Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6

by Chaney, J. N.

  The light in the water was growing brighter. The surface was near. “What is it?” Magnus asked.

  “It’s Piper,” Awen said, grabbing Magnus’s helmet again. “It’s Piper, Magnus. She’s here.”

  “But—how?”

  “I’m not sure but—”

  “Are you there, Mr. Lieutenant Magnus, sir?”

  Magnus froze, eyes locked on Awen’s. “Did you hear that?” He looked away. “Piper? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me, Mr. Lieutenant Magnus,” Piper said.

  “Piper!” Magnus looked at Awen. “It’s Piper!”

  “I know,” Awen replied.

  Magnus couldn’t tell whether it was because they were underwater or not, but he thought he saw tears in Awen’s eyes. “Piper, what’s going on?”

  “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Lieutenant Magnus. I’m here to rescue you. Like in my dream. Well, my new dream, where I rescue you.” She giggled. “It’s fun, right?”

  “Piper, where is here? Where are you right now?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The water around outside continued to lighten the closer the ship got to the surface. Soon, Magnus could see the cargo hold without his torch. To his amazement, it seemed like everyone but Doc was alive.

  “You should probably hold onto something,” Piper said.

  Magnus nodded at Awen and then grabbed a handful of webbing. The ship ascended until the hull breached the surface. A deep sucking sound followed by several thunks shook the vessel as air and light rushed in. At first, Magnus thought it was the sun. In the distance, however, he could see fire.

  It was Capriana, burning like the surface of the sun, stretching from north to south as far as he could see.

  Magnus caught his breath. He tried to think of some curse to mutter or some sinister prayer to hurl at the cosmos, but nothing seemed adequate. Words fell short. The city looked like the charred skeleton of an ancient beast that clawed its way from hell to seek refuge in the sky. But its ankles were bound in the depths as if the sea would swallow it whole.

  The civilian transport ships that had managed to escape the city and survive the blasts were faced with a new threat—orbital bombardment from ship-to-ship cannon fire. Moldark was not content with demolishing the city, it seemed. He wanted everyone dead, including those who thought they’d made it out alive. Large-caliber blaster rounds appeared from the upper atmosphere and picked off hundreds of vessels, zapping them from the sky like mosquitos.

  Then Magnus remembered Bosworth’s wrist relay. He knelt in the water as a strong current pulled on his body. Water raced toward openings in the bridge, and along the aft ramp, the higher the ship rose from the sea. If he didn’t act fast, Bosworth’s hand might be swept out of the vessel along with Granther Company’s only hope of surviving a direct cannon strike.

  Magnus plunged into the water, eyes darting left and right in a wild attempt to find the bracelet. He peered under crash couches, looked in nooks and bulkheads, all while trying to think where the grotesque memento might have gone to.

  The bridge, he thought to himself. Of course, that was also the part of the ship that had suffered the most damage—where water was gushing out of the craft. His heart sank as he considered the very real possibility that the item had been lost to the sea. In which case, they’d all need to dive in the ocean and abandon Piper’s heroic but miscalculated rescue mission. Perhaps the Fang would be fast enough to get to orbit and escape the Super Dreadnaughts, but anything else was doomed.

  As Magnus searched the bridge, he could feel the dread start to creep into his chest. How had they come so far only to die over the loss of a simple bracelet? The frustration was palpable, and he cursed the ambassador and his plump little wrist. Then again, the EMP from the LO9D blasts would have knocked it out too—unless it was shielded, Magnus thought, knowing that particular high-grade emergency hardware was built to withstand all manner of interference.

  A single LED blinked in a crevice under the central console. Magnus caught his breath and then flowed with the outgoing water until he slammed into the panel. He fought against the current, bracing his legs and back against the captain’s crash couch, and then reached under the console. The ambassador’s fat fingers brushed against his gauntlet, but they were enough to hold onto. Then Magnus pulled until the pudgy bracelet-covered wrist in front of his visor. “Gotcha.”

  Magnus stood and fought against the current to assess the rest of the team. Across the hold, Jules struggled to keep the dau Lothlinium’s bodies secure. But the sudden disturbance seemed to rouse Balin. He coughed and looked around, frantic. Jules tried her best to calm him, but he struggled in the netting and threatened to hurt himself, especially as the water level dropped. In a moment, Awen’s parents would be dangling from the ceiling.

  Magnus flipped up his visor. “Help get them down,” he yelled for anyone who could hear him. Dutch was closest, as was Czyz, so they both assisted Jules in lowering Balin and Giyel to the shuttle’s floor.

  “Say, say, whaddya got there, sir, Mr. Lieutenant, sir?” Cyril asked Magnus, his teeth chattering, probably from the cold water that had flooded his helmet.

  Magnus looked at the bloodied stump in his hand. “This old thing?” He grinned at Cyril. “It’s our insurance policy.”

  “Weird. Because it totally totally looks like Mordan Products interplanetary relay beacon. Third gen, I’m guessing. And with it still on whoever’s wrist you hacked the arm off of, I’d say it’s exactly like the scene in Ultra Commando III when Sal Viceman cuts off Dictator Diplarioth’s—”

  “Can you catch me up on that later, pal?”

  “Sure, sure, Mr. sir, sir. No problem.”

  The sound of rushing water turned to that of waterfalls. Magnus glanced out the bridge window—the ship was a few meters above sea level. He still could not figure out what was going on. “Is everyone all right?”

  “We lost Doc,” Awen said, kneeling in the water beside the medic’s body.

  Magnus nodded. “Everyone else okay?”

  “I think we’re all good,” Dutch said. “But what’s happening to the ship?”

  “It’s Piper,” Magnus replied. “Don’t ask me how, but it’s her.”

  “Piper?” Rohoar said from under his raised visor. “Rohoar does not witness any Piper here. Where is she?”

  All at once, a Fang dropped into view, silhouetted by the fiery horizon. “Right here, everyone!” Piper’s voice sounded out over external speakers. “Hi!”

  The first rays of sunlight from the east fell on the Fang’s cockpit, and Magnus caught a glimpse of Piper’s smiling face behind the window. “Are you—are you flying a starfighter?”

  “No, of course not, silly,” she replied with a light-hearted laugh. “Ricio is.”

  “Hey there,” Ricio said, struggling to sit up underneath Piper. Magnus could barely make out his face, but it was him.

  Magnus waved. “Thanks, Ricio.”

  “Mr. Lieutenant Magnus says thanks, Mr. Ricio,” Piper said.

  “Not a problem,” Rico replied over the speakers.

  “So, the tiny human is doing this?” Rohoar asked, spreading his hands across the cargo hold.

  “Yes,” Awen replied, her voice still filled with amazement. “She most certainly is.”

  “And whaddya got there, LT?” Dutch asked, pointing toward Bosworth’s hand.

  “Consider it a good luck charm.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  * * *

  Azelon’s second shuttle arrived less than ten minutes later, and everyone transferred into it while Piper kept the damaged shuttle aloft. Once inside, the child let the damaged ship fall into the sea, which soaked Magnus’s feet with a spray of saltwater. He walked up the ramp and punched the button to seal the lock, but not before casting a sorrowful look at Capriana.

  “So many lives,” Awen said, holding his arm.

  “Too many,” Magnus replied. Every island in the atoll had taken one i
f not more direct LO9D hits. The loss was—was what? Unprecedented, certainly. Magnus had never heard of anything so devastating. There was not a chapter in Galactic Republic history that recorded an entire fleet collectively firing their cannons on a planet like this—let alone their own capital.

  But the loss was more than unprecedented. It was unspeakable. Never in the Galaxy’s history had so many lives been snuffed out at once. He tried to calculate the population of Capriana’s atoll alone, but the figure alluded him—it was millions. Hundreds of millions.

  Even as Magnus thought about the number, more streams of light appeared from the sky and plunged to the surface far in the distance. They came like bolts of lightning, searing the atmosphere and detonating the ground. An orb of light billowed from each strike, expanding into the sky like bubbles of fire unwilling to burst.

  The ramp sealed shut.

  “This is genocide,” Magnus whispered, feeling his teeth clench.

  “Moldark,” Awen whispered.

  It seemed unfathomable that one person, one being, could will so much destruction. How anyone could be entrusted with so much power was one thing, but how that person could wield it so terribly was another.

  Moldark, Magnus realized, was not a person, or even a being. It was evil personified.

  “We must stop him,” Magnus said. “We have got—” He choked on his words. “We’ve got—”

  “We will, Magnus.” Awen laid her head against his arm. “We will.”

  As Magnus turned to hold Awen, he realized something else that he hadn’t before—not that there had been much time for reflection. The Galactic Republic was gone.

  29

  “Direct hits on the planet, sirs,” Teloni said. “Estimated casualties at—”

  Seaman followed DiAntora by glancing at the sensors officer. “Teloni,” DiAntora said with an edge in her tone.

  Teloni looked up, but the look in her eyes communicated everything Seaman needed to know. “80%, Captain. And rising.”

  Seaman’s mind went numb with implications. The entire population of Capriana was in the hundreds of millions. And there were still more islands to go on other parts of the planet. And then there was the senatorial alliance of worlds that was—gone. The Forum Republic, CENTCOM—all of it, gone.

  “Your orders, Commodore?” DiAntora asked.

  Just then, Seaman realized this wasn’t about defending Capriana anymore—she was gone. Neither was it about disabling cannons or trying to impede Republic ships. This was about wiping out a source of unspeakable evil. He must stop the monster at the Labyrinth’s helm and anyone who joined him.

  “Destroy those ships,” Seaman said. “Destroy Third Fleet!”

  “We’re detecting movement from Second Fleet,” Teloni said. “Weapons systems powering up.”

  “Finally,” Seaman said.

  “Not so fast,” DiAntora said, pointing to the main display.

  Seaman snapped his head and saw the ships turning to face First Fleet. “They’re—” He could hardly believe his eyes. “They’re joining in this insanity?”

  “It seems so, sir.”

  Seaman went back to his holo windows and—to his dismay—added all of Second Fleets ships to the target roster. This felt like Republic war-games gone wrong. He remembered targeting friendly vessels in training exercises, where the coders had given target ships fake monikers and bogus system alignments. But this wasn’t an exercise—this was all too real.

  The knot in Seaman’s stomach reached such a level that he could hardly breathe, and he was about to vomit. The Republic was no more, and the Fleets were imploding. He could not imagine a worse scenario—only that he would live to tell of it. This can’t be happening, he said to himself but dared not share his anxiety with his crew. Then a hand touched Seaman’s shoulder, and a wave of warmth spread down his chest. His head jerked in shock, not from any pain, but from the sudden relief he felt.

  “It’s all right,” DiAntora said just above the sound of her purring.

  Seaman heard that Sekmit had particular calming abilities but had never been subject to them. Until now, he’d supposed it was more myth than not. But as his anxieties ebbed and his clarity of mind returned, Seaman would never again doubt the rumors, knowing they were anything but myth.

  When DiAntora removed her hand, Seaman looked her in the eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Lani.”

  She dipped her head. “My pleasure, Commodore.”

  Seaman looked back at his holo displays and swallowed. With a clear head, he reconfigured defensive positions and then added more targets to the attack priority list. With Second Fleet’s addition of five carriers and forty-five support ships to Third Fleet’s resources, they exceeded Seaman’s seventy-six starships by six. But where First Fleet still had an advantage was in starfighters, outgunning Second and Third Fleets’ ninety Talons by seventy-five. Seaman felt that if there were to be any victory, it would come by way of the starfighters.

  “What are your orders, sir?” DiAntora asked.

  “Take out the remaining LO9D cannons,” Seaman said. “We must minimize damage to what remains of the planet. Then have the starfighters target all communications. I don’t want them talking to one another. Once that’s accomplished, we’ll hit their sensor arrays to get them flying blind. And if we can keep any more civilian vessels from getting shot down, do it. But I don’t want any ships leaving this system. It ends here.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Seaman packaged the orders and sent them to the appropriate ships. Not having to verbally command his units according to the old conventions meant not having to parse the myriad of details associated with such tactically complex missions and sub-missions. The result was more time to strategize in anticipation of the enemy’s ever-changing actions.

  DiAntora didn’t waste a moment. She engaged the first Battleship on her objectives list, the Independence, targeting its comms array as well as its forward torpedo bays—she would leave the LO9Ds for the fighters. The Fortuna’s consolidated blaster fire beat a hole through the forward shield, allowing DiAntora’s weapons officer a limited opportunity to assail the torpedo bays. The result was a chain reaction that rippled across the ship’s nose, taking out several decks and hampering the Independence’s attack capabilities.

  At the same time, two Talon squadrons ran strafing runs beneath the Battleship, slicing along its belly like a knife. But their primary targets were the Battleship’s two LO9Ds—one amidships, the other aft. Concentrated blaster fire from their NR330 and T-100 cannons disabled both LO9Ds in quick succession. Assigning two squadrons to the objective was overkill. Still, Seaman liked that DiAntora kept the starfighters together, allowing them to not only guard one another but move on to the next objective quickly.

  DiAntora finished the Battlecruiser with two torpedoes delivered to the communications array housed just under the stern-mounted bridge tower. The resulting explosion not only disabled the ship’s ability to connect with the rest of the fleets but caused secondary explosions that rippled into the command center. While its hull integrity was still high, the Independence was out of commission and would soon succumb to the pull of Prime’s gravity.

  Two Destroyers—the Williamson and Calatain’s Freedom—became unintentional casualties of taking down the Independence. Since both vessels were tasked with escorting the Battleship, the Williamson suffered a hull breach when the Independence’s forward torpedo bays were destroyed. Shrapnel and unexpended munitions buried themselves in the smaller Destroyer’s port side. Warheads detonated, ripping holes in the upper decks and taking out critical life support systems.

  While Calatain’s Freedom avoided both direct and indirect fire, it did find itself in the Battlecruiser’s path as the larger starship careened toward Prime’s atmosphere. The Destroyer’s captain realized only too late that it couldn’t get out of the way. Subsequent attempts to divert power to engines resulted in the Freedom hooking itself around the Independence, binding it to the Bat
tlecruiser’s hull. Seaman nodded at DiAntora—speed, luck, pilot error, and fire superiority had just combined to make quick work of three warships.

  DiAntora had already instructed her wing commander to send her two Talon squadrons toward the Limitless Reach—a Super Dreadnaught along Third Fleet’s front edge to orbital north. Seaman watched as the Talons split up to take on the Reach’s fighters. But DiAntora’s twenty-eight fighter contingent had the numeric advantage. Not only did the Fortuna’s Talons take out three enemy fighters in the opening seconds, but two of the Reach’s five LO9Ds were obliterated with help from Ardent Eclipse’s second squadron. The fighters buzzed around the Reach like Helmordian kite raptors on a kill.

  DiAntora directed primary cannon fire to the Limitless Reach’s underside, taking advantage of the enemy captain’s overestimate of direct fire to the bow. As a result, amidship shields were under capacity and buckled quickly under the Fortuna’s withering barrage. A second and third LO9D took direct fire, detonating in bright displays of free energy left over from the weapons’ storage cells.

  But even with the rapid assault on Second and Third Fleets, the enemy ships still managed more LO9D strikes against the surface. The blasts burned holes through the atmosphere and pummeled islands as if the ancient gods of past civilizations had summoned the energy of the sun in judgment of the mortals’ crimes. Fireballs billowed over the islands as the strike’s shockwaves raced across the open seas.

  The inhabitants of Capriana Prime weren’t the only casualties. First Fleet lost the Dreadnaught Octavia II in a coordinated Talon strike comprised of four squadrons. The starfighters focused all their fire on the aft engineering decks, drilling into the core. The detonation fractured the stern and cleaved it from the ship, killing over half the crew in seconds.

  Another Dreadnaught, the Enduring Hope, lost its bridge tower while charging Second Fleet’s Dreadnaught, the Breedlove. The Hope had tried to navigate under the Breedlove in an attempt to take out its LO9D cannons. Sensing the maneuver but without the proper distance to target critical systems, the Breedlove decided on a more drastic defense—one that damaged its foremost decks by pitching down and driving its bow into the enemy’s conning tower.