“I’ve got you, Adonis. Ready when you are.”
“Stand by.” Magnus looked over his shoulder at Blackman. “Think your Marine detail could give us a hand?”
“They’re sworn to protect me,” the senator yelled, plugging his ears from the sound of the blaster fire. “Where I go, they go.”
“Maybe just remind them not to shoot us in the back.”
“You want them to shoot you in the back?”
Magnus shook his head emphatically. “Negative. Not shoot us in the back.”
“Right.” Blackman looked at the nearest Marine and relayed the plan to move to the comms building. “And don’t shoot these guys in the back,” he added at the end. The Marine acknowledged the orders with a nod, and then turned to the rest of his unit, presumably passing the orders on. “They understand,” Blackman said to Magnus. “We can go.”
Magnus nodded and looked back at his team. “Let’s move.”
* * *
Alpha and Bravo Teams moved in a line across the plaza’s southern edge, firing to the east. Blackman stayed tucked behind Magnus and Abimbola while Awen kept a Unity shield running down the line, beginning with Magnus. At first, the Paragon seemed not to pay the traversing gladias and Marines any notice. But by the time Magnus had reached a cluster of palms, the enemy had started to focus their fire.
“Two Marines down,” Haze said from the end of the line.
“Make that three,” said Doc.
“Shoot and move,” Magnus said. “Here we go.” He and Abimbola moved out from cover and headed the rest of the way to the garden’s footpath. Blaster fire tore through leaves and splintered tree branches as they advanced past the perimeter. Once they were well inside the foliage, Magnus gave the order to run.
With one eye on Blackman and the other on the path ahead, Magnus followed the winding route around a pond filled with nowei fish, and then over a footbridge that crossed a stream. Ahead lay an intersection of paths that diverted to other areas of the gardens, bordered on all sides by marble columns and a circular archway system that connected the pillars’ tops. Magnus was just about to step forward into the circle when several blaster rounds exploded against the column closest to his head.
“Cover right,” Titus yelled, marking a spot to the east on the HUD. The gladia took cover behind trees and planters, firing into the Paragon forces making their way toward the intersection.
From Magnus’s position behind the pillar, he spotted a small knoll to the southeast. It’s elevated summit and ferns would provide an excellent flanking position.
“Bravo Team, break off and head up that hill,” Magnus said. “Let me know when you’re in position. When they are, Alpha Team, we’re crossing the intersection.”
Everyone acknowledged, and Magnus fired into the enemy ranks taking cover along the arcade’s eastern perimeter. One unlucky trooper peeked out from behind a column. When he did, Magnus put a blaster bolt through his helmet, splitting it in two. Another trooper made a run between trees but tripped over a root in the ground. He sprawled on his chest, and Magnus fired into his midsection—penetrating the ribcage. The NOV1’s power punched through the man’s other side and dug a furrow in the ground, filling the air with grass and dirt.
“In position,” Titus said over VNET.
“Do it,” Magnus said.
The moment the flanking fire rained down from the hill, Magnus pulled Blackman into the intersection and fired on the Paragon.
“Fragger out,” Titus said. Magnus saw the tiny munition move on his HUD, and then detonate behind a group of palms, flushing out three troopers. Their bodies flipped through the air—one landing in the nearby pond with a splash. The pressure from Bravo Team was just enough for Magnus to make it to the other side with Blackman still crouching behind him and Abimbola.
Once on the intersection’s north side, Magnus gave the order to shift fire to the southeast and cover Bravo Team. Titus came back down the hill and told the senator’s Marines to follow him. But as they crossed the middle ground, the Paragon got wise and covered against Magnus’s flanking fire. Then they opened up on Bravo Team and the Marines. Without a mystic to lend them additional protection, several gladias took damage to their shields, including Titus. Magnus watched him take a hit to the hip and start limping.
“Titus,” Magnus shouted, moving out to meet them.
But Titus waved him off. “We’ve got this, LT.”
In one swift motion, Haze brought up his SMS and fired a VOD straight at a pocket of Paragon troopers. The resulting blast carved a hole in the enemy’s ranks that afforded Titus just enough time to cross the intersection. Likewise, Magnus ordered Rohoar, Silk, and Doc back toward the middle to cover the gladias and Marines making a run for it.
Awen made to move as well, but Magnus stopped her. “I need you here with Bimby and me to guard the senator.”
“But Titus and—”
“Blackman is our priority,” Magnus said.
She sniffed. “Fine.” But Magnus could tell she wasn’t happy about it.
Once everyone was past the open ground, Magnus continued north through the gardens until the comms buildings filled the plaza’s far side. It was a straight shot across, and, so far, no Paragon forces had gotten wise to their final destination.
“Let’s move,” Magnus said. “Watch our right flank and six o’clock.”
The squad crossed the plaza without incident and then filed into the comms building’s front doors. Magnus looked at Blackman. “Lead the way, Senator.”
“Third floor,” he said, pointing toward the elevators.
“No. We’ll take the stairs.” Magnus led the unit up a switchback set of glass stairs lit with baby-blue lighting along the edges. Servos whined as the gladias ascended. That was when Magnus noticed Blackman breathing heavily. Judging by his barrel chest and ample midsection, Magnus guessed that any dedication to sportsmanship in the senator’s youth had vanished, replaced with a commitment to long hours of desk- and table-sitting.
“Now where?” Magnus said, waiting for Blackman to arrive on the third floor.
“Left,” he said, taking deep breaths.
“How far?”
“You’ll see—” Blackman wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “You’ll see a sign for Studio A. There.”
Magnus followed the man’s pointed finger to a wall sign that indicated an entranceway around a bend in the hall. He raced along it until he saw a set of high-density doors and stepped through when they opened. Magnus stepped into a big room with black walls. In the middle stood a collection of holo-emitters, the points of which formed the imaginary shape of a cube. Above it, LED lights of all shapes and sizes dangled from the ceiling, while inside it, three small cameras floated at head-level.
“Room clear,” Magnus said over comms. A few moments later, Blackman entered, practically dragged by Abimbola. “Okay, Senator, tell us how this works.”
“There’s an activation console over there,” Blackman said, sounding as if Magnus should have already seen it.
“That means nothing to me. Why don’t you check it out.”
Blackman threw his hands in the air. “No wonder you’ve been blackballed.”
“Hey, we’re saving your life here, pal,” Titus said after raising his visor and pointing his weapon at Blackman. “Show some respect.”
“Easy,” Blackman said with his hands raised. “Not sure you want to shoot the guy who needs to order the evacuation.”
“Which wouldn’t be a problem if the guy had chosen to do it earlier,” Titus replied.
“Stand down, Titus,” Magnus said with a reassuring tone. “I’m grateful for the support, but we need him right now.”
Blackman lowered his hands and pulled down on the edges of his uniform. “See?”
Titus thrust his chin out toward the senator and spit.
“Get it up and running, Blackman,” Magnus said. “We don’t have much time.”
“Affirmative, sir,” TO-9
6 said, appearing in Magnus’s HUD. “I’ve tapped into the Forum Republica’s security cameras and see heavy Paragon troop movement inbound on your location, entering from the south.”
Magnus turned to Titus and Bimby. “We’ve got company in the lobby.”
“We’re on it,” they replied, calling away everyone in Alpha and Bravo Teams but Awen.
When Magnus looked back at Blackman, the man was lazily walking toward the console. “Get a move on, pal.”
Blackman waved off the remark and stood before the console. “Let’s see what we have here,” he said, wiggling his fingers and pulling up a holo display. It took him a few seconds to log in and then call up a broadcast menu. Magnus saw all three cameras twitch as they woke from sleep mode. Then Blackman took a moment to play with some of the menus. First, an image of a beach appeared in the cube. The senator muttered something to himself, and the image switched to a sports arena. Finally, an image from inside CENTCOM appeared.
“Looks convincing,” Magnus said. “Now, let’s get you in there.” But Blackman was still messing with the settings. When Magnus looked over the man’s shoulder to see what was taking so long, the senator seemed to be ordering the cameras in a series of pre-programmed shot changes from multiple angles. “What the hell are you doing?” Magnus pushed him aside. “This ain’t a glamour shoot.”
“I’m simply making sure that—”
“Go stand in the scene,” Magnus said, taking control.
“But you’ll need to hit that button there.”
“I know how to hit broadcast.” He pointed Blackman toward the CENTCOM holo display. “Go.”
Blackman squared his shoulders and walked into the scene. But he didn’t face the cameras right away. Instead, he paced back and forth, talking to himself.
“Blackman,” Magnus yelled. But the senator was unmoved. So Magnus racked a charge in his NOV1 and pointed the weapon at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you want this strike to hit.”
“Magnus, please,” Awen said, placing a hand over his weapon’s barrel and forcing it down.
“You should listen to her, son. Sharing information of this scope requires more tact than you might appreciate as a buckethead.”
“How’s this for tact?” Magnus turned to the console and slammed his fist into the broadcast button. The camera’s blinking blue ready lights changed to red. “You’re on.”
Blackman froze. For a split second, Magnus thought he was going to have to step in. “For the love of all mystics, would you just—”
“Citizens of Capriana and all surrounding atolls,” Blackman began, speaking as smoothly as if he had days to prep for his appearance. “I am Senator Robert Malcom Blackman of the Galactic Republic Senate and Chairman of Central Command. I come to you today on behalf of the entire Republic with grave news. The city and, in fact, the planet, are under orbital threat by enemy forces. While we are working to reach a swift and peaceful resolution, the Senate and the members of Central Command have unanimously voted to order an immediate planet-wide evacuation. And, rest assured, I have successfully negotiated for the safe passage of all civilians. There is nothing to fear.
“Please be aware that we are in the process of activating the planetary defense shield. To ensure your safety, we encourage you to calmly and carefully make your way to the closest evacuation center. Take only what belongings you can carry, knowing that you will be able to return to your homes as soon as the threat level has been reduced.
“As always, we will provide continual updates on the progress of our positive negotiations with these outside forces, and we look forward to your safe return. Thank you for your patience and understanding.” Blackman stepped out of the frame and walked toward the console.
Magnus was so stunned by the slippery-tongued senator that all he could do was watch in disbelief as the man stepped around Magnus and depressed the broadcast button. The live transmission ended, and the Galactic Republic logo appeared.
“I’m not sure why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Magnus said.
“Why? For lying?” Blackman busied himself on the console menus. Within a few more seconds, the logo was replaced by an emergency evacuation list of procedures read by an automated voice. “Please, if the general public knew the whole truth, there’d be utter pandemonium and no one would get out of here alive.” Blackman turned to face Magnus. “Is that what you want?”
“You’re sick. You know that?”
The senator scoffed. “Save your speech, son. All of us do what we need to save lives. You do it with a blaster; I do it with words. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, and if they knew the truth, they’d die before the first shots were fired. So don’t lecture me on morality, trooper. Just do your job and—”
Magnus slammed the butt of his weapon into the senator’s forehead. The man dropped to the ground like a sack of Jorin kessel radishes. Magnus looked at Awen. “He was wearing on my soul.”
“Mine too,” she said.
“How we looking, Bimby?”
“We are taking heavy fire in the lobby,” Abimbola replied. “This exit is compromised.”
“What about the senator?” Titus asked. “He get the word out?”
“He did,” Magnus said. “And now he’s—taking a little break. Tell those Marines they can come get him when they’re ready.”
“Hard copy,” Titus replied.
“Hey, ’Six. You got any alternate escape routes that don’t put us in the path of Paragon or Repub troopers?”
“As a matter of fact, I do, sir,” TO-96 replied. “The Forum Republic boasts a surprising amount of architectural ingenuity which lends itself to—”
“Remember how I said you could give me a history lesson later?”
“Of course, sir. Save this for that time?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Great.” Magnus smiled. “What’s the escape route?”
“Forwarding to your HUD now, sir.”
“Thanks, ’Six.” As soon as the waypoints populated, Magnus ordered the gladias to fall back, and then he moved toward the hallway.
“Sir,” TO-96 said. “The colonel and I must insist you get moving. The Paragon is surrounding the building.”
“About that,” Titus said, appearing on the channel.”
“Scary looking guy’s making his way across the plaza toward our location.”
Magnus slowed. “Moldark? Toward the comms building?”
“He must know we’re here,” Awen said. “He wants revenge. Or maybe he thinks we have Piper.”
“Either way, we’re not sticking around long enough to find out.”
23
“Block all the exits,” Moldark said to Captain Yaeger. “No one leaves.”
“Right away, my lord,” Yaeger replied.
The trooper turned and began giving orders as Moldark stared down into the Senate Chamber’s bowl-like amphitheater. Rings of glossy black consoles punctuated with red leather chairs descended a dozen tiers down to a central dais. In the background, Yaeger dispatched the few remaining security sentries with blaster fire that made the hall’s congregation cower. The room was half-full, most likely an emergency session. But the odds favored that Moldark would find the senatorial contingent of traitors here. And he would find them—every last one of them. He would hunt them down and stare into their impudent eyes as they begged him for their lives.
“My fair senators of the Galactic Republic,” Moldark said from atop an aisle. He took the first few steps and studied the retreating officials as he descended. “Now that I have your attention—”
“What’s the meaning of this?” someone asked from the dais.
Moldark gazed at the woman who spoke—middle-aged, pale, and hints of gray in her hair. “An excellent question, madame senator. I’d like to offer you a deal, or rather, an ultimatum.”
“You are in no place to offer anything.”
“Oh, but I think I am.” M
oldark stretched out his ethereal hand and latched onto her soul. The woman screamed as he hoisted her half a meter off the dais. The audience reacted with shouts, backing away from Moldark and distancing themselves from the woman. “I’m looking for certain traitors among you.”
“Stop this madness,” another senator shouted. He stepped in between Moldark and the woman.
“Noble, but stupid,” Moldark said. He added the man to his feeding. His body spasmed as Moldark sucked his life out in a matter of seconds, leaving his ashen corpse to crash upon the floor in a dust heap. This brought about even more demonstrative reactions in the room as senators and their staffers clamored toward the exits.
Moldark continued his steady advance toward the woman, holding her hostage in suspended agony. But he needed her, so he released his hold. The woman fell to her knees, gasping for breath.
“As I was saying, I am only looking for six traitors.” When the woman didn’t answer, still preoccupied with the simple task of breathing, Moldark continued. As he approached the bottom floor, he lifted his arms and turned about. “Senators Miller, Ko-Li, Long, Jinterro, Yan Andar, and Blackman. Are you here?”
The amphitheater grew quiet save for whispers and sniffles. Moldark turned back to the woman and strode up the dais to meet her. He knelt and stroked the back of her head with his gloved hand. “Madame Senator, I will release everyone in this room so long as you point me toward the traitors I mentioned.”
She coughed and then steadied herself on the carpeted floor. But she was still gasping too much to speak.
“You’re wasting my time.” Moldark hoisted her aloft on an invisible arm—her body shaking for all to see. “I will kill her.” He spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Or you may produce the individuals I specified. Do so, and the rest of you may depart. It is that simple.”
“I am Senator Jinterro,” replied a woman in her early sixties, stepping out from a group near a side exit. She was thinner than Moldark remembered.
“You see now?” Moldark looked around the amphitheater. “That wasn’t so hard. And the others?” But no one else spoke. So Moldark yanked a measure of life from the woman. She shrieked.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 188