Turning Point (Galaxy's Edge Book 7)

by Jason Anspach

  The last words of General Hannubal were, “Good man. He’s not getting through.”

  The speeder hit the dropship and exploded.

  24

  House of Reason Audience Chamber

  Utopion

  The House of Reason’s audience chamber was less of a chamber and more of a long hallway, lined with fifty columns on both sides, each rising from the floor and seeming to disappear into the night sky—into the universe itself, thanks to an ingenious holographic painting overlaid on the ceiling. The hall had been built in honor of the one hundredth planet to join the Galactic Republic, and the idea was that each planet had its own column, and together they “upheld” the galaxy itself. Polished marble, imported from no less than forty quarries on thirteen planets, gave the place a stately, almost regal feel.

  Many planets had joined the Republic since the time of the initial construction, and even after a millennium of hyperspace travel, there were still unknown or forgotten regions of space. Still places waiting to be explored or rediscovered. Cut-off branches of humanity waiting to be grafted back in. New species… potential answers to ancient mysteries. The hall evoked thoughts of all of this. It represented everything the Republic was to be. And though the Republic seemed to have sometimes lost the excitement that followed the Exploration, an excitement that even the Savage Wars hadn’t eradicated, sitting in the hall brought forth a reverence of everything that was and still could be.

  It was filled with reporters now, seated in opulent chairs fit for kings and queens. Here was every species the galaxy had to offer, with journobots wearing a patina of holographic skin to represent the species that couldn’t be bothered. The cameras wouldn’t know the difference. They spoke in whispers, none daring to violate the sanctity of the audience chamber. Their words of speculation, attempts to gain an edge over the competition, idle gossip, and earnest arguments all mixed and blended up to the holographic heavens, creating a sound like a thousand hourglasses spilling onto the marble floor.

  In front of the seats was an elegant, hand-carved podium on which sat an ornate lectern draped with the flag of the Galactic Republic. To the left and right of the podium sat lesser delegates of the House of Reason and Senate. They were unimportant. Their names had been recorded for the sake of the record, but no one seated in the gallery of reporters cared for what they might have to say.

  Call me when you become something, kid.

  No, the eyes were fixed beyond all that, at the far end of the hall. The distant double doors from which the speaker would emerge—that was what the Utopion insiders watched. Call it a conference, briefing, press release… the reality of the situation was that it was happening with no preceding leaks. Try as they might, no one invited had discovered anything. Sources weren’t being tight-lipped, they actually went on record to say they had no idea. None of the reporters knew what to expect. Still, whoever walked out of those doors would say volumes before they could utter a word.

  And then the doors opened, and the gallery of reporters erupted into buzzing voices as Delegate Orrin Kaar strode into the audience chamber. On one side of him was a Legion general; on the other was a yellow-skinned and horned kimbrin immediately recognizable as Loran Quall, the firebrand who had recently assumed control of the Mid-Core Rebellion. Quall walked as a free man.

  Behind this trio followed several zhee senators and the members of the House of Reason Security Council.

  Orrin Kaar arrived at the lectern, leaving the politically powerful entourage behind the podium, their faces still visible for the holocams as he began to speak.

  “Good evening.” His voice sounded weary, sympathetic, but firm and strong. There was no one in the House of Reason more suited to the task now being undertaken. “Tonight I am informing the Republic and the entire galaxy that a rogue element of the Legion has attacked, unprovoked, the Republic planet of Ankalor. They have dispatched Legion assassins to kill the members of the House of Reason. These assassins have been intercepted and detained, though not before some of their dark work was completed.”

  Kaar waited for the worried hum among those gathered to rise, just long enough to capture the sense of wonder while not losing control of the room. “Legion Commander Keller and a cadre of a treasonous elements inside our very government have revealed themselves through these actions and are now seeking to cover this unconscionable offense to the people of the Republic by invoking Article Nineteen.

  “The House of Reason and Senate will not be cowed by this poor faith attempt to justify the actions of some in the Legion. Murderers and traitors have no place in the Galactic Republic! For that reason, an emergency vote was held to remove Legion Commander Keller from his position as head of the Legion, replacing him with Legion General Washam, who was appointed by Delegate Nisa Flood more than fifteen years ago, and who has served the Republic faithfully ever since.”

  That the House of Reason had no authority to place or remove a Legion commander went unmentioned. This was to be the start of a new order.

  “Legion Commander Washam will oversee the purging of the Legion, and will coordinate with the Seventh Fleet to protect those planets threatened by the double-headed serpent of the treasonous soldiers inside the Legion and the Black Fleet, who we believe to be in league with one another.”

  Kaar’s face flooded with emotion, as though he were momentarily overcome. He turned and looked at the MCR leader, Quall, and nodded. The kimbrin nodded back.

  “Tonight, I don’t just bring tidings of war—I also bring news of peace. The decade-long rebellion against the Republic by members of the mid-core worlds has ended. The House of Reason has for months been in secret and extensive talks with representatives of the Mid-Core Rebellion. We found many of their complaints to be valid, grounded in the excesses of the Legion against the will of the House and Senate.

  “It is, I think, symbolic that only hours after a peace accord was reached, the rogue Legion sought to overthrow the Republic. Long have they grown fat on the trimmings of war, always eager for more appropriations through taxes levied against the Republic. Taxes that they collected with intense zeal, as our citizens in the mid-core and at galaxy’s edge know all too well. The MCR will be folded back into the Republic, and will commit its resources as a new branch of our military to resist those who would destroy our freedoms.”

  Kaar paused. The audience chamber was still, perfectly quiet. The tap of notes on datapads, the rustling in chairs, the whispered comments, had all ceased. Everyone in the chamber was sitting in rapt attention, and Kaar knew that the same was true of the rest of the galaxy.

  “To the galaxy I say this: The Republic will fight to halt this naked grab for power. We will stand for the principles of our Constitution. Together. There are those in the galaxy who believe that because they have power, because they have might, that frees them to do whatever they may desire. That it frees them to attack the citizens of Tarrago while they sleep. Frees them to invade a planet to and commit genocide against its native species, simply because they are not human.”

  Kaar shook his head. “The Republic says no. No to the Savage marines who sought to conquer the galaxy. No to the parade of lawless dictators who attempted to seize power for themselves at the expense of their citizens after the Savage Wars. No to the treasonous members of the Legion and their Black Fleet allies.”

  A spontaneous eruption of applause came from the gallery of reporters, politicians, guests, and aides. Kaar stepped back, feigning surprise at what was in actuality an unheard-of response on such an occasion. Of course, Kaar had known this would happen. Had positioned the right people to clap at the right time. He had them, as always, eating from the palm of his hand.

  “To our allies and citizens now feeling the hateful and wicked wrath of these enemies: You are not alone. Relief is already coming, and victory will be ours. Hold fast. Persevere. Resist the invaders. Protect your families, your loved ones, your fellow citizens, your homes. And, in so doing… the Republic itself.


  “The Republic does not relish the thought of war. Reason is the bright shining star that guides our pursuit of liberty.” Kaar paused and clenched his jaw. “But we are facing unreasonable men. I fear they have irrevocably set a course of bloodshed that those who love decency, equality, and peace in the galaxy must now follow.

  “Nevertheless, I have a glimmering hope. A hope in the basic decency found in all sentient species, from the windswept plains of Kublar at galaxy’s edge, to the shimmering crystals of Luthia in the mid-core, to the bright shining jewel that is Utopion. I hope that whoever we are, and wherever we are, a spark of compassion remains. Even among the Legion.

  “The Republic acts out of a compassion for the lives of all beings in the galaxy. We know too well the dreadful cost of war. Innocents will die, have died. To those legionnaires finding themselves under the treasonous command of former Legion Commander Keller, and to those oppressing their fellow citizens in labor camps at Tarrago, I say: Stand up to the tyranny inside your own ranks. Stand up! Stand for the Republic! Its Constitution, and the liberties of a free, united Galactic Republic!”

  The applause, not only inside the audience chamber, but in the House and Senate chambers where the speech was being simulcast, was deafening.

  ***

  X watched the speech from the comfort of his office on Utopion. So much had happened since his conversation with Legion Commander Keller and their subsequent meeting on the Mercutio—all properly clandestine. Such remarkable times.

  And Delegate Kaar was simply superb. X could appreciate a skilled politician. He hadn’t always been that way. During his time in the Legion, he had been of the opinion that politicians were good for nothing but the exhalation of hot air. That, coupled with their penchant for getting your men killed and maimed, had led him to despise that particular class of beings.

  But time and experience had proved to X the usefulness of the politician. Kaar’s speech was one such an example. Legion Commander Keller would be hard-pressed to top that. A Legion commander, or any general, really, was an instrument. A mind molded for battle. A lightning rod for military inspiration… but rarely did any of that translate to the public at large. The life of a career soldier was as far removed from that of the average citizen as Pusar was from its ninth moon.

  So now the galaxy would react to the information before it. The Black Fleet. The Republic. The Legion.

  And they would continue to react. The die was cast… but the game was still being played. And X… he would do what he’d always done. The dark, hard, nasty things that needed doing.

  “For the greater good,” muttered X before downing the last of his scotch.

  Bed seemed inviting—or at least, the sofa in his office that so often passed for one. He needed sleep. He hoped it would be dreamless.

  If it mattered anywhere in the cosmic scheme of things, X hoped the Legion would be successful. And everything he had done thus far, he believed, would help them. The galaxy needed to hear Kaar’s words. It was essential that those words be fresh in everyone’s minds—so that the truth the Legion would bring to light would come as a jolting surprise. Smelling salts to a sleeping Republic. The truth would win out. In time.

  But there would not have been enough time for Kaar’s words to come first had X not… delayed the assault on Ankalor. In the end, he’d saved more lives than he’d sacrificed to the zhee by warning Kaar of the pending attack. The Legion owed him a debt of gratitude. But X was no fool. He knew he’d be a dead man if they ever found out what he’d done.

  He stood up, sauntered to a window, and held open the blinds to look up at the sky, the stars. “Best of luck, old boys. It was for the greater good.”

  25

  First Expeditionary Legion Fleet

  Ankalor Orbit

  Admiral Ubesk got both messages at almost the same time. The base had been breached and legionnaires were commencing the search for Karshak Bum Kali—and General Hannubal’s dropship had gone down over the battlefield.

  An hour later CIC had a confirmed KIA on the general, and the Legion was interrogating a senior zhee HVT who was indicating the Grand War Leader wasn’t even on site.

  Legion Commander Keller was in on all of these conversations, but instead of taking immediate command as the senior-most official, he had elected to allow operations to continue along normal channels as he and his aide watched from the sidelines.

  Admiral Ubesk approached the two men. Colonel Speich stepped back a short distance but maintained his focus on the conversation that was about to happen next.

  “Sir,” began the admiral to the highest-ranking military officer in the Legion. “Here is the situation at present. Operations against Gibraltaar Base were successful, with fewer casualties than expected. But it’s looking like our target escaped—either during the battle, or shortly before. And, as you are aware, General Hannubal was killed during the operation when the zhee counterattacked the landing group.”

  There was a brief pause.

  Both men were offering not the full moment of silence they could give for all the dead, but at least a few seconds. It wasn’t that they didn’t respect their sacrifice, but at this moment, there just wasn’t time for any more. The dead would have known this too. The situation was developing, and events were about to get seriously out of hand.

  “Our most currently sourced intel believes our target is within the zhee slums that surround Ankalor City.”

  The CIC continued to hum and update all around them. There wasn’t a sense of accomplishment here—not with all the death, and even the loss of a general, a thing that did not happen every day—but there was a sense of success. The zhee had been smacked down. The base retaken.

  “There is also the matter of prisoners. We have…” The admiral consulted his tactical pad. “A few thousand captured zhee. Many of whom are wounded.”

  Still the Legion commander remained silent, watching the tactical maps. Waiting.

  “So…” continued the admiral. “I’m not the senior tactical commander here, nor am I suited to that work, sir. And in my opinion, we have accomplished at least half of our mission. We took the base. But we did not get our hands on the high-value target. We don’t have the resources to go after him into the slums, which are currently in full-scale revolt against the local Republic government. In other words… I’m a naval officer, sir. I take legionnaires to their targets so they can kill those targets. What do we do next? Sir.”

  Keller cleared his throat and stepped forward to a specific display showing the ground game around Ankalor City. He pursed his lips and rubbed his jaw.

  “I’m in command now, Admiral. I expect the zhee raiding fleet to return at any time, as do you. I’ll leave that section of the battle to you, but I’ll need the fleet to help pick up the legionnaires who went in on Hurricane, Sirocco, and Typhoon. If we can’t get them out of the sand and under their own power, then we’ll scuttle them where they lie.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ubesk replied. He sighed. “Today is the very definition of bad gone worse.”

  The Legion commander paused for a long minute. He watched the satellite real-time update of Ankalor City. The zhee were everywhere. Rioting in the streets. Burning vehicles. Storming police stations. Repub marines were under fire at the edges of the Green Zone.

  Finally, he spoke. “The day isn’t over yet, Admiral. We’ve got our best kill team on the ground. We’ll secure our objective.”

  ***

  Victory Kill Team

  Ankalor Slums

  The sun was bidding its farewell to Ankalor City, and Chhun and his men were still fighting. Nothing as intense as when they’d first arrived. The streets were considerably emptier now, and it was mostly a matter of taking and returning fire on pockets of zhee hunkered down under cover. This was when accidents happened. The blaster fire becomes mundane, your body grows tired, the adrenaline is blunted… this was when accidents happened if you didn’t force yourself to keep your attention on your surroundings and the task
at hand.

  “Keep sharp,” Chhun advised the team. “We’re almost done here.”

  Major Owens had checked in to provide the occasional status update. The primary Legion force was making progress and expected the fortress and its subsequent anti-air to fall before much longer. It had been a hell of a tough scrap, though.

  “Why don’t you let me take the long gun?” Masters was standing up from a blaster-scorched housing that led to the stairs. The team had been taking mandatory rests—one man at a time—in between zhee charges.

  All except for Chhun. He had remained glued in place, only ducking when the fire got so thick that his team had to wait for the big guns from the tanks and combat sleds to clear the streets of enemy combatants. Until the next charge. It seemed like the zhee were determined to stop the Legion, or die to the last trying.

  That was fine by Chhun.

  But he still needed rest. He could feel the strain on his eyes and on his mind from constantly looking, surveying. The relentless grind that came from too much time in the red zone, trying to keep himself and his team left of bang. He could play the badass. Mumble some line about sleeping when he was dead. But that was the sort of thing that made you dead.

  “Yeah,” he said, motioning Masters over with a tip of his head. “Sounds good.”

  The leej who had fought by Chhun’s side for years—who had been a kid when they’d first met, would always seem to be a kid to Chhun—hustled over, low and hard to kill. He flopped down and assumed the overwatch position, his hands checking the N-18 like a father inspecting a child returning from a long trip out of system. Let me have a look at you.

  Chhun moved to the covered position of the stairwell and slumped down, his back against the door. It felt so good to just… rest. To let his legs lie at ease, to relax his neck and aching shoulder muscles. To let his arms hang and stretch out his fingers.