Magnus sighed. “Right.” But Magnus couldn’t suppress the sense of dread he felt growing in his gut. “You think Moldark’s come for her?”
“Piper?” Awen looked away. “It crossed my mind, yes.”
“Dammit.” The whole scenario felt like a Junlithkin chess match where the adversary was always two steps ahead and loved catching opponents with their pants around their ankles. “Bend over.”
“Excuse me?” Awen pulled her head back.
“Not you. Well, yeah, you. And me. All of us, I guess.”
“Easy, Magnus.” She sighed and searched his eyes. “If there’s one thing I know, Piper can handle herself.”
“How can you even say that? She’s so…”
“Young?”
“I was gonna say naive. She was carrying around a damned stuffed animal up until a few months ago.”
“A stuffed animal that was keeping her powers from harming everyone around her.”
Magnus eyed Awen curiously. “You’re saying her powers are going to keep her safe? But didn’t we stuff her in a power suit to do the same thing as that ratty corgachirp?”
“We did. But that’s just it. Willowood and I detected her only because—”
“You don’t think she’s wearing it anymore.”
Awen nodded.
“So she’s a loose blaster waiting to go off.”
“And even with the suit, you saw what she did down here.”
Magnus’s mind went back to the two companies of dead Repub Marines scattered out the docking bay doors and into Plumeria’s streets. He thought about the civilian casualties as well—the untold numbers of people who’d perished within the safety of their own homes. “Mystics,” he whispered.
“I don’t know what decisions her little girl brain is going to make,” Awen said. “I’ll give you that. But I do know that if anyone tries to harm her, well… let’s just say they’ll never know what hit them.”
“Forbes is still half-deaf, but he’s ready for departure,” Caldwell said, stepping back inside the bridge. “He has an idea on how to get us out of here too.”
* * *
The first Alvera-class transport rumbled overhead as Magnus and the others looked up at it through the shuttle’s cockpit window. The behemoth was so low that its monstrous repulsor engines shook everything within a kilometer, blasting the city with sustained waves of energy. Forbes’s idea for concealment from the Paragon meant making a dash from the hangar and slipping between the two transports. It would require deft piloting, but Magnus felt Nolan would be up for it—at least he hoped so. There wasn’t a lot of margin for error.
The ship wasn’t halfway passed when Nolan said, “Hold on!”
The former navy pilot raised the Novian shuttle out of the docking bay faster than regulations permitted, barely missing the far side’s top edge. Awen clutched Magnus’s bicep as the momentum forced everyone back in their crash couches.
Magnus watched as the Alvera-class ship stretched out in front of them, only to be followed tightly by the second transport. A small gap of maybe three-hundred meters appeared between the stern of the first ship and the bow of the latter—a hole Nolan flew toward with a little too much speed.
“You sure you got this?” Magnus asked, tightening his sphincter out of reflex. The shuttle closed so fast on the first transport that Magnus was sure they’d strike it. His vision tunneled on the two large engine cones that propelled the ship forward. As the energy wakes threatened to tear the shuttle apart, Magnus heard his voice rise in pitch. “Nolan?”
Just before a fiery ion explosion consumed the shuttles, Nolan spun the craft around and applied full throttle. The movement threw the passengers sideways and then shoved them into their seats. Magnus felt his vision darken as the G-forces skyrocketed. He grunted, forcing blood to stay in his head, willing himself to remain conscious.
The crash couches shook so hard Magnus was sure they’d rip from the deck. Out of the cockpit window, he saw the second transport’s nose. He couldn’t tell if Nolan was trying to crash into the stern of the first or impale them on the bow of the second. Then, just when the thought of death had firmly planted itself in Magnus’s head, the shuttle spun around again and faced the first transport’s tail. Nolan cut the throttle, and all was silent save for the gentle thrum of repulsor engines from the transport ahead. The shuttle was in perfect alignment with both ships, floating along as if on parade.
“All set,” Nolan said with a calm voice, spinning around. “Smooth sailing from here on out.”
“You’re one crazy bastard,” Magnus said, examining their position in the sensors screen. “Next time, how about engaging the dampeners?”
“But where’s the fun in that?”
The words had barely left his mouth when something else left Awen’s. Projectile vomit splashed into Nolan’s lap.
“Sorry,” Awen said, covering her mouth.
“You know what, Nolan? Never mind about the dampeners.” Magnus helped Awen unbuckle. “This is way more fun.”
* * *
Nolan led the convoy back to the quantum tunnel while Magnus briefed Captain Forbes on what to expect during the crossing. Since Magnus’s Novian shuttle was built to withstand the cataclysmic forces placed on its crew, the feeling of dying every time they went through the void horizon was minimized. Forbes, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so lucky. Magnus had thought about calling the Spire back, but it would have been too risky with the Paragon ships in orbit over Worru. Plus, he kinda felt every Marine needed to have a near-death experience at least once in their careers, and as far as he was concerned, these Marines—the new ones who’d been called in to help fight with the Gladio Umbra—were due.
Forbes thanked Magnus for the briefing and said he’d forward it down the chain of command.
“Why are you smiling?” Awen asked Magnus when he’d closed the channel.
“I’m not smiling.”
“Yeah, you are.”
Magnus looked at her. “I mean, wouldn’t you love to see an entire transport of Marines get sick at the same time?”
“You’re a bad man,” Awen said.
“Once was enough for me,” Nolan said, pointing to the fresh pair of crew shorts he sported. “And she wasn’t even a Marine.”
Awen laughed and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Nolan, but you kinda earned it.”
“I hear that,” Nolan replied. “Still, Magnus is right. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on that wall.”
“I can accommodate that request,” Azelon suddenly said over comms.
“Come again, Azie?” Magnus said, stepping toward the central flight console.
“I have gained access to both transports’ security systems, which includes onboard cameras. If you would like to view the common crew holds, I can send the feeds directly to your shuttle.”
Magnus looked at Awen. “No… that’s—”
Awen shrugged, and the edges of her lips curled into a devilish smile. “Send it over, Azie.”
Magnus stared at Awen. “Look who’s the bad person now.”
* * *
After all four of them watched a few hundred hardened Marines puke on one another, Colonel Caldwell hailed Captain Forbes. “Everyone make it across okay, Forbes?”
“The word ‘okay’ may not be the best description,” the captain hollered back. “But we’re all accounted for. We’ll be a little while in cleaning up.”
“Understood. Consider this your official welcome to metaspace, captain.”
Forbes chuckled. “If this is the welcome, I hate to see the goodbye.”
“It’s a bitch. Listen, don’t waste too much time cleaning up. There are bots for that. Plus, you’re not gonna need the Repub armor anyway.”
“We get the fancy stuff like you, colonel?”
“Eventually. It’s gonna take some time to manufacture. We’ll keep the Repub weapons and armor in case we need them later. But for now, let’s just get everyone into some clean clothes and square your quart
ers away.”
“Copy that.”
“Caldwell out.”
When the older man spun from the co-pilot chair, Magnus waved him back into the crew compartment. “A word, colonel?”
“Of course.”
Caldwell followed Magnus to the compartment’s rear, just before the cargo bay. They sat facing one another on either side of the aisle.
“We’re gonna need to restructure,” Magnus said. “I think you realize that by now too.”
“The Gladio Umbra, you mean?” Caldwell nodded. “The units are about to grow by a factor of seven or eight, I gather. Doesn’t even count whatever reinforcements Sootriman and Mr. Third-Person can rustle up.”
“Ezo,” Magnus said.
“Right.”
“It’s gonna be a lot to handle—reorganization, integration, training.”
“Sure the hell is,” Caldwell said.
“We’re talking some serious oversight.”
“We are.”
Magnus rubbed the back of his neck. “Oversight that requires training and experience I don’t have.”
“But with the right guidance, you’ll figure it out, son.”
Magnus shook his head. “No, colonel. I won’t. I don’t have the time to learn it all, and the galaxy’s safety isn’t gonna sit around and wait.”
Caldwell looked stone-faced at Magnus. “Splick, son. You’re not suggesting that—”
“I sure as hell am.”
Caldwell reached into a pocket inside his chest plate and pulled out a half-smoked cigar. He stuck it under his tobacco-stained mustache and studied Magnus’s face with hard eyes. A long minute passed in total silence, one that felt more like an hour.
Magnus honestly couldn’t decide which way the colonel was going to go. The old man was sure to stay on in some capacity, which was all well and good. But Magnus knew he needed the colonel at the helm, not as a grunt. Magnus couldn’t lead what the Gladio Umbra was about to turn into—a battalion. Give him a platoon and a firefight, and he knew where to be and when. But a battalion? Hell, there was a reason gifted men and women spent a decade learning how to command a unit this size. Without the colonel, Magnus knew he was screwed. And he hoped the colonel knew it too.
“You do you know Plumeria was my retirement, right?” The colonel asked.
Magnus sat back. He had him. “Probably would’ve given you a house next to So-Elku too. Damn shame.”
“Damn shame,” Caldwell repeated, chewing on his cigar. “But I gave that up, and now I’m stuck here with you. And if I’m stuck here with you, I don’t really wanna be running around in firefights, bustin’ my balls. I’m getting too old for that splick. Have you seen my knees lately?”
“I don’t even know how you’re still standing, colonel.”
“Hell if I know.” The older man chuckled, then squared with Magnus. “Listen, son. You’re a damn fine Marine and an even better man. Maybe the best I’ve ever known. So if you want me on latrine duty, I’ll scrub every alien ass pot in the quadrant for you, if that’s what helps you save the day.”
“Not to discount your offer, but like you told Forbes, we’ve got bots for that. Where I really need you is at the top. The Gladio Umbra needs a battalion commander. Mystics know I can’t do that. But you can. So that’s where I need you.”
The colonel removed his cigar and put his hand up. “Then I’ll give you my last breath, Adonis. Dominate.”
Magnus clasped the old man’s thick hand. “Liberate.”
10
Ezo and Sootriman had been cleaning the burnt-out den for almost an hour when Saasarr appeared at the entrance. The Reptalon looked around and gave what Ezo assumed was an impressed look, but it seemed more like a disgusted sneer.
“Well done, my queen,” Saasarr said.
“No small thanks to the bots Ezo conscripted,” she replied, pointing to Ezo. Again, Saasarr gave him the same impressed look—or is that the sneer of disgust? He couldn’t tell. Either way, he waved from a pile of soot-covered metal that he’d been stacking.
Thanks to the small fleet of service bots, most of the light fixtures had been repaired, the floors scrubbed, and the walls were well on their way to taking on some semblance of their former states. The ceilings, however, would take longer. The grand garments that once billowed through the dome’s upper reaches would also need replacing, but those would come in time. If we make it back, Ezo noted to himself.
The bots had also done an efficient job of collecting and itemizing the debris and tidying up. Their help was especially useful with the corpses, a task which neither Sootriman or Ezo could handle emotionally. Moldark’s massacre had been even more gratuitous than Ezo first thought. After all, the last time he’d been in the den was with Awen and TO-96, and they hadn’t come to itemize the dead. But now, picking through the rubble in an attempt to bring the hall back to life, the atrocity’s impact hit Ezo hard—Sootriman even more so.
“Would you like to see the first applicants?” Saasarr asked.
“Yes,” Sootriman replied. “How many do you have so far?”
“Several hundred, my queen.”
Sootriman looked at Ezo. “It’s as you suspected.”
Ezo gave her an astonished look. “Of course it is. All of them adore you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Sootriman waved off the compliment—one genuinely paid, Ezo noted to himself. “But not all of them are suited to fight. Which is why we must interview them.”
“You do realize that’s going to take more than the day we allotted, don’t you?” Ezo asked.
“If Saasarr may speak,” the Reptalon said, and Sootriman waved her hand. “The robot man has already filtered the current applicants according to what he thinks is the best fit for us.”
“You see?” Sootriman said, glancing at Ezo. “That should expedite things nicely. Send them, Saasarr. And then come by my side. In case things get… interesting.”
Saasarr gave another one of his half smiles and left the den.
“Ezo can’t tell if your pet likes him or wants to eat him,” Ezo said as he wiped his hands on a cloth.
“Probably both,” Sootriman said. She ascended her dais and double-checked the chair’s cleanliness before sitting down. “And he’s not my pet. You know I hate when you call him that.”
“Pet, slave, indentured servant—it’s all the same to Ezo.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” Ezo asked, stuffing the cloth inside his pants pocket.
“Talk about yourself with me in the third person?”
“Ezo doesn’t do…” He shrugged. “Apparently, he does.”
“And yet you don’t do it with Tee-Oh.”
“That’s because he…”
“He what? He’s always been faithful to you? Always stuck it out no matter what?”
“Ezo doesn’t mean to. It’s just that…” Ezo’s mouth worked to find words like a fish probing the water.
“I wasn’t the one who left you, husband. You know that, right?”
Ezo looked down at his calloused soot-stained hands. “No, you didn’t leave Ezo.” He sighed, then corrected the statement. “You didn’t leave me. I suppose it’s because I was the one who left you. And I’m ashamed of it.”
“Well, get over it.”
Ezo snapped his head up at her. “What?”
“Get over it—talking in the third person. Others might think it’s endearing or whatever. But don’t do it with me. And stop calling Saasarr bad names. He’s a person and a fine protector. And if neither works for you, I’ll cut your tongue out.”
Ezo raised his hands in defense. “I got it. I got it.” He was spared any further punishment by the sudden appearance of twelve people at the den’s entrance. Saasarr strode out in front and then turned around to face the newcomers.
“I present to you the Mistress of Caledonia, Queen of Khimere, and the Warlord of Ki Nar Four, Sootriman.” He bowed as he backed away, hissing at the few guests who did
n’t bow along with him.
“Come forward,” Sootriman said.
The twelve people who crossed the newly swept floor were unusual in a Dregs of Oorajee sort of way. Their clothing was a patchwork of plate armor and fabrics gathered from around the galaxy. But rather than a sign of poverty, as many emoted on this rusted out floating dung heap, these people wore it as a badge of honor. In fact, if Ezo didn’t know better, he’d say these people were leaders of some kind. And they looked ready for a fight.
Ezo felt his trigger finger twitch as Sootriman stood from her battered throne and descended the dais. A man stepped out from the group’s center and meet Sootriman. He wore a burgundy cloak over one shoulder, a black Repub-style chest plate, and a beige pair of cargo pants with heavy black boots. On his head, he wore a style of black beret that Ezo couldn’t quite place.
Sootriman and the interloper stood less than a meter apart, and Ezo felt the overwhelming urge to pull his Supra from his holster.
“How dare you show your face here,” Sootriman said, her tone seething with hatred.
“And miss an opportunity to gloat?” the man replied. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you should do more dreaming and less drinking.” The two opponents scowled at one another. Ezo was sure this was about to be a one-sided blood bath. Suddenly, Sootriman embraced the man, welcoming him with a wide smile. “It’s good to see you, Phineas.”
“And you, my lord queen,” the man replied. “We feared you were lost.”
“I almost was, were it not for some help from friends.” Sootriman looked at Ezo and gestured for him to join her. “Husband, this is Phineas Barlow, magistrate of Kildower.”
“You can just call me Phineas.”
“But magistrate?” Ezo said, shaking the man’s hand.
“You think all the floating cities govern themselves?” Phineas asked.
“Come to think of it, Ezo had never given it much thought.”
“Offworlders,” someone else muttered.
“All Ki Nar Four’s floating cities have magistrates,” Sootriman said to Ezo. “Save mine, of course.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 142