Chapter 29
35-36 hours after the Commander promised an EVAC
Misery clings to the imperials within the common room, recently converted into a field hospital. Unoccupied imperials clean blood off the floor and replace soiled bandages. The wounded crowd tables while the dead lay stacked against a wall. Some sleep while others scream, groan, and weep. Without divine intervention, many more will die.
Helplessness is a knife stabbing the Grand Commander in the heart, over and over.
"I can't believe you're…," Simz looks around swiftly before lowering his voice. The Storm Commando hisses with contempt. "They're filthy aliens! Let them die."
"Is that what you're worried about right now?" Gary scolds him.
"This is ill-advised, sir," Dr. Wither adds. "But…your eccentric decisions have paid off."
"Sir," Diggs hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "Sgt. Simz isn't the only one with…strong feelings for non-humans. I'm concerned incidences may occur between them."
"I understand that; fortunately, it won't be for long." The Grand Commander counters before he asks. "Gale, how many marksmen did you count?"
The lieutenant considers it, "Fifteen, maybe more if the females fight."
"We have an overabundance of weapons and not nearly enough people to use them."
"You can't be serious!" Simz growls
"Thanks for volunteering, Simz," the commander declares. "Diggs, you and Simz will teach them how to operate blaster carbines-"
"Dank farrick, I'll die before I teach them!" Simz snarls.
Furiously, the commander spins, towering over Simz. The commando scrambles to avoid bumping him but doggedly matches his glare. Tension spreads, but Simz stands alone.
"You have your orders, trooper," Serrano hisses from behind Simz; the royal guard's voice cools Simz's anger. He twitches before he looks over his shoulder and backs away.
"Yes, sir," Diggs places a hand on Simz's shoulder, but the commando brushes it off.
"Breaches of discipline reflect a leader's weakness," the Grand commander reminds them. "I won't accept even one. Keep the troops in line; this is not a request. Caizor's lash waits for anyone who breaches the peace and the officer that fails to prevent it. Understood?"
Caizor's unsettling laugh is even worse from within his heavy dungeoneer armor, hollow and mechanical like a malfunctioning droid. The imperials cringe, shrinking away from the demented guardsman. Swanson nods, "Yes, sir! We'll get it done."
"Gale, I want you to coordinate with the Yuzzum. They live on Endor; they've fought the Ewoks longer than any of us. When they're not training, we need their best riflemen on the roof and others on the walls. Our greatest weakness is infiltrators; perhaps the Yuzzum can help us."
"Sir," Gale nods. "Without the probes, our security is lacking, but I'm going to task the mouse droids to patrol and emit a siren. What's the likelihood the rebels attack again?"
"We must assume they will. Even with snipers, the Ewoks acted unilaterally. Next time, we'll face the rebel's full might. When we return, we EVAC immediately."
"I've never integrated aliens into Imperial forces before, sir," Gale warns.
"We have our orders," Serrano assures him. "It will be done, sir."
"Sir," Iona hovers at the edge of them. When he looks, her hands fidget, and she hesitates. "T-the rebels sent a message, if we aren't wanted for war crimes and surrender, we'll receive care and passage to a planet of our choosing."
"Absolutely not!" Dr. Wither hisses.
"It's a trap," Lieutenant Diggs declares, and Simz holds up his hands as if it's obvious.
"It could save many lives," Gary points out, and Gale nods.
"Life in a rebel prison isn't life," Simz growls.
The commander considers it quietly, "Offer it to the critically wounded before the rest. This is a personal choice. We can rescue our troops from prison; we can't bring back the dead."
As Iona leaves, the turbolift doors whoosh open, revealing the musician. The tiny figure winces when he studies the wounded before the commander's wave captures his attention. He climbs the stairs, huffing and puffing with effort before he reaches them.
The commander opens, "I have a lot of questions, but my time is limited."
"Naturally," he nods. "You opened your doors when no one would. I'm at your service."
Before the commander can speak, Gary blurts out, "What's the Shadow Stone?"
The musician flinches, but Dr. Wither erupts, "That's the least of our concerns."
"You heard the witch!" Gary motions dramatically. "You saw her reaction!"
The commander motions to the musician, whose gaze is conflicted and distant. Finally, he says, "That's impossible—should be impossible, but you can't dismiss something SO evil. Years ago, an Ewok Shaman and the witch Morag fought over it. Both had a half, one side fused with darkness and another with light. Morag reunited it, giving her immense power before the Ewoks beat her. A few years later, Imperials arrived and built a base over a series of tunnels-"
Gary gasps, "The garrison? We heard but command executed anyone spreading rumors."
Dr. Wither inquires. "You're talking about the beast that ate the whole garrison?"
"Yes," the musician nods slowly. "The monster, the Griagh, was awoken. The shaman used the Sunstar to destroy it, but doing so consumed the stone. Or so the story goes…"
"We received orders to suppress it," Dr. Wither details it with clinical detachment. "During the shield generator construction, we displaced an Ewok tribe and disturbed the beast. It decimated the garrison, but we're told we defeated it. Naturally, some doubts lingered."
"Doubts? Everyone knew it was a lie," Gary explains. "They imported a whole new garrison. No one on Endor would take that post, even after the executions. You could feel it!"
"The griagh had passed into legend," the musician admits. "No one thought they existed anymore, a bedtime story for children refusing to sleep. The stories said they were unstoppable."
"Normally, I'd find this fascinating," Lt. Diggs interrupts. "But how does this help?"
Dr. Wither, Gary, and the Grand commander share a look. The commander responds, "It's not so much help as preventive. The witch wanted the Shadowstone."
"I'd say, needed it," Wither adds.
"She went nuts!" Gary exclaims. "She was like an addict in need of a fix!"
"With it, she'd be unstoppable." The musician sighs. "Thankfully, you killed her."
A look passes among the trio.
"You killed her…right? She's dead. There's no way you could've escaped otherwise."
"Uhh," Gary begins.
"It's complicated," Dr. Wither winces.
"I hit her with a force pike and dropped a cauldron of boiling soup on her," the commander complains loudly. "…even after that, we barely made it out alive."
"I still don't understand why this matters," Diggs pauses. "…wait; you did what?"
The rest of his command remains captivated with disbelief.
The musician wipes a hand over his face, "We're all going to die."
A bleak moment passes over the group as they consider what they just heard.
To change direction, the commander asks the musician, "What's your name?"
"Dib Yowza," he grunts. "Why are you concerned about the Shadowstone?"
"The witch called Ruin the Shadowstone," the commander replies. "Then it rejected her."
"It rejected her?" Dibs rubs his chin, intrigued. "How?"
"The ax shot lightning and fried her," Gary claims.
Simz growls, overtly skeptical. "No way. That's insane!"
"Royal Guardsmen training," Serrano whispers. "Warns of the unnatural sorcery."
"If I didn't see it," Dr. Wither holds up her hands. "I wouldn't believe it either, but it happened. It was the single most terrifying moment of my life."
"You warned the commander about Ruin," Gary reminds Dibs before asking. "Could the Shadowstone have latched onto something evil or uhh…?"
"Profane?" Dr. Wither suggests, grasping his point. "Something stained by dark deeds?"
"Gee whiz, let me check my tome of magic items…," Dibs answers sarcastically.
"You have a tome of magical items?" Gary asks excitedly.
"No, you idiot!" Dibs rants. "We're talking about metaphysical theories. I've heard stories, but the best I can offer is the wisdom within them. Malignant items are symbiotic and self-interested, encouraging and assisting the user in attaining MORE power at any price. Ultimately, they say, the more powerful the object, the more corrupting its influence. 'Two': just don't. They always corrupt the user. Don't touch it, don't use it, don't even think about it!"
"Could the Shadowstone turn the tide on Endor?"
The thoughtful question halts their conversation as they turn their attention to Caizor. The torturer shrugs and motions, patiently waiting for the answer, so they turn to the commander.
Could it? He wonders, what did Charal say? A distraction, a transport, and allies are what I need. He pauses, working the situation silently. I have my forces and now the Yuzzum. The Duloks respect me and could be lured in with an offer of weapons, soap, and revenge. Then bound to me by glory and loot. My troopers will form the core, reinforced by Yuzzum scouts and Dulok thugs. Taunt the rebels, draw them into a trap, and overwhelm them. There will be losses, but there are always losses, and my victory will echo through the galaxy for generations!
"Sir?" Gary cautiously interrupts his thoughts before calling urgently. "Sir! SIR!"
Violence rises from the commander, egged on by his grief. He glares at Gary, whose gaze drops before he backs away slowly. A moment passes before the commander realizes everyone is staring at him. Then he notices Serrano gripping his force pike.
Only then the commander realizes he's brandishing Ruin. With effort, he forces himself to put the ax away. His knuckles crack, and his hand aches as if he'd clenched a fist too long.
"No," slowly, he opens and closes his hand. "There are no resources, equipment, or value to holding Endor. We'd remain trapped here. My-OUR victory would be a powerful symbol but strategically pointless. Escaping with our forces will have a lesser but similar effect."
As the commander messages his aching hand, Iona returns, again hesitating until he looks at her. "Commander, Vee and the vipers are ready."
He nods, "What did the wounded say when you made the rebel's offer?"
"Not one accepted," Iona declares proudly, smiling. "Not even the dying, sir."
Every imperial stands a straighter, pleased with the answer, but it stings the commander.
"Dibs, this is my comm. officer Iona," the commander motions. "She'll act as my intermediary with you and will help you however we can. Gale, you're in command."
"What's the plan if the rebels attack again?" Gale asks.
"Draw them in, force them through the bottlenecks," the commander says initially, then changes. "Think of all the tactics they used against us, the traps and tricks, and reuse them."
"Yes, sir," Gale salutes him, and the rest echo it. The commander returns the salute before leaving with Gary and Dr. Wither. They march to the roof, where a technician hands a helmet with hoses to the doctor. She refuses before the commander informs her, "We're going to the upper atmosphere; asphyxiation or exposure will kill you."
She equips the helmet while Gary whines, "What if the probes drop us?"
"Use your magnetic hook," the commander pulls the rope from his utility belt.
"Good idea," Wither compliments him. They hook themselves to the probe droids before lying on the ground. The droids float over them before gathering them up in their spindly arms. One of the droids approaches the commander, but Vee beeps and chirps aggressively, chasing it off. The droid hums its way to Gary instead as Vee takes hold of the Grand Commander.
With the purr of repulsorlifts, the probe droids and their passengers rise into the sky.
Captain Kensington's rage thunders with a fury so raw that he can't think straight. He keeps moving, unable to stop, or the avalanche of feelings will crush him.
How could they? He roars in his head. Don't they understand?
They lack vision, a foreign voice whispers inside his head. Kensington tenses, searching for the voice, but all he sees is the forest. As he looks, Kensington realizes he has no idea where he is or how far he's gone. He's lost, and his footprints are the only sign of his passage.
They dismiss you and disregard your warnings…putting themselves at peril.
"Who's there!?" He demands, taking cover by a tree and crouching in the bushes.
They misinterpret you because it questions their accomplishments and their devotion.
"How do you know- " Her voice echoes in his mind, worming its way into his soul.
Your masters concede the advantage in a misguided display of compassion. They have not learned the lesson you taught the Empire; that one defeat does not equal the FINAL defeat.
Swallowing, Kensington raises his rifle as he seeks the voice's origin.
"That's of no use here." Each word spoken comes from a different direction. Vertigo strikes him as he tries to follow it, eyes darting around to follow the overlapping echoes.
He yells, "Where are you?"
"Here," she whispers so close to him that he can feel her breath on his neck. Kensington spins, but with a gesture, he's driven to his knees and held firm by an invisible power. He struggles but remains helpless and immobile; she forces him to face her horrific form. Burns, feathers, and seared flesh cover the poorly merged bird-woman.
It's all Kensington can do to keep from screaming.
"The last few hours have forced me to reconsider several of my views. I need a warrior."
"I am not for sale."
"If you were, you'd have no value," she replies swiftly. "I offer an exchange; with my council, I will return you to your position and even elevate you further than you've ever dreamed. I will help you navigate their politics, freeing you to focus on your enemies."
"No one does anything for free, and I won't betray the Alliance!"
"I, too, have felt the sting of betrayal," her voice conveys her pain and despair. He feels it. "I offered to assist the Grand Commander in exchange for freedom from this cursed world."
His rage flares, "That makes you an enemy of the rebellion!"
"He came to ME," she shrieks suddenly. "He attacked and stole FROM ME! We have a common cause; you seek those spurned by the Empire. Look upon me, have I not suffered?"
"It's more complicated than that," he argues half-heartedly.
"I see through you!" She howls, and he believes it, her voice shaking him to his core. I SEE THROUGH YOU! Fear overwhelms him, and he's petrified for the first time in years. He ceases his useless attempts to break free of her invisible grasp.
She continues fiercely, "I know your desires, fears, and the unspoken dreams you'd never give voice. If you agree, I will guide and prepare you for treachery from friend and enemy alike."
"No, no, I am loyal to the Republic," he argues. "I'll never serve you!"
"Silence!"
Kensington cannot open his mouth. His lips are clenched shut, utterly unwilling to open. She moves closer, with her beak pointed down, until her eyes are inches away from his. "How quickly they dismissed you, without a single word in defense. After all you have suffered and sacrificed in their service; they cast you aside. It meant nothing to them."
IT MEANT NOTHING TO THEM!
He struggles to speak but cannot.
"Do they know about your sister? Your mother and father, your family?"
He screams from behind his closed mouth, and she motions, freeing his lips. "Don't you talk about them! You don't know anything about them! You don't know anything!"
"I see through you!" I SEE THROUGH YOU, Kensington can't resist recalling his family's death at the Empire's hands. He dug through the remains of their house for his sister's body. He wrapped them and buried them in the garden behind his home, utterly alone.
"Your anger flares like the suns, but you must hone it, sharpen it to a fine edge," she whispers. "Or you will never succeed. Would you like my help? Will you accept my offer?"
Tears run down his face as pain cripples him. He whispers, "Yes."