That Blackman had not died at Moldark’s hand roiled the dark lord to no end. It was Blackman who had betrayed him most, after all. But in so doing, the man had inadvertently revealed just how evil the human species was. Like the Novia Minoosh, they were takers—scavengers—stealing from the weak to satiate their endless appetites. So, in the end, Blackman had done the cosmos a favor. He’d revealed the need to wipe out the species.
Capriana Prime’s destruction was by no means the end of the humans, just as the Oorajee’s fleet collapse was not the end of the Jujari. Both losses would set their species back hundreds of years, but that meant Moldark had more time—time he would need to replenish his resources and strengthen his numbers. Only then could he finish exterminating the Jujari and the humans wherever they hid—just as he would finish doing to his greatest foe, the Novia Minoosh.
So many wars to conduct, so many ways to end them.
Despite First Fleet’s heavy losses, Admiral Brighton had informed Moldark that Second and Third Fleets were faring even worse. As if it’s my fault? The dark lord refused to believe that the losses had anything to do with his excursion to the surface. No, this was on Brighton.
“My lord,” Brighton said through the holo window that floated in front of Moldark’s chair. “I must insist that you proceed to your shuttle.”
“I thought I told you to move the Labyrinth back, Admiral,” Moldark replied.
Brighton cleared his throat. “We have, my lord. But we’ve also run out of—space.”
Moldark blinked in dismay. “Admiral Brighton, the environment outside our ship is called space for a reason. How can there—”
“There seems to be a ship blocking our retreat.”
Even before Brighton showed him images of the Novian warship, Moldark knew the surprise attack was from the same rebel vessel that opposed him over Oorajee—the same rebels who fought against him in the capital.
“Force your way past them, you fool,” Moldark spat.
“Yes, my lord. However—”
A violent force threw Moldark back in his seat as the Labyrinth slowed. Brighton, likewise, flew off-screen, jolted by the ship’s sudden change in inertia.
“Admiral,” Moldark roared as tremors shook his chair. “What is going on with my ship?”
Brighton reappeared, his hands trembling as he brushed the hair off his forehead. “We have sustained severe damage to sections one and two, my lord, all decks.”
“From what?”
Brighton swallowed. “The unidentified ship, sir.”
“It’s Novian, dammit! Stop saying it’s unidentifiable! I told you the species—”
More explosions shook the Labyrinth, jostling Moldark in his chair. When Brighton reappeared for the second time, his face was pale.
“As I said, my lord, I must insist you evacuate. I have readied your ship—”
“I’m on my way.”
“Very good, my lord.”
“And you, Brighton?”
The admiral paused, as if unsure of what to do with the personal question. “Me, my lord?”
“What are your plans?”
An awkward silence followed as Brighton’s lips struggled to form words. “I will stay with the ship until the end, my lord.”
Moldark couldn’t decide if Brighton’s decision was bravery or cowardice—the former being the mark of an extraordinary though nearsighted commander, the latter, the easy escape from life under Moldark’s thumb. “Very well.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Brighton said hurriedly.
“Whatever for?”
“The opportunity to serve you, of course.” The man stood to attention and saluted Moldark with an extended arm and a clenched fist—the Paragon’s position of power. Moldark shook his head. Clearly, Brighton had spent enough time in proximity to the dark lord that the underling’s reason centers were co-opted.
For a fleeting moment, Moldark considered rescuing the man. The dark lord would still need commanders, and Brighton had proved faithful. Then again, his promotion had been a matter of convenience, and the admiral did seem to exude a particular weakness, one that kept him from making the hard decisions. Perhaps his loss was for the best.
Moldark flicked a hand at Brighton. “Yes, yes. Get on with it then. Farewell, Admiral.”
“Farewell, my lord.”
* * *
The Labyrinth shuddered again as Moldark made his way to the Peregrine. The four-person fire team that escorted him moved without saying a word. They navigated the bustling corridors quickly, stopping only once when the ship’s shaking grew too severe. The lights flickered, and several people screamed in the distance. But the moment the vibrations settled, Moldark bid the men keep moving.
Despite feeding not more than two hours before, Moldark could already feel his body—Kane’s body—growing weak. He would need a new host before long. But people feared him among the Republic, what little of it remained, and reputation had its advantages. Plus, he had labored diligently to find the perfect host in this part of the cosmos—it would be a shame to lose it now.
The escort led Moldark into a busy hangar bay where the Peregrine awaited. The ship sat like a blackbird of prey eager to take flight. Outside, starfighters crisscrossed the void, filling space with blaster rounds and missiles.
Captain Yaeger stood beside the Peregrine’s under-nose ramp with his helmet beneath his arm. “Lord Moldark,” he said, saluting.
“Good to see you again, Captain.”
“And you, my lord. My orders are to escort you wherever it is you wish to go.”
“Very well. And do you intend to fly this ship as well as guard me?”
“No, my lord. Captain Ellis and his First Officer are already onboard and ready to depart.”
“Shall we, then?” Moldark motioned toward the ramp, but Yaeger gestured for the dark lord to proceed ahead. No sooner was he on board than bright lights appeared in the hangar bay. Something significant was happening outside the Labyrinth.
“Please be seated, my lord,” Captain Yaeger said as the fire team filed up and closed the ramp.
Moldark headed for the bridge where he found Captain Ellis at the helm and a co-pilot beside him. The dark lord took a seat behind the co-pilot so that he could see Ellis. “What is it, Captain?”
“Reports of heavy torpedo fire to our stern,” Ellis replied. “The Dreadnaught Terra Rosa, my lord.”
“Then, I suggest you proceed with haste.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ellis activated the ship’s repulsors, hovered, and then backed through the atmospheric shield and into hard vacuum. The Labyrinth’s death tremors were replaced with the steady hum of a shuttle underway, but Moldark also had a clear view of the Rosa’s assault. The behemoth ship had closed to within three or four kilometers of the Labyrinth, and it appeared to be firing every torpedo in its arsenal.
Point defense fire from the Labyrinth, as well as from several other nearby ships, kept the majority of the projectiles from striking the Super Dreadnaught’s stern. But given the volume of enemy ordnance, even a minority of the torpedo-fire was more than the Labyrinth could endure. Dozens, if not scores of torpedoes collided with the Labyrinth’s stern, bathing the aft section in light. A chain reaction of explosions moved toward the bow, coming dangerously close to the Peregrine.
“Do you intend to watch all day, Captain?” Moldark asked.
“Apologies, my lord.” Ellis steered the craft away from the impending destruction and accelerated.
“You may, of course, view the images on holos.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ellis nodded at his first officer, and then brought up two display screens, both with different views of the Labyrinth.
Moldark gazed at the ill-fated ship as explosions rippled along the hull, racing toward the bow. Fire enveloped the Labyrinth, deck after deck, section after section until the entire vessel blew apart and its remains flung into the remaining warships.
The advantage of the whole scenario, Moldark realized
, was that the Peregrine had the perfect cover. No one would be watching his escape—how could they in the face of such inexorable and magnificent destruction?
Captain Ellis maneuvered away from the battlefront, past the Novian ghost ship, and away from Capriana Prime. Then he turned to address Moldark. “My lord. Where do you wish to go?”
Moldark had already been pondering the question, of course. And there were many options, to be sure. One was to head to Worru, to exact revenge against the other traitor, So-Elku. But doing so would require more planning and more power. The mystic was not to be trifled with, and Moldark would need time before engaging the Luma Master.
The ultimate choice, of course, was to head back to metaspace and complete his original mission of wiping out the Novia Minoosh and their singularity once and for all. It seemed such an easy task, yet one that had eluded him as of late. Still, the chance would come—he could feel it. Plus, Ithnor Ithelia couldn’t be a destination any more than a fictional realm could, not until he’d obtained coordinates for a quantum tunnel. And without the child, creating a tunnel or finding coordinates back to metaspace—to his home universe—would prove impossible.
Which left the most obvious option: returning to Oorajee. If he could salvage even some of the ships from this costly encounter, he might succeed in exterminating the Jujari while he bided his time for the Novia Minoosh. A final assault on the desert world had another benefit too—luring the rebels to him. Perhaps then he would get their mystics to create a quantum tunnel for him—if not willingly, then possibly through deceit.
“Oorajee,” Moldark said at last.
Ellis raised an eyebrow in surprise. “My lord?”
“We have unfinished business there, do we not?”
“If you’re referring to the Jujari still left on the planet, then, yes, my lord. We have unfinished business.”
“Lay in the course, Captain. Additionally, I want you to order the rest of the fleet back to Oorajee.”
Ellis seemed stunned. “Me, my lord?”
“Yes, you. Is there a problem?”
“Well, no. But, isn’t that a job for—”
“A senior commander? Ellis, look around. Are you not the most senior naval officer on this ship after me?”
“Well, of course, my lord, but I—”
“And wherever I go, do I not bring the heart of the Paragon with me?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Then you are my commanding officer, Ellis. At least until all our remaining ships are accounted for. Now, send the orders, and let’s get free of this tomb.”
“Yes, my lord. As you wish.”
Moldark sat back in his seat and watched the final moments of battle play out. As soon as Ellis gave the order for retreat, the Peregrine slipped into subspace, and the scene above Capriana Prime vanished.
* * *
MAGNUS and AWEN return in TERMINAL FALLOUT, available on Amazon now.
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List of Main Characters
Abimbola: Miblimbian. Age: 41. Planet of origin: Limbia Centralla. Giant warlord of the Dregs, outskirts of Oosafar, Oorajee. Bright-blue eyes, black skin, tribal tattoos, scar running from neck to temple. Wears a bandolier of frag grenades across his chest and an old bowie knife strapped to his thigh. Never leaves home without a poker chip.
Adonis Olin Magnus: Human. Age: 30. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Lieutenant, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. Baby face, short beard, green eyes. Preferred weapon: MAR30. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Allan “Mouth” Franklin: Human. Age 28. Planet of origin: Juna Major. Corporal, heavy-weapons operator, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Aubrey Dutch: Human. Age: 25. Planet of origin: Deltaurus Three. Corporal, weapons specialist, Galactic Republic Marines. Small in stature. Close-cut dark hair, intelligent brown eyes. Loves her firearms.
Awen dau Lothlinium: Elonian. Age: 26. Planet of origin: Elonia. Order of the Luma, Special Emissary to the Jujari. Pointed ears, purple eyes. Wears red-and-black robes and has a Luma medallion around her neck. Won’t back down from anyone.
Darin Stone: Human. Age: 34. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Senator in the Galactic Republic. Husband to Valerie Stone, father to Piper. Impossibly white smile, well-groomed blond hair, radiant-blue eyes. Luxuriantly tan.
Gerald Bosworth III: Human. Age: 54. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Republic ambassador, special envoy to the Jujari. Fat jowls, bushy monobrow. Massively obese and obscenely repugnant.
Idris Ezo: Nimprith. Age: 27. Planet of origin: Caledonia. Bounty hunter, trader, suspected fence and smuggler. Captain of Geronimo Nine. Wears a long gray leather coat, white knit turtleneck, black pants, glossy black boots. Preferred sidearm: SUPRA 945 blaster pistol.
Josiah Wainwright: Human. Age: 35. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Captain, Alpha Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. A legend in his own time.
Michael “Flow” Deeks: Human. Age: 27. Planet of origin: Vega. Sergeant, sniper, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Miguel “Cheeks” Chico: Human. Age 26. Planet of origin: Trida Minor. Corporal, breacher, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Shane Nolan: Human. Age 25. Planet of origin: Sol Sella. Chief Warrant Officer, Republic Navy, pilot in command of light armored transport Sparrow 271. Auburn hair, pale skin.
So-Elku: Human. Age: 51. Planet of origin: Worru. Luma Master, Order of the Luma. Baldpate, thin beard, dark penetrating eyes. Wears green-and-black robes.
Sootriman: Caledonian. Age: 29. Planet of origin: Caledonia. Warlord of Ki Nar Four, “Tamer of the Four Tempests,” alleged ex-wife of Idris Ezo. Tall, with dark almond eyes, tanned olive skin, dark-brown hair.
TO-96: Robot; navigation class, heavily modified. Manufacturer: Advanced Galactic Solutions (AGS), Capriana Prime. Suspected modifier: Idris Ezo. Round head and oversized eyes, transparent blaster visor, matte dark-gray armor plating, and exposed metallic articulated joints. Forearm microrocket pod, forearm XM31 Type-R blaster, dual shoulder-mounted gauss cannons.
Tony Haney: Human. Age: 24. Planet of origin: Fitfi Isole. Private First Class, medic, Galactic Republic Marines.
Valerie Stone: Human. Age: 29. Planet of origin: Worru. Wife of Senator Darin Stone, mother of Piper. Blond hair, light-blue eyes.
Volf Nos Kil: Human. Age: 32. Planet of origin: Haradia. Captain, the Paragon. Personal guard and chief enforcer for Admiral Kane.
Waldorph Gilder: Human. Age: 23. Planet of origin: Haradia. Private First Class, flight engineer, Galactic Republic Marines. Barrel-chested. Can fix anything.
Wendell Kane: Human. Age: 52. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Fleet admiral of the Galactic Republic’s Third Fleet, captain of the Black Labyrinth. Leader of the Paragon, a black-operations special Marine unit. Bald, with heavily scarred skin. One eye pale pink, the other dark brown.
William Samuel Caldwell: Human. Age 60. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Colonel, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, Galactic Republic Marines. Cigar eternally wedged in the corner of his mouth. Gray hair cut high and tight.
Willowood: Human. Age: 61. Planet of origin: Kindarah. Luma Elder, Order of the Luma. Wears dozens of bangles and necklaces. Aging but radiant blue eyes and a mass of wiry gray hair. Friend and mentor to Awen.
Piper Stone: Human. Age: 9. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Daughter of Senator Darin and Valerie Stone. Wispy blond hair; freckle-faced. Wears a puffy winter coat, tights, and oversized snow boots. Carries a holo-pad and her stuffed corgachirp, Talisman.
Rawmut: Tawnhack,
Jujari. Age: Unknown. Planet of origin: Oorajee. Jujari mwadim of Oosafar on Oorajee. Chief of the massive hyena-like warrior species.
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Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 198