BY CHUCK WENDIG 17 страница

Who was he, after all of that?

“Has the Operator set a time for this communication? ” Ackbar asks.

“Now, actually, ” the chancellor answers.

Hm. “So be it. ” To his comm officer, he says: “Toktar, please, if you will: Open a channel. Old Alliance frequency Zeta Zeta nine. ”

A new holographic image shimmers into view.

And it is not the Operator.

“Grand Admiral Ackbar, ” says the vision of Rae Sloane.

On her end, Leia feels everything clench up. The Operator is gone. The Empire has surely discovered the traitor. The appearance of Sloane—one of the heads of the Imperial remnants, the strongest remnant if their intel is accurate—only confirms it.

“Grand admiral is an Imperial ranking, ” the Mon Cala says. “I, like you once did, identify as fleet admiral—but you seem to have taken the title ‘Grand Admiral’ for yourself. ”

Sloane stiffens and shrugs. “No one above to promote me, I’m afraid, Admiral. In this new order one must take what one deserves. ”

“Why do you darken our door today? ” Mon Mothma asks.

“I come to reveal myself. ”

“Reveal yourself? I can’t say I understand—”

“I am the Operator. ”

No, Leia thinks. It couldn’t be. This woman has been her counterpart, in a way—the two of them operating as a voice speaking to the wider galaxy. Each trying to secure fresh footing among the citizens. Each speaking for her people—Leia for the resurgent Republic, Sloane for the dwindling Empire. And so it seems impossible to believe.

The others don’t believe it, either. Agate says: “That curtain is all too thin, Admiral Sloane. It’s easy to see the lie. ”

“I’m sorry, who are you again? ” Sloane asks.

“Commodore Agate. ”

“Ah. Yes. The one who led the charge on Kuat. A convincing victory and deserving of respectful congratulations, Commodore. ”

Agate isn’t having any of it. “You were on Akiva. You were part of that secret cabal—and the Operator turned us onto it and against it. That put your life in danger. You cannot be the Operator. It makes no sense. ”

“I gave you targets, ” Sloane says, “in order to strengthen my position within the Empire. The events on Akiva allowed me to seize control. Relatively speaking. All the targets, you will find, stood in opposition to my ascent. ” Leia mentally tallies their victories performed in service to the Operator. She wonders: Could Sloane be right? Leia wondered what exactly the Empire would have to gain by sacrificing parts of itself, and there, so clear they should’ve seen it, was the answer: the elimination of competition.

“Why tell us any of this? ” Leia challenges. “More likely you discovered the identity of the Operator and had him or her executed. ”

“Ah. Leia. So we meet—or as close to it as we can muster. It is an honor to meet you. Genuinely. You have done so much. Amazing how so much of the galaxy has changed based on the actions of one Alderaanian princess. ”

“I am only as good as those who surround me, ” Leia says. “Now answer the accusation: You killed the Operator and are lying to us. ”

“No. I’m using the Operator’s channel because we are losing this war, Princess. Your victory at Kuat demonstrates that neatly. And I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of all of this, to be frank. It is time to negotiate. ”

“Surrender? ” the chancellor asks.

“Don’t be hasty, ” Sloane chides. “I offer you surrender and the Empire takes my head. They’d probably send it to you packed into the nose cone of a thermoclastic missile. It is time for peace talks. ”

Ackbar’s chin tendrils curl inward upon themselves. He must be feeling what Leia is. Her own instincts light up like an alarm: Something’s off kilter here. Sloane is playing with them.

And yet the loss of Kuat is significant. A major wound.

The Empire would certainly want to stanch the bleeding…

But what should the New Republic do in response? Allow them time to tend to their injuries—an act of compassion against an Empire that has demonstrated none? Or press the advantage, grinding them into the dirt? Leading to more lives lost, more instability, more madness across the galaxy? Giving them a place in the future of the galaxy allows for some measure of constancy and peace…and here, Ackbar’s words haunt her: Nobody wins a war. Best we can do is to find a way to stop fighting.

This could be that. It could be an opportunity.

Or it could be a grievous mistake.

“We will need to speak about this and then put it to the Senate, ” Mon Mothma says.

“I understand. Palpatine did away with the Senate because it cooled the engines of progress, but his way has not been proven effective. He is gone and you remain, so here we are. Talk to your people. I would suggest having the peace talks on your world with minimal guard. I am offering that as a concession of trust. ”

“So noted, Admiral Sloane. Thank you. ”

“Good day. And congratulations again to you all. I am a warrior before I am anything else, and what you have accomplished is impressive. I hope to hear from you in time. Use this channel and I will respond. ”

And with that, her hologram blinks out.

It leaves behind a considerable vacuum. The four of them are silent—the others are surely like Leia in that they are bewildered and bemused by what just transpired. Could this be real? And if it is, then what?

“I will convene an emergency session of the Senate, ” the chancellor says. “Let’s hope this is something. It may be a way forward to peace. May the Force be with you. ”

When the chancellor is gone, Leia says to Agate and Ackbar: “May the Force be with us all. I fear we are going to need it. ”

The quiet of Kashyyyk is unsettling. Nothing is here. No life. No insects buzzing. No rustle of underbrush as creatures pick through sticks and leaves. In contrast, the jungles of Akiva are alive, too alive—Norra remembers how the canyons of Akar were home to hooting ateles and squawking clever-birds and hissing bladder-bugs. The cacophony of the rain forest was almost deafening—louder at night than it was in the day.

This is not that. It’s a dead channel. A null frequency.

At least here, in this small section of the planet, the Empire has killed everything. And Norra sits, staring off into the silence. Wishing for a moment she had a little jaqhad—leaf-chew. Muddle the black leaves and pink petals of the jaqhad flower, then chew it to make yourself awake, alive, aware. An Akivan tradition.

It would make her ribs feel better.

It would make everything feel better.

Right now, not far behind her, the rest of her crew is helping bring the rest of the captives out of the prison ship, preparing their egress from the planet’s surface. Brentin, her husband, is with Temmin—last she left them, they were both on the Halo looking over the pieces of Bones, who had been ultimately torn limb from limb. The droid is still functioning, but can’t seem to speak—he can only broadcast garbled, mechanical static blasts.

She hears someone coming up behind her. A glance over her shoulder reveals Han Solo.

“Hey, ” he says.

“You did it. You found him. ”

“We did it. You were right. I couldn’t have done it without your help. ”

“You going soft on me? ” she asks.

“No, but I’m in a good mood. Just go with it. ” He comes up alongside and looks out with her. He’s got that aw-shucks sheepishness about him, suddenly. Hands in pockets. Waiting to say something but not really able to say it out loud. “So, ahhh, you know. Thanks. ”

Norra doesn’t have much to say in return, and talking only makes her two shattered ribs—now swaddled in a hasty wrapping of bonding tape courtesy of the oh-so-compassionate Jas Emari—feel like they’re stabbing her. So instead she just nods and keeps on staring out.

“That really your husband back there? ”

“It is. ”

“Then we both have cause to celebrate. ”

“Absolutely. ”

But he must detect the tremor in her voice. “Why aren’t you with him? You’re out here, instead. ”

“I wanted him to have time with my son. ”

“Sure, sure. Nothing more to it than that, huh? ” He’s poking around, feeling her out. “Nothing on your mind? ”

I failed Brentin.

I found him here only by accident.

It’s been so long.

Everything is changed. I’ve changed. Temmin has changed.

The whole galaxy has changed.

But Brentin hasn’t.

“No, ” she lies. “Nothing. ” She feels like a failure. A traitor—and here, her mind flits to Wedge, and that only deepens her sense of treachery. It’s not that she doesn’t love Brentin. She does. And will. He is her husband and the father of her child and—she can’t face him. Not easily. Not now.

“I got a kid on the way, ” Solo says suddenly.

“I…yes. I suspected. ”

He kicks at a stick. “I should be there. I should be there now. For Leia. For that kid. But I got this…thing hanging over me. This thing I gotta do. I’ll never be all the way there long as it isn’t done. I’ll never be me. I can’t be a good father until…” He curls his hand and presses a knuckle into the tree—not a punch, but hard enough that the bones in his fingers crack and pop. “I’m just saying, sometimes you have to do what you have to do. ”

“You’re not leaving, are you? ”

“Am I that transparent? ”

“As clear and as tough as a sheet of blast glass. ”

“You take the Falcon. It’s the fastest ship in the galaxy, and we got just shy of a hundred prisoners who need medical attention. It’ll be a tight fit, a real cattle car, but you’ll manage. Plus, some of those prisoners are staying here with me and Chewie. ”

“The refugees? ”

“Yeah, and a couple other poor undesirables who got swept up by that Star Destroyer. See what kind of damage we can do. ”

Norra stares off into the dead forest. “Looks like the Empire already did its damage. ”

“It isn’t all like this. Right now we’re at the edge of the Shadowlands. Closer to the cities, that’s where you find the camps, the mines, the labs. That’s where you find the Empire. ”

“You’re going to liberate it all by yourself? ”

“Or die trying. ”

“Leia? And your child? How will they feel about that? ”

He scratches at the back of his head. “I don’t know. They’ll hate me, probably. But maybe in time they’ll get it. They’ll see I had to do this. ”

“Better come back alive, then. ”

“Guess I’d better. ”

Norra grimaces as she reaches out with her hand. Solo takes it, shakes it. “It’s been an honor, ” she says.

“Go be with your family. Take them home, Norra Wexley. ”

“Thanks, Solo. Good luck here. ”

“Luck has saved my tail before. Let’s hope that trend holds. ”

—

Not long after, Norra gathers the whole crew.

Everyone except Temmin. He’s with Brentin, still. As it should be. And she doesn’t want to give him this choice.

The darkness here on Kashyyyk is lightening now—a gray, gauzy light from the sun in this system. Fingers of that light shine through the trees and the mist, and Norra steps into a beam of it and tells them all what’s happening. She explains that Solo is staying behind.

“A fool’s crusade, ” Sinjir mutters. Then, louder: “An idiot’s parade! ”

“I think some of you should stay with him, ” Norra says.

“I’ll stay, ” Jas says with zero hesitation.

“What? ” Jom asks.

“What? ” Sinjir echoes.

Jas shrugs. “We took out Gedde, but we didn’t free any of Slussen Canker’s slaves. That didn’t sit right with me. We can do differently here. ”

“This is a whole fragging planet, ” Jom says. “We’re going to free it? Ourselves? We’re good, Emari, but we’re not that good. ”

“Besides, ” Sinjir says. “I don’t think there’ll be a payout for this. ”

“I can usually wring a few credits out of any situation. And maybe this payout isn’t about money. We helped free Akiva. That felt good. Sinjir, how did it feel almost sticking a sharpened antenna into Aram’s ear? ”

Norra watches—the ex-Imperial starts to answer, but instead just looks down at his feet.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about it, ” Jas says. “You did a bad thing because you had to, because sometimes you have to do bad in service of good. But once, just once, I want to do something really good. Good even though it’s stupid. Good because it’s right. ”

Sinjir makes a faux-gagging sound. “Oh, yuck. Jas, no. ”

“Sinjir, yes. ”

“Fine, ” he says, rolling his eyes. “Blah blah blah I crave purpose and recompense for my crimes and et cetera, et cetera. I’ll stay, too. Besides, this is an Imperial-governed planet. Maybe news of my treachery has not yet reached these forested coasts and I can press that advantage. ”

“You’ve all gone batty, ” Jom says. But then he sighs and throws up his hands. “But I’ve already gone off the map on this one. Might as well stick around a little while longer, see what kind of damage we can do here to the Imperial war machine. Soldier is as a soldier does and all that. ”

Norra nods and smiles. It’s what she hoped would happen.

“How about you? ” Jas asks Norra.

“I’m taking my family and the captives—along with my injured self—home. But I’ll be thinking about you, and I’ll see if I can send help. ”

Jas nods and steps up to Norra. “Stay safe, Norra. ”

“Be good, Jas. ”

“A little good. But not too good. ”

She says her goodbyes, too, with Sinjir and Jom. It hits her, suddenly—the overwhelming feeling that she might not see these people again. Her darkest thought is also the loudest: Staying behind and trying to liberate Kashyyyk is a suicide mission.

Everything’s so dizzying, and it’s hard to cut through the pain in her side and see her way through to what has happened, but one shining moment is bright enough to manage: Norra’s sitting there in the pilot’s seat of the Falcon feeling like a stranger in someone else’s house. Her son is next to her, acting as copilot. And then, Brentin comes up behind them.

He kisses the top of his son’s head.

He kisses Norra’s cheek.

He leans on them both—one hand on her shoulder, another on Temmin’s shoulder—and as Norra brings the Falcon out of hyperspace, Chandrila rushing into view, he laughs a little.

“It’s amazing, ” he says.

“Amazing? ” she asks, a little cheekily.

“Things have changed. And I hate that I missed it. But look at the two of you! Norra, you’re a pilot. Temmin, you are, too. The Rebel Alliance won and…I’m not happy I missed all that, but I’m happy to see what you both became. ” His voice shakes when he says, “I feel like I woke up from sleep and the galaxy moved on without me. ”

“We didn’t move on, ” Temmin says.

Norra rubs the top of her husband’s hand. That hand is trembling just so. “Tem’s right. You were missing from us, but now we’re a family again and nothing can change that, ” she says, convincing even herself. “Things will feel weird for a while but that’s okay. We’ll get past it. For now, though, can you check on everyone back there? Let them know we’ll soon be clear to land? ”

“I will, ” he says, and then adds: “I love you guys. ”

“We love you, too, ” Temmin says.

As Brentin heads back, Norra and her son exchange looks. She remarks to herself just how happy the boy looks. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she’s seen that look on his face. He’s beaming, bright as a sun.

“Let’s go home, ” Temmin says.

Norra transmits clearance codes to Chandrila tower control.

—

The Falcon descends.

The ship is crammed full of people. Temmin works his way through the back of the craft, talking to them all as he passes. “You’re free from the Empire, ” he tells an Ithorian woman pressed into the back corner. She murmurs gratitude at him. “We’re landing now, ” he says to a young Rodian whose face is marred with a meshwork of scars. “It’s gonna be okay, ” he assures a barrel-bellied man in rebel army raiment.

At the back of the ship, through the throng of bodies, Temmin finds his father doing the same thing. Assuring the others. Holding their hands. Embracing them. Some weep. Some laugh. Excitement is present like a static charge in the air.

“Dad, ” Temmin says.

“Son, ” Brentin says.

“MASTER TEMMIN’S FATHER, ” Mister Bones says, suddenly interjecting himself between the two. He reaches out with two claw arms and mashes father and son together. Their heads bonk. “THIS PRECIOUS MOMENT MUST BE SEALED BY A HUG: A LOVING YET VIOLENT ENTANGLEMENT OF BODIES WHEREIN ONE PERSON GRABS ANOTHER WITH GREAT FORCE AND SQUEEZES, BUT NOT SO HARD THAT THEIR EYES RUPTURE FROM THEIR—”

“Bones, ” Temmin says sharply. “Shh. ”

“ROGER-ROGER. ”

Brentin stares on with goggling eyes. “The old B1. You repaired him already? ”

“Yep. ”

“Just with the supplies from the Falcon? ”

Temmin hears some awe in his father’s voice.

“Yeah. ”

“You take after me. ”

Temmin grins big. “Yeah. ”

—

A crowd has gathered on the landing platform as the Millennium Falcon swoops in low, easing downward.

News traveled fast and wide: Not only is Han Solo’s ship returning, but it’s bringing with it a bevy of prisoners, many of whom haven’t been seen since the earliest days of the Rebel Alliance. Some family members have gathered, as have others from that era who are eager to see if they can welcome the return of friends, comrades, and loved ones.

Those gathered cheer and whoop.

Two of those gathered are about to be disappointed. They will arguably be the only two truly disappointed—and each will feel this disappointment keenly, and starkly in contrast with what must be an otherwise triumphant, happy-making day.

Those two are Leia Organa and Wedge Antilles.

Wedge stands there with flowers. Nothing too big or ostentatious—the strange little woman at the Hanna City greenhouse tried to get him to carry a bouquet as big as his chest and full of all the colors of the rainbow, but he said that wasn’t Norra’s style. Instead, he went with something understated. Simple, but elegant: six sun-dew flowers. Beautiful, yes. But they last. Firm stems and resilient petals. They don’t wilt. They smell beautiful.

And they’re as golden to him as Norra is.

Leia, for her part, has brought no gift but herself. She beams, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The Falcon is returning.

And with it, her husband must surely be returning, too.

“This is a good day, ” she tells Wedge over the din of the crowd.

“It sure is, ” he answers.

The Falcon eases down onto the platform, rocking on its landing gear. The plank descends, and through the hiss of steam come the freed captives. Dozens of them, each meeting guards as they come off, guards who usher them through a receiving line where they meet Ackbar and Mon Mothma. They aren’t forced to dwell; they’re directed to a series of transports lined up at the edge of the platform. Transports that will take them to the Senate Plaza, where the chancellor has food and a medical tent and officers waiting to perform interviews of those returning.

The captives keep coming, off-loading one after the other.

Leia must know that Han and Chewie will be among the last off.

Wedge knows this, too, about Norra.

And then, Norra does step off the ship—Temmin just ahead of her, and the clanking droid Bones just ahead of him. Temmin is happy, happier than Wedge has seen the kid. He’s about to call to the boy, about to say, Hey, Snap, over here, but then he sees the man next to Norra.

He doesn’t know who the man is, but…

The man has his arm around Norra.

He kisses her cheek.

She kisses his lips.

It clicks into place pretty quick—clicking like a thermal detonator set to blow. And blow, it does. Right inside Wedge’s chest. The realization that Norra found her husband robs his lungs of air.

He looks to Leia, and he sees her searching face. And he watches the moment, too, when Norra and her husband are last off, and the Falcon closes up after nobody else gets off.

“He didn’t come home, ” Leia says.

“I know, ” Wedge answers. “I’m sorry. ”

“He’s still out there. ”

“I’m sure Han is all right—”

“I’m sure he is, too. I trust him. ” But the way she says it, Wedge isn’t so sure. “I have to talk to Norra, though. I have to find out what happened. ”

“Maybe give her just a little time. It looks like she brought home someone special to her. ”

Leia smiles despite her certain disappointment. “It does, at that. ”

With the Halo, Jas got them out of what the Wookiees called the Black Forest—an area of the world that had long been dead. Dead for millennia, they said, a place poisoned by “something real bad happening here. Something that left a darkness. Like an imprint in wet concrete. ” At least, that’s how Solo translated it. Jom doesn’t speak Shyriiwook, so that means relying on the smuggler as the go-between.

Working with Solo on this has been interesting. Chewbacca the Wookiee is the man’s copilot. His sidekick, of a sort. At least, that’s how Jom had always heard it. The two were inseparable, but Solo was the pilot and Chewie was the copilot and so would it always be.

But here on Kashyyyk, the roles are reversed.

Chewie’s in charge. He leads the way.

And the real surprise is, Solo follows. He lets the Wookiee set the course. He offers insight, but it’s deferential. And if anybody says boo to Chewie’s ideas, Solo’s first on the line to get snappy about it.

Once Jas got them out of the Black Forest, Chewie had the ship fly low to the ground along a white-rapids river that had carved a channel between massive trees. Solo said that he and Chewie had been collecting intel on Kashyyyk for years. Jom protested, said that by now the data was probably out of date and the on-the-ground intel was more important. Solo bit back: “No kidding, commando. But what we got is good, and unless you got better, I suggest you shut your mustache hole. ”

Sinjir chuckled and said: “Mustache hole. I’ll have to write that one down. ”

“Quiet, Sinjir, ” Jom said.

Jas just snickered from the pilot’s seat.

(Which, Jom admits now, hurt him more than he expected. )

The river roared down over a tumble of broken trees, down into a dammed-up reservoir ringed by shattered trees. Chewie had Jas bring the Halo up over that waterfall and park it atop on a wroshyr branch—right where the branch met the tree. Jom didn’t think the galaxy had trees big enough for the branches to support a whole ship, but he’s happy to be proven wrong. Together, they all go out along the branch—there exists plenty of space to walk, though vertigo still plucks at Jom’s strings and he can’t help but wonder how long it would take to hit the ground if you fell.

Solo goes on to explain Chewie’s plan: “This is a big planet and best anybody can tell, the Imperial occupation is dug in like a bloodworm—maybe dug in harder given the shoddy state of affairs after the Death Star went boom. But Chewie’s got an idea, don’t you, buddy? ”

The Wookiee nods and growl-barks a reply. The one-armed Wookiee, Greybok, gestures with his remaining hand in apparent agreement.

“We can’t free this planet by our lonesome, ” Han says, “much as we’d like to. We’ve been lucky in that regard before, but this time, no go. ”

Chewie grumbles.

“That’s right, ” Solo says. “We need an army. ”

Jas leans in. “I work lean. I don’t work with armies. ”

“Too bad, ” Solo says.

“Give us a target. Find us the dragon’s head and we’ll cut it off and watch the planet fall. ”

“Won’t be that easy. Sure, the planet’s under the governance of one man: Lozen Tolruck. But he’s got three Star Destroyers up there and intel says he’s hidden away in an island fortress. He’s a target, though, because he’s the one in charge of the inhibitor chips. ”

“What? ” Jom asks.

“Every Wookiee on this planet has a chip stuck in their heads. Keeps ’em docile—anytime they act out, the chips fry them with pain until they fall back in line or die. We take out the chips, we give the Wookiees their minds back. But they’ll still be locked away in settlements. We kill the control chips and liberate just one big settlement and we have the army we need to free the rest. To do that, we need more information. ”

Sinjir cracks his knuckles and winks. “I can handle that part. ”

“You still need to start somewhere, ” Jom says.

“There, ” Solo says, pointing down past the massive dam and reservoir. Tucked between two fallen trees is a command installation: an Imperial cinder block plunked down into the rich, loamy soil.

Jom grabs a pair of quadnocs and focuses in.

As he does, Solo keeps talking.

“That command station is going to have computers and officers. And that means intel. They can tell us where Tolruck’s settlement is. They can point us to the most vulnerable settlement. But that means we gotta go in hot. We take the Halo, fly in fast with the cannons blazing—”

“Slow up, ” Jom interrupts. He pulls the quadnocs away from his eyes and says: “I see four ground-to-sky turbolasers down there. You fly the Halo in and she’ll get blasted into cinders. ”

“Kavis-tha, ” Jas says, cursing at him. She spits on the ground. “You saying I can’t handle my own ship? I’ll stay clear of those lasers easy, Barell. You haven’t seen half of what I can do. ”

“Fine. Let’s say you manage. ” He lifts his chin in defiance. “They’ll still see you coming a kilometer away. That gives them plenty of time to mount a proper defense or even escape. We can’t see on the other side of that station. They might have a couple of chicken walkers or an escape shuttle waiting. ”

“Oh, you have a better idea? ” she challenges.

“Slaggin’ right I do. Send me down. On the ground. Two-prong approach: I take a couple of these hairballs—”

“Watch it, ” Solo says.

“Sorry. I take a couple of these noble warriors, and we sneak in and hit ’em hard. We shut down whatever defenses we can, and only then do the rest of you come blasting in with the Halo. ”

“I like it, ” Solo says. “You can take out those turbolasers. ”

“That’s the plan. ”

Jas grabs his arm. “Can I talk to you for a second? ”

“Sure thing, Emari. ”

She pulls him back toward the Halo and shoves him behind one of the tilted turbines. “What do you think you’re doing? ”

“My part, ” he answers.

“Don’t play the hero. ”

“I’m not a hero. I’m a soldier. A workhorse. ”

“A soldier who left his command for—well, we know why. ”

“Do we? ”

She scowls. “We do. You left for me. ”

“Don’t get so full of yourself. ”

“You chased me like a puppy dog to Irudiru. ”

“Hey, ” he says, rebuffing her. He stabs his finger in the center of her chest. “I wanted to do my part and find Solo. ”

She grabs his finger and twists. “Great. You found him. Did you then run back to Chandrila with him in a bag? ” She lets go and he pulls away. “No. You stayed on. Like that lost puppy. ”

“You’re a brat. ”

“And you’re a thug. ”