“Uh… no problem, Mr. Nilo. Site is secure and we’re awaiting orders. We could use reinforcements if the fighting spills out from the ZQ or spaceport. Sounds thick over there.”
“Reinforcements are on the way, we have our allied Kublaren armies coming in by truck. Vanguard is arriving now; the rest of the force’s ETA is two hours. They’re cleaning up nomadic zhee in the desert.”
I nod, calculating the likelihood of us holding out for another two hours should a second assault come our way.
“But you’re not going to need them.”
“Sir?”
“I’ve brokered a deal with the old House of Reason government. They’ve been granted permission to leave through the spaceport. The fighting you hear is their former Pashta’k allies trying to do the same.”
“Don’t we want them off-planet, sir?”
“What we want isn’t relevant. Our inland allies want the tribe extinct. We’re not going to stand in their way. The zhee in the ZQ face the same. We’re hemming them in by using up the last of our drone package missiles. The joint tribes are staging around the ZQ to clear it of all inhabitants. It won’t be pretty, but it’s also not your fight or our say.”
“Roger that.”
Pikkek comes shambling up to me.
“Stand by, sir.”
“No problem, but… I have something important for you.”
I look at the big koob. He’s covered in gore and his airsac is inflating and deflating with rapid excitement. “Pikkek?”
“Mookta… leejonayehr… kik… asking for you to let warriors join big die. Spaceport. Big die. Donk town… biiiig die.”
I nod, knowing that for Pikkek and his warriors, this is everything. This is the final stage of a fight for their independence from the remnants of an imperial House of Reason and their zhee lackeys. Although, you never knew exactly who was holding the leash when it came to the zhee and the House of Reason.
“Permission granted.”
Pikkek holds out a black, polished stone tomahawk. It’s dripping with blood, the hilt caked with gore. It’s the same one he used to kill the zhee high priest and his bodyguard. “For… k’kik… Mookta. Kill with honor… this kik blade.”
I take the blade and then pull my sidearm, tossing it to Pikkek. He catches it with one hand, the three fingers wrapping deftly about the grip, avoiding the trigger well. “For you. Go shoot the Pashta’k chief in the face with it.”
Pikkek looks at the blaster and then lets loose a loud, bellowing croak of a laugh. He slaps my shoulder and then hop-walks away with the rest of his team, mounting their repulsor ATVs and screaming toward the still exploding quarters of the ZQ and spaceports.
Overhead, a frigate takes off, lumbering low across the cityscape, causing the street to rumble. It’s trying to get out of the Soob as fast as possible, which means flying low until it escapes the city limits by way of the sea. Then it can safely climb and leave atmo.
The frigate casts a temporary shadow over us—a micro eclipse of the punishing sun. The first wave of the last of the Republic’s influence on Kublar is there. Probably all the soldiers too, because they were armed. That’s how it goes.
A moment later a series of smaller ships—medium and light freighters, a few transport shuttles—takes off. One of them gets tagged by a missile fired from somewhere inside the ZQ. It spins and then races to meet the earth almost startlingly fast. It crashes into the ZQ itself, leaving a new trail of smoke to fill the air.
I look over at Lash. He has the new rifle completely disassembled, studying the parts. He shakes his head at me. Whether over the ship going down or the fact that these were handed so freely to the enemy, I can’t say. Maybe both.
“Sir,” I say, back on the comm. “Awaiting instructions.”
“Set up a security detail inside the museum and wait for me. Your team, only. I don’t want to see anyone else there.”
“Where exactly, sir?”
“Just follow the bodies.”
49
Carter and Lash only had to wait fifteen minutes before Nilo arrived, still wearing the same dashing suit he’d had on during the interview with the young, almost too perfect reporter. Surber followed his boss, remaining a step behind at all times.
“No one in or out?” asked Nilo.
Carter cleared his throat. “Not since we showed up, no.”
“And you didn’t go inside yourselves?”
“No, sir.”
Nilo smiled. “Well, let’s take a look together then.”
He stepped through the still open vault doors, into the clean room with the destroyed war bots and waited for the others. But as Carter and Lash waited for Surber to go first, Nilo held up a hand. “I’m sorry. Only Carter. You two stay out here.”
Lash shrugged, now carrying the new Black Leaf rifle, leaving his SAB with the perimeter defenses.
If Surber was bothered by being excluded, he didn’t show it. He merely nodded and fixed his tie.
Nilo power-walked through the clean room, causing Carter to jog to catch up at his side.
“These,” Nilo said, gesturing to the destroyed treaded war bots. “Priceless.”
“Were they yours?” Carter asked.
Nilo stopped, looked Carter in the face, and smiled. “No.”
He moved past the scorched remains scattered at our feet. “No. Warbots are always a mistake. Every time humanity flirts with death machines, humanity regrets it.”
“Glad to hear you say it,” Carter answered, examining the ruined bots as he passed them by. “Got my fill of war bots with the Cybar.”
“Case in point,” agreed Nilo.
They emerged from the clean room. Into the top secret vault itself. Where Bowie had fought for his life. It was all empty. Blood but no bodies. Bot parts, but no bot. And every display piece was void. Even the holographic letters describing what secrets once hid there were scrambled and illegible.
Nilo hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the other on his hip. “Gone. All gone.”
Carter wasn’t quite sure what to say. “This was… your stuff?”
Nilo smiled again. “No. But it was a big part of why we were here. Why this campaign started on Kublar.”
Carter’s mind raced with thoughts of untold treasure. Credits piled to the ceiling. Silvene bars and precious jewels. A legendary treasure stashed by the House of Reason on distant Kublar in case of emergency. But, as fantastic as those thoughts were, he knew that wasn’t it. That wasn’t what they were after.
“In the sled,” Nilo said, rapping a fist against an empty display case. “When we talked about Goth Sullus.”
“Yeah,” Carter said.
That conversation had made him nervous. Not because Nilo had objectively held some admiration for the former emperor, but because everything Nilo had said about the need for a change in the galaxy had rung true. Carter agreed. Goth Sullus had sought to do the right thing, but he went about it in the wrong way.
The dead tyrant led more than a few of Carter’s friends astray in the process. Enticing them to join his Black Fleet and then betraying them when he needed to stand resolute against the House of Reason. Leaving bitter soldiers who, after the fall of Utopion, seemed so filled with apathy for the galaxy that they just… withdrew.
“A Savage hulk landed on Kublar over a thousand years ago. Before the galaxy even knew this planet existed. While the Legion was fighting on worlds that time has mostly forgotten—lost worlds. Planets destroyed by the Savages.”
Carter nodded. He knew something about that. It was the Kublaren’s claim to fame. Or what fame the isolationist species had before the Battle of Kublar.
“These Savages were more of a political entity. Their tech wasn’t terribly advanced. The rifles the Kublarens use… those are Savage weapons. Taken from the dead Savages and use
d against them until there were no Savages left on Kublar. The same goes for every tank and truck you find on planet.”
“That’s… interesting,” Carter said, unsure where this was all going.
Nilo smiled again. Not in a demeaning way, but understandingly. Like he knew he wasn’t giving the war fighter in front of him much to jump to a conclusion with.
“The tech those Savages had, even by the standards of the time, wasn’t anything exciting. But for the Kublarens, it was revolutionary, though they hadn’t advanced much beyond that level of technology until the Republic showed up and they were able to pick up N-4s off the battlefield instead of the old Savage weapons.”
“Or the new stuff we gave them,” Carter said, forgetting himself as he looked inside a broken display case. It looked large enough to fit a tank inside.
“Well, that’ll be standard-issue soon for our team, but yes. And I have to own that tactical mistake. I had reservations when arming the Pashta’k was suggested and I shouldn’t have gone through with it. Part of the reason I said I want men like you on my team, Carter.”
Carter nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Carter, what if I told you that Goth Sullus was a Savage?”
The words sent a chill down Carter’s spine. “I guess… I guess that would explain the…” He wiggled his fingers to approximate the… magic the former emperor seemed capable of wielding.
“Yes. Exactly. You see, Savage technology wasn’t just like what we see on Kublar. Some of it was so fantastic, so amazing, it was like magic. What Goth Sullus did can be rationally explained, I’m sure of that. It was a simple use of technology that the rest of the galaxy hasn’t yet unlocked.
“Just about every technological advancement we enjoy—is due to the Savages. They may not have invented it—like the hyperdrive—but what they uncovered allowed us to jump light-years ahead of where we’d otherwise be. They looked into the dark corners of the galaxy we wouldn’t have dared to imagine. And we’ve prospered as a result of not letting that knowledge go to waste.”
Nilo held out both arms and let them fall to his sides. “This room here, it was a warehouse full of Savage artifacts. A private collection held by a powerful—but deceased—House of Reason delegate. Kept hidden from Republic R&D.” Nilo shrugged and shook his head. “Just because of greed. The type that comes from being so rich that the balances don’t matter and you find your life’s fulfillment in what you take or keep from others. And always by force. It’s a sickness among the wealthy. One I won’t abide in the future we’re building, Carter.”
“Yes, sir,” Carter answered, relying on some old Legion part of himself that knew just to stay quiet or say “Yes, sir,” when things were coming at you fast, and doors, plans, and thoughts were being exposed by a superior officer.
“I was going to use what was in here to make those dreams a reality. The weapon that Lash has, that’s the tip of the iceberg. And not just in weaponry. We’re talking health, longevity, communication… everything. A better galaxy. One that won’t need to be ruled, that can’t be ruled, by petty men and women. They say that in heaven, there’s no politics. No power struggles. No one seeking to rule over another. Because nobody needs it. Because they all have everything they need already. And I know it sounds idealistic, but that’s what we can achieve for the galaxy.”
“Sir… I hope so, sir.”
Nilo smiled again. “A man who I thought was on our side, named Jack Bowie, stole all of this. Right from underneath my nose.” Nilo laughed to himself. “He had help. A Tennar agent, a spore from the rotting carcass of Nether Ops. Which, as the Legion showed the galaxy, was the cause of far too much of our collective trouble.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“We don’t know where Bowie went. He seems to have disappeared. No surveillance shows him going underground or getting off-world. And I have a lot of surveillance set up. But we know where she, Honey, went.”
Carter nodded, already knowing where things were headed.
“I want you to take some time off. Oba knows you need it with what happened to Easy. I’m arranging for all your friends and families to get together on Piscopis—which is beautiful if you’ve never been there. Enjoy a couple of weeks together. Then, when our target is feeling safe… you’ll lead my kill team to capture her and bring her to me.”
Nilo waves a hand and starts moving back the way they’d come. There’s nothing left here worth looking into. “Will that work for you, Carter?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir, it will.”
Epilogue
The squeals of excitement made by family members reunited with their loved ones, back from Kublar and enjoying a palatial cabin in the pristine beauty of Piscopis, had long since faded into the buzzing hum of laughter and conversation. Nilo had spared no expense. Chefs joined in the conversation, cooking up exquisite meals—anything you could think of—in the cabin’s commercially equipped kitchen, expertly roasting steaks, lobster tails, and bullitar ribs outside on the sun-soaked deck that ran the length of the cabin. Out there were views that, if not interrupted by beautiful purple and white-capped mountain ranges, went on forever, the skies were so clear and the air so clean.
But it was the steaks more than the view that brought Carter outside. He’d wanted to spend some alone time with Mel, but she was inside talking with Lana and a few other women. And, his youngest daughter hadn’t been willing to leave his side from the moment she saw him. Nilo had left a gift basket with new toys and books in every child’s room, but the little one didn’t care. She just held Carter’s arm, his hand, his leg with one hand and made a toy horse prance alongside her with the other.
He had no idea where the eldest was. She’s disappeared in some corner with her datapad. Carter noted that there were no boys her age in any of the extended friends and family flown in for the vacation reunion. That let him rest a little easier. He’d need to find her eventually. And then convince her that, yes, she did have to spend time with everyone else once the food was ready. And she’d have to go on the hike he and Mel had planned for the next day.
After so much fighting on Kublar, the one he knew would come just trying to get his eldest daughter to be a part of the family seemed the hardest. Because Carter knew what she’d throw back at him.
“If you can come and go from this family whenever you want, then so can I!”
Never mind jobs, responsibilities, duty. That’s what she’d say. Because it’s what he would have said when he was her age.
And the only thing he could think of in reply was the same thing his old man would’ve told him. “Life is hard. A man does what he needs to do to survive and provide for his family. You’re going on the hike. Suck it up, buttercup.”
And then time… time would tell if those were the right words. He hoped they would be. Felt like he turned out okay, though the Legion played a big role in that to be sure.
Lash was standing next to an Endurian chef working a barbecue grill. The man’s white chef’s uniform was somehow spotless despite the smorgasbord of meat, sauce, and char.
The Endurian chef focused intently on the steaks he was cooking. Lash was wearing a big grin, a smile Carter had never seen before, and was giving the professional chef tips.
“Don’t overcook it now, Chef Prince. I want it as pink as that skin o’ yours. And the other one, just a little bit pinker for my man, a’ight?”
The chef turned over what had to be a forty-ounce steak with a pair of tongs. “Of course, sir.” One of the volatile celebrity chefs from the entertainments, this Endurian prince was not.
The meat sizzled and was soon joined by the second steak, which was equally large.
“Nice of you to think of me like that,” Carter said, joining the grill side vigil, his daughter playing distractedly nearby. “Or are both those steaks for you?”
“Sorry, Carter. Buddy from the Legion
is here. One for me, one for him. You can get your own damn steak. This ain’t Kublar anymore. I’m a free man.”
Carter laughed. “Doesn’t look like there’s much room on the grill left. So I’ll wait.” He called over to his daughter. “Sweetie, you want a big, juicy steak to eat?”
The girl paused from her playing long enough to look up and contort her face to make it clear that, no, she didn’t. Because steaks were gross. She’d probably chow down on some mac and cheese or a hot dog like the other kids.
Carter smiled inwardly. All those credits spent on some of the best chefs in the sector and they’re forced to make mac and cheese and seamball food.
“So who’s your buddy?” Carter asked Lash.
Lash nodded at a big, bearded man as he pushed open the glass cabin doors, rubbing his hands dry and then flicking the excess water onto the deck. He joined the powwow, eyed the steaks, and said, “You guys see the fresher off the kitchen in there? It’s like decked out like the damn House of Reason. Felt like I was defiling the place.”
“Carter,” Lash said, “this is Rolly Ursartic.”
The big, bearded man, who was even taller than Lash, put a massive arm around Carter’s squad mate. “We’re married.”
Lash smacked aside his arm. “Man, get your ass away from me.”
Rolly roared in laughter. Carter and Lash joined in.
“Looks like your marriage is on the rocks, Rolly,” Carter said, taking a sip from a bottle of beer.
“Told you on Kublar,” Lash said, “marriage just gets in the way.”
Carter smiled. “Yeah. You did say that.”
Lash rolled his eyes. “We ain’t a thing, either, man.”
Rolly boomed out another laugh. “We were in the Legion together. Closest thing either of us has to a family, you know?”
“I knew it!” Carter said, snapping his fingers. “I knew you were Legion. Damn. We could’ve had much more interesting conversations on Kublar.”
Lash shrugged. “Wasn’t on Kublar to talk.”
Galaxy's Edge: Takeover: Season Two: Book One Page 35