Myr’la. Sunrise.
Pal’ryk. Saber.
Jeslin. Spear.
Torsk. Strike.
Ray’lo. Guardian.
Breton’la. Skimmer.
Picbacca. The Wook.
Jar-EE. Dewback.
Names and codenames. People. His
people. Bothans.
Lort Br’lya—Scimitar—knew them
all, thousands of them. His Spynet spread far and wide throughout the galaxy,
with his agents reporting in whenever and however they could. Coded
transmissions, dead drops, even physical documents. One inventive spy tied a
scroll to a homing graal, which flew all the way to Spynet HQ to deliver
an important message.
These things were never clean,
never easy. Large-scale spying operations couldn’t be. It took a certain type
to smile in the face of their enemy, gain their trust, and steal information
right from under their nose. It took even more moxie to send back the
information without being caught or suspected, and Bothans were better at it
than anyone in the galaxy. Some attached themselves to high-ranking Imperial
officers. Others dined with lowly techs, their lips made loose by fruity drinks
and the comfort of chatting with a friend. They befriended influential bankers,
politicians, union bosses, contractors, air traffic controllers, hostesses,
dancers, pirates, and scoundrels. Anyone could have a vital piece of
information that, when combined with other pieces, helped Lort synthesize the
bigger picture.
Often, those pieces didn’t immediately
add up.
Spynet’s operatives and
informants heard whispers of increased Imperial presence along the Outer Rim.
At first, this meant very little. After all, the Outer Rim was home to multiple
remote systems that could be challenging to staff. But going back as far as
five years, shipments of materials and personnel arrived in the Moddell Sector
with surprising frequency. Work orders and manifests provided little clarity on
the nature of the shipments; even some of Lort’s best slicers couldn’t scrape
details from the Imperial databanks they’d once cracked with ease.
When Spynet leaned about a
“planet killer” and passed that information to Rebel Intelligence (an oxymoron
if one ever existed), the Rebellion took on the Empire with a full-frontal
assault on Scarif. It all led to the discovery of the Death Star and the
critical Rebel victory in the Battle of Yavin. All the personnel and materials,
Lort and his advisors believed, had been part of the original Death Star
project.
But the whispers didn’t go away when
the Empire’s ultimate weapon turned into stardust.
Reports continued to come in
from the Moddell Sector.
The breakthrough came from an
Imperial contract shipping company that had done a poor job of securing its internal
database. Sure, the Imperial databanks were nearly impenetrable, but sometimes the
contractors doing the Empire’s bidding made a mistake. A slicer scraped a
single mention of the word “kyber” from a shipping manifest. The contractor
quickly recognized the error and corrected it, but the damage was done.
In the spy world, proof was never
really proof. No one believed you even when the information had been vetted at
the highest levels. Spynet massaged its information, the naysayers alleged, and
Bothans couldn’t be trusted. Rebel Intelligence, though shrewd and often
ruthless, wouldn’t act on Spynet tips without independent verification. Even
when the shipping company responsible for the kyber error abruptly ceased
operations, the Rebels were hesitant to buy in.
They’d already destroyed one
Death Star, after all.
They had no desire to worry
about another one.
.png)
One of the many viewscreens in
Lort’s main data center trilled to signal an incoming transmission. It came
from his cousin, the inscrutable Myr’la. Codename: Sunrise. Though the cousins
had been close since childhood, protocol dictated discretion. That meant
sticking to protocol.
Lort checked the encryption. “The
line is secure, Sunrise. What do you have?”
“We have confirmation of the
project in the Moddell Sector. A freighter delivered a prefab Imperial bunker
to a small moon there fifteen months ago. It’s called Andor or Endor. My team
tells me this bunker is tied to another planet killer.”
Lort took a deep breath and
attempted to hide his annoyance. “Something that happened fifteen months ago is
hardly news. Activity in that region pointed us to Moddell some time ago.”
“We’ve been searching for
verification, Scimitar. This is it. The information is new. We didn’t know
there was a bunker at that location.” Myr made no effort to hide her annoyance
as her image flickered in the holo transmission. “This is fresh intel. The Empire
commissioned an Aierzon utility crew last week to address a power stability
problem. Something in that facility drew enough energy to overload the whole
bunker. Prefabs are meant to be self-sufficient. The Imperials are using the
bunker for something other than its intended purpose.”
Lort stroked his chin; perhaps he’d
been too dismissive of his cousin. “Interesting. Have you been able to obtain a
work order or any other documentation?”
“We’re working on it. The kyber
fiasco was good for us, but it also made the Empire plug the gaps in outside
databases. They’ve locked things down. We got this intel based solely on a
fluke. One of our operatives happened to know a member of the utility crew sent
to address the problem. I couldn’t even calculate the odds of that happening.”
Lort sighed. “Excellent work,
Sunrise. Keep me apprised of any further developments.”
“I will.”
“And Sunrise?”
“Yes?”
“Do be careful.”
Myr’s hologram disappeared. He
thought about the summers they spent together as children on Bothawui, but the
memory had only a moment to take root before another transmission came through.
He checked the encryption. “The
line is secure, Saber.”
Pal’ryk’s dark fur rippled in
agitation. Lort’s second-in-command loathed reporting in for field duty, but
circumstances required it. “Our attempt to pierce through the Imperial blockade
at the Moddell Sector failed, Scimitar. Our contact provided the crew with an
invalid code. He assured us it would work, but the fleet has accelerated its
expiration cycles. Fortunately, the captain was able to talk his way out of
being boarded. It’s a good thing the Empire doesn’t consider a garbage scow to
be a threat.”
“No doubt they would’ve had a
few questions about the scanners conveniently missing from the ship’s
manifest,” Lort said.
“They would’ve killed the entire
crew on the spot. We were able to place some long-range buoys near a debris
field. They should go undetected for a while. While the information takes some
time to ping back to us, we’ve picked up some massive energy surges. We can’t
get a solid read on the signature. However, the output matches an orbital
bombardment. That’s all I have for now.” Pal’ryk bowed his head and signed off.
Lort had pieces. Some small,
some large. All would eventually come together to form a picture.
He simply had to see it.
To the delight of smugglers, several reports indicated the Empire was pulling back fleet resources. It made it easy for spice-runners to go from point to point without worrying about any Imperial entanglements. Multiple sources indicated Star Destroyers were abandoning their normal patrol routes and systems. They included the Vigilance and the Devastator. Lort’s agents lost track of Vader’s Executor, a rather alarming development considering the size of the thing.
It all marked a noticeable
change in Imperial strategy. Over the last two years, the Empire had squeezed
the Rebellion at every turn, rooting out secret bases and outposts. No lead was
too small for an Imperial hit squad to land and ask questions later. They
delighted in slaughter, even when Rebels were nowhere to be found. A local
population would suffice, especially if non-human.
Over the last few months,
Imperial patrols had become less frequent. The single-minded effort to kill
Rebels and their sympathizers took a back seat to something else, presumably
the new Death Star project. High-ranking leaders in the Rebellion suddenly
discovered they could step into the light and openly defy the Empire without bringing
a squad of Death Troopers to their doorstep.
No one trusted these latest
developments, least of all Lort. The Empire was well funded and patient while
the Rebels were underfunded and desperate. Analysts within Spynet predicted the
Empire was simply drawing out as many Rebel leaders as possible to bring down
the hammer and crush the Rebellion once and for all. Swift Imperial justice
would end the Rebellion any day, his analysts said.
It had yet to occur.
Clearly, though, the Empire was
encouraging Rebel leaders to assemble without fear of reprisal. It had to
be a trap. Again, Lort had pieces large and small. He could not put them
together just yet.
Another transmission.
Myr’la. Sunrise.
“The line is secure. What do you
have for me?”
“The utility work on the Endor
bunker involves a massive energy shield. Looking at the specs provided by our
contact, the shield would cover an object larger than the first Death Star,”
Myr’la said. “We’ve had no visual confirmation, but the pieces are there.
Massive amounts of manpower and materials. At least one confirmed kyber
shipment, and many more we probably don’t know about. An Imperial pullback
meant to provide additional security.”
“This is all speculation, Sunrise,”
Lort pointed out. “Informed speculation, but speculation nonetheless.”
“A long-range buoy picked up the
navigational beacon for the Executor. It appears to be heading toward
the Moddell Sector. It’s only the largest ship the Empire’s ever built,” Myr’la
said. “The Empire’s best serve on it, and we’ve got a source who’s friendly
with a radar tech.”
“I haven’t heard from Dewback in
a month,” Lort said. “I have no idea where the Executor has been. I only
know it abandoned its prescribed patrol route. Given current circumstances, it
appears to track with current Imperial methodology.”
“I have one more tidbit to
share, but you’ll need to confirm this report. Skimmer has a source in Mount
Tantiss who claims to have access to schematics for the new battle station. I
can’t tell you how valuable this information would be to the Rebellion.”
Myr’la talked as if Spynet and
the Rebellion were separate entities with different goals when they were more
like different shades of the same color. She almost made it sound like Spynet
was a paid information broker that only turned over vital intel when the price
was right. The price to overthrow tyranny was never just “right.” It was high,
all-consuming. The Rebels on Scarif became legends for their sacrifice.
Lort harbored no grand illusions
of martyrdom. He preferred to monitor his agents and synthesize information
from his sources. But if Spynet had the chance to get its hands on the Empire’s
plans, he had to take the risk. He called a meeting of his intel chiefs.
He’d formed the picture.
They had to act.
And quickly.
The intel chiefs all agreed: Spynet
had to make it a priority to infiltrate Mount Tantiss and acquire plans for the
second Death Star. Analysts doubted the massive battle station would have the
same thermal exhaust port defect that brought down its predecessor, but
technical readouts could hold the key to a weakness. Everything had a weakness,
from a remote Imperial outpost to a secretive Rebel cell to the decentralized
nature of Spynet itself.
For once, the top-ranking
officials in Spynet set aside their egos. This was tough for Bothans to do, as
cultural status played a central role in their society. Each member of Spynet would
want to take credit for the successful recovery of the plans in order to
glorify their house and uplift their status on Bothawui. Spearheading such a
major operation could open doors to the highest offices in Bothan politics and
launch a career to the Galactic Senate (if the Rebels were actually able to
reinstate it).
But Lort’s fellow intelligence
chiefs surprised him. Each understood the gravity of the situation and
recognized the importance of preventing the Empire from utilizing another Death
Star. No other planet could suffer the fate of Alderaan, a shining example of
culture and civil disobedience. Its loss lingered; “for Alderaan” remained a
stirring battle cry. Neither Lort nor his intel chiefs would allow it to happen
again.
Spynet thrived on both
simplicity and complexity. Different operatives ran various schemes to gain
trust and claw away vital information. The decentralized nature of the network,
which operated in cells not unlike the Rebel Alliance itself, meant that
sometimes not everyone was aware of a major operation at the same time. But
simple commands and code words delivered at timely intervals allowed those
disparate cells to act as one when needed.
Really, it all came down to
people.
Myr’la. Sunrise.
Pal’ryk. Saber.
Jeslin. Spear.
Torsk. Strike.
Ray’lo. Guardian.
Breton’la. Skimmer.
Picbacca. The Wook.
Jar-EE. Dewback.
Names and codenames. People. His people. Bothans.
An infiltration team hitched a
ride on a freighter and landed, undetected, on Mount Tantiss. Lort knew it for
a fact. Led by Strike, his highly competent spec ops chief, the team planned to
infiltrate the command center, download the plans, and get the hell out. Each
member of the ten-person squad would take their own copy of the file and go
their separate ways. If fortune smiled upon them, at least one would make it to
a Spynet safehouse.
Lort awaited word from Strike or
any member of his team.
Four days after the
infiltration, he still waited.
His sources believed three
members of the team had already died, two by blaster and one by bad luck (a
depressurized cargo bay that was not supposed to be depressurized).
Incoming transmission. Pal’ryk.
Saber.
“The line is secure, Saber.
What’s your report?”
“Spear made it to the Spynet
safehouse in Onblat City. As soon as he arrived, a Star Destroyer dropped out
of hyperspace and launched an orbital bombardment. No survivors. We were also
in contact with Skimmer, the Wook, and Guardian. An Imperial fleet arrived
immediately at Gelonda III and destroyed the enclave there. Skimmer is among
the casualties. The Wook made it to the safehouse on Cassiter and boarded a ship
bound for Sunrise’s base. As soon as he left, another orbital bombardment
followed. The Cassiter cell is gone. Guardian disappeared from our scopes.” Overcome
by the reports, Lort sank into his chair. Was Tantiss a trap? “We’re burning
assets at an unsustainable rate, sir.”
“Is there any good news?”
“The plans are heavily
encrypted. Remote transmissions are impossible right now, and it’s apparent the
Empire is tracking us. We have nothing.”
“I asked for good news, Saber.”
“If I had any, I’d deliver it,
sir.”
Reports flooded in from throughout
Spynet. Imperial arrivals, orbital bombardments, strike teams. He received a
priority alert from Myr’la. She spoke before he even confirmed the line was
secure.
“Imperial... bombardment... ”
The signal broke up. He couldn’t understand what she was saying as interference
scrambled the transmission. The lights behind her flickered and the room shook.
Lort knew what it all meant. Myr’la’s post was compromised, and the Imperials would
show no mercy. He caught her last words in crystal-clear audio fidelity. “Don’t
waste it. Please don’t waste it, Lort.”
The use of his real name was the
highest breach of protocol.
For once, the Bothan to whom
protocol meant everything suddenly cared nothing about it.
“Myr’la. Sunrise.” Lort reached
out toward the hologram, knowing full well the futility of it all, as her image
flickered away.
In less than a week, Lort’s
beloved Spynet collapsed. The Death Star plans were a trap, leading the Empire
to his well-protected and most essential bases of operation. They used those
leads to find and eliminate more cells. If his calculations were correct, it
would take approximately another week for the Imperials to bring about the
irreparable destruction of the whole enterprise.
In his younger days, Lort
would’ve been concerned about how the collapse would affect his status in the
Bothan aristocracy. Surely, no one who’d been in charge of such a catastrophe would’ve
been worthy of a high-ranking office. They would’ve shamed their house and
perhaps been subject to public humiliation, stripped of their ancestral lands
and titles. Perhaps assigned, as a mercy, to a job of low standing from which
their family name could never recover.
Those days were long past. Lort
no longer cared about his house or status. He cared about Myr’la. Of his many
cousins, she had been his favorite. They’d spent many summers together on
Bothanwui, warmed by the planet’s breathtaking sun. She loved to watch the
sunrise in the morning on those vacations; they sneaked off together well
before their clan leaders awoke.
He had failed her, just as Spynet
had failed the galaxy.
All the pieces had been there.
He’d finally seen the picture—a way to hurt the Empire at its most critical
point. But for all he thought he’d seen, he’d missed the truth. What could have
been a killing blow to the most pervasive evil in the galaxy instead became the
tool of his own destruction.
He kept the lines open for any
remaining members of Spynet. An automated looping message advised them to go as
far underground as possible and use their lowest-profile, cleanest forged
identity. They were no longer safe. Even returning to Bothanwui posed too much
risk. He told them to pick a remote world in the Outer Rim, some wild frontier
where the Empire held little sway. Such places, though limited, still existed.
For while the Empire pretended
it was everywhere, the galaxy was far too large for it to live up to that
threat, even if its surveillance apparatuses and probe droids were formidable.
His Spynet numbered in the tens
of thousands. So many Bothans, especially in the last decade, sacrificed so
much to stop the Imperial juggernaut. The Empire acted as if people were made
to be ruled, intimidated, and beaten down. It made oppression the currency of
its realm, as if giving oxygen to a whisper of freedom could spark a
revolution.
Lort believed. It’s why he spent
nearly two decades establishing the finest spying apparatus the galaxy had ever
seen. From the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim, Spynet listened, watched, and
lurked in the shadows. Its members cajoled and influenced, rarely in
heavy-handed fashion, to obtain access and information moffs would kill to possess.
He prided himself on protecting his members, providing safe passage and new
identities to those who may have unwittingly compromised themselves.
And as the movement grew, it
included many non-Bothans. He would never admit it to someone from his home
planet because his brethren were proud and sometimes nationalistic
opportunists, but he came to regard any member of Spynet, no matter their
planet of origin, as an honorary Bothan.
Names and codenames. People. His
people.
On the verge of his greatest
triumph, many Bothans died.
It wouldn’t be long until a Star
Destroyer parked itself just outside his base and started blasting away. He’d
managed to stay hidden for so long, why not give up the game now? His fate
should be the same as those who’d counted on him.
As if to confirm his fears, the
scanner beeped to signal the arrival of an incoming ship.
Though certain the Empire had
arrived, he checked the monitor to confirm it. He would be insulted if anything
other than the Executor showed up to destroy the greatest spy network
the galaxy had ever seen.
But something struck him
immediately: the ship didn’t appear large enough to be a Star Destroyer, let
alone a Super Star Destroyer. Heck, the little speck looked to be only slightly
larger than a TIE on the scope. The enhanced view showed a beat-up T-65 X-wing with
black and gold trim. He didn’t recognize the snubfighter, although the pilot
transmitted the proper code.
“Scimitar, do you read? Do you
read?” a voice said through static.
“Pilot, your presence in this
system is a direct contravention of orders from Spynet Command. You are to exit
this system immediately and go to ground. For your own safety, get as far away
from here as possible.”
“Negative, Scimitar. I have an
urgent parcel to deliver. This is Guardian.”
Lort stood with his hands behind
his back as the starfighter landed in the main bay. He had dismissed base
personnel some time ago and retrieved a ladder so the pilot could make his way
down. A dark-furred Bothan dressed in an orange flight suit clambered down the
ladder as his astromech trilled and beeped in its socket. The pilot undid his
chinstrap and let his helmet fall to the plasteel floor. “It’s bad out there,
Scimitar.”
Lort held up a hand. “You can
call me Lort, Ray’lo.”
“But Spynet protocol dictates—”
“Spynet is no more.” He forced a
bittersweet smile. “A great purge not unlike the one that wiped out the Jedi
some years ago. The copied plans essentially acted as homing beacons. For the
last week, Star Destroyers and Imperial kill squads have surgically wiped us
out. It’s just a matter of time before they find us.”
“With all due respect,
Scimitar,” the pilot said before noticing Lort’s severe look of displeasure, “I
mean, Lort, the Imperials aren’t following me. They lost my trail three days
ago. You wanna know why?” He walked toward the back of the X-wing and activated
the lift for his droid companion; a vacuum tube suctioned itself to the astromech’s
domed head, lifted the entire unit out of its socket, and placed it gently on
the deck. “Elfie disabled the tracking mechanism and cracked the encryption,
all while calculating frequent jumps to keep the Empire off our tail. We finally
lost ‘em for good.”
“Cracked the encryption? What do
you mean?”
“Show him, Elfie.”
The green-and-black astromech
bounced excitedly on its feet and gibbered in its signature language of
electronic bleats and boops before projecting an image of a large green planet
surrounded by a smaller red sphere. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be an
unfinished Death Star.
“Show him the generators.”
The planet disappeared as the
astromech zoomed in on the Death Star. The larger image gave Lort a better look
at the battle station, which was clearly still under construction. Three
columns in the interior of the massive structure glowed yellow.
“Targeting the three generators
at the center will destabilize the Death Star and destroy it.” The image
simulated proton torpedo and rocket strikes to the three structures; the
station disappeared in a shower of spark and flame.
“We must deliver this to Rebel Command as quickly as possible,” Lort said. It sounded more like a question than a statement.
Ray’lo—Guardian—put a hand on his shoulder. “We also learned the Emperor is overseeing the final stages of construction. We can end this once and for all. The Death Star, the Emperor, the entire Empire.”
Lort did his best to stay
composed. They would say many Bothans died to bring the critical information to
the Rebellion. But as he thought of his friends and colleagues, of family
members and secret operatives, he saw it differently.
Myr’la. Sunrise.
Pal’ryk. Saber.
Jeslin. Spear.
Torsk. Strike.
Ray’lo. Guardian.
Breton’la. Skimmer.
Picbacca. The Wook.
Jar-EE. Dewback.
Names and codenames. People. His
people.
In his heart, many Bothans lived.
