Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “You want to get back to the bridge with me?”

  “No, I think I’ll go see who’s in the galley. Maybe get some coffee.” She rubbed her hands together and started to walk away. “Piper will be waking up soon anyway.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Valerie looked over her shoulder. “Magnus?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for talking.”

  “Not a problem. I’m here for you.”

  She held him with her eyes for another beat then moved away. Magnus let out a sigh as Valerie disappeared around a corner. For reasons he couldn’t define—other than knowing he was still a fifteen-year-old boy on the inside—Magnus had a vision of standing back-to-back with her, blasting enemies together. It was something that belonged in a holo-comic, not in his head. So he shook the vision away almost as fast as it had appeared, and he reminded himself that her husband had died less than two weeks ago. And that she had a kid who had inadvertently committed patricide, but also saved him and his fire team—twice.

  That woman is so right and so wrong for you, Adonis. Just get her to Worru and walk away.

  3

  Piper couldn’t take her eyes off the giant doggy. She could hardly believe how big he was and how fluffy. All she wanted to do was pet him. And maybe play with him. But he didn’t seem like the playing sort. Instead, he just liked to sit in his big captain’s chair and glare at numbers on his data pad.

  She’d remained by his side from the moment she was allowed on the bridge after leaving Oorajee’s orbit. He ignored her mostly. Only when she tried to pet him did he pull away. But she simply couldn’t help herself. His fur was far too inviting. She had to try one more time.

  Piper leaned against the arm of his captain’s chair, acting as casual as she knew how. Her view meandered around the bridge, and she held her corgachirp in her left hand. Meanwhile, her right hand inched up the big doggy’s back until it was hovering near the base of his neck. Gently—ever so gently—she laid her hand into his thick, soft fur and began to stroke.

  “Stop that!” the beast barked.

  Piper recoiled, pulling her hand to her chest. This was the first time he’d spoken to her. His voice was far gruffer than she would have liked. Maybe he was a mean doggy. Or perhaps he was just having a bad day.

  “I’m sorry, extra-big dog. You just look so soft.”

  “I’m not soft. And I’m not a dog.”

  “But you look like—”

  “I know what I look like to you, but I’m not what you think. And I’m not for petting.”

  Piper raised her hand one more time.

  “I’m not for petting, human child.”

  Disappointed, Piper retreated and lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”

  The doggy relaxed in his chair and stared at her. He had rather long teeth that protruded from beneath his flappy lips. And his eyes were big and sort of bloodshot. Maybe he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest. Piper was crankiest when she slept poorly. At least, that was what her mother told her.

  “So, what are you, extra-big… whatever you are?”

  “I am a Jujari of the Tawnhack tribe.” The beast didn’t even bother looking up from his data pad when he spoke to her.

  “Oh.” Piper shuffled her feet. “Do all your people look like you?”

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “Is their fur as fluffy?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  “And the same color?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Do they all have spots?”

  The Jujari rolled his head to glare at her with a giant eyeball. “Please stop talking, tiny human.”

  “You don’t have to call me tiny human. My name’s Piper.” She extended her hand.

  The Jujari looked at it for a moment while Piper waited. Finally, he accepted the handshake. Piper’s eyes widened as his massive paw enveloped her forearm up to her elbow. But he was gentle, and the rough pads in his paw felt warm.

  “My name is Rohoar.”

  “Mr. Rohoar. That’s a nice name.”

  The Jujari pulled back ever so slightly. “You think so?”

  “Sure.”

  “That is kind of you to say, young Piper.”

  “Not a problem. Can I pet you now?”

  “No.”

  Piper sighed, lowering her head. “Okay.”

  “But… you can tell me about your people.”

  She glanced up. “My people?”

  “Where do you come from? What is your home like? What kinds of food do you eat?”

  Piper pulled Talisman, her corgachirp, close to her chest. This was exciting. “And afterward, maybe you can tell me about yours?”

  Rohoar nodded.

  “Okay, so, I come from Capriana Prime…” She paused to see if he was actually listening and not going to go back to his data pad. Adults did that a lot. Content that he was still interested, she continued. “It’s mostly a water planet. But we have some really big cities on island chains. They’re called atolls. They’re beautiful. The cities, I mean. But the atolls are too. We have a nice house in one of the biggest skyscrapers on the main island. My daddy’s a…” Piper blinked. Her heart hurt. “My daddy was a senator. But now he’s… he’s…”

  “I already know.” Rohoar placed his paw on her back.

  Piper liked that. A tear leaked from her eye. She wiped it away with Talisman.

  “I am sorry for your suffering, Piper.”

  “Thank you.” The words came out small.

  “I lost my father as well.”

  Piper looked at him, surprised. “You did?”

  Rohoar nodded. “Perhaps just a few days before yours.”

  “A few days? Really?” More tears started to fill her eyes. This was one of the saddest things she’d ever heard of. Two people who’d both lost their daddies at the same time, riding on the same starship. She leaned in toward his chair and placed a hand on his chest. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rohoar, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How did he die?”

  “In an explosion.”

  “My daddy’s escape pod exploded too.” Her lower lip quivered. “This is terrible.”

  Suddenly, Rohoar wrapped his whole arm around her. He drew her into an awkward hug around the chair’s arm. Her heart lifted as his fluffy warmth enveloped her. He smelled a little funny, like he needed a bath, but she didn’t mind. She felt some of the pain in her heart pass, melting away like snow on a sunny day. He held her there until she stopped crying.

  Piper looked at her hand. It was on Rohoar’s chest. She could pet him… and he wouldn’t even notice. Ever so subtly, she moved her fingers in a sweeping motion.

  “You’re petting me again.”

  Piper balled her fingers into a fist. “Sorry.” Rohoar let her go, so she stood up straight and wiped away the rest of her tears. Composed, she lifted her chin. “I like sorlakk.”

  Rohoar looked at her with a look of confusion.

  “You asked me to tell you about what kind of food I like. I like sorlakk.”

  “What is this sorlakk?” he asked.

  “You’ve never had raw Paglothian sorlakk?”

  “No. Is it good?”

  “Oh, it is!” She clapped her hands around Talisman, grateful to talk about something other than their daddies dying. “It really is! When we get back to Capriana, I’ll get you some. I promise.”

  Rohoar opened his mouth to say something but didn’t. Then he looked down at his data pad. Maybe he didn’t want sorlakk after all.

  “Mr. Rohoar, sir, what is your favorite food?”

  He gave her what she thought was a smile, though it looked a little more like a sneer. “Slanther tripe.”

  “Slanther tripe? I want some!”

  “It, too, is raw, as you say. It is the stomach of the desert lizards that come from the south of Oorajee. You must wrestle them for a day before they succumb. But when they do, and once you remove the poison sacs…” Rohoar licked his
lips with a long tongue. “It is one of my tribe’s greatest delicacies.”

  Piper winced. “Maybe I will try that when I’m older.”

  “That is, perhaps, a wise thought.”

  “So, Mr. Rohoar, what is your home like?”

  “Well, like you, I have a home in a skyscraper, as you say. But it wasn’t always this way.”

  “Did you move a lot as a kid?”

  “In a manner of speaking. For centuries, my people roamed Oorajee until our numbers became too great and we began city building. But even before that, we roamed the stars, but not like your Republic does. Rather than conquest, we wanted a place to settle. To call our own.”

  “And you picked Oorajee.”

  “Our ancestors did, yes,” he said.

  “But why a desert planet? Do you like sand, then? It’s really hot and gets in everything.” When Rohoar didn’t reply right away, she said, “Mr. Rohoar?”

  “As it is told, our ancestors chose the desert because it was unlike our previous home. They believed that if future generations were to survive, they must endure hardships that would prevent them from falling into the comforts that killed our people—the things that weakened their minds and corrupted their spirits. The desert saved us by keeping from us the things which we could not support.”

  Piper blinked. “You’re kinda confusing, Mr. Rohoar, sir.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “So, when this is all done, you will go back to Oorajee?”

  “When this is done…”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy then, won’t you?” she asked. But Rohoar just stared at the floor a few meters ahead, focused on something she couldn’t see. “Will you see the rest of your family then? Do you have more family?”

  Without breaking his concentration on the floor, he said, “I have a son.”

  “What’s his name?”

  The Jujari didn’t reply.

  “Mr. Rohoar, sir? What’s his name?”

  “Victorio…”

  “That’s a wonderful name,” she said. “It sounds like ‘victorious,’ you know. Is he a good fighter?”

  It was taking longer for Rohoar to answer her questions. Maybe he needed a nap.

  “Mr. Rohoar, sir?”

  “When this is done… perhaps I will see them all…”

  Piper decided that Rohoar had been through a lot, just like her. She imagined that he was missing his home, too, just like her. And there was nothing she liked better when she was feeling sad than when someone rubbed her tummy. She knew she shouldn’t. And he would probably yell at her again. But he did seem so sad. So Piper leaned in, laid her head on his chest, and began gently stroking his stomach. And to her delight, he didn’t say a word.

  * * *

  Magnus was still shaking off the conversation with Valerie when the elevator slowed. A hint of her scent lingered on his cheek somewhere. It was as elusive as his feelings for her—present but impossible to pinpoint. He ran a hand over his face and blinked as the doors opened onto the bridge.

  At first, Magnus panicked. He reached for his Z and trained it on the Jujari sitting in the captain’s chair. Splick! The damn Jujari’s gone rabid.

  Rohoar held the lower half of Piper’s corpse under his arm, gnawing on her head and torso. Magnus was five kilos of pressure away from squeezing off a blaster bolt into the back of Rohoar’s head when he noticed…

  There’s no blood. As he stepped from the elevator, Magnus heard the faint sound of a child singing. The gentle rise and fall of the melody reminded him of a lullaby from his childhood.

  What the…?

  Magnus couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Or hearing. The most innocent human girl Magnus had ever met was singing a lullaby to the greatest predator species in the galaxy. They couldn’t be any more different from one another. Yet the galaxy had brought them together.

  Magnus sheathed his pistol and was about to clear his throat. Then he thought better of it. Rohoar had seen just as much war as Magnus had. Probably more. And Piper had endured things no nine-year-old should ever have to see. These moments—this one right here—were the things that healed the soul. Not fully, of course—nothing could do that—but they went a long way in helping.

  For as much death as Magnus had seen, for as much as he’d delivered, he wanted to know he was also a part of giving life and allowing it to flourish. He refused to steal this moment from either Piper or Rohoar. As quietly as he’d entered, Magnus backed into the elevator and closed the doors.

  4

  “How soon before Sootriman is better?” Awen asked, glancing between TO-96 and Azelon, the ship’s gleaming-white robot counterpart. The three of them stood on the bridge of the Azelon Spire, watching as the vessel commenced the docking procedures with Ki Nar Four’s central platform. The volcanic planet filled the main viewing window, molten lava swirling amongst a host of charred tectonic plates twenty thousand kilometers below.

  “Before Sootriman is better?” TO-96 asked. “Would you please quantify your question for accuracy’s sake? Better is a relative term. At what level do you expect—”

  “Got it, ’Six.” Awen waved him off. “How soon before she’s conscious and alert enough to give orders to her minions?”

  “Minions?”

  “Her people, her staff. Whatever.”

  TO-96 looked at Azelon.

  “By our calculations,” Azelon replied, “based on a limited understanding of humanoid physiology, we estimate Sootriman will be fully coherent in two days, six hours, forty-one minutes, and twenty-eight seconds.”

  “That’s a pretty good understanding,” Awen replied, hands on her hips. She started to pace in front of the main viewing window. “Which means I have two days of waiting around. Mystics, this is going to drive me crazy.”

  “Are you going to become mentally unstable?” Azelon asked, looking from Awen to TO-96.

  “It is yet another turn of phrase, Azelon. An idiom, if you will. It means she expects to grow restless in anticipation of her return to the planet, Ithnor Ithelia, and the city, Itheliana, which she wants to do sooner than circumstances will permit.”

  “I understand,” Azelon said. “Is such a lack of patience a common virtue among sentients from this universe?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “Hey, you two.” Awen snapped her fingers. “Can you save the classroom talk for later? We have a mission to plan here.”

  “As you wish,” TO-96 replied. “How may we assist you?”

  “We’re going to need to get supplies and to rally Sootriman’s bodyguards. Does this ship need to have her fuel cells recharged or something?”

  “No,” Azelon said. “At least, not at this juncture. All systems are nominal.”

  “Perfect.” Awen rubbed her hands together. “So we need supplies and muscle.” What I wouldn’t give for a few bucketheaded Marines right about now.

  Really, Awen? Have you given up on your ideals so quickly?

  Suddenly, she felt ashamed. If Magnus were here and offered to go blow up every last one of those troopers in the metaverse, she wouldn’t even hesitate to take him up on it. Had vengeance taken that deep a hold on her?

  But it wasn’t vengeance—it was more like protection. Like keeping the rabid animal at arm’s length so that others might not have to suffer. Still, the moral high ground eluded her. She was talking about taking human life. How could she live with herself if she did this? What would the Luma say?

  So-Elku wouldn’t have a problem.

  That thought sent a shiver down her spine. But he isn’t a murderer, is he? He was just a misguided man who wanted the stardrive… and who wished to acquire information about the Novia Minoosh and their knowledge of the Unity. That was why he’d tried to manipulate her and tracked her through the quantum tunnel. And that was why he stole the book that had been in the temple library.

  Wasn’t it?

  More questions filled her mind, ones she didn’t feel any
closer to answering. Chief among them was still how So-Elku knew about the Novia in the first place. And how did Kane know about it? No one except the mwadim ever saw what was on that stardrive, right?

  Working through the possibilities felt like trying to hold handfuls of sand in the shallows of a tidal pool. No matter how she tried, the current whisked the granules into the sea and left her empty-handed. Worse still, however, was a lingering sense of foreboding, an imminent threat waiting for her just out of sight, lurking in the shadows. She felt the warnings, as if someone was trying to tell her to stay away. But she knew how fear could constrict the will and lead to inaction. For three months on Itheliana, fear had paralyzed her. She refused to listen to it anymore. Instead, she would forge ahead, plunging into the darkness and taking the fight to the enemy.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” TO-96 said with a raised hand, “is your only inquiry as to Sootriman’s health about how she might assist you in your effort to return to the metaverse? Might you also be curious as to Azelon’s prognosis of your friend?”

  The two questions cut Awen to her core. She was beginning to wonder if some measure of metaphorical nearsightedness wasn’t a significant character flaw in her. When she got focused on a task, it consumed her.

  But that’s the only way things get done. The alternative was cloudy judgment calls and lackluster results. Lives were on the line here—the whole galaxy was in jeopardy. And she knew in her heart that Sootriman would be fine. She’d told Ezo as much, and she wasn’t about to put dishonesty on her notable list of flaws.

  “Of course I care about her.” Awen pulled the edges of her jacket together and lifted her chin. “Azelon, do you expect Sootriman to make a full recovery?”

  “The likelihood of Sootriman returning to full health stands at ninety-eight point seven six three percent.”

  “See?” Awen shot TO-96 a glare.

  “You need not prove anything to me, Awen. I was already aware of the statistical likelihood of your friend’s recovery.”