Chapter 20
Seventeen hours after the commander promised an EVAC
Around the same time the commander collapses to the floor, Hera steps out of the command tent. She knows she should remain nearby, waiting on command, but she spots Rex boarding a transport. She calls out to him immediately. Upon hearing his name, he looks around before noticing her. Then leaves his spot in line and meets her halfway.
"General? Why aren't you in medical?"
"I'm fine." Hera dismisses it before demanding, "Where are you going?"
"Didn't command tell you they reassigned me?" The question surprises him. "It's funny; the Empire ordered us to train recruits. Now, the Alliance is too."
"No, they didn't," she bitterly replies. "Command believes I'm preoccupied."
Rex's expression changes immediately; he drops his bags. Scowling, he places his fists on his hips, "What happened?"
She gives him an even shorter version, adds Lord Dyer's input, and finishes with her exile from the command tent. Rex never hesitates, "Say the word, and I'm off that ship."
"No, no," she refuses his help. "I've made enough messes for one day."
"I wasn't there in the beginning, general, but I'm proud I stood with you at the end. I will stand with you again when we go get Ezra." He assures her intensely. "What are your orders?"
Hera sags, emotionally drained but touched by his commitment. She runs her hands over her face and pulls her lekku behind her shoulders. She sighs, "Get on that ship, Rex."
"General-Hera," hearing her name shakes her. Rex's eyes become distant. "Doing what's right rarely makes life easier, but it will help you sleep at night. Trust me, I know."
It's difficult to smile, but she tries, "Thank you, Rex."
"Have you considered what you're doing after the war?" Rex flanks, catching Hera off-guard. She blinks; no, she had not. A part of her thought she'd continue as she always had. "You should consider it now, the battles and sieges will go on for a few years, but it will end. I know your father would love your help rebuilding Ryloth. You can run for office once the Senate returns. Or you and your son could sling for joopas."
"No, I haven't," a slight smile crosses her face. "I'll pass on the last one."
"You sure? I know a guy. He'll make a great uncle for Jacen."
"Wolffe?" She scoffs, but it offers a momentary break from her despair. She indulges a moment's thought of Wolffe teaching her son. "Absolutely not; he's psychotic!"
"Even better!" Rex laughs before a wave of sadness fills his eyes. "At the end of the Clone Wars, I couldn't convince my brothers to stop fighting. I didn't have the words, but you do! Don't talk to them as a General. Talk to them as a leader, as a Syndulla!"
"They won't listen to me," she whines.
"Then make them listen!" He insists. "I've seen you do it, and we need your leadership!"
The conviction in his voice, the faith in his eyes, shakes her to her core. All of her doubts disappear in that moment of stillness and halting emotional silence. She'd only ever seen it once, maybe twice, when he looked at Ahsoka—and Ezra.
"General Syndulla," Lord Dyer interrupts as he approaches. "They're ready for you."
Hera looks over her shoulder, and Rex reaches for his gear. Suddenly, she hugs him, squeezing him tightly. He stiffens, awkward at first, before returning it. "Thank you, Rex."
"Yes, general," he replies, then dutifully returns to the transport lines.
She passes Dyer on her way to the command tent without a word. He follows silently for a few steps before Captain Kensington and Chief Chirpa exit. The Ewok scowls before he storms off, forcing the protocol droid to chase him. The captain pauses, looking at her, "I thought you should know. We're sending scouts to see if the shields are down, then bombing the bunker."
"What if the shields are up? What if the witch joins him?"
"Then we'll make a ground assault, following infiltration and elimination of priority targets." He says confidently before his voice deepens. "The Ewoks assure us their shamans can hold the witch off…but I'm not so sure. I saw the look in Chirpa's eyes; she terrifies him."
An idea comes to mind, and she can't stay quiet. Hera can't resist helping, "Don't forget about the AT-ST. If the battle turns against you, you can send it in as reinforcements."
"I did forget," Kensington blinks and looks away. "I'm not a fan of armor, but these imps dug in, and the compound is reinforcing itself."
"The Empire won't make it easy," Hera assures him. "Their leaders will adapt; they'll force us to earn our victories. They'll fight harder. If we push them into a corner, trap them, and remove their hope. They will become worse."
"General," Captain Kensington's eyes harden. "How-how could you…?"
He pauses, and Hera senses then sees the conflict within his eyes, "Go on, captain."
"He murdered my squad! Who knows how many others," Kensington growls at her.
"Easy, captain," Lord Dyer's tone sharpens dangerously.
"Shut up, imp!" Captain Kensington snaps before restraining his feelings.
"I don't need you to defend me, Lord Dyer," Hera snaps at him.
"I know," Dyer replies casually. "I didn't object to his question, just his tone."
Dyer catches them off guard, forcing them to think through his response, and Hera frowns at him. That momentary break is enough of a pause to allow Kensington to recover his self-control. He begins and stops himself before he can word his feelings properly.
"I don't understand. What is this? Are you infatuated with this stormtrooper?"
"I'm not infatuated with him!" Hera roars before she can think better of it. She yells so loudly dozens of rebels pause in their duties to look at her. She winces and curses herself, fully aware that she's spawned a hundred rumors with the outburst.
"Wow," Dyer snickers. "You misread that one, captain."
"Then what is it?!" Kensington demands loudly. "Why would someone so pivotal to the Rebellion throw it away? Why would you side with HIM—a, ah, ah stormtrooper?"
Hera looks around, realizing she has the full attention of the whole command post. With that many eyes upon her, she realizes he's voicing their worst fears and the rumors about her. She wants to end it, to walk away, but she knows that would only bolster his accusations.
"Is that how you all feel?" Hera demands aloud. She raises her voice and repeats herself. No one answers, but many in her command look away or avoid her gaze. She nods unhappily, but she doesn't let herself get angry in spite of the fury she feels.
For only an instant, she envies the Empire's discipline. HE doesn't need to explain his actions or his reasoning. HIS troops followed orders immediately. Is their faith in the Alliance, in me, so flimsy? Have we lived under oppression so long, fear sows constant doubt in everything?
"I've seen the Empire's evil, I've felt it, I've been a victim of it," she reminds them. "I know you have too, so don't fool yourselves. I have never been more committed than now. Do you want to kill them all? To butcher every last imp and hunt them to the ends of the galaxy?"
"Yes!" Captain Kensington declares. He's not alone. Many rebels nod, "yes," from the anonymity of the crowd. Others flinch, horrified by the blatant hatred. Friends look at their comrades as if it's for the first time, never before recognizing the depths of their hatred.
"Will we become a shadow of the Empire, or even worse, in pursuit of vengeance?" Hera demands. The rebels remain silent, and some even grow angry. Hostility flares in the crowd, and many of them scowl at her, offended by her criticism. "The Grand Commander told me, 'you're the Empire now.' Is he right? Will you make thousands, no, millions of widows? They will be martyrs to their children, and what do you think they'll consider us?"
Is my faith in the Alliance so flimsy that the Grand commander can shake it? Hera wonders. Do rumors, opinions, and challenges so easily sway our faith in democracy?
NO, we need challenging, Hera realizes. She channels it into her words, "In a democracy, I am accountable to my commanders and YOU. The Empire did not hold itself responsible. The commander confessed they ignored cruelty for the sake of expedience-"
"That's why we have to crush them!" Kensington seizes onto her words. Or perhaps he doesn't like my argument and what it means about him. "There must pay for their crimes!"
"I can't believe I'm saying this: the Grand Commander is right. WE ARE THE EMPIRE NOW," they gasp. Many can't believe Hera, violently shaking their heads in denial. After a pause to let it sink in, she continues, "In the eyes of the galaxy, we're responsible for everything that follows. I'm accountable to you, and you're answerable to each other. If we choose what's quick and easy, if we give into our anger, our Republic will be no different than the Empire!"
"I promise," Hera swears. "The Imperials will face justice-in a court of law, not at the end of our blasters or blades."
It's not what they want to hear. Hera knows it's a hard pill to swallow. Many of them came to the Rebellion specifically because of the Empire's excesses. Yet her words reach them; even those with scars deeper than hers recognize the threshold they're crossing. Kensington realizes he's lost the crowd. He searches for support, and finding none; he storms off.
Hera turns and nearly runs into Dyer. He studies her intently, "I'm impressed you convinced them. Kensington is obviously a rival, but you assisted him anyway. In the Empire, I'd never reminded him about the AT-ST. I'd have sent a tech for a full overhaul, disabling it."
"Do you ever consider how many died because of your treachery?"
"Nope," he shrugs. Frustrated, Hera steps around him. He follows her to the tent, "You really believe, don't you? You and the commander have that in common."
Hera stumbles to a halt. She glares at Dyer before she enters the command tent. Within, the leadership of the Alliance stands with Mon Mothma and General Dodonna. The bluish hue of the holograms bathes the tent, but even the imperfect image cannot hide the tension among them.
"We heard," Mon Mothma admits. "My words were unkind, general. I didn't doubt your fidelity, just your focus. We agree with your concerns, but Endor is a waste of your time."
"Am I'm being relieved?" Hera asks firmly.
"Reassigned," General Dodonna swiftly corrects.
"No," Hera folds her arms over her chest. "You're not sidelining me to some distant corner of space, on a dilapidated transport, where I can be forgotten or ignored."
"Receiving the command of a cruiser is hardly marginalization," Admiral Ackbar rebukes her sternly. She hadn't served with him before Endor, but his leadership was above reproach. "General Syndulla, this incident concerns me. Your leadership is inspired but chaotic. Thousands of lives, maybe millions, will rest in your hands at the head of a capital ship. They will look to you for strength, and you cannot wander off or act on impulse with that much responsibility."
Her own cruiser! Hera couldn't deny the thrill, leap-frogging past service on a frigate or galleon, straight to a cruiser! Still, her experience on Endor anchors her in the present and mutes her eagerness. Am I selling out? Hera asks, "Why now? How can I reassure you, admiral?"
"For the first question," General Dodonna points out. "Your victories are irrefutable."
She nods, then looks to Ackbar. He inquires, "What initiated your reflection and conclusion, General Syndula? Was it fear or fascination in the Grand Commander?"
"Both," she admits after considering the question. "Many of you served in the Clone Wars, my father too, and the Grand Commander and his father. With so much in common, how did you become enemies? The Grand Commander is a good soldier, a great leader, and a decent man. Whether by choice or circumstances beyond their control, the imps are on the wrong side. We must convince them to surrender and rejoin society, that the Empire isn't what they thought."
"That process has already begun," Mon Mothma insists. "-with Lord Dyer."
"He's a fairweather ally," Hera counters quickly. "Dyer will go whichever way the wind blows. The commander will hold on with his teeth if he must, and he is not alone. I've witnessed generational conflicts on Ryloth and here, on Endor. I've seen lingering hatred passed from parent to child in an unending cycle of violence. I'm horrified we'll push the Empire aside only to return later, full of vengeance, reigniting this galactic conflict."
"You are not alone," Admiral Ackbar nods thoughtfully. "Many fear we'll face their legions again."
"Admiral, I don't fear fighting them again," Hera argues before imploring him. "My greatest fear is my son will grow up, only to face the Empire, because of our mistakes."