by James Luceno
Still, the three remaining coralskippers clung doggedly, chomping at the Falcon's tail. Nap of the ground, Han weaved through a forest of storm-obscured spires
and wind-sculpted stelae. The engines moaned and the ship vibrated as if on the verge of flying apart. Hiking power to the rear shields, he snap-rolled, then stood the Falcon on its side once more to narrow her profile as plasma streaked past them to both sides.
Droma lashed his tail around the seat to keep from being strangled by the seat harness. "At least warn me when you're going to do that!"
Han leveled out and maneuvered through a ludicrously tight turn, feathering the engines until the Falcon was at a near stall, then shunting power to the thrusters and throwing the ship into a vertical reversement. Swerving to evade Droma's fire, the trailing coralskipper flipped out of control and careened straight into an outcropping, shattering to bits.
The Falcon's thrusters flaring, Han pulled up sharply, climbing out of the storm at high boost.
Neither of the surviving pair of fighters followed them back up the well.
They collapsed into their chairs as the stars lost their twinkle and swarmed around them as pinpoints of light.
"Nice shooting," Han said after checking in with the threat assessor one final time.
Droma returned the grin. "Nice driving."
The Falcon bucked. Indicators flashed and the console came alive with warning tones. Han and Droma fell silent once more and turned to the painful chore of assessing just how much damage the ship had sustained.
"The hyperdrive is viable but responding erratically," Droma said a long moment later.
Han nodded glumly. "Must have suffered collateral damage when the power converter got hit."
Droma tugged at one end of his drooping mustache.
"We might be able to make Nar Shaddaa. It's difficult to tell."
"No," Han said. "We can't chance it."
"Do we return to Sriluur?"
Han shook his head. "I doubt we'll find the replacement parts we need. Besides, I don't want to risk running into those coralskippers again."
Droma called up star charts. "Kashyyyk, then. Two quick jumps and we're there."
Han ran his hand over his mouth. "Not a good idea." When Droma didn't respond, he said, "It's not what you think. I can handle the memories. It's just that Chew-bacca's family still consider themselves responsible for my well-being, and I can't face that right now."
"So where to?"
Han studied the displayed star charts and grinned, more to himself. "A little out-of-the-way place I know, where they'll have everything we need."
"Everything Han Solo needs," Droma thought to point out.
"Maybe you're right," Han said. He turned slightly to regard Droma. "Think you can handle playing captain for a while?"
On Coruscant, in the new office that had come with her unexpected appointment to the Advisory Council, Senator Viqi Shesh supervised the two labor droids she had tasked with rearranging the furniture.
"Turn the desk catercorner to the window," she instructed them as she moved about the room.
The identical humaniform droids manipulated the hoversled on which the desk sat. When the desk was in place, they turned to her, seemingly eager to see her pleased by the results. But she wasn't.
"No, no, all wrong," Shesh said, shaking her head, then running a hand through her lustrous mane of ink-black hair. "Put the desk back where it was and move the conform chair beneath the window."
The pair of droids looked crestfallen. "At once, Senator," they responded in unison.
Shesh lowered herself into an antique armchair from her native Kuat and glanced around the office, smiling slowly as she took in the spacious room. Well-appointed without being ostentatious, the room enjoyed a breathtaking view of Commerce Way and the New Republic Obelisk. With a bit of work, it would become the most elegant chamber in the building, one that would make a lasting impression on all who entered.
Not bad for someone who had entered the political arena only six short years ago, Shesh told herself. But she had expected no less than this from the start, and she anticipated a great deal more in the coming years, despite the fact that her appointment to the Advisory Council had failed to meet with unanimous endorsement.
Several would-be political pundits had accused Chief of State Borsk Fey'lya of attempting to win the support of wealthy Kuat. Others had denounced Shesh for allowing herself to be seduced by power, and accused her of turning her back on the very things that had fueled her rapid rise. Under Fey'lya's thumb-so the fretting went-what would become of her impassioned concern for the needy, her economic patronage of disenfranchised worlds, her outspoken praise for the Jedi Knights and all they stood for?
Shesh's smile broadened as she considered the questions. In the end, they showed how mistaken everyone was about her, and how successful she had been in fostering illusions.
The office comm sounded. "Senator Shesh," her secretary said, "Commodore Brand has arrived."
Shesh glanced at her watch. "Admit him," she answered.
She rose from the chair, smoothed the black skirt that sheathed her long legs, and ordered the labor droids out of the room. By the time Brand entered she was settled behind the desk.
"Commodore Brand," she began, smiling and extending her hand across the desk. "How delightful to see you."
A rigid, gloomy functionary, with the inward-turning gaze of one who sees only his own truth, Brand took off his cap, shook her hand as decorously as he could, and tried to make himself comfortable in the tight confines of the armchair.
Shesh gestured broadly to the office. "Excuse the mess. I've only just moved in."
Brand's eyes raced about. "Congratulations on being named to the council, Senator."
Shesh feigned solemnity. "I only hope I can measure up to everyone's expectations."
Brand leaned forward. "War speeds the promotion of those best equipped to lead. I'm certain you will surpass everyone's expectations."
"Why, thank you, Commodore." Shesh paused briefly. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
Brand cleared his throat meaningfully. "The Corellian situation, Senator."
Shesh nodded. "The reenabling of Centerpoint Station. In my opinion, a judicious decision."
"Then you're not concerned about possible . . . repercussions?"
"An armed and dangerous Corellia, for example? Of course not. A well-defended Corellia benefits the entire Core."
Brand regarded her for a long moment. "Yes. But what if I were to tell you that even more might be gained by inducing the Yuuzhan Vong to attack Corellia?"
Shesh raised an eyebrow. "Are you in fact telling me that, Commodore? Because if you are-and notwithstanding that I sit on the Security and Intelligence Council-I would be obliged to bring this matter to the attention of the Advisory Council immediately."
"The Defense Force intends to do just that, Senator," Brand said in a rush. "Unfortunately, however, we find ourselves in something of a dilemma."
"A dilemma," Shesh repeated.
"Assuming first that we could succeed in luring the Yuuzhan Vong to Corellia, we must ensure that we can defeat them-soundly. And while we wouldn't want to tip our hand by massing ships at Corellia, we would need to pull from Bothawui and a host of similarly defended worlds to amass the required armada."
Shesh took a moment to respond. "You're concerned that the Advisory Council would refuse to sanction any actions that would imperil Bothawui and the others. And yet, to accomplish your goal, it would have to appear as if Bothawui were being defended to the disadvantage of Corellia."
Brand almost grinned.
She appraised him openly. "I see that I've read you correctly. Though I still wonder why you think it necessary to bring this to my attention."
Brand held her gaze. "Should the matter go to a vote, the Defense Force would want to make certain that Bothawui wins out."
Shesh grinned. "But, Commodore, if the Yuuzhan Vong are r
outed at Corellia, wouldn't those who voted in favor of Bothawui be seen in disfavor?"
"Perhaps. But any vote tendered in the interest of the greater good would be seen as enlightened."
Shesh fell silent for a long moment. "A moment ago you said that this entire plan rests on the assumption that you can entice the Yuuzhan Vong to attack Corellia. As I understand it, you hope to accomplish this by leaving Corellia essentially undefended, in the hope that the enemy takes note of that fact. But wouldn't it be more profitable if word got out about what you're doing? For its technological powers alone, Centerpoint Station would be an irresistible target for destruction."
Brand tugged at his earlobe. "This isn't something we can simply announce over the HoloNet, Senator."
Shesh laughed shortly. "There are better lines to the Yuuzhan Vong than the HoloNet." She gave it a moment, then added, "The Hutts. If they had even an inkling of your plan, they would certainly apprise the Yuuzhan Vong, if only in the interest of safeguarding their future."
"But the New Republic has broken off diplomatic relations with the Hutts. To communicate with them at this point-"
"The Hutt consul general is still on Coruscant. I could pay him a visit and let slip a few things."
Brand stared at her. "You would do that?"
"I would. But in return-in the event the true purpose of my visit ever came to light-I would want it known that the Defense Force asked me to intercede."
"You want deniability," Brand said.
"Irrefutable deniability, Commodore."
He took a moment, then nodded. "I think that can be arranged. We could say that we were merely feeling the Hutts out."
"Just so."
Brand smiled. "You should have gone into the military, Senator. You would have made a brilliant tactician."
"The military?" Shesh snorted in derision. "I don't mean any disrespect, Commodore, but why would I want to be the one who fires the weapon when I can be the one who decides at whom the weapon is pointed?"
TEN
The size of a Victory-class Star Destroyer, the bulk freighter Starmaster hung above the inert Twi'lek home-world, Ryloth. Pods of vessels surrounded it-tenders, gunboats, and shuttles-some as smooth as marine creatures, others as boxy and graceless as the freighter itself. Anchored in the umbra of the great ship floated a Ubrikkian luxury yacht. Also in shadow, and closing steadily on a rectangular docking bay, moved a lunette-shaped craft launched from Ryloth's miserly zone of inhabitable twilight.
In a lower-deck compartment forward in the freighter, two Rodians monitored the approaching crescent on a display screen, switching to an interior view of the docking bay as the small craft disappeared from sight.
"Is that his ship?" the Twi'lek pacing behind them asked when the craft had penetrated the bay's magnetic containment field and landed. Like almost everyone else aboard the Starmaster, the trio were wearing jumpsuits inflated by large pouch pockets.
"His ship," one of the Rodians scoffed. "He has dozens of ships. Let's wait and see who disembarks."
Three human males and a female appeared on the craft's extensible boarding ramp. Moving with lithe economy, the first two men might have been brothers, though the taller one's face was hideously scarred where the other's was slim and angular. Dark-haired and willowy, the woman also moved with care, but there was a coiled wariness to her step and a vigilant gleam in her eyes. The last man out had an air of confident nonchalance. In one of inherited entitlement, the elevated chin and pocketed hands might have been perceived as arrogance, but he wore refinement well, as only one who had earned it could. In contrast to the shin-high spacer's boots and long cloaks affected by his confederates, he was dressed in silk and leather.
"That's him," the other Rodian said, indicating the latter male with the tap of a long, sucker-equipped finger against the display screen. "That's Karrde."
The Twi'lek positioned his thick tattooed head-tails over his shoulders and leaned between the Rodians for a closer look. "You're certain?"
The one who had made the identification twitched his short snout. "If not, it's either his twin or a clone."
The Twi'lek straightened. "I'll alert the boss."
Hurrying through the compartment hatchway, he en tered a large hold, clamorous with activity. Stacked high throughout the space were alloy shipping crates recently ferried up Ryloth's well from Kala'uun Spaceport. Two-legged binary loadlifters supervised by masked Twi'lek foremen were arranging the crates for further shipping and off-loading, while utilitarian-looking asp droids stenciled the crates with port-of-call information and applied laser-readable labels. Despite the forceful draw of overhead exhaust fans, dark motes danced and swirled in the recycled air.
One hand clamped to his mouth, the Twi'lek threaded his way through the maze of stacks, arriving ultimately at a laboratory isolated from the hold by tall perma-plas window walls. Inside, two humans wearing goggles, rebreathers, and environment suits were assessing the quality of a fine black powder sampled from an opened shipping crate bearing the corporate logo of Galactic Exotics, alleged to contain edible fungi. The stockier of the pair removed his mask and goggles to reveal bulging eyes in an otherwise bland face.
"He just arrived," the Twi'lek reported. "Docking Bay 6738. Two men and a woman accompany him. They are clearing contamination and control now."
"You're certain it's him."
"Certain. But we'll run an identity scan just in case."
The man peeled off elbow-length gloves, slipped out of the environment suit, and settled himself at a display console. "Keep the cam and scanner feeds open so I can see and hear for myself."
"Will you be informing Borga?"
The man considered it. "We'll see."
The Twi'lek took the same route back to the compartment. By the time he arrived and was peering over the shoulder of the Rodian closest to the screen, Karrde and his companions were literally at the door.
"Positive identification on Karrde," the Rodian said after studying the scanner readouts. "No information on the other men, but neither one is armed with blasters. The scanner matches the woman to Shada D'ukal, a known associate of Karrde's." The Rodian looked at the Twi'lek. "Lethal, even without weapons."
The second Rodian lifted a blaster from his hip holster, checked the charge, and primed the weapon.
"Unnecessary," the Twi'lek told him. "They'd be fools to try anything."
The Rodian's round black eyes fixed on him. "You pay me to be prepared."
The Twi'lek nodded, grinning slightly to show filed teeth. "I stand corrected."
"Look," the Rodian's partner interrupted. "He's on to us."
The Twi'lek glanced at the display screen in time to see Karrde waving at the optical scanner concealed in the bulkhead above the hatchway.
"I still don't understand why Karrde would be interested in dealing with us," the armed Rodian remarked. "He trafficks in information, not spice."
The Twi'lek caressed his bulged forehead and moved to the hatchway. "This isn't about spice. But we're expected to hear him out, so that's what we're going to do."
He aimed a remote at the hatchway sensor, and the hatch pocketed itself into the bulkhead. Karrde and the others entered, his two male companions hanging back and Shada D'ukal sidestepping into a corner where she could keep a watchful eye on the proceedings.
"Welcome, Talon Karrde," the Twi'lek said in Basic. "I'm Rol'Waran."
Karrde nodded. "A pleasure." He didn't bother to introduce anyone else.
"Your chair," Rol'Waran barked at one of the Rodians, who immediately stood and stepped aside. He waited for Karrde to make himself comfortable. "I'm told that you're interested in procuring product."
"Eight blocks."
Rol'Waran's normally narrow eyes widened. "A substantial quantity. However, since your past and recent activities are not unknown to me, would you mind explaining why you're suddenly interested in product?"
Karrde laughed innocently. "If you're concerned about entrapment or a
nything of that nature-"
"Nothing of the sort," Rol'Waran was quick to assure. "After all, we are only subordinate players in the grand game. But I was given to understand that you had abandoned illegality for activity of a more . . . diplomatic nature."
Karrde crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his knee. "The Yuuzhan Vong invasion has rendered obsolete my position as liaison between Bastion and Coruscant."
"Meaning, he's unemployed," the shorter of the two men behind him said.
"Yes," RoFWaran said, stroking his left lekku pensively. "The Yuuzhan Vong have heaped changes on us, as well."
"Not the way I hear it," the same man remarked.
"Just what have you heard?" Rol'Waran asked.
The man's upper lip curled. "That spice remains a safe bet."
Karrde cleared his throat. "What he means is that product has always been a prized commodity, and now, what with more mouths to feed-"
"Hard times bring about a need for escape," Karrde's comrade cut him off. "We're all for letting everyone bury their heads in the sand."
Rol'Waran cut his pink eyes to Karrde. "So you're interested in going into business."
"Assuming that shipment can be arranged."
Rol'Waran smiled tightly. "That would, of course, add to the price. Where did you have in mind?"
"To begin with, Tynna."
An awkward silence fell over the compartment, while Rol'Waran and the Rodians traded covert glances. "Tynna is extremely problematic at the moment," Rol'Waran said at last. "I could arrange shipment to Rodia, perhaps even Kalarba, but you'd have to take it from there."
"What about Kothlis or Bothawui?" Karrde said.
Rol'Waran shook his head. "Not at present."
Karrde loosed an annoyed exhale. "If you can ship to Rodia, can I at least get you to bring it up the run to Corellia? That's the actual destination."
Rol'Waran tilted his head to one side. "Again, I'm afraid we have a problem."
"What's the problem?" Karrde's scar-faced accomplice asked harshly. "We were told you could move spice with impunity under the new terms."