Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  She smiled. “Not unless you want your butts handed to you.”

  Magnus laughed a little and gave her a nod. “And we don’t want that.”

  Sootriman spoke next. “So, the way I see it, the only risk would be if the enemy discovered the new tunnel before we were ready.”

  “That’s correct,” TO-96 said. “However, assuming that you place the anomaly away from normal starship thoroughfares, I predict the enemy’s discovery of it at such an infinitely low probability that I would deem it impossible, to use your nomenclature.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Rohoar said. “But our enemy is wily.”

  “Agreed,” Magnus said. “We don’t know how much of the fleet Kane controls, and we have to assume he has eyes everywhere. I don’t want us underestimating this enemy.”

  “Which means we should interrogate the prisoners for information,” Abimbola said. He removed his bowie knife. Despite the sheath in his thigh rendering the Novia armor’s chameleon mode pointless for that leg, he refused to give up the weapon. “And I will get as much out of them as possible before I dispatch them.”

  “No,” Magnus said, waving a hand at the other man. “We won’t be torturing them, Abimbola.”

  While Magnus wasn’t looking at her, Awen felt that maybe he wanted to. Or maybe she just wanted him to look at her, knowing this change in procedure was certainly a result of their conversation. She was deeply moved to know that he’d taken her admonishment to heart.

  “We’ll get what we can without harming them, and that will be enough.”

  “Is the buckethead going soft?”

  “I’m not going soft, Bimby. But I am saying that since I’m no longer a Marine and you’re no longer a Marauder we need to do things differently. And I think we can get what we need without killing them.”

  “Fair enough. But if they try to do anything stupid, can we kill them?”

  Magnus glanced at Awen. Was that a look of deference? “It all depends on what the stupid is,” Awen replied.

  Abimbola slid his knife back into his sheath. “This way sounds too complicated. But I will follow your lead, Magnus. Awen.”

  “Thanks, Bimby,” Magnus replied.

  There was a moment of silence before Awen asked: “So are we putting this to a vote then?” She looked around the room and saw everyone nod their heads.

  “All in favor of closing the current tunnel and opening a new one, say aye,” Magnus said, raising his own hand. Everyone else consented with raised hands and verbal acknowledgment. Magnus grunted. “It’s unanimous then.”

  “So, where to next?” Sootriman asked.

  “We need to rescue Willowood and those loyal to her,” Awen said.

  “And take another stab at that Swowlkoo human,” Rohoar added.

  Awen corrected him. “That’s So-Elku.”

  “Not that it matters,” Abimbola replied. “He’ll be dead before anyone needs to use his name again. That is, if we are allowed to kill him.” The hulk looked between Awen and Magnus.

  “Just make sure he does something stupid enough to justify it,” Magnus said.

  “Oh, I will,” said Abimbola, tapping his knife’s handle with a finger.

  “Awen, TO-96, and I will see to the prisoners,” Magnus added. “Once we have spoken to them, let’s all reconvene in the Spire’s war room and make a plan for liberating those on Worru. Dismissed.”

  As everyone exited, Magnus looked at Awen. “Let’s walk together. You too, ’Six.” Awen nodded and stepped in beside him with TO-96 picking up the rear. “Azelon, you have the conn.”

  “Understood, sir,” she replied.

  As they entered the elevator and headed toward the Spire’s brig, Magnus spoke in a low voice to Awen. “I’m wondering about Piper,” he said.

  Awen waited for him to keep going, but he didn’t say anything more. “What about?”

  “Do you think this is going to be too much for her?”

  “What do you mean by this?”

  “I mean Worru. The battle. The killing.”

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” When Magnus raised an eyebrow at her without replying, she waved a hand in the air in frustration. “I mean, she killed a Recon trooper down there—by stopping his heart, Magnus. She took another living being’s life, and she’s only nine. If you wanted to keep her away from the killing business, you already missed that starship.”

  “I know. And I didn’t want that.”

  “You sure?” The words came out more harshly than she intended them too. “Ugh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I get it. You’re watching out for her. This is just me trying to do the same.”

  Despite her frustration with the whole idea of involving a child in the first place, Awen appreciated Magnus’s desire to watch out for Piper. She felt her features soften and regarded him with a look of appreciation. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m just wondering if we shouldn’t take her to Worru.”

  “You mean, leave her in the Spire?”

  “No.” Magnus shook his head and pressed his lips into a frown. “I mean, leave her on Ithnor Ithelia.”

  “By herself?”

  “We’d leave TO-96 behind with her.”

  Awen heard the bot’s servos move at Magnus’s words.

  “Maybe we see if Flow and Cheeks want to watch out for her,” Magnus continued. “Plus, you said it yourself that you think she might be able to run the QTG. Maybe that’s an asset we shouldn’t overlook.”

  “If I may,” TO-96 interjected.

  “Not now, Nintey-Six.” Awen tapped a finger on her lips. The thought of leaving Piper behind hadn’t crossed her mind; this upcoming confrontation was the whole reason Awen had begun training her in the first place. Or was it about helping Piper just to steward her own gifts? The lines were getting blurry.

  Keeping her back would certainly remove her from any immediate danger. And having her available to open and close quantum tunnels could be an incredible tool, essentially allowing them to vanish and reappear anywhere in the void on a whim. Despite all of that, however, Awen had her own reservations.

  “I’m not sure we can do without her on the battlefield,” Awen said.

  Magnus looked shocked. “Did I just hear Awen say—”

  “I know,” she said, waving him off again. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not saying we put her in the action, or give her orders to kill anyone—mystics.” She rubbed her temple with a thumb, disbelieving she was actually arguing against Magnus’s efforts to keep Piper out of harm’s way. “But I do believe, now more than before, that her abilities could be a deciding factor if this comes down to a battle within the Unity. I don’t think we can afford to leave her here.”

  “Pardon my interruption, but—”

  “Can it, ’Six.” Magnus looked hard at Awen as a smug smile crept at the corners of his eyes. “You do know that you don’t sound anything like a Luma right now.”

  “We’ve already gone over this, Magnus,” she said, punching him in the shoulder, then instantly regretting it. Her knuckles stung as they bounced off the Novia armor. “I’m not a Luma. I’m a gladia, just like you. And this is about what’s best for the galaxy, not the factions we came from.”

  “What about what’s best for Piper?”

  “What’s best for Piper is that she doesn’t grow up in a galaxy ruled by the likes of Admiral Kane and So-Elku. And the only way that happens is if we utilize her powers in the fight.” She held up her hand again. “And I know that we’ve already talked about her ability to turn the tide if things get bad. You having second thoughts actually surprises me… it makes me feel like you’ve really heard my apprehensions. But now that we’re on the verge of taking the fight to the enemy, I’m not so sure we can win without her. I think we have to put her in the battle like we planned, even if there is a risk that she might… that we might…”

  “Lose her?”

  “Mystics, don’t say th
at,” Awen said, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “I just don’t want her to lose her innocence, to have her heart hurt. The desire to keep her away from all this is overwhelming sometimes, you know?”

  Magnus nodded. “I do. And I don’t want her getting hurt either—physically, psychologically, or emotionally. But in a certain way, we’re already past that. She can’t unsee what we’ve already lived through. And you know she’d just protest us keeping her back. In a certain way, it may hurt her more if we tell her she can’t come.”

  “If I may,” TO-96 said again.

  “What is it, bot,” Magnus said, his voice betraying his annoyance.

  “You are forgetting one very obvious factor in all of this.”

  “And that is?”

  “That if you leave Miss Piper for any length of time in metaspace, she will age disproportionately to you.”

  Magnus and Awen both looked at the robot. There was a moment of silence before Awen let out a long sigh. “And then there’s that.”

  “Look like she’s going with us,” Magnus said. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, ’Six?”

  “But, sir, I—”

  “Just speak up next time, okay?”

  “But—”

  “Hey, one more thing,” Awen said. She felt her face flush before she even said the words. “It’s about Valerie.”

  Magnus shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about her, Awen. There’s nothing there.” Hearing him say that took a weight off her chest. Still, she searched his eyes to make sure they corroborated the confession. She stared at him long enough that he finally said, “Seriously. I’m a one-woman man.”

  “And I trust you,” Awen replied. “Thank you.”

  “We are arriving at the brig level,” TO-96 said, turning toward the door. “And we have some prisoner ass to kick.”

  “Ninety-Six,” Awen yelled in rebuke. As Magnus brushed past her, she could have sworn she saw him grin. “Did you put him up to that?”

  Magnus raised both his hands in the air as he walked away.

  “Magnus!”

  8

  Magnus stood outside the brig, expecting the smooth white door to open as he approached. When it remained shut, his bioteknia eyes noted the data pad on the wall beside it.

  “You okay?” Awen asked, clearly mistaking his hesitation for apprehension.

  As much as he tried to ignore the emotions surfacing in his chest, Magnus had to admit that he wasn’t looking forward to confronting Nos Kil.

  “Yeah. Fine.” He stared at the data pad a second more. “Azelon, can you open the door please?”

  “Affirmative,” she said, her voice coming over the speakers directly overhead. The door slid open and revealed a dimly lit control room, the far wall of which was a holo display. It had several command prompts outlined in red, as well as a sub window broken into sections. Each section had a view of what Magnus assumed were holding cells.

  “You going in?” Awen asked.

  He cleared his throat and then motioned her forward. “After you.”

  Awen studied his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Mystics, woman. Just go in already, would you?”

  She gave him a look that said, “Whatever,” and then he followed her into the control room. The door closed behind them and some ceiling-mounted pin lights lit spots on the glossy black floor where Magnus assumed he and Awen should stand to command the system.

  As much as he hated to admit it, he was not okay. The fact that Nos Kil was out of prison after all these years baffled Magnus. The former Marine’s convictions included sexual misconduct, ill treatment of a civilian population in occupied territory during combat missions, unnecessary violence against enemy combatants, and murder. Nos Kil’s multiple life sentences guaranteed that he’d never see the outside of the maximum-security military prison he’d been assigned to. And yet, here he was, caught operating with a rogue Recon team in an alien universe in Mark VII armor.

  “Which prisoner would you like to attend to first?” Azelon asked over the room’s speakers.

  Awen glanced at Magnus. “What do you say?”

  “Nos Kil first,” he replied.

  “The prisoner is being held in cell number one,” Azelon said.

  Magnus looked at the sub window marked with the appropriate number. A man lay on a bed on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the camera. He’d been stripped of his armor and wore only a pair of black military-style workout shorts. His muscular arms, chest, and legs were accented with tattoos and scars—both mementos of conflicts he’d seen. And lives he’s taken, Magnus noted. He wondered how many had been for the job and how many had been for sport. For pleasure.

  The sight of Nos Kil’s deranged face brought back the painful memories of Magnus’s last moment with his brother, Argus. He’d tried to bury those thoughts—those words and those hate-filled images. But still they haunted him, clinging to his memory like the barbed legs of a Falorian latch-spider. Seeing Nos Kil made the arachnid shudder and twitch as it clung to the inside of his skull, sending chills down his spine.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Awen said.

  Magnus turned on her, surprised that she had come to some sort of conclusion that he wasn’t privy to. “You’re not in the Unity right now, are you? Like, reading my thoughts?”

  “No. I’m not reading your thoughts. But I am in the Unity. And ever since you saw this man back in Itheliana, your energy pattern has changed. Which leads me to believe you know this man, just as he suggested when we captured him.”

  Magnus nodded, knowing he couldn’t escape her keen insight. “I do, yes.”

  “And it’s a painful knowing.”

  He pursed his lips for a second. “It is.”

  “Then let me do this.”

  “No,” Magnus said, far more forcefully than he meant to. Images of what Nos Kil had done to the Caledonian girls caused his anger to surge. “I mean, no, that’s not a good idea. I need to do this. Nos Kil might have information crucial for our mission’s success, and if anyone’s going to get it out of him, it’s me.”

  “No,” Awen replied, placing a hand on his chest. “It’s us.”

  “Awen, I really don’t—”

  “Either we do it together, or you’re not going in there at all.”

  Magnus looked from Awen back to the holo display. His eyes jumped to the last cell, on what he presumed was the opposite end of the brig, and he saw the second man. He too was bare-chested in shorts but was much leaner than Nos Kil. His uniform had read Longo. Magnus wondered if maybe he and Awen should start with him. But Magnus knew it was only a delay tactic to keep him from confronting the inevitable.

  “Let’s go then,” Magnus said as his eyes moved back to Nos Kil’s camera view. “Just… keep your head about you. This one is…”

  “I get it. I’ll be fine.” Awen gestured toward the door that lead into the cell blocks and said, “After you.”

  Azelon unlocked the door and a pulsing red line appeared on the floor, indicating that he should proceed. Magnus stepped into a corridor that spread into five different anterooms, each presenting different cells.

  “Please continue to cell block A,” Azelon said. The red line pulsed forward and to the left-most fork. Magnus followed the path along the black floor and entered the cell block’s hexagonal room. The holding rooms were spartan, providing the occupant a retractable toilet and bed. There was no pillow, blanket, or any other clothing provided besides the shorts.

  At once, Magnus noticed the prisoner’s head pop up and look through the translucent blue containment wall at him.

  “Well, well, well,” Nos Kil said, sitting up. “Company.” He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees like he was about to go into some sort of meditation. “Husband and wife, is it?”

  “How’d you get out of prison, Nos Kil?” Magnus asked, regaining control on the line of questioning.

  The prisoner laughed, then str
etched. Magnus watched the man’s muscles ripple like giant cables spanning a bridge. Whatever training Nos Kil had committed himself to, it had put him in top shape, and the man clearly wasn’t afraid to show off his body. “You would want to know that, wouldn’t you.”

  Magnus waited for the reply, unwilling to ask again. After a moment’s silence, Nos Kil answered with a roll of his head.

  “They let me out on good behavior. Can you believe it?”

  “Not for a second,” Magnus replied.

  Nos Kil snickered. “Neither would I, Adonis. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? And look at you! I mean, your new fancy armor, a starship, and this incredibly delectable creature beside you.” His last few words rolled off his tongue in long undulating tones more suited to an aristocrat than a soldier.

  Magnus thought of defending Awen at the misogynistic address but decided that it would only put them further away from their goal. Plus, Awen could handle herself. “Who let you out?”

  “You see there?” Nos Kil said, looking at Awen. “That’s why the brass always liked Adonis. So keen and insightful. Never one to mince words.”

  Magnus waited, and Awen didn’t reply.

  “You’re no fun, neither of you.” Nos Kil swung his legs off his bed and stood up, stretching his back. “Someone at the top needed things done.” He took a deep breath, letting the moment stretch on as if he was enjoying the warmth of some unseen sun. “Apparently, I had the skill set he required, and they let me out to play.”

  “Admiral Kane,” Awen said.

  Nos Kil spun toward her, smiling as if looking at a lavish plate of food. He bit his thumb and cocked his head.

  “Admiral Kane,” Nos Kil repeated, taking a step toward the shimmering blue force field. “Yes, that’s what you know him as.”

  “So that’s who ordered your sentence to be lifted?” Magnus asked.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “And he’s the one who sent you here, to Ithnor Ithelia,” Awen said, apparently assuming as much as Magnus had.

  “Ithnor Ithelia,” Nos Kil repeated, letting the words slide off his tongue in a musical way as he glared at Awen. “I did not know that’s what it was called. Yes, I was sent here, and no, it was not Admiral Kane who sent me.”