“Major?”
“Says here you have enough schooling to make the jump if you want. And it seems to me we need more men like you at the top.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I like being—”
“With the enlisted men? Son, who do you think you’re talking to?”
Magnus knew not to answer that kind of question.
“The Corps isn’t great because it has good generals. It’s great because it has the best warriors in the galaxy. The generals just get the accolades because they tell everyone else what to shoot. But the best generals—they’re the ones who know what it’s like to bleed. And this…” Caldwell tapped the desk again. “The hell you just lived? That’s what it means to bleed. To make the right call even though it’s the hardest one to make.
“I know you came in here thinking you’d get court-martialed today. And damn straight: you should have been pissing your blues. But you also should never underestimate yourself when you do what you believe is right. I can’t imagine the pain you must be feeling right now, son. I’ve never had to put down my own brother in defense of others, but I’ve had to do things close enough that let me know you won’t ever outrun this one.
“So, I’m offering a chance to make the journey more bearable, more meaningful—to both join the recon and become a second lieutenant. But it’s only a chance. No one’s getting you through either program. That’s on you.”
“I understand,” Magnus said, repeating the same phrase yet again.
“I won’t lie. RIS is going to kick your ass, son.”
Magnus almost said “I understand” again, but knew he’d be rebuked. No one knew what a school could dish out until they’d gone through it for themselves. And Magnus had heard stories about RIS.
“If I say yes, would you entertain a request?”
Caldwell chewed his cigar. “You wanna negotiate with me, sergeant?”
Magnus had the distinct feeling that Caldwell had suddenly switched from a family friend to a hard-nosed Marine CO. “Merely a proposal.”
“Well, spit it out.”
“I’d like to bring Lance Corporals Deeks, Franklin, and Chico with me.”
Caldwell’s face was stone cold. That wasn’t a good sign. For a split second, Magnus swore he’d lost his chance at both programs. That sentiment was only reinforced when Caldwell said, “We don’t do that, son.”
For what he hoped was the last time today, Magnus said, “I understand. But these men are important to me. They may not have been in that basement with me, but they’ve been everywhere else. My success is their success, and if I go, they’re going with me.”
Caldwell frowned. He looked at the data pad again and tapped several screens. His eyes scanned the screen for the better part of a minute before he replied. “Seems none of them have any schooling that would make them eligible for the officer program. However, there’s nothing preventing them from applying to RIS with you.”
“So… that’s green?”
“Consider it a favor for your grandfather, son.”
Magnus hated the family favor angle, but he wasn’t going to buck it either, not if it meant the Fearsome Four had a chance at remaining a unit. He knew it was unheard of, and he knew the odds were slim to none. But hell if he didn’t at least try.
“Thank you, major. I’m extremely grateful.”
“Damn straight you are.” The major removed the stump from his mouth and said. “I’ll let you know when your brother’s funeral is scheduled and make sure you get leave for it. That is, if you want it.”
“I would.” Magnus nodded. While he would bear the wound for the rest of his life, there was no sense making it worse by missing his funeral.
“I’m thinking it will be small, as records indicate that you are his only surviving relative.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
Caldwell nodded, then placed the data pad back down. “Well, pack your bags, son, before I change my mind and send you back to shoot me some more fish.”
Magnus stood and saluted the major. The day’s pain wasn’t gone—he suspected it never would be. But it was being contested, and Magnus never backed down from a challenge. “Thank you, major.”
To Magnus’s surprise, the man stood up and returned his salute. The magnitude of the gesture wasn’t lost on him. “Thank me if you graduate, son.”
* * *
Continue reading for GATEWAY TO WAR.
Gateway to War
1
“You do know that you’re idiots for coming with me, right?” Magnus stood over Flow and Cheeks, who lay on recovery beds, both coming out of heavy sedation. “Your careers are over.”
“No offense, LT,” Flow said, his voice groggy, “but you messed our careers up a long time ago. Something about a move to Recon that made sure we wouldn’t make rank easily.”
“Pain in the ass,” Cheeks added from his bed.
Sick bay on Rohoar’s starship was more spacious than any on a Repub vessel, presumably to accommodate Jujari physiology. The ship had only been in subspace for a little over two hours, having left Oorajee and begun the voyage to Worru, and already Flow and Cheeks were looking a bit better. The two Recon Marines bore several sensors on their bare skin, while their bodies were covered with white blankets.
Cheeks looked over at Flow. “Guess we’re just gonna have to insist on free beer for life.”
Flow chuckled then winced.
Magnus liked hearing himself called “LT” again—a shortened version of his rank of Lieutenant. But to Magnus, the title was more than just a nickname. It meant he was among family. And he didn’t want to put his family in harm’s way any more than he already had.
“I mean it, boys.” Magnus rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really not sure you thought this one through.” He muttered, “Probably shouldn’t have given you the option.”
“Hold up right there, LT.” Flow’s dark-skinned face turned hard. “You owed us the option.”
“Damn straight, you did,” Cheeks said. “Bustin’ our balls on some suicide mission to protect a Luma goddess who decides to have tea with a Jujari king. Who knew that would blow up in our faces.”
Cheeks’s sarcasm wouldn’t offend anyone on the team. They’d all known the op had been a mistake from the beginning, and Cheeks’s appearance would attest to that, probably for the rest of his life. The right side of his face would need cellular reconstruction therapy, including a new ear. His days as a ladies’ man were over until he got proper medical care, and even after that, he’d always have scarring. Then again, knowing Cheeks, he’d find a way to work the situation to his advantage.
“Listen, boys…”
“Hold up, LT.” Flow struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. “We all know this stopped being about the Corps years ago. It’s about brotherhood. No one gets left behind. And if someone is abandoned by the Repub, that’s the same as being left behind.”
“OTF, baby,” Cheeks added.
Magnus ignored their comments. “If I send you both on a shuttle, you can say that I abducted you. They’ll be forced to drop the charges. But as it is, you’re aiding and abetting a military deserter turned fugitive. You’ll most likely be tried for treason.”
“That’s if they catch us, baby,” Cheeks said.
“Call it whatever you want, LT.” Flow raised his chin. “It ain’t changing my mind.”
“Mine neither, LT.”
Magnus sniffed then pursed his lips. These two were as good as any brothers-in-arms could ever be. He didn’t deserve their respect. They’d been through a lot together and seen a lot of action. But they still didn’t know about everything Magnus had done in his past. If they knew, they wouldn’t be so loyal.
“Fine,” Magnus said. “As long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal.”
“Like a see-through dress,” Cheeks added.
Magnus smiled. It was good to be reunited with them. He only wished Mouth had survived. The knowledge that the Fear
some Four no longer existed as a group put a pang in his chest that wouldn’t leave anytime soon. One more Marine had been lost to the Repub’s mounting indiscretion and foolhardy objectives.
“So…” Flow lowered himself back down, catching his breath. “Mind filling us in on what we’ve gotten ourselves mixed up in exactly?”
“Yeah,” Cheeks said. “Why you got a rap sheet with the Corps all of a sudden?”
Magnus took a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”
Cheeks grimaced, lying back down again with a sigh. “Man, that’s what all the girls say when they’re done with you. You don’t gotta do us like that, LT.”
“I don’t want to do you at all, Cheeks. No one does, last I heard.”
Flow let out a laugh, then said, “He got you there, Cheeks.”
Magnus smiled and reached for one of the examination stools in the corner. He sat down and rubbed the back of his neck again. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about when things went sideways in the doggy king’s palace?” Flow suggested.
“When things went sideways…” The incident felt so long ago. But how many days had it been? Barely two weeks? “That’s as good a place as any.”
Magnus shared the harrowing tale with his men, leaving out as much as possible about Awen because… because it wasn’t relevant to his men, though Cheeks, the hopeless romantic—or was he just a pervert?—would have insisted otherwise. He also left off anything that would just sound too fantastical to believe, especially the parts about Piper. Magnus concluded his account where Wainwright, Bosworth, and the old Luma got picked up by the Repub shuttle, and Magnus and his new band of misfits departed Oorajee on Rohoar’s ship.
“So… you make it back to Abimbola’s hideout, even more of a war hero than you already are…” Flow said. “I still don’t get why the Repub wants you so bad. What—do they think you killed the senator or something?”
Magnus shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Flow. But there are easier ways to take out a senator than sending a Recon Marine into an unmarked Bull Wraith, escaping with some crew, and crash landing on Oorajee. I can tell you one thing, however—something doesn’t feel right about all of this.”
“All of what?” Flow searched Magnus’s face. “You mean the whole op on Oorajee? You think it was a setup?”
“Well, I know we didn’t plant those explosives in the mwadim’s palace, and the Tawnhack didn’t either. In fact, I don’t think any of the Jujari tribes did. It was too calculated, too precise. Those hyenas may be many things, but they sure as hell ain’t precise.”
“Who’s that leave, then?” Flow asked.
Magnus shook his head. “I don’t have that figured out.”
“You think someone at the top is gunning for you?” Cheeks asked.
“Like I said, boys, I dunno. But if I had to place a bet, yeah, it feels like a setup.”
Flow rotated his index finger in circles. “Can we go back a second? What was that about the Tawnhack and Jujari tribes? You lost me there.”
Magnus recalled the conversation he’d had with Abimbola about this, suddenly realizing his Marines were still in the dark. “Not all the Jujari are the same.”
“Like hell they’re not!” Cheeks blurted out.
“Cheeks,” Magnus said, leveling him a glare that said he meant business.
“Sorry, LT, it’s just—”
“Rohoar’s tribe are the Tawnhack… the largest and most revered tribe. But the ones who took you… those were the Selskrit.”
“You’re saying one’s good and one’s bad?” Flow asked. “Are you some sorta Jujari whisperer now that you got yourself a pup?”
Magnus didn’t want to snap at his men, but he also didn’t want the term “Jujari whisperer” to stick, nor did he want the slang term “pup” being used against Rohoar.
“I’m not saying I’ve got them figured out,” Magnus admitted. “But I am saying that Rohoar and his kin helped save your lives. And mine, for that matter. So you can hate them all you want inside, but you sure as hell are going to be grateful on the outside. We will all show them respect and honor. Copy?”
Flow and Cheeks both nodded.
“Good.” Magnus sat back down, breathing a sigh of relief. Once a nickname formed in the Recon, it was next to impossible to shut it down. Fortunately, this one had died before it started, and without much of a fight. More importantly, however, Magnus had a chance to speak his mind about Rohoar and the Tawnhack. It was the first time he’d admitted as much to anyone besides himself. It was hard to do, but Rohoar had given him reason enough to begin to doubt his biases.
“Hey.” Flow reached out for Magnus’s hand and grasped it tightly around the thumb. “And about not being able to come back for us sooner… we get it. Don’t worry.”
Magnus squeezed back. “Thanks, Flow. I… appreciate that.”
“But if you ever do it again,” Cheeks added, “we’re coming after you.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Magnus chuckled and released Flow’s hand. “Now it’s your turn. How, by all the mystics, did you survive?”
Whatever life Flow had in his eyes faded as he stared past Magnus. Cheeks looked away too. That, right there, told Magnus a lot. He’d fought enough battles and lived through enough hell to know mental anguish when he saw it. Moreover, he knew Flow was understating things when he replied, “It was bad, LT. Real bad.”
Cheeks nodded, and his eyes focused on some faraway place. Magnus didn’t break the silence. He just waited.
When Flow didn’t say anything, Magnus said, “It can wait, brothers. We have time.”
Flow took a deep breath then looked up at Magnus. “No, it can’t. You need to know. The blasts… they took out half the platoons.”
“Half?” Magnus rocked backward. “But that’s…”
“Like I said, bad. I know.” Flow cleared his throat. “But that’s just the beginning. Mouth was the only other operator to make it from Charlie Platoon. We looked for your body, but…” Flow looked to be fighting back some pretty raw emotions, maybe from the pain meds he was on. Magnus had never seen him like this. “Your TACNET signature was gone. We figured you’d been vaporized.
“Anyway, we rallied to Captain Wainright and managed to find several more civilians. That alone was a shock. Their Unity splick must have saved them or something…” Flow’s eyes glazed over. “But they would have been better off if they’d died in the blast.”
Another long silence filled sick bay. A tear left Flow’s left eye and slid down his cheek. The man looked childlike.
“What happened next?”
“Jujari reinforcements came at us hard. No one really knew what was happening. Just lots of blaster fire and screams. We tried calling for evac, but the LZ on the platform was too hot. So Wainright ordered us to the secondary exfil.”
“Zulu Niner,” Magnus offered, referring to the mission’s alternate landing zone. He hoped to reassure his friend that he’d been there too and had heard the order. “Three klicks north of the city.”
Flow looked at Magnus with the hint of a smile. “That’s right, LT. So you—”
“It was the last thing I heard. Tried getting there myself, but… well, you know my story.”
“Right, right.” Flow nodded, his gaze drifting back to the terror of his memories.
“Go on.” Magnus touched the Marine’s shoulder.
“We were able to hold the Jujari back. Turns out they were just as shaken as we were. Their command structure was a mess. It gave us the break we needed to get out of the building and start moving north. We kept the civilians in between us. Maybe a dozen of them when we started. At first, no one fired on us. The city was too horrified by the explosion in the mwadim’s tower. We passed several Jujari who just stared skyward, oblivious to twenty-five Galactic Republic Marines and civilians walking right by them. It was surreal.
“Eventually, though, that changed. Word musta spread that we’d killed their mwadim.
I mean, I’m just guessing. The way they came after us… it was… they were…”
Magnus looked from Flow to Cheeks. The men were visibly shaking. Mystics, they’ve seen some horrible splick. The mental wounds of battle had done their worst, and Magnus knew the scars would be there for years to come. Dammit.
“We held out as long as we could. Made it about two klicks. Then our energy mags ran out. That’s when they attacked. They came at us like demons.” Flow smashed his palms against his face and smeared hot tears across his skin. “Everyone fought hard, but so many… so many died. Mouth, he—” Flow choked. He turned his head away to cough. Then he swore as he tried to catch his breath.
“He didn’t make it,” Magnus concluded. “Copy that.”
“Lost most of the civies too. Eventually, the Jujari incapacitated us. When we woke up, we were bound in a small room. They kept moving us from one place to another over the next few days, asking to speak to our generals. Always our generals. We tried to explain that we couldn’t reach them, but it was no use. So they tortured us… then killed us… then brought us back to life to do it again.”
Magnus blinked. “Say again?” But Flow was unresponsive. “Hey, Flow. You with me?” Magnus snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Flow!”
Flow’s eyes fluttered open. “You remember all those rumors about how they bleed out their prisoners for weeks?” He was growing manic, his eyes starting to dart left and right. Magnus wondered if he should call for Valerie.
Flow reached out and grabbed Magnus’s chest armor. “You remember? Well… it’s true. It’s all true. Only they didn’t give us weeks. The ‘living blood,’ they call it. They bled us out in a few days then brought us back.”
Magnus stared at Flow, the man’s bloodshot eyes sending a wave of fear through Magnus’s chest. “Easy, Flow. Come on—let’s get you settled.” Magnus gently pressed his sergeant’s shoulders back down, but the big man resisted him.
“Hey, what are you doing to him?” Cheeks yelled.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 69
