Dynba. I would have kept you out of it, but I couldn't."
She shook her head. "You may think that, Corran, and may even want to
believe it, but I think you couldn't leave us behind to face Barris'
wrath if you weren't around to moderate him."
Maybe you're right, Dynba, but there is no true way of knowing.
He nodded slowly. "Loor isn't the brightest of Imperial agents, but he
can solve a case when it's handed to him in a package, and the package
I left behind neatly implicates Mosh Barris in treason and Eamon
Yzalli's murder. I should be clear."
One of the New Republic officers pointed at the X-wing. "That fighter
just burned down four TIEs?"
Nootka tapped Corran on the shoulder. "He had the kills, Captain
Dromath."
The other Rebel whistled. "They never got through your shields."
Corran shrugged. "Recharging shields is easier than finding paint to
match."
The first officer nodded. "Look, Horn, I heard you say you don't want
anything to do with the Rebellion or New Republic, but we need fighters
like you."
"I'm not a joiner, Captain." corran shook his head, then frowned down
at Whistler when the droid jeered.
"All I want is to be left alone. Your fight isn't my fight."
Dromath shrugged. "Perhaps not, but you're smart
enough to know the
Empire won't leave you alone. You will fight them, just as you did in
getting these folks out of Garqi. If you have to fight them, doing so
with allies is a lot better than doing it alone."
"He's right, Corran." Dynba reached out and gave Corran's left hand a
squeeze. "The New Republic needs yOU."
"I don't know."
"Not an easy decision to make, true." Dromath smiled.
"Think about this, though--orders came through letting us know Rogue
Squadron is being reformed and brought back to active duty. Any pilots
who think they're good enough to join are encouraged to apply.
From what Nootka said, you're good enough to at least look into it."
Whistler squawked derisively.
Corran rapped a knuckle on the droid's dome. "I'm better than that,
and you know it. I could be one of the hottest pilots they've got. Of
course, I'd need a new R2 unit."
The droid's blatted reply prompted laughter from everyone.
Corran suddenly realized, as he heard their voices all mix together,
that he'd not heard good, honest laughter in all the time he'd been on
the run and in service on Garqi. Among the Imperials and their
citizenry there was always something held back, a hedge against
self-betrayal. People couldn't let themselves go for fear someone
might think ill of them and report them to the authorities.
He thought for a moment. He knew all he really wanted was to be left
alone, but Dromath had been right--the Empire would never leave him
alone. Even if they were not there directly, even if Loor wasn't hot
on his tail, the Empire's shadow would touch him except in places where
it could not survive.
Among the Rebels.
In the New Republic.
"As being left alone isn't an option, I guess I might as well choose
the folks with whom I have to co-exist." Corran slowly smiled and
extended his hand to Captain
Dromath. "If I heard you correctly, I think Whistler and I just might have an interest in joining Rogue
Squadron."
"It won't be easy, Mister Horn."
"From what I've heard, Captain, it wouldn't be Rogue Squadron if
joining was easy. But easy I don't want." Corran winked at Nootka and
smiled at Dynba. "Remember, I've just left a backwater world where my
droid led a Rebel cell and I helped evacuate enemies of the state, all
the while plotting to bring down the military prefect. After that, the
only place I'll find enough excitement to suit Whistler here is with
the folks who have two Death Star kills to their credit. If I were
willing to settle for anything less, I'd be joining the Imperial Navy
and thinking it was a good career move."
It occurred to Barris, as guards dragged him toward the interrogation
chamber, that his ears had been as deaf to Dynba Tesc's protests of
ignorance as Loor's would be to his. It struck him as ironic that his
descent had begun when he had done nothing on a world far away, and it
would end because he knew nothing on a world far away.
He sought to share this insight with the men beside him, but it would
only leave his throat disguised as hesitant laughter, punctuated by
sobs.
And, somehow, he knew they understood.
Retreat from Coruscant
by Laurie Burns Taryn Clancy idly watched a comm clerk notarize
acceptance of the datacards piled on the repulsorlift cart beside
her.
Suddenly, the background murmur of the old Imperial Palace's message
center disappeared under the hooting of alarms.
The clerk looked up, face draining of color as she identified the
warning tones. "Oh my skies," she said, sounding stunned.
"Coruscant's under attack."
Taryn's eyes widened too, but she moved fast. "If you'll
sign that off, I'll be on my way," she said, swiveling to push the cart closer to
the clerk's counter. "There's your mail," she added, pointedly holding
out her hand.
The clerk blinked, looked at her datapad, punched a few keys, and
mutely handed it over. Taryn swiftly inspected her authorization,
keyed in her own code, then jerked the clerk's copy out and tossed it
on the counter.
"Thanks," she said over her shoulder, already three steps toward the
door.
Out in the corridor the alarms continued at an urgent pitch, but as she
squeezed aboard a turbolift, Taryn was relieved no one seemed
panicked.
Though the New Republic had made the transition from military force to
galactic government, the former Rebels obviously hadn't forgotten how
to react to an Imperial attack. She bit her lip, knowing her hopes of
leaving were optimistic at best.
If Coruscant really was under attack, the planetary shield had probably
been raised, and she and Del were stuck for the duration.
But she had to try. After all, who wanted to be stuck on the palace's
landing pads like a clipped mynock while the Empire tried to reclaim
its former capital?
Not me, she thought, emerging onto the bright, windswept platform and
blinking at the brilliance of the midday sun. Reverberations from
half-a-dozen ships' engines thrummed around her, and ahead, the
Messenger added its throaty roar to the mechanical chorus. Del 'had
the ramp down and waiting, and as she dropped into the pilot's seat, a
quick scan of the displays showed they were nearly ready to lift.
"Heard the alarms," Del said, already strapped in at the co-pilot's
station. "What's up?"
"Us, I hope," Taryn said shortly. Another look at the displays, and
she flipped on the comm and hailed palace flight control. Her heart
sank as her request for liftoff was curtly denied.
Too late--the planetary shield had been raised. The
Empire was up
the
re, the New Republic was down here, and she and the Messenger were
stuck in between.
Taryn slumped back in her seat. It wasn't just that she had a schedule
to keep. The Core Courier Service promised prompt service among the
Core Worlds, and with crates full of communications still filling half
her hold, she didn't want to get too far behind. But late deliveries
were nothing compared to what Taryn feared was about to happen--an
all-out war for possession of Coruscant.
Port gossip had predicted that the Empire, despite the recent loss of
Grand Admiral Thrawn, was gearing up to strike at the heart of the New
Republic.
It looked like they'd been right.
"Well, heck," Del said, staring out at the platform where a
transport--apparently in defiance of the controller's orders--was
lifting off. "What're we gonna do now?"
Taryn watched the transport fade to a pinprick in the sky. If the
Messenger belonged to her, she'd be tempted to do the same. But a
smart captain didn't take chances with company property. "We wait,"
she said, reluctantly keying off the engines. "At least until help
arrives."
If it ever did, she added silently. The Imperials would've knocked out
the comm relays first thing, cutting off the New Republic's ability to
call for help from its fleets scattered through the galaxy.
They had orbital defenses, of course, but A tiny flash caught her eye,
and she leaned forward to squint out the cockpit's transparisteel
viewport. "Blast," she whispered.
Del followed her gaze and saw the almost indiscernible flashes of
turbolaser fire high in the sky. "We're stuck now," he said.
They watched in grim silence for a while before Taryn abruptly
wondered, "How long can the planetary shield hold up?"
"I dunno," Del said. "Depends on what they throw at it, prob'ly.
Couple of days, maybe . . . or a couple hours."
She glanced at him. Under his gray mustache, her first
mate's mouth
was right. And no wonder--after three decades with the courier
service, he was just days away from retirement. Studying the lines on
his face, Taryn mentally contrasted his years of experience to her own,
and suddenly felt overwhelmed with her fledgling status as captain.
It was only her fourth run at the helm of the Messenger.
And it was up to her to get them out of this.
For a second she felt a niggling of the old fear; the one with her
father's voice that said she flew for the courier service because she
didn't have the guts to do anything else. All through her childhood,
Kal Clancy boasted of his own bravado at the helm of his freighter,
then he'd spent her teen years trying to mold her in his image. He
hadn't bothered concealing his disappointment when she hadn't lived up
to his expectations.
She looked at Del again. He'd been delivering mail longer than she'd
been alive,and hadn't ever made captain.
That said something for her, didn't it? Didn't it?
Stop it, Taryn ordered herself. So being captain of a courier isn't
very challenging. That doesn't mean I'm not competent.
Shaking off her father's image, she tried to think what to do next.
Does it?
After a few hours passed with no sign of Imperial ships slipping down
from the sky, Taryn's nerves began to ease.
Seven hours after the alarms first sounded, full night had fallen, and
she was starting to get annoyed.
"Well, that's it," she declared after another request for information
from flight control was politely sidestepped.
"We can't leave, they won't let us move, and they won't tell us
anything. I'm going in there to find out what's going on."
"Who you gonna ask?" Del asked.
"Mon Mothma herself, if I have to," Taryn said.
Del snorted, but getting into the palace proved unex
pectedly easy.
After an initial hassle with two New Repub-lic-security officers, once
they discovered she captained the freighter on the platform, Taryn
found herself ushered into a turbolift. One of the guards poked his
head in after her and punched a button on the call panel.
"Good luck," he said, giving her a mock salute as the doors slid
shut.
That was easy--too easy, she thought, wondering what that salute thing
meant. She was still puzzling over it when the doors opened on a
corridor clearly far removed from the service section of the palace
where she'd made her delivery earlier. Same basic decor, but this
section had an unmistakably brisk military air.
As did the two armed troopers standing against the wall across from the
turbolift. They eyed her alertly as she stepped out, then she saw the
other two, standing on each side of the lift. Trying to ignore the
four pairs of eyes trained on her, she glanced down the corridor.
At one end, a blast door slid open and a froWning officer stalked
toward her. Halting a meter away, he gave her a quick once-over.
"I'm Colonel Bremen," he identified himself. "And you're?"
"Taryn Clancy, captain of the Messenger."
He nodded curtly. "If you're armed, you'll have to leave your weapons
outside," he said, producing a hand-held weapons scanner.
"I'm not," Taryn said, but Bremen ran the device over her anyway.
"All right," he said, apparently satisfied. "Follow me."
A guard fell in line behind her as Taryn followed Bremen through the
blast doors into another corridor.
She glanced curiously into open rooms as they passed, feet faltering as
a face she thought she recognized from the holovid flashed into view.
Was that really Mon Mothma? And if it were the New Republic's Chief of
State, just where was this Bremen taking her?
There was no time to speculate, as he stopped beside a
door and gestured for her to enter. Taryn stepped into the small office and
looked at the man seated behind the desk. Good-looking and about the
same age as Del, he looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't place
him.
That is, until Bremen shut the door and brushed past her. "Got another
one for you, General Bel Iblis. Captain Clancy of the Messenger," he
said, and Taryn tried not to stare. She'd expected to be pawned off on
some palace flunky, not brought to the man in charge of Coruscant's
defense!
"Captain Clancy." Bel Iblis nodded to her courteously as Bremen folded
his arms and took up a position against the office wall. "I understand
you'd like an update on the situation."
"Yes, sir, I would," she said, making a conscious effort to relax and
not stand at attention. "What's going on?
And when will I be able to leave?"
Bel Iblis studied her silently. Just as Taryn began to fear she'd been
too brash, he grimly answered. "Coruscant is surrounded. Our defenses
have been forced to retreat, and we estimate the planetary shield will
fail by morning."
Taryn forgot not to stare. "What'll happen then?"
"We're not waiting to find out," he said. "We'll be pulling out
tonight."
"You're leaving?"
"We have no choice," Bel Iblis
said heavily. "There's no way to get
word to our fleets in other sectors, and even if we did, they couldn't
get here before the shield fails."
"But, what about the New Republic?" she persisted.
Was the fledgling government really going to crumble that easily?
"The New Republic will survive," he said. "Only its headquarters will
move." Something like old pain briefly shadowed his eyes. "We don't
want Coruscant destroyed too, when all the Empire wants is to destroy
us. Once we're off the planet, the populace ought to be safe
enough."
Bremen abruptly unfolded from the wall and opened his mouth, but
subsided at a look from Bel Iblis. Taryn glanced from one to the
other, suddenly aware of the tension between them, then looked back at
Bel Iblis.
"Where will you go?"
"Good question," he said. "That's where you come in."
"Me?" she said, warily.
"We need all the lifting capacity we can beg, borrow, or steal for the
evacuation," he said, watching her intently.
Tales From The Empire Page 17