Star Wars: Shadow Games

by Michael Reaves

  “I wasn’t pretending. It hurt. I couldn’t see out of it, okay?”

  “So you say.”

  Mel chuckled. “Where did you get him?” He nodded at Leebo.

  “Guy traded him to me for passage off Rodia. A comedian.”

  “Ah. It all becomes much too clear.”

  “Yeah. Oh, and Leebo, I’ll thank you to remember who programmed you to pilot a spacecraft. If it weren’t for me, you’d be hanging out in the hold twiddling your little tin thumbs.”

  “My thumbs are neither little nor tin. They are a laminanium–quadranium alloy with an overplating of terenthium.”

  Mel gave Dash a sidewise look.

  “Yeah, annoyance makes him pedantic. I didn’t program that. Not sure who did.”

  “That was my previous employer,” Leebo informed them.

  “Owner,” Dash couldn’t help correcting.

  “Now who’s being pedantic? He was a great comedian,” the droid added in an aside to Mel.

  “Who’s changed professions,” Dash added, “because he managed to insult the Rodians’ head honcho, Navik the Red.”

  “Ah. Hence the necessity of getting passage off Rodia.”

  “Artificial intelligence, it seems,” the droid said, “is no match for natural stupidity.”

  The two men sat in companionable silence for a moment, then Mel said, “So, you have quite a history with Prince Xizor.”

  Okay, that was a crash turn onto a new subject. Still, Dash saw no reason to be coy. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

  “That must have made this tour of duty a bit … difficult.”

  “Hey, I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

  “Pardon me for saying so, Dash, but that sounds an awful lot like bluster to me.”

  Dash opened his mouth to retort, then met the older man’s eyes. There was no judgment in them, only honest compassion. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. You got me. The truth is … the truth is that when Xizor’s ship was bearing down on us, I really wanted to fire those missiles. There was a split second when I didn’t care about Javul’s mission or Han’s ship or my life. All I could think of was that if I fired at exactly the right moment, one missile might hole his shields and the next might punch through.”

  “If you got off the second shot before they unloaded on us.”

  “Yeah. Big if.”

  “What stopped you?”

  Dash flushed and was glad the cockpit was dimly enough lit that Mel might not notice it. “I’d like to say that it was the sure and sudden knowledge that if I didn’t fire at exactly the right moment, Xizor would unload on us and kill everybody aboard, not just me. But to be honest, I didn’t have to make that choice. Han stopped me. Made me hesitate. The next second Nova’s Heart was clear and we were gone. I never had to make the choice.”

  “Do you wish you had?”

  Dash nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’d kind of like to know what I would’ve done.”

  Mel looked right into him. “You know what you would’ve done. You wouldn’t have let personal revenge trump duty … You’d be a good man for the Rebellion, Dash. We need people who can set aside their personal goals the way you have.”

  Dash shook his head. “Naw. Not me. I’m too much of a lone wolf to take orders the way you guys have to. This whole Rebellion thing is outside my comfort zone. Too many ways to end up dead.”

  “Dash, the Rebellion is outside everyone’s comfort zone. Mine, Dara’s, Javul’s. Nobody wants to have to be here. But look at the alternative—lying down and letting the Empire suck more and more life out of all of us. There was a time people living on Rim worlds could just ignore what was happening at the Galactic Core. That time is long past. The Empire has reached out to the very fringes of the galaxy and is squeezing the life right out of it. Have you been to Corellia lately? They’ve got our homeworld locked down so tightly, people can barely move or draw breath without the Security Bureau showing up on their doorstep.”

  Dash didn’t know what to say. He could feel Mel’s words pecking at him, could feel the penetration of his gaze.

  He changed the subject. “Let me ask you something. Nova’s Heart has the container and is, I assume, heading for Alderaan eventually. But Nova’s Heart is also broadcasting a signal that’s drawing off at least some Imperial forces and giving Prince Xizor a come-hither. Why both? And why are you and Javul still here aboard the Millennium Falcon?”

  “Javul and I need to report to our liaison on Alderaan.”

  “Your boss, huh?”

  “Our boss.”

  “That’s it?”

  Mel shrugged.

  “You put Nik aboard the Nova’s Heart. Y’know what that tells me? That tells me that he’s safer there than he’d be here.” Dash leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “It tells me that we still have the container. Don’t we?”

  Mel didn’t answer. He glanced over Dash’s shoulder. “Good morning, Captain Solo. I’m guessing you’re going to want your seat back. Come on, Leebo. I’ve got some exceptionally high-grade joint oil that I think you’re gonna love.”

  Mel slipped out of the copilot’s seat and shifted past Han, laying his hand briefly on Dash’s shoulder. “You’re a very smart man, Captain Rendar. I think you’d be a credit to the Rebel Alliance.”

  Han stood in the accessway for a moment, staring after the Rebel commander. “What was that? Was he trying to recruit you?”

  “I guess.” Dash really didn’t want to talk about it.

  Han slid into his pilot’s seat and checked the readouts before swiveling to look at Dash. “Seriously. He was trying to get you join the Rebellion?”

  Dash shrugged. “Yeah. Fool’s errand.”

  “Fool’s errand. I’ll say. Man, they must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

  “Oh, really? They ask you to join?”

  Han blinked at him, not catching the implied insult. “Sure … sure, of course they did. I turned ’em down. Flat. I mean, who needs the added risk, right? Your lady friend is crazy—you know that, don’t you? Her and all her crew.” He described a circle around his right ear with his index finger.

  “Yeah,” agreed Dash.

  The trip to Alderaan was uneventful enough to make everyone relax. And that, all by itself, made Dash nervous. Surely by now the Deep Core would have been discovered to be an innocent cargo vessel “crewed” mostly by droids. The Nova’s Heart would have certainly deactivated Oto and jettisoned the transponder. That meant Xizor and the Imperials knew they’d been deked and were seeking a heavily modified YT-1300 last contacted in the Circarpous system.

  Dash Rendar found himself in the unlikely position of wishing someone would just attack and get it over with. He said as much to Han as the two of them sipped hot caf in the cockpit.

  Han looked at him as if he were out of his mind. “Bite your tongue. We have to refuel on Commenor. If there’s an Imperial Star Destroyer waiting for us there, I’m gonna blame you.”

  “Do we have to refuel on Commenor? Can’t we just plow on through to Alderaan?”

  “We could try, but we might end up dropping out of hyperspace short of the goal. I’d rather not chance it.”

  “I thought this old crate had extended range. Outrider could make it from Bannistar to Alderaan on one fuel pack.”

  Han glared at him. “This old crate has been hauling more crew and more cargo than usual. And she’s been jumping in and out normal space like a madman was at the helm.”

  “Got that right. When do we get to Commenor?”

  Han checked the chrono. “Oh-three-hundred hours, give or take.”

  “Should we put Leebo in one of the weapons turrets? Maybe have Mel in another one?”

  Han choked on his caf. “Dash, you’re even more paranoid than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

  “C’mon, Han, what could it hurt? Better safe than sorry.”

  Han shrugged. “Hey, if you wanna crew up the weapons, I got no reason to argue with you. A
s long as you’re not going to ask to pilot again.”

  Dash had been thinking about it, but his eye was better now and focused well enough for him to target accurately. “I’ll take gunnery. Give us about a ten-minute heads-up.”

  Roughly ten minutes before they were to drop out of hyperspace, Han’s voice sounded the heads-up for their arrival in the Commenor system: “This announcement brought to you by Dash Rendar, mother hen and professional worrier. All hands to battle stations! All hands to battle stations! We are approaching impending doom!”

  Dash climbed into the dorsal gun battery, wishing that Han wouldn’t be quite so cocky. It was his observation that when you yawned in the face of the universe, it felt compelled to do something rude to wake you up.

  Javul sat next to Han in the copilot’s seat as the Millennium Falcon decanted and then soared into the Commenor system on a heading toward the fourth planet, where, Han assured her, they’d find fuel and friends.

  “I do lots of business on Commenor,” he said. “There are very few inner worlds as unimpressed with the Empire as these guys. Our chances of finding an Imperial presence here are astronomically small.”

  Javul looked up at the curved flank of a gas giant as the Falcon sailed serenely by. “How do they keep the Empire at bay?”

  “Ironically, by being very important to the Emperor. Commenor is a gateway colony. Believe it or not, more trade passes through here than through Corellia. I think the Emperor knows that if they lean on Commenor too heavily, they’ll lose that gateway. I mean, imagine what would happen on Coruscant and some of the other Core Worlds if basic resources were suddenly cut off. Food, fuel, other necessities.”

  Javul nodded. “Coruscant can’t produce much of its own food.”

  “Exactly. So, the Empire goes out of its way not to arouse Commenorian umbrage. It’s too key a port.”

  Javul saw, ahead of them, a large planet surrounded by vessels. She pointed. “Is that the hub world?”

  “Yeah. There’s activity on some of the other planets, but Commenor is the heart of it all. Pretty fun place, too, I might add.”

  Javul smiled wryly. “I’ve had enough fun on this trip, thanks.”

  “No, I mean real fun.” He turned his head to look at her appreciatively. “In fact, if we could afford the time, I’d love to show you some of the nightlife in Chasin City.”

  Javul laughed. “You want to show me the nightlife? I thought you thought I was a crazy lady.”

  “I do think you’re a crazy lady. But you’re a pretty crazy lady, not to mention a famous one. Saying I’ve gone out with Javul Charn would give me some serious creds in the circles I travel. You know what I mean?”

  “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I do. But we can’t afford the time.”

  “Yeah, I figured not.”

  Javul didn’t answer; no sense telling him that if she went anywhere with anybody for fun, it would be Dash she wanted on her arm. Maybe because they’d been through so much together. Maybe because he’d saved her life. Maybe because he’d stuck with her even in the face of her duplicity. Or maybe because she liked what happened when he kissed her.

  She settled back in the copilot’s seat and watched Commenor draw closer, the ships and satellite stations around it coming into sharper focus. She wasn’t exactly conscious of when she started to feel uneasy. There was just something wrong about the silhouette of a ship coming toward them from out of the Commenor sun, something jarringly familiar about the configuration of another moving slowly out from behind a moon …

  She sat up, put her hand on Han’s forearm. “Han …”

  He turned toward her, a smile curving his mouth, but the look on her face wiped it away. “What is it?”

  “To starboard at about thirty degrees.” She recognized it now and the recognition brought a chill. “Imperial Dreadnought.”

  “Do you think they know—”

  In answer to Han’s quandary, the Imperial hailed them. “Rebel freighter, this is Commander Zarin of the Imperial Dreadnought Avenger. You will stop and be boarded.”

  “Rebel freighter? I’m no Rebel anything!” Han hit the intercom. “Hold on, everybody, we’re outta here!”

  They dived—down and to port, twisting, turning toward the moon.

  “But there’s a—”

  “I see it!” Han said, his eyes on the Imperial corvette that was even now pulling out from behind Commenor’s large natural satellite. He put on speed, looped beneath the moon, and came up under the corvette’s keel. Then they were sweeping in a long S-curve around Commenor.

  “TIE fighters in pursuit!” Dash called down from the gunnery.

  “Fire at will,” Han told him and then concentrated on getting them out of the system so they could return to hyperspace. He aimed them ninety degrees from their course, heading toward the Inner Rim.

  They could hear the slash of the laser cannon as Dash and Mel fired at the swarm of attack ships behind them.

  “Leebo!” Han hailed the droid.

  “Yeah, I know—countermeasures. I’m on it.”

  They swept out of the system with Leebo’s spread of countermeasures littering their back trail. Javul watched the tactical display as the TIE fighters and the corvette’s missiles collided with the live ordnance amid the debris, then flared and died. The corvette blew through the debris field without hesitation, picking up speed as it pursued them.

  “This is gonna be close!” Han shouted. “More countermeasures on my mark!”

  He jerked the steering yoke hard over to port, yelled “Mark!” and fired the hyperspace engines. They flipped over, their wake lighting up brilliantly for the split second before they leapt out of realspace.

  Leaning back in his chair, Han turned to Javul. “You’re a religious type, aren’t you?”

  “I … have my beliefs.”

  “Then pray that they think we leapt toward the Rim.”

  “Han,” said Dash’s voice from the intercom. “She’s been praying since she got on this bucket.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  DASH DIDN’T DOUBT THAT JAVUL CONTINUED TO PRAY. Having gone without refueling, but with some additional crash maneuvers, the Millennium Falcon wasn’t in the ideal state to complete her journey to Alderaan. Han was sweating again, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He wasn’t above grousing about the fact that they probably wouldn’t make it all the way to Alderaan and would have to limp in under ion power.

  “Could take days, you know,” Han complained, “during which we will be completely vulnerable to attack.”

  Luckily, they were only moments from the perimeter of Alderaanian space when the hyperdrive used up the last of its reserves. That put them hours, rather than days, out. Mel went back up to the dorsal laser cannon; Dash and Javul hunkered down with Han in the cockpit. They had no more than entered the system when they were hailed.

  “Unidentified freighter, this is Alderaan Space Control. Please provide ID.”

  Han swore. “What’s up with that? I fly into Alderaan time after time with almost no trouble and this time they ask for ID?”

  “That’s because you’re not broadcasting your ID, Han,” Dash reminded him. “You haven’t been broadcasting ID since we left Bannistar.”

  “Well, I don’t feel too good about starting now.”

  Javul leaned in from the jump seat to activate the comm. “Alderaan Space Control, this is Javul Charn. This vessel is now part of my entourage.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then the controller came back with a cautious, “Javul Charn, would you please transmit your personal identification code?”

  She slid farther down between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats and typed a series of characters on the communications keypad.

  “Checking your ID, please wait—oh, I’m informed you may establish orbit around Alderaan at your earliest convenience.”

  “At your earliest convenience,” muttered Han. “I’ll bet that’s not what he was informed.”

  They wer
e in orbit before Alderaan control established contact with them again. This time the agent was a female—probably the superior of whoever had hailed them before.

  “Charn,” she said in a rich contralto, “may I ask what happened to your tour? We weren’t expecting you for two weeks and with different vessels.”

  “We had an equipment failure en route and had to hire another vessel and captain to carry my crew and cargo. We also had a bit of trouble on Bannistar that prompted a change of schedule.”

  “I hope everything is all right. You said an equipment failure—you haven’t lost any technology or personnel, have you?”

  “No, but we have had to separate our remaining vessels.”

  “Are you aware that the ship you’re on is wanted for unspecified infractions against the Empire?”

  “Now, wait a minute!” said Han. “All we did—”

  Javul silenced him with a look. “Very much aware, Control.”

  “In fact, the ship is suspected of smuggling.”

  Javul gave Han a sidewise glance. “Yes, well … our captain does have an entrepreneurial streak.”

  “Guy’s gotta make a living,” muttered Han.

  “Sounds like a real scoundrel,” said the controller wryly.

  Dash glanced down at the tactical display. “Uh-oh. We’ve got company …”

  Han followed his gaze. “What? Oh, come on. Who’s that?”

  “Um, Control,” said Javul. “We seem to have an escort.”

  “Yes, you do. And you will follow the lead ship in that escort all the way in or the vessel behind you will take exception to your actions. We’re getting a docking facility ready. When you enter atmosphere, we’ll activate a homing beacon. At that time, you will relinquish control of your vessel to our autopilot.”

  Dash looked at Javul, a cold, hard knot in the pit of his stomach. “Javul …”

  “Do as she says.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Javul shrugged. “What’re the alternatives, really?”

  “We can cut and run,” suggested Han. “Melikan’s still up in the turret.”

  “Cut and run using what for fuel?” asked Javul. “Besides, those aren’t Imperial ships, Han. They’re Alderaan Port Authority vessels. These are the friendlies.”