Wylan was in the mess hall pointedly avoiding the curious gazes of the people around him when he ducked away from the queue and searched for a seat. Most of the tables were full, but he could see Jesper's hunched form over a table for three in the corner so he headed over there, heedless of the whispers that still followed him, even months after his defection.
Imperial.
Any other defector would have been forgotten about by now - pilots accepted into the ranks of their squadron, foot soldiers proved their mettle time and time again, mechanics already faded into their essential background jobs. But Wylan was a lord's son; his value was in his information and his (father's) connections. And his information was becoming outdated quickly.
It probably didn't help that the base on Dantooine was attacked the day after he returned from a clandestine mission either.
He plonked his tray in front of Jesper, who didn't notice him until he flopped into the seat opposite. Though Jesper was the new face to the Rebellion, he garnered fewer stares than Wylan did; he just seemed to look the part. Frayed, mismatching shirt and jacket, easy posture, the strain of war in every line of his face. . .
"You okay?" Wylan inquired. It wasn't like anyone else on the moon seemed to be doing any better than Jesper, but it seemed polite to ask.
Jesper shrugged. "I don't know. Kaz refuses to leave the ship, even for food, Nina took Kuwei to be debriefed on what he knows about the Death Star, and the last I saw of Inej she was crying as she barrelled right past me. Don't know what that was about." He tried to shrug again, but there was too much tension in his shoulders for the motion to ever come off as casual. "I don't even know where to go, or what to do. I just feel so. . . useless."
"You and me both."
Jesper glanced up at that, surprised. "Really, merchling?" There was some of the humour that had been missing from his voice before. "You? Useless?"
"The only thing I'm good for is contextual information," he informed him. "If High Command wants to call me in for more stuff on what my father might have had to do with the development of this weapon, then I'm available. But otherwise, I can't shoot, I can't fix things, and I sure as hell can't fly. If it weren't for the miscellaneous things I can yank out of my mind, I'd be useless."
Jesper frowned at that, and leaned forward over his lunch. "Didn't you say you can blow stuff up?"
Wylan blinked, startled. "Well, yes, I know which chemicals to combine to make what sort of explosion but can't every-"
"No," Jesper told him flatly. "Not everyone knows how to blow stuff up. I don't even know how to blow stuff up. You've got a good education in there." He tapped Wylan's golden curls; he ducked his head, face flushing. "Marketable skills. Don't let them go to waste. What lessons were you tutored in? Other than blowing-stuff-up-istry."
"It's called Chemistry."
"Semantics. Just list them."
Wylan frowned. "Galactic Geography-"
"Scouting terrain for new bases."
"-Advanced Mathematics-"
"Inventories, logistics, essential management and the likes."
"-Languages-"
"Communicating with other species and other Rebel cells."
"-and Music."
"Excellent for entertaining us all after a stressful day." Jesper grinned.
Wylan found he had to grin back, but he shook his head dejectedly. "All of what you listed is work for droids. Probe droids, inventory droids, protocol droids-"
"But droids are expensive," Jesper pointed out. "To buy and to maintain. Sending you - and other likewise talented personnel - to do it would be cheaper." He tapped his head again. "Maths again, merchling."
"I come over here to try to raise your spirits, and you end up raising mine," Wylan chuckled, only half-forced.
Jesper smiled at that, and the tired look in his eye abated slightly. "Glad to hear that."
Silence fell for a moment as they looked at each other. Wylan inexplicably felt the urge to blush.
Then the klaxons went off.
Wylan couldn't be sure, what with the flashing red lights, but Jesper seemed to go paler. "What's that?"
"I don't know," Wylan admitted. "An attack on the base?" But it'd been such a short time since Dantooine - it was just cruel to have another evacuation so soon. . .
Wylan's comlink bleeped. The message was from Matthias.
All the blood drained from his face; he felt light-headed.
"It is an attack on the base," he rasped out. "The Death Star has entered the system. They're going to annihilate us all."
For a moment, looking up at Jesper, Wylan wished his companion was optimistic. He wished he could give him some words of encouragement, refute his terrified claim, offer some spark of hope in this war-torn galaxy.
But Jesper had been at Wylan's side as they watched Alderaan burn.
He had no optimism to give.
"The let's get the kriff out of here," Jesper growled.
Wylan found he had zero disagreements with that.
The debriefing was short and succinct. Inej, watching at the back, tried to cling onto hope.
"Bo Yul-Bayur planted a trap in the middle of his creation," General Yul-Bataar was saying, face grim despite his hopeful words. "A small exhaust vent, only two metres wide, that has access to the reactor shaft. One hit to any part of the reactor shaft, and the whole system goes down."
A hand went up. "Not to be rude, sir," a pilot Inej vaguely recognised but couldn't place said, "but two metres? And to hit it the torpedo would have to take a ninety degree turn downwards." He shook his head. "That shot's impossible."
"Well, you'd better hope it's not impossible, pilot," General Kir-Bataar said quietly, gold eyes flashing, "because our lives are all dependent on you making it."
There was an audible swallow from all the fighters stationed around the room.
"Anika could've made that shot," a male voice said, somewhere to Inej's left.
"Anika's dead, sleemo!" A female voice shouted back, brittle and tearstained. "We don't have a full squadron anymore because of it. And there's no one left to fill the gap."
Tamar, who'd apparently been listening in, frowned. "Is there no one who can stand in for her? Just for this battle?"
The woman shook her head, dark hair bouncing. "All the rookie fighters are being hustled in as it is. There's no one else who can fly an X-wing."
"I can fly one," Inej said, before she even thought about it. And it was true; her parents had owned a flight simulator when she was younger, and her favourite setting to play around with had been that of the X-wing-class ships.
General Kir-Bataar took a step closer to the woman and Inej. "Are you sure, Captain?" Her frown was disapproving, but Inej could hear the hope in her voice. One thin, twisted line of desperate hope, a shout in the dark for someone, anyone, to hear it. Inej heard it.
She lifted her chin. "Yes."
And she would, she realised as she watched her own reflection in Tamar's eyes. For Anika.
For the Rebellion.
She took a deep breath, and imagined she could feel the oxygen seep into ever cell, every pore, every tired corner of her body that didn't think she could do this.
For me.
The Death Star would be in range within a hour, they were told, so they needed to get up there quickly. Most of the group went straight to the hangars.
Incidentally, the hangar that the starfighter Inej was borrowing was housed in happened to be the same one the Barrel resided. And Kaz happened to have heard all the commotion outside and come in to see what the fuss was about.
"Inej," he said urgently as she rushed by, eyes wide, "what's going on?"
"The Death Star just entered the system," she said breathlessly, eyeing the X-wing she was supposed to be manning over his shoulder. "We'll be in range of its turbolaser in less than an hour."
"Then let's get out of here!" The was a slight hysteria to his voice; it lifted higher, louder than his normal speaking tones.
"Can't argue with that," Jesper said from behind them. Inej whirled to see Wylan close on his tail, face red. Jesper glanced from Inej to Kaz. "Fire up the engines, then! Where are Nina and Matthias?"
"They're joining the official evacuation transports." Inej couldn't believe what she was hearing. "They're staying to help get everyone off safety." Jesper nodded curtly, and went to rush past her, but she grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"
"Uh. . ." Jesper glanced at Kaz with his eyebrows raised. "Getting out of here?"
"You're not cleared for evacuation. We might need you to carry something out-"
"In case you haven't noticed, Inej, we're not part of your insurgency," Kaz said, voice flinty. "We have no obligation to wait for clearances, to help. None at all."
"But I thought-" She didn't finish the sentence, instead letting her eyes fall to the ground. She was mortified to feel them blur with tears. She felt like a little orphaned slave girl again: fragile and helpless and lost.
Abandoned by all that she'd had faith in.
"What did you think?"
The question was mocking. It had always been mocking, when it came to Kaz. Eyes still stinging, Inej didn't know why she'd ever thought any different.
"I thought better," she snapped, sorrow giving way to anger giving way to the righteous fire in her chest. "That's what I thought. I thought better." She looked at Wylan. "I suppose you're going too? You're deserting?"
Wylan glanced from the Barrel to her, then to some point over her shoulder. She didn't need to look to know that it was Jesper whose eyes he locked with when he finally lifted his chin. "No. I'm staying. I'm going to be of use to the Rebellion as best I can." He added quietly, "Until the last moment I can."
Looking between them, Inej wondered how it was that small, demure Wylan had more strength in him than a hardened smuggler like Kaz Brekker.
She jerked her head in some vague semblance of a nod. "I guess I'll see you around then, Kaz. Jesper," she added, seeing him move up the ramp. "You too." There was nothing pleasant in her voice.
"Inej. . ." he said slowly. "I don't want to leave. I want to help your Rebellion." He took a deep breath. "But I don't want to die."
"You won't die." She was certain of that - whether it was the Force, ordinary intuition or just plain wishful thinking, she was certain of it.
"I don't want you to die, either."
"I won't." She squared her shoulders. "Because I'm going to go up there, and blow that monstrosity out of the sky."
Kaz paled. "No. That's- that's impossible."
"It's not. There's a weakness in the design. We're going to exploit it."
"Inej." He lunged forward and grabbed her hand. "Come with us." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Please."
Inej knew what that last word must have cost him.
But she detached his hand from hers anyway, and pushed him up the boarding ramp of his ship. "No."
Kaz bit his lip; she'd never seen him look so agitated. "Inej, you'll die!"
Something clicked then. "You're afraid." Of what, she couldn't place. Kaz Brekker wasn't the simplest person to psychoanalyse.
"Of course I'm afraid!" he cried. His eyes were blazing. "Why aren't you?"
She lifted her chin, and pursed her lips. She made sure to look him in the eye as she murmured, "I fear nothing, for all is as the Force wills it. All life," she added, "and all death."
Something shattered. Whether it was internal or external, Inej didn't know, but something was now irrevocably shattered. Destroyed.
Gone.
Jesper had already fled into the shadows of the cockpit. But Kaz paused for a moment, leaning against one of the landing struts.
"You were right," he told her, "about what you said in Mos Eisley. When I got shot. I don't get distracted. But I was distracted that day." He gestured towards his leg. "Because I'd heard rumours that the Imperials had caught a Rebel spy. And I was worried it was you."
Before she could respond, he turned his back and walked up the boarding ramp. Two minutes later, the Barrel took off. Less than ten minutes later, it had jumped to hyperspace.
Inej didn't bother watching it go. She had a job to do, and she was going to do it right.
