“I’m just going to come out and say it,” Keller began, not bothering with pleasantries. “I’m pissed the hell off beyond belief. By order of the House of Reason Security Council, the operation to destroy the Kesselverks Shipyards is now off the table. That’s an order. That’s official.”
“Commander,” Deynolds said, her voice measured, “did they give a reason why? I don’t see the advantage to this decision.”
“Isn’t it clear, Captain?” Keller said sardonically. “The Republic needs those shipyards. And if they lose them—which they will—it will be the Legion’s job to take them back, the cost of lives be damned.”
“No one on Utopion ever cried for a leej,” Owens said. “There’s a small problem with those orders, though.”
“What might that be, Major Owens?”
“My team’s already too close to Tarrago. I can’t reach them.”
A smile began to form in the corners of the commander’s eyes. “They’ll want you to check again.”
“Yes, sir.” Owens pinched his nose and sniffed, but otherwise remained motionless. “Just checked. Still can’t reach them.”
“A shame.” Keller’s face went sober. “But even so, this is a suboptimal situation. I want to make sure to clarify the severity of this situation. Your kill team will be on its own.”
Owens snapped his gum. “Understood.”
“They won’t be on their own,” Captain Deynolds said. “I can still bring the Intrepid in at the pre-appointed time.”
Keller shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Captain. You’re not in Tarrago, and the Republic knows it. You make the jump after the House has spoken, and you’ll be replaced by whatever appointee on your ship currently holds the highest rank. We can’t afford to lose officers like you in the navy. Not with what’s coming.”
“All due respect, Commander,” insisted Deynolds, “that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“And I appreciate that. All of the Legion appreciates an officer such as yourself. But I have to think of the bigger picture. We’re at the bleeding edge of what will be a bloody conflict. I’m willing to risk a kill team to slow down this attack from the shadows of the edge—but I’m not willing to lose an entire destroyer with the know-how and will to fight.”
“Dumpster fire,” Owens muttered to himself.
“How’s that?”
“Dumpster fire,” Owens repeated. “It’s something Chhun says. Means a bad situation—beyond control. Something his dad used to say. Ancients talk, you know.”
“Never heard that one before,” Keller said. “But it sounds accurate. So Captain Deynolds, the answer remains negative. If the galaxy is on fire, you’re a key part of the Legion’s plan to put out the flames.”
Deynolds nodded begrudgingly. “And just how much planning does the Legion have in place?”
“We’ve got a plan for everything.”
“The House? The Senate Council?”
“Everything.” A chime sounded in Keller’s office. “That’s the security council again. They’ll love the news I’m about to give them. Owens, be ready to deal with some blowback. They’ll be looking to point fingers once the team accomplishes its objective. I’ll protect you and your leejes, you know that, but it may be a little uncomfortable for a while.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, and Owens,” Keller said, as if just remembering. “I see Miss Broxin left the station. Did she give you any indication of what she was up to?”
“No, sir.”
“All right. Probably best not to know. Keller out.”
As soon as Keller was off channel, Captain Deynolds said, “I’ll still go.”
Owens shook his head. “No. The commander is right. We need officers who are truly loyal to the Republic first. But… if you can keep your ship close enough to Tarrago to pick up my team once they make their way out, I’d appreciate it.”
“Consider it done.”
“I will.” Owens ended the transmission.
Alone in the filthy meeting room aboard the deep space supply station, he keyed in the comm frequency to communicate with Chhun.
No answer.
He tried a separate channel.
No answer.
“Huh,” Owens said to himself. “Guess I was telling the truth after all.” He leaned back in his seat, chewing his thumb. The Victory kill team truly was alone.
09
“Less than a minute to subspace,” Keel announced to Chhun over L-comm.
Keel flipped switches and arranged displays over his tactical HUD. Leenah, at his side, was watching the navicomputer count down to the end of their trip through hyperspace. They were sixty seconds to Tarrago space, set to arrive just beyond the moon.
“We’re in position at your manual turret emplacements,” Chhun replied. “Give us targets, we’ll shoot ’em down.”
“Copy,” Keel said. He switched off the comm and shook his head once. “Shouldn’t be any shortage of those…”
Leenah turned to him. “Six is reporting that everyone is in their quarters—even Skrizz, finally. Wait. Scratch that. Garret made the ship say he was in his quarters, but he’s still at his workstation. I can see him on the holocam.”
“Doing what?” Keel asked, venturing a glance at Leenah’s displays. “Ravi?”
“Could be.” Leenah shook her head doubtfully. “I can’t tell.”
“Well, let him work. If he’s on to something, I don’t want to break his concentration. He should be safe enough where he is.”
The navicomputer gave a two-note warning of the impending dump from hyperspace. Keel wrapped his hand around the manual lever. “Switch hyperspace controls over to me,” he told Leenah.
“All set,” the princess replied.
Keel liked to end the jump just a split second after the navicomputer told him he should. It was dangerous, but it often got him deeper into a system and in a position to surprise whoever might be waiting for him. Of course, he knew of some smugglers and spacers who had blown themselves into atoms trying this maneuver—by not dumping fast enough and travelling directly into the hyperspace shadow of a planet. But Keel was too good for that.
Probably.
“Now!” he shouted, to himself more than anyone else. The stars stretched and then became stationary, and the canopy widows of the Indelible VI were filled with pitched blaster fire from desperate dogfights. In the distance, between the moon and the planet, Keel saw what looked like two Republic fleets hammering on each other.
The passive and active scanners shrieked wild alarms.
“There are fighters and capital ships everywhere!” Leenah shouted.
“I know! I know!”
Keel rolled his ship to get a broader visual of the space battle raging around him. He found that he was flying belly to belly with one of the largest ships he’d ever seen. Bigger than a super-destroyer. A battleship class of some new make he didn’t recognize. It was black, and gave him a sense of dread. He threw power into the Six’s accelerators, hoping to move past it before whoever controlled the battleship decided to take an interest in him.
“Hey,” came the voice of Sticks over the comm. “We need some help identifying the targets. They all look like Republic models. Tri-fighters, bombers, Raptors… everyone’s shooting at everyone else.”
Keel had noticed the same thing. “Goth Sullus has a thing for black. If you see a black starfighter that looks like an updated design, it’s probably his.”
“Probably?” Chhun said.
“Yeah, sorry, pal. I must’ve dozed off during the part of the briefing that identified all the new starships. It matches Sullus’s style, I can tell you that much.”
“Yeah,” Masters agreed. “I’m watching these black tri-fighters and they’re taking down what look like vanilla Repub Raptors…”
“Well there you have it then,” Keel said. “Now keep your eyes open, but don’t start shooting at targets of opportunity. The plan is get you down to the surface of Tarrago Pri
me, and that’ll be a whole heck of a lot harder with an attack squadron on our tails.”
An eruption of flaming gases light up the interior of the cockpit as a Republic tri-fighter was ripped apart by blaster cannon fire. As Keel banked the ship into a hard roll to avoid the debris, he watched a pair of Raptors streaking after a dark tri-fighter and sending it up flames. The dark tri-fighter ejected its escape pod—but unfortunately for its pilot, the pod ejected directly into the flight path of the Indelible VI. With a loud clunk, the pod’s canopy windows shattered from the impact with the Six’s shields, leaving the helpless pilot exposed to the deep freeze of space.
“That was unlucky,” Keel said to himself, before adjusting his course and nosing the ship toward the Tarrago moon. He clicked on L-comm. “Chhun, it’s too hot up here to fly straight toward Tarrago Prime. Even if someone doesn’t get it in their heads to chase us, there’s too good a chance we catch an errant blaster bolt. I’m taking the ship down to the moon. We’ll go in full speed and slingshot undetected over to Tarrago Prime.”
“You sure about this?” Chhun asked.
“Of course I’m sure.” Keel muted the comm and looked over at Leenah. “Mostly.”
“That’s not encouraging,” Leenah said, as she began updating the navicomputer to provide the optimum entry path to maintain speed while not diving down straight into the moon’s surface. She sent the path to Keel for him to follow on manual control.
“Not encouraging? It’s me, princess,” Keel said with a wink. “Don’t you think if I was going to get us killed, I would have already done it?” He guided the ship onto the recommended entry path.
“One of those black ships is following us down,” advised Sticks over the comm.
“Anyone have a clear shot?” Chhun asked. Chhun was the only member of the team not manning a turret. There were only so many turret ports, so Chhun had opted to monitor progress through his HUD from a central position in the ship’s lounge, where he would keep things prepared for when the time came to leave the ship.
“Nothin’,” answered Bear. Keel could hear the man’s disgust and self-pity over missing a chance for a kill.
“Nothing here either,” Fish said.
“No,” Sticks added. “He drifted out of my field of vision coming around by Masters.”
“Almost,” Pike said, a hopeful strain in his voice, as if he were willing a target to line up.
“I will kill this man,” Masters said. Keel recognized this as a quote from some century-old holo-film about a galactic crime syndicate family. “But you will owe me a debt of gratitude. And such a debt must be repaid.”
The sound of blaster turrets firing carried throughout the ship, followed by the secondary noise of an exploding ship.
“Next time just shoot, Masters,” Chhun ordered.
“Yes, sir. Requesting permission to just talk to myself. I shoot better when I’m quoting movies.”
Chhun didn’t respond.
“Should I take that as a yes?” Masters asked.
“Would it make a difference?” Fish retorted.
“Nah.”
Keel leveled the Six and revved to a scorching speed. “Sensors?”
Leenah examined her scopes. “We’re approaching the eastern wall of Fortress Omicron. Passives are picking up… five starfighters ahead.”
“Friends?”
“I can’t tell. I think—”
With a brilliant flash, an explosion erupted in front of them, and a cloud of smoke rose from the distant eastern wall.
“Bombing run,” Keel said.
Leenah studied her console. “Active scanners showing Legion anti-starfighter batteries calibrating. Looks like… two waves? First one got its payload away. We’re gaining on the second, though.”
“Yeah, I see them,” Keel said, throttling forward. “I think I can take them down, but those guns aren’t going to bother differentiating between us and others. I don’t want to see how the Six handles a pole-axe anti-starfighter missile.”
“Can we peel away and go around?” Leenah asked.
“I’d rather not lose the speed. That, and there’s no guarantee one of the other walls won’t shoot at us all the same.” Keel bit his lip for a brief second and made up his mind. “Transmit our Dark Ops credentials to Fortress Omicron—to the wall. Hopefully they’ll get the idea and let us through.”
“And if they don’t?”
Keel raised his eyebrows, inclined his head, and said, “Then you’d better hang on tight.”
The Indelible VI raced behind the starfighters. They moved in an attack formation suggesting a bombing run—a single Republic tri-bomber flanked by a pair of the black, modified tri-fighters.
Judging by the active scanner displays Leenah had sent to his HUD, Keel figured the anti-air missiles would have a target just in time for his arrival. “Are they responding to the clearance code transmission?” he asked.
“I forgot to send it,” Leenah said in a worried tone.
“You what?”
Leenah smiled. “No, I sent it. And the Legion gave us the green light. I just didn’t want you to be the only one making light of the situation up here.”
“Hilarious,” Keel said. “I don’t deserve this. It’s not fair.”
Bear spoke over the L-comm. “Are we dusting those ships you’re chasing down?”
“Affirmative,” Keel said, keeping his speed constant. “Aim for the bomber. It might take the fighters down with it.”
“I’m all about that,” Bear answered.
Keel flew within firing range, the moon’s surface racing by below him. They were now streaking through the artificial atmosphere contained by shields all around the eastern defense wall. He hoped the legionnaire would be as fast with the butterfly triggers as Keel himself would be with the slave-fire control button in the cockpit.
The Indelible reverberated with a steady stream of outgoing blaster cannon fire. It ripped into the back of the tri-bomber, igniting its munitions and booming into a thunderous fireball. Atmospheric explosions were so much more impressive than their deep space counterparts.
The fireball engulfed both of the bomber’s escort fighters, sending the cooked starships plunging downward. Keel pitched his ship to avoid the blast and residual heat, and heard his gunners fire again. The legionnaires blew apart the two plummeting starships before they had the chance to impact the hard deck in one piece.
KTF.
“Looks like I’ve got one for you,” Keel said, spying what must have been the initial bomber from the first run, taking a wide circle in the high atmosphere. Checking his instruments, he determined that a sharp roll should give his belly turret a kill shot while keeping his speed constant. The maneuver was fluid and took only seconds, and the legionnaire manning the turret raked his target with blaster cannon fire, splintering it midair and sending it spiraling down.
Keel leveled out and accelerated.
“Hey,” called out Masters. “One more behind us. Doing its best to catch up.”
With a lopsided smile, Keel confirmed from his reading what he already felt to be true. He had more speed than he needed, and could afford to slow down, just a little. “Say hello to the pilot, huh?”
The Six’s tail turret sent several blaster rounds into the cockpit and pilot of the enemy craft. The pilot never registered the attack, never even flinched or attempted to dodge. The blackened wreckage of his ship smashed into a distant, gray and craggy hilltop outside of the shielded atmospheric zone.
“Sensors are saying that’s all of them,” Leenah reported. “That was… impressive.”
Keel gave a big smile, showing his teeth. “It’s like I said, princess: it’s me.”
“Nice flying, Ford,” Chhun said over L-comm. “Not something they teach you in the Legion.”
“No,” Keel agreed. “You gotta go off the beaten path to pick up that trick.”
***
Prisma was fuming. That stupid Captain Keel had ordered everyone but his legi
onnaire friends and Leenah to their quarters. Even Skrizz! It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t afraid of another battle. She should have at least been allowed to stay in the common lounge, so she could watch holocam feeds of what was going on. It sounded exciting. Instead, she had to while the hours away with Crash. Again. She liked her bot, but she was starting to resent him. Like maybe Keel still had him under control, and Crash was just a… a babysitter.
Prisma didn’t need a babysitter. Though… she wouldn’t mind spending some time talking to Leenah. She wanted to ask her something. Something she’d almost mustered the courage to ask the last time they’d sat together at the table, eating hardtack. But Skrizz and Garret were there, too, and there was never any telling when Keel might show up. So she’d lost her nerve.
But she’d almost asked.
How do you become pretty? How do I get beautiful, like you?
That’s what Prisma wanted to ask Leenah. And she didn’t even know why. Her daddy had always told her she was his “beautiful, sweet little girl.” But… men looked at Leenah in a different way. And Prisma wondered what it would be like for a man to look at her that way. Just in case she ever wanted one to. In case it ever became important. For later. For someday.
Crash would probably answer her. The bot wouldn’t laugh. But Prisma didn’t think it’d be helpful, either. “Young miss, beauty standards are exceptionally diverse throughout the galaxy, depending on custom, region, culture, species, and a host of other factors.” That’s what Crash would say. And then it would list off some weird things people or aliens thought were pretty that might be interesting but wouldn’t help her.
Maybe later she would ask Leenah if they could be alone to talk. The Endurian would do it. Maybe Leenah would take her into the engine room and show her how to recycle a shield phantom to tease out more power. Leenah liked to talk about things like that. Things other people pretended were interesting to them, too, because she was oh so beautiful. And then, when they were talking about shield phantoms, Prisma could ask her. When they were alone. And no one else could hear them.
The ship shuddered, making Prisma bounce up and down on her bed for a little bit before the inertial and gravity dampers caught up.
Sword of the Legion (Galaxy's Edge Book 5) Page 7