Quell turned to where Kairos had passed and saw the ground apparently untouched, while Quell’s own boots sank deep into the soil. “No,” Quell said.
“I’m not stupid,” Chadic said.
“I didn’t say you were.”
Chadic shrugged and wandered over to the U-wing’s thruster nacelles. “My mom told me stories about these little maggot-things on Felucia that spent most of their life being blown around on storm winds. Sometimes ended up on the other side of the planet from where they started, but they’d always work their way back when it was time to breed. Brains the size of a thumbnail. Still found a way back.”
It was more oblique than Quell had come to expect from Chadic. After a moment she understood. “You think her people can navigate through hyperspace?”
“She got us here somehow, didn’t she?” Chadic asked. “Unless you want to credit the Force.”
It was Quell’s turn to shrug. She looked at Kairos, who watched the jungle. Quell tried to determine whether the woman looked like someone who’d returned to her homeworld at last.
She couldn’t tell. But Chadic wasn’t stupid, hard as that was for Quell to remember at times.
“I’d like to check the ship for supplies,” Quell said. “I don’t know what you’re planning but I’m fairly sure I spotted an orbital watch satellite on the way down—Imperial design. Probably tracking us, and we’ll need to eat if we travel.”
“I saw it, too,” Chadic said, in a tone that left Quell less than convinced. “But if there are Imps around, they’ll have a ship. Wouldn’t mind it being delivered straight to us.”
We’re not in a position to stage an ambush, Quell wanted to say. You’ve got a blaster, a bowcaster, and a prisoner to watch, and you’d be facing a well-equipped enemy who knows the terrain. But she thought of Chadic’s reactions to her aid aboard the U-wing and decided she didn’t care to set the Theelin off again.
She climbed into the cabin and began sorting through compartments, turning up a handful of ration bars, a medkit, and a compression bag full of glow rods, camping equipment, and a portable vaporator. She nearly gasped when she touched the vaporator, and shoved it into a pocket without looking again.
The memories of her crash landing in Cerberon were stronger than she’d expected.
“There are Imperials here,” Kairos said, returning to the U-wing as Quell emerged. “On the surface. A small outpost, not far.”
Quell looked to Chadic. Chadic shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Okay. Beats waiting around. We see if we can steal a ship from there.” She looked at Quell, narrowing her eyes. “If we can’t find one, assume I kill all your Imp buddies. You’re stranded with us. Can you repair the U-wing?”
Quell nodded carefully. “There’s fresh damage from the crash, but it’s pretty basic. We’d still need a new database for the navicomputer.”
“Keen. Fantastic.” Chadic kicked at the ground, sending a spray of dirt from under her toe. Next she turned to Kairos and asked, “Don’t suppose there’s anyplace we can get actual help down here? Maybe some friends of yours?”
“No,” Kairos said, and adjusted the strap of her bowcaster before setting off toward the cliff.
Chadic sighed, took half a step, then paused and drew her blaster. She turned to Quell and waved the weapon in her direction. “Try to run, I’ll shoot you. You know that, right?”
“I assumed,” Quell said, and they walked together into the jungle.
* * *
—
The jungle sloped gently upward, and Quell’s footing was frequently imperiled by slick stones or loose soil. Kairos led the way, trackless and prone to disappearing for minutes at a time; Chadic stayed close to Quell, grumbling whenever a mushroom steamed in the rose light or a birdlike warbling echoed beneath the canopy. Other sounds were more difficult to distinguish, and Quell couldn’t tell whether she was hearing the spitting and hooting of living creatures or the hum of electrified fronds.
She had to remind herself where she was by frequent drags of the moist air. The experience was too familiar, and she half expected to see Caern Adan trudging beside her.
“Don’t,” Chadic muttered.
Quell had been about to step over a boulder covered in crawling ocher moss. She kept her foot in midair, but Chadic was looking at her face; she finished the step, then frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I know. That’s the problem. You’re planning something, and I’m telling you—don’t.”
Chadic unholstered her blaster again and waved Quell farther in front of her. Quell followed instructions, hiking after the silhouette of Kairos.
“So what was it?” Chadic asked.
“There’s no plan,” Quell said.
“You can’t fight me—you’re a walking bruise already. You planning to poison me somehow? Send up a flare to the Imps?”
“There’s no plan.”
“You looked pretty blasted intent for someone not planning something.”
Quell stopped, squared her shoulders, and turned to face Chadic. The Theelin wore an ugly grin.
“I don’t want you dead,” Quell said.
Chadic flinched. Her grin disappeared, replaced by a tight, trembling frown.
Quell felt a mix of satisfaction and chagrin at having delivered a solid blow. The chagrin won out; she felt it crawl down her arms over bruises and cuts like an insect, and she rubbed it furiously away. “I was thinking about Cerberon,” she said, by way of conciliation. “It wasn’t a plan.”
Chadic waved the blaster again, not lifting it above her hip. Quell turned and resumed the walk.
“What about Cerberon?” Chadic asked.
You can talk about it, Quell thought to herself, or you can let her shoot you in the back.
It took her a while to decide. Finally she said, “When I made it off the Lodestar, Adan and Ito and I were stranded on a planetoid in the debris field. We had to hike from the crash site to find a way off. It’s hard not to think about.”
“That where they died?”
“Yes.”
Chadic was silent, though Quell could still hear boots crushing undergrowth and spattering mud. Eventually the Theelin said, “Guess you think you had it hard.”
“Sort of, yes.” Quell shrugged. She had no intention of sharing more details.
“Well—you’re obviously thrilled to see Kairos popped up alive and okay. Weirder than before, but basically okay. Since you asked about the rest of us, Wyl’s in charge now—you might’ve picked that up—and he and Nath ended up stuck on Troithe with the dozen or so people who survived Shadow Wing’s attack.”
That wasn’t me, she wanted to say. I didn’t want Shadow Wing on Troithe any more than you did. But it wasn’t the right time.
“What about Ragnell?” Quell asked. She wasn’t sure why she asked; she’d barely known the tattooed ground crew chief, even if she had liked her.
“Made it through, unlike most of the Lodestar. Or Meteor Squadron.”
Quell fell silent again. She’d wondered often what had happened after the Lodestar’s destruction. Hearing Chadic speak now was like peeling away a bandage to examine an infected wound—compelling and horrifying and painful all together.
Chadic paused, then added with a smirk Quell could hear: “I got to join a cult.”
“What?”
“Sure. You weren’t the only one stranded. I joined a cult. Children of the Empty Sun. You want to know what they teach?”
The wound lay plain in front of Quell; she couldn’t look away. “Sure.”
“Seeking peace through bureaucracy is a fool’s errand,” Chadic said, as if quoting, “so what does it matter whether it’s the Empire or the Republic—old or new—dropping bombs? The only true peace is found in the Force, and the Force is cultiva
ted through harmony and community and the vision of blessed individuals.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the whole war’s pointless and we should just shut up and do what our cult leader says and we’d all be happier. Probably true, at least for some of us.”
“But you’re out here.”
“Yeah. I’m out here,” Chadic said. “I’m out here, and my cult’s in Cerberon, and all the lectures they gave me are sitting in my B-wing with those freaking droids. Probably never going to get them back, either, thanks to you. I had a lot of stuff in that ship.”
There was a crashing noise from the tree limbs above. Quell flinched and saw a rock larger than her fist arc overhead, then fall to the dirt ten meters down the path. When the noise of the rustling leaves and the rock’s impact faded, she heard Chadic panting with the effort of the throw.
“I’m sorry you lost your things,” Quell said, and pushed sincerity into her voice, low and steady. She had enough to be sorry about. Adding one more item to the pile was easy.
She turned to look back at Chadic, who scowled and shrugged.
“It’s fine,” Chadic said. “I was thinking of getting a neural implant anyway. That way I can hear the stupid lectures all the time.”
* * *
—
The rose glow faded from the sky. The jungle grew louder as night fell, and distant chitters and clicks and chaotic melodies like the songs of woodwinds traveled on the humid air. Kairos’s movements became stiffer, and she often looked abruptly to either side. The woman was on edge but she answered none of Chadic’s questions. Quell didn’t bother asking.
“This way,” Kairos said, when they reached a rocky mound in the slope draped in moss and vines.
Quell didn’t understand at first, but she looked in the dim light to where Kairos stood and saw a gap in the rocks concealed by curtains of vegetation, large enough for a person to squeeze through.
“Where does it go?” Chadic asked warily.
“Under,” Kairos said. “Stealth is necessary. They will see if we cross above.”
“The Imperials?” Quell asked.
Kairos looked at her, unblinking. “Yes, and other things.”
Chadic and Quell activated the glow rods, and Kairos stayed within the sphere of her companions’ light as they crept inside. The tunnel was formed of hard-packed dirt and rock, and roots slithered down the walls and hung from the ceiling. They were forced to walk single file but, despite what she’d feared while contorting her body through the entrance, Quell was able to face forward as the cave progressed.
Stairs sculpted into the dirt wound downward until Quell was sure they were far underground. Where the stairs ended the tunnel was broader, and side passages led to dark alcoves. Kairos ignored these, leading them on at an unhurried pace. She never paused to study her surroundings or consider where to go, but she stepped more slowly than she had in the jungle and her head was bowed.
Quell initially mistook the splotches of color on the walls for natural growths. But as they traveled the splotches grew in size and complexity, described great whorls of yellow and red and white, and it became apparent they were the work of an artist. Intricate patterns of arcs and dots raced from floor to ceiling and, farther inside, crept out from the walls until only a narrow path remained unpainted. In the light of the glow rods the paintings were beautiful abstractions; in the shadows, in Quell’s peripheral vision, they took the form of faces and dancers.
They kept walking, and Kairos still did not pause as Quell saw columns coalesce in the darkness ahead. She thought they might be stalagmites, but they were neither tapered nor stone. As they drew closer, she saw they resembled humanoid figures, and she wondered if they were statues.
They were not statues. Strips of fabric like bandages and swatches of faded cloth hung off wooden stakes driven into the ground, tied together with rotting cords and stuffed with dirt so that the bundles retained humanoid shapes. Each of these effigies was loosely covered with a coarse and tattered cloak.
Resting on top of each stake, atop the swaddled dirt body, was a mask, each different in materials and design: Some were made from bone and decorated with leather or beads or dyed reeds, while others were clay or carved bark. One appeared to have been forged from bronze. The masks lacked eyes and mouths, but like the patterns on the walls hinted at expression when left in shadow.
Quell found herself motionless among the garden of effigies. Chadic, too, had stopped, leaning in to examine one of the masks. Kairos waited impatiently at the edge of their light.
“What are they?” Quell asked.
Chadic looked to Kairos. Kairos hesitated, then said, “Shells. Contaminated and discarded. Buried here, away from them.”
“Away from your people?”
Kairos didn’t look at Quell as she said, “Yes.”
Chadic raised the glow rod over her head, extending the light farther down the tunnel. Effigies continued to rise from the ground for another fifty meters, then disappeared. “Where are your people?” Chadic asked. “Can they help us?”
“No,” Kairos said, before turning away.
* * *
—
They grew tired and agreed to spend the night in the caves, making camp beyond the effigies and the painted walls. Chadic took the only thermal blanket, leaving Quell to wrap herself in the fabric of their unused tent. She would be cold, but she’d be able to sleep. They ate a meal in silence until Kairos—who’d refused a ration bar and sat staring down the tunnel—said, “I have been here before.”
Chadic laughed. The sound echoed in the dark. “Yeah, we figured that out.”
Quell smiled, too. Kairos looked uncomfortable but eventually spoke again. “The Imperial outpost. I was there, when they first came to the planet.”
Chadic crinkled the wrapper of her ration bar. She looked to Kairos with Quell and waited.
“It’s difficult,” Kairos said.
“It’s all right,” Quell said. “Take your time.”
“You don’t have the correct words,” Kairos said, almost hissing. “You should know, but it is—difficult.”
She jabbed her fingers into the dirt and began tracing designs in the muck. The patterns meant nothing to Quell, though Kairos worked with the diligence of a woman transcribing a message she knew by heart.
“There are two worlds,” Kairos said, not looking up. “There are the stars and there is this—the forest, the ocean, everything that is solid. Here, in this world, are the living, the people. My people. In the stars are all the things not solid and not of the world.
“I—among my people I was an emissary. My responsibility was to mediate between the solid world and the world of stars. I spoke for us to invisible beings of air. The Empire—it was not invisible, but it was from the world of stars. It called me shaman, but I do not know what that word means.”
Chadic crinkled the wrapper again then tossed it aside. Quell watched Kairos and listened, certain the woman would stop speaking if interrupted—or vanish altogether like a dream.
“I went to the outpost. We knew of the Empire, but I did not understand. It was my responsibility to mediate, but the Empire did not want this. They took me—”
Kairos continued drawing in the soil but her rhythm changed, delicate tracings alternating with harsh cuts. Her mouth opened and closed reflexively, and she said nothing.
“I know,” Quell said after a while. “They took you to a camp. Adan told me about it.”
Kairos closed her mouth and looked to Quell as if pleading.
“They interrogated you there.” Quell half closed her eyes, trying to remember. Adan had said Kairos had changed every time he saw her. “They experimented on you, because you were an unknown species. Is that right?”
Again, Kairos said nothin
g, and Quell interpreted the silence as agreement. Chadic was staring at Quell now, with a mixture of confusion and awe or disgust.
“You escaped together,” Quell said. She focused on Kairos but she said it for Chadic, who deserved to know. “You and Adan and Ito. There was another man, but you lost him, and the three of you escaped.”
One of Kairos’s hands went from the dirt to her own face—not touching, but cupping the shape of her chin. “You told me they died,” Kairos said. “How did they die?”
“They—” The memories hurt, and Quell had no desire to share the pain. Nor would doing so help Kairos. She told as much of the truth as she could bear. “We were in a shuttle that crashed. All of us were badly hurt, but Adan and Ito were in worse shape than me. They lingered for a while, we all tried to make it offworld, but—
“Ito went first. There was damage to its programming, and it experienced a cascade failure. It…tried very hard to save us,” she said. She wouldn’t speak about the droid’s betrayal, the way its gentle personality had been twisted. “Adan talked about you a lot—he was worried for you—and he was Adan but he gave me what I needed to live and didn’t ask anything in return.
“I stayed with him when he died. I was there for both of them.”
“His body?” Kairos asked.
“The black hole. I’m sorry.”
Kairos looked away. After a few minutes Chadic grumbled something and lay down and wrapped her blanket around her body. Quell stayed awake awhile longer, wondering what had happened between the droid and Adan and Kairos during the years after their escape—how much of Kairos’s vendetta against the Empire had been her own and how much had been developed out of obligation toward the others.
It didn’t matter, she supposed. Not really. And she was glad to be exhausted from the day so that she barely thought about Chadawa or about her team, or about the Emperor’s Messenger or Soran Keize or the secrets she could do nothing with now, there on a nameless planet far from the war.
* * *
—
Victory's Price (Star Wars) Page 26