Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens Lost Stars (5 page)

If she pitied him or said she
felt sorry for him, Thane thought he might have to walk out.

But Ciena said nothing. Silently, she opened the first-aid kit and set to work applying curative skin sealant, closing each cut one at a time until Thane felt whole again.

When they were sixteen—

Only a handful of kids from the entire planet of Jelucan would make it into one of the Imperial academies. While Inner Rim worlds
often fielded thousands of candidates, slots were still strictly
limited for citizens of former Separatist worlds. The academy instructors themselves sorted students. At the same moment applicants found out whether they’d gotten in, they learned which
school they’d been slotted into, which planet they’d be living on within two weeks’ time.

Ciena didn’t care which academy it was. Any planet
would do. Just as long as she got to be an Imperial cadet.

On the morning results were to be announced, their entire class congregated in the school’s courtyard. Parents weren’t allowed on school grounds—only students and Imperial
officials—but families lingered outside. Afterward there would be celebrations or consolations. For now, Ciena, Thane, and the other applicants only had each other.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed to Thane as they stood together near the far left of the courtyard, staring at the door where the proctor would appear with the announcements.
“At all.”

“Me either.” Thane gave her a crooked smile. “That gave me time to think of a few backup plans for us.”

Ciena held up her hands in protest. She’d refused even to consider alternate career paths because
it felt like bad luck.

Thane scoffed. “Come on, Ciena. We took the tests. The decision’s already been made! So we can’t jinx ourselves at this point.”

It was true. More than that, from the tone of Thane’s voice, Ciena had figured out that these “plans” weren’t for real. “Okay, fine. Let me hear it.”

“One. We become famous acrobats.”

“…acrobats?”

“
Famous
acrobats. There’s no
glory in being mediocre, unknown acrobats. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right.”

The proctor would walk out any moment. The crowd’s buzzing grew louder, more tense. Ciena’s heart raced, but she tried to match Thane’s playful tone. “I’ll pass.
Any other bright ideas for our future? You said that was only number one.”

“Two. We travel the galaxy as drummer and exotic dancer.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me, but I’m not becoming an exotic dancer.”

“Who said you were? I’ll do the dancing. You get the drum.”

This time her laughter was genuine. “Only if I get to design your costume.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I should move on to plan three—”

Then Thane straightened, eyes widening, as the door opened and the proctor walked out. His black uniform seemed to steal
the sunlight from the day. Ciena’s gut clenched, but like all the
other students, she immediately stood at attention and remained perfectly silent.

Amplifier droids hovered nearby, catching the proctor’s voice as he said, “The following is a list of all the school’s successful applicants to the various Imperial academies.
For the Imperial Academy on Arkanis…”

Ciena could’ve groaned.
They were going in alphabetical order by school? They might not know until the very end whether they’d made it in or not. She could imagine standing there at
attention, minutes draining away, as the terrible realization of her failure sank in. Then she would have to slink out, humiliated. Failure wasn’t the same as dishonor, but it felt like it at
the moment.

A few minutes into the ceremony—which
already felt as though it had lasted forever—the proctor stood up straighter. “For the Royal Imperial Academy on
Coruscant…”

No school in the entire galaxy was more prestigious. No other training came closer to ensuring a high-level career in the Imperial Starfleet.

Ciena had dreamed of going there, which was surely why she imagined the proctor’s speaking her name.

But no. He’d really
said—“Thane Kyrell and Ciena Ree.” Both of them, together!

She remained at attention, but she glanced sideways at Thane. If he’d heard it, too, it was definitely for real. Sure enough, he was smiling—but a weary smile, like when he’d
cleared the final barrier on an E&A course. Thane closed his eyes and whispered, seemingly to himself, “I’m out of here. I’m gone.”

Ciena knew why her friend
wanted to leave this planet so badly. Those were reasons she didn’t share. She loved Jelucan’s stark beauty, the fellowship among the valley
kindred—all of it was beautiful to her. Yet she could leave her homeworld without regret.

She wasn’t escaping from anything. She was chasing her dream of becoming an Imperial officer, flinging herself joyfully into space.

The day Thane left Jelucan
felt…perfect. Like he could do no wrong, like all the constellations had finally aligned to guide him out. His parents said their good-byes at
the house and didn’t bother taking him to the spaceport. It was a relief.

Boarding the vessel to Coruscant was even more satisfying because Ciena was there, too, though she remained on the boarding ramp hugging her parents so long that the captain
threatened to leave
her behind. Thane and she had become a team to get into the academy; it was only right that they should arrive there together. Best of all was the moment when the transport shuddered into
hyperspace—their first experience of lightspeed—and the two of them grinned at each other in total delight.

Then they arrived on Coruscant, and it was like getting punched in the face.

Thane had always known Jelucan was a backwater world. Holos had told him the galaxy was far bigger and more sophisticated than anything he’d ever had the chance to see before. So
he’d thought he was prepared. But when he stepped off the ship and saw Coruscant for the first time—

The buildings stood as high as Jelucan’s mountains. Although sunlight slipped through various glass structures,
the overall effect was one of profound claustrophobia. The ground was
impossibly far below, and the sky was cut into thin slivers. Hundreds of smaller aircraft zoomed or hovered between skyscrapers in a nonstop buzz of negotiation and commerce. Every single person
seemed to have direction and purpose, to be perfectly at home in this huge metal cage, this city that had swallowed a world. Thane,
however, tried not to look out the windows any longer because the
view made him feel so small.

At first he thought Ciena would be even more overcome. Her childhood had been spent in the open valleys, in houses only slightly more sophisticated than tents. Surely this would be too much for
her.

Instead, she was elated. “This is where everything happens,” she gushed as the two of them
walked through the corridors of the spaceport, buoy droids floating ahead as beacons to
guide them toward the academy shuttle. “It’s like—electricity, this incredible energy all around. Don’t you feel it?”

“Definitely,” Thane said. “Totally electric.”

Ciena gave him a look. “Hey. Are you all right?” But then they’d reached the shuttle, along with a handful of other new cadets, and they
got caught up in the whirl of activity
that was the first day of attendance: collecting data chips with the information they’d need, learning about tonight’s reception for all cadets, and introducing themselves to cadets
from other worlds. Imperial officers, stiff and correct in dress uniforms, moved among them as the shuttle pulled away and joined the dizzyingly swift Coruscant air traffic.
Thane had to keep
himself from flinching every time another craft came within two wingtips—but in a planet-sized metropolis, apparently pilots were used to small margins of error.

The intensity only sharpened when they reached the academy itself. As the new cadets walked out of the shuttle, Thane realized hundreds of students were already there. Hundreds more seemed
likely to pour out
of the other shuttles coming up behind them. The entire time he was checking in, he couldn’t help feeling lost. When he glanced toward Ciena, she was smiling even more
brightly. Before long they were separated from each other in the crush of people trying to figure out where they should be.

Thane’s data chip gave him the location of his dorm room and the information that he’d have two roommates.
They couldn’t be worse than Dalven,
he thought, determined to
make the best of it.

Still, as he raised his hand to hit the door chime, Thane felt unbelievably small.

The door swooshed open to reveal a slim, black-haired guy with a narrow face and rigid bearing—so correct that it took Thane a moment to realize this was no administrator but one of his
roommates.

“So you’re the one
from, what’s it called, Jelucan?” When Thane nodded, the guy scoffed. “Why did you bother ringing the chime of your own room? It’s
ridiculous.”

“Charming, isn’t he?” said another guy—the tallest of the three, stick thin and long faced, with long brown hair he’d knotted at the back of his head. His accent
was aristocratic but his smile infectious. “Mr. Personality here is Ved Foslo, native
to Coruscant—”

“Of course,” Ved cut in, lifting his chin. “My father, General Foslo, works in central intelligence.”

“—and, as you can see, he manages to work in a reference to his father within the first minute of meeting anybody.” As Ved scowled, the tall guy stepped closer to shake
Thane’s hand. “Me, I’m Nash Windrider from Alderaan. And my father makes carpets. Impressed yet?”

“Very.” Thane realized he’d started to smile. “Mine does slightly dishonest accounting.”

“Always handy,” Nash said. “You never know when you’re going to need to cook the books. Come in and get comfortable—as comfortable as you can be on the lower bunk,
that is. We grabbed the two best bunks already.”

Nash turned out to have traveled to more than a dozen worlds already and had visited
Coruscant several times. He didn’t even ask Thane whether he’d been intimidated at first; he
assumed as much and swore everybody felt that way the first time they landed on the planet.

“They should pass out inhalers at the spaceports,” Nash said as they hung out, sprawled on their beds to await the welcoming ceremony and dinner that night. “Or tranquilizers.
Something to help people deal.”

“I don’t see what’s so strange about Coruscant.” Ved remained completely stiff but overall didn’t seem so bad. “Have you really never been to a real city
before? Or any other Core World at all?”

Already Thane knew honesty would serve him best. “Nope.” He stretched out on the bunk beneath Ved’s, trying to get used to the hard mattress. “Never even been to a city
bigger than Valentia
back home, and I’m guessing the entire population of Valentia would fill about—seven levels of this one building.”

Nash rested his hands beneath his head. “You’ll get used to it, Thane. Soon we’ll all be Imperial officers and you’ll have traveled to a hundred worlds, and when you go
home you’ll be as jaded as Mr. General’s Son here.”

Ved gave Nash a dirty look, but Thane couldn’t help
laughing.

Ciena had trusted she’d like her new roommates and enjoy the reception, but so far the afternoon was exceeding even her best expectations. She stood in front of the
mirror, astonished to see herself in the cadet’s uniform. Black boots, dark trousers, dark jacket—it was like a vision out of a dream.

“I hate these boots,” said her roommate Kendy Idele, who scowled down at hers
from where she stood nearby. “Then again, I hate shoes, period. When you grow up on a tropical
world, you love barefoot best.”

“You’ll soon be accustomed to them,” promised their third roomie, Jude Edivon. She was as tall as Kendy was short, as pale as Kendy and Ciena were dark. “Bare feet might
be great on Iloh, but on Coruscant? Your feet would quickly become dirty. Plus the likelihood
of scrapes, small cuts, and potential infection would be high—not that hygiene levels
aren’t good here, but the sheer size of the populace suggests—”

“Are you going to start quoting statistics again?” Kendy groaned.

“It’s okay to be a science geek,” Ciena said. “Quote as many statistics as you like, Jude. Kendy and I will get used to it eventually.”

Jude’s lightly freckled face lit
up with a smile. “Our personalities seem to be compatible. I think you and I will get along very well.”

“We will, too,” Kendy promised. “Ignore my being grumpy. I’m just space-lagged and tired, and trying to get the hang of these damned braids.”

Ciena had been wearing her hair pinned back in tight braids for years, ever since she’d learned that this was mandatory for all long-haired cadets.
“Here, let me.”
Kendy’s dark green hair was straight and silky—totally unlike Ciena’s tight curls—but she figured a braid was a braid. “Did you really never practice fixing
it?”

“Not even once. I thought it would be easy!” Kendy sighed. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“No problem.”

Jude leaned closer. “You could simply cut your hair short, as I have. That provides optimal efficiency.”

Kendy made a face. “On Iloh, only little children wear their hair short. Growing it long means you’re really an adult. No way am I sawing it off now.”

“You’ll get the hang of the braids soon,” Ciena promised. “You’ll have to, because I’m not doing your hair every morning.”

“Even if I promised to make your bed before inspections?”

“No.”

Somehow they made it to the ceremony on
time, with their uniforms perfect. More than eight thousand students were in Ciena’s class—a stunning number, to her—but a charge went
through her at the sight of them all dressed in Imperial regalia, brought together by a common purpose, a common dream. Every single one of those cadets had traveled there, from hundreds of worlds,
to make themselves the best officers they could possibly be. They’d
come to serve the Empire, to make the entire galaxy better through their service. Her heart felt so full that Ciena put one
hand to her chest.

Was Thane doing better by now? He had to be. Her eyes searched the crowd for him, but that was one of the disadvantages of wearing uniforms; it was harder to tell people apart.