Chapter ten:
"Hold still."
"You're pulling too hard," I tell my sister. "Hair's not supposed to go like that."
"Nonsense," she scoffs, "I've seen pictures."
"You're worse than my Empire stylists."
"Really?"
"No."
I sit on my bed in my room, wringing my hands impatiently as Primith fiddles around with handfuls of my blonde hair.
"Are you sure you want to wear that?" she asks for the umpteenth time.
I glance down at my plain black top and black trousers with lots of pockets. "I was thinking of putting on shoes too," I admit.
Primith sighs. "You're hopeless. This is a very important meeting you have, all about strategy and warfare, but you're there to make an impression. You've got to look your best. You'll be talking to the biggest people around."
"I'm the biggest person around."
"Biggest bitch maybe," Primith says good-naturedly.
"Its fine," I concede, looking at my pile of hair in the mirror. "You're probably right. As long as you don't go anywhere near my eyebrows, you're good."
"I wasn't going to mention those," says Primith, "But while we're on the subject, I was thinking you really ought to shave your legs sometime soon-" She's interrupted by a chime at the door.
"I'm also due in the meeting chamber," I say, "Maybe they sent an escort?"
I move to the door and press a button. It slides open to reveal Edwin, holding a black clothing bag in his hands. "Hey there," he says (Edwin, not the bag).
Primith waves hello, joining me. "Nice to see you, Primith," Edwin nods at her.
"Hi, sweetie," she says. His brow furrows. Primith fancies Edwin a lovesick pet of mine. I've never tried to correct her.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Kara can't come out and play," says Primith. "Jedi business."
"Right, Jedi business," says Edwin. "President Coy said… well actually Menissa said, because Coy told her…"
"You can skip ahead to the good part," I say.
"Be nice," Primith slaps my arm.
"The president wants you to dress the part for the meeting," Edwin says, "To that end she had Menissa pull some of your costume stuff, and she, Menissa not the President, had me run it over to you."
"Okay," I say, and accept the bag he puts into my hands.
"So…" says Edwin, "Do you need an escort after you get…uh, dressed. To your thing."
"I'll manage," I say. "Have a nice day," I close the door.
"He wants me," says Primith.
"He certainly wants something."
"I was kidding," says Primith.
"And I forgot to care."
"You're so nice."
"I'm not nice, I'm a Jedi."
"I'm glad I'm not a Jedi," says Primith, opening the black bag in my hand. "Those clothes look really uncomfortable."
I toss the armful of cloth and leathers onto my bed and stare at it, crossing my arms. "Hmm."
"Well?" Primith flops down beside them.
"Well, hmm," I say, tapping my lips with a finger.
"I'm not going to bother fixing your hair," she says, "You're so ungrateful."
"Thank you," I say.
"You should probably get changed."
"I probably should." I look at the clothes a moment more.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere, if that's what you're waiting for," Primith says.
I stick my tongue out at her, and I pull my shirt up over my head.
…
The clothes are a lot like the Jedi robes I'd worn before, but the colors were a bit darker, rich browns with some shiny black leather incorporated in the jerkin. They seemed a little more comfortable too, not as scratchy. Perhaps I was simply getting further in my training and could better cope with the clothes. I also got a dark brown cloak with a hood, which I promptly stuffed under my bed, didn't need that getting in the way.
When I arrive, the meeting seems to be in full swing. "Have I missed anything?" I ask.
"You've arrived exactly when I wanted you to," President Coy says coolly, and addresses her audience. "Gentlemen, ladies, I present Kara Evenstern, our chosen one." I get a smattering of glances and nods from the assembled adults, and I sit in the corner and try to figure out what I've missed.
Coy stands, it's obvious she'd been talking before I entered. Assembled in the room is Coy's chain of command. Generals and scientists, generally human males, most of them I recognize by sight. Menissa is the only one I recognize by name. There are several more alien individuals, governors and leaders from planets who'd joined with us, like Ryloth and Mon Calamari.
Most notable are the trio of richly dressed Falleen. Zanna nods at me respectfully, as she sits between a man and woman that for all intents and purposes appear to be her parents. They also happen to be the current leaders of Black Sun. The gang's all here.
It's a medium sized briefing room, with rings of seats proceeding at a slope away from a holo-projector in the center of the room. A map of part of the galaxy is projected upon it, with little green of blue fleets of ships indicating military positions.
"As I was saying," President Coy continues, "We've been fighting a good fight. The Empire has never felt so threatened since their conception, I would suggest, not even during the Galactic Civil War. Their rule is crumbling and we are turning the Galaxy against them. Yet, this is to be a long and bloody war. I would prefer if further loss of life could be avoided by bringing a decisive end to this conflict.
"We have fought hard," says Coy, "But sometimes we have fought to distract and inspire rather than simply to win."
"That explains the Battle of Tatooine," says Zanna's father.
"Hmm," is Coy's only response. "We have been planning for this day for years, we've had our top spies, our top scientists, and our top engineers all working toward giving us an upper hand. There's a technology used in days long passed, one the Empire so nobly decreed immoral and unwarranted. We've been able to refine and replicate its power.
"For generations there's been debate between the power of the force and the power of technology, which is most powerful and most worthy of use." She gestures to me, "You've all seen the footage of this one, Kara is like no one else alive. Yet when we bring up this age old dilemma of priorities I must reply, why not have both?"
Coy's long fingers play across the control system before her and the holographic map disappears, replaced by the image of a familiar young man. "Hello everyone, it's an honor to be here in, well, not in person," says Fenric.
"Is the test ready to proceed?" Coy enquires.
"Yes, ma'am," Fenric salutes.
"Begin the countdown," Coy orders, "And give us the live feed."
A gray planetoid floats in the air in the middle of the room; a large, rectangular ship approaches it. I recognize it as the Organa, a member of our fleet. But I've never seen the armor on its nose retract into itself.
"The greatest accomplishments of the previous Rebel Alliance," Coy monologues, "Consisted of destroying two Death Stars. In their honor, we have replicated the most impressive feature of those weapons of mass destruction. Before you is a planet devoid of life, a cracked and bitter little thing ravaged by fifty years of Imperial weapons testing."
After a count of five, a thick green superlaser jets down toward the sphere. It hits the center of the planet, drilling deep as a shockwave generates outward, ripping across the surface as the entire planet ruptures and then bursts outward in an explosion of rubble and molten rock. Within seconds, the planet is gone. Destroyed.
I sit in silence and watch Coy beam as a wave of applause washes over her.
"So," I raise my hand, and am mildly surprised as everyone turns to me respectfully. "Now that we've completed this test run I assume it's a very brief matter of time until the Empire knows just what weapon we have. Meanwhile, we want to use our element of surprise. So we'll be moving quickly?"
"Certainly," Coy nods.
"So…where are we going to hit?" I think I speak for everyone when I ask. My mind races. The Empire has so many prisons scattered about, which would be kind of a waste of time to destroy, and shipyards, which wouldn't be.
Coy smiles. "I hear Coruscant is lovely this time of year."