Archex nodded. “We need some way to send a message from the transport to the First Order saying that the Resistance spy was here but died in custody and that Batuu is not strategically useful. This place has to seem like it’s not worth caring about.”
“But it is!” Dolin nearly shouted.
Vi put a hand on his arm. “We know that, and you know that, but you don’t want the First Order to know that.”
“You know what you need?” said a new voice from the hallway.
Everyone looked up as Zade swanned into the room in a burgundy shimmersilk bathrobe.
“Well?” Vi prodded.
“Caf,” he finished on his way to the percolator, pouring himself a cup and then pulling a face at the taste. “I take it back. You need better beans. This stuff tastes like it came out of the business end of a dewback.”
Archex sighed heavily. “Do you have anything useful to contribute?”
Zade reclined on a stack of cargo crates to sip his drink. “The cantina is all riled up. There’s a lot of talk about the First Order. Some folk think they’re fabulous, that they’re going to make this a lawful place with a real government instead of Oga and her muscle and her underhanded, gangster ways. Hmph. Fools.” He took a sip. “Some folk—more than you’d think—have fond feelings for Vi and think the Resistance is the only way to go. They’ve seen what damage a few members of the First Order can accomplish, and they know that a larger force would leave nothing but rubble. With Savi and his scrappers on your side, they assume you must be doing good, fair work. Those who saw what you did, defending the old women, believe in you. Most folk think everything is in good balance on its own and that the First Order and Resistance are just mucking up a good thing and should go elsewhere and mind their own business.”
“Would that we could,” Vi said, rolling her eyes skyward. “Anything else?”
Zade held up a finger and gulped down the rest of his caf. Vi watched his stubble ripple as he swallowed and spent a moment considering who hated Zade more, Archex or Pook.
Finally finished, he set down his cup and smiled. “So I was listening to you bicker from the hall for a bit, and I believe the only way to solve this little imbroglio—yes, I know big words—is to let the First Order escape back into space.”
“But if they—” Archex began.
“Wasn’t done,” Zade broke in. “We let them escape into space, and then we blow them up.” He held up a finger again as he belched and Archex squirmed. “But before either of those things happen, we get Kriki on board, and she programs the ship to send a message the moment it hits space, reporting that the Resistance spy is dead and that Batuu is, as you put it, strategically useless. Let the message play, and then…boom. But here’s the extra-tricky part.” He leaned closer and stage-whispered, “Kriki also makes that explosion look like a malfunction. No enemy fire; just a bad motivator. Shipbuilders these days. Always cutting corners.”
For a moment, the room went silent.
“Can you do that, Kriki?” Vi finally asked.
Kriki looked down, her claws clicking nervously. “Am I able? Yes, sure! I can do that. But…I’m not good under pressure. I get scared, and…it’s like my brain feels all light and fluttery, and I get clumsy, and…” She sighed a squeaky sigh. “Even imagining what it would feel like, sneaking onto a First Order ship and waiting for one of the soldiers to find me and hurt me like they did Vi…” She trailed off, her teeth chattering. “I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t think I’m strong enough. I’m just too scared.”
Vi reached out and put her hand over Kriki’s much larger one. “You’re strong,” she said, hearing her voice break. She didn’t often let others see this side of her emotions, but she was still feeling a bit fragile from the torture. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not enough. There is no such thing as ‘enough.’ There’s just you, doing the best that you’re able. I’m scared, too. I’m scared all the time. I wake up in the night, covered in sweat—”
“I’ve heard you whimper in your sleep,” Kriki confessed. “I wondered why.”
“I’ve been through some bad things.” At that, Archex looked away, and Vi looked down. Her throat hurt, saying it. “People have hurt me. Most of the time, I manage to ignore it or hide it, but it’s always there, lurking underneath. And what I’ve learned is that the only way out is through. That I have to feel the fear, acknowledge it, and do it anyway. Fear can’t hurt you.”
“But the First Order bloody well can!” Zade roared.
Vi gave him a quelling look and squeezed Kriki’s hand. “They can,” she agreed. “They can hurt you even if you just live your life, avoiding what scares you and minding your own business. Because that’s what bullies do—they don’t care if you’re invested or not. But what we’re trying to do will, hopefully, save this place, the entire planet, and everyone on it. And for me, that’s a risk worth taking. When I jumped in front of Jenda and Oh-li in the marketplace, I was scared, and I knew there would be consequences. But I’m glad I did it. I don’t think I could live with the person I’d be if I’d just watched that happen and walked away.”
“So you’re saying that if I don’t do this, I’ll regret it?” Kriki asked.
“Take it from somebody with a lot of regrets,” Archex said, his voice gentle and his eyes more than a little wet. “You can live through fear and hurt, but when the First Order decides your home is in their way, you won’t have regrets. You’ll just be ashes. First the TIE fighters come through and strafe the city and every settlement. Then the transports land and the troops bring flamethrowers and blasters and laser axes. They scan for signs of life. They hunt down what they find. They leave nothing behind. Nothing.”
He got up abruptly and left, and Vi’s heart ached for him.
“That man,” Zade said, watching Archex leave as he ate some stale popped grains, “has seen things. I still don’t like him, but I begin to see why he’s absolutely no fun.”
“I’ll go with you, Kriki,” Dolin offered shyly. “I mean, maybe I’m not the best fighter or the smartest person we’ve got, but I can protect you. You don’t have to go alone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“You wouldn’t be alone,” Vi agreed. “You’d have all of us. And maybe some of the locals, if they knew how important it was?” She looked from Zade to Dolin.
Dolin nodded. “I can ask around the settlement. My people don’t go to the outpost, but they do tune in to the local radio. Maybe it’s been on the news—the people who’ve been hurt. I’ll tell them what I’ve seen.” His voice went softer. “I’ll tell them what they did to you. Maybe they’ll understand what’s at stake.”
“And I’ll make the great sacrifice of a night in the cantina.” Zade stood, a hand over his heart. “I will burden myself with local liquors and buy many rounds of said liquors—the cheap ones for them, of course, although I do enjoy that Toniray wine myself. Perhaps if we can rouse enough hearts around this attack, those remaining troopers will be too dazzled or harried by the hordes of locals with pitchforks to notice our wee friend working her magic.” He waggled his fingers at Kriki, who wiggled hers in return; they had a chummy relationship like two small children, Vi had noticed.
“So everyone else will distract the troopers while I go on the ship and reprogram it, and then I’ll get off the ship, and then what?” Kriki asked, still a little nervous but gaining confidence.
Vi smiled. “Then we retreat and let them leave, and when they hit orbit—”
“Boom!” Zade supplied.
“Boom,” Vi agreed.
Kriki puffed out her chest and nodded. “I think I can do it. Boom.”
LONG AFTER EVERYONE ELSE WAS ASLEEP, Kriki sat at the makeshift table surrounded by datapads. She’d gone into BSO to gather any info she could on First Order tech. Savi had given her an old collection of ship manuals, while Mubo had let h
er interrogate a KX-2 unit he was rebuilding. She’d considered stopping in at Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities, but despite the fact that he was a vegetarian, the ancient Ithorian made her feel like a prey animal and would likely sense her desperation and overcharge her accordingly if he even had anything useful. Although she knew her old employer Gol likely had some First Order tech among his wares, she’d gotten quite accustomed to not being berated and just assumed he would refuse to sell it to her at any price. No matter what Dolin and Zade said about the locals, it was clear that certain people in the outpost did not have pure hearts.
Normally, Kriki loved nothing more than having some new bit of tech to tinker with. She’d had great fun optimizing the old generators the Resistance had supplied, and she now had the lights set to glow and dim in time with the humans’ natural rhythms. But that was tinkering and this was…well, life and death. If she messed up the tech, Batuu could get blown up just like Hosnian Prime. If she messed up her timing or bad luck struck, she could end up dead or in the custody of the First Order. She could be put in one of those interrogation chairs, be electrocuted, have her mind probed—
Kriki shivered. She wasn’t big enough or strong enough to live through that, and she dreaded what they might pry from her thoughts. Vi was the strongest person she’d ever met, and Vi had barely escaped the First Order alive.
Not only that, but for all that Vi kept up a cheerful, caring, confident, competent front, she whimpered in her sleep all night, begging for release and help and muttering two names over and over again. Kath, whom Kriki knew, and someone else named Cardinal. If Kriki was nearby and heard Vi fussing, she would go sit by the human’s side and pat her hand or stroke her hair back from her sweaty forehead until Vi’s mouth relaxed into a smile and she went back to sleep. This nearly nightly routine was one of Kriki’s many secrets. She slept for three hours in the afternoon after work, but other than that, she was awake and haunting the corridors in her own way, for such was the Chadra-Fan’s biological imperative.
She’d seen Archex struggle in his sleep, too, although she was too shy to touch his face and would only pat his hand. He sometimes woke up around midnight and went outside or into the cave’s smallest chamber to do stretching exercises and walk in circles, growling and grumbling strange, rhyming slogans to himself, trying to force his injured leg to heal through sheer stubbornness.
She’d watched Zade stumble in before dawn, drunk beyond belief and arguing with a ghost—someone named Valoss—about whether it was time to run again, whether it was ever worth it to fight, as Valoss had, and whether or not he’d repaid his debt to Vi yet.
And she’d silently followed gentle Dolin as he ventured deep into the caves to some ancient statues, kneeling on the hard rock and praying for strength, praying that his land and animals and family might remain safe, all while Waba lay at his feet, quiet for once as if even the hog sensed the presence of the old gods listening.
If the team had a weak link, Kriki was certain that she was it. And the only thing she could do to up her chances of success was to study these datapads, reading every manual and code list for First Order transports that she could get her hands on. From Archex’s descriptions, she’d narrowed the bulky transport’s model down to some sort of Sienar-Jaemus Mobile Habitation Unit and felt confident that given enough time, she could perform her duties and win the day.
The problem was that they might not have enough time, and that, as she’d confessed, she didn’t perform well under pressure. She felt both of her hearts flutter when everyone at the table stared at her, and these weren’t even scary strangers or enemies—they were her friends! Since leaving her sister Reelka and, before that, her nest, she’d never felt so welcome, so like a part of the group. In most places, she was treated as a lesser or an adorable walking pet, but Vi and the other Resistance members saw her as a real person, and one with much to contribute. She didn’t want to let them down. She wanted to be liked. She wanted to help.
But above all else, she didn’t want to die.
SINCE HE’D JOINED THE RESISTANCE—HIM! DOLIN! A member of the Resistance!—he’d stayed away from his community completely. Well, except for when he ran home to snatch up last year’s gruffin wool and his favorite pillow, but that didn’t really count.
He’d avoided returning not only because he wasn’t sure what his friends and extended family would say about him using tech and cavorting with droids and aliens, but also because he didn’t want to inadvertently lead the First Order back to his home. Now, on his crankbike, with the squat, round huts on the horizon and Waba snorting happily in the sidecar, he wasn’t even sure he’d be welcomed back.
What he was doing—what he had done—went well beyond the usual boyish rebellion. Most young men where he was from tore up fields on their crankbikes or got involved with illegal podraces in the Galma vicinity.
Whereas Dolin had gotten himself involved in an intergalactic conflict.
He’d chosen a side, committed near blasphemy by letting offworlders into the ruins, and exploded the stump of a holy spire.
Even if no one else understood, he knew in his heart that it was the right thing to do. He’d stood before the old gods, made his gifts of golden lichen and black stones, and the caves had gone still, some noise chiming down the hallway. He’d taken that as a message from the ancients. Surely they wished to see their world safe, to have their native sons take up arms and protect their land and beasts?
The gods, perhaps, did.
But his own grandmother? Maybe not.
He pulled up outside the hut and stood before the door. It was the middle of the day, and Grana was usually napping at this time. But she must’ve heard his bike, loud as it was.
Did he call out or go in?
Oh, bosh it.
“Grana!” he called through the heavy rug over the door. “Bright suns!”
Waba tried to waddle in as he usually did, but Dolin held the hog back. If he wasn’t welcome, then his pet surely wasn’t, and he didn’t have the heart to watch Grana chase Waba around with a broom today.
“Maybe they’re bright and maybe they’re not” came the reply, which was far from a welcome.
“It’s bright where I stand.”
“Sometimes we forget the suns, when we stand in darkness too long.”
“But, Grana, didn’t you once tell me that the suns are always shining? Even when clouds cover them, the suns are still there. They never stop bringing life to Batuu.”
She had no answer to that.
Dolin couldn’t stand it anymore—waiting outside his own hut, the place where he’d grown up, where he’d mourned his parents, where he’d become a man. He’d fixed this roof with his own hands, helped to weave the rugs, polished the furniture until he had blisters.
Grimacing, he pushed the thick fabric aside and walked in.
Grana glared up from her loom in annoyance; she looked exhausted and like she’d lost weight. “How dare you? In this settlement, we don’t enter the homes of others unless we’re invited.”
Dolin stood up straight. “This is my home. I grew up here. I buried my parents here. I carved the chair you’re sitting in and spun the yarn you’re weaving with. Unless you toss out everything I made, then this is still my house, too.” She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the loom, her shuttle zipping back and forth angrily. He paused for a moment, his frustration building, before saying, “Not that you could drag that chair outside yourself. I’ve done most of the work here for years, taken care of you. Carried you when you were sick. I guess if you really want to get rid of me, you’ll just have to set fire to everything in this hut and start over.”
Grana looked up, her mouth as puckered as a jitfruit. “You left. Nobody said you could come back.”
“I’m a man grown. I don’t need anyone’s permission.”
The old woman met his eyes, and what he saw the
re was chilling.
“Get out, or I’ll start screaming.”
She wasn’t playing around.
She wasn’t going to forgive him.
She was done with him.
Dolin took a deep breath. “Fine, then. I can see your heart has gone cold, and you are determined to die alone. But you might like to know that I have a job. That I’m useful. That I joined the Resistance, and they’re glad to have me. And that even if you reject me, I will keep fighting for you. For you, and for our home and way of life. For the gruffins and the fields and the ancients. I’ve seen the First Order with my own eyes, seen them bully and shoot and kill. So know that even if you think I’m abandoning you, what I’m really doing is protecting you. Even if you don’t want it. Or appreciate it.”
He thought she might say something then, that there might be some tiny crack in her resolve that he could wiggle open until she held out her scrawny arms for a hug.
But she kept her mouth pinned, and so he nodded and said, “So be it then. May the Force be with you, Grana.”
Dolin turned on his heel and left, Waba following him confusedly.
“There’s no such thing as the Force!” Grana shouted after the curtain had closed behind him.
“Wrong again!” he shouted back.
Perhaps his own grandmother had rejected him, but there were others in the community who might be swayed. His friends and cousins, boys and men, girls and women who, like him, guarded the beasts and land or else railed against such strictures and worked on their bikes and sneaked out to Galma and Surabat and Peka. He would find the other young people, in ones and twos, where they always lurked.
And he would tell them his truth and deliver them to the Resistance, as many as would come.
Someone here had to believe him.
FOR ONCE, YLENA LEFT THE SCRAPYARD early, trusting that Dotti would keep everyone in order. While she walked Savi’s Path to the outpost, she thought carefully about what to say, what to do. Something was coming, she knew. Something that would threaten all of Batuu. But this, perhaps, wasn’t it.
Galaxy's Edge Page 30
