“See you topside.” Wainwright pulled his escort back toward the surf and then headed up the shore to rejoin his northern contingent. As Magnus turned back to continue defending the extraction point, he offered a silent prayer of thanks to the mystics. For all of the reasons, Magnus thought.
Wainright’s forces pulled back and boarded their shuttles. They’d managed to thin Bosworth’s forces to such a degree that Magnus thought Granther Company had a real shot at getting off the beach. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be doable.
“How we looking, Azie?” Magnus asked.
“I estimate additional enemy reductions of twenty percent before I can attempt another landing.”
“Twenty? What about Awen’s shielding?”
“It does not appear to be large enough to cover the shuttle.”
Magnus called for Awen. “Can you make it bigger?”
“We’re maxed, Magnus,” Awen replied. “And taking a beating too. I’m not sure how much longer we can hold them off.”
It looked like Wainwright had bought them time, but not enough. In the end, his old Captain had only managed to keep death at bay a little longer. But Magnus still refused to give up—this fight wasn’t over yet.
“There’s no way we are getting off this beach in time,” Titus said, stepping beside Magnus and firing on the enemy.
“Yes, we will,” Magnus replied. “Azie, I need another favor.”
“Of course, sir,” Azelon said.
“Remember what we did at Elusian Base with my BATRIG?”
“Affirmative.”
“Same thing.”
Azelon paused, then tilted her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but your mechanized battle system’s remote assignment capabilities are no longer operable.”
“So, no VWMs?”
“That is correct, sir.”
Magnus cursed.
“We’re losing it,” Awen said with panic rising in her voice. “Right side.”
Magnus looked to the north just as part of the Unity shield gave out along the right edge. Blaster bolts riddled Bettger’s body, driving her back two steps. Then her armor went full-visual as she landed on her back.
“Bettger,” Magnus yelled. But her status icon switched to red right away. She was gone.
“I’m hit,” Jaffrey shouted, falling on his hip in the sand beside her. His chameleon mode went down, and his status icon changed to yellow.
“Pull him back,” Robillard yelled.
As the enemy fire continued to rake the Unity shield, Magnus could feel a sense of desperation trying to tunnel his vision. “I need options,” Magnus said to his team leaders.
“We keep fighting,” Abimbola said. The other leads seemed to agree, but Magnus knew it wasn’t an answer.
“So, that’s how it’s gonna be?” Titus finally said. “Splick, I’ve got an idea.”
“Then let’s hear it,” Magnus replied.
“Eh. I better just do it, and you can thank me later.” Titus stepped past the Unity shield and took off running toward Magnus’s BATRIG.
“Titus,” Magnus yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Improvising.”
“Get the hell back here! That’s an order.”
“I ever mention how much I hate being told what to do?” Titus dashed through blaster fire, climbed up the mech, and patched himself in.
“Cover him!” Magnus called, firing his NOV1 at any Marine who dared look in Titus’s direction.
Magnus heard Bosworth, still stuck inside his turret, cursing Titus up and down. Two medics tried in vain to pry the irate man from his trap as he railed against Bravo Team’s leader. But without a weapon, the ambassador’s words were little more than pebbles thrown at the tidal wave of Titus’s determination.
When Titus leaped from the BATRIG, Magnus felt a wave of relief. “You do it?”
“You bet your ass I did. Now bring that shuttle in, Azie.”
“Affirmative,” Azelon replied. “Landfall in thirty seconds.”
But instead of running back to the shuttle, Titus beat a line to an unoccupied M109 turret in the nearest Rhino.
“Titus!” Magnus started walking toward the Unity shield, but something stopped him. He looked down and saw that his feet were stuck in the sand.
“Magnus, no,” Awen said—in his head. At first, Magnus thought it was the biotech interface interacting with his brain. “He’s chosen his path.”
“Please let me go, Awen,” Magnus said, trying to fight against the mystic’s power.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Adonis.”
“But Awen, he’s gonna get himself killed! You’ve gotta let me go.”
“I won’t.” Even within the Unity, her voice broke up with emotion. “I love you, so I won’t.”
Magnus opened his mouth but couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Go,” Titus yelled. “You’ve got sixty seconds!” The turret pivoted, and Titus blasted Marines across the beach. The M109 tore through armor, popped off helmets, and detonated energy mags.
“Let him go, Adonis,” Awen said, more softly this time. “He’s doing this to save us, and you wouldn’t want anyone to stop you if the roles were reversed.”
As much as Magnus hated to admit it, Awen was right on both counts. He started to backpedal and found his legs unlock from the sand. He watched as Titus dropped Marines with unparalleled accuracy. Then the gladia turned toward the additional incoming APCs and fired on the Marines as they emptied the Rhinos.
Azelon backed the shuttle in for a second time, and the gladias piled onboard, assisting Jules and Balin first.
“No hero splick, Titus,” Magnus said over comms.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Titus replied as his weapon glowed red in the morning light. Under his withering assault, the Marines used the APCs as cover, and then fired at Titus. His personal shield took several direct hits before the only thing left between Titus and his aggressors was his Novian armor and the weapon’s metal defense plate.
The enemy fire teams also fired on the XTS shuttle, threatening to disable the repulsors and main engine thrusters. Magnus returned fire as he walked backward, but the enemy numbers were too significant. He was the last to climb up the ramp, ducking inside the cargo bay as the shuttle lifted away from the beach. When he lost visual, he tapped into Titus’s feed and watched the Marines close on his position. Several blaster rounds shook Titus’s body. His hands fell away from the M109’s dual handles—but only for a moment. His right hand reached for the grips, followed by his left. But the movement was slow, and Magnus saw Titus’s blood pressure and heart rate spike.
“Titus,” Magnus yelled as the shuttle pulled away from the city.
“You know how it is, LT.” Titus coughed as the M109 finally went dry. “Sometimes, love for your team—makes you—makes you do stupid splick.”
Titus’s helmet jerked back as his camera pointed straight up in the air. The BATRIG’s two remaining VWMs blasted skyward, pulled high-G 180º turns, and then returned to the beach. Magnus felt the explosions from inside the shuttle as Titus’s feed went to static. He punched the cargo bay wall with his gauntlet and lowered his head.
“Everyone, please hold on,” Azelon said over the company channel.
“What’s going on, Azie,” Magnus asked as he made his way to the bridge.
“More ships from Third Fleet are preparing to fire.”
Magnus caught his breath. “Ships? As in, many?”
“That is correct, sir.”
TO-96 popped up in a comms window. “I place your chances of survival at less than—”
“I’m better off not knowing this time, ’Six,” Magnus said.
“That’s probably for the best, sir, because they’re extremely low.”
“I said, I’m better off not—”
“Perhaps the lowest you’ve ever had in all the time we’ve known each other.”
“Dammit, ’Six!”
“Strikes imminent,” Azelon said.
“Prepare for impact.”
28
A single LO9D strike could temporarily knock out electronics for a few seconds. But with the number of hits that Capriana had just endured, the resulting EMP could be catastrophic.
Correction—was catastrophic. Fortunately, his bioteknia eyes were shielded against such attacks, but little else was, including the shuttle’s flight systems.
The vessel’s nose pitched down as white light hit the vessel from behind. Magnus slammed into the bridge’s floor and watched through the front window as a pale-lit ocean raced to meet him. A feeling of helplessness tightened around his chest as warning indicators went dead across the instrument panel. The shuttle lost orientation, and all flight systems went down.
“Brace for impact,” Magnus yelled, but then realized his HUD was also down. He flipped up his visor and roared into the cargo bay, but he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him. So he closed his visor, braced himself against the console with his legs, and then grabbed onto crash couch bases. The shuttle careened toward the ocean with only the sound of the wind beating against the hull. No thrusters. No repulsors. No control surfaces. Just open air, and then—
Impact.
Magnus’s knees buckled, and his head whipped forward. He heard things crack in his head, but couldn’t tell if it was the craft, his suit, or his body. Everything went black. Magnus hoped he was unconscious, but the pain shooting down his spine told him he was very much alive—buried in ocean water that surged through the ship as the shuttle plummeted into the abyss. He tried to find a point of light, tried to see which way the bubbles were traveling. But all was black, and his efforts were pointless. Inertia pinned him against the ship as it sank deeper. There would be no escaping this deathtrap until it settled on the ocean’s floor.
All the way down, Magnus felt the frustration of not being able to communicate with his team. How many of his unit were awake? How many had been knocked unconscious? And how many weren’t ever coming back? He fought the panic that tried to smother him—tried to overwhelm his reason centers. He might make it out alive if he could think clearly.
Focus, Adonis. Just stay focused.
He felt his lungs expand and contract. This meant he had air in his rebreather unit. That was good. He could survive at depth for several minutes, maybe even an hour, depending on the pressure.
His body felt dry, except for the sweat on his forehead and against his chest. This meant his suit hadn’t endured a catastrophic breach.
And he could move despite having no idea which way was up. That meant he had a chance of freeing himself from the death trap once it settled.
The ship jerked to a halt. They had finally hit the ocean floor. Inky blackness swirled around him. Magnus bumped into the bridge’s crash couches and then used the seatbacks to orient himself. As far as he could tell, the shuttle was resting on its belly—which makes things easier, Magnus thought to himself.
Next, his thoughts turned toward his team. He needed to find survivors and then help them get to the surface. Magnus spun toward the aft and pushed himself into the cargo bay. A helmet bumped into his, but he couldn’t see who it was. He remembered the torch on his hip and pulled it off. When he activated the light, Doc’s lifeless face appeared. Magnus jerked back. The medic’s visor was cracked, and his helmet was filled with water and blood.
Fearing others might be dead, Magnus swept the light beam through the cargo bay. Everything was bathed in a lurid green-blue haze, and bodies floated everywhere. His first thought was to find Awen, but there was no time to be partial, only practical. He called out, but his HUD was still down. So he gritted his teeth and started a manual inspection of each body.
The first person he rolled over was Dutch. Her eyes were closed, so he shook her—gently at first. Within a few seconds, her eyes fluttered open. Magnus shined the light in his face for her, temporarily blinding himself. But the last thing he needed was for her to panic, so it was best to assure her that at least one other person in this rig was okay. Dutch nodded, and then righted herself. She grabbed her own light and followed Magnus’s lead to search for survivors.
Movement caught Magnus’s attention from above. A pair of unarmored legs kicked below an air pocket. The civilians—he’d completely forgotten about them. Magnus pushed off the cargo bay floor and surged upward until his head popped above the surface.
“What the hell?” a woman said, pushing away. It was Jules. Blood poured from a cut on her head, but she was alive.
Magnus flipped his visor up. “Jules, it’s me, Magnus.”
“Great. That means nothing to me.”
“I’m Zoll’s commander.”
Jules swore. “The bastard in the mech?”
“Yeah. We gotta get you out of here.”
“Not without them,” she said and pointed to two bodies hanging from a cargo net. It was Balin and Giyel. By the looks of it, Jules had wedged their arms into the webbing to keep their heads above water. They were unconscious and bleeding from head wounds—which meant their hearts were probably still pumping.
“Alive?” Magnus asked.
“For now,” she replied. “You got any big plans?”
“Big plans?” Magnus squinted. “To get out of here?”
“No, for the weekend. Of course, to get out of here! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Magnus shook his head in amazement. “Just sit tight. We’re still looking for survivors.”
“If I’m not here, I’ll be on the Lido deck reading a magazine.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow, closed his visor, and dropped below the surface again. Seeing Balin and Giyel made him think about Awen, but Magnus knew if he weren’t careful, he’d panic, and panic was the fastest way to die.
Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast, Magnus reminded himself. Save the ones you can, move on to the next.
Two large bodies were still strapped in their crash couches while a third looked wedged against a bulkhead. He loosened someone’s arm from their chest belt and shined his light into their helmet. It was Abimbola. His eyes fluttered open at the light. Magnus lit his own face again and then watched the Miblimban nod. Abimbola turned to the person on his left—one of the Jujari, based on size—while Magnus floated over to a gladia wedged against the bulkhead.
It was Awen.
Magnus’s heart thumped in his ears as he shined the light in her eyes, trying to get her to wake up. She had to wake up.
“Come on, Awen,” Magnus said. “Wake up.” He shook her shoulder and tapped the torch on her visor. “Come on, baby. You gotta wake up.”
Suddenly, her eyes opened in a panic. Her left arm struck Magnus in the head while her knee met his groin. Had it not been for the armor, he’d have been doubled over. Instead, Magnus tried to fend off her attacks while shining the torch in his face. The beating continued for a few seconds. Then Awen’s movements slowed, and she grabbed Magnus’s helmet, pressing her visor against his.
He saw her lips move, saying his name, but he couldn’t hear anything. He tapped the side of his head, hoping she’d notice that her own HUD was out. Recognition dawned on her face.
“Magnus?” she asked inside his head.
“Hey there.”
“Are you—what happened? Is everyone—”
“We got hit by a shockwave. Orbital strikes.”
“Capriana.” Awen tensed. “Oh, mystics. The city.”
Magnus nodded as a wave of grief swept over him. But this was not the time to mourn. They needed to get out. “You good? Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. Just—scared.” Awen continued holding his helmet, staring into his eyes. “But I’m okay.”
“Good. We need to get—”
“Have you found my parents?” Awen looked around the cargo bay, but the effort was pointless without a light in her hand.
“Yes,” Magnus said, trying to pull her back. “And they’re alive. For now.”
“Where?”
He shined his light toward the air p
ocket where Jules trod water. “The sea skimmer chick saved them.”
“Thank the mystics.”
“Listen, is there anything you can do to, you know, help us?”
Awen paused. Her eyes darted around the ship. “I’m—I’m not sure, Magnus. I’ve never—I mean, what should—”
“Hey, relax. Breathe.”
Awen took in two deep breaths.
“We need to get to the surface.” Magnus stared into her eyes. “And there’s enough air in our suits to get that part done. But we still have your parents and the skimmer chick.”
Awen seemed to think about the situation for a second. “I suppose I could create some sort of bubble around them? But I’ve never done that before.”
“Awen, in the time I’ve known you, it seems you’re always attempting things that no one has ever done.”
She smiled at him and then pressed her helmet against his again. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too, but about you.”
The ship lurched. Magnus reached for the bulkhead and looked back at Awen. “Was that you?”
“No.” Awen grabbed some webbing. “What’s happening?”
“We’re falling.” Magnus imagined the ship sliding off a shelf or dropping into a sinkhole. The only problem was that his and Awen’s bodies were pushed into the floor. “No—we’re—we’re rising.”
The ship lurched again, this time in a definite upward direction. Awen held onto Magnus as the shuttle ascended. He glanced toward the bridge to see if some sort of flight system had engaged, but the consoles were as black as before. The only explanations he came up with were crazy ones—like images of a giant Midnoric balloon whale dropping grappling hooks from their mouths and hoisting the ship. But that was as ridiculous as it was improbable.
“Something’s grabbed the ship,” Magnus said, which was as simple a conclusion as he could draw. “Maybe a rescue boat?” But that seemed just as improbable. Given how much damage they’d taken, Magnus doubted anything else had survived on the surface for kilometers.
“No, it isn’t a rescue boat,” Awen said. “Not even close.” Her voice sounded like it was filled with wonder—as if she were speaking of a new present or a miraculous revelation.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 193
