She approached it from the front and waved at the uniformed pilot, dimly seen through the forward viewport. He waved back, and moments later the vehicle’s boarding ramp descended.
She climbed the ramp with quick, nervous steps and pitched her voice to carry throughout the vehicle. “Lieut… uh, Captain Antilles reporting as requested.” At the top of the ramp, she turned forward, facing the shuttle’s main compartment, which was laid out in a standard VIP profile-only a few seats, all plush and able to swivel, with a small table beside each one.
But the cockpit door was closed, and there was no one in sight. “Hello?”
The boarding ramp rose, locking into place. Suspicious, she put her hand against the small of her back, where her hold-out blaster was holstered under her tunic. Pilots were not supposed to go armed in secure areas aboard ship, but her mother had taught her that, at times, obedience to the letter of the law was an invitation to assassination.
The cockpit door swung open. In the doorway stood a man of average height. In the dress uniform of Galactic Alliance Starfighter Command, he was middle-aged, lean, with hair that had changed over the years from pale blond to white and features that were aristocratic but sympathetic. His eyes were a startling blue.
He offered her a smile. “Welcome back, Syal.”
“Uncle Tycho!” She ran to him, wrapped her arms around him, and held him close for a moment. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You act as though I were the one in danger.” He led her back into the main compartment, sat her down in one of the overstuffed chairs, and took a seat in the one opposite. “Captain Antilles. I thought that was a glitch when I saw it on the rescuee roster.”
Syal shook her head. “A field promotion. I shot at Luke Skywalker and they decided I warranted a raise in grade.” Though she tried, she couldn’t keep the pain, the bitterness out of her voice. “A consolation prize for losing my entire command. My fiance.”
“Fiance?” Tycho registered shock. “I knew you were seeing someone “
“Tiom Rordan. Fighter pilot off the frigate Mawrunner.” Unable to stand the sight of the sympathy on Tycho’s face, she looked down at her boots. “It wasn’t official. We weren’t even going to think about getting married until the war was done.” Syal felt tears begin to well up. Tears again, for the thousandth time. She dashed them away and stared at Tycho, daring him to notice them.
He just shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” She fidgeted. Her left knee began vibrating, early warning that nervous energy was going to cause it to start bouncing up and down soon. She pressed down on her knee with her palm. “Is Winter all right?”
Tycho nodded. “She’s fine. Syal, as good as it is to see you, I actually sent for you in an official capacity.”
“Ah.” Syal straightened. “What can I do for you, General?”
For a moment, Tycho looked a touch sadder, as though her sudden reversion to officer’s manners was as unwelcome as it was appropriate. “You know that these days I’m serving as an analyst for Admiral Niathal.”
Syal nodded. “I wish you were training pilots again. The rookies could really use your experience.”
“Thanks. What I need from you is, well, the truth. The truth with no protective coloration, no filtering.”
She considered. “Off the record? And have you swept this shuttle for listening devices?”
“Yes, and yes. Remember, like you, I live in a mixed household. Pilots and spies.”
That almost fetched a smile from her. But she didn’t have any smiles left. “Fire away, General.”
“I need intelligent observations from a field officer’s perspective. About morale. The course of the war. About Colonel Solo.”
She had to think about it. “I’m not sure what to say. I don’t have a context. Maybe that’s the problem. How can you have a perspective if you have nothing to compare things with? I don’t. My squadmates don’t. I mean, didn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I remember the Yuuzhan Vong War. I was only a kid, but it’s all still so vivid. Everyone I knew was fighting for the same thing. Survival. It was simple. If we lost, we died, and we died out. If we won, we didn’t. This war, though … Those of us who were in uniform when it started trusted that they’d tell us what it meant, and that it would make sense. But they told us, and it didn’t.”
She took a long, shuddery breath. “It’s getting crazier and crazier out there. It’s like both sides are starting to see each other as nothing but droids. I keep hearing stories about infantry units who report that they found enemy towns and compounds blown up, part of some Confederation scorch-and-thwart policy. But scuttlebutt has it that their ground forces are reporting the same thing about our towns and compounds, and I know we don’t have a policy like that. And someone at Centerpoint Station pressed a button to wipe out our entire task force the other day. Pressed a button. I’m scared to death that they’ll do it again. … but I’m even more scared that next time, I’d be willing to push that button.” Finally the tears came and she put her head down into her hand. “Since this started, I’ve shot at one of my heroes, Luke Skywalker, and at my own father. The Alliance and the Confederation both say awful things about both of them. Neither one of them deserves it. It doesn’t make any sense.”