Chapter 45
Gary crumples to the deck and only sits upright by leaning on both hands. Though every inch of him hurts, the Grand Commander drags himself over to his fellow stormtrooper. Gary looks at the ax and jerks away from him before mumbling, "I-I'm okay. I'm fine, sir."
The remaining imperials scale the ladder to the roof; some flee to the zeta heedless of the wounded while Iona yanks Gary to his feet. Simz and Serrano drag Diggs to the shuttle.
"Where's Lieutenant Gale?" The commander demands. "Where's the rest?"
Iona refuses to look at the commander; she wraps Gary's arm over her shoulder. Gary's eyes dull; hauntedly, he admits. "He didn't make it, sir. No one else is coming."
The commander has no time to digest his grief. As the X-wings pass, they strafe the zeta.
Hera declares, "This is your last warning. Shut down your engines and surrender!"
"We have to go! Everyone on the zeta!" Dr. Wither screams.
The Grand Commander runs but pauses at the zeta's door. He sighs.
"Sir!" Gary yells from inside the zeta, breaking away from Iona. "Get on the ship!"
"We need a transport, allies, and a distraction," he confuses Gary with the quote. "We can't escape three of them. I'm taking the AA turret. Get everyone out of her here, trooper."
"Sir," Gary jumps out of the ship, wobbling before he declares. "We can't leave you."
"I promised to get everyone off Endor," he replies. "Go, return to your family, Gary."
The Grand Commander races towards the anti-aircraft placement, the pain in his body fading as he focuses on the cannon. A crude installment left from the Clone Wars, he jumps inside the uncovered turret, realizing it's meant for two. Worse, he can't work it while holding his ax. He places the weapon on his lap. Then he swings the gun around and fires. THUMP!
Meanwhile, the zeta rockets away. Lasers hit the rooftop, dust and debris wash over him and rattle him in his seat. The commander turns the weapon, aiming at the engines of the lead X-wing flying in pursuit. He exhales slowly, aims carefully, and squeezes.
THUMP! The shell hurtles through the air, only just missing the lead X-wing and striking the second. Its wing shatters, thrusters flaring, as it loses control to a wild spin. The pilot ejects, landing in the woods far beyond the compound.
The fight passes beyond him, and the zeta disappears from his sight.
"Throw down your weapons and surrender!" Rebels yell from the floor below.
The commander casually climbs out of the AA gun and walks towards the ladder. I refuse to rot in prison or become rebel propaganda.
On the ground, he spots the royal guard force pike and blaster Charal tore from his grasp. He chooses to pick up the pike. Ruin is already in his hand, waiting for blood. Several options for escape race through his thoughts, but he disregards each one.
He knows the rebels will shoot as soon as they see him.
For the first time in forever, the commander feels at peace. He exhales in relief, but his mood changes as his hand throbs. A different option materializes. All of his loss, grief, and anger compile. The constant treachery and pain bubble up in a cauldron of fury. The commander tilts his head forward as he marches towards the roof access. His anger thunders with each step! Clenching Ruin, he wonders, "Why keep them waiting?"
"Doot-to-doooo!" Hiding until now, Vee snatches the Grand Commander off the roof.
Seething with rage, his enemies in sight, the commander howls. "NOOOoooo!"
The advancing rebels fire at them, striking Vee. Trembling with each hit, the probe droid protectively curls his legs around the Grand Commander.
Distantly, from a massive tree limb, Dib Yowza watches smoke rise from the compound. He's surprised by how much concern lies in his heart. Then, the starship flies away, two fighters in pursuit. The tiny Yuzzum smiles in relief, even though he knows he's celebrating the wrong side. I know the Empire is evil. Turning to them was reckless and dangerous, but it was my only choice. Swiftly descending the tree, he smiles in reflection. Thank you, commander.
Below, his tribe searches the corpses of Ewoks. Far enough from the compound, the Yuzzum turned and ambushed their enemies. With the scent of blood in the air, the Ewoks chased them without fear. They never paused to question if this was the plan all along.
"Quickly," he urges, warning. "More will follow,"
"The younglings are tired and hungry; can't we rest a little longer?" A mother asks.
"No," he replies harshly. "The humans didn't get their enemy, and many are dead. For the next few days, they will search for someone to focus their wrath. We cannot become the fixation of their anger. The commander said they won't stay long. Until then, we hide like our ancestors in the tall grass, bushes, and burrows. Then their fortress is ours."
"RRREEEEEeeeeeee!"
The shriek jerks Captain Kensington awake. His eyes open just in time to witness the witch soaring across the sky. Confused, he tries to remember what happened and how he ended up lying on a pile of imperial bodies. Then jarring pain in his side reminds him of the explosion. Kensington barely remembers killing Chief Misti and the Imp's suicidal grenade attack.
"Sir! Are you ok? Can you hear me?"
Kensington twitches, looking over his shoulder at the rebel medic. Dozens of alliance troopers mill about, hesitant to push further into the compound. Kensington waves the man off, "Go, I'm fine. Troopers! What are you waiting for? Push into the compound and secure it!"
The rebels look at him nervously before glancing at the blackened entrance. Categorically, Kensington diagnoses the weakness of the Rebel Alliance's infantry. All the training in the universe will never replace men like Hera's giant: troopers willing to lead from the front into the fire. Imperials have it drilled into them, squashing the urge to break ranks or resist authority. Rebel training focuses on maneuvering and cleverness, not attrition or direct action.
Sadly, today the only way is through.
Forcing himself to stand, Kensington yells, "You have your orders! Go!"
In teams, the rebels push into the fortress. For all their fear, Kensington thought no Imperials remain-until a THUMP jerks his gaze to the rooftop. Impossible; he's still fighting…
Above them, X-wings fire at the zeta, nailing her shields before she flees. Seconds later, THUMP! A cannon shell barely misses the lead X-wing, catching its wingman instead. The pilot ejects safely as his fighter crashes into the forest. The remaining X-wings pursue their target.
"Throw down your weapons and surrender!" Someone yells from the second floor.
All around him, Kensington discovers rebels and Ewoks mesmerized by the slaughter. He motions towards the compound. "Go! Search every inch. There's no telling what lies inside!"
Kensington hopes it's over but keeps his men busy. From the looks on their faces, he knows they're breaking and will refuse to continue before long. Besides, someone has to finish the Grand Commander. Surprisingly, he feels a profound admiration for the soldier. Kensington admits, I can't…won't, watch his last stand. He yells, "Stay together! Protect each other!"
He cautiously takes a step, his wounded side hurts, but he can walk. His injury loosens after a few steps, and the pain is bearable. It isn't serious, just a large graze. Kensington looks at the wreckage of the compound, almost certain nothing of value remains. Still, his training kicks in, and he calls. "Rebel command, we need search and rescue to pick up pilots. We need astromechs to unlock the compound's doors and computers too."
"Understood, captain," a voice replies. "Do you have eyes on the zeta?"
"Negative, they retreated," he replies. "The compound is quiet, but I won't call it secured until droids scan every meter. I'm beginning the search for our pilots."
"Understood, Captain. Please bring our people home," someone pleads.
Kensington's wound doesn't slow him; he marches straight into the woods as Alliance shuttles arrive overhead. He doesn't coordinate with command or radio them again. Instead, he focuses on his personal mission. Once immersed in the woods, he lets his old instincts take control. He effortlessly balances as both predator and prey in a hostile environment. Silently he stalks among the trees and bushes, passing without a trace. He tip-toes until he reaches his objective. The captain spies a trail of blood and notices broken tree branches from her flight.
He hears her rasping breaths leading him to the witch, crawling through the brush. Even wounded, her instincts remain sharp. Suddenly, she rolls onto her back. She bares her teeth and holds her arms up defensively, screeching. Then she curses and threatens, "Come closer, and I will eviscerate you; I will use your entrails to hang you from the trees!"
Kensington doesn't move. He barely breathes as he studies her, realizing she's as weak as her threats. Without help, the witch will die. Fiercely she continues cursing the unseen enemy she senses. Then Kensington steps through the brush, revealing himself.
The witch shudders. She rolls over, crawling away while pleading with him. "No, please. I'm no threat! You're a rebel, a freedom fighter. You won't kill a helpless woman, will you?"
Her question launches an interesting reflection within him. Yes, he is a rebel and freedom fighter, but the war is over. There will be imperials to hunt down, but does he want a part of that?
Do I want to shackle myself to the fools that ordered this disaster?
The question stumps Kensington. He never thought he'd survive the war; honestly, he never thought the rebellion would win. He can't imagine what else he'd do with his life but knows he can't keep following the Alliance blindly. General Syndulla was right all along. They should've taken the zeta in flight, or let them run away, anything besides a direct assault. Kensington's hate for the Empire has sustained him until now, but the Empire is finished.
What other options do I have? Kensington wonders as he studies the witch, crawling on her belly and bleeding to death. She's clearly mad, he admits; deceitful is an understatement. Kensington knows she didn't seek him out of sympathy. He was a tool for her own goals. She never cared about him and is the only one who witnessed his betrayal. Yet…she has powers and foresight he can barely imagine, tools he can use to find his new place in this new galaxy.
Kensington grabs her shoulder, rolling the witch over. She begs and pleads with him.
"Enough!" He cuts her off. "Do you want to stay like this?"
She thinks, "No, I want my body back. I want revenge!"
He recognizes the hate in her eyes. He draws a bacta spray from his pocket. He knows he should save it for a wounded rebel but sprays her injury. Her breathing slows.
She proposals, "I will bring you power and riches-"
"Stop lying!" He shouts at her. "We both know you'd betray me as soon as it becomes convenient or you receive a better offer. The difference is I'm a master tracker and have traveled across a hundred worlds. If anyone can find what you need, it's me. This time, we're partners."
"Of course," she lies. "I always liked you. We can work together."
Kensington studies her, then draws his blaster and points it at her head. The witch cringes, putting up both hands. She screams, "No, no, no. Please!"
"Don't you get it?" He snarls. "Everyone knows you're a lying, wretched animal. Is there anything else left? I'm offering you a chance for something better. Partners or death?"
Hissing venomously, the witch concedes, "Fine! Partners."
He picks her up, carrying her back to the compound. She demands, "What are you doing?"
"Trust me," he replies. Then Kensington adds, "We're not you."
She recoils at the accusation, scowling, but remains silent as he carries her to a medical shuttle. When he arrives, a medic stares, and a droid inquires, "What is the emergency?"
"She's suffered a gaping stomach wound," he replies. "I found her in the dungeons beneath the compound. She needs immediate medical intervention."
"Yes, sir," the rebels jump to work, placing her on a gurney while the droid analyzes her wounds. The witch resists when the medic begins to strap her down, but the droid injects her with a sedative. She passes out instantly.
How could they believe something so ridiculous? They watched me come from the tree line. Then sickened by his severity, Kensington scolds himself. Stop it! They're loyal, he insists before answering his own question. They trust me because we're all rebels here.
"Turn around!" Gary screams. "We have to go back!"
Dr. Wither's heart aches, she knew something was wrong when the X-wing exploded but didn't investigate. Now, her stomach plummets in horror. Blinking away tears, she can't look at Gary when she replies, "No. He stayed behind for us, and we can't waste it."
A red light flashes on her console, warning of the approaching X-wings.
"Gary, strap yourself in; it'll be a miracle if we-"
"Whooo-doot-whoo-whoo," Vee announces over their comms.
Gary and Wither share a look, the doctor wincing as she orders, "Get to the front ramp. We'll get him with a barn swallow. For the record, this is incredibly stupid!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Gary yells as the ship swings into a loop, metal groaning as she forces it into a maneuver for a fighter, not a heavy transport.
"Hold tight, Gary!" Wither warns. "Two X-wings inbound! We're punching through!"
General Hera Syndulla winces as the X-wing explodes above the compound, but relief follows when her wingman confirms spotting the parachute. She grits her teeth and adjusts her trajectory to follow the transport. It rockets into the sky, sparing no fuel as it flees for orbit.
"All alliance ships," Hera calls over the radio. "We're traveling along the 35th parallel; prepare to intercept if the zeta escapes."
"Understood," an officer replies. "We have it on scanners, moving to intercept now."
"Ma'am!" Light flashes on her console, and her remaining wingman announces. "They're turning around! Now, she's ours!"
"No!" Hera warns. "They have four cannons and heavy shielding! Break off-"
Hera fires at the same time as her wingman, the zeta barreling straight toward them. She realizes the front ramp is opening, perplexing her, even as her comrade confronts the transport. The zeta's four cannons fire, smashing the fighter's shields before obliterating it.
This time, there's no chute. An icy dagger plunges into Hera's heart, sickening and sapping her will to continue. Pushing aside her grief, Hera swings her X-wing in pursuit, alone.
The Grand Commander spots zeta racing straight at them, "AAAhhh!"
Carrying the commander, the damaged probe droid slams into the ramp, launching him onto it. The zeta never slows, scooping them up, even as they fight to hold on. Vee's many legs magnetically lock to the ship. Ferocious winds batter them as the transport climbs.
Gary leans out from the door, arm outstretched, "Sir, take my hand!"
The commander instinctively reaches for Gary's hand, then realizes his own is empty. Frantically, he searches for Ruin before spotting it lying on the ramp, dangerously close to the edge. Ignoring Gary and the very real risk of losing his grip, he reaches for it. Gary screams, but his voice is swallowed by the wind and the commander's NEED to recover Ruin.
"Wither!" Gary calls out. "Stop!"
The shuttle decelerates, jerking hard, nearly throwing them off. From behind, the X-wing fires, striking their shields before penetrating them. A blast scores the bottom of the ship and disintegrates half of Vee's legs. Central eye fading, the probe droid begins slipping away. The hostile X-wing races beneath them, flying past before coming around for another attack run.
His fingers brush Ruin. For the commander, nothing else matters. Gary grabs his leg and jerks him back toward the ship, away from Ruin. He growls, "No! I need it! It's mine!"
"Sir! Let it go!" Gary recognizes the witch's words and the desperate hunger for it.
The red light fading in its singular eye, Vee examines them before looking at the ax. Slowly deactivating, Vee reaches out with a manipulator and knocks the ax off the ramp.
"NO!" The commander yells, only to discover he's losing both the ax and his comrade. The realization cuts through his compulsion; instead, he seizes Vee's manipulator. Weakened from injury and fatigue, he can't hold on, only watch as the light faces in Vee's eye.
Both Ruin andVee slip away as weariness overwhelms the commander. Gary wraps his arms around the commander, dragging him into the ship.
Nearby, the X-wing hovers, watching them. Simultaneously, they halt recognizing Hera.
"Why'd they stop firing!" Dr. Wither demands as the two ships hover nose-to-nose, neither firing nor moving. Her voice grows pitched with panic, "What's happening!"
The three stare across the gulf between them, two stormtroopers and a rebel. Weakly, both the Grand Commander and Gary salute General Hera Syndula. With tears moistening her cheeks, Hera doesn't need to see their eyes behind the black lenses in their helmets. She can see their shared trauma written on their damaged, filthy, blood-stained white armor.
Hera returns the salute…before pulling her X-wing away. Her heart racing, her body shivers as she weeps, and she's barely able to fly. Hera radios, "I-I-I've suffered critical engine failure. I'm returning to base."