Copyrighted Material
Ruins of the Galaxy Copyright © 2019 by Variant Publications, Hopper Creative Group
Book design and layout copyright © 2019 by JN Chaney
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing.
Version 2.0
1st Edition
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Contents
Ruins of the Galaxy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
The Night of Fire
The Night of Fire
Galactic Breach
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Demons at War
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Gateway to War
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Void Horizon
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Black Labyrinth
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Imminent Failure
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
&nb
sp; Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
List of Main Characters
Stay Up to Date
Join the Ruins Tribe
About the Authors
Ruins of the Galaxy
1
“I know you wanna bust out your bikini, Flow, but mind telling me if you see any hostiles yet?” Magnus asked over a private channel on TACNET.
“Negative, LT,” Flow replied. “A city of fifteen million Jujari, and we ain’t seen splick.”
“Your mama raise you to talk like that, Sergeant? Or are you just pissed you can’t go swimming?”
“I’m pissed I can’t see anything to shoot yet.”
“Copy that.” Magnus touched his MAR30’s safety out of habit.
Magnus and his Charlie Platoon of fifteen operators had set security on what was one of the worst danger areas he’d ever been assigned to. The landing platform they stood on was forty stories up the side of a composite sandstone skyscraper in the center of Oosafar, and it jutted out like a waiter’s silver platter. The sun’s heat was punishing, pushing their armor-cooling capabilities to the limit and threatening to cook the men before any objectives were reached. While his platoon controlled the perimeter of the pad, a sea of buildings surrounded them, each rife with potential sniper nests or heavy blaster emplacements. Magnus couldn’t shake the feeling that his unit was being served up as some Jujari chief’s main course. They were, to put it in Marine speak, hanging out like dogs’ balls.
“You don’t really think this is about peacekeeping, do you, LT?” Flow asked.
“Not any more than you do. Since when has Recon been tasked with security? Plus, these dogs have alliances with five other systems and a fleet to match. No way they asked the Repub here to surrender all that after three hundred years of resisting us. Something smells off.”
“Copy that,” Flow said with a sniff.
The higher-ups had tried to assure Magnus that this mission was critical to Republic progress. And maybe it was. But Magnus and his platoon were stuck babysitting sycophants in a chemical reaction of politics and cults waiting to go nova. It was just a matter of time before one of his Marines got killed in the name of progress, and that was not what he’d signed up for.
“You know, I hear they bleed their prisoners for weeks,” Flow said. “Some ancient ritual sacrifice or some splick. ‘Living blood’ they call it. You think that’s true?”
“Don’t know, don’t care, Flow.” Magnus looked over the platform’s edge. It was a long way down. “If we don’t accomplish the objective, we’re dead anyway.”
“How’s that?”
“The Jujari drain us of our blood or the major drains us of our stripes. Either way, we’re done. But I’ll take my chances with the hyenas.”
“Copy that, LT,” Flow replied with a chuckle.
“Just own the field and keep your eyes peeled for our bird.”
A gust of wind blew up from within the city and buffeted Magnus’s men. He turned to see them covering their respective fields of fire with their MAR30s. The sooner they could get off this platform the better.
“Heads up, LT,” Flow said. “I’m picking up an inbound Regent-class cruiser.”
Magnus looked skyward and flicked his eyes through menus in his heads-up display. A blue targeting reticle latched onto a square of empty sky and showed Repub designations fed from the orbital convoy overhead, including the shuttle’s code name, Falcon One. He let his eyes focus on the marker until his helmet’s artificial intelligence zoomed in. The AI’s neural-sensor suite was responding quicker than before. Nice update. Magnus reminded himself to thank the battalion’s coders when he got back.
The sky expanded in his HUD, filling his field of view with a static-laden image of a diplomatic shuttle. Even from this distance, Magnus could make out the Order of the Luma’s insignia on the ship’s large vertical stabilizer: a single maroon flame within an unbroken circle. Magnus cringed. Blasted peacemongers.
“Those are our assets,” Magnus said, wondering if Flow could hear the disdain in his voice.
“Roger that,” Flow replied. “Don’t act too happy about it, LT.”
Magnus switched off the private channel with Flow and opened a direct line to Alpha Platoon’s leader and CO for the op.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” came Captain Wainwright’s baritone voice.
“We’ve got eyes on Falcon One, Captain.”
There was a pause. Magnus knew Wainwright was reviewing the HUD data. The captain was a legend in the Recon and one Magnus was proud to serve under. Alpha Platoon was charged with security for the Republic ambassador and his envoy, while Charlie was tasked with the Luma emissary. According to the mission plan, Wainwright was fifteen minutes ahead of Magnus’s platoon and already topside at the meeting location.
“Copy that,” said the captain. “You’re all green.”
“Roger, Captain.” Magnus signed out. He surveyed the landing platform again and brought up a unit channel. “Look alive, Hunters. Shuttle inbound, ETA is three.” Magnus watched his HUD as each platoon member confirmed unit readiness with green affirmation icons.
The private channel chirped. Flow was calling again.
“Go, Flow,” Magnus ordered.
“LT, I don’t wanna beat this to death, but this is splick. We’re three-sixtied. Hell, they’re probably covering our undercarriage too, and we can’t do a damn thing about it. The way I see it, the only thing good about this place is that we don’t have the squirts like we did in Caledonia.”
“Wait, you mean that time we were crapping our brains out in a honeymooner’s paradise?” Magnus replied. “Nah, don’t remember anything about that.”
Jokes aside, Magnus was just as frustrated as Flow. Their position was begging for an ambush. Oosafar’s urban environment was perfectly suited for veiled attacks from nearly every angle. Where any other world would have had solid windows in its buildings, the Jujari hung white curtains and had a low-level force field to keep out the elements. The fabric billowed in the late-afternoon wind, moving like ghosts in and out of a thousand cave entrances, and the constant motion provided the ideal concealment for an enemy on the move.
“Which desk jockey you think approved this op without reading the fine print?” Flow asked. “Feels like they’re playing Terberian roulette with us, ya know? The problem is—”
“The house always wins,” Magnus finished.