MERCY MISSION

Melissa Scott

“THIS JOB IS PREPOSTEROUS, and you know it!”

Hera Syndulla winced as the voices from the commons echoed through the freighter’s central corridor. Ever since they’d left Rishi with the load of gattis-root extract intended for Twi’lek civilians on Ryloth, Trae Baratha had been protesting the mission.

“Your Karthakk Group thought it was sensible enough to take our credits. And if you want the final payment for your people, Clinician, you have to deliver the medicine.” Goll, a former leader of the Free Ryloth Movement, sounded as though he’d reached the end of his patience.

For a second, Hera considered retreating, but Eclipse was a small freighter, and there were few places where you weren’t practically on top of everyone else.

“I’ll deliver the medicine if it can be done safely,” Baratha retorted. “Only then.”

“Your people won’t be happy if they don’t get paid,” Goll said.

Hera heard footsteps behind her and saw the Eclipse’s Nikto gunner, Ul’ligan, coming down the corridor. He cocked his multihorned head at her, but before she could say anything, Baratha’s voice rang out again.

“They’ll like it even less if we get caught and the Imperials seize the cargo.”

Hera squared her shoulders and stepped through the hatch into the commons.

“The Karthakk Group agreed to take the job,” Goll said, his voice hardening. He was sitting on the padded seat that ran along the forward bulkhead, his lekku, the heavy head tails that curled down to his shoulders, stiff with irritation. Hera hoped the human clinician couldn’t read the level of annoyance that would be clear to any Twi’lek. “You were outvoted.”

That was inarguable, but Baratha waved a hand in dismissal anyway. Eclipse’s engineer, a slim, lavender-skinned Sephi named Eira Tay, sat at the little table, hunched low over her plate, trying to pretend the others weren’t there. Ul’ligan made a sympathetic noise and patted her on the shoulder as he made his way to the caf dispenser.

“They didn’t know whom you’d hired,” Baratha snapped. She was tall, and very thin, her graying hair cut short around her sharp face. When they had first met, Hera thought the hair looked like the downy feathers of a very young chick, but now Baratha reminded her of a carrion bird. “This thing—no offense, Engineer, but this ship isn’t going to stand up to anything bigger than a two-shot blaster.”

Tay’s pointed ears swiveled and flattened. “Mostly we try not to get caught…or shot.”

“We’ve been doing this a long time,” Ul’ligan said, his voice low and grating. He spoke so rarely that Hera was still unsure if he was annoyed or if that was his natural tone.

Tay nodded vigorously. “And look! We’re still here.”

“They’re the best available,” Goll said. If he was aware of the ambiguity of the statement, he gave no sign of it. “Plus, your people knew how serious our situation was when they agreed to help. The price for the gattis reflected it.”

“Bybbec fever is unpleasant,” Baratha said, “but only rarely fatal.”

“It’s fatal to Twi’leks.” Hera couldn’t stop herself. The cargo was intended for a settlement of Twi’lek elders, who had come together to preserve their culture in the face of the Imperial conquest. But when Goll asked her to join the mission, he had told her to keep the extract’s real destination a secret. He didn’t trust any of the others well enough. “And the symptoms are more severe—fever, bone ache, weakness.”

“True,” Goll said. “And that’s not the only problem. The Empire is rationing treatment—oh, they’re offering the gattis extract for free, but to receive it, you have to register with the distributing clinic. Then they use that registration to sniff out false identities. Even worse, they’re forcing many of the jungle settlements to reveal themselves to the Empire in exchange for treatment. They’re demanding that entire communities relocate, all under the guise of making it easier to get the drugs.”

“What we’re carrying is a drop in the bucket,” Baratha said.

“It’ll help thousands of people avoid Imperial control,” Hera said.

Baratha ignored her. “Come on,” she said to Goll, “you have to see the problems here.”

“We’re not going up against Star Destroyers,” Goll said. “The Imperials on Ryloth have V-wing fighters, and we can handle that. If we even have to.”

“We could handle it, but I like to think our plan is a little smarter than that.”

Hera turned to see Eclipse’s captain, Krysiant Rheden, standing in the hatchway. She was perhaps a few years younger than Baratha and a head shorter, broad-shouldered and unremarkable except for the blaster at her hip. Hera wondered if she carried it on all her jobs.

“Hera—” Rheden stopped, grimacing, and Baratha flung up her hands.

“So much for security!”

Baratha had urged them to use titles instead of names. Hera thought the idea was silly.

“Copilot,” Rheden corrected herself, with angry precision. “And Engineer,” she said, turning to Tay. “We’re about to exit hyperspace. I want you both in the cockpit.”

Hera followed the others forward and settled herself into the copilot’s seat. Outside the reinforced canopy, hyperspace flared electric blue; between the two pilots’ stations, the navigation computer was chattering to itself, lights flashing as it signaled the approaching transition. She belted herself in and gave Rheden a cautious look.

“I don’t mind if you call me Hera. I trust you.”

“You probably shouldn’t. Baratha may be right,” Rheden said.

“Except we already know each other’s names,” Tay said.

Rheden grunted in agreement, and Baratha’s voice crackled from the intercom.

“Captain. Are you planning to crew the turrets?”

Rheden’s mouth tightened. “I’m keeping weapons at standby unless we get into trouble.”

“We’ll take positions just in case.” Goll sounded calm enough, but Hera guessed his lekku were stiff with annoyance.

“Suit yourself,” Rheden said. “Ul’ligan, take the stern pod.”

“Will do,” Ul’ligan answered, and Rheden shook her head, covering the intercom pickup with one hand.

“What a pain in the neck that woman is.”

Before Hera could decide how to answer, the nav computer beeped insistently.

“Stand by, we’re coming up on the transition.” Rheden glanced at the nav computer’s screen. “Three, two, one—cut in sublight, Tay.”

The sound of the ship’s engine shifted subtly, the vivid blue of hyperspace fading to lines that suddenly blurred and shortened and became stars. Hera’s lekku tightened: She’d been on missions before, some easy, others complicated. But it seemed as though she’d never get used to making the first step. There was a ping, and a series of blue lights flared at the top of Hera’s board. “I’m picking up a small Imperial cruiser, but it’s just scanning us.”

Tay looked up sharply. “Since when does the Empire scan ships on approach? That’s unusual.”

“It’s fine. As long as that’s all they’re doing.” Rheden kept one hand on the control yoke as the ship fed false data to the Imperials.

The communications system pinged. “FT-2991 Tirion, you are cleared to enter Ryloth system. Follow Beacon Tivik, channel 81, to planetary orbit and hold there for further instructions.”

Rheden flicked a switch. “Roger that. Beacon Tivik to orbit, and hold for instructions.” She flipped the switch off again and gave Hera a crooked smile. “Here we go.”

The flight into the Ryloth system was uneventful. After the first hour, Rheden announced that the guns didn’t need to be crewed any longer. Ul’ligan and Goll returned to the commons, but Baratha said that she would stay in the starboard turret. “Suit yourself,” Rheden said, and looked at Hera. “Take a break, kid. And when you come back, bring us some caf?”

Hera nodded, glad of the chance to stretch her legs, and slipped out of the cockpit. As she reached the commons, the hatch slid open, revealing Ul’ligan, who scowled over his shoulder. “I really don’t care what happens as long as our ship comes through intact.”

Hera stepped back as he stomped away, then she entered, letting the hatch slide closed behind her. “Is everything all right?”

Goll sighed. “Fine. It’s all fine.”

From his tone, there was no point in pursuing the question. Hera poured herself a cup of caf and settled across from him at the narrow table. “Captain Rheden is annoyed with Baratha.”

“So are we all.” Goll showed sharply filed teeth. “But the Karthakk Group had the gattis extract, and so we’re stuck with her. We keep everyone moving along as happily as possible. Even if I’d like to—” He stopped, shaking his head. “We keep moving. It’s what leaders do.”

Hera finished her caf and made up cups for Rheden and Tay, waiting for Goll to elaborate, but he didn’t. She was glad she wasn’t in charge. She wasn’t sure she could have kept from snapping at Baratha. “Feels strange to be going back to Ryloth, doesn’t it?”

“Feels strange doing it without your father. Cham would have…” Goll shook his head again, and Hera knew there was no point in asking questions. Goll wouldn’t even tell her where he was. He’d be angry enough if he knew I let you volunteer for this, Goll had said the last time she asked. She nodded instead and turned to leave.

She returned to the cockpit with the mugs of caf and took her turn at the controls, while first Rheden, then Tay took breaks of their own. By then, Ryloth was swelling in the viewscreens, and Hera adjusted the sensors to magnify the image. She hadn’t seen Ryloth in so long that the rust-brown disk was as much a symbol as a remembered home. She sighed, and the engineer reached over to pat her shoulder.

“Must be weird, huh?”

“Better not be,” Rheden said. “She’s got to guide us in once we’re off the traffic-control net.”

Hera’s lekku twitched in embarrassment. “I can handle it.”

Rheden ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry.”

To Hera’s relief, the control panel beeped at her. “Tivik is signaling.” She reached for the comm system, while Rheden slowed the ship. A moment later, a bored voice sounded over the speakers.

“Tirion. You are cleared to enter atmosphere. Stand by for your descent heading and auto-control frequency.”

“Standing by,” Hera answered. The system chattered and flashed a series of numbers that flickered to green. “Received and confirmed.”

“Roger, Tirion. And a friendly reminder. Any deviation from the reentry corridor or from auto-control will result in the destruction of your ship.”

“Understood, Tivik,” Hera said. “Commencing reentry. Tirion out.”

“Charming welcome,” Rheden said.

“You’re sure your people can cut the auto-control system,” Tay said.

“That’s the plan,” Hera answered. She recited the procedure she had memorized. “Once we’re at the designated altitude, we slave the ship to the traffic network. It’s supposed to take us all the way into the port at Lessu. After we pass Marker 210, our contact will cut the network broadcast for twenty-five seconds. We drop beneath the net and proceed to the rendezvous.”

“So they’ll assume we’ve crashed,” Rheden said. Warnings flared as Eclipse touched the edge of the atmosphere, and she trimmed the ship for reentry. “Won’t someone be looking for us?”

Hera shook her head. “Goll says the Imperials won’t care about one civilian freighter. They’ll just report it to what’s left of the civil authority.”

“Lovely,” Rheden muttered, and reached for the intercom. “All right, everybody, we’re beginning reentry. Stand by for some turbulence, and I’ll let you know when we’re down.”

“Captain.” It was Baratha, of course, and Hera saw the captain roll her eyes. “We should be on the guns.”

Goll cut in quickly. “That makes sense. We’ll be in the turrets, Captain. Give us power when and if you have to.”

Outside the cockpit, the stars were disappearing. Eclipse bounced once and steadied, Rheden balancing the ship’s shields against the atmosphere, melting away velocity.

“What if your people don’t cut the power?” Tay asked.

Hera glanced warily over her shoulder. “We can override the system from here—we’re not locked in. But that will alert every Imperial patrol in the area.”

“If we have to do that, the mission’s off,” Rheden said. Under her hands, Eclipse steadied into blue sky, the broken clouds beneath them revealing flashes of barren orange ground.

“But—” Hera began, and Rheden shook her head.

“Not up for debate. My first priority is to protect the ship.”

And what about the people on the ground, the people who were risking their lives to help deliver this cargo? Hera struggled to find words, but the warning from the console interrupted her. “The auto-control system wants to take over. They have us on the standard course for Lessu.”

A new bank of lights sprang to life in the center of the control boards. Rheden glared at them but entered the codes to give the autopilot access to the ship’s systems. One by one, the lights went from orange to green, and a voice came from the speaker, scratchy with distance.

“Tirion, you are now on remote pilot. Do not attempt to adjust your controls. I repeat, do not attempt to adjust your controls.”

“Confirmed.” Rheden leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. “Better not fly my ship into anything.”

Tay reached up to flick switches on an overhead panel. “Set the tertiary receiver to 93.39, please, Hera.”

Hera did as she was told. A smaller speaker crackled, and voices came clear.

“…V-254 vector Alpha 10. Delta Flight return to base…”

Hera’s eyes widened as she listened. “That’s the main Imperial channel.”

Tay shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea to know what they’re up to.”

It would have been a better idea if the information had been shared. This was part of the problem, Hera thought. Each group kept its assets secret from everyone else. There was no trust.

Minutes turned into hours as Eclipse bored on toward the capital, the background chatter of the patrolling V-wings and the steady thrum of the engines blurring into a soporific drone. Hera blinked hard, trying to stay awake, then sat up abruptly as she saw the scrolling map.

“Captain. We’re coming up on Marker 210.”

“I see it,” Rheden said, and flipped the intercom switch. “Okay, people, we’re in the zone. Everybody be ready. Hera, do we have patrols in range?”

“Only one, and it’s moving off.” Hera adjusted the sensors. “No other traffic within a thousand kilometers.”

Red lights flashed across all the displays, and a mechanical voice announced, “Auto-control disengaged! Auto-control disengaged!”

Rheden pitched Eclipse into a steep dive. Hera disabled the autopilot and silenced all outgoing transmissions, one eye on the clock. The first layer of clouds whipped past the cockpit windows.

“Twenty-two seconds,” she said. “Twenty seconds.”

“Engines at maximum,” Tay said. “Weapons hot.”

Rheden didn’t respond, all her attention on the controls. Hera could feel the ship shivering, hull and engines straining. They were shedding height, but not fast enough. “Ten seconds.”

“More power,” Rheden said.

“We’re at max,” Tay answered, and Rheden swore, the controls jerking in her hands.

“Three seconds,” Hera said. “Two…One.”

The lights on the auto-control console went from red to green, then began flashing yellow, a silent warning streaming across the screen. Signal present, auto-control disabled. Reengage auto-control.

Baratha cut in over the comm. “Did we make it?”

—

The lights in the control room flickered, and instantly the alarms blared. Moff Delion Mors, Commander of the Imperial Forces on Ryloth, bolted to her feet and leaned over the railing of the mezzanine office that let her literally overlook the nerve center of Imperial control. The main display screen showed a stream of error messages rather than the regional traffic plot, and every console seemed to be glowing red. A dozen different alarms were sounding, and a confused clamor of voices rose from the pit as the technicians shouted for answers. There was a power problem somewhere, she could tell that much just from the pattern of the lights, and she closed her hands on the rails and leaned forward.

“Report! Stations, report!”

There was no immediate answer from the technicians and supervisors bent over their consoles, and her grip tightened.

“Karris! Report, now!”

This time, her voice cut through the clamor, and she saw the frantic movement take on new purpose as supervisors shut off superfluous alarms and technicians began to work together.

“Moff Mors!” That was Karris at last, shouldering past the last row of technicians to look up at her. “We’ve had a power glitch, several systems are offline—”

“Which systems?” Mors glared down at him, a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. “I need proper reports, Commander.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Working on it.” He turned to slap the nearest technician’s shoulder, ambiguous encouragement, and Mors scanned the control room again. On both ends of the arc of consoles, systems were coming back online. She identified them as base environmentals and the main comm network—a good start, but the tracking systems were still down, and it looked as though the sensor net was only partially restored—

“Moff Mors!” Karris swung away from the pit to look up at her, clasping his hands behind his back to hide his nerves. “Our technicians have traced a fault in power production that led to a five-second general outage. Backup systems are coming online. We have full communications back, sensors report no sign of attack or infiltration, and I am running a full set of diagnostics—”

Mors waved the words away. “What’s not working?” She started down the stairs: This was something she needed to see for herself, not watch from a distance. She’d come too close to losing everything during the Emperor’s visit to Ryloth a year ago; she was not going to allow anyone the chance to make mistakes on her watch.

Karris’s eyes fell. “The traffic-control net was down, but our people are bringing it back up—”

“Commander!” That was one of the technicians in the center of the pit—traffic control, Mors identified, and fear knotted her guts. The Emperor had made it clear that this was her last—her only—chance, and she squared her shoulders. She would not fail.

“Commander, we’ve restored the auto-control system, but a ship is missing. It was there when the system went out, but now—it’s gone.”

“Show me,” Mors said before Karris could answer, and pushed her way past the other consoles. The man on duty was a stranger, when once she’d prided herself on knowing all the people under her command. “What’s your name, son?”

The technician gave her a nervous glance. “Denner, ma’am.”

“Tell me what happened, Denner.”

Denner took a deep breath. “When the power went, we also lost the auto-control grid, with twenty-eight ships on the beams. We weren’t down for more than twenty seconds, twenty-five at the outside…Ma’am, we’re missing one freighter, inbound to Lessu on Route Alpha, A2.93. Tirion. We have one last ping, falling like a stone, then she’s below our net. Looks like the pilot wasn’t paying attention when the beam went out.”

Mors looked up at the main display. He was probably right. The Free Ryloth Movement was broken, destroyed by the Emperor himself, and a part of her was tempted to ignore the missing ship. However. She was on probation, the Emperor had made that clear, but he’d also made it clear that she could redeem herself. She couldn’t afford to ignore anything, no matter how trivial it might seem. “Maybe. And just maybe…Well, if they did crash, I want to know where and why.” She squinted at the display, reading the symbols. Tirion had been over the jungle: Luck help the poor devils if they did crash in that, she thought, and looked at Karris. “Commander. Lieutenant Niol’s flight is the closest. Have him check it out and report back.”

—

“I thought they didn’t take civilian problems seriously,” Tay said.

“They never used to,” Hera answered. She could see the V-wings on her screen, swinging in an arc that would bring them up on Eclipse’s tail. “Captain!”

“I see them,” Rheden answered. “Tay, all the power we’ve got. The rest of you, weapons hot! We’ve got company.”

There was a bank of clouds ahead, and for a second, Hera thought they might reach its shelter before the V-wings found them. But the Imperial ships were too fast, the group of three swelling in her screen, and the sensors pinged loudly as the flight leader located them.

“Jam their transmissions,” Rheden said, and Hera obeyed.

“Tirion, reduce speed and return to auto-control.”

“Not happening,” Rheden said. “Let them get close, then take them out.”

“Ready,” Ul’ligan said, and Goll and Baratha echoed him.

“Tirion, respond! Respond, or we will fire.”

“Hera, are you jamming?” Rheden demanded.

“Yes—” Hera flinched as the first V-wing fired a warning shot, the bolt of emerald fire snapping past the canopy.

“Respond—”

Baratha opened fire, followed an instant later by Ul’ligan and Goll. Hera saw one V-wing disintegrate immediately, but the other two veered away, one trailing a thin stream of smoke. She twisted the jammer’s knob to full power, and the speakers filled with static. Eclipse rolled hard left and pulled up, and the first V-wing overshot, airfoils extending as it tried to brake and turn. For an instant, its vertical radiators presented a perfect target, and both Goll and Ul’ligan fired. The radiator disintegrated in a shower of flame and fragmenting metal; the V-wing pitched up and fell off to its right, and Baratha hit it again, blowing it apart.

Eclipse rocked violently as the remaining V-wing came up under her stern, and Hera heard the steady pounding of the cannons as first Ul’ligan, then Baratha returned fire without result. The V-wing swept past, pulling up and over as it tried for a head-on shot. Rheden banked sharply away, but the ship bounced again as the shots went home. A warning flashed on Hera’s console—primary communications were hit—and sparks flew from Rheden’s secondary console. She cursed, slapping at breakers, but the main panel exploded in her face. She cried out and tumbled from the pilot’s chair. Eclipse nosed up, and Hera snatched for the controls.

She pointed Eclipse down again, and the V-wing rolled as it came around behind for another pass. Goll fired, and the V-wing rocked, shedding parts in a stream of spark and flame, but came on, firing steadily. Eclipse shook again, warnings flaring. Hera cut power, and the V-wing shot past, trailing smoke. Baratha fired twice more, and it dissolved in flames. Hera wrenched Eclipse sideways to avoid the debris, and the cockpit filled with the sound of alarms. She steadied the ship, though it had an alarming tendency to heel left every time she eased pressure on the yoke. “Status, Tay?”

“Engines took a direct hit.” Tay answered. Hera could hear her moving from station to station at the back of the cockpit but didn’t dare take her eyes off the controls to see what she was doing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just see Rheden slumped unmoving against the bulkhead. “I’ve got creeping shorts in the electrics, too. Still locking them down.”

They’d lost long-range sensors and the main transmitter, Hera saw, but she could compensate for that. At least there was no sign of any other patrols, but they’d be on their way. Eclipse pitched again, more violently, and there was a heavy thud as either Tay or Rheden fell hard against something.

“I need the gravitics back,” Hera said, and a thin thread of smoke rose from behind the environmental display. “Tay—”

“Working on it,” Tay said grimly.

Something snapped in the control linkage, and Eclipse nosed up again, then fell off to the left. Hera hauled on the controls, got no response, and saw the breaker lights flashing. She flipped the switch, once, twice; the lights went out, and when she pulled again, the control yoke moved, Eclipse shuddering under the strain. The jungle was coming closer, but she concentrated on the pressure of the controls against her hand, waiting for the gravitics to stabilize. More power, and turn into the spin: She pushed the yoke hard left. Trees filled the cockpit windows, a flock of insects exploding away from them as Eclipse arrowed down. And then the spin slowed, stopped, and she hauled back on the yoke. Eclipse groaned and lifted, the stern turret just brushing the top of the forest.

She leveled out a dozen meters above the treetops, scanning her panels for any more damage. Everything seemed stable for the moment, and she risked a glance at the captain. Rheden looked only half-conscious, clearly in need of help. “Tay…”

“The captain needs help.” Tay moved closer, dropping to her knees to open another panel. “And the ship needs proper repairs. We have to land.”

“Not here,” Goll said from the hatch, and Hera jumped. “The jungle life is more dangerous than being chased by V-wings.” He went to one knee beside Rheden’s crumpled body, his face tightening, and reached for the intercom. “Baratha, get up here. Captain’s injured!”

“On my way,” Baratha answered. Eclipse wobbled again, and Hera caught it, then freed one hand to extend the secondary sensors to their maximum range. The screen was empty so far, but she doubted that would last.

“I can’t fix this if we don’t land,” Tay said. “Whatever’s down there, you can hold them off.”

Goll shook his head. “They’re lyleks—armored insects, with stabbing limbs and poisoned tentacles. They hunt in packs, and they’ll travel for days to get fresh food. We might kill the first wave, but we couldn’t keep them back for long.”

“Lovely,” Baratha said under her breath. Hera flinched at the raw burn that covered Rheden’s face from her forehead to the left side of her chin, but at least the captain seemed to be conscious.

“Tay.” Ul’ligan appeared in the hatchway. “Repair droids are deployed, but I don’t know how much they can do on their own.”

“Let them work,” she said. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

For an instant, Hera wished she’d been able to bring Chopper. But Goll had been certain there was no place for another droid on the ship, especially not one with Chopper’s notable eccentricities. A warning light flashed on the sensor display, and her heart sank. Another flight of V-wings was coming in fast from the north.

“Goll.”

“I see them. Can they see us?”

“Not yet.” Hera turned Eclipse south and increased power, losing altitude so that they were barely skimming the treetops. If she could stay out of range—yes, there were the mountains, and she angled her course westward, aiming for the Bypass Notch. If she could get through that before the V-wings were fully in range, the mountains would block their scanners.

Tay flung herself to the floor plates beside the nav computer and yanked open an access hatch. There was a puff of smoke and the smell of burning, and she blasted the compartment with an extinguisher. “Okay, rerouting that. We’ve got to at least slow down, I can’t keep giving you full power.”

“We have to get through the mountains.” Hera looked at the map unscrolling on her screen. “Ten minutes.”

“The mountains? We have to abort,” Baratha said to Goll.

“That’ll put us right in the path of the V-wings,” Goll answered.

Tay tore open another panel and began shifting cables. Hera heard a fat snap, and the ship lurched again but steadied.

“The captain can’t fly,” Baratha said.

“I’m—” Rheden hissed in pain. “I can handle it.”

“You can’t see out of that eye,” Baratha said. “And you’re in shock.”

“I’ve studied the landing,” Hera said. “I can get us in and out.”

Baratha shook her head. “Look, I’m sure you think you’re a good pilot—”

“She can do it,” Rheden said. “The ship, though—” She broke off again as Baratha wrapped a bandage around her face, her hands more gentle than her words.

“I don’t know.” Tay’s hands were busy inside another console. “If we can’t put down—we could lose the ship. Maybe Baratha is right.”

“What about the V-wings?” Goll asked.

Hera glanced at the scanners. “Just coming into range, but they haven’t spotted us yet.” The mountains weren’t far ahead, their gullied orange slopes rising jagged out of the jungle. She could see the gap between Mount Foreth and Mount Maali that would hide them from pursuit. Or at least from these pursuers; there would be other patrols out looking for them. She tipped Eclipse into the turn that brought them into Foreth’s shadow. “Clear.”

“The droids aren’t making much progress,” Ul’ligan said to Tay, who shook her head.

“Either we set down, or we need to get out of here.”

“Can we make hyperspace?” Ul’ligan asked.

Tay shrugged, ears flat. “If we go now, if there’s no more damage—”

“We have to make it to Lessu,” Hera said. Goll shook his head in warning, but she ignored him. If they didn’t trust the rest of the team with the real purpose of the mission, how could she expect them to trust her with their lives? “This medicine is earmarked for a settlement of our elders. They’re the foundation of our culture. If they die, we die.”

No one said anything, and Goll turned to the comm. “I’m contacting the rendezvous.” He adjusted the secondary transmitter, and a light flashed green. “Dianthy, this is Goll.”

“Goll!” The connection was scratchy with static, but the words were clear. “Goll, all the rendezvous points are being watched—”

“Calm.” Goll flattened his hands in the air as though Dianthy could see him. “All the fallbacks, too?”

“Everything close to Lessu.”

“Stand by.” Goll cut the channel, frowning.

“That’s that,” Baratha said. “I’m sorry about your elders, but we can’t risk losing the gattis extract. Abort and try again.”

“We don’t have time,” Hera said. “Is there somewhere else we can land?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Baratha glared. “All your fallbacks are being watched.”

“There was another one,” Rheden dragged herself upright, Baratha supporting her. “To the west?”

Eclipse was stable enough that Hera risked manipulating her maps, then saw that Goll had called up a different file. “If you mean Rhovari, that’s too far. It’ll be too hard to distribute the medication from there.”

“That’s better than not having it at all,” Rheden said. She swayed and sat down hard on the floor plates.

“It’s too much of a risk,” Baratha said.

Hera pushed the voices away. Goll was right, they had to get through, but Baratha was also right, much as she hated to admit it. And Rhovari really was too far west…She looked at the map display again, symbols scrolling past as the system laid out a course to Lessu, possible landing sites marked with blue diamonds. There weren’t any between the mountains and the jungle’s edge, and the next were all too close to Imperial observers; the rendezvous and fallback sites formed a rough crescent in the badlands west of the city, but if the Imperials had them under surveillance, there wasn’t much chance of getting Eclipse out again even if Tay could finish the repairs. A new mark caught her eye, on the southern slope of the cone that contained the city, and she quickly queried the system. It was a commercial landing zone, originally intended to serve a local factory, now disused; it was small, and the original approach lane had been narrowed by two new towers, but there was just enough room to set Eclipse down.

“Goll. What about here?”

Goll leaned over her shoulder. “Too small.”

“There’s about ten meters clearance each way,” Hera answered. “I can do it.”

“Ten meters?” Baratha rose to her feet. “Are you crazy?”

“It’s tight,” Hera said, “but we can drop straight in on the field. Eclipse can handle it.”

Goll shook his head. “It’s close to Dianthy’s territory, but—”

“It can’t be done,” Baratha said.

Tay hauled herself to her feet. “We’d fit, but we’re in no shape to try. We have to abandon.”

Ul’ligan tipped his head to one side, and Rheden stretched out one hand to catch Tay’s sleeve. “Can we make it into hyperspace?”

Tay hesitated. “Yes. I think so.”

“No,” Goll said. “We are going to deliver the medicine. That’s what I paid you for, all of you.”

“I’m not losing my ship for this,” Rheden said.

“And I’m not letting this medicine fall into Imperial hands,” Baratha snapped. “That’s final.”

Hera looked from one to the other. They’d never been anything like a team, but now it was all falling apart. She took a deep breath, remembering what Goll had said before: The leader’s job was to keep everything moving, however they had to do it. “Whatever we do, we need to finish the repairs. If someone directs the droids, the work will go a lot faster.”

There was a moment of silence, Tay’s ears twitching, but it was Ul’ligan who spoke first. “She’s right.”

Hera hurried on before anyone else could argue. “Once we get the repairs finished, we make one attempt to deliver our cargo, and if that doesn’t work, we bail. But we have to try once.”

Goll nodded slowly. “If Dianthy can get her people there…”

Rheden leaned over the map display, blinking hard as she tried to focus. Hera could smell the bacta on the bandages and saw her grimace as she made sense of the display. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Hera nodded.

“I’m not,” Tay said, and Ul’ligan laid a hand on her shoulder.

“One try. She’ll hold together for that.”

“And if she doesn’t, we’re in bigger trouble anyway,” Rheden said. “I’m in.”

Tay sighed. “All right.”

“One try,” Baratha said. “Nothing more. And only if they complete the repairs in time.”

“We’ll do that,” Tay said. She looked at Goll. “I’ll need your help out on the hull. Ul’ligan needs to be on guns.”

“Let me update Dianthy,” Goll said, “And I’m all yours.”

Hera turned Eclipse onto the new heading, watching the jungle thin out beneath them as the ship drew closer to the city. Behind her, Baratha was mercifully silent, tending Rheden with quiet competence; the monitors showed Goll and Tay busy on the hull’s starboard side, while the droids worked along the tail, patching conduit and cable. She could still feel the damage—sluggish response to the control surfaces, a definite lag when she asked for more power—but she’d flown worse. In the background, she could hear V-wing chatter on the Imperial circuit: So far, they were concentrating on the spot where the patrol had caught Eclipse, but sooner or later they were going to start looking toward the capital again. The short-range sensors showed a couple of flights at the edge of their range, but no one had spotted them yet.

“Hera.” Tay’s voice crackled from the intercom. “Gravitics are repaired. We’re good—oh, damn it.”

“What?” Hera scanned her controls, but nothing seemed to have changed.

“We’ve got a break in the secondary power conduit on this side,” Tay said. “Not a problem now, but we need it fixed before we jump to hyperspace.”

“How long?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Hera checked her readings. That was just enough time to finish before she had to begin the landing. “All right. We’re going in.”

“But they’re still out there!” Baratha demanded, and out of the corner of her eye, Hera saw Rheden grab the clinician’s arm.

“We’re committed. Sit down and be silent.”

Astonishingly, Baratha obeyed. Hera banked Eclipse, chasing the ship’s shadow south and west across the broken ground. They were still safely under the Imperial sensor net, but they were entirely too visible from the surface. The Imperials were still searching, and it wouldn’t take much to draw their attention—and if she did, Goll and Tay were still on the hull, utterly exposed. She chose a vector that kept them well clear of an Imperial monitoring station and dropped Eclipse lower still.

The cone that was the city of Lessu swelled on the horizon, and the nav computer chimed, offering a new heading. It would take her around the old industrial district, keeping clear of the maze of chimneys and drop towers that broke the steep surface, but anyone watching from the main traffic tower would have trouble missing a star freighter. She keyed the intercom.

“Goll. How are the repairs coming?”

“Almost done,” Goll answered, sounding strained.

In the monitor, Hera could see Tay lying flat on the hull, reaching into an open compartment, the harness that tethered her to the ship stretched taut. Goll crouched beside her, a toolkit open at his knee. “We’re coming up on Lessu.”

“Five more minutes,” Tay said.

“We’ll be landing then,” Hera said. But they had to get that conduit repaired if they were going to escape. “Ul’ligan, call in the repair droids, get them stowed.”

“Right.” The Nikto’s growl was strangely reassuring.

The nav computer’s beeping was getting louder, but Hera ignored it, aiming for the heart of the factory district. “Hold tight.”

Eclipse streaked across the barren ground—mercifully, there was no one in sight—and she pulled up as they crossed the ditch and the wall beyond. Hera swung around a leaning drop tower, lights strobing along its side, and flung Eclipse instantly to the right to avoid a shorter chimney. On the monitors, she saw Goll brace himself, one hand pressing Tay into the hull, the other clinging to an exposed strut. A pair of towers loomed ahead, rising from the same base and connected at the top by a rusted walkway. To go over would put them into the Imperial sensors, and either side led to a tangle of chimneys and turrets, but the space between was impossibly narrow. She tipped Eclipse sideways, not daring to tilt more than twenty degrees for fear of losing Goll and Tay, and held it there as she threaded the gap.

“Conduit’s fixed,” Tay called.

“Confirmed,” Hera answered. A landing light flared ahead: Dianthy’s people. She hit the air brakes, balancing Eclipse against Ryloth’s gravity, and hovered above the gap. Checking the monitors, she could see Goll drag Tay to her feet, then both of them headed for the nearest hatch. Hera triggered her landing cameras and winced. Ten meters clearance didn’t look nearly as large as she’d hoped. She eased the big ship down, red dust swirling off the buildings. The walls rose around them, so close she felt as though she could touch any of them. And then, at last, the landing gear touched, lights flaring as Ul’ligan and Goll opened the hatch.

She gave a sigh of relief but kept the power up, resetting the controls for takeoff. The Imperials weren’t going to overlook a freighter sitting on the city’s shell for very long—

“Go!” Ul’ligan shouted, and the hatch indicators flared green. Hera took a breath and let Eclipse rise.

—

“Moff Mors! The unidentified freighter has landed on the outer surface of the capital.”

Mors glared at the screen, wishing she could force the V-wing patrols to exceed their maximum speeds. She’d guessed wrong—it hadn’t occurred to her that the missing freighter would continue to its stated destination, and she’d wasted time and men searching for signs on vectors that led away from Lessu. “Get ground troops moving. They’re obviously smuggling something. Find them and cut them off. Now!”

“Yes, ma’am.” The nearest comms officer spoke into his mouthpiece, and a moment later she saw lights flare on secondary screens as Colonel Piik’s men turned out from their barracks in the capital.

“Shut the city down. I want every exit sealed.” That was all she could do about Lessu for the moment, and she turned her attention to the main display. The freighter was still on the ground, and she turned to Karris. “Signal Despot. Tell them to watch for an unauthorized liftoff from Lessu, a YT-209 freighter. Capture if possible, but destroy it if it won’t stop.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Karris said, and turned to his own controls. “Despot acknowledges. They’re reversing course.”

For a second, she thought the V-wings might have a chance, arrowing across the badlands at their top speed, but the freighter began to lift, dragging itself out from among the buildings. As soon as it cleared the roofs, it shot upward, showing a surprising turn of speed, and headed for open space. The main screen switched to an orbital view, and Mors swore as she saw the angles. Despot was still reversing course: They’d been caught flat-footed. The captain fired anyway, but the bolts fell short. The freighter seemed to shift slightly, then it was gone.

“They’ve jumped to hyperspace, ma’am,” someone said, and Mors swallowed an angry retort. Of course they’d jumped; it wasn’t as though Despot had managed to hit anything. She stifled her anger with an effort, knowing that what she truly felt was fear. One chance.

“I want the city searched—” She stopped abruptly, recognizing the folly there. They didn’t have the personnel to do a proper door-to-door investigation; the best she could manage was a general sweep and hope that something useful turned up.

“Yes, ma’am,” Karris said again. “Ma’am, there hasn’t been any sign of organized resistance in the capital. Is it possible they’re just smugglers?”

It was possible, of course. The Outer Rim produced smugglers who were as dedicated, or determined to earn their full fees, as any Imperial officer. But it was not a risk she cared to take. “I don’t care who they are. I want that cargo found. Search the city, first, then inform all our agents that I will pay a handsome reward for information on the freighter, the cargo, and/or its eventual recipients. Keep the city sealed until I say otherwise.” That would be hard on the locals, but she couldn’t afford to care. She would not be found wanting again.

—

Hera engaged the autopilot and leaned back in her seat, staring at the blue shimmer of hyperspace. “On course for Manda, Captain.”

“Good,” Rheden said. She had managed to reclaim the captain’s chair, but she was clearly in no shape to fly. “We’ll drop the rest of you there. Plenty of transport on Manda.”

And who’ll fly you wherever it is you’re going? Hera swallowed the words, knowing they were pointless.

“At least we made it,” Tay said, and pulled herself up out of her own chair. “Come on, Krys, let’s get another look at that burn.”

Rheden accepted her extended hand, and the two of them made their way slowly out of the cockpit. Baratha rose as well, grimacing, and gave Goll a sharp look. “I’ll expect to receive our final payment before we land.”

“You’ll have it,” Goll said wearily. “But not right this moment.”

Baratha snorted and ducked out of the hatch. Goll settled himself in the captain’s chair, shaking his head. Hera glanced over her shoulder at Ul’ligan, who was sitting in the pull-down seat behind the engineer’s station.

“Thank you for supporting me.”

The Nikto shrugged. “We are both subject peoples, the Twi’leks and us. I know what it is to lose a culture. It was worth the chance.”

And that, Hera thought, was the most frustrating thing about the mission. Yes, they’d made it, delivered the gattis-root extract and escaped, but that was all they’d done. And even when someone recognized that there was common cause to be made, it didn’t actually change anything.

“I’m going to eat,” Ul’ligan went on, “then sleep. I’ll leave food for you.”

“Thanks,” Hera said, and sighed as the hatch closed behind him.

“You did well,” Goll said after a moment. “The gattis extract should make a difference.”

“Yes.”

“More than the flying. I always knew you were a good pilot. It was a good plan.” Goll paused, his face serious. “You have the makings of a good leader. Like your father.”

Leader of what? Hera thought. But maybe she could pull together a group of her own, find some way to stand up against the Empire. “I want to,” she said, and was mildly surprised by her own desire. “I hope I can.”

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Mercy Mission