Star Wars: Rebel Rising

by Revis, Beth

  Saw swooped the shuttle down into the spaceport, built a little distance from the river. As soon as they were docked, apprehension started curling in Jyn’s stomach.

  “Once you pass out all the invites, come back here,” Saw said, standing. “Wait for me.”

  “You said you only needed ten invites,” Jyn said. There were a dozen in her bag. She withdrew two and handed them to Maia and Saw.

  “Come back here,” Saw repeated, his voice sterner, a clear warning that she was not to use one of the imagecasters for herself. “We each have a part to play.”

  He moved stiffly out of the cockpit, and although his suit was fitted to his body, she knew it was hiding weapons. Maia nudged her forward, and Jyn glanced at the padding beneath her friend’s robes, wondering which blasters were wrapped under the silk.

  Zip ports carried groups of people from the docking area to the palace. The large glass bubbles resembled eggs on their sides, and they were put on a magnetic track that took a scenic route around the decorative pool and up to the center courtyard of the palace. Saw positioned Jyn near the glass so she could see, but as their zip port moved them closer to the chieftess’s home, Saw subtly pushed his way deeper into the center of the glass egg, distancing himself from Jyn. Maia had hung back with the ship, taking the next zip port.

  Colorful tents had been erected around the chieftess’s large pool, and it was clear the sakoola festival was in full swing for the locals. The delicious scent of some sort of sweet fried dough permeated the zip port, and Jyn could hear hawkers enticing people to buy souvenir nets with which to catch the sakoola petals. Mostly children ran around waving the nets, which had been decorated with colorful ribbons, but more than a few adults carried them as an accessory to their festive clothes.

  When the zip port stopped between the courtyard and the east end of the pool, everyone filed out. Saw let the crowd separate him from Jyn. She watched as he went straight to the palace, holding out the imagecaster. A flash of apprehension shot through her, but the guards in front of the palace didn’t question Saw’s invitation in the slightest. He strode through the doors and was gone.

  While the west end of the pool overflowed with street vendors and children, the east end, closer to the palace, was more reserved. The colors were muted, and rather than tents, discreet benches had been placed along the water’s edge and interspersed among the trees.

  The sakoola trees had long slender branches that drifted easily in the near-constant breezes of Inusagi. The yellow petals that floated throughout the area were as soft as silk, with a hint of gold along the edges that didn’t seem natural but was beautiful nonetheless. People strolled through the trees in small groups or alone, talking in reserved voices.

  Jyn chose a bench by the pool where there were fewer trees and she was more visible. As she sat, she caught the tail end of a conversation between a couple watching the palace steps and the stormtroopers who lined them.

  “It’s not democracy if our chieftess is forced to sign a treaty with the Empire,” the woman hissed. She wore robes similar to Jyn’s—a long stretch of embroidered cloth wound tightly around her upper body and trailed down her legs.

  Jyn had thought her companion was a man, by the clothes, but when the person spoke, Jyn realized it was another woman. “The Empire is here whether we like it or not,” she said. “At least they’re peaceful.”

  “Peaceful,” the first woman snorted. “Silence isn’t the same as peace.”

  Nevertheless, when they rounded the path and saw Jyn listening to them, they both went quiet.

  Another man meandered down the path, nodding at the two women before he sat beside Jyn. “Lots of people talk the big talk,” he said in a strange accent.

  Jyn nodded, her eyes scanning the sakoola trees, waiting for her first contact.

  “But in the end, they’re about as threatening as a cloud,” the man added.

  Jyn froze. The code word. She glanced over at the man, and his eyes narrowed. Jyn casually slid her hand in the purse, palmed an imagecaster, and slipped it into the man’s hand. He nodded, his beard moving over his chest, and strolled away casually. A few moments later, he headed to the stairs and entered the palace.

  While the sakoola festival was a large tourist event, Jyn saw only a handful of attendees who weren’t human, and most of them kept close together, soon heading toward the more open festival on the other side of the pool. Everyone who approached Jyn and said the code word was human—many young men, a few women, and one old crone who looked as if she had a hunchback, although Jyn wondered if it was a disguise to hide weapons. Jyn was down to just a handful of imagecaster invitations—one to give the last member of the mission and the spares she had made.

  A wave of melancholy washed over Jyn, unexpected and unbidden. But she couldn’t help thinking how much her mother would have loved this experience. Lyra had always been seeking out the ways in which worlds were unique; she valued the differences in the galaxy. She would have loved Inusagi.

  More people crowded near where Jyn sat, as if expecting something. They faced the pool, and Jyn turned to see what they were watching. Soon the still, glassy surface of the water broke, and diamond-shaped creatures as tall as Jyn swooped out of the water, gliding across the surface. They were pale and hairless, very thin with almost invisible facial features. Their movements were part flying, part swimming as they glided over the surface of the water. A thin membrane connected their heads to the tips of their fingers, and from there down to their ankles.

  “What are they?” Jyn asked a woman nearby.

  “Rayeths,” the woman answered. She sounded sad, which made no sense; the Rayeths’ water dance was breathtakingly gorgeous, almost magical in the way they soared across the pool.

  Soon a group of six Rayeths glided up to the edge of the pool, close to Jyn. They were so thin it seemed as if they would float away like the sakoola blossoms, but as soon as they stood, the Rayeths wrapped their membraned arms around their bodies, forming a narrow, almost cocoon-like shell around their torsos that gave way to looser folds flapping near their ankles.

  The six Rayeths made something of a small parade as they left the pool and marched toward the grand staircase of the palace. Tension crackled through the crowd that had grown, and no one spoke as the Rayeths walked through the floating sakoola blossoms and up the first few stairs. Jyn watched as more stormtroopers, as well as some local guards, formed a barrier on the staircase, barring the Rayeths’ entrance.

  The Rayeth in the front said something, but Jyn was too far away to hear it. She worried at first that the delicate white creatures would be struck down, but after a few moments, the Rayeths turned, beginning the long walk back the way they had gone. No one in the crowd gathered around the pool said a thing as the Rayeths hung their heads, denied entrance to the palace and shamed in front of everyone. They slid into the water silently, spreading out their arms and quickly disappearing under the surface.

  “Such a shame,” someone near Jyn murmured. “A tradition broken.”

  “Stupid animals,” someone else muttered. “At least the Empire knows they’re not important. They shouldn’t be allowed on the surface.”

  They’re people, Jyn thought viciously. Not animals.

  But she didn’t say a word aloud.

  The last contact walked straight up to Jyn. “Cloud,” he grunted in a low voice. She handed him the imagecaster and watched him enter the palace. She was half surprised it worked for him; he was the least subtle of all her contacts.

  Saw had told her to go straight back to the ship after she passed out the invitations, but she still had extra imagecasters, and she could use one for herself. And after seeing the Rayeths denied entry into the palace, Jyn was more than a little curious about just what lay beyond those forbidden doors.

  Besides, all the other missions she’d done with Saw hadn’t ended in a party in a palace. The most glamorous thing she’d done lately was release mynock repellent around the asteroids closest
to Wrea.

  “Just a peek,” she told herself, wrapping her fingers around an imagecaster. She mounted the steps of the palace slowly, her eyes on the stormtroopers. They looked bored, waving her inside with one hand after she scanned her imagecaster on the ident lock.

  Fallen sakoola petals formed a path down the hallway, but even without them, Jyn could have followed the sounds of the crowd to the large ballroom that was sunken into the heart of the palace. Pillars wrapped in ivy supported a glass ceiling over the ballroom, and several dozen steps led down to the main floor. Jyn’s Inusagian robes whispered against the stone as she descended into the ballroom. Her eyes darted around, looking for Saw or the other contacts in the partisan group, but she didn’t see anyone else.

  They must have used the invites for entry into the building, she thought. The palace was huge, with high domed ceilings; they could be anywhere by then, uncovering the secrets of the Empire that had been hidden in its base there in the chieftess’s palace.

  Just a few minutes, Jyn told herself. The ballroom was packed with people, most lingering around the buffet table, on which sat an array of Inusagian delicacies, fruits and honeys, breads and cheeses. Different wines were being passed around by server droids, a selection from Inusagi but also a few finer bottles from Core worlds, including a blue one featuring Alderaanian wine that was being served only to the more elite guests, who stood on a platform near the art sculpture that occupied the center of the ballroom.

  The sculpture was made of flowers. Jyn had never seen something so beautiful—and so pointless. The flowers would surely die after a few standard weeks, and the entire thing would wilt. For now, though, it was breathtaking, a show of extravagance. The base of the sculpture was made with greenery, thick waxy leaves woven together with ivy, and that gave way to fiery red blossoms with orange centers, crowned with bright golden-yellow sakoola blossoms. The image the flowers created was a bird on fire.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t is?” a man near Jyn said when he saw her leaning back to see the full sculpture.

  She had to admit it was. “What kind of bird is it?” she asked. She only then realized she hadn’t seen any birds in the garden by the pool; the closest thing to flight that she’d seen was the Rayeths gliding over water.

  “It’s a starbird,” the man said. “Your mother didn’t tell you the legend?”

  He thinks I’m Inusagian, Jyn thought, remembering her robes. “My mother died,” she said, looking down demurely.

  A flash of pity crossed the man’s face. “It’s an old tale anyway,” he said. “People forget the old tales. But the starbird lives inside the heart of every star in the galaxy. When a star goes out, the bird dies a fiery death, its wings spanning millions of kilometers, stretching out over the dark abyss of space. The starbird turns to stardust.”

  Jyn stiffened.

  “All that’s left is the heart. And the dust spreads out over the galaxy, then forms again. The man cupped his hands, as if he could hold the stardust. “And the starbird is reborn.” He opened his palms, and Jyn half expected a mythical bird to soar into the air.

  But there was nothing.

  “Disrespectful is what it is,” said an older woman who had been listening to them, frowning.

  “Disrespectful?” the man asked, but there was an icy edge to his voice.

  The woman sniffed at him, turning away. She moved over to a group of Imperial officers gathered near a platform.

  “Thanks for the story,” Jyn said, moving away from the man. She didn’t want anyone to really notice her, and if the man wasn’t liked, it wouldn’t help her to stick near him.

  “Friends, members of the Inusagian court,” a voice echoed, amplified by the speaker droids that had buzzed above the crowd, hovering over everyone’s heads. All eyes turned to the dais installed under the flowery sculpture.

  The chieftess looked much smaller than she had in the holo. Her eyes were sunken and her skin ashen. Her hair hung limply down her back. The only thing that looked regal about her was the silvery-white robes she wore, the bands of cloth wrapped around her torso in a way that reminded Jyn of the Rayeths wrapping their arms around themselves as they approached the palace.

  “We welcome you all as we celebrate the beautiful festival of sakoola blossoms,” the chieftess said. She glanced behind her at the statue made of flowers.

  “Yes, thank you,” someone said before the chieftess could continue. An Imperial officer stepped forward, and the microphone shifted toward him. “We are pleased to share this festive day with an event equally joyous: the installation of Inusagi’s first Imperial governor!” He waited for polite applause and kept waiting until there were enough cheers to satisfy him. “Thank you, thank you,” he continued as the welcome abated. “Governor Cor Tophervin is a personal friend of our great Emperor Palpatine, and it is an honor to dedicate his service to the Empire and the planet of Inusagi today. Cor, please step forward,” the officer said, sweeping his arm out.

  Jyn made her way to the back of the crowd. It was clear what this little party was really about—a show of power and prestige from the Empire. It seemed almost like a mockery to turn a festival in honor of the planet’s beauty into an excuse to showcase an Imperial governor.

  Most of the crowd edged closer to the stage, but Jyn unobtrusively stepped farther back. It was time to go.

  A handful of stormtroopers lined the bottom of the stairs in the sunken ballroom. Before they could stop her, Jyn made a motion to show that she was feeling sick, and one stepped back so she could dart up the stairs and toward the hallway that led out of the palace. She paused before leaving, her robes brushing through the trail of sakoola petals, the pillars surrounding the ballroom casting long, reaching shadows.

  There was movement there.

  Jyn squinted into the darkness.

  Ten people moved forward, silently. Among them were a bald man with a bushy beard, an old woman no longer hunchbacked, a blunt man with big, angry eyes. Maia. And Saw.

  Each held a dual canister FC-1 flechette launcher. Jyn had studied weapons with Saw long enough to know exactly what such a weapon would do. Her eyes widened as her mind ran over the statistics she knew by heart. Each flechette launcher would hold six anti-personnel canisters. Each canister held hundreds of tiny, razor-sharp flechettes made of durasteel that, when fired, would slice through the crowd, penetrating up to ten centimeters, regardless of whether they hit a stormtrooper’s armor or a soft Inusagian gown. Flechettes were deck sweepers, capable of decimating a crowd in minutes.

  Jyn couldn’t move as she watched the partisans take their positions around the pillars. Ten people. Sixty shots. Thousands of tiny razors flying through the air.

  Her eyes flew to the chieftess as she stepped forward and the newly installed Imperial governor finished his speech.

  “Welcome to Inusagi, Governor Tophervin,” the chieftess said in a defeated voice. She held something in her hand—a remote—and when she activated it, millions of golden sakoola petals floated from the sky, drifting like snow over the crowd. Cries of wonder and delight filled the ballroom.

  Jyn almost didn’t hear the first launcher fire.

  The flechettes were silver, cutting through the golden petals. People dropped, soaked in blood, before anyone thought to scream. The new governor’s body fell off the stage. The chieftess crumpled at the feet of the flowery starbird, her silvery-white gown stained red.

  In mere minutes, the floor was covered in blood and bodies.

  Jyn waited in the shuttle for Saw. She sat in the cockpit, staring out the viewport as Saw dropped his FC-1 on the deck and booted the launch sequence. But she knew—because of the way he didn’t talk to her, didn’t look at her—that he had noticed her in the palace. He knew that she knew.

  Maia didn’t return.

  Jyn had seen that, too. As soon as the alarm went up, the chaos and panic had served the partisans. Jyn had a head start; she was already at the zip ports when the alarm started. Through the glass, she h
ad watched as people ran from the palace. Her eyes darted from person to person, looking for Saw. She’d seen Maia. A stormtrooper had tried to stop her—her robes were ripped, exposing the padding and the hidden armory under the silk.

  The zip port had started to move away, zooming Jyn back to the ship, but she saw Maia fight with the stormtrooper, the blaster he raised, Maia’s limp body crumpling to the ground.

  Jyn said nothing as Saw boarded the ship and they raced away. There was a little trouble at the exit, but so many people were trying to escape the planet by the time they reached the sky that the Empire had no chance of stopping everyone. Even so, Jyn checked the scanner codes she’d forged for Saw’s ship and knew that any record of them on Inusagi showed only a small transport-class vessel with full clearance.

  They did not speak as they entered hyperspace. Jyn watched the blue-gray trail of stars, letting her eyes blur. Saw got up and went to the back of the ship. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she heard the metallic sound of the flechette launcher being picked up, and then, farther off, the sound of it being locked away.

  When they reached Smuggler’s Run, Saw stopped the ship, overlooking the asteroid belt.

  “Inusagi is near Naboo, the Emperor’s home planet,” Saw said, turning to Jyn. “An attack of this measure, this close to home, will send a message that needs to be sent. The new governor was a close ally to the Emperor, and the chieftess a key player. Not that the chieftess had much choice,” he conceded.

  “This was a murder mission, Saw,” Jyn told the dead rocks floating in space. “We weren’t fighting for good or supporting the resistance or taking down the Empire. That was a massacre.”

  “Oh, Jyn,” Saw said, his voice cracking, “what do you think war is?”