Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  “How long’s that gonna take?” Magnus asked.

  “An additional forty-seven minutes, depending on your team’s swimming efficiency.”

  “That’s no good,” Magnus said as a sense of frustration grew in his chest.

  “Are you sure we can’t afford the extra time?” Awen asked him. “It could mean fewer casualties on both sides.”

  “But it almost doubles our time on target,” Magnus said.

  “Whatever you decide, sir, it needs to be concluded in three minutes,” TO-96 said.

  “Understood.” Magnus stretched his neck and felt the wind fight the motion. “Colonel, you got a preference?”

  “I’m not sure that I do, son,” the old man said. “I don’t like that it extends your time down there. Plus, if Moldark shows up, that could spell disaster for Capriana faster than Aunt June’s sweet yams give me the squirts. But assaulting the post head-on will most likely be a bloody affair. Even with your NOV1s and fancy armor, I’m worried you’ll take heavy casualties.”

  “But can we hit the switch faster than forty-seven minutes?” Magnus asked. “Because, according to the mission parameters, that’s the only question that needs answering.”

  Caldwell sighed and then looked offscreen. Based on how TO-96 and Azelon looked away too, Magnus guessed they were on the bridge and staring at one another. It was TO-96 who spoke next. “Again, you’ll save the most time by assaulting the base head-on and making for the manual override switch in the substation control building.”

  “Then that’s what we’re doing,” Magnus said.

  “Sir, if I may,” Azelon said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I have something you might find useful for this scenario. However, please be advised that it is not subtle.”

  Caldwell’s bushy white eyebrows rose. “Darling, we’re not looking for subtle. You save that for playing footsie with your boyfriend there. But you got something that will help them punch through? I say send it.”

  “Agreed,” said Magnus. “Whaddya got?”

  * * *

  Magnus’s squad made landfall on the island’s north side sixty seconds later. By the number of the Marines taking their positions on the base’s wall, either General McCormick and his senator had woken up to warn about a possible attack on the PDS, or the sea skimmers had woken everyone up. The floodlights were on, and the blaster rifles were warmed up.

  With the sea skimmers at full power, Magnus ordered his squad to ride up the beachhead to a cluster of boulders. The giant rocks provided ample cover, allowing the gladias to dismount and regain the advantage of being invisible. The only aspect of the base that was visible from down here was the enormous tower that served to funnel the core’s energy into the stratosphere.

  Tactically, it would be ten minutes before Azelon’s care package arrived, which meant Magnus needed to thin the enemy’s ranks, open a breach in the base’s wall, and make room for the drop. Although—to be fair to Azelon—armored crates propelled from orbit would clear their own way when they hit, he just didn’t want any gladias in it.

  “Bravo Team, you’re going left,” Magnus said. “Alpha Team, we’re going right. And when Azelon tells us to get the hell away from the drop zone—”

  “We get the hell away from the drop zone,” Abimbola said.

  “Right. Target the emplaced weapons first, and then pick off the sentries. Doc, Haze, I want two holes along the wall so they’ll be forced to cover both of them, but hold the detonation until our delivery arrives. Then we’ll take the gap closest to the substation, which will be to the west.” He marked a spot along the base’s right side. “That’s infill. We press to the objective, and the first person to flip on the PDS wins a lifetime supply of Colonel Caldwell’s cigars.”

  “Rohoar does not smoke,” said the Jujari.

  “Then you’d better learn, Scruffy, ’cause I want you tearing a path to that outbuilding.”

  “Rohoar will forfeit his reward to another person.”

  Magnus waved a hand. “Whatever you do, be sure not to hit the PDS generator tower. We damage that, and this whole mission’s a wash. Let’s thin their numbers and get those explosives deployed then clear out. Rohoar, Czyz, retract your armor extensions—we’ll need your teeth and claws.”

  Magnus could sense everyone squaring up with the objectives. This was not going to be easy for more reasons than he cared to admit. For one, he was risking his life to protect—among other things—the Corps, the one that had double-crossed him. But it wasn’t really the military who betrayed you—right? Magnus thought. It was the Paragon. Magnus bit his lower lip. Just keep telling yourself that, Adonis.

  “LT?” Dutch said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Those are Marines in there.” Before the words were even out of her mouth, Magnus knew where this was going because he was thinking the same thing. Any member of the Corps would. “Not the Paragon. Marines.”

  “Hard copy.”

  But she wasn’t done. “I just feel like—if we had more time, ya know? If we could talk to them, like you did with the Colonel and with Captain Forbes, then maybe…” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  To Magnus’s surprise, it was Abimbola who replied first. “War is messy, Dutch. And you? You are a warrior. You will trade these lives for millions, because that is what warriors do.” Abimbola lowered his head for a moment, but he wasn’t done. “I have slain more of your brothers and sisters than I care to admit to you. Today, however, I take no pride in our killing—only in our saving. Without that, we are merciless. But if we keep the end in sight, perhaps redemption awaits us. Awaits us all. Let history decide later, but we decide now.”

  “Damn,” Titus said, breaking the somber mood. “That was some good splick. La-raah.”

  “Thanks, Abimbola,” Dutch said as she placed a hand on the Miblimbian’s arm.

  He nodded once in reply. “La-raah.”

  “Let’s move,” Magnus said. “Dominate.”

  “Liberate,” they all replied.

  Alpha Team left the boulders’ cover and met a squad of Marines coming to investigate the sea skimmers. Magnus took aim at a trooper on the left who donned white Mark V armor. He fired a single round into the Marine’s helmet. It was the most humane way to put a combatant down—instantaneous and, therefore, painless—assuming you didn’t miss. And at such close proximity, Magnus knew he wouldn’t miss. The trooper collapsed and rolled down the sandy embankment.

  Upon seeing their fallen trooper and the flash of a random blaster bolt, the other Marines raised their weapons and fired into the darkness. At least one gladia took a hit to a personal shield, according to Magnus’s HUD, but he was too preoccupied to see who it was.

  Magnus’s squad fired on the ill-fated search party, sending all twelve Marines to the sand, and rolling down to settle near the base of the boulders. Black-rimmed blaster holes pockmarked their white armor, while wisps of smoke rose through the floodlamps’ indirect light.

  “Keep it smooth,” Magnus said to Alpha Team. He moved around the bodies and ran up the hill, careful to keep his boots from stirring the sand too much—there would be plenty of snipers on the wall monitoring where their fellow Marines had disappeared. Magnus found cover behind some dune ferns and zoomed in on the fortified wall.

  Elusian Base sat on a natural rise with about 300 meters of open sand between the boulders and the front gate. A ten-meter high blastcrete wall surrounded the complex, complete with watchtowers, electrified deterrents, and sniper nests. The main entrance itself was a five-meter blast door that was wide enough to accept amphibious transports directly from the sea. Floodlights adorned the towers, lighting a narrow trail of hardpack that went from the surf all the way to the gate.

  “It looks like we have more company coming,” Abimbola said. The gate opened, and a platoon of forty-eight Marines emerged, weapons in high ready position. They spread out in a V-formation, blaster’s searing the horizon.

  �
�Splick,” Magnus said to himself.

  “Looks like they didn’t get the memo about your whole low casualties thing,” Dutch said.

  “No.” Magnus chewed his lip. “They didn’t.” He doubled checked his NOV1 then hailed Titus and Abimbola. “You ready?”

  “Let’s do this,” Titus said.

  “We are ready,” Abimbola replied.

  “Open fire.”

  From two sides on the open ground, the Granthers fired on the advancing Marines. They dropped the center-most troopers first and then began working outward. The first ten combatants went down without a fight, but the remainder dropped to their bellies and virtually disappeared in the sand.

  “They’re going to ground,” Magnus said. “Adjust fire and watch for those snipers.”

  Alpha Team moved further to the right, thinking to flank the prone Marines. Magnus dialed in the crest of a Repub helmet poking above a gentle rise in the sand and squeezed his trigger. His NOV1 whined as a single round raced toward the helmet and blew a hole in the top. The smoking bucket tipped sideways, and the trooper lay still.

  Another trooper rose on one knee to fire at the invisible area where the Granther’s blaster bolts were appearing from, and landed a direct hit on Rohoar’s chest plate, dropping the Jujari’s shield to 71%. Rohoar hissed something in his mother tongue—probably a curse against the Marine—and then returned fire, shredding the trooper’s chest plate before the force knocked the man backward.

  To Magnus’s surprise, dozens of metal planks flipped up from the sand, standing like rectangular soldiers. They were positioned halfway between the Marines and the gladias, and cast long shadows across the open ground.

  “Field walls,” Magnus said above the scream of blaster fire. “Let’s get to them first!”

  At once, the Granthers were off and running, dashing toward the spring-loaded field walls in the field’s center.

  “I’ve got a runner,” Silk said as she tracked a Marine running toward one of the barricades. She sighted in, squeezed off a round from her CK360 sniper rifle, and then ran toward a small boulder as the trooper flipped head over heels.

  Magnus was the first to a field wall. It stood about a meter and a half high, and he crouched behind it, knowing there was a Marine on the other side. He reached around with his NOV1 and fired. But to his surprise, the Marine knocked the weapon out of his hand. Pissed and slightly embarrassed, Magnus withdrew his NCK and swung the blade around the wall. The weapon struck something hard that cracked under the blade’s nearly indestructible point. Magnus grabbed the wall with his free hand to leverage himself, then he withdrew the knife and stabbed again and again until the person behind the wall fell away.

  He peeked to see a Marine lying on the sand with bloody holes in his back before turning to see the NOV1 laying a meter away. Magnus retrieved his weapon and then crouched with his back against the wall. After double-checking the weapons integrity and magazine level, Magnus leaned out the wall’s other side and fired on a Marine who’d left his ass exposed. Hell of a way to go, Magnus noted, but all bets were off in a firefight. So he sighted in on the Marine’s backside and fired. The first shot spun the victim out from behind the wall, and the second shot struck him in the chest. Magnus figured the trooper was dead before he hit the ground.

  Magnus took off running for another field wall about twelve meters downrange. He slid to a stop and fired to his left, flanking an unsuspecting Marine with two shots in the ribs. The combatant slumped against the metal shield. To the right side, another Marine noticed the commotion and started shooting at Magnus’s position. One blaster bolt managed to strike Magnus in the shoulder, reducing his shield by 18%. He returned fire, striking the Marine three times—once in the head and twice in the chest. The trooper fell backward, arms and legs sprawled.

  Magnus went to move downrange again when the sniper fire started in earnest. The unmistakable shriek of MS900 rounds whizzed by Magnus’s head and forced him to stay behind cover.

  “Seems somebody finally decided to put their big boy pants on,” Magnus said.

  “They are already wearing pants,” Czyz replied. “I do not understand your comment.”

  “He means thermal optics,” Titus said from behind his own field wall. “They’re able to see us now.”

  “I still do not understand what that has to do with young adult pants.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Titus reached out to try a shot on the sniper nests, but the sniper rounds were too accurate. He pulled back and regrouped. “Too rich for my gut.”

  “Copy that,” Magnus said. “Silk, Dutch, any help?” The two snipers had intentionally stayed back for this very reason. Now that he faced back toward the shore, Magnus noticed the women were set up behind small boulders, sighting in on the base.

  “On it, LT,” Dutch said. A beat later CK360 rounds tracked back to two sniper nests along the top of the wall. Magnus arched his head to see the first round drop a sniper into his metal bunker. The second Marine toppled forward and fell over the bunker’s edge. His body flipped once in the air before landing in the sand with a thud. But before the impact, Dutch and Silk had fired on two more snipers, dropping them just as quickly as the first. It wasn’t until their third shots that the remaining snipers along the wall zeroed in on the women and returned fire.

  The momentary shift in focus gave Magnus and the others enough time to advance down two more rows of field walls before the enemy’s fire returned in force. “Rohoar, Czyz. Think you can give us some SMS support on that left wall?”

  “Yes,” Rohoar replied. Magnus watched the Jujari pull the shoulder-fired launchers from their backs and take a knee. Rohoar readied the weapon and then used his HUD’s aiming system to stick the tube outside of cover without placing his head in harm’s way.

  “Hole in the fire,” Rohoar said. A beat later, a smoke trail blazed across the battlefield as a rocket-propelled detonator headed for the left wall. The round exploded, sending fire and sparks into the night air. But when the smoke cleared, the shot had done no damage, and the troopers reappeared, weapons firing.

  The second round, however—this one from Czyz—caught five troopers by surprise, scattering them and their remains in all directions, and taking a chunk from the wall’s railing. Another dozen Marines fell back from the position—either blown off the ramparts or driven to the sides.

  “Good work, you two,” Magnus said.

  “Rohoar softened the target for me,” Czyz said.

  “Rohoar does not agree. Your shot was superior.”

  “Save it for your therapist.” Magnus used the momentary lull to advance his squad one more row of wall planks. Knowing how to use the enemy’s response to your advantage was critical in offensive maneuvers, and the Granthers needed every edge they could get.

  The base hadn’t shown its full strength still, and Magnus was worried about what would happen when they did. Granther Company needed to place charges on the walls—fast. Magnus took a distance reading on the wall—his HUD put it at eighty-six meters. They were closer than they’d been when this started, but still far enough that his two demolition operators would get taken out without adequate covering fire.

  “Silk, Dutch, I’m gonna need a hard press on the sniper nests again.”

  “Almost in our new positions,” Dutch replied.

  “Good.”

  “You still sure this wasn’t easier than knocking on CENTCOM’s front door?” Dutch asked.

  Magnus ignored the question. “Everyone else, we’re laying down heavy covering fire so Doc and Haze can set charges on the wall. Azie?”

  “Yes, sir,” Azelon replied.

  “What’s the ETA on our care package?”

  “Two minutes, sir.”

  Magnus sucked his teeth clean of saliva. “Then that gives us sixty seconds to plant the first charges, and sixty seconds to get clear of the inbound crates. Everyone ready?”

  “Ready,” Silk and Dutch said.

  “Ready,” said Doc an
d Haze. Everyone else pinged on the chat window.

  “Bring the heat,” Magnus replied, and then turned to fire on the wall with his NOV1 on full auto.

  9

  Despite being outnumbered thirty-six to one, Alpha and Bravo Teams laid down enough blaster fire to make any Marine think twice about firing on the two gladias advancing toward the wall. It seemed that only the enemy snipers had the necessary IR optics to track the demolition experts, so Dutch and Silk kept the sharpshooters from poking their heads up. Meanwhile, Awen and Nídira extended Unity shields around Doc and Haze, giving the two men added protection as they ran into the fortification’s menacing shadow.

  For his part, Magnus emptied two magazines as he raked the enemy line side to side. His NOV1 wailed, sending its withering stream of firepower into helmets and chest plates and vambraces. To his right and left, Magnus heard the distinct kuh-thunk-woosh of rocket-propelled detonators blast toward the enemy. Rohoar and Czyz leveled their SMSs against the densest pockets of resistance along the wall, blasting holes in the enemy ranks. Magnus’s squad couldn’t keep this up for long, but they didn’t have to—they just needed to buy the demo boys enough time to plant their charges.

  “How you looking?” Magnus asked as he swapped out for fresh mags.

  “I’m set,” Haze yelled. Magnus saw him duck as a sniper round drove down from above, blasting a hole in the sand less than a meter from his feet. Silk answered the attempt on her teammate by drilling the enemy sharpshooter through the top of the helmet. The Marine, who was already slumped over the railing, slid forward and fell down the wall. His body landed one stride behind Haze, who was now in full retreat.

  “Doc?” Magnus watched the other demo expert struggle with something. “What’s the holdup?”