Turning Point (Galaxy's Edge Book 7)

by Jason Anspach

  “Considering that the lyconlore was strangling you, I feel the tradeoff was acceptable.”

  Keel grinned. “And out the airlock he went. I want you to work on something for me.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to contact Gannon on Porcha.”

  Ravi furrowed his brow. “I thought the two of you hated each other.”

  “Yeah,” Keel said, raising his eyebrows. “We do. Call him and set up a time for us to talk.”

  Before Ravi could inquire further, Keel opened the door and left the cockpit. He felt his for blaster one more time, making sure that it rested just so in its holster. Most likely, Exo and Bombassa would be in the main lounge. It was the most comfortable and spacious section of the ship. And that was a good thing, because if they were there, Keel would see them before he entered the room. They wouldn’t be able to jump him there. And if they weren’t there… well, then Keel would have his guard up.

  The two shock troopers were in fact in the lounge, sitting on a padded bench, helmets off and rifles between their knees. Keel stopped at the end of the corridor, leaning against the bulkhead rather than entering the room.

  “There’s a ’fresher down that way,” Keel said, nodding in the general direction. “In case you want to get cleaned up. I’ve got some extra sets of clothing, too.” He paused to look at Bombassa. “Might be a little small for you, big guy.”

  “We’re good,” Exo replied, looking around. “This the ship they gave you after you volunteered to go deep?”

  Keel shrugged. “More or less. I made a few modifications since then.”

  “Looks nice, man.”

  “Yet to see a better one out there. You want the tour?”

  Bombassa shook his head firmly. “No. Another time. I want to know why you almost killed me.”

  Keel gave a half grin. “You said it yourself: almost. If you had a better way of everybody getting out of that little standoff alive, you fooled me.”

  Bombassa frowned as Exo said, “Look, it was a tough situation for everyone. You’re good, Bombassa. No harm. But I’m sayin’ this is gonna be good for us all. We have the key, Wraith has the location… I’m telling you, it’s all good.”

  Keel sauntered over to a round table. “Why don’t we all sit here. You want something for your head? I don’t entertain much on the Six, but the bar’s pretty stocked.”

  The two shock troopers made their way to the table while Keel opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle. He placed it in front of Exo. “I know you’re a beer guy, but you liked this stuff too, right?”

  Exo held the stout green bottle in his hands and smiled. “Tabrizzi rye. Yeah, this’ll do.” He nudged Bombassa. “You want some?”

  “No.”

  “How ’bout some caff?” Keel asked.

  “Water is fine.”

  Keel retrieved a tumbler and two mugs and set them on the table. He filled a carafe with water and poured himself and Bombassa a mug while Exo measured out a modest portion of rye. Keel tossed a caff tab into his mug and watched as the water heated and darkened into the stimulating drink.

  “First cup this morning,” he said, making conversation like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. Like the three of them hadn’t all had weapons aimed at one another only an hour earlier. Like Keel hadn’t shot at the two shock troopers with the ship they were now inside.

  “So, you talk to any of the old guys?” Exo asked Keel.

  “Nah.” Keel blew on his drink and took a sip. It was hot and bitter, with just a hint of nuttiness. “I’ve thought about it. But… I’m basically AWOL. Don’t want to put anyone in a bad situation. You?”

  Exo stared at his drink and exhaled through an open-mouthed smile. “No. I think… when I let my enlistment expire, it kinda shocked the guys. Maybe hard feelings. I don’t know. And then, you get out into the civilian world and things are so different… Everything just sort of slipped away.”

  Keel smiled. “I’ll be honest. I can’t really picture you as a civilian.”

  Exo laughed. “Wasn’t for me. But… the Legion. That wasn’t for me either. However bad it was when you left, Wraith, it got worse. Anyway, it wasn’t long before I took some private contracting jobs. There’s always a demand for former Legion. Pay is better. Bosses can be just as bad, though.”

  Bombassa remained silent, rubbing away water condensation on his glass like rain-wipers on a speeder. He had a story, Keel knew. Former Legion, disgruntled or idealistic enough to join in open insurrection against the Republic. The man didn’t have to like Keel, but things would go a lot smoother if he did.

  “So, uh,” Keel said, “you guys catch much of the news?”

  Exo shook his head. “Not really. Been sort of busy.”

  “Devers is dead.”

  Exo gave a wolfish smile. “I know. I saw it happen.” He drained his glass. “It was on Tarrago.”

  Keel arched an eyebrow. “The holofeeds said he died when his destroyer blew up while assuming a blocking position between Tarrago and your little fleet there.”

  “Don’t believe the news,” Exo said.

  Bombassa growled. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

  “What?” Keel prodded. “Don’t speak ill of the dead? Because me and Exo both knew Devers, and the only bad thing about him getting dusted is that it didn’t happen years ago.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Bombassa said. “This information isn’t supposed to leave the Black Fleet.”

  Keel smiled. “Look, if there’s anything that might convince me that your little insurrection isn’t all bad, it’s that you’re taking out points like Devers.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Bombassa,” Exo said, slapping the table for emphasis. “A lot of the leejes out there, if they knew that Sullus wasn’t playing when it came to the points… I bet the whole Legion would join up.”

  Bombassa sighed and took a drink.

  Keel followed suit, sipping his caff. “I can’t imagine the three of us are the only ones disillusioned with the Legion. You’re probably not far off, Exo.”

  “Nah, I’m right on target.” Exo leaned back in his seat. “So, what about you, Wraith? Why didn’t you rejoin Victory Squad? What’re you doing dressed up like a spacer, digging up the bones of old Republic spies?”

  Keel shrugged. “First year or so, that was all I could think about. Complete the mission and rejoin. It was killing me that you guys were in the fight—doing raids, snatches, kills—and I was just floating around mixing up with pirates and other criminals looking for who-knows-what.

  “I’d call in my reports, which weren’t much beyond exposing places where the Republic governors weren’t doing their jobs and the MCR or some local warlord was working with impunity. The open secret is that if you find the right administrator, the law doesn’t apply out on the edge. I’ve seen a governor tie up a garrison of leejes with rules of engagement so complex that they have to get four separate legal opinions before they can switch off their safeties, let alone open fire. All the while, the bad guys run free.

  “So anyway, I included it all in my reports. Names, locations, even holographic evidence. And… nada. Nothing ever changed. So I asked myself, ‘Why am I putting my neck on the line here?’”

  Exo leaned forward. “And the answer was…?”

  Keel frowned. “There was no good answer. And every request to get back on the team was denied. So I left the Legion and went to work for myself. I do all right for myself, and KTF still means something in my line of work.”

  Exo drained his glass of rye and motioned for a refill. When Keel obliged, he looked to Bombassa. “So, that’s two I’d categorize as disillusioned, and one that was simply screwed out of his career.”

  “That so?” Keel asked, eyeing Bombassa.

  The imposing trooper gave a half nod, raising his eyebrows in an expression that seemed to say, “That’s about the whole of it.”

  “See, Sergeant Indigo here,” Exo began, pointing his thumb
at his partner, “was a model leej NCO. Saw a lot of combat out on the edge. Even had a stint in the One Thirty-First. Anyway, MCR had been playing revolution on some planet, and the leej had ’em pushed all the way into the mountains. Last-stand stuff, but they were dug in. Bombassa and his company got the call to go up there and finish the job.”

  “Hard work,” Keel said, draining his caff and getting up to place the mug in the auto-clean. “Slow and methodical. I remember when Victory Company had to clean out those Brongi rebels from the Maltinian peaks. Took forever, but we got it done for Pappy.”

  “Time wasn’t a luxury we had,” Bombassa said, his deep voice reverberating through the Six’s very frame. “A point named Castick was looking to make the jump from captain to major, but he was years away, even if he did everything right. Word was, his House of Reason sponsor swung a deal to get him a battlefield promotion if we could finish off the MCR by Unity Day.”

  Bombassa seemed to be slipping back to a different time, dredging up painful memories. “There was no waiting for MOABs. No requisitioning an inferno unit to burn them out of the cave. Just charge and kill. Charge and kill.” He stopped, considering something. “I suppose, in its own way, it was like the Savage Wars. We just pushed, knowing that as many of us that ate it… more of them would die. By the end, the last cave and tunnel system, there were maybe ten of us left. It was enough.”

  “What happened?” Keel asked.

  Bombassa sighed, as though the weight of that battle still hung heavy around his neck. “It was no Kublar, but it was another example of how the enemies of the Republic were standing up to even the Legion.”

  “Someone’s gotta take the fall, right?” Keel surmised.

  “Sergeant Bombassa,” the dark legionnaire said, sounding like a historian reading an old document. “In your rush to secure for yourself personal glory on the field of battle, even at the expense of the lives of your fellow legionnaires, you knowingly and willingly disobeyed orders that, if followed, would have prevented the needless deaths of your fellow soldiers. You violated not only the code and traditions of the Legion, but you disgraced the uniform and the very brotherhood you have sworn to serve. You are hereby and forever banished from the Legion, dishonorably discharged and forever carrying with you the shame of your actions.”

  Bombassa paused, the slightest hint of tears welling in his eyes, not of sorrow or self-pity, but of rage. “The shame of my actions!” he shouted. “I saved as many of my men as I could from that worthless point. And in the end…”

  “Guess who got the promotion?” Exo said to Keel.

  Keel shook his head. “I’m sorry. I knew it was bad.”

  “It’s cancerous,” Exo said. “There’s nothing left for the Republic but to burn it down and let a new order rise from the ashes. Maybe better, maybe not. But… can it get any worse?”

  A silence fell over the three men.

  Bombassa’s face was fixed in a faraway stare. “That was the fiercest fighting I’d ever witnessed… until Tarrago.”

  “What happened on Tarrago?”

  “He got a medal,” Exo said, clapping Bombassa on the shoulder. “For fighting hard while his men died—same as on Bronga—to complete the mission. But this time for a reason. And the point dies at the end of the day. Bombassa took a capitol building, captured a governor, and commandeered a corvette. Fighting got so bad he had to finish the job without his blaster rifle.”

  “So what’d he use?” Keel asked.

  Bombassa’s eyes switched into the present again, cold and deadly. “A cutting torch.”

  05

  “These guys seem legit,” Keel said to Ravi as he dropped back into his seat in the cockpit of the Indelible VI. “Well, I mean, Exo was already legit. But the other guy, Bombassa, he knows his way around a blaster.”

  “He seems professional, yes.” Ravi paused for a moment, placing his hands in his lap. “This is a volatile situation, Captain. There is a chance—forty-six percent—that you and the shock troopers engage in violent activities.”

  “Kind of counting on that.”

  “I mean violence against one another,” Ravi clarified.

  Keel checked his chronometer and hyperspace positioning, tapping pensively at a flashing light. “Well, there’s always a way out. Anyhow, if all goes well, all that violence can be leveraged against whoever is holding my crew captive. The…” Keel snapped his fingers. “What were they called? Cybils?”

  “Cybar.”

  “Yeah, them.” Keel flushed a drive core that read a little hotter than he liked. Getting Leenah back would be nice. The ship was already showing signs of her absence. And the truth of it was, so was Keel. He missed her. He wanted to pick up where they’d left off. Wanted to see if this might be something worth turning his life upside down over.

  Ravi looked up from his console readings. “The two shock troopers are attempting to communicate with their team over the S-comm, but the holo-communication system does not seem to be capable of working through hyperspace.”

  “Glad Garret was able to crack into those comms. Should go a long way to help avoid a double-cross.”

  “Unless you are the one who commits it,” said Ravi.

  Keel rolled his eyes. “It’s not a double-cross if I do it. I’m a scoundrel. They should know better.”

  “Speaking of which, Gannon is still on standby.”

  Keel looked at the flashing comm light on his dash. “Oh, right. I forgot why I even came up here. Did he seem scared?”

  “Incredulous is the word I would use,” said Ravi, twirling the tip of his black mustache. “But he agreed all the same. I think he is curious.”

  “He oughta be ready to wet himself. Here goes nothing.”

  Keel activated the comm, and Gannon, a perpetually scowling spacer who wore several days of black stubble, but not quite a beard, winked onto the holoscreen.

  Gannon stared at Keel and guffawed. “By the six fates of Barseev, it really is you.”

  “What?” Keel held out his arms. “Lotta people out there tryin’ to pass themselves off as me?”

  “One Aeson Keel is more than enough,” Gannon said, reaching toward his holocam as if to activate a switch. “I just wanted to see if it was really you, or if Ravi was pulling my leg. Didn’t think you had the nerve. Well, bye.”

  Keel gave an exasperated eye roll. “Just when I think I’ve met all the stupid the galaxy has to offer, I see you and I’m reminded that it’s all relative. Don’t cut the comm.”

  Gannon paused, straightening himself out on what seemed to be a stool. The area around him was dark, maybe a garage. The solitary light in the room shone down directly on top of him, casting elongated shadows down his face and covering his eyes.

  He leaned back, his features disappearing into the darkness completely, and gave a dry, humorless laugh. Reappearing in the light, he said, “Y’know, Keel, you wouldn’t have had Ravi call me if you didn’t need me. And for a guy who needs my help, you’re not doing a bang-up job of buttering my bread.”

  “You’re talkin’ about the insults?” Keel asked.

  Ravi gave him an apprehensive, warning look.

  Gannon nodded. “I’m talkin’ about the insults, yeah.”

  “Oh,” Keel said, bobbing his head up and down like he’d just seen the light. “See, that’s because I haven’t forgotten what happened at Crickar.”

  “I was made,” Gannon said, as ready as ever to wade into this long-standing feud. “You oughta understand it and move on like all the others.”

  “All the others are dead.”

  “And they don’t complain. So whaddaya need?”

  Keel folded his arms. “I should shoot you. Not hire you.”

  Gannon laughed. A greasy, unpleasant sound. “You’ve been threatening to kill me for going on three years, and I ain’t dead yet.”

  Ravi shot Keel a look as if to say, He’s got you there.

  “I’ve been busy,” Keel said to Ravi, his look imploring. He refoc
used on Gannon, growing stern. “You remember that job on Brissy Six? The one with the royal crown?”

  Gannon rubbed his hand under his chin, emitting a sound like sandpaper working over a rough board. “Yeah, I remember. Most money I ever took in on a job—even after paying the Wraith his cut.”

  “You remember how we distracted the royal guard?”

  Gannon’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Oh yeah.”

  “Well, I want you to do the same thing on a mark coming into Cresweil.”

  The smile didn’t depart from Gannon’s face. “Or what? You’ll kill me? No thanks, Keel. I’ll take my chances.”

  “Well,” Keel said, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with the cockpit’s sensor array just above him, “I will kill you. But that’s not why you’re gonna do it.”

  Gannon let out a snort. “What, you got my mommy all tied up somewhere?”

  “He has fifteen thousand credits,” Ravi interjected. “Half now, half when the job is satisfactorily completed.”

  “No kidding.” Gannon’s tone changed. He was interested, letting his words out like a curious viper. “That does catch my interest. What and when?”

  “Ravi,” Keel said with an inclination of his head.

  The navigator superimposed a basic Republic shuttle over the holoscreen. Its wingtips and nose were all painted black, like the fins of some reef-dwelling shark.

  “This is the shuttle you’ll be looking for,” Keel said. “No information on where it will dock, but to reach the bazaar, a registered station will be required. Estimated arrival time is tomorrow at fifteen hundred hours, local time.”

  “And when do you get here? ’Cause I’ll need at least two days to get it taken care of.”

  “Then we’ll show up two days from now,” Keel said. “The marks will wait for us.”

  “Okay, yeah,” Gannon said with a slow nod. “Send me the money and I’ll get you all set up.”