by Troy Denning
“Before she released me, she gave me a warning. She said to tell you that the Jedi accept no responsibility for the hostages, and that any emissary you send with a similar threat will not be returned.”
If Tsavong Lah noticed the slight contradiction of Nom Anor’s contention that he had been the one controlling Leia, he showed no sign. He simply looked to Vergere.
“Right again, my servant.”
She smiled up at him. “Have I not said the Jedi will prove worthy foes?”
“You have indeed,” the warmaster said. “But the refugees will be their undoing yet. They will become the wedge that drives the New Republic away from the Jeedai.”
FOUR
The one good thing to come of Tsavong Lah’s threat was that General Muun decided now would be a bad time to appear indifferent to the fate of refugees—and a particularly good time to boost his career by “rescuing” a group of evacuees. Not only did he send ten vessels to escort the Vray to safety, he insisted on leading the operation himself—freeing Leia and Han to return directly to Eclipse.
One of the many bad things to come of the threat was that when they arrived, Luke was waiting with a mission and a request to borrow C-3PO. The Solos barely had a chance to say hello to Anakin and the twins before they were on their way again, this time to Nova Station in what had once been the Carida system.
Surrounded as it was by the still-cooling ejecta of the explosion that had turned its sun into a supernova, space outside Nova Station was the reddest space Leia had ever seen. Wispy curtains of crimson gas swept slowly past the turning station, obscuring the distant stars and calling to mind the flash-boiled blood of billions of perished Caridans. Sitting there with Han in the wryly named Big Boom cantina, sipping an eyeblaster and trying to ignore Bobolo Baker’s All-Bith Band, Leia could not help feeling a little sickened by the knowledge that this had been an artificial cataclysm, one wrought by her own species’ boundless thirst for vengeance and destruction.
An electronic attention bell chimed three times, temporarily drowning out Bobolo’s flighty melody, then a male voice said something garbled over the public-address system. Along with every other being in the cantina, Leia and Han turned their heads toward a hologram projector hanging over the All-Bith Band.
The name Asteroid Dancer appeared, with a line beneath designating the vessel a YT-1500 freighter. A few moments later, the word Confirmed was added, and a hologram depicting the craft’s distinctive cockpit arrangement appeared.
Han grunted in frustration and reached for the pitcher of eyeblasters sitting in front of him. “They should’ve been here by now.” He filled his glass, took a sip, then tried not to make a sour face and returned the drink to the table. “Booster’s not coming.”
“He has to,” Leia said, glad to see the distaste in Han’s expression. For a long time after Chewbacca’s death he would drink anything, the fouler the better. The healing of his taste buds was yet one more sign of the healing inside. “Even the Errant Venture needs to resupply. Could we have missed them?”
Han gave her one of his patented dumb-question looks, then waved at the holo display. “How do we miss a Star Destroyer?”
“We don’t,” Leia agreed. “Not here.”
Built to replace Carida as a way stop on the Perlemian Trade Route, Nova Station floated just inside the supernova’s expanding gas shell, moving along behind the edge at the same three kilometers per second. As a result, any starship wishing to dock with the station had to leave hyperspace and enter the cloud at sublight speed, then use its sensors to obtain a final location. This gave station security and anyone else with a decent sensor package a chance to identify the ship long before it arrived, making the station an ideal haunt for smugglers, criminals, and anyone else with reason to appreciate a head start.
Han looked across the table. “What do you think, Red?” He was referring to Leia’s neon-colored hair—now almost down to her collar after being shaved off during a decon alert on Duro last year. Along with a blastback pilot’s jacket and stretchtight flight suit she could still pull off, the temporary dye job was part of her smuggler’s-moll disguise. “Time to go?”
Leia smiled and shook her head. “How about something to eat?”
She reached over to thumb the service pad, but stopped when she noticed Han being eyed from the next table. The watcher was a small mountain of a Weequay, with a broad nose and a deeply creased face almost as gruesome as a Yuuzhan Vong’s. “I think you’re about to be recognized.”
“Me?” Han turned to gaze out the viewport and see if he could spy the watcher in its reflection. “It’s not my face that’s been flashing over the ’Net for the last twenty years.”
Long resentful of the loss of anonymity that came with being a hero of the Rebellion, Han had limited his disguise to a bottle-brush mustache and a pair of cheek pads. Along with a two-day growth of beard, the costume had worked so far, probably because people did not expect to see the husband of a former chief of state in a place like the Big Boom.
Clearly, their luck was changing. The big Weequay picked up his drink and stood, flight duster flapping open to reveal the hilt of a big vibroblade on his hip. Knowing that her Noghri bodyguard would be growing nervous, Leia glanced quickly in Meewalh’s direction. Gaunt, wiry, and no more than a meter and a half tall, Meewalh was nevertheless such an intimidating sight with her leathery skin and wild eyes that even the Big Boom’s clientele gave her wide berth. Leia signaled the Noghri to wait with a double eyeflick, then pretended not to notice as the stranger started toward Han.
“Wait a minute,” Han said, more to himself than Leia. “I know this guy.”
Leia casually lowered a hand beneath the table and loosened the blaster on her hip. The mere fact that her husband knew someone was no guarantee that the party in question did not have murder in mind. The big Weequay stopped beside their table and, after casting an appraising glance at Leia, turned to Han.
“Thought it was you,” he said. “I’d recognize that smell anywhere.”
“Yeah?” Han narrowed his eyes at the Weequay, clearly trying to recall where he had seen him before. “I get that a lot.”
“Didn’t see your ship come in on the board, Miek.” The Weequay’s smile was almost a sneer; clearly, he enjoyed watching Han struggle to remember him. “You still with the Sunlight?”
“You might say that.” Han flashed a conspiratorial smile, then took a long drink of his eyeblaster to buy himself some time. Sunlight Franchise was one of a dozen false transponder codes the Falcon used regularly. They had docked with Nova Station under the name Longshot, and Han had more aliases than even he could track. Finally, he returned the glass to the table and refilled it from the pitcher. “Only you’d have to try a different name.”
The Weequay laughed. “I thought as much. That captain of yours was a tricky one.” He pulled up a chair and sat down, then glanced around the room. “Haven’t seen any Ryn around, though.”
That hardness only a wife can see came to Han’s eyes, and Leia knew he had finally placed their uninvited guest.
“Droma doesn’t run things anymore,” Han said. Droma and Han had fallen in together for a time after the capture of Ord Mantell, then spent half a year tracking down Droma’s lost Ryn clanmates and bringing them together in a Duros refugee camp. Though Droma and his people had since vanished into space, they had given Han a focus when Leia could not and would therefore always have a warm place in her heart. “He and I parted ways nearly a year ago.”
“Really?” The Weequay turned to Leia again, half leering and half appraising. “This your new captain?”
Han looked hurt. “I’m captain. She’s the mate.”
“You might say that.” Leia glared across the table at her husband. “On a good day.”
The Weequay laughed heartily, then surprised Leia by reaching under the table to lay a meaty hand on her knee. “The next time you have a bad day, come over and see me on the Sweet Surprise. I’m the mate there, bu
t you can have any post you want.”
“That’s enough, Plaan. She’s not looking.” Han’s voice was serious now. “What are you doing off Tholatin, anyway? I thought you were the security chief.”
The small amount of humor Leia saw in the situation vanished. Tholatin was the home of a group of traitorous smugglers who were not above aiding the Yuuzhan Vong when the price was high enough.
“Change of jobs. Like I said, I’m first mate on the Sweet Surprise now.” He removed his hand from Leia’s thigh. “Reason I came over, we’re short of help this run. Pay’s good.”
Han waited just long enough for Leia to shake her head, then raised his hand to silence her. “How good?”
“Captain,” Leia interrupted. Whether it was through the Force or because of all their years together, the role he wanted her to play came to her almost instinctively. “What about that load we’re waiting for?”
Han did not look at her. “It’s late.”
“But we’ve already been paid for the job.” Leia was playing the role, but she was also truly irritated at being dismissed. “And you know how he is about runners who don’t keep their contracts. I’d hate to see you frozen in carbonite or something.”
Han winced, then took another long drink of his eyeblaster. “There’s a clause,” he said. “If the load’s more than a day late, we pick it up later. Let’s hear him out.”
“Can’t say much until you’re in,” Plaan said.
“We don’t need much,” Han said. “As long as it’s not that refugee scam. The last thing I want is a New Republic fleet breathing down my neck.”
Plaan shook his head. “No more of that. This time they get where they’re going, a sweet deal for them and us. You won’t believe it.”
Leia slumped back and folded her arms across her ribs, doing her best imitation of an angry moll. It wasn’t hard.
“How long would it take?” Han asked.
“We have to hop out and pick up the rest of our cargo,” Plaan said. “Then it’s a two-day run, no more.”
Han looked across the table. “What do you think, Red?”
Realizing he was still probing for information, Leia said, “What about the Longshot, Miek? Are we hitchhiking back?”
“We’ll drop you,” Plaan said. “We’ll be coming back by.”
“How much?” Han asked.
“Five thousand,” Plaan answered.
“Each?” Leia asked.
Plaan frowned. “For both—and that covers the docking fees for leaving the Longshot here.”
Han looked to Leia. “Well?”
Leia rolled her eyes and reached for her eyeblaster.
“We’ll think about it,” Han said.
Plaan started to make a higher offer, then looked at Leia and changed his mind. “Don’t think too long. We’re pulling out in an hour.”
He took his drink and left, weaving his way through the crowd toward another pair of likely looking prospects. Leia watched as he sat down and began his pitch, then she glanced up with everyone else when the electronic attention bell chimed. This time, the name Light Racer appeared above the Bith’s heads.
“So, where’s he going?” she asked.
“With that schedule, three possibilities,” Han replied. “Kuat, Borleias, or Coruscant.”
“Coruscant,” Leia surmised. “Kuat and Borleias are turning away refugees. If he expects to get where he’s going, it’s Coruscant.”
Plaan found his two crew members and stood, waving to Han and Leia as he shouldered his way toward the exit with a pair of flop-eared Ossan. Han raised his glass to the big Weequay and took a long drink, then waited until they were gone and thumbed the service pad on the table.
“Where are you going?” Leia put the emphasis on you.
“To gargle—I can’t stand eyeblasters,” Han replied. “And then we’re going to Coruscant.”
Leia remained seated. “I can’t. You know how worried my brother is about his students.”
The young students of Luke’s Jedi academy were currently aboard the Errant Venture with Booster Terrik, jumping around the galaxy at random to prevent the Yuuzhan Vong from tracking them down. Unfortunately, in the two days since Alema Rar had awakened on Eclipse and described the attack on her sister, two more Jedi had fallen to voxyn—one on the supposedly secure world of Kuat. Concerned the Venture might stumble across one of the Jedi-killers during a supply stop, Luke had asked Han and Leia to pass Booster the coordinates of the new Jedi base at Eclipse and suggest that he resupply only from there. Booster being Booster, he was now three days overdue for his regularly scheduled rendezvous, and even Leia had to admit it seemed unlikely he meant to keep it.
“Let’s wait one more day,” she suggested. “The Longshot is fast. If Booster doesn’t show, we can still reach Coruscant ahead of Plaan.”
“Well, I’m not leaving here without you,” Han sighed. “But Rogue Squadron is rotating through Coruscant right now, and Wedge owes me a favor. At least let me talk to him and make sure the Sweet Surprise receives a warm welcome.”
“Wedge Antilles owes you a favor?”
“Everybody owes me a favor,” Han said.
Booster failed to show, of course, and Wedge—General Antilles—was reluctant to order the boarding of a properly registered starship without “evidence of suspicion,” in this case the presence of the complaining witness. Knowing this to be no more than an essential concession to the anti-Jedi sentiments on the Advisory Council, Leia reluctantly kept her promise to Han and informed Luke it was impossible to wait for the Errant Venture any longer. They left Nova Station and jumped into hyperspace at the Perlemian Trade Route. Han guessed they would be fast enough to beat the Sweet Surprise to Coruscant.
Han’s calculations were a little off. They emerged from hyperspace to the news that Rogue Squadron was already on its way to intercept the Surprise. Wedge asked Han to meet him at Orbital Control to file a report, and Han surprised no one by promising to be there after he saw what happened with the Surprise.
Coruscant’s usual aura of flickering starship light was now squeezed into a stack of luminous halos. To guard against the possibility of a Yuuzhan Vong surprise attack, the military had surrounded the planet with a shell of orbiting space mines, leaving open only a few dozen narrow travel bands—and slowing the normal traffic-storm to a crawl.
Han took the Falcon over the top of a travel band and came down within a few hundred meters of the Sweet Surprise’s blocky stern, drawing an ear-popping comm squeal from the thousand-meter cargo hauler he had cut off. He reached for the comm unit to return the affront and Leia practically had to throw herself out of the Wookiee-sized copilot’s seat to stop him.
“Easy, flyboy. This is no place to start a screech fight.”
When Han removed his hand, she opened a private frequency to the freighter. “Sorry to cut in, Freight. There’s about to be a military delay ahead. Suggest you veer port.”
“Delay?” an icy Duros voice responded. “What do you call this?”
The huge freighter began to slide across the traffic band, prompting such a squall of random comm squeals that Leia had to turn down the volume.
“Who needs the military?” Han asked. “Let the Yuuzhan Vong into this traffic-storm and see how long they last.”
The storm grew worse as four tiny X-wings streaked into view, then pivoted on their noses and fell in behind the Sweet Surprise. Leia scanned comm channels until she heard Gavin Darklighter’s familiar voice.
“… and stand for inspection, Sweet Surprise.”
“What for?” Plaan’s voice replied. “We aren’t violating any trade laws. We haven’t even entered customs control.”
“Be advised this is a New Republic military inspection.” In a more reassuring voice, Gavin added, “No need to worry. It’s just random.”
“Random?” Plaan sounded doubtful. “I’ll talk to my captain.”
“Remind him we’re not interested in customs regulations,” Gavin said
. “But we are armed.”
The discussion between Plaan and his captain must have been a lively one, because the Sweet Surprise continued forward until the traffic band narrowed to a mere three hundred meters. The space mines became a tangible presence, more because of the vast swaths of darkness they occupied than because of the tiny shapes Leia occasionally saw silhouetted against Coruscant’s scintillating surface. Gavin again warned the ship that his X-wings were armed and authorized to fire, and Plaan replied that the Surprise was carrying a thousand innocent refugees.
“They’re not going to stop,” Leia said.
Monitoring the exchange from its network of orbital weapon platforms, the Planetary Defense Force was slowly coming to the same conclusion. Over the Falcon’s military comm unit, Leia listened to a series of increasingly senior officers query first Gavin Darklighter, then Wedge Antilles about what was happening. Finally, the groggy voice of General Rieekan, who had been called out of retirement to command the PDF, demanded an explanation from Han.
Han told him who Plaan was, the Weequay’s refugee-selling history, and what had transpired aboard Nova Station.
“So, basically, you’re telling me you’ve got a bad feeling about these guys?”
Han winced. “That’s about it, General.”
There was a crackle as the general switched comm channels, then his voice came over the unsecured channel being used between Rogue Squadron and the Surprise. “Colonel Darklighter, you know who this is?”
“General Rieekan, yes, sir.”
“Good. As commander of Coruscant’s Planetary Defense Force, I am ordering you not to allow the Sweet Surprise inside the mine shell. Do you understand?”
Leia looked at Han. No more than three kilometers ahead of the Falcon, traffic was already passing under the minefield. By the time Gavin responded, both Rogue Squadron and the Surprise would be between the mines.
“Uh, sir, we’re already entering the safe lane.”
“You have your orders, Colonel Darklighter. Rieekan out.”