Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens Lost Stars (18 page)

Kerev Doi was a place where he could get lost.

Thane caught
himself. It wasn’t like he was actually planning on leaving the Imperial fleet, at least not yet. Not until he’d learned what had become of Ciena, Nash, and the rest,
and maybe not ever. But he was perhaps…testing the idea. Getting used to it.

If Ciena had died, what was left for him there? Nothing.

“Sir?” he said to his commanding officer, who looked annoyed at the interruption. “Which
Star Destroyer is this?”

“Does it
matter
, Lieutenant Kyrell?”

“It does to me, sir.”

His commanding officer wasn’t impressed by any show of independence. “You’re on the
Devastator
. But if you’re not on the
Watchtower
within the hour,
you’re out of the fleet.”

The
Devastator. Thane breathed out.
Okay, Ciena’s probably fine. She was safe and sound on her ship the entire time.

Unless maybe she stayed behind on the Death Star for a duty assignment—or she was visiting Jude and the
Devastator
pulled out too quickly for her to rejoin it—

He disembarked with only a wrist communicator to tell him where to find the
Watchtower
’s docking berth. From the looks of things, he didn’t have much time, but maybe enough to
stop at a communications panel. Even if the system informed
him she was on duty, it would be proof she was alive. How was he supposed to get on another ship and fly away from the
Devastator
without even knowing?

“Thane!”

He turned and saw Ciena, halfway across the crowded bay, and it was like the hard shell around him cracked and crumbled away. He forgot about Kerev Doi, about escape. It was impossible to think
about anything but the sight
of her there, then,
alive
. “Ciena!”

Then all that mattered was pushing through the crowd, shouldering aside stormtrooper grunts and senior officers alike, so he could get to her.

Ciena flung her arms around Thane’s neck, and he embraced her back so tightly that she could barely breathe. She didn’t care, not now.

“You’re alive,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’re alive. We didn’t
know whether your transport had returned to the Death Star—”

“I didn’t know if the
Devastator
made it, and nobody knows what the hell is going on—”

“It’s so terrible—”

“Did you—?”

They stopped trying to talk over each other and just laughed for a moment, out of pure joy. Ciena looked up at Thane, and she saw the man he had become, the one she was in some ways only
beginning to
know—and yet who was already as much a part of her as her bone or blood.

“I’m supposed to report to the
Watchtower
within the hour,” Thane said. “Are you free?”

She could’ve groaned. Already she was late to report for her next shift—but then, to the side, she saw Berisse gesturing at her, clearly saying,
Go on! I’ve got it!
Ciena turned back to Thane. “I have a few minutes.”

They
worked their way through the busy docking bay to a side corridor; it led to a recreation area and, as such, was currently deserted. Though the roar of activity continued only a few meters
away, there the two of them could be nearly alone.

“Are you all right?” Thane brushed a loose curl back from her cheek as he framed her face with his hands.

Ciena knew he wasn’t talking about battle
injuries. “Nash Windrider is safe. He’s torn up about Alderaan—” It was hard even to say the planet’s name. Thane
winced when he heard it. “Still, he’s on duty. But Jude died on the Death Star.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her back into his arms, and she leaned her head against his chest.

They’d never touched each other like that; no doubt Thane was as vividly aware of that as she was. And
yet embracing him, being held by him, felt natural. Right.

“I really thought I’d lost you,” she whispered. “Everything else I could handle, because I had to, but when I realized you might have been killed—I knew I
couldn’t get through that. Not ever.”

Ciena expected him to say something like, “Of course you could; you’re strong” or “Don’t worry about me.” Instead, Thane folded her deeper
in his embrace.
“This whole week, I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. The Empire has been turned upside down, and we’re going to war, and not one damn bit of it mattered. You were the only
one I could think about.”

Ciena stood on tiptoe to hug him tighter. Thane’s fingers traced along her jawline as he brushed his lips against her forehead, then tilted her face up toward his. But
it was Ciena who
brought their mouths together for their first kiss.

Oh,
she thought as their lips opened against each other.
It’s not whether he’s my friend or someone I love. He’s
both
. Thane’s always been both, since
the beginning.

This wasn’t the start of something; it was their discovery, their admission, of what had been between them for a very long while.

When they pulled
apart, Thane took a deep breath. “That was—very—”

“Yeah.” Then they both laughed, more gently this time, and he kissed her forehead again.

She slid her arms down his shoulders to take his hands in hers. Thane’s crooked smile made Ciena feel as if she were melting inside. Why couldn’t this have happened at a moment when
they could really be alone?

But a few stolen minutes in a noisy
docking bay were all they had, and she didn’t intend to waste them. “Listen to me,” Ciena said. “As crazy as things are, we’ll
be together again. I don’t know where or when, but it’s going to happen.”

“It will,” he answered, brightening. “No matter what, I’m going to find you.”

That was a strange way to put it. Once they worked past this initial confusion, Imperial records would be able
to connect the two of them at any time. But Ciena didn’t care. She was too
overcome, already yearning for the next time they’d be together before they’d even said good-bye. “How can I miss you when you’re still here?”

“Because I already miss you, too. But it’s not forever. Not even for long.”

Thane kissed her again, and after days of holding strong against loss, grief, and terror, Ciena
let herself surrender to a moment of happiness.

Then she walked him to his transport, kissed him once more at the ramp as a few officers inside whistled, and, finally, ran like hell for her duty station.

When she got to her console, Berisse stepped aside with a motion like a waiter presenting the dessert. “I owe you one,” Ciena breathed as she tried to steady herself.

“You owe me
way
more than one,” Berisse answered.

Ciena glanced sideways at Berisse; the two of them started to smile at the craziness of it all. Amazing how, in situations like that, you could become good friends in only a couple of days. She
got back to work, but on one viewscreen she brought up the docking bay feed so she could see the
Watchtower
disengage and set off for the infinity of space, taking
Thane with it.

I
N THE ADVENTURE stories and swashbuckling holo-series Thane had watched as a child, spice worlds were exotic lands peopled with beautiful dancers,
wisecracking
gangsters, and daring pilots who flew souped-up starships as they outran those no-good Old Republic enforcers.

The stories all suggested that spice smugglers longed for a day when they could trade their goods fairly—and that the Empire had delivered the spice worlds from their more dangerous, yet
colorful past. Thane no longer believed in the Empire as anyone’s salvation, and he knew he’d
learned all that from tales told to children; yet the romance of spice worlds lingered
until the moment he set foot on Kerev Doi.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t
this.

Kerev Doi’s pink skies no longer spread over vast open land; instead they had turned darker and hung over a grim, disheartened populace. People didn’t wear fancy outfits or trade
quips; they hid within
heavy cloaks and said as little as possible. Spice farms dominated the landscape. Everything about the planet that wasn’t ordinary was profoundly depressing.

Okay, so your childhood stories didn’t pan out,
Thane told himself roughly.
Get over it. This is reality.

His duty would have been easier if he’d had more to do on Kerev Doi, but the
Watchtower
’s role was primarily to ferry the officials
in charge of shaking down the
planet’s notoriously corrupt banking system and to provide a show of strength. So Thane’s tasks were limited to taking out his TIE fighter every day and flying low over areas that
needed a reminder of the Empire’s power and reach.

Once, Thane might at least have found it funny, the way people cowered and scattered as he flew overhead. After Alderaan, seeing
people scared of the Empire—well, he no longer felt like
laughing.

On a free night, he went out to the Blue Convor, a local nightclub famous from many of the holos. That was where heroes and heroines met each other, exchanged soulful glances over drinks that
glowed in the radiant light, and made plans that would earn them money beyond imagining. Thane held out little hope for the place;
at worst it would be as seedy and run-down as most of what
he’d seen of Kerev Doi so far. At best it would be a tourist trap.

But somehow the Blue Convor turned out to be relatively close to what Thane had pictured. The ambiance was low-key (helped along by the new rule that only Imperial officers could bring their
blasters inside). Low couches were cushioned in deep orange and rich pink,
and hanging plants dangled their lush blooms overhead. Levitating candle droids illuminated only their immediate
surroundings, leaving plenty of inviting shadows. The music was excellent, low sultry rhythms played by a long-snouted guy at a circular keyboard. Thane’s drink came in a tall glass and was
just strong enough to soften the edges.

I’ll tell Ciena about this in my next message,
he thought.
She used to like those holos, too, when she got to see them. It would make her happy to know at least one thing about
Kerev Doi is just as good as we imagined it.

Thane felt himself grinning and tried to stop, but he couldn’t. Even the thought of Ciena blew his mind these days.

Ever since that day on the Sky Loop when Thane had first realized the new potential in his relationship
with Ciena, he’d resisted it. Even when he hadn’t been angry with her about
that dumb-ass incident with the laser cannon, he’d been afraid of what would happen if the bond between them changed.

But it
hadn’t
changed. That was the amazing thing. They’d always belonged to each other in ways that were difficult to define; Thane felt as though they’d simply
acknowledged what had been true
from the start.

And she, too, was considering leaving the Imperial Starfleet.

That made sense, of course. Ciena defined herself by her honor, and there could be no honor in what the Empire had done to Alderaan. Obviously, the Rebel Alliance was no better; it had blown up
the Death Star with nearly two million people on board. But one wrong didn’t excuse another. She had probably thought
about abandoning her post even before he had.

Once again, Thane replayed those few incredible minutes in his mind—the one and only time he’d been able to hold Ciena in his arms and kiss her. She had said,
We’ll be
together again. I don’t know where or when.

She wouldn’t have said that if she thought they’d both remain in the Imperial Navy, where they could find each other through any
database. Surely she, too, wanted out.

But wanting out and getting out were two different things. What exactly was he supposed to do if he abandoned his post? He would immediately become a wanted criminal. A low-priority criminal,
maybe—especially with the rebels out there as a more dangerous threat—but he’d still be at risk of being thrown in the brig the first time an Imperial officer
performed a scan and
realized he was a deserter. Plus Ciena would find it incredibly hard to break her promise to serve the Empire. She believed in both oaths and honor as sacred. What happened when those oaths and her
honor were at odds?

I guess we have to wait,
he thought tiredly.
Do our five years. Try to get assigned to the same station or ship for a while. Maybe put down this damned
rebellion and avenge Jude,
before our tours of duty are up. Then we can resign and walk away.

And after that…Thane didn’t know. They wouldn’t return to Jelucan; that much was certain. But it was a big galaxy. The possibilities were endless. All they had to do was
search for their future together.

He sipped his drink and daydreamed about this night as a scene from one of the holos.
Now he was a swaggering spice pirate, all ego and charm. Ciena could slink in dressed like one of those
classic femme fatales—in a deep-red robe that clung to her body—and whisper to him that she needed help from a man who was afraid of nothing.

“That’s me,” he whispered to the Ciena in his mind. He imagined kissing her again, and the next daydreams lasted him until he had paid for his drink,
left the club, and
returned to his bunk.