The interrogator was smart enough not to take umbrage at someone with no discernible rank issuing orders. That sort of person was likely to do well in the Imperial hierarchy, which required a certain amount of flexibility. The Sixth Brother made a note to write a commendation. His job, and the jobs of his brothers and sisters, would be easier if the upper ranks were populated by people who listened to them.
Alone, the Inquisitor called up the map of the moon’s surface, to refresh his memory of the geography. It took him only a few moments to identify the best places to hide a large group of people, and then he closed the terminal and headed for the door. It was time to stop asking questions and go hunting.
Kaeden had played, in her estimation, approximately ten billion games of crokin since Ahsoka had rescued her and left Raada. It had been Miara’s suggestion. With a broken arm and limited medical options, Kaeden needed to learn to use her other hand, and crokin was the easiest way to do that. She played with her sister frequently, but her most common opponent was Neera. Once the sedatives had worn off, Neera had shambled around the cave like part of her was missing, and Kaeden thought that wasn’t far from the truth. The only time Neera showed any spark was when they played. Neera always trounced her, but if it made her feel better, then Kaeden was happy to lose.
Aside from the board game and the ability to take herself to the bathroom, living in hiding from the Empire was not all that different from being imprisoned by it. The food was terrible. The lighting was bad. She was nervous and jumpy, startling at every sound. But there were no torture machines, so at least she had that going for her. And her sister was with her and safe, mostly, so she had that, too.
Reaching up with her good hand, Kaeden readjusted the scarf she was using to contain her hair. Her usual braids had fared about as well under torture as she had, and she hadn’t been able to fix them one-handed. Miara had given it her best shot, but despite her ability to make tiny circuits that could explode when properly triggered, Miara had no gift for braiding. Kaeden ended up taking them out entirely and then had to do her best to deal with the bushy volume hanging loose. She should probably have cut it, but she knew her arm would get better eventually, and she liked the long braids. She could be patient.
Or she could be patient with her hair, at least. Being patient while they hid out from the Empire was an entirely different matter. No one talked about it, because it felt too much like speaking ill of the dead, but Kaeden could tell that even the most hotheaded of them was wishing they’d never listened to Hoban. As their supplies ran low, there was talk of who should go into town for more and arguments about whether or not they should just try to leave the planet altogether.
“Do you think it’s strange that the Imperials haven’t found us yet?” Miara said. She sat down beside Kaeden, who was flicking crokin pieces at the center of the board. Her aim was getting better, but not by much.
“We did take out the walkers before things went sideways,” Kaeden said. “But you’re right. They have to know there are only so many places we could hide. Even the densest stormtroopers should have checked here by now.”
“What do you think they’re waiting for?” Miara asked.
“I think they’re busy looking for something else,” Kaeden said. “It’s not like we’re a threat to them.”
“But Ahsoka’s gone,” Miara said.
“She said she’d come back,” Kaeden reminded her. She’d said it a hundred times if she’d said it once, and every time, a little more of her surety died.
Miara looked at her witheringly. It was an old look for a young face, and Kaeden didn’t like it.
“Why would she come back?” Miara asked. “There’s nothing here.”
“There’s us,” Kaeden said, ignoring Miara’s implication that Kaeden believed Ahsoka would return solely on her account. “She might come back for us.”
“Her and what army?” Miara asked. “Or would you leave everyone else behind to save yourself?”
Kaeden couldn’t say it, couldn’t see the look of disgust she knew her sister would give her if she did, but the truth was that she would leave Raada in a heartbeat if she could. If it would save her, or Miara, from ever feeling that machine on her chest again, she would do it. Guilt was a long pain, but it was survivable. She wasn’t sure how long she’d hold up if she was tortured again.
“Stop that,” Miara said, and Kaeden realized she was rubbing her chest. The machine hadn’t even left a mark. All Miara could see was that Kaeden was twitchy and constantly scared. At least no one accused her of being lovesick, even when they might have needed a laugh.
