“Hard copy on that,” Magnus replied with a grin. Then he turned to the squad. “Time to see what kind of ride we can arrange for ourselves. Let’s move.”
Magnus took three steps into the lobby, heading for the elevator bank, when four pods opened—including the two that the gladias had jumped out of less than two hours before. He held up a fist. “Everyone freeze.”
Marines poured out of the elevators, made a defensive perimeter, and covered several civilians as they crossed to the space port elevators on the other side of the bank. One man stood out to Magnus in particular.
“It is the senator that Rohoar dislikes,” the Jujari said.
“High marks for recognition, Scruffy,” Magnus replied. “Looks like he’s trying to make a run for it.”
“The coward,” Abimbola said.
“Yes.” Rohoar growled. “Rohoar likes him even less than Rohoar did before.”
“Let us dispatch them,” Abimbola said, racking a charge.
“No,” Magnus said, lifting a hand. “They’re trying to escape just like everyone else. We’ve killed enough today.”
“You cannot be serious, buckethead.”
Magnus looked back at the Miblimbian. “I am, Bimby. That man was only trying to do what he believed was right, and I can’t fault him for that. Mercy dictates I let them go.”
“He’s right,” Awen said, inserting herself between the two gladias and peering out the door. “Blackman—assuming that’s who it is—may be a coward, but unless those troopers are shooting at us, they’re not a threat.”
“But they are leaving the city even before an evacuation has been ordered. It makes no sense to me.” Abimbola’s voice grew distant. “Though, I suppose, it is just like their Republic ancestors.”
“It’s how the higher echelons of the Republic work,” Magnus replied.
“Among the Jujari, the mwadim stays until their last pup has been made safe,” Rohoar said.
“Then I’d say the Repub has a lot to learn from you,” Magnus replied—and if he didn’t know better, he’d say Awen was smiling at him.
“Stay where you are,” a trooper yelled over external speakers.
“Splick,” Magnus said. “Somebody got wise and switched to thermals.”
“Lay down your weapons and get on the ground,” said another trooper, his blaster pointed in Magnus’s direction.
“Rohoar asks permission to shoot them.”
Magnus sighed. His shields were drained, his armor damaged, and he’d most likely die if the Marines opened fire. “Awen, I need a shield.”
“Done,” she replied.
“We’re just trying to get out of the city like you,” Magnus said over externals, hoping to reason with the troopers.
“I said, lay your weapons down!”
“Rohoar has a sense that they are going to shoot you, scrumruk graulap.”
“Magnus has that same sense, Scruffy.”
“Last warning,” a trooper said.
Blackman poked his head out of the elevator. “What’s the holdup, people?”
“We have unidentified cloaked personnel on the west end of the lobby, Senator,” replied a Marine.
“That’s the enemy, dammit. Open fire!”
A unit commander pointed forward, and blaster fire erupted from the elevator bank. Had it not been for Awen’s Unity shield, Magnus would have died. Instead, he rolled to the shield’s edge and fired around it. The rest of first squad peeled out of the office and returned fire, taking down several troopers before the majority escaped into the elevator pods and ascended toward the spaceport docks.
“Everyone all right?” Magnus asked. No one registered any damage, so he ordered them across the lobby and to the elevators. One Marine still moved on the ground. Rohoar saw it and dropped a knee on the trooper’s helmet, killing him instantly.
“What?” the Jujari asked with raised shoulders. “Rohoar put him out of his misery. This is also mercy, no?”
Magnus waved off the comment and ordered everyone into the remaining elevators. “It’s gonna be hot when we get up there, so be ready.” Everyone acknowledged and pointed their weapons out, ready for the doors to open.
The pods moved skyward, racing through the docking platform’s latticework tower. The warming horizon flashed between the metal cross pieces as Magnus sensed his pod slow. He rolled his head and made ready to open fire. As soon as the doors opened, blaster rounds streaked across the main deck. “What the hell?”
“Paragon,” Titus yelled, firing past the Marines and into a cluster of black-clad troopers emerging from a Stiletto-class Corvette.
“Target the Paragon. Protect the senator!” Magnus squeezed his trigger and took out two troopers firing on Blackman’s position. The grey-haired man covered his head, hid behind two Marines, then ran back toward the elevators.
“Rohoar can kill him now,” Rohoar said.
“Negative. We need him alive.” Magnus laid down heavy fire as Blackman raced toward him. Several more aids followed the senator, but at least two were gunned down as they retreated.
Magnus’s NOV1 shrieked as it dropped three Paragon troopers in a row, cutting a line of blaster holes across their chest plates. The bodies thrashed as they went down, joining others who met their fates with Novian blaster rounds in their bodies. But despite how many troopers Granther Company took down in the opening seconds, more enemy combatants emerged, pressing the shaky defense. Finally, the Marines fell back toward the elevator pods.
“Give them some protection,” Magnus ordered. The words weren’t out of his mouth before Nídira erected a defensive wall. It bought the Marines precious time as they scrambled for the elevators.
A man dressed in black emerged from the Stiletto-class ship. He walked down the vessel’s under-nose cargo ramp and raised a hand. At first, Magnus thought he might be directing the troopers or trying to get someone’s attention. Instead, Nídira began screaming. Magnus looked to his right and saw the mystic writhing in pain—feet half a meter off the ground.
“Awen,” Magnus yelled. “Do something!”
But without Nídira’s shield, the Paragon’s attack rained down on the gladias. Magnus took a bolt to the shoulder. His torso twisted even before he felt the round’s sting sear his flesh. He fired his NOV1 one-handed, boring into a trooper trying to flank the Granther’s position. The man dropped as blaster fire stitched up his chest and into his helmet.
Nídira was still dangling in midair. Awen put a small shield around her, but it seemed to do nothing against the unseen attack.
“It’s Moldark,” Magnus said, turning his NOV1 toward the man on the cargo ramp. “Take him out!”
But only some of the gladias could target the enemy leader—if they all did, first squad and the retreating Marines would be overrun by troopers. But whatever Moldark was doing with his dark arts had to be stopped. He lifted three other Marine’s off their feet as their weapons clattered to the deck. Even with their helmets on, Magnus could hear their wails.
Nídira gave out one final bawl before her body vaporized in a cloud of ash. Her power suit fell to the ground like a flag falling from a mast. Awen’s shield gave out as she knelt to the ground in horror.
“Awen,” Magnus yelled. “Shield!”
More blaster rounds pinged off the elevator bank’s housing and blew across personal shields. Magnus ducked, trying to avoid a fatal shot. Even with superior weapons, the gladia were outnumbered and unavoidably tasked with protecting the senator and his entourage.
Magnus’s last energy magazine went dry. He ejected both mags and reached for a fallen Marine’s weapon when a round knocked the blaster away. So Magnus pulled his V from its holster and started firing into the sea of Paragon troopers. The weapon seemed to do little more than aggravate the enemy. He let out a string of automatic fire, swiping the pistol left and right—it was terrible fire control, but done on purpose and out of desperation, it was enough to make the enemy think twice about advancing on him.
Past caring what risk he posed to the nearby shuttles and starships, Magnus grabbed both VODs from his belt and hurled them toward the enemy. “Fragger out!” he yelled as the small devices flew, one after the other. The resulting explosions sent half a dozen Paragon troopers flying both times as their bodies were doused in flames and sparks. The shockwaves knocked several other troopers off their feet, but they managed to keep firing on the retreating Republic forces even from their knees. Whatever drove these combatants, it was otherworldly.
Just when the enemy press seemed to be too great, Awen put up a new shield.
“Get below,” Magnus ordered, stepping back inside an elevator and checking to make sure Blackman was behind him. Then Magnus punched the panel to send the pod back down. The image of blaster bolts dispersing against a Unity shield vanished as the doors closed. Then the pod dropped away, and a gentle whir replaced the sound of blaster fire. Magnus turned to check on Rohoar, Doc, and Titus. “You good?”
They all nodded.
Then he looked at Blackman and his senate aid. Magnus turned off chameleon mode, though he noticed it was already malfunctioning on his left shoulder plate anyway due to the blaster round he’d taken. His suit had dispersed nano-bots into the tissue that would disinfect the wound and stem any bleeding not cauterized by the blaster round. But deeper nerve and muscle damage would need cellular reconstruction therapy in a tank later on—if there was a later on.
The senator looked stunned but seemed to be trying to compose himself. “Was that—? I mean, was that—?”
“Admiral Kane?” Magnus said, opening his helmet’s visor.
Blackman nodded.
“Now do you believe me, Senator?”
The man hesitated, then seemed to regain at least some of his composure. Blackman smoothed his uniform and pursed his lips. “Far from an orbital strike, wouldn’t you say?”
“That man just killed half your staff and at least two dozen Marines, Senator.”
“And yet, the city itself is spared.”
“For now,” Magnus said. The senator did have a point, though. From the way Piper made it sound, an orbital bombardment seemed to suit Moldark’s level of animosity toward the Republic. So why the in-person appearance?
“You okay, Magnus?” Caldwell said over VNET.
Magnus slapped his visor down and turned away from Blackman. “Nídira’s gone, Colonel. And we suffered some minor injuries.”
“I saw. I’m sorry, son. We didn’t detect Moldark’s ships until just now.”
“He must have snuck under the city’s sensors like we— Hold on. Did you say ships?”
The colonel nodded. “We count ten heavy armored transports and a corvette.”
“Troop carriers?” He glanced at Blackman.
“That’s a full battalion,” Dutch said from an adjacent pod.
“But why the invasion force?” Magnus asked, still glaring at Blackman. “Surely he sees the PDS isn’t operational yet. Why not take the shot?”
“He must want something planetside,” Caldwell replied.
Magnus raised his visor again as the elevators came to a stop. “What’s he after, Blackman?”
“I’m afraid I don’t—”
Magnus punched the windowplex just beside the senator. “What’s he after?”
“He’s a lunatic, Magnus. How should I know?”
“Because, Senator, he’s your pet project, isn’t he?”
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t—”
Magnus punched again and cracked the window. “Isn’t he?”
“Okay, yes. Yes. But can we please get going first?” Blackman pointed toward the now-open elevator doors.
“Stay where you are,” someone shouted. A platoon of Marines pointed weapons into the senator’s elevator, aiming at Magnus.
“I’m getting really tired of surprises behind every elevator door.” Magnus was about to raise his hands when Blackman stepped around him.
“It’s all right. He’s with me,” Blackman said. “They all are.”
Magnus raised his eyebrows and looked at the other gladias in the pod, still cloaked.
“Lower your weapons, for mystics’ sake.” The senator pushed his way out of the pod and walked through the platoon. He went straight for the tower’s main elevators and motioned for Magnus to follow him.
“Go ahead and let ’em see you,” Magnus said over the squad channel. “Don’t need these boys any more wound up than they already are.”
At once, the gladias dropped chameleon mode. To the naked eye, they seemed to appear out of thin air—one second, there was open space, the next, ten alien-armored elite warriors filled the space port’s elevator pods.
Blackman looked over his shoulder only once, as if completely expecting the sight, and then pressed an elevator control panel. “We haven’t got much time, Magnus.”
“Copy that,” Magnus said, stepping forward. Slowly, the gladias followed his lead and emerged from the elevators, eyeing the Marines. The moment of tension passed, however, when Paragon troopers crashed through the domed ceiling and fired into the lobby.
“Let’s get to those elevators,” Magnus yelled. He re-cloaked, and then reached for a downed Marine’s weapon. He stripped its energy mag, and then pulled two more off the dead man’s hip. Then he reloaded, racked the first charge, and fired at the enemy troopers fast-roping through the ceiling.
The first Paragon bucket he hit let go of the rope and fell the remaining eight meters to the floor. The second trooper also let go, but the line snagged his thigh so that his body flipped over. A third attacker died when Magnus’s NOV1 severed the rope. The line pooled on the ground as the trooper’s body hurtled toward the floor, crashing into the deck with a loud thud. But even with his team’s quick response, at least one Paragon platoon dropped through the ceiling, and another appeared in the remaining spaceport elevator pods.
“Defend and descend,” Magnus said with his back toward the tower’s set of elevators.
As he stood firing shoulder to shoulder with other Marines, a wave of emotion hit him harder than a blaster bolt. It was the first time since the ambush at the mwadim’s palace that he’d fought side by side with Marines still loyal to the Republic’s cause. He imagined something like this—well, not like this—but some miracle that would allow him back into the fold. Only, this wasn’t true acceptance, only a matter of circumstance. And as soon as the immediate threat was put down, he’d be a hostile combatant again, wanted for treason.
The senator dashed into an elevator and hid inside the doorway. “Get the hell in here, boy!”
Guessing he was the only boy the senator might be referring to, Magnus retreated inside and made way for several other gladias and at least two Marines. Once the pod was full, Blackman shut the doors, and the elevator dropped.
Again, Magnus de-cloaked and raised his visor, but this time he pointed his NOV1 at Blackman’s head. The act was met with both Marine’s raising their MC90s, which made Dutch and Haze de-cloak and raise their NOV1s at the Marines. It wasn’t until Rohoar de-cloaked that both Marines lowered their weapons—their bodies leaning back in silent appreciation of the Jujari in alien armor.
“Why’s he here?” Magnus asked, back in control of the pod. “And why didn’t your orbital defense cannons take those ships out?”
“I don’t know,” Blackman said. “They must’ve come in under sensors, or the cannons are down.”
“Bad answer,” Magnus said, pressing the barrel against Blackman’s cheek.
“Get that out of my face, you little splick.”
Blackman tried pushing the weapon away, but Magnus elbowed him in the head. “Don’t touch my blaster, Senator. You didn’t earmark any tax credits for this one.”
Looking less fearful and more annoyed, Blackman rubbed the side of his head where a small trickle of blood appeared over his ear. “What do you want?”
“I want to know why this whole thing isn’t adding up,” Magnus said. “The general seemed
to change his tone just before someone rolled a VOD beside him. And now you’re trying to escape before an evacuation has even been ordered.”
“That’s because—”
“Shut up.” Magnus elbowed him again. “If I don’t like the answers you give me, then we can add three more bodies to the count, right here, right now.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’m already wanted for treason, Senator. You think you threaten me? All that matters to me now is getting my team back safely and making sure the city’s population has a fighting chance at an evacuation—one you’re going to initiate as soon as you explain to me what the hell is going on.”
“All right, all right, just—please—get that thing out of my face,” Blackman said.
Magnus lowered his weapon and then gestured for the senator to get talking.
“I can’t prove this, but I believe that Kane is here to settle a score.”
“What kind of score?”
Blackman hesitated.
“What kind of score, Senator?”
“There’s a secret organization rumored to be operating within the senate.”
“The Circle of Nine.”
Blackman’s eyes went wide. “So you’ve heard of them?”
“Maybe. Why are they significant?”
“We believe they’re responsible for creating the Paragon.”
“Why?”
Blackman’s eyes shifted back and forth, so Magnus raised his elbow again. “Okay, okay. For years, we thought there was a conspiracy to unseat the Republic and usher in a new militaristic government. General McCormick, as you mentioned, was thought to be a part of them.”
“You’re talking a military coup, Senator.”
He nodded. “Yes, son. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. One that has apparently gotten way out of hand.”
“Out of hand?”
“My sources tell me that Kane was only supposed to threaten the Republic, not any of this.” He gestured around the pod.
“So you admit Kane changed?”
“Of course. It was public knowledge that something had happened to the admiral—something out there over Oorajee. No one knows what exactly. But he went mad and stopped following orders.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 186