“Then they want the facility for its own sake,” Wyl said. He glanced around the circle.
No one argued. No one spoke.
Carver broke the silence. “Come on, people. We wanted it because it could hold up against a siege, give us a place to stage hit-and-run attacks from. So what are the Imps going to get from an old megafacility that they can’t find anywhere else?”
Junior, the elderly human Wyl rarely heard speak, shifted awkwardly. “It’s a deep core drilling site. Troithe has an unusual mineral composition. Volatile minerals.” Without turning his head, he flapped a hand in the direction of a column of blue-green flame lighting the ravine from kilometers away. “Maybe they want to blow it up.”
Twitch looked up from her rifle. “The whole planet?”
“Maybe,” Junior said. “Chain reaction? Quake activity? I don’t know.”
“Lark.” Carver was scowling. “You were the one who said Shadow Wing wouldn’t care about preserving the population. Could that go for infrastructure, too? Any reason to think they’d hesitate to blow a world?”
“I’m not sure.” It was an honest answer, and better than I hope not. “They were part of Operation Cinder—so yes, they’re willing to kill a population. But if they came to retake Cerberon for the Empire, I don’t know if they’d ruin it all out of spite—”
Carver spoke over him. “Denying resources to an enemy isn’t spite.”
“—especially after what happened at Pandem Nai. The 204th worked with us to stop that planet from burning, even when they knew they were going to lose. Whatever the reasons for Cinder, Pandem Nai is the most recent action we can point to.”
Twitch snorted. “Not inspiring faith.”
“Let’s not assume they’re capable of detonating the core of the planet,” Lien Toob said. Like Junior, the Sullustan was mostly an unknown to Wyl, though she’d struck him as pragmatic in their past meetings. “Imperials are monsters, not gods. We shouldn’t confuse what they’d want to do with what they can.”
“Let’s not underestimate them, either,” Carver said.
The conference splintered from one discussion into several. Carver, Twitch, and the massive Houk named Jorgatha—Gorgeous Su’s brother—began sketching assault plans in the dust, debating whether it was too late to take the facility in a frontal attack. Junior began pulling up data, listing the facility’s known assets to anyone who would listen and trying to find precedents for a planet-wrecking bomb. Lien Toob split her attention between Junior and Wyl, asking questions about Shadow Wing’s past strategies and leadership that Wyl felt unprepared to answer.
Even as he spoke to Lien Toob, Wyl tried to listen to Junior. Most of the mining equipment, the man said, was likely long gone from the facility. If the 204th did intend to detonate underground mineral deposits, they would need to bring in heavy machinery. “Could explain the cargo hoppers streaking across the sky,” Junior muttered.
It was an intriguing point, but another item in Junior’s equipment inventory nagged at Wyl’s attention. He sat pondering, reluctant to interrupt anyone until the thought boiled over in his brain. “It’s possible they’re trying to escape,” he said, crisp enough to demand the others’ attention.
“Escape what?” Twitch asked.
“They lost their Star Destroyer. Everything we’ve heard suggests they lost their cruiser-carrier, too. What if they’re trapped in Cerberon with us?” He paused, sucked in a breath, and went on: “Junior said the facility had a bulk freighter to move ore into orbit. Maybe it’s still there. Maybe all Shadow Wing wants is to get out of here after their plan went wrong?”
The others glanced at one another. Wyl saw nothing but skepticism in their eyes.
“Junior,” Carver said. “There really nothing else on the planet that could cart around a TIE wing? Would a mining barge actually do the trick?”
“Probably. Probably and probably,” Junior said.
Carver grunted. “So it’s conceivable that our enemies—the same boys and girls who wiped out one world already, who blew up the Lodestar, and who’ve got a reputation for nastiness and scheming—want to pick up and leave. It’s also conceivable that they’re looking to cut their losses and fry the whole planet.”
“Conceivable it could be both,” Twitch added, though no one acknowledged her.
“Tell me, Lark,” Carver said. “How much you willing to bet it’s one over the other? Because if we hang back and wait, the consequences could be dire.”
The sergeant’s tone was aggressive but not challenging. Wyl expected the man would listen to his answer.
“I wouldn’t bet the fate of Troithe on it,” Wyl conceded.
“All right,” Carver said, and clapped his hands together. “Then let’s make a new plan, the way we always do when things go south. We thought the mining facility would be where we holed up and waited for reinforcements. Turns out it’s our latest target. Almost like we’re rebels again, huh?”
“Hope your squadron’s ready for action,” Twitch said.
So they turned back to drawing landscapes in the dust and studying readouts of the facility, and for many hours they talked. They discussed ground assaults and the squadron’s readiness, and whether the V-wing and the airspeeders could be armed with heavy ordnance.
No one brought up the possibility of Shadow Wing escaping again. Eventually Wyl realized what he had to do.
* * *
—
There were scouts and guards and soldiers who played cards through the night. Denish Wraive, Prinspai, Ubellikos, and Vitale had taken to spending their evenings together ever since Gorgeous Su’s death, reviewing Wyl’s latest combat courses or catching up on gossip from friends in the infantry. He brought them together with Nath and outlined the strategy, promising more details once particulars of the ground assault were finalized. He told them to sleep; that the next day would be difficult. “This wasn’t the operation we were expecting,” he finished, “but we knew it would come to a fight sooner or later. We’ll take them by surprise and show them it’s not about the ships. It’s about the pilots and the plan.”
He wasn’t sure he’d convinced them, but they went to bed shortly thereafter.
Thus, the camp was quiet when Wyl climbed out of a rumbler and padded toward one of the fissures off the ravine. The pack slung over his shoulders didn’t slow him, though the smell of old leather was mixed with something like ammonia and mold.
He clambered over rocks and squeezed between outcroppings, scraping the skin from the back of his neck before he arrived in a broader canyon and increased his pace. He’d considered taking his ship for the journey, but doing so would’ve drawn attention from friends and foes alike. His mission tonight was a solitary one, and he’d worked out the timing in detail—he had ninety minutes to travel as far from the camp as possible, half an hour to attend to his task, and another ninety minutes to return before the black hole ascended above the horizon and began to rouse the soldiers.
Wyl tried to remember the last time he’d traveled alone on foot through the wilderness—even a wilderness as tainted as the Scar of Troithe—and recalled nothing from his life with the Rebel Alliance or the New Republic. He remembered only Home.
For so long, his world had been his starfighter and his squadron. He wondered what he’d lost along the way.
The solitude weighed heavier the farther he went. There was no wildlife, not even nocturnal animals foraging. He missed the sounds of his companions breathing; the rustle of movement and the rumble of engines. He briefly directed his attention skyward, to the stars and the trail of cargo hoppers blazing toward the mining facility, but he tripped on the uneven ground and reluctantly lowered his head again.
He listened to the faint breeze and the distant crackle of mineral fires.
He found a slope to ascend and wished he’
d brought his gloves as he scaled the boulders. Yet he’d been climbing ridges since his childhood, and this one was no challenge. When he crested the plateau he kept walking until the shattered land around him appeared infinite and undifferentiated—until it felt as if he would never find his way back to the company.
Next he set his pack down and took out the transmitter. The readout revealed low-level activity across frequency bands, which Wyl took to be the Imperial ships in conversation and the background noise of the planetary communications web. He adjusted the settings, opened a comm channel, activated the holo-imager, and placed the transmitter in the dust.
He stood over it and spoke.
“This is Wyl Lark of New Republic unit Alphabet Squadron, attempting to reach the 204th Imperial Fighter Wing,” he said. “I am aware this communication is irregular. I am also aware that you know who I am. We’ve spoken before, at Pandem Nai and in the Oridol Cluster.”
You know you can trust me, he thought, but it was a leap he needed his listeners to make on their own. He omitted mention of Blink’s message to him over Troithe, though it was Blink he imagined as he spoke—he didn’t know why the TIE pilot had warned him, and he didn’t dare expose what the Empire might consider treason.
“I believe that some of you are tired of fighting. I can count the comrades I’ve lost battling you. I can count the TIE fighters I’ve destroyed. I don’t want to do it anymore, not unless I have to in order to protect—” Not the New Republic. Not even Home. “—in order to protect more people from dying.
“I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. If you’re trying to escape this system, if you want to find a way out of this, let’s come to some sort of solution before—”
The voice that interrupted Wyl was low and stern. He recognized it immediately. “Probably best if you stepped away from the transmitter,” Nath said.
Wyl turned around slowly but did not step away. Nath Tensent stood five meters distant, fingering the grip of his sidearm on his hip and wearing an expression of weary admonition. Past Nath was T5, antenna raised as it observed the scene.
“Tell me you didn’t block the message,” Wyl said.
“Could tell you that, but you’d know I lied soon enough.” Nath jutted a thumb back at T5. “Little junker doesn’t have much range but it’s pretty good with a jammer. Got here just in time, too.”
“You knew what I was planning?”
“Hadn’t a clue. Thought someone should keep track of you anyway.”
Wyl stared at his friend in bewilderment. “I don’t know what you think I’m doing. I’m trying to save people, Nath—us, Shadow Wing, Troithe, everyone—”
“I gathered that. I didn’t figure you were turning traitor, but the odds your plan ends well are pretty slim.” Anger seeped up through Nath’s calm façade. “Assuming you don’t get shot by the first TIE that comes along, what do you think is going to happen? There’s a war going on.”
Wyl did his best to keep his voice steady. Mirroring Nath’s ire gained him nothing. “Shadow Wing wants a way out. They’re trying to get a ship offworld—”
“I heard your theory. I know.”
“—and Blink spoke to me above Troithe. It’s how I knew it was the 204th. Blink warned me because—I don’t know, maybe because of a respect for what happened at Pandem Nai. But he or she or whoever Blink is sent me a message before the jamming started.”
Nath looked genuinely surprised for the first time. He blinked the reaction away soon enough. “Did that message prove useful in any way?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Blink telling you it was the 204th. Did it save the Lodestar? Did it save Chass and Meteor? Seems it split us up and distracted us instead of doing much good.”
Wyl began to turn away. Nath shot him a look of warning that made him pause.
“No,” Wyl admitted. “But sometimes people fail. We don’t assume that means they aren’t sincere. There is a real chance here.”
“I expect there was a real chance in the Oridol Cluster, too. But your friends died there, and the risk is bigger now.” Nath exhaled performatively, raising both hands and starting to cross the distance to Wyl. “You talk to them? They can kill you, or get a lead on us, or blow up the whole planet if we’re wrong about what they’re doing at the facility.
“You negotiate with them? You invite them to set a trap; or you finagle a cease-fire that looks good until someone misreads a signal or sours on the situation and takes the first shot.
“You somehow pull this off? You let them get offworld? You probably get court-martialed for your trouble. And what do you figure Shadow Wing does next? They going to retire just because you negotiated a cease-fire for a day?”
Nath was two meters away. Wyl tensed, planting his feet in the dust. Nath stopped walking.
“You never seemed to me a man who’d choose to fight when there were other solutions,” Wyl said. “Or a man who’d make war as a matter of principle.”
“You’re a moron.” Nath smiled joylessly. “You think that’s what this is about? I’m out here to slaughter the enemies of the New Republic?”
Wyl curled and uncurled his fingers, glancing to T5 as if the droid’s mere presence could calm him. The astromech did not respond.
As infuriating as Nath was, what made it worse was that Wyl didn’t understand why, couldn’t comprehend how the conversation had gone down this course. Yet he was carried along by the current. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “You’ve gone out of your way for revenge against Shadow Wing before.”
Ugly laughter struck Wyl like a fist to the gut. “I got justice for my squadron,” Nath said. “I don’t regret that, but it’s done. I made the tough decisions because I was a leader. You don’t seem to realize what position you’re in.
“I am saving your sorry butt, brother, from the consequences of your actions. You really want to resolve this thing peacefully? Walk away from the people who blew up the Lodestar, probably killed Quell and Chass? I’m in. I’ll follow. It’s not my job to set things right this time, and no one ever accused me of patriotism.”
The thought of Chass and Quell dead in space—the thought Wyl hadn’t allowed to find purchase in his mind, despite its constant scrabbling—was fire on the back of his neck. Quell, whom he’d lost the chance to damn or forgive. Chass, the last of Riot Squadron and his only link to the friends no one else survived to remember.
What if Shadow Wing had killed them both? What did he owe them?
Nath kept talking. “But if you want to walk away without firing a shot, you be prepared to live with it. If Operation Cinder comes around again, if Shadow Wing picks up where they left off, you don’t get to have regrets.”
During his cold, steady raging, Nath had closed to within a handspan of Wyl. Wyl met the larger man’s gaze, seeing Sata Neek and Rununja and burning worlds.
“Back at Pandem Nai”—Nath’s tone was suddenly calmer—“I didn’t watch out for you like I should’ve. You called me on it, and you were right to. I’m watching out for you now. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Wyl said, and for the first time he thought he understood Nath Tensent. He’d always known Nath was manipulative and ruthless but also sincere and good-humored; he understood now that Nath was loyal, more loyal in his way than most soldiers Wyl had known. “I hear you. I’m just not sure it matters.”
If they killed Quell, if they killed Chass, if they killed you and Kairos like they killed Riot Squadron, it still wouldn’t change what’s right.
He thought it. He didn’t get the chance to say it.
The sound of boots crunching on scree drew the attention of both men. They looked to the edge of the plateau and saw several infantry troops scrambling up the slope. Vitale led the way, hair bundled under her helmet and a rifle tucked under one arm. “Answer y
our blasted comlinks!” she cried. “Got a skimmer waiting below—we’ve got to get back to camp now.”
“What’s going on?” Nath asked.
Wyl shifted his position, blocking the transmitter from sight.
“Just picked up a message from friendly guerrillas back in the city. Every TIE squadron out there just changed course, heading directly for Core Nine,” Vitale answered. “Whatever it is they’re doing, we’ve got to seize the facility before the whole 204th is on-site. Carver’s got a plan, so—you in?”
Nath looked to Wyl. Wyl looked between Nath and Vitale and the cracked wasteland. He shifted his heel back through the dust and imagined snapping up the transmitter, running from the company—but what was the point? He would be on his own, with nothing worth bargaining away. No way to negotiate. His comrades would be left to die alone.
He had failed. Like Nath said, he had to accept the consequences.
“Let’s go,” he said.
CHAPTER 18
THAT WHICH YOU TAKE WITH YOU
I
“What did you see this time?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I understand. What did you see this time?”
Yrica Quell squatted in the red dust with her back to the tower, facing the interrogation droid. The machine floated against the black sky like a moon or a battle station, its low hum throbbing in her bones. She did not meet the gaze of its photoreceptor. The stars behind it blurred into a smear, her sight unfocused with exhaustion and apathy.
“The day I joined the 204th,” she said. “When I chose not to run off with the Rebel Alliance but instead to leave the Academy and stay with the Empire.”
“It was not the first time you made a similar decision,” the droid said.
“No. It wasn’t.”
Memories flashed across her brain like sparks from a downed power conduit—a final spasm after the vision that had assaulted her. She had gone to the Imperial flight academy to become a pilot; to become a pilot so she could fight for Mon Mothma’s Rebellion. She’d seen other recruits drop out or fail, earn their freedom through guile or incompetence. She’d been offered the chance by a boy, once—she remembered his name was Camm, though it took a moment—who’d repeatedly failed his simulator tests. He’d planned to run and he’d wanted to take Quell with him. She’d refused, fearing arrest and execution (and not liking Camm nearly as much as he’d liked her).
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