Jailyn knew that her father would still be nursing his Bespin port hangover in their living quarters, the sunshades closed tight against the deepening pink sky and his fancy clothes discarded in a heap on the floor. Later in the evening, the casinos would beckon him as they did so many others who were desperate for the stroke of good fortune to change their fates.
The Royal Casino draped Jailyn in blue darkness. Music blared from the stage where a band played, but the checkerboard dance floor was empty except for an elderly Bith couple who swayed in a close embrace.
Jailyn meandered around the high-top tables decorated with tall candles and flowers. Service droids rolled past, trays piled high with drinks and food. Jailyn’s cloak glided behind her as she found a stool at the far corner of the bar. Muted conversations and loud beeps from a row of warp-top gambling machines filled the air. She ordered a drink from the bartender and put it on the Cirri family tab. Sipping slowly, Jailyn watched visitors and Cloud City citizens mingle under the casino’s bluish light.
A familiar cackle from one of the nearby sabacc games got her attention. A human male among a table of Sullustans raised his hands in celebration and then gathered his winnings. Jailyn caught her breath and quickly turned away. Maybe he hadn’t seen her.
After a few moments, someone tapped her shoulder. “Jailyn? Is it you today? Or are you someone else?”
It was the man from the sabacc table, her father’s hired pilot. Dresh Lipson didn’t live in the upper levels but in Port Town, a range of industrial levels that housed the types who could be hired cheap without any questions.
Dresh smirked at her, which was his usual expression. His long brown hair was tied in a tail, and he wore loose trousers with a threadbare shirt barely hidden under a dusty black jacket. Roguish as he was, she tried not to stare. He was an offworlder and avid lover of the sabacc tables. Dresh boasted loudly of his wins, but he always slipped a few credits to his comrades for future luck. Jailyn had learned from some of his loud conversations that Dresh also had Rebellion sympathies. She wondered if he knew about the princess.
“Why do you ask who I am? I’m always Jailyn,” she answered. “No one else.”
“Are you, though? Because sometimes I see you in those flashy dresses, and I have doubts you’re Jai Cirri’s responsible daughter.” Dresh sat down beside her, motioning for the bartender. “Put her drink on my tab.”
“Keep your credits, Dresh. You need them more than me.” Jailyn sighed as the bartender ignored her and heeded the pilot’s wishes. “Shouldn’t you be down at the platform working on my father’s ship?”
Dresh nodded. “Sure, sure. But your father’s probably still sleeping it off, right? Figured I had time to play a round or three before I do maintenance on the Velker.”
“I don’t think my father pays you to play sabacc on his time.”
Jailyn wasn’t sure exactly why her father kept a pilot on retainer since he barely traveled. All of his needs were met here on Cloud City. If anything, he kept Dresh as reassurance that he could get away quickly from any debtors wanting their due. She knew the pilot did off-the-books work for clients who would rather not be known.
Dresh tilted his head. “Now, this cloak is classy. Got some fancy dinner or event later?” He examined the fine aeien silk in admiration. “Don’t see nothing like this down in Port Town.”
Jailyn abruptly stood up from the barstool. Dresh was mocking her, but he also saw through her. At least he was making a living. What was she doing? Imperial forces were now in the Outer Rim. She was sure that Princess Leia Organa wouldn’t be in some casino sipping a frothy drink, pretending to be a rebel.
Jailyn glanced at Dresh’s teasing eyes. She knew what he saw. A naïve socialite, the daughter of a wayward gambler, a girl playing make-believe.
She turned and stormed out of the Royal Casino, the truth burning in her chest.
* * *
—
Jailyn left the blue darkness of the Royal Casino and went back into the blurring white of the Cloud City halls. She hated the way Dresh made her feel. He could always get under her skin. Why did she care so much about what he thought of her? He was just some smuggler hiding in the bowels of Port Town. He wasn’t anyone.
She traveled back up to the Plaza Concourse level to one of the parks in the breathable air zone. Cloud City sunsets were a spectacle, and the sky displayed unparalleled magnificence, a festival of regal reds and opulent oranges. The colors of the princess’s cloak. She stared at her beloved sunset, the only one she had ever known.
“Thought I would find you here,” a familiar voice said.
Jailyn closed her eyes in frustration. The pilot had followed her to the park. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
“Don’t come to give me more grief, Dresh. I’ve had enough,” she said.
He leaned against the glass deck railing that overlooked the lower streets of the concourse. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You left in a hurry.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, I can tell.”
She turned to him, looking deep into his brown eyes. He wasn’t mocking her now. “Am I that easy to read?”
“It’s not a bad thing,” he answered. “Being yourself.”
Jailyn huffed and averted her gaze back to the sunset. “Easy for you to say. You know exactly who you are.”
Dresh was quiet for a moment, then touched her hand. “Listen to me. During the sabacc game, I found out that there’s some trouble brewing. Imperial stormtroopers. Bounty hunters. All of them looking for rebels.”
“I know about that,” Jailyn said, lowering her voice. “I heard Princess Leia Organa is here in the city. Maybe she’s still in hiding and hasn’t been found.”
Dresh shook his head. “I don’t like it. Main reason I came here was to get away from the Empire. Nothing good happens when Imperial scum come to a place. From the way I see it, things are about to change. Not for the better, either.”
They kept silent as the sun continued to lower among the thick striated clouds. Visitors around them gasped and marveled at the scene. Even Dresh seemed captivated by the sunset’s ethereal beauty.
“When I was a little girl, my father paid a Bespin Wing Guard to show me the beldons,” Jailyn whispered, her gaze still on the clouds.
“The ones that make the Tibanna gas, right?” Dresh asked.
Jailyn nodded and then shivered. “I thought they were beautiful. Graceful even. But then a velker swooped past our cloud car and tore into one of the beldons. To this day, I can still hear its screams. But my father was glad I saw it. Told me it was a valuable reminder to always have the claws of a velker and not the soft belly of a beldon.”
“That’s a heartwarming childhood memory,” Dresh said drily.
“I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve always been trying to be someone else,” Jailyn said. “I wanted to prove to my father that I wasn’t a scared little girl. Even though I was. Maybe I still am.”
Dresh moved closer, brushing her shoulder. “I don’t think you’re scared.”
She turned to him and stared. He was no longer showing concern in his deep, dark eyes. Her face grew hot. Could Dresh see her real truth? The hidden way she thought of him? Despite his mocking and teasing, he had never mistreated her. Dresh was a mysterious offworlder and lover of luck. He wasn’t a threat to Jailyn.
She focused on his chiseled features and the way the Bespin sunset turned his skin a burnished bronze. A yearning stirred inside her, and Jailyn lowered her gaze to his lips. She took a breath and leaned toward him.
Suddenly the Cloud City audio scan blared across the Plaza Concourse. “Attention. This is Lando Calrissian. Attention. The Empire has taken control of the city. I advise everyone to leave before more Imperial troops arrive.”
Jailyn widened her eyes in shock. “They’ve fo
und the princess.”
Dresh quickly grabbed her hand. “Follow me.”
* * *
—
They raced through the upper levels. Citizens and visitors scrambled in the halls, loud voices of fear mixed with confusion from the baron administrator’s announcement. Dresh pushed through the chaotic crowds, keeping Jailyn’s hand tight within his grip.
“Where are we going?” Jailyn yelled at the pilot.
“To your father’s ship!”
Bespin Guards sped around corners from all directions, blasters released from their holsters. They sliced through the crowd, sprinting to an unknown destination. The guards weren’t helping anyone to safety.
“That’s not good,” Jailyn said as she followed Dresh toward the platform bay where the Velker was docked. He slowed down as blasterfire and commotion erupted from the next hall. A woman wearing a white jumpsuit darted through an archway. She carried a blaster rifle and was quickly followed by a Wookiee who was firing at an unseen enemy.
“That’s the princess! She’s trying to get away.” Jailyn broke free of Dresh’s grip and sprinted down the hall.
“Come back here!” he yelled.
Jailyn hovered and hid behind a charred corner as several stormtroopers chased after the princess and the Wookiee. In the crossfire, Dresh pulled her closer to the wall for better cover, holding her tight in his arms.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“We have to help them!” Jailyn pleaded. “They’re trapped!”
“Listen to me. This place is swarming with stormtroopers and I only got one blaster.” Dresh pulled his weapon from his belt.
The rebels defended their ground outside Platform 327’s door. Jailyn winced as bolts dug gaping holes in the pristine walls above her, leaving little fires smoldering bright. Her cloak was now ripped and ruined, but she no longer cared. Jailyn didn’t need the fragile façade anymore. She was fully in her own skin, breathing the acrid air of combat. Princess Leia Organa was fighting tyranny right in front of her. A woman who had defied the expectations of her royal position. The Empire wanted to silence her and the Rebellion, chasing them across the galaxy to the Outer Rim. Now Imperial forces were close to capturing the princess, and Jailyn couldn’t let that happen. She suddenly grabbed Dresh’s blaster and aimed it at one of the stormtroopers gaining ground on the rebels. After she fired, he fell down in a slump.
“Where did you learn to shoot?” Dresh’s face was full of astonishment.
“I’m full of surprises.” She aimed to fire again but then the bay door opened and the princess and the Wookiee moved outside where a battered Corellian freighter was waiting. The stormtroopers pursued them, taking the battle onto the platform.
“Let’s move.” Dresh grabbed Jailyn’s hand but she held firm.
“We need to help them!”
“We can’t help them if we’re dead.”
Jailyn hesitated but then ran with Dresh past the ongoing skirmish, dodging bolts as they hit and marred the walls. Racing down to Platform 325, they found the doors wide open. The Velker was a looming presence in the approaching dusk. Over on the next platform, an aged freighter revved to life and took off in the midst of blasterfire.
“Looks like your princess got away,” Dresh said.
In the darkening sky, the ship disappeared into the clouds. Princess Leia Organa had once again escaped the clutches of the Empire.
Jailyn followed Dresh up the entry ramp and into the heart of the Velker. In the pilot’s seat, Dresh riffled through system maps.
“This place is gonna be crawling with even more Imperial scum. We need to get offworld now.”
“But…” Jailyn paused to look at the sky. The sunset was almost over. It was at its darkest pink; the clouds covered early stars.
Dresh turned to look deep into her eyes. This time it was her seeing through him. The truth of what he wanted was laid bare. Dresh had the same yearning for her. Maybe it had been there all along underneath his own pretending.
“Jailyn, it’s time to pick a side. This is now and this is real.”
Cloud City was now overrun with Imperial stormtroopers. The Empire would put Bespin under its control. The old days of the Outer Rim were done. It was time for her to choose who she wanted to be.
“You’re right, I do need to pick a side,” Jailyn finally said. “And I’m choosing the side that doesn’t shoot at princesses.”
THE WITNESS
Adam Christopher
Enough. It was that simple, really.
Deena Lorn—TK-27342—she’d had…enough.
She didn’t even really know where they were, although that wasn’t unusual. They’d been summoned by their section leader, received their orders, and traveled down to the city in the shuttle with Lord Vader himself.
The orders were simple. Escort duty. Nothing more. Her and FS-451.
Deena hated FS-451.
She was tight with the rest of her squad—as she’d discovered early in her career, once you’re dropped into a battlefield with a bunch of fellow new recruits, the bonds that form among the survivors can be legendary. Her fireteam—Tig, Xander, Ella, Riccarn—she’d die for them. That they’d stuck together since the beginning was remarkable, but perhaps Deena should have given her commanders a little more credit. The officers see a squad work well together, makes sense to keep them as a unit. They’d been through the wringer, and they were all still alive. That alone put them ahead of the curve. They were all good—good enough to get better assignments, ending up on the Executor. It wasn’t exactly a safe detail, but it did at least keep them off the front lines.
Because good stormtroopers were hard to find. Deena knew that only too well. Stormtroopers like her…and FS-451. He wasn’t in her fireteam—thank pfassk—but he’d been in the squad for longer than she had. And this was, what, the fourth or fifth time they’d been assigned as a pair to aid Lord Vader. Each time the order came down, it caused a bit of gossip back in the mess, a mix of lighthearted ribbing and jealousy, like serving as the Emperor’s own personal enforcer was somehow an easy assignment. She laughed along with the others, of course—but she wasn’t sure they were right. True, she’d rather be trying not to step on that long, flowing cloak as she trailed after him than being dumped on some mudhole planet and left to shoot as many rebels as possible before trying to reach a pickup that only had a fifty-fifty chance of showing up.
But Lord Vader was not someone you wanted to…disappoint. And while escort duty for a being that required no escort was an easy assignment, Deena had seen what happened when you provoked his ire.
Sometimes, while trying to keep a respectful—and safe—distance from Lord Vader, Deena daydreamed that one day it would be FS-451 who stood there choking in his armor after taking one microsecond too long to carrying out their master’s orders.
She hated her fellow trooper. The feeling was deep, almost primal. It wasn’t that he was just a jerk. There were plenty of those among the rank and file. He was worse. Far worse.
FS-451 was a believer.
It wasn’t just that he was dedicated and loyal. Those were admirable qualities that any good trooper should have been proud of. No, FS-451’s devotion to duty went beyond that. He didn’t just live to serve the Empire—he believed in it, believed in the right of the Emperor to rule, believed in the desire for total supremacy across the galaxy. Believed in the iron fist needed to wield such power.
Believed there was no cost too great, no price too high, to achieve total domination. And it was only through such domination that there could really be peace in the galaxy.
Deena had another word for him: fanatic. Why FS-451 was still a regular stormtrooper was something Deena and the others in the squad had often wondered about, those late nights in the mess when they sat in the corner, sipping Xander’s illegal hooch distilled from
the Star Destroyer’s reactor coolant system. FS-451 never joined them, of course. He was better than they were. He never even used his real name, such was his Imperial fervor. He had his operating number tattooed on his chest, right across his collarbone, and when he wandered around off duty he always wore the same bodysuit tunic with the neckline torn into a plunging V so everybody could see it.
Tig said she’d heard he wanted to be a death trooper. All those hours pumping iron in the rec room, trying to boost his stats so he could take the augmentations better. Riccarn wasn’t so sure. Death troopers weren’t of much use in wartime—maybe that was why Lord Vader never had them as an escort. FS-451 had wanted to get his hands dirty, that’s what he’d told Riccarn. He wanted to join the Burners—become an incinerator stormtrooper. Now that, according to FS-451, was real combat. Dropping into an insurgent nest, flaming rebels, watching them burn to death in front of you so you could see the fear and the pain in their eyes, the sudden realization all too late that they were wrong and the Empire was going to win.
Deena hadn’t heard FS-451 talk about his plans, his ambitions. She wasn’t sure that story about joining the Burners was true. She’d spent more time with him than anyone in the squad, so she would know, right?
And now here they were in some kind of floating city, trailing Lord Vader around crisp white corridors that made their own armor look shabby and stained. A Tibanna mining operation, FS-451 had said as they’d flown in on the shuttle. But from what she’d seen, it looked more like a pleasure palace than an industrial center.
It didn’t matter. None of it did, not anymore.
Because she’d had enough. This mission was the very last straw.
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