“As well they should,” Magnus replied over his external speakers.
“Hold up…” said the kid. Magnus turned halfway toward him. “That you, Magnus?”
“That’s sergeant to you.”
Nos Kil sniffed. “While I’ll be. What a coincidence.”
“Have fun feeding the fish,” Magnus said, looking back toward the line of Marines and Akuda.
“No way, man. You gotta keep me alive. I’m a prisoner here.”
“Like hell I do.” But even as he spoke the words, Magnus knew he couldn’t just let the Marine die here. Everything in him wanted to let the bastard get ripped apart by these devils—and he’d be happy to watch. But that wasn’t protocol. That wasn’t real justice. This kid needed to go to trial so he could rot in a cell till the Corps said he could go free—which might be never, given the testimony that Magnus would provide to Wainwright.
Suddenly, two ’kuda broke through the line and darted toward the easy target—Nos Kil cuffed to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” Magnus yelled to himself as he rushed to meet the two assailants. He dove just as the fish were about to pounce on Nos Kil, who was cowering in a ball.
Magnus’s right shoulder drove into the first fish, which not only knocked it off balance but caused it to slam sideways into the second ’kuda. Magnus reached around both fish with his right arm while jabbing the second one with his knife. A split second later, all three beings hit the ground and rolled to a stop. Magnus was on his feet first, challenging the two fish as they circled Nos Kil.
“Don’t let me die,” the Marine whined, panic covering his face.
“Shut up,” Magnus ordered. “Or I might just let them kill you.”
“You wouldn’t!”
Magnus let out a low chuckle as if begging the kid to test him. “Just shut up, would you?”
Suddenly, one fish lunged at Magnus. Sidestepping the ’kuda’s attacked, Magnus placed both hands on the knife and plunged it hard into the creature’s back. The fish shrieked and twisted free, but the effort forced the knife to cut a deep gouge out of the creature’s flesh. It backhanded Magnus in the helmet, flailing wildly, but Magnus ducked and stabbed the enemy again.
In the short time it took to dispatch the first ’kuda, the second dove toward Nos Kil. It landed on him with its claws open and mouth gaping. For a split second, Magnus pictured the kid raping the Nimprinthian girl in the basement and wondered if this wasn’t the universe’s bringing judgment on the Marine. But Magnus wasn’t a vigilante. No matter how bad he wanted revenge, letting this kid die made him no better—that was the reason for the Corps, for standards, for code.
“Get off him,” Magnus spat, then drove his knife into the side of the ’kuda’s neck. The thing squealed, gills flapping wildly, as Magnus started hacking away at the neck meat like he was filleting a fish he’d caught off a pier in Capriana. The Akuda twisted on him, batting the knife away. In the next moment, Magnus was on his back, staring up into the creature’s mouth. It lunged at his helmet, but the cover deflected the blow, sending it instead to his shoulder. Heat burst from his skin as the ’kuda’s teeth made entry around his plate armor and sank into his muscle.
The fish pulled away, focused on something new. Magnus looked to see Nos Kil kicking the ’kuda in the side. Did this mean Magnus and the kid were now fighting side by side? The notion made his stomach churn… or is that the poison in my shoulder?
Filled with a renewed sense of pissed off, Magnus took advantage of Nos Kil’s momentary distraction and rolled the off-balance fish to the side. The pair rotated away from the kid and toward the campfire. Magnus gauged the distance and threw the enemy around twice more until he rolled onto the fish, pressing the thing’s back into the coals.
The fish shrieked, snapping its jaws at the air, and tried jerking Magnus off. But Magnus held fast, shoving the enemy again and again into the coals, forcing him to stay down as smoke and steam spit from the coal. When the fire pit had finally gouged a hole in the assailant’s back enough to end its life, Magnus stepped away from the roasted carcass and looked at Nos Kil.
“You couldn’t let them kill me, could you,” the kid said. “I knew it. You’re just as pathetic as your brother said you were.”
Magnus didn’t even hesitate. He took two steps toward Nos Kil and slugged him in the side of the face. The kid collapse into his handcuffs, lights out. Then Magnus retrieved his knife and wiped it on the Marine’s shorts. “Have fun at trial, you piece of splick.”
Epilogue
Magnus sat in a small anteroom on the Leviathan-class battleship Emerald Victory awaiting an audience with Major Caldwell. Contrary to what his men had claimed, this meeting wasn’t Magnus’s doing. It was one thing to talk a big game while stuck on a roof picking off ’kuda, but it was another to have the brass balls big enough to make the call. Magnus had too much respect for himself to go cherry-picking a promotion.
No, this meeting had been at the request of the major himself following Alpha Company’s “near impossible defense” of T’io Mi’on’s main village. Magnus secretly despised the term “near impossible” as every Marine knew nothing was impossible. Either you were successful, or you died trying, in which case you didn’t know you weren’t successful.
Still, he understood why the higher-ups were referring to the op that way. The Akuda assault had been relentless. Even after the Talon strafing run, which Magnus was sure would have ripped the will from even the most ardent enemy, three more waves of fighters had to be called in before the damn fish relented. As the conflict was drawing out, it seemed the Akuda were getting more desperate. How many more of them were there in those oceans? he wondered.
This was the first time Magnus had taken a shower on a starship in over ten months, and he wasn’t complaining. He’d nearly forgotten what one felt like without sand under his feet. He also forgot what his dress uniform felt like—a whole lot easier to move in than armor, though he still hated the damn collar around his neck. But he was rather surprised that this meeting was happening in the major’s office on a battleship and not a field office on Caledonia. That alone made him wring his sweaty hands more than once.
“Sergeant Magnus,” said the secretary, stepping into the room, “the major will see you now.”
Magnus nodded and stood. He smoothed his coat, took a deep breath, and walked behind the secretary in an administrative suite. Then, following the secretary’s gesture toward a door with Caldwell’s name on it, Magnus stepped forward until the door slid sideways automatically.
The major sat behind a large desk. He wore his gray hair tight on the sides and flat on top, and clenched a cigar in the side of his mouth. How the man had permission to keep the thing lit on a starship was beyond Magnus, but he wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him he couldn’t.
Despite his age and his years in the Corps, Caldwell hadn’t advanced as quickly as normal officers did. But by all accounts, he was far from normal. Procedure dictated that he should have been a general by now, only doing so would have taken him farther from the thing he loved most—being with Marines, not managing data pads. Of course, he’d already sealed that deal when he left the ranks of the enlisted years before. The man’s legend of wanting to change the Corps’ policies was known far and wide. And it was rumored that he was a pain in the ass for every colonel and lieutenant colonel he served under. Magnus had already seen the man in action several times. He guessed Caldwell was as much to handle on a battlefield as he was in a war room.
To his credit, Caldwell had the reputation of fighting for the enlisted Marines while negotiating in the hallways of the brass. No one, it was said, had the balls or the will to do it like Caldwell. Thus, he was respected—if not scorned—by the field-grade officers and generals, and worshipped by the enlisted.
Magnus saluted the major and then stood at attention.
“At ease, Sergeant Magnus,” Caldwell said, gesturing to one of two leather-backed chairs. “Take a seat.”
“Thank you
, sir.” Magnus strode forward and sat. He tried his best to get comfortable in the squeaky chair, but Caldwell staring at him for a few long seconds made it even more difficult.
“I’m told you did a damn fine job down there, sergeant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Your COs are recommending several commendations.” Caldwell eyed Magnus as if he was supposed to reply to that.
“I’ll be the last to question their judgment, but I was just doing my job.”
“I’m sure you were.” Caldwell puffed on his cigar and then eyed Magnus. Magnus wanted to adjust himself in the chair but knew the squeaking would make the long silence even more awkward. “You know, I knew your grandfather well.”
“That’s what I understand, yes.”
“Did you know him?”
“Not well, no. He was committed to the Corps right up until—”
“We all know that part, sergeant.”
“Right…” Magnus cleared his throat. “Anyway, my father didn’t have much time for my grandfather. So we never saw much of him.”
“Damn shame,” Caldwell said. “He was the finest Marine I ever knew.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Caldwell nodded slowly, taking a long drag on the cigar and letting the smoke cloud his face momentarily. “You look like him, you know.”
“That’s what they say.”
“Same eyes. Same jaw…”
“And same stubborn nature,” Magnus added, suddenly realizing he may have just interrupted the man.
“That can be a blessing and a curse.”
“A point that my father reminded me of many times.”
“I’m sure,” said Caldwell. “But I have to think your stubborn nature is what’s landed you here in my office today.”
“Sir?”
“I want to discuss what happened to my son.”
Magnus swallowed. He’d suspected this was what Caldwell had wanted to talk about. Worse, he had no idea what he should say. Best to not say anything unless asked, Magnus thought. And then?
Then tell the truth.
“Word has it that he went missing,” Caldwell said, eyeing Magnus. “Members of fourth platoon reported he went to the basement. They were looking for him just before the hotel came under attack, but found nothing.”
Magnus held his tongue. He hadn’t been asked anything yet. That, and the pain of losing his brother was still too raw. Hell, when would it not be raw? He knew if he talked about it now, he might not be able to control the emotions raging in his chest. The anger. The grief.
“They all said that he was friends with your brother, Argus.”
Just the sound of his Argus’s name made Magnus want to die inside. His kid brother may have been a traitor—may have even been evil—but he was still kin. And Magnus suspected that the major would probably wrestle with the same frustrations once he knew the truth.
“TACNET also has you going to the hotel’s basement shortly before the building reached structural failure.”
Dammit.
“Sergeant Magnus, you’re in my office today because I want to know what you encountered down there.” He sucked on the cigar, held the smoke for a second, and then let it out. “And I know what you’re thinking, son. The warrior-half of your brain is telling you to measure your reply, while the survivor-half is preparing for countermeasures. It’s calculating, strategizing. And trust me when I say that you do not want to make that mistake with me of parsing your words. Because one thing is for damn sure…” Caldwell leaned forward and emphasized the next words with his fat index finger on the desk. “I will find the truth.”
A chill went down Magnus’s spine. Whatever notions he had of being tactful with the major, they all went out the door. Call it the fear of the mystics, call it self-preservation—it didn’t matter. As far as Magnus was concerned, he was face to face with his maker.
Magnus swallowed as he realized this was his day of reckoning. His sins hadn’t even given him twenty-four hours before finding him out. On the professional side, if he wasn’t tried in a military tribunal and sentenced to death for betraying the Marine Corps code, he was at least getting dishonorably discharged—probably after several months in the brig. Either way, telling Caldwell that he’d shot another Marine would be the end of his career. It didn’t matter how right he thought he was in the moment. The fact was, he’d betrayed the Corps and betrayed a fellow Marine. There would be hell to pay, but that would pale in comparison to paying Major Caldwell first.
On the personal side, however, Magnus had to deal with the fact that he’d killed his brother. This was greater than betraying the Corps. He’d betrayed his own flesh and blood. And unlike the Repub, who would forget his crimes the moment he was thrown into a blackhole, Magnus would never forget staring into Argus’s eyes the breath before squeezing the trigger. That was the event horizon the gravity of which he could never escape.
Magnus took a deep breath and then recounted everything that had happened from the time he left the lobby to the time he re-emerged. Despite wanting to leave out the grizzly details about the major’s son—both in his deplorable actions and in his death—he didn’t. He only spared the detail about the young Marine’s manhood hanging out. There was injury, and then there was insult. Better to spare him the later.
Magnus kept expecting the officer to show some sort of emotion, but he didn’t. He just sat there, chewing on his cigar, listening intently. The man’s glare was withering. Magnus kept thinking that the major might lash out at him and dispense the penance due someone who’d committed fratricide. Maybe he’d shed a tear for his own son’s death. Or grow angry at how the Corps had been betrayed by any and all of the Marines in the basement. But nothing came.
When Magnus had finished his account, ready to be escorted out of the office by some MPs, the major leaned back, folded his hands, and nodded. “Thank you, son.”
You’re welcome would have been the appropriate reply, but Magnus couldn’t bring himself to say it. What in the hell is the man thanking me for?
As if in answer to his silent question, Caldwell added, “Your story corroborates that of the young woman’s who we detained.”
Son of a bitch. So his CO already had an idea of what went down. Magnus suddenly wondered what would have happened had he not been forthright.
“And I’m guessing you left out the part about my son’s dick hanging out of his pants to spare me any undue embarrassment.”
Magnus looked at the major, unblinking.
“I appreciate that as well.” At the end of his cigar, Caldwell extinguished the roll of tobacco in the bottom end of a large-caliber energy mag. The metal magazine had been cut down, leaving a rectangular looking bowl that the man used as an ashtray. Satisfied the ember was out, Caldwell returned the stump to his lips and spoke out of the side of his mouth.
“Firing on another Marine with the intent to kill is a crime.”
“I know that, sir, and I’m—”
“Shut up, sergeant.”
Magnus sealed his lips.
“Killing your brother is another thing altogether.”
Mystics, this guy knew how to stick it to him. But did he deserve any less than ridicule? Magnus literally wanted to be anywhere else in the galaxy but here. But this was the course he’d chosen. This is where his actions had brought him, and if it were anyone else, he’d tell them to own it and take what was coming to them.
“But raping two innocent women is a crime worse than those you’ve committed,” Caldwell added. “Some might even say you delivered justice.”
Magnus blinked.
“And I happen to be one of those someones, sergeant.”
“Sir?”
“What happened down there was not the worst of the Corps on display, it was the worst of humanity. And given the same scenario, I can tell you what I would have done.”
A long silence filled the air, and Magnus wondered if he was supposed to inquire further. But he didn’t have to.
<
br /> “I wouldn’t have thought twice about killing anyone else who was using innocent lives to protect their own.” The Major leaned back and let out a deep sigh. “I wish neither of us lost family members yesterday. But they chose their fates, and it seems those choices have further intertwined our paths, Magnus.”
Again, Magnus wanted to inquire as to what the major meant but felt he should hold his tongue.
“This episode will remain between you and me. The woman will be compensated to the greatest extent of my abilities and spared the pain of testifying in a tribunal. Instead, she will be informed of her assaulter’s fate and left to live out the remainder of her life as best she’s able.
“For his part, the sole surviving Marine will be tried and more than likely executed. I will see to it that he is detained in psychiatric solitary confinement. Even if his version of the story is heard, it will be immaterial.”
“I understand,” was all Magnus could think to say. He wanted to say more… to thank Caldwell for… for what? Magnus still wasn’t off the hook.
“As for you, sergeant…”
Here it comes.
“I’m recommending we transfer you out of Bravo Company. In fact, I’d say we get you out of Second Battalion altogether.”
“Sir?”
“Where do you want to go, son?”
Magnus didn’t know what to say. What the hell is happening here? Just minutes ago, he was preparing to be court-martialed. And now he was being asked where he wanted to be transferred? This wasn’t how a murderer was supposed to be treated.
“Sergeant?”
“Yes… I…”
Caldwell raised his eyebrows so far that his forehead turned into a mountain of ridges.
Before Magnus could keep the words in, out spilled, “I’d like to apply for recon indoctrination school.”
Caldwell stroked his chin. “RIS…” Then he reached for a data pad and started flicking through several pages. “That’s not an easy program. But you’re not an easy going Marine.”
“I understand.”
“It might be made easier if you apply for officer training too.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 68
