“How about Devers?” Keel asked, aching to hear that justice was coming for the worthless point. Confirmation of what he already knew in his heart—that whatever Devers was doing there, it wasn’t good.
Tell me that a kill team—that someone—is picking up where I failed, he thought to himself, as if willing Owens to speak the words.
Owens shook his head. “Let it go, Ford—”
“Call me Keel,” the captain interrupted. “I’m not… I’m not quite ready to be Ford again. Y’know?”
“Well that doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies,” Owens replied. “But sure, Keel. Look, hardly anyone in the chain of command even knows what we’re doing. I ran it by Legion Commander Keller—who’s in charge of the whole show now, if you hadn’t heard. And there’s nothing we can do. We’ve got no proof of anything beyond a meeting between Devers and Sullus, and with the House of Reason giving their points the authority to negotiate with the MCR, that won’t go far.”
“I should have let Exo put him down on Kublar.”
“Hindsight,” said Owens. “But look, even if you had holos of him going over plans to load up his super-destroyer with koobs and zhee to take over Utopion, nothing would come of it. And you know why. He’s the Republic’s golden boy. The handsome, smiling face of the Republic military-industrial complex. The right people won’t believe us, or won’t admit to believing us. Then they’ll send in their favorite pet Nether Ops agent to find out how we found out, and they’ll shut our little Dark Ops cell down. And you can believe me on that. The Republic wants to shut down or bring the Legion under its full control as soon as they get the chance. Whatever Devers is up to, just gotta let it happen. He’s not the big sol-fish, anyway.”
Everything Owens said made sense. But they both knew that a man like Devers, a man out only for himself, was up to no good. And somehow, he was again free of consequences. So what if the Republic gave its points authority to negotiate? Keel was sure that what he had seen in the crosshairs before Tyrus Rechs committed suicide in his starship was a Republic parlaying with a murderous warlord who’d attacked the Republic without provocation or warning.
And your blaster bolts weren’t real? Keel asked himself. You weren’t participating in open hostilities against the Republic, MCR, and anyone else who got in your way?
But that was different. It had to be.
***
“Young miss, the ship has changed its course.”
Prisma rolled over in her bunk aboard the Indelible VI and blinked at the inky darkness. She found KRS-88’s glowing optics in the same corner she’d last seen him before turning off the lights and going to sleep. She didn’t need a night-light. Not anymore. And that made her feel grown up. Grown up in a way that somehow seemed more noteworthy than losing her parents and then Rechs and surviving conflicts that she had no business being involved in.
Captain Keel had said that the galaxy was full of orphans. He’d told Leenah that. Skrizz had told Prisma that children always died in wars, and she was lucky to be alive. Or at least, that’s what she thought Skrizz said. It was what Crash translated, anyway. But her daddy had programmed Crash to lie if that might protect Prisma or her feelings—because her daddy had wanted Crash to make her feel safe. That’s what Garret, the code-slicer, told her.
Everyone on the ship knew everything, and Prisma was just a kid, a little girl. That’s how they treated her. Especially Leenah. Leenah was nice and tried to be motherly. She didn’t seem to know what it meant to really be a mother, but being nice helped. Prisma liked Leenah.
But Prisma was not a kid. Kids could lose their parents. Prisma knew that. And kids could live or die in battles. Prisma knew that too. But kids were also afraid of the dark—and Prisma was not… so long as Crash stayed with her. As long as she wasn’t alone.
“Crash,” mumbled Prisma, “what?”
“I said that the ship changed course, young miss.” The bot’ss servos whined in the darkness as it moved its head. “I do wish you would listen better.”
Pushing herself up on her elbows, Prisma said, “So?”
“Oh.” The bot’s servos moved again, and it seemed to think about this. “I thought that was interesting. Captain Keel dropped the ship from hyperspace, sat in open space for some time, and then jumped in a different direction. I debated, and decided you would like to know.”
Prisma flopped back down onto her pillow. “No, I don’t care, Crash. I said wake me up if we get wherever we’re going.”
“I see.”
“I’m going back to sleep,” Prisma said. Feeling brave, she added, “Why don’t you power down? Your optical lights might keep me awake. I like to sleep in the dark.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed, young miss.” Crash dimmed its eyes. “I would rather not power down at the moment. A diagnostic and recharge would be inefficient given the time of last cycle.”
“Okay, whatever,” Prisma managed, already drifting into sleep as the ship thrummed through hyperspace.
“I could power down for a few hours,” observed Crash, “if it would please you for me to do so. I did not wish to be difficult if—“
“Fine,” Prisma said, annoyed that her drift into sleep was interrupted. “Shut down.”
“Shutting down, young miss.”
Prisma lay in silence. She looked in the corner, but didn’t see the comforting glow of Crash’s eyes. She pulled her blanket up to her chin and rubbed her heels against the rough sheets of her bunk. Her eyes grew heavy again.
“Prisma.”
The girl jumped as if woken from a dream. “Crash?”
“No, not Crash.”
“Ravi?”
The familiar voice of the hologram answered in the affirmative. “Prisma, you must listen to me. Do not let anyone know we have spoken. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“For your safety, Prisma.”
“How?”
“We are all heading toward unimaginable danger. And unavoidable. Captain Keel and Leenah will want you to stay with the ship, and you must listen to them. You must not let anyone see you.”
Prisma peered into the darkness. “Why can’t I see you?”
“Because I am not projecting myself in your room. You are not afraid of the dark.”
Prisma leaned against her headboard. “I’m not,” she said in small voice.
“Do you understand what I have told you?”
“Not really.”
“But you do understand what I’ve instructed you. Stay hidden. Keep our discussion private.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Pay attention, Prisma, I will keep you safe.”
“Ravi, they’re looking for you, you know…”
No reply came from the darkness.
“Ravi?”
Nothing, and then… servos whined, and Crash’s optical lights came alive again. “Did you say something, young miss?”
Prisma slid her arm under her pillow and lay back down. “No. Go back to sleep, Crash.”
04
The Indelible VI roared in low over the planet Rawl Kima. Coniferous forests covered most of the planetary surface, their canopies a green blur streaking beneath the heavily modified starship. The kill team Captain Keel was sent to pick up was still several hundred kilometers away.
Leenah monitored passive sensors from the navigator’s seat. She felt inadequate reading the displays, worried that she was missing something obvious. She’d always felt more comfortable fixing things than using them. “The ship’s not detecting any other starcraft—Republic or otherwise,” she said.
“Good,” Keel acknowledged. He pointed to a blinking yellow light to Leenah’s left. “When that light turns blue, tell me. It means we can contact the kill team on L-comm without a listening station picking up the burst. The navy won’t know what we’re saying, but they’ll know we’re coming. And according to Owens, they’ll try and stop us for violating a no-fly order.”
“How long?”
Keel glanced at the HUD pro
jected over the Six’s cockpit window. “At current speed, shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. Say seven, tops.”
Nodding in understanding, Leenah began watching the light like a mother monitoring her sleeping child. She wanted to let Keel know the moment it changed color. But seven minutes of silence was a long time. “You sure you don’t want me to get Skrizz up here? I’m sure he’d do a better job than me.”
“No,” Keel said. “You’re doing fine. I don’t exactly trust the wobanki. Especially without Ravi around to watch my back. Don’t tell him I said that though.”
“I won’t.” Leenah puffed out a breath of air. She wanted to check in on Prisma, but there wasn’t time. So she attempted polite conversation. “Would have been nice to enter atmosphere on a better trajectory. Why do you think the Republic established a blockade here?”
Keel adjusted the throttle controls. “Could be any number of reasons, from smart to stupid. But you can bet how it would impact the legionnaires on the ground didn’t factor much in the decision.”
Leenah pressed her lips together. “It’s odd. Hearing you talk about legionnaires as if they’re the good guys.”
“These are the good guys. Dark Ops is what the entire Legion used to be like. Other than a few appointees, it’s how the Legion was when I was on tour.”
“And now things are different?”
Keel sighed, and Leenah got the impression he didn’t much want to discuss it. But she didn’t understand the man. And she wanted to.
“Keep in mind,” she said, “you’re talking to a former rebel. You’ve got a few years of Endurian propaganda to overcome.”
“The Legion’s purpose is to protect the Republic from all its enemies—inside and out. A lot of us are still doing just that—but from what I’ve seen in the past years…” Keel paused to lick his lips. “A lot of people wearing the Legion crest are more interested in doing the Republic’s bidding than upholding the ideals the Ancients built.”
The trees and wilderness began to give way to hamlets and agricultural grids. Bots attended to the harvest, undeterred by the low-flying freighter roaring above their heads. Leenah watched the orchards and fields of grain pitch and sway in the wake of the Six’s atmospheric thrusters.
The light continued to blink yellow. Keel seemed like he was finished talking. Leenah was not. “Even with a blockade though, I can’t remember the last planet I was on with this little air traffic.”
“Oh, there’s traffic out this way,” Keel said, visually scanning his airspace. “Just not the kind that shows up on most sensors. Drag the blue reticule into your scanning array.”
Leenah placed two fingers on the holoprojected screen and shifted a blue circle with a black dot over to the scanner’s readout. Immediately a swarm of blue triangles appeared at all ranges. She gasped. “What are those?”
“Lymars,” Keel answered, a smile on his face. “Winged mammals native to the planet. The local population uses them instead of speeders, sort of a cultural distinction. If you look down, you can probably see some skimming between the trees.”
Leenah tried to peer down out of her window to spy the creatures. Keel tilted the ship, allowing her to see straight down.
“Oh!” Leenah exclaimed. “I see one. It looks like… do you know the borash from Enduria?”
Keel shook his head. “I, uh, I’m not quite as familiar with Endurian customs and culture as Ravi was.”
“Well these look a lot like them. Only without feathers.” Leenah glanced back at the display. The light was blue. She cursed her inattentiveness. “Light’s blue,” she said.
“Good. Bring up L-comms.”
“Umm…” Leenah searched through the comm keys, not seeing what she was looking for.
“You have to toggle crypto and then Legion, Dark Ops,” Keel said, not taking his eyes away from the flight displays projected over the forward canopy. The buildings were coming faster now, and staying low no doubt took additional concentration.
After punching in the necessary commkeys, Leenah held her finger above the transmission button. “Okay, ready?”
Keel nodded. A soft chime sounded to announce a secure patch into the L-comm network.
“Legion kill team Victory,” Keel said, his eyes glancing up at a velocity display. “This is Rescue One. Be advised, we’re coming in weapons hot for exfiltration. Naseen light freighter, ETA eight minutes.”
“Copy, Rescue One,” a voice answered over L-comm. “Major Owens said you were coming. We’ll hold out until you arrive. Vic One out.”
The calmness in the legionnaire’s voice was reassuring. Leenah had been worried that the legionnaires would start shooting at them the moment they showed up. The idea of being part of a legitimate freighter crew—not to mention one that had apparently been given carte blanche to operate outside of Republic law—was surreal. But it was also welcome. It had been the promise of freedom that had most influenced Leenah to join the Mid-Core Rebellion. iAnd now—somehow—she had it.
The comm chirped again, and another legionnaire’s voice came online. “Holy strokes—is that really you, Captain Ford?”
Keel smiled. “Never heard of him. KTF.”
***
Chhun risked another peek over the wall. The Mid-Core Rebels were packed thick in the streets, and the atmosphere was that of a city-wide celebration. The crowd included a mix of dwahser, human, and kimbrin, mingled with the typical galactic diaspora of species found at galaxy’s edge. But the celebration had nothing to do with Unity Day. These revelers were on hand in the hopes of witnessing the death of a Legion kill team.
And they weren’t shy about helping to make that hope a reality.
Blaster fire continued to strike against the half-walls providing rooftop cover. “Peeper is showing another group massing by the west entrance,” Chhun announced over L-comm.
Bear moved in a low crawl to a potential vantage point. The fusillade of MCR blaster fire was thick enough that the legionnaires had very little time to deliver return fire. They would pop over the wall, lay down a burst of viciously accurate blaster fire, then pop back into cover before they were picked off. All the leejes had scorch marks on their armor from glancing blaster bolts, but thankfully they’d been struck by nothing powerful enough to cause any real damage. The MCR just didn’t have the weaponry it once did—a testament to how effective Republic blockades and crackdowns on smuggling and piracy had truly been.
“Goin’ up,” Bear announced. The burly soldier popped up and sprayed a few rounds into the oncoming soldiers before cursing and dropping back below cover to avoid a stinging retort of enemy blaster bolts. “I got like… maybe two guys.”
“Throw a fragger at them,” suggested Masters.
“Looks like there’s civs mixed in with the mids,” Fish said.
“Then they made a bad decision,” said Chhun. He mirrored the observation bot’s feed into the HUDs of his men, and fed them trajectory lines for tossing grenades into the massing rebels. “And if we don’t keep this crowd back, we’re going to get a real push to get inside the building instead of just a couple of brave—”
“Stupid,” corrected Masters.
“—ones,” Chhun concluded. “The auto-turret can only do so much.”
He knew that Pike, who usually carried a Mark 950 repeater but had had the thing shot and disabled by a storming MCR, was now running around inside the building, replacing anti-personnel mines as needed and making sure the turret had adequate charge-cans. The team was almost out of both of those. Ammo was running close to black as well. If the mids down below came at them in a wave, Pike would be hard pressed to keep them at bay. It was paramount that the rooftop defenders kept the rebels back, even if that meant fragging civilians who, let’s face it, weren’t standing in a crowd and yelling “Die, Legion!” to encourage Dark Ops morale.
“On my throw,” Chhun told his team. He set his fragger to smart-det, allowing the grenade’s destructive little AI to decide the optimal time to detonate. N
ot all of the grenades were “smart,” but now seemed like the time to use the ones that were. “Fragger out!”
The grenade sailed over the roof wall, followed by four more. The observation bot made them glow blue on the HUD relay, along with a comet-like tail to indicate their course into the enemy. The fraggers’ dual detonations wreaked havoc in the crowd, sending the combatants into a panicked stampede. It was enough of a distraction to allow the legionnaires to get back on the wall and resume firing.
“They’re already re-forming,” Sticks said between bursts of his N-6.
Chhun saw the same thing. The fraggers had had the same effect as tossing a large rock into a stream. It dispersed the flow for a brief second before the rushing water came right back. “Don’t stop shooting! Make them pay for every step!”
The legionnaires dished it out every bit as good as they took it, and rebels dropped in every direction. Even the non-fatal shots proved deadly, as the crowd trampled over their own fallen. The fraggers had apparently made them mad.
“They’re gonna breach the building,” Fish said, stating what was now obvious to everyone.
“Then we stack the bodies so high in the doorway that they need a pulsor dozer to get through,” Bear growled. His N-6-dry fired. “I’m out of charge packs!” He laid down his rifle and begin firing careful shots with his service pistol.
“I’m almost done, too,” Masters announced.
“One fresh pack left,” added Sticks.
Chhun had the same.
“Still good with the SAB,” Fish shouted between bursts.
That was a relief.
“Pike!” Chhun called to the legionnaire manning the stories below. “Gimme a sit-rep.”
“Turret is chewing them up, getting pretty hot. But enough are getting through. First one that’s packing an ion grenade is going to be able to shut it down.”
Sword of the Legion (Galaxy's Edge Book 5) Page 3
