by J. N. Chaney
“Emergency flotation devices deployed,” said a voice in his head. No, not in his head. It was around his head. Someone was talking to him very close.
Magnus blinked. Something popped then jerked him upright. His legs swung down beneath him, and his head tipped forward. He was ascending. He was floating. Toward the surface of…
Magnus blinked again, trying to put the pieces back together. Trying to suppress the sharp pain in his head and the ringing in his ears. Suddenly, his head burst through the water’s surface, and his eyes filled with the sight of a small mushroom cloud climbing into the sky.
“Great mystics…” Magnus said softly. Everything came back to him. The firefight in the stream, their rescue at the waterfall, the kid and his cave—and him telling them to run.
He torched the island. He actually torched the entire island. Son of a bitch…
Magnus’s HUD began its reboot sequence. As soon as it was active, more warning indicators than he could count started racing down the left side of his display. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Magnus said aloud. “You don’t like a binary bomb blast. I get it.” But thanks to the Repub engineers, and some hefty fund reallocations by old Marines who had decided to take up politics after they’d retired, Mark IV armor was made to withstand such blasts—at least to a certain degree proportional to distance from ground zero. Unlike a blaster bolt, whose force was concentrated, broadly dispersed energy was easier for the suit to handle. Well, at least that was what the manual claimed. Until a few minutes ago, Magnus had doubted that claim. But not anymore.
Amazingly, no bones felt broken. And other than a massive headache, he couldn’t sense anything else the matter with him. He would need a few days in a gene-therapy tank, no doubt. But that was a paid vacation as far as he was concerned. With any luck, he might even get a cute nurse. Who knows?
“Corporal Magnus,” a voice said over the comms. At least those are still working. “You copy?”
“That you, Deeks? Tag idents aren’t registering.”
“Ha, sure as hell is.”
“You in one piece?”
“I think so. My testicles seem a little farther up than usual. That normal?”
Magnus chuckled. “Listen, you got eyes on Chico or Franklin?”
“Chico looks like he’s doing laps on a rooftop pool, and I’m pretty sure Franklin’s taking a piss.”
“I’ve been holding it for hours, Deeks. And we’re Marines, aren’t we? After so much time in the void, we finally get to play in the water again. So sue me.”
“I’m not judging you, Franklin. Just telling the NCO how it is.”
Magnus laughed. He’d just survived a binary explosion and being blasted a hundred meters out to sea, and his fire team was busting each other’s balls.
This is the life, Magnus. This is where you belong.
He loved his job. Loved the service. And for the first time since joining, Magnus had been thinking about doing more with his career, like moving out of the enlisted ranks altogether. But not for the reasons of evading scenarios like this. In fact, it was just the opposite.
Colonel Caldwell, who was like an uncle to him, had told him to attend the academy from the beginning. But Magnus had refused. For one thing, he wanted to know what it was like to fight on the ground with a blaster in his hands. He just couldn’t see himself as an administrator who killed the enemy from a distance.
But for another thing, Magnus wanted to forge his own way through the service. His brother, Marcus, had felt the same way. They had both picked similar paths, ones that put them on Caledonia in this gritty war instead of behind a holo-desk somewhere. If either of them went to the academy, like their grandfather had, they would just be dogged every day by their grandfather’s broad shadow. Magnus knew things would be handed to him. Any promotions he received wouldn’t be his promotions—they would be his grandfather’s.
But with two months of heavy combat under his belt, Magnus was beginning to see a potential bright side to becoming an officer. He’d endured several missions with terrible orders from officers who had never seen ’kuda offal dry on their armor. But he had. Perhaps he would lead differently because he knew what it meant to lead from the front. And while Magnus hadn’t seen his younger brother in several weeks, he wondered if Marcus might be having similar thoughts about the COs and the need for better leadership. Or would he? His younger brother did tend to buck authority no matter what. Marcus always insisted on doing things his own way. Maybe he didn’t care at all. Suddenly, Magnus had an urge to reach out to Marcus despite their recent estrangement. Time would heal it, though, wouldn’t it?
Caldwell had extended the invitation to attend officer training school once again, not three months ago. Magnus did have enough education under his belt to make the move if he wanted. And having the last name Magnus had its upsides too: he could do just about anything he wanted.
The more he thought about the colonel’s offer, and the more time he spent sloshing up mountain ravines in the middle of the night, the more he wondered if it wasn’t the right call to make. Maybe up there at the top, he could effect some change and keep dumbass officers from doing stupid splick to good men. Like these guys. Hell, I’d take these guys with me to the end of the galaxy and back.
There, floating in the ocean, armor cracked and his cells mutating with antimatter fallout, Magnus decided what kind of officer he wanted to be. A fighting one. A sacrificing one. One who never gave up on his man because he knew he would always have men who never gave up on him.
“Corporal Magnus, this is Falcon Nine-Nine-One-Zero-Four. Do you copy?”
The audio was cutting in and out, but Magnus made it out clearly the second time the pilot hailed him. His eyes lit up. “Falcon Nine-Nine-One-Zero-Four, this is Corporal Magnus. I read you loud and clear.”
“Roger that, Corporal. We have your IFF marker on grid. Hang tight, inbound in thirty seconds.”
“Copy that, Falcon. We’ll be…” Magnus smiled. “We’ll just be sitting here, pissin’ in our armor.”
The four Marines laughed. It even sounded like the pilots were in on it too.
Deeks’s voice broke Magnus’s revelry. “Hey, anyone see that kid?”
“Negative,” Chico and Franklin said.
Magnus looked around, but neither his eyes nor TACNET sensors had any reading on an extra body nearby. “Think he’s gone, fellas. Damn shame too. I would’ve liked to get his name. Buy him a beer.”
“Buy him two,” Deeks said. “Next time.”
T’ai Hau survived alone at sea for five days. But he wasn’t really alone, of course. He had his robot.
The bot had been his sole companion as war and disease wiped out the only life he’d ever known. Somehow, though, T’ai had survived. He’d built a life for himself with his robot, biding his time and preparing for the day that he would be rescued.
The evacuation had gone pretty much how he’d expected it to. Though, now that he’d thought about it, he had underestimated the bomb’s mass. The explosion had been much larger than he had intended. In the end, however, it got the job done. He just hoped the Marines had survived in their armored suits.
Eventually, T’ai floated toward a large luxury ship. A true pleasure yacht. He’d seen them pass by his island plenty of times in his childhood. They never stopped to talk. They just circled once or twice, taking pictures with their long-range cameras.
This vessel had several decks and looked like it could sleep thirty or forty people very comfortably. He hauled himself onboard, pulling his backpack behind him, and rested on the aft deck for at least an hour while the sun dried his clothes and warmed his skin. When he was rested, T’ai stood and began looking around the ship.
Everything he saw was opulent. The dark-stained wooden decks, the white leather furniture, and the dark windows—all of it said that whoever owned this boat was wealthy beyond reason. The owner was also hanging off the bowsprit, along with the remains of several other people who’d been onboard. Appare
ntly, the Akuda weren’t fond of this captain or his friends. But the fish had no use for ships, and so they’d left it adrift.
By the looks of it, that had been several weeks ago, maybe more. That meant no one was coming for this ship. So T’ai had it all to himself, and that suited him just fine.
After propping up his half-built robot in a comfy couch, T’ai went about taking stock of supplies on the ship, beginning with food and potable water. Survival was one part luck and another part proper planning. In order to build a life beyond the ruins of his home, he would need both fortune and strategy.
Next, T’ai began by repairing the dead ship. It was a lot of work, but it wasn’t difficult work. All the tools he needed were onboard, and he had plenty of time. In fact, he quite enjoyed the new environment. It was a nice change of pace from his cave.
Within a few days, T’ai had the drive cores operational again. The ship hummed beneath his feet, surging forward under his command like the massive bull whales in the southern hemisphere.
He labored with every light fixture, pipe, strip of carpet, and wooden panel. He willed the giant boat back to life one day at a time, just as he’d willed his robot to life. Weeks turned into months before T’ai realized he wanted to leave. Not leave the boat. Leave Caledonia. This place… was no longer his home. It had been once. And he loved it. Rather, he loved what it had been. But he did not love it anymore. He thought, perhaps, that the yacht might have changed his heart and given him something more to love. Some reason to stay. But in the end, it was empty, like his cave. Like his island.
He looked at his robot, which was nearing completion, and wondered if they should try to journey into the void together. He wanted to get away from here, away from the cursed planet. But he couldn’t do that, not yet anyway. Not without at least talking to her. And to do that, T’ai knew he would need more than just a robot and a boat. He needed a new identity. There was no way her parents would ever allow him to speak to her, unless… he wasn’t himself. He had to become someone different.
T’ai moved below decks into the captain’s quarters. It was where he kept all of the personal belongings of the former crew. Their watches, jewelry, wallets, and purses. He pulled out identification cards of two men he found the most handsome, then he laid them out on the captain’s dining table side by side.
The men’s faces smiled pleasantly, as if the pictures had been taken when they were in the middle of a long vacation to some exotic destination. Their skin was deeply tanned, like his, and their eyes were almost the same shape. Aren’t they? Or perhaps not. Perhaps T’ai would also need to change that about himself to be accepted by her parents.
He returned to their wallets and pulled out small card drives, each displaying softly glowing numeric values followed by the republic C icon for credits. The numbers were in hundreds of thousands, some in the millions. Hacking the accounts would take less than a day of code slicing. T’ai suddenly realized he was rich. He would have enough money to buy himself a new identity, one that would let him speak with her. To ask her if she wanted to go with him to the stars.
T’ai returned to the two pictures of the handsome men on the table. They smiled at him. So he smiled back. Then he did what seemed like the most logical thing to do. He decided to give himself a new name. It would be the first step of many in his new life. The first name of the man’s card on the left was unique. T’ai had never heard it before. While the last name of the man on the right was an island name from another chain far to the north. Combined, the two made a new name with a nice ring to it.
Yes, T’ai thought. That will work well. He could see her liking it too. Maybe even her parents would like it.
T’ai found an old writing utensil and a pad of the beautiful white paper that he’d seen tourists use. There, at the captain’s table, he wrote his name for the very first time.
Idris Ezo.
List of Main Characters
Abimbola: Miblimbian. Age: 41. Planet of origin: Limbia Centralla. Giant warlord of the Dregs, outskirts of Oosafar, Oorajee. Bright-blue eyes, black skin, tribal tattoos, scar running from neck to temple. Wears a bandolier of frag grenades across his chest and an old bowie knife strapped to his thigh. Never leaves home without a poker chip.
Adonis Olin Magnus: Human. Age: 30. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Lieutenant, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. Baby face, short beard, green eyes. Preferred weapon: MAR30. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Allan “Mouth” Franklin: Human. Age 28. Planet of origin: Juna Major. Corporal, heavy-weapons operator, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Aubrey Dutch: Human. Age: 25. Planet of origin: Deltaurus Three. Corporal, weapons specialist, Galactic Republic Marines. Small in stature. Close-cut dark hair, intelligent brown eyes. Loves her firearms.
Awen dau Lothlinium: Elonian. Age: 26. Planet of origin: Elonia. Order of the Luma, Special Emissary to the Jujari. Pointed ears, purple eyes. Wears red-and-black robes and has a Luma medallion around her neck. Won’t back down from anyone.
Darin Stone: Human. Age: 34. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Senator in the Galactic Republic. Husband to Valerie Stone, father to Piper. Impossibly white smile, well-groomed blond hair, radiant-blue eyes. Luxuriantly tan.
Gerald Bosworth III: Human. Age: 54. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Republic ambassador, special envoy to the Jujari. Fat jowls, bushy monobrow. Massively obese and obscenely repugnant.
Idris Ezo: Nimprith. Age: 27. Planet of origin: Caledonia. Bounty hunter, trader, suspected fence and smuggler. Captain of Geronimo Nine. Wears a long gray leather coat, white knit turtleneck, black pants, glossy black boots. Preferred sidearm: SUPRA 945 blaster pistol.
Josiah Wainwright: Human. Age: 35. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Captain, Alpha Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. A legend in his own time.
Michael “Flow” Deeks: Human. Age: 27. Planet of origin: Vega. Sergeant, sniper, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Miguel “Cheeks” Chico: Human. Age 26. Planet of origin: Trida Minor. Corporal, breacher, Charlie Platoon, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, “Midnight Hunters,” Galactic Republic Marines. One of the “Fearsome Four.”
Shane Nolan: Human. Age 25. Planet of origin: Sol Sella. Chief Warrant Officer, Republic Navy, pilot in command of light armored transport Sparrow 271. Auburn hair, pale skin.
So-Elku: Human. Age: 51. Planet of origin: Worru. Luma Master, Order of the Luma. Baldpate, thin beard, dark penetrating eyes. Wears green-and-black robes.
Sootriman: Caledonian. Age: 29. Planet of origin: Caledonia. Warlord of Ki Nar Four, “Tamer of the Four Tempests,” alleged ex-wife of Idris Ezo. Tall, with dark almond eyes, tanned olive skin, dark-brown hair.
TO-96: Robot; navigation class, heavily modified. Manufacturer: Advanced Galactic Solutions (AGS), Capriana Prime. Suspected modifier: Idris Ezo. Round head and oversized eyes, transparent blaster visor, matte dark-gray armor plating, and exposed metallic articulated joints. Forearm microrocket pod, forearm XM31 Type-R blaster, dual shoulder-mounted gauss cannons.
Tony Haney: Human. Age: 24. Planet of origin: Fitfi Isole. Private First Class, medic, Galactic Republic Marines.
Valerie Stone: Human. Age: 29. Planet of origin: Worru. Wife of Senator Darin Stone, mother of Piper. Blond hair, light-blue eyes.
Volf Nos Kil: Human. Age: 32. Planet of origin: Haradia. Captain, the Paragon. Personal guard and chief enforcer for Admiral Kane.
Waldorph Gilder: Human. Age: 23. Planet of origin: Haradia. Private First Class, flight engineer, Galactic Republic Marines. Barrel-chested. Can fix anything.
Wendell Kane: Human. Age: 52. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Fleet admiral of the Galactic Republic’s Third Fleet, captain of th
e Black Labyrinth. Leader of the Paragon, a black-operations special Marine unit. Bald, with heavily scarred skin. One eye pale pink, the other dark brown.
William Samuel Caldwell: Human. Age 60. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Colonel, 79th Reconnaissance Battalion, Galactic Republic Marines. Cigar eternally wedged in the corner of his mouth. Gray hair cut high and tight.
Willowood: Human. Age: 61. Planet of origin: Kindarah. Luma Elder, Order of the Luma. Wears dozens of bangles and necklaces. Aging but radiant blue eyes and a mass of wiry gray hair. Friend and mentor to Awen.
Piper Stone: Human. Age: 9. Planet of origin: Capriana Prime. Daughter of Senator Darin and Valerie Stone. Wispy blond hair; freckle-faced. Wears a puffy winter coat, tights, and oversized snow boots. Carries a holo-pad and her stuffed corgachirp, Talisman.
Rawmut: Tawnhack, Jujari. Age: Unknown. Planet of origin: Oorajee. Jujari mwadim of Oosafar on Oorajee. Chief of the massive hyena-like warrior species.
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