Turning Point (Galaxy's Edge Book 7)

by Jason Anspach

  Keel looked down at his scuffed black boots. “War’s gonna be a bloodbath if it keeps ramping up.”

  “I know it. That’s why this is important, though.” Exo clapped his hands as he spoke, as though he were rallying a team of athletes. “We get this fleet, strike a blow at Utopion, purge all the garbage… war’s over. I know the Legion will see the sense of it. I know it. Keller should have busted up the House a long time ago.”

  “Probably,” Keel agreed. “So that battle on Tarrago, when Sullus showed up. That’s when he did his little space wizard schtick?”

  Exo laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a trick, man. I saw it myself. Dude was legit tossing people around like… telekinesis. I dunno. Like a superhero. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Who has?”

  “If I’m being honest… it freaked me out a bit. I thought about just dusting him while his back was turned to me. Another leej almost dropped him, so I know he ain’t invincible.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “So, for this split second, the barrel of my blaster is swinging across his back. Dude was all over the place. No regard for clear firing lines. And I get this urge, like, dust this monster right now. And then—and I swear I’m not making this up—it’s like I hear Sullus inside my head saying, ‘Don’t.’. Crazy, right?”

  Keel stared compassionately at Exo, then nodded an affirmative. “You sound like an insane person.”

  Exo laughed and balled up a fist, playfully threatening to punch Keel, who held up his hands in surrender.

  “I’ve seen a lot of stuff across the galaxy,” Keel said, rubbing his chin with the palm of his hand. “But space wizard is a first—legends on technologically undeveloped worlds aside. Doesn’t sound like you can lose with a space wizard on your team.”

  Exo shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Numbers aren’t great, and the boys blowing up the shipyards caused some serious harm. They all say it doesn’t matter, but that’s propaganda. It hurt.”

  “What makes you think it was Chhun?” Keel asked, motioning for Exo to follow him back to the ship’s main lounge.

  “Because no one else could have done it. Dude is untouchable, doesn’t even know how good he is.”

  Keel nodded. “He was something else. I’m sure he wasn’t alone, though.”

  “He’s the type of guy the Black Fleet needs in command.”

  Keel opened a cupboard in the lounge and pulled out a unit of ale. “Get you something?”

  Exo nodded enthusiastically. They clinked the necks of their units of ale before both taking a long pull.

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned needing new leadership,” Keel observed. “Your brass doesn’t have what it takes?”

  “I dunno,” Exo said, examining the label on his drink. “Almost everybody is a washout or has a grudge—like Bombassa. Don’t tell him I said that about him, though. But that goes all the way to the very top. Rumor is that Admiral Rommal is only there because he got burned by the Republic—something about his wife—and wants payback. And then there’s General Nero…”

  “General Nero?” Keel asked.

  Exo laughed into his bottle as he took another swig. “I know, right? Pretty sure they’re all using aliases. But Nero’s the closest thing to a point I’ve seen since joining up. He’s not incompetent—not by a long shot—but he’s definitely in it for himself.”

  “I get it. ‘If the Legion won’t make me commander… maybe these guys will,’” Keel said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Why not reach out to Chhun?” Keel suggested with an upturned palm. “Recruit him onto your side.”

  “One,” Exo said, enumerating his coming point by tapping on his forefinger, “I’m not a golden boy like Bombassa. I saved Sullus on Tarrago’s moon and led the charge to take the gun, but when the awards came, they went to the people who got shot down, not to the leejes who shot shit up.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “Too familiar,” Exo said.

  For a moment, Keel felt a spike of adrenaline—maybe hope. He didn’t want Exo to be mixed up with the other side, so hearing his friend sound disillusioned was a promising development. Whatever faults might be found in the galaxy, Keel didn’t think this Sullus was the answer. He thought back to how concerned Tyrus Rechs had been about the man. That old bounty hunter had known a thing or two; if he was worried about Sullus, that was good enough for Keel.

  In fact, the more Keel had heard about how the Black Fleet operated, the less he saw it as a viable government. Better than what was in place now, perhaps, but worse than the Legion. And Exo hadn’t exactly painted a sterling picture of its leaders. “At least they’re not points” wasn’t the highest bar to clear.

  “So, this Nero guy,” Keel said, looking casually to see if Bombassa was anywhere around. The big shock trooper wouldn’t take kindly to this sort of exchange of classified information. The only times Keel got anything of use were when the man wasn’t around. “You think he’d sell you out?”

  Exo shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Price is right…? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Keel nodded and let it sit there, not wanting to sound too interested. “So what’s the second thing?” he asked after gulping down another mouthful of ale.

  “Hmm?” asked Exo absently.

  “You said ‘one,’” Keel said. “That usually means there’s a second reason. Why else wouldn’t Chhun be a good fit for your ‘little cause’?” He winked as he finished the sentence. Exo believed in what he was doing, but needling him about it was fun.

  “Ain’t nothin’ little about conquering a Republic planet, bro.”

  “Fair enough,” Keel said. He drained the last of his beverage. “Want another?”

  “Yeah.”

  As Keel attended to the refreshments, Exo said, “Two is because Chhun is a true believer. He’s the most Legion leej out there. And he wasn’t like that before Kublar. I thought for sure he was done during that last tour on Chiasm. And then all hell breaks loose, and now he’s a Dark Ops lifer.”

  “Has to matter,” Keel mumbled.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s because it all has to matter,” Keel said, sliding a fresh drink to Exo. “Chhun isn’t willing to let it all be for nothing. All the boys in Victory, all the missions in Dark Ops… Worst thing that can happen to a guy like Chhun is to hear that none of it mattered. That all that death was for nothing.” Keel saw Exo watching him intently. “You either break free, like I did… or you keep doubling down.”

  But even as he said it, he wondered if that was true—whether he had really broken free. Wasn’t he still helping the Legion, helping his friends? Wasn’t that the point of conversations like this one with his old buddy—to get an edge on the Sullus threat? Was it? Or was he just feeding himself enough line to go rogue for good… or, hell, even take Exo up on his offer to join the Black Fleet.

  He wanted room to maneuver. To do what felt best at the time.

  “Ooah,” Exo answered. “I know that’s right.” He took a big drink, set the bottle down, then picked it back up to chug away what was left. The empty bottle was set back down with a resounding bang and a hard-edged sigh of satisfaction.

  “Another one?” Keel asked, wondering if Exo would think he was trying to get him drunk. Which was a good trick, when you wanted someone to talk. But if that had been Keel’s plan, it wasn’t a conscious decision.

  “Nah,” Exo said with a wave of his hand. “I’m good. I’d take Chhun in a heartbeat, though. There’s a lot of guys I’d take if I could. That’s why I’m doing this, bro. I’m doing this to save them.”

  “I believe you,” said Keel. And he did.

  “On second thought, one more won’t kill me,” Exo said, stone-faced. “More of the rye if you’ve got it.”

  Keel got up and poured Exo a generous shot.

  Exo knocked it back, hissing like a snake as the fire burned down his gullet. “One more,” he
said. He drank again. “Okay, last one.”

  “You sure?” Keel asked, his concern genuine. He didn’t know if it had always been this way with Exo. Certainly it hadn’t been in the Legion. But the Dark Ops team had found him in a slum bar on Utopion.

  Keel’s mind cycled through all the reasons why Exo might be drinking so heavily. The fighting on Tarrago’s moon? Exo would have killed a lot of leejes. Yeah, that was probably it. The guilt of that… Keel knew something about that. You had to kill that guilt, remind yourself that it was them or you, because it’s always them or you. And maybe Exo couldn’t do that. He was the sort of guy who ran on emotion, who was fueled by his passions. Cognitive dissonance wasn’t something a guy like him could do, even if he believed it was for all the right reasons. This war against his brothers had to be tearing him apart.

  Exo finished his last drink. Slower, but not slow.

  Exo stared at his empty shot glass. “Nero’s supposed to rejoin the shock troopers at Tusca soon. Been recovering from an injury at Tarrago during the raid. I wouldn’t be sad if his shuttle never arrived. Wouldn’t have been sad if he’d died at the shipyard with the rest of his boys.”

  Tusca. That was where Tyrus Rechs had been killed when his ship went nuclear. It was where Keel had almost dusted Devers. A place he’d barely escaped from—and left in bad shape. But the point is, he’d called it in—which meant Dark Ops surely would have checked it out. So how could Nero and his shock troopers still be staging there?

  Keel pondered all this in the few seconds between Exo’s words and his own innocuously performed question: “What’s on Tusca?”

  “Training grounds,” Exo began, and for the first time, he might have slurred his words—slightly. Tabrizzi rye was potent. “Nero has the rank and file training something big, bro. Not like the fleet we’re after kinds of big, but part of the plan.”

  “A plan your friend has no part in.” The voice belonged to Bombassa, who walked into the room shirtless and with a white absorption towel ringing the back of his neck.

  “How was your shower?” Keel asked.

  Bombassa gave a hard stare in reply, then looked down to Exo. “You are drunk?”

  “I’m fine,” Exo said, cradling his empty shot glass in one hand. “And don’t worry about Wraith. He’s out of the Legion. Points did him wrong same as you and me.”

  “You should not be speaking so freely. You know this.” Bombassa reached down and grabbed Exo by his elbow. “Come on, get up.”

  Exo jerked his arm free. “Get off me, man! I’ll stand on my own.”

  To his credit, Exo stood without wobbling. So much so that Keel wondered just how much the drink had actually affected him. He’d met some prolific drinkers who could put away copious amounts of booze without showing any of the adverse side effects, and Exo seemed to be in that category.

  Keel watched as his two shock trooper guests stared at one another. His comm chimed, breaking the tension.

  Ravi’s voice came over the comm. “Captain Keel, the hypotheticals for our jump are coming out clear. I think you have repaired the problem, but I’d like for you to run through a final reboot with me in the cockpit.”

  “Be right there,” Keel said into his comm. He looked at Exo and Bombassa. “You two are welcome to join me if you want.”

  “No,” Bombassa said, before adding as an afterthought, “thank you.”

  “Nah,” Exo said, shaking his head. “My turn for the shower.” He made his way down the hall.

  With Exo out of earshot, Keel caught Bombassa’s eye and nodded toward the galley. “There’s caff in there.” As he moved past the hulking shock trooper, he patted him on the shoulder. “Take care of Exo, huh?”

  ***

  Ravi was reading a book on his holoscreen when Keel reached the bridge. It was in some language Keel couldn’t identify, and featured a painting of a man on a horse by a hedge of roses. It looked old.

  “Tell me that’s not what you’re using to plot our hyperspace routes,” Keel said, dropping into his seat.

  “Hoo, hoo,” laughed Ravi, turning off the book. “This was long before hyperspace.”

  “Any luck finding it?”

  Ravi shook his head. “The hand is not aboard the Indelible VI. Your friend Exo likely slipped it to one of his other team members before we left Wayste.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Ravi tilted his head to the side. “Probably so we would not steal it. And given the circumstances, this was a wise move.”

  Keel sighed. “Okay, contact Gannon and see if—”

  “I have done this already.”

  With a half frown, unsure whether this was welcomed or annoying, Keel said, “In that case, I need you to contact Harvel Keene. He runs the spice route along Tusca. I need him to look for someone named—”

  “Nero, yes, I called it in the moment I heard your discussion.”

  “Ravi, don’t do that. Don’t be so… nosy.”

  The hologram arched an eyebrow. “A Republic-model frigate with black-tipped markings has been seen jumping into various systems along that hyperspace route. Nero is not showing up on any of my searches, so I cannot give a reliable probability, but the ship markings do match what we have seen from vessels converted for use in the Black Fleet. A shuttle from that frigate has dropped planetside at each stop, carrying a man who is buying up antiquities and art. The last sighting of him was at Womaf.”

  “So, what, he’s on a shopping trip?” Keel asked.

  “Works of art declared by the government as distinct and protected cultural identifiers, and thus not to leave indigenous worlds, are always easiest to find in the edge’s night markets.”

  Keel thought about this. “If he’s jumping from system to system on his way to Tusca, after Womaf he’d hit Olik and then Tusca itself. Ravi, how long—”

  “Based on the timing of the last sighting at Womaf and the average time spent on-planet, I estimate Captain Chhun’s kill team has nine hours to catch up with Nero on Olik. If not, they will have to find him on Tusca itself.”

  “Okay, let’s get Chhun on comm.”

  Ravi gave a curt nod and worked his console. The comm light flashed to show it was attempting to make a connection.

  “Ravi,” Keel said, cautiously, “did Harvel tell you all this?”

  “Harvel did not see anything,” Ravi said, his eyes fixed on a scrolling array of text strings moving much too fast for Keel to decipher. “I went through Moma.”

  “Moma!” Keel exclaimed. “He’s an info broker, Ravi. How much did you have to spend?”

  “Forty thousand.”

  “Forty thousand? Are you out of you mind? Ravi, how could you spend forty thou—”

  “Here’s Chhun,” Ravi said.

  Keel clamped his jaw shut and stared hotly at his navigator. Forty thousand credits blown in the time it had taken him to pour a couple of drinks.

  “Wraith, what’s going on?” Chhun asked, his comm connection on voice only.

  Keel mouthed, “I hate you,” to Ravi, then said to Chhun: “So, you got your team on standby, right?”

  07

  Legion Destroyer Intrepid

  Cononga System

  Chhun paced outside Captain Deynolds’s office. Wraith had just delivered up to him the possibility of capturing of one of Goth Sullus’s top men, the general alleged to be in command of the shock troopers. Something like this could be huge—it was the equivalent of the House of Reason removing Legion Commander Keller from the picture.

  So Chhun had taken this information to Owens and Keller—had proposed that Victory Squad take the Intrepid to the Olik system in an attempt to capture this “General Nero.” Wraith had said the general just might be willing to sell his warlord out if the offer was right.

  But Legion Commander Keller had dismissed Chhun, wanting to speak with Owens and Deynolds privately about the operation. That didn’t sit well with Chhun. Not because Keller didn’t have every right to do so, but because it seemed t
o Chhun that it meant the Legion commander was leaning against authorizing the mission. And this wasn’t the sort of opportunity that came around more than once.

  It would be up to Owens to convince Keller now. At least Chhun had sold him on it. He had an ally in the room. Now it was just a waiting game, while his team sat jocked up and ready to move, shorthanded as they were.

  He stared at Captain Deynolds’s door, willing it to open with his every thought.

  And then it did.

  Owens strode out first, with Deynolds behind him. Chhun wanted to run up and ask what happened, like an excited child hoping his grandparents had brought presents with them on a visit, but he restrained himself.

  Owens said nothing for several seconds before casually acting as though he’d just noticed Chhun standing nearby. “Oh! Chhun! I almost forgot you were out here.” The major broke into a wide grin before Chhun had the chance to say something he might regret. “Ops approved,” Owens continued. “Deynolds ordered the ship to jump, and we are now cruising through hyperspace to nab us a five-star bad guy.”

  “We should arrive in roughly seven hours,” Deynolds said. “Before then, I’ll want a coordinated plan of attack drawn up with contingencies.”

  She was right about that: there would definitely need to be contingencies. If Nero behaved like Wraith suggested, they might have to take him on the ground, or in the shuttle in atmosphere. Or possibly on board the freighter itself. If the freighter was even there. There were numerous variations, and each required a well-cultivated plan that could be enacted at a moment’s notice.

  Chhun nodded at the captain. “I’m ready to discuss the operation immediately. I can have my team assembled anywhere on the ship inside of ten minutes, as long as a speedlift is open.”

  Deynolds gave a fractional nod. “Command room in ten minutes then.” She turned to go.

  Chhun held up a finger. “Captain, there’s one thing I’m sure we’ll need.”