by Jason Fry
The man shrugged and opened the door with his badge. Merei followed him inside, past a break station, and down a hallway to a large room filled with desks and network terminals. From outside she heard the buzz of maintenance droids, fighting their daily battle with Lothal’s fast-growing grasses. A few workers looked up for a moment, then back down at their desks.
“Bathroom’s that way,” the man said and Merei nodded and smiled.
Alone in the bathroom, she took one of the network drives from her pocket and left it beside the sink, where someone might have set something down and then forgotten it. The little black device was empty except for a single file she’d named TRANSPORTATION MINISTRY—PROPOSED EMPLOYEE BONUSES. The file contained an actual data-grid of numbers matched to employee codes, but that was camouflage for the Gray Syndicate’s snooper program, which would surreptitiously load itself onto the user’s computer and go about its business, hopefully undetected.
Merei checked her makeup in the mirror and unlocked the door, risking a last glance back at the drive and its payload. She walked back to the break station, where she stopped to pour herself a disposable cup of caf. It was bitter and she grimaced, pouring in sweetener. Before she left, she let her second drive fall to the industrial carpeting and nudged it against the counter.
She exhaled and made her way back to the cafeteria, where she forced herself to sit for a few more minutes. She imagined every person who walked through the door would point at her accusingly, and every announcement over the comm system would warn of unauthorized devices and a building lockdown. But each new arrival was a bored-looking bureaucrat looking to break up his or her morning, and each announcement was some bit of bland Transportation Ministry business.
She left the third drive under a nearby table and walked out of the cafeteria, reminding herself not to hurry. She was just a few meters from the reception area when a voice behind her called out urgently.
“Kinera, wait!”
Don’t run—it won’t do any good, Merei thought. Her knees were shaking as she turned.
Oleg was still crowing about his victory in the previous day’s assessment as the cadets spread out across the now-familiar terrain of the obstacle course in the Easthills.
“You okay, Zare?” Jai asked from beneath his raised faceplate. “Because you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Zare said, but he knew it was true. He had slept horribly. He had dreamed that Dhara had returned home, explaining that she was sorry to have worried them, but the Empire had needed her for a secret mission, one that required her to disappear. Zare had woken up and felt relief flood him, only to realize that he wasn’t staring at the ceiling of his bedroom in his parents’ apartment, but peering at the featureless ceiling of the Academy barracks.
Currahee’s voice crackled inside his helmet.
“Form up by twos and follow the coordinates in your heads-up displays,” she ordered.
To their relief, Zare and Jai were paired together, while Oleg was assigned to Lomus, which he complained about over the unit channel until Currahee broke in to give him a pair of demerits.
Zare was glad to be spared Oleg’s company, but as he and Jai hiked along he felt his misery settle over him.
“You ever wonder what all this is for?” Zare asked after making sure his microphone was off.
“What all what is for?” Jai asked.
“This,” Zare said, spreading his arms to encompass…he wasn’t sure, exactly. The helmeted cadets, the obstacle course, Lothal, the galaxy?
Jai just grinned.
“We’re learning to become officers in the Empire’s service,” he said. “Out for a stroll on the beautiful planet Lothal, remember? But think about how hard that first week was, Zare. Now, we strip down E-11s, run ten klicks, and practice tactical formations before breakfast.”
“Which is a banquet, of course,” Zare said. “But why do you want to be an Imperial officer, Jai?”
“To get off Lothal, of course,” the other cadet said with a laugh.
“No, really.”
“Well, to see the galaxy,” Jai said. “But also because the Empire made civilization work again. It defeated the Separatists—”
“The Republic did that,” Zare objected.
“A Republic that had been transformed to fight the war, and became the Empire. It defeated the Separatists, stopped corruption, and now it’s making the galaxy safe a system at a time, taking away planets from slavers and pirates. And bringing opportunity to places like Lothal. I want to be a part of that. Doesn’t that make sense, Zare?”
Zare nodded, but his mind was churning. It was the same answer he would have given a year ago, before he found out that the Empire that had accomplished all those things was also the Empire that made children vanish and murdered peaceful protestors.
And turned good kids like Jai Kell into officers trained to support an evil regime.
“What is it, Zare?” Jai asked.
“Nothing,” Zare said. “Just tired. Let’s get to our coordinates and see what Curry has in store for us this morning.”
The two cadets followed their nav units to an outcropping of rock. Atop it rested an old-fashioned projectile launcher on a trio of legs.
“This thing is ancient,” Jai said. “Clone Wars vintage.”
Currahee’s voice sounded in their helmets.
“By now you’ve found your launchers,” she said. “I’m sending the coordinates of your targets to your heads-up displays. The automated ballistics programs on the launchers have been disabled, so you’ll have to calculate trajectories by hand. And a word of warning, cadets—your targets are just twenty meters from the other pair of cadets in your unit. Try not to blow each other up—it’s a lot of paperwork.”
“Nice knowing you,” Jai said. “Lomus is too dumb to make stormtrooper—no way he’ll do the math correctly.”
Zare laughed nervously and the two of them got down to the business of making their calculations on their datapads. They got the same answer, then double-checked them.
“Leonis and Kell ready to fire,” Zare reported.
“Go ahead then, cadets,” Currahee said.
Zare activated the launcher and a missile streaked skyward on a puff of propellant. A moment later he saw a cloud of dirt and smoke appear; a second later he heard the whump of the impact.
“Direct hit,” Currahee said. “Good work. Now brace for impact.”
Zare lay on his face next to Jai, wondering if it were the last thing he’d do. He felt the ground heave and heard the roar of the shell striking nearby, his helmet’s audio pickups automatically dulling the sound to protect his ears.
“Good job, Oleg and Lomus,” Currahee said as Zare and Jai rose to peer at the crater blasted into the ridge below them.
“I bet there’s a hidden shield generator around here somewhere that would have kicked in if they missed,” Jai said. “It wouldn’t do to have the Academy blow up its own cadets.”
“I hope you’re right,” Zare said.
But Jai’s words gnawed at him. No, the Academy probably wouldn’t blow up its own cadets. But it was willing to make them vanish and lie to their parents about what had happened. And the cadets who went on to the next link in the Academy chain would be trained to become enforcers of the Emperor’s will, taught to lie and even to kill all those who opposed his rule.
Zare risked a glance at Jai. It seemed crazy to imagine the floppy-haired, happy-go-lucky boy next to him as an agent of evil. But perhaps Roddance had been like this once. They’d talked about how the cadets were changing, growing stronger and more resilient and skilled. But they hadn’t talked about how else they might be changing, or what they might be becoming.
Merei turned, the blood draining from her face, and saw a red-faced woman in a civilian tunic and pants hurrying down the hall in her direction.
“Kinera! Miss Tiree!” the woman said. “I didn’t get to buy a raffle ticket!”
Merei’s shoulders sagged with relief.<
br />
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “My datapad’s card reader broke, so…”
“That’s okay, I have actual credits,” the woman said. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I think it’s so great what you’re doing—it’s such a good cause. Now, how much is a ticket?”
Merei fumbled for her ticket book, thinking she should have thought about the raffle beyond using it as an excuse for getting through ministry security.
Take it easy, she reminded herself. Phelarion School, remember?
“They’re three credits each,” Merei said. “I can write you a receipt and post it to the school network when I get back.”
“And what are the prizes?”
“Top prize is a vacation on, um, Boranda,” Merei said. “Then there’s a full day at Old City Spa, a new datapad, and some other good things.”
“Boranda!” the woman said. “I’ll take five tickets, please. Oh, and I told my whole work group about the raffle. Here they come.”
Merei found herself handing out tickets to a crowd of excited ministry officials. When the crowd finally dispersed, she waved to the receptionist, nearly a hundred credits jingling in her pockets.
The cadets were used to inspections, but on the morning of Visiting Day Currahee outdid even herself, checking every centimeter of their ceremonial uniforms—blinding white tops, gray trousers, and regulation boots that had been repeatedly polished.
Lomus had his tunic buttoned incorrectly and half of Unit Dorn was sent back to buff their boots again, but Currahee then declared them fit for viewing and hustled them to the waiting areas to either side of the stage in the amphitheater, now loud with the voices of parents and friends waiting to greet their cadets.
“I wish my Dad could see me today,” Jai said, looking misty-eyed.
“Bah,” said Oleg. “Whole thing’s a sentimental waste of time.”
“Are your uncles here, Oleg?” Zare asked curiously.
“Yes,” Oleg said, and his face fell. He looked away and Zare felt momentarily sorry for him.
Then Currahee was among them, lips pressed together but eyes steely with unspoken warning. The cadets formed up by units and marched on stage as the anthem of the Empire blared.
A year ago, Zare remembered, he’d been out in the audience, looking at the stage and craning his neck to be the first to locate his sister. As always, Dhara had spotted him before he could find her.
He saw his parents now, and felt his breath catch at the sight of Merei’s slim, pale figure standing between them. He smiled at them, adding a wink when Merei spotted him.
His father smiled broadly in return, but Zare saw the dark hollows under his eyes—Leo Leonis might still believe in the Empire, but his daughter’s disappearance had weighed heavily on him. His mother’s smile was tentative and her face was gray with worry. Zare knew what she was thinking: she’d lost a daughter under mysterious and sinister circumstances, and had then agreed to send her only remaining child to risk the same fate as his sister.
And where are you now, Dhara? I came here to find you, but what if it’s too late? What if they’ve killed you, or taken you somewhere I’ll never discover? How long will I have to pretend to be a good Imperial?
Commandant Aresko strode out to address the crowd, flanked by Currahee, Chiron, and Grint. Chiron caught sight of Zare’s face and gave him a reassuring smile.
Automatically, Zare smiled back. The Imperial officers pivoted smoothly and the cadets snapped to attention as one, their reaction honed by weeks of drills and instruction until it was second nature.
The crowd murmured appreciatively, then began to cheer. And a disquieting thought crept into Zare’s head and refused to be dislodged.
What if I play the role of good Imperial long enough that I forget it’s a role?
After the assembly the cadets filed off the stage to greet their parents, then led them to the assessment hall for refreshments. Leo caught Zare up on the neighborhood gossip, while Merei was content to hold his hand and squeeze it periodically. Elsewhere, Zare saw Jai good-naturedly trying to wriggle out of his mother’s latest tearful embrace, while Oleg sat in silence with two older men.
Tepha cleared her throat at Leo, who looked puzzled, then nodded. The two headed off to endure a sergeant’s talk about the capabilities of AT-DPs. When they were gone, Merei grabbed Zare, kissing him and drawing a corrective bark from Currahee.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Merei said. “It’s been so long.”
“I know. I feel the same way. I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t made any progress,” Merei said, then lowered her voice. “But I’ve just done something I hope will get us the answers we’ve been looking for.”
Zare looked around, but Currahee had moved on and the blare of conversation was too loud for anyone to overhear them. Merei quickly told Zare what she’d done, then grinned.
“The snoopers worked,” she said. “I’ve got the access codes of an Imperial personnel manager and a systems coordinator. The coordinator’s access code let me give the personnel manager the ability to create new IDs with full security clearance.”
Zare stared at her in shock.
“You’ll get caught,” he whispered.
“Unlikely,” Merei said. “I switched the snoopers off once I had what I needed—they’re dormant, almost impossible to find, and will erase themselves at the end of the week. Meanwhile, tomorrow morning an Imperial Security Bureau inspector will be added to the system, with access to nearly the entire network on Lothal. Technically, Zare, I think I’m about to outrank you.”
Merei saluted.
“A year ago you never would have taken a risk like that,” he said.
“That’s no way to speak to a superior officer, Cadet Leonis.”
“But what you’re doing…it’s incredibly dangerous,” Zare said in a low, urgent voice.
“You think I don’t know it’s dangerous, Zare? But so is what you’re doing. And wherever Dhara is, I guarantee she’s in danger, too.”
Zare disliked Unit Aurek’s new cadet the moment he saw him.
Dev Morgan had untamed black hair, a cocksure grin, and a loose-limbed slouch that hid an easy grace. He was a transfer from the Pretor Flats Academy on the far side of Lothal, one of seven cadets brought in to replace those who’d washed out during the rigors of orientation.
“I’m Jai Kell—my family and I went to Pretor Flats one winter,” Jai said from where he sat on the top bunk across from Dev. “Beautiful place. Did you grow up there?”
“Uh, here and there,” Dev said. “There’s not a lot to tell. I’m Dev Morgan and I’m here now to show you heroes what a real Imperial cadet looks like.”
Zare looked over, annoyed by this display of braggadocio, but Dev threw them all a rakish salute and grinned. Jai grinned back and Zare shook his head. But Oleg glowered up at his new bunkmate.
“Watch your mouth or you’ll be back at Whatever Flats before you can say ‘Sir, yes, sir,’” he warned. “You’re in the big city now, Morgan. You’ll find we’re stiffer competition than a bunch of moisture farmers with sunstroke.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Dev deadpanned, then grinned again.
Jai laughed, but Zare turned his back, occupying himself with inspecting his E-11. Something was wrong about the new cadet—but Zare couldn’t figure out what.
What if he’s a spy? he wondered, eyeing Dev covertly. Or, worse, what if he’s part of a plot, like the one that ensnared Dhara?
Despite all her preparations, Merei still hesitated before logging on to the Imperial network with her new credentials as an inspector for the feared Imperial Security Bureau.
She entered her access code and sat silently for a moment, imagining blaster fire shattering the windows of her bedroom as stormtroopers blasted the front door apart and clattered up the stairs.
But nothing happened. The screen cleared and she was looking at the spoked Imperial symbol and a selection of ministries sh
e could access.
Guess I better look around before the stormtroopers get here, she thought with a grim smile. Let’s see how much better the ISB’s access is than what I had before.
Merei navigated through screens until she reached the Academy’s cadet records. She pulled up LEONIS, ZARE, then whistled appreciatively. Instead of basic information about Zare and his status as a cadet, she could see everything from medical exam results and personality test scores to assessment ratings and instructors’ notes.
Are your ears burning, Zare? she wondered with a smile as she finished reading a glowing report from a Lieutenant Chiron.
“‘Pending outcome of second-round assessments, Cadet Leonis is an ideal candidate for officer training,’” she read. “If they only knew.”
She navigated back to the main portal for Academy records and typed LEONIS, DHARA. But her finger hesitated over the key that would send the command to the network. She wasn’t exactly sure what she could access as an ISB inspector, and any information about Dhara would likely be much more sensitive than what was available for Zare. Triggering an alert could be devastating—while she’d camouflaged her queries’ point of origin, a trace might turn up the curious fact that an ISB inspector was accessing the Empire’s network through an anonymous connection.
She backtracked to the security ministry, scanning the day’s law-enforcement alerts out of habit. She noticed that the day’s arrest records included suspects’ personal information, which her earlier inquiries had never turned up.
Merei sighed with relief. Her security clearance had to be pretty good.
More confident now, she typed a new name into the database: OLLET, BECK.
The arrest record she’d read many times came up first. But this time, there was another file, one she’d never seen before.
It read INTERROGATION RECORD/TRIBUNAL PROCEEDINGS.
She accessed it before it occurred to her to wonder if that was a good idea, then leaned forward to read, one hand over her mouth.