Aftermath: Empire's End (Star Wars: Aftermath #3)(129)
More blubbering, more nodding.
That solved that problem.
It did not, however, solve the problem of her loneliness. For the duration of the trip, she remained away from the children, away from Hux. She kept to herself, occupying her time looking at the ship’s records—studying its history, its flight time, its communications, its weapons. The ship, like all of Palpatine’s yachts, bears the maker-mark of Raith Sienar. It is perhaps unsurprisingly well-fitted with hidden ordnance; most yachts, after all, are not loaded for bear with Umbaran electromagnetic plasma cannons. Also unsurprising is that this ship, given that it’s a replica, has had very little flight time. It went from the shipyard over Castell to Jakku, and has remained there for years—going all the way back to when Sienar was a Republic corporation.
What is surprising is that, not long after takeoff, the ship transmitted a very small packet of data to a dozen different sources. Ship transmitters, by the look of it. And it takes digging to unlock even this much. Sloane had no one to ask but the strange droid piloting the ship, and so she asked the sentinel, “What did we transmit? And to whom?”
The sentinel answered, “Path coordinates. Sent to Imperials considered loyal.”
“Who considered them loyal? Rax?”
“Emperor Palpatine.”
“Are you loyal to Palpatine?”
“All sentinels and messengers are programmed to serve his will, even in death.”
“Good,” she said. Though she was not then, and is not now, sure how good it really is. What waits for them now remains a mystery. Who waits—and who will follow in their wake—is an even more troubling conundrum.
And all that assumed they even make it.
The journey through the Unknown Regions has been harrowing. Taking short hyperspace jumps through the chaos has been like navigating a dangerous maze at full speed. But the sentinel assured her the path was safe. They skirted superstorms and saw strange creatures out there in the blackness of the void. They lost system power when a magnetic burst of mysterious origin cascaded through space—but it was only for a few hours, and with power restored they were able to continue on.
It doesn’t help that all along her side has ached fiercely. Every morning she checked the old injury, and though the bruise has faded, the ribs look soft and caved in. And even the faintest fluttering touch of her fingertips upon the skin causes her great pain. Something is broken inside. She tells herself she will fix it when they land on the Eclipse. If they land on the Eclipse.
Truth is, Sloane almost didn’t come on this journey.
When she finally shut down the self-destruct mechanism on the Observatory—the one that would have split the world of Jakku in twain, wiping out both the Empire and the New Republic forces—she thought about remaining there on that world. Then she toyed with the idea of following Norra and looking for her own way to the New Republic. Maybe they would imprison her. Maybe they would give her a job. Maybe someone would quietly slit her throat and dump her in the sea. No matter the outcome, at least she would find some purpose, however short.
But then the old ambition came alive once more—a campfire she thought was dark, suddenly glowing once more with a kindled ember. If there is a chance to rebuild the Empire, shouldn’t I take it? Couldn’t she make it better? In her own image? She felt the promise of a frontier nation born of loyalty and order and not given over to the backstabbing and incest of the Empire that Palpatine created and Gallius Rax destroyed. They are pioneers in this space. They are the first outside the charted limits of the galaxy.
She realized: It can be mine, if only I am willing to take it.
Soon, they will be at their destination.
And soon, it will be hers to take.
—
The Imperialis glides gleaming around the edges of a geomagnetic storm—at a distance, it looks like threads of hazy light, diaphanous and spectral, emerging from a blue-black cloud and finding one another in the void. The light braiding and twisting.
“There,” Brendol Hux says. Hux has cleaned himself up. His hair and beard are trimmed. He’s lost some of the paunch he brought with him. Sloane sees what he indicates: in the distance, the lean blade of a Super Star Destroyer dreadnought floats beyond the light and in the black.
She knows that ship.
The Eclipse.
To the sentinel droid piloting the Imperialis she says, “Take us in. It’s time to rejoin with those who came before.” She does not fully know who was sent ahead. Hux did not know himself. Is it the original crew of the Eclipse? Were the others hand-selected by Palpatine, or by Rax? She cannot say, and she is eager to solve that riddle—and worried about the answer. If those present are loyal to the others, but refuse loyalty to her, then her stewardship of this new Empire will be woefully short. She knows that no matter what, her struggle has not ended. It has only begun, and this worries her considerably.
Her worries are myriad. Will Hux betray her when they join with the others? Who comes after? Do they serve him, or her? Can she be the legacy of Palpatine, or must she always contend with the ghost of Gallius Rax, his presence lingering in those who remain? That man’s influence was a virus. Infectious and potentially incurable. Then there comes a question of the children: those bright-eyed monsters. They train every day here on board the ship at the urging of both Brendol and his son Armitage. Armitage has grown more vicious during these months, even for such a small boy.