Imperial Navy Flight Officer Tycho Celchu sat at the communications terminal in his room, and, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few days, tried calling home. He had just been talking to his family a few days earlier, on his birthday, when the connection suddenly went out. That, by itself, wasn't unusual. His father owned the largest telecommunications conglomerate on Alderaan and glitches happened. What was odd was that he hadn't been able to raise anyone since then. He had tried his parents, his sisters, his fiancé, a couple of cousins, a few friends. Nothing. It seemed like the signal wasn't even getting through. Like the orbital satellites weren't even picking up the call. Tycho wasn't panicking about it; if something really bad had happened, someone would have called him. And his father was a stickler about not using any other company's equipment. Still, it made him uneasy.
Tycho gave up again and decided to head to a mess hall. His squadron was off for the remainder of the day, so he figured he'd get a quick bite, then head to the gym.
Tycho stood in line at the mess hall and looked around the room to see if any of his squadron mates were there. He wasn't extraordinarily close with any of them, even his wing mate and roommate, Adan Berkesh, a Coruscant native. Tycho has always been a bit of an outsider wherever he went. Back home, most of his family were vocal Imperial supporters, putting them at odds with most of Alderaanian society, and especially the royal family and senators. On the other hand, he had less harsh opinions of the Organas than some of his family. His father was prone to ranting about them as traitors to the Empire, fools, rebels, terrible for Alderaan; and about Leia Organa in particular as too young, too inexperienced, and too disrespectful to be a senator. Tycho didn't agree with their opposition to the Empire, but he thought Organas did care about Alderaan and its people.
He had thought he would find more like-minded people after he joined the Navy. But he found he got along best with people when they didn't know he was from Alderaan. It made people a bit suspicious, both because of rumored rebel support on Alderaan and Alderaan's pacifist philosophy. It seemed he couldn't win.
Tycho didn't see anyone he knew in the hall so he sat at an empty corner of a table by himself. He started to eat when the conversation behind him caught his attention.
"Did you hear about the rebel incursion on Scarif the other day?"
"Yeah, I heard the whole archive base got destroyed. Nothing left of it. Rebel scum."
"I heard it was the same thing they did to Alderaan."
"Yeah I heard that too."
Tycho let a bit of food fall off his fork. He had heard something happened on Scarif, but no details. And certainly nothing about Alderaan. Nothing left of it? What did that mean? He listened more closely.
"I heard it was some new weapon they have."
"I heard their senator was behind it."
"I heard they wiped out the Holy City of Jedah with it too."
"That makes sense. One of those rebel leaders, Saw Guerra, was supposed to be hiding out there."
Tycho frowned. That...couldn't be right. He believed any rebel would attack Scarif, and knew Guerra would attack anything and everything that suited him. Tycho had gotten high marks in his intelligence classes at the academy for distinguishing between terrorist groups like Guerra's, and more political groups like the one the Organas were supposedly a part of, that tended to restrict itself to military targets. Scarif made sense for either group; Jedah for Guerra. But not Alderaan for either of them.
Then why can't I call home?
The unease he'd been feeling earlier threatened to explode into full blown panic. Tycho fought it back down. Even all the rebel groups combined didn't have enough firepower to devastate an entire planet. The timing just had to be a coincidence.
Tycho decided he wasn't hungry anymore. He threw out the tray and headed back to his room. As he changed into gym clothes, he contemplated trying to call one more time. He shook his head. Everything is fine, he told himself.
At the gym, he set a treadmill speed to slightly higher than normal, hoping the workout wouldn't leave him time to think. After ten minutes and nearly falling off three times, Tycho gave up on that too. He couldn't focus. He went back to the room. Adan was there this time.
"Oh, there you are," he said. "I was just about to come looking for you. Squadron got called back in."
"For what?" Tycho asked as he pulled a flight suit out of his locker.
"Not sure," Adan said. "Everyone's down time is being called off. I'm betting it has to do with all the recent rebel attacks there have been rumors of."
"Oh yeah," Tycho said, turning away. "That makes sense."
"Have you heard the biggest rumor?" Adan asked.
Tycho half turned back around. "I don't know. I've heard a bunch of rumors."
"I heard," Adan said, "that Grand Moff Tarkin himself was killed in one of the latest attacks."
Tycho's eyes widened. "Moff Tarkin, really?" Tarkin was supposed to be some kind of military genius, personally favored by the Emperor. If the rebels could get him…
Adan put his arm around Tycho's shoulders and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I also heard," he said, "that your senator was personally involved in that attack."
Tycho recoiled a bit. The Organas weren't assassins. Still, Tarkin was a military target. "Yeah, that's possible," Tycho said.
Adan gave him a sloppy grin and a slap on the back. "Come on," he said. "Let's get to the squad room."
Tycho finished getting dressed and followed Adan to the squad room. Most of the rest of the squadron was already there. "Berkesh! Celchu! Over here!" Their flight leader, Cal Droman waved them over. "Bet this is about all the rumors," Cal said.
"Bet you're right," Adan said.
"Dirty fucking rebels." That was Salta Pelino, Cal's wingmate. She pushed some hair out of her face and threw Tycho a look. "Maybe you'll get the honor of putting some holes in your senator's ship," she said.
"Does she have to be on it?" Cal asked. "She's got a pretty face. Would be kind of a waste."
"Pretty faces mean less than politics," Tycho said.
"Right you are, my friend," Adan said.
"Squadron, attention!"
Everyone in the room snapped to a standing position as the squadron commander and executive officer entered the room.
"At ease! Have a seat." Squadron Commander Ceraon Kint stood at the head of the room and addressed the group. "Ladies and gentlemen. My fellow Imperial Warriors. I'm sure you have all been hearing the same rumors I have of increased rebel activity and the devastation they've wrought. I'm not at liberty to confirm or deny any specific rumor. However, I can tell you the increased activity is real. And I can tell you, the Empire...the Empire has taken some losses."
The buzz of sidebar conversations increased. "He must mean on Scarif, right?" Salta said.
"Shh!" Cal said.
Commander Kint continued. "There is a briefing scheduled for tomorrow morning at Galactic Standard 0600 in the hangar bay. Until then, consider yourselves on high alert. Personal communications have been disabled. If you are not in your rooms, the mess hall, or the gym, you are wrong. Anyone caught disobeying orders will be court martialed. What are your questions?"
Tycho glanced around the room, hoping no one had any questions. He felt sick and just wanted to go back to his room and lie down. At least something of the rumors was true. And now he couldn't even try calling home again.
"Very well," Commander Kint said when no one spoke up. "Flight leaders take charge. You're dismissed until 0600." The commander left the room.
"Okay you three," Cal said to his flight mates. "Get back to your rooms. You better not do anything but eat, sleep, or shit until 0600. You wanna work out, do push-ups in your room." He looked at Tycho. "What's the matter with you?"
Tycho felt flush. "Nothing, I just...was wondering how many losses we took."
"Yeah, the base at Scarif wasn't that big, was it?" Salta asked.
"It was the entire structural archives," Cal said. "That's a huge loss."
"And it's not like we had much of a garrison on Alderaan," Adan said.
Cal looked at Tycho again. "Hey," he said. "You know anything?"
"No," Tycho said, more quickly than he meant to. Now all three of them were looking at him. "I just… I've been trying to call home for three days and I can't get through."
"Hm." Cal folded his arms.
"At all?" Adan said.
"At all," Tycho said.
"Dirty fucking rebels," Salta said.
"Well, at least we won't have to worry about rebels on Alderaan anymore," Adan said.
"Right," Tycho mumbled.
"Droman!" They looked at where the squadron executive officer was still standing by the door. "Get your people the fuck out of here before I court martial you all myself!"
"Yes Sir!" Cal pointed at them. "All right. Get the fuck out. I don't want to see any of you until 0600." He walked off.
Tycho followed Adan back to the room. "You going to get food?" Adan asked after he finished changing out of his uniform.
"I'm not hungry," Tycho said. Even with his back turned, Tycho could feel Adan looking at him. Finally Adan left. Tycho flopped onto his bed. He looked at the comms console. Tycho shook his head. Not worth it, he thought. He got up and paced the small room. But that seemed to make him more anxious, so he sat again. Finally, simply for lack of anything better to do, he climbed under the covers and tried to sleep.
Ten minutes before 0600, Tycho stood at the end of his squadron line in formation. He felt light headed. He still hadn't eaten and he had barely slept. Every time he fell asleep he awoke a few minutes later thinking his comms console had gone off, and his sisters or cousins or fiancé was calling to let him know they were okay. Or it was his father, about to go on a raging rant about the Organas. But each time it was only his imagination.
Tycho looked around the bay. Four wings of fighters and their support crews shared this bay. Over four hundred people stood in formation. Probably every other bay on the ship was just as packed. Tycho wondered if any other Alderaanians were in this formation.
At exactly 0600, a holoprojector descended from the ceiling. An image of Vice Admiral Perrault flickered to life. "Honorable Warriors of our glorious Empire," he began. "No doubt you have heard of the devastating and cowardly attacks rebel forces have inflicted upon our comrades in recent days. Our forces have taken heavy losses. The entire garrison and structural archives on Scarif are lost. The Holy City of Jedah has been razed. Alderaan has been destroyed. We have lost one of our most dedicated leaders and heroes, Grand Moff Tarkin, to these criminals and bandits."
Tycho stopped listening. Alderaan destroyed. What did that mean? Were there survivors? Did anyone check? There were billions of people on Alderaan. The rebels couldn't possibly have killed everyone. Could they?
Tycho caught a few more words from the admiral about the Empire having destroyed the rebel weapon and about the Emperor having disbanded the Senate in order to impose greater security measures across all systems. Tycho supposed that made sense. At least his father wouldn't have a reason to rant about the Organas anymore. Not that that would necessarily stop him. Except… was his father even alive? Was anyone?
"For the Empire!"
Tycho snapped his head up and threw his arm in the air along with everyone else. He really hadn't been paying attention. It seemed the admiral was finished speaking. The holoprojector shut off and rose back toward the ceiling. The formation started to break up.
"Trinity Squadron," Commander Kint said. "We've got simulator training scheduled. Bay twenty-five. Move out."
Tycho followed his squadron to the simulator bay and climbed into his assigned cockpit. There was a lot of conversation buzz, but no one had spoken to him.
"Three flight, check in," Cal said.
"Trinity Ten, acknowledged," Salta said.
"Trinity Eleven, acknowledged," Adan said.
Tycho sat, waiting for the last acknowledgement. Oh shit, that's me. He fumbled for the comms switch. "Trinity Twelve, acknowledged."
"Get your head in the game, Celchu," Cal said. "No one's got time for bullshit. We've got rebels to snuff out."
"Yes Sir," Tycho said.
Tycho spent the rest of the day trying to focus on his flying. He forced himself to eat during a break. Every time a rebel ship came up on his targeting scope, he imagined that pilot being part of the operation that destroyed Alderaan, whatever that even meant. Tycho missed most of his targets. It wasn't like him. He was one of the best in the squadron, usually, despite being junior. The simulator lurched forward and he hit his head on the console. It was the fifth time he'd died that day. His brain kept going back to the same idea. The rebels simply didn't have the capacity. Or a reason. But the Empire…
"Twelve, get out of the cockpit." Cal sounded angry.
Tycho sighed. He pulled his helmet off and climbed out of the cockpit more slowly than he meant to. Cal was already waiting for him at the bottom.
Cal shoved him into the wall of the simulator. "You better get your shit together Celchu. I would think you, of all people, after all we've heard today, would be the first to run out front to make some rebels eat shit and die. So I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you'd better fucking fix it. You hear me?"
"Yes Sir," Tycho mumbled.
Cal shoved him into the wall again. "I said, do you fucking hear me, Flight Officer Celchu?"
Tycho snapped up straighter. "Yes Sir," he said more clearly.
"Good. Now get your ass back in that cockpit and act like the fucking Imperial Officer that you are." Cal shoved him into the wall one more time, then walked off.
Tycho climbed back up to the cockpit, reminding himself with each step to go faster. He put his helmet back on.
"Three flight, check in," Cal snapped.
"Trinity Ten, acknowledged."
"Trinity Eleven, acknowledged."
"Trinity Twelve, acknowledged."
"Good," Cal said. "We've got two runs left today. Stay focused."
Tycho managed not to die the rest of the day. His shooting was better than earlier, but not to his usual standard. At least he didn't get yelled at again.
The next morning, Tycho followed Adan to breakfast. Cal had instituted a new rule the night before, that Three Flight would now do everything together: train, eat, work out. Cal hadn't specified if that included down time, but Tycho suspected that would depend on whether Cal actually wanted to see them every waking second of the day. Which meant probably not. They sat at a table where Cal was waiting. "Where's Salta?" Adan asked.
Cal snorted. "Late again."
A few minutes later, Salta slid into the seat next to Cal. "What the fuck, Pelino," Cal said. "Just because you come from the women's barracks doesn't mean you get a pass on timeliness."
Salta bristled. "I'm not late because I'm a woman," she said.
"Yeah? What's your better excuse?"
"Catching up on the rumor mill," she said. She started to eat.
Cal glared at her. "That's an even worse excuse," he said.
Salta leaned forward. "Juiciest one yet," she said.
"No more fucking rumors," Cal said.
Salta shrugged. "Fine, if you like." She kept eating.
For once, Tycho found himself in full agreement with Cal. Adan had other ideas. "Okay, I'll bite," he said. "What's the rumor?"
"I said, no more fucking rumors," Cal said.
"Yeah, I've had enough rumors too," Tycho said.
"See there?" Cal said. "Leave the poor Alderaanian alone. We've got real work to do." Tycho frowned.
"Aw, but this has nothing to do with him," Salta whined. "And it's juicy."
Cal rolled his eyes. "Fine. Spit it out and get on with it."
Salta leaned forward again. "So," she said. "One of the rebels who was involved in the recent attacks?" She lowered her voice. "A Jedi."
Adan dropped his fork. "What?"
"Where the fuck did you hear that garbage?" Cal said.
"Apparently the rebels themselves are saying it," Salta.
"Wow," Adan said.
"That's just rebel propaganda," Cal said. "They're just trying to scare people. Not even true."
"But...what if it is?" Adan said, picking up his fork. "I mean, who else but a Jedi could -"
"Now you two listen to me, and you listen good and proper," Cal said pointing at them. "There. Are. No. Jedi. They were traitors to the Empire and they were killed. So unless you want to argue that the Lord Darth Vader himself got sloppy and missed some, then I don't want to hear any more garbage rumors and I definitely don't want to hear any more rebel propaganda. Understand?" They both mumbled an acknowledgement. "What's up with you, Celchu?"
Tycho looked up. "My father used to go on rants about the Jedi sometimes," he said. "He hated them about as much as he hated the Organas." Tycho surprised himself by talking so easily about his father in the past tense. You don't know for certain they're dead, he reminded himself.
"See, that's what loyalty to the Empire looks like," Cal said. "Now hurry up and finish eating. We've got another sim day today."
The simulator training was much the same as it had been the day before, except Tycho only died once. He saved Adan at least twice and even got some praise from Cal and Commander Kint for good maneuvering. It almost felt normal.
During a break, someone from Two Flight got caught spreading a rumor about the recent attacks having involved Imperial defectors. Not just rebels and spies, but people actually entrusted with Imperial service betraying their oath of office. Commander Kint gathered everyone around. "Listen up Trinity Squadron. The rumor mill stops here. If you didn't get it from official channels, it doesn't exist. The next person I catch spreading rumors will get written up for insubordination. The next person I catch spreading rebel propaganda will be submitted to the Wing commander for court martial. Is that clear?"
"Yes Sir!" the squadron chimed together.
"Get back to work."
Tycho collapsed into bed, absolutely exhausted from the day. After their simulator work was done, Cal had them all go eat together then all go to the gym together, per his new rule. It was hard to think without any privacy. Maybe that was the point of the rule.
Tycho rolled over to face the wall and take stock of what he knew. Or thought he knew. Jedah City destroyed. Imperial structural archives destroyed. Alderaan "destroyed." Or something. Organas involved. Jedi involved. Defectors involved. Tycho rolled over again. Adan seemed to be already asleep. Tycho didn't know one way or the other about the Jedi. He knew the same thing everyone else knew about them. They were traitors to the Empire. They had personally attacked Chancellor Palpatine just as the Republic was about to win the war against the Separatists. Palpatine survived the attack and won the war. He had the support of most of the Senate to change the Republic to the Empire. He sent Lord Vader to kill the Jedi. And everything was peaceful. Until rebel groups started popping up. Tycho figured Cal was probably right about that one being rebel propaganda.
The rest of it though… Tycho couldn't make it all fit. It didn't make any sense for any rebels to attack Jedah City. But the Empire would, if Saw Guerra was there. Rebels would certainly attack Scarif, if they could get in. Maybe that's where the defectors were involved. But there was no way they could destroy all the archives. And even in a counter attack, the Empire would be careful not to destroy its own records. And Alderaan… Try as he might, Tycho couldn't force himself to believe the rebels could or would attack Alderaan. They barely had a fleet, much less the resources or engineering skills to devastate an entire planet. And there was too much support there. It could make a tempting target for the Empire. But planet-wise devastation was gratuitous, even for the Empire. It was a waste of resources, of manpower, of economic capacity. None of it made any sense.
Tycho rolled over yet again, realizing he didn't actually know anything for certain. Except I can't call home, he thought. So what did he believe? Tycho ran through all the rumors again in his head. He believed the Empire attacked Jedah City. He believed the rebels attacked Scarif, even if they couldn't destroy the archives. And…he did not believe the rebels attacked Alderaan. He simply didn't. Why lie about it though?
Tycho rolled onto his back. Because that's what that would mean, wouldn't it? If the Empire said the rebels destroyed Alderaan, and he didn't believe the rebels destroyed Alderaan, then logically, he believed the Empire lied. I believe the Empire lied. Tycho gasped, and sat up and coughed as he tried not to choke. He liked the Empire. He'd been happy to join after he turned eighteen. His family had been so proud of him, had come to his academy graduation and commissioning ceremony. The various Imperial governors over the years had all been guests in their home. Tycho had received gifts from many of them when he was a child. His father had received personal congratulations from the Governor's office when he graduated. This was the life he had always wanted. To be a fighter pilot. To play a role in people's peace and security.
I believe the Empire lied.
Tycho gasped again and tried to take a couple of deep breaths to get some more oxygen. They came out shallow. He rubbed his hands over his face. Just because they lied doesn't mean they're responsible, does it? Tycho shook his head. That was ridiculous. Something happened on Alderaan. Something terrible. The only ones who even could be responsible was the Empire. I believe the Empire lied.
Tycho shuddered as the truth of it sunk in. He imagined the capital city, where he grew up, its centuries-old architecture built skillfully into the mountains, lying in crumbled ruins, falling into the sea, burning. He imagined people, his family, his friends trapped in the rubble, dead, dying. Probably dead. It had been five days already. I believe the Empire lied.
Tycho looked across the room at Adan. Adan had his back to him, was breathing evenly, certainly asleep. Tycho watched carefully as he raised his voice to just a whisper.
"I believe the Empire lied."
Adan didn't move.
Tycho shuddered and sunk back underneath the covers. Now what?