The Rise of the Empire

by John Jackson Miller

Sloane spoke again over the device, sounding more concerned. “Count Vidian, time will be of the essence. Lieutenant Deltic’s staff says you will have one hour from the Detonation Control linkup to trigger the process.”

  “I won’t need that much time,” Vidian responded, drily. “I’ve been ready—and Forager will be ready.”

  “To collect the thorilide after he’s blown most of it up—along with the moon,” Skelly muttered as the transmission ended. “Senseless.” He turned around on the floor and slumped with his back against the cockpit control panels. He dabbed his nose with his hand. There was blood there. “Just drop me off anywhere. Maybe I can die on Cynda before they blow it up.”

  Hera looked at Skelly for a moment—and then back outside. Her eyes focused on something ahead. “Skelly, why did she say there was a time limit to detonating the explosives they’re planting in the moon?”

  Skelly rubbed the side of his head, his eyes closed. “It’s the xenoboric acid they’re injecting. Wait too long and any of the junk that’s left down there will eat its way through the baradium drop cables and containers. No boom then.”

  Hera looked at Kanan. He caught the drift. “You said there was a chain reaction here—that some of those towers were primaries?”

  Skelly sniffed, eyes opening. “Yeah. Four of them.”

  “Which four?” Kanan asked.

  “I’m trying to remember. I’d have to look.” Skelly tried to get to his feet, but only fell back down on his rump. Zaluna sprang again from her seat and helped him stand, bracing herself between the two forward chairs. Skelly looked ahead and squinted at Cynda’s bright surface.

  “Will killing the towers stop the reaction?” Kanan asked him.

  “Yeah. But those are our people down there working those sites—and flying cargo to them.”

  “I know.” Kanan reached down for his headset and put it on.

  “That’s only patched into local comm traffic,” Hera said. “We can’t send Zaluna’s warning on it.”

  Kanan ignored her and worked the latch on the panel in front of his knees. A door swung open, and he pulled at what was inside. Reluctant hinges cracked and groaned. With effort, Kanan craned a targeting system with handles up toward his chest.

  “Do I want to know what he’s doing?” Zaluna asked.

  Hera stared at him in puzzlement. “I’m not sure I know, myself.”

  “The meteor chaser,” Kanan said, waving to the ceiling. The single cannon perched above the crew compartment had a field of fire that covered a wide arc on either side and ahead of Expedient. “Every Baby Carrier has one. Baby doesn’t like being bumped.”

  “Neither do I,” Skelly said, looking nervously at him. “You can’t expect to fight off the Imperials with that?”

  “Not more than a few,” Kanan said, testing his microphone. “But if I do it right, a few’s enough!”

  THE COMMAND CENTER of the collection ship looked like a cathedral for some ancient religion. Vidian’s comm station, in the middle of the room, resembled an altar. Idle comparisons, both. But the reality was not lost on Vidian. From here, he would sacrifice the moon to his Emperor, winning his favor for another year. And the ashes of the world would smother his rival once and for all.

  Intentionally or not, the collection ship’s designers had built a supernatural feel into Forager’s bridge. Situated frontward on the foremost sphere on the ship’s linked series of pods, the huge round room looked ahead through tall windows that rose and curved to a ceiling twenty meters above. More consoles like Vidian’s circled him like miniature megaliths in a place for idol-worshipper rites. A catwalk two stories up ran around the front arc of the room, providing additional workstations between the windows for Vidian’s droids and cybernetically enhanced assistants. He could see the metallic figures moving back and forth on the decking, digital priests backlit by the shining moon.

  “Spokes deployed, my lord,” one of them said. “We are ready for the collection process to begin.”

  Vidian nodded. It was up to Sloane and her people now. Switching his visual feed from cam to remote cam, he looked approvingly on the Cynda work sites. Sloane had done a remarkable job, throwing Ultimatum’s thousands of staffers at a project that, days before, had been a fantasy on a holodisk from a deranged assassin. Now they were thirty minutes away from doing something that still existed only at the outer edges of Imperial capability: the destruction of a moon, and perhaps the world below.

  It had been critical to get Sloane’s cooperation early on. Any extra time, any deliberation would have brought the Emperor’s corps of engineers into the picture, and they would have questioned the yield from the test blast. Vidian could use Tharsa’s name to falsify a report and defraud an ambitious captain, but more would be difficult. And this couldn’t wait. As Vidian cycled his messages before his eyes, he saw not just more from the nuisance Danthe, but several from the Emperor’s inner circle. All were almost comically urgent, suggesting that if Vidian didn’t deliver thorilide in record amounts instantly, the entire Imperial fleet would have to be mothballed. The baron had really gone to work on the Emperor’s people.

  Well, he would finish it soon enough. He would deliver thorilide beyond anyone’s fantasies—and then stick the grinning Danthe with a ticking bomb.

  One of Vidian’s cybernetic aides stepped forward. “Something’s coming in, master, on the Mining Guild channel.”

  “Eh?” Vidian whispered commands until the sound reached him.

  “—don’t know what’s going on. Feeling so…weird. These blasted Baby canisters—some of them started leaking these, I don’t know, these fumes…”

  “What’s this nonsense?” Vidian said aloud.

  “—don’t know how it happened. Faulty loading, faulty material, faulty something—just like everything in this wretched job. I’ve hated it all, y’know.” The voice went from woozy to bitter. “And I’ve hated all of you.”

  “It’s one coming from one of the freighters,” Vidian’s aide volunteered. “The coolant lining the baradium-357 canisters has been known to cause psychotic episodes if it gets—”

  “Yeah, you know me,” the broadcaster interrupted, sounding angrier by the word. “You know my voice. I put up with all of you, for Okadiah’s sake. In the mines, on the hoverbus, in the bar. Lot of bums, all of you. Think you’re such tough guys. You make me sick!”

  Vidian seethed as he recognized the voice. The gunslinger! “Zero in on that transmission,” he ordered. “Find him!”

  The speaker was raging now. “Filthy, stinking miners! I can see your ID transponders—I know who you are. Think you’re hot stuff, hauling bombs. Let’s see how hot I can make it!”

  Vidian toggled his comlink mode. “Now hear this! This is Count Vidian. Disregard these transmissions and finish your deliveries! You’ve just heard the ravings of a crazy man, a provocateur—”

  The pilot boomed in response. “I’m crazy? I’m crazy? Fine! I don’t care about your stinking starfighters, Empire-man. I’m telling everyone—if you see me coming, run, because I’m going to blow every ship I see out of the sky! Starting with the miners!”

  —

  A horrific squawk erupted from Expedient’s comm system: Imperial jamming on the guild channel. Hera looked at Kanan, stupefied. “I thought you were going to warn them about the moon!”

  “They wouldn’t have believed it. I barely believe it. Right now, they’re only afraid of the TIE fighters. But they’re about to become more afraid of me!” Kanan flashed her a wild look. “I need you to fly like a Wookiee whose hair is on fire—and who thinks everybody lit the match. Can you do that?”

  She seemed to get the idea, if reluctantly. “Got it.”

  He pointed at the TIE fighter beginning its intersecting run across their convoy corridor. “Dive when I signal.”

  The Imperial starfighter whisked into their field of view, its wings resolving into a fat hexagonal target. Kanan used it as exactly that, pulling the trigger on his gunnery controls.
“Hera, now!”

  Orange fire ripped from the weapons turret positioned over and behind their heads, tearing dead-center into the wing of the TIE fighter passing before them. Hera slammed the control yoke forward and hit the throttle, causing Expedient to dive. The TIE exploded into a blaze of bright flame above—but now Cynda was all they could see, its icy surface filling the viewport.

  Zaluna lost her hold on the side of Kanan’s seat and fell forward, mashing Skelly against the forward control panel. He called out in pain.

  “Hang on!” Hera brought Expedient into a roll, bringing one of the two Imperial fighters that had been flanking them into Kanan’s sights. He fired again. Hera didn’t wait to see the result, moving once more to bring the ship lower. Cynda’s gravity began to take hold.

  Zaluna tried to help Skelly up. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to this!”

  “Who is?” Weakly trying to fend off her attempts to stand him up, he appealed to the air. “Please, just let me go sit down…”

  “We need you here,” Kanan said, struggling to find their other flanker on his scope. The TIE was shooting at them: He could see the flash of energized particles to his right. “Where is this guy?”

  “Right here,” Hera said, slamming on the braking jets. The glowing ionic thrusters of the third TIE appeared in the space before them. Kanan swung his targeting mechanism and hit the trigger. Hera pumped her fist as the starfighter blew itself apart.

  Kanan glanced at Skelly, looking rocky as Zaluna held him up. Skelly outweighed the woman, but she was doing her best to keep him in place. Kanan implored him. “Come on, Skelly. We’re there. Focus!”

  Skelly squinted at the surface as Hera descended. There was a tower on the far horizon, nothing more than a needle on an ocean of white. A cluster of ships could be seen heading for the area. “That way!”

  —

  The alert clarion sounded on the bridge of Ultimatum. “Scramble wings fourteen, fifteen, seventeen,” Sloane said. “Pursue freighter, hereafter tagged Renegade One. Take them down!”

  The captain stood by the holographic tracking display and watched the action with bewilderment. She’d ordered the Star Destroyer to remain on its station, overseeing the convoy route and protecting Forager—but what was going on over the surface of Cynda defied belief. And it had all started with that bizarre message from Kanan.

  “Renegade One is pursuing the other baradium haulers,” said a fresh-faced ensign. Young Cauley had been trying his best to track the zigzagging renegade—but nothing it did made any sense.

  “They’re trying to destroy the freighters?”

  “No, Captain. Just the TIE fighters accompanying them. The freighters should be easier targets, but it’s just, well—” The headset-wearing ensign gawked at his monitor. Sloane stepped behind him to watch the chase. The runaway was peeling away the escorts of the fully laden cargo ships—and then seemingly shooting to miss, aiming just in front of the vessels.

  “Harassing fire,” she said. Kanan—pilot, insurrectionist, would-be Imperial agent? Whatever he was, he was definitely aboard that ship and trying to prevent the others from landing their cargo. His threatening message had set the stage for chaos. “Method to the madness. He’s scaring them away.”

  “And doing a good job of it,” Ensign Cauley said. He pointed to the screen. “He gets anywhere near a freighter and they try to peel off.”

  Sloane looked back at the holographic tracking display. One by one, baradium freighters were switching off their ID transponders, fearful of having Kanan come after them. It was only adding to the confusion. Has everybody on Gorse tangled with this character?

  Cauley tapped his earpiece. “I’ve got a TIE pilot chasing after the hauler he’s escorting now. It’s fleeing, afraid of being targeted by Renegade One. Our pilot’s asking if he can shoot his hauler down.”

  “What? No!” Sloane froze. She’d told Vidian she’d allow nothing to interfere with the explosives delivery, and they’d sent more than his project needed. But how much more? “Tell our pilot to stick with the ship he’s convoying as best he can until our reinforcements arrive. Tell him if he can run interference—”

  “Never mind,” Cauley said, removing his headset. “Renegade One just shot our pilot down.”

  Sloane clenched her fists. “Pull all escort wings in that area off their duty. Send them all against Kanan!”

  “Against who, Captain?”

  “Renegade One!” Quaking in anger, she pointed outside. “The guy shooting at everyone!”

  KANAN CHECKED HIS sights again as Hera banked Expedient into another S-turn. She’d been weaving between the injection tower on the Cyndan surface and the landing area nearby, where tracked Imperial ground vehicles were moving baradium canisters across the ice from the freighters.

  He wasn’t about to target anything directly: Shooting the tower, Skelly had said, might set off the world-destroying reaction by accident. And killing mining workers in the freighters or on the icecrawlers would make him no better than Vidian. Instead, he continued strafing the areas the workers had to cross, while preventing any more ships from landing. He wouldn’t kill civilians, but he had nothing against scaring the daylights out of them for a good cause.

  “Not exactly an ideal way to raise a collective consciousness,” Hera said as he fired another volley just beneath a freighter attempting a landing.

  “Recruit allies on your own time. This is getting attention, the Gorse way!”

  Trouble was, he was running out of targets. “Skelly, where’s the next primary tower?”

  “Forget it,” Hera snapped. Yanking on the control yoke, she sent a reluctant Expedient into a groaning upward spiral. Kanan saw why as the ship twisted: a sky full of TIE fighters, rocketing toward them.

  A loud beeping noise came from his gunnery controls. The indicator said the weapons turret was overheating. He looked at Hera and shook his head. “This thing’s rated to move some pebbles around. That’s about it!”

  “I think our engines could go at any minute.” She sighed in exasperation as Expedient hurtled back toward orbit.

  “Safest thing on board is the baradium!” It was a perversely lucky thing, Kanan thought: The many bumps, slams, and near-misses Expedient had suffered would have set his regular cargo off in a heartbeat. The ridiculously more powerful Baby on board at least had the benefit of containers that secured to the shelving.

  Gorse appeared in front of them again, with Forager hanging before it. Its spokes were open, a gigantic metal bloom at the front of the vessel. Kanan blanched at the size of it. “Can we take out that thing?”

  Hera checked her instruments and shook her head. “Big energy shield around it.” She pointed Expedient outward, away from the ever-approaching wave of TIE fighters. It gave them a better look at Forager from the side, but that was about it. It was useless.

  Kanan released the gunnery controls. He’d left imprints on them with his hands, he saw. He rubbed his forehead. “Anybody else got a plan?”

  No one said anything for a moment.

  Then a voice came from behind. “I think we can do Plan Two.”

  Kanan looked back to see Zaluna trying to squeeze past Skelly. She was looking outward, at Forager. “Which one was Plan Two?” Kanan asked.

  “I thought Plan Two was slowing down the injection process,” Skelly said, hanging on to Hera’s chair.

  Zaluna shook her head. “No, that’s Plan Three. Plan One was informing on Count Vidian. Plan Two was warning people. Plan Three was slowing down the injection—”

  “Can we stop this?” Hera pleaded. She nodded to the left and smiled politely at Zaluna. “TIE fighter fleet in two minutes, remember?”

  The woman pointed ahead at Forager. “Okay. Look up there.” Behind the rimless wagon wheel that was the collection array stretched seven globes, connected in a line. The one at the ship’s front, nearest the spokes, had a lighted crew area at top—and a big round dish atop that. “That’s an Imperial subsp
ace transmitter.”

  “I didn’t see that,” Kanan said. “Good eyes.”

  “That’s what they paid me for.” Zaluna grinned. “I can tap into the Transcept systems on that thing and send our warning to Gorse. They won’t know to jam that.”

  Kanan stared. “That ship’s where Vidian is now. We’d have to get you in there to do your thing.”

  Zaluna shrank a little at that, but didn’t shirk. “I know.”

  “And maybe we can even keep Vidian from sending the trigger command to Cynda,” Hera said.

  “Two for one,” Kanan said. “Happy hour.”

  “You’re going to want a stiff drink or two after this,” Hera said, bringing Expedient around in a wide arc. She looked at him. “This is not what you’d consider a safe bet. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Kanan took a deep breath. It wasn’t even a dare he’d take on his drunkest day. It was insane—but it had all been. And he had to admit he’d felt better these past few days doing something—even a stupid something—than he’d felt in years of running. “I’ve got nothing else to do. Let’s go for it.”

  “All right.” Hera looked at the Sullustan. “Strap yourself in, Zal. Everybody else—hang on!”

  —

  Vidian had had quite enough of people telling him what he couldn’t do.

  As a guild safety inspector, he’d given edicts to police but had no power to enforce them, as his corrupt supervisors constantly undermined him. He’d transformed his image and position such that no one could say no to him—and yet people tried anyway, trying to protect their old ways of doing things.

  The gunslinger and his friends, it was obvious, were trying to prevent him from destroying the moon. Were they saboteurs working for Baron Danthe? The baron had set up the near-impossible production threshold for Vidian to meet; he might well fear the acclaim success would give the count. And Vidian knew the baron had spies about, inquiring after Vidian’s “independent consultant,” Lemuel Tharsa. If so, then Vidian was all the more ready to destroy the moon. No one would say no to him in this.