Before the Storm

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  “But, Viceroy—”

  “Now, I know you as they do not, and I know that your heart is not cold to our loss. But, you see, here is another way we are different, your people and mine. And when the differences run so deep, it is easy to give offense. Perhaps inevitable. It is one of the dangers of closer contact.”

  “I am so sorry, Viceroy,” Leia said. “I meant no insult to those who died. You know I only want to try to see that no one else need die. Please—will you accept my apology?”

  “Your apology is unnecessary,” said Nil Spaar. “I do not judge you as I would judge Yevetha. It is enough. Let us speak of something else.”

  “Good morning, Admiral,” the voice on the comlink said. “Are you alone?”

  Ackbar was momentarily taken aback. “I—Yes, go ahead.”

  “There’s something you should know before you talk to the commander,” Drayson said. “Nil Spaar gave her his answer a little while ago, and it was what she wanted to hear—that most of them are gone. But he never transmitted the list home.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what he did send, but it was far too short to have been the list. And there’s been no reply.”

  “Does this mean that he is lying—or that he already knew where they are?”

  “It may only mean he had all the records he needed already at hand. It’s impossible to say.”

  “You should be telling Leia this, not me.”

  “You know that’s not possible. She’s set on playing by the rules.”

  “So what do I tell the general?” Ackbar said, his voice rising in exasperation. “The Fifth sails in less than forty hours.”

  “You’ll have a fight on your hands before that happens,” said Drayson. “But tell him to be very, very careful.”

  “—So you see, we can go back to the original plans for the Fifth Fleet,” Leia said. “This needlessly provocative mission to Hatawa and Farlax isn’t necessary. There’s no Black Fleet hiding there.”

  Admiral Ackbar scanned the list and handed it on to General A’baht, sitting to his right at the great conference table. “Princess, I do not believe this changes anything,” Ackbar said. “It is my intention that General A’baht carry out the search mission as planned.”

  “I don’t understand, Admiral,” Leia said, her face showing open surprise. “I went to the viceroy and got you the answers you wanted. Why won’t you accept them?”

  “This is meaningless,” General A’baht said, dropping the list on the table. “There’s no documentation, no proof. It’s only their word.”

  “I’m satisfied that the viceroy’s word is good,” Leia said.

  “Why?” challenged A’baht. “Because you like him? Have you led such a sheltered life that you’ve never been lied to by someone you liked before?”

  “I believe him because he wants the same things I do—”

  “Or is smart enough to let you believe he does.”

  “General,” Ackbar said reprovingly. “Princess, I must remind you that you are the one who agreed to meet with him alone. We are at a disadvantage in judging his motives. But that is not the issue.”

  “What is?”

  “Whether we are ready to accept that we are now a great power,” said Ackbar. “Princess, a third of that region is now aligned with the Republic. Another third or more is unclaimed, uninhabited, or under dispute. Even if you accept the Duskhan hegemony over all of Koornacht, they control barely a tenth of the region. We have every right to be there.”

  “Because no government there can stop us?” demanded Leia. “Is that the morality you think the New Republic should be following? You sound more like an adviser to the Emperor.”

  “Leia, we must follow our own principles, or they are meaningless,” said Ackbar. “Under Article Eleven of the Charter, we proclaim a principle of free navigation. Both interstellar space and hyperspace are owned by none, and open to all. We recognize no territorial claims beyond the boundaries of a single star system. Do you believe in the principle of free navigation?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then there is no precedent for the Duskhan League’s claim to an entire star cluster,” said Ackbar. “I am willing to accept that we will choose not to enter Koornacht at this time. I am not willing to accept that we have no right to go there.”

  “It’s what the Duskhan League is willing to accept that matters here.”

  “Not more than our principles,” said A’baht. “And not more than our own security. The idea that we should stay away from Farlax because it might upset the Yevetha is absurd. If it comes from them, it’s unreasonable paranoia. If it comes from you, it’s unreasonable timidity.”

  Leia’s eyes flashed dark anger. “General, you sound like you don’t care about the possibility of alienating the Duskhan League.”

  “If you’re afraid to offend someone, they control you,” A’baht said. “And that’s no way to govern. Or negotiate. No one respects weakness.”

  “Is that all friendship is to you—weakness?”

  “Treaties aren’t built on friendship. They’re built on mutual self-interest, or they’re no more than polite lies.”

  “You are quite the cynic, aren’t you?”

  “I’m afraid the general is right,” said Ackbar. “We must honor the same claims we make on our own behalf. But we cannot sacrifice our freedom of action simply to please a would-be ally. We cannot shackle our own hands simply to appease a possible enemy. If we do, we have given away our strength to them. We have raised them up and made them equal to us—when they are not.”

  “I thought equality was another of our principles.”

  “Between members of the Republic, yes. But even there, you must admit, some are more equal than others,” Ackbar said. “We must look to our own interests first, Princess. And our first and strongest interest here is to learn the fate of the Black Fleet. I would be more than glad if we confirm what the viceroy has told you. But we must confirm it.”

  “The ships about which Nil Spaar could say nothing are enough in themselves for concern,” said A’baht.

  Leia ignored him, focusing her attention on Ackbar. “You feel that strongly about this?”

  “Yes. If you do not agree to let the Fleet’s orders stand, you will have to find someone to replace me,” said the Calamari. “I will have no choice. I cannot continue without your confidence.”

  Leia closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly. Searching her heart, she could not find the strength to resist Ackbar’s earnest certainty. How could she place her judgment above his? This was his domain. She did not trust herself that much.

  “Very well,” she said. “The orders stand.”

  Han Solo knew that something was up when Leia came back to the president’s residence in the middle of the afternoon. But he could never have guessed what she was going to ask him when she found him in the garden.

  “Han, I need you to go with the Fifth Fleet on this mission.”

  “What? That’s crazy. What do you need me for?”

  “It’s A’baht,” she said. “I don’t know if he really accepts my authority and judgment.”

  “Then ask Admiral Ackbar to relieve him of command. You have a right to senior commanders you have confidence in.”

  “There isn’t anything I can point to to justify it,” Leia said. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m just not sure what he’ll do when he’s on his own out there.”

  “That’s reason enough,” said Han. “Ackbar will understand.”

  “No,” Leia said. “He won’t. Han, I just have a feeling that I need to be there, by proxy, right at General A’baht’s side. I can’t explain it. The idea of watching the Fleet sail tomorrow without a friend on board makes me very afraid.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re the only person I trust completely,” said Leia. “And you have all the necessary clearances in place.”

  “What about the kids?”

  “I’ve alread
y talked to Winter. She’s willing to come back and take over while you’re gone.”

  Han glowered. “That’s not the way we decided it was going to be.”

  “It’ll be all right. I’ll spend more time here.”

  “You know A’baht’s going to hate this,” said Han. “Commanders always hate feeling like they’re being watched. And he’s gonna take it out on me.”

  “You’ll bear up.”

  “He’s gonna expect me to be in full uniform. I’m gonna have to shave every morning—”

  “I know I’m asking a lot, Han. The chances are it’ll be a long, boring deployment. I hope it will be.”

  “So why am I going?”

  “Just in case I don’t get my wish.”

  He combed his fingers through his hair, then scratched the back of his neck vigorously. “Son of a—How you get me to do these things—”

  Leia hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, darling.”

  “Yeah, that’s how.” He sighed. “I’m gonna need to catch a shuttle up tonight, aren’t I.”

  “By nine or so. They’re holding a Fleet four-place for you at Eastport.”

  “Then I’d better go in. I need to pack.”

  Her arms tightened around him. “I already sent the valet to pack for you,” she said. “You need to stay here and hold me until the last possible second.”

  “Right,” said Han. “That’s what I was about to say.”

  Chapter Nine

  For twenty-two days Colonel Pakkpekatt’s little armada had flown station with the Teljkon vagabond in deep space near Gmar Askilon. In all that time the mystery ship had done nothing to acknowledge their presence.

  The vagabond had not changed course, accelerated, decelerated, emitted any radiation, transmitted any coherent energy, altered its heat signature, or scanned the armada by any means known to the New Republic. It was coasting, seemingly inert, on the same heading it had been on when spotted by ferret IX-44F nearly three months before.

  The armada had done its part to preserve the silence. No messages had been sent to the vagabond. No active scanners had painted it with energy. No ship had approached closer than fifteen kilometers—respecting the facts that the Hrasskis contact had been at a radius of thirteen klicks and the debacle with the frigate Boldheart had been at a distance of ten.

  Pakkpekatt’s technical experts had captured countless images of the ship, using every band of the spectrum. They had modeled it in three dimensions for structural analysis. They had tried to correlate the visible structure and mechanisms with known technologies.

  And for all that, there was still not much basis for choosing among the many possibilities: There were no sentient beings aboard. There were beings aboard once, but they had abandoned it. There were beings aboard once, but they were long dead.

  There were beings aboard, but in hibernation. There were beings aboard, but their ship was disabled. There were beings aboard, but they didn’t consider the armada worthy of notice. There were beings aboard, waiting for Pakkpekatt to make the first move. There were beings aboard, waiting for Pakkpekatt to make a wrong move.

  It was nearly impossible to have a conversation of any length without someone asking, “So, what’s your guess?” Betting on one outcome or another had become rampant, and it was all Lando could do to make himself stay out of the action.

  But when Lobot asked him privately, Lando opted for one of the less popular choices.

  “Seems to me that this isn’t much of a destination, but it’s a pretty good place to hide,” Lando said. “Same with the other known sightings—all in deep interstellar space. There’s nothing out here to bring in even the low-rent crowd—prospectors, smugglers, short haulers.”

  “Virtually all interstellar traffic goes by way of hyperspace.”

  “Which skips right over this neighborhood,” Lando said. “Nobody goes to deep interstellar except pirates, and not many of them. This is about the loneliest place I’ve ever seen. And, something else—this ship doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere else. I don’t think there’s anyone on board.”

  “Then what would be its purpose?”

  “To hide something,” said Lando. “To keep something safe. Something incredibly valuable, considering the effort. I’m thinking what we have here is some sort of treasury ship.”

  “There are twenty-two thousand, four hundred eight known cultures which entomb riches with the dead,” said Lobot, opening a link.

  “That many? See, this could be some planetary potentate’s tomb, packed to the scuppers with all his worldly goods. That’d explain a lot about why it’s here, doing what it’s doing.” Lando pursed his lips as he thought. “I like this notion a lot.”

  “Tomb robbers are reported to be a common problem,” said Lobot, still processing the link he had opened. “Tomb design frequently incorporates traps, barriers, dead-end passages, false entrances, and other defenses against intrusion.”

  “Sounds like fun,” said Lando, showing an easy grin. “Maybe you’d better catalog all those defensive tricks, though.”

  “I am doing so,” said Lobot. “Lando, my information suggests that tomb thefts are common immediately after construction is completed, unless the construction workers who have knowledge of the defenses are executed. Perhaps this vessel has already been entered.”

  “If anyone else’d gotten inside that ship, they’d have taken her home with them,” said Lando, shaking his head. “She’s still locked up tight and ready to fight. You watch tomorrow, when we violate the perimeter. If she doesn’t put up a squawk, I’ll walk back to Coruscant.”

  The pilotless ferret D-89 had an appointment with an imaginary spot in space, twelve kilometers directly astern of the Teljkon vagabond.

  Racing in on a trajectory at right angles to that of the vagabond, it would slice across the imaginary defensive sphere surrounding the vagabond in the maneuver sailors call crossing the T. D-89’s mission was to breach the perimeter much as the Hrasskis ship had, but not as aggressively as the Boldheart had.

  “Minimal provocation, minimal risk to our assets,” Pakkpekatt had ordered.

  According to the plan, the ferret would be inside the vagabond’s defense perimeter for less than a second. If the alien vessel tried to jump into hyperspace, the interdiction pickets were directly ahead, ready to stop it.

  “Like clapping your hands behind a sandfrog to make him jump into your net,” said Lando. “I hope the net holds, Colonel.”

  “Do you have any reason to think it won’t?”

  Lando shrugged. “We don’t know what sort of hyperspace drive that ship has. An interdiction field designed for our engines might not work on it.”

  “It is not a matter of design, but of principle. No hyperdrive can operate in the shadow of a planetary gravity well. Or so I am assured by my technicians. And I have confidence in their expertise.”

  “I’ll bet the captain of the Boldheart had confidence in his shields, too,” Lando said. “A pity the Intelligence Service couldn’t lay hands on a full-fledged Interdictor for this mission—”

  “Here it comes,” Pakkpekatt said quietly.

  “All recorders are on,” sang out Lieutenant Harona. “All shields at full strength. All commands report ready. Interdiction field is ready. The captain of the Lightning reports he is standing by to pursue if needed.”

  “Nobody blink,” Lando said under his breath.

  In preparation for the intercept, Pakkpekatt had ordered that the Glorious be moved back from its usual trailing position fifteen klicks aft of the vagabond to the safer distance of twenty-five kilometers. At that distance, the ferret would have been visible as a dot moving in swiftly from the right, the vagabond as an oblong dead ahead—if either ship had been lit by a nearby sun, carrying running lights, or highlighted against the background of a bright nebula. None of those was the case, so there was nothing to see.

  “Tracking,” said Pakkpekatt.

  A red circle appe
ared around the position of the alien vessel. A moving green circle marked the progress of the ferret.

  “Magnify center, right,” said the colonel.

  The now familiar shadowy view of the tail of the vagabond ship filled the right third of the viewscreen.

  “Let’s have the feed from Lightning, left,” Pakkpekatt said. The left section of the forward bridge viewscreen acquired a pale blue border and shimmered into a profile view of the strange vessel.

  “I want to see the range,” Pakkpekatt said.

  Numbers appeared at the top of the forward viewscreen decrementing quickly at first, then ever more slowly. The two circles on the display merged for a moment as the range paused at the number 12.001, then began to increase.

  Suddenly the bridge’s speakers began blasting out a wildly modulated sound. It could not be called musical, but there was no other ready word to describe the experience of it. Three men with headsets on tore them off and threw them down, only to find the sound still hammering at them, nearly as loudly, from the ship’s comm system.

  Lando smiled in surprise when he discovered that the sound was both familiar and new to his ear—the same as the Hrasskis recording, but much more distinct. For the first time, he could tell that there were two “melody” lines, something that only signal analyzers had been able to detect before.

  There was relief on the bridge when the signal from the vagabond abruptly ceased. Its job done, D-89 continued out of the intercept area and off the bridge display.

  Almost at the instant D-89’s tracking circle vanished, a brilliant white flash filled all three sections of the display, so intensely that those looking that way were left momentarily blinded. When the flash faded, the vagabond was gone from the Lightning feed and suddenly smaller in the magnified view.

  “What was that?” Pakkpekatt demanded.

  “Target jumped—but the field held it in realspace,” said Harona. “Target has moved ahead about three kilometers. Just sitting there now—no sign of sublight engine activity.”