Inferno Squad (Star Wars: Battlefront, #2)

by Christie Golden

Lieutenant Junior Grade Gideon Hask, twenty-seven, tall, elegant, the sole living member of a proud family of high-ranking Imperial officers, was usually poised and cool, just as he ought to be.

Gideon, a native of Kuat, had been orphaned at age ten when a rebel infiltrator had detonated a bomb at the planet’s shipyards. His parents had died in the blast.

He smiled—the cold, thin-lipped smile of absolute calculation that Iden usually didn’t like to see but now welcomed.

The child of a rebel may be a child yet, but we must look to the future. It will grow up to be an enemy. And our enemies must be destroyed.

Gideon Hask, child of impeccable heritage, looked as though he had been born with a glass of fine wine in his hand.

“Del, let’s always be friends. That way when you come visit, I’ll never have to worry that you’re hiding all kinds of things I’d never find.” Del’s laugh was surprised and genuine. “Deal,” he said.

“Very much so,” Gideon replied. “Our pilot may not get to do much piloting if I have my way. Also, Captain Versio—if anything happens to you, that puts me in charge, right?” “Stick to ‘Agent.’ Don’t practice saying ‘Captain’ in the mirror just yet,” Iden shot back playfully. This was an old, old joke between them, and hearing it trotted out was comforting.

While Meeko busied himself with the droid, Hask piloted the Corvus as often as he could get away with it,

Gideon Hask was in high spirits. Hitherto, he’d served the Empire by blowing rebels out of the sky while piloting his TIE fighter, but this was different. Everything about Inferno Squad was different. The missions always held the possibility of exploding into danger and violence without warning, just like the fighting he had been more used to. Unlike going into battle, though, there was also a chance of that not happening at all. It kept you on your toes, and Gideon found he loved it.

He was less excited that, yet again, he was playing second to Iden, someone five years his junior.

Waiting for them was Del Meeko, lean and lanky and thin-lipped with intensity, standing with a blaster at the ready.

The two men in question exchanged glances, then hid bemused smiles.

They’d swapped battle stories, tales of their childhood, and reminiscences of girls they’d known all too fleetingly. The Empire was a demanding master, and there was little time for personal relationships.

Gideon struck Del as someone who was eager to connect with others yet pushed them away simultaneously. There was an edge to his humor, a coldness that Del supposed came with the tragedy that had struck him so young.

She was much taller than Del had expected—almost as tall as they were, and neither Imperial was short.

She disliked the familiarity. Hardly anyone addressed her as Iden. Only her mother and Gideon had done so, and even Gideon called her by her rank and last name except on clearly informal occasions.

Del, too, was well on his way to being accepted. That, also, didn’t surprise Iden. Del had a calmness and a self-deprecation that put people at ease.

Gideon loved flying, and he was starting to push for more than the blue milk runs that Del had referred to.

“Well,” Gideon said, “how about you let me show you what I can do flying, and then you show me what you can do drinking.”

“Hey, if you have something better, I’ll gladly wear it,” Gideon replied. He thought it was a pretty good sidestep. He was starting to get used to this whole undercover thing. “We’ll find out if you’re worth wasting a flight suit on,” Staven retorted. “Let’s go, flyboy.”

As they moved back, the droid emitted a few noises of discovery. They sounded sad to Gideon’s ears—but that was probably him anthropomorphizing. It was just a machine. He turned, curious—and his eyes widened as his gaze fell on a damaged TIE fighter. He felt like he’d been kicked in the chest and stared too long at it, drawing Staven’s attention. If the droid had indeed “felt” sad, Gideon certainly shared the emotion.

to and did a double take. It was a very beat-up, very sad-looking A-wing. “You’re kidding me.” “I never kid.” “That piece of junk would make Del cry. Hell, it would make his droid cry.” He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Well, it takes a sense of humor to ask me to fly that, or have you lost that completely?”

Staven had fallen silent, and Gideon was grinning like an idiot. This was a rickety old bucket, and it might yet kill him, but if it did, he’d die doing what he loved.

Pride surged in Gideon, then it abated almost at once. Even at his best, Iden had always been able to fly rings around him. And once Staven had seen Iden fly, Gideon would again be relegated to second best in someone’s opinion.

“Never saw a young man so in love with the sky.

“And off it goes back to Del,” Gideon said. “I’m jealous of him and that little contraption. He needs to make me one.”

“Del?” “I don’t have Seyn’s insight, but I certainly don’t like him. Gideon says he’d like to punch him, but while that would be entertaining I don’t think that would help.”

“Where’s Piikow?” she asked, looking around. “He’s not been feeling well. Kinda worries me.” She turned, surprised. “Worries you? He’s a Dreamer, Del. He’s the enemy.” “He is,” Del said. “And he’s a smart, funny, imaginative little fellow who didn’t deserve what happened to him or his family. I can hold both in my head.” “Just make sure it’s in your head, not your heart,” she said. “Good luck.”

Gideon punched Del in the shoulder. “Come on, brother mine. Let’s head on back.” “Hey, quit punching me,” Del said good-naturedly. “I’m your big brother, remember?” “Ah, but I am the witty and dashing younger brother who flies the ship and gets to have all the fun.”

But then again, by the time they returned the Dreamers would be no more, and the Rebel Alliance was too crippled by its own moral code to push a similarly violent agenda. Its leaders would be as horrified about what was about to unfold as the Empire.

Iden had looked at Gideon before walking off with the Mentor, and he’d taken it as a sign to keep cozying up to Staven. Which was fine. He found Staven’s intensity appealing, and it was fun simply hanging around him. And, as now, directing the conversations.

“The Mentor thinks that rebellions are built on hope, but I don’t believe it. Rebellions are built on hate, Iden Versio.

Iden couldn’t recall when she’d begun calling Gideon by his surname. It was before Seyn died. And now he was calling her Captain. Another casualty of this mission.

I’m going to change and head out for a run. Hask, you were with me this whole time, and you saw me leave.” “Copy that,” Hask replied. “Del, how’s that ship coming?”

“That’s a reasonable explanation. And it’s true, as far as it goes. I do trust you, and I don’t trust Gid.

“We’re not the Dreamers, Hask!” she snapped. “We’re supposed to be better than they are, remember? Or have you gotten so caught up in Staven’s bloodlust that you’ve forgotten you’re an Imperial officer?” Hask drew breath to speak, but Del interrupted him. “Captain, Lieutenant…we’ve got company.”