there was nothing I could do about it now . . .
except to wish that gray-eyed boy oneness with the Force that binds us
all, and to go on with my life and my job as best I could. I sighed,
got up--
aching like the aftermath of a stun blast--and went in search of that hot drink.
They gave me a medal when we got back--the Field Achievement Award, the
one they give all the field operatives who make it back from their
first mission. I still have it. I threw it in a drawer and haven't
looked at it since. But like a half-healed wound, I always know it's
there.
Side Trip Part One
by Timothy Zahn The hazy edge of the planet was just disappearing from
beneath the Hopskip's control room viewport, and Ha-ber Trell was
trying to nurse a little more power from the ship's as-always finicky
engines, when his partner finally reappeared from her tour aft. "Took
you long enough," Trell commented as she dropped into the copilot seat
beside him. "Any trouble?"
"No more than usual," Maranne Darmic told him, digging a hand
underneath the silvered clasp tying her dark
blond hair back out of the way and scratching vigorously at her scalp. "The cargo straps managed
to hold through that classic signature liftoff of yours. I'd say we
didn't get rid of all the itch mites in the hold, though."
"Never mind the vermin," Trell growled. Next time they had a
twenty-grade unbalanced cargo, he promised himself darkly, he'd make
her do the liftoff. See how smoothly she managed it. "How about our
passengers?"
Maranne sniffed. "I thought you didn't want to hear about vermin."
"Watch it, kiddo," Trell warned. "They're paying good money for us to
smuggle these blasters out to Derra IV."
"And obviously don't trust us ten centimeters with them," Maranne
countered. "They wouldn't be babysitting them like this if they
did."
Trell shrugged. "Can't say I really blame them for being cautious.
Ever since that big defeat or whatever it was out in the Yavin system,
the Empire's been spitting fire in · fifteen directions at once. I've
heard that some of the independents hauling Rebellion stuff decided it
was safer to take the advance money, dump the cargo, and burn space for
better havens."
"Yeah, well, I don't like hauling for desperate people," Maranne said,
shifting the focal point of her scratching to a spot farther down the
back of her neck. "They make me nervous."
"If they weren't desperate, they wouldn't be paying so well," Trell
pointed out reasonably. "Don't worry, this'll be the last time we have
to deal with them."
"I've heard that before," Maranne said, sniffing again.
The proximity-sensor alert began to warble, and she leaned forward to
key for a readout. "Sure, this'll pay for the engine upgrades you
want; but then you'll want sensor upgrades, and--" She broke off.
"What?" Trell demanded.
"Star Destroyer," she said grimly, activating the weapons section of
her board and keying in the power boosters.
"Coming up fast behind us."
"Terrific," Trell growled, checking the nav computer.
If they could escape to lightspeed . . . but no, the ship was still
too close to the planet. "What's their vector?"
"Straight toward us," Maranne told him. "I suppose it's too late to
dump the cargo and try to look innocent."
"Freighter Hopskip, this is Captain Niriz of the Imperial Star
Destroyer Admonitor," a gruff voice boomed from the speaker. "I'd like
a word with you aboard my ship, if I may.
The last word was punctuated by a single gentle shiver running through
the deck beneath them as a tractor beam locked on. "Yeah, I'd say it's
definitely too late to dump the cargo," Trell sighed. "Let's hope
they're just on a fishing expedition."
He keyed for transmission. "This is Haber Trell aboard the Hopskip,"
he said. "We'd be honored to speak with you, Captain."
"Well," Captain Niriz said, his voice echoing across the vast emptiness
of the hangar deck as he eyed the four beings standing in front of
him.
"Most interesting. Our records show the Hopskip as having two crew
members, not four." His gaze paused on Riij Winward.
"Newly hired, are you?"
"Our previous ship had to leave Tramanos in something of a hurry," Riij
told him, striving to keep his voice casual. The fake ID the Rebellion
had provided him was a good one, but if the Imperials decided to dig
past it they would undoubtedly come up with his recent connection with
the Mos Eisley police on Tatooine. That wasn't a connection he was
anxious for them to find. "We needed a ride to Shibric," he continued,
"and since Captain Trell was going that way, he was kind enough to
offer us passage."
"For a hefty fee, I imagine," Niriz said, his eyes shifting to the
muscular Tunroth standing at Riij's right. "Rare to
see a Tunroth in
these parts. You're a certified Hunter, I presume?"
"Shturlan, "Rathe Pairor rumbled, his voice almost sub-sonic.
"That's a twelfth-class Hunter," Riij translated, trying to draw
Niriz's attention back to him. Palror's distinguished service with
Churhee's Riflemen would raise even more eyebrows than Riij's own
record if the Imperials found it.
"Excellent," Niriz said. "A Hunter's talents may prove useful on this
mission."
At Riij's left, Trell cleared his throat. "Mission?" he asked
carefully.
"Yes." Niriz gestured, and a lieutenant standing beside him stepped
forward and offered Trell a datapad. "I want you to take a cargo to
Corellia for me."
"Excuse me?" Trell asked carefully as he took the datapad. "You want
me to--?"
"I need a civilian freighter for this job," Niriz said. His voice was
gruff, but Riij could hear a distinct undertone of distaste. "I don't
have one. You do. I also don't have time to locate someone else to do
the job. You're here.
You're it."
Riij craned his neck to look over Trell's shoulder at the datapad, his
earlier trepidation about their IDs and cargo giving way to cautious
excitement. For a Star Destroyer captain to ask for help of any
sort---especially from a scruffy civilian freighter pilot--was
practically unheard of.
It implied urgency and desperation; and anything that bothered a senior
Imperial officer that much was definitely something a good Rebel agent
ought to look into.
"What do you think?" he prompted.
Trell shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "It'll throw our
schedule all to blazes and back."
Riij ran a series of highly vulgar words through his mind, making sure
the frustration didn't show on his face. Trell, unfortunately, was not
a Rebel agent, good or otherwise, and he clearly wanted nothing to do
with any
of this. "It wouldn't take all that long," he cajoled carefully.
"And all good citizens have a duty to help out."
"No," Trell said firmly, offering the datapad back to the lieutenant.
"I'm sorry, C
aptain, but we just don't have time. Our cargo's due on
Shibric--" "Your cargo consists of six hundred cases of Pashkin
sausages," Niriz interrupted coldly. "I presume you're aware that the
governor has recently decreed that all foodstuff exports now require an
Imperial license."
Trell's mouth dropped open a couple of millimeters.
"That's impossible," he said. "I mean, the inspectors didn't say
anything about that."
"Just how recent was this decree?" Maranne asked suspiciously.
Niriz gave her a thin smile. "Approximately ten minutes ago."
Riij felt his stomach tighten. Urgency and desperation, indeed.
"off-hand, I'd say we've been set up," he murmured to Trell.
Niriz's eyes flicked to Riij, returned to Trell. "I am, however,
prepared to waive that requirement this one time," he continued.
"Provided you're prepared in turn to deliver your sausages a little
late."
"As opposed to not delivering them at all.>" Trell countered.
Niriz shrugged. "Something like that."
Trell looked at Maranne, who shrugged. "It's a two-day round trip to
Corellia from here," she said. "Add in delivery time, and we're
talking three days, tops. It'll be a scramble, but our schedule can
probably absorb that."
"Not that we have much choice in the matter." Trell looked back at
Niriz. "I guess we'd be delighted to help you out, Captain. What's
the cargo, and when do we leave?"
"The cargo is two hundred small boxes," Niriz said.
"That's all you need to know about it. As for departure, you'll leave
as soon as your sausages are offloaded and the new cargo put aboard."
At Riij's side, Pairor rumbled again, and Riij had to fight to keep
his own face expressionless. If some bored Imperial took it into his
head to poke around beneath the top three layers of sausages in each
box . . .
"Don't worry, we'll keep them cool," Niriz promised.
"There won't be any spoilage."
"I'm sure they'll be safe," Trell said. "Where does this cargo of
your's go?"
"Your guide will fill you in on those details," Niriz said, gesturing
behind them. Riij turned to look-And felt the breath catch in his
throat. Stepping around the stern of the Hopskip toward them, his
stained Mandalorian armor glittering in the overhead light--Trell swore
under his breath. "Boba Fett."
"It's not Fett," Niriz corrected. "Merely, shall we say, an admirer of
his."
"A former admirer," the armored figure corrected, his voice dark and
muffled. "The name is Jodo Kast. And I'm better than Fett."
"Not that that means much," Niriz said, his lip twisting.
"I've always found that a competent stormtrooper could handle any three
bounty hunters without working up a sweat."
"Don't push it, Niriz," Kast warned. "Right now you need me more than
I need this job."
"I need you less than you might think," Niriz retorted.
"Certainly less than you need an Imperial pardon for that mess you left
on Borkyne--" "Gentlemen, please," Trell jumped in hastily. "I'm a
businessman, with a schedule to keep. Whatever your differences, I'm
sure you can lay them aside until this job is finished."
Niriz was still glowering, but he gave a reluctant nod.
"You're right, Merchant. Fine. You and your crew can rest in the
ready room over there until the cargo's been transferred.
As for you're" He leveled a finger at Kast. "I'd like to see you in
the
bay control office. There are a few things I want to make sure you understand."
Kast nodded gravely. "Of course. Lead the way."
Niriz stepped into the bay control office, the armored figure striding
in right behind him. The door slid closed; and at long last Niriz
could let the unnatural stiffness drain out of his posture. "I'm
afraid I'm not very good at this, sir," he apologized. "I hope I did
all right."
"You did just fine, Captain," the other assured him, reaching up to
twist his helmet free and pull it off. "Between this armor and your
performance all four of them are completely convinced that I'm Jodo
Kast."
"I hope so, sir," Niriz said, his stomach tight with concern as he
gazed at those glowing red eyes. "Admiral . . .
I have to say one last time that I don't think you should do this.
At least not personally."
"Your concern is noted," Grand Admiral Thrawn said, running a
gauntleted hand through his blue-black hair.
"And appreciated, as well. But this is something I can't delegate to
anyone else."
Niriz shook his head. "I wish I could say I understood."
"You will," Thrawn promised. "Assuming this plays out as anticipated,
you'll have the entire story when I return."
Niriz smiled, thinking about all the campaigns he and the Grand Admiral
had been through together out in the Unknown Regions. "When hasn't
something you planned gone as anticipated?" he asked dryly.
Thrawn smiled faintly in return. "Any number of times, Captain," he
said. "Fortunately, I've usually been able to improvise an alternate
approach."
"That you have, sir." Niriz sighed. "I still wish you'd reconsider.
We could put one of my stormtroopers in the Mandalorian armor, and you
could direct him by comlink from somewhere nearby."
Thrawn shook his head. "Too slow and awkward. Besides, Thyne's
fortress will certainly have a full-spectrum
surveillance set up.
They'd pick up any such transmission and either tap in or jam it."
Niriz took a deep breath. "Yes, sir."
Thrawn smiled again. "Don't worry, Captain, I'll be fine. Don't
forget, there's an Imperial garrison nearby. If necessary, I can
always call on them for help."
He slid the helmet back over his head and fastened it in place.
"I'd better go supervise the cargo transfer--we wouldn't want Merchant
Trell's precious sausages to be damaged. I'll see you in a few
days."
"Yes, sir," Niriz said. "Good luck, Admiral."
It was called Treasure Ship Row, and it was billed as the most exotic
and eclectic trading bazaar anywhere in the Empire. Dozens of booths
and shops of every size and description ran its length, with hundreds
more nestled up against its edges, weaving in and out of Coronet City
proper. Humans and aliens sat at open-air counters or stood beside
doorways, hawking their wares to the thousands of beings jostling their
way through the narrow streets.
A vibrant, exciting place; but for Trell, a bit intimidating as well.
The merchant part of him was intrigued by the range of merchandise
available, as well as by the variety of potential customers an
enterprising dealer could sell those goods to. But at the same time
the part of him that had driven him into the isolation of space in the
first place felt distinctly ill at ease in the middle of such crowds.
Maranne, walking beside him, didn't seem to feel any such discomfort.
Neither did the two Rebel agents, striding along behind him. As for
Kast, in the lead, he doubted any of them could tell what he was
feeling. Or cared, for that matter.
"Where exactly are we going?" Maranne asked, taking an extra long step
to get in close behind Kast.
"This way," Kast said, veering through the crowd toward the side.
The others followed, and a moment later all five were standing in the
narrow walkway between two shuttered booths. "Here?" Trell
demanded.
"The booth you want is five ahead on the left," Kast told them.
"Curio shop--owner's named Sajsh. You--" he pointed a gloved finger at
Trell "--will tell him you have a cargo for Borbor Crisk and ask for
delivery instructions."
"What about the rest of us?" Riij asked.
"You'll go out first," Kast said. "Stay out of the conversation, but
watch and listen."
Trell looked out into the flow of the crowd, a shiver running down his
neck. Something about this didn't feel right, but it was too late to
back out now. "Maranne, make sure you're where you can cover me," he
Tales From The Empire Page 31