by Calista Skye
Ja’al shook his head. “No.”
He exchanged a meaningful look with Prince Adaar. The prince undoubtedly understood the reasons for his hesitation.
“It’s a temporary solution,” said Ja’al. “They still know the location of our base. Even if we’re able to get in and scatter this assault, it’ll only be a matter of time before they’re back. And next time, they’ll be prepared. They won’t give us the opportunity to get the jump on them again. We don’t have the forces ... or the capabilities to hold out here forever.”
“It would buy us time to secure a treaty with the Human Systems Alliance. With their resources and their aid, we could shore up our defensive capabilities here. Make it a losing proposition for them to attack us,” said Rymar.
“Yes,” said Adaar. “Our allies will be imperative if we’re to win. And while our negotiations with the Human Systems Alliance are progressing, they won’t be able to commit resources in time.”
Tyrus shifted in his chair, hesitating to speak. “I could adapt the cloaking tech to hide our base,” he said. “Make them think we left.”
Jelai smiled and punched his shoulder. “A little strategic deception? Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.”
“It’s a good idea,” said Ja’al. “But it still leaves us vulnerable. They’ll figure it out, eventually.”
Adaar nodded. “If the Kamarans are anything,” he said, “they’re ruthless and thorough. Even if they think we’ve left, they’ll send the fleet in to make sure we have nothing to come back to.”
Ja’al said what he’d been avoiding. “We have to evacuate,” he said. “It’s the only way.”
“You’re suggesting that we tuck tail and run?” said Jelai. “I thought you were a warrior Ja’al. Fearless. Honorable. There’s no honor in running.”
“There’s honor in living to fight another day,” he said. “There’s honor in making sure we’re around long enough to free the rest of the galaxy from the Empire’s tyranny. If we stay here and allow ourselves to be slaughtered, we’re not helping anyone. The honor of our mission is more than suicidal bravery.”
“I say you’re a coward,” said Jelai.
“Stop!” said Adaar, slamming his fist on the table in front of him. Every eye in the room turned to him. “I won’t tolerate fighting among you. I’m depending on you to work together. The galaxy is depending on you to work together. If we devolve to fighting amongst ourselves, the Kamarans have already won.”
Ja’al and Jelai exchanged a heated glance and turned their attention back to the prince.
“I trust everyone in this room. I called this meeting so I could hear all of your opinions. Ja’al, you think it’s best to evacuate?”
Ja’al nodded solemnly. He swallowed. Dryness burned in his throat. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Kira. He wouldn’t send her to her death. “I see no other choice, sir.”
“One problem,” said Rymar. “Even if that’s our best course of action, we’ll never be able to get away in time. The minute they see our ships on their scanners, they’ll come in to finish the job. They’re just too close. We’ll never be able to evacuate in time.”
“Unless we send in the Storm Squadron to cover our escape,” said Jelai, glancing to Ja’al.
Adaar nodded. “It would be a diversion. We throw them enough to keep them busy.” He looked to Ja’al, a knowing expression on his face, searching for agreement.
Standing and facing them, Ja’al struggled to maintain his composure. Sending Kira into a situation like that was too much. It was suicide. Even if they’d had more time to train, it wasn’t survivable. The officers were ordering her to her death.
“I can’t agree to this,” said Ja’al. “There has to be another way.”
“I don’t want her to die either,” said Tyrus.
Ja’al’s stomach sank. Were his motives that transparent? “That’s not what this is about,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to die.”
“Thank the gods somebody said it,” said Rymar. “I get it, Ja’al. It’s not every day you meet somebody who turns your world upside down. But you’ve got to think about the greater good, here, mate.”
Ja’al could feel the walls closing in around him. “You’re all so ready to throw them into the fire. Just sacrificial pawns on the game board. That sounds a lot like the Empire to me.”
“Enough,” said Adaar. He laid his hand on Ja’al’s shoulder. “This is the last thing I want, Ja’al.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen the way she’s changed you. And I want nothing more than for you and Kira to live out the rest of your days together, fighting side by side to make the galaxy better for everyone.”
“Don’t throw her life away,” said Ja’al. “Please.”
Adaar looked around at the officers. “Rymar, you’ve run the numbers?”
“Yes, sir.” The Yordaskian nodded, his face twitching as he avoided eye contact with Ja’al. “I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. While the chance of survival exists … the commander is correct. We’re sending them to die.”
“Every one of our soldiers, every one of our pilots, knew the risks involved when the volunteered their service in the rebellion,” said Adaar. “They understood that one day, they may be asked to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
Ja’al’s blood boiled. They couldn’t ask her to slap a smile on her face and march to her death. It violated everything the Rebellion stood for. It made them no better than the Empire. The recruits needed to be told what they’re up against.
“We have to tell them,” said Ja’al after a long moment. “They need to know that this mission is different. When they joined our ranks, they all knew they were risking their lives. But risk is not the same as sacrifice. We can’t order them to do this. We should ask for volunteers.”
“Any real warrior would gladly volunteer,” said Jelai. “Sacrificing one’s life so others can fight on is an honorable death.”
“There’s honor in doing it willingly. Ordering them to do it, without explaining why, makes us no better than the Empire.”
“You’d sentence the rest of us to death to save your woman? There’s no honor in that,” said Jelai.
She challenged his character, but Ja’al refused to take the bait. Fighting amongst themselves wouldn’t solve anything. “All I’m asking,” said Ja’al, “is that we give them a choice. Call for volunteers. I won’t stand for tyranny.”
He looked Jelai in the eye, and added: “And if my position causes you to doubt my character, I will resign my commission.”
Silence hung heavy. Adaar looked to Ja’al, his lips drawn tight. “The Commander is right. If we sink to their level, then everything we stand for is a lie. We will call for volunteers to stay behind and cover our escape.”
***
Ja’al stood in the glass alcove off the Prince’s private chambers, gazing out at the view of the stars shimmering through the Dennegar belt. One of the few places in the rebel headquarters that the stars could be seen, the view offered a sense of openness, hope, and possibility that was easily forgotten deep inside the claustrophobic asteroid.
“I’ve always trusted you, Ja’al,” said Prince Adaar, joining the commander in the glass enclosure with a glass of ormalon in his hand. “Since we were young, I’ve relied on your advice to temper my haste. I value your friendship. And I trust your judgment in this matter. I’m sorry it has come to this. It’s not an easy decision for any of us.”
Ja’al remained silent, watching the stars disappear behind the blanket of rock. The prince understood his motives. Understood that while he meant every word he said about honor and tyranny, his desire to protect Kira underscored his impassioned stance.
“You care about her,” said Adaar. “More than you’re willing to admit.” He handed Ja’al a glass of the glowing red liquid. “It’s never easy holding the fate of so many in your hands,” he said. “Especially someone you love.”
The scent of the ormalon wafted into his nostrils as he swirled the contents
of the glass around before taking a fiery sip. “It’s my fault she’s in this,” Ja’al said at last. “I was the one who encouraged her to join the Storm Squadron. If I’d know that it would come to this—”
“You always knew the risk. And you believed in her. Believed in her ability to hold her own out there. Has your opinion changed?”
“No,” said Ja’al. “She’s a good pilot, and a great leader. Or at least, she’s on the verge of greatness. But this …. This is too soon. Their training isn’t complete. If I had a little more time …”
Adaar set his glass down on the table and stepped forward to the edge of the alcove, peering out at the field of asteroids and stars. “The life we’ve chosen is dangerous. We’ve always had targets on our backs.”
“It shouldn’t have come to this,” said Ja’al. “Targets on our backs or not, we should have been safe here. At least for a while longer. The Empire shouldn’t have been able to find us so fast.”
The prince nodded solemnly. “Indeed,” he said. “With all the cloaking tech that Tyrus has installed and all the security precautions we’ve taken our location should have been safe.”
“Which begs the question—what the hell happened?”
“You already know the answer to that. There’s a traitor in our midst,” said Adaar.
Ja’al swore under his breath, a curse he hadn’t used since his childhood on the streets of Kamara. It was the only conclusion that made any sense. “But who would betray us? Why?”
“I don’t know, Ja’al. But I assure you, we’ll find out. Tyrus is analyzing the communication logs. We’ll find the traitor. As to why … I can only assume that whoever did this believed they were doing the right thing.”
“We should have been more careful. Kira’s life is in danger, and it’s my fault.”
“You can’t take responsibility for this, Ja’al. Self-reproach will get you nowhere. We must learn from what happened and make the next right move. Rumination will only cloud your judgment.”
Ja’al nodded. Prince Adaar was right. But it didn’t ease his fear.
“You love her,” said Adaar.
Ja’al swallowed the mouthful of red liquor. The burning liquid trickle down his body, warming his core. “Kira brings out the best in me. She’s made me realize how important it can be to appreciate the small moments. To take life one moment at a time.”
Adaar nodded. “She’s high spirited, that’s for certain.”
“It’s more than that,” said Ja’al. “She’s never let anything keep her down. Growing up alone on Tarksis, she took care of herself. She had no one to depend on. But she never let that dampen her spirits. Kira resolved to make the best of a terrible situation. And I admire her for it.”
“Not so different than you, Ja’al. Your life on Kamara wasn’t easy, either. Having to deal with an arrogant, spoiled brat of a prince all day, then go back outside the palace walls at night. But you never gave up on me.”
“You were quite a pain in the ass, Adaar,” said Ja’al. “But you turned out alright. You just needed a little help.”
“Ja’al, I’ve never told you how much I appreciated your faith in me. Without your guidance, I never would have realized the treachery of the Kamarans. I would have stayed on the path they had planned, been indoctrinated in their ways. You helped me find a better way, and I fought you the whole time. Only the gods know how you put up with my arrogance for so long. The Rebellion wouldn’t exist without you.”
Ja’al drew a long, slow drink from his glass of ormalon. “There’s still a chance we’re wasting our time.”
“You don’t believe that,” said Adaar. “You’ve never believed that. Your gift, my friend, and your curse, is that you always see the good in people. No matter how deeply they try to bury it, you have a knack for seeing the potential in everyone. Even a wayward Kamaran prince like me. Or a human girl from Tarksis who’s afraid to trust herself.”
“You’re right Adaar,” said Ja’al. “I don’t give up on the people I believe in. But who’s to say I know what’s best for them? It’s only because of me that Kira’s in this situation. I can’t lose her. I will never forgive myself if something happens.”
“She doesn’t have to fly, Ja’al. We’re asking for volunteers. That was your idea.”
Ja’al shook his head. “After all the time I spent teaching her to trust herself, to believe in her abilities, I’m supposed to take it back?”
The prince paused for a long moment. “You’re going to save her, Ja’al. I can’t tell you how. But I know that you’ll do what’s right. For her, for you, for the rebellion.”
“I don’t have a fucking clue what that is,” said Ja’al.
“Of course you do,” said Adaar. “You’re going to take your own advice—the advice you’ve been giving Kira since her arrival—you’re going to trust your instincts. They won’t lead you astray, Ja’al. Let your love for her be your guide. You taught me that.”
Ja’al smiled. It sounded nice. But he still had no idea what to do. How could he encourage Kira to defend the base when it would mean her death? But if he went back on his words now, how could he live with himself, knowing he hadn’t been consistent? Kira would wonder for the rest of her life whether she could take him at his word.
“I’ll figure something out.”
“You already know what to do, Ja’al. Look deep inside yourself. The answers are there. Just make sure that whatever you decide, you can live with the consequences.”
Ja’al gripped the prince’s wrist in a warrior’s salute, bowing his head in a solemn gesture of friendship, trust, and respect. “It’s not my life I’m worried about.”
Chapter 14
Kira slipped out from beneath the fighter, securing the panel to the side of the craft. The flight deck was still empty, save for the row of JRV class fighters that Storm would fly into battle. She didn’t expect any of the other cadets to be here making their final inspections so early. Nor was there any real reason to, yet. At least not until the final word came down from the high command about how they would respond to the Kamaran threat.
She dropped the multi-tool she’d used to tune up the ship’s targeting equipment and stretched her body as she reached for the omni-meter. There was something comforting about working beneath the ship on an empty flight deck. Facing an uncertain future, it felt good to have control. Adjusting and calibrating the ship gave her something to focus on; something to take her mind off her fears.
Plunging herself into the distraction, she almost didn’t hear the approaching footfalls.
“I’m surprised to find you here,” said Ja’al. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping like everyone else?” His eyes grew wide in the dim light, glowing faintly as he smiled in greeting.
Kira righted herself, rising to meet him as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against the hard mass of muscle beneath his uniform. She didn’t care who saw. If they were going to be separated, she didn’t want to leave anything unexpressed between them. “I couldn’t sleep now if I wanted to. Besides, I …. You’re smiling. What happened?”
“You’re going to be okay, Kira,” he said. “You don’t have to fight.”
Kira withdrew from his embrace. “Did I miss something? The Imperials are still coming, right?”
“The Imperial fleet is still coming, Kira. The reports were accurate. They’ve discovered our location, and they won’t stop until they’ve obliterated the base. We’re going to evacuate. But you already knew that.”
“So … Tyrus has come up with a way to cover our escape?” She looked around the empty port. If there was a plan in place to mask the ships, the place would have been buzzing with activity. The deserted flight deck told a different story. “Where is Tyrus, anyway?”
“Probably resting, like the rest of them. We don’t have too much time before we need to mobilize. You should rest, too. You’ll need it. What’s coming won’t be easy for anyone.”
Kira backed away, the lines of a frown fo
rming on her face. “You’re being evasive,” she said. “No secrets, Ja’al. Out with it.”
“We’re evacuating the base, but the Storm Squadron will stay behind to cover the escape.”
“Yeah. We already guessed that part,” she said. She studied the lines of his golden face. It wasn’t like him to keep things from her. He had always been honest with her. “But that’s not it. There’s something else.”
Ja’al inhaled, locking eyes with her. “Adaar has given us an out,” he said. “If we order the Storm Squadron to stay behind, we’re no better than the Empire. So we’re calling for volunteers. You don’t have to fight. You can evacuate with the rest the crew.”
Kira scrunched her face, but held his gaze. The implications were clear. “You don’t think I can handle it,” she said. “After everything you’ve said, you don’t think I’m qualified to lead them.”
“That’s not it Kira,” he said.
She shook her head and swallowed hard. Kira had never needed anyone’s permission to do anything. She never let anyone tell her what she was and wasn’t capable of. Sure, she had plenty of doubts of her own about whether she was qualified to lead the Storm Squadron, but Ja’al’s strength and his faith inspired her to push beyond her limits. If he didn’t believe in her ….
“This is a suicide mission,” said Ja’al. “No matter how good the team is, there will be heavy casualties. I won’t let you be one of them. I won’t lose you.”
Kira leaned back against the cold metal of the JRV behind her. Her vision dimmed as her heart beat faster in her chest. “What about the rest of them?” she said. “What about all the other Storm Squadron pilots?”
“I don’t like it either, Kira. I hate everything about this. Every single one of you is valuable, and good, and worth protecting. But if we don’t cover our escape, the Kamarans will decimate every last one of us. Without their bravery and their sacrifice, the rebellion will end. And the Empire will retaliate mercilessly. If we’re not around to keep up the fight, things will get a whole lot worse for everyone.”
