Chapter 35
Slake observes her bloody work: the corpse of an Imperial Vice Admiral, white teeth gleaming in an eternal, charred black shriek.
She spits on the body. "Burn in hell, you fuck."
"Awoo?" asks Rohrchun. Gormaanda holds him back with her two right arms, shushing him.
Stay cool. Now is no time to go blind with anger. It occurs to Slake that she must look like she's lost her mind. And maybe she has. But she can regain control. She can breathe, smell the ozone from the blasts in the tiny pantry, remember where she is.
And remember all the work there is still left to do.
She turns back to Gormaanda and Rohrchun. The Wookiee takes a small step backward. She raises her hands to indicate she's calm. "I'm sorry I did that. I should have kept him alive."
"No," Gormaanda says. "You shouldn't have. But this has introduced a complication – we'll have to execute our plan now."
Slake nods. "COs on Imperial ships have implants that track their whereabouts on the ship. The XO likely already knows Virta's dead. And if he doesn't, they'll figure it out soon enough."
Rohrchun steps toward Virta's body and asks something to Gormaanda, who looks up to Slake. "Rohrchun wants to know what part of him has the implant."
Slake shakes her head. "Sorry. It's microscopic, travels all over the bloodstream."
Rohrchun nods and mutters. Virta's staying in the pantry. The Wookiee looks at the body and places one of his giant claws on Slake's shoulder. A tender gesture. A thank you.
Slake squeezes the alien's fuzzy wrist. They're in this together, 100 percent.
Gormaanda steps forward. "This isn't ideal, but mutinies rarely take place in perfect conditions. Rohrchun and I will spread the word among the slaves and we'll charge the armory with whomever we've got in 20 minutes. You make your way to the hangar. Get your starfighter ready." Gormaanda nudges one of the dead stormtrooper's bodies with her foot. It's the one Rohrchun snapped in half. The kid who gave Virta the pistol. "This one looks to be about your size."
A good idea. Slake will be able to access the hangar in disguise. "Got it. Slake starts undressing the trooper, unfastening the brackets and straps that hold his armor together. When she removes his helmet, she's struck with a sudden and profound sense of guilt. He's younger than she was when she signed up for the Academy. She puts it out of her mind. Focuses on the task at hand. There will be plenty of time to reflect on this later.
Or there won't.
Gormaanda takes each of the sidearm pistols in her four hands.
"That one's empty," Slake tells her.
Gormaanda checks it, confirms. "Why did they give you an empty pistol?"
"The plan wasn't to kill you, it was to distract me. They wanted to knock me out. I think they were going to hand me over to Nixus."
"So Exel's working with the black hole."
"I think so."
Gormaanda looks troubled. "Then that makes our work far more difficult. Be careful. Don't always trust what your eyes show you. Especially if you're alone."
"Understood," Slake puts on the dead boy's helmet. The tang of iron covers the comm's mouthpiece. He coughed up blood when Rohrchun folded him at the waist, backward.
Rohrchun hands Slake one of the carbines, keeping the remaining three for himself and the slaves to be recruited.
Before she leaves the pantry, Gormaanda grabs her arm. "Thank you, Amara. For saving us."
Through the helmet, she tells Gormaanda that she saved her first. "Thank you for believing in me."
Gormaanda grins. "We'll radio you the instant we're ready to make the jump. We'll wait for you as long as we can."
"Don't hesitate on my account. If you need to go, do it. Oh, and if you can help it, don't hurt Roderick. Please."
Gormaanda nods, "We won't. May the Force be with you."