Galactic Breach

by J. N. Chaney

  “I’ve got third-floor access.” The chief warrant officer pointed to another stairwell in the opposite corner of the back wall.

  Magnus moved toward him, spotting Jujari amassing between columns on the top floor, some peeking over the roof. “It’s gonna be hot up there, people.”

  “Copy,” his operators replied.

  “Simone, you still out there?”

  “Nope. I got hungry. I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  “Listen, I need you popping anything that moves on our roof.”

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Anything.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Magnus heard her slap a new power pack into her weapon. Nothing like the sound of death waiting to be dispensed.

  “Orders, Lieutenant?” Nolan asked.

  Magnus looked at the navy pilot then turned to the others. He didn’t know the names of Rix’s remaining three Marauders. “I’m first up.” He paused. “Dutch, you still good?”

  “All good, LT.”

  “I want you and Gilder up here, covering us from this floor.”

  “On the double.”

  Magnus looked back at his four members. “Nolan, you’re on my six. Marauders?”

  “I’m Silk,” a slender woman said. Like Magnus, she’d forgone wearing a helmet. She was bald with tats covering her face and head. “This here’s Nub, and that’s Dozer.” Nub had several fingers missing. Dozer’s shoulders were so broad that he must have walked sideways up the stairwell.

  “If you fight like Rix, we’re good to go.”

  “We do,” Silk replied, racking a round in her modified XD20 complete with suppressor and an extended energy magazine.

  “Here, LT,” Dutch said, emerging from the corner stairwell with Gilder.

  “Okay, listen up. We’re storming the last floor. No way we can afford to get bottlenecked again, so push through and find cover. Dutch, you got any fraggers left?”

  “Affirmative, one each.”

  “I want those preceding us up and over on each side. I’ll call for them.”

  “Copy.”

  “The rest of you, when those fraggers go, we go. Don’t drag your feet.” Nolan and the Marauders nodded. “Once we’re established, Dutch and Gilder, I want you picking up the rear.”

  “Roger that, LT,” Dutch replied.

  “Swap out energy mags often, pick your targets, and for all the mystics, no friendly fire. Dominate. Liberate.”

  “Dominate. Liberate,” Dutch replied. Gilder and Nolan nodded, echoing Magnus’s new battle mantra. Even the Marauders looked between themselves and repeated the two-word charge.

  Magnus smiled. “Let’s move.”

  22

  Awen and her three friends headed south toward the coast under the late-morning sun. They ran along the streets, descending as the blocks moved farther from the city center. Still, the height provided them a picturesque view of a purple-hued ocean that stretched to the horizon, shimmering against the sky.

  As much as Awen wanted to return home, she was going to miss this place. She’d gotten used to the star’s purple light, the forest’s night sounds, and the myriad of wonderful sights and smells. But the sense of longing went far deeper than the environment. In the last few hours, they had only scratched the surface of a civilization that deserved so much more investigation. There was a lifetime of discoveries to be made. In fact, the relationship between the Novia Minoosh and the Luma would take generations to develop. They hadn’t even left yet, and already, she wanted to come back.

  Awen and the others had been jogging for almost thirty minutes, following TO-96 the whole time. Awen was growing more fatigued with every hundred meters they ran. The activity in the Unity had really worn her out.

  At their fifth or sixth stop, the team rested against large moss-covered blocks. Awen imagined the fixtures were a part of a small park, since buildings surrounded the clearing on three sides. She could almost make out the shape of a fountain in the center with old trees towering overhead. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of jungle leaves.

  “How much farther?” Ezo asked.

  “Another four kilometers,” TO-96 replied. “The good news is that it is all downhill from here.”

  Ezo nodded.

  But the bot wasn’t satisfied. “You did not laugh.”

  “Was I supposed to?” Ezo asked.

  “Yes. It was a play on words. The phrase downhill from here has an additional meaning, does it not?”

  “Very good, ’Six. Remind me to laugh later.”

  “Delayed laughter. I did not realize that was a thing.”

  “It’s not,” Sootriman said. “He’s messing with you, Tee-Oh.”

  “Ah, I see. Thank you, Sootriman. It is helpful to know when I am being messed with.” Suddenly, TO-96 froze, staring back toward the city center.

  “What is it, buddy?” Ezo followed the bot’s eyes up the road. “See something?”

  “They’re coming.”

  “Wait—as in, right now?” Awen asked. “The landing party is following us?”

  “It seems so, Awen. I am seeing what the Novia see, and their sensors are picking up movement four hundred meters behind us and to the east.”

  “How are they tracking us?” Ezo asked.

  “Inconclusive. But their means are accurate, and they are fast.”

  “We’ve got to keep moving.” Awen stood, but a wave of vertigo touched her senses, and she caught herself on Ezo’s shoulder.

  “Whoa, whoa—you all right there, Star Queen?”

  “Awen!” Sootriman was by her side in an instant. “You okay?”

  “I’m… I’m fine. I just… need… give me a second.”

  “I am afraid you do not have many seconds, Awen. May I carry you if you need further assistance?” the bot asked.

  “No.” Awen waved him off. “I think I’ll be fine. I’m just tired, that’s all. Everything else is fine.”

  “Your use of the word fine seems to indicate that you are not actually fine.” TO-96 looked at Sootriman. “That is a thing, too, right?”

  Sootriman laughed just as a blaster bolt exploded against a tree trunk not three meters from Awen’s head. Sparks erupted in the air, showering all four figures with dazzling motes of light.

  “Take cover!” Ezo drew his SUPRA 945 pistol from his holster and fired three blaster rounds down the street.

  Awen and Sootriman dove behind one of the large concrete blocks while TO-96 focused on the direction of the shot. More incoming blaster fire filled the park, sparks lighting up the undergrowth.

  Ezo took cover beside a tree. “How many are there, ’Six?”

  “There look to be at least two dozen troopers armed with XM40 blasters, at least if those rounds are any indication.”

  “Two dozen?” Ezo looked incredulous. Awen thought he might have an aneurysm.

  “They are moving with military-grade precision and coming in fast.”

  “I guess that solves the question about whether or not they’re hostile,” Awen added.

  “Would you like me to take defensive actions, sir?”

  “Defensive actions?” Ezo winced as two more blaster bolts smacked the tree he hid behind. “Take offensive measures, ’Six! Offensive measures!”

  “As you wish.”

  TO-96 raised both hands. First, a salvo of microrockets leaped from his wrist and wound their way toward the approaching troopers. The contrails rolled like storm clouds as the projectiles screamed against the building faces. The missiles detonated in turbulent gouts of orange flames and shrapnel.

  TO-96 followed the action up with his other wrist, delivering a withering stream of fire from his XM31 Type-R blaster. Awen chanced a look and noticed that even at this distance, troopers fell to the road and dove for cover.

  “Time to move,” the bot said. “I suggest you resume jogging, though at a faster rate.”

  “On it!” Ezo yelled, coaxing Sootriman and Awen to emerge from cover
and take to the road.

  The four of them continued down the street, this time hugging the buildings and staying on the sidewalk. TO-96 picked up the rear and continued peppering the enemy with bursts from his XM31.

  Whatever fatigue had dogged Awen before was gone now. Adrenaline had her legs pumping so hard her thigh and calf muscles felt numb. She could smell the charged scent of ozone and the smoke of activated explosives. Awen threw her hands over her head and ducked as more blaster rounds struck the building overhead. Bits of stone stung her forearms and littered her hair.

  Then she heard TO-96 give firm instructions. “Cover your ears, and open your mouths.”

  “What? Why?” Awen yelled.

  “Gauss cannon fire!” Ezo replied. “Do it!”

  Awen covered her ears and opened her mouth, still unsure why she was doing it. She glanced over her shoulder to see the robot dig its feet into the pavement and bend its knees. Then something broke the sound barrier at the bot’s shoulder. The next thing Awen knew, a concussion wave pushed her forward, her clothes rippling in the blast. Her head rang, her eyes, ears, and nose tingling.

  Farther up the street, a gray plume shot up from the road and engulfed the entire scene. Awen blinked, unsure what to make of everything. All she could figure was that TO-96 had delivered a lethal strike to the pursuing enemy.

  “Keep running, everyone. I insist.”

  “Got it, ’Six!”

  Faster and faster, Awen ran, unsure if her legs would keep up with her body. She careened at a breakneck speed toward the ocean. She could smell the sea despite the chaos behind her. Salt wafted in the wind, as did distant bird sounds. The calls weren’t the same as those on Elonia and Worru, but they were close enough that she guessed they came from this world’s waterfowl.

  The four of them ran on, feet pounding the pavement. Gravity aided Awen, but her legs suddenly felt the burn that adrenaline had kept at bay. It had been several seconds since any blaster rounds had been fired her way, and she wondered if maybe Ninety-Six had terminated their pursuers.

  Any sense of security, however, was dashed when a blaster round struck Sootriman in the back, burning a hole through her shirt and into her flesh. She screamed. Ezo turned too late to catch her as her arms and head slammed into the road. He skidded to a stop while Awen flew past, unable to slow.

  “Keep going, Awen,” TO-96 instructed. “You too, Ezo.”

  “She needs my help!” Ezo yelled.

  “No, she needs my help. You must keep going.”

  More shots glanced off the street and buildings, sparks exploding from multiple directions. Ezo and TO-96 returned fire. The troopers—who Awen could see were clad in black Republic-type armor bearing three white stripes—ducked for cover. The robot’s aim was true and dispatched at least three troopers; Ezo struck a fourth in the soft gap between chest plate and shoulder.

  TO-96 knelt and scooped up Sootriman as easily as a Mammothian bear might pick up a cub. He slung her large body over his shoulder and resumed his pace. “Follow me!” The bot turned left onto a side street.

  Immediately, the blaster fire subsided. Awen and Ezo followed him down the lane, jumping over vine-covered obstructions and through a gap between buildings. Then he turned right down an alley that descended toward the ocean. The bot thumped down steps, careful to keep Sootriman’s head from bouncing against his back. She cried out in pain several times but seemed to be holding herself together.

  Awen could only imagine how the injury burned, and she wondered if it was serious. “Hang in there, Sootriman!” she called from behind.

  The steps continued down, moving below overpasses, until the ocean was blocked from sight. Soon, even the sun was completely obscured as the path became more like a tunnel than an alley. The vegetation thinned, and within moments, the group’s retreat was shrouded in darkness.

  “Continue to follow me,” TO-96 instructed. Lights appeared on his head and torso, two of which faced forward, illuminating the way ahead.

  Ezo and Awen stuck close behind as the robot turned this way and that. He seemed to choose tunnels at random, though she knew he was as calculated as ever—and assisted by the Novia each step of the way. It smelled dank down here, like old runoff and mildew. She wondered how this course had anything to do with getting them to a starship.

  “We’re almost to safety,” TO-96 said. “One hundred meters.”

  “You hear that, baby?” Ezo asked. “You’re almost safe.”

  Sootriman groaned.

  Just then, streaks of red blaster fire strobed down the tight corridors, ricocheting off the walls and ceiling. Despite the labyrinth of darkened tunnels, the troopers had still managed to track Awen and her company. She yelped when a bolt glanced off the wall near her head. She felt her neck and head, thinking maybe she’d been struck, but she hadn’t.

  “Stand aside!” TO-96 ordered.

  Awen and Ezo pressed themselves against the wall as the bot extended his arm down the alley and fired three micro-rockets. Their propulsion cones lit the passage like daylight. Awen covered her ears and squinted as the missiles whizzed by her head, the hot blast prickling her skin. A beat later, the three explosions shook the air. The blaster fire ceased, and Awen heard the screams of men in death throes.

  TO-96 raced on, taking one more sharp turn into—a dead end.

  “Not good, ’Six!” Ezo scolded him, sending a few more blaster bolts around the corner. “Not good at all!”

  “Please, sir. Do not be alarmed.” The bot faced the flat stone wall, standing completely still. Sootriman moved, a pained look crossing her drowsy face. Then, as if summoned by a small quake in the ground, the stone wall split in two—a slender crack appearing from top to bottom. The wall sections pitched inward like doors, grinding against the damp pavement.

  “This way.” TO-96 stepped through the gap. Awen and Ezo followed, turning sideways to avoid the rough edges. No sooner were they through than the doors began to close again. Awen could hear shouting back down the tunnel, followed by heavy footsteps. She wondered if the stone doors would close in time—wondered if another blaster round would make it through and strike her in the back this time.

  But the blaster fire never came. Instead, the stone doors sealed shut with a whoomph. All that was left were the sounds of their fleeing feet echoing down a long tunnel—a long tunnel that didn’t smell like mold or decaying matter. Instead, it smelled… sterile. Like it had been cleaned recently. And the surface beneath her feet felt glossy smooth. This was no beggars’ alley. This was a hidden passage into something very important.

  23

  Magnus and the remaining members of Delta Platoon were stacked in the circular stairwell. Dutch and Gilder had taken up defensive positions on the first floor, straddling either side of the square in the balcony’s shadow. Jujari fire had ebbed, and Magnus slowed his breathing to eight breaths per minute. This was the calm before the storm.

  “Dutch, you ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Toss ’em,” Magnus said.

  “Fraggers out!”

  Magnus let out a breath. A beat later, the two grenades shook the third level. The sharp smell of explosives stung Magnus’s nose. It was all he needed for his body to get moving. He turned from the stairwell, MAR30 up and ready, and swept for targets. To his immediate left, along the back wall, two Selskrit stumbled. They tried standing up, recovering from the grenades, but Magnus helped them stay down. Then he took cover behind the center column and continued to keep Jujari heads down as the rest of his team emerged from the stairwell.

  Nolan knelt beneath the railing next to Magnus, while Silk, Nub, and Dozer fanned out along the balcony’s right wing. The majority of the enemy’s fire came from the two doorways at the far ends of each wing, leading toward the front of the house. Magnus was right to have been hypervigilant about the skiff’s overfiring: if there were hostages in this place, they were in front on the top floor.

  A Selskrit body toppled off the roof and
fell three stories to the middle of the square. Simone is busy. The sight momentarily distracted the Jujari on the third floor. It was an opportunity one didn’t waste. Magnus rolled from behind the column and advanced, firing steadily on each combatant who dared fire on him. His MAR30 barked out one round, then another, then another, methodically dispatching chest shot, head shot, chest shot, head shot until Magnus had made it around the corner and halfway down the left balcony wing.

  The enemy, facing a last-stand scenario, concentrated their fire. Dense blaster fire bathed the balcony with red light. Magnus tried several times to bring his weapon around the column he stood behind, but it was too risky. The good news was the Delta Platoon had cornered the remaining threat. The bad news was they were fighting like wild beasts. Fitting, Magnus thought.

  His vision flashed, followed by a wave of vertigo. Magnus reached for the column and tried to steady himself. For all the mystics! The white flash faded, and his eyesight went wavy, the world looking like a mirage shimmering in the desert. Was I hit? What the hell is going on?

  Lines appeared in his vision, creating some sort of hexagonal grid. Magnus could feel himself panicking. Had something happened to his bioteknia eyes? Were they failing? Not now, dammit! Not now!

  The waves subsided, and Magnus regained his balance. As soon as he looked up, he noticed three-dimensional shapes forming—Jujari—behind the next room’s wall. Each figure was defined in shades of gray and outlined in white.

  What in the—

  Suddenly, the bodies shifted to red, and designators appeared, floating beside them. Target: Jujari, one display tag read. Four more tags floated beside the remaining figures.

  “Seriously?” Magnus said.

  “Come again?” Silk yelled from across the square.

  Magnus looked over at Silk, who was taking cover behind a column. Her body went from gray to blue. A tag identified her as Friendly: Silk. Nub and Dozer, taking up positions behind her, had similar tags. In the floor beneath them, Magnus saw Dutch. Then he looked directly between his feet, and the top of Gilder’s body appeared.

  “What the—”