Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “You’re too good at reciting our rhetoric,” McCormick replied, but the man still didn’t seem settled.

  “What is it, Issac?”

  “I don’t see the harm in taking precautionary measures.”

  “By raising the planetary shield?” Blackman lifted his eyebrows as if shocked by the idea and then turned on the general. “If the defense system goes up, the Senate will want to know why. And when they call for an investigation, they’ll not only look to the members of CENTCOM, they’ll make the heads of the Navy and Marine Corps give accounts for the fleet-return orders—the same fleets that the PDS is defending the planet from. And that, General, puts the Senate far too close to the Nine for my liking. And we both know where they’ll place the blame.”

  McCormick twitched his nose and then loosened his collar with two fingers. “You’re right, of course.”

  There was a chime at the door. “Military escort for General McCormick and Senator Blackman,” said a trooper’s voice over the comms.

  “Come,” said the general. A four-person fire team entered the room single-file.

  “General, you’re receiving an urgent communique from CENTCOM,” the lead trooper said, handing McCormick a holo pad.

  “From CENTCOM?” The general looked to Blackman and then took the pad. He swiped the message open, and Admiral Frank’s face appeared.

  “Issac, it’s good to see you,” said Franks.

  “You too, Penn.”

  “You had us worried there.”

  McCormick gave a curt smile. “What’s this about?”

  “In the time you’ve been unconscious, we’ve had two additional attacks on Republic facilities.”

  The general looked at Blackman and then back at Franks. “What kind of attacks? Where?”

  “The first was at the biomedical research facility in sector seven.”

  “The hazardous materials unit?”

  Frank nodded. “Seems they went after some high-level asset on level four.”

  “Mystics. Did we stop them?”

  “Negative. They killed three platoons of Marines and then escaped.”

  “But—how’s that possible? I thought the facility was secure?”

  “Intelligence thinks they used the sewers.”

  McCormick sneered. “And do we know what they took?”

  “Negative. But we’re looking into it.”

  The general shared another look with Blackman. The senator stepped into the frame and acknowledged Franks. “Would this have anything to do with the assault on us in the elevator?”

  “We’re unsure, Senator,” Franks replied. “But we do know we’re dealing with a covert and highly skilled military force here.”

  “How can you be so sure?” McCormick asked.

  “Because this is what they did to Elusian Base.” A series of video clips replaced Franks’s face, showing several massive explosions in and around the fort.

  “Great mystics,” Blackman said.

  “And their target?” the general asked.

  But Blackman answered the question before Franks could. “The planetary defense system.”

  Franks’s face reappeared, head nodding. “We armed the facility housing the PDS’s manual override with an auto-destruct sequence after we reviewed the footage from the elevator. We guessed they might make an attempt on it once we got word of an assault on the island.”

  “Who else saw that elevator feed?” Blackman asked, more forcefully than he intended.

  “Don’t worry,” Franks said. “It’s confidential.”

  Blackman nodded. “And the facility?”

  “Eliminated before the PDS could be raised.”

  Blackman gave an inward sigh of relief. For So-Elku’s plan to work, the PDS needed to stay down for the first part of Moldark’s assault on Capriana. Blackman would eventually raise it from inside CENTCOM after the initial salvos and Republic attempts to negotiate. He could mourn the civilian casualties later, but it was a small price to pay for how much the galaxy would gain.

  So-Elku and the Nine had more in common than they both knew—they both firmly believed that the Republic needed to die if true peace was to reign once again. But unlike the Nine, So-Elku wasn’t belabored with protocol, bureaucracy, and majority votes—all vestiges of a tired system. Instead, the Luma leader had power—real power—to make things happen. And Blackman had been guaranteed a place at the table.

  “What about the enemy?” McCormick asked. “Surely, we must have—”

  “They’re in the wind, I’m afraid,” said Franks.

  “But how is that possible?”

  “As I said,” Franks replied as he raised an eyebrow. “Covert and highly skilled.”

  McCormick turned to Blackman and said, “You still think he’s delusional, Robert?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Blackman said. “Even more so now.”

  “What’s this about?” Franks asked.

  “It can wait,” the senator said. “Gather the Nine in Proconsul Tower. We’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

  Franks nodded and reached to close the feed when the sound of screaming people filled the background. The admiral turned from his desk—located in an executive office adjacent to CENTCOM’s Command Center—and opened the door. Blackman and McCormick watched as the holo pad fell to the floor, and blood splashed across the camera.

  16

  First squad concentrated their fire down the hallway, taking out Recon Marines as fast as possible, but the black-suited troopers kept pulling their dead away only to send in fresh blood.

  “The windowplex is giving way, Magnus,” Titus said from his post on the defensive line at the top of the command room.

  Magnus left the PDS terminal and headed up toward the translucent dividing wall, now glowing red hot from the enemy’s relentless barrage of blaster fire. The MAR30 could dispense its share of damage, as the reinforced blast-grade windowplex was finding out. It wouldn’t be long before the gladias cover fragmented into shards of molten sludge.

  “What is the play, buckethead?” Abimbola asked.

  Magnus had his weapon raised but stayed clear of the gap filled with blaster rounds. The bolts had already crossed the Command Center and all but destroyed the large holo display along the far wall. “We need that guy, right there.”

  Abimbola followed Magnus’s nod toward General McCormick at the end of the hall.

  “Cover’s failing,” Dutch yelled. The windowplex had reached its limit.

  “Awen, Wish,” Magnus said. “Let the blast doors close!”

  “You got it,” Awen replied.

  A beat later, the large partitions groaned and shuddered, engaged by their drive system. They raced toward one another from opposite sides of their recessed corners and slammed shut in the center. Only a few muted bursts of blaster fire thumped on the opposite side until someone ordered a cease-fire.

  “Well, that’s better,” Titus said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “For the moment,” Abimbola replied. “We have only traded one bad scenario for another.”

  “And we still need the man out there for the computer in here,” Rohoar said. “Plus, Rohoar feels that we are pinned in here like desert Slanthers caught in a canyon. If we are forced to stay too long, we may start eating one another for supremacy.”

  “No one’s eating anybody,” Magnus said. “Just calm down.” He needed a second to think—there had to be another way to activate the PDS. He walked down the aisle and sat behind the terminal.

  “What are you thinking, Magnus?” Awen asked as she walked up behind him.

  “I’m thinking General McCormick might not be the only one with the authority to start up the defense network. There needs to be a backup, in case he was MIA during an invasion.” Sure enough, Magnus spotted just what he was looking for. A dropdown menu near the display’s top was pre-populated with McCormick’s name, most likely because he was the most senior member, Magnus guessed. But he wasn’t the only name on
the list. There were five more, each ranking members of the military.

  Awen must have registered the same thought as Magnus, because she tapped him on the shoulder, and asked, “You think someone on that list is in here?”

  Magnus nodded. “Gotta be.” He stood up and made sure the squad channel was open. “Listen up. We’re looking for admiral or general insignias on the injured. Search every console station and all the side offices. If you don’t know what those insignias look like, ask someone. Move.”

  Alpha and Bravo teams broke out and started scouring the room, including the side offices and clear-paneled meeting rooms. Magnus helped as well, flipping people over who he thought might still be alive, only to find them shot or mauled on the front side. He wished they hadn’t been so violent upon entering, and wondered if they’d killed the very person they needed to save the planet.

  Don’t think like that, Adonis, he told himself. You’re gonna find a way.

  “I think I’ve got someone,” Dutch said. Magnus moved toward her position on the upper level, just beside a corner office. “Admiral Penn Franks.”

  “He’s on the list,” Magnus said, bending down to examine the man. But he was unconscious and bleeding from three Jujari claws marks in his chest. “Dammit.”

  “He’s still alive,” Awen said. “But barely.”

  “Take him to the console,” Magnus said. He grabbed Awen by the arm and put her in a private channel. “Can you do anything to wake him?”

  Awen seemed to hesitate. “I’m not sure.”

  “Try?”

  She nodded. “Of course. But, if I try too hard, I might—”

  “He’s dead anyway, Awen.”

  She looked away. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Together, they walked back down to the PDS terminal where Silk and Doc had placed Franks in the chair. Magnus worked with them to secure the admiral’s handprint and even managed to pull his eyelids apart to obtain a successful retinal scan. All that remained was the voice indent match.

  “Awen?” Magnus said.

  She stepped forward, placed a hand on Franks, and went still. A few moments passed before the admiral started coughing and his eyes flew open in a spasm. He shouted and thrashed, and it took Silk and Doc to keep the main restrained. Franks coughed more, and blood flew through the holo display.

  “Admiral Franks,” Magnus said over external speakers. “We need you to raise the planetary defense shield immediately.”

  Franks blinked, seemingly unable to focus on anything.

  “Admiral Franks,” Magnus repeated after raising the volume on his helmet.

  “Yes?” The admiral winced at the sound. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at the PDS console inside CENTCOM’s command room. The planet is under attack, and we need you to raise the shield.”

  “Under attack?” Franks looked around again but saw no one due to the gladia’s chameleon mode. Instead, the admiral’s eyes latched onto several bodies on the ground beside him. “Holy mystics. What’s—what’s happening?”

  “We need you to speak your passphrase to activate the PDS,” Magnus said.

  “Under whose—” Franks slammed his eyes shut in pain. He groaned and seemed like he might pass out.

  “Franks,” Magnus yelled. When the man didn’t respond, Magnus looked to Awen. “Do something.”

  “He’s dying, Magnus.”

  “Do something!”

  Awen put her hand on the man again, and the admiral shook. Then his eyes flew open as he gasped.

  “Admiral Franks,” Magnus said. “Please speak your pass into the system.”

  “Under whose authority?” Franks managed to say through gritted teeth. “I need proper—” Franks grunted as if someone had just punched him in the gut. “Proper clearance.”

  “Belay that order, Admiral Franks,” said a voice from the ceiling speakers.

  Franks pushed himself away from the console upon hearing his name from someone he clearly knew. The moment his shoulder slipped from Awen’s hand, he went unconscious and fell to the floor.

  “This is Senator Robert Malcom Blackman of the Galactic Republic Senate and Chairman of Central Command,” the voice said. “To former Marine Lieutenant Adonis Olin Magnus and whatever team you’re leading, I order you to stand down and drop your weapons immediately.”

  Magnus felt his team look at him even without seeing their helmets move. He motioned for them to hold position.

  “I can’t see you, of course,” Blackman continued. Dutch and Silk had taken care of the cameras along with the auto-turrets. “But I know you’re there, listening. So I’ll make myself clear.”

  Magnus knew this man’s voice—it was strangely familiar.

  “Within the next few minutes, the security team outside the Command Center will gain access to the room you’re standing in. When they do, the firefight will continue until you’ve either laid waste to an entire battalion of troopers now converging on your location, which I highly doubt you have the man- or firepower to accomplish, or you surrender. Killing you would be another option, but the Republic never wishes for anyone’s death, so I’m on record as saying that I prefer you to surrender and spare everyone even more needless bloodshed.”

  “Send someone in to raise the planetary defense shield, and we’ll stand down,” Magnus said.

  “No, scrumruk graulap,” Rohoar said. “We must not—”

  “Quiet, Rohoar,” Magnus said on internals. To his credit, Rohoar didn’t protest further.

  “It’s really that important to you?” Blackman said. Magnus recognized the senator’s voice from the elevator. This was the other man with McCormick. “You’d risk your life and the lives of your team just to activate a defense shield?”

  “It’s even crazier that a senator and a general would resist a credible warning and jeopardize billions of lives,” Magnus replied.

  The senator laughed. “Credible? Son, nothing’s credible when it’s done at blaster point. Stand down, and—”

  “Send someone in, and we’ll surrender.” Ever since meeting McCormick and Blackman in the elevator, it bugged Magnus that neither man wanted to raise the PDS. Whatever happened to better safe than sorry?—especially when it came to defense. Where was the harm in protecting the capital, if nothing more than to give someone the benefit of the doubt?

  Something didn’t feel right to Magnus, but he couldn’t figure out what. He was too preoccupied with what would happen if the senator refused Magnus’s condition of surrender. Still, in the back of his brain, Magnus felt that the only reason to keep the PDS down was that there was something the CENTCOM leaders had to lose that was worse than Capriana’s annihilation. But nothing’s worth that, Magnus thought.

  “Mysticsdammit,” Magnus yelled. “What are you waiting for? Send someone in, raise the shield, and all of this ends. What the hell do you have to lose?”

  “Magnus,” Awen said with a pleading tone. “They’ll execute us on the spot. Surely, you must—”

  “Is there anything more important?” Magnus said to her over the squad channel. “We already forfeited our lives, Awen. The moment we decided to do what we believed was right. At least this way, we know we’re giving our lives to protect billions of lives. I can live with that.”

  “And you’ll die for it too,” Awen said.

  “And you?”

  “Yeah.” Awen shook her head in resignation. “Yeah, I can die for that.”

  “As can I,” Abimbola said.

  “Rohoar too,” said the Jujari.

  The blast doors activated and crawled apart. A shaft of light split between them as a figure appeared, hands raised. Magnus cycled through his visual sensors before he could clarify the silhouette. “It’s General McCormick,” Magnus said.

  NOV1s followed the general as he walked into the command room. Then the senator’s voice sounded from the speakers again.

  “You’ve already met General Issac S. McCormick once before,” Blackman said. “Allow him passa
ge to the PDS terminal and see to it that he activates the system as you’ve requested.”

  “Move it, General,” Magnus said to McCormick. The general looked around, clearly trying to place the speaker, but the only people in the room were dead or dying on the floor. “We haven’t got all day.”

  McCormick kept his hands raised and made his way down the steps toward the PDS terminal on the bottom level. He stepped around several bodies that lay sprawled across the stairs. “You’re all dead,” the general said softly. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “The console, sir,” Magnus said.

  “For what it’s worth, however, I don’t mind putting the shield up.”

  “Happy to hear that.”

  “It’s a small price to pay to stop such a cowardly attack.”

  Magnus swallowed the taste of bile in the back of his throat. “Cowardly is not taking the chance to save people you swore to protect just because you didn’t like the messenger, general. Now, the terminal.”

  McCormick reached the lower level and stopped when he saw Franks’s body on the floor. Then he stepped over the admiral and took a seat.

  “Do you really think he’s coming?” McCormick asked, his voice barely audible.

  Magnus looked to Awen, wondering if she heard it too. “Come again, General?”

  McCormick worked his jaw and looked annoyed. He inclined his head toward the display and rolled his eyes as if scolding Magnus for being insensitive. Magnus stepped closer. “Do you think Moldark is coming to destroy the planet?”

  Magnus lowered the volume of his speakers. “Do you think we’d be doing all this if we weren’t convinced?”

  The general sighed and then reached a hand toward the holo display. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “Then why the delay, sir?” Magnus said, driven to ask by a deep sense of curiosity. He watched as the monitor scanned the general’s upraised hand, and then presented a confirmation icon.

  “That’s a complicated answer, son. One far above your pay grade.”

  “More complicated than saving people’s lives?”

  The general huffed and then leaned forward to let the terminal scan his retina. “There was a time that was the only thing that mattered.” He held still. “And I’d give anything to get back there.”