Keel leaned back in his seat and laced his hands behind his head. “That kind of an operation’s gonna cost you, Commander.”
“I’m aware.” Keller observed Keel with an icy gaze. “The shipyards were clearly Goth Sullus’s primary objective. Any humanoid with half a brain stem can figure that out. He wasn’t going to destroy them. And if the Republic could just retake the planet as easily as Kaar makes it seem, that leaves the question of why we’d blow them up. Sort of puts a damper on the notion that we’re all set to march back in and put things back to normal. Unless…”
“Unless,” picked up Captain Deynolds, “the shipyard’s destruction can be made to appear the act of a rogue element inside the Legion. A traitor. Perhaps someone with previously unknown allegiances to the MCR or some other anti-Republic group.”
Chhun shook his head. “And so we’re just supposed to go along with that? Commander, all due respect, but that’s garbage. The mission was the right thing to do. Tactically, if we hadn’t destroyed the shipbuilding capabilities on Tarrago, Goth Sullus would be using our own destroyers against us. We had to deny him that ability. Major Owens shouldn’t be on trial. He protected the Republic and saved Legion lives.”
For a moment, Chhun wondered if he’d crossed a line. He’d spoken comfortably with the Legion commander on multiple occasions since the day he first was drafted into Dark Ops. But it wasn’t like he’d asked for or had been given permission to speak this frankly. The commander had every right to bust his chops.
Chhun braced for a butt-chewing that didn’t come.
“I don’t agree with the decision of the House of Reason,” Keller said, his voice weary. “Not at all. What I’m about to tell you… I need you to understand something. You’ll become guilty of a number of Republic ordinances even by listening. That includes you, Captain Deynolds.”
Deynolds stood firm, while Chhun nodded his approval for the commander to go ahead.
Keel shrugged his shoulders. “What’s a few more charges?”
“Major Owens,” Keller said, “already has had a trial—if you want to call it that. It just hasn’t been broadcast to the rest of the galaxy yet. Your testimonies will be part of an evidence package that will be included in a press release. He was found guilty by an illegal court formed by Legion appointees, some of whom hold ranks as high as general, though I’d never even heard of them until I saw their information on the after report. They found him guilty and ‘mercifully’ sentenced him to a life term on the synth mines of Herbeer.”
“Why would they do that?” Captain Deynolds asked, flabbergasted at the utter betrayal and violation of not only Legion custom and law, but actual Republic law. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“It’s my belief,” Keller said in a grave voice, “that the House of Reason is making a move toward seizing full control of the Legion.”
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Then Keel let out a sardonic laugh. “Ha ha.” He leaned forward in his chair, shaking his head as he smiled. “I’m sorry, Commander, but this has been a long time coming. You’d have to be a fool not to have seen the writing on the wall.”
Chhun glared at his friend, then looked back to the holographic image of the Legion commander. “Sir, I assume you have orders?”
“I do,” said Keller. He looked to Keel. “And you’re correct, Captain Ford. The House of Reason has hardly kept its intentions a secret. But the Legion… has contingencies. For now, I hope they’re not needed. But what is needed is to get to Major Owens out of that hellhole and back where he belongs. I’ll explain to the House of Reason that in our own legal opinion, their efforts mandated a mistrial, and the Legion will take things from there. But Captain Chhun, that’s after your team gets inside—quietly—and removes the major from Herbeer. I’ll leave the preparations to you. Consider any asset requests approved. Captain Deynolds has the necessary authorization codes to get you whatever you need.”
“Yes, sir,” Chhun said, his spirits picking up.
“You can transmit your debrief on the Tarrago mission as time allows. This takes priority.” Keller’s hologram rose from the table, an indication that the meeting was coming to a close. “And, Captain Chhun…”
“Sir?”
“I have the paperwork authorizing your Order of the Centurion award ready to go the moment you deactivate from Dark Ops. I want you to know that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Chhun said. He paused and added, “I never did anything that the rest of my leejes wouldn’t have done.”
“I know, son. I know.”
***
Wraith had been unusually silent ever since the meeting ended. Chhun had tried to work with him in the speedlift in an attempt to put together a cursory plan, but had gotten only monosyllabic, one-word answers in return for his efforts. He figured maybe it had to do with Keller’s closing remarks. The Legion commander had singled out him, Chhun, specifically for the Order of the Centurion, when Wraith had been just as crucial on Kublar and again in stopping the Ankalor.
So Wraith had gone back to his ship, while Chhun looked into supplying his team.
What difference should a medal make between friends?
Chhun already knew the answer to that question. He’d heard it from the few men he’d met who’d actually been awarded the Order while still living. Most received it posthumously, earning the Legion’s highest battlefield honor with their dying breath.
“Your brothers see you differently,” he’d been told by one old leej who’d served in the tumultuous times after the Savage Wars. “Like… you asked for the distinction. Wanted the attention. Like you’re better than they are.” Chhun remembered the old man’s eyes welling up with tears as he spoke. “I didn’t ask. I’m not better. The ones who died… they were the better men.”
It was easy to see how that would be the case. One minute you’re just another leej, the next, you’re some kind of near-sacred deity. That you could no longer even function inside the Legion after receiving the award was the reality. Who’s going to bust a guy’s ass when the Legion commander himself is required to salute you on sight? So guys just quietly filed their termination papers and tried to find meaning in the civilian world.
It didn’t happen often—to get the award while still serving. Chhun didn’t want it to happen to him. He didn’t want to be forced to leave the Legion. Ever. It was his life. He was married to the Legion, and in the Legion he hoped to die.
For a moment, he wondered if Exo had ever felt the same way. He should look Exo up. Before this new war really got going. While there still might be some time to make calls… and catch up. To talk about something other than mission planning. To engage in something other than the banal conversation that passes between men who think constantly of the potential for death to take them, but refuse to give those thoughts the power of being spoken aloud.
It would have to be later, though. For now, he’d gathered Masters, and the two were on their way to find Wraith aboard the Indelible VI. Hopefully he’d had a chance to cool off, and they could go over the best way to rescue Major Owens from the notoriously hostile planet of Herbeer.
“What are all those crates?” Masters asked, pointing to a stack of cargo that was being sorted and loaded up the ramp and into the hold of the Six.
It appeared that Wraith was down-stacking cases of det-cord and other explosives.
Chhun didn’t quite feel comfortable with any single person having access to the amount of weaponry and ordnance Wraith already had on the ship. His armory was ridiculous. Now it looked like he was not only replacing what had been used on Tarrago, but expanding it.
“Looks like he’s fixing to start his own Legion with all that stuff. C’mon, let’s go. He was in a pretty foul mood earlier. Hopefully it passed.”
“Oh,” said Masters. “Thanks so much for bringing me along in that case.”
Chhun held out a hand against Masters’s chest, halting the legionnaire’s progress. “Ford… changed out there.
Between the two of us, I don’t know that he’s fully reconciled himself to being back in the Legion. I think the man he became to complete his mission is battling with the man he was. Do you understand?”
“Not at all.”
Chhun sighed.
“I get it, yeah,” said Masters, playfully slapping Chhun on his shoulder. “So… is this like good cop, bad cop? I think I’m a better good cop—better looking at least—and you’re pretty good at being a jerk when you want to, so…”
“Let’s just see how it goes.”
Chhun walked up to Wraith, who had just hoisted a heavy-looking rectangular crate and was making his way up the Six’s ramp. “Need a hand with that?”
Wraith paused to examine Chhun and Masters. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
Chhun motioned for Masters to take hold of one of the crate’s sides.
“What, me?” protested Masters, even as he jogged up the ramp. “If I ever become an officer I’m never doing anything for myself ever again.” He grabbed the handle and struggled to hold up the heavy crate. “Oba, this is heavy. What’s in here?”
“Credit chits, platinum bars, and silvene ingots mostly,” said Wraith matter-of-factly.
“There’s gotta be a small fortune inside this thing,” Masters said through grunts, walking up the ship’s ramp with Wraith, who didn’t seem to be straining much.
“Nothing small about it, kid.”
Chhun followed the men inside. As they lowered the crate onto the deck with a thud, he said, “Quite an arsenal you requisitioned, Wraith.”
Wraith, still stooped over the crate, looked up from beneath his brows. “Comes in handy out there. Besides, you heard Keller, we got the green light to get whatever we need.”
“And you… need two crates of anti-personnel mines?”
Wraith stood up and wiped some transit grime off his hands. “I might.”
Raising his hand timidly, like a schoolchild seeking to ask a question, Masters said, “I’m sorry, I missed the part where the Legion commander said we could have whatever we wanted. Can I get one of those crates full of money?”
“You’d be a fool not to,” said Wraith as he moved back toward the ramp.
Chhun positioned himself between Wraith and the exit. “He said we could have what we needed for the mission.”
Wraith stopped inches from Chhun’s face and smiled. “Yeah. For the mission.” He walked around the legionnaire and took a step down the ramp.
“Wraith!” Chhun called, causing his old friend to stop in his tracks. He softened his voice. “We don’t need that much boom—or money—for an infiltration and rescue op.”
Masters rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as Wraith slowly turned around on the ramp.
“Ah,” Wraith said, his voice rich and patronizing. “I think I see the confusion. I need this much for my mission. Your little rescue mission? Not my problem.”
“What are you saying?” asked Chhun, as though he hadn’t heard the man.
“I’m saying,” Wraith said, again arresting his own progress down the ramp, “that once I get this loaded on board the Six, Ravi and I are spacing out of here. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He took another step down the ramp.
“You know, you could have some sailors load this up for you,” Masters quipped.
It was a joke. Keel knew it was a joke. But he wasn’t in the mood for joking. “That’s a great idea, Masters. So go find some and have them get started.”
Masters shifted in place uncomfortably. “I—I was just… kidding.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. So get going.”
“Ford…” Chhun attempted to intercede.
“Ford nothing. Call me Keel. And Masters… get going.” Keel felt his face grow hot. When he saw Masters hesitate, he said, “I’m still a captain in the Legion, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“So go get some spacers to load up my ship, Sergeant Masters.” Keel paused to let the words sink in before adding, “That’s an order.”
Masters looked from Wraith to Chhun, but the leader of his kill team had his gaze fixed on Captain Ford. “Yeah, sure,” Masters said, and then hustled past Wraith down the ramp.
With Masters gone, Chhun said, “What’s the matter with you?”
Ford pressed both palms into his chest. “Me? I’m as good as gurling.”
“No,” Chhun insisted, “you’re not. You’ve been struggling with something since the moment you picked us up.”
“That’s your imagination,” Ford said, waving the comment off.
“Is it? Because the Captain Ford I remember never treated NCOs as if he were a point.”
“Listen, I don’t have time for this. You may have forgotten that I’ve got a kidnapped crew, but I haven’t.” Ford held out his arm to indicate that it was time for Chhun to leave his ship.
“That’s what this is about?” said Chhun. “Look, I’m still in to help you out—we all are—but we need to take care of our own first. Major Owens is going through who-knows-what on Herbeer. You don’t turn your back on a fellow leej—especially one in need.”
“I never turned my back on anyone!” Wraith jabbed a finger at Chhun. “Owens’ll still be on Herbeer when we get my crew back. It’s not like he’s going anywhere. I’ve been on my own for seven years, Chhun. Seven years! The only ‘brother leejes’ I ran across were the ones looking to take my ship or put a blaster bolt in my back. You know how many leej kids I made take a dirt nap thanks to the points commanding them? Go on… take a guess.”
Chhun remained silent. This, he didn’t want to hear.
“Thirty-eight,” Wraith said. “Thirty-eight legionnaires dead in their shiny, ridiculous armor. And that’s only what I know of for sure. Ravi could give you a reliable estimate to the tenth decimal if you want an idea of indirect casualties.”
Chhun held up both hands. “Look, I know it was rough out there—”
“You think so?” Keel said, amused at the very idea. “Because I think you and every other leej in Dark Ops has no idea—Owens included. I had to let good people die and bad people live. I watched pirates plunder and murder aboard commercial starliners, and then watched it happen again because of the ineptitude of the points tasked with hunting them down. Sometimes, if some scumbag got really bad, and the authorities couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop ’em, I’d just tail them from the cantina, follow them as they took a shortcut through a back alley, and put a blaster bolt into their head. I learned how to swindle, lie, and double-cross with the best of them, and I learned how not to let it happen to me. And I’m not going to go against all that and let some dame from Nether Ops get away with kidnapping my crew just because the Legion would rather me kill someone else first. I’m coming for Broxin and her little speed-team of wannabe Dark Ops, and I’m going to kill each and every one of them. Slowly, if anything happened to my team. Even Prisma, the kid. And I don’t even like her.”
A silence fell between the two men.
Ravi stepped into the hold. He spoke in a soft voice. “Captain, the ship is prepared to launch, and I have clearance pre-arranged from docking bay control. The ship will take I am thinking another ten minutes to fully load its cargo.”
“What’s still out there?” Keel asked, not removing his gaze from Chhun.
“Four crates of Republic Navy ration packs, one case of aero-precision rockets—the extra launcher is already loaded…” Ravi seemed to be scanning some unseen list, communicating directly with the Six’s internal manifests. “Tech upgrades for your helmet and all blaster packs are on board. About half of the requested bot parts and replacement parts for the Indelible VI are unloaded.”
“How ’bout the replacement concussion missiles and blaster turret charge spikers?”
Ravi’s azure turban seemed to sparkle under the lights of the ship. “These were the first items loaded.”
Keel finally broke off his stare. “Fine. Let’s leave the rest and get out of here. We’ve got enough to grab what’s le
ft at a night market or a spaceport if we need to.”
“Yes, Captain,” Ravi said. He disappeared in the direction of the cockpit.
“So I guess that’s it?” Chhun said once the navigator was gone.
“Pretty much,” answered Keel.
“You’re leaving the Legion?”
“Looks that way.”
Chhun let out a sigh. “I have a responsibility—”
“Look,” Keel interrupted, “spare me the—”
“I have a responsibility,” repeated Chhun, drowning out the smuggler’s protests, “… to the Legion. To Dark Ops. And to Major Owens. I’m going to get him out of those synth mines. And when I do… I’m going to look you up. And if you still need help finding your crew,” Chhun paused, “then you’ve got it.”
Nothing seemed to move for a moment. Time stood still.
Then Keel gave a half smile and an almost imperceptible nod. “Thanks.”
Masters reappeared at the base of the ramp. “Okay, I found some star-hoppers to load up the cargo. And, I just want to say that even though Mommy and Daddy fight, I know that you still love me.”
“We’re taking off without the rest of the cargo,” Keel said.
“Oh, okay,” Masters answered, without missing a beat. “I was hoping I was wasting my time the entire time I was hunting down sailors out there.”
“Masters,” Keel said, “sorry about treating you like that. You’re a good legionnaire. Always have been.”
“Well, that’s true,” said Masters. He sobered up, seemingly aware of the finality of the moment. “Don’t worry about it. Stress, right?”
“Stressful times,” Chhun agreed. “Let’s get going, Masters. We still need to figure out a way to get down into the mines without being detected. Lots of work to do.”
Masters seemed to take the hint. Wraith wouldn’t be joining them. He nodded, then disappeared down the ramp. Chhun moved to follow.
Prisoners of Darkness (Galaxy's Edge Book 6) Page 9