Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  His contact with them had been extremely limited over the months that he trained Granther Company back on Neith Tearness. In fact, it was mostly Valerie who checked in on them, managing their medications and monitoring their long road to recovery. Whenever Magnus had spent time with them, it was filled with lots of reminiscing and more than a few tears. And it was the tears that concerned him most.

  Beneath their grief, Magnus saw the hot embers of hatred. It wasn’t malevolent in and of itself—these two warriors couldn’t be blamed for what they’d been through any more than someone could blame a sandcastle for being built too close to the ocean at low tide. But Magnus knew what their bitterness could turn into. He’d seen it before. Hell, he’d seen it in himself. But unlike Flow and Cheeks, Magnus had found ways to cope with it and still operate—not just as a person, but as a warrior. For his brothers, however, Magnus doubted they’d ever be able to head outside the wire again. He even doubted if they could be in the same room with Rohoar or any of his Jujari, which is why they had remained quarantined to certain sections of the ship since their rescue.

  Awen said she’d need the better part of the day to close the existing quantum tunnel and open a new one outside Worru. So while she was back in Itheliana to operate the QTG, Magnus took the opportunity to brief Flow and Cheeks on their small though significant part of the coming mission, one that would keep them safely aboard the Spire and out of harm’s way.

  “You lookin’ fly in those Novia threads, LT,” Flow said, locking hands with Magnus and pulling him into an embrace. Magnus wore a casual flight suit made of white material with blue trim while Flow and Cheeks wore black gym shorts and white t-shirts that hugged their muscular torsos.

  “I’m just not brave enough to show my legs like you,” Magnus replied.

  “Hell, no one is,” Cheeks added, giving Magnus a similar handshake and one-armed hug. “Who’s gonna compete with those thunder thighs? I know I ain’t.”

  “Somehow I feel like you’re insulting me,” Flow said. “But I know you’re just jealous ’cause you can’t do this…” Suddenly, Flow started flexing his thigh muscles back and forth like the ping-ponging bass line of a prog dance song.

  “That’s so disturbing,” Cheeks said, looking away.

  Magnus laughed, then motioned toward the chairs in their rec room. “Can I sit?”

  “What do you mean, can I sit?” Flow said, scrunching his face up. “You acting all formal on us now?”

  “Maybe,” Magnus said. “I have a mission for you.”

  “’Bout damn time,” Cheeks exclaimed. “I’m so ready to be done with this starship, I tell you what. Get me planet side with a MAR30 and give me something to shoot.”

  “He’s lying,” Flow said, pulling up a glossy white chair for Magnus. “He just wants a woman. Hell, he wants five, and doesn’t even care what species they are.”

  Magnus waved his hands. “That’s already more detail than I want to know, Fearsome.” The three of them chuckled as Magnus knew their thoughts turned toward the deceased member of the Fearsome Four, Allan “Mouth” Franklin.

  Flow broke the grief-stricken silence by clapping his hands once and rubbing his palms together. “So, wha’dya got for us, LT?”

  “Well, we’re planning something big, boys.”

  “I knew it!” Cheeks said. “Had to be a good reason you’ve kept us cooped up in here. Son of a bitch.”

  “So what’re we doing?” Flow asked. “Regrouping with battalion? Or heading out from here on something way down range?”

  “Neither,” Magnus said. He lowered his head and took a deep breath, knowing they’d be hanging on his every word. “I gotta fill you boys in first. And there’s a lot. So if you need me to take a break at all, you just—”

  “We don’t need no breaks, LT,” Cheeks interjected. “The last few months have made us stir crazy. Give it to us. We’re ready.”

  With that, Magnus plunged headlong into recounting everything that had transpired after their rescue, even going over details they’d previously discussed just in case the two Marines had forgotten them. Memory loss was a common occurrence in those who’d suffered severe trauma—and Flow and Cheeks had been through some of the worst.

  Their eyes went wide as Magnus covered the more recent ground about the Novia Minoosh, their connection to the Jujari, and Admiral Kane’s transformation to Moldark. Magnus even offered to stop while he recounted the most recent battle in Itheliana just to let them take it all in. But to their credit, they were indeed ready to move on and absorbed the intel like they would in any other mission briefing.

  “So where you want us?” Flow asked after Magnus had shared the assault plan for Worru.

  Magnus took his deepest breath yet. This was going to be the hard part.

  “Aw, hell,” Cheeks said, throwing his hands in the air and standing up. “He’s not taking us with him again.”

  Flow looked from Cheeks to Magnus. “Say it ain’t so, LT.”

  “It’s so,” Magnus replied.

  “Splick, LT!” Flow was on his feet. “You rescue us from those clawed demons only to keep us cooped up inside this starship for months, and then when we have a chance to rip some bad guys, you won’t even let us out of our mysticsdamn bedrooms? What are you, our mother?”

  “I need you on the bridge with the bots,” Magnus said, trying to keep his voice calm.

  “You hear that, Flow?” Cheeks said. “We get to babysit bots.”

  “Aw, hell nah,” Flow replied. “Ain’t no way. Nooo way.”

  “We need orbital oversight,” Magnus said, trying to keep his voice calm. “The AIs are good at resource allocation, but they still can’t handle predictive modeling like Marines can. Your experience will be invaluable in helping us adjust course in the field.”

  Magnus knew all his rehearsed explanations were right, and he knew his logic was bulletproof. But he could already feel that he’d lost his boys. Part of their argument was true—he had kept them locked up. And he’d be just as stir crazy as they were, if not worse. But the more they went on, the more he realized that Flow and Cheeks were proving his worst fears to be true: they couldn’t handle combat. And he’d have to show them that they couldn’t despite how much it pained him to do so.

  “Sit down,” Magnus said.

  “Is that an order, LT?” Flow asked. “’Cause it seems like that’s all we’ve been doing for you.”

  “Yes, that’s an order. Both of you. Sit down.”

  “I don’t think so, boss,” Cheeks replied. He was agitated, pacing back and forth, eyes darting around the room.

  Magnus rubbed his hand over his face, then tapped his earpiece. “Come on in,” he said over comms.

  A door opened on the far side of the rec room. Flow and Cheeks both turned at the motion. Then they watched as two Jujari entered through the doorway.

  “Those are friendlies,” Magnus said calmly. “That is Rohoar and Saladin, and they helped save your lives. And if we work together, they’re going to help save the galaxy.” He hadn’t even finished the sentence when he noticed Flow and Cheeks’s bodies tense. They made fists and prepared for a fight. “I order you to sit down.”

  But the two men hadn’t heard Magnus. Instead, they charged after the two Jujari. Flow even grabbed his chair and held it over his head, swinging it like a club. Magnus remained seated and chewed on his lip. This was more painful to watch than he expected. He stood up, then more loudly, he yelled, “Flow, Cheeks—stand down!” But neither man paid him any attention.

  Flow hurled his chair at Rohoar while Cheeks lowered his shoulder and rammed it into Saladin. But neither Jujari was struck. Instead, both men passed through Azelon’s hard light projections just as she caused the Jujari to disappear. Flow and Cheeks stumbled forward, one slamming into the far wall while the other fell on his chest with a grunt.

  They both turned around to look for the enemy, eyes wide and filled with terror. But when they didn’t see the Jujari, their eyes met Magnus�
�s. He fought to hold back the emotions welling in his chest. As much as he wanted his brothers in arms to join him once again on the battlefield, there was simply no way they could. Not like this.

  Then Magnus saw realization dawn on Flow’s face. The look was something akin to embarrassment, then shame, and then grief. “I’m so…” Flow looked down at his hands, and then to the thrown chair. “I didn’t even…”

  “I’m sorry, boys,” Magnus said, walking toward them now. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

  Realization came slower to Cheeks, who was still panting from adrenaline. “What the hell, LT? What was that?”

  “It was a test,” Flow said. “Stand down.”

  “A test?” Cheeks looked between both of them, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. “What kind of a sick twisted test was that supposed to be?”

  “One we just failed,” Flow said.

  “Failed? You trying to mess with us, LT?”

  “No,” Flow replied again, doing the hard work for Magnus. “He’s trying to keep us from getting killed. And keeping us from killing our teammates.”

  “Again,” Magnus said, “I’m sorry. But you’re not fit for duty outside this starship.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Cheeks said, turning away from Magnus.

  The mood was so heavy, Magnus felt it resting on his shoulders like a physical weight. In his heart, he wanted nothing more than to hand his boys NOV1s and have them by his side as they hit the streets of Plumeria. But that was just a dream, one that would remain a fiction in his imagination.

  “My previous offer still stands,” Magnus said. “If you want it, that is. I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you two alone and check back in later to see if you’ve changed your minds.”

  Flow nodded, a frown stretched across his large lips. “You’ll know where to find us.”

  “Take care of him,” Magnus said, indicating Cheeks with a small toss of his head.

  “Copy that,” Flow replied. “We’ll cool off and have an answer for you later.”

  “Sounds good.” Magnus left the rec room without another word. But once the door closed behind him, he leaned against the corridor’s wall and wept.

  17

  “How’d it go?” Magnus asked, being the first to greet her and the away team returning from the planet’s surface. Awen was surprised at how nice it felt to see his face before anyone else’s, then wondered if the emotion was too obvious.

  “Pretty smooth actually,” she replied, trying to calm her excitement. Awen stepped aside to let the rest of Bravo Platoon file out of the shuttle and filter back into the ship through the hangar. TO-96 was last out and gave them both a parting salute before heading to the bridge. Magnus hadn’t even realized that the bot had gotten a fresh telecoms emulation coating on his entire chassis, including his weapons systems. This gave the bot the same chameleon mode that the rest of the gladias enjoyed.

  “Operating it was easier than I imagined it might be,” Awen added.

  “You had help, I’m guessing?”

  Awen gave him a smug look. “Are you saying I can’t handle it on my own?”

  Magnus blinked in surprise. “Uh, no. I just meant that—”

  “Easy. I’m just playing with you. TO-96 lent me considerable help from the Novia Minoosh.”

  “Ah. That’s… that’s great.”

  “It is. The old tunnel is closed, and we have a new tunnel opened that will place us one hour from Worru, well clear of its gravity well.”

  “That’s great news.”

  Awen smiled at him again, noting how puffy his eyes looked. “You okay there, Adonis? You seem off.” He didn’t answer right away. She tried to catch his eye, and gave him a wink when she finally did. “Hey, what is it?”

  “I spoke with Flow and Cheeks.”

  Awen’s smile faded. “I take it that didn’t go well.”

  He shook his head.

  “Magnus… I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I.” He shrugged. “But it’s part of being a Marine. Some missions you just never come back from. And they’re still… they’re…”

  “Still not back from Oorajee.”

  He grunted in agreement. “Mm-hm. And probably never will be.”

  Compassion for Magnus swelled so quickly in her chest that Awen couldn’t restrain herself from giving him a hug. Surprisingly, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the side of her neck. It was the most affectionate she’d ever seen him—even more than the kisses they’d shared. Something about this moment made him seem so vulnerable.

  When Magnus finally let her go, Awen placed a hand over his heart. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  A moment passed between them as Awen let her hand linger on his chest.

  Finally, he asked, “What about you?”

  “Me?” Awen’s mission to the QTG had gone flawlessly, and she loved the opportunity to visit the alien city again. Plus, she hadn’t endured anything like what Magnus had just been through. So, by comparison, she was having a great afternoon.

  But then she was reminded that she did indeed have something that was weighing on her. And given Magnus’s own transparency, maybe this was the time to bring it up. In fact, Magnus was perhaps the best person to ask in all the galaxy.

  “I’m not looking forward to being back in Plumeria,” she said, biting her lip and looking around. Was this hangar bay to be the site of all their deep conversations?

  “Too many bad memories?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s more like I’m afraid of the new ones I’m going to make.”

  “You mean with combat?”

  “I mean, I don’t know how I’m going to face the Luma.”

  Magnus gave her a knowing nod and then looked at the hangar’s floor. “I’m not gonna lie, Awen. It’s not easy.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “What do you think?”

  For some reason, Awen had never fully thought through the encounters Magnus had on the Bull Wraith and in Itheliana as being against fellow Marines. They were just bad guys doing bad things. But all of them—right down to Nos Kil and Ricio—had been recruited from human worlds, trained by the Navy or Marine Corps, and commissioned to serve the Galactic Republic. Whatever their new allegiances with Moldark and the Paragon were, it didn’t change the troopers’ pedigree. To put it in Marine-speak, she thought, they’re all brothers.

  “I’m thinking it must’ve been hard to pull the trigger against the Marines on the Bull Wraith that came after Piper and her parents. And just as hard to put down the Recon team on Ithnor Ithelia.”

  Magnus stroked his beard. “It was. Real hard. And if I wasn’t careful, those feelings would have kept me from pulling the trigger—at least long enough for someone else to pick me off.”

  “So you buried the feelings and fired first.”

  “No.”

  Awen raised an eyebrow at Magnus, surprised by his reply.

  “If you bury those feelings,” he said, “they haunt you worse than any of the others. You never dismiss the fact that you’re fighting people who—given a different set of circumstances—are your family.”

  “Then how do you do it and not fall apart on the battlefield?”

  “You choose to defend the family who needs your help the most.”

  Awen searched his face, her eyes darting around his rugged complexion. She was so grateful for his insights, and felt his words console her like water on a cracked patch of soil.

  Before, the universe had been so black and white. But ever since the ambush at the mwadim’s palace, Awen had been plunged into a world of grey. Absolutes had been traded for a bucket full of maybe and sometimes and sort of. Navigating those paths was harder than she cared to admit. And while she didn’t always agree with his approach to every conflict, she at least held a deep respect for his motives.

  Still, his statement wasn’t without its problems. She swallowed and looked at
him. “But couldn’t you say that the family who is misguided—your rogue Marines and my seduced Luma—couldn’t you say that they need the most help?”

  He nodded. “I suppose so. And I marvel at your desire to do right by them—mystics know I don’t know how you do it. But those people are different to me.”

  “How so?”

  “They’ve already made up their minds.”

  “But what if we could win them back?”

  “I’m not saying we couldn’t. But when their finger is on a trigger and it’s pointed at someone who’s committed themselves to defending the weak and protecting freedom, then you can’t hesitate.”

  Awen didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath and let out a deep sigh. “I get that, it’s just—”

  “Awen. Listen.” He passed his hand over his hair. “Most people, they get the luxury of talking about this sort of thing in a classroom or on a news program or over dinner. They never actually have to live it out. It’s all rhetorical to them, like some mythical exercise that doesn’t affect anyone except the server who has to keep filling up their wine glasses while the conversation goes on and on, round and round.

  “The difference for you and me, however, is that it’s not theory for us. It’s real. It’s right now. And it’s coming for us whether we want it to or not. We don’t get to have opinions that keep us warm on our couches. We have decisions to make that stay with us forever—decisions that say some people will live and some people will die.

  “Trust me when I say I don’t like it any more than you do. You’ve already heard me say that—and it’s more than I’ve ever admitted to anyone. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re here, out on the edge of the conflict, and we have nowhere else to go but through the enemy. It’s that, or we run away. And I’m not willing to do that. And neither are you.”

  Awen nodded. He’d spoken so fast and shared so much that she hardly knew what to say in reply. But he wasn’t done yet.

  “If there was time to figure it all out, to get everyone to lay down their arms and talk it through…” He nodded. “I’d be all for it. But war exists because that doesn’t happen, at least not a lot. So if someone is going to fight, if someone is going to be responsible for taking lives and sifting through the evil that is conflict, I can tell you one thing’s for damn sure.”