Chapter 21

"Hey, you awake?"

Tilyer groaned as vestiges of the waking world began to filter through the haze of unconsciousness. His body felt as if it had been worked over with a sledge hammer. Every bit of him was sore, most of all his shoulder. He momentarily wondered what had happened to reduce him to this sorry state, but the events of the recent days came flooding back in a tide of memory that left a pervading taint of despair over his heart.

"Tilyer, answer me."

He painfully cracked his eye open, blinking against the harsh light overhead as the world reasserted itself over his vision. Linia's face hovered over his, a mix of concern and annoyance evident upon her features.

"What the hell happened?" he groaned, weakly easing himself in an upright position. He blinked several times again, looking around the harshly lit room. He was sitting upon a hard bunk mounted into the slate-gray wall with Linia standing over him, her hands on her hips.

Her hair was in disarray and a deep purple bruise had started to develop over one of her cheek bones. She let her arms drop to her sides as she gave an exasperated sigh. "We got caught, that's what happened."

"Damn," he swore, raising his hands to rub his face wearily. As soon as he moved his left shoulder, however, a twinge of pain shot through his arm and into his chest. "Ugh," he grunted, giving up on the motion as he held onto his wounded shoulder with the other arm.

"You dislocated your shoulder," Linia informed him. "I reset it as best I could, but it'll be sore for a day or two." She gave him a weak smile, "I guess basic was good for something after all."

Her mild humor was lost on Tilyer as he looked around the painfully bright room. He sat silently a moment before turning to look Linia dead in the eyes. "Gabel sold us out, didn't he?"

She lowered her eyes and nodded. "Looks that way."

"So what happened with you?"

She sighed, "They sent a storm trooper detachment to the bridge. I couldn't fight them all off."

"Yeah, same for me."

"So what now?" she asked, struggling to keep the fear from her voice.

"Well, as soon as he hears we're both awake, Venka will probably come down here to see us. He'll gloat and call us traitors and inform us of a pending court marshal. The only real question I have is whether or not he'll wait until we get back to Coruscant to execute us."

She simply nodded acceptingly and looked away at the blank bulkhead.

"Ok, look. I'm sorry for getting you into this," Tilyer blurted out. "It seemed like it would work at the time, but—"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand, "Don't worry about it Tilyer."

"But—"

"Shut up about it," she suddenly snapped. "It was my decision—my choice. You didn't get me into this. I did."

"Still," he said quietly, "I feel like this is all my fault."

"Partly, yeah I guess it is, but I signed up for it. You didn't twist my arm."

Tilyer didn't reply, lowering his chin to his chest and fixing his gaze upon the far wall.

Linia remained standing for a moment, her arms folded over her chest. Then she sighed and lowered herself down into the seat next to Tilyer. "Alright, so in retrospect it wasn't the best plan."

He looked up at her. "The plan was fine. It was just the people involved."

"Gabel."

"Yeah, him," he grunted distastefully. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be the type to turn his back on us like that. I though he was more . . . " He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Weak-willed?"

"What? No, I didn't mean it like that."

"But that's the gist of what you were saying. Face it Tilyer, you couldn't control him like you thought you could."

"Linia, he betrayed us."

"Yes, in a certain sense I guess he did, but maybe staying true to you would have been an even bigger betrayal."

The look on his face told her that he didn't follow.

She twisted in her seat to face him. "You were right about Gabel—at least partly. He's a follower in every sense word, at least from what I've seen. He truly believes in the Empire. Maybe he's just naïve, or maybe he actually buys the lines Venka and the rest cram down our throats every day. Whatever the reason, he believes in the idea of the Empire—Like you used to. Like I used to before all of this happened. Maybe to him, going along with us would be an even bigger betrayal than what he's already done. It would mean betraying the foundations his life and beliefs have been built upon."

Tilyer was silent a moment before responding. "You've thought about this a lot haven't you?"

"It's all I've been thinking about for a while," she admitted quietly. "There's not been much else to do since we were captured."

Tilyer just nodded quietly. He was silent a moment before looking up at her again. "What do you think your family will say?"

"What family?" she asked wryly.

"Oh. I forgot about your father," he said sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't make a difference now, anyway. What about your family though?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure they'll be mortified, but after what happened to Mikal they were prepared for the worst with me." He gave a humorless laugh, "Or is this the worst? I don't know which they would prefer—death in combat, or execution as a traitor."

"I don't really see how it matters."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It all ends the same way."

Another awkward silence ensued.

"So, any ideas what to do now?" she asked

He shrugged, "Wait for Venka to come by and gloat, I guess. Other than that, I don't think there's much else we can do."

From outside there was a loud reverberating clank.

"Well speak of the devil," Tilyer muttered. "He doesn't waste any time, does he?"

With the magnetic lock disengaged, the door to the cell hissed open to reveal the figure standing on the other side. The dark skinned man ducked under the threshold and stepped into the cell, lights glinting off of his bald pate as he straightened to his full height.

"Lieutenant Del'Goren?" Tilyer gaped briefly before hastening to stand at attention. Beside him, Linia did likewise.

"At ease, at ease. You're in the brig, Flight Officer. Showing deference to rank is the least of your worries right now"

"Old habits, I guess Sir. We, ah, weren't really expecting you."

"Thought Commander Venka would pay you a visit, 'eh?"

"Something like that—I didn't really think he would trust anyone else to see to the gloating."

"Well, he wouldn't. That's why he sent along a chaperone." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where a stormtrooper stood out in the hallway.

"Well, I'm sorry for being so forward sir, but . . . what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see for myself—and to ask you why."

Tilyer gave a disheartened sigh. "Does it matter? Either way, we're going to be executed."

Del'Goren sighed and folded his arms over his chest. "Yes. To me it does."

Tilyer sighed again. "Have you heard about what Venka is planning?"

The Lieutenant nodded. "The orbital bombardment. I heard something about that."

"Then you should know why. Those people down there had nothing to do with whatever else has been going on down on Belsavis. Commander Venka is going to destroy them for no other reason than his misguided sense of justice. It should be our duty to protect those people, not destroy them. He wants to blast them to pieces on grounds of hearsay and conjecture. I couldn't let him do that—we couldn't let him do that," he said, looking meaningfully to Linia. "Anyway, I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Believe me, I do," Lieutenant Del'Goren muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, never mind," he said dismissively. "Listen, I just wanted to tell you to be on your guard. Officially Venka doesn't have the authority to conduct a court-martial onboard, but I wouldn't put anything by him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Linia asked.

Del'Goren shrugged mysteriously, "If something happens, just be ready. I have to get back to my post, though. You two take care of yourselves. "He gave them a meaningful glance, then turned and headed back out the doorway.