Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens Lost Stars (3 page)

She whispered, “We’ll have to study hard.”

“And practice flying.”

His answer made her face fall. “I don’t have any ships to practice
with, and our only simulator is old.”

Of course they didn’t have good simulators in the valleys, and probably only one person in fifty of the valley kindred owned their own craft. Thane felt bad for a moment, until inspiration
struck. “You can come practice with me, then.”

Ciena’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Sure.” Lots of maneuvers could only be performed with a copilot. He would need
a partner if he wanted to learn to fly well enough to get into the Imperial Starfleet someday.

Besides, Thane could already tell—in spite of all their differences, he and Ciena Ree were going to be friends.

Five Years Later

T
HIRTY MINUTES remained until flying practice—hardly even enough time to get to the hangar, by now. And Ciena still had to sit here on
this
stupid bench….

No,
she thought.
It’s not stupid. The Nierre family’s honor has been questioned. They need their friends to stand with them in their hour of trial. Even if it means missing
flying practice.

But I would so much rather be flying.

The rough-hewn granite bench stood in front of the small domed house of the Nierre family, other kin of the valleys whose lands had
bordered the Ree family’s for generations. In front of
the bench lay a long trench filled with sand, which now had several flagpoles stuck in it, each flag representing a family that had declared its loyalty to the Nierres during this dark time. The
tradition was an ancient one, going back to the first days of settlement on Jelucan, but it still had meaning. One member of every loyal family would
remain with the Nierres, constantly, until the
cloud of suspicion over their honor had been cleared.

Most of the valley kindred had brought a flag, but not all. Some few thought the father of the household was abusing his power as an Imperial communications monitor—reporting meetings and
messages that were private. However, Ciena’s parents had declared that no one should even want to hide
important information from the Empire and those who accused the Nierres were the ones
without honor. Still, it was the Nierres who had been accused, and they had to bear the weight.

The family’s genes passed down blond hair and milk-white skin. Even so, their faces had gone paler, to the point where they all looked sick. If the formal complaint to the Imperial
governor was upheld and a
new monitor was named, the Nierres would share in that disgrace forever—a difficult threat to endure. So friends needed to stay close to them to provide what comfort
they could.

I’d want someone to do that for me, if I were falsely accused,
Ciena thought.
But the Nierres would be even more comforted if my parents were here, like they said they would be a
whole hour ago.

Her eyes searched
the skies, as if she would already see the old V-171 soaring overhead. From the bench, Ciena could see farther down into the valley, all the way to the distant silvery gleam of
water several thousand meters below. Surrounding her were countless snowy peaks, like white claws scratching at a stone-colored sky. Her dark blue cloak was heavy enough not to be disturbed by the
winds, and it also
disguised the fact that—instead of a traditional dress—she wore the oversize flight suit she’d managed to buy at a surplus store earlier that year.

Then she heard the distant whir of a ridgecrawler—the mountain-ready hovercraft Empire-backed merchants had introduced to the world five years before. Already Ciena could hardly remember
how they’d managed without them; she still loved the old
muunyak, but he was even slower these days. When the ridgecrawler rounded the bend, she wanted to leap up in delight.
Finally!

But she remained on the bench, face solemn, until her father had stepped out and walked over to her. He was alone.

“Where’s Mumma?” Ciena said as she rose to her feet.

“Another late night at the mine.” Her father shook his head. “We knew her role as supervisor
would require hard work, and I’m proud of her—but I miss her
sometimes.”

“Me too.” And Ciena absolutely meant that, yet she couldn’t keep her eyes off the ridgecrawler. If Pappa would let her borrow it, she could still get to the hangar in time.

Her father saw her haste and pressed his lips together in a thin line that threatened to become a frown. “Flying again today?”

“Pappa, please.
How else am I supposed to get into one of the Imperial academies?”

“You should practice, and often. Nothing would make your mother and me prouder than to see you become an Imperial officer.” Paron Ree paused. A few birds flew overhead, screeching
their usual calls; Ciena watched them fly, because whenever her father brought up this next subject, she found it hard even to look at him. Sure
enough, he continued, “We only wish you would
practice more at the new simulators in Valentia, instead of spending all your time with that boy.”

“Thane’s my
friend
.” She stressed the last word.

“We shouldn’t take anything from second-wavers. We should rise by our own power, not because of their gifts.”

Sometimes Ciena flew into a rage at this point in the fight—but if she did that
today, she definitely wouldn’t get to fly. So she took a deep breath before she continued: “I
help Thane as much as he helps me. We work
together
. Neither of us owes the other anything, and he remembers that as well as I do.”

Her father sighed. “His kind have short memories. But go. Take the ridgecrawler; I’ll ride the muunyak home. Your mother and I will be back later, and you will have
finished your
lessons and cleaned the kitchen top to bottom.”

“Yes, sir.” Her spirits lifted. She’d fly today after all.

“Become a better pilot than this Kyrell boy,” said her father, as he straightened his robe and began to walk inside the Nierre home. “If there’s only one slot for a
Jelucani cadet, I want it to be yours.”

Ciena laughed. “We’re
both
going. The Imperial Starfleet
won’t be able to do without us!”

Even Pappa had to smile.

Thane wondered if he could manage to jar loose the restraining bolt on the CZ-1 tutor droid. If so, then the droid would let him go even if he hadn’t completed his stupid
mathematics test.

“Your concentration is faltering,” said CZ-1. “This is not conducive to optimal performance.”

Thane pointed to the nearest chrono.
“I’m late for flying practice.”

“You must complete your lessons in order to master the subject. How else will you gain admission to an Imperial academy? Your parents’ fondest hope is that you will follow in
Dalven’s footsteps.”

Sometimes Thane believed CZ-1 was slier than a droid ought to be. Nothing made Thane fume like the knowledge that Dalven had, somehow, managed to get into one
of the academies—one of the
lesser ones, but still. Thane suspected his father might have bribed the local recruiter to admit his elder son to bolster the family pride. But Oris Kyrell wouldn’t exert himself like that
for Thane, who would have to get into the academy on his own.

So he thought fast. “I won’t gain admission to an Imperial academy if I can’t fly well,” Thane pointed out.
“And how can I fly well if I don’t
practice?”

“Your family has its own hangar and aircraft. Therefore you can practice at any time.”

With his best smile, Thane said, “But we also have you, CZ-1. That means I can take math lessons at any time, too. I can only fly with a partner when Ciena’s free, and she’s
coming today, so doesn’t it make sense for me to prioritize flight time?”

CZ-1 cocked his head, and Thane heard the faint whirring that meant the droid was thinking hard.

Very casually, Thane said, “You know, when I get back, I really ought to give you a lubrication bath. A nice long soak. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A few more moments of silence followed before CZ-1 said, “Now that you mention it, my couplings
have
been stiff lately.”

With a grin, Thane
snapped off the mathematics holo and grabbed his flight jacket. “I’ll be home before my parents get back from that stupid banquet. Okay?”

“And mathematics tomorrow morning!” CZ-1 called as Thane dashed out the door.

His family had a private hangar, but—as with most people on Jelucan—their territory ran more vertically than horizontally. Their gold-tiled home stretched almost the entire
width of
their property, mostly because his parents had insisted that people of their stature needed a home grander than the neighbors’. The snobbery annoyed Thane less than the fact that this meant
his hangar was three hundred meters away—downhill.

At least he’d figured out a solution. With a grin, Thane slid on his flight goggles and ran for the far ridge. The handlebars were in position
and ready, so all he had to do was grab them
tightly, release the brake, and jump.

Immediately, he was zooming along the cable that led from his home to his hangar, dangling from the handlebars as he sped down the long ridge of stone. Cold mountain air whipped around him as he
looked down into the valley far below. It wasn’t as good as flying, but it came close.

He reactivated the
brake as he slid toward the end post, but only gradually, because he liked to have some velocity left at the end. Just before he would’ve crashed into the post, Thane
let go and leaped to the ground, laughing out loud.

Then he heard, “You know, someday you’re going to break your face on that thing.”

Thane turned to see Ciena standing there next to her family’s clunky old ridgecrawler.
She looked even shorter and skinnier than she was in that oversize flight suit, and her face still
appeared younger than her age, with its rounded cheeks and snub nose. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was trying to look stern, but he could see the smile hiding in her dark brown
eyes.

He righted himself and clapped his hands together to clean his gloves. “You’re just jealous
because I never let you do it.”

Ciena stuck her tongue out at him. “I
could
do it, you know.”

Of course she could; Thane never doubted that. But the line started at his house, and his parents hated her even more than her parents hated him. The few times they’d met, his family had
treated Ciena so rudely that it made Thane almost sick with shame. Ciena was no more eager to encounter the
Kyrells again than they were to see her.

However, the two of them always pretended there was no reason they shouldn’t spend time together. It was easier than talking about how their families wanted them apart.

“Here I was worried about running late,” Ciena continued, “and I beat you here.”

“Trigonometry.” Thane grimaced, an expression Ciena matched. “Come on, let’s get started. Lizard-toad-snake
for pilot?” They each silently counted to three and held
out their hands. Thane had gone for the snake, but Ciena chose lizard, and lizard ate snake. She beamed, and he gestured toward the V-171’s hatch. “Pilots first.”

He didn’t actually mind being copilot/gunner; cadets had to be expert at flying in both positions if they wanted to get into the academy. But sitting backward in the cockpit
was never
quite as much fun.

Technically, the V-171 was Dalven’s. When he’d left for the academy, he’d given strict instructions that nobody was to fly it while he was gone.

Yeah, right.

Thane never passed up an opportunity to fly—or to get a little revenge on his older brother.

(Dalven was always ruder about Ciena than anyone else in the Kyrell family. Not long before Dalven
had left for the academy, he’d sneered and said that there was only one reason to pick up
some girl from the valleys—and if that was what Thane was after, he ought to get one who had breasts already. Thane had split Dalven’s lip before their parents pulled them apart.)

“Hey,” Ciena said. Thane realized he was just standing on the ladder instead of climbing inside the cockpit. “Still with
me?”

“Yeah.” Thane slid into the ship while determinedly not looking at the front of Ciena’s flight suit. “Sorry. Let’s go.”

They slid on their helmets, buckled their harnesses, and lowered the hatch to seal themselves in. By now the procedure was second nature, something Thane could do without conscious thought. He
knew the moment Ciena would start flipping the switches to activate
the motor, and even the rhythm of her fingertips as she did it. His own console lit up in response. “All systems check
out.”

“Confirmed we are ready for takeoff,” she said. “Full thrusters. Let’s grab some sky.”

The old V-171 rose from the ground with a shudder, engines glowing blue on either side of them. Then they turned, banked, and soared away.

Ciena took them up higher, toward
the peaks too cold and hostile for anyone to settle. A handful of mining droids dotted the landscape, gleaming darkly against snow and pale stone, but otherwise
the area remained untouched. Thane felt as though he and Ciena had the world to themselves.