every direction, LT. Marines, civilians, Luma. Everyone.”

  Magnus felt his head swim. He wobbled, looking for something to hold onto. He was about to fall over when Awen grabbed his arm.

  “It was her,” she whispered in a raspy voice. She still seemed disoriented but present enough to keep Magnus from falling.

  “What was her?”

  “This.” Awen threw a hand out beside her and made to turn, but caught herself, seemingly unable to look around. “It was Piper.”

  Magnus couldn’t rationalize what had happened—what was happening. “You’re saying Piper killed everyone?”

  Awen nodded, pulling herself close to Magnus, fighting to fit inside of his embrace. “I don’t think she meant to. But she… I saw so much fear in her. So much…”

  Magnus listened to Awen’s breath run out. Her body shook against his. “So much what?”

  “Hate.” Magnus was about to say something when Awen added. “Against you, Magnus.”

  At this, Magnus felt as though his chest caved in. What had he done that had produced such raw emotions? Then he thought of Valerie’s body. The injuries she’d sustained were not consistent with a rocket explosion, but with blaster fire. Had she been shot? Had he pushed her aside from the rocket only for her to be shot by blaster fire?

  “Now… she’s gone,” Awen said.

  “We’ll find her.”

  “No.” Awen shook her head. “I don’t think we will.”

  “We’ll do whatever we—”

  “Magnus, you’ve got multiple hostiles inbound,” Flow said.

  Magnus blinked. He was still having trouble orienting himself and his body was starting to shake from the pain. If his suit’s med features were still online, perhaps this whole scenario would make more sense. “Please repeat.”

  “I said, you have multiple hostiles moving on your location. You gotta get out of there unless you’re ready for round two, LT.”

  “That would be the remainder of the battalion,” Caldwell said from the other side of the shuttle’s ramp. He’d removed his helmet and was moving toward Magnus and Awen. “Time we get on these shuttles and get you seated, lieutenant. Unless your little lady knocked the flight systems out too.”

  “All systems are normal,” TO-96 said, walking toward Caldwell and Magnus. “Whatever Miss Piper did, it only affected biological infrastructure.”

  Magnus licked his broken lips and then spit blood. Based on a visual inspection of the docking bay alone, Magnus knew Granther Company was out of the fight. While Piper’s cataclysmic act had spared the gladias and Willowood’s Luma, the fallout was still not something anyone looked like they’d get over in the next few minutes. This engagement was over.

  “Everyone on board,” he said, trying to fill his voice with as much strength as he could, but the effort was exhausting. “Find an open seat on any of the shuttles. Azelon, you copy?”

  “I am here, sir.”

  “I’m not sure our pilots will be able to get us home. We’re… we’re all…”

  “Not to worry, sir. I will be able to supplement piloting for all four ships if needed so long as my resources are not placed in too high a demand elsewhere. I do expect planetary defenses to be in effect, but barring any unforeseen use of force outside of this system’s known armaments, I do not anticipate this to be a problem.”

  “Understood. Just get us home.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “You want me to blast the last of the battalion, LT?” Flow asked. “I’ve got coordinates dialed in.”

  “Negative. Not unless absolutely necessary. There’s already been enough bloodshed for one day.”

  “Copy that.”

  Magnus turned his attention to Awen. She was still trembling, probably suffering from shock. “Come on, let’s get you on board.”

  But Awen resisted Magnus. She was looking at Valerie’s body. “We’re just going to leave her?”

  “No, but that’s not your job. The others will take care of it.”

  Awen seemed to crumple under the words—so much so that Magnus thought he’d have to carry her up the ramp, though he doubted he had the strength.

  Suddenly, Willowood appeared from one side and touched Awen. A surge of something seemed to bring Awen back to life. She stood up straight and look around. “Willowood?”

  “Yes, child,” the old woman replied. “I’m here. And so is Magnus. We need to get you onto this shuttle.”

  “Shuttle?” Awen looked up the ramp, and then noticed Magnus. Her wide eyes looked up and down his body. “Mystics, you’re hurt!”

  “And you can fuss over me all you want, but you’ve got to get on t
he damn ship first.”

  Awen seemed to accept this and nodded at him.

  “Come, child,” Willowood said, touching Awen on the elbow and guiding her forward. “There is much to do, and none of it here.”

  “Yes,” Awen nodded. “Yes, we should leave.”

  Willowood winked at Magnus and nodded him toward the ramp. “Lead her by example.”

  Magnus felt compelled to follow the instructions and began ushering Awen up the ramp as if his feet were on autopilot. The pair of them walked into the shuttle and found seats along the starboard wall. Magnus buckled her in and then attended to his own harness. Willowood sat beside him.

  “Your granddaughter,” Magnus said, looking into Willowood’s sorrow-filled eyes. “We can’t just leave her here.”

  “We will find her. But not today.”

  “But…”

  “Are your responsibilities complete, Magnus?” Willowood asked.

  Magnus felt the question was odd, but it forced him to go through a mental checklist. He’d given the orders for the company to board the shuttles. He’d secured pilot redundancies if Nolan and the others were unable to fly the ships. And Flow was standing by with orbital support if it was needed. Already the ramp doors were closing shut. So long as the shuttles took off, then—“Yes, I believe they are.”

  “Good.” Her hand rested lightly on his leg. A moment later, Magnus lost consciousness.

  32

  “Are they scrambling fighters?” Ricio asked Flow on the Spire’s bridge. His heart sank. “If so… that looks like three entire squadrons.”

  “If all those little floaty dots crossing the ocean aren’t flying people, then yeah, I’d say they’re scrambling fighters.”

  “The enemy fighters are less than twenty-five minutes to intercept,” Azelon announced.

  “Why?” Cheeks asked. “You suddenly change your mind and want back in with your pal’s team?”

  “Oh, I want in, alright. But for the good guys this time.” Ricio turned to Azelon. Apparently the ship’s robotic counterpart had been revived in the time it took for Ricio and Cheeks to haul Nos Kil back to his cell and reactivate the containment field. “Bot, please tell me you’ve got something I can use to help the shuttles get home.”

  “Hold up, hold up,” Cheeks said, waving a hand in front of his face like something stank. “You mean to tell me that you’re not only willing to turn on the Repub, but now you’re willing to kill ’em all too?”

  “Is that so far-fetched?” Ricio said. “What were you before, Marine? A private?”

  “Very cute.”

  “He’s got a point though, Cheeks,” Flow said, nodding in Ricio’s direction. “I mean, we just toasted a whole bunch of our boys down there. Magnus did too. It’s kinda what we do now.”

  “Yeah, but that’s us,” Cheeks protested. “You know, the rebels. This guy is just…”

  “I’m just Mauricio Longo, and I’m gonna help whether you like it or not, private.”

  “I was a corporal, for the record.” Cheeks put his hands on his hips. “And a damn good one.”

  “I don’t doubt it. All I’m saying is that if this whole thing is as bad as Magnus says it is, then I know where my allegiances lie, and I want to do my part in helping those shuttles to safety. Any more questions?”

  Azelon stepped forward. “Commander, in using the phrase something I can use to help the shuttles, do you mean a highly maneuverable combat-ready gunship?”

  “Sounds about right. You got anything like that?”

  “Affirmative. Please follow me.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea, Azie?” Cheeks asked as the two headed toward the exit.

  “Cheeks, let it go, man,” Flow said.

  The bot paused and turned around to face the former Marines. “If it turns out to be a poor idea, I will detonate whatever vessel I place Commander Mauricio within. Is this acceptable?”

  Cheeks cast Ricio a crooked grin. “Whad’ya say, flyboy? Work for you?”

  Ricio puffed out his chest. “I can assure you that—”

  Suddenly, Azelon cupped her hands together, made the sound of an explosion with her mouth, and pulled her hands apart—fingers fluttering.

  Ricio ignored the disturbing gesture and tried to restate his position. “I can assure you it’s not going to come to that.”

  “But if it does…” Cheeks pointed at Azelon. Right on cue, she cupped her hands again, made the explosion sound, and fluttered her fingers.

  “Mystics, I got it,” Ricio exclaimed. “Enough with the threats already.”

  “So my pantomime worked?” Azelon asked, studying Ricio’s face.

  “Splick, yes. It worked. Now can we just get to the damn starfighter?”

  “Of course, commander.”

  * * *

  Ricio followed Azelon through the bowels of the ship until they reached a hangar bay that contained a crescent-shaped red ship. It seemed to be a highly modified light freighter and it sat on a six-pointed landing gear with its loading ramp extended.

  Ricio whistled and put his hands on his hips. “Well, would you look at that.”

  “Look at what, commander?” Azelon asked.

  “Seems you’ve done plenty of work on her too.” Ricio walked beneath the hull, eyes racing along the ship’s belly. “NR220 blaster cannons, K91 torpedo bays… not exactly a stock setup on a Katana-class. Very nice. And with the additional ion-propulsion ports, I bet she really screams. What’s her name?”

  “Commander, the Geronimo Nine is not the ship I have designated for you.”

  “It’s not?” Ricio stopped. “Listen, I can assure you, I’ll be able to unload a world of hurt with this old girl.”

  “I don’t doubt that, sir. However, I can assure you that you’ll be able to unload additional worlds of hurt, as you say, with what I have down here. Please, this way.”

  Azelon led Ricio through a bulkhead door and into a much larger hangar filled with square bays. Each space was marked in Novia Minoosh lettering that Ricio couldn’t read. But if the nomenclature was anything like galactic common, he figured the scripts were numerals. She gestured him toward the first bay and extended her hand. As he stepped around the corner, Ricio stared at a black vessel suspended from a yellow gantry arm. The crane crossed the room and led toward an environmental force field—the other side of which was raw void. “What in the hell is that?”

  “That is the negative vacuum of space, commander.”

  “No, I mean that.” Ricio pointed up at the craft hanging from the hoist.

  “That is the DS4-R9-21-21-B—”

  “Mystics, you lost me.”

  Azelon cocked her head sideways. “And yet I find you presently before me. Please help me understand your state of mind.”

  “No, I mean that name, Azie. You’re killing me.”

  “I am doing no such thing, commander. Given your newfound affiliation with the Gladio Umbra, my protocols do not allow me to harm you. Additionally, your vital signs do not indicate—”

  “Sweet mother of Vega’s pustulant offspring, I don’t mean that literally. What is wrong with you?”

  “Why, sir, I do not believe I am experiencing any new system anomalies. Do you suspect I have been compromised?”

  “That”—Rico pointed aloft—“is that my new fighter?”

  “Yes. As I was saying, that is the DS4—”

  “No, no. It’s gotta have a better name than all that worthless splick. Let’s call it… a Fang.”

  “A Fang, sir?”

  “It looks like a long sharp fang, doesn’t it?” The craft was shaped like an incisor, rectangular in the stern, and tapered to a blunted tip in the bow. The sides extended out to slender wing-like surfaces, giving the entire craft a concave shape, while two sets of twin vertical stabilizers protruded from the top and bottom of the fuselage. From below, Rico could barely make out the semblance of a cockpit’s front-facing window.

  “Damn, this thing looks badass,” Ricio said,
letting out a low whistle.

  “Badass, sir?”

  “Yes, Azie. Badass.”

  “Commander, I can assure you that your Fang, as it were, is neither poor in condition, nor does it possess a biological posterior.”

  “Mystics, Azie. I mean it looks great.”

  “Ah. I am unfamiliar with your colloquialism. Shall I add it to my lexicon?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Very good. Regarding your ship, I have already made all the necessary changes to the flight system to make them legible for you as well as to conform to your species’ physiology.”

  “Azie, you shouldn’t have.” Rico tried looking for a port or ramp or some other means of getting onboard. “So?”

  “So?”

  “So, how do I get in?”

  “So, there is a biometric scanner that must pair with your synaptic signature, located on the hull’s belly directly underneath the cockpit.”

  Ricio walked toward a small module that was the closest thing he could interpret as a scanner. It looked like a red eye, tucked within two black folds of metal that acted like lids.

  “So, am I just supposed to stand under it?”

  “So, yes. Additionally, is there a particular reason we are starting every sentence with the sub modifier so?”

  “No, Azie.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “And how the hell do I get in?”

  “Stand under the iris and remain motionless until you hear the chime.”

  Ricio walked beneath the red lens. “How long does this—”

  A soft trill rang out overhead.

  “Congratulations, your body’s unique identifiers have been paired with this Fang.”

  “Congratulations?”

  “Isn’t that how the term congratulations is used where your kind comes from?”

  “Azie, my new friends are about to get attacked down there. Can we please save the vocab lessons for later?”

  “I did not realize that you felt our conversation was sidetracking you.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Irrelevant. I see no correlation between my statement and the offspring of female breeding canines.”