Ambush at Corellia

by Roger MacBride Allen

  “Yeah,” he said, and took the chip from her. He examined it. “Well, it’s not a one-shot, anyway. We can play it as often as we like.” He dropped it into the slot of the player set into the tabletop. The display screen suddenly stopped being a heroic Corellian scene and went blank. Mara stepped out of the way.

  “Everybody ready?” There was a murmur of assent, and Han pressed the play button.

  Without any preamble, a screenful of numbers appeared, and stayed on the screen. A male human voice began to speak in Corellian-accented Basic. “This will be your only notification prior to events,” the voice said. “Inform no one of this message and await instructions so as to avoid the need for further action. We will be monitoring all communications. Do not attempt to call for help. Any violation of instructions will result in an acceleration of the schedule.”

  The numbers stayed on the screen, but the voice said nothing more. Han frowned. “That voice almost sounded like me,” he said. “Why would they want to simulate my voice?”

  “If they did want to, they didn’t do a very good job,” Mara said. “It’s close to your voice, but it’s not you exactly.”

  “What are those numbers?” Leia asked, looking up at the screen. “Are they another code? What are they supposed to tell us?”

  “Those on the right are static stellar coordinates,” Han said. “And with three extra decimal places. The Imperial Navy used to do that, but the only people who have them that accurate is the New Republic Navy. Whoever wrote this got their data from the navy’s secret data sets. Must have sliced a computer, or done some good old-fashioned bribery, or else the opposition has friends in high places. And that’s recent data, too.” The stars were in constant motion as they orbited the core of the galaxy. It was therefore necessary to note not only where an object in space was, but when it had been there.

  Han looked harder at the numbers. “If I’ve got this right,” he said, “those are all points in a rough sphere around the Corellia star system—and the last set of coordinates is for the star Corell itself. I recognize it from setting our navicomputer on the way in. At a guess, the other coordinate sets are all star positions, too.”

  “The numbers on the left are time notations in astronomical format,” Mara said. “Not astrogational notation, but the time format astronomers use. Those are extremely accurate time notations as well. The first one is about sixteen standard days ago. The others are all in the future.”

  “In other words,” Han said, “something is going to happen at these places at these times, unless we do whatever the guy who sounds like me says in his next message.”

  “Burning skies,” said Micamberlecto as he stood up to his full height. “Burning, burning skies. Three days ago a probot droid came out of the sky and set off a CDF beacon signal. The CDF picked it up, and found a message for me. An image of a star explosion, with space-and-time coordinates. Nothing else. The time data was sixteen days ago.”

  Han shrugged. “So someone got imagery of a star blowing up. So what? Mara—when did you get this message?”

  “Fourteen days ago,” she said. “After the star blew up.”

  “But Luke was supposed to get the message,” Leia said. “Allowing for time for them to discover he wasn’t there, and to find Mara, and get the cube to her, and it would have gotten to him before the star exploded.”

  “Unless it’s a big-time con,” Han said. “The sort of thing Lando might have done in the old days. Suppose somebody spotted the explosion, faked up the message cube to look like it was intended for Luke, and just got there late? They could make it look like they had caused it, if they were really sharp.”

  “But my scientists tell me the star in the image was of a type that could not possibly undergo a supernova explosion,” Micamberlecto said. “They were quite at a loss to explain how it could be. They wanted to dispatch a ship at once to get a look at it. I said we could not afford the mission—”

  “But you’d better afford it now,” Mara said. “Solo’s right, it could be an extremely clever con job—or it could be that someone is better at blowing up stars than sending messages. I don’t think you can afford to assume it’s a trick.”

  “No, we can’t,” Han agreed. He was punching the stellar coordinates into a data pad. “The first star on that list is in an uninhabited system. All the rest of them have inhabited planets. It looks like they are listed in order of population. The second star just has a small outpost, but the next one on the list—” Han checked his numbers and shook his head. “One inhabited planet, population eight million at the last census. And, like I said, the last star on the list is Corell.”

  “ ‘Do what we say,’ ” Leia half whispered. “ ‘Do what we say or we’ll kill everybody.’ ”

  At the back of the room, at the top of the stairs, inside the shadows of the entryway, three small scared children listened in horror.

  * * *

  In a secret bunker deep under the city of Coronet, the Hidden Leader of the Human League read over the latest reports with a stern and hard-edged calm. Perhaps his underlings would have expected him to show some sign of jubilation that the moment had finally come, that the last piece of the puzzle was finally in place. But that was why he was the Leader, and they were underlings. Let them show their every reaction and emotion. The Hidden Leader would hide his emotions, as well as his identity.

  But for all of that, the time had come. All was in readiness. Everything he had worked for, schemed for, plotted for, was in place. It was time.

  The Hidden Leader dropped the report on his desk and leaned back in his chair.

  “Begin it,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Uprising

  Han! Han! Wake up and come to the window.” Leia was shaking him hard.

  Han lurched up into a seated position and stumbled out of bed. “What? What is it?” He glanced at the wall clock and confirmed his suspicion that he hadn’t gotten much sleep. It had been a very late night indeed, trying to hash out the implications of the threat message, trying to come up with some answer, some plan of action. And none of it had come to anything.

  “Look out the window!” Leia said again. “There, to the south of us.”

  Han went to the window and looked out—and swore to himself. “Devils in space,” he said. “It’s started. It’s started.” A thick plume of black smoke was rising up out of the city, about three kilometers away. He pulled open the window and heard, far off but distinct, the sounds of sirens, of shouts, of blasters being fired.

  “What’s started?” Leia asked.

  “That’s the Selonian Enclave on fire down there,” Han said, his voice sad, bitter, tired. “Something has touched it off—and now it will spread from there.”

  There was a loud, far-off thud, and a second or two later a slight tremor that sent just the tiniest of shakes through the window. “Wide-area concussion grenade,” Han said. “About three kilometers away. Probably right in the middle of all that.” Even as they watched, another plume of smoke began climbing lazily into the air, followed by another, and another. “This isn’t a coincidence,” he said. “It can’t be. There are people watching. Once they knew Mara had gotten the message to us, they touched this off. Has to be.”

  “Come on,” Leia said. “We have to find the Governor-General.”

  “What about the kids?” Han asked.

  “Chewbacca’s with them, and so are Ebrihim and Q9. They’re all right. Come on.”

  * * *

  Micamberlecto was in his office, where they had watched the torchlight parade. By the time they got there, fire was once again visible from the window, but this time it was the Selonian Enclave burning. Back then the office had been calm, quiet, dark. Now it was the brightly lit center of a madhouse, of aides rushing in and out, assistants shouting into phones, two men in navy uniforms setting up a large-scale wall map of the city. And, not to Han’s surprise, several of last night’s supposed trade delegates were in the thick of it, helping t
o work the com system. Well, no point in the NRI agents sticking to their cover stories now.

  “It’s everywhere, everywhere,” the Governor-General said to Han and Leia as they came in. “Not just here in Coronet, but all over the planet. The other planets, other planets, too.”

  “Where and when did it start?” Han asked.

  “It seems as if the first incident was in Bela Vistal’s Selonian neighborhood about eight hours ago. Somebody threw a punch, and that began it, began it. But since then, everywhere. Drall attacking Selonians, both attacking humans, and humans attacking, humans attacking everywhere. Here, on Drall and Selonia, and we’re getting the first reports of trouble on Tralus and Talus.”

  “You’re right, Han,” Leia said. “The timing is too tight, too perfect. Someone had this all set to go, and sent the go code the minute we met with Mara.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Micamberlecto. “That is my conclusion also.”

  “What about the CDF?” Han asked. Yesterday he had decided that he trusted them. But today nothing was for sure.

  “Almost all the ground forces are still with us, still with us, loyal to the Republic. But I have not been able to contact anyone in authority in the spaceside, spaceside service.”

  “And it was the spaceside CDF that set up that phony attack on us,” Han said. “Forget them as an asset, Governor. They aren’t yours anymore. They never were yours.”

  A com panel lit on the Governor’s desk, and Micamberlecto pressed the answer button. “This is the Governor,” he said.

  “Sir, this is Captain Boultan, CDF groundside.” Groundside, Han thought. The loyalist faction. It would seem the CDF had already found names for the two sides. “My unit was attempting to get to the CDF barracks in the navy yard to collect our riot equipment. The spaceside service has secured the base. I’m pretty sure that I saw people in New Republic uniforms assisting them.”

  “The navy?” Leia asked. “The navy has gone over?”

  “No,” Han said. “Just the navy yard has, though that’s bad enough. Don’t forget that used to be the Imperial Navy Yard. Lots of ex-Imperial military enlisted in the Republic Navy are here in Corellia. Now we know why.” Han turned toward the Governor-General. “What about the civilian spaceport?” he asked.

  Micamberlecto shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s hard to know anything. Too little staff. They are all here, working, and all loyal and trusted, but half the com systems are down. We are helpless, helpless to do more than watch.”

  Han looked at the Governor-General, and knew Micamberlecto was right.

  There was nothing he could do but go to the window and watch his planet burn.

  * * *

  Within a few hours, enough information had come in so that it was at least possible to get a clearer picture of the confused situation. It was soon apparent that the human rebels, the Human League, had indeed been waiting for the signal to start a fight. However, their Drall and Selonian enemies had been ready and waiting for them, much to the apparent surprise of the Leaguers.

  In the city of Coronet, it looked as if the Selonian and Drallan Enclaves had managed to throw back the League for the moment, but only just. There was no clear information from Bela Vistal or any of the other large cities on Corellia.

  There were only scattered reports of fighting on Drall and Selonia as yet, but no hard information.

  The situation on the Double Worlds was more complicated. On Talus, a mixed force of Drall and humans seemed to be fighting off a savage Selonian attack, if the broadcasts were to be trusted. A human/Drall coalition was holding Centerpoint Station. But on Tralus, the Selonians and Drall were making common cause against the humans.

  The short form was that all three sides—human, Selonian, and Drall—were busily engaged in grabbing as much territory as possible, along with whatever ships and equipment they could.

  It was chaos.

  * * *

  Chewbacca roared his frustration and punched another hole in the wall. He picked up a wall lamp and threw it through the hole, and it stuck there, half in and half out of the wall.

  “It’s okay, Chewbacca,” Jaina said. “You don’t have to be scared.”

  Chewbacca bared his teeth and stomped to the other side of the room.

  “I don’t think he’s scared, Jaina,” Jacen said. “You want to fight, don’t you, Chewie?”

  The Wookiee nodded vigorously, then threw his hands in the air and roared again.

  “I don’t know against who, either,” Jacen said. “Sure looks like everyone is fighting everyone else out there.” Privately, he felt pretty sure that half of Chewbacca’s frustration was a direct result of having to play baby-sitter to a bunch of dumb kids, but there didn’t seem to be any diplomatic way to say that.

  “Do you understand who’s fighting who, Ebrihim?” Jaina asked their tutor. Ebrihim and Q9 were both standing at the window, as they had been most of the morning, watching the disaster unfold.

  Ebrihim shook his head sadly. “I understand, and I do not understand. It is species against species, but I believe—no, I know—that the vast majority of all three species would rather live in peace. It is rabble-rousers, fools who only know how to blame others for their own failures, that have started this fighting. But I fear it can only spread. A human will kill a Selonian, and a Selonian will kill a human in revenge—and kill a Drall he dislikes while he is at it. The Drall will fight back against both, or one or the other. People will get drawn in, against their will, by ties of blood.”

  “I’m scared,” Anakin announced from his seat facing the window.

  Jaina came over and sat next to him on the couch. “It’s all right,” she said, repeating what she had said to Chewbacca. “You don’t have to be scared.” Anakin threw his arms around his big sister and she rocked him back and forth. Apparently the formula worked better on little brothers than Wookiees.

  It was at that moment that the first explosion rocked Corona House. The sound was deafening, so loud that it almost did not seem to be sound at all, and over so suddenly that it was as if they never heard it at all. The whole building shook, and the window blew out. Q9, moving with incredible speed, knocked his master out of the way of the flying glass, and took most of the force of the blast himself. Anakin wailed in terror, and buried his head in Jaina’s shoulder.

  Jacen was knocked flat by the first blast, and had barely gotten to his feet when—

  Blam!

  Another explosion, sharper and closer, shook the building. He was about to get to his feet again when a huge, furry arm scooped him up. Jacen looked up to see that Chewbacca already had his brother and sister in his other arm.

  The Wookiee roared at Jacen, loud and fast, but he at least managed to get the sense of it.

  “Ebrihim!” he shouted across the wind that was suddenly blowing through the room. “Chewbacca’s taking us to the Millennium Falcon on the roof. Follow if you can.”

  But Ebrihim had been knocked about by the second blast, and was still too dazed to respond. Q9 extruded a pair of his carry arms, scooped up his master, and levitated on his repulsors. “Lead the way!” he shouted.

  Boom! Another explosion, farther off this time, shuddered through the building. Chewie turned and headed for the door, already wrenched halfway out of its frame. He kicked it the rest of the way down and rushed out into the hallway, Q9 right behind him.

  The turbolift had been designed to survive a major earthquake and still keep working. Chewbacca slapped at the call button, and the doors of the turbolift car slid open. He half dropped, half threw the children into it, and stood aside as Q9 hustled in.

  The door slid shut—and Chewbacca suddenly roared in frustration again and started pounding on it. The controls were dead.

  “It’s okay, Chewbacca,” Jacen said. “I’ve got my thumbprint card.” He pulled it from his pocket, put it in the slot, and pressed his thumb down on the verification plate. The controls came to life, and Jacen punched the roof button. Th
e turbolift car started moving up.

  * * *

  The first explosion had been at ground level, and had shaken the lower floors of Corona House with greater violence. The second had been some sort of rocket fired into the seventh or eighth floor. No one seemed quite sure where the third had hit. Not a piece of furniture was still standing upright in Micamberlecto’s sixth-floor office. All the lights and the wired com lines were dead, but the portable com-links were still operational. There had been two or three bad injuries from broken glass, but no fatalities, for a miracle.

  “Chewie! Chewie! This is Han! Come in!” Han had been frantically trying to raise Chewbacca on his comlink since the moment of the first blast. His children. His children were up there. If anything had happened to them … “Chewie! Chewie! Come in, please!”

  “Dad! It’s me, Jacen. Dad, are you and Mom okay?”

  “Jacen! Yes, yes, we’re fine. Where are you?” Relief washed over Han, and vanished just as suddenly. They were still alive, but the danger wasn’t going away.

  “We’re on the roof, headed for the Falcon. Chewie’s too busy to talk.”

  “I’ll bet he is. Did he get all of you out?”

  “Yes! He got all three of us kids up here, and Ebrihim and Q9, too. But Chewie says we have to leave without you!”

  “He’s right, son,” Han said. “He’s right. Your mother and I have to stay here.” No sense telling him that they had to stay here because the lower turbolift shaft had almost certainly been blown to bits along with the stairwell. Han was fairly certain that the explosions had been touched off in order to bottle up the Governor-General in his office. “We’ll meet up with you when we can. Right now you have to do what Chewie says, and take care of your sister and brother.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “No time for that now,” Han said. “Get in that ship and do what Chewie says. Tell your brother and sister that your mother and I love you very much. Now go. Go.”