Rebel Stand

by Aaron Allston

  Do you read me?"

  The screen lit up: YES.

  "Oh, I'm so relieved. So they are no longer jamming comlink frequencies?"

  THEY ARE STILL JAMMING WITHIN THE BAY. BUT YOU PLUGGED ME INTO THE DOOR

  COMPUTER DIRECTLY, AND I'M TRANSMITTING THROUGH THAT TO A COMM UNIT OUTSIDE THE

  JAMMING FIELD.

  "I don't need the details. A simple yes or no would have sufficed."

  INCORRECT. THE PROPER ANSWER WOULD HAVE BEEN NO, THEY ARE STILL JAMMING

  COMLINK FREQUENCIES, AND YOU WOULD THEN HAVE BEEN MYSTIFIED AS TO HOW I WAS

  COMMUNICATING TO YOU.

  "Your infernal devotion to minutiae is beginning to overload my logic

  circuits. Try a simple answer again. What do I do now?"

  WHERE ARE YOU?

  C-3PO looked around and read in information. He was at a corner of two

  spacedock avenues, both now increasingly busy with pedestrian and landspeeder

  traffic. He saw humans, nonhumans, droids, self-motivated loaders, air-speeders,

  cargo speeders.

  And avenue labels; they glowed atop posts. "I appear to be at the corner of

  Row Fourteen and Column Five.'

  PROCEED TO THE SOUTHWEST CORNER OF ROW 25 AND COLUMN 10.

  "How will I know which is the southwest corner?"

  IF YOU MANAGE TO ARRIVE THERE WITHIN THE NEXT SEVEN STANDARD HOURS, EAST

  WILL BE THE DIRECTION WHERE THE SUN IS.

  "Very funny. Ha-ha." Irritated to his cybernetic core, C-3PO set off toward

  the indicated destination.

  Han gave up on the door. He backed away to the cot attached to the wall and

  sat there. "I can't get the access panel off," he complained. "It's built like a

  prison."

  "It is a prison," Leia said.

  "That explains it. Can you do anything? With the Force?"

  "Sure, if I had my lightsaber." Leia stood at the center of the room,

  studying the air vents, the slot in the door that doubtless was intended for the

  insertion of a food plate. "Which, you'll recall, I left behind with your

  favorite blaster, since they are both sort of identifiable. But give me a

  minute." She closed her eyes and tried to submerge herself in the Force, to feel

  whatever it was that it might choose to show her.

  She could feel living things all around her, hundreds, thousands, too many

  to count, just as it was in any highly populated area. There were no pockets of

  dark side energy, no glowing beacons or other anomalies to focus on.

  There was the door, and though her telekinetic skills were far inferior to

  those of most Jedi she knew, she did possess some. She focused on the door,

  tried to understand its internal structure as the Force showed it to her.

  She could feel its metallic strength, feel little disconti-nuities that

  suggested moving parts. Soon enough, she distinguished the vertical bars that

  rose and descended from the door to keep it from swinging open. Other bars, less

  formidable, slid in behind them to keep them from sliding into their unlocked

  position.

  She plucked at the lower holding bar, felt it twitch under her effort. By

  concentrating further, she felt it slide free, just for a moment, before some

  other energy pulled it back into place.

  Leia tried again with the upper bar. It, too, she could pry out of place

  for a moment-'not long enough to slide the main locking bar out of position.

  She sighed and opened her eyes. "Not a chance," she said. "Not without a

  lot of practice. In maybe two, three days I might be able to handle one of the

  locks. In a few weeks, maybe I could do both at the same time and get that thing

  open."

  "It's all right," he told her. "We'll get out of here some other way."

  "How?"

  "I have no idea."

  TEN

  R2-D2 had been manufactured a long time ago, and those long years of

  experience meant that he had a store of knowledge of tricks, techniques, and

  strategies that made the programming of most other droids pale in comparison,

  and he found that he needed every one of them here.

  Because, frustratingly enough, the prison computers of this spaceport were

  just unwilling to set his friends free.

  Oh, he was able to obtain some information about them readily enough. Han

  and Leia shared a cell in the prison's deepest level and were labeled ENEMIES OF

  THE

  STATE and HOLD FOR SPECIAL ENVOY PICKUP.

  The prison computers could be persuaded to keep secret the fact that R2-D2

  was trying to get past them, He'd managed to forge himself a false ID as a

  security Program testing defensive program efficiency. All he had to endure from

  them was little expressions of mockery each time he failed to penetrate one of

  their protocols. Which was often.

  The prison computers could not be persuaded that the

  Solo cell was actually unoccupied and ready for another occupant, which

  would have unlocked the thing. They could not be convinced that the Solos had

  military authority equivalent to the prison manager or head of security. They

  could not be induced to deliver captured explosives now held in a security

  division locker to that cell. They could not be tricked into transferring the

  Solos to a minimum-security level.

  R2-D2 beeped in agitation. Prison computers, unlike humans, were never

  distracted or hungry. Their attention never flagged. This would take forever,

  and there was an indicator in the Solo file that they would be placed in the

  hands of outsystem visitors within the next couple of hours.

  Distracted. Hungry. R2-D2 called up the computer protocols on prisoner

  needs and reviewed them.

  Satisfied, he made a happy trilling noise and got back to work.

  C-3PO got into the line of visitors and slowly, meter by meter, approached

  the prison's service entrance. He spoke down into the bag around his neck,

  whispering: "Artoo, I am three from the front of the line."

  UNDERSTOOD.

  The protocol droid looked ahead to the entrance. One human and a security

  droid stood there. The security droid was bulky, with black armor that suggested

  storm-trooper defenses, and a nearly featureless face with red-glowing eyes, a

  nightmare vision even for a droid. The human looked as though he were the

  droid's distant cousin, with similar armor and a similar build. He wore no

  helmet, and his eyes seemed to gleam redly in the light of dawn.

  C-3PO took another step forward. "I am now two from the front of the line."

  GOOD. THE TIMING SHOULD WORK. "What timing?" There was no answer.

  Now there was just one person in line ahead of C-3PO. The human guard,

  halfway into a brief interrogation of that person, scowled and held up a black-

  enameled corn-link. He spoke for a moment into it, then exercised an even deeper

  set of scowl muscles and turned to the droid. "You take over for a minute," he

  said. "Payroll has to ask me a question in person."

  The droid nodded. When the human guard had gone, it accepted the next

  visitor's identichip, ran it through its own internal slot, returned it to the

  man, then gave him a shove sufficient to throw the visitor down the stairs.

  "Refused," the droid said. "Next."

  C-3PO moved up, irrationally feeling circuitry threaten to melt down in his

  vocal centers. "Good morning, sir, I wish
to enter these-"

  "Shut up. Identification,"

  C-3PO handed over the chip that had, until just minutes before, been

  plugged into his datapad.

  The security droid inserted it into the slot in its chest, then spat it out

  again and returned it. "Tadening Food-takers is authorized to enter," it said.

  "Thank you, sir." C-3PO tried to move forward through the doorway, but the

  security droid's hand slapped into his chest, restraining him.

  "Not so fast. Present possessions for search." Reluctantly, C-3PO held his

  bag up for inspection and opened its top flap. Clearly visible within the

  compartment were Leia's lightsaber, Han's modified DL-44 blaster pistol,

  vibroblades, a datapad, data cards. "This is the, um, requested fast meal for

  the Solos before their departure." The security droid peered at the items.

  "Identify these."

  "Um, well, the two large packages are Corellian meat-lump. The one with the

  trigger housing is spiced, of course, and the other not." Dismayed by the

  ridiculousness of his description, C-3PO pointed at the vibroblades and forged

  ahead. "Mealbread sticks." He indicated the other items. "Honey wafers for

  dessert."

  "No vegetables?"

  "No vegetables. I'm sure you know about Corellians." The security droid

  reached through its wireless datalink to the base computer and brought up three-

  dimensional representations of the types of food C-3PO had named. The database

  offered recently updated visuals on those foods, which, in every particular,

  including coloration, structure, and surface defects, matched the items in the

  bag. "Pass," said the security droid. "Thank you, sir."

  Once past the service entrance, C-3PO followed data microtransmissions that

  led him through a maze of service departments-laundry, electronic prisoner

  monitoring, visitor lanes. At the entrance to the kitchen he was met by a

  rolling cart that slid a slot open for him.

  "You're sure this is the meal slot for the Solos," C-3POsaid.

  The rolling cart beeped irritably at him. "Do not fret, I was not

  questioning your competence. I was merely making conversation." C-3PO dumped the

  contents of his bag out into the slot. The rolling cart slid the slot closed and

  banged its way back through the doors into the kitchen, still beeping in a less-

  than-friendly manner.

  "Government service units," C-3PO sniffed. "Now, let us see if we can find

  our way back out of here."

  But he was speaking only to himself. Until he found another datapad or

  comlink with a strong enough transmitter to connect directly with R2-D2, he was

  alone. R2-D2 had told him he was to make his break for freedom now, to exit the

  prison by the way he'd come and then move northward as fast as his golden legs

  would carry him. The astromech had told him to be brave.

  "So this is what bravery is," he told himself. "How odd that it feels like

  petrification."

  Han and Leia heard the service droid moving up the line of cells. At each

  one, it announced, "Breakfast" in an irritating mechanical whine. A series of

  thumps and thuds followed.

  "I can tell," Han said, "that this will be an interesting dining

  experience."

  The droid whined to a halt outside their door. "Last meal," it announced.

  "Even better," Leia said.

  Then items poured through the slot in the door. Han's blaster. Leia's

  lightsaber. Other objects.

  "You have got to be kidding," Han said.

  Leia nodded. "Well, that makes this my favorite prison ever."

  They scrambled to the door and sorted out their possessions. Leia flipped

  open the datapad, read the words,

  R2-D2 STANDING BY. AUDIO OPEN. PRESS "ADVANCE" FOR ESCAPE ROUTE MAP AND

  "RETURN" FOR TEXT.

  Leia broke into a brilliant smile. "Artoo?"

  STANDING BY. SUGGEST YOU COMMENCE YOUR ESCAPE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I AM

  UNABLE TO PREVENT THE MONITOR DROIDS FROM OBSERVING YOUR CELL. AT ANY MOMENT

  THEY MAY BEGIN WONDERING WHY YOU ARE NOT EATING YOUR FOOD.

  "Understood," Leia said. She hit the ADVANCE button, taking a quick moment

  to note the first few elements of their escape path. "Short hallway, metal-bar

  obstacle - no problem-cut through the floor into the maintenance machinery

  section. Got it. Ready?" She handed the data-pad to Han.

  "Ready." Han took up position beside the door, his blaster in hand.

  Leia lit her lightsaber. She drove the point of the gleaming red bar of

  energy into the door at floor level, dragged it across the bottom of the door.

  She felt heavy resistance that had to be the metal bars there. Once she was past

  that, she repeated the process at the top of the door, her blade not quite

  horizontal because she was not tall enough to hold the lightsaber that high.

  Once she was past the heaviest resistance there, she retreated into a

  defensive stance and nodded.

  Han shoved. The door slid halfway open. He snatched back his hand as two

  guards on the other side fired blasters through the opening.

  Leia caught both shots with her blade, batting one to the side, the other

  back through the opening. It struck a blue-clad guard there in the chest and he

  went down, his uniform flaming and smoking.

  Han leaned out and fired twice through the opening, catching the other

  guard in the side and hurling him out of the way. He shoved at the door again,

  and it opened the rest of the way.

  Han and Leia rounded the corner to the barred exit from this cell block.

  Han waited behind and began firing back the way they had come while Leia went to

  work on the bars, cutting through three of them at head height and again at

  ankle height. Incoming blasterfire flashed past Han's position, blackening the

  wall behind him. "Got it?" he called.

  "Got it. Come on." She slid through the gap and turned to face Han.

  He raced to her, leapt through the gap. In those few seconds, prison guards

  skidded into view past the corner he'd vacated. They began firing; Leia swatted

  the bolts from the air, reveling at being able to do something so simple, so

  gratifying, so direct. Some of her deflections sailed back the way they'd come

  and forced the guards into hiding.

  This corridor was nothing but a duracrete tube angling gently upward. Han

  raced up it, pacing off a distance. He consulted the datapad in his hand, then

  fired his blaster into the floor, marking one point. "That's our mark."

  Leia raced to join him and plunged her lightsaber into the floor there,

  dragging it around in a crude circle. Han waited until he saw the first set of

  feet appear at the bottom of the ramp, then began firing on the pursuers. "How's

  it coming?"

  "Slow. I forgot at first to angle the cut outward instead of inward."

  "What difference-never mind." Cutting through the duracrete with the edges

  angled inward as they descended created a plug that would have to be hauled up;

  cutting it the other way would yield a plug that should just fall away.

  Except that it didn't. Leia finished her cut and stepped back, panting, and

  the plug remained stubbornly in place.

  Han continued firing. " Artoo!" he shouted. "How thick is the duracrete

  here, anyway?" He stole a glan
ce at the datapad screen.

  LESS THAN A METER.

  "Then why doesn't it fall?"

  Aggravated, Leia stamped on the plug. It remained obstinantly in place.

  "Check the map again," she said. "Maybe we'll have to cut through somewhere

  else."

  "You check it!" Han tossed her the datapad and fired three times in quick

  succession. Return fire bounced off the duracrete around them. "I'm obviously

  not fit to read a map."

  "No, you've got it right.''

  "Fall, blast it! Fall!" Han stomped on the plug, ft didn't vibrate. He

  leapt clean upon it.

  It fell.

  R2-D2 sent the command through the cable that snaked out through the false

  escape pod to the landing bay door computer datajack. Immediately, his audio

  sensors picked up the grinding noise of the bay roof levering open.

  He ejected the cable from his own datajack and watched it snake down

  through the hole to the bay floor below.

  With a little musical squeal that betrayed his eagerness, the astromech

  rolled out of the escape pod and up to the Falcon's bridge. He plugged into the

  dataport there and began an abbreviated, computer-speed power-up sequence. It

  wouldn't take long for the spaceport authority to realize that a supposedly

  unoccupied bay was opening to release a supposedly impounded transport, and he

  wanted to be out of here by then.

  It wasn't every day R2-D2 got to fly the Millennium Falcon, after all.

  Captain Mudlath was in his office, calculating just what he could purchase

  with the Solo reward, when his comlink buzzed into life. "Captain," his

  administrative aide told him, "the Solos have escaped."

  Mudlath actually felt himself grow dizzy for a moment as adrenaline jolted

  through him. "This had better be a joke," he said. "And a funny enough joke that

  I laugh until I forget about killing you."

  "They're not out of the prison," his aide said. "They won't get out. But

  they're out of their cell."

  Mudlath lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "I suggest you put them back

  in their cell." Not waiting for a reply, he switched the comlink off, then sat

  back to try to Persuade his stomach muscles to unclench.