A confirmation icon chimed on the holo display. All that remained was the voiceprint match.
“We’ve lost our way, Magnus,” the general said, swiping a prompt to reveal the secret passphrase. The sentence illuminated with a countdown timer. But the general lowered his head.
“General?” Magnus said, trying to get the man back on task. “The voice print?”
But the general seemed like he was in a different world. “It started with such noble ideals, you know. But somewhere that all changed. And it made us do things…”
“General, the passphrase.”
“I’m so sorry for what we did to you, Adonis.” The general met Magnus’s eyes—though the man could hardly know where to look besides where the sound came from. Still, Magnus felt as though McCormick looked straight into his soul. “Your grandfather would never forgive me, nor do I expect you to. But I am sorry.”
Magnus froze. What did they do to me? The sound of his pulse thumped in his ears, and time seemed to slow down.
“Magnus,” Awen shouted. “Snap out of it!”
Magnus shook his head and blinked. “General, the passphrase. Please.”
McCormick looked back at the holo and seemed to notice that the countdown timer only had five seconds remaining. Magnus assumed that if the general didn’t act quickly, the whole process would begin again, and probably with some sort of time penalty or additional security measure. McCormick held his finger over the record icon and started speaking.
“Purple sparrows rarely dwell amidst the chambers of—”
Something metallic bounced down the stairs and landed beside the terminal. Magnus blinked. It was a Recon issued VOD. “Fragger!”
17
The VOD blast blew Magnus backward down the aisle of consoles. McCormick’s body had shielded him and Awen from the worst of it, but still, Magnus’s shield was gone, and his armor had been damaged. Blaster fire flooded his audio sensors as Magnus pushed the general’s body off his chest.
“Awen, can you hear me?” Magnus asked, shaking her arm.
Her head rolled toward him. “Are we alive?”
“For now. Can you get up?”
“Yes, I think so. My shield’s at—”
“Zero. Mine too.” Magnus raised a hand in caution. “Stay behind the consoles.”
“Right.”
Magnus helped Awen to her knees and then peered over the next row of terminals. Recon Marines infiltrated the Command Center and laid down a heavy base of fire. The best thing the gladias had going for them was that the enemy still couldn’t see them. That would all change the moment some trooper with IR optics got wise and started calling out targets over TACNET and populating their HUD. Magnus could practically see the layout of the Repub software.
“Return fire,” Magnus shouted, and then ordered the Jujari to flank the Marines while Awen and Wish activated some Unity shielding.
Rohoar and Czyz bounded up the side stairs and bored into the enemy’s right and left flanks. A Marine left his place by the blast doors and flew through the amphitheater toward the main holo display. His body cracked against the already broken display wall, filling the air with sparks, before crashing to the ground. On Czyz’s side, a Marine’s scream filled the air as his helmet was ripped from his head, along with part of his face, thanks to Czyz’s claws raking across it. The Jujari ended the man’s suffering by knocking his head back with a wicked snap sound.
The Recon’s fire shifted to defend their flanks, as the dead Marines provided the most visible evidence of the gladias’ location. But still, Magnus and the others took heavy fire from the MAR30s.
“There’s only one way we’re putting these boys down,” Magnus said to Awen. “When I’m done, I need you to close the blast doors. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I think so,” Awen said.
“Seal them too.”
“But what about—”
“We’ll blast our way out if we have to.”
Awen nodded.
Magnus activated his NOV1’s AI-assisted multi-target fire effect mode and felt the barrel gimbal unlock. He raised his weapon above the terminals and watched his HUD pick out sixteen different targets—all Recon Marines, all about to die before they even knew what hit them. And this still isn’t any easier, Magnus thought, remembering his conversation with Titus. Then he squeezed the trigger.
The NOV1 released a bright spray of blaster fire in sixteen different directions as the gimbaled barrel shuddered to accommodate the multi-target field of fire. The blaster bolts pierced chest plates and punctured helmets, sending each Marine to the ground in a rhythmic secession of clattering armor.
“Close ’em,” Magnus ordered Awen. The doors began sliding shut, crushing Marine bodies as they did. Magnus caught sight of a man through the narrowing crack. His silver hair and dark gray senator’s uniform glinted in the flicking ceiling lights. It was Blackman. And the last thing Magnus saw before Awen and Wish finished closing the doors was the senator’s hate-filled scowl.
“Would somebody mind telling me what the hell just happened?” Silk asked. The rest of the gladias stood and looked around at the body count.
“More like, what are we gonna do next,” Silk said. “Look.” Magnus tracked her head nod toward the PDS console, or what was left of it. Sparks shot from the terminal, and a small fire coming from General McCormick’s body—among others—sent black smoke toward the ceiling. Apparently, the fumes were enough to activate the fire-retardant system. Water sprinklers popped from the ceiling and showered the room.
“Any bright ideas, buckethead?” Abimbola asked.
“For the PDS?” Magnus asked rhetorically. “Not until we can see if TO-96 has any more bright ideas.”
“No,” said Abimbola. “For us getting out of here with our lives.”
“We’re not going until we activate—”
“Adonis.” Awen laid a hand on his arm. “It’s over.”
“But there’s got to be another way to raise it.”
“This was the other way,” she said. Awen held his gaze even through their helmets. “The best thing we can do now is find a way out and try to evacuate the city.”
She was right, but admitting it felt like a defeat. And Magnus hated failure. “I need ideas.”
“Scans show no other doors or tunnels,” Haze said.
“I can confirm that,” Wish said. “Our only options seem to be the vertical shafts for ventilation and cabling conduits, but everything looks too small for us.”
“How about down?” Magnus asked, wondering if they could take advantage of the sewer trick again.
“Negative, LT,” Doc said. “I’m showing solid cement and bedrock beyond that.”
Magnus swore under his breath and turned to Awen. He wondered if she could read his thoughts, if she saw him calculating the odds of fighting their way back through CENTCOM, up the elevators, through the lobby, and out the Forum Republica’s front doors. Could she sense the despair growing in his chest? The feeling of helplessness? Of regret at knowing he’d put his team in an untenable situation, all for the sake of—
“Of trying to save the lives of the innocent,” Awen said. “We knew what we were getting into, Magnus. It’s all right.”
“I’m not giving up this easily,” Magnus said. “There’s got to be another way.”
Awen looked away, took a deep breath, and then stared at Magnus’s visor again. “If you want to go out those blast doors fighting, then we’ll go with you. Until at least one of us can sound some kind of alarm to evacuate the city.”
“Rohoar agrees,” the Jujari said. “And he is with you.”
“As am I,” Abimbola said, racking a fresh mag in his weapon. Everyone in the teams added in their approval of the last-ditch effort.
“It’s suicide,” Magnus said, looking around.
“This whole mission was suicide,” Titus said. “We all knew it. And so did you.”
Magnus lowered his head and sighed. Asking everyone to risk
their lives for this op had been much easier from the safety of the Spire, back when success seemed within reach. Now, with no other way to raise the shield and little chance that any gladia would reach the surface in time to spare the civilian population, Magnus could hardly find the words to order his squad forward—much less to thank them for their self-sacrifice.
He was about to order the blast doors reopened when he spotted something in the general’s dead hand. It was a keycard for an elevator. But unlike the security cards used daily, with their edges rounded and optical patterns scratched from constant use, this one looked pristine.
Magnus knelt and opened the general’s fingers. A word printed at the top of the card made Magnus’s heart skip.
Executive Office.
Magnus grabbed the card and stood. Then he looked around the Command Center’s perimeter.
“What is it?” Awen asked, obviously noticing Magnus’s sudden change in demeanor.
Magnus spun toward Dutch. “Where did you find the admiral’s body?”
“Up there,” she said, pointing to the top level in the corner. Magnus saw what he was looking for.
“That’s an office,” he said, skirting by Awen and heading up the stairs at the end of the row of consoles. He took them three at a time and stopped outside a door that designated the room beyond as a suite. He waved his hand in front of the motion scanner, but the door produced a dim error trill. Magnus tried sticking the keycard in a slot on the activate panel, but the door made the same inert sound. Irritated, Magnus pointed his NOV1 at the door and blew a gaping hole in it.
“What are you doing?” Titus asked.
“I’ll let you know in a second,” Magnus replied, stepping through the smoking hole. “Stay put.”
He scanned the executive office, noting a large conference room table and chairs, several couches, a wet bar, and a large desk. “Come on, come on,” he said to himself as he searched the walls. They were covered in art and boasted a few large mirrors, but not what he was looking for.
“What’s going on, Adonis?” Awen asked, poking her head through the blowout door.
“It has to be here,” Magnus replied, more to himself than to her.
“What has to?”
Then his eyes stopped on one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors—about the width of a person. “There.” Magnus dashed across the room and started prying against the mirror’s edges. When it didn’t budge, he got even more hopeful. This wasn’t a simple piece of decoration. It was a door—it had to be.
“Magnus, what’s gotten into you?” Awen said, her voice filled with concern.
Magnus turned and flapped the general’s keycard at her. “It’s for a private elevator,” he said. “The general was going to raise the PDS and then get out.”
“Or help us get out,” Awen said, drawing near and taking the card from Magnus. He turned and kept searching the mirror for a slot.
“How about this,” Awen said. Magnus turned to see Awen insert the card into a slot on the desk. Several LEDs blinked around the opening and a chime issued from the mirror. Then the glass slid away to reveal a small three-person room.
“You’re a genius.” Magnus grabbed her by the arms and would have kissed her were they not wearing helmets.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “And you can save that kiss for later.”
Magnus smiled, and then roared over VNET, “Everyone in the office, now!”
* * *
The elevator opened into a similarly styled office suite—only this one had a view of the entire capital complex. The sky was just beginning to warm the horizon, and Magnus double-checked his mission clock. It was just past five o’clock in the morning.
“Sir, is that really you?” TO-96 said, appearing in a new comms window.
“Boy, am I glad to see you, ’Six,” Magnus replied.
“Magnus,” Colonel Caldwell exclaimed. “Sweet mother of mummified mystics, man—where the hell have you been?”
“Long story, Colonel.” Magnus motioned Awen and Titus out of the lift and then sent the pod on its nonstop trip back to CENTCOM.
“Where are you now?” Caldwell asked.
“Looks like we’re somewhere in Proconsul Tower. Pretty high up too.”
Titus opened the office door and then looked back at Magnus. “You’re not gonna believe this, LT,” he said to Magnus and Awen.
Magnus walked over and looked out the door. On one side of the open floor, there looked to be a large meeting hall, and on the other was an elevator bank, with several elevators that seemed to be designated to the tower’s upper-level spaceport. He strained to look at the ceiling, which was a lavish windowplex dome. Above it loomed a massive tower with half a dozen docked shuttles. “We’re on the top floor, Colonel. And the rest of the squad is on the way.”
“And the PDS?”
Magnus shook his head. “I’m sorry, Colonel, but that’s a no-go. We need to order a city-wide evacuation.”
“You’re sure?” Caldwell said, his voice lowered as if in mourning.
“The terminal is destroyed, so unless the Wonder Twins have some new bright idea, yeah, I’m sure.”
Caldwell looked at TO-96 and Azelon.
“If by Wonder Twins, Magnus is referring to Azelon and me, the answer is no,” TO-96 said.
“Copy that,” the colonel replied. Then he looked past Magnus into the near distance. “Mung born isotropic bastards.”
“What does that even mean?” Magnus shook his head. “Any ideas on how to go about doing this?”
The Colonel looked at Azelon. “How ’bout it, Smarty Pants?”
“I am less familiar with the prime motivating factors for humans and other evolutionarily adjacent species,” Azelon said. “Though, I suppose catastrophic threats that provoke favorable evasion responses within the amygdala are ideal.”
“What the hell kinda talk did you just spew out?” Caldwell said. “We’re not trying to incite mass hysteria, lady.”
“That is how you interpreted my assertion?” Azelon tilted her head. “Interesting.”
“I have an idea,” TO-96 said with a raised hand.
“It better not be some sort of brainiac splick like hers,” the colonel said, nodding at Azelon.
“No, sir. It relies on you and planet-wide video transmission.”
“You mean a PSA?” Caldwell asked.
“A what, sir?”
“A public service announcement,” Magnus answered. “It’s an old-fashioned way of getting news out to a wide audience via more traditional broadcast methods.”
“Careful who you’re calling old fashioned, son,” Caldwell said.
“Then, yes,” TO-96 said. “A PSA. Though I am not entirely certain Azelon and I will be able to gain access to the planet’s broadcast channels.”
“I’d say do what you can until we come up with a better plan,” Magnus said. “Better to be prepared—”
“Than dead,” Caldwell said.
“I suggest you make haste,” Azelon interjected. “I’ve just detected several ships jumping out of sub-space.” She paused and raised a finger. “Make that several dozen, and counting.”
“Moldark,” Awen whispered. “He’s here.”
18
Piper stood in the middle of a street as the buildings fell around her. Her body shuddered from the fear, and she could hardly breathe from the worry gripping her chest. These were the same sensations Piper had so many times before. But she knew this was only a dream. Still, the anxiety felt real.
“Piper,” someone yelled above her. But she didn’t want to look into the sky. If she did, she’d wake up. And it wasn’t time to wake up yet. She had to see if he would come for her. “Piper, wake up!”
“No, no,” she replied, wrestling against the call of her consciousness. She punched and kicked, refusing to leave the ruins in the streets. But then her eyes caught sight of something moving in the distance, something emerging over the rubble’s horizon. She squinted and blinked, resisting
the voice above, and instead narrowed her eyes on the person beyond.
It was a Marine trooper. Yes, it was Magnus—he’d come to save her. Like always.
“Mr. Lieutenant Magnus,” she cried out, her heart filling with an overwhelming sense of relief. Piper waved her hands. “I’m over here!”
Piper wanted to run to him, but her feet wouldn’t move. They were stuck in the rubble, lodged beneath broken concrete and metal rods. It didn’t matter, though. Magnus would come to free her just as he always did.
There had been a time, only a few days ago, where she’d second-guessed him. No—worse. She’d believed against him. Believed that he’d done horrible things to others—to his brother. To her mother. But those things, it turned out, were lies. Lies that she’d been wrong to accept and not question, not talk to him first. That mistake had hurt her, and him, and others. So Piper vowed never to make that mistake again. There would be no more hiding, and no more believing what people whispered in the darkness. She would always run toward the light—toward what was right.
“Mr. Lieutenant Magnus, I’m over here,” she said again, waving her arms, still unable to wiggle her feet from the wreckage. He should be here by now, she thought, wondering what was taking so long. His silhouette was still there, head and shoulders still bobbing back and forth. But no matter how long she waited, Magnus seemed the same distance away, as if he were walking on a treadmill.
Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. Perhaps he was much further away than she first realized, and he was only now getting closer. Piper tried to content herself, willing her heart to calm down while she waited for her hero to arrive. For he would come. Soon. Any moment now.
Shadows moved out from the broken buildings, darting toward Magnus. Piper could not make out who or even what they were. But she felt they meant Magnus harm. Something about them felt malnev—manlevno—malevolent. Felt evil. Like they wanted to kill him.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 183