Battlefront II, page 19
—changed the security code at—
“We used to, until Saw’s death. Now, when I go on a mission, one of my parents always comes with me while one stays behind.”
She looked at him askance. “I don’t understand. Why don’t they want to fight together any more?”
He looked embarrassed. “It’s silly,” he said.
—excellent place for a drop and run—Ru, Sadori’s father, was saying quietly to Azen.
“If you were trained so young, you obviously know how to take care of yourself.”
“It’s not that. Since Jedha, things…” He hesitated. “We’re dedicated. All of the Dreamers, not just my family. You’ve seen it, we all go in with bombs on our bodies, and we’re ready to use them. But I’m their only child, and if something went wrong—they want someone there to protect me, and someone back here if…so there’s one of them left for me to come back to.”
Something inside Seyn softened unexpectedly. It was such a strange juxtaposition, this calm discussion about bombs strapped on bodies and parents not wanting to leave a beloved child an orphan, even as their actions could make orphans of others. Impulsively she reached out and squeezed his arm.
“Don’t be ashamed of that,” she said. “They love you. They know what we do is dangerous, and they want to minimize any risk you might have. I’m sure it’s not because they don’t respect you as a warrior.”
His normally guarded face lit up with surprised pleasure, then he gently placed his own large, strong hand over her small one.
“I think…I finally understand how they might feel that way. I’m glad you’re coming on a mission with me, but I wish you weren’t, too,” Sadori said. “I wanted to ask you first, but I didn’t think I should get your hopes up in case Staven said no. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you.”
“Do you know the details?”
Sadori shook his head. “Staven hasn’t shared them yet. He likes to keep things close to his vest.” Seyn had noticed. “You can say no if you want to.”
“This is important,” Seyn said. “I want to be part of it.”
Gideon was holding forth about flying. Staven was laughing and had his arm around Nadrine, who snuggled into him with a soft, contented smile.
“It is important,” Sadori agreed. “Since Jedha, just like Staven said, there’s been a fresh urgency. I’m glad we’re in a unit with two people who actually knew Saw. I trust them to know what they’re doing—how to make everything we do count. We need to strike and not hold back, no matter what the mission or the target. My family is fighting for something that’s even more important than our homeworld. We’re fighting for a future that doesn’t involve fighting,” Sadori said, his voice soft. He gazed at her intently, and his hand on hers was warm.
—if he’d just tell us more—Ru continued.
“There you are.” Azen’s voice. He was addressing Iden and the Mentor, who apparently had just returned. Sadori sighed, squeezed Seyn’s hand, and let go as they both turned to the newcomers. “Where have you two been? More rehearsals?”
“As many as it takes,” Iden said before the Mentor could speak.
“I’ll help as much as I can,” the Mentor promised her.
“How about now?” Iden suggested.
“I like how you think!” exclaimed the Mentor. “Let’s go!”
Seyn watched them leave. “Do you need to get back to work, too?” Sadori asked her.
Yes, Seyn thought. I do. She knew Del needed information about Azen in order to conduct an efficient search of the ship’s databank.
But there was other work to be done, too. She turned to Sadori and took his large, strong hand in hers, curling her fingers about his.
“I’d rather stay here and talk,” she said. “The Mentor seems so nice. How long have you known him?”
—
Piikow had been resting, which had given Del the time he’d needed to upgrade Iden’s comlink and discuss Seyn’s discovery. After the conversation, Del took advantage of the fact that he had his droid but not his minder and went to the cavern where Iden’s old J-Sec starfighter was being kept.
His first thought had been to access the computer. Iden had replied that, unfortunately, she would not be of help in this case. During her time under “house arrest” on Vardos, she had not been permitted to have access to the ship’s computer for anything other than routine flights. Only her copilot, most recently one Azen Novaren, also known by a host of other aliases, knew that.
So Del had to rely on the droid.
He kept one eye on the entrance to the cavern while the droid hummed and beeped as it attempted to bypass security protocols. Seyn had offered to compile a list for Del of everything she knew about Azen, so soon he would have a list of keywords to look for.
They were all bringing their best game toward this abruptly urgent task, but Del never quite realized just how alone they would be if things didn’t go according to plan. The mineral composition of the planet’s rocks, which helped conceal the Dreamers’ vessels and technology, also made any contact impossible unless it was local or the communication equipment was out in the open. There was no way for Inferno Squad to contact the admiral that wouldn’t be detected. The hope was that soon at least one member of the team would be deemed trustworthy enough to fly solo. Then, whoever it was might possibly be able to get a message out.
If the mission went well, that moment might arrive sooner rather than later, but it sure as hell wasn’t now. Del simply had to hope they’d get lucky. Because if they didn’t, it would only be a matter of time before a trained Imperial agent—double or not—would sniff them out.
He had barely started when Piikow commed him. “Come back to the cavern,” he chirped. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Frustrated, Del asked, “Are you sure? I can keep working on my own if you want to rest some more.”
“I’m certain,” Piikow replied, “and there’s plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead, so come on back!”
Curious as to what this was all about, Del obeyed. Piikow had a sly, satisfied look on his batlike face as he bustled Del into a speeder that he himself, naturally, had revamped to suit his small stature as driver. “Staven gave me this one in exchange for my promise to quit trying to, ah, improve the others without express permission,” he said, in all seriousness.
“It looks terrific,” Del said politely. Actually, it looked slightly insane. Piikow had completely gutted the interior. The entire console had been redesigned, with all the buttons and the steering wheel sized to the Chadra-Fan’s smaller fingers and much shorter reach. They were also much prettier than standard, utilitarian buttons and glowed like tiny gemstones. Piikow’s seat was designed to accommodate his size and was luxuriously padded, and the crash webbing was decorative as well as efficient. The overall effect was that the small furred driver was snuggled in securely, wrapped almost like a baby in a blanket. It would have been funny, except that Piikow looked so pleased and content with the results.
Del didn’t know what his friend had done with the ship’s engine, but when he climbed in and Piikow took off, it was a startlingly smooth and swift ride. “Where are we going?” he asked as the speeder zipped along.
“Did you know,” said Piikow, answering with another question, “that there used to be a sentient species on Jeosyn?”
“I did not,” Del admitted.
“Since I’m not able to go on any missions, I’ve spent my time here learning about this world. These long dawns and twilights, and the even longer days and nights—everything had to evolve to accommodate that. The animal life, for instance. Nearly everything that’s not rooted down either migrates or hibernates. And because the dawns and dusks are so long, there’s a whole variety of species that live just in those windows! It’s fascinating!”
Del wasn’t a scientist, but Piikow’s enthusiasm was contagious. It was kind of interesting. He settled back in to listen.
“And the plants!” Piikow crowed. “Incredible! They alternate between the sun and volcanic activity for their energy. There’s so much to learn here, so many different examples of ways to think creatively. For instance, you already know that one of the reasons we’re so safe here is that there is a unique combination of minerals in the planet’s surface that prevents anyone from scanning us. Isn’t that helpful? What we could do with that, if we had the resources to understand the combination.”
Del realized that Piikow had been squandered laboring in a factory. If someone in the Empire had reached out to him and his family and given him a place in research—but that was a dark road to go down, and a futile one. What was done, was done.
He redirected Piikow back to the original topic. “Tell me about the sentient life,” he said.
“Oh, right…well, I can’t.”
Del blinked. “What?”
“Well, I can’t, because we’ve no idea what happened to them. I’ve read up on the archaeological expeditions, and they all are laced with extreme frustration. The most recent one happened over a century ago. Everyone washed their hands of this place because there’s just not anything to explore. The species left no remains, no buildings, very few tools, no writing or art that’s recognizable as such, and no technology. Except for one thing.”
“What?”
Piikow, who had been diligently keeping his eyes forward and his hands on the tiny wheel, now gave Del a devious glance. “That’s where we’re going.”
Del frowned. “Give me a hint.”
The Chadra-Fan, clearly delighted with Del’s reaction, shook his large-eared head. “Nope. You’ll see!”
Resigned, Del settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. And then the next thing he knew, Piikow was poking him with his clawed, stubby fingers and saying, “We’re here! Wake up!”
“Here” seemed to be yet another cavern. Piikow climbed out of the speeder, retrieved his walking stick and a lantern, and moved toward the yawning entrance. Del swung his long legs out and caught up quickly.
“I found what I’m about to show you quite by accident a few years ago,” Piikow said, a bit sheepishly. “When I first arrived. I’d built my little speeder and was doing some exploring on my own…not the wisest idea, considering I fell and crashed through an extraordinarily thin layer of rock into a second cavern below! Fortunately, I was able to get out—and in the meantime, I discovered something wonderful. Come on!”
He ambled farther inside the cavern. Del followed, and then he stopped. “Is it my imagination or is it getting lighter in here?”
“It is! Er, isn’t. I mean it’s not your imagination. The light is coming from the hole I made when I fell through.”
The two continued on, the light growing stronger—a cool, indigo illumination. Del could see the aforementioned hole in the stone floor now—and a ladder poking up from it. Another lamp and various tools and a length of rope sat at the ready beside the mouth.
Piikow went to the ladder and plunked down his lamp. Carefully he began to descend, pausing only to wave Del forward. “Come on, come on!”
Del didn’t need much more urging. Other than pausing to ascertain whether the ladder would bear his weight, he followed willingly. Like darkness made visible, the indigo radiance wrapped around him as he descended. When his feet touched solid ground, Del turned around.
And started back, gasping.
They were huge, and they were stone, and they were still. And they stretched back as far as the eye could see. They had heads and arms and legs, and the beautiful, eerie purple light was shining from what passed for eye sockets.
“Statues,” he murmured. “They’re beautiful.”
“And a trifle alarming,” Piikow said. “I must confess, I was scared to death for a moment when I first saw them.”
Del wasn’t going to admit to having the same reaction. If the creations before him had been crafted to resemble their long-dead, mysterious creators, the beings had been near human, though the faces—save for those eerie, radiant eye sockets—were a complete blank. The heads didn’t even have hair, or a realistic shape—just a perfect orb perched atop a surprisingly detailed form. The figures had cloven feet and hands that had two opposable thumbs. They were even modestly dressed, with artfully carved, draping folds and breeches covering forms that appeared to be androgynous. Was this how they had actually looked? Del wondered. Or were these completely imaginary beings constructed by ancient crafters?
“Why so many?” Del wondered aloud. “And why were they all locked away down here?”
“Ah, if we only knew,” sighed the Chadra-Fan. “But someday we might. I do know one thing, though.”
Piikow seized Del’s hand and tugged him farther down the cavern. One of the statues had fallen, and Piikow had covered it with a blanket. It presented a curious image, as if the Chadra-Fan had been concerned that the statue might catch a chill.
“This one toppled down, for some reason. Look!” With a flourish, the Chadra-Fan pulled off the blanket.
The simply carved orb that had served the statue for a head had cracked open, revealing purple crystals. Clearly, the ancient denizens of Jeosyn had used crystals to mimic glowing eyes. But there weren’t simply two crystals inside the hollow skull. There were three—two small ones and one much larger one.
Del’s gaze wandered down the body from the head. Piikow had taken tools to the the statue, opening it up further, and now Del could see that it was not, as he had thought, carved of solid stone.
It was as hollow as the head was. And inside the ceramic torso, arranged in all the places that one might expect to find organs in living beings, crystals of different sizes and shapes were positioned. These, too, had been carefully carved. Tentatively, Del reached out and touched one of the crystals.
It was polished to perfect smoothness and it was warm.
Stunned, he looked over at a gleeful Piikow.
“You see, don’t you? These figures—they weren’t pieces of art or architecture,” the Chadra-Fan said, his high voice hushed with awe. “These were machines.”
Del sank back on his heels, wonder flowing through him. “But why create them just to put them down here? What was their purpose?”
“Maybe,” Piikow said, “if we could get one working…it could tell us.”
Del looked back at the tumbled-down…droid? He supposed that was what it was, technically: a droid made of stone and crystal instead of metal, plastoid, and wiring. “Do…do you have time to work on this?”
“Rarely,” the little tinkerer replied, sighing. “You’re aware of how few of us know how to fix things when they break. Especially since most of the things we get are already broken, in some way. They have me working for hours on end. There’s always something to keep me busy.”
He turned from gazing raptly at the droid to peer conspiratorially at Del. “But, if another talented technician just happened to show up…who could speed up those regular repairs by working with me as a team…maybe both of us would create some free time to work on these stone fellows down here.”
Del was torn. He was here with a mission: to recover the lost information that had revitalized the Dreamers. And now there was a secondary one—investigate Azen. He should stay as close to as many of the cell members as possible, so that he could overhear or observe anything that might be useful.
But he’d never even imagined stumbling across anything like this. Inhabitants of the galaxy, over the millennia, had utilized crystal energy as fuel. And the Death Star itself, of course, had been so awe-inspiringly deadly because it drew its energy from kyber crystals. But these crystals just seemed to…sit there. He knew it would drive him crazy to walk away from this.
Maybe there was a way to make it work out so he could do both. Piikow was a chatty little fellow. If Del could direct the Chadra-Fan’s attention properly, Piikow might unwittingly reveal information he wasn’t supposed to. And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time as he needed working for the Squad before heading down here.
Inferno Squad was first, always. But this could be second.
Del made his decision. “Maybe we could,” he said. And smiled.
A few hours later, Dahna, Kaev, and Halia returned from a supply run with containers filled to the brim with a fruit that smelled like the very best kind of hot summer day. Just a whiff made Iden, who had returned moments before with the Mentor, smile and her mouth water. Everyone crowded around and helped themselves, peeling the fruits deftly and popping the tangy-sweet sections into their mouths.
“What is this called?” Iden asked, wiping her lips as the juice trickled down.
“No idea,” said Sadori. He snagged one of the largest of the bright-yellow fruits and presented it to Seyn with an awkward but somehow endearing little bow. She smiled and took it, laughing as she peeled it.
“We call it Dahna fruit, because she loves it so much and it makes her happy,” his mother said. Iden was surprised that the female Kage had even acknowledged her, let alone answered her question so cheerfully. Apparently, Dahna fruit not only tasted wonderful, but also brought out the best in people.
Then, without warning, Dahna grabbed Piikow’s hand and tugged playfully on it. “Come on,” she urged, and led the Chadra-Fan out toward the front of the cavern.
Iden was completely confused. “What are they doing?” she asked the Mentor as he came up beside her. He, like everyone else, was smiling.
“Why, they’re dancing,” he said.
And sure enough, the Twi’lek was stamping her feet on the ground, her graceful body moving in time to an unseen melody. Her lekku danced, too, undulating and twining. Seyn was watching with great interest. Studying what Dahna is saying, Iden thought. Then Seyn looked startled as she had her own hand taken and Sadori led her out onto what now had to be thought of as the dance floor.
Piikow was thoroughly enjoying himself, chittering with laughter and moving as much as his frail body would permit. Iden was confused. The Kage couple smiled at each other—Iden had never seen that before—and went to dance as well, holding each other’s hands and swaying together.
