Chapter 31
Slake looks in the mirror in the small, single refresher that serves 100 indentures in her bunk unit. It's the dead of night, but she still whispers words she can't believe.
"I'm a Rebel."
She says it again. "I'm a Rebel."
Repeating it doesn't make it feel any more real.
In roughly forty hours, she and the slaves will revolt. Gormaanda explained the plan to her in the medbay.
"There are 50 full sides of rock worrt in the freezer," she told Slake. She must have looked puzzled, so Gormaanda elaborated.
"It's a delicacy for very hoity-toity types. But there's an adrenal compound in the rock worrt's kidneys that is instantly lethal to humans. And whoever butchered those worrts, left the kidneys in."
"So, poison?"
"Poison," Gormaanda smiled. "The death will be quick, but quite painful for a few seconds. So no sneaking any morsels from the prep table."
The target is Virta and anyone who dines with him on his senior staff. Much like Exel, Virta maintains a mostly flat org, so nearly every decision on the ship goes directly through him. The sudden power vacuum in Profundity's leadership will certainly delay response times. And that's when the slaves will strike.
"But what about your shock collars?"
"That's why the target is Virta, not Exel. He has the baton that operates the collar system. Once he's dead, we can take his baton and disengage it."
Slake shook her head. "All it takes is one deatg, and the ship's overrun by indentures… that's just so incredibly stupid."
Gormaanda nodded. "I've been serving on these ships since the start of the project. And I've been a slave for four years now. Trust me when I say that it's not even close to the stupidest thing the Empire does."
"That's the Death Star," Slake said, feeling energized and giddy by the candor of the conversation, by the chance—however miniscule—to break free. "That's the stupidest thing I've seen them do. I've even heard they're building another one."
Gormaanda laughed. "They're very big on appearances, aren't they? Senior officials love consolidating power in one spot. It's what they see Palpatine do and they copy it. But everything, no matter how big it gets, has a weakness."
Slake nodded. Gormaanda was right. She'd seen it herself countless times.
"With the shock collars down, we'll be able to make our move. Rohrchun has been stashing anything that can be used as a weapon in the Central Mess. Once he gets the signal that Virta is down, we'll gather everyone we can and attack the armory. Not everyone who rushes the armory will survive, but we have the numbers. And we will take it. The survivors will then arm themselves with stormtrooper carbines, thermal detonators, and whatever else we can get our hands on. Then? We go for the bridge."
"How can I help?"
Gormaanda looked pained. "Darling. You're the most critical piece."
Profundity is a much larger ship than the Ex-Factor. Under normal circumstances, there is no way that a frigate could compete with an MC90. However, the black hole creates a situation that levels the playing field considerably. Every drop of Profundity's power is going to keep its colossal mass out of Nixus' grip. Profundity's shields are never on, it has no turbolaser support. It is a sitting duck.
This is where Slake will come in. Just as Virta takes his first bite of poison, she'll sneak into the hangar, take her interceptor out of the Profundity, and make an attack run on the mining platform. The two Obsidian patrol fighters will give chase. If timed correctly, Rohrchun will be able to shut down the hangar from the bridge before reinforcements can launch. That will force the Ex-Factor to protect the mining platform, diverting it away from Profundity.
Slake didn't like it. "There are a lot of maybes in this plan. If all of Obsidian launches, we're in trouble."
"You're right. But you're the best fighter pilot in the galaxy. You can take down those reinforcements if we're slow."
Kill her own squadron. She never could have imagined it. But now? After Pyre? With Kell grounded? She'd relish the chance. She could get behind the yoke and do something good for the first time in her life.
"So it's a one way trip for me. I divert them, and you leap out."
"No. We won't make the jump until you're back in. But you need to be fast. Can you be fast?"
Slake just smiled.
Slake remembers this interaction now—every gesture, every hushed word—and tries to replicate her smile in the tiny refresher's mirror. She's not convinced at all that this will work.
But that doesn't mean she won't try.
Sleep is a non-starter with all that's going on, so she exits the refresher and steps out of the indenture bunks. A few laps around the main concourse might do her some good. Maybe she can even get a glimpse of where her fighter is. How much distance she'll have to close when she sprints toward it.
As she exits into the hallway, she sees Price, her fellow Interceptor pilot, leaning against the wall. She's wearing her flight suit. Slake isn't prepared to see another pilot so quickly after thinking about killing them. "Hello," she says awkwardly, feeling suspect.
"You and I should have some kaf," Price says.
"It's 0300."
"And yet we are both awake." Slake knows there's no option to decline. They walk to Central Mess together, in silence.
Price pours a cup of black kaf from the self-service station and sets out the cream and sugar for Slake. It's a not-so-subtle message. Price knows a lot about Slake. It's not limited to how she takes her kaf.
"Sit with me."
Price chooses a private table in the far corner of the mess. It's a strange hour. A few indentures and droids mill about, but the whole cruiser feels like its asleep. Price just stares at Slake.
"What did you want to talk—"
Price cuts her off. "I know you're planning something."
Slake grins, summoning her best Kell Roderick. "Yeah, I'm planning to make breakfast for the ship in four hours."
"I'm from Dathomir," Price says. "My people have a strong sense of intuition. The way you move. The way you're talking now. Even the way you drink your kaf. I can tell that you're keeping secrets, Baroness."
That title again. It's just been a few days, but it feels so much longer since it was part of her identity. Then again, Price was always the most loyal member of the squadron. No matter Tav's politicking, Credenzo's scheming, Price always did what she was told. Even when Amara put her in incredibly dangerous situations. Price is a survivor, a cunning pilot. And on some days, she could be even better than Slake.
"I never knew you were from Dathomir," Slake says awkwardly. "I'm from Corellia." Such a stupid, obvious attempt to change the subject. She could kick herself.
"Whatever you're planning, don't go through with it. Do your penance. Face your court martial with honor. Perhaps the ISB will show you mercy."
Slake can't help but bristle. "Oh, is the ISB known for its mercy? Is the Empire? Is Obsidian?"
"You refer to our missions. Perhaps our last before we were placed on this Nixus detail?"
"Sure. Let's start there. Those weren't weapons, Price. Those were refugees. Seeking safety from the Empire. We killed non-combatants. Families."
Price says nothing. Slake studies her blank expression for any kind of tell. The woman's face has been ravaged by combat. Scars and burns all over her face, neck, and hands. She's suffered doing her job for the Empire, and she's accepted it. Maybe that's the message she's sending with her silence.
"Totally unbothered by that, I see."
"The Empire brings order. We defend that order."
"Have you happened to notice who serves you your meals? Who cleans your uniform? Is that the order you're defending? One that subjugates non-humans? Makes them servants?"
"Are they not inferior? If they were the strong ones, they would subjugate us. We'd be doing backbreaking work in their labor camps. This is simply the natural order of the universe. Like a rancor devouring a chirodactyl. It's the way of everything. Only killers survive. You used to know that."
"I did. Yes. That's true."
"What changed? Why do continue to scuttle everything that you've built?"
Slake stares into her mug of kaf, the clouds of cream swirling, shifting, changing. "Because Exel's dangerous. This system is a threat to our galaxy. Everyone in charge is too stupid to realize it, all the way up to the Emperor. And… because it's the right thing to do."
Price sighs. "I respected you. I still respect you. So I'll give you the chance to change your mind. If you step out of line, I will kill you."
Slake looks up, meets Price's eyes. Grins.
"Well. You can try." Slake thanks Price for the kaf and leaves her there.
Speed walking through the corridors to the lower-deck lounge, Slake realizes that the element of surprise is not going to be as strong as she anticipated. Price won't be caught off guard when the alarms sound, and she'll be ready to hunt Slake the second her Interceptor launches from the hangar.
She's going to need help. And if she's going to get it, it has to be now, while Price is still in the Mess, and the halls of the Profundity are too empty at this early hour for Slake to be tailed.
The lounge is vacant save for one person: an unshaven, likely very drunk, forever-grounded pilot. He drowsily browses his datapad, his boots up on the table. He doesn't even look up when Slake enters the bar.
Slake takes the small staircase to the refreshers that are up a meter from the main lounge. She stands at the threshold and stares at Kell, hoping he notices.
He doesn't notice. She huffs. Can he be any more frustrating?
She ahems. Kell finally looks up at her and his eyes open wide. She tilts her head toward the left refresher and enters. On the panel she types the cleaning code to shut the room down for maintenance, manually setting the door open an inch.
Kell approaches the door and knocks.
"Come in," Slake says nervously. She thought he would just step inside, and all of this is just so awkward and dumb. She hates sneaking around. This is against everything she is.
He enters the refresher. Slake double checks the stalls to make sure no one is inside with them. She closes the door and seals it with her janitor's code.
"Um, hey," Kell says. He has barbecue sauce on his lapel, and he's spilled ale on himself.
"You look awful," she says. "What is this?" gesturing at the mess he's made of himself.
"Oh, I'm protesting. Credenzo bounced me out of Obsidian for flying over to Ex-Factor without permission. Apparently, I'm going to be flying transports for the rest of my naval career. So I'm getting my uniform good and ripe just to irritate the other pilots in the pen." He slurs a couple of words.
"Are you drunk right now?"
"Oh, definitely. But I'm still in control."
"Why'd you fly to Ex-Factor?"
"Talk to Tav, get back on the roster. That dude is double-plus fucked up."
Kell stares off, thinking about whatever he saw in Tav's office, and she wonders if he can help her at all. Getting possessed by Nixus likely has long-term effects that the med-droid could never have detected. He looks shattered.
She can think of only one thing to snap him out of it.
"Stand right there," she says, echoing one of the first orders she ever gave him. She grabs his head and pulls his face to hers. Their lips touch, and she feels him relax. His arms wrap around her and he pulls her tight to his barrel chest. He's larger than her in a way that she likes.
It's the first time she's ever kissed anyone who wasn't paying for it. His breath is terrible and his hair is so greasy, she fights the urge to immediately wash her hands. But the closeness is exhilarating. The past week's anxiety drains completely out of her, and even though he's very gross right now, Kell is beautiful and sweet and stupid, and she's missed him so much.
She pulls away. "I need you," she whispers. She hopes he understands it's not just for her. It's for the work that's ahead of them both.
He doesn't catch on, his eyes are bleary from alcohol. "I… I wasn't really ready for that. I've eaten so much spicy Tip-Yip today."
"I know. I tasted most of it."
"Next time will be better. I'm gonna brush my teeth, take a shower. Everything."
"That would be good. Yes. I'll look forward to that."
She needs to tell him what's happening. But she wants to stand right here in his arms just a little longer.
"This isn't just about us," he says.
"No. It's not."
"What's going on?"
Slake lays out the plan. Poisoning Virta, raiding the armory, taking the bridge, and then her attack run on the mining platform to pull the Ex-Factor away from Profundity. Kell arrives at the catch before she can tell him.
"Wait a sec. If Profundity leaps out, how do you get home?" Interceptors have no hyperspace capability. Even if they did, they don't have eight-and-a-half days of air, water, and temp control.
"They're going to wait for me to get back into the hangar before they leap. But listen, here's the thing. Price is onto the whole thing. She's going to be ready the second I launch. And she's good. So I'm going to need a partner out there."
Kell lets go of her. Steps back. His eyes turn to the floor and she can feel the fear inside him roar to life. Turn him cold.
"So, like, you think a bunch of slaves are going to wait for an Imperial pilot to land before they take off?"
"They are. Gormaanda's told me—"
"Were you like, fuckin born yesterday? You are a Baroness of the Empire. You've probably killed at least 10 members of every species that're supposedly going to wait for you while their asses are hanging out with no shields or defenses."
"They wouldn't do that," she says. But it's unsettling to think about. Kell may be right. Why risk hundreds of lives for one person, someone who up until a few days ago was one of their oppressors?
"And Price knows? Well, lemme tell you this. Do you think Price isn't going to immediately tell Credenzo? You think she's in the habit of keeping mum on potential threats? She was teacher's pet when you were in charge, has that somehow changed under Aliston?"
"She doesn't know, she suspects—"
"And then you brought me in here, to what? Get me to help with this dumbass plan?"
"Keep your voice down."
"Do you even like me?"
Rage bubbles up from her guts. "You are my friend. I saved you. I flew onto that fucking platform, by myself, and I got that thing out of you. I dragged your big ass down a klick of hallways, stuffed you into my interceptor, and I got you home. You think I did that because you were one of my pilots?"
"Oh, obviously not. We all saw how much you think about your pilots when you missed every fucking clue that Pyre was skating on thin ice." Kell laughs bitterly. "You suck at this. You'll fuck this up too. And when we're caught, you and me? We don't just die, we rot in that fucking hole's guts for eternity. Tortured. So, thanks for the kiss or whatever, but no thanks. I ain't following you into hell."
He stands there, making a big show of glaring at her, but completely enthralled by fear.
Slake shrugs. She steps around him and pounds the keycode for the refresher door. Turning to face him one last time, she says "Don't be scared, Kell. When we take the ship, I'll tell the bloodthirsty savages to spare you. After all, you're no threat to anyone."
Slake stomps away, alone.