“And now you think he wants some sort of revenge against the Nine? For what?”
Blackman shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, son. Though, if I had to say, I suppose it has something to do with whatever drove him to the point of insanity.”
“Then why not just level the city if he’s so mad? Why risk the invasion force?”
Blackman swallowed hard and dabbed his ear with a handkerchief. “Moldark isn’t a man, Magnus. He’s a beast. A menace. At least from what I’m told.”
“How do you know that name?” Magnus raised his NOV1 and sensed the Marines tense. But Dutch, Haze, and Rohoar had them dead to rights.
Blackman shied away from the barrel, hands up. “During his final transmission with CENTCOM, he refused to be addressed as Kane anymore. He insisted that weakling—his word, not mine—was dead.” He pointed to the ceiling. “That thing up there doesn’t think like we do. He’s not logical. And right now, I think he wants to personally see to it that the Nine die at his hand before wiping out the planet.”
Magnus lowered his weapon. “It’s a weak guess, at best. And, tactically, it’s suicide.” He didn’t trust senators—and this one was no exception. They all seemed to be as slippery as Fathroni sand snakes. Magnus considered killing Blackman where he stood and being done with the whole thing. But Blackman was probably the closest he was going to come to speaking with someone in a high echelon any time soon. Magnus hoped Blackman could order the evacuation and—just maybe—tell him more about how he’d been burned. “For someone who knows so much about conspiracies, Senator, I find it strange you wouldn’t take my word for it when we were in this same scenario two hours ago. So I’m not sure why I should believe a damn word coming out of your mouth.”
“I don’t blame you in the least, Magnus. Especially after what they did to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Magnus felt his pulse quicken. “Who’s they?”
“I’m CENTCOM’s Chairman, Magnus. I’m paid to know about everything that happens inside the military.”
“Including military coups?”
Blackman flushed. “We’ve been over that.”
“Who’s they, Senator?”
Blackman dabbed around his ear again. “From what we know, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Magnus’s thoughts raced. “Rescuing Senator Stone?”
Blackman gave him a sad look—somewhere between empathy and pity. “We believe he had information on the Nine. Apparently, he was willing to divulge what he knew after getting his family to safety.”
“So they sabotaged his ship and then sent a team to abduct him.” Magnus clenched his teeth, remembering the Bullwraith. “And they needed a fall guy.”
“We can’t prove any of this yet. But we will. It’s only a matter of time. Unless, of course—”
“Moldark kills the Nine first,” Magnus said.
The senator nodded. “So, you see, I wanted to believe you, but as far as I knew, you were working for Moldark. After all, you were with the 79th Recon, were you not?”
Magnus’s gut tightened.
“And attached to one of the fleets?”
Magnus gave a shallow nod.
The senator looked at the bloody handkerchief and then dropped it on the floor. “So, we had to be sure.”
“Are you sure now?”
Blackman raised his chin. “I am.”
“Then order the evacuation, Senator, and you may live to see the sunrise.”
“That’s rather difficult to do, son.”
“No, it’s not.” Magnus unsnapped the leather pouch on the senator’s hip, yanked the data pad out, and handed it to Blackman. “Start broadcasting.”
The senator chuckled as if laughing at a small child’s attempt to dress themself. “It’s not that simple, Lieutenant. Surely, you understand that.”
“Then do what ya gotta do, and make it fast.”
“I must get to the communications building,” Blackman said. “From there, I can send out a secure transmission to the entire planet.”
“Have fun with that.”
“Not so fast, Lieutenant.”
“Please, let Rohoar pinch his head,” Rohoar said.
Magnus held up a fist to silence the Jujari. “What do you need, Senator?”
“You’re giving me a personal escort,” Blackman said, smiling like a seasoned Antaran backdraw player with a pike up his sleeve.
Magnus squinted as if into a bright light. “I’m not giving you splick.”
“Then you’re not getting your broadcast.”
The insanity of the conversation was making Magnus’s blood boil. He put the barrel of his NOV1 under Blackman’s chin and leaned in close. “If I didn’t know better, Senator, I’d say you want this planet to go up in flames.”
“I’m simply addressing the fact that I need more than the remaining Marines at my disposal to get me across the plaza to the comms building. That is all, son. Call it whatever you want, but those are the facts. No escort and I don’t survive long enough to address the planet.”
“Ground floor,” said a female voice from the elevator’s holo panel. The chime dinged, and the doors opened. But even before they did, he heard the blaster fire coming.
21
Trying to change someone’s mind felt a little like trying to get a stain off your favorite stuffed animal. Piper’s old corgachirp, Talisman, had stains like that. No matter how many times her mother had washed him, the blemishes never went away—not entirely. And neither did the memories of how the marks got there. It was almost as if Piper could track the journey of her childhood through Talisman’s scars.
The brown stain on his foot was from when Piper used Talisman as a paintbrush. The crusted patch of discolored fur was from when she got too close to the campfire during the family camping trip. And the reddish blotch on his cheek was from when Piper had a nosebleed in the middle of the night. These were permanent marks, and no amount of wishing was going to take them away.
Likewise, trying to undo the hate that Piper had helped foster in the Paragon fleet was an impossible task. Despite her best efforts to speak to their minds within the Unity, Piper felt unconvinced that the men and women on the ships were free of her influence. What was done was done, and now she’d have to live with the consequences.
“Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” her grandmother said as they floated above the three Republic fleets. It was exhilarating to float in hard vacuum without the need for a spacesuit. But Piper couldn’t let the newness of the adventure with her grandmother distract her, not if Willowood had a new idea on something they could try.
“What do you mean?” Piper asked.
“Maybe it’s too much to try and change everyone’s mind. What if we only look for those who are unsure already?”
“Like doubters?”
“Like doubters, yes.” Willowood’s glowing Unity form smiled at Piper. Her grandmother was already beautiful enough as it was. But when inside the Unity?—she was absolutely and utterly radiant. “Perhaps if we can plant the seeds of light in some, they will touch others. Let them do the work for us.”
“There,” Piper said, pointing to one of the bigger ships—a Super Dreadful Naughty, she thought, but then scrunched her nose, knowing that class name wasn’t right. “I sense something in that ship.”
Willowood paused as if looking at a list. “That’s the Solera Fortuna, the flagship of First Fleet. Yes, I sense doubt on that ship too, Piper. Well done.”
“Thanks, grandmother.”
“Come,” Willowood said, and then surged toward the ship. Piper followed, and within another second, they were inside someone’s quarters adjacent to the bridge. It wasn’t exactly like being there in person, of course—things were not as clear, and conversations were not as distinct. It was a lot like opening your eyes underwater. But there was enough detail about the space to make out faces and some words. And Piper wasn’t so concerned with details anyway—
Willowood had told her to pay attention to feelings. To people’s hearts.
“We can’t change people’s hearts,” Willowood said earlier. “But we can speak to ideas, and fan the flames of belief, even if the embers are very small.”
Now, it was time to blow on the embers.
Piper gravitated toward one man in particular. He seemed like he was in charge. A master of the seas, she thought, imagining him on one of the big ocean-bound sailing skiffs from her stories. His heart seemed to have many questions in it, ones that wondered why so many Jujari had been killed, and others that wished he could stop more lives from being taken. He was a good man.
Sitting across from him, Piper noticed a beautiful blonde-haired Sekmit. She’d only ever met one of the feline-like species, but they fascinated her, much like the Jujari did. And, like the man, the Sekmit seemed against all the horrible things that had been done to the Jujari fleets.
Piper stretched out her feelings toward the two figures and took a deep breath. She searched for the stains of her earlier work, but—much to her surprise—she couldn’t find any. The finding so shocked her that she immediately called out to Willowood.
“Grandmother?”
“Yes, child. What is it?”
“My work for Moldark—it’s not in these two.”
“Nor in several of the crew I’ve found,” Willowood replied with a sense of hope in her voice. “In fact, there’s very little of it in the ship at all, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Why?”
Willowood took a second to reply. “I’m not sure, but perhaps your work for Moldark was not as wide-spread as you first thought.”
“That would be a good thing.”
“Yes, Piper. That would be a very good thing.”
So Piper set to work, not undoing what had been done, but encouraging what already existed. She coaxed her life force toward the couple, urging them to embrace their doubts as legitimate concerns and not treat them as imposters. They were right to question the activities of the fleets. And, likewise, they were right to want to protect others even if it meant putting their own lives at risk. This was the way of the hero.
“I believe in you,” Piper whispered. “I believe you can do great things.”
Suddenly, the female Sekmit stood up and looked straight at Piper. The act so startled Piper that she leaped backward, breaking connection with both people. But Piper had done what she needed to. The Sekmit woman tilted her head and twitched her ears.
“Can she see me?” Piper asked her grandmother.
Willowood appeared beside Piper, and then looked at the woman. “They are a very sensitive species, the Sekmit. So it does not surprise me that she seems to sense you now. Go ahead—wish her well once more.”
Piper drew close again. “May you succeed in all that your heart sets out to do for the good of others. May you resist evil, and may love conquer all.” Then she raised her hand for no other reason than to show she meant the Sekmit no harm.
The feline-like woman raised her arm in reply and placed a paw-like hand so close to Piper’s it felt like they were touching. The moment lasted only a second before the man called the woman away.
“That was beautiful,” Willowood said. “Where did you learn that?”
“Learn what?”
“What you said to her.”
Piper shrugged. “Momma used to say it to me. And it just felt right.”
Willowood smiled. “She would be proud of you—you know that?”
“Nuh-uh. But, okay.”
Willowood laughed. “Come. We should search for other ships like this one.”
* * *
By the time Piper and her grandmother withdrew from the Unity, Piper was exhausted. Speaking to people’s hearts was hard work. But it was worth it—at least she hoped so.
Much to her grandmother’s surprise, many ships seemed mostly unaffected by Piper’s original message. Specifically, most of First Fleet and some of Second. This, Willowood said, was good news. It meant that Moldark’s influence over the Republic Navy was less than Colonel Caldwell and the other leaders had feared. Hearing her grandmother’s assessment also helped ease Piper’s heart. She didn’t want people to get hurt because of anything she did. Still, knowing that she’d helped Moldark in any way made Piper feel sick.
“Given how successful that was, I will gather the rest of Paladia Company and employ the mystics to continue what we’ve begun,” Willowood said from her chair in the observation lounge. “We may be able to talk sense into many more, perhaps a large portion of Second Fleet, but it’s hard to know for certain how compliant they will be.” Then her grandmother’s eyebrows closed together. “Are you sure you’re all right, Piper?”
“Yes.” Piper bit her lip. “I just hope it’s enough to help.”
“Even a little help can go a long way in salvaging the fleets. What we did may save tens of thousands of sailors.”
“Not the sailors.” Piper thought better of the statement. “I mean, yes, sailors. But, it’s more about—I mean—”
“Magnus,” Willowood said, and then seemed to remember something. “Mr. Lieutenant Magnus.”
“Uh-huh.”
Willowood smiled. “Anything we do up here helps what they’re doing down there. Remember that.”
“I know.” Piper looked down at the blue glow of Capriana Prime. “But what if it’s not enough.”
“That’s hard to know, isn’t it.”
Piper nodded. “I just feel like—”
A dark feeling seized Piper’s chest, causing her to lurch forward.
“Piper,” Willowood said, rising from her chair and grabbing the girl’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
The sense of dread that gripped Piper was stronger than any she’d felt before. Her vision was so blurry that she could hardly see her grandmother’s eyes. “It’s Mr. Lieutenant Magnus,” she said. “Something’s wrong.”
Willowood didn’t answer right away. Maybe she didn’t believe Piper. Or perhaps she was searching the Unity for herself. But Piper was sure of what she felt—certain that Willowood would sense it too. Because it was horrible.
“Yes,” Willowood said. “I sense it too.”
“I’ve got to—” Got to what? The same panic in her dream threatened to keep Piper from breathing. “I’ve got to save him.”
“Piper, we went over this.”
“No.” Piper leaned away from her grandmother’s touch. “I betrayed him once. I won’t do that again. Not when I know I have the power to help him.”
“But you just did.”
“No, I didn’t.” Piper stood, forcing her grandmother to sit back. “Not like I know I can. I’m going down there.”
“Piper, listen to me—”
“No, grandmother. Mr. Lieutenant Magnus needs my help. Not from up here. Down there.”
“My darling child,” her grandmother said, lifting her hand to touch Piper’s face, but Piper leaned away. A moment of silence passed between them as Willowood’s eyes seemed to grow sad. “It is much too dangerous for you. What Mr. Lieutenant Magnus has chosen, he has chosen for himself, not you. And there’s nothing you can do to stop that without unnecessarily putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“I would rather die than stand here and do nothing.”
“Piper, please—”
“No, grandmother. No pleases. I have the power to help, and I’m going to with or without you. If you try and stop me…”
“You’ll what?” There seemed to be a lot of pain in her grandmother’s face.
Piper bunched her fists and felt the Unity’s energy flow into them. She would never hurt her grandmother—she didn’t want to hurt anyone unless they were harming others. But Piper knew she had enough power to keep people from stopping her in doing what was right. “I won’t let you.”
22
Magnus stepped out of the elevator and dashed for cover behind some white stone planters in the Forum Republica’s Grand Plaza. The rest of the gladias followe
d him, as did several Marines. Paragon troopers pressed in from the east—Magnus’s right—while Marines held them off from the west. While Moldark’s ship had docked above Proconsul Tower, the rest of the HATs must’ve landed in the eastern courtyards.
“What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” Blackman yelled from behind Magnus.
“To not get shot,” Magnus replied over externals. “Where’s the communications building?”
“Over there.” Blackman pointed to the north. “Through the gardens, across the plaza.”
A five-story white building with undulating exterior walls and black windows sat on the plaza’s far side. First squad needed to cross a large garden in the plaza’s middle, but it would provide some decent cover, which was a plus. Magnus marked the footpath as a waypoint on the squad’s HUD, noting the trees and columns, and then set the comms building as the rally point. He also told the gladias to keep chameleon mode off or risk being hit by the Marine platoons firing from the west.
“What’s your plan, Magnus?” Caldwell asked, appearing in his HUD.
“Looks like you can stop production on your acting debut,” Magnus replied. “As you heard, the good senator has volunteered to do it instead.”
“As he should, mysticsdammit.”
“Still, if we don’t make it, you should keep your lipstick on.”
“And it’s my favorite shade too.” The colonel winked at Magnus and then closed out his window.
“Keep your heads down,” Magnus said to the rest of the squad. “And protect the senator.”
“Rohoar does not like protecting the senator,” Rohoar said.
“Then just work on protecting me,” Magnus replied. “I’ll do your dirty work.”
“Why would Rohoar wish for Magnus to fill in his splick holes? Plus, Magnus lacks the hind legs for this work.”
“Just cover him,” Abimbola said to the Jujari with an irritated tone. “We are ready, Magnus.”
“And Awen?” Magnus said. “I could use some extra cover.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 187
