Galactic Outlaws (Galaxy's Edge Book 2)

by Nick Cole

  And there was no other Legion.

  The Repub had all that, and many times over. The truth was, if the Repub decided to crush you, it could make that happen. Easily. Given time.

  All a hack of the defense grid would tell you was how it would happen to you.

  A cold thought ran through the old bounty hunter.

  It’s him.

  Hang out on the edge. Wait.

  Goth Sullus… whoever he is… it’s him. But only if you can remember who the “him” is.

  Haven’t you’ve known all along?

  Except I can’t remember what I know. I’ve lived too damn long!

  He charged through the room and down the access tube on the opposite side. He threw himself into the nearest stairwell, and looked up.

  High above, a robed figure was climbing up into the dark reaches beneath the roof.

  Rechs pushed himself, taking steps two at a time. Gasping for air. Blaster shots careened off the walls around him as he raced upward. He heard the sudden huuuusssh of a pneumatic portal and knew his target was through. He kept running anyway.

  By the time he reached the portal, they’d locked it. He checked the armor’s power and found it diminishing fast.

  He pulled his heavy blaster and fired at the door.

  Nothing.

  Beyond its barrier, the engines of a starship approached departure whine.

  He pulled his fragger and slapped it on the door. Pulled the pin and dropped back a few feet. It blew through to the other side in a sudden explosion of energy and heat. Rechs heard footsteps and glanced down. Fresh Republican legionnaires were swarming up the stairs after him.

  He was getting a very bad feeling about someone having hacked the defense grid. Take down that starship, he told himself. Stop this before it starts. Stop Goth Sullus before the galaxy catches fire again. Isn’t that why you’re out here? Isn’t that why you were waiting?

  Something unknown had decided to change the state of play in the galaxy. And for all its flaws, the Repub had this going for it: it was the known. It could be worked with. Propped up. But the unknown… well, that was just the point; it was unknown. Who knew what shape the galaxy might take next? There were nightmares, and then there were stark raving mad nightmares. Rechs had seen them out there on the edge, beyond the Repub. Nightmares that were all too real when power was in the wrong hands.

  He stepped through the smoking portal.

  The Siren of Titan was already lifting off from the platform. Rechs ran forward, firing at the most vulnerable spots on the ship’s belly, hoping desperately to bring the ship down. But none of his shots found their mark, and the ship hurtled off into the blazing orange twilight of Andalore. Within seconds it was a new star racing into the upper dark of the galaxy. Rechs watched it go.

  He heard the leejes below coming for him.

  His suit was low on power. He was low on ammo. And he was tired. But he would fight. He would probably fight until he died, which might be in the next few moments. But the Republic was in trouble—and he would do everything, as he’d always done, to protect it for just one day more.

  He heard them calling out corners and blind spots over the L-comm, itching to engage, and frightened to get to him.

  The Legion was coming for Tyrus Rechs.

  25

  “C’mon, keep up!” Keel called over his shoulder. He sprinted down a narrow alley outside the government park-scape sector, with only Ravi and the wobanki matching his pace. When he reached the intersection of alley and street, he motioned with his blaster for the catman to take cover behind a toppled dumpster.

  Keel peered around the corner into the street, then ducked back. “Four legionnaires,” he informed Ravi. “Just standing around. Probably stationed to close off the street.”

  The hologram twisted his mustache and looked back at the others, who were struggling to catch up. “Captain, you must slow your pace. The others cannot be keeping up. The princess is committed to the girl—who is just a girl—and Garret is hardly an example of athletic conditioning.”

  Left unsaid was the pondering pace of a war bot. They were built to kill, not for speed.

  “Yeah, well, if they don’t get going I’m going to leave ’em.”

  Ravi frowned. “The girl lost her parents. You are not suggesting to abandon her?”

  Keel stole another look at the legionnaires, then leaned against the wall and checked his blaster’s charge pack. “Galaxy is full of orphans, Ravi. They’re not all my problem.”

  “Yes, but the money promised by Tyrus Rechs requires that she become your problem.”

  Keel rolled his eyes. “Hey, Skrizz. You have any idea your fossil of a partner was rich?”

  The catman gave a negative hiss.

  “But you think he’s good for it, right?”

  The wobanki mewed uncertainly, then growled in quick, hushed tones.

  “Not my fault you didn’t negotiate before joining up.” Keel turned back to Ravi. “All right, I’ll move more slowly. Too many credits to leave on the table. I got an idea.”

  Leenah arrived, holding Prisma by the hand, both of them out of breath.

  “I want to be with Crash!” Prisma whined. The girl had clearly taken a liking to the pink-skinned princess, but that didn’t stop her from constantly looking over her shoulder at the war bot.

  “Too bad,” Keel said bluntly. “That bot is a magnet for blaster fire. You move through the streets with it, and you’ll join the rest of your family.”

  “I don’t care. We’re in this together,” Prisma said, sticking her chin out defiantly.

  “And I do care,” Keel said, bending down to look Prisma in the eye. “I’m making a lot of money to keep you alive. You can be stupid and die on your own time. Besides, I need the bot for…” He stood up. “Why am I arguing with a kid?”

  Leenah placed a protective hand on Prisma’s shoulder. “We’re moving too fast for Prisma.”

  “Yeah,” Garret agreed, joining them. He was practically gasping for air. “For me too.” The war bot arrived right behind him.

  The coder really is out of shape if he can barely outrun a war bot, Keel thought.

  “I’ve got a solution,” he said. He put on his helmet, becoming Wraith again. “Everyone, hide your weapons and hold out your hands like this.” He held out his arms in front of himself as if they were manacled. “Except you, uh, Crash.”

  The entourage followed his command. They tucked weapons inside jackets and waistbands and pantomimed being captured.

  Keel motioned for his navigator. “Ravi, use your TT-3 bots to project ener-chains over everyone’s wrists.”

  In moments, holographic restraining cuffs were superimposed over the wrists of Prisma, Garret, Skrizz, and Leenah.

  “I am believing I know what you intend,” Ravi said, taking on the appearance of a prisoner and causing ener-chains to appear around his own wrists.

  “Good,” Keel said. “Follow me. Crash, you bring up the rear. Keep your blaster pointed at the wobanki, but don’t shoot him. Unless I say.”

  Skrizz growled a warning.

  “Relax,” Keel said. “It’s a joke.”

  Keel strode into the street, moving in the practiced, disciplined steps of a legionnaire. His train of prisoners followed, their heads down, with Crash clomping along in the rear.

  Keel held up a hand. “You four!”

  The legionnaires turned, startled.

  “Who’re you?” asked a leej with sergeant chevrons.

  Keel used his helmet to link into the L-comm system for direction communication with the legionnaires. “What does it look like, Leej? I’m dark ops.”

  “We weren’t briefed that dark ops would be planetside,” another leej answered.

  “Well, that’s the trick,” said Keel.

  “We need some sort of code clea—“

  Keel sent a burst transmission over IR wave directly to each legionnaire’s helmet. It displayed on their HUDs as an all-black clearance level, al
ong with a rank and a call sign: Wraith.

  The legionnaires instantly stood straight as lasers. “Sorry, sir.”

  “So here’s the situation,” Keel said, ignoring the apology. “My team is engaging with Brotherhood mercenaries, but their leader, Tyrus Rechs, is giving them hell. This is Rechs’s crew. I’m under real-time orders directly from the Senate council to get them off planet and back to the capital. You four are my new escort.”

  “Even the kid?” asked the sergeant.

  “Whatta you care, Leej?” Keel shot back. “She yours?”

  “We have orders from the sector colonel to keep this street clear.”

  Keel shook his head. “Consider them countermanded. And you’re welcome for that. Points are out there making such a mess of things, they’ll probably forget you’re here and call in a buzzship strike on your position.”

  One of the legionnaires stepped forward. “I happen to be appointed as a second lieutenant by the House of Reason and—”

  “Then your men know exactly what I’m talking about,” Keel interrupted. “Let’s move.”

  He walked on, sure that each legionnaire would fall in line without further complaint. They did, flanking the prisoners, two legionnaires on either side.

  The “prisoners” played their parts perfectly, watching their shoes without speaking.

  “Uh, sir?” asked one of the legionnaires over the L-comm.

  “What is it, Leej?” Keel was brusque, but not so much as to make the soldier feel small for talking.

  “Is that a… war bot behind us?”

  Keel made a show of turning around, as if to see exactly which war bot the legionnaire was speaking about. “Oh, yeah. It won’t bother you if you don’t bother it.”

  They had traveled to within a click of the docking bays when the call came over the L-comm. “Spiral Company, this is Major Bex. Our L-comm system has been compromised by an unknown source. The Intrepid will be re-linking your comms in thirty. However, I need to warn you all that a Savage Wars-era war bot has been positively identified with our primary target. Be warned. Be advised. Spiral-1 out. KTF.”

  The legionnaires stopped in their tracks, and the prisoners stopped with them.

  Keel turned slowly to face his hijacked escort. “Probably another bot,” he said. “This one is part of my team. Right, war bot?”

  “I serve the Republic,” Crash thundered in its terrible voice.

  “See?” Keel said. He hoped that would be enough to do the trick.

  The legionnaires stood in silence for several moments. Then in unison they brought their N-6 blaster rifles to bear on Keel.

  “Why didn’t you answer us over the L-comm?” asked one of the legionnaires over his external helmet speaker. “It just switched, and you’re not answering our hails.”

  “Well, boys,” Keel said, subtly digging his heels in. “I didn’t come in on the Intrepid, did I?”

  “Dark ops or not,” said the point lieutenant, moving toward Keel, “we have to check this out and detain you until Rep-Int clears you.”

  “I understand completely,” Keel said. He thumbed the switch on his bullpup for maximum discharge. The way the leejes were standing, he might get another two-for-one.

  “Fourteen percent,” Ravi said, drawing a look from the legionnaire closest to him.

  Fourteen percent? There was no way these legionnaires, unknowingly surrounded by a hostile crew and a war bot, would stand that good of a chance. Unless…

  Keel turned around slowly. A platoon of Republic Army basics, accompanied by a pair of combat sleds, was moving down the street toward him.

  Ravi’s odds made a bit more sense now.

  “Yes, I do understand,” Keel said, relaxing his posture. “But I can’t allow any diversions with regard to these prisoners. I’ll go with you, and the bot can come, too. But can a couple of you at least take this bunch to the docking bay? I’ve got a jump shuttle on standby.”

  The legionnaires must’ve been discussing over their private comm, because Keel heard no immediate answer.

  “Prisoners,” Keel barked. “Move to the opposite side of the street.” He pointed to the side of the block closest to the spaceport docking bays.

  Leenah hurried Prisma to the side, and Skrizz and Garret did likewise.

  “Hey!” the legionnaire point protested.

  Ravi stood motionless in the street. Keel nodded at him. Ravi nodded back.

  “Oh, no!” Keel shouted in mock surprise. “That one has a sword!”

  From out of the folds of the universe, a great, gleaming khanda sword appeared in Ravi’s hand. The navigator held it over his head and lunged toward the legionnaires as Keel bolted to join the rest of his crew.

  At first, it was as though the threat registered in the legionnaires’ minds. They just stood dumbly as Ravi whirled toward them. The hologram brought his sword down on the legionnaire closest to him, slicing through the man’s reflective armor as if it were made of vapor paper.

  The legionnaire screamed and fell at Ravi’s feet.

  This awoke the other leejes. They fired in unison at Ravi, but their blaster bolts passed harmlessly through him. One of the blasts struck a fellow leej square in the chest and sent him to the ground.

  The hologram-projecting TT-3 bots flamed out and fell to the ground like swarthflies crisped by a ’sect zapper as blaster bolts cooked them in passing.

  Keel waved for his crew to duck into another alley. “Let’s go! Straight for the ships! Don’t stop running! Carry the kid if you have to!”

  “Wait!” Garret protested. “The TT-3s! He’s still fighting—something’s—how?”

  “Ponder the deep questions another time,” Keel screamed, pushing the coder square in the shoulders to get him moving.

  Ravi whirled his sword over his head and disarmed his foes with a single great arc. Blaster rifles clattered to the ground, and the two surviving legionnaires held their hands in shock.

  “You should run,” Ravi advised. “Your lives are more precious than your training would suggest.”

  The platoon began to move down the street rapidly, but didn’t fire—probably for fear of hitting the two surviving leejes.

  Two blaster bolts flashed from Keel’s side of the street, each one taking down a legionnaire.

  Ravi turned to his captain. He looked as if he wished to protest Keel’s shooting of the legionnaires, but knew Keel wouldn’t hear it.

  “Crash!” Keel shouted at the war bot. “Buy us some time against those basics!”

  “Acknowledged,” the bot bellowed in a voice so low and awful that it seemed to make the ground shake.

  The bot raised its arm and sent a thick shower of blaster fire into the ranks. Basics fell backward and forward under the deluge, some returning ineffective fire, others scrambling for the relative cover of porch stoops and alleyways.

  Dat-dat-dat! The combat sled opened up its heavy twin blaster cannons. The shots ripped up the cobblestone streets and flew through Ravi. One hit the bot in its armored breastplate, causing it to take a stumbling step backward to keep from falling.

  A high-yield, small-package missile emerged from a compartment on Crash’s shoulder. The missile launched with a whoosh and a trail of gray smoke. It sped toward the combat sled and impacted just beneath the front repulsor. The explosion sent the sled flipping into the air and sent pieces of soldiers flying in all directions.

  “Ordnances expended,” the war bot announced. These machines packed a hell of a punch, but one punch was all they had until a supply team could re-arm them for further combat. “Awaiting orders.”

  “Run!” Keel yelled.

  The captain quickly caught up with his crew. Skrizz was kneeling behind a dumpster chute, laying down covering fire for Keel. Keel took cover, then shot at the pursuing soldiers so Skrizz could move forward to the docking bay. “Get to your ship!” Keel shouted.

  But the catman stayed put. He blathered in his yowling tongue and held up a remote call cylinder.
>
  “Surefire way to get your ship shot down,” Keel said. “I don’t care how sophisticated your AI.”

  Ravi was walking calmly toward Keel, which was good. The basics continued to fire at the hologram, no doubt wondering why they never seemed to get a clean hit. It kept those blaster bolts from sizzling around Keel’s head, which was just fine with Aeson Keel.

  The bot lumbered forward to join the captain and the wobanki, sounding like it cracked the streets with each heavy footfall. Still programmed to participate in the fire-move-fire retreat, it merely stopped and announced, “Ordnances expended.”

  “Yeah, I know.” A blaster bolt hit the wall just above Keel’s head, sending mason debris and sparks showering down. “Stay here and do what you can to get Skrizz on his ship.”

  Keel turned to the wobanki. “She coming in to land in the intersection behind us?”

  Skrizz growled an affirmative.

  Keel nodded. “Okay. We’ll link up in orbit and share jump coordinates.”

  The wobanki growled a question at Keel.

  “No,” Keel said, rising to his feet. “She comes with me. A little insurance to make sure Rechs pays his debts. I’d take you, but the old fossil seemed more interested in her well-being than yours, no offense.”

  Skrizz yelped that none was taken, and continued firing as Keel sprinted the remaining distance to the Indelible VI.

  26

  Keel ducked his head as the ramp of the Six closed behind him. He tossed his helmet onto the deck and moved toward the cockpit.

  “Everyone strap in, this is gonna be tricky!” he shouted—then stopped short when he saw that all of them were already secured in their jump seats, even the little girl. “Oh, good.”

  “Where’s Crash?” Prisma demanded. Her tone was impetuous, though her voice was tiny. Like a rich girl demanding an answer from her servants.

  “He’s helping your cat get on board the old man’s ship,” Keel said, shedding layers of armor as the Six’s pre-flights ran in the background. Ravi, he knew, would have jumped his intelligence onto the ship, likely leaving behind whatever TT-3 bots remained.