Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “You are almost there,” Longchomps said. “We are almost not dead.”

  “I’m not going to drop you, Longchomps,” Wish said, her voice tight.

  “I am not convinced.”

  “Would you shut up already?” Rix said, hitting Longchomps in the elbow. “She’s got this.”

  The beast folded his arms. “Jujari were not meant to fly.”

  “We know, we know,” Rix added. “Sheesh.”

  As Wish brought everyone even with sub-level four, Reimer appeared, extending his hand toward Zoll. Zoll clasped Reimer’s forearm and stepped into the elevator landing room, followed by Cyril, Rix, Longchomps, and then Wish. The moment her first foot touched the ground, the magic bubble vanished.

  “Nice work, Wish,” Zoll said, patting her on the shoulder.

  “Thank you.”

  Zoll looked around. The team stood in what appeared to be a security hold. The all-white brightly lit room was broken up by stenciled writing and panels of security glass on the walls, nozzles on the ceiling, and ducted fans under the floor grates. A single door led down a long hallway, while the largest window to the right looked in on a control room.

  “Any bright ideas, Cyril?” Zoll asked.

  The code slicer moved toward a control panel. “Give me a second.” He tapped with one hand and then stood back as a small holo image appeared a few centimeters from the wall.

  “You got something?” Rix asked, bending over to examine a series of geometric lattices that moved around one another.

  “Actually, yes,” Cyril replied. “Surprisingly. I seem to have access to the core matrix from down here. Which, I guess, is not really surprising, the more I think about it. But I’m surprised by how much I’m surprised because, if you think about it, we’re actually closer to—”

  “Cyril,” Zoll said. “What do you have?”

  “Until the AI kicks me out? Everything.”

  “What do you mean, everything?”

  “I mean, access to the whole building.”

  Zoll winced, not sure he was following. “From right here?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The whole building.”

  “Why do you keep repeating him?” Longchomps said. “It is irritating.”

  Zoll ignored the Jujari. “So you can get us through these doors?”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course, roger. But I recommend we use extreme caution and follow the suggested safety protocols. We wouldn’t want to, you know, expose ourselves unnecessarily.”

  “I expose myself daily,” Longchomps said.

  Cyril let out a nervous laugh. “Ha ha. I mean, to contagions.”

  “My last mate says I carry contagions,” Longchomps replied.

  “Mystics, beast,” Rix said in a disgusted tone. “Too far.”

  “What? I am truth-telling in an attempt to comply with the frail but brilliant human there.” He pointed at Cyril.

  Again, Cyril laughed, and then looked back at the holo. “So, so, first, let’s keep the AI busy.” His fingers worked at manipulating the geometric shapes before he continued typing on the small control pad again. “This should… give it something… to keep it occupied for a while.”

  “Like a roadblock?” Rix asked.

  “Negative, Charlie.”

  “Charlie?”

  “More like—like a word puzzle,” Cyril said. “’Cause, there are some things computers can do better than sentients—most things, really. In fact, I once made a list of—”

  “Hey, Cyril?” Zoll said, pointing to the terminal.

  “Right, sorry. Anyway, but computers tend to—uh, to trip up on language, you know?”

  “Clever,” Zoll replied, though he rightly admitted he wasn’t entirely sure what the code slicer was talking about. He just wanted to make sure the kid felt affirmed for his work. “Good job.”

  “Sir, thanks, sir.”

  “How much time you think that buys us?”

  Cyril looked like he tried to scratch his head but forgot he was wearing a Novian battle helmet. Instead, he resorted to tapping his helmet and then brought his hand back down. “Maybe another fifteen minutes? It all depends on whether this AI is the Trimeric version 4.1 or 4.2. Because if it’s 4.1, then we’re safe for a while.”

  “But if it’s the 4.2?” Zoll asked.

  “We are safe for much less.”

  “Less than fifteen minutes?”

  Cyril nodded. “Maybe three or four?”

  “Minutes?” Zoll said. “Then let’s get a move on.”

  “But, but, we need to decontaminate ourselves,” Cyril said.

  “We don’t have time, kid.”

  “But, sir, remember that this facility must maintain its integrity well after we’re gone.”

  Zoll froze. Dammit. He hadn’t even thought about that.

  “If Lieutenant Gladia Marine Magnus and his forces get the planetary defense shield up and save Capriana from Moldark’s assault, it would be an epic fail if we did enough damage to this lab to wipe out the entire planet a few days from now, ha ha.”

  “That’s the kind of stuff they have down here?” Rix asked, tugging on Cyril’s sleeve. His voice held a certain child-like anxiety.

  Cyril nodded.

  “Do it all,” Rix said, tapping the slicer on the shoulder. “Make us do all of the things.”

  “Roger copy, sir.” Cyril began typing again, more quickly than before. A new security door closed over the elevator shaft, and then the nozzles overhead sprayed the gladias with a fine white powder. The ducted fans spun up, and Zoll watched the pressure gauge fluctuate in his HUD.

  Once the powder was sucked away, a red LED on Cyril’s console changed to green. “We’re ready to proceed,” he said. The door at the end of the chamber unlatched, unsealed, and then swung inward. Cyril led the way, stepping over the threshold, and then ducked into a side door. “Wait here.”

  “Wait?” Rix looked between Zoll and the retreating code slicer. “Where’s he going now?”

  “I’m just retrieving a data pad from the control room so I can monitor our AI friend.”

  “Why is it a friend when it wants to kill us?” Longchomps said.

  “Ha ha. It doesn’t want to kill us.” Cyril reappeared, now holding a medium-sized data pad. “It just wants to keep anything from happening to the assets in this facility.”

  “I still feel like it wants to kill us,” the Jujari said in a hushed tone.

  Cyril brought up the floating geometric lattices again, studied them like a painter might study brush strokes and derive some cryptic meaning from them, and then pointed down the hall. “This way, double bravo.”

  The code slicer led them through several turns and down numerous hallways, each free of obstructions despite the many security doors and surveillance cameras they passed. Zoll looked in on half a dozen different labs behind windows on either side of the hallways. They were filled with fancy looking equipment and massive refrigeration vaults. Fortunately for the gladias, the one thing none of the labs contained were people.

  “Yup, waypoint, copy,” Cyril said at last. He stopped at a windowless door marked Habitat F.

  “What’s Habitat F mean?” Rix asked.

  “We’re about to find out,” Zoll replied.

  Cyril opened the door and stepped into yet another decontamination lock. Unlike the last one, this one was much narrower and didn’t have any windows. When the door closed behind them, the code slicer fired up the sequence. The white powder came, went, and the red light changed to green.

  Before the next door opened, Rix raised his weapon.

  “Whoa, whoa, sir. What are you doing?” Cyril pushed the barrel down. “You can’t shoot in here.”

  “Come on, kid. You’ve seen the holos. This is exactly the part in the movie where the guy like me gets eaten by some freak of nature, all because the director needed to kill off some gun-loving side character. Well, not today, bitches. Not today.”

  “It’s okay,” Zoll said, reach
ing toward Cyril. “He won’t shoot anything unless he has to.”

  “But, sir, he really shouldn’t be shooting at all. Sir.”

  Zoll leaned into Cyril’s helmet and lowered his voice. “I know that. And you know that. But there’s no way you’re going to get Rix there to lower his weapon in a creepy-ass facility like this. And, like it or not, he has some good points. Plus, the last thing you want is for some tentacle-faced alien to impregnate you with its demon spore seed, only for the love child to burst out of your gut in the middle of your next shower, right? When that splick comes at you, Rix is the guy you want to keep it from shoving its wiggly ass arms in your belly button.” He tapped Cyril’s stomach with a finger. “Got it?”

  Cyril swallowed hard over comms. “Ten four, got it.”

  “Good. Now tell Rix he can go in.”

  Cyril swiped something on his data pad, and the door’s seal broke. “You may proceed, Mr. Rix.”

  “Thanks, kid.” Rix shoved a fresh mag into his forward receiver. “And don’t worry, I won’t let them mess with you.”

  “Them?” Cyril looked back at Zoll. “You think there are more than one?”

  “Just get moving, kid.” Zoll pushed him forward and then motioned for Wish to follow. He was about to step through himself, but Longchomps grabbed Zoll’s arm.

  “Can they really do that to you?” the Jujari asked.

  Zoll shrugged, let out a sound that neither confirmed nor denied the question, and then left the Jujari standing by himself in the lock.

  “But can they?”

  * * *

  The next room looked nothing like the rest of the facility. It looked nothing at all like the images TO-96 had stripped from Bosworth’s transmission. Those had been scenes of Awen’s parents inside what Zoll thought to be a typical lab setting. Sure, the bot had noticed various attributes that placed the lab on Capriana Prime in this specific building, all based on Repub records. And that was well and good, because, without that, Zoll wouldn’t be standing here. But that lab—probably somewhere back on the main floors—was not this one.

  The room itself was a large dome that rose ten or eleven meters high. Based on the spectrogram readings in Zoll’s HUD, the projection of a star-filled night sky gave off the exact light specifications of an actual night scene on the planet’s surface, including a small thumbnail of moonlight. Below the skyscape, Zoll was amazed to see several flowering trees, patches of ferns, and crawling vines draped from tree limbs and running along the lower walls. In the center of the garden stood some sort of elaborate laboratory divided into six sections, each with distinct workstations. They ranged from greenhouse-like tabletops and workbenches with microscopes, to refrigeration units and high-end holo consoles. If he’d been a science nerd, Zoll would have just found paradise—at least a strange outdoor form of it.

  Along the room’s perimeter were a dozen doorways and twice as many windows. A quick examination revealed rooms dedicated to human habitation: a large kitchen, a dining room, meeting rooms, a gym, bathrooms, and bedrooms. There was even a sign that read Pool.

  “What the hell is this place?” Rix asked.

  In a voice that sounded like he was helplessly in love, Cyril said, “It’s wonderful.”

  “And we’re still on the clock,” Zoll said. “Check the bedrooms.”

  Everyone but Cyril nodded and headed toward the perimeter. The code slicer, meanwhile, seemed attracted to the lab spaces in the center of the garden like a Pladoni lilly fly heading toward a blue light.

  “We’re not gonna have time for any of that, kid,” Zoll said.

  “But, but—sir, there could be clues about whatever Bosworth was having them work on, sir.”

  “Balin and Giyel are the only assets we need.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Found ’em,” Wish called out. Zoll snapped his head toward her and then cut across the lab space to the room’s far side. She stood outside a door labeled Quarters A-1.

  “You sense them?” Zoll asked.

  She nodded. “They’re still asleep.”

  Zoll swiped a finger across the control pad, and the door slid open. The room was dark, aside from a small clock on a desk. “Mr. and Mrs. dau Lothlinium?” He heard someone stir, then he repeated himself.

  Finally, a groggy male voice said, “Who’s—who’s there?”

  “I am Petty Officer Kar Zoll with the Gladio Umbra. We’re here to rescue you.” Zoll touched a light pad on the wall and slid the lights up halfway. Then, realizing the assets would still not be able to see him, he deactivated chameleon mode. “We need you clothed and ready to move.”

  A slender man in black sleepwear rolled from the bed, his eyes wide. “Who are you?”

  “Balin, what’s happening?” the woman asked, sitting up. The moment she saw Zoll, she pulled the covers to her chin.

  “I am Petty Officer Kar Zoll, and we’re here to get you out of here. I must insist that you hurry.”

  Balin looked at his wife and then back at Zoll. “And you’re with who again?”

  “The Gladio Umbra, but there’s no time to explain.”

  Balin paused. “Wait—how do we know this is not some sort of trick?”

  “Because your daughter sent us.”

  Fortunately, Awen had prepared Zoll for this. He activated the projection system in his helmet and played the message Awen recorded for this moment.

  “Hello, father, mother,” Awen’s holo said, floating half a meter in front of Zoll. She wore her power suit with her helmet slung under her arm.

  “Oh, Awen,” her mother exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth. “She’s alive?”

  “Petty Officer Zoll and the rest of his team are here to liberate you,” Awen continued. “I need you to listen to everything they tell you to do and don’t delay for a second. Your lives are at risk, as are theirs. I—I miss you, and I’ll be waiting for you on the transport shuttle.”

  The recording disappeared, and Awen’s father blinked at Zoll while her mother wiped away tears.

  “We need you to move, right now.” Zoll turned toward the door. “We’ll give you a few seconds to get your clothes.”

  * * *

  Less than a minute later, Awen’s parents emerged from their room, still rubbing their eyes. But they were dressed in white lab clothes and had shoes on. Balin had grey hair and blue eyes with the typical Elonian pointed ears, while Giyel had long black hair and purple eyes, just like Awen.

  “I’m Balin dau Lothinlium,” the man said, extending his hand in greeting.

  “I know,” Zoll replied, shaking his hand. “But we don’t have time for introductions. We need to get you out of here.”

  But the man seemed hesitant.

  “Trust me; we’re going to take care of you.”

  “Who’s we?”

  Zoll forgot about his team’s chameleon mode. He told them to de-cloak, much to the dau Lothlinium’s surprise. But even after the couple acknowledged the other gladias, Balin looked at his wife with a concerned expression.

  “What is it?” Zoll asked.

  “We can’t leave our work,” Giyel replied.

  Zoll glanced at Balin. “I don’t think you understand. We don’t have time for you to bring all that with you.”

  “That’s not what she means,” Balin said. “We don’t want to bring it with us.”

  “We need to destroy it,” Giyel replied.

  “Destroy it?”

  “That’s right,” Balin said. “All of it.”

  “And, and, and I would tend to agree with them,” Cyril said from inside the garden. Zoll spun around to look at the code slicer. “Seems like they were making some very unpleasant microbes here. We’re talking Galaxy of the Undead level splick, sir.”

  “I’m not sure what he means,” Giyel said. “But the unpleasant microbes comment is accurate. Only, it’s much worse. We’re talking planet-level extinction.”

  “Splick,” Zoll said.

  Her husband nodded. “If we lea
ve this now, there’s no telling what the Republic might do with it.”

  “It’s not the Republic you need to be worried about,” Zoll said. Balin raised one eyebrow at him, but Zoll didn’t have time to explain. “What will it take to destroy everything?”

  “Well,” Giyel said, brushing some strands of hair behind her ear. “We’ll need to initiate a decay cycle for the stage three embryos, and then program a degradation protocol for the—”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Zoll said, waving her off. “Will the blast temperature of a thermal detonator wipe out your research?”

  Balin thought about it. “How many do you have?”

  Zoll turned to Rix. “I have four VODs, two XVODS, one LIMKIT4 mine, and whatever rounds Longchomps has left in his SMS.”

  “Two rounds remaining,” Longcomps said.

  “That might do the trick,” Balin said. “Assuming those correlate to Repub ordnance of the same type. I’m unfamiliar with some of your acronyms.”

  It was Zoll’s turn to raise an eyebrow, even though no one could see it. “Might? Do you understand how much firepower that is?”

  “And do you understand what we were tasked to create?” Balin waited for Zoll to say something. When he didn’t, Balin continued. “Then believe me when I say, even with all that, our work may still survive.”

  “Mystics. What the hell have you been doing down here?”

  “As you said,” Giyel replied. “We don’t have time.”

  Zoll looked at Cyril. “I expect this place will go nova with all our explosives set to maximum yield.”

  “Ha ha, yeah. Sure, most likely,” Cyril said. “I mean, I expect it to set off a chain reaction—if not chemically, at least structurally. Um, I think, based on what I’ve seen so far, we’re looking at a catastrophic collapse, in the neighborhood of 83%, if I had to guess.”

  “That’s a pretty specific guess,” Rix said with a laugh.

  “I’m paid to be accurate, not funny.”

  Rix’s laugh faded away.

  “Let’s do it,” Zoll said. “Balin, Giyel, I want you assisting Rix with the placement of the explosives. The rest of you, we need a way out of this pit. Once you have that, we’ll know how long to set the delays for.”