Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

“Understood, sir. A course to Capriana Prime Son of a Bitch is laid in and awaiting your command.”

  Caldwell couldn’t help at least a small smile. “How fast can you get us there, Smarty Pants? Faster than Moldark?”

  “Given the damage sustained to his propulsion system and our faster speed, I would estimate we have a three-hour head start. Possibly more.”

  “It’s not much,” Magnus said. “But it’s something.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Sir,” TO-96 said to Caldwell. “Sootriman and Ezo are both hailing you. It seems they are taking issue with your order to recall their fighters.”

  “Splick. Now what’s this about?” He looked at Magnus. “Stand by, son.” Then Caldwell waved at TO-96. “Put them through, Brassy.”

  “Right away, sir,” he replied.

  Sootriman and Ezo’s faces appeared in their own hexagonal holo frames, both wearing flight helmets with their HUD visors lowered. “How can I help you?” Caldwell asked.

  “Azelon says the Spire only has room for half my ships,” Sootriman said.

  “She’s told me the same,” the colonel replied.

  “Then that’s a no-go for us, Colonel. It’s all or nothing. Plus, someone’s gotta hang out here and make sure the Paragon doesn’t get any bright ideas about going after those remaining Jujari ships. So far, we don’t think the survivors have been spotted, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “And you think you can fend the Paragon off?” Caldwell asked, his voice filled with suspicion. He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful of her intentions, but it felt a little far-fetched, even with her Magistrates’ numbers.

  Sootriman shrugged. “Maybe not fend them off, but lead them away.”

  Caldwell bit the end of his cigar in thought. “I don’t like it, queen. But I ain’t your sugar daddy either. So you’re gonna do what you’re gonna do. You, on the other hand,” Caldwell said to Ezo. “You have orders to—”

  “Ezo isn’t leaving his wife,” the Nimprinth said.

  Caldwell raised an eyebrow. He supposed he should have expected insubordination from this ragtag bunch of misfits at some point or another. This wasn’t the Corps, after all. He just didn’t expect it at such a pivotal moment. “Need I remind you that you’re a squadron commander in the Gladio Umbra? So, you wanna run that by me again, commander?”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Ezo said. Caldwell knew the man meant business based on how he spoke of himself.

  “Sir,” TO-96 said, motioning Caldwell aside. “If I may. A word?”

  “What is it, Ballsy?”

  The bot lowered his volume. “If we are indeed preparing for a ground invasion of Capriana Prime, our airwing may be less necessary than it is right here.”

  “You’re saying you agree with Ezo staying to help Sootriman lure the Paragon away?”

  “I’m saying our immediate lack of need for the starfighters does provide a certain latitude that, should this course be one she does not show signs of being deterred from, it does not adversely affect us. Additionally, statistically speaking, she has a high probability of success. Therefore, I do not believe it is worth you winning the immediate skirmish only to lose the large scale conflict, as it were.”

  “It’s win the fight, lose the war, bot.”

  “What is?”

  “Never mind.” Caldwell sighed, then turned back to Sootriman. “Fine. But I want you hot on our tails the moment you determine things here are on the up and up, you hear?”

  “Yes, Colonel,” Ezo said.

  Sootriman, however, was less forthcoming. “Don’t get your panties in a bundle, Colonel. We will get there.”

  Caldwell couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that she was going to be more of a handful than anyone had bargained for. “Be careful. Caldwell, out.” When the channel had closed and Magnus’s face reappeared, he said, “Rally Forbes, Nelson, and Willowood, and meet me in the war room.” Caldwell turned to TO-96 and Azelon. “You bots need to be there too.”

  “Are we going to kick some ass, sir?” TO-96 asked. “Because I am quite learning to enjoy the kicking of some ass.”

  “Yes, bot,” Caldwell replied. “We are most definitely going to be kicking some ass—probably a lot more than we bargained for. The trick is not to get ours kicked in return.”

  2

  Moldark was on his way. Magnus knew it—hell, they all did. It was only a matter of time before the maniac jumped out of subspace and showed up over Capriana, pounding the planet to dust with all three of his fleets.

  But not without a fight, Magnus said to himself. The irony of his determination wasn’t lost on him. Why defend the very capital that betrayed him? If anything, Magnus should wash his hands of the Republic and walk away. But he couldn’t—if not for the Republic’s sake, then for the billions of innocent lives that hung in the balance.

  The Spire had beaten Moldark’s fleets to Capriana Prime. Azelon commanded the faster ship, and Moldark’s fleet, as well as the Black Labyrinth, had taken critical damage. With at least some margin secured, no matter how small, Magnus and the other commanders had thrown together the best plan they could, one that sought to ensure Capriana’s protection and Awen’s parents’ rescue. Plus, with Sootriman and Ezo staying behind, they could keep the colonel informed on Moldark’s movements. With a bit of hope and a whole lot of luck, Magnus figured the Gladio Umbra had a good chance of at least accomplishing one of their two goals.

  “9.71%, sir,” TO-96 said as Magnus doubled checked Cyril’s maglock bond to Rix’s back. All twenty-five members of Granther Company’s Elites readied themselves in the Spire’s main hangar bay.

  “Come again, ’Six?” Magnus asked, looking up from his work.

  “I have finished my calculations and estimate that you have a 9.71% chance of accomplishing one of the two ambitious goals you and Colonel Caldwell have set for this operation.”

  “Keep your voice down, would you?” Magnus could feel everyone’s eyes bearing down on the back of his head. Magnus turned around with a big smile and then said in a loud voice, “97.1% chance of success? I’ll take those odds, ’Six!”

  “But, sir, I just said—”

  Magnus got in TO-96’s face and spoke through clenched teeth. “I know what you said, and you know what you said—”

  “So do I,” Cyril added.

  “Me too,” said Rix.

  Magnus winced, then continued correcting the robot. “But that doesn’t mean the whole world needs to know.”

  “I wasn’t telling the whole world, sir. I was mere—”

  “Six.” Magnus held a finger up. “Don’t make me isolate you from Azelon.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would.”

  TO-96 tilted his head as if considering Magnus’s threat, then turned up his external speaker volume. “Ha ha ha. You got me, Lieutenant. 97.1% it is.”

  Magnus rolled his eyes and went back to double checking Cyril’s connection.

  “Sir, are you absolutely ten ten certain that you absolutely need me down there, sir?” Cyril asked.

  “If I didn’t know better, kid, I’d say you’re trying to get out of this jump,” Magnus replied with a smile.

  “Me? No, no, no. I love jumping out of a perfectly good starship into a planet’s atmosphere. I do it all the time, actually.”

  Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Bullsplick.”

  “Holo games count.”

  “No, they don’t.” Magnus tugged the redundant safety harness, and Cyril winced. In case a suit took a lightning strike or was hit by an EMP, good old-fashioned carbon fiber webbing would keep Cyril from flying off into oblivion. Whatever Cyril had in the way of brains, he’d acquired it at the expense of athleticism. And what little athleticism he’d once had was beat out of him by his injuries back on Oorajee. Even with the Novian armor’s flight assist, the kid wasn’t making this jump without going tandem. “There’s nothing to this jump, Cyril. Smooth and simple. Plus, you’re our only code slicer, right
?”

  “Sure, sure, I am.”

  “And there’s no way Zoll’s squad is getting in that lab without a code slicer, correct?”

  “Nope, no way, no how. None of his blasters will help with that. I mean, unless you’re killing security guards, then his blasters will be green to go, sir.”

  “We need you then.” Magnus patted Cyril on the shoulder and then handed him a helmet. “Remember what we told you, and don’t squirm around on entry. You’ll just piss Rix off and probably burn up.”

  Cyril let out a nervous laugh. “I definitely don’t want to burn up.”

  “I’d be more worried about pissing off Rix,” Magnus said. Rix gave a low growl over his shoulder.

  “Right, right, right. No squirming. Promise.”

  “Good, kid. Now relax and enjoy the ride.”

  Magnus turned and saw Colonel Caldwell walking across the Spire’s cargo bay. The old man’s eyes were sharp, and his white mustache was forever stained by the cigar clenched between his teeth. He surveyed the Elites of Granther Company’s First Platoon and then nodded to Magnus. “Everything in order?”

  “Just about, Colonel. Azelon has our jump vectors?”

  “I do, Lieutenant,” Azelon said as her hard-light projection appeared a meter away. Her gleaming white body and blue eyes were a testament to the Novia Minoosh’s tasteful engineering. She nodded once, and a translucent holo window appeared at head level. “Petty Officer Zoll will lead Charlie, Delta, and Echo Teams on the rescue attempt on the lab here.” She pointed to a cluster of buildings toward the southern end of Capriana’s atoll. A small yellow circle appeared around a nondescript facility near the western shore. “While you and Bravo Team will land atop Centennial Tower located adjacent to the Forum Republica’s capital complex.” A second circle appeared around a flat-topped building in a dense cluster of skyscrapers in Capriana’s centrally located capital district. “Everything has been uploaded and sent to your team's biotech interfaces through the Novian Defense Architecture.”

  “You’re so efficient it’s sexy,” Magnus replied.

  “Strange.”

  “I’m just playing with you, bot.”

  “No,” Azelon said, waving him off. “TO-96 says the same thing to me.”

  Magnus and Caldwell shared an awkward look as TO-96 fidgeted with his hands.

  “Alrighty then,” Caldwell said. “The rest of you good to go?”

  “I think so,” Awen said, struggling with a hip latch on her new Novian armor.

  “Here, let me get that,” Doc Campbell said.

  “No, let me,” Magnus replied, stepping forward to help Awen. “I’ve got it.” Magnus secured the connection above her hip and then found his hand lingering as he examined her suit.

  “Stay focused, Lieutenant,” Awen said with a pat to his cheek. Then she turned to Caldwell. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about this jump.”

  Caldwell chuckled. “You mean to tell me you can help three companies of gladias escape a Super Dreadnaught, but you’re nervous about an OTA jump in a state-of-the-art flight suit?”

  “Maybe it’s because I still don’t know what all your acronyms mean.”

  “Orbital to atmosphere jump, miss,” Azelon replied. “Standard Marine protocol for—”

  “She knows what we’re doing, Azie,” Magnus replied.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Just follow the prompts in your HUD,” Caldwell said. “The suit will practically fly itself, from what Azelon tells me.”

  “That is correct, Colonel,” Azelon said. She faced Awen. “Not only will your Novian armor help maintain your flying posture and angle of incidence, but without it, improper entry could result in either skipping off the atmosphere and being incinerated or diving into the atmosphere and being incinerated, depending on your error deflection.”

  “Both of those are undesirable,” Awen replied.

  “Which is totally, absolutely why I’m not taking any chances me myself,” Cyril said from Rix’s back. “Trusting the big man here to get me where I need to go, on the double.” Cyril tried to pat Rix’s shoulder but had trouble reaching it, so the gesture looked more like a child just batting the air.

  Awen smiled, then looked at the colonel. “Are you certain you don’t wish me to help the other teams rescue my parents?”

  Abimbola stepped forward, nodding his head. “I, too, wonder why I am not allowed to partake in that exploit.”

  “Because it’s too personal,” Caldwell replied. “For both of you. And I can’t have you making emotional decisions if things go sideways.”

  Awen raised her chin. “But, sir, I—”

  “Awen, listen.” Caldwell held up a hand. “I realize what this op means for you. Hell, if it were my parents, I’d be having the same conversation. So if it’s any consolation, I have the utmost belief in Petty Officer Zoll and the rest of his squad. We are going to get your parents out. And I’ll make sure you are kept in the loop the entire time. Your job, however, is to help get word to CENTCOM. I don’t mean to downplay your parents’ wellbeing, but you’re tasked with the more important of the two missions. So keep your head down, eyes forward, and OTF until the job is done.”

  Magnus still winced at the use of the Marine mantra. “That’s Own The Field,” Magnus said to Awen, just in case she needed a refresher.

  “I got it.” Awen gave Magnus a small smile, and then looked back at the colonel. “I understand, sir.”

  “Good.” Caldwell addressed everyone else. “And that goes for the rest of you too. We do this right and we save a few billion lives today. We get it wrong, and the Paragon will be liquifying your bodies along with every building in the capital. Stay focused, execute your objectives, and then get the hell out.”

  The members of Granther Company nodded at the colonel. No one needed a reminder of how much was riding on this mission, but it never hurt for the CO to bring everyone’s attention back to the game plan—a game plan that was only a few hours old.

  Had it not been for Piper and TO-96, none of this would be happening. First, it was TO-96 who had determined where Awen’s parents were being held. After analyzing Bosworth’s video, the bot had created a model of the laboratory and then compared it against Republic records. Contrary to what most everyone assumed, Bosworth was not confining his hostages to a ship’s lab but a much larger ground-based facility on Capriana. Additionally, the coordinates that Bosworth had said to send Piper to happened to be near none other than Capriana Prime. So if we’re lucky, Magnus thought, we’ll arrest the traitorous fat fool too.

  Second, before she’d passed out for the second time since being rescued, Piper had informed Magnus that Moldark was setting his sights on Capriana. She’d described her failure to help him achieve his first ambition—to create a new quantum tunnel—which led to her assisting him in his second one—turning the fleets’ sailors against the Republic.

  “He wants to destroy everything,” she’d said from her bed in sickbay. “And you can’t let him. You just can’t.” Magnus swore he’d stop the dark lord, and that he’d rather die than break a promise to Piper.

  The child had also mentioned something about Moldark’s hate for a group of leaders called the Circle of Nine. Unfortunately, Piper didn’t know anything more about them, just that they were the ones ultimately responsible for so many of the bad things that had been happening. Magnus shared the intel with the commanders, but no one was familiar with the group, not even Colonel Caldwell.

  Everyone’s first idea of protecting Capriana from an imminent attack was the obvious one: have Caldwell contact a member of Galactic Republic Central Command—better known as CENTCOM—and let them know what was happening. Send some footage, corroborating data, and a few eyewitness testimonies, and the capital would begin powering up the planetary defense shield. Doing so would both spare the planet and buy the Republic valuable time to build a counterattack against Moldark.

  However, like Magnus, Caldwell’s, Forbes’,
and Nelson’s bridges had all been burned, and there was no reliable way to get word to anyone’s superiors, especially with such sensitive data. Were a general broadcast to go out, it would incite pandemonium across the planet. Instead, this had to be done through the proper channels. But security clearances had been revoked and new firewalls had been put in place—ones that not even Cyril or Azelon could slice. After all, this wasn’t taking control of a torpedo or hacking a ship. This was attempting to infiltrate the Galactic Republic’s upper echelons, which were locked down even tighter now that there’d been a raid on Worru.

  The only way to warn Capriana was to do it the old-fashioned way. In person.

  “I feel it is imperative to remind you that VNET may not be stable once you are outside CENTCOM’s headquarters,” Azelon said as the gladias finished preparing for their OTA jump.

  “Yeah, yeah. She’s really right,” Cyril said from Rix’s back.

  Magnus caught himself chuckling. The code slicing genius looked like a baby chimp slung on his mother’s back. Rix apparently saw Magnus laughing and mouthed the word, “What?”

  But Cyril continued. “Once you’re there, I’m guessing only local IR comms will work in your helmets. They probably have jamming tech even better than the stuff the Zarkonian’s use in Galaxy Renegade. It took me a few days to figure out how to maneuver my fireteams using traditional methods, and even then, the boss on level twenty was—”

  “Cyril,” Magnus barked.

  “Ha ha. I’m rambling again, aren’t I. Sorry.”

  “So, limited comms,” Magnus said, looking back at the colonel. “And how long before the planetary defense shield is up?”

  “It takes the PDS almost an hour to reach full power,” Caldwell said. “Draws a huge amount of power across multiple relay points, and it has a lot of ground to cover. Literally. So that means you’ve got a lot of convincing to do before Moldark gets here.”

  Magnus nodded, then looked to Azelon. “And the last piece of the plan?”

  “We have a transport shuttle ready to go,” Azelon said. “I’ve placed emitters in a 3D printed child that will mimic a single life sign.”