by Martha Wells
Leia had been thinking about that. “It’s odd, though. The shipping in this area is mostly agricultural, or mineral, or supplies for subsistence settlements. Not much in the way of luxury goods or shipments of currency. What’s attracting the pirates here?”
“Could be a lot of things,” Han said. Before Leia could make a frustrated comment, or give in to the urge to smack him with the datapad, he added more helpfully, “But this Arnot Station looks legit. Lots of small and medium freighter traffic, a couple of bigger local shipping lines, no Imperials. Davit’s merchants must have picked it. It’s probably where they do most of their business.”
“Good.” Leia sat back. “Maybe we’re due a safe port.”
Han’s expression was highly skeptical. “Yeah, the universe doesn’t work like that.”
That, Leia already knew. “I’m going to send a secure transmission directly to General Madine to report our situation. I’d like to ask Chewbacca to meet us at this station so we can use the Falcon as our escort ship on the way back to the fleet.”
Han eyed her suspiciously. “Why the Falcon?”
“It’s the only ship we might have immediate access to that has the armament to act as an escort. And I don’t want to take a chance on anyone else finding out where we are, and repeating it to the wrong person.” Leia had already drawn her own conclusion; she wanted to see if Han agreed. “Someone told the Imperials where we were coming out of hyperspace. Presumably it wasn’t Davit, since he already knew our final destination, and if he was setting a trap for us he could have done it at the meeting.”
“I was wondering if you’d noticed that.” Han absently tapped the sensor against his palm.
“Yes, sometimes a lifetime of training in concealing things from the Empire does actually come in handy.” She pushed to her feet with a groan. Now that the effects of adrenaline had had a chance to fade, she was starting to feel every bruise and strain. “I hope Chewbacca can get here quickly. I need backup I can trust.” She looked down in time to catch an expression flit across Han’s face. It was self-conscious and oddly vulnerable, and hard to define. Then she realized he had been a little taken aback by her casual remark about trust.
He caught her looking at him and retreated down into the access hatch, muttering, “Yeah, well, just remember Chewie and I don’t come cheap.”
“I know you don’t come cheap; do you have any idea how much a brand-new Isolator costs?” For setting up the meeting with Davit and coming along on the trip, Leia had arranged payment for Han in the form of a Vintredi Apex Isolator. The Apex Isolators were sensor jammers, newly upgraded models, and a shipping contractor who had family members in the Alliance had managed to send them an entire cargo hold full. Chewbacca was now back on the Independence, installing the Isolator in the Millennium Falcon. The devices were meant for Alliance transports, but the Falcon went on enough missions to justify receiving one. Leia would never forget the downright misty look Han had gotten when the packing cases had been unloaded from the Sullustan supply transport.
“I’ll run a tab for you!” Han said to her retreating back.
Leia went back to her command terminal in the compartment near the crew cabins to record her coded message to Madine. Then she called auxiliary control to send Ilen the coordinates for Arnot Station and to tell him to make the next jump as soon as the Gamble was able.
Leia hit the comm for engineering to warn Sorel that the ship would be making another hyperspace jump soon. “This is Leia Organa—”
She heard arguing voices. Someone said, “Sorel, Captain Solo says we should take the dampers offline. That’s going to reduce the safety factor—”
Han’s voice cut through the others. “You’re worried about the safety factor? What’s the safety factor for being blown to hell by an Imperial light corvette? How does that figure in?”
Sorel answered, “Kifar, yes, it’s a problem but Solo’s right, I don’t see how we can keep the drive online without cutting the dampers—”
“Taking the dampers offline is too dangerous,” Kifar objected. “We can get the extra boost from—”
Han interrupted, “That’s not going to—”
Leia rubbed her aching forehead and said, “Engineer Sorel, do I need to come down there?”
All the voices went silent. Leia had meant the question seriously, honestly wanting to know if they needed her down there to arbitrate. But with the last shreds of her patience giving way, perhaps her voice had been a little clipped, or she might have spoken a little too loudly. It wouldn’t be the first time. Whatever, it was getting results. Sorel cleared his throat and said, “Um, no, ma’am. Your Highness.”
“I’ve ordered Ilen to make the jump to Arnot Station once the ship comes out of hyperspace,” Leia told him. “Do you concur with Captain Solo that it’s necessary to take the dampers offline to reach our destination?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Then do it.” Leia cut the connection. Just to check, she pulled up some of the readings from the auxiliary control and engineering consoles. All she could see was a summary of the vital systems activity, but it was enough to make her bite her lip in consternation. Han hadn’t been exaggerating. With so many systems operating in the red, she wasn’t sure how the ship had managed to jump to hyperspace, how it was staying in that state without exploding, and why anyone seemed confident that it could actually make a second jump. Maybe they would need the Falcon not as an escort but to evacuate the Gamble’s crew.
When Han knocked on the open hatchway and stepped into the compartment, Leia handed him the data card. “Here’s the message for Madine. Would you send it for me from auxiliary control?”
“Right.” Han took the data card and handed her a packet of meds. “Sarit wants you to take this. It’s for your concussion.”
Leia frowned at him. “He didn’t think I needed anything before.”
“Yeah, well, you were on the all-ship comm when you broke up that fight in engineering, and Sarit reconsidered.”
Leia grimaced. She hadn’t realized she had hit the all-ship comm. She couldn’t afford mistakes at the moment, especially foolish mistakes like that. She tore open the packet and dry-swallowed the two capsules.
“And you need to get some sleep if it’s going to do any good,” Han added.
“Is that your opinion or Sarit’s?” Leia snapped, knowing she was being unfair. She wasn’t pleased with the idea that someone had apparently decided that an intervention was needed and that Han was the best one to approach the monster in its lair.
“The whole crew took a vote.” Han tossed and caught the data card. “I’ll get this sent as soon as we come out of hyperspace.”
“Thank the crew for me,” Leia said, trying to be cool but knowing she just sounded grumpy. “And Han, don’t mention to anyone else that Arnot Station is where we’re meeting Davit. Not yet. Just that it’s the nearest port we can reach.”
Han frowned. “All right. Got a reason for that, or just paranoia?”
“Paranoia,” Leia admitted. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the less said about the meeting with Davit, the better. And restricting as much information as possible might help her isolate the intel leak once they got back to the fleet.
Han said, “Welcome to the club, Your Worship,” and sauntered away.
Leia wanted to call a cutting remark after him, but her head hurt too much at the moment to let her think of a good one. She was even too disgruntled to watch the movement of Han’s hips as he walked away down the corridor. Not that she should be watching that at all, she reminded herself.
She took a deep breath, composed her thoughts, and then, deliberately using the all-ship comm this time, gave the crew the update on the hyperdrive’s status and their intention to head for Arnot Station.
“Solo.”
“What?” Han was sitting on his heels on the floor of the main engineering bay, checking the sensor diagnostics for the alluvial dampers. He glanced up to see Kifar Itran loom
ing over him.
Han swore wearily under his breath and pushed to his feet.
Itran was a big man with a strong build, so much so that he might have had ancestors from a world with higher-than-normal gravity. His facial features and heavy brow were equally strong, and his skin had a faint orange tint to it, echoed in streaks in his short shock of brown hair. “Was this your idea?” he asked belligerently.
That kind of attitude was about all Han needed right now. He was tired, and he had gotten lightly singed when the energy pulse had lit up the laser cannon controls. He also didn’t like being cornered against the panel behind him. He took a step forward, making Itran fall back. Han stepped past him and leaned his hip against the workbench. “You want to argue about the dampers again? It’s working.”
“Not about that. I know you went up to talk to Her Highness.”
Han eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then said, “So?”
“Was it your idea to go on to this station? We should be staying put, calling for help from the fleet.”
Han gestured pointedly around at the panels, some of which were still smoking. “Nice that you think we should stay put and give the Imperials a chance to find us, but the rest of us want to live.”
Itran persisted, “Was it your idea?”
“The Princess doesn’t need me to get ideas. She knows what she’s doing.” Han had run into this kind of trouble off and on. He knew he had never matched the Alliance’s profile of a new recruit and that to them he looked an awful lot like somebody who would sell them all to the Empire for a quick credit. Telling them that it was just another job to him didn’t help. Telling himself it was just another job didn’t help, either.
“From what I’ve heard, this whole mission was your idea.”
“You heard wrong.” Han wasn’t going to clarify that. He didn’t want to be in this conversation, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go into detail about what was said and decided in Alliance meetings to which Itran had clearly not been invited. He made his expression deliberately bored. “Either say what you want to say, or go find something else to do.”
“I just think it’s suspicious. You’re involved in this mission and we get hit by Imperials. I’ve heard you’ve got a lot of influence with the Princess. Maybe you’re using it for your own purposes.”
Such as getting myself blown up or captured by Imperials? Han wondered. Itran was angry, and looked like he wanted somebody to blame for it.
“You think I’m the one giving orders on this ship?” Han responded. “Why don’t you go ask her about that?” He hoped Itran would be just that dumb. He wasn’t sure how many of the rebels who worked with Leia knew the calm façade concealed an impressive temper, but Han enjoyed watching it in action. It was on his list of things he found the most attractive about Leia Organa.
Itran’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Sorel emerged from behind the tall set of sensor connections a few meters away and said, “Kifar, you’re off duty. Why don’t you go get some rest?”
Itran hesitated self-consciously. He’d obviously had no idea that the engineering chief had been within earshot. He said, “Sure,” and turned to go.
As Itran vanished into the back of the bay, Sorel joined Han. “What was that about? Is he that mad about the dampers?”
“No. Something else.”
Sorel sighed. “He’s new. He’s been working on the supply transports, mostly in the Outer Rim. I don’t know that he’s ever been in a firefight. The first time is never easy.”
The engineer was right about that, at least, Han reflected. And maybe that was all it was.
Leia had no problem staying awake for the next hour or so, while the Gamble came out of hyperspace, the transmission was sent to Madine on the Alliance fleet, and the nail-biting worry began as the ship rumbled, hesitated, then finally made the next jump that would hopefully leave them within easy sublight distance to Arnot Station. Only when they were back in hyperspace did she drift off.
“Princess.”
Leia bolted upright to see Sarit standing in the hatchway. She had been having a nightmare in which she was on the terrace of the summer palace on Alderaan, talking to Lieutenant Esrai, when the whole scene dissolved in an energy blast that Leia was somehow unaffected by. The dream had ended in a vivid image of her looking down to find Esrai’s blood on her hands. Reality gradually reasserted itself, and she realized she had slumped over in the chair, her cheek feeling tight and scratchy where it had pressed against the old cracked simulated leather of the headrest.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Sarit said, “but General Willard is awake and asking for you.”
“Yes, thank you.” Leia checked the time on the console. They should be coming up on Arnot Station soon, the ship hadn’t exploded, and her headache, while still present, no longer felt as though some giant riding animal was stomping on her brain. She pushed to her feet, yawned so hard her jaw cracked, and tried to push her raveled braids back into order. After a moment, she gave up. There was no one on the ship who was going to be scandalized by the fact that Princess Leia’s hair looked like a small creature had been living in it.
Leia went to the next cabin and found Sarit checking over General Willard with a diagnostics scanner. The general was sitting up on the bunk, propped against pillows; his forehead and temple showed the ugly purple of bruises, and he looked as if he had aged a decade. But he focused on Leia as she stepped into the cabin, and said, “Good to see you, Princess.” His voice sounded raspy and weak.
“I’m glad you’re awake.” Leia smiled. She was sure he needed more sleep, but it was a relief to see him coherent and well enough to sit up.
“He isn’t to get up or agitate himself until I can get him to a medical facility with a full scanner setup,” Sarit told her.
“I won’t let him get agitated,” Leia promised. Sarit sounded a little shaky himself, and she wondered if he had had a chance to sit down since the attack. “But I do need to talk to him in private. Why don’t you take a break and get some rest before we reach the station?”
The medic blinked, as if the idea had never occurred to him. “Oh. Oh, yes, I suppose I could.”
Sarit wandered out into the corridor, and Leia pushed the release to close the hatch behind him. She sat down on the stool next to the general’s bunk. “How do you really feel?”
“Terrible,” he admitted. “Denlan and Esrai?”
Leia squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Willard took a deep, shuddering breath, then winced and half lifted a hand to his head. “Blast it. I was afraid of that, when Sarit wouldn’t tell me how they were.” He looked up at Leia. “What’s our situation?”
“It’s not terrible, but it’s not good, either,” she said, and gave him a quick rundown on the condition of the crew and the ship, and of what they were doing to remedy it. She told him about her decision to head on to the station once they finished the emergency jump, and to send the message to Madine to ask for the Millennium Falcon.
“Sorel thinks we have at least three to four standard days of repairs ahead of us, so I knew we needed a backup ship in case we have to leave the station in a hurry.” Then she leaned forward. “Vanden, someone knew where the Gamble would be, when we would be at our most vulnerable, while receiving that HoloNet transmission. That light corvette knew exactly when to come out of hyperspace to hit us.”
Willard frowned, absorbing her words. “It’s more likely it’s someone in our communications, isn’t it? If Davit wanted to betray us, he could have done it at the meeting.”
“That was my thought,” Leia said. “Whoever betrayed us had to do so almost at the last moment, as if they didn’t find out what the coordinates were until right after we did. Otherwise, the Empire would have sent more than one ship. I think the corvette was sent after us because it was the closest available ship, the only one that could get there in time.” She grimaced. “I know I don’t have much to go on, except the timing.” And her ins
tincts.
Leia didn’t need the reassurance, but it was still gratifying when Willard said, “Yes, the intel more likely came from the fleet.” He tried to sit up straighter, and sank back with a groan. “We’re going to have to figure out how to isolate this leak, find out who it is.”
“That will have to come later. At the moment we’ve done all we can.” If a traitor had managed to infiltrate the Alliance’s chain of communication to and from the fleet, there was no telling what damage had already been done. But Leia didn’t see anything she could do about it, at least at the moment. For now she had to concentrate on making certain the Gamble didn’t come to harm or become yet another Alliance ship that vanished into space, its fate unknown. She glanced at the time again. “I should go and let you get some more rest. We’ll be at the station soon.”
She started to stand, but the general caught her hand. His expression weary and rueful, he said, “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”
“You have been helpful,” Leia told him, and meant it. When your decisions affected people’s lives, it was important to have the advice of someone who didn’t always think you were right just because of who you were. Or who your father was.
Luke Skywalker was deep into the engine compartment of his favorite X-wing when he felt a large hand grip his ankle. It’s a good thing I know who that is, he thought, resigned. “Chewie, I’ve got both hands in the proton torpedo launcher!” he protested. R2-D2, down on the deck beside the X-wing’s cradle, beeped in annoyance at being interrupted. The little droid was connected by various cables to the astromech socket and had been running diagnostics.
Chewbacca rumbled a long comment. C-3PO, whom the Wookiee must have brought along to translate for him, said, “Master Luke, he says that it’s important and you should get your little—uh, you should get down here right now.” The golden droid added, presumably to Chewie, “That was rude, you know.”
With a sigh, Luke slid out of the engine hatch and dropped to the deck. Pulling his protective goggles off, he asked, “What is it? I thought you were trying to get that Isolator installed.” Turning around, he saw who was standing there and stopped short. “Oh, General Madine.”