you’ve been gone. For
three years.
”
“I know—”
“Three years you haven’t been back here.”
“The Rebellion needed people—”
The volume of his voice ticks upward as he grows more agitated, more angry. “No, I needed my father back and
you
thought joining the Rebellion might help find him. But did it?” He peers around her side, as if she’s hiding something behind her back. “I don’t see him anywhere. Is Dad here? Are you hiding him? Is he a surprise? A birthday gift to make up for the three you missed? No? I didn’t think so.”
“There was a larger fight taking place. It wasn’t just about your father, it was about…all the fathers, all the sons and mothers and families lost to or trapped by the Empire. We fought. I was at the Battle of Endor—”
“Who cares? Spare me the heroics. I don’t need a hero.”
“You will respect your mother,” she barks at him.
“Oh?” He laughs: a mirthless sound. “Will I? Here’s the holonews, lady: I don’t need to respect you. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m grown.”
“You’re still a boy. Fourteen—”
“Fifteen.”
She winces.
He continues: “I’m my own man. Other kids had parents, but I didn’t. I had a mom who flew the coop. Months without hearing from you each time. I had to make do, so I did. Now? I’m a businessman, and I need to keep my business safe. You made your choice. Between me and the galaxy, you chose the galaxy, so don’t pretend like I matter now.”
“You matter. Temmin, by all the stars, you matter to me. I’m here to take you with me. I have a smuggler ready to take us offworld and—”
At her belt, the comm relay crackles to life, vibrating as it does.
Which means: an emergency call. A New Republic signal.
A voice all too familiar to her fills the air:
“This is Captain Wedge Antilles of the New Republic. Repeat: This is Wedge Antilles of the New Republic. I am trapped on the Star Destroyer
Vigilance
in the space above Akiva, and I am in—”
Then the sound of a blaster. Wedge cries out in pain and—
The call ends.
Her blood goes cold.
Her mind wanders—Norra tries to figure out what that even means. Captain Antilles is here? On one of those Imperial Destroyers? Something really
is
going on. And suddenly she’s at the heart of it.
Again.
“There’s that look,” Temmin says.
“What?” she asks, suddenly distracted.
“It’s the face you make when you’re about to disappoint me again.”
“Temmin. Please. This is important.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. I can always tell when something is important because you go chasing after it, leaving us
unimportant
losers behind.”
And with that, he ducks down the side passage. She hurries after him, but he pulls a lever on the other side—
The door slams shut between them.
Family dinner at the Taffral house: The patriarch of the family, Glen, sits at the head of the table. To his left sits Webb, the older of the two brothers. To his right: Dav, the younger. Webb is broad-shouldered, full-chested, a rounder belly. His hair sits trimmed close to the scalp, like his father’s. Dav is leaner, smaller, a little scruffier, too.
None of them speaks. But it’s far from quiet. The loud scrape of knives on plates. The rattle of a serving spoon against a wooden bowl. The groaning judder of chair legs on the wooden floor of the old farmhouse. Outside, wind whistles through the popper-stalks and it carries the chatter-sounds of the starklebird flocks migrating east.
Dav speaks. “Pass the beans.” Webb gives him a look. “Please.”
Webb grabs the dish, starts to pass it over, then pauses, the dish held fast in his hand. He sets it back down. His jaw is set and his teeth work on pulverizing some seed in the back of his mouth.
“I can’t believe you came back here,” Webb says. The way he says it is like he doesn’t want to say it, like he’s trying to bite back the words. But they come out anyway. “You gualama-loving, tail-kissing
three years.
”
“I know—”
“Three years you haven’t been back here.”
“The Rebellion needed people—”
The volume of his voice ticks upward as he grows more agitated, more angry. “No, I needed my father back and
you
thought joining the Rebellion might help find him. But did it?” He peers around her side, as if she’s hiding something behind her back. “I don’t see him anywhere. Is Dad here? Are you hiding him? Is he a surprise? A birthday gift to make up for the three you missed? No? I didn’t think so.”
“There was a larger fight taking place. It wasn’t just about your father, it was about…all the fathers, all the sons and mothers and families lost to or trapped by the Empire. We fought. I was at the Battle of Endor—”
“Who cares? Spare me the heroics. I don’t need a hero.”
“You will respect your mother,” she barks at him.
“Oh?” He laughs: a mirthless sound. “Will I? Here’s the holonews, lady: I don’t need to respect you. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m grown.”
“You’re still a boy. Fourteen—”
“Fifteen.”
She winces.
He continues: “I’m my own man. Other kids had parents, but I didn’t. I had a mom who flew the coop. Months without hearing from you each time. I had to make do, so I did. Now? I’m a businessman, and I need to keep my business safe. You made your choice. Between me and the galaxy, you chose the galaxy, so don’t pretend like I matter now.”
“You matter. Temmin, by all the stars, you matter to me. I’m here to take you with me. I have a smuggler ready to take us offworld and—”
At her belt, the comm relay crackles to life, vibrating as it does.
Which means: an emergency call. A New Republic signal.
A voice all too familiar to her fills the air:
“This is Captain Wedge Antilles of the New Republic. Repeat: This is Wedge Antilles of the New Republic. I am trapped on the Star Destroyer
Vigilance
in the space above Akiva, and I am in—”
Then the sound of a blaster. Wedge cries out in pain and—
The call ends.
Her blood goes cold.
Her mind wanders—Norra tries to figure out what that even means. Captain Antilles is here? On one of those Imperial Destroyers? Something really
is
going on. And suddenly she’s at the heart of it.
Again.
“There’s that look,” Temmin says.
“What?” she asks, suddenly distracted.
“It’s the face you make when you’re about to disappoint me again.”
“Temmin. Please. This is important.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. I can always tell when something is important because you go chasing after it, leaving us
unimportant
losers behind.”
And with that, he ducks down the side passage. She hurries after him, but he pulls a lever on the other side—
The door slams shut between them.
Family dinner at the Taffral house: The patriarch of the family, Glen, sits at the head of the table. To his left sits Webb, the older of the two brothers. To his right: Dav, the younger. Webb is broad-shouldered, full-chested, a rounder belly. His hair sits trimmed close to the scalp, like his father’s. Dav is leaner, smaller, a little scruffier, too.
None of them speaks. But it’s far from quiet. The loud scrape of knives on plates. The rattle of a serving spoon against a wooden bowl. The groaning judder of chair legs on the wooden floor of the old farmhouse. Outside, wind whistles through the popper-stalks and it carries the chatter-sounds of the starklebird flocks migrating east.
Dav speaks. “Pass the beans.” Webb gives him a look. “Please.”
Webb grabs the dish, starts to pass it over, then pauses, the dish held fast in his hand. He sets it back down. His jaw is set and his teeth work on pulverizing some seed in the back of his mouth.
“I can’t believe you came back here,” Webb says. The way he says it is like he doesn’t want to say it, like he’s trying to bite back the words. But they come out anyway. “You gualama-loving, tail-kissing
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