Chapter 30
Thirty-seven hours after the commander promised an EVAC
Magnetically attached to the probes and carried by their spindly arms, the three imperials and their probes rise to the magnetosphere. Vee beeps, and Gary stutters, "W-w-we're c-close."
"I hate this p-p-plan!" Dr. Wither yells through chattering teeth. All three are freezing; their armor keeps them alive but not very warm in Endor's upper atmosphere.
"The r-rebels are triangulating our p-position, as expected," the commander sputters.
"S-standby!" Gary announces. "Three, t-two, one switch!"
While most droids have an easily accessible off-switch, military droids have protected access boxes, requiring a key or the droid's permission. Simultaneously the trio yanks the switch.
Instantly the vipers deactivate. Instantly, the imperials sink towards Endor, swiftly building up speed while the atmosphere pummels them. In seconds, the wind howls in their ears. The weight of the droids swings the probes beneath their riders, anchoring and guiding them back to Endor. They spin wildly, forcing all three to grit their teeth as the descent thrashes them. The broad head of the vipers mitigates the wind shear, but the G force is merciless.
Dr. Wither and Gary cry out first, but even the commander can't resist the punishment.
Their HUDs flash, and he screams, "Hold on! We're reaching terminal velocity!"
Eventually, after these torturous minutes, they reach terminal velocity. It isn't pleasant, but they stabilize and can breathe again.
Unconcerned with them, a pristine blue ocean awaits below as the wind howls.
"I still hate this plan," Dr. Wither yells over the radio.
"At least it's not cold," Gary calls over the wind.
"Time remaining?" The commander yells, he already knows, but he wants them focused.
"Twenty minutes with a few adjustments for wind shear," Gary shouts.
"Do we have any idea what we'll face at Research Station 9?" Wither shouts.
"Twenty to forty rebel irregulars in camo with two officers, some casualties during the assault, but we should expect them to fight too," the commander replies.
"Our ETA is two hours from now," Wither recalls. "Maybe we'll catch them sleeping."
"I doubt it," the commander crushes her wishful thinking. "They do this for a living too; expect them to be squared away. We'll rescue the garrison if we can, but the ship is our priority."
His warning ends the conversation, and they continue their descent in silence until Gary breaks it. "Five minutes until time to switch. Get ready!"
The commander's hand inches closer to the access box with the droid's switch. His fingers wrap around it a second time. Gary calls, "Ready in, three, two, one switch!"
All three yank the switch, and the droids hum to life. Their rapid fall continues, but now the droids manage their dive. The droids suddenly flip a dozen paces above the water, yanking them 180 degrees, placing their riders beneath them. Together they sink beneath the waves. The vipers orient themselves towards their destination and tow their passengers through the water.
"Now, I'm cold and wet," Dr. Wither grumbles.
"At least we'll be clean from the swamp," Gary points out.
"Shut up, Gary," Wither chuckles under her breath.
"Two hours until we arrive," the commander reminds them, curling up against Vee. The droid's mechanical arms tighten around him to cradle the commander. "Get some rest if you can. We arrive at noon, and the forecast is sunny and cloudless, so there is little cover. Stay sharp."
Thirty-eight hours after the commander promised an EVAC
Hera leans close to the screen, her eyes locked on the ships arriving at Research Station 9. For the third time, they hail, "Research Station 9, this is Gold-5, come in. Major Shin, come in."
Another long pause, "General, we're not receiving any response. The main landing pad has a large tarp, but we don't see any movement in or around the area."
Hera responds immediately, "Something isn't right, choose a safe place-"
"Gold-5, come in," a woman interrupts her transmission.
"Why isn't Major Shin answering?" Hera asks the comm officer.
The Mon Cal covers her microphone, "That's Shin's lieutenant; she handles comms."
Gold-5 replies, "Go ahead, Research Station 9."
"Sabotage knocked out our communication; short-range is restored, but it's limited."
The Mon Cal pulls her headset back, "Ma'am, that isn't the lieutenant. It's her voice, but something is wrong. She's warm and chatty, playful. This voice is cold and concise."
Hera stands up, weighing her options before she orders, "Tell Gold-5 to remain on station while the troops land and verify it."
The communications officer relays her orders, and Hera rechecks the sensor data.
"Negative Gold-5, landing platforms remain insecure."
Hera's stomach clenches, and she knows something is very wrong, "Disregard. Tell Gold-5 he has my full authority to confirm it and watch his six."
"Understood, I feel it too." Gold-5 agrees with her before speaking to the station. "Research Station 9, our forces will land and assist with repairs. This is not a request."
Another pause before the speaker calmly replies, "The central landing pad is ready; please ignore the tarp. I will meet you there, momentarily."
The whole command center holds its breath as the transport moves towards the central pad, escorted by the pair of X-wings. Instead of looming over the Mon Cal, Hera forces herself to stand straight, step back, and appear calm. How does Mon Mothma do this all the time? She watches the screen; the X-wings hover while the transport moves into the landing position.
"Research Station 9," Gold-5 inquires. "Do you have a Zeta shuttle prepped for launch?"
"That's news to me, Gold-5," the woman answers. "Your transport is green to land."
"There's a second shu-wave off, evasive maneuvers!" Gold-5 screams. Hera watches as the transport disappears. "Transport down! Gold-2 on my wing—Gold-2 is down!"
"Get out of there!" Hera yells, watching as one X-wing disappears while Gold-5 wobbles across her screen before climbing to a safe altitude.
"I'm hit!" Gasping for breath, Gold-5 announces, "Request immediate assistance! We need reinforcements. The tarp, may the Force be with us! The tarp-"
Hera takes the headset from the Mon Cal, "Gold-5, get a hold of yourself! Report!"
"Transport and Gold-2 down, I suffered minor damage to the starboard thrusters, shutting down and compensating now. The turrets on the Zetas blasted the transport. Black stormtroopers launched rockets, destroying Gold-2. The explosion from the transport blew off the tarp. It looked like imperials, dozens of them, all dead! They—shh—jamming my transmissions."
Hera rubs her forehead. Who could eliminate Major Shin's forces without any alarm? Why kill the imperials? She calls Gold-5, "Were they imperial commandos?"
"Standby, moving beyond their jamming. Were they what? Who? The black troopers?"
"Was the armor flat black or shiny? Did you see any details or identifiers?"
"No, I—only saw them for a second, but I think they were black and shiny."
"Remain beyond their range and observe; reinforcements are on the way."
"Thank you, yes, understood, General."
Hera recalls, One thing I learned on Kelee, and you'll soon discover. One side doesn't determine when a war is over. Both have a say, the commander laughed when he said that. She begins to sigh and realizes everyone is watching her. They wait on her command, her response to the disaster. You don't understand yet, general. You're the Empire now, he said.
What would the Empire do? They'd send a large number of reinforcements or bomb it from space. Hera immediately discounts both, thinking we still don't know what they researched.
"Inform command and the ships in orbit. I want to speak with all of them." Hera orders. "What's the status of the Compound's probe droids?"
Another technician pulls her eyes from the disaster and checks her screens, "…uhh-"
"Report!" Hera advances on the technicians' station. The tech knows better!
"I-I think we lost them…they rose to high orbit and disappeared."
Blast! Hera curses, barely keeping her temper in check. She reminds the staff, "You must focus on your duties, regardless of what's happening around you! We defeated the Empire, but the war isn't over yet! The rebellion needs each and every one of you on your toes!"
Her command staff returns to their duties, quiet and precise in their actions. Hera focuses her thoughts. What would the commander do with three probes-what could Research Station 9?
"What happened leading up to the probes' disappearance? Where in high orbit?"
"Uhh, the magnetosphere, ma'am," she answers.
"Where the magnetic interference is greatest, where we would have the most difficulty tracking them by sensors," Hera reasons. "They had to know we'd follow the vipers. The commander knows us, and those Vipers have the Empire's best sensor packages."
"Ma'am?" The technician doesn't follow her logic.
"General," the Mon Cal communication officer interrupts. "Command and the orbital ships are ready to speak with you."
"Back up to their disappearance, and widen your search through the sensor logs," Hera orders before turning toward the officers. "I'm sorry for the loss of your troops and Gold-2."
"Thank you, General. Do we know how a research station defeated major Shin?"
"More importantly," Mon Mothma reminds them. "How were they able to catch us off-guard? Was the lieutenant a double agent?"
Hera looks at the Mon Cal, who vehemently shakes her head no. Hera asks the Mon Cal, "When she messaged the station's capture, was that her or this cold person?"
"It was her, ma'am. She's one of a kind."
"I find it unlikely," Hera tells command. "My best guess is someone simulated her voice to put us at ease. We can test the radio transmissions against prior recordings for it. For now, I have a question for the ships in orbit. Is anyone still tracking the three Viper probe droids?"
"Is that a priority right now?" Mon Mothma asks.
"Yes," Hera forcefully insists. "We know the vipers were flying in that direction. We don't know what the station was researching. We know it had a significant garrison even after the Empire's defeat and several heavy transports. Why didn't they retreat or reinforce the other bases? Either their commander was an idiot, or they had something worth protecting."
A pause follows, and the captains and admirals look to their officers before they reply with, "Negative. No. We lost them in the magnetosphere too."
"So, we potentially have an alliance between the Grand Commander's forces and the unknown element that took out Major Shin's unit?" Mon Mothma inquires. "Only Imperial special forces could accomplish what we've seen at Station 9. Special forces in the Grand Commander's hands may threaten our hold on Endor."
"Inferno squad was on Endor during the initial battle. Could they still be here?"
"No, admiral," Mon Mothma answers. "Intelligence places them on Fordor, but the Imperial war machine is massive. Inferno squad wasn't the only special forces unit."
Why three vipers? Something pulls at Hera's thoughts. She feels uncertain. Three vipers flying to Research Station 9…what am I missing?
"…if we lose Endor, it would be a huge setback," the Admiral argues. "It would display that even in victory, we remain unable to secure allied planets."
"The Grand Commander must not leave Endor," another insists. "For now, the Empire is divided. With his skill and reputation, he could consolidate the imperials into a serious threat."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please," Mon Mothma interrupts to regain control of the conversation. "Hera, do you think the Grand Commander did this?"
"No," she replies immediately, then winces at the looks she receives from the officers.
"You've spoken of his leadership, courage, and skill but think he's incapable of this?"
"I misspoke," Hera corrects herself. "Yes, he could do this with special forces, but my gut says no. He wouldn't massacre the garrison or prisoners. He'd see it as waste; he'd repurpose them. He would take a more direct approach, disabling critical elements before a direct attack."
"We must regain control of the situation on Endor immediately," a captain interjects.
"Thank you for stating the obvious, captain," the Admiral rebukes him. "We cannot allow the Empire to gain momentum; too many of us are in the open."
Their bickering annoys Hera, but the feeling she's missing something continues tugging at her. Then by chance, she spots the big trooper entering her command tent. As always, he nods respectfully to her. Then he steps off to the side, near Lord Dyer.
The three of them rode a blurrg, the big trooper told her in his report. They rode in blasting like heroes from a story. Then Hera recalls, in one of her first conversations with the commander, he said, I'll get us off Endor. Research Station 9 has Zetas, but the Commander wouldn't send someone in his place, but how would he get there? How would droids disappear?
"…Gentlemen, gentlemen," Mon Mothma reprimands the arguing officers.
"Gold-5," Hera interrupts, bringing the X-wing pilot back into the conversation. "Scan the surrounding area for Viper probes, specifically three of them."
"Yes, ma'am," he says. "Should I engage if I discover them?"
"No," Hera orders. "Remain at a safe distance and observe. Dang Farrik, he did it…."
"General," Mon Mothma studies her quietly. "Would you like to inform the rest of us?"
Hera purses her lips, forming her answer carefully, "At his core, the Grand Commander is a trooper. He's following his objective: getting his people off Endor. He needs a transport."
"Such as the Zeta heavy transports at Station 9?" Mon Mothma realizes.
"Exactly, but how could he get there? He needs to fly but has no ships. A speeder would take a full day; riding a Blurgg is out of the question, but he has probe droids."
"You think he rode vipers to Station 9? Is that even possible?" The Admiral inquires. "How'd they hide from our sensors? Nothing that small has a cloaking device."
"He switched the droids off," Hera suggests. "Then back on."
"That's insane," the captain exclaims. "They could die! Who would take that risk?"
"We did when we fought the Empire. We'd turn off all electronics, including droids."
"Hera," Mon Mothma's voice deepens, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "Do you believe the Grand Commander joined forces with these imperials?"
No, she knows it. Unfortunately, too many rebels believe the Grand Commander compromised her. She glances at the big trooper and Lord Dyer. Both shake their heads gravely, encouraging her to declare it.
"No, ma'am. For his faults, the commander is a decent man and a good trooper." Hera steels herself, then chuckles, recalling the commander's wrath. "These imperials have no idea what's coming for them."