Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “Who is this? What’s your identification—”

  The channel went silent. Magnus looked at the screen, trying to figure out what had happened.

  “He was getting on my nerves,” TO-96 said.

  Magnus laughed. “You and me both, buddy.”

  TO-96 cleared the hangar, then sideslipped the ship to port, not even bothering to spin it. Magnus watched as they traversed in seconds what had taken him several seconds of maze running, then slowed as they neared the next hangar bay. Inside, the remaining gladia fought with Paragon Marines who were stacked up in the north tunnel.

  “We’re coming in,” Magnus said over VNET. “Stand clear, and give us some shielding if you can afford it.”

  “Bring it in,” Abimbola said. “We have mystics ready to supplement your shields.”

  “Thanks, Bimby.”

  TO-96 applied forward thrust, and the HAT moved through the force field. Several Marines seemed surprised to see the shuttle appear. But the hesitation cost a few of them their lives as NOV1 fire drilled into their armor and sent them sprawling.

  Magnus ran for the aft cargo hold and punched the ramp open just as TO-96 brought the ship down. The repulsor’s engines were still whining, however, as the bot rightly assumed this would be a quick stop.

  “Everyone in,” Magnus said, waving to the first gladias he saw. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” The members of Delta and Echo Teams charged up the ramp, followed by most of Paladia Company’s remaining cadres. “Come on, Bimby. Where you at?”

  Magnus spun around to find the rest of Granther Company’s outlines. While he faced the ship’s interior, his sensors overlaid the gladias shapes in his HUD. They were just off the ship’s nose, hidden behind some cargo crates and MB17s. Magnus ran down the ramp, keeping his head toward his fire teams, and saw them pinned down under heavy fire. Since two layers of shielding protected the shuttle, the enemy decided to let the remaining intruders have it.

  “It is no good, buckethead,” Abimbola said. “We cannot cross to you.”

  “Like hell you can’t.” Magnus looked over and saw two GU90s on tripods. He stepped off the ramp, ignored TO-96’s warning to get back with the ship, and lifted the weapons off their stands. His suit’s servo assist system wound up, sucking power from his primary batteries in order to support the massive guns. Magnus turned and, with the help of his bioteknia eyes, selected a group of thirty Paragon Marines who seemed to be giving his fire teams the hardest time. Magnus squeezed both triggers and leaned into the kickback.

  The GU90s roared, sending torrents of blaster fire zipping across the hangar bay and into enemy lines. The rounds pierced the unshielded Repub armor, boring large-diameter holes straight through hapless victims. Magnus chewed through the ranks, taking out two and three troopers at a time, mowing them down like toy soldiers on a child’s sandbox ledge.

  Several Marines noticed the assault and tried to take cover, while others tried alerting those who’d not yet seen the imposing threat. But none of them were fast enough to escape Magnus’s barrage of gunfire. He continued to squeeze the two triggers, his chest and legs absorbing the weapon’s violent recoil.

  “Run, dammit,” Magnus hollered over the demon-like sound of the twin guns. His HUD tracked friendly movement as the remaining Granthers headed for the shuttle. But the enemy was regrouping as well. More reinforcements crept out of the tunnel and took cover before Magnus could drill their bodies with blaster fire.

  Suddenly, an enemy round struck the GU90 in Magnus’s left hand. The weapon kicked back and struck Magnus across the chest. A sharp pain exploded in his elbow, and he was forced to drop the gun.

  “Time to leave, sir,” TO-96 said. “Please step on board.”

  Magnus continued to fire with his right weapon, stepped onto the platform, and grabbed ahold of the ramp stanchion with his left hand. His left arm throbbed, but he managed to hold on as TO-96 powered up the repulsors.

  The ship rose off the deck, while Magnus continued to fire. He leaned out and sprayed the Marines filing into the hangar. Finally, the GU90 went dry. Magnus double checked the mag display. When he confirmed it was at 0, he tossed the weapon down and pulled himself up the ramp.

  “How about a parting gift,” Magnus said to TO-96.

  “Did you have something in mind?”

  “Just make it go boom.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The ramp door closed just as the shuttle’s tail slipped through the force field. Magnus raced back through the shuttle, telling everyone to secure themselves, and then arrived in the cockpit. The HAT’s nose was the only thing left inside the Labyrinth, and it took the brunt of the enemy’s fire. Countless bolts lit up both mystic- and drive-core-powered shields alike, producing an electrical display that would have dropped an unprotected ship in a heartbeat.

  “Now, ’Six,” Magnus ordered. “Fire.”

  Six torpedoes shot from the bay directly under the cockpit, covering the windshield with smoke. At the same time, TO-96 applied full power and backed the ship clear of the hangar bay. The bay filled with fire as the torpedoes impacted the far wall. While the environmental force field managed to keep most of the energy contained, some of it blew back on the shuttle and forced it away from the Labyrinth with a jolt. The rest of the explosion’s energy blew sideways into neighboring sections, and vertically into adjacent decks. Fire broke through expanding seams, causing plates to blow apart and compartments to explode. Additional ruptures appeared further along the hull until, finally, the pressure found relief when the force field went down.

  The vacuum extinguished the primary fires as swaths of bodies and debris ejected into the void. Magnus marveled at the gaping hole TO-96’s assault had made. “That was a big boom.”

  “Am I detecting that you think it was too much, sir?” TO-96 asked.

  Magnus glanced at the bot’s avatar. “Hey, ’Six?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “There’s no such thing as too big a boom.”

  “Understood. Thank you. Though we are not out of the old-growth deciduous and conifer wilderness country yet, sir.”

  “The hell?” But any interest Magnus had in interpreting the bot’s wordplay was diverted the moment Caldwell’s voice came over comms.

  “Sweet mother of Vesper’s twin bitches. Looks like they’re coming about, Magnus.” And by they, Caldwell meant the half dozen warships that had changed direction and set Magnus’s shuttle as a target.

  “That is precisely what I meant,” TO-96 replied. “The threat assessment is—”

  “Very high, I got it.”

  “Yes. You must have really pissed Moldark off.”

  “I don’t need a damn dialogue about it, ’Six! I need ideas.”

  “We can keep some of them busy,” Ricio said. “But it’s not gonna do you much good. Not with that much firepower, I’m afraid.”

  “Anyone else?” Magnus waited for someone to chime in on comms, but no one said a thing. “Ah, splick.”

  “I believe I have a solution,” Rohoar said from the cockpit’s entryway. Magnus turned to see the Jujari fill the entire space. “Or, rather, I know of a solution about to transpire.”

  “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, furball, ’cause I’m done trying to figure out everyone’s hidden meanings today. You got something or not?”

  Rohoar shook his head. “No. But my son does.”

  36

  “I have visual on Hotel Two,” Ricio said over VNET.

  Ezo pulled up the new ident tag that appeared on the Labyrinth’s starboard side. Sure enough, Magnus’s hijacked shuttle emerged from the hangar bay just as a massive explosion ruptured several decks on the Super Dreadnaught.

  “Guy sure knows how to leave his mark,” Ricio added.

  “You have no idea,” Ezo replied. Magnus’s ship was taking heavy fire from the Labyrinth, which didn’t seem too keen on letting the shuttle go. “Ezo’s gonna lend him a hand.”

  “But, sir,”
Nolan said. “There’s no way you’re going to—”

  “You let Ezo worry about what he can and can’t do, Nolan,” Ezo said. “You and Ricio get Piper back to the Spire. Let Ezo worry about this one.”

  “You sure you want this?” Ricio asked. “Those starships are gonna be a handful.”

  Ezo chuckled. “That’s what they said about Ezo’s wife, and look how that turned out.”

  “But, sir, you filed for—” said TO-96.

  “Not now, ’Six.” Ezo switched to his squadron channel. “Blue Squadron, this is Blue Leader. Proceed to escort on Hotel Two. Let’s keep the heat off them.” Green icons rippled down his chat window as all thirteen Fangs confirmed his orders.

  “Happy hunting, Ezo,” Ricio said. “We’ll see you back at the ship.”

  * * *

  Blue Squadron raced toward the Labyrinth at attack speed, monitoring both Magnus’s newly commandeered Heavy Armored Transport and all the warships that had taken an interest in the fleeing shuttle. Several of the Destroyers attempted to lock onto the ship, but TO-96 and Cyril were busy messing with the enemy’s targeting systems. It was working—for now.

  “Listen up, people,” Ezo said. “We’re gonna do a run along the Labyrinth’s starboard side and take out as many of those auto turrets as we can. Then, Blue Two through Five, see if you can’t piss off that Destroyer, bearing 321 mark 44. Blue Six through Nine, I want you on those two Frigates, inbound from the stern. The rest of you are with Ezo—we’re going after that Battlecruiser that’s poking around where it shouldn’t.” All ships acknowledged his orders and locked in their targets.

  Ezo hailed Magnus over VNET. “You’re looking a little naked out there, Magpie.”

  “Magpie?”

  Ezo could practically hear Magnus’s smile through comms.

  “As in the bird?” Magnus asked. “That’s new.”

  “You’re flying, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Then Magpie it is. Ezo’s running with it. We’re taking umbrage with these warships bearing down on your tail.”

  “We’ll take any fire support you care to give. Thanks, Ezo.”

  “Ah, ah. Ezo’s not doing this for free, you know. You’ll owe him after this.”

  “And I don’t suppose I can ask for another squadron to help instead?”

  “Sorry, Magpie. You’re stuck with Ezo.”

  “Why do I have a feeling this is gonna haunt me?”

  “Because it absolutely will.” Ezo switched his squadron channel. “All Fangs, weapons hot. Missiles hot.” It was the first time he’d allowed them to use the specialty ordinance, but, considering the stakes, it was time. “Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  Ezo accelerated and led the squadron toward the Labyrinth’s stern. As the massive engine cones grew, he steered just wide enough to get a good angle of attack on the guns protruding along the starboard side but stayed close enough that the weapons systems wouldn’t get a lock on any of his ships. They were moving too fast anyway.

  His Fang’s HUD put target icons around each auto turret and then fed the data to his helmet’s visor, displaying vector data in real-time. As the first pair of turrets appeared, Ezo waited for target lock confirmation and then ordered his Fang to fire. The wingtip blasters made quick work of the emplacements, blowing them off the hull with ease.

  The next two guns tried shooting down the Labyrinth’s length, but the target path was too steep. Ezo hugged the ship’s side and lit the turrets up with two single shots from his underbelly cannon. The enemy guns shot fire and shrapnel into space as Ezo flew by.

  Then he noticed more guns on the Labyrinth’s belly open fire on Magnus. “Keep the run going, Blue Squadron. Ezo’s peeling off to deal with some turrets down below.”

  Ezo rolled off the warship’s side and flipped under the beast, blasters blazing. He slalomed along the Labyrinth’s underside, weaving between auto turret positions and taking them out one at a time. Ezo shouted in celebration as he finished off a six turret kill-streak. He loved Geronimo Nine, but these Fangs were on another level—there was no comparison.

  “Thanks for the support, Ezo,” Magnus said. “We feel it.”

  “There’s more where that came from. Hold on.”

  Ezo emerged from under the Super Dreadnaught and linked back up with Blue Ten though Fourteen. They headed for the Battlecruiser riding Magnus’s tail. The large ship’s forward guns sent heavy blows against the smaller shuttle’s shields and lowered their capacity by the second. Ezo knew if his Fangs didn’t intervene, there wouldn’t be much ship left to protect.

  He highlighted the main guns and distributed the target list. As soon as he did, the five other starfighters rolled to attack vectors and bared down on the Battlecruiser’s bow. Then Ezo soared over the top of the gunship and dropped toward the bow—missiles hot.

  “Birdies one and six, away,” he said. He watched the two guided missiles streak toward their targets and then pulled clear. The resulting explosions peppered his shield with shrapnel but did no serious damage. The Battlecruiser, however, was left with a bloody nose and two fewer cannons. Then the other Fangs took out the forward missile banks, leaving the warship with gaping holes in its bow.

  Ezo reviewed the rest of the company’s progress and noticed the other Fangs had similar results. The Destroyer’s main guns had been silenced, and the two Frigates were out of commission—one’s engines were offline, and the other had lost life support.

  “Looking good, Fangs,” Ezo said over the company channel.

  “About that,” TO-96 said. “I do not mean to discourage you, sir, but—”

  “But, you’re gonna.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What is it?” Ricio asked.

  “Azelon and I are detecting a dramatic shift in ship positions,” TO-96 said. “We’re also picking up multiple transmissions with new orders to pursue the retreating shuttles.”

  “How many ships?” Nolan asked.

  “That’s just it, sir. It looks like all of Third Fleet.”

  Ezo felt his stomach drop. “I’m sorry, pal. It sounded like you said all of Third Fleet.”

  “That’s what it sounded like because that’s what I said, sir.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Ricio said.

  “I can corroborate the bots’ findings,” Caldwell added. “Seems Moldark is hellbent on getting that little girl back or making sure we don’t. He’s throwing twelve Carriers and just as many support vessels into the mix.”

  “Not to mention thirteen squadrons,” Ricio said. “Minus the two we already took out.”

  “That’s 154 Talons, commander,” TO-96 said.

  “How ’bout that,” Ricio said with no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

  “We can’t handle those kinds of numbers,” Nolan said.

  “We may not have to,” Magnus replied, entering the conversation with some urgency in his voice. “Seems someone else is coming in to help.”

  “And who’s that?” Ezo asked.

  “My son,” Rohoar said, his avatar popping into view.

  * * *

  All signs pointed to the Jujari fleet being against the ropes, to use an Antaran boxing term. They had taken heavy blows as the Paragon’s three fleets pummeled their defenses with a steady and unrelenting barrage of blaster fire, starfighter sorties, and missile fusillades. Likewise, the Sypeurlion and Dim-Telok alliance folded days earlier—their ships fleeing the conflict in a desperate attempt to salvage at least some of their warships. The Jujari ships that survived this far had withstood a punishing assault, fending off all but the most violent attacks. It was said that the Jujari would fight to the death before giving ground to anyone who attacked their homeworld and based on everything Ezo has witnessed, the rumors were true.

  Ezo had amassed a small fortune trading with the Jujari, and with the inhabitants of the Dregs. Were any of them to survive this conflict, he wondered if Oorajee’s economy would ever return to healt
h, or if everyone would move on to more lucrative systems, leaving the desert planet to return to its roots as a barren wasteland.

  For all their violent and backward thinking, fermented drinks, and bloodletting rituals, Ezo liked the Jujari. They were outcasts, improvisers, and survivors, much like him. Granted, he didn’t have the same propensity for violence as they did, but then again, he wasn’t born with claws or razor-sharp incisors either. In the end, he gave the Jujari the benefit of the doubt and always tried to treat them like every other good trade partner—a valuable source of credits so long as you didn’t cheat them and get caught.

  But in all the time he’d known the Jujari, Ezo had never seen them doing anything selfless. They were bloodthirsty and brutal, at least in his mind. Spite, vengeance, and retribution were just three words that came to mind when thinking of them. That was, of course, until Ezo heard that Rohoar gave up his throne and took his son’s place as debtor to Magnus.

  At first, Ezo hadn’t believed the story. It was until Abimbola—who’d been there to witness it—assured him of its veracity that Ezo believed it. He’d never seen such a sacrificial act take place outside of an adrenaline-crazed bloodbath where one pack member might try saving another. But to take someone else’s place and give up a position of supreme authority? Ezo wondered if such a thing had ever happened in the Jujari’s history.

  Rohoar had gone on to perform other selfless acts. In the few months Ezo had known him—depending on which universe’s timetable you measured by—Rohoar had proved to be a valuable and even noble member of the Gladio Umbra. He was, in fact, the closest thing to a true Gladio Umbra as an ancestor of the Novia Minoosh.

  But what Ezo witnessed now made all of Rohoar’s acts pale in comparison. Should even one of the Gladio Umbra survive this moment, Ezo felt assured that the story would become history, and the history would become legendary.

  As the Paragon’s Third Fleet pressed down on Magnus’s shuttle—such a massive show of force to stop such a tiny ship—hope had been lost that Granther Company would reach the Spire alive. Even Caldwell’s cigar had a hard time not trembling when the colonel spoke about the developing situation. The members of Fang Company darted across as many ships as they could, trying to silence auto turrets, blaster cannons, and missile batteries. But the volume of fire was overwhelming. The only things keeping Magnus’s shuttle from being blasted to atoms were its speed and the additional shielding. But Ezo knew the mystics couldn’t hold out forever. It was only a matter of time before Moldark’s ships overran the transport and then charged after Piper and the Spire.