Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “No,” Piper said. “This isn’t how it goes. This isn’t the way!”

  The shadows started attacking Magnus. They swirled around him, lashed out, and struck him on the shoulders and head.

  “Stop it,” Piper screamed. Magnus looked like he was struggling to stand. “You’re hurting him!”

  Piper tried to free her feet, overcome with panic, but each time she did, the debris cut into her skin and pushed against her bones. She screamed, and then grabbed her left knee, yanking it in a wild attempt to wrest herself from the rubble’s clutches. But nothing happened. She screamed his name so loudly she thought her voice would break.

  “Wake up,” someone said, shaking her shoulders.

  Piper’s eyes flew open and saw her grandmother’s face. Feeling disoriented, Piper reached for something to hold—anything. Willowood grabbed Piper’s wrists and bound them to her chest. Still, Piper thrashed—she had to get to Magnus.

  “Peace, child,” Willowood said.

  All at once, the dread left, dissolving like salt in a cup of water. Piper felt a wave of relief wash over her, calming her nerves. The warmth of the blanket returned, as did the comfort of the pillows cradling her head.

  “Peace,” her grandmother said again, her hand stroking Piper’s hair. “All is well, my child. All is well.”

  Piper took several deep breaths and used the blanket to wipe the tears away. “I have to go.”

  Willowood scrunched her eyes up. “Go?”

  “He needs me.”

  Willowood hushed her. “You’ve been dreaming, darling granddaughter. But you’re safe now.”

  “No, no.” The fear started to return. “He needs me.”

  “Who needs you?”

  “Mr. Lieutenant Magnus.” Piper tried to sit up. “He needs me.”

  “Piper, please.” Willowood pleaded with her hands. “You need to lie still.”

  “No. He needs me right now.”

  “Peace,” Willowood said, and again, a new wave of peace washed over Piper—this one stronger than the last. The anxiety vanished, and Piper felt it was safe to lie back down. “There, is that better?”

  Piper nodded, taking a deep breath that made her lower lip quiver. “I saw him, grandma. I saw him.”

  “Magnus?”

  “Yes. It’s a dream I’ve had many times. But this time, it’s different.”

  Willowood continued to stroke her hair, and it felt good. So reassuring. “How so?”

  “He always comes to rescue me—in Capriana, I mean. I stand in the middle of the buildings, and they’re all broken. And then he walks up the street and rescues me. But, only this time, like what just happened, he doesn’t. Something happened to him.” Piper could feel her heart beating faster and her words get quicker. “Something attacked him. They came out of the ruins and swirled around him. Hitting him. He tried to get rid of them. He tried. But there were too many, and he couldn’t. And then I tried to go help him, but I was stuck. I couldn’t move. And they kept hurting and hurting him! I yelled for them to stop, but they wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t!”

  “Easy, easy,” Willowood said, her face taking on a look of grave concern.

  “And the worst part?” Piper choked on her tears, and coughed, perhaps realizing the meaning of the dream for the first time. “They killed him.”

  Willowood acted like she was about to say something, but her hand hesitated in smoothing the hair on Piper’s head. So Piper said the words again, but more softly.

  “They killed him, grandma. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

  A long silence passed between them as Willowood folded her hands in her lap and looked off somewhere. “How long have you had this dream? The first one, I mean, where he rescued you?”

  “A couple of months,” Piper said, giving her best guess. She still couldn’t tell time over months like the adults did. “Ever since right before I met Mr. Lieutenant Magnus.”

  Willowood examined Piper’s face with interest. “How soon before you met him?”

  “I was on daddy’s ship, from when we left Capriana. I had the first dream, and then Mr. Lieutenant Magnus showed up that night to rescue us when we were adriftering.”

  “Adrift.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And you’re saying you’ve had this recurring dream consistently ever since then?”

  Piper thought about it. “How much is consistently?”

  “Enough that it happens every few weeks or days?”

  Piper nodded.

  “But now it’s changed?”

  Again, Piper nodded.

  “And this is the only time it’s ever been different?”

  “Yup.” Piper took another deep sigh, and her arms and legs got the chills. “But I don’t think it was a dream.”

  Her grandmother sat up a little straighter. “No?”

  “It felt real. I mean, really real. Like I was actually seeing things like I’m seeing you right now. And I know the difference between real things and dream things—I’m not a baby anymore. I know the difference.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Willowood said, looking away again.

  “I think he’s in trouble, grandma.” But her grandmother didn’t say anything. So Piper touched Willowood’s arm. “Grandma?”

  “Yes, child?”

  “I said, I think he’s in trouble. I think they all are.”

  * * *

  Piper washed her face and put on a new white and blue-trim suit that Azelon had made for her. Then she ate a snack, took a few sips of water, and followed the glowing lines on the floor until she found her grandmother inside a dimly lit lounge. It had comfy chairs and a wide window that looked out over a planet.

  “Is that Capriana Prime?” Piper asked, stepping into the room.

  Willowood nodded. “It is.”

  “Is—is Magnus down there?”

  Again, her grandmother inclined her head. “He is.”

  Piper put a hand on her chest. “And do you think—?”

  “They’re in trouble, yes, Piper.”

  Piper felt herself about to burst into tears when Willowood raised a hand. It felt like a heating pad, and a soothing sensation moved down her body.

  “Try and calm down, child. You said you’re not a baby anymore, right?”

  Piper nodded, though less confidently than she would have before hearing that Magnus was in trouble.

  “Good. Then I need you to stay focused and not let your emotions get in the way of what we need to do.”

  “We’re going to do something?” The words filled Piper with a sense of hope.

  “Of course we are. Did you think we we’re just going to sit around and cry after you had a premonition like that?”

  “A premnom—”

  “Premonition. A feeling that something is going to happen. A look into the future.”

  “Are you saying Magnus is going to die?”

  Willowood pointed to the open chair. It was dark leather and had two white pillows in it. “Have a seat, Piper.”

  Piper nodded dutifully and sat down.

  “Not everything you dream is real,” Willowood said.

  “But some of it is?”

  Willowood smiled. “When you’re a true blood, yes.”

  “Awen told me I’m a true blood.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Piper’s grandmother looked out the window at Capriana. The wrinkles on her forehead told Piper that something was definitely wrong.

  “So is what I dreamed about Magnus real?” Piper sat up straight as her suit squeaked in the chair. “Is he going to die?”

  “Your dreams are special, Piper. Special because they show you not only what has been, but what could be.”

  “So, I saw the future?”

  “You saw a future. A possible future. But not the certain future.”

  “You mean, it might happen?”

  “Correct.”

  Piper’s nose wrinkled. “What makes it certain or not?”

  Her gr
andmother smiled at the question. “People. Our actions dictate our future, and not even the Unity knows exactly how things will turn out.”

  “Wait. Are you saying I was dreaming in the Unity?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. Your powers? They’re very special.” Willowood reached forward and took Piper’s hand. “You have something that no one else has ever had before you—at least not that I’m aware of. And so, even in your sleep, it seems you are able to move within the Unity of all things. What you saw was a possible future that had to do with very real things, but not exact things.”

  “Like when I first met Magnus.” Piper squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I dreamed about him in Capriana, but we met on the starship. Kinda like that?”

  “Yes, kind of like that. Premonitions aren’t exact. They’re more like shadows of what’s to come. Only after events have transpired do we see what has happened.”

  Piper looked at Capriana. “He’s down there, isn’t he.”

  Willowood nodded.

  “And he’s in trouble.”

  “Yes. He just communicated with the colonel, and it seems things are getting serious.”

  “Moldark.”

  Willowood looked at Piper with surprise. “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I can just feel it. He’s here, isn’t he.”

  “Yes.” Piper’s grandmother had a serious look on her face. “Yes, he’s here.”

  “Then Mr. Lieutenant Magnus needs my help.” Piper stood up. “I need to get down there.”

  “Piper, please sit down.”

  “But, grandmother, I—”

  “Sit down.” Willowood’s tone sounded so much like her mother’s that it sent a chill through Piper’s body.

  Piper sat and placed her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, grandmother.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I just need you to listen.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Good. Going down there, to Capriana? It’s far too dangerous. And you made a promise to Magnus.”

  “That I wouldn’t do anything stupid again.”

  Willowood bobbed her head back and forth as if she wouldn’t have said it the way Piper did, but couldn’t dismiss the accuracy of it. “Right. But there are more ways to help him, ones that don’t put your life in jeopardy.”

  “Like what?”

  “A few hours ago, when you were awake and sharing about what happened on Moldark’s ship, you said you helped him convince people.”

  “To destroy the Republic.”

  Willowood nodded. “What if there was a way to undo that?”

  “You mean, like change their minds? Tell them not to destroy the Republic anymore?”

  “Exactly. Though, you can never fully remove a thought from someone’s mind. We always believe part of what we hear, even when we learn that it wasn’t true.”

  Willowood’s words pricked Piper’s heart. Did that mean there would always be a small part of her that was suspicious of Magnus? She hoped not. But, then again, she could still feel the old Piper that was angry at him—even fearful of him. Was that what her grandmother meant?

  “I’d like to propose that you and I try to undo what Moldark made you do,” Willowood said.

  “You’re going to help me?”

  Her grandmother nodded. “I think it will need both of us, yes. Would you like to try?”

  Piper considered the prospect of being able to undo that evil that she’d done for Moldark. “Will it hurt him?”

  “Hurt who?”

  “Grandfather.”

  Willowood recoiled a little. “That man is not your grandfather, Piper. At least not anymore.”

  “But he said—”

  “What he said cannot be trusted. And I’m so sorry you had to meet him the way you did. It’s not…”

  Piper waited for her grandmother to finish her sentence, but she seemed too lost in thought. “Grandmother?”

  “I would have liked you to know him when we were young.”

  “When you first met?”

  Willowood nodded. “Those were some happy days. But the creature you met—that is not your grandfather, nor is it even Admiral Kane. It is something altogether different. Someone we must stop.”

  “Then let’s do it. I’m ready.”

  19

  Commodore David Seaman sat in his quarters adjacent to the Solera Fortuna’s bridge, staring through the windowplex at the blue surface of Capriana Prime. Coming around the horizon was the massive atoll that marked the Republic’s seat of power—a crescent-shaped island chain that might well have been a series of countries, given their size. It was the place of his birth and represented everything noble and right about the Galactic Republic—at least when it had esteemed such attributes, before its fall into the quagmire of bureaucracy.

  But how noble and right have you been? Seaman asked himself, tapping the glass-topped desk in his quarters.

  The events surrounding the Battle of Oorajee’s final hours had put Seaman in an uncommonly sour mood—most especially Fleet Admiral Brighton’s orders to annihilate the Jujari fleet despite what would have been their sure surrender. The command disgusted him. He couldn’t say as much, of course—it was unprofessional. But was he indeed in a profession where any disgust with killing was treated as contempt?

  In the end, Seaman hadn’t needed to follow through with the order. The Jujari pressed the Paragon in a final surge. A last act of desperation, Seaman thought. But in his heart, he knew that wasn’t it—not entirely, anyway.

  There had been an assault on the Black Labyrinth. Rumors had spread of a small spec ops team making an attempt on Moldark’s life. It hadn’t been the first time someone tried to take out the new leader, Seaman knew. But unlike the previous efforts, which had been conducted by a faction of Republic loyalists, this one, it was said, was carried out by a unit unconnected with the Republic. In fact, Seaman’s sources in the Labyrinth said the unit didn’t look or move like any in the quadrant. They were, to use the childhood trope, aliens.

  And then there was the sudden appearance of illegally outfitted civilian vessels that made good the mysterious attackers’ escape. Officially, it was ruled as an insurgent uprising—a last-ditch effort by the Jujari by which they called in old favors to ensure their retreat.

  But none of that made sense to Seaman.

  For one thing, why call in favors when you’ve already lost the war?

  But for the other, the Jujari and the civilian armada weren’t fighting like they were trying to retreat. They were fighting to defend something of tremendous value. Something that smelled of hope.

  A trill sounded at his door.

  “Come,” Seaman said. The doors slid apart to reveal Lani DiAntora, the Fortuna’s Flag Captain.

  “DiAntora,” Seaman said, then he gestured to one of the two leather chairs before his desk. “Please.”

  She purred in the Sekmit version of appreciation and slid into a chair with feline-like grace.

  Seaman studied her for a long moment to the point that it was probably awkward for her. No, not for her, Seaman corrected himself. She’s a Sekmit. They act like they own the universe. And he meant that in a mostly positive way—one that emphasized the species’ unwavering confidence. Though, sometimes, it is a pain in the ass. “Why’d you join the Navy, DiAntora?”

  If she was caught off guard by the question, she didn’t show it. “I wanted to serve the Republic”

  “Sure, but why?”

  “To help maintain order in the galaxy, and to keep evil people from harming the innocent.”

  Seaman steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips. “Noble.”

  “Logical.” DiAntora tilted her head and flicked her ears. “And you, Commodore?”

  He rocked back in his chair. “I wanted to get off Capriana Prime. See the galaxy.”

  “So you had issues with your family?”

  He smiled. Damn, she was intuitive. “My father.”
r />   “And did you see the galaxy?”

  Seaman nodded. “More than I bargained for. And somewhere along the line, I got lonely.”

  “Lonely, sir?” An inquisitive expression crossed her feline features. “But weren’t you posted to—”

  “A ship full of sailors?” He nodded and then stared off in the near distance. “Isn’t it odd how you can still feel alone even when you’re surrounded by people on every side?” He looked back at DiAntora, but her eyes darted away. “Anyway, somewhere along the line, that loneliness turned into a mission.”

  “And what was that, sir?” she asked.

  “Help maintain order in the galaxy, and keep evil people from harming the innocent,” he replied.

  DiAntora smiled.

  “Not only did I grow up somewhere along the way, and reconcile things with my father, but I realized I wasn’t alone, so long as I flew close to others who had the same ambitions.” He stared at her.

  DiAntora held his gaze for several seconds. Seaman wasn’t sure where his feelings for her might lead, or if she even reciprocated them. But he liked her. And when this was all over, maybe he’d do something about it.

  “What are your orders, Commodore?”

  Seaman didn’t answer right away. Instead, he swiveled his chair to face the window. “Have you ever been to Capriana, Captain?”

  DiAntora flicked an ear. “No, sir. I attended the Academy at Tellstall, and my training never included any time on Capriana Prime.”

  Seaman nodded. “It’s beautiful. Towering spires that shine in the morning light. The gentle trade winds that keep the heat at bay. And hundreds of kilometers of beaches to spend your sunsets on.” He sighed. “I love the beach.” Then he looked at DiAntora as if to see if she shared any of his appreciation.

  Her head twitched. “I hate the beach. Sir.”

  Seaman chuckled. “You would, wouldn’t you.”

  “Sir?”

  “Cats hate the water, and you’re—”

  DiAntora glared at him with her feline-like eyes.

  “You know what? Never mind. My point is, it’s a lovely place. And I would never want to do anything to hurt it.”

  A moment of silence filled Seaman’s quarters. He knew the Sekmit would not repeat her question about their orders, so Seaman steepled his fingers and placed them to his lips. “Admiral Brighton has asked us to prepare for orbital bombardment against the surface. Article 99. No survivors.”