Halfway to Martyrdom
Chapter Nine
Hammerly stood at her wit's end. She was going to die in this accursed asteroid field, and her casualty would be self-inflicted. Xoxtin's incessant whining was more dangerous to Hammerly's sanity than any form of Jedi devilry.
"-dead in my hangar! This is what happens when we hide dangerous threats from our crew. They tell each other ghost stories while they're killed off in the dark."
The worst part about this argument was that Hammerly didn't disagree with her opponent. For once, she and Xoxtin were on the same page. Xoxtin didn't know that, unfortunately, so she remained combative as ever.
Hammerly had feared Bridger was growing in boldness, and his latest act confirmed it. For the first time in two and a half weeks, a crew member of the Chimaera was dead thanks to the direct action of their enemy. Despite the circumstances proving her fears legitimate, Thrawn had already declared that his previous orders stood. He still didn't want the ship as a whole to hear about Bridger.
As his second in command, it was Hammerly's duty to enforce his will among the other officers. Her personal thoughts regarding his orders were not relevant. "The death of Technician Carp last night is a concern. However, Thrawn is more concerned with the death that awaits all of us if we do not manage to escape this asteroid field. To do that, we need the majority of the crew focused on repairs. Trust the troopers Thrawn assigned to watch the threat for us. If everyone tried to do these troopers' job, there would be no one left to fix the ship."
"Were they doing their jobs when Technician Carp died? No!" Xoxtin stood from her desk, threatening to blow past Hammerly. "I'm done with your excuses. I want Thrawn himself to tell me why he's not doing anything to stop these deaths. Haven't we all lost enough?"
Hammerly stepped between Xoxtin and her office door. She stared the taller woman down, willing her to return to her seat. "The grand admiral is working to prevent another tragedy as we speak. He doesn't have time to console you, Lieutenant."
Now for the part of her speech Hammerly really didn't like. She had to say it, even though it made her stomach churn inside. "Troopers can't be everywhere. If the target notices them following too closely, the target will retaliate. They were as close as they could be to the hangar last night without being noticed. Carp's death happened too quickly for them to prevent, but their quick arrival did save Carp's shift partner from harm. Have some respect for the troopers doing their job."
Xoxtin threw Hammerly's line back at her. "Have some respect for the techs doing their job! Carp was one of mine before Condor snatched him up. He..." In the ensuing rant, Hammerly kept track of the broad contours without following the argument's specifics. She figured she knew everything Xoxtin would say anyway.
Last night, the troopers were mostly successful in completing their mission. They had prevented an act of sabotage from reaching fruition while protecting one technician from harm. Despite their best efforts, the enemy had still inflicted a casualty on their forces. A casualty their ship could ill afford: an experienced technician adept in hangar and TIE maintenance.
The most frustrating part about last night, as Hammerly understood it, wasn't the hangar drama at all. It was what transpired after that. Instead of chasing Bridger into the closet where he could be cornered, the squad on duty had left him alone. On Thrawn's orders, no less.
Hammerly struggled to understand the logic of that decision. Thrawn had suffered the most humiliating defeat of his career at Bridger's hands. Even when he returned their ship to Imperial space, he fully expected a termination of his command. By all accounts, Thrawn should want Bridger dead with every fiber of his being. Only his nobility and grace as a seasoned military commander kept him from taking vengeance into his own hands… right?
Hammerly understood caution, but after seventeen days, she'd really thought Bridger would be dead by now. What was Thrawn waiting for? What better opportunity was coming his way than the ones he had already passed up?
When Xoxtin paused for a long-overdue breath, Hammerly cut in. "Your complaints are noted. Orders have not changed. If you violate the grand admiral's orders, you will be punished accordingly. We cannot allow present circumstances to sow discord on the Chimaera."
"Discord's already here, Commodore. You just aren't listening well enough to hear it."
Hammerly did hear it. She just wasn't willing to give into it. There was a difference. "I leave you to your duties, Lieutenant."
Hammerly stormed out of Xoxtin's office, fighting to keep her composure. She hadn't expected that encounter to go well, but that hurt. She'd entered the office with all the might she could muster, and she left it utterly depleted. It was still early.
She sought what information she could from the demeanor of those she passed in the halls. Did anyone on the ship intend to give up the fight? Was there anyone there aware of Bridger and prepared to risk a vengeful suicide mission? Hammerly watched the crew as closely as she could while maintaining discretion.
In their eyes, Hammerly saw exhaustion. Hollowness. Resentment. The few soldiers who met her eyes on accident quickly averted their gaze. Hammerly's guts twisted into knots at the sight.
Next on the meeting docket was Condor. He was no happier than Xoxtin to hear about Bridger targeting his techs. His voice joined the growing consensus in saying that officers ought to tell their men the truth. This time, Hammerly was more honest with how she shot him down. "I want to tell everyone too, but Thrawn won't stand for it."
Condor sized her up with his ragged stare. "You trust him still? With all the shit we're in?"
"As I have for years. I've seen Thrawn weave his way through the most impossible of circumstances. This one is… extreme even by comparison, but I have faith in him. If he says ship repairs are the most important, then I believe him." As Hammerly spoke, she realized the words she said were true.
Condor realized it too. He shrugged. "Better him than any other commander I've had. This crew is gonna make it out of the asteroid field alive. I can't promise anything after that, but I can promise that much."
"Repairs are going well then?"
"They have been. If our resident ghost keeps his spectral hands off my techs and we keep our schedule, then we'll be ready to leave the asteroid field by day twenty-two."
So soon? "That's amazing news!"
Grunt. "Don't be so sure. We can only repair what's in our means to fix. We don't have comms or weapons fully on, and fuel's gonna get interesting going forward. With repairs on the schedule we have, all I'm saying is we can blast a path out of this field and make one jump in hyperspace. What happens to us after that jump is a completely different question."
"Will we be able to jump into safe Imperial space?" If the Chimaera made it to Imperial space, they could send out a rescue signal. The Empire would save them.
Hammerly could see it now. An end to her shuddering, restless nights. It wouldn't fix the defeat they'd faced over Lothal, but it would give them a chance to avenge themselves. Rescue was the ray of starlight, assuring this crew they hadn't been sucked away into the black hole of permanent disgrace.
Condor was less optimistic. "If we have the fuel for it. And we're in the right area of space for it. We still need two things fully online before our jump: the engine and the nav computer. We're making progress on the engine now that our pair of techs are comfortable letting assistants join in."
"What about the nav computer?"
"Doesn't want to work with us. That machine has no idea where we are or how we got here. Might as well be in a whole new galaxy."
Hammerly furrowed her brow. "That doesn't make sense. We've flown in the Unknown Regions before. The nav computer worked for us then."
"Back then, the nav computer used our previous jump data and current maps to plot the most accurate jump it could. Problem here is that we technically didn't jump to our current location ourselves. Those kriffing space whales dragged us here. Without data on our last jump, the computer resorts to sensor data to try and match our location with its current records. The sensors we can repair with our resources are already back online, but the computer still doesn't recognize our location. If it at least had our last known vector in its data, it could eliminate possibilities. Without that, pinpointing our location is beginning to look hopeless."
"And without knowing our current location, we can't plot a course to any destinations." Sticky situation indeed. "We may have to make several small jumps to ensure we don't hit anything."
"Small jumps take more fuel to travel the same distance. We won't get very far under that arrangement."
"Better nearby than dead." Hammerly found she had trepidations about both arrangements. Either the Chimaera crashed into a million pieces, or it floated dead in space with no landmarks nearby. At least here, the asteroid field offered them some measure of protection. Out in bare space, the Chimaera would be at the mercy of anyone who happened to fly by.
And if no one did… Hammerly didn't want to think about what would happen if no one found them out here.
Condor gave her one final shrug. He tucked a thin tuft of gray hair back under his cap. "That's my report. Pass it on to Thrawn for me, will you? My men want to know if we're jumping next week or not."
Hammerly agreed to Condor's request. She had no doubt in her mind that the Chimaera would jump to hyperspace soon. They couldn't survive much longer in their current predicament. The real question was where they would jump to. She wasn't sure anyone aboard had the answer to that. The only person who even might know their current location was wholly invested in their eradication.
"Thank you, Chief. I will pass on your report. Expect a meeting soon detailing our next steps."
Condor left first this time. He had expressed intent to check on the night tech who'd survived last night's drama.
Hammerly appreciated him for that. Condor could come across as gruff, but Hammerly knew he cared. She knew every officer on board cared about their crew and wanted them in top shape. Nothing had made that more apparent than their current nightmare.
Next step was to get in contact with Thrawn. Hammerly set out to accomplish this task first over comm, then with an in-person meeting. Both avenues were closed to her. Whatever Thrawn was working on in the privacy of his office, he wanted no distractions.
Should Hammerly be concerned? What if Bridger had targeted Thrawn again? Was the radio silence on his end a sign the rebel had succeeded?
...No, radio silence like this was normal when Thrawn needed to meditate. He was probably just thinking over his options. Hammerly had been used to this before Lothal. The last few weeks had seen Thrawn at his most communicative, but that was a change borne of necessity. In the end, old habits tended to prevail.
Swallowing her concern, Hammerly sent him a message summarizing Condor's update. She wished she could do more for the ship, but all she had was anger and questions. Harassing other crew members for updates would bring her neither relief nor answers.
It was like tidying the center of a landfill. Even if the crew cleaned their area, they were still surrounded by trash on all sides. Even the slightest tremor would send piles of mess sliding towards them, threatening to bury them in their own futility.
Hammerly's own eyes went hollow at the thought. She wished she had something to distract her from her problems. Even one day would do wonders for her.
Ezra's obsession with Undershirt threatened to consume an entire day of his mission. Despite Ezra's best attempts at discipline, he couldn't deny he welcomed an alternate venue into which he could channel his energy.
After recovering his bearings in the closet last night, Ezra had crept into the abandoned upper floors of the ship to sleep. His stolen blankets made the cold up there marginally bearable. When Ezra woke, he hadn't been able to think about his ramming initiative or where he might want to attempt it next. The only words playing in his mind were Undershirt's. His assessment of Ezra and Lothal, to be specific.
"You're no Jedi. You're a puffed up street rat who thinks he's better than everyone. You think you alone can decide what's right for Lothal. You think you can choose whether millions of people live or die. What gives you the right?"
Ezra was blessed in his connection to the Force. It was a Jedi's duty to use his gift for the good of the galaxy. That was one of the first lessons Kanan had ever taught him.
When it came to Lothal, Ezra had lived on the streets for years after his parents' arrest. He'd seen the dirtiest parts of Imperial rule firsthand. He'd been beaten to an inch of his life for the pettiest of crimes. Harrassed by the very troopers meant to keep the peace in a Jedi-less world.
If another Lothal citizen had Ezra's abilities, they would use them the same way he was. They would try to free their planet too. Right?
"Why do you care so much about my home planet?"
"Because I'm one of the bastards who lives on it! At least, I used to. I bet it's a terrorist slum land now. All because of you!"
The slums on Lothal had been the Empire's creation. It was the Empire and their corporate cronies who had ripped up the countryside apart for factories and mining, sending farmers into the cities without a credit to their name. People trapped in poverty on Lothal would escape it when the Empire was no longer there to exploit them. Not before.
Why couldn't that technician see that? How could he still support the Empire after watching Thrawn bombard the capital? Who could claim to love their home planet while supporting such brutality?
At least Pryce's motivations had made sense. She saw the Empire as a way to secure power for herself. She hadn't cared how badly her people suffered so long as she remained in charge of them. Meanwhile, Undershirt had no real status offered to him by the Empire. No visible markers of titles or wealth. It just didn't compute.
Determined to figure out the answer to this puzzle, Ezra had spent the morning looking for Undershirt. He probably wouldn't confront the man again so soon, but even watching him ought to give Ezra a few clues.
When Ezra found him, Undershirt was no longer missing parts of his uniform. He stood in a meeting with an older, hook-nosed man. Ezra couldn't read his uniform, but the markings on it surely conferred a rank of some sort.
Was Undershirt getting chewed out by his boss? Ezra crept closer, opening his senses up to the Force so he could hear what was going on.
"And you're sure the ghost didn't harm you?"
"Yessir. He threatened to cut my skull in two with his laser sword, but the night guard showed up before he could do that." Undershirt paused. "I'm glad they made it when they did. How did they know to come to the hangar?"
Boss Man pursed his lips. "The troopers have their ways. Thrawn himself has been working with them on a way of ending our ghost problem for good. We'll make sure you're never in a situation like this ever again."
"I promise I'm fine, sir. I'm just pissed… if you'll forgive my language."
"Join the club, young tech." Boss Man gave his subordinate a half grin. He looked like the type of guy who would smoke off shift trying to relieve stress. "I wanted to warn you about the ghost, but Thrawn's got us all gagged. I can only tell you now because the ghost himself visited you."
"Yeah. He swore me to secrecy too, sir. Thrawn did, I mean." Undershirt made no move to hide his contempt for the order. Though if he still intended to obey, what was the point of contempt? One more thing Ezra didn't understand about this guy.
"I get being pissed. I do. But…" Boss Man shrugged, at a loss for how to give reassurance. "Thrawn's working on the bigger picture. We are too. The sooner we get this ship up and moving again, the sooner we can make sure this ghost goes dead for good."
Undershirt grunted. "I'm not pissed at Thrawn. I'm pissed at B-our ghost. He deserves to suffer after what he did to Lothal."
"Oh that's right. You're from Lothal, aren't you?" Nod. Boss Man initiated a shoulder touch, one Undershirt rejected by stepping out of range. "My condolences."
"I-Our neighbors know my wife is with an Imperial. Mobs are going to break into our house, shoot her dead, and hang her body in the streets. They're going to loot the markets, rip every bit of industry apart… send the whole planet back to pre-civilization." Undershirt shuddered. "I had nightmares after my shift last night, but not about me. About her."
Ezra wanted to protest. He'd worked with the rebels on Lothal personally. Ryder would never allow anyone to do that to an innocent woman. Just because the Empire was a group of bullies didn't mean the whole galaxy was like them.
It took all of Ezra's strength to sit back and listen for Boss Man's response. Boss Man, for his part, had no idea what to do with what he'd been told. "Yeah… that would be hard. I would lose it too if the rebels took over Corellia.
"I'm glad you don't have any physical injuries. I'd send you to the medbay for the mental ones, but the whole wing is still mobbed. They probably won't see you. Just… don't kill yourself, okay? And before you try it, hunting the ghost does count as a suicide attempt."
"Well, someone should! I would gladly die if it meant that ghost couldn't drag another planet down with him."
"You learned nothing from last night. Ghost has a laser sword. He has powers that science will never understand and technology will never replicate. If Thrawn is still working out how to take him down, you aren't going to figure it out today. Or any time before he does." Boss Man sighed. "You're a good tech, Rodney. A good man. Don't throw your life away for a scum who doesn't deserve it. Haven't we all lost enough?"
The amount of care Boss Man put into those words… Ezra could feel his emotions through the Force. He meant what he said. Since when did Imperials care about their subjects?
When Ezra lurked among the Chimaera crew in the vents, their caps covered most of their faces. Everyone looked the same from his view. But when Ezra concentrated on their individual consciousnesses...
That was another reason Ezra numbed himself to the Force so often. The more his connection with the Force bonded him to these people, the harder they would be to kill.
It had been difficult enough to kill Rodney last night. How numb was he going to have to be to commit the act now?
A/N's: ...I won't call this a filler chapter, since it does have important information in it, but it's not the most exciting. I'm way more excited for next chapter. We're getting close to the end of arc 1, guys! I think the current arc will end after chapter 12. There are three arcs in this story, and I'm mostly confident this one is the shortest. Tentative predictions have this fic at 50 chapters in length. That's just an estimate though. My outline is more events I need to happen than it is a precise order in which they occur. I'm working on it, I promise.
In the meantime, I hope you liked the chapter. Thank you for all your support. It motivates me a lot.
PS: I am still reading Lesser Evil. Please don't spoil it in the comments.