“Step away from the women, now!” Magnus ordered over external speakers, feeling his blood flush his face.
“If you want in,” said an angry-faced Marine with a thick neck and bulging shoulders, “you’re gonna have to wait your turn.”
“I think you misunderstand my purpose for being here,” Magnus replied. He took two strides forward and then brought the butt of his MC90 across the man’s face. Magnus struck him with such force that the man spun away from the table and collapsed onto the floor.
The second man at the desk watched his fellow Marine flop to the ground. He looked back at Magnus and then at last ceased his gyrating, though he failed to retreat from the girl who still wailed on the desk. The man on the floor, however, carried on, headless of Magnus’s display of force.
Magnus raised his weapon at the man behind the desk. “Off her now, splickhead,” Magnus said. The man put his hands up and backed away, rightfully more concerned with the weapon pointed at him than the limp one he was pointing at his victim.
Then Magnus turned toward the Marine still assaulting the second woman on the floor. “I said get off her, you son of a bitch!”
“Or what?” the man said. As he looked up, Magnus caught the familiar face of Argus. But this beast was a shadow of his baby brother. A wild sneer wrinkled his nose, and scratch marks along his neck and cheeks dripped with crimson tears. Argus’ deranged face sent a chill up Magnus’s bare skin. He reached for his helmet and ripped it off his head.
“Or I’m going to beat the living splick out of you, Argus.”
Magnus’s brother barely even flinched when he saw his brother. “Go tend to your own flock, Adonis. I’m busy here.”
Magnus reapplied his grip on his MC90, fighting a battle of wills that caused him to lower and then raise the weapon’s barrel on Argus. “Get off her, Argus.”
“Or what, big brother?” Argus spit on the girl’s bare chest. “You’re gonna shoot me?”
Magnus swallowed.
This was a psychotic breakdown if he’d ever seen one. His little brother had always been the smarter of the two of them, painfully so. Where Adonis was a brute who solved most problems at the playground with a quick punch to a pain point, Argus had used more subtle ways of keeping bullies at bay—like convincing them their parents were watching from the cameras in the ceiling, or constructing fake bombs and putting them in their lockers at school.
When they both signed up for the Marines, Adonis had tried to convince Argus not to go through with it. While brilliant, he wasn’t sure his younger brother could handle the violence. Even back then, he knew it did things to a person… things Adonis wasn’t sure Argus was built for. And now the fear that those demons had whispered to him more than two years ago had come back to bite them both.
“Argus, this isn’t you,” Magnus said.
“Just get off her, bro!” said the second Marine still standing with his manhood out. The first Marine was slowly recovering from the blow Magnus had dealt him.
“Listen to your man, Argus,” Magnus said, trying to talk above the young woman’s cries. “Just get off her and we’ll walk away from this.”
“Nah,” Argus said, then pulled a pistol from the rear waistband of his torn gym shorts. He placed it under the girl’s chin, causing her to scream. “You were always the one in control, brother. But not tonight.”
“Argus, put the—”
“Sounds like everyone’s dying up there, and this… this right here… this is how we’ve chosen to go out. Not dying at the hands of a bastard fish just so some Senators can keep their precious vacation homes under Repub jurisdiction.” Argus started shaking his head. Veins bulging. Sweat streaming. “Nah, not today. We get our share tonight. This is what we deserve.”
“And what about them,” Magnus said, indicating the two women. The first girl was holding her clothes to her chest and stepped behind Magnus, whimpering. “Is this what they deserve too?”
Even as he posed the question, Magnus noted that the first Marine was trying to stand. How the giant hadn’t blacked out from the blow was beyond Magnus. Either the boy had the constitution of a starship or he was hopped up on something powerful. “Easy there, big guy. No sudden moves.”
Magnus was beginning to regret taking his helmet off. If things got out of hand here, he wouldn’t be able to call for backup, and he had no way of subduing three Marines without badly hurting them—which he would do if necessary.
“I’m tired of talking,” Argus said. He pushed the pistol further under the girl’s chin. She screamed. Magnus pointed his MC90 directly at Argus. “See there, Nos Kil?” Argus looked to the Marine, who was pulling himself up on a crate. “My brother is actually thinking of pulling the trigger on me. And isn’t that just like family?”
Magnus noticed the Marine called Nos Kil look at something adjacent to him. It was another pistol. Damn, Magnus thought, where are these guys getting officers’ sidearms? “Don’t even think about it,” Magnus said, nodding Nos Kil away from the pistol.
Suddenly, Argus yanked the young woman off the floor and pulled her up to stand in front of him. He used her body as a shield while keeping the pistol pointed at her head. Magnus swirled back to Argus. Nos Kil looked back at the pistol. Magnus aimed back to Nos Kil.
Splick. This was going sideways faster than he could have imagined.
“Listen,” said the only compliant Marine of the three. “I don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt here.”
“Shut up, Caldwell,” Nos Kil said. Magnus glanced at the kid and wondered if he was related to the Major. He certainly had similar features. “You’re such a disgrace.”
“No, I’m not.”
Nos Kil gestured to the man’s loins. “Yeah, ya are.”
Self-conscious for the first time since entering the room, Caldwell zipped up his pants and shuffled further into the corner.
“Coward,” Nos Kil seethed.
“I’m getting tired of this,” Argus said. “She dies…” Then he stretched the weapon out and pointed it at Magnus. “Or you die.”
“Argus, stand down!” Magnus ordered.
“You’re gonna shoot me? Over this?”
“I wouldn’t have my weapon up if I didn’t mean to use it. Now stand down.”
“So… this is what it comes down to then.” Argus looked to the side with a disgusted chuckle. “Figures. You never could stay out of my business.”
“Argus, I’m not gonna ask you again. Put your weapon down and step away from the woman. This is your last warning.” He moved his finger from the trigger guard and placed it on his trigger.
Nos Kil lunged for the pistol on the crate. Magnus pivoted and lined up a shot, but the Marine was fast. He grabbed the pistol and squeezed the trigger, but not before Magnus fired a round into the man’s shoulder. Nos Kil’s shot with the pistol went wide. He screamed, dropping the weapon, and reached for his injured shoulder.
A groan from the room’s corner drew Magnus’s attention. He glanced over long enough to see Caldwell slump against some crates. He’d been shot in the chest. Nos Kil looked up at Caldwell too—but where Magnus expected Nos Kil to show some sort of remorse for accidentally shooting his squadmate, the wretch displayed a look of curious satisfaction.
Magnus turned back to Argus and looked him in the eyes. But in the time it took for him to refocus, his brother raised the pistol to the girl’s right temple and fired. Driven by instinct, Magnus fired at nearly the same moment, delivering a blaster bolt to the center of Argus’s forehead. The girl’s left temple erupted in an electrical burst of gray matter and blood while Argus’s head snapped back, tossing him into a cluster of crates.
The girl behind Magnus shrieked while Nos Kil dove for the pistol he’d dropped.
“You touch it, you die, Marine,” Magnus said. The barrel of his MC90 hovered less than a meter behind Nos Kil’s head.
* * *
“What the hell?” Flow asked, removing his helmet as Magnus emerged from the basement stai
rwell. Magnus held Nos Kil at the end of his MC90 while the surviving Nimprinthian young woman clutched Magnus’s free arm like she might drown if she let go.
“Get an MP,” Magnus said. “This one here needs court-martialing.” He didn’t bother mentioning that the man needed a medic for his shoulder too. Hell, the blaster bolt had cauterized the wound.
“Copy that,” Flow said, waving at someone across the room. “And this lovely young—”
“Careful, Flow. I’m not in the mood.”
“She needs a medic,” Flow said, employing a sudden and wise course correction. “Miss, would you please come with me?”
But the young woman shook her head and clutched Magnus’s arm all the harder.
“I’ll take her,” Magnus said. He breathed a small sigh of relief as two MPs put flexicuffs on Nos Kil. “Detain this one. If we last the night, Second Lieutenant Wainwright will have the charges.”
“Understood,” said one of the MPs. Then they hauled Nos Kil away… but not before the soon-to-be ex-Marine had something to say.
“I know what you did down there,” Nos Kil said, spitting blood as he talked. His lips were swollen, and Magnus saw that his MC90’s butt had broken a few of the Marine’s teeth.
“And I know what you did, asshole,” Magnus said.
Nos Kil sneered. The MPs jerked him away as more blaster rounds pounded the hotel’s glass exterior.
“What was that about?” Flow asked.
“Nothing worth talking about now.”
“Did you find your brother?” Flow asked.
Magnus’s eyes went out of focus as he looked past Flow’s face. “No,” was all he could manage to say. That man down there… it may have been his brother by blood, but the moment Argus placed his pistol against an innocent person’s head—hell, the moment he’d raped the poor girl—he’d stopped being a Magnus. “But let me know if you find him.”
The building trembled and the girl held tight to Magnus.
“Come on,” Flow said. “Let’s get out of here. This place is going down.”
“Copy that,” Magnus said, moving toward the exit.
5
“Magnus,” Wainwright said over comms. “I need a SITREP on the hotel.”
“It’s clear,” Magnus replied. But his mind wouldn’t let him forget his brother’s body in the basement. Images of Argus’s head tipping back, his body falling to the ground, kept fighting for prominence. If he wasn’t careful, they’d distract him, and distractions meant more Marines dying. Instead, he pushed the emotions down and focused on his CO’s voice.
“Good work, sergeant. I need you and the Four on the beach, double time.”
“Roger that.” Magnus liked when Wainwright used the moniker.
“Seems the enemy is breaking off its attack on the rest of the village and focusing all efforts—”
Magnus listened as muted blaster fire filled the comms.
“Focusing all efforts on the beach,” Wainwright continued. “Take as many ammo crates as you can with you. We’re running light. We lost some of our supply chains.”
“Copy that, lieutenant. We’re on our way.”
“One last thing, Magnus.”
“Of course.”
“Word has it you and your squad are running around in your shorts and sandals.”
“Didn’t have time to get our armor on, sir.”
“Make time, or else everyone on the beach might think you’re showing up for a swim and not a fight.”
“Copy that, sir.”
* * *
It took five minutes for Magnus, Flow, Mouth, and Cheeks to suit up and move through the village to the south. Magnus was grateful that Wainwright had ordered them to suit up. He doubted he would have taken the time given how badly they were under attack. But Wainwright wasn’t an idiot—a well-armored Marine could do more for the company than one roaming around in their underwear. So while Wainwright may have been concerned for Magnus, he was far more concerned with the entire operation.
“Looks like the most action is at the beach’s center,” Flow said over comms as they stopped outside a supply cache.
“Agreed,” Magnus said. Without the mortar units on the hotel’s roof, Magnus guessed the beach was going to be some highly contested territory. He stacked the ammo crates three high and latched them together, then pointed to Flow to take the handle on the other side.
“The ’kuda are trying to split us down the middle,” Cheeks added as they departed the cache and stepped out from the village huts and onto the backside of the dunes. “Divide and conquer.”
“So let’s help stem the tide,” Magnus said.
“Damn, sergeant,” Mouth added. “You collect those jokes from the brass?”
Magnus smirked. He hadn’t even meant to use the idiom while running onto a beach. “Nah. I did it just for you,” Magnus said, lying to suit the moment.
“You really shouldn’t have.”
Cheeks shoved his side of the ammo crates as they ran, jarring Mouth to the side. “That’s just the kind of son of a beach he is.”
“You’re killing me, Cheeks.” Mouth readjusted his grip on the crates.
“Look alive, Fearsome, here we go…”
Magnus crested the dunes and saw a veritable sea of ’kuda emerging from the water and running for shore. They were moving fast, with fresh troops replacing downed ones as fast as the Marines could lay down fire. While the right and left flanks certainly appeared to have their hands full, the center boasted the largest concentration of ’kuda movement.
“Let’s move these crates up as close as we can,” Magnus said. “Get the lay of the land, and then kill us some fish for dinner.” Everyone complied and then started down toward the strand.
Shortly after Magnus’s company had secured the island, engineers had taken the liberty of deploying metal barricades along the beachheads. They were spiked on one side, facing the open ocean, but flat on the other, providing protective cover for Marines in situations exactly like this. The Marines had taken to calling them urchins based on their similarities to the aquatic lookalike.
Magnus slid down the dune face—his boots cutting long trenches along the embankment—before taking cover behind one of the urchins with Flow. Mouth and Cheeks joined them, toting their ammo crates. The heaviest fighting was still another two hundred meters toward the ocean at the place where the water stretched onto the strand. Magnus gave the order to advance, and all four of them made for the next urchin.
Several stray ’kuda rounds whizzed past their heads. “Careful,” Magnus reminded them. “Eyes up.”
The Four poured on the speed as they finally made it to their fifth urchin, one backfilled with several Marines who—apparently—had decided they couldn’t advance further. According to the map on his HUD, Wainwright was still two urchins ahead. If Magnus was going to advance further and join him, he wouldn’t be carrying ammo crates.
Magnus ordered his boys to set the crates down and then spotted another sergeant. He tapped the Marine on the shoulder and opened a channel based on the man’s helmet ident chip.
“What’ya got, Sergeant Mendes?” Magnus asked.
The Marine turned and paused, probably registering Magnus’s stats. “You’re a Magnus too? Seen your brother anywhere? Cause right now, he’s AWOL.”
Magnus winced. His baby brother sure was away without leave—permanently. Dammit, Magnus, keep it together.
“Mendes,” Magnus restated, “anything I need to know?”
“Just what you see. Damn fish won’t stop coming. Whole ocean’s full of the bastards. And without those mortar emplacements…”
“Copy that.” Magnus pointed to the crates on the ground. “Got a birthday present for you. Make sure they get around.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“You can buy me a beer.”
“Roger.”
Magnus picked up one crate and asked Flow to mag lock it to his back. The crate would make running harder, but based o
n how close they were to the front, he wouldn’t have to haul it far.
“Happy hunting, Mendes,” Magnus said, tapping the man on the shoulder and making to move around the urchin.
“Hold up, where you going, Magnus?”
Magnus tilted his head at the other NCO. “To the front of the class, Mendes. Where else?”
“OTF, Magnus,” Mendes said, his voice not without a sense of awe in it… and maybe an element of shame. Not all Marines were equal on the battlefield.
Magnus raised a fist and punched Mendes’s knuckle. “OTF.”
* * *
“Weapons hot, boys,” Magnus ordered, back on their squad channel. “Take out any fish that puckers, and watch for IFF markers.” The identify friend or foe icons appeared in their HUDs to separate potential targets from fellow Marines, and Magnus was diligent to remind his men about them. Firing on an enemy was easy when they were the only thing in your sight picture. But those opportunities were rarer than civilians thought. Most combat, especially the brutal splick, was fought in various degrees of confusion. Battle was a living thing that moved, constantly changing shape. If you got comfortable in one position, even for a second, it wouldn’t be long before something doubled back to bite you in the ass.
Magnus rolled out from behind the urchin and charged toward the waterline some thirty meters ahead. Instantly, his squad’s presence was marked by enemy blaster fire. Magnus crouched, took aim at the first fish he saw, and squeezed his MC90’s trigger. The ’kuda doubled over from the blaster shot and slumped to the side. But it wasn’t done. The fish eyed Magnus and raised its blaster. Magnus fired a second round, striking the ’kuda in the skull.
Flow, Mouth, and Cheeks took out several more Akuda as the four men charged for cover behind the next urchin. The fighting was getting thicker now, and Magnus could see Wainwright’s icon another ten meters ahead. “One more urchin to go before we’re in the worst of it,” Magnus said.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 66
