Turning Point (Galaxy's Edge Book 7) Read online

  “And ten of those new battle cruisers the navy didn’t tell anyone they were developing… they gave the zhee those too. Specifically to their new war leader… Karshak Bum Kali.”

  Now Keller clamped his lips tight. His eyes smoldered like smoking hot coals.

  “The House of Reason is hedging their bets, Commander,” said X finally. “And they’re betting against the Legion.”

  After a long pause during which Keller bored holes into the face of the unconcerned old man across from him, he finally muttered through clenched teeth, “Proof?” Even though he knew that everything this man was saying was true. Knew that they, the perpetual high and mighty scumbag lizards of the House of Reason, would do something like this. Something exactly like this.

  X reached into his tweed jacket and produced a memory device. He handed it to Keller, who passed it to Colonel Speich. Speich began the process of unlocking the file on his personal device.

  Keller returned to staring at X like he wanted nothing more than to murder the old man. But his gray eyes were somewhere else. Murdering someone else.

  Murdering many someone elses, most likely, thought X. Possibly even the entire body of the House of Reason.

  “It’s time,” said X softly. “Legion Commander.”

  Keller came back as if from far away. Suddenly seeing X again.

  They shoot the messenger, thought X briefly. They always shoot the messenger, don’t they?

  And then he dismissed that thought because it wasn’t true. It just felt that way all the time.

  “Time for what?” Keller asked.

  “Article Nineteen.”

  Keller didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t show the slightest bit of surprise. Because the old man sitting in front of him was right.

  “You have six months. It’s not impossible. But it can be done,” X continued.

  “In the middle of a hot war?” Keller seethed.

  “Actually,” said X brightly with a brio that seemed almost whimsically insane. “That’s the perfect time. You’ll be the saviors on the other side of this.”

  “According to the Nineteenth,” Keller said, “we would have only six months to arrest, try, and adjudicate the House of Reason. If we reach a guilty vote based on a judgment of Failure to Lead, then we have to hold elections immediately. We do not have the full weight of the Republic Navy, we have no support from the civilian or governmental leaders, and we’re scattered across the galaxy—mainly across the Tarrago sector—fighting a war against a new enemy that’s put up the stiffest fight we’ve faced since the Savage Wars. What you’re suggesting may not be impossible, but it might as well be.”

  “It’s not impossible,” murmured X once more. “You just need to make an opening move that scares the living daylights out of your enemies. Let’s them know you mean business, Commander. Serious business. They’ll scatter, which works best, or they’ll fight. Which allows you to destroy them en masse. But to do that you’ll have to go—and this is an old myth from the Earth stuff if you believe all that—but they used to have a saying back then: You will have to go Roman.”

  Commander Keller knew exactly what that phrase meant. Better than X did.

  Colonel Speich handed his personal device across the aisle to the commander. Keller took it and studied it grimly for a moment. The look on Speich’s face was pure doom. And a sickly one at that.

  After a moment Keller lowered the device to his lap, as though it were forgotten, unimportant now that its terrible secrets had been witnessed. He looked at the old man known as X and knew at last with whom he was actually dealing.

  “What do you propose?” he asked.

  And that stunned X for a bit—though the old spy didn’t show it. He hadn’t expected the Legion commander to reach the conclusion/realization the man had just reached—at least, not for a few more days. Which showed, in that moment, that Keller was the right man for the moment. This moment. The right man to lead the Legion through its Constitutional duty to take control of the Republic and restore the democracy.

  To start a Constitutional crisis. And finish it.

  X gathered himself as though some cold wind had passed by and chilled him to the bone. Then he said what needed to be said and what needed to be done. What would be done, regardless of the consequences.

  “It’s time go Roman on the zhee, Commander.”

  03

  Super-Destroyer Mercutio

  Hyperspace

  The trim and fit young Legion captain who was to give the briefing on the tactical overlay of Fortress Gibraltaar on Ankalor, a zhee homeworld, stood in the shadows, waiting for the general officers to take their seats at the front of the briefing room. There was only one holographic projection; Keller wanted to look these men in the eyes. Only Major Owens, who was still involved with the situation at Herbeer, was represented by hologram. Keller would inform Owens of his promotion as the top leej in Dark Ops once he saw the man in person.

  Aides gathered in the back with tablets and comm. A moment later Legion Commander Keller, in fatigues, stepped forward and addressed them.

  “Gentlemen,” he began. “What we have long suspected might happen has finally happened.”

  He said this in a matter that was blunt and terse and underwhelming. There were no dramatics, no histrionics, no hyperbole or gravitas. None of those things were ever present when legionnaires spoke to one another at any level. It had been trained out of them in favor of truth in communication. It was truth over all else, in general. And every commanding officer present today was a true legionnaire—not some point who’d been foisted on them by the ever-wheedling, ever-boundary-pushing House of Reason and all their endless functionaries.

  So this secretive little briefing room deep in hyperspace was a place of truth. There wasn’t room for anything else. There wasn’t time left for anything else. Words meant what they meant. Which was a phrase they’d learned all the way back in basic training, and learned again in Legion Command and Staff. The galaxy and the House of Reason might play their endless word games, changing meanings to fit the current agenda, or political want, but not the Legion. Here… words meant what they meant. And truth reigned supreme.

  “The Grand Council of the House of Reason,” continued Keller, “has armed the zhee with a base and ten warships. This came to us three days ago via a confirmed friendly Nether Ops source. It was verified by operators on the ground within twenty-four hours. Obviously the House of Reason is anticipating that we will either be destroyed fighting the rebels calling themselves ‘the Empire,’ or they intend to betray us once and for all by using the zhee at a crucial moment to free themselves of the Legion and the threat of Article Nineteen.”

  Keller paused and stared at all of them. Giving each a moment to digest the information he’d just delivered. “Given what we know about their clandestine treatment of legionnaires in the synth mines of Herbeer, I believe it to be the latter.

  “Now, if you will all check your devices, you will see that you are receiving a blue book file that was part of your curriculum at Legion Command and Staff. But this is not a training exercise. I repeat that as per SOP. This is not a training exercise. It is a formal request by the current Legion commander, myself, to the required amount of serving general officers, to implement an Article Nineteen vote. The relevant information fields have been filled in within the blue book, and you may now review the charges brought against the House of Reason.”

  Keller folded his hands and stepped back.

  If even one of them voted against him, he would be arrested by the rest and turned over to the Republic for trial, facing charges of sedition and seeking to overthrow the government. That was the safety check. Any general officer included in the vote could stop the process. And the perpetrator.

  It was also part of the reason why the House of Reason pushed so many points to the rank of general.

  On screen behind Keller a pending quorum vote tally appeared in ghostly holographic numbers that swam across the br
iefing room wall. Both options—“assent” and “do not assent”—were now at zero.

  For the next ten minutes a quiet tension filled the room and only the sound of the devices being tapped at could be heard as the generals reviewed the charges on the tablets below their stern faces. Halfway through the ten minutes, X, who was lurking in the back behind the aides, lit his pipe and puffed it to life.

  Then the votes came in.

  Assent.

  Unanimous.

  Keller felt a wave of relief, though he’d never truly believed these men would deny him. For a long quiet moment the weight of what had been decided fell over the room. There was no turning back. The die had been cast.

  Keller stepped forward once more to the briefing podium.

  “I will arrange the arrests with Major Owens and begin a formal impeachment process of the Council. I’ll take the Fourth and Twelfth Legions to take Utopion. I intend to implement martial law without much fuss. The House will be too busy running to stir up much trouble. And after Tarrago, their polling is at an all-time low. So, Urco and Moss, you’re with me. Signal your legions to prepare for rapid deployment once naval units loyal to us have formed the new Legion fleet.”

  The two generals nodded at their commander.

  “Moving on,” Keller said, as he stepped back to allow the generals to watch the presentation he’d prepared to accompany the next bit. “At present many of our allied naval commanders are scattered across the edge. We’ll recall them to Cononga to begin loading the bulk of the Legion for sustained operations once we’ve secured the capital, and then to deal with this new threat at Tarrago. We can’t hit the latest rebel of the month until we clean up our own back yard. Once the delegates are arrested, the rest of the navy will have to be vetted, and that done quickly.

  “Of course, we expect the House of Reason to form a government-in-exile and attempt to declare invalid our Constitutional right to take control of the Republic for six months. So we’ll have two forces working against us at once. The Black Fleet will be seeking advantage during the chaos of regime change, and the House of Reason will be seeking to arm unreliable factions—such as the zhee and the MCR—to use against us.

  “Therefore we must send two clear messages, at the same moment we take control and arrest the House of Reason. First, that the Legion is in control of the Republic—and second, that a new level of harshness is in effect.”

  The strategic display of the galactic political situation was replaced with the simple title of the operation: Turning Point. The letters hovered in an ephemeral ghostly white, belying the permanency they implied.

  “This will be our message to the citizens, and enemies, of the Republic, gentlemen. The Legion is in control. And we will restore the Republic to good governance, whatever the cost. And to convey that message… we are going to make a very dire example of a threat to every law-abiding species in the galaxy.”

  ***

  The briefing ended, and the five generals whom Keller had appointed as the Legion’s governing council in lieu of the House of Reason moved on to the next meeting in Keller’s personal quarters, adjacent to his office.

  The mood was somber as the other generals returned to their divisions and commands, bearing the unseen burden of what had been agreed upon. And of what would be required. They had either committed treason, or they were saving the Galactic Republic. The history that would be written in the years to come would judge them. That was the only thing that was truly known.

  Inside the private conference room, Colonel Speich assured the generals they had total EM security. Then this second meeting began.

  “Our next step is to divvy up the work that needs to be done regarding arrests, trials, and a new election,” began Keller. “But before we get to that, and the security plan to deal with this new menace known as the Black Fleet—I know what they’re calling themselves, but they damn sure didn’t earn the title of ‘empire’—we need to agree on the opening move. I’ve decided to send a message to both of our foes, and to the galaxy in general. It will be extremely harsh, but in the end it will save more lives than it costs. Of that, I’m sure. This will be total war.

  “We’re hitting our new base on Ankalor. The Republic finished construction of Fortress Gibraltaar ahead of schedule, and instead of allowing the Legion to take possession of it as planned, they turned it over to the donks—I mean, the zhee.” He stopped. Article Nineteen freed him from a lot of the House of Reason’s word games, including the slippery game of political correctness. Donks. He began again. “Most of our companies are involved in current combat operations in various minor conflicts. But we have three legions destined for other hot spots that can be reassigned and ready to move within the week. We’re forming a new corps and folding all three legions, along with some other stolen, borrowed, and begged assets, into a combined arms assault force transported by three assault carriers. What we need to determine is who will command the corps and lead the operation against Fortress Gibraltaar. I’ll take suggestions from you now.”

  The generals shifted and reviewed their choices. It was General Rohm who threw out the first names like he was showing two pairs and jack.

  “Top of the list is Hannubal. Then Samax. And of course… me.”

  “Need you for Utopion, Rohm,” said Keller without the slightest trace of apology.

  “Hannubal is daring, but he wouldn’t be my first choice at all,” said General Daeros. “But… he also might just be the right leej for the job. He’s damn sure bloodthirsty enough. No question there.”

  Keller nodded.

  And on it went. There were other suggestions from other generals. But in the end the consensus was General Marcaius Hannubal.

  The Bloody Wolf.

  “Then it’s agreed,” said Keller. His voice somehow filled the quiet room with a sense of understated gravity that made the reality of what they were doing come home to all of them. “I’ll appoint Hannubal to the rank of Praetorian general and give him command of the task force I’ve assembled. He’ll lead the assault with the order to wipe out Fortress Gibraltaar. He is to make an example of the zhee taking up arms against us, and to serve notice to the galaxy that the Legion does not play House of Reason games. When we go to war… it is total war. It is actual war. There are no boundaries, no conditions. No lines we will not cross in order to achieve not just victory… but conquest.”

  He made eye contact with every general. They assented with bare but sure nods.

  “Moving on…”

  ***

  When the planning for the implementation of Article Nineteen was complete, Keller left for his private office. Marcaius Hannubal was already waiting in a chair, staring out the window at the passing light show that was hyperspace.

  Out there, thought Keller as he moved to his desk, the entire universe was speeding by. And it was a different universe than the one he had awoken to this morning. The members of the House of Reason had no idea that their entire galaxy had just changed in the space of a few hours. Even now they were still playing their games. Thinking they were comfortably secure.

  General Hannubal stood as Keller entered, then sat when the Legion commander took his seat at his desk and bade him do likewise. Colonel Speich hovered invisibly nearby.

  “I trust Speich has briefed you so far, Marcaius?”

  Hannubal nodded. He was a young man. Or rather on the older side of young. Thirty-nine. He’d come up through the Legion officer corps fast as an infantry platoon leader—on Ankalor, incidentally. Then as a heavy infantry company commander. A special warfare team leader as a major, and then off to Command and Staff up through to general. He was daring. He had five misconduct charges, all dismissed, all filed by point officers at various episodes in his career. But of course every real legionnaire had some of those.

  He had been lucky. Avoiding the quagmire of missed promotions by the point system.

  He was bloodthirsty. Or at least that was the always-whispered rumor about him ever since th
e bloodbath at Haclydion.

  Haclydion had been a bad conflict no one wanted any part of. A planet that couldn’t govern itself due to bad tribal alpha politics, constantly appealing to its patrons in the House of Reason to put down any rebel uprising its mismanagement had caused.

  Some years ago, the Legion was sent in to put down a particularly nasty MCR-driven insurgency that was trying to put in power a rebel leader worse even than the corrupt President for Life currently running the planetary economy into the ground and looting its treasuries and natural resources to boot. The legionnaires were getting needlessly killed on long pacification patrols out in the bush, and they were constantly prevented from hitting the MCR base because it lay within the boundary lines of a sympathetic tribal district. Tired of this, Brigadier General Hannubal—though this was never proven—assembled an ad hoc strike force of legionnaires not in armor or kit, marched them three days through disease-infested jungle, climbed a mountain, came down the other side, and wiped out the MCR base on the sly, leaving no survivors and making sure that every body was decapitated. The base turned out, in retrospect, to have been supplying IEDs and weapons to the rebels. The ad hoc strike force then returned back over the mountain, back through the disease-infested jungle, and reached the Legion base within the week. All of this was accomplished while the whole strike force was supposedly on leave after a rotation in from the field. An IG review showed that no armor or leej weaponry had been used in the strike.

  Video footage acquired by the rebels the day after showed the remains of a bloody massacre at the MCR base. Within days, the rebellion died off, and MCR recruitment dropped sharply once most everyone realized they did not want to be as badly massacred as those who had been well behind enemy lines, in a secure and fortified position, had been.