A week after the SaberCats celebrated their championship win, Zare walked down the main hallway of AppSci, returning the congratulations of his fellow students with brief nods. He was too angry to do more than that.

He found Coach Ramset in his cramped office, one level below Fhurek’s.

“Ah,” Ramset said, his face turning a deeper green. “Zare.”

“Coach, why did I get all these demerits?” Zare asked, brandishing his datapad. “‘Failure to keep sports equipment in proper condition’? ‘Failure to secure personal effects in locker room’? What’s all this nonsense?”

“I meant to speak with you about these things,” Ramset muttered. “Your helmet was, um, frequently dirty. Unacceptable, Zare.”

“My helmet was dirty? It’s grav-ball!”

Ramset shrugged and his shoulders slumped.

“Fhurek made you do this, didn’t he?” Zare asked.

The Duros coach didn’t say anything.

“Never mind,” Zare said in disgust. “Let him have his revenge—I don’t care. Are you going to coach chin-bret this semester? I’m trying to pick between that and something simpler—like maybe track and field.”

“I’m afraid the chin-bret squads are full,” Ramset said.

“How can that be? You haven’t even held tryouts yet.”

Ramset didn’t say anything.

“And track and field?” Zare asked.

Another helpless shrug.

“I understand,” Zare said, getting to his feet.

“Zare…”

He turned at the door. Ramset had finally lifted his head to meet Zare’s eyes.

“You’re a champion,” the coach said. “Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks,” Zare said. “But now I need to get to class. Let’s see if I can avoid any demerits for damaging the floor by walking on it.”

Zare was still steaming when he found Merei in the data lab and began angrily telling her what Fhurek had done. She looked around nervously and shushed him, taking his hand.

“You know Fhurek’s gunning for you,” she said. “Remember who his friends are. Don’t make it worse.”

“I don’t care,” Zare said.

“You need to not care in a different way,” Merei said. “Just keep your head down. Get through this semester, graduate, and then you never have to think about him again.”

“That’s what everybody says,” he muttered.

“If everybody’s saying it, maybe you need to start listening.”

“Maybe,” Zare said. “But this isn’t right.”

Merei didn’t respond to that, which Zare supposed was the sensible thing to do.

“Never mind,” Zare grumbled. “I keep thinking about the orchardlands. Beck was talking about them the other day—how the jogan trees would be blossoming now, if things were different.”

“I know,” Merei said. “He told me that, too. He wanted to know if I could find anything else out about the Empire’s plans for the site.”

“And did you?” Zare asked eagerly.

Merei sighed. “Not you, too,” she said, tapping at her datapad. “If there’s some sort of master plan for mineral extraction, it’s not public—and before you ask, no. I told Beck I won’t risk it, and I meant it. I just finished my application for the Institute for Quantitative Studies—I’m not endangering that now.”

Zare raised his hands peaceably.

“Anyway, there’s not a lot about the site that we didn’t know in the fall,” Merei said. “It’s obvious that they’re looking for crystals, probably for use in laser-targeting systems. Oh, and Governor Pryce approved a request of additional security for the site. Some of the local farmers have filed complaints about dust and pollution.”

“Good—somebody needs to,” Zare said.

He let his thoughts drift for a moment. Merei was undoubtedly right about keeping his head down; provoking the athletic director would just give him an opportunity for further mischief. He should keep a low profile and get to the Academy, where Fhurek would be just an unpleasant memory.

“Say, Merei—can you see Academy records?”

Merei blew her breath out, looking wary.

“Zare,” she said.

“Nothing secret—I promise.”

Merei shook her head. “All right, I’ll look—but I need an anonymous connection,” she said, typing furiously. “Hmmm. I can’t get at sensitive internal stuff—you’d have to be within the network to do that—but there’s basic information. What do you want to know?”

“What can you see about Ames Bunkle?”

Merei typed briefly, then nodded. “Applied and accepted last spring, enrolled in the fall. That sound right?”

Zare nodded.

“He’s been selected for stormtrooper training,” Merei read. “His status is green.”

“Try my sister—Dhara Leonis.”

“You think I don’t know your sister’s name? Status green. Officer candidate. She’s applied for an internship at Imperial headquarters. Status pending.”

“Try my name?”

Merei typed briefly.

“At least they know you exist—your application’s pending. But…hmmm.”

“‘Hmmm’? What does ‘hmmm’ mean?”

“I don’t know. There’s a note in your file, marked ELIGIBILITY UNDER REVIEW. Let me see if I can find out more.”

Merei typed, then looked disgusted.

“What is it?” Zare demanded loud enough for the other students in the data lab to look in their direction.

“Shhh,” she said. “Calm down and I’ll tell you. There’s a letter in your file questioning your fitness for Imperial service.”

“Fhurek,” Zare said, his hands shaking with fury. “He won’t get away with this. When people understand what he’s done, and why—”

“Zare,” Merei said, her voice low and urgent. “Stop.”

“Stop what? Fhurek’s trying to keep me out of the Academy! He’s trying to wreck everything! Can’t you…can’t you do something about it?”

“No,” Merei said. “It’s too dangerous. Please don’t ask me to do that, Zare.”

“I know. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have asked. But this means I have to do something.”

“No, you don’t,” Merei said. “You can’t. Stop and think, Zare. The letter went to the Academy administrators. When you make a big stink and the Academy asks how you discovered Fhurek’s letter, what are you going to tell them? That you had your girlfriend go snooping during study hall?”

“It’s their fault for having crummy security,” Zare said.

“I don’t think that will make it okay.”

Zare opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Exactly,” Merei said. “Think about who your parents are, and who your sister is. One letter may not be enough to wreck your application, even if it’s from Fhurek. But revealing that you’ve been rummaging around in Academy files? That really will ruin everything.”

Zare put his face in his hands. He wanted to scream. No, he wanted to march over to Fhurek’s office and strangle the man. But Merei was right: he couldn’t.

He couldn’t do anything.

“How many times do I have to say it?” Merei asked. “Just keep your head down. I promise I’ll keep an eye on your file and let you know if anything changes.”

Zare nodded. “Thank you, Merei.”

“You’re welcome. Want to pay me back?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She leaned close to whisper in his ear, sneaking a kiss next to his eye. “Then stay out of trouble. Please.”

Zare nodded. He tried to think of a joke he could make, but Merei’s face was drawn and pale with worry.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And Beck, too. I couldn’t stand it if either of you got hurt.”

For a couple of months Zare managed to do nothing that would have made Auntie Nags nervous, let alone Merei. He focused on his schoolwork and then went home at the end of the day, feeling only a mild pang when he heard the teams working out at the athletic complex. When classmates asked why he hadn’t gone out for a spring sport he offered vague excuses about being tired. As the weather warmed, he and Merei strolled through Capital City, crossing between the Old City and the new Imperial construction, of which there was more every week. And Dhara kept him informed about life at the Academy, from the physical assessments and personality tests to the combat drills and classroom instruction.

And every time he asked Merei about his application, she shook her head and said there was nothing to report. The letter was still in his file. His application was still pending.

The weather warmed and the grasslands began to sprout new growth, the shoots of green grass rapidly pushing aside the dry stalks of the previous year and forming a bright new carpet over the land. But the dust storms continued, and every time Zare heard Lothalites muttering about them, he thought of the orchardlands.

He might have managed to keep his promise to Merei if his mother hadn’t sent him to the marketplace on an errand one night, and if he hadn’t run into Beck there.

The two boys talked briefly about chin-bret and Fhurek. Then Zare looked around and leaned closer. “Have you been to the orchardlands recently?” he asked.

Beck looked wary. “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if anything’s changed.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Beck asked. “Governor Pryce explained how it was all a big mix-up. She was out there last night planting jogan seedlings with Grand Moff Tarkin himself.”

“Very funny. I’m serious.”

“Why do you care?” Beck asked, arms folded across his chest. “You’re not from Lothal. You and your family came here from the Core, or wherever it was, and when this planet’s ruined and used up, you can just move on to another one. Just like the Empire will.”

“That’s not the plan for Lothal and you know it,” Zare protested. “I asked Merei about that, and so did you.”

“It’s not the official plan for Lothal,” Beck said. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s happened on other worlds, you know. Planet after planet, ruined and wrecked. You won’t hear about it on Imperial HoloNet, but it’s true. And now it’s happening here.”

Beck stepped forward, looking around to make sure nobody was listening.

“I have been out there,” he said. “It’s getting worse. The dust and water pollution are so bad that the farmers who didn’t sell out can’t work their fields. They can’t make rent, so their farms are being seized and sold to the Empire. There are camps of displaced people now. Some of them filed a complaint with the governor, but she didn’t even acknowledge it.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that,” Zare said.

“Of course you didn’t,” Beck said. “You think Alston Kastle’s going to lead the nightly vid with that bit of information?”

Zare hesitated, and Beck shook his head in disgust. “Fine, don’t believe me,” he said. “Don’t believe any of it. That will make it easier when you and your family pack up and go.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Zare said. “This is our home now. And I didn’t say I don’t believe you. I just want to see for myself.”

Beck narrowed his eyes and studied Zare for a long moment. Then he nodded. “All right, then. We’ll go tomorrow, after I finish practice. But keep it quiet. And come by my place—don’t take your jumpspeeder.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s registered with the transportation ministry. And that means it can be tracked. We still have a bunch of old ones we used on the farm and never registered. We’ll take two of them.”

“Isn’t that—no, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The jumpspeeder that Beck lent to Zare was not only unregistered but souped up in a way that Zare suspected was illegal and knew was unsafe.

“There isn’t much to do after harvest but tinker with speeders,” Beck said with a shrug as Zare admired the hot rod. “Go easy on the throttle or she’ll launch you over the horizon. And light on the starter or she’ll flood.”

Feeling the power of the engine thrumming underneath him, Zare couldn’t resist a grin. And flying down the road after Beck, he was able to briefly forget everything that had happened since that first trip west, when the year was so full of promise.

But the sight of the filthy river and the ravaged hills beyond it reminded Zare of what they were likely to find. Beck pulled off beside the old bridge, scowling down at the narrow crossing still marked off with flexi-tape.

“Wait for the hourly TIE patrol—it’ll go by in a few minutes,” Beck said.

Zare nodded, staring down into the sluggish water. He heard the whine of the Imperial starfighters from upriver and watched as they passed overhead, climbing slightly and vanishing over the hills. Neither boy waved.

They crossed the new bridge downriver, then drove slowly up the hill. A new road intersected the main route where the old turnoff had been, following the path that had once led past the Ollets’ house and up to the orchards. Beck’s repulsorlifts sent little whirlwinds of dust into the air and Zare wiped at his face, conscious of the noise of his jumpspeeder’s engine.

The road turned south below the crest of the hill, now crowned by a fence. The two boys rode their jumpspeeders along it, climbing the treeless ridge. They passed a huge rock that had been sheared in two, then followed the fence west for another half kilometer or so. There it turned north again, and on the other side of the road there were jogan orchards.

Zare felt a surge of hope when he saw the trees, but Beck had expected that reaction and shook his head.

“No one will ever eat them—something leaked into the groundwater, some kind of chemical used for breaking up rock,” he said. “The Empire condemned this farm last week and made the workers move.”

“Where did they go?”

Beck stopped his jumpspeeder and began walking it through the orchard, away from the road. “They went up here, with everybody else,” he said. “We need to be quiet.”

They emerged from the abandoned orchard into an empty field that had been turned into a camp. Zare saw everything from modular housing and crisp tents to ramshackle little houses built of scrap metal and wood. But there were no people around.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

“Shhh,” Beck said, and then Zare heard it—a low buzz of voices from somewhere ahead. Then he heard another voice, amplified by a loudhailer.

The two boys walked their jumpspeeders behind an old freight container and peered around it. Beyond another row of tents, a crowd of men and women had assembled and were listening to a bearded man with a loudhailer.

“Farmers,” Beck said. “They’re local—I know some of them.”

“No, the governor hasn’t responded to our complaint,” the leader said. “But I’m told an Imperial representative is on his way to receive our petition.”

The farmers buzzed excitedly about this news.

“Now listen, please,” the leader said. “Treat this representative with respect. No violence and no angry words. We’ve drawn up a list of people who will make statements in order, and we’re going to stick to that list. We are Imperial citizens—we need to act like it, not like some rabble.”

Zare heard another sound now—the whine of repulsorlifts. As he and Beck watched, a troop transport advanced along the road from the other side of the camp. The farmers stepped back from the gleaming craft, which drifted to a stop a few meters from their leader. Zare heard thumping in the west, and a pair of AT-DPs appeared, flanking an open-topped troop carrier. The stilt-legged walkers halted behind the gathering. Stormtroopers emerged from the troop carrier, forming a loose ring around the farmers. They had their blasters in their holsters.

The passenger door of the transport rose and an Imperial officer stepped out, wearing a crisp uniform.

“It’s Lieutenant Roddance,” Zare said. “My family knows him. C’mon, Beck!”

Before he could take two steps, Beck grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him back behind the container, as if Zare were an enemy fullback trying to cross into the next octet.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded.

“Let’s show them some support!” Zare said.

Beck shook his head urgently. Frustrated, Zare watched as the leader nodded at Roddance and raised his loudhailer so the crowd could hear him. But before he could speak, Roddance raised his hand to stop him. Then the Imperial officer lifted a comlink to his lips, his voice emerging from the troop transport’s speakers.

“This is an illegal assembly that violates security protocols,” he said. “On behalf of Governor Pryce, I order you to disperse.”

The bearded farmer looked at Roddance in surprise, then spoke into his loudhailer.

“Our gathering is no threat to anyone,” he said. “By Imperial law we have the right to petition the governor. If you won’t bring our complaint to her, we will do so ourselves.”

“I am the law here,” Roddance said. “Your complaint is denied. Disperse at once.”

The bearded farmer nodded at the people around him. In silent protest, they sat down in ones and twos until only Roddance and the stormtroopers were standing.

Roddance gestured at the stormtroopers and they waded into the crowd, dragging people up by their arms. Three troopers stepped forward, armor clattering, and drove the farmers’ leader onto his face in the dirt.

“There’s no need…” Zare said.

Then two stormtroopers raised their weapons, sending blue concentric circles of stun bolts into the crowd.

Someone screamed.

“We need to get out of here,” Beck said. “Right now.”

He half dragged Zare to the parked jumpspeeders and started his bike. Zare was still staring in the direction of the camp in shock.

“Zare!” Beck said. “We have to go! Follow me!”

Beck stomped on the throttle and his jumpspeeder shot away from the camp, with Zare following. As they crossed into the trees, Zare heard the thump of energy weapons behind them. He knew they weren’t stun bolts.

Beck and Zare returned to Capital City by back roads only Beck knew, including a few that were little more than pathways through silent fields. When they got home, Beck told Zare to put the unregistered jumpspeeder in the Leonises’ garage. Then he nodded and accelerated away toward his own home.

Zare returned to the apartment shortly before dinner, ignoring Auntie Nags’s flurry of questions. He heard the familiar, comforting voice of Alston Kastle from the living room, reading the nightly news. He waved to his parents on his way down the hall to his bedroom.

“…report of trouble in the Westhills.”

Zare stopped, suddenly unable to breathe. He quietly returned to the living room, where his parents were watching Kastle on the holocaster.

“A spokesman for Governor Pryce said the trouble started when insurgents destroyed mining equipment and attacked Imperial surveyors, requiring law-enforcement action to restore order. Governor Pryce’s spokesman emphasized that the incident was an isolated disturbance and has been contained.”

Zare looked at the holocaster in horror. Insurgents? Attacking people? None of that had happened.

“I hope that law-enforcement action included a few good whacks with a rifle butt,” Leo grumbled.

“Leo—there’s no need for that,” Tepha replied. “But how disappointing to discover such lawlessness here on Lothal, too.”

Zare wanted to tell them that Kastle was lying—that none of it had happened that way. But he couldn’t—he mustn’t. He retreated to his bedroom. He would comm Dhara. She would know what to do.

But Dhara wasn’t answering. It was too late for her to be in class. Zare waited for her to send back a quick message, some kind of reassurance that she was busy but would be in touch soon, but none came.

He reminded himself that the Academy instructors loved unexpected drills and other surprises. She’d probably been called away for another training exercise, with no time to tell her family.

Heck of a time for it, sis, Zare thought miserably. I could really use your help.

Zare’s comlink beeped a couple of hours later. He answered it eagerly, hoping to hear his sister’s voice.

But it was Merei.

“Congratulations!” she said.

“For what?” Zare asked, baffled.

“Your Academy status just changed to accepted.”

“It did?” He fumbled with his datapad, though he’d just checked his messages a minute ago, hoping Dhara might have responded.

“No message,” Zare said.

“You’ll probably get one in a week or so,” Merei said. “Try to act surprised.”

“But what about Fhurek’s letter?”

“What about it? I told you it wouldn’t matter, didn’t I? This is what you wanted, Zare—I thought you’d be happy.”

“I—there’s just a lot going on, that’s all,” Zare said. “Thanks for telling me, Merei.”

Dhara didn’t contact her family by breakfast, but Zare’s parents weren’t concerned; they also assumed Dhara was engaged in some kind of training exercise. Zare’s mother knew something else was bothering him and patted his hand, saying she was sure they’d learn he’d been admitted to the Academy in a couple of weeks.

Zare smiled back thinly, thinking of how many things he couldn’t tell her.

That he’d already been accepted.

That the Empire was lying about what had happened in the orchardlands.

That the Empire had killed people who’d been protesting peacefully.

It was a lot to hide, and that morning it made him feel sick. He pushed aside his half-eaten breakfast, kissed his mother, gave his father a quick hug, and hurried off to school, where he tried to lose himself in lectures and studying. Exams were coming up soon, and though he knew he’d already been accepted to the Academy, he couldn’t slack off; he’d heard horror stories about prospective cadets who’d ignored their studies, gotten bad grades, and received the worst kind of message over their datapads. Supposedly one kid had learned his acceptance had been rescinded while a tailor-droid was taking measurements for his uniform.

But Zare couldn’t stop himself from hanging around until Beck was finished with chin-bret practice. His friend nodded at Zare as he exited the locker room.

“Any problems?” he asked in a low voice. “Any sign you were followed?”

“No,” Zare said. “But did you see the newscast?”

“I queued it up later. I was surprised they even mentioned it. They must have figured they couldn’t just make that many people disappear.”

A couple of months ago, Zare thought, he would have objected angrily to the idea that the Empire would kill its own citizens. Now, he just nodded.

“And there’s nothing we can do about it,” he said.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Beck said. “The Empire can be stopped—and I intend to help stop it. Because I know people who feel the same way.”

“People like what? Separatists? Some kind of underground here on Lothal?”

“Not yet, no,” Beck said. “Or at least not that I know of. But if there isn’t one, my friends and I will change that. Because somebody has to.”

“You’re crazy,” Zare said. “What you’re talking about is impossible.”

“I’m not talking about bringing down the whole Empire,” Beck said. “Just causing enough trouble so the Imperials will leave Lothal alone and go ruin some other planet. Let somebody else save the galaxy, Zare—I just want to save this little part of it.”

Zare looked at Beck, hoping this was the kind of youthful bravado Dhara loved to make fun of. But he could tell Beck wasn’t kidding.

“Beck, don’t,” he pleaded. “The Empire’s too powerful—no one can resist it. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“So I should wait for more places to be destroyed?” Beck demanded. “For more people to disappear? Maybe I will get myself killed. At least my life will have had some meaning.”

A week later, they still hadn’t heard from Dhara, and Zare’s parents were alternating between annoyance at the Academy for scheduling an unreasonably long secret training exercise and the beginnings of actual worry.

Zare’s comlink buzzed just as he was finishing his homework. It was Merei, and all he had to hear was the way she said his name to know it was bad.

“Just tell me,” he said, knowing she didn’t want to.

“It’s Dhara. Her status has changed.”

Zare fought to keep a wild surge of grief from spilling out of his chest and engulfing him—him, his parents, and everything else.

“Is she dead?” he managed to ask.

“I don’t think so,” Merei said. “Her status is now ‘inactive.’”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. And there’s something else. I was curious, so I looked through the other Academy records. Every other applicant for next year’s class is marked ‘pending.’ Zare, you’re the only one who’s been accepted.”

“Despite Fhurek and the letter in my file,” Zare said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Just then the door chimed.

Commandant Aresko stood in the doorway, looking down at Auntie Nags. Zare’s parents were standing by the kitchen table, looking at the Imperial officer in surprise—and sudden terror. Auntie Nags rolled back and forth, eyes yellow, searching for some programming that would tell her what to do.

“Please come in, Commandant,” Zare’s mother said, offering him a chair with a shaky wave of her hand. “Would you like something? Perhaps a tarine tea?”

Aresko walked into the apartment, but shook his head at the offer to sit. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said.

Zare’s father guided his wife to a chair, then sat himself. Zare came to stand behind his parents. Aresko saw him and his eyes narrowed briefly. Then he nodded at Zare.

“Has something happened to our daughter?” Leo asked in a strangled voice.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Aresko said.

Zare braced himself, waiting for Merei to be wrong, to hear the words he dreaded.

“Cadet Leonis has…run off from the Academy,” Aresko said.

“What?” Zare demanded. “That’s impossible.”

Aresko’s eyes jumped from his parents to him. “I wish it were,” he said. “She disappeared from camp during a training exercise in the Easthills. There was no sign of a struggle, and she took her backpack and supplies. We don’t know why—she left no messages. That’s one reason I came. Did Cadet Leonis indicate any unhappiness with her progress at the Academy?”

“Of course not,” Leo snapped. “Dhara wanted to serve the Empire since she was a little girl. She was your star cadet, Commandant. She’d never do this. Never.”

“She certainly wouldn’t do it without letting us know,” Tepha said.

Zare knew his parents were right. The last few months had shaken his belief in almost everything, but not in Dhara. Whatever had happened to her, she hadn’t run away. The Empire was lying about that—as it had lied about so much else.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Auntie Nags kept repeating as she made miserable circles in the kitchen.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Aresko said. “All security forces on Lothal have been directed to search for Cadet Leonis. And an alert has been placed in the Imperial customs and identification-processing databases, in case she’s gone off-world. I can assure you that we’ll let you know immediately if we hear anything.”

Aresko bowed his head slightly in farewell, eyes lingering on Zare. Then he was gone.

The next morning, a terse message informed Zare that he’d been accepted into the Imperial Academy. He stared at his datapad, then tossed it on the bed. Last summer all he’d wanted was the chance to join his sister and serve the Empire, and having to wait a year had seemed unbearable. Now the wait was finally over, but everything had changed. His faith in the Empire had been destroyed. And Dhara was gone.

Zare clicked on the message, then hit REPLY and stared at the datapad’s blank screen, trying to will his fingers to work.

It’s the right thing to do, he thought. It’s the only thing to do.

He took a deep breath, then began to type.

In study hall the next day, Merei took the seat next to him, reached over, and squeezed his hand. He nodded gratefully at her.

“I saw your Academy status change this morning,” she said.

“To what?” he asked.

“Deferred,” she said. “Did they try to contact you after you declined your acceptance? Not very many people give up a place in the Academy, you know.”

Zare shook his head. “Nobody said a word. Is my sister’s status any different?”

Merei shook her head. “No. You know I’d tell you. What did your parents say when you told them you weren’t going?”

“I didn’t tell them yet,” Zare said. “I couldn’t. They’re in shock.”

Merei nodded. “So what are you going to do now?”

“Find out what really happened—what they did to her. And then I’m going to get her back. Will you help me?”

Merei looked at his face, at his blazing eyes. A flicker of fear crossed her face. But then it was gone, and she nodded.

“Of course I will,” she said.

When Beck saw Zare he didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Despite Lothal’s growing population, Capital City was still a small place where everyone soon knew everyone else’s business. The big fullback picked up his pace so he could walk down the hall beside Zare, who found his heavy footsteps comforting.

They were almost to the geology classroom when Fhurek stepped around the corner into Zare’s path.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, Leonis,” he said in a low, poisonous voice. “Apparently disloyalty runs in the family.”

Zare flung himself at Fhurek, teeth bared. It took Beck and three other students to pull him off the athletic director and drag him away.

“He’s going to need a coldpack for that eye,” Beck said with a small smile. “Well, Zare, that’s one demerit you can’t argue with.”

Zare’s parents had spent the first frantic weeks after Commandant Aresko’s visit contacting everyone they knew at every Imperial ministry on Lothal, which made for a long list. Every minister, bureaucrat, and assistant they reached said the same thing: how sorry they were to hear about Dhara, how committed they were to helping the Leonises find her, and how they’d be in touch immediately if anything turned up.

But nothing did, and little by little, each of the Leonises found a way to resume lives that had been horribly rearranged.

Zare’s father decided that the Empire was telling the truth. Sometimes he was angry with himself for not recognizing Dhara’s distress, while other times he told Tepha and Zare confidently that he knew some Imperial minister somewhere was about to message them that Dhara had made contact and would soon be coming home.

Zare’s mother was equally certain that the Empire was wrong—she could never quite bring herself to say “lying”—and became obsessed with the idea that Dhara hadn’t been found because the Leonises hadn’t contacted the right member of the vast Imperial bureaucracy, the one who had information that would end their search but didn’t know its importance. That person was the missing piece of the puzzle tormenting their family, and she would find them.

As for Zare, he knew his mother was right and Dhara hadn’t run away. But he couldn’t bear to say what else he knew. It would have shattered his parents’ last hopes, leaving them with nothing. He kept the secret locked inside, confiding only in Merei, and trudged grimly through the remainder of the school year.

It ended on a warm late-spring day with a joyless graduation ceremony. Merei had to remind him to fling his AppSci cap into the air.