“And this is Sullus?” Keel asked. “Not—”
Owens cut him off before he could mention Admiral Devers’s name. “We know it’s Sullus from the troops reported on the ground on Tarrago Prime. They match the description you provided of the dark legionnaires encountered on Tusca. Unfortunately, that’s all we know. Comm relays to the Tarrago system are offline. So this is all the intelligence you’ll get.”
“So what’s the plan?” Keel asked, crossing his legs at the ankle as he leaned back. “I’m having a hard time figuring out what Victory and the Six can do against a full-scale invasion. Does the Legion still have control of the orbital defense gun?”
“We don’t know.”
Chhun nodded gravely. “So our job is to go to Tarrago and make sure the gun platform is secure. Hold it until relief can come. With that thing in Republic hands, the best an opposing force can do is send troops in from long range via shuttle and hope they aren’t shot down. Maybe harass with starfighters and bombers—and that would be costly. Any invading force would need that gun down in order to get their capital ships close enough for a full wave assault.”
Owens pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. “Ordinarily I’d agree with you. That’s a sound plan, and it’s what needs doing if relief were coming. But… it ain’t coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“The House of Reason security council believes this is a hit-and-fade attack by MCR. They’re attempting to reach Admiral Landoo should she need to be brought in, but as of right now, they don’t view this attack as a threat. We know better. These guys are armed, numerous, and legit. That’s all based on Wraith’s intelligence reports.”
“Don’t tell me we get to storm the House of Reason and talk some sense into the council,” Masters said. “Because that would be amazing. So actually, do tell me that.”
Keel set his jaw. Among this group, only he had seen exactly what Goth Sullus had at his disposal. The mechs, the training of his soldiers… the funding. The fact that Sullus had hired virtually all of the Brotherhood to serve as mercenaries told Keel that Sullus had credits to burn. If he could afford all of that, there was no doubt in Keel’s mind that he also could afford to raise an army on par with what the MCR was able to put together before they’d taken down Scarpia. That had been enough to wipe out a company on Kublar, and a company of legionnaires was all that defended the Tarrago moon. And there were no leejes at all down on the planet—only Republic marines and local security forces.
Tactically, it made sense for Sullus to attack Tarrago Prime. The planet was a mid-core world, but close enough to the core that it would be defended with the Seventh Fleet in a time of emergency—and that fleet was soft. Full of points. The non-legionnaire defense of the world would be the same. If Sullus had even a basic understanding of Republic military capabilities, he’d know the fighting wouldn’t be hard, except for on the moon.
But what was his objective? Striking Tarrago Prime wasn’t going to get the people of the core worlds shaking. It would take a hit on a major core planet like Utopion, Persus, or Melaine to get noticed. That was how the MCR had gotten its start—a surprise attack launched simultaneously on several core worlds, followed by a quick retreat before they could be exposed in a prolonged fight. But ever since then, they’d fought mainly in the mid-core and edge, and the populous center of the galaxy had slowly stopped paying attention—because, hey, they didn’t live where all the shooting took place.
So this wasn’t some terrorist attack in order to get noticed. It was a military strike. The obvious objective—because it was the only thing of value on Tarrago Prime—was the shipyards. But destroying them wouldn’t be a major achievement. It would mean a headache for the Republic, sure, but not a huge one. The House and Senate would simply prioritize a rebuild and get them operating again within two weeks.
But… if someone were to take those shipyards and hold them, they could start pumping out their own fleet. And with the resources and recruitment power Sullus had…
“We’re going to blow up the shipyards, aren’t we?” Keel blurted out.
The room fell silent, all eyes turned to Keel.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Owens answered, his face unreadable. If he was surprised that Keel had guessed the mission, he didn’t show it. But then, Owens rarely showed any emotion. “As I said, we have limited intel. Nevertheless, our assessment is that Tarrago Prime and its moon are going to fall. Keller is attempting to organize a force to jump in in relief, but we assume the navy won’t go for it. And the Seventh Fleet can’t be reached, not that it matters—let’s be honest, it’s a core fleet. Landoo has no real experience and will perform like every other point we’ve ever come across. The only good navy is in the edge.”
Chunn pushed his palms down flat on a display case full of banned weaponry—slug throwers and disintegrators. “So what you’re saying is, it’s up to us to make sure that even in victory, Sullus is denied the shipyards.”
“Right. So here’s our plan.” Owens transmitted a holo showing the Indelible VI entering the system. “Captain Ford will deliver the team to Tarrago Prime. This boat of his has the capability to outrun whatever it comes up against and land undetected by scanners. Expect things to be hot when you arrive. The defense fleet shouldn’t be knocked out before you get there. They’re still destroyer-class, after all. Those don’t go down without taking a beating.”
“Unless Sullus takes the orbital gun,” Pike interjected.
Owens nodded. “True. But if there’s one element of our defenses that will give ’em hell, it’s the legionnaires defending that gun.”
“I can get everyone on planet,” Keel said, studying the proposed advance vectors. “But once we land… then what?”
“Legion Commander Keller spoke with Captain Deynolds of the Intrepid,” Owens answered. “Some of you have served on that ship. Good captain, competent crew. You’ll have thirty minutes to get into position and guide pulse-home bots into the shipyard’s three central reactors. Here, here, and here.”
The holodisplay panned to the shipyard superstructure, cast in red, with yellow indicating three large sections where energy for the massive shipyard was generated.
“You keep the targets painted. Intrepid will do a quick jump in, launch a payload of MAROs, one for each reactor, along with a synced fire of all blaster batteries, and then jump back out. Engineering believes we’ll disable the shipyards even if only one MARO hits its target, but we’re Legion, so we go all out. Any questions on the op?”
Silence.
“Okay,” Owens said, scanning the room. “Captain Ford will get you out and then rendezvous with Intrepid—I’m going to have you operate from there after the stunt pulled by Illustrious. Ford, we’ll figure out what’s next for you down the road. Plan on meeting with me and Legion Commander Keller aboard the Mercutio.”
Keel nodded. This was happening fast. Too fast. He didn’t know if he wanted to get back to life in Dark Ops. Serving aboard a destroyer, jumping from hellhole to hellhole. The thought of leaving behind the ability to do as he pleased and go where he wanted made him feel like he was dying inside. He wanted to complete this mission with the kill team—and then run.
“Let’s talk supplies,” Owens said. “I’m sure you guys are all black on ammo, and your kit isn’t optimized for the op. There’s an orbital depot along the way. I can get you command clearance. Should limit the delay to ninety minutes.”
Bear picked up a two-man-served plasma grenade launcher and wielded it at the hip, as though the ninety-pound weapon didn’t require a tripod. “No need, Major. We’ve got more than enough goodies here in Captain Ford’s secret stash.”
Owens smiled from behind his bushy red beard. “Good. KTF, men.”
08
Hyperspace unfurled outside the cockpit windows of the Indelible VI. While Captain Keel read over systems reports, Leenah monitored the finer details, watching for the slightest hint that the ship was operating sub-optimal
ly. Things broke on every ship, but she never let them stay that way long. And what she considered “broken,” most other beings would look at as working just fine.
“All systems are reading optimal,” she informed Keel.
The captain gave her an appreciative grin, which she returned with a blushing smile of her own. This kind of work would have taken three hours in dock with anyone else working the wrench—but it had taken Leenah only twenty minutes to get the engine’s drive couplers where they needed to be. Where she needed them to be. They hadn’t fused, but another couple of micro jumps and they could have fused, rendering the ship incapable of anything faster than sublight speed. And in Leenah’s mind, the potential was every bit as bad as the reality.
By the time she’d returned from the engine room, her coveralls sporting fresh smears of grease, it seemed as if everyone had become fast friends. Prisma was recounting tales of near-death experiences for the benefit of the legionnaires, who appeared enthralled. They kept asking her to fill in technical details about equipment, positioning, and tactics—questions the girl didn’t know the answers to. It troubled Leenah, the things that Prisma had been forced to live through. And it troubled her even more to see this kill team so taken with her, and the young girl’s face lighting up in response.
This was Prisma’s chance to be a girl again. To be a child. These professional soldiers couldn’t see that, or didn’t care.
Leenah disliked the kill team. Perhaps “dislike” was too strong a word; she just didn’t trust them. She worried that, when this was over, they’d lead her off the ship in ener-chains. And if they did, would Keel try to stop them?
The legionnaires were polite enough with her. The team leader, Captain Chhun, had treated her respectfully. Kindly, to be honest. And that seemed to be the squad standard. The only exception was Bear, the big one, who only seemed to have a mind for weapons and fighting. But all of that could be misdirection. A way to get Leenah to lower her guard. She vowed not to let that happen.
“The Six is ready for whatever comes her way,” she said, checking for a fourth time to make sure the sublight repulsors showed an adequate charge level.
99.8%. That would do.
“Nice work with the ship,” Keel said, swiveling in his chair to look directly at her. “But tell me, princess. Are you ready for whatever comes your way?”
Leenah swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’ve been in the middle of war zone after war zone since the moment I picked you up back on Jarvis Rho.” He rubbed his jaw and looked up at the cabin ceiling as if contemplating. “I just worry about your royal sensibilities, is all.”
Leenah looked straight ahead, steeling herself. “Don’t be. I can handle jumping into a fight.”
“It’s not the jump I’m worried about,” Keel insisted. He leaned against the armrest, invading her space. He had a… disarming look. Eyes that seemed to ask forgiveness for the bad things he only thought of. “It’s what happens when we land. We’ll probably have to shoot more people. And the best way to do it is in a way that keeps them from getting back up. Using the Six’s big guns.”
“I’ll be fine, Keel. Or should I call you Ford? Or Wraith?” Leenah batted pink eyelashes over doe eyes. “Or is there another secret identity you’d rather I use… Captain?”
“Keel is fine.” The captain sat back in his chair and brought up the payload and inventory status of the ship’s missile launchers. He sounded bothered. Annoyed. Hurt?
Leenah’s first instinct was to apologize. But she squelched that urge. Did she really have anything to apologize about? Keel had been dishonest—well, disingenuous at least—ever since she’d met him. And all she had done…
Leenah sighed. All she had done was go along with a plan by an inexperienced MCR “general” to pretend that her royalty meant she held a high place in the rebellion—when she was really just a grease dunker with no appreciable MCR time of service to speak of.
If this partnership, serving on the same ship together, was going to work, it would require that she and Keel be honest with one another. He had come clean before they’d picked up the Dark Ops team; she needed to do the same.
“Listen,” she said. “I want you to know… just because I don’t like watching this ship rain mayhem down on organics, doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to do what it takes to keep the Six and its crew safe, if that’s what you need from me. Especially Prisma. Give me a blaster and tell me where to be, and I’ll be there. But I’m never going to be good with switching on remote weapons systems and—I just don’t like it, okay?”
“Sure, Leenah.” Keel paused. He seemed to be considering what to do next. Leenah’s stomach fluttered as he again leaned toward her. “We’ll figure something out.”
Leenah moved her face toward him. “Like what?”
“Something,” Keel repeated, leaning in closer and closing his eyes.
The cockpit door behind them whooshed open, and Captain Chhun walked in. Keel and Leenah jumped back into their seats, both red-faced.
Chhun slowed, then stood behind the two of them. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
Keel’s fingers were dancing over the Indelible’s console. “Nope. Uh, no. We, uh, we just… we were checking the ship’s latency sys—uh, no.”
“Captain Ford,” Chhun said, his voice even and professional. “I’m not an idiot. I understand that dramatic and stressful events like what you and your crew just went through together can accelerate bonding. I get that. But if my bucket is right, we’re about thirty minutes to Tarrago. Not the time. Not the place.”
The military bearing of the legionnaire had a sobering effect. Leenah could see it in the way Keel handled himself. He looked embarrassed, like he knew better and was upset with himself.
And then something seemed to… click inside the man. He softened his posture, leaned back into his chair, and looked up at Chhun nonchalantly. “Relax, Cohen,” he said, waving his hand lazily. “Don’t get excited. We can fly an op like this in our sleep. Just make sure you have your crew ready to go once the ramp drops.’
“They are,” Chhun said, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Listen, I get that it’s been a while since you’ve been in an op, but—”
Keel interrupted. “You’ve got your way of doing things, and I have mine. Only my way tracked down Sullus, Rechs, and got the death mark bounty on Cal Camp. And that was just from one job. Multiply those results over years. Don’t worry. I’ll get you taken care of.”
“Ford, this op—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Keel answered, sounding every bit the brash smuggler.
“It’s my job to worry about it,” Chhun said. “Used to be yours, too.”
“Ah, c’mon.”
Leenah cleared her throat “We really were just… checking out systems.”
“Reproductive systems,” Chhun said just loud enough to be heard. In a louder voice, he added, “I’ll have my guys take up spots on your turrets. I’ll still take a leej firing over target AI any day I can.”
“Good idea,” Keel said, turning back to his console. “And hey, KTF.”
“Yeah,” Chhun said before exiting the cockpit.
The door slid shut.
Keel looked over at Leenah. “To be continued?”
The Endurian princess nodded, then giggled inwardly when she saw Keel blush.
***
Major Owens leaned back in a repulsor seat on board Deep Space Supply Station Nine. The seat wasn’t designed to recline, but the repulsors were so weak and dilapidated, they didn’t have the energy to send him shooting across the room with the change in trajectory. They only whined and made the chair sort of bob in place, which Owens liked. It made him feel as though he were aboard a boat sailing some planetary sea. He’d done a few ops like that. A few vacations, too. He’d always liked them. Both types.
In the corner of the room was a holoprojection of Captain Deynolds of the Intrepid. Like Owens, she was waiting f
or Legion Commander Keller to enter the private comm meeting. Behind her projection, there looked to be several piles of space rat droppings. Owens briefly considered chewing out whoever was in charge of station sanitation—who would in turn chew out whoever was keeping the maintenance bots, who would just deal with it—but decided it wouldn’t matter. This space station was a crap-hole, plain and simple, and no amount of cleaning would change that. If it weren’t for its proximity to where the kill teams seemed to be most needed, Owens would have requested a change of location for his Dark Ops HQ long ago. Maybe if he waited long enough, the House would pass a spending bill to get these edge and mid-core stations retrofitted and upgraded.
He held back an urge to laugh out loud at the thought.
“I’m glad to hear your family is doing well,” Captain Deynolds said. Apparently waiting for Keller meant they had to continue to engage in small talk.
“Thanks,” Owens replied, stroking his beard. “How ’bout you? Still married to the stars, or has one of those points the House keeps sending your way swept you off your feet?”
“No,” Deynolds said, only a hint of mirth in her voice. “I have a hard enough time keeping those appointees from ordering my ship too close to a star. The idea of…” She shook visible as if a sudden case of the chills had come over her.
“So, how do you like the plan?” Owens asked.
“Risky,” Deynolds admitted. “But I don’t have a better one. Still, your team needs to have that target lit up the moment Intrepid hits subspace. I doubt my gunnery team will have time for manual target and fire. For all I know, we could be the only friendly craft left in the system.”
“They’ll be ready for you.”
“I know.”
The comm chimed, and the holo-image of Legion Commander Keller materialized before the two of them. He looked irate.
Sword of the Legion (Galaxy's Edge Book 5) Page 6