Except time moved faster, too—faster than his hopes. He reached her too late, just as he’d been too late to save Master Billaba. The Force had been too late for many that day. But it was with him now, as he slid to the floor by Hera’s side. Hera, knowing the danger she was in, put her hand up as if to shoo him away, to safety. Kanan looked instead upward, waving with his hand—
—and suspending the giant catwalk in midair, centimeters from his and Hera’s heads.
She stared at it, dumbfounded—and then at him. Self-conscious, Kanan shoved at the air, pushing the levitated mass off to the side. It landed with a colossal crash.
Forager shuddered again under the Imperial attack. The view outside was a thing of perversely wondrous beauty, he thought: flashes of light before the moon as the starfighters made their runs. But it all paled before the look he saw here in the darkness, in Hera’s eyes.
“But—” she started to say. “But you’re—”
With a wry smile, Kanan put his finger to her mouth. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”
She looked at him for a long moment in wonderment before understanding came to her—and a gentle smile came to her face. She nodded. “Let’s go.”
The life pod soared from Forager. Kanan hunched over the small circular viewport and looked back at the collector ship. Several other small pods were jettisoning away, he saw—and the Empire was watching every one.
“TIE fighter on our tail,” he said.
“We don’t have a tail. We barely have an engine.” Hera guided the small stick directing the vehicle. It was about the only control she had. “I think the TIE’s just following.”
“I know.” There wasn’t anything to do. Kanan turned from the viewport and returned to dabbing gingerly at Zaluna’s burnt face with a bacta-infused pad from the medpac.
Ultimatum was still pounding away at Forager; as soon as it finished, Kanan knew it would likely begin sweeping up all the life pods. Sloane would be looking for Vidian, but she’d find Kanan and company instead.
“You still can’t see?” Kanan asked Zaluna.
“There’s nothing good to see anyway,” she replied.
Vidian waded through a river of acid. It was everywhere on the factory portion of Forager: ankle-deep in some places, waist-high in others. It was destroying the flooring, and had already eaten into the bulkheads below; he anticipated explosive decompression at any minute.
The crossing had started as a panicked mechanical run—and then slowed to a hideous slog as his legs wasted away to skeletal struts. His arms had been further damaged, too, in the trip. There had been no other choice, no other way to his destination.
He’d remembered something. The intruders had come in a baradium hauler. It was intact, he saw through the few still-functioning surveillance cams: ready to go. He would use it, eschewing the one-trip life pods. The freighter might be lost in the confusion, he hoped; he might be able to make it to one of the drill sites on Cynda, where there was still time to detonate the explosives and meet the Emperor’s quota. He would find a way.
This was Baron Danthe’s doing, somehow. It had to be. It was impossible to imagine a few would-be rebels and a substitute captain could’ve reduced his reputation and career to shambles. Detonating the moon, he was sure, would restore him—between the moon and the sunward side of Gorse, the Emperor would have thorilide for a thousand fleets.
And if it didn’t, the freighter still had hyperdrive and a full cargo of baradium-357. That was an important resource, and something to build upon someplace else if necessary. He had come back from nothingness, before. Perhaps it wouldn’t take twenty years this time.
But he wouldn’t have to do that. He would finish the project.
Vidian staggered on failing limbs into the landing bay. The place was a mess of fallen beams and bulkheads—but the troublesome freighter was right where it was supposed to be, ramp open. He thought it ironic that it, of all things, would be his deliverance.
Reaching the ramp, Vidian looked out through the landing bay’s magnetic field. Forager, tumbling out of control, now, was turning to face Cynda. Convenient for a quick trip, Vidian thought. Efficient.
Vidian staggered up the freighter’s ramp—and then could go no farther. He looked down. There, on the landing deck slumped against the side of the ramp, was Skelly. The man was a battered, bloodied mess—and yet he had summoned the energy to reach for Vidian’s leg strut as he’d walked up the ramp. Skelly clutched Vidian’s onetime ankle now in his right hand.
The count tried to shake him off, but couldn’t. “Release me!”
“That one … doesn’t let go,” Skelly said. He coughed. “Don’t … mind me. I’ve just been … out here looking … at the moon.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Vidian said, straining to keep climbing. But his acid-damaged legs couldn’t give him any leverage.
“Sorry, Vidian. Blowing things up … is my job. Guild rules, y’know.” Skelly shifted around—and now Vidian saw the device in his other hand, connected to a long microfilament line. Vidian’s eyes followed the line up and into the doorway of the ship. “I told Kanan … we wouldn’t need my bag of tricks,” Skelly said. “But I didn’t say … I wouldn’t come back for it.”
Realization came quickly. “No! No, don’t!”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Then Skelly looked out the landing bay entrance at Cynda. He winked. “I saved you, sweetheart!”
He pushed the button.
The flash blinded Kanan at first. The explosion began at the rear of Forager, quickly consuming the landing decks and ripping forward. His eyes adjusting, Kanan recognized the familiar characteristic color of a baradium explosion. But this was bigger and more energetic than he’d ever seen.
“Hera, go!”
There was little she could do, except put the life pod’s reentry heat shield between them and the blast. The TIE fighter pursuing them was slower to react. Superheated particles from the explosion ripped through the vessel’s hexagonal wings, causing the starfighter to tear violently apart. A shock wave comprising not air but plasma and matter expanding outward from the blast zone slammed into their life pod.
Shaken by the impact, Hera fought with the controls, angling the life pod to catch the wave. All around, Kanan saw more effects of the blast. Less fortunate life pods were disintegrating, as were their TIE pursuers. And the electrostatic towers that had been Forager’s spokes were flung off in all directions—including toward Ultimatum. A long, ragged beam slammed off the surface of the Star Destroyer’s hull, opening a fiery gash.
It was enough distraction for Hera, who took the chance to make for Gorse’s atmosphere. She powered down the interior cabin lights, and the life pod went dark as it soared, just another piece of debris.
In the darkness, Hera reoriented the vessel so the passengers could look back at Forager’s remains. There wasn’t much to see. Kanan had no doubt that Expedient with its shipload of baradium-357 was the reason. “Very naughty baby,” Kanan said.
Zaluna shuddered. She hadn’t seen the explosion, but she’d felt it. “I—I was hoping Skelly might have survived earlier. That he might have made it.”
Hera held her. “It’s okay. We got out. Maybe he did, too.”
“No,” Kanan said, thinking aloud. “He didn’t.”
Somberly, Hera looked out at the firestorm in space. “The landing bay must have taken a hit from the Star Destroyer.”
Kanan shook his head. “No. Skelly did that.”
“If you didn’t see it,” Zaluna asked, “how do you know?”
Hera studied Kanan for a moment. He had gone silent. “He just knows,” she finally said. “He just knows.”
She turned back to the controls. The life pod sank into the clouds of Gorse’s endless night.
Final Phase:
DAMAGE ASSESSMENT
“Emperor’s robotic mining plan for dayside brings new era to Gorse”
“Baron Danthe granted oversight of industrial region”
“Vidian’s HoloNet site goes dark as disease relapse claims him”
—headlines, Imperial HoloNews (Gorse Edition)
Apart from her promotion ceremonies, Sloane seldom had use for her dress uniform. But this night was different, and it was always night on Gorse.
The regional governor was here in the mayor’s regal residence—easily the nicest place on the planet. She recognized several other Imperial captains and an admiral; he had brought with him a Moff, one of the highest authorities in the government. They were all here to drink and gab and celebrate the most important event in the history of industrial production of thorilide: the opening of the sunward side of Gorse to Baron Danthe’s heat-resistant mining drones.
It was a huge moment for the world, liable to transform its economy in amazing ways. Gorse’s refineries would be necessary; not even the Emperor would destroy the moon and devastate the planet for a onetime benefit when the long-term reward was much richer. And it was all being directly attributed to a discovery by Sloane and Ultimatum’s science team. It wasn’t, of course; she had simply passed along Vidian’s secret report to that effect. But she was being given the credit, and would take it—alongside her crew.
Her crew. Unrelated to Vidian’s machinations, Captain Karlsen’s posting had just been permanently awarded to her. She was glad Commander Chamas had sent Deltic and her co-workers home to the ship immediately after the commendation presentation, before they embarrassed her in front of anyone else. But they were her embarrassment now. Ultimatum was hers.
And the proceedings were only beginning. Later, they would all ride the luxurious shuttle to Cynda, restored once again to its status as a tourist destination. The zone damaged by the test blast was only one of many former natural preserves on the moon; the Empire had wasted no time in reopening another. It would be made available for visits from the rich and powerful: those who had served the Emperor well and those whose influence he sought to court. That includes pretty much everyone in this room, she thought.
Taking a drink from the tray of a GG-class serving droid, Sloane thought back on the events of the days since Vidian’s death. An intermediary from the Emperor had met with her to follow up on the whole situation. Sloane had spoken completely and truthfully, of course, and he had seen no problem with her testimony. But he had expressed puzzlement over her tale of the young pilot, speaking to her in the dark. This “Kanan” was no agent of the Emperor’s, she was told. It didn’t make sense, and neither of them had pressed the issue. Did Vidian have another rival, loose, somewhere in the Imperial system? Or was it someone else entirely?
Sloane hadn’t shaken the feeling that there was another player out there. Someone allied with the young pilot, pulling the strings. She wondered if she would ever find out.
There was something she had found out. She had learned that someone on Ultimatum’s senior staff had queried Transcept about Lemuel Tharsa on their arrival. She hadn’t authorized it, and it made no sense that Vidian would have done it. She realized what had happened—and outside, on the balcony, she spotted the men responsible.
Nibiru Chamas drank there with Baron Danthe. Danthe saw her and smiled. He was even more radiant and robust in person, she saw. “My good captain,” the baron said, raising his glass. “Please join us.”
“I am yours to command,” she said.
And so was Chamas. He’d sent the inquiry about Tharsa, she’d realized, using his authority as an Ultimatum officer to help Danthe investigate Vidian’s phantom consultant. She wondered how long Chamas had been on the baron’s payroll as informant.
Smiling darkly, Chamas raised his glass of wine to her. It didn’t look like his first. No wonder, for she had supplanted his position with his patron. Danthe had been grateful, and she saw his hand in the Ultimatum staffing move. Perhaps Chamas had sought her chair. If so, then no matter: This was the way things worked in the Empire.
She stepped to the railing with the baron. Chamas, realizing his glass was empty, excused himself. It was humid as always on Gorse, and none of the visitors were out here—but she had gotten used to it. She looked up at Cynda, well past full now. It would continue to shine, and to set Gorse to rocking every so often. And one day, it would probably tear itself apart and rain down, as Vidian intended. But it wouldn’t be in her lifetime, and tonight she planned to enjoy it.
Baron Danthe watched her as she stared up at it. “I do thank you for alerting me.”
“I was alerting the Emperor.”
“Of course.” Danthe chuckled. “Such a life we lead. Did you ever think that stabbing people in the back would be a way to get ahead?”
“It’s the way the game is played,” Sloane said, a little surprised at his openness. “I prefer flying my starship.”
“And defending the Empire against—whatever.” He grinned. “Have you learned any more about the others that were involved?”
“Nothing.”
He gave a derisive sniff. “I don’t think we need worry too much. A single rebellious act isn’t the start of anything. This was a blip. A glitch in the system. Nothing more.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe they’d awakened a sleeping gundark.
Sloane decided there would be opportunities for advancement in a galaxy like that, too.
“To interesting missions ahead.” She clinked her glass against his.
The sun rose, and nobody died. Zaluna had lived her entire life where that was impossible.
This was a different world with a different sun, and while she couldn’t see it, she could feel its rays warming her body. She could feel the cool air of night gently giving way, hear the dew on the grass crunching as she walked. And all around, she could smell the flowers of the garden waking up.
Kanan had left them after their return to Gorse, thinking it best to meet again here on this sparsely populated agricultural planet sectors away. Zaluna didn’t know the name of the planet Hera had brought her to, but then she’d never asked.
She was taking her first step into a new world: a world disconnected from the grid.
It still wasn’t clear that the Empire was looking for her for her part in the Forager affair. Before bringing her from Gorse to the agrarian world on her fancy ship, Hera had stopped by Zaluna’s apartment for her things. It showed signs of having been entered by the landlord, but it hadn’t been ransacked. And certainly no video surveillance imagery from aboard Forager identifying Zaluna had survived.
The news had made Zaluna wonder. Maybe she hadn’t been the focus of any planetary dragnet, along with the others. Maybe it had been all in her mind. Maybe she could’ve come back from her suspension and gone back to work at Transcept, as if nothing had happened.
But she couldn’t. Because something had happened. A lot of somethings. And it meant she could never return to that life, if she even wanted to. And she didn’t.
Still, she was glad that life on Gorse wouldn’t be quite so bad anymore for those she’d left. The miraculous news of thorilide in quantity on Gorse’s dayside meant that work was already going ahead, using legions of heat-resistant droids Baron Danthe had ready and waiting. No further damage would be done to Cynda or the places where people lived on Gorse. The miners, by far the roughest customers on the world, would migrate elsewhere. And while the refinery work would stay, the Empire now controlled its own firm in Moonglow: a place where a farsighted Lal Grallik had, in life, made safety improvements that would now become the model for all the other factories there. The Empire had gotten the efficiency it had wanted out of Count Vidian’s trip after all—and yet people would be safer all around. Hera had particularly liked that thought. “Victory through unintended consequences,” she’d said.
The house they had found for Zaluna was abandoned and half in ruin, but it was cheap and quiet. The person Hera bought it from had said the garden out back had been planted by another older woman, long since dead; it was direly in need of care no one would give. Most of the planet’s settlers had moved to places like Gorse to find work.
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Brushing her fingers against the blooms, Zaluna couldn’t imagine a sillier prospect.
She felt for the steps beneath her feet. There was a tree at the end of the path; walking up to it reminded her of the cemetery at Beggar’s Hill, with its large monuments.
“Keep walking, Zal, and you’ll bump into it.”
Zaluna smiled. “You’re still here, Kanan!”
“Enjoying the weather. Gorse was a steam bath.” Zaluna felt his hand on her shoulder. “You doing all right?”
“Better than ever,” she said. She began to walk past the tree, with Kanan’s hand still on her shoulder. “What do you think of my garden?”
“It’s good,” Kanan replied. “You know you can get those eyes treated, right? To get your sight back.”
“Like Vidian?” Zaluna chuckled and shook her head. “No, I think I’ve seen enough. I have a place to live, and there’s a little girl who visits daily to help me with things. But I’ll be helping myself soon.” She gestured backward. “And look! I have a tree!”
Kanan laughed.
“I’m thinking it’s Skelly’s tree,” she said. “A nice monument, don’t you think?”
“Well, there are some twisted clinging vines over there I would have thought of instead.”
Zaluna lifted her head to face the sky and sighed. “No, Skelly’s ashes are probably still back there, raining down on Cynda. I think he’d like that.”
Kanan didn’t respond for a moment. And then: “That works, too.”
She heard someone coming up the walk from the house. “I’m ready to go,” Hera said.
“Always on the move,” Zaluna said.
She felt Hera’s hands on hers. “Are you sure this is what you want, Zal? You have skills. There are others you could help.”
Zaluna shook her head. “I can’t save Hetto—not now. I know what you’re up against, and it’s beyond me. Wherever he is, Hetto would never want me to risk my life trying to save him. And if he’s in a bad place, he’d probably rather imagine me living somewhere nice like this. It’s certainly better than where we were!”
A New Dawn: Star Wars Page 33