Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens Lost Stars (43 page)

Grand Moff Randd stood at the far end of the bridge, his rank obvious from his rigid, imposing posture alone. He was pointing out battle plans to a few other officers, the images displayed on a
two-dimensional screen that covered one of the shorter walls. Ciena expected to remain at attention behind him until such time as he was free to notice her—but as she came close, someone
called out,
“Commander Ciena Ree on the bridge, sir.”

Randd turned—as did virtually everyone else in the room. Ciena’s eyes widened as she saw Nash standing nearby, smiling almost like his old self. Why would he be here? Why had all
these people stopped and risen to their feet?

“Well, Commander Ree.” Randd smiled. “You return to active duty at last.”

“Yes, sir.” Ciena did not allow her expression
to reveal any of the confusion she felt. Yet her heart pounded madly as she wondered if this were some sort of trap. Maybe they’d
somehow guessed her lack of faith in the Empire and intended to make an example of her.…

“Hear this,” Randd said to all those assembled in the room. “At the Battle of Endor, Ree fought bravely and very nearly sacrificed her own life in our effort to save the late
Emperor Palpatine. During her long recovery, no one could have blamed her had she taken the rest she deserved. Instead, Ree took on the most difficult and complicated tasks that would help restore
order to the Imperial Starfleet. While others schemed for their own gain, she shared information equally and without ever asking for special favors in return.”

That wasn’t anything heroic. That
was the bare minimum required by duty. Had everyone else in the Imperial Starfleet completely abandoned their responsibilities to their fellow officers?
Despite her disillusionment, Ciena couldn’t help feeling contempt for those who had so callously shirked their responsibilities out of craven ambition or cowardice.

“In these times, few have proved themselves worthy of their rank. You have,
Ree.” Randd walked to the viewscreen as he added, “No doubt you expect me to inform you of your new
assignment. Well, here she is.”

On the viewscreen behind him, the battle schematics vanished and were replaced by the image of a Star Destroyer; an on-screen legend identified it as the
Inflictor.

Randd said, “Herewith I present your first command, Captain Ree.”

Applause broke out
through the bridge, and Nash even cheered. She covered her mouth, too astonished to know how to react.

Ciena’s first thought was the truest:
The Imperial Starfleet is in worse shape than I thought
.

Her service might have been exemplary, but even so, under normal circumstances an officer so young would never be considered for command of a Star Destroyer. Even if she’d been promoted to
the rank of captain, she shouldn’t have been given a ship like this.
The power plays and attempted coups have thinned the ranks. Everyone else with seniority has either defected to one of
the splinter fleets or been eliminated.

Deep within her, the piece of Ciena’s soul that remembered her old love for the Empire wanted to take pride in this.
Captain before age twenty-five! Commander of
a Star Destroyer!
These were honors she hadn’t even dared to dream of back when she was an idealistic cadet.

Now, however, the promotion was only one more burden to bear.

“Sir,” Ciena managed to say. “Thank you, sir.”

Grand Moff Randd seemed pleased with his little show. No doubt he saw it as a demonstration to his underlings that anything was possible if they were only loyal and
worked hard. She had once
believed that herself. What a fool she’d been.

Numbly, she joined the procession down to the docking bay where she would board her new command. Randd kept speaking the entire time. “Commander Brisney will be your ISB officer—ship
systems are under the care of Commander Erisher—and as for your flight commander, I believe you already know Commander Windrider.”

She turned to see Nash walking at her side, slightly behind, still beaming. Only now did she notice the changed rank on his insignia plaque; no doubt hers awaited on the bridge of the
Inflictor.

“Congratulations, Ciena,” he said. “I’ve hardly heard from you since I shipped out on the
Subjugator
.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be silly. I understand completely. Between the ordeal of your
recovery and all the work you’ve done, I’m surprised you even found time to sleep.” Nash showed
no sign of jealousy or suspicion. Maybe he’d even gotten over his crush on her in the ten months they hadn’t seen each other. In some ways, his guileless trust was harder to bear.
“I only meant I look forward to seeing you regularly again.”

“Every day,” Ciena said, without expression.

After
another brief ceremony on the
Inflictor
’s bridge, Ciena pinned her new insignia plaque to her uniform and went into the briefing room with Grand Moff Randd for a classified
conference. As soon as they were seated, Randd’s smile faded. Only the cool tactician remained.

“We’re headed toward a major standoff with the rebels,” he said. “We’re committing a fair portion of the fleet, and if the
damned Rebellion wants to stand a chance
of keeping that sector, they’ll have to do the same. This promises to be the largest battle since Endor.” His long finger jabbed at the controls, and an image of a planet in brown,
russet, and gold hovered above the holo-projector. “Here we have the desert world of Jakku—worthless on its own but soon to live forever in history as the place where the Empire
defeated the Rebellion once and for all.”

Maybe it would. Maybe they’d be sent limping away in defeat. Ciena didn’t know or care. She only understood that despite her disillusionment with the Empire, she had to fight. The
alternative would be to surrender to the rebels, and she could imagine how they dealt with captured enemies. And if she deserted her post as captain of a Star Destroyer,
the Force alone knew what
would become of her family—especially her mother, still enduring her forced-labor sentence in prison. Ciena had hardly had a chance to think of escape during her recovery, and now it was too
late. There was no way out for her, not anymore.

Everything Ciena had worked for her whole life was a sham. Now she would continue this war only because she had no choice.

Jakku,
she thought, looking at the world and imagining the battle that lay ahead.
Let it come.

T
HANE DIDN’T LIKE the idea of going into battle without his X-wing. However, General Rieekan had insisted.

“We need people like you and Lieutenant Idele
who have served on Imperial ships in the past,” Rieekan said as Thane, Kendy, and other troops boarded a transport. “It’s
this simple—we need more vessels, and we need them faster than they can be built, especially while the Empire still holds most of the main construction facilities. The only way we’re
going to get those ships is by capturing them from the Empire.”

Thane managed to respond
to this politely, instead of with the scorn it deserved. “Sir, with all due respect, nobody has ever captured a Star Destroyer. And don’t tell me it’s
because no one has ever tried. Yeah, way back in the day, we managed to take out a governor’s destroyer over Mustafar, but since then, the Imperials have shored up their defenses against
infiltrators. These days Star Destroyers are nearly
invulnerable.”

“Those crews aren’t as die-hard as they used to be,” Rieekan insisted. “We’ve had ships as large as attack cruisers switch allegiance in other battles,
haven’t we?”

“Those have thousands of crew members. Not
tens
of thousands.”

“We only need enough sympathizers to help us shut systems down. Only former Imperial officers such as you and Idele can lead us to the most
vulnerable areas.”

Grudgingly, Thane took Rieekan’s point. If they could get one of the auxiliary bridges, the engine room, and a couple of the gunneries under New Republic control, they could effectively
paralyze a Star Destroyer. Actually claiming the ship would require intense intravessel combat, lasting days if not weeks—but it was possible.

A long shot. An
extremely
long shot. Yet
possible.

“I feel so cooped up in here,” Kendy grumbled as they took their places in the hold, harnessing themselves into slender seats that were more like those for a hoverbike than a space
journey. “We can’t even see the battle.”

Thane found it incredibly strange, too—looking at the flat beige walls of the troop transport instead of the vastness of space, hearing not the hum of his
engines or the screech of his
guns but only the murmur of other nervous soldiers. “Maybe that’s for the best,” he said, though he didn’t believe it. “We can focus on our plans for
boarding.”

Kendy leaned closer, glancing about her to make sure nobody overheard before she spoke. “Neither of us was ever posted to a Star Destroyer. I’ve only even
been
on one three
times, and never for more
than a day.”

“We studied the schematics at the academy,” he said as confidently as he could manage. “We both remember the most important information—especially about internal
defenses. That’s enough.”

She sighed. “May the Force be with us.”

Always the Force. Thane’s year of meditation had not convinced him that there was any all-powerful Force at work behind galactic affairs. Still,
let Kendy take her courage where she could
find it.

Maybe he wouldn’t have felt so uneasy if any element of the mission was familiar, but none of it was. Being without his X-wing was by far the worst; he’d have felt safer shooting
down TIE fighters than running into the heart of a Star Destroyer. Yet smaller details rankled, too. Instead of his sturdy, full-cover helmet, he wore only a
small one that fastened under his chin
with an uncomfortable black strap. Instead of his orange flight suit, he wore a simple uniform of trousers, shirt, and vest that he associated more with days off than with battle. And around one
arm was tied his grayish-blue mourning band.

Technically he should have taken it off four days ago, on the anniversary of the Battle of Endor. By then, however,
Thane had known the Battle of Jakku was coming, and it had felt right to take
it with him into the fray.

Once this battle is over, I’ll take it off,
he promised himself.
I’ll burn it as the ritual commands, and I’ll save the ashes until the day I return to
Jelucan.

In his mind’s eye, he could already see himself entering the Fortress for the very last time. He would put the ashes there,
with the old toys and the cast-off boots, and the pallet of
blankets and furs where he and Ciena had made love. Then, at last, he could begin again.

“Which Destroyer is this?” Thane asked, wondering if it would be one he’d ever seen.

“The
Inflictor
,” someone answered. He’d never heard of that one.

“At least they issued us blasters,” Kendy muttered. “I’m even better with a blaster
than I am with laser cannons.”

“Then I’ll stick by you,” he said, and was rewarded with her smile.

“All hands,” came the voice over the intercom, unnaturally calm. “Brace for impact.”

Thane grabbed the straps of his harness.
Here we go.

Whatever else Ciena Ree was, she was not a traitor. During the few short weeks she had served as captain of the
Inflictor
, she had done her duty
to the very best of her
ability. If she felt no loyalty to the Empire any longer, she understood her responsibility for the hundreds of thousands of lives under her command. So she had not given anything less than her
best during the Battle of Jakku.

If other Imperial officers could have said the same, maybe they wouldn’t be on the verge of annihilation.

“Status report!” Ciena called
out as she walked closer to the data pits.

“Engine three is only at sixty-six percent capacity, Captain.” The young ensign’s face looked up at hers, his ruddy skin flushed with panic. “Engines one and five are
still completely down. We only have full power on engines three and seven. Two, four, and six are each under thirty percent power.”

Damn
. If her repair crews could get engine two
back up above 85 percent, they would still be able to jump into hyperspace and escape the battle. If they couldn’t fix it—or if
engine three took damage, too—the
Inflictor
was trapped. No option but retreat offered any chance of survival.

The main viewscreen displayed a disastrous panorama. Against the brownish-gold surface of Jakku were silhouetted hundreds of ships, both Imperial and rebel,
from frigates and other Star
Destroyers down to countless starfighters. Meanwhile, smaller screens on either side showed scenes of the ground battle, which was proving to be even more of a rout. Even as she watched, a walker
took one hit too many, wobbled on its slender legs, then fell sideways so hard that sand exploded from the impact like a tidal wave. Everywhere Ciena looked, the rebels
were attacking while the
Empire tried in vain to defend itself. The advantage had been theirs from the beginning, to a point that made her wonder bitterly if the whole battle had been a trap. Maybe their plans for making a
stand at Jakku had been betrayed by some admiral or Grand Moff whose power play had been thwarted.