“So you’ll be okay with us just dropping you off at the nearest spaceport, right?”
Her young pilot turned on Finch, nearly weeping with frustration. “You’d take us seriously if we were pirates, wouldn’t you? Where were you headed?”
“Reeve,” the woman cautioned in a pained voice.
“You’re pretty unconvincing pirates,” Rose couldn’t help commenting. The boy sounded scared.
There was an awkward silence.
“Well, you’re on our ship,” Finch pointed out. “So either we’re going to have to drop you off somewhere, or you’ll have to come with us. I’m not going out of my way for you.”
“No.” The woman drew a deep breath. “No, no one’s going out of their way for us. That’s why we had to get out—”
“To tell the galaxy our planet’s being murdered,” the young pilot finished passionately.
Suddenly, Rose shivered, and Paige glanced up at her.
Those had been Paige’s exact words to General Leia Organa the first time they’d met.
Paige swallowed. Then she remarked with careful calm, “That sounds important.”
Finch nodded, and didn’t take it any further for the moment.
Instead, he pointed upward, toward the opening above the bomb racks.
“You can’t hang around here for the rest of the trip,” he told the intruders. “Gonna have to make you both climb up to the flight deck. Are you up to it?”
“Doesn’t look like we have much choice,” said the imperturbable woman. “Lead the way. And…”
Now her voice shook just a little, as the relief of the daring escape caught up with her and the adrenaline subsided.
“And—thank you,” she added, her voice suddenly fierce with emotion.
“SO WHAT do we do with them?” Finch asked his crew.
He’d switched the crew’s comms back to their own channel so the intruders couldn’t listen in. Exhausted and apprehensive, the hitchhikers sat on the floor of the flight deck facing each other. They didn’t speak; they were obviously being cautious about whatever it was they were running away from.
“Take them back to base, fix their ship, wipe their flight computer, send them off to wherever they were headed….” Nix trailed off. “Yeah, I can see why this is a problem. We can’t let them know about the Resistance. Anyway, where were they headed? Did they think they were going to turn up on the doorstep of the Senate and get a hearing?”
With the hyperspace coordinates set for D’Qar, there weren’t many options for getting rid of the stowaways before the bomber got back to the Resistance base. The Ileenium system was obscure even in the Outer Rim, and General Leia Organa’s secret stronghold certainly wasn’t labeled on any star charts.
“Well, unless we drop them off somewhere on the way, they’re going to find out about the Resistance when we get back, aren’t they?” Finch countered.
“If they’re on the run from the First Order they’re not so different from me and Paige,” Rose said. She glanced over her shoulder at the exhausted pair that sat slumped against the unfinished walls of the StarFortress. Both strangers seemed to be watching with suspicion and something like despair as the ship’s crew discussed their fate. Rose asked, “What do you think, Paige?”
“I think they’re probably exactly like us,” Paige agreed. “So we should turn them over to Leia and let her deal with the situation herself.”
Rose caught the refugees looking at her and waved, giving them a wide, bright smile that somehow felt fake on her own face. “Leia wanted us to bring her intelligence from Atterra, right? Well, we’re bringing it—intelligent life!”
Nix and Finch laughed hollowly. Paige did not laugh.
Hammer came out of hyperspace on the far side of the planetary ring that circled D’Qar.
“This seems like a piece of cake after the Atterra Belt,” Finch quipped. “Just fly under it. Remind me, next time I complain, that asteroids orbiting a planet are easier to navigate than asteroids orbiting a sun.”
But he stopped wisecracking, because the last moments of the mission were busy as the complicated business of bringing the StarFortress in to land got under way. At a big space wharf, this was a straightforward maneuver. But the secrecy around D’Qar meant that at the end of each hop the massive, awkward StarFortresses had to be delicately guided over kilometers of treetops to the camouflaged bunkers of the Resistance base, then eased into makeshift underground docking bays where the bomb clips could be removed and replaced, just like the ammunition clips in some types of handheld blasters.
Nix stood guard over the strangers while the rest of the crew worked through the docking sequence. Paige monitored the tech screens while Rose shut down the baffler.
“Thanks for your guidance,” Finch called through the comm to the ground crew team who’d worked to marshal Hammer into position and lock the ship in place.
Then he added with relish, “Prepare to receive prisoners.”
Finch set the power to standby and took off his headset. He turned around to look at the waiting intruders.
“I’ve always wanted to say that,” he told them, grinning.
One by one, the passengers in the heavy bomber emerged from the flight deck onto the gantry above the floor of the bunker, with the crew flanking their “prisoners.”
By the time they’d climbed down the ladders to the ground, a small crowd had gathered to watch. Nix gave the youthful pilot of the runaway starfighter a slight push between the shoulders so that he was forced to step forward into a circle of waiting soldiers. The boy threw an anxious glance over his shoulder at his companion.
The older woman was calmly taking her helmet off. Her short-cropped, iron-gray hair and hard, lined face gave her the look of a battle-worn commander.
Paige pulled off her own helmet and her gloves, and hung them by their straps over her shoulder. She said in an undertone to Rose, “We’re in luck—Fossil’s here.”
Fossil was the commanding officer of the Resistance StarFortress unit that included the two squadrons Cobalt and Crimson. She stepped forward to stand in front of the guards and marshals and curious onlookers. Fossil was a Martigrade, a darkly eloquent and eerily sluglike silver-skinned biped; she was too large to go along as flight crew, but she managed to keep the entire team’s every operational mission log and ship maintenance lists somewhere inside a head as big as Rose’s torso. The bomber crews called her “the Old Lady” behind her back—but not to her stern and expressionless face. Until you knew her—and if you angered her—she was terrifying.
Fossil came forward now to face the two strangers. The young pilot froze when he saw her and took a fearful step backward.
Rose, watching, wondered why he was on this mission. He seemed much too easily frightened to have been sent out by his people as part of a rescue team. Rose whispered to Paige, “He’s scared of Fossil.”
But the other stranger, the tall gray-haired woman, took a step forward. Rose saw that her fearlessness made the young pilot straighten up a little.
Fossil said in her formal, ringing voice, “Take off your helmet, boy. I want to see your eyes.”
“Here they are,” he answered, obeying quickly. He flashed Fossil a bright, defiant smile. Rose thought he might be angry at himself for being scared.
She knew that feeling all too well. She recognized his desperate attempt to cover it with humor.
Facing the Martigrade, the gray-haired woman’s shoulders rose and fell as she let out a sharp breath through flared nostrils.
“I understand why you can’t immediately trust us, or take me at my word,” she said to Fossil. “But go ahead and search our ship if you think it’ll tell you more.”
She waved a dismissive hand back toward the heavy bomber, which still held the little starfighter wedged in its bomb bay.
“We haven’t brought anything with us. Not even ammunition—we haven’t got any. Our guns have been stripped. Everything I’ve brought with me is in here”—the st
ranger tapped her head—“and here.” She laid her hand on the trembling boy’s shoulder. There was a dignity about her that commanded respect.
“Continue,” Fossil invited.
“Where are we?” the strange woman asked.
“Where do you hope to be?” Fossil countered.
“I’m trying to reach one of the New Republic seats of government,” said the stranger carefully. “I’m the district representative of the Firestone Islands on Atterra Bravo, which is in the jurisdiction of the First Order. I want to speak to someone with a voice in the New Republic Senate.”
“I am not at liberty to tell you where you are,” said Fossil.
The boy broke in, with desperation in his voice, “Look, couldn’t you just tell us where to go next? This is the fifth time this season the Atterra system has tried to get someone past the blockade with news of how our people are being murdered—”
“Shhhh,” his older companion said soothingly.
“And we’re the only ones who haven’t died in the attempt!” the boy burst out. “They should know. They need to know what’s happening there!”
Fossil took a step closer. The young pilot stood his ground, quivering.
“Tell me,” the huge sluglike Martigrade said gently. “I want to know.”
“They’re tearing apart our planet,” said the boy simply, “and killing thousands of us every day.” There was a fierce intensity to his voice that kept everyone quiet. He hadn’t dared to look at Fossil since that defiant moment when she’d demanded to see his eyes. He wasn’t brave enough to look at her. But he kept on talking. “When we try to send for help, our ships are shot out of the sky. Without help, two worlds are going down in flames.”
Rose was fairly sure that nothing would delight Fossil more than to bring General Leia Organa fresh news of some concrete First Order atrocity—something Leia could use to build her argument with the New Republic for action against them.
But the Old Lady wasn’t going to give away their game so easily.
“If I could make such a meeting happen for you,” Fossil continued slowly, “if I could…I would need a very good reason for it. Can you give me one?”
The older woman looked at Fossil shrewdly, taking in the Martigrade commander’s oversized head and crystalline eyes, each the size of a human palm.
“Here’s one reason,” said the tall gray-haired woman. “Because your own people were persecuted by the old Empire long before the First Order claimed territory in our Atterra. You’re one of those who’ve never given up fighting tyranny.”
Fossil made a sound that everyone under her command knew meant, more or less, I’ll be the judge of that.
But she raised one gigantic silver limb and motioned that the troops should let the two strangers proceed ahead of her.
“Bomber crew, come along,” Fossil ordered. “We’ll see what General Organa thinks of their story. Mission debriefing can wait.”
Paige gave Rose a sideways glance, raising her eyebrows. Rose returned the same look, and Paige smiled. They fell into line behind Finch and Nix to follow Fossil and the crew of the strange ship into Resistance Headquarters.
Over her shoulder, General Leia Organa called to the attendant soldiers who’d escorted the refugees into the small map room. Her own guards stood behind her, alert and interested. “Did anybody think about getting these two something to eat and drink?” Leia asked.
“I’ll go,” volunteered one of the guards.
Leia faced the gray-haired woman for a moment without speaking, sizing her up. The general was considerably shorter than both the stowaways, but so fully sure of her own authority that her presence always seemed enormous.
Leia asked the strange woman mildly, “Who are you?”
As before, if the stranger was afraid, she didn’t show it. Her young companion stood by her side, failing to imitate her calm control.
The woman said, “I’m Casca Panzoro, and this is Reeve Panzoro. He’s my grandson; I needed a pilot and a ship to get me here. Reeve had to steal one.”
“You’re from Atterra Bravo?” Leia repeated. “They used to call it ‘Free Atterra’ during the rule of the Empire, didn’t they?”
“That’s right,” said Casca Panzoro steadily. “We are a system of twin worlds, dependent on each other. Our sister planet, Atterra Alpha, was turned into a prison during the last years of the Empire. Bravo was free, but it was a time of living nightmare for both planets. Bravo’s oceans are acidic, and Alpha’s our only natural source for drinkable water, so when communication stops between our worlds, people on Atterra Bravo die of thirst more quickly than they starve.”
“Fossil, pull up a map for us,” Leia ordered.
The bomber unit’s commander swept one of her three large silver-sheened digits over the console, and a hologram of the Atterra system blinked to life in the center of the room.
Paige and Rose glanced at each other. Rose knew that they’d both felt the same twinge of emotion when the desperate woman had spoken those familiar words: twin worlds.
Casca continued to speak steadily. “Twin worlds,” she repeated, gazing at the star map. “Atterra Alpha and Atterra Bravo, in the Atterra system on the Outer Rim.”
The hologram glowed, the miniature sister planets and other celestial bodies rotating rapidly around their small sun. It wasn’t really like Paige and Rose’s home system of Otomok. There was Atterra Primo, a giant planet whose gravity was too intense for human habitation, and between that and the twin Atterra worlds was the complex asteroid belt. Atterra Alpha and Atterra Bravo were much closer to their sun than the Hays planets had been in Otomok.
They must be so light and warm on the surface, Rose thought. She felt envious and protective at the same time.
Casca Panzoro glanced sharply around her, assessing how seriously people were taking her. Hammer’s crew was listening intently. Leia’s expression was of concern, but Rose knew that Leia was just as capable of being sneaky as any First Order spy. Fossil’s vast features were always impossible to read.
Casca plunged on, the edge of defiance in her voice a little stronger now. It revealed the family resemblance she shared with her grandson.
“We were all right for a while after the Empire was defeated. But now the First Order is worse than the Empire. They’re ravaging Atterra,” Casca said. “They’ve imposed a blockade on us while they plunder our gas and minerals, and they’re killing us as they do it. We can’t get any supplies from outside the system, and we’re forbidden to travel between our own planets. The First Order won’t even let settlements on the same planet communicate with one another. We can’t launch our own defense without fuel, and without being able to trade, people on both planets are starving.
“But it’s worse on Atterra Bravo, where there’s no natural source of fresh water. Even without being blockaded we can’t produce enough water for people to stay hydrated in the tropical regions. Our people are dying of thirst.”
Leia guessed, “So you want to make a complaint to the New Republic, behind the First Order’s back?”
“Oh, starry seas, you’d take us more seriously if we were pirates,” the young pilot Reeve Panzoro interrupted with uncontrolled frustration. “Isn’t it obvious Ms. Casca’s trying to get help from the New Republic? Who else would help her?”
Casca didn’t scold the boy for interrupting. She said proudly, “It’s true we need help. But we’re not asking anyone to fight our battle for us.”
“Well, what are you asking?” countered Leia.
Casca spoke plainly now, desperate enough to take a risk.
“I know the Senate is sympathetic to independent former Imperial colonies. We need supplies. If we could get them unofficially, then it wouldn’t cause problems between the New Republic and the First Order. I understand why the Senate won’t interfere—I know they don’t want another galactic war. I know they can’t take official action. But maybe if we kept it quiet…maybe if someone who’d been part of the old Rebel Allia
nce knew about us…or some private citizen with an interest in free trade….If we had the ability to fight our own battle, the First Order might think twice about doing this again somewhere else. They’ve got to be stopped. Because if they get away with it in Atterra, they will do it somewhere else.”
Rose saw that Paige was nodding grimly in agreement. Casca Panzoro didn’t know it, but the First Order had already done it somewhere else.
The Atterran refugee was right: the First Order had to be stopped.
Casca hesitated before she continued to speak. Then she took a deep breath and plunged on.
“I told your lieutenant here that I’m the district representative of the Firestone Islands. What I didn’t say is that I’m also the commander of a united resistance movement on Atterra Bravo. We call ourselves Bravo Rising. We’ve managed to pull together a small fleet of starfighters and transport ships, and we’ve been making supply runs between our planets. We’re capable of fighting back on our own.”
Casca and her grandson, Reeve, suddenly met each other’s eyes and exchanged a private, reassuring nod confirming their teamwork.
“But as I said, we do need help,” Casca added. She paused to draw breath, and continued steadily, “We need fuel, and food, and weapons, and medical equipment. Access to water. Just enough to keep us going—enough that we can launch our own attack. The First Order ships in our skies aren’t there legally—at least, it’s their own territory, but they’re not supposed to be starving and executing people in their own territory! We want to arm ourselves so we can survive.”
Casca had finished her plea. There were a few moments of still silence, and the only things in the room that seemed to move were the circling planets of the hologram map.
Everything Casca Panzoro had said confirmed Leia’s worst fears about Atterra—and about the First Order.
Leia reminded her neutrally, “You said you’d stolen your ship.”
“Some of Atterra Bravo’s settlements had their own security forces. Local organizations that used to police piracy and smuggling. The First Order has impounded all their ships, but we managed to hide some of them first. Reeve took his father’s ship. His father—Rendal Panzoro, my son—was one of the pilots for the Firestone Islands Guards. They were brutally targeted by the First Order blockade—brutally and ruthlessly.”
Cobalt Squadron Page 4