My guys are waiting at the ramp. Fish and Bear up top, Masters and Sticks outside, the landing zone secured. Up until now, I wasn’t entirely sure Wraith would be joining us. He seemed pretty comfortable playing the part of a featherhead flying the ship.
Maybe I’m being unfair with that comment. I’m sure he can still fight. We all heard rumors of “the Wraith” taking care of business throughout galaxy’s edge—for a price. Even telling off Republic officers with impunity. The fruits of being good at what you do.
Now that same guy is standing with a bucket tucked beneath one arm and a short barreled NK-4 rifle, the same type as my own, in the other. And then that stunning Endurian—apparently a princess—walks over and stands next to him. Hanging around like she really wants to say goodbye. Captain Ford is a good-looking guy, and if I’m being honest, an Endurian princess holding his arm in her own looks like the most natural thing in the galaxy. Like a holo-ad, minus the blaster rifle and fraggers, I mean.
It’s surreal how our lives have converged after being sent in separate directions to serve the same Legion. I haven’t been on a date in two years. Oh well. My NK-4 is my girlfriend, and this is our prom.
The princess—I should call her Leenah—seems aware that I’m watching from my spot by the ramp, even though my bucket is on. She offers Wraith a kiss on the cheek, but the captain must have picked up some moves in his time away from the Legion. He turns into her kiss, catching her lips with his own. He gives a smile that hints of promises and suggestions unspoken.
Then he turns to me and begins to don his bucket. “Ready to KTF, Chhun?”
“Always,” I answer.
It’s odd. The way Wraith exudes a confidence that, whatever happens, it’s not happening to him. That his luck will hold. That he’s got good things waiting for him after all this.
And who knows? Maybe he’s right.
In the back of my mind, I can hear a metronome. It makes all the noise and distractions fade away. Like the end is near.
Maybe it’s my luck that’ll run out.
And you never hear the shot that takes you down.
12
Wraith stepped off the Indelible VI and out onto the perimeter, the ramp closing behind him. His instructions to Leenah and the collection of misfits who made up his crew—a crew he was really coming to like—were clear: no one comes on board other than the war bot and the six men who disembarked. If anyone else approached the ship, they were to be dusted. Uniforms didn’t matter.
“And what if you don’t come back?” Leenah had asked before Keel—he was Keel then, not Wraith—left to get into his battle kit.
He had smiled. “Let’s just plan for what’s likely to happen. I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”
Now, in his armor, he felt like his old self. He was Wraith. He had always become Wraith whenever he put on the gear. It was what made his life on the edge so easy. There was Keel, and there was Wraith. The shrinks would probably tell him he was crazy. But that wasn’t it. He was simply aware. Aware of how certain things in life took different sides of the same person. Keel did some questionable things, and he never had trouble sleeping at night. But when Wraith came out… it was the rest of the galaxy who couldn’t fall asleep.
The team formed a perimeter set to move on Chhun’s orders, with Masters taking point. Taking lead. Chhun struggled with calling it “taking point” once that word became synonymous with failure and ineptitude. So he fought a mental war with himself to avoid using that phrase all together. Masters was taking lead.
They were spaced out, enough to keep alive if someone opened up on them or if someone stepped on a blast plate. Tarrago Prime had been at war for less than a day, and the area was probably safe so long as they kept clear of patrols, but in Dark Ops… you’re always at war. And death is always waiting with its embrace.
Wraith remembered this. Felt it instinctively, like it had entered his bones through osmosis from his battle-tested armor. He was calm and ready. Content to be a war fighter until the dark legionnaires were dead and the shipyard was in ruins. Ooah.
Pike looked up at the canopy of palm-tree branches that bent above the Indelible VI. “How in the world did you get the ship in here?”
“Just takes a little back and forth,” Wraith answered over L-comm, his voice even and devoid of emotion. “Let’s keep focus on our sectors.”
“See now, that’s the Wraith I remember,” Masters said, not taking his eyes away from the swaths of wilderness in front of him. “By the way, that’s a pretty badass modification on your bucket. I like how you expanded the visor. Can we get some of those?”
“Everybody set?” Chhun asked, killing Masters’s banter and transmitting the route he’d mapped for them to hike. The vegetation-studded peak he’d selected from which to target the shipyards was just a few kilometers away, but they would feel the increase in elevation over that last click of switchbacks.
“Ready to dust these leej knockoffs,” answered Bear.
“Shouldn’t get the opportunity if this op goes as planned,” Chhun said, pointing forward, indicating for the team to move out. “We’re here to blow up a shipyard, not a bunch of leej impersonators.”
“You’re no fun, Team Leader,” Sticks said.
The talking died down as the Indelible VI receded from view, hidden behind the dense foliage of Tarrago Prime’s natural wildlife reserves. Every Republic planet was required to maintain a designated percentage of its surface area as wilderness. The Republic, of course, decided where and how much, and that was that. This was one of the Republic mandates that most of the galaxy didn’t seem to mind—though it did cause cities to sprawl in odd directions. The city supporting and sustaining the shipyards extended for miles, then abruptly ended at the wilderness as though someone had drawn an invisible curtain to halt all technological progress.
Dawn’s light remained a promise, and as the kill team crept silently through the jungle-like wilderness, they were serenaded by the rhythmic chirps, clicks, and hisses of innumerable insects. The night seemed to have a rhythm of its own. But to Wraith, it was more or less like every other jungle he had ever ventured through, and he listened carefully, letting the wildlife tell him what the sophisticated sensors of his bucket, displayed on his HUD, could not.
There was a scurrying sound ahead, and Masters screamed, “Gah!”
“What is it?” Fish asked, his blaster rifle searching.
“Dude, a spider bigger than my head just ran out in front of me.”
“Oh,” Sticks said, shrugging. “Yeah. That’s why they vent the destroyers once they’re in deep space.”
“Fumigate ’em first,” added Bear. “Just for good measure.”
“Let’s keep moving,” Wraith said, pushing up ahead of Masters and taking the lead for his own. There was something about their surroundings that bothered him.
He opened a private L-comm connection with Chhun. “Chhun,” he said, “keep your guys quiet for a while.”
“They’re just talking, Ford. Over L-comm. No one can hear them.” Chhun took a breath. “It’s not like this is new. When you were on Victory Squad…”
“It’s not that,” Wraith said, softening his voice as much as he was willing. “I need to concentrate on the outside, and I can’t hear over them. Don’t want to mute them in case they see something. So please… so I don’t have to make everyone feel awkward by giving orders to your guys…”
“Guys,” Chhun said over L-comm, “let’s keep the chatter down. Wraith thinks he hears something.”
One by one, the kill team gave click-responses with their tongue toggles.
Wraith listened to the noises around him. They sounded strong enough where the kill team glided through the forest like phantoms, but ahead, instead of an undulating cone of noise, he heard… nothing. And in a place like this, a jungle, it only got quiet for a reason.
“Something’s out there,” Wraith concluded, voicing his concerns to the team.
“HUDs don’t show an
ything,” said Sticks.
Chhun backed Wraith up. “There’s so much going on out here—so many life forms—that the HUDs might have trouble picking anything out until it’s right on top of us.”
“Any local preds look for a taste of leej,” growled Bear, “I’ll send ’em running with their tails tucked between their legs.”
“Wraith to Six,” Wraith called to his ship.
“This is Leenah—Six—go ahead.”
“Are scans picking up anything humanoid other than us to the southwest?” Wraith knew that if they had, Leenah would have already called it in.
“No,” answered the princess. “I can’t even spot you anymore. You dropped off sensors about ten minutes ago. But Garret thinks he has something for you.”
The slim code slicer’s voice cracked over the comm. “Uh, hey, Wraith. So… I think I tapped into the comm systems these dark legionnaires are using. Well, not think. I did. I just need to work on a way to get it fully patched in to you guys.”
“Nice work,” Wraith said. This kid, like Leenah, was proving to be invaluable. “Really good. As soon as you figure it out, patch us through on their main battle network.”
“Okay,” Garret said. “They call it S-comm, and they call themselves shock troopers, hence the ‘S’ I guess. Heh. But basically, it’s a night-coded attempt to replicate the L-comm, and whoever they hired did a good job of creating an emulation. But it’s nowhere near as stable, and obviously the security layers aren’t as good as what the Legion has built up. I can port it to you in a secure L-comm observation channel now and can grant you access to communicate through S-comm in say… fifteen minutes.”
“We can listen now?” said Wraith. “Golden. Put it through. To me. Only me.”
“One sec…” Garret said. Wraith could hear the blips and dings of his console as he worked away. “There!”
Wraith immediately picked up a clear, albeit thin, conversation between two men, presumably these “shock troopers.” They were talking about someone named General Nero, who was apparently supposed to arrive at the shipyards soon. Wraith nodded thoughtfully. That would be good, killing a general in the strike. He made a note to listen for news of Nero’s arrival. If they could delay the strike until he was at the shipyards…
“Leenah,” he said into the comm, “can you or Garret triangulate where this transmission is coming from?” He forwarded the S-comm frequency he’d been listening in on to the Six.
“About two hundred meters southwest of your position, as estimated by the sensors’ projection algorithm,” said Leenah. “Sorry I can’t be more specific than that, but like I said, you fell off sensors about fifteen minutes ago.”
“No, that’s fine. Wraith out.”
That explained the silence he’d observed ahead. A patrol was moving somewhere in that general direction, traipsing around loud enough to spook all the little creatures into hushing up. He would need to scout ahead and see if there was a quick way around.
His first instinct was to just go and get it done, but this was a team, and he needed to maintain the sort of order and discipline the rest of these Dark Ops soldiers would expect, would thrive under. He thought back to his own time serving in the black armor.
Chhun.
Chhun was the guy who had a knack for moving quietly. He’d snaked his way through that corvette, making it all the way to the bridge without being detected, in spite of the fact that the zhee crew knew a kill team was on board. He’d also done some fancy maneuvering on Kublar, Gareppo, and countless other hot spots.
“Chhun,” Wraith called over the squad comm. “There’s a patrol up ahead of Sullus’s troops. They call themselves shock troopers.”
“How do you know that?” Fish asked.
“My guy on the Six—Garret—got me access to their comm system.” Wraith signaled for Chhun to come up to the front of column.
“That’s great! We need to get that information to the Republic,” Sticks said. “Maybe find someone in the city, link up with a squad of marines if there are any. Someone who can use it to better organize a resistance.”
“And we will,” agreed Wraith, “but not until after we’re done with what we came here to do. You get a tactical gift like this, you don’t spoil it by letting the bad guys know you can hear them.”
“All right,” Chhun said, reaching Wraith and looking into the jungle’s darkness, a darkness so thick that even the sophisticated night vision of their buckets couldn’t penetrate it. At least, not much of it. “Victory Squad, hold up here until Wraith and I have a look. If we can’t get around these guys, or they don’t move on, we’ll have to take them down with a whisper.”
“Oba, I hope they don’t move,” said Bear.
Wraith and Chhun pushed ahead, leaving the rest of Victory Squad hiding among broad-leafed plants in the inky black of the pre-dawn jungle. The pair moved with a speed that seemed impossible given how silently they went. Rifles at the low ready, they moved around and through the dense foliage, both men knowing from countless training exercises and personal experience where to plant each foot, and how to raise and lower their legs so that every step came down and spread out their weight evenly. They were utterly quiet.
Periodically, Wraith would open the S-comm to listen to the shock troopers. He figured six men on patrol, based on their conversations. It sounded like they’d come to a halt, and Wraith wondered if they hadn’t somehow heard them. His HUD wasn’t showing anything yet, which was good, because he had no way of knowing whether the enemies’ bucket tech was sophisticated enough for both sides to detect the other at the same time. And what then?
A copse of trees led the pair to a slightly elevated position. Neither man spoke. Chhun signaled for Wraith to stop moving, then swept his hand around to point out a position just beyond the thick trees. Wraith understood that Chhun saw—or at least thought he saw—the shock troopers through the forest. Wraith nodded, and the two began to crawl inch by inch along the jungle floor, hoping their synthprene and armor would fend off whatever bites the local nasties might have for them.
There were indeed six shock troopers, all of them taking a breather in a clearing. It was sloppily done. They sat in a semicircle like Space Scouts around a campfire. No sentry anywhere to be seen, unless a seventh man had climbed to the top of a tree. Wraith looked up at the trees scraping the starry sky. He saw no men, just flashes of light out in the beyond, lumbering giant capital ships fighting high above.
“Doesn’t look like they’re moving out any time soon,” Wraith whispered over L-comm.
“No, it doesn’t,” Chhun agreed. “And I can’t see a good route that would allow us to go around them.”
“Well,” Wraith said, starting to move forward, “KTF.”
Chhun reached out and grabbed Wraith’s arm. “Hold on. Let’s go back and get the team.”
“Listen,” Wraith said. “I’ve gotten pretty used to relying on one person: me. You’ve got at least two members on that team who seem to know how to KTF. Masters I know can go, and Bear seems to have a killer instinct. But you’re asking me to put my life in the hands of people I don’t know, in a situation that I do know I can handle alone.”
“They’re all professionals,” Chhun said, his voice betraying annoyance. “As good as any member since the team was founded.”
“No offense,” Wraith said, “but the clock is ticking. We don’t need the rest of the team. Get a bead on the one with the lieutenant’s stripes on his armor.”
“What’re you going to do?” Chhun asked.
“Kill the rest.”
Wraith crept down to the edge of the woods, then called out over his external comm: “Guys, don’t shoot, my S-comm is broken.”
The shock troopers grabbed their weapons and leveled them at Wraith, who still stood partly obscured in the trees. “Who are you? Identify yourself!”
“ST-30,” Wraith said, using the identification system he’d overhead on the S-comm. “I’m part of a detachment sent by Genera
l Nero. My S-comm is busted and I got separated from the rest of my squad. You know how unreliable these things can be.”
“Yeah, that’s the truth,” said one of the shock troopers.
Wraith had gotten the drop on them, but after years of practice, with Ravi giving him odds, he had come to realize that the real deadly surprises, the kind that allowed him to take down several men at once, came after that initial shock. When your opponent began to feel trust and ease, and the adrenaline spike in his system began to drop off… that’s when you hit them.
“You should ask him the challenge question,” one of the shock troopers said over S-comm, unaware that Wraith could hear every word.
“Yeah,” another answered, “but there’s a different one for Tarrago Prime… what was it? Oh, yeah. National.”
Wraith spoke up. “Oh, I know this is probably silly, but you guys need to answer the challenge question. Not that we’re not all shock troopers, but, you know. So… National…”
The second the shock troopers began laughing, Wraith clicked over to L-comm. “Now.”
Chhun’s blaster bolt flew out of the darkness, striking his man directly in the visor. Confused, the other shock troopers swiveled to Chhun’s point of fire as Wraith drew his blaster pistol. Five swift trigger pulls left the jungle deathly silent and the shock troopers just dead. Bones in buckets, never remembered again.
“Holy hell,” Chhun said, climbing down to stand with Wraith in the clearing. “I mean… holy hell.”
“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Wraith said of his own work. No—not Wraith. That was something Keel would say.
“Let’s get the team up here. We’ve got a shipyard to destroy.”
13
Bots the size of a purra bird hovered high above the trees, broadcasting a dual frequency. One, a visual feed to the Dark Ops leej controlling it, showing them exactly where they were painting a target. The other, a Legion-encoded beacon transmitting to a pre-designated Republic destroyer, in this case the Intrepid, telling it exactly where to send its orbital bombardment.
Sword of the Legion (Galaxy's Edge Book 5) Page 10
