The Rise of the Empire: Star Wars: Featuring the novels Star Wars: Tarkin, Star Wars: A New Dawn, and 3 all-new short stories

by John Jackson Miller

  “Ah,” he said, smiling as if laying eyes on her were medicine enough. “You…listen. This boy…is good to have around.” Okadiah coughed again, this time much more violently. “You ought to…stick by him. Think…he needs…”

  Okadiah stopped talking and closed his eyes. The inside of the transparent oxygen mask, once fogged, went clear.

  No. Kanan reached for the man’s chest, certain he needed to do something, but unsure of what. He knew conventional first aid, but Okadiah’s injuries seemed past that. He felt useless, as useless as he had when Master Billaba had died—and the turmoil of that moment mixed with this one, clouding his concentration. He struggled to focus—

  —only to feel the gentle touch of Hera’s hand on his arm. She shook her head. “He’s gone, Kanan.”

  “I tried.”

  “You did,” she said, her touch turning into a firm grip. “We need to leave now.”

  Kanan looked back at her and shook his head. “No. Not without him.”

  “IT’S A TRIUMPH,” Count Vidian declared. “A triumph, pure and simple!”

  He strode onto the bridge, holding a datapad high. He didn’t need it, but not everyone had his eyes. “It’s the report from my lead researcher,” he said, approaching Captain Sloane. “Ninety-seven percent of thorilide molecules in the effluent remained intact. Only a small portion broke down!”

  “I don’t recognize the name,” Sloane said, pointing to the lead researcher. “Lemuel Tharsa. He’s aboard?”

  “Part of my team. He boarded with me.” Vidian glared impatiently, bothered to have had his good news interrupted. “You’ll find him checked in on your ship’s manifest. What difference does it make? The important thing is what he says.”

  Sloane read from the report. “ ‘The moon Cynda may be effectively pulverized using deep-bore charges, yielding an amount of ready thorilide equating to what could be mined in two thousand years, using conventional methods—’ ” She looked up in disbelief. “Two thousand years?”

  “Imagine the Emperor’s response!”

  “We’ll have increased efficiency, all right.”

  Vidian looked past her to the sky outside Ultimatum. “What’s the status of the mining cargo fleets?”

  “We’ve ordered every empty vessel to hold position, awaiting your next command,” she said, handing off the datapad to an aide. “Two hundred seventy ships, counting thorilide carriers and explosives haulers.”

  “We’ll need them all,” Vidian said. “And all the ones on Gorse. We’ll be bringing back thousands of metric tons of baradium-357 from Calcoraan Depot. We can retrofit the thorilide carriers for use there.”

  Sloane stepped over to examine a monitor. “There also appears to be at least one intact explosives freighter remaining on Cynda.”

  “Hardy.”

  “Or foolhardy. Our sensors showed it going to the moon, even after the explosion. Someone was determined to deliver his payload.” Sloane studied the screen in more detail, before looking up with concern. “We count thirty-six vessels destroyed in Cynda’s main hangar, both personnel carriers and cargo ships. All attendant personnel presumably lost.”

  “Acceptable,” Vidian said. “If we’d alerted the miners to our plans, you’d have seen true unrest. There’d be dozens like that bomber.”

  “One was plenty,” Sloane said, straightening. “But won’t people on Gorse wonder what happened?”

  Vidian began walking back to the elevator, accompanied by Sloane. “I’ve prepared an alert for broadcast,” he said, “calling the event a comet strike. That explanation alone accounts both for why the workers were caught unawares—and for Cynda’s ultimate fate.”

  “Efficient.”

  “We won’t need miners anyway, when our plan works.”

  The captain’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Our plan?”

  “This could be big for you, Sloane,” Vidian said, standing in the lift doorway. “I’ll send up final instructions shortly.”

  “We’re ready, my lord.”

  Vidian nodded, stepped back, and watched as the door closed in front of him. He could no longer smile, but he felt it. It was a triumph.

  But not pure and simple. He hadn’t told Sloane everything. Certainly, destroying the moon would help him meet the Emperor’s goal now—but later was another story. That little inconvenient distinction had been revealed to him in the past hour, and he had shared it with no one.

  He’d expected such an eventuality, however, and he had a means of dealing with it. It would get him past this crisis—and then he would lay a trap that Baron Danthe could never escape. Vidian knew something Danthe didn’t, a secret that would solve all his problems.

  In one stroke he would keep the Emperor’s favor—and eliminate his main rival once and for all. Efficient, as always.

  —

  Together with Hera, Kanan had managed to move Okadiah’s body back up the long and twisted route to the still-pressurized auxiliary bay. There, after removing their environment suits, they’d found Skelly and Zaluna outside the ship. Skelly was lying on his back, looking up at the lights, as Zaluna wandered as if in a daze, marveling at the kaleidoscopic effects.

  “I watched the place on the cams for years,” she’d said. “But I never imagined anything could be so beautiful.”

  Kanan had considered taking Okadiah’s body back to Gorse for burial. But on reflection, Cynda seemed a much more fitting resting place for his friend. He and Hera had found a side grotto, where they laid the body down and covered it with rocks.

  With the damage to the complex, Kanan couldn’t imagine anyone mining the moon again, not in the normal way. That meant the Empire had gone all in on the moon-shattering scheme.

  “You’re blinking,” Skelly said, looking up at Kanan.

  Kanan noticed the flashing light on the device on his belt. “Call coming in.” It was strange to see, now, of all times. “It’s my Moonglow pager.”

  He activated it, and Vidian’s voice echoed through the massive chamber. “Attention, all traffic associated with the Mining Guild. All empty mining cargo ships on Gorse or in orbit are instructed to follow Ultimatum to the Calcoraan system. All off-shift pilots on Gorse are ordered to report and fly whatever vessels are available.”

  Skelly sat up. He gawked, trying to calculate. “That’s got to be a thousand ships!”

  The transmission continued—only now, it was Sloane speaking. “This alert is for Gorse Space Traffic Control. No other traffic of any kind is allowed to depart Gorse until further notice. The space lanes must be kept clear until our return. We’re leaving a TIE patrol to enforce the restriction.” The message ended.

  “No one can leave Gorse?” Zaluna asked, fretful.

  “And if we go back, we’re stuck,” Skelly said. “So much for warning people.”

  “What is this about?” Kanan asked. “What’s Calcoraan?”

  Kneeling near the exit to the landing bay, Hera looked through the magnetic shield and out to space. “It’s Vidian’s base of operations. A nerve center, a supply hub for the Empire in this sector.”

  Skelly snapped his fingers. “Three fifty-seven!”

  Kanan blinked. “What, baradium-357?”

  “It’s in my research,” the bomber said. “I ran the numbers on the worst case, what it would take to blow the moon apart. Plain old baradium bisulfate can’t do it, not even a thousand ships full. But the isotope could. That’s the evil stuff, weapons-grade.”

  You’re the expert, Kanan thought. “And they’ve got it there.”

  “They invented it there,” Hera said, walking over to join them.

  Zaluna spoke in a worried voice. “So what do we do?”

  No one said anything.

  Kanan finally shrugged and gestured to Expedient. “We could do what they want us to do.”

  Hera turned to face him. “Yeah?”

  “That’s an explosives hauler. I’m a pilot for one of the mining firms. You just heard my orders. We can’t go anywhere e
lse, more than likely—not without a fight.” He put his hands before him, palms upward. “So we go.”

  “We follow Vidian?” Skelly’s eyes narrowed. “What would we do?”

  Kanan glowered at him. “We’re not blowing the place up, I’ll tell you that!”

  “But maybe,” Hera said, “maybe we won’t have to.”

  Kanan looked at the ship, considering the possibilities.

  “We can’t decide to go without everyone’s consent,” Hera said. “That’s the Empire’s way.”

  Kanan looked back at her in disbelief. “What, you want a vote? We can’t exactly sit around in a circle debating all year.”

  Hera walked into the middle of the group, addressing each of the three as she turned. “Listen, I think we all understand the stakes—at least, I hope we do. You know the Empire needs to be stopped here, and you’ve also got individual reasons to care. But for us to have any chance of working together, we’ve got to be united. We’ve all got to see the same big picture.”

  Zaluna watched her. “Tell us.”

  “I’ve been around to see it. All across the galaxy. This is an Empire motivated by greed—that delivers injustice. That rules through fear—and that prospers through deceit.” Hera started counting on her fingers. “Greed, injustice, fear, deceit. You can see them here, can’t you?”

  “They’ve certainly got the greed part down,” Skelly said, looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe what they’ve done—what they’re going to do to this place. And for what?” He waved his good hand. “Whatever. I’m in. And I think if Gord Grallik had lived, he’d go with you on the injustice part.”

  Hera nodded. She turned to Zaluna next. “Do you want to go home, Zaluna? Because if you do, we all will. No one will judge you.”

  Zaluna didn’t say anything for long moments.

  Finally, summoning the words, she spoke. “You know, I always liked to tell myself I was a brave person. But the fact is, I’ve been a coward,” she said, looking down. “The place I felt safest was in a place where I could watch over others. But it’s changed. Hetto, Skelly—they’re far from the only ones. I’ve seen hundreds of people arrested. Based on things I heard them say and do.” She shook her head. “And I never saw any of those people on the screens again. Nobody comes back!”

  “The Empire doesn’t keep watch in order to protect, Zaluna. It keeps watch to scare.”

  “I know. I’ve been the terror.” Eyes full of defiance, she looked over at Hera. “I don’t want to make innocent people afraid anymore. And I won’t let them do it, either.”

  Hera smiled gently. Kanan knew Hera didn’t want to show it, but he could tell she was immensely proud of Zaluna.

  “We…we won’t have to hurt anyone, will we?” the woman asked.

  “Not if we can avoid it,” Hera said.

  Now she turned her eyes on Kanan. “And what about you?”

  “I lost track,” Kanan said. “What did you leave me with, injustice?”

  “Deceit,” Skelly offered.

  “Well, I think I’ve got that covered,” Kanan said, gesturing. “All those bodies down there. Nobody had to be here.”

  He was scratching his beard, deciding whether to offer anything else, when the next words came out anyway. “And they’re not the only friends of mine that the Empire’s deceived.”

  Hera studied him, perhaps deciding whether to ask him to elaborate. Instead, she smiled a little. “So what do you suggest doing about it?”

  “Something.” Kanan paused. “I don’t know what. But somebody sucker punched a friend. I won’t let that pass.”

  “Good enough.” Hera stood up straight and gestured to the ramp. “It’s your ship, Captain.”

  “You’re the pilot.”

  “And you’re the tactician.” She grinned. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  —

  It was more than a risk, Hera thought: Going to an Imperial depot at this stage of her project bordered on madness. The Empire, as yet, hadn’t identified her. Getting tagged now would be just as bad as getting caught.

  But what was happening to Gorse and Cynda was beyond serious. It was the sort of thing she’d vowed to stop someday. The day had just come early—too early, before she’d assembled a capable team. Not exactly the new dawn she’d had in mind.

  Skelly would have been arrested if she’d left them behind on Gorse, she still believed; that could have put the Empire on her trail. But he wasn’t revolutionary material. And Zaluna had resolve now, but she would be out of her depth soon.

  No, it was Kanan she wanted to see in action. She watched him from the pilot’s seat, as he punched hyperspace coordinates into the nav computer. He seemed different to her now. Not obsessed, as Skelly seemed—but focused, directed. She’d seen him act that way in short bursts when heroism was required; now it was a sustained effort. It was clear that what had happened on Cynda had affected him deeply.

  She hadn’t lied earlier. She did want to see what he could do. But she was more interested in seeing what he would do.

  PHASE THREE:

  DETONATION

  “Count Vidian leading Mining Guild in heroic effort to stabilize moon”

  “Blast investigators turn eyes to mining firms”

  “Tourism industry watchers suggest busy season for travel ahead”

  —headlines, Imperial HoloNews (Gorse Edition)

  A CHILD’S SNOW GLOBE, filled with blood. That was how one of the first visitors to behold Calcoraan had described the world. It was a wonder anyone had ever returned, given that description—and Rae Sloane agreed.

  Looking out from Ultimatum’s bridge, she saw a planet that heaved and churned crimson, the result of a planetwide ocean thick with chromyl chloride. There wasn’t anything living down there—not on a sea where a drop of water could unleash not one, but two potent acids. But both the liquid and the ocean floor beneath it held uses for starship manufacturing, and so Calcoraan Depot had been constructed in orbit to service the many robotic factories already in space.

  It was just another bizarre stop on what had, for Sloane, become a tour of the galaxy’s strangest planets. The Empire tended to like these punishing environments, she thought, like an extremophile bacterium in a volcanic rift. It made sense to her, philosophically: True power could only be claimed by those brave enough to go and get it.

  And Gorse could soon become another hellish place, losing what little livability it had.

  Calcoraan Depot was Vidian’s design and domain, and the thing seemed an architectural expression of his philosophies. The vast polyhedral hub of the depot sat like the biggest atom in an extensive molecule, connected to all the orbital factories by a triangular lattice grid of passageways. New supplies kept moving through those tubes to the hub and its main warehouse or directly to departing vessels for snap delivery. The hub’s central position also gave its occupants a view of everything around, including the approaching flotilla of cargo ships from Gorse. Keep moving! Destroy barriers! See everything! was fully at work in Vidian’s station.

  Sloane could see Vidian’s minions fully at work, too, on a curious giant of a spacecraft at the far end of the sprawling complex. Vidian was over there now, overseeing final preparations and calling every thirty seconds to inquire as to when the rest of the cargo fleet would arrive from Gorse. It was a ship like none Sloane had ever seen. Seven bulging black spheres connected on a long axis, it looked like a segmented insect. But where a bug might have had legs, the vessel instead had long antenna-like structures running from the frontmost pod backward the entire length of the vessel.

  “Forager,” the science officer said excitedly. “That’s a real beauty.”

  The captain nodded. Lieutenant Deltic got on her nerves, but Sloane had ordered her here anyway. She felt she needed to understand the process she was being asked to protect. “What are those long things along the spine?”

  “Electrostatic towers—sixteen of them.” The lieutenant fidgeted with the pins on a h
at gone lopsided. “They’ll fan outward when it’s in operation to become the spokes for the collection wheel. I saw a ship like that in action once. It just plows through the debris field, snapping up all the goodies.”

  “The goodies?” Sloane shook her head. “I don’t think I can handle all this technical jargon.”

  “The thorilide molecules. They’re drawn to the spokes and shunted inside the vessel. There are automated processing centers in each of those big pods—taking the place of much of what the refineries on Gorse would’ve done. Just above the thrusters, that tail-end pod has the landing bays for shipping the stuff out. They’ll churn out more pure thorilide in an hour than the miners did in a month.”

  Sloane nodded. The vessel was heavily shielded, as anything that barged into asteroid fields and comet tails needed to be; the turbolaser cannons on the outside of each pod and on the forward command hub probably also cut down on damage from errant debris. Once Forager was in place, Gorse would have its own Calcoraan Depot—for as long as the thorilide lasted.

  Which seemed to be forever. The lieutenant was dizzy with her math again. “Even if ninety percent of the debris were to strike the planet, that machine could supply a hundred Empires the size of ours for a century!”

  “There is only one Empire,” Sloane said sternly. Then she looked at the lieutenant. “Ninety percent of the debris falling? Is that possible?”

  The younger woman shrugged. “I told you. Might be a drop, might be a deluge.” She grinned. “We have a betting pool going on down in Planetary Sciences. If something takes out the World Watch Plaza building in Gorse City in this calendar year, I’m taking my shore leave on Alderaan!”

  “Dismissed,” Sloane said. Out the airlock, she wanted to add.

  Still, she’d found out what she wanted to know. It was amazing, seeing up close the work involved to source and service just one component of the Imperial arsenal. And this was just one of countless facilities. How many other projects were out there, similar to what Vidian had in mind? How many had he run, and how many was he running personally?