Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens Lost Stars (36 page)

Aboard
the Super Star Destroyer
Executor
, all officers and stormtroopers were expected to keep their combat skills honed. But the number of certifications required
lessened at higher ranks. Now that Ciena had made commander, she no longer had to spend at least one hour a week practicing hand-to-hand combat. However, that just meant she spent more time on the
few skills still remaining.

“I could
live without using this thing ever again,” Ciena grumbled as she shouldered the practice flamethrower. “If we ever need this on the bridge, I’m guessing
we’re already done for.”

“Ciena Ree complaining about regulations?” Berisse shook her head in amazement. “Hey, if you don’t want to do this, you’ve got days left to fulfill your regs. We
should take advantage of being out in the middle
of nowhere.” Technically, the ship was still in hyperspace on its way to the middle of nowhere, but Berisse’s point stood. Since they
were being called on to do nothing but go to an uninhabited system and sit and wait, all junior officers had more free time than usual. “We could see if Nash and some of the other guys are
free, head to one of the cantinas, let our hair down—”

“I’m staying
here. If you want to go party, nobody’s stopping you.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve been in a mood for almost three weeks straight. Isn’t it time you snapped out of it?”

Berisse didn’t know the reasons for Ciena’s temper and no doubt had not guessed it was the shield behind which Ciena was hiding her wretchedness. Once Ciena had felt free to confide
nearly everything in Berisse—and she longed
to hear her advice now. Berisse was so practical, so matter-of-fact, that she’d listen to the whole story without blinking and probably come
up with the perfect words to help Ciena cope.

But that was the rub:
probably
.

Berisse could be irreverent and wasn’t above bending a regulation for practicality’s sake, but Ciena had never doubted her friend’s fundamental loyalty to the Empire.
If Ciena
spoke about the injustice of the verdict against her mother, Berisse might sympathize; on the other hand, she might well report the conversation to Ronnadam.

Of course, Ciena couldn’t admit the truth about Thane to anyone. That heartbreak was one she had to carry alone. Still, carrying that weight would have felt less terrible if she could have
shared the rest with someone.

Instead, she was forced to admit that she had not one friend in the entire world she could entirely trust.

“Let’s just torch some junk, okay?” Ciena pulled on the flametrooper mask and readied the controls. Berisse, obviously knowing better than to interrupt, began the holographic
part of the simulator. Attackers made of shadowy green light began running toward them, and Ciena pulled the
trigger.

Explosive fire shot out, incinerating her enemies. Again. Then again. She had never relished combat duty—flying was her joy and her passion—but today Ciena poured all her bottled-up
sorrow and fury into every blast. When the first simulation ended, she immediately signaled for Berisse to start another, then another. The featureless green holograms simply vanished when they
took
a fatal hit; Ciena found herself wishing the programming were more honest and graphic. She wanted to see her kills for once.

“I am really glad we don’t room together anymore,” Berisse muttered when the final holo faded. “Because I do
not
want to be the next person you’re mad
at.”

“You’re right. You don’t.” Ciena slid up her face mask and wiped her wrist across her forehead. Even though
she’d remained in firing position the entire time and
the flamethrower wasn’t unbearably heavy, exhaustion already racked her body. Sleep had been elusive since her return to the
Executor.

Despite her weariness, she might have gone for another round had she not felt the subtle shift in the vibration beneath their feet. “We’ve left hyperspace,” she said to
Berisse.

“Never ceases to
amaze me how you can feel that.” Berisse sighed. “So much for free time, huh?”

Even sitting out in the middle of nowhere—namely, the Hudalla system, notable only for its largest, massively ringed planet—required everyone back at duty stations. Ciena was
relieved. Nothing helped but keeping busy.

As the two of them walked out of their simulation room, however, Ciena glanced through the
triangular windows into space beyond. What she saw stopped her where she stood. Instead of the planet
Hudalla or the void of space, the view showed countless Imperial ships. Star Destroyers, attack cruises, light cruisers, almost as many TIE fighters as stars—

“What the hell?” Berisse said. “Did we get called back to Coruscant instead?”

Ciena shook her head. Only captains, admirals,
and Lord Vader himself knew plans very far in advance, so she couldn’t say exactly why the Hudalla system had suddenly become a meeting spot
for nearly the entire Imperial Starfleet.

But she only had to look at the assembled ships to know: whatever was happening was important—and would affect them all.

Corona Squadron had received their next intelligence mission only ten hours after
reaching 5251977. For the first time, they had received their orders not from Rieekan but from
Admiral Ackbar of the Mon Calamari.

“Remote sensors detected an unusual level of Imperial activity in the Hudalla system,” he had said, pacing in front of them. Ackbar was an imposing man—taller than any human
and with protruding, wizened eyes—so the entire squadron remained far more rigid and
silent than usual. “Nothing in that area should be of interest to the Empire or to anyone else. Why
then is the Empire establishing a presence there? Corona Squadron, you will go to Hudalla. Observe the Imperial ships and obtain as much data as possible.”

They were supposed to stroll into an isolated system and take readings on the Imperial Starfleet, then get out alive? Thane wasn’t sure
whether Ackbar was a deluded optimist or someone
who didn’t mind putting lives at risk for uncertain gain.

Then Ackbar had dismissed them by saying, “May the Force be with you.” So. Deluded.

As Thane checked the sensors on his X-wing’s panel, he gave thanks for Hudalla’s enormous ring. The gas giant swirled in shades of red and violet, but the most notable aspect of this
world was
its planetary rings, which were some of the largest in the galaxy. Those rings comprised several million pieces of debris, most of them smaller than the average asteroid—

—and yet just large enough to hide a ship behind.

Like every other member of Corona Squadron, he’d tethered his ship to one of the larger rocks on Hudalla’s outer ring. Their X-wings floated through the gradual rotation
of the
countless pieces of debris in the field, the soft violet glow of that system’s distant star casting strange shadows. The slow orbit of the ring had allowed them to take their positions far
enough away to avoid detection. Now they were within scanning distance and could take all the readings and holos they needed, and they didn’t even have to worry about being scanned in return.
With
their ships running on minimum power and well concealed by the ring’s debris, there was almost no chance of their being spotted.

Almost.
Thane hated that word. He knew how thorough Imperial officers were trained to be. Still, the odds were on their side for a change. He’d take it.

“This is almost as large as the attack fleet they sent to Hoth,” Yendor said, his voice crackling over the
comms. “Do you think they got some bad intel telling them we put a
base on one of Hudalla’s moons?”

Thane answered, “If so, you’d think they would’ve figured out the mistake by now. But they’ve been here for days, with more ships coming in all the time.”

What were they up to? Thane kept trying to come up with an answer and failing. If a new hyperlane had been discovered in this area
of space, their sensors would have detected it by now. If the
Empire were planning an attack, it wouldn’t need this much time to assemble. No critical elements could be mined from any of the planets or moons in this system. The mystery seemed
complete.

He’d asked for the job of tallying single starfighters—an enormously detailed and irritating task, so the squadron had been happy enough
to let Thane handle it. The work kept him too
occupied to think much about the odds of Ciena being part of a fleet that large or to find out which specific Star Destroyers had gathered there.

It’s like they brought all these ships together just to show off,
Thane thought sourly as he continued his calculations, adding in new pieces of data as his sensors provided it. Why
show off in the
middle of nowhere, without anybody around to see you? What could call for a display this ostentatious, a concentration of the Imperial firepower in a place where it could do no
good?

Then his hands froze, allowing long scrolls of numbers to spill by. Thane cursed under his breath as he realized what this was.

The Empire displayed its power often, with a degree of theatricality he’d found
absurd even when he’d been a part of it. But it never did so without reason. Most often a show of
strength was meant to intimidate the people who lived under Imperial control, but sometimes officers and ships made a point of displaying their power to impress their superiors. The greater the
number of men or ships put at a commander’s disposal, the more important that commander was.

This
fleet had been assembled to prove someone’s importance. Only one person in the galaxy would merit this much attention, firepower, and awe.

He whispered, “The Emperor.”

C
IENA HAD NOT regularly flown TIE fighters during the past couple of years, so when she received a summons to report to the main docking bay, she
was both
surprised and pleased. Maybe she needed to spend some time flying through the stars; then she might feel like herself again.

When she’d suited up in the black armor, Ciena walked into the bay with her helmet under one arm to see the other three pilots she’d be flying with—two strangers and Nash
Windrider. He grinned like a boy when he recognized her. “What a delight to be flying with you
again, Commander Ree. I hadn’t thought you would still lower yourself to serving alongside
the likes of us.”

“Hush.” She risked a smile; Nash seemed to be teasing her as a friend, not as a would-be lover. The sooner they skated past that, the better. “You know, I’ve always
wondered how you manage to pilot TIEs at all. How do you fit?”

“I’ll have you know that I am fully one centimeter
below the maximum height for TIE pilots. TIEs are more cramped than a warship, I admit, but what isn’t? You, on the other
hand, are far more compact and should fold up nicely.”

“I’m not that short!” No matter how many times Ciena protested about this, nobody ever seemed to believe her, or their own eyes.

Nash opened his mouth for his next jab, then straightened as Admiral Piett strode
toward them. They all came to attention, helmets facing out.

Piett didn’t bother with preamble. “Scans have picked up some strange readings on the outer edge of Hudalla’s ring, including life forms. Possibly it’s no more than metal
ores and mynocks. However, if we have some spies lurking out there—well. You know what to do.”

“Aye, sir,” they said in unison. Everyone saluted and turned
on the beat, ready to board their ships. But Piett said, “Ree, I need to have a word with you.”

She turned back, again at attention. Why would Piett need to speak with her specifically? Her imagination conjured visions of psychological interrogations; they whispered that the questioners
could sense the moment anyone began to turn traitor. Had they picked up on her doubt?

Instead, Piett
said, “You have an additional assignment on this flight.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Those aren’t mynocks in the planetary ring. They’re almost certainly rebel spies.”

Ciena nodded, hiding her consternation. It made no sense for him to give her this intel and conceal it from Nash and the other TIE pilots. “We’ll take care of it, sir.”

Piett held up one warning finger. “One of the rebels must
escape. You’re to see to it that at least one of the pilots manages to make it to hyperspace. Beyond that, it’s
irrelevant whether the rest live or die.”

She was confused for a moment, but then she understood. Senior fleet command wanted the Rebel Alliance to know that a large portion of the Imperial Starfleet was assembling. Why, Ciena
couldn’t yet guess. It didn’t matter. She’d been
entrusted with a difficult and demanding task—and a secret one. That meant her superiors didn’t doubt her; if
anything, they held her in higher esteem than ever.

All she’d had to do was deny her mother’s innocence.

Ciena tried to cast that thought from her head. “Consider it handled, Admiral Piett.”

He nodded, dismissing her, and she headed to her ship. Climbing into the pilot’s
seat came as a relief. She didn’t have to think about her mother any longer; she wouldn’t be
haunted by her growing doubts about the Empire. Sensors needed to be checked, the hatch sealed, weapons readied. Soon she could fly and forget all her troubles in doing what she did best.