Desaix was a gambler. Always had been. He knew that the new base was ready. That more and more of these dark legionnaires were starting to come down planetside and begin to form and train a much larger military force. He guessed that in time the prisoners who had refused to join up with the Empire would either be shot or transferred out to the base for some kind of conscript work. The time for an escape attempt was now.
And not from the base itself. From working the road crew, he had learned that escaping from there was going to be nigh impossible. It was built like a big Legion base. Forty-foot-high walls just as thick. Squat heavy blaster towers. The latest in sensors and security. Add in the troops, and the training, and getting out would be rough.
But here, at Camp Spirit, the converted office park, there were weaknesses. There weren’t enough shock troopers to keep everyone watched. Especially just after dark, as the night watch came on and immediately went to chow for some odd reason.
And every night the prisoner transfer sled came back from the factory right on time. Apparently the interrogators only worked but so long.
So the plan had been to take the sled by force. Take the sled and get clear of Tarrago Prime. Head off somewhere out there beyond the city. Find an old airfield and get his hands on a freighter. Then slip away, back to the Republic.
That had been the plan.
But tonight, a corvette had come in and put down at the new base.
Desaix knew corvette operations. Knew that the corvette would be open to the maintenance crews for the rest of the night. Most likely she’d brought something, or someone, or even many someones in. Maybe more of the dark legionnaires who would most likely be in-processing onto the new base. Grabbing gear and getting assigned quarters and duties.
Tonight might be the last night of chaos, the last chance to slip through the crack left between the construction of the base and its military occupation.
Except, thought Desaix, why slip away when you can fly?
A corvette just down was a corvette that could get ready for takeoff quickly. Standing there next to the window, he’d run through all the checklists he knew to figure out what it took to get the corvette underway. It wasn’t much.
And if he could gain the bridge…
Well, he thought. He might really do something then.
When they saw the lights of the sled coming down the road they’d built between Camp Spirit and the new base, Desaix and Jory left the empty top floor of the prisoners’ dorm.
On the second floor Jory leaned into the main prisoner bunk bay, a bay Desaix had held forth in keeping up the resistance when everyone hadn’t been on some supervised work detail. There had been a few who’d seemed willing to stick when everyone else was considering the big flip—switching sides from the Republic over to this new Empire.
“We’re leaving…” said Desaix, a twinkle in his eyes. His roguish good looks conveyed nothing but confidence in the cards he was playing. “Who’s in? Right now.”
No one said a word, and it didn’t matter which of the prisoners knew. The escape was going down. There was no time for someone who was thinkin about going traitor to inform. You either threw all in, or you folded.
Only three slid off their bunks. The rest weren’t ready. Or perhaps had made other plans.
Corporal Casso, a legionnaire from the security detail who’d protected the orbital defense gun, was the first to rise. He was joined by Jidoo Nadoori, a personnel admin specialist in the Repub marines, and gunner’s mate Rocokizzi, from the Audacity herself.
“Finally,” murmured Corporal Casso. Desaix handed him the blaster, but Casso pushed it away. “I’ll get my own, sir.”
Nadoori fell in without a word, but Desaix could see the look of fear on her face. He didn’t know how much good an admin specialist would do in a fight to take a ship against a bunch of ex-leejes… but every warm body helped.
Rocokizzi just smiled that bashful smile he’d smiled every time the captain had come to inspect the guns of the Audacity. Like he was proud, with good reason, of his guns, and his ship.
Now he was smiling because he was proud of his captain.
That checked Desaix.
He wasn’t just gambling with his pay here. Playing reckless in some officer’s mess regular game. He was gambling with people’s lives.
In the hall he stopped them, gathering them about him.
“No one dies tonight,” he said, low and serious.
They all looked at him. Ready. Afraid. Hopeful. Or wait-and-see.
But that was the promise he’d just made them. And he intended to keep it.
***
There were only four shock troopers guarding the exit from the building that had become the main prisoner dorm. The rumor was that all the shock troopers, or the dark legionnaires, as people were calling them, were actual ex-legionnaires. Not the kind of person average people wanted to mess with—or, say, try to overpower and escape from. But Corporal Casso had informed Desaix that he believed many of those guarding the prisoners weren’t actually leejes. They had the armor, and the weapons, but they weren’t leejes. Maybe from other services. Maybe something else altogether. But Casso was inclined to try them once he got a chance.
Desaix had told him to wait until he ordered the corporal to take a chance. The dark-eyed, dark-haired corporal merely nodded.
Desaix had no doubt the man was capable. He just had no idea at what odds they might roll the dice. And gambling really is about the odds. Whether Desaix liked it or not.
Casso entered the watch room at the bottom of the building where the four shock troopers waited. They had their buckets off. Their weapons were on desks or leaned against the wall. At the appearance of Casso, one of them reached over and picked up the little sub-compact blaster they all carried.
That’s Target One, thought Casso to himself.
Jory entered behind Casso, holding up Desaix as though he were unable to care for himself.
“Navy puke here is having himself an appendicitis,” Casso said. He raised his arms over his head as Target Number One brought his weapon to bear.
Desaix groaned.
One of the dark legionnaires reached for his bucket and began to fit it over his head. He was calling it in. That action made him Desaix’s kill.
The other two legionnaires neglected to go for their weapons and instead came forward as though bored and seeking something new to be interested in.
All of them had clearly been busy boxing things up. The switch of facilities was coming in a day or two, at best. But that didn’t matter right now.
The plan was for Desaix to hit the first one to go for comm. And Desaix did just that. He pulled his blaster from between himself and Jory, and fired. His first shot missed. His second blew the dark legionnaire’s head apart at close range. Both shots had been charged to high intensity for max armor penetration. So now half a charge pack was used up.
Casso literally moved from dead stop to flying leap. His powerful thighs and calves pushed him out and toward Target Number One in a lethal long jump. He didn’t go for the man. He went for the weapon coming to bear on Desaix.
An instant later he had control of it and was slamming it into the man’s bucket repeatedly. Like a jackhammer. The helmet fractured, and Casso kept going until the man didn’t move anymore.
By this time Desaix had shot down the other two troopers. Acrid burnt ozone filled the small office.
Nadoori and Rocokizzi stepped into the room. The admin specialist looked uncertain what to do, but the look of satisfaction on Rocokizzi’s face was plain to see.
Casso hunted through the troopers, mechanically pulling weapons and charge packs and other equipment. Distributing it all just as efficiently. Jory went to the window of the office to watch the gate across the compound. The transport sled was pulling into the main loading area. The two legionnaires at the gate hadn’t heard the blaster fire; it had most likely been covered by the loud whine of the sled’s repulsors and the small klaxon that
sounded to signal the gate’s open status. That had gone on so much throughout the days it had become mere background noise.
The next thing that would happen would be that the guards inside the truck would transport their two prisoners into this office for official transfer.
Casso was now pulling armor off one of the shock troopers that most closely fit him. Rocokizzi was assisting. Desaix found the key swipes that allowed exit from the office and into the waiting room by the front door. He unlocked it, then looked back at the others, making sure everyone was ready. Jory and Rocokizzi were both armed with sub-compact blasters. Casso was still pulling on the armor.
Desaix nodded at the team. “Let’s go. Everybody sit on the bench out here and keep your blasters behind you. When they come in, wait until Corporal Casso starts dealing with them. Then bring your weapons up.”
Rocokizzi had just finished helping Casso shrug into the armor when the two legionnaires and their prisoners started up the main ramp to the door. Rocokizzi joined the others on the bench, while Desaix stuck his blaster in his belt and bent over the desk.
“Hey!” shouted the shock trooper in the lead as he entered. “You gotta have your bucket on. SOP, dimwit!”
Corporal Casso smiled and bobbed his head like he probably never did in real life. Desaix groaned just like he did that time he lost ten thousand credits on Ramula and drank an entire bottle of nepenthe.
Method acting, he thought, and grinned to himself with his head down on the desk. He had that familiar feeling he got when his hand wasn’t great, but his game was on point regardless. Sometimes it was better to play that way.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Fight,” said Casso.
The shock trooper turned to the prisoners on the bench.
“He wants to flip, and the other prisoners found out and beat him,” said Casso quickly.
The shock trooper turned back to his partner and the two prisoners they had brought in with them. Instantly Desaix, Jory, and Rocokizzi pulled their blasters. They didn’t need to fire a shot.
In moments both shock troopers were manacled and stuffed inside a closet. Jory shrugged on some armor, as did Rocokizzi, though the gunner’s mate was a hard fit. Desaix opted to remain in his captain’s leather coat and uniform. He did take a few minutes to wipe a cloth across his high leather boots.
Then the small ad hoc escape team, including the two new prisoners, who had shaken off their confusion, was out and moving toward the sled in the loading area. They tried to affect the look of another prisoner transfer, but the gate guards didn’t appear to buy it. And after a few moments of loading, one began to cross the yard to the sled.
Desaix saw faces in all the windows of the prisoner barracks. Watching them.
All of them could have come.
And yet they hadn’t opted to try. As though they were still waiting for the Republic to come in and make a prisoner transfer. Waiting for a deal that would never happen.
“He’s trying to contact me over their comm system,” whispered Casso.
With his “prisoners” on board the sled, Casso sealed the back and walked around to get inside. The gate guard intercepted him by the driver’s side hatch.
It wasn’t clear exactly how, but Corporal Casso disabled the man in five seconds and left him on the ground. Then he climbed in, warned the others that it was all about to go bad, and accelerated.
The other gate guard was coming toward them, his weapon raised. Casse smashed right into him, sending him flying into the gate and straight through it. Casso kept rolling and pushed through the remains of the gate. He cut the running lights, and they were driving the forest road in almost pitch-black darkness.
***
“So, you’re just making this up as you go along?” asked Lieutenant Nadoori, the personnel admin specialist formerly stationed at the marine barracks at Tarrago, which was now a giant smoking crater.
Desaix glanced over at her in the half-lit darkness of the prisoner transfer sled. “That’s about right, Lieutenant.”
With Corporal Casso driving and Rocokizzi riding shotgun, that left Jory, Nadoori, and the two new prisoners in the back. Desaix eyed the newcomers. One, an artillery major, was pretty banged up. Both had joined the escape attempt without hesitation.
“Why is there no planning?” began Nadoori, the exasperation in her voice evident. “I’m pretty sure Repub regs governing escape from a hostile force indicate the need for an escape plan in place beforehand, with all parties unanimously agreeing to said plan. I’m not an expert on regulations, but I’m pretty sure it says something like that.”
“Probably,” said Desaix after a moment. “But here’s the problem… uh, Lieutenant. Right? Here’s the problem. Can’t really trust anyone, right? Half the people in the prisoner dorms are thinking about flipping sides. So it had to be improvisation, and it had to happen when the conditions I deemed correct… were correct.”
“You deemed?”
Desaix nodded.
“Then why these two?” said the LT, indicating the beat-up artillery major and the Tennar with no uniform other than some pants and a tight-fitting shirt that did little to conceal her curvy body.
“Easy,” replied Desaix. “This guy’s been heavily interrogated. He hasn’t cracked yet and they keep sending him back over every morning. Plus, he’s been on the far side of the compound in the bunker. That’s where they keep the high-value prisoners. He knows something they need, so it’s in the interest of the Republic for me to steal him back.”
“Thank you for that,” said the major. He laughed and coughed painfully. His breathing was shallow and he seemed to be an immense amount of pain. “And for the record I was about to talk, most likely. They were going to get tough in the morning. Eventually… everyone talks. So…”
“Yeah,” said Desaix reassuringly. “Well, that’s not gonna happen, Major. We’re leaving now.”
“Not a moment too soon as far as I’m concerned.”
“And her?” asked the bookishly sexy LT.
Desaix appraised the Tennar. “What were you, squiddy? They just brought you in?” The truth was, Desaix didn’t really know why he’d picked her up. Other than that she was a damsel in distress, and a cute one at that, and he was a gentleman and an officer, and it was his duty to rescue damsels in distress. He was old-fashioned that way. But when he thought about it… maybe he really didn’t have a lot of reasons to trust her.
“Raptor pilot,” said the Tennar. “Shot down at Tarrago. Been E-and-E’n out in the ocean ever since. Got picked up on a beach three days ago. You probably have no reason to trust me… except I recognize your voice from the comm chatter during the battle. You were the captain of the corvette my squadron flew cover for. The Audacity. You bought time for my carrier to jump. My squadron bought time for you to do that. I’m the last one.”
Desaix regarded her for a long moment.
“She’s good.” Then he gave her his best leer. She returned the gesture with an equally smoky come-hither smile.
“I like the cut of your jib, squiddy,” said Desaix, like it was just the two of them in a bar on leave and not some prisoner sled deep inside enemy territory.
“Likewise. And it’s… Atumna, Captain. And this is Major Thales.”
“Pleasure, Atumna.”
The admin specialist rolled her eyes. Obviously, this was all worthy of several gender interaction violations according to regs, and deserving of an extensive block retraining. But the admin LT wasn’t wired that tight. Even though it was her job to be.
Thales cleared his throat. “I think we need… if not a plan for what comes next, then possibly a workflow chart or a rough sketch on how to get off this rock. Are we just heading off into the woods hoping to get clear…?”
“No,” said Desaix. “We made a bit of a ruckus getting out of the compound. It won’t be long before they throw up a wide perimeter, and I’m betting they’ll think we’re running for the edge of that perimeter, which is
standard training, and what we’re not gonna do.”
“Betting?” asked Thales. He loved cards and games of all types. His hobby was sculpting digital historical miniatures for his online wargames.
Desaix shrugged. “Betting hasn’t failed me, statistically speaking… a lot,” he clarified.
“So…” said Thales, who would never be as devil-may-care as he would like himself to be, “if we’re not going outward… then where are we going?”
Desaix shot him with his thumb and forefinger. “Into the new base. A corvette just came in and put down. We’re gonna steal it and get out.”
“Really,” replied Thales dryly. “Normally I’d say I’d like to see that one happen… but I think I’m about to.”
The sled’s repulsors and engine began to wind down. They were approaching the gate into the newly constructed base.
Desaix held one finger to his lips.
Jory readied his commandeered blaster.
There was some muted conversation up front. They heard Casso telling the sergeant at the gate that he was having a bucket malfunction. Obviously Corporal Casso knew leej lingo, and whatever he said managed to get them through the gate. Or so it seemed at first. A moment later the sled began to spool up into a low whine and they were off on a new course.
Rocokizzi, the gunner’s mate, appeared in a projected hologram across the ceiling. He still had the stolen armor on, but he’d switched to audible via the sled’s internal driver-to-prisoner comm system.
“They’ve ordered us to the maintenance pool. For both our buckets. They got a ground guide walking us over. We got the landing pad in sight. Corvette’s there, and there are these shock trooper guys everywhere. But they’re carrying gear. My guess—they just came in on that corvette like you thought, Captain. Approaching the maintenance pool now. Not many people around.”
Casso’s voice cut in. “I got this handled, sir. We’ll be clear in a few minutes.”
The sled drove on, then came to a stop. They heard both Casso and Rocokizzi exit the vehicle. A few moment’s later, someone thumped the side of the vehicle hard.
Prisoners of Darkness (Galaxy's Edge Book 6) Page 14