24
Two explosions blew out the comms building’s side and rear, filling the air above the plaza with dust clouds. Increased blaster fire poured from the structure, as if the rebels were reinvigorated by thwarting the Paragon’s backdoor attempt. “More,” Moldark roared at Yaeger. “Fire more!”
A second wave of explosions punched holes in the Paragon’s front lines as the rebels tossed VODs from the building’s lobby. But Moldark smiled at the volley, seeing it as sign that the enemy was growing more desperate. He had them.
“Don’t just stand there, Captain,” Moldark seethed. “Get in there!”
Yaeger stepped toward the battle line, only to be blasted off his feet. Moldark, too, flew backward, struck by a shockwave. Then his back slammed into the marble floor, and he slid until he hit a raised planter. Moldark blinked, caught his breath, and regained his feet. When he looked back toward the comms building, he saw a large cargo crate standing on its end. A human trooper in Novian-style armor raced toward it then disappeared within a hatch.
“Open fire,” Moldark roared. At first, nothing happened. So Moldark repeated the order until blaster shots pinged off the crate. But the armored container was impervious to blaster fire. Moldark was too far away to latch onto whoever was inside, so he ran forward. Suddenly, the crate’s walls fell away to reveal a mechanized battle system reminiscent of Novian ones Moldark had seen before. Which meant he knew what the weapon was capable of, and he was not prepared to face it personally.
Moldark stopped running and watched as his troopers made way for three RAB gunners. The men’s weapons wound up and then spat bright torrents of bolts at the mech. They drilled the chest for only a moment before an energy shield appeared, sparing the pilot from certain death. The mech retaliated with both weapons, quickly liquifying the three heavy gunners before turning his firepower on the rest of Captain Yaeger’s company.
The dark lord cursed as he stepped out of the line of fire. Moldark’s forces were not equipped to take on a mech. And at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to kill Blackman or the generals either. He watched in frustration as the rebels emerged from the comms building and cloaked their armor. This is all their fault, Moldark said to himself, seething inside. And the true blood child.
Of course, there were other ways to terminate the enemy, even if they weren’t as satisfying. But he was running out of options—a fact that he loathed.
“Admiral Brighton,” Moldark said over comms as he turned away from the battle.
“Yes, my lord,” Brighton replied.
“Inform Captain Ellis that I am returning to my shuttle.”
“Right away.”
Blaster fire assailed Moldark’s front lines as the enemy and their mech moved toward an exit. Likewise, the dark lord headed across the plaza toward Proconsul Tower’s elevators. With each step he grew more furious. “One more thing, Brighton.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Two stray blaster rounds tore through Moldark’s cape while a third struck him in the shoulder blade. But the dark lord’s pace didn’t slow. “Execute Article 99.”
* * *
“This way,” Abimbola said, leading the unit around the plaza to the southeast along TO-96’s waypoints. The path led Alpha and Bravo Teams behind the advancing Paragon troops and out the complex’s east side.
“Not you,” Titus said. He was speaking to the senator’s Marine element over externals, pointing back toward the bulk of the Repub’s defensive line along the plaza’s west end. “Go on, get.” He flicked his hand at them like he was scolding a dog. But then Titus took on a melancholy tone, like he was playing a part in a low budget holo film. “Go back to your home. You don’t belong to me. Just go.”
Magnus chuckled. “You done yet?”
“They grow up so fast.”
“You humans have many problems,” Rohoar said.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Magnus gave the order to activate chameleon mode since they weren’t working with friendlies. Then he pivoted right, keeping his weapons covering their six as his squad advanced around the plaza’s perimeter. “Let’s pick up the pace, Granthers. We haven’t got all day.”
“You heard the man,” Abimbola replied, running faster.
The gladias followed the long-legged Miblimbian while Magnus fended off the Paragon troopers. But the bulk of Moldark’s forces seemed more preoccupied with hammering the Repub’s line than pursuing the gladias. Magnus wondered, yet again, why the Paragon leader had opted for this ground invasion when he could have destroyed the entire city from above.
As the gladias reached the plaza’s east entrance, Magnus noticed the heavy transports waiting outside. Just as he’d suspected earlier—based on trooper movement—this was the Paragon’s LZ.
“Light resistance expected ahead,” Magnus said. “Keep your eyes up.” Then he had another idea. “Anyone got any VODs left?”
Several gladias responded affirmatively. Doc even said he had one last LIMKIT4.
“Good. Take out any loadmasters still defending the HATs, and then toss your ordnance in the transports. If we’re not gonna stick around to help those Marines, we might as well make leaving a pain in the ass for Moldark.”
“Isn’t his ship atop Proconsul Tower, though?” Awen asked.
Magnus cursed. “How’d I forget about that?”
“You’ve got a few things on your mind right now.” She patted his shoulder. “Let’s do this.”
Magnus led the way, tearing a hole through the entryway with two VWMs from his back. Then he strode into the flames and emerged from the capital complex with ten HATs idling in an exterior plaza. “Light ’em up.”
He fired on the first two while simultaneously launching one of three remaining VWMs into a third. The loadmasters for each transport dove for cover—two outside of their respective shuttles, and one inside. But it didn’t matter. All their efforts were wasted as Magnus’s assault ruptured fuel cells and drive cores, blowing the ships sky-high. Deep black plumes of smoke billowed into the morning air as fragments of the wreckage pelted the ground.
Abimbola led Alpha Team to the left while Titus motioned Bravo Team to the right. Together, both units popped fraggers, and Doc threw his LIMKIT4 like an old satchel charge. The explosives created a multi-beat roar as each weapon exploded, one after the other. Cargo bays burst. Wings flew off. Cockpits shattered. Even down to the pilots who tried to crawl away, Magnus’s squad left no survivors.
Magnus continued through the maelstrom’s center, marking himself as the next waypoint for the teams. On the far side of the open ground with the exploding ships, a street ran north and south—one filled, not just with early morning traffic, but with thousands upon thousands of pedestrians fighting to get off the planet.
“So much for not creating pandemonium,” Magnus said.
But Titus thumbed over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think we helped much.” As if on cue, another fuel cell detonated, casting the street in an orange glow. Several people screamed, hugging loved ones close and veering away from the plaza.
“I think deactivating chameleon mode will let us move through the city better,” Dutch said. “People might be more prone to stepping aside if they see us coming.”
“It’s not a problem for Rohoar,” the Jujari said. “Rohoar has stepped on people before without feelings.”
“These are the ones we are trying to save, Scruffy,” Magnus said. “Remember?”
“They all look the same to Rohoar.”
“Fair enough.” Magnus chuckled. “Let’s go full visual, as per Dutch’s suggestion. Stay low. Move fast. Should be clear sailing from here.”
* * *
First squad crossed the four klicks of urban chaos in much less time than Magnus expected. Despite the mad civilian rush to find transportation, people were still people and made way for things bigger and louder than themselves. It took only a few warning shots aimed skyward to clear some of the thickest intersections, but otherwise, the gladia
’s route was unobstructed. Additionally, there were no substantial threats from city police, who probably couldn’t tell a Novian gladia from a Repub bucket given the stress they were under.
When Magnus finally crossed the main island’s eastern boardwalk and ventured into the sand, Zoll stood beside a sea skimmer, along with Charlie, Delta, and Echo Teams. There was even one new face that Magnus didn’t recognize—until he remembered the framed pictures inside the sea skimmer rental hut. But she would wait. It was Awen who caught his eye next.
She took off running toward the shore as two people ran from Zoll’s ranks to meet her. Then Awen pulled off her helmet, dropped it in the sand, and threw her arms around the two people that Magnus guessed were her parents. There wasn’t the best light to see by, but the two dau Lothliniums certainly looked Elonian—like he imagined Awen’s parents might appear. They embraced several times, holding each other’s faces, as Awen consoled them and checked them over.
“Mr. and Mrs. dau Lothlinium?” Magnus said as he drew near, clomping through the sand in his BATRIG.
“Mom? Dad?” Awen said. She pulled away from them and looked up at Magnus. “I’d like you to meet Adonis.”
Without thinking, he waved the GU90M at them. Balin and Giyel both seemed horrified. They winced and pulled Awen toward them.
Magnus tried to think of some way to recover the moment, but it was gone. Nice first impression, Adonis, he told himself. “Pleased to meet you both.”
Awen’s father raised a tentative hand in reply, and Giyel offered a weak smile.
“Mr. and Mrs. dau Lothlinium, I’m so sorry to break this up,” Magnus said. “But we can continue the reunion on the Spire. For now, we’ve got—”
“Is your fearless leader the one in the big toy?” the woman next to Zoll said. Even from some thirty meters out, Magnus could hear her voice clear as day.
Zoll nodded. “He has a thing for fun splick.”
“No kidding,” she replied as she walked around the Elonians and toward Magnus. “Bastard stole almost a dozen skimmers from the west side.” She pulled a blaster pistol from her waistband and pointed it at Magnus. “You have some nerve, whoever you are.”
“She does know you’re in a BATRIG, right?” Titus asked.
Magnus raised his eyebrows. “Apparently that doesn’t seem to—”
A blaster round bounced off his shoulder plate.
“What the hell, lady?” Magnus said over externals.
“What the hell, me? No, what the hell, you! You’re the damn fool who ripped me off.”
Magnus raised his arms as if to plead his case, but the woman shot both of them in quick succession. So, she’s good with a blaster, Magnus noted. The rounds did little more than spray some sparks in his face. But the woman’s assertiveness was formidable. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or—”
“My name’s on the damned hut, bucketheaded mech brain. And on the side of every skimmer I own. What do you mean, you don’t know who I am?”
“Jules,” Magnus said.
She threw her hands up in the air and turned around as if addressing a stadium full of people. “By mystics, the little boy’s got smarts!”
“Listen, Jules,” Magnus said, trying his best to soften his tone. “We already planned on reimbursing you for—”
“Your man Zoll over there has agreed to pay me three times their value.”
“Three?” Magnus looked to Zoll.
“Sorry, LT. But she drove a hard bargain, and we had some Repub heat.”
“I guess three times it is,” Magnus said, though he wasn’t sure where they were going to get all the credits. Maybe Abimbola could pay her in poker chips.
“And a free pass to wherever you’re going,” Jules said.
“Now hold on a second, lady.”
“Jules,” she said, correcting him.
“She did the same thing with me,” Zoll added over comms. “Pain in the ass.”
“We’re not taking you anywhere,” Magnus said.
“Like hell, you’re not. You think I wanna hang around here after all the crazy splick going on? Plus, you really think I trust you people to pay me once you’re off-planet? Uh uh, no way.”
“I hate to break up this enchanting conversation, sir,” TO-96 said.
“Oh, by all means, please do,” Magnus replied, turning from Jules.
“Azelon’s shuttle will be landing at your location in ninety seconds.”
“You’re a god, ’Six,” Magnus said. “I might just kiss both you bots when we get back to the Spire.”
“That won’t be necessary, sir.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Azelon said. Magnus could have sworn he heard every head in Granther Company turn. Azelon seemed to discern a look from TO-96 and then looked off-camera at him. “I’m detecting hostility from you, TO-96. Is there something we need to discuss?”
“Can you two baskets of digital hormones keep it in your metal knickers for one damn minute?” Caldwell said. He looked at Magnus, and the colonel’s face grew grim. “Adonis, sensors are picking up a significant power increase in Third Fleet’s weapons systems.”
Magnus noticed a ship streak across the sky much faster than any civilian transport was permitted to travel. Granted, this was an emergency. Still, the ship was the quickest object in the sky. “Moldark,” he whispered.
Caldwell spat toward his boots. “If I didn’t know better, those ships are either fixing to play a planetary game of spank your momma, or they’re prepping to—”
“Fire on the city,” Magnus said.
Caldwell nodded.
How had it come to this?
For some reason, Magnus felt sure his team would be able to raise the PDS and save the planet. Even when all three attempts failed, he thought something would come through for them in the end. After all, this wasn’t about saving the Gladio Umbra, or even a valued member of their team like Piper. This was about keeping billions of people from harm. Surely the cosmos favored their side.
“Magnus?” Caldwell’s voice snapped Magnus from his thoughts. “Get aboard as soon as that ship touches down.”
“There’s got to be another way,” Magnus said.
“Son, you tried. We all tried.” Caldwell pulled his cigar from his mouth. “Some days, you gotta know when to initiate a tactical retreat. And this is one of those days.”
“No, Colonel.” Magnus chewed on his lower lip. “We’re not quitting.”
“Dammit, Magnus!”
But Magnus closed the channel and turned back to face the city. As soon as he did, six Rhino-class armored personnel carriers emerged from the avenue Magnus had taken from the capital complex.
“APCs,” Dutch shouted, raising her weapon. Everyone else turned and raised their NOV1s too. But the vehicles weren’t firing on them.
Not yet, anyway, Magnus thought. “Hold your fire,” he shouted. “Activate chameleon mode.” The enemy could track the gladias because of their movement in the sand and through IR sensors. Still, Magnus figured his team needed every advantage they could muster in such an indefensible position. “Keep the civilians covered up.”
“What about you, LT?” Zoll asked, no doubt referring to why Magnus hadn’t cloaked his mech yet.
“I’m staying visible in case these bastards wanna chat.”
“And if they don’t?”
Magnus looked at Zoll. “That’s what I have you for.”
“La-raah,” Zoll replied.
As APCs got closer, Magnus couldn’t tell if the units were the answer to his prayers or the executioner come to put him out of his misery. Either way, these Rhinos were about to change the game.
The vehicles slowed, and still, they kept from firing. Magnus felt sure that if they were Paragon troop carriers, Granther Company would be under attack. Which meant they were Republic. Perhaps this was a member of CENTCOM coming to tell them the PDS was going up. Or maybe that the fleets were back under Republic control. Magnus was up for any good news.
Or
it’s Blackman, Magnus thought, imagining the senator double-crossing them.
Just then, all six APCs opened their port, starboard, and aft ramps, and released two Marine fire teams each. They formed a semi-circle around Magnus’s unit, confining them to the water’s edge, weapons raised. With the sound of the waves crashing behind him, Magnus waited for someone in authority to emerge from one of the Rhinos.
The large hatch above the driver’s cockpit popped open on the centermost APC. Then hydraulics flipped the lid back until a fat face emerged, illuminated by the interior lights.
25
“Commodore,” General Lovell said, hailing Seaman on the bridge from his unit’s headquarters within the Solera Fortuna. “My team is headed toward the rebel forces east of the capital district. They’re reporting heavy weapons fire, and IFF shows one Gerald Bosworth, a Galactic Republic Ambassador, in the mix. Are you aware of his involvement?”
“Negative,” Seaman replied. “That said, please advise your units to get away from the city. An LO9D strike from the Labyrinth is imminent, and several other ships in his fleet are diverting power to weapons.”
Lovell’s face froze.
For a split second, Seaman thought there was a transmission glitch. “General?”
“I understand,” Lovell replied, snapping out of his trance. “You don’t think that Moldark will actually fire on the planet, do you?”
Seaman frowned. “I do.”
“Mystics, help us,” Lovell whispered.
Seaman nodded at the sentiment. “Bring those Marines back and prepare your divisions for ship assault, as previously discussed.”
“We’ll be ready. Lovell out.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 190