Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “It’s a term of endearment, trust me.”

  “Old girl.” It seemed as if she was trying it on. “If you say so, sir.”

  “I do. Now, how many of these Talons did you say you can take on?”

  “I didn’t specify before, but I will attempt to commandeer as many as I’m able to deliver into your kill zone.”

  “I like the sound of that. Still, can you give me an estimate?”

  “I anticipate being able to handle almost 70% of their units.”

  Ricio swallowed and then did some quick math in his head. With three standard squadrons comprised of fourteen Talons each, 70% was just about thirty fighters. “Which leaves me twelve or thirteen.” And that thought didn’t sit well with him.

  For the first time since leaving the Spire, Ricio suddenly wondered if this was a smart plan. Given how easily Azelon had bested his squadron when he first emerged from the quantum tunnel, Ricio hoped she’d be able to take them all on, letting him pick up the pieces. But twelve Talons to one Fang? Those odds were…

  “Not great.”

  “What’s not great, commander?” Azelon asked.

  “I’m flying twelve to one.”

  “Plus city-wide defenses.”

  He cursed. “Plus those.” Maybe he should draw the dogfighting away from the city after all.

  “Given your elevated heart rate in the moments surrounding this line of discussion, I conclude that you are suddenly worried about this confrontation.”

  “You could say that. I was just hoping you’d… you know—maybe have more of those Talons under your control.”

  “Without TO-96’s additional resources, I’m afraid that is not possible. However, might I remind you that you are flying a Novia Fang.”

  “I recognize that.”

  “Then you are aware that, statistically speaking, you are four times the ship than those flown by the enemy, aren’t you?”

  “Four times the ship?”

  “With regard to acceleration, speed, maneuverability, shields, armament, tactical sensors, navigation—”

  “So you’re saying this thing really is a badass.”

  “One might go so far as to say you’re a cocky bastard flying a badass gunship.”

  “That would make a nice tattoo, Azie. You want to go in with me?”

  “In, sir?”

  “Never mind. Just assign me which fighters are mine.”

  “As you wish, commander.” Suddenly, the red reticles were cut by two thirds, leaving just twelve ships.

  “I took the extra one, sir.”

  “Thanks, old girl.”

  “My pleasure. Incoming transmission, commander.”

  “Incoming—from who?”

  “From one of the outbound shuttles, sir.”

  Ricio cursed under his breath. The thought of trying to explain this whole situation to Magnus didn’t sit well with him. There was too much to say and not enough time to say it in. Even a cursory summary would sound crazy—hell, it is crazy.

  “Sir, if you would like to answer the transmission, simply will to accept it.”

  Ricio’s chest tensed as he did everything he could not to will the communication to open. “I’m good right now, Azie. Thanks.”

  “As opposed to being bad? Do you fluctuate dispositions so rapidly?”

  “I mean, I don’t want to take the call. It will just distract me right now, and we have more important things to worry about.”

  “Understood, commander. I am blocking the transmission request.”

  “Thanks.” Ricio swallowed and stretched his neck. “Crisis averted.”

  * * *

  The Fang accelerated well past the attack speed of any Talon he’d ever flown. It tore through the sky so fast that Ricio was sure the wings would rip off. A small status bar on the HUD noted the percentage of Vibration Dampening that was being exerted. Ricio wondered if this helped lessen the strain on the airframe. But the thought was short lived.

  “Enemy contact in five seconds,” Azelon said.

  Faced with more ships than he could take at once, Ricio decided to try and focus on three. To his surprise, all three targeting reticles illuminated. For the first two, he selected missiles, hoping that his command would somehow stick despite needing to refocus on the third ship and lock blasters on it.

  When he was satisfied that all three targets had been assigned, he gave the command to fire—or at least he thought it did. “Birdies two and five, away.” The seconds slowed as he watched all three squadrons of Talons suddenly appear in his window. But still no weapons fired. The Talons grew from small specs to full-sized fighters in the time it took for him to yell, “Fire, dammit.”

  His Fang bucked as blaster fire leaped from the nose at the same time that two missiles erupted from the fuselage in a cloud of fire and smoke. He blinked. When his eyes opened, the Talons had been struck, violently exploding into three fireballs. And then it was all past him.

  Ricio shot out the other side of the formation, maintaining speed and altitude, when he noticed that he was well over Plumeria. Blaster fire from the city-wide defense network launched into the sky in a weak attempt to track him. But the Fang was moving so fast that the cannons appeared to be shooting at random targets far overhead.

  “Get your splick together, Ricio,” he told himself. He couldn’t afford to have another delayed weapons activation like that. Nanoseconds, he reminded himself. Nanoseconds were the difference between sprinkling the city with the ashes of your enemies or you.

  “Three targets eliminated,” Azelon said. “Ten enemy fighters breaking formation.”

  “Ten?”

  “Reassigning ship allocation and prioritization.”

  Ricio watched as the current target reticles disappeared only to reappear over new ships, all of which were banking away from the shuttles’ vectors. He decided to execute an Alcion maneuver to match but worried the speed might be too great.

  Pulling back on an imaginary flight yoke, Ricio sent the Fang into a steep climb. The blood in his body rushed to his feet. Instantly, he felt the chair begin to squeeze his legs. He couldn’t tell if he was just losing feeling down there or if the seat was actually trying to combat the pooling of blood in his lower extremities by clamping down on the tissue. As the Fang came up and over the apex of his climb, Ricio introduced a half roll, which presented him with a panoramic view of all the Talons headed back toward Plumeria.

  The city defensive blasters were getting closer to his location, but they were nothing to worry about yet. “Can they see me?”

  “Optically, no. The Fang is coated with a light-altering material that—”

  “How about IR? Or something else?”

  “Your ship is giving off a great deal of heat, yes. However, the signature is still so far behind you that the enemy will need to lead you well in advance of your projected vector, making all but the luckiest shot lethal, so long as you are not predictable.”

  “Be unpredictable. Check.”

  By comparison, the Talons were far slower in coming about. Ricio decided to try three more targets again, focusing on the righthand group of five Talons that were circling around. The reticles locked. Ricio thought of his primary and secondary blasters, and then willed them to fire. This time they responded almost instantaneously.

  The Fang spat two distinct types of blaster bolts toward the enemy. One, like before, was fat and menacing. It made the nose of the Fang tremble as it projected away from the craft. The second emanated from the ends of the wings and came in a staccato whine that reminded Ricio of a blaster rifle on full-auto. Only this blaster rifle was putting out more energy than ten hand-held weapons.

  With both weapons combined, the torrent of blaster fire tracked the enemy and met a single fighter with devastating results. The ship was torn into several pieces, and then even those pieces were riddled with blaster fire. The chunks exploded and formed a fine cloud of shrapnel that glowed white hot against the afternoon sun.

  “Figh
ter eliminated.”

  “Just one?” Ricio swore and pounded a fist on the dashboard. “What about the other two?”

  “My resources are currently insufficient to guide your fire, commander.”

  “Guide my— You’re saying you’ve been helping me?”

  “Correct. I am presently engaged with dispatching several Talons in the main contingent.”

  “Which means what, exactly?”

  Azelon paused, then said, “Shoot better.”

  Ricio swung around behind the group of four fighters as they leveled out. “‘Shoot better,’ she says. You’re completely outnumbered and the bot says, ‘Shoot better.’ Mystics, thanks for the helpful tip, old girl.”

  “It’s my pleasure, commander.”

  Ricio gritted his teeth, focused on only one Talon this time, and willed the hand in his mind to squeeze the trigger on the flight yoke. Again, both primary and secondary blasters barked, spewing forth a cascade of alternating energy rounds. The stream caught the target in the engines. The aft exploded and sent the rest of the fuselage tumbling forward into a somersault.

  “Yes, like that,” Azelon said with an encouraging tone to her voice.

  Ricio sneered but held his tongue. He had a job to do.

  34

  So-Elku cursed the bonds that held him captive. No matter how hard he tried to thwart them, the blasted bars would not budge. Worse still, he found that his ability to summon anything within the Nexus—or even within the Unity—was futile. Whatever power the child had used against him, it was startlingly comprehensive. And So-Elku had to have it.

  He paced in his small cell, his feet matting the forest floor within the magenta-colored light’s glow. He’d expected Awen to show up, he just never imagined she’d bring the child with her—a turn of good fortune, he’d mused to himself. If only the girl had been less powerful. And that both frustrated and inspired him.

  The frustration was obvious, of course. So-Elku had no idea how long his imprisonment would last. Perhaps a long forever, stretched out over eons, in which his physical body decayed to dust while his soul lived on through eternity.

  The inspiration, however, was implicit.

  So-Elku marveled at Piper’s power. The suspicions that Willowood’s granddaughter was a true blood were understated—to say the least. She was, by all accounts, the truest blood anyone had encountered, perhaps in the Luma’s entire lineage. How so much potential had been allocated to a single being baffled So-Elku… and made him sick with envy.

  Piper’s abilities defied imagination, and the Luma Master had witnessed it with his own eyes. Mystics, he’d been the focus of it! The fact that he’d even survived an encounter with the prodigy surprised him. Though, he guessed that had to do with Awen’s influence more than anything else.

  The Luma’s archaic teachings of peaceful resistance and empathetic diplomacy had taken root in Awen long before she’d arrived on Worru. The Elonian’s were strange that way, exhibiting much of the same values that defined the Luma—the main difference being that where the Luma sought to extend peace to others, the Elonians remained closed off, keeping their peaceful ways to themselves.

  So-Elku wondered how much Awen had trained Piper, coaxing her into a place of submission that blinded the child to her true potential. But when battling them, So-Elku also noticed how the suits directed the flow of energy within the Unity. For Awen, her powers seemed amplified, giving her greater influence, specifically within the Nexus. But for Piper, the suit seemed to act as a regulator, tempering the child’s abilities into manageable actions. And that piqued So-Elku’s curiosity. For if what he’d seen had been merely a shadow of what was to come, he desired to see Piper unleashed upon the galaxy in the fullness of her gift. The thought sent shivers down his spine and along his arms and legs. She would be, he guessed, unstoppable.

  That was when So-Elku swore an oath to himself—a promise that he would help unleash the child. That he would remove the restrictions of mind, body, and spirit. That he would set the girl’s soul free and watch her tear through the cosmos uninhibited. Such would be the greatest of all his accomplishments, for the child’s efforts would serve his pursuits.

  “Which means she must be guided,” So-Elku said from within his cage. “I will find her, and then I will mold her.” A smile crept across his crooked lips.

  Suddenly, a shockwave struck So-Elku in the chest and threw him back. Gone were the electrified Nexus bars as his body went tearing through the Foundation’s forest like a doll’s. The tall pines bent against the blast of energy, their limbs cracking in the tumult. So-Elku blasted back through one trunk after another, timber shredding into splinters. The energy propelled him like a missile, hurtling him deeper and deeper into the woods, until finally his back was buried in a hillside.

  So-Elku lay there for a long while as the forest rebounded from the tidal wave of force. Trees groaned as they straightened, their aged shudders sending a chill through the air. Then an eerie silence befell the entire Foundation. Gone were the bird songs and the buzzing of insects. Silent were the burrowing ground animals and calls of the roaming beasts. Instead, there was utter stillness.

  When he finally managed to push himself out of the depression his body had made in the soft ground, So-Elku found that he was whole despite the aching head and limbs that vied for his attention. He stood slowly, fending off a wave of nausea by using his powers to shrug off the various pains that assailed him. He used those same powers to bring his attention to a single point and then hasten his return back to his physical body.

  Back in his study, So-Elku strode across the room to the balcony and looked west toward the city’s center. Pockets of fire formed a glowing line through the streets leading to the docking bays. He cursed and knew that the enemy had escaped him—had escaped his living dead, his elders, and his battalion of Marines. As soon as his thoughts turned to how, the revelation hit him.

  Piper.

  The blast of energy… it had been her. She’d done something in the Unity to keep them at bay. And it was magnificent, he thought in appreciation. He was about to re-enter the Unity when he spotted the four Novian shuttles rise into the night sky. Their thrust vectors changed, and suddenly the transports headed toward the Grand Arielina. So-Elku raised a shield around himself, fearing the worst. The ships shook the air, rocketing toward him. He prepared for the ground to explode out from underneath him. But the violence never came.

  Instead, the four shuttles roared by, passing overhead only a few meters from the great spire’s peak. Their engines shook the building, fleeing to the east in a rush to escape the city.

  So-Elku searched his feelings. He sensed that the Marine colonel had abandoned the planet, and that more than half of the Marines stationed with him had been slain. So-Elku tried to remember the name of the remaining company commanders who had been stationed on the far side of the city, the ones who’d most likely survived whatever Piper had done.

  “Captain Forbes,” So-Elku projected to TACNET. “Do you read me?”

  “I do,” replied the captain, sounding out of breath. “Who is this? Your ident sig is not registering on—”

  “This is Master So-Elku. Colonel Caldwell has been killed, as well as most of your men stationed at the Grand Arielina’s garrison.” Surely the trooper could see in his helmet what So-Elku was reporting.

  “Yes, Master Luma. I can confirm that Caldwell is missing, and two companies have taken heavy casualties… too many for the system to tabulate still. We’re en route to the hangars. Almost there.”

  “I’m sorry for your losses, captain. You’ve no doubt seen the departing shuttles?”

  “We have. We’ll detain any additional vessels from taking off. We’re turning into the hangars now.” It took several seconds for the captain to speak again. When he did, his voice was tight. “Mystics… they’re… they’re dead.”

  “Forbes?”

  “Their bodies are… they’re everywhere.”

  “Are you ab
le to track the shuttles?”

  “Affirmative,” Forbes replied, but his voice sounded distant. “We’re… we’re tracking four ships with registered idents.”

  “Those are stolen idents, captain. I want them stopped at all costs.”

  “I’m sorry, Master Luma, but my orders—”

  “Your colonel is missing or dead, you’ve lost half the troopers in your battalion, and the people responsible for it are in those shuttles.” So-Elku felt exasperated but he couldn’t help himself. He tried to calm his nerves. “I’m not telling you how to do your job, captain, but it seems to me that you’ll want to scramble whatever Talons you have and take out those shuttles.”

  “Again, sir, I recognize your authority on behalf of the Luma. That said, your wishes are secondary to the Marine Corps’ standard operating procedures.”

  So-Elku ground his teeth. This wasn’t getting him anywhere, and the enemy was getting away. The master slipped into the Nexus, channeled his energy toward the captain, and willed the man to hear him—to know his desire. “You’ll scramble the Talons immediately, captain.”

  Forbes hesitated. For the briefest of moments, So-Elku wondered if the trick would work. Then the captain struggled with the words: “I’ll—scramble…”

  “Yes, captain?”

  “I’ll scramble Talons immediately.”

  “Very good,” So-Elku said, slipping out of the Nexus and placing his fingertips together. “Thank you, Forbes.”

  “We are here to serve, sir. Forbes out.”

  * * *

  So-Elku watched the star fighters like a tired hiker watching the flames of a campfire after a long day’s walk. Blaster fire and missiles streaked across the night sky like shooting stars, lighting up So-Elku’s face and mellowing his mood. Everything is as it should be, he thought, marveling at how things were coming undone for the Republic, for Moldark, and for those who rebelled against the will of the Luma.

  He could sense Willowood on one of the shuttles. She was with Awen. And the two of them had taken many of the Luma who’d been loyal to the old hag—several elders included. So-Elku cursed this development but quickly rested in the fact that the shuttles were severely outnumbered, as was the single alien fighter that attempted to take on an entire squadron by itself. Noble, So-Elku noted, but futile.