At last Finch said, “We’re to report to the Old Lady for debriefing in common room twenty-three in the harbormaster’s complex. She called in while I was docking. That Bravo Rising resistance leader will be there, too. Hailstorm’s crew is all right.”
Miraculously, no one on board Hammer had been hurt, either.
They tumbled into the debriefing room and struggled out of their weathersuits again. For a moment all was chaos as the two surviving crews rushed into one another’s arms. The room Fossil had managed to set aside for them was much too big for the twelve people gathered there—Fossil had been expecting to accommodate more than thirty.
Hailstorm’s pilot and Spennie began to sob. Everyone else was silent.
“Please sit. Get warm.” There were blankets and protein portions and hot drinks; Fossil pointed. “We have a surprise for you.”
Casca Panzoro was presiding over a very ancient portable organic synthicator, which shuddered with the effort of producing something edible out of a mixture of powdered starches. After a moment Fossil crossed over to it and opened the production drawer, rolled back the lid, and with delicate, enormous fingers, flicked away a layer of styrochips. Beneath the protective chips lay four round fruits about the size of Rose’s fist. They were the flaming color of a D’Qar sunset.
“Starberries?” breathed Hailstorm’s pilot. “Where on this winter planet…?”
“It is no tree-grown fruit,” Fossil explained. “Nothing real. They are synthicated clones. The image of starberries—as the inhabitants of Refnu live beneath the image of sunlight within their windowless walls.”
Rose had never seen such a thing. She stared, along with every other crew member of the returning heavy bombers.
“It’s synthetic, but it’s still fresh fruit,” Casca said. “It won’t last two of this planet’s long days. You’re working and dying for us—for a pair of distant worlds that most of you have never set foot on.” She looked up, with the fleeting warm glance that made her seem younger. “You’re not expecting any payment. As far as I can tell, your sacrifice is for nothing other than the satisfaction of being able to fight for what you believe in.”
“Take this fruit and eat it in memory of your fallen comrades,” Fossil said. She pulled the drawer free of the synthicator and held it forward.
“Pilots and flight engineers first,” she added. “We will make a second and third small harvest for the gunners and bombardiers, and I will hear your report while we wait.”
Fossil, Casca, and the gunners and bombardiers of both ships watched solemnly while the pilots and technicians ate the rosy synthicated fruit.
Rose looked around her as she nibbled at the astonishingly crisp, sweet flesh. It seemed utterly unreal after the harsh brutality of the last Atterra run, and she could tell that Finch and the Hailstorm crew members felt the same way. Their faces were as drained and passionless as if they were eating dust. They were forcing it down as a ritual—in memory of your fallen comrades.
“Tell me how it began,” Fossil said.
Haltingly, and with many corrections and interruptions, the Hailstorm and Hammer crews began to tell the story of the day’s failed mission.
By the time they’d finished, Casca had created two more batches of starberries for the rest of the StarFortress crews. Fossil passed the fruit around without speaking except to prompt the pilots or gunners to continue their tale. But when they’d exhausted what they had to say, and Hailstorm’s pilot started to cry again, Fossil gave her throat-clearing rumble and began to ask unsettling and probing questions.
“Describe again what you saw on the screen, Rose Tico, as you watched Hailstorm flying from the carnage. How was it that the bomber Hailstorm managed to escape the fate of the others?”
“They were—they were the last in the line. They were able to turn around in time. By the time the—the enemy squadron got close to them, they were already back in the asteroid belt and—and I guess…”
Rose hesitated, because she didn’t actually know what had happened after that.
Hailstorm’s pilot shrugged. He rubbed his eyes, gave one last sob, and spoke steadily.
He said, “We got lucky. Two of the fighters on our tail collided with one of the asteroids, and we lost the others for a little while, and we were ready for the lightspeed jump the second we were out of the asteroid belt. We couldn’t have done it without the shields, or the power baffler, or the gunners.”
The pilot glanced over at his own gunners, both fur-covered humanoids. They were seated side by side with arms clasped over each other’s shoulders. Hailstorm’s pilot and gunners exchanged a quiet moment, communicating only with their eyes.
“Mainly we couldn’t have done it without the gunners,” Hailstorm’s pilot amended. “But we couldn’t have done it without the command to retreat, either, or if we hadn’t been the farthest back in the line.”
“Ah.” Fossil turned back to Finch and his crew. “The order in the lineup mattered. I would like to hear, then, Hammer crew: You were first in line. You were first out, first fired on, and last to leave. What is the reason you believe you were spared?”
Rose and her crewmates all stared at each other in bewilderment.
Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to them that there might be any reason other than the ones the Hailstorm pilot had just mentioned, plus Finch’s own ability as a pilot: good luck, the shields, the power baffler, and Paige and Spennie’s accuracy when firing the laser cannons.
But they’d been under fire for longer, and with more of the TIEs on top of them, than any of the other heavy bombers.
“I guess maybe they let us go,” Finch said slowly.
Rose saw Paige nodding.
“They might have wanted a ship they could trace,” Paige guessed. “They might have wanted to follow us back to wherever we came from….”
“They might have suspected you of coming from a base on Atterra Alpha, perhaps, and wanted to track you there,” suggested Casca Panzoro. “Or even from one of the asteroids in the Atterra Belt. Some of them have settlements. And because you got away through hyperspace, they’ll know now that you’re coming from outside the system.”
“We shall check the hulls,” rumbled Fossil. “They may have successfully planted a tracking device during the battle. We will take no risks. Yes, Nix?”
“They might have wanted to take prisoners,” Hammer’s bombardier croaked, as if it had just occurred to him. “If they’d disabled us enough to board us, or to hold us until another ship arrived, they could have…they could have tried to question us, or…”
He finished raggedly, “We know a lot.”
“I trust you would have had the sense to destroy yourselves before such a thing happened,” Fossil said drily.
Rose and Finch nodded in agreement so quickly that Fossil never even had a chance to doubt their resolve.
Rose would never let herself be taken prisoner by anyone in the First Order. If she had to blow herself and her sister up together, she’d do it.
She exchanged a piercing glance with Paige and knew that her sister felt the same way. Rose felt even more certain about it now than she’d felt before the day’s disastrous events.
“So,” Fossil concluded. “The TIE that escaped on your first trip reported back to the First Order patrol masters in Atterra Alpha, who saw to it that an ambush was lying in wait for you on your second trip. We have failed to make our second drop. We have lost nearly an entire airlift supply shipment, along with four bombers and their associated crew. We have little time to spare. But we will not fly to Atterra tomorrow. We need to repair our spirits and consider a new strategy before we risk ourselves in another suicidal mission.”
Fossil turned away from the two remaining crews, and Rose suddenly realized that the overbearing, authoritative unit commander was as broken with grief and loss as her own crews were.
“We will speak again tomorrow,” the Old Lady said quietly. “And then we shall move forward.”
Her large, shining silver hand caught the artificial light as she dismissed them.
In the middle of the night Rose was woken from a fitful, fire-filled sleep by Paige stroking her face and saying her name over and over.
“Rose, Rose! Wake up—good news—”
Rose sat up instantly, banging her head on the top of the sleeping bay. She was on the upper level and there wasn’t room to sit up there. Below her, where Paige stood, the soft blue light they were allowed to game or chat by during quiet hours was illuminating Paige’s bunk.
“Come down, come join us, Rose—”
Rose rolled over and swung down by Paige’s side. There, sitting on Paige’s bunk, was their friend Vennie, who’d flown as the pilot for the bomber Cutter.
Rose actually rubbed her eyes. “What—how in the name of all galaxies—”
“Cutter came back,” Paige explained simply, her eyes shining.
Rose leaped at Vennie and hugged her spontaneously. Like Paige, Vennie was a multitalented pilot. She sometimes flew an A-wing, going along as an escort for the bombers. But now, since there was no fighter escort for them, she was doubling as a StarFortress pilot.
Paige drew Rose down next to her so that all three of them were sitting tight together in the low blue light of Paige’s bunk, Paige squeezed in between Rose and Vennie. Paige curled one protective and comforting arm fondly around each of their backs on either side of her.
“Our hyperdrive was damaged in the fight,” explained Vennie. “We made it out of the Atterra system, but stalled out of lightspeed in some backwater on the Outer Rim—we couldn’t even find a place to land, just sat orbiting some worldless star for a while. We spent twelve hours floating there, regenerating power and tying the ship back together. That’s why it took us so long. I don’t know how you techs do it, to tell the truth—ours managed to fix the hyperdrive with parts from your power baffler….”
“No way!” Rose couldn’t help laughing.
“You’ll have to ask our tech what he did. Actually, someone’s bound to talk to you about it, because he had to break up the power baffler to get the hyperdrive to work, and you’ll have to rebuild it.”
“I will totally do that without complaining,” Rose vowed, “since it got you back here somehow.”
“Well, that’s what we do best, isn’t it?” said Paige. “Work together without complaining.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “I complain.”
“You’re the little sister. You’re allowed to complain.”
“I wouldn’t, if you weren’t so bossy,” Rose teased.
Paige and Vennie both laughed. It felt good to tease a little. It felt good to have something to be glad about.
Vennie said, “I came straight to the Tico sisters after we docked—because we wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you both for saving our lives. We’d never have managed to bum our way out of Atterra without being seen if it hadn’t been for that power baffler, and we’d never even have gotten that far if it hadn’t been for Hammer covering us with your guns when those starfighters first attacked us.”
Vennie faltered, her voice shaking with emotion. Despite the joy of their reunion, none of them had recovered from the stunning shock of what had happened to the Cobalt Squadron.
“You’re so right, Paige,” Vennie finished, with feeling. “Working together—it’s what we do best. Our ships, Hammer and Cutter, we were the first two in—those starfighters should have easily beaten us both, or one of us anyway. But you protected us. You gave us the chance we needed to escape.”
Paige didn’t answer right away, but Rose felt her sister’s arm tightening around her waist, and she knew that Paige had something on her mind—something that had struck her very suddenly.
“What’s up?” Rose asked quietly.
“It was what you said about how we worked together, Vennie,” Paige said slowly. “You said our cover gave you the chance to escape.”
“I guess you just did what a fighter escort would have done,” Vennie said. “You did what I’d have done if I’d been flying a starfighter. But of course I’m not flying a starfighter. And we don’t have a fighter escort, and we’re not going to get one, either.”
“But we could protect each other,” said Paige. “I mean, obviously we do that anyway. But maybe we could use a little strategy and do it better. Maybe we could do it aggressively—on purpose.”
“How do you mean?” Vennie asked, intrigued.
Rose had seen the wheels turning like this in Paige’s mind before. Paige’s ability to seize on a little thing and turn it into a strategic plan was what had gotten them out of the Otomok system alive.
“Here’s the thing,” said Paige. “Today we entered Atterra Bravo’s orbit in an orderly parade, predictable as planets lining up around a star. So one way we could avoid the enemy picking us off in line is to split up—not fly as a squadron. Everyone approach the target from a different position.”
“Um, that’s a little suicidal,” Rose pointed out. “Doesn’t it leave the Forts without any protection?”
“Yeah, but what if we went in pairs? Fossil thinks they purposefully let our ship go because they were hoping to track it. What if we went in pairs, with the first ship going in as a kind of decoy, to draw the attention away from the other? The very first ship could be empty—then it would be faster and more maneuverable, and it could distract the TIEs while the second ship made a drop—maybe on the other side of the planet. Then—”
As often happened when Paige got an idea, Rose saw where she was going with it.
“Then the first ship could escape,” Rose interrupted, “and the second, which would be empty once its supplies were dropped, could act as a decoy for the next that came in!”
“We’d have to time it and plot the coordinates pretty carefully,” said Vennie. “But I see! This way there would be only two ships in Atterra Bravo’s orbit at any one time, so we’d all be at less of a risk—”
“And if we came in from different entry points, they wouldn’t be able to pick us off like they did today,” finished Paige breathlessly.
“That’s a desperate plan, Paige Tico,” Rose told her sister.
“But?”
The three survivors of that day’s disastrous Atterra run grinned at one another like conspirators.
“But it just might work, right?” said Paige.
Vennie stood up and stretched. “I’m heading to my bunk,” she said. “That was the longest day I’ve ever spent on the Outer Rim. Got to get some rest if we’re going to get these ships packed and repaired for tomorrow.”
“We get tomorrow off,” said Rose.
“That was last night,” Paige reminded her. “We’ve only got today off. Tomorrow we’re back out there.”
TWO MORE drops, Rose told herself throughout the day whenever she had time to worry about the future. Or—no, I guess we need to make three more. Because we didn’t actually make one yesterday. Only three more drops and then we can go back to D’Qar.
Their “day off” wasn’t by any means a vacation. All the remaining bomb rack clips and supplies had to be shifted out of the transport; the empty clips had to be loaded back into it so the transport could return to D’Qar for fuel for the final airlifts. There were repairs to be made. There were still six ships scheduled to make the Atterra run the next day, but that left only two to make the icebreaking run, which they had to continue if they wanted to maintain their cover on Refnu.
Sometimes Rose felt that the toughest part of a bombing run was the time they spent stuck in the ship doing nothing: the dead time of waiting. All that bottled-up grief and fear and energy and preparation, and there they were sitting doing nothing.
They were ready to go the following morning, but a howling storm was preventing any of the bombers from taking off. The storm was predicted to pass in a couple of hours; there wasn’t any point in leaving the ship and waiting somewhere else.
Hammer’s crew sat on the floor of the flight deck playing s
abacc with a deck of very worn cards that Finch kept strapped beneath the pilot’s seat just in case they found themselves with time on their hands. Playing cards was a small way to pretend there was nothing wrong with their nerves.
Without anything of value to wager, they usually bet on imaginary racing beasts. In the game, they each owned a stable housing six sleek fathiers—Paige’s idea, of course. No one in Hammer’s crew had ever seen a real one. These long-legged, elegant land creatures ran in swift, wild herds on brighter, more central planets, where the elite of the galaxy rode them mounted as racers and hunters.
“No way, I’m not risking my silver mare,” Paige told Finch. “Not with these cards.”
The bombardier, Nix, gave a snort. “Well, I’ll bet my bronze mare, then—how about you, Rose?”
Rose slapped down her cards in frustration. The waiting felt worse than usual and the pretended distraction wasn’t working. “You can have my whole herd. Nuts and bolts, the wind has stopped. What is taking the Old Lady so long with that clearance?”
Finch was edgy, too. At Rose’s outburst he stood up and went to peer out into the twilight darkness of Refnu’s summer morning beyond the canopy of the pilot’s cockpit.
“Fossil’s waiting for the workers’ shift to change. If we take off when the night crew is docking and the next crew is on their way out, it’ll look like we’re part of the mining operation. In case there’s anyone watching us who wonders why we never send all our ships out to the ice at the same time…”
Paige said, her voice as calm as always, “It’s worth the wait. We don’t seem to have picked up any trackers in that battle, but we sure don’t want to give anyone who might be watching something suspicious to report.”
Spennie slapped her cards down, too. “It can’t be much longer now. I’m going to get strapped in. Rose, want me to patch you in to my recording for the trip out? It’s an old Five Sabers Classic Cup.”
Cobalt Squadron Page 13