“Stop it,” yelled a younger man from his seat in the third tier. “I am Ko-Li. Release her.”
“Not until I have the others, Senator.”
Ko-Li raised his chin, took a deep breath, and pointed to various spots around the room. “Miller, Long, and Yan Andar.”
“Coward,” one of the other senators yelled.
But Moldark grinned. “You see? That wasn’t so difficult, was it? However, I am still waiting on Senator Blackman. Which means none of you are going to walk out of here.”
“He’s in the communications building,” said one of the Nine. Miller, if Moldark remembered correctly.
“Oh? And how can you be so sure?” Moldark asked.
Miller swiped a finger across a console, and a holo feed appeared. It was Senator Blackman. “He’s addressing the planet from inside the communications building.”
“And this is happening right now?” Moldark asked, studying the broadcast.
“Yes. It’s live.”
Just hearing Blackman say the word evacuation made Moldark furious. They mustn’t be allowed to escape, he thought. None of them must be allowed to retreat and live another day—not one.
“Captain Yaeger,” Moldark said. “Release them.”
Yaeger nodded and ordered the doors open. Anxious senators and staff hurried up the aisles and out the doors. Moldark even made good on his word to the chairwoman on the dais. Finally, all that remained were Miller, Ko-Li, Long, Jinterro, and Yan Andar.
“Senators.” Moldark squeezed his gloves, and their squeaky sound echoed around the amphitheater. “So good of you to join me.”
“You’ll never get away with this, Kane,” Yan Andar said, pointing his blue-skinned finger at Moldark.
“Kane?” Moldark chuckled. “Kane’s been dead for a while now, Senator.”
Yan Andar hesitated, then withdrew his finger. But he wasn’t finished. “Do you honestly think you can charge into the Forum Republica’s Senate Chamber, hold us hostage, and not expect for there to be repercussions?”
Moldark tsk’d the man three times. “Senator, I’m very disappointed with you. And yet, you biologics are all the same. Always basing your power on that which you derive from the anxieties of the masses. How easy it is to undo you.”
“We demand that you—”
Moldark seized Yan Andar’s soul with an outstretched hand. “You demand nothing.” The other senators stepped away. Moldark could smell their fear.
“What do you want?” Jinterro asked.
“What an appropriate question, Senator Jinterro.” He examined each of the senators until their eyes darted away. Then, with low-toned exact words, he said, “I want to remember the looks on your faces as you witness the end of your insignificant lives.”
* * *
“The building is right up there, my lord,” Captain Yaeger said, pointing toward a structure along the plaza’s north end. “We have them surrounded.”
“Them?” Moldark asked.
“Yes, my lord. The senator is being protected by a contingent of Marines and some cloaked combatants. We believe they’re the same ones we encountered upon our arrival atop Proconsul Tower.”
Moldark sneered. “The rebels.”
“We believe so, yes, my lord.”
Moldark quickened his pace, eager to terminate Blackman. From there, he would dive into CENTCOM and find the remaining three Circle of Nine members: Admiral Inquin and Generals Veer Quince and McCormick. And, with any luck, he’d take some of the rebels hostage then bleed them for stealing his granddaughter. No, Moldark snapped at Kane’s thoughts. She is not my granddaughter. She is merely a girl.
One of Yaeger’s companies assaulted the building’s front entrance with a barrage of blaster fire. But most of it seemed to be dispersed by some sort of energy shield—no doubt the work of a mystic. The defenders retaliated from within, cutting into Yaeger’s forces with heavy weapons fire. But there were more than just Republic blasters—there were Novian weapons. Moldark was sure of it. Ever since hearing the distinct whine on the Labyrinth, nightmares from his past gnawed at the edges of his thought—the sounds of his wailing ancestors mixed with mining blasts as his people were ripped from their homes.
“Give the order to charge,” Moldark said. “All sides.”
“But, my lord, there’s—”
“Charge, Captain. Or you forfeit your life.”
Yaeger squared his shoulders, gave Moldark a quick nod, and then began motioning his men forward. However, several of Yaeger’s subordinates seemed to hesitate. “What is it, Captain Yaeger?”
“Nothing, my lord.”
“Untrue.” Moldark laid the mere wisp of a tendril on the man’s soul, causing him to freeze in place. “I will only ask again once, Captain. Is there a problem?”
“Some of the men—” Yaeger choked against the pressure closing around his chest and neck. “Some don’t want to advance.”
“Of course they don’t. They’re cowards. Who?”
But Yaeger was unable to reply, gagging.
“Never mind.” Moldark released Yaeger and sought out three of the Captain’s subordinates. He hoisted all three Paragon Marines off their feet, ripped their life force from their miserable bodies, and dashed their ashes against the ground. He assumed the clattering armor might have the desired effect. “Order them again.”
“Yes, my lord.” Yaeger reissued the command and his Paragon Marines charged the enemy—obviously more afraid of the dark lord than of the rebel scum who cowered in the comms building. The miserable wretches.
More reinforcements joined the advance, and Moldark felt a growing confidence that, this time, he had the enemy. He would repay them for their assault on his ship and for taking the child. They would suffer, and he would enjoy devouring each of their meaningless lives to satiate his appetite.
At the same time, however, Moldark sensed something cold—as if a dark cloud passed over the sun. Kane’s body shivered, which annoyed Moldark. But this was more than a physical sensation. The dark cloud had a presence—perhaps even a personality. He had felt it once before too, on Worru.
Moldark spun to his right, then his left.
“Is everything all right, my lord?” Yaeger asked.
“Yes,” Moldark said, snapping his head back to the battle.
* * *
“We’re taking heavy fire,” Titus said.
Magnus and Awen arrived at the third floor’s balcony and looked down into the lobby as dozens of windowpanes exploded. Alpha and Bravo Teams worked with the Marines to defend the structure’s main entrance, while outside at least two platoons of Paragon troopers advanced on the comms building. A dark figure in a black Repub Navy officer’s cape stood further out, hands on his hips.
“I need options, buddy,” Magnus said to TO-96.
“I’m afraid there aren’t many, sir. The building is surrounded. I estimate that it is only a matter of time before they close in to exterminate you.”
“You’re in a kill box, son,” Caldwell said. “Best to make like a Lorquidian pink bellied newt and scoot.”
“Hey, Azie,” Magnus said. “Any chance you have more of those BATRIGs on hand?”
“While there are several in production, I do have one more ready for immediate deployment,” Azelon replied.
“What are the chances you can put it down inside the plaza—say, between Moldark and us.”
“I have calculated landing accuracy to plus or minus ten meters, sir.”
“Extra points if you drop it on Moldark’s head,” Abimbola added.
Magnus smiled. “Send it, Azie.”
“BATRIG deployed,” Azelon replied. “ETA in nine minutes, eighteen seconds.”
Magnus marked the time with a second counter in his HUD. “Doc, Haze, I need you to protect our rear. LIMKIT4 mines in ground floor doorways, improvise with your remaining VODs. Go.” Doc and Haze acknowledged and peeled out of the lobby.
“Everyone else, thin those ranks. And just before
that crate lands, I want you behind cover. It’s gonna make one hell of an entry.” Magnus turned to Awen “You’re up.”
Awen slid past Magnus and grabbed the railing. A moment later, a semi-translucent Unity shield appeared where the lobby windows had been. The wall absorbed most of the enemy blaster fire, but the Paragon’s assault was so intense that some rounds still made it through. Without Nídira’s help, it seemed there was only so much Awen could do.
“Zoll, do you copy?” Magnus asked over VNET.
“Here, LT,” Zoll replied.
“What’s your position?”
“Looks like we’re still sixty-four klicks out from Simlia atoll.”
Magnus frowned. “I want you back here.”
“Change of plan?”
“Affirmative. Can you manage it?”
“Of course. Why? You got some heat?”
Magnus watched the Paragon concentrate fire on a single spot in Awen’s shield, apparently trying to bore a hole through it. “We’re not gonna have time to make two extractions, and we need evac sooner than you.”
“Copy that. Just give us a waypoint.”
“Stand by.” Magnus brought up his topo map and pinged Azelon again. “Azie, how close can you get that shuttle to us?”
“Assuming the defense cannons have been deactivated, given the hundreds of civilian ships attempting to leave the surface, I’d say the closest safe LZ is located to your east, on Moore’s Beach. You risk little interference with emergency flight paths and minimal detection from the Republic’s security forces. Though, given the city’s current threat level, I doubt resistance will be much concern for you.”
“It’s not the Repub I’m worried about.” Magnus examined the beach and the bay it enclosed. “Sounds good. Mark it.” A new map marker appeared four klicks to the east. Magnus brought Zoll up again. “You seeing that?”
“Hard copy. We’re on our way.”
“See you soon.”
* * *
Magnus had left Awen to her Unity-wielding several minutes earlier and joined the squad firing into the Paragon ranks. Alpha and Bravo Teams held the Paragon outside the comms building for longer than he expected. But another platoon had been added to the enemy’s ranks as they pressed toward the comms building, with Moldark still lingering in the background. At one point, some of the Paragon Marines seemed to refuse orders, and the dark lord began using his otherworldly powers to thwart the advance. Magnus saw three enemy troopers rise into the air, shake, and then drop back down in puffs of gray ash.
“Anyone else see that?” Titus said.
“No way he’s doing that crazy splick to us,” Doc replied.
“Hard copy,” Magnus said. “Whatever we do, we cannot let Moldark get a bead on us. Everyone understand?” The unit acknowledged and continued to fire on the enemy.
Magnus worked to keep Moldark’s troops from boring a hole in Awen’s shield. He thinned out anyone who lent their firepower to the task, knowing that a breach in the mystic’s defense could spell disaster for the gladias. A few of the senator’s Marines picked up what Magnus was doing and helped reduce the enemy’s focused efforts even further. Magnus drained a whole clip by taking out nine troopers with an MTFE shot. But then he scrambled to retrieve two half-spent energy mags from downed Marines to replenish his weapon, and maglocked two more to his hip.
Two explosions rocked the back half of the building—one after the other. “That you, boys?” Magnus asked Doc and Haze.
“Did we wake you up?” Doc asked. “Sorry about that.”
Magnus smiled. “I love the smell of limp mines in the morning.”
“You’ll also be pleased to hear that those LIMKITs not only took out a dozen Paragon troopers but made these entryways all but impassable.”
So, maybe not everything was going bad. “Nice work, gladias. Get back here as soon as you can. We could use your firepower.” Doc acknowledged the order and signed off. Then Magnus checked his timer on the BATRIG. “Just gotta hold ’em for another fifty seconds, Granther Company.”
The hope of seeing another of Azelon’s mechs in action seemed to bolster the unit’s fire effectiveness—or at least their fire rate. Paragon troopers fell to the NOV1s left and right. But no matter how hard Magnus’s gladias fought, the enemy seemed to have more reinforcements to take their place.
Magnus brought up the squad channel. “At the ten-second mark, I want VODs going out the front. Then take cover as far inside the building as you can. Pull those Marines with you too. As soon as you feel the shockwave pass, we’re back here. I need your cover fire until I get inside the crate. Copy?” Green icons went down the chat window.
“Delivery inbound in twenty seconds,” Azelon said as if Magnus was getting a bouquet delivered to his house.
“You’re a peach, Azie,” Magnus replied.
“A peach, sir?”
Then to the squad, he said, “Here we go. Ten-second mark in five, four, three, two, one.”
The words “fragger out” went out over the channel as detonators sailed through Awen’s shield and then bounced along the plaza’s stone. The gladias retreated into the structure, pulling as many Marines with them as they could. Magnus strong-armed two men, yelling at them over his external speakers. “Take cover!” The men didn’t waste any time following Magnus through a secondary set of doors and ducking behind a load-bearing stone wall.
First came the VOD detonations, all of which activated the audio dampening feature in Magnus’s helmet. He felt the ground tremor under his boots. But it was nothing compared to what happened next.
If the crate made a sound when it crashed through the windowplex ceiling of the Forum Republica’s central plaza, Magnus didn’t hear it—not because the action wasn’t loud, but because the crate traveled so fast that its ground impact overpowered any other sound. The explosion blew in the building’s front wall and fired high-speed projectile debris through the secondary rooms. Magnus watched a Marine get cut in half when a part of a metal window frame speared him through the back. Two other Marines flipped head over heels as the shockwave’s force hurled them into a cluster of desks. The power even made Magnus stumble and catch himself against the ground with an outstretched hand. But once the blast was over, Magnus was on his feet and running into the lobby.
“Covering fire,” he said, crossing the entryway and heading for the front doors. A few beats later, the rest of the gladias started sending blaster bolts to each side of Magnus as he charged for the giant crate. The container sat half a meter in the stone, still smoking from its orbital entry. He opened the access panel as before, shot inside like an albino dwarf chimp chased by a Venetian mawslip, and climbed into the cockpit. He was barely situated when enemy rounds started plinking against the exterior.
“How we looking out there?” Magnus asked his team leaders.
“The crate knocked them back,” Abimbola said. “Very nice work.”
“Most survived,” Titus said. “And I think you really pissed off Moldark.”
“Remind me to send him flowers,” Magnus replied as he brought the mech to life.
“Yes.” Abimbola laughed. “For his funeral.”
Magnus flexed his arms, and the crate’s walls flew out. The Paragon troopers closest to him dove for cover and stopped firing. “You want some of this?” Magnus roared over externals. The enemy stepped back again. “That’s what I thought.”
Magnus swung up both arm-mounted weapons—his GU90M on his right and the RTD10 on his left. Then he watched as his biotech interface acquired two dozen targets and suggested fire priority. “See ya,” he said, and then commanded the BATRIG to fire.
The GU90M rattled his suit as it tore into enemy armor, riddling them with thousands of blaster holes. The Paragon Marines attempted to return fire, but their aim was wild—especially as the buddies on their left and right fell to Magnus's withering fire.
To his left, the torrent disruptor detonated three troopers at once, showering other combatants in the
immediate proximity with pureed flesh. Troopers slipped on the gore as they tried to duck the BATRIG’s next round, but they were unable to escape Magnus’s lethal gaze. He swept the foreground with GU90M fire, raking the ranks relentlessly.
Magnus wasn’t without his damage, however, as several blaster rounds did manage to strike his mech. But the beast’s armor plating absorbed the energy, and no critical systems took even the slightest damage.
The troopers seemed to realize their fire was ineffective against the BATRIG, so they retreated—and made way for Recon Marines carrying three RAB25s. The 25mm rotary action blaster was a holdover from the last century but had yet to be replaced. Handheld and extremely versatile for combatting both short- and long-range targets, the rotating multi-barrel, hip-fired weapon could chew through armor like it was wood.
Magnus aimed down the widening gap between Paragon phalanxes and targeted the three RAB-wielding troopers. He fired on the first man with his GU90M and shredded him. But the second two troopers sprayed Magnus before he could react. Hundreds of blaster bolts drilled his chest plate in less than a second.
System alerts chimed in Magnus’s head before a bright light appeared a meter in front of him. It was a Unity shield, absorbing the blistering blaster attack. It wouldn’t last long, Magnus knew. But it didn’t need to. With the precious few seconds Awen’s defense bought him, Magnus aimed and fired his RTD10, blowing the two Marines to smithereens. Then he turned both arm-mounted weapons on the two remaining Paragon groups and fired, pushing them back.
“Someone must’ve ordered a retreat,” Titus said.
“No doubt.” Magnus could hear the high-pitched whine of Silk’s sniper fire through her helmet’s mic. “Look at those bastards run!”
“Everyone up and out of there,” Magnus ordered, taking steps toward the fleeing enemy. He searched the group for Moldark, but the dark lord was gone. Magnus thought maybe the crate’s concussion did him in—after all, the man wasn’t wearing any armor. But today hasn’t been my lucky day, Magnus thought to himself. And no reason for it to change now. More likely, Moldark suspected something bad was in the crate and took cover, knowing not even his otherworldly manipulations could thwart it. At least, that’s what Magnus imagined the freak thinking.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 189
