The Phoenix Fallacy_Book III_Magnus

by Jon Sourbeer,

  “True,” Ramirez grunted.

  Marcus gave him a hurt look and Ramirez shrugged.

  “I’m glad you got what you needed, Janus,” Celes said.

  Janus nodded, but did not look at her. He motioned to the group as he turned on his heel, “Come on. We need to talk.”

  All alone over the oceans, Valhalla was an island jewel. With no immediate threats, small observational decks had been deployed to give the Adepts some space and fresh air before the coming storm of battle.

  They sat in silence upon an intimately small deck, with just enough room for the five of them. Below their hanging legs, Valkyries and Longboats flew drills and raced out for final supply runs. The sun shone warmly, and a fresh breeze brought the scent of salt from the endless rolling expanse of blue-green fields. A few gulls that nested with Valhalla called out to one another.

  The team had reacted as Janus had hoped. There had been questions, but only of the mission details. He felt oddly at peace, watching the birds wheel and call. It was if he had taken a breath of fresh air after emerging from the deep. A moment of pure satisfaction and relief. It was a feeling he couldn’t remember experiencing in his old life. A sensation the slums had never allowed him. He couldn’t imagine going back to that life anymore.

  It was oddly comforting. He would stop his father or die trying. There was no other choice he would make. In this moment, he felt no fear. No regret. The future loomed, but for now, he was free.

  Chapter 41: Minute to Midnight

  Janus slept poorly. It was an affliction he felt he might never overcome. His mind raced, unable to settle with the coming mission. Despite his earlier tranquility, the approach of the final hours filled him with apprehension. A worry, not for himself, but for his team. His comrades at ODIN. For Clara. After hours of restless turning, he concluded his efforts were futile. He dressed slowly, examining each piece of equipment, judging its usefulness and need. Here and there he made small adjustments.

  His weapons took the greatest time. Strapping his Fenris pistol to his leg, he grabbed his Skadi, checking the sights and chamber. At last, he touched one final panel on his wall. The Praetor’s Ghostblade emerged, firmly ensconced within its sheath. He clasped it with one hand, pulling it out one smooth stroke. The room was bathed in a faint blue-white glow.

  He admired it, staring along the edge of the weapon, the glow filling his vision. He tested the weight, feeling its familiar heft along his arm. How long would his team be underground? How long would the power cells last?

  With one last look, he placed the weapon into its sheath and slung it onto his back. How long indeed? Maybe, with the silent swiftness of a Ghostblade, he would have a chance to find out.

  Janus felt his stomach turn. Now, whether they realized it or not, every Corporation, every Legion, every innocent soul was counting on him to complete a mission with no back-up and no second chances. Janus felt the bile rising in his throat. He shook off the feeling, closing his eyes to get a hold on himself. Deep breaths filled his lungs. After another moment, he snapped his eyes open.

  The blade strapped firmly to his back, Janus marched swiftly from the room.

  When Janus entered the common area, he found Celes, Lyn, Ramirez, and Marcus all lounging in chairs. Marcus was staring distantly towards the far wall. Celes was watching the stars, glittering in the darkness through the skylight.

  “Finally! I guess some people can sleep the night before an assault,” Lyn spun in her chair and somersaulted to the floor.

  Janus stared at the morose four and suddenly felt compelled to smile, “You’ll get over it in time.” They perked up. “Ask any officer, they’ll tell you that. I bet in a few more missions, we’ll have to shake you awake.”

  Lyn smiled wryly, “Hmmm, I suppose next mission I’ll make sure to set an alarm then.”

  Marcus snorted. “As if that would wake you up. Pretty sure on our training flights you slept through the turbulence that nearly turned Ramirez a new shade of green. The only reason he didn’t hurl is because you had him trapped in a corner with nowhere to go.”

  Lyn stuck out her tongue at Marcus, but it was a deep rumbling that made Janus do a double take. Lyn raised her eyebrows uncertainly. It took Janus a moment to realize it had heard it once before – Ramirez was laughing.

  “What was that for?” Lyn exploded, punching him in the arm. Ramirez shut up immediately. “You had me worried sick! I thought you were having trouble breathing or something!”

  Ramirez folded his arms across his chest, regaining his composure. Lyn chastised him relentlessly, but paused as the others doubled over. They couldn’t help themselves and burst out laughing.

  Marcus grabbed his chest, “Boy, Ramirez, have you got it rough!”

  Lyn turned a bright shade of red and then, watching the others roll around in hysterics, joined in. Ramirez, robbed of his moment, watched the scene stoically, as if nothing had ever happened. In between heaving breaths, Janus barely caught the wink that passed between the two of them.

  After the laughter had subsided, the five stood as one, and headed for the door. Janus stopped at the portal, “Marcus, wait.” Marcus hesitated, watching Celes disappear around the corner with Lyn and Ramirez. He turned to Janus with a grim expression.

  Janus decided to be blunt. “Are you and I going to have a problem?”

  Marcus shook his head, “No, Lieutenant.”

  Janus sighed. A part of him desperately wanted to punch Marcus, “Is that all we are? Officer and subordinate?”

  Marcus cocked his head at him, “You can’t be a superior and a friend at the same time. Not in a battle.”

  Janus put out his hand, “That’s true. But it doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends now.”

  “You and I both know it’s not going to be the same.”

  Janus shook his head, “No. Things change.”

  Marcus eyes swung in the direction that Celes had gone. He looked back at Janus, and shook his hand firmly, “I’ll shake to that.”

  Final preparations were underway in Valhalla – the recreational rooms were dark, the mess empty, the garden silent but for the babbling brook. The armories, debriefing rooms, and launch bays were full. Everywhere Janus went, Adepts wore the grim expressions of those who were preparing for a battle from which they did not believe they would return. As he and Marcus passed into the main launch bay through the heavy doors, Marcus jogged off to get the last of his equipment. Janus walked through the bay alone, watching as longboats emerged from the deeps of Valhalla in an endless stream. The city itself was about to operate on a skeleton crew.

  It finally struck Janus how much of a sacrifice ODIN was preparing to make. He had been wrong earlier about victory for ODIN. Only those who did not fight alongside ODIN could have victory this day. Skill and surprise were ODIN’s only advantages. And surprise only lasted so long.

  Longboats’ engines roared, and Valkyries took flight, their formations surrounding the sky over Valhalla. Two longboats sat alone. Wouris hustled her team aboard the furthest longboat with ruthless efficiency. Celes, Lyn, and Ramirez waited silently before their boat.

  In the common room, Janus had examined their mental state. Now he examined their equipment. Celes held her Vidar long rifle, freshly inspected and tuned from the armory. It was powerful enough that it might pierce Infernus armor, although not over any distance. She too had elected to carry a bulkier weapon with potentially limited usefulness. But unlike the Praetor’s Ghostblade, she would have a much easier time dumping it if necessary. A Sutr compact rifle was strapped to her hip for closer combat and faster shooting.

  Lyn carried an arsenal of small weapons, from grenades to pistols to knives. All of them were designed to mimic her style of battle: quick, small, and accurate. She would serve as the scout for this mission, where her small size and incredible agility would fit the role perfectly.

  At that moment, Marcus ran up, carrying his weapons. A standard Skadi rifle rested in his arms. As planned, he carrie
d a backpack full of variable charges designed for precision detonations. If necessary, any one of them could link and rig the charges to detonate a nuclear weapon with a minimum yield. Or so they hoped. It was a desperation measure – one with a small chance of success, and its use would mean that the team had essentially failed. Chiles and Graham had run the numbers – it could work. But it probably meant that no one was coming back.

  It was the weapon poking over the backpack, however, that caught Janus’ attention. The hilt of a Ghostblade Janus did not recognize rested lightly against Marcus’ shoulder. Janus gave the Skadi and the variable charges a once over. Two extra power cores for the blade rested inside the pack. Lifting the hilt ever so slightly he felt Marcus stiffen, and saw the familiar red glow transform to a bright orange before Janus sheathed the weapon again. With a quick exchange of nods, Marcus leapt aboard.

  Ramirez’s weapon was certainly the most unique. It had been specially made for him, and the command staff had sped up his request in order to ensure he would have it for the mission. It was less than a day old, and already it was legendary. Other Adepts had nicknamed it the ‘Thor’ – the larger, meaner brother of the Zeus rifle. It was essentially an oversized Zeus rifle – with a rocket launcher attached. It was monstrously heavy, a design choice made to reduce the kick and improve the accuracy. The magazine size had been limited to allow for the rocket expansion, lowering its bolt capacity by half. The rockets and Zeus bolts had been scrounged together from Valhalla’s supply of S.T. and Infernus armor. Janus could barely lift the thing, almost crushing his foot beneath it when he had tried. Marcus had done slightly better. He had been able to pick it up. Shouldering it was another matter entirely. The girls hadn’t even tried. Janus was in awe of it. Of everyone on the mission, Ramirez would never need to fear running dry on ammo. There would be plenty of Zeus rounds everywhere.

  When Janus had originally seen the design, he had raised the concern of the impact it would have on Ramirez’s endurance. Ramirez had simply grunted in response, and instead shown Janus a recording of his last training session. It was the culmination of several months of Ramirez’s individual training exercises, and involved such simple tasks as jogging for distance while carrying over 70 kgs of gear, sprinting while wearing a weight that looked suspiciously like the weapon he now wore, and hurling what appeared to be large blocks of Immutium across the room. Janus had gotten tired just watching. Now, with the Thor slung across his back, Ramirez was truly terrifying.

  And just for good measure, Ramirez carried an additional Skadi rifle and extra ammo for the team. With his endurance fears assuaged, Janus was now concerned as to whether Lyn would be able to stay far enough ahead of Ramirez to scout properly. If given the choice, Ramirez probably wouldn’t let Lyn out of his sight. Janus smiled. There was a reason that Lyn and Ramirez worked so well together on missions, and if it meant Ramirez being slightly overprotective of Lyn, it was a small price to pay. He could only hope that Marcus, Celes, and himself would be able to function so efficiently.

  Janus climbed aboard the hovering longboat, signaling to Wouris that they were ready to go.

  “Ready to put some payback on Titan, Lieutenant?” A familiar voice asked from the cockpit.

  Janus grinned as he turned to address the speaker. “Glory, is that you? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

  “You obviously haven’t been looking hard enough. Ready and willing, as always,” Glory responded. “Although I must admit, I’m getting tired of being the one who has to drop your worthless hide everywhere.” The team laughed.

  “Is that why you keep dropping us into trouble?” Celes asked mischievously.

  The engines revved up outside the longboat. “Oh, no, not the rest of you. You’re just the unfortunate victims who happen to associate with him,” she jerked a thumb back at Janus.

  “Well, with any luck, we’ll all be back soon enough to bother you some more,” Marcus said, “And with very few holes in our hides.” Janus nodded appreciatively, and Marcus tilted his head in respect.

  “Amen to that,” Glory said, as the longboat engines roared and she pulled the craft smoothly from the landing platform and into the bright, starry sky above.

  The two longboats hovered just above a tiny, overgrown pasture north of the Phoenix ruins, their cargo dropping quickly to the ground below. They had been inserted far from their destination to avoid arousing any interest. It would take them some time to reach the ruins. With the last of his team on the ground, Janus gave a thumbs-up to Glory, who returned it, and then more formally, saluted him. Janus saluted back, and Glory sped off, still hugging the ground. The second longboat followed.

  “We’ve got a day to get to Phoenix,” Wouris said, “ODIN attacks at dawn in two.”

  Chapter 42: From Whence All Tears Flow

  The ruins were oppressively quiet, just as Janus remembered them. The air was thick, and the fog seemed to roll in from every direction. Despite himself, Janus could not help but think that the very air was alive. Blackened and jagged spears emerged from the mist suddenly to stab out at them. There were no birds, no animals. Only a dreadful silence. Phoenix did not welcome visitors.

  It was the first time anyone but Wouris, Celes, and himself had visited this graveyard, and he could feel the tension emanating from the Marcus, Ramirez, and Lyn. Each was ready for battle, ready to charge into Phoenix to take out Delacroix. Not even Celes was immune to it. But tense and amped up was not what he needed. He needed calm and collected. He stopped and signaled.

  Palm out, fingers up. Stay. He watched them settle into the shadows. Fist closed, fist slowly open. Breathe. And suddenly, he felt more calm and clear-headed himself. The others signaled back, their bodies relaxed. Ready.

  Janus turned to see Wouris staring at him. She tilted her head in approval.

  They spent the night in a tiny lean-to like space between a collapsed wall and a crumbling ceramosteel column. They had no fire and sat in silence, unwilling to make noise and unable to use lights for hand signals in fear of giving their position away. Janus himself snatched only an hour or so of sleep. By 0300, the party was moving again. They had a lot of ground to cover and needed to be in position by dawn of the next day.

  On that second day, the ruins were equally silent. A chill seeped into Janus’ bones, but he kept moving, knowing it was the only solution. He suspected everyone else felt the same way.

  After many hours of hard trekking, Wouris paused to signal to Janus.

  Entrance ahead.

  Janus returned the signal. Lead on.

  The great lift station of Phoenix was still as derelict and forgotten as ever, the golden walls of the egg-shaped building cracked and tarnished by the elements. Climbing over the shattered Phoenix wings, and through the gaping hole in the side, the two teams slid along the broken lift into the darkness below.

  The Executor’s bunker was even more like a tomb than Janus remembered. The ruined splendor of Phoenix seemed more sinister in the narrow cone of their flashlights. When Phoenix had stood head and shoulders above its rivals, this bunker had been a sanctuary. Now, the very nature of it was tainted and dark. Celes shivered involuntarily. Wouris led them away from the door to the Phoenix factories, and into a chamber that had clearly been a bedroom, closing the door behind them.

  “We’ll make camp here tonight,” she said simply.

  Lyn suddenly gasped, “Phaw! We can talk now?”

  Wouris smiled, “Yes. I don’t think Delacroix is going to find us if he hasn’t by now.”

  “We’ll rotate the watch and make sure everyone gets a full night’s sleep. Who knows how much time we’ll be inside, so get as much rest as you can now,” Janus added.

  “Well, we still won’t be able to get a fire going,” Marcus said, looking around, “but at least we can warm some of our food.” He pulled a tiny chemical heater from within his armor and started grabbing rations from everyone.

  “A good meal with finer company,” Lyn said as she tossed her PSR
to Marcus.

  As one, the group raised a fist as if to say hear, hear.

  Janus awoke to Celes shaking him, “It’s time.” He nodded. In moments, they had removed all traces of their brief stay. The bunker had remained deathly quiet through the night, and the two groups reached the collapsed and forgotten supply room unhindered. It was the same as Janus remembered it, minus three command suits. Shelves upon shelves of old, disintegrated supplies, rusty components, and worthless weapons waited in stacks. Deep in the back, the collapsed wall still maintained its claustrophobia-inducing passage.

  Janus perched himself upon some shelving, watching as the others disappeared into dark corners. Even the giant shape of Ramirez melded with the dark. Confident in his team’s invisibility, he froze like a statue, simply watching the collapsed wall. He was nothing more than a forgotten box, or rusty piston.

  His breathing slowed, and he shut his eyes. Listening.

  It was not long. A gentle tremor. An almost imperceptible rumbling. And then a few grains of dust fell upon his head, and Janus’ eyes snapped open. The assault had begun!

  They materialized as one from the darkness, converging on the collapsed wall. Wouris’ face and hand emerged from the shadows directly above the collapsed tunnel, signaling Janus. Voices.

  Janus crept closer, straining to hear.

  “I have never been so freakin’ bored in my life,” a man’s voice said.

  “Would you stop whinin’ and deal?” a woman asked exasperatingly.

  S.T.s.

  “Did I tell you what Murray said?”

  “Only a hundred times. Just deal, would you?”

  “Murray told me himself. He went into that tunnel and it was all blocked up.”

  “So you’ve told me.” Janus was sure from her tone that she was rolling her eyes. She went on, “Nevermind that Murray was ordered to go in there because Sergeant James got ordered by some HAM. And nevermind that James was too claustrophobic to go himself, so he got the laziest and fattest brute in the whole battalion to check it out. Murray probably went three meters in and took a nap.”