Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “Yes, of course. And you spoke to all of them?”

  “All the ships, yes.” It felt like Piper had just drunk a cup of warm milk and was bundled up with a soft blanket. “I’m so tired.”

  “And do you think they heard you?”

  “Of course.” She yawned again. Fatigue fought off the nervousness in her chest. “I spoke to their hearts.” Piper squinted through one eye at her grandfather. He was smiling—at least that’s how she interpreted it. He was kinda scary looking. But he seemed happy. “I want to go to my room, please.”

  “Yes,” her grandfather said, pushing her toward her chamber. “Yes, of course. Sleep, child. Sleep as long as you need.”

  “Thank you.” Piper heard her feet shuffle across the floor, but that was it. She had almost no memory of climbing in her bed. And then sleep—wonderful sleep. Only, it was not as nice as she would have liked.

  * * *

  When Piper finally decided to give up on sleeping, she opened her eyes and saw a soft red light pulse on the ceiling. Something about it seemed important—it meant something. Like…

  Like danger.

  She sat up and looked around, but the bedroom was empty, except for the sink, mirror, and small desk in the corner. She didn’t smell smoke or feel anything shaking. So what was the red light about?

  Piper thought about venturing outside, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to see her grandfather again. She was still tired from going into the Nexus and speaking to all the sailors on all the ships. And the sense that she’d done something wrong hadn’t left her either, though she couldn’t figure out why. The feeling clung to her chest like the stain on a shirt. She wanted to wipe it off, but no matter how hard she tried, the blemish wouldn’t go away.

  Piper rolled over and stared at the wall, pulling the thin blanket under her chin. She wished she had Talisman still. Feeling his soft fur against her face was wonderful. But he was gone.

  So much had changed in the last few months, and Piper suddenly wished she could go back—before her mother died, before learning the truth about Magnus, before discovering the metaverse, and Oorajee, and her father dying. She wanted to be back home in Capriana. Safe and warm in her own bed with Talisman and her data pad. She wanted things back the way they once were.

  And that’s when she had an idea.

  Without the power suit, Piper felt things in the Unity that she’d never felt before. She felt free. But she also knew she’d get in trouble for it. It was that strange combination of freedom and guilt that seemed to plague her heart now.

  She could see things more clearly in the Unity—in the Nexus—without her suit. She’d noticed the lucidness when So-Elku was instructing her in the pond. She’d even noticed it when sharing her grandfather’s message with the fleet ships. And not just see the present more clearly…

  She felt she could see the past too.

  It seemed as though thin threads stretched back in time, beyond her vision, to things long passed. While she couldn’t see the images from where she stood, Piper knew that if she pulled on the threads, she could bring the memories forward. Or, was she pulling herself to the memories? She couldn’t tell. Either way, she could reconnect with her past.

  And so she did.

  Piper pulled so hard on the thread of her life that she sent herself right back to Capriana. She lay with Talisman snuggled beneath her chin. She felt the nap of his well-loved fur against her cheek, and smelled that he needed a bath. Meanwhile, her parents laughed in the background, enjoying a favorite holo movie in the living room. A pang of regret pulsed in her chest. Instead of fighting it, Piper used it to pull herself into another memory…

  Her seventh birthday party dinner.

  That had been her favorite. It was just her, her mom, and her dad, eating Quidmallian treasure fish together. They laughed and told stories late into the night, sitting on a deck that overlooked the Midnoric Ocean. The phosmor—mormessint—phosphorescent algae lit up the ocean in a brilliant display of purple and green beneath a star-filled night sky. The salty breeze played with Piper’s hair, reminding her of that day’s ocean swims. And her sun-kissed skin was still warm from so much time on the beach, napping on towels while the surf crashed on the shore.

  Piper smelled the scent of jasmine on her mother’s skin and heard the rumble of her father’s laugh against her chest. She missed them. But being here with them in the Nexus almost felt, well, it almost felt real.

  Other threads tickled Piper’s face—loose strands fluttering in the Nexus wind. As much as she didn’t want to leave this memory, the new threads invited her to pull on them. But there was something different about these threads… something unfamiliar. That’s when she noticed who they were connected to—not her, but her parents.

  A thread projected from her mother’s presence, running forward and back in time, but on tangents all their own—tangents that belonged to her mother’s life.

  For real? Piper wondered to herself. Could she really see the events of other people’s lives as easily as she could see her own? The thought startled her. And, like before, when speaking to the fleets, Piper got scared. She wasn’t allowed to look at someone else’s life, was she? Those things… those memories were private.

  And yet, her mother’s threads flitted about in an ethereal wind that practically begged Piper to follow them. She’s dead, after all, Piper reasoned, and then immediately got mad at herself for such an uncaring thought.

  Yes. She is dead. Which gave Piper a thought.

  She pinched one of her mother’s threads, one that ran to a future moment, and pulled it. Suddenly, she was caught up in a rushing of wind that made her hair and clothes whip against her skin. Lights and color blurred, giving her the sense that she was being whisked through time. And then, as the motion slowed, Piper felt her heart beat faster.

  She heard the muffled sounds and saw the mottled shapes of a firefight. Suddenly, she stood in the hangar bay where her mother died. Blaster fire crisscrossed the scene. Bolts exploded against armor and crates and shuttles, dashed into a million orange sparks. Troopers shrieked beneath their helmets, falling to the ground in pain. The sharp smell of explosives and burning plastic made her nostrils flare.

  Piper didn’t want to be here. It was a mistake to pull this thread.

  But then she saw her mother, standing beside Magnus, firing on the bad guys. Piper wanted to tell her to get away from him. She tried screaming at her, but her voice was non-existent except in her own head. This was just a shadow of what had happened, and Piper needed to remind herself of that several times as her eyes watched the scene play out.

  She saw her body standing beside Awen, preparing to head up the shuttle’s ramp. Which was right about the time that—

  No, Piper protested. I don’t want to see it. And yet, she couldn’t break free from the memory. It was as though the moment had an invisible grip on her consciousness—something so strong that she couldn’t overcome it. She even tried to close her eyes against the pain, but the memory was being played out within her, forcing her to be terror’s witness for a second time. And how terrible it was.

  Piper screamed as Magnus pushed her mother into oncoming blaster fire. The bolt that took her life ripped a hole through her mother’s helmet, flipping her body back in a long arc. She was dead before she even hit the ground—her face marred, never to be seen again in all its beauty.

  Piper thrashed in the Nexus, trying to push herself out, but the place had a grip on her. She was trapped in the moment. Panic began to set in as she wondered if she’d ever break free, or if she’d be bound to watch this memory over and over. Perhaps this was why Awen had insisted she have a power suit—maybe Piper had ventured too far.

  Just when she thought she might become hysterical, the memory froze, then went backward. Piper had no idea if she was controlling this subconsciously or if someone else was tampering with the Nexus. But as the replay slowed to a few seconds before her mother died again, Piper’s heart beat wildly, reali
zing she’d have to watch the event all over again.

  Was this a cruel trick? Or perhaps some sort of punishment for something she’d done? Piper kicked and punched at the air, trying to escape this new hell she’d found herself in. As if someone held her eye open and pointed her face to her mother’s death scene, Piper watched as Magnus—once again—pushed her mother into the oncoming fire. If weeping were possible in the Unity, Piper was doing so now. But she couldn’t feel the tears, nor could she hear herself scream. All she saw was the flashing of light, the splitting of armor, and the shooting of sparks.

  Then everything froze.

  Smoke stood still, as did countless motes of light leaping into the night air. Troopers paused in mid-step, bodies tilting one way or another. Laser bolts hung over the ground, arrested in their flight, while the initial blast from a detonator looked more like a campfire than a violent force about to tear a soldier in two.

  Piper looked at her mother, but there was something strange about the woman’s body. At first, Piper thought it was just the way Magnus had pushed her. But it wasn’t that at all. It was something her mother was doing—an action of choice.

  With the entire scene suspended, Piper moved around her mother’s body, examining everything in detail. It was both horrific and mesmerizing, brutal and beautiful. Her mother seemed to be reaching for something—arching her back before the fatal shots struck her—pushing herself toward.

  Toward the blaster bolts.

  But why?

  Again, Piper fought the pain in her heart. It shook her chest and threatened to pull her from the Unity, but somehow Piper knew that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave until this was over—until she’d accomplished whatever it was the Nexus wanted her to see.

  Piper moved around her mother, focused on the blaster bolts slamming into her helmet. As she came around to the front again, she saw herself in the background. Piper caught her breath. She moved her head left, then right, then left, and saw where the blaster bolts were headed.

  “She was—” Piper choked on the words, barely able to get them out. “She was protecting me.”

  The emotions colliding in Piper’s chest were relentless. Her mother’s last act had been one of sacrificial love. The woman had extended her body just far enough to place her head in the line of fire.

  Piper felt herself sink to the ground, weeping in her mother’s shadow. Her chest—whether in the Unity or the bed—shook as sorrow wracked her tiny body. Seeing this, knowing what her mother had done, didn’t make the loss any easier to bear, but it did give new meaning to the result. It had been an act of love.

  “I’m done here,” Piper said aloud as if the unseen force that kept her in this moment would relent upon her admonition. “Let me go.”

  But nothing happened. Piper raised her eyes to see her mother’s body floating overhead, helmet and chest struck with a flurry of blaster bolts.

  “I said, let me go.” But Piper’s plea was met with silence. “I get it. She died saving me. Now let me out.”

  But something about the moment haunted her. It was as if a ghost touched her chin and turned her head. Magnus.

  “No,” Piper said, trying to shake her head away from the traitor. “No, I don’t—” She fought against whatever it was that moved her face. But it was impossible. Piper couldn’t even force her eyes shut. “Stop it!”

  Magnus fired his blaster with his left hand, and pushed her mother with his right, stepping toward her as he did. She wanted to scream at him, to say all the very worst words she’d ever heard at him, even if it got her in trouble. She thought about standing up to kick him and punch him, so she did. She stood up, yelled, and then stepped to his side, reigning blows against his armored side.

  Despite her best efforts, however, she could not make him budge. She didn’t even feel the reward of her own pain resulting from bleeding knuckles and bruised shins. There was just nothing. No impacts, no hurt—just the pain within her chest.

  Spent, she leaned her head against Magnus’s side, more from exhaustion than any sense of affection. But she wanted to be affectionate. She wanted to like him.

  No. Piper shook her head. That was the past before he betrayed me.

  She’d looked up to him so much, especially after her father died. Piper remembered first meeting him on her family’s cruiser when he’d come to rescue them. She remembered the way her father seemed to admire Magnus and the way her mother blushed when he spoke. And then Piper remembered her reoccurring dream where Magnus rescued her in the city. She’d pledged to do the same—to save him.

  The truth was, she didn’t want to despise him. Hate was exhausting. But how else was she to treat the man who’d taken everything from her?

  Piper found that she was resting against Magnus’s side. As she pushed herself away, she looked back toward the battlefield. That was when she saw it…

  A rocket, suspended in mid-air, with flames propelling it forward. Toward Magnus.

  No, not toward Magnus, Piper realized. Toward the space her mother stood a split second before.

  Piper pushed herself away from Magnus, looking between him, the rocket, and her mother. Her eyes darted back over all three things again, and again, again. Piper could feel her mortal body’s heart beat wildly in her chest, causing ripples within the Nexus that made the scene undulate from the pressure.

  Had he saved her? Had Magnus actually been trying to save her mother instead of killing her? But that’s not what Nos Kil had said. No, he’d said Magnus was a murderer. He’d murdered those girls on Caledonia—had even killed his own brother.

  Then why try to save Piper’s mother?

  She backed away from the scene, ducking beneath the shuttle’s belly as if she might find a hangar exit further back. But no matter how many steps she took from the scene, it seemed to pull her close again. It was like a horrible nightmare that kept repeating itself. All she wanted was to be free.

  And yet, Nos Kil’s words begged her consideration. His story had been so compelling, so convincing, that she never questioned it the way she needed to. Perhaps it was the shock of the content that made her do so. Or maybe it was the way he’d spoken with so much conviction. He was maimed and bloodied, after all.

  And yet, Piper couldn’t help but ask the most important question of all—the one she realized she should have asked from the very beginning.

  Was he right?

  A new emotion pecked at the crust of Piper’s heart, one she hardly recognized. But she’d read about it in her stories, and she’d been familiar with it only through sensing it in other characters. Shame. Shame for not asking Magnus if what Nos Kil had said was true or not.

  But she could not ask him now. In fact, she would most likely never see him again. The hopelessness of never knowing overwhelmed her. She could feel her soul pleading with the universe, trying to make a deal that if she ever saw him again, Piper would ask Magnus what had really happened. And, for the first time since hearing Nos Kil’s side of things, Piper gave Magnus the doubt’s benefits—or whatever it was called—that maybe, just maybe, Nos Kil was wrong and Magnus would be right.

  But who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to see Magnus again. She’d made up her mind to leave them on Worru, and now she was even further away, stuck on her grandfather’s ship. And despite how much she told herself that her grandfather would give her a ship when this was over, Piper suspected it was all a lie. It was that thing inside her grandfather, that evil presence that wouldn’t stay true to his word.

  Piper needed to know—she had to see for herself what Nos Kil described. The thought terrified her, of course. Especially if it was real. The things the prisoner said were worse than anything Piper could imagine. But if she was going to spend the rest of her life on this ship, she needed to know what Magnus had done.

  Just as it happened with her mother, Piper saw threads emerge from Magnus’s life. They played in the ethereal wind of the battle scene, begging her to snag one and pull it. So she did. She pinched a th
read and pulled, faster and faster, until seconds turned into minutes turned into days turned into years. Space and time whizzed past her in flashes of color and light until she stopped in a dimly lit room in the basement of a grand hotel.

  * * *

  Piper froze as the door to her room opened. She could hear her grandfather breathing in the doorway. He told her it was time to get up, but Piper didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to see him or be here. She wanted to be back with Awen and Magnus because she’d made a horrible mistake.

  Her grandfather asked her to get up again, but Piper acted like she was asleep. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. It was everything she could do to keep still. Did the blanket move from her thumping heart? Could he sense her panic? In the end, however, her grandfather told her to rest and then left the room. When the door slid closed behind her, Piper sat up and gasped. She had to get out. Now.

  She flung off the blanket and turned in the bed, noticing that her arms and legs trembled. She swallowed, stealing her strength, and hopped down. But as soon as her feet hit the floor, something leaped in the Unity. The impression was so strong that it almost knocked her back onto the bed. Awen was here.

  28

  Confirming Piper’s presence on the Labyrinth had a strange effect on Magnus. Instead of feeling reassured—which he did, he supposed—Magnus felt anxious. The thought of seeing the child again made his heart beat faster.

  The last time they’d been together, Magnus and Piper stood over Valerie’s dead body. He’d tried to reason with the girl, but she was furious at him. If Piper thought he’d pushed Valerie into oncoming fire, that would explain her rage. And she was, no doubt, already biased against him by Nos Kil’s fabricated story. The mix formed a lethal concoction that had probably torn the child’s heart in two.