Star Wars - The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  "Give me a moment to scatter them, Chewie. Then go out firing."

  Chewie nodded. Davis said nothing. Chewie put a paw on the door. Han gripped the speeder bike's handles and revved it to low.

  "Now, Chewie!" he said.

  Chewie pulled the door open and Han turned the speeder bike on high. The engine rumbled between his thighs. Then the bike shot through the door, twice as fast as he had expected.

  Immediately he had to dodge a binary load lifter. He pulled upward, and narrowly missed the wing of an outmoded cargo ship. A large wall loomed in front of him, and he realized it was Davis's freighter. He pulled up again and circled as high as the speeder bike would let him.

  Over the roar of the engine, he heard voices, shouting, and screaming. The Glottalphibs surrounded the Falcon. He dove the speeder down toward them, blaster in one hand, controls in the other, firing as he went.

  One Glottalphib shot a mouthful of fire at him, and Han twirled the bike. Ground, ship, sky, ground, ship, sky, and suddenly he was heading toward the Glottalphib again. The Thib had to leap out of his way. Another Thib fired a blaster, and Han fired back, hitting the Thib in the mouth. It fell backward against the Falcon, and then Han couldn't see it anymore.

  The bike was still moving forward. He weaved between cargo ships, and rode under robotic arms. The front of the bike whapped a box, and the box burst open as he drove under it, showering him in Imperial blaster bolts.

  By the time he got the bike turned, he was halfway across the bay and no use to Chewie at all. He couldn't even see Chewie or the Falcon.

  Han gripped the handle and headed back toward the Falcon, flying under wedge-shaped freighter edges, and beneath open cargo doors. The piles of boxes he soared past were impressive. Many were open and revealed stormtrooper helmets, Imperial-style blasters, and other equipment.

  Smugglers were firing at him now, and many were shouting that he was crazy. The speeder was sputtering beneath him, but the controls still worked. He was able to dodge, but not for much longer.

  The Glottalphibs still surrounded the Falcon, but they were all facing him now, both breathing fire at him and shooting blasters. He rose, then dropped, then moved sideways to avoid all the shots. He was shooting too, missing often because he was trying to evade, but occasionally connecting. Blasters reflected off Glottalphib hide; he had been lucky to hit that first Thib in the mouth. This would take precision shooting.

  Then one Glottalphib fell forward, a bolt from Chewie's bow-caster in its back. Another fell as well, another bolt in it. Davis snuck up behind the Glottalphib near the Falcon's secured door, tapped the Thib on the shoulder, and blasted it in the mouth when it turned around.

  A shot from behind spun the speeder bike. It looped around the edge of the Falcon. Han fought for control. If he didn't get it, the speeder would slam into the Falcon. He dropped his blaster and gripped the controls with both hands. He righted the bike, and looked up as it was heading for the door into the caves.

  He pulled up and the speeder coughed.

  "Come on, you bucket of bolts," he muttered, slamming the engine with the flat of his hand.

  The speeder coughed again, and flew above the doors, narrowly missing the rock walls.

  He whipped it around, and saw a fifth Thib dead at Davis's feet.

  Other smugglers were still shooting at him. Chewie was shouting, saying they should all board the Falcon. Han aimed the bike toward the Falcon when the engine coughed a third time. It sputtered once, and died.

  He flew off the speeder, unable to stop his own momentum. He brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his head. If he hit wrong, he would die. Simple as that.

  The metal ground loomed. He tucked as best he could, then landed, scraping his elbows, the backs of his upper arms, his knees, and his shins on the metal. He was shouting, Chewie was roaring, and blaster bolts zinged around him.

  A hand grabbed his armpit and pulled him to his feet. He could hardly move.

  "You okay, buddy?" Davis asked.

  Han nodded.

  The speeder hovered above him, almost laughing at him. Then a blaster bolt hit its engine and the speeder exploded. Flaming parts shot everywhere. Han and Davis ducked under the Falcon to prevent getting hit.

  It hurt to move.

  Chewie brought the ramp down. He stood on it and waved them in. Davis and Han ran up the ramp, blood flowing through the rips in Han's pants.

  "What about your ship?" Han asked Davis.

  Davis grinned. "Technically it's not my ship yet."

  "Great," Han said. They ran inside. Chewie was already bringing the ramp up. Han bolted for the cockpit. Chewie was following.

  "What about Seluss?" Han asked.

  Chewie roared.

  "I don't care. We've got to find him before we go."

  "There isn't time," Davis said.

  "I'm not leaving him here," Han said.

  "Being noble will get you killed."

  "It hasn't yet," Han said. "Look for him, Chewie."

  But Chewie wasn't responding.

  "Davis, find Chewie."

  Nothing. Han's hands were on the controls, his scraped elbows burning, his skin on fire. Through the cockpit transparisteel, he could see smugglers heading toward his ship.

  "I don't like this, guys," Han said. "Guys?"

  He turned. No one was behind him. He left the Falcon powering up and went into the corridor. There, the gray-scaled Glottalphib held Chewie and Davis at blaster point. Chewie's fur was smoking, and the edges were singed.

  Beside them, on the floor, was Seluss. His tiny hands were bound together, and the rope then wound around him and bound his feet. Tape was inexpertly applied to his muzzle. Beneath it, he chit-tered. His words were muffled, but audible.

  He had said the Sullustan equivalent of "It's not my fault."

  TWENTY-TWO

  Leia hurried down the hall to the ballroom. She had hastily combed her hair back and changed into a formal pantsuit. She had been practicing with her lightsaber and a remote when the call came in: an urgent meeting of the Inner Council to be held immediately. She had changed and run down the hall at top speed.

  Even then she would be late. And Leia Organa Solo was never late.

  Meido had called the meeting. He had been elected to the Inner Council a few short days ago by an overwhelming majority of senators. Two other former Imperials had also been elected to fill the vacancies left by the bombing.

  Meido was within his rights; any Inner Council member could call a meeting. But junior members never took such authority upon themselves. It was just Not Done. Tradition would have to give way now to the new order, unless Leia got tradition written into the procedures of the Inner Council.

  Yet another thing to do. Another thing she didn't have time for.

  She skated around a corner and arrived at the ballroom. The doors were closed. She was late. She made herself take a deep breath. Meido had notified her last, and made it impossible for her to be on time. That had thrown her off-balance, as it was intended to do. So had his calling the meeting. But she wouldn't let him see any of her emotions. He wouldn't win on petty political maneuvering.

  Leia smoothed her hair back and adjusted her tunic. Then she waited until her breathing was regular. She shoved open the double doors and stepped into the ballroom.

  The room was too large for an Inner Council meeting, although it would do well for the full Senate. The Council met on the platform usually reserved for the live musicians. A table had been set up, again without her orders.

  Meido sat in her chair at the head of the table. Formal seats had not been assigned here; he never would have been able to do that in the old Chamber. But here he could plead simple misundertanding. And if she sat in a different chair, she acknowledged his rise in power. She would not do that. Much as she hated these games, she would have to play.

  The conversation stopped when she entered. Gno was in his usual position beside her chair. So was C-Gosf. Both l
ooked uneasy. Leia nodded at them, then let her gaze meet Meido's. His eyes sparkled in his crimson face. The white lines on his skin seemed brighter than they ever had before.

  "I am aware, Senator Meido," Leia said, "that your people's political customs differ from mine. But we run the Senate, the Inner Council, and the government of the New Republic on the precepts of the Old Republic. It would do you good to learn those precepts."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand, President." His voice was smooth, his features guileless.

  Leia climbed the stairs leading to the chairs and table. She put one hand on the back of his chair and smiled down at him. "I thought perhaps it was your ignorance that caused this. The Chief of State is always informed first of any meeting. In fact, the custom is that meetings are suggested to her, and she calls them. I'm sure our colleagues are here because they know you do not yet understand tradition.”

  “I was merely following the bylaws," Meido said. Leia nodded. "I understand. Now you know for future meetings." She turned to the rest of the Inner Council. "Forgive my tardiness, my friends. I only learned of this meeting a few moments ago." She waited, her hand on the chair. Gno leaned over to Meido.

  "Senator, it is easier to run the meeting from the head of the table."

  Meido's white lines grew even whiter. He slipped out of the chair and moved to a different spot at the table. Wwebyls and R'yet Coome, the other new Council members, watched him, frowns on their faces.

  Leia took her chair regally, nodding once to thank Gno for making a difficult moment easier. "Now that you have called this meeting, Senator, I think we can dispense with the preliminaries, and find out what it is that you consider so urgent."

  He clasped his two-fingered hands and put them on the table. He looked so contrite, so humbled, that Leia's stomach did a flip. He was still playing games. "The initial results of our independent investigation are in," he said.

  "So soon?" C-Gosf asked. "Our people are still sorting the rubble. They say this is a massive investigation and are unwilling to make any judgments until they have all the facts."

  "Their caution is wise," Meido said. "But they lack one piece of information." He leaned forward, his narrow gaze on Leia. "President, where is your husband?"

  The discomfort in her stomach grew. Her hands were cold. "He and Chewbacca are following a lead on the bombing."

  "But where are they, President?"

  She wouldn't be able to dodge this, much as she wanted to. "They went to Smuggler's Run."

  "Smuggler's Run?" The edges of Meido's mouth curved upward. Slightly. Ever so slightly. "Your husband used to do business on Smuggler's Run, didn't he?"

  "This is not a meeting about Han," Leia said.

  "I'm afraid it is, President. Please answer me. Didn't your husband do business on Smuggler's Run?"

  She didn't like the direction this was taking. Meido had control, and she was still several steps behind. "Of course he did business on the Run, Senator. Back in the days when you worked for the Empire."

  Her words hung in the room. They sounded petty, and maybe they were. But the New Republic had never judged Han for his smuggling, just as they hadn't judged Luke and Leia for their relationship to Vader. Meido, of all people, should want to avoid references to the past.

  "I simply lived under the Empire's rule," Meido said. "I never was anyone important. I was never a renowned person, like your husband. A successful smuggler, who, it seems, never left the profession."

  The chill in Leia's hands moved up her arms. She knew where this was going. She didn't want it to go in that direction, but she knew. She knew.

  "You'd better have a point," C-Gosf said. "General Solo is a hero of the Republic."

  "My point is simple," Meido said. "General Solo is behind the bombing of the Senate Hall."

  Leia slammed her palms on the table as she stood. "I was in that Hall. Are you suggesting my husband was trying to kill me?"

  Gno grabbed at her sleeve. She shook him off. The room was deadly quiet.

  "You weren't seriously injured, President."

  "And neither were you, Meido. Is that a crime?"

  "The bulk of the blast hit the seats, not the floor. If he knew you'd be there—

  "I'd be quiet now," Gno said. "General Solo is well respected. His affection for his family is extremely well known. He has jeopardized his life for the New Republic more often than anyone else except perhaps President Organa Solo and her brother. Games like this may have been popular in the Empire, but they are not popular here. We work on mutual respect in this Council. Respect, Meido, not idle recriminations."

  The crimson had almost completely faded from Meido's face. The white lines were blurring together. "I am not making idle accusations. I'm sorry, but I am not. I wish I were."

  The softness of his voice caught all of them. Leia could see it. Her supporters had all leaned back in their chairs.

  "You said this is a preliminary report," Gno said. "You cannot have proof."

  "But I do," Meido said. He looked up at Leia, his eyes pale. "I'm sorry, President. Truly I am."

  The thing of it was, she believed him. She believed he was sorry. Perhaps she could feel his regret through the Force or perhaps he was sending it through his body language. She didn't know. Slowly she sat down.

  Meido passed out several copies of a single sheet of paper. "My people intercepted this message. I have sent it to your personal computers. You can verify its authenticity through your own systems."

  Leia took the paper. Her hand was shaking.

  CARGO DELIVERED. FIREWORKS SPECTACULAR.

  SOLO KNOWS. WE CAN COUNT ON HIS INVOLVEMENT.

  Lando. Lando had betrayed them again. Over the years she had learned to trust him, but that trust had always felt awkward, always slightly misplaced.

  No. Lando wouldn't betray Han. What had he said? That he'd never make up for betraying Han. Ever.

  The information must have come to Meido some other way.

  "There's nothing here that says Han is involved with the bombing," she said.

  "This was sent by a ship called the Spicy Lady just as it was leaving our section of space on the day of the bombing," Meido said. "The Spicy Lady is owned by a smuggler named Jarril, who was seen in Solo's company at the time of the bombing. Shortly after Jarril left, Solo left, ostensibly in search of him."

  It looked bad. She had known it looked bad when Lando

  showed it to her. She should have done something then, but Lando had assured her he had everything under control.

  "This isn't proof," Gno said.

  "This is suspicious," said R'yet Coome. "I would suggest that we put out a notification for Solo's arrest."

  "We can't do that," C-Gosf said. "He's a hero."

  "He's a traitor," Meido said.

  "He's my husband," Leia said. "He would never do anything to harm me. Someone is trying to set him up." She clasped her shaking hands in her lap. "What else does your report say?"

  "We have only preliminary results, President," Meido said. His voice was still gentle, still filled with apology. He accused her own husband of trying to murder her and to destroy everything they all had worked for, and he was acting sorry for her.

  "What are those results, Senator?" Leia's voice was cold.

  "That there was more than one detonation point."

  "We know that," Leia said. "Our results say the same thing. Have you anything besides this message that links my husband to the scene?"

  "He was seen with—"

  "Have you?"

  Gno put his hand on Leia's. She shook him off.

  "Have you evidence that he planted a bomb? Have you evidence that Jarril is involved in this bombing? Do you know whether Jarril sent that message or whether someone else did? Can you prove that this isn't some scheme to get my husband or to divide us?"

  "Leia," Gno said softly.

  "This seems conclusive to me," Meido said.

  "It is not conclusive," Leia said. "It is mere speculati
on. I could devise a message tonight and send it along channels that would make it look as if you planted the bomb. Such things are easy. My husband and I are often targets for strange behavior. I don't think we should make decisions about this until we have the whole truth."

  "Leia," Gno said again.

  She turned on him so fast that her hair swung loose of its tie. "What?" she asked.

  "You can't be objective about this."

  "Objective?" Leia was shaking all over with the force of containing her anger. "This man, this former Imperial, has just accused my husband of treason, and you think I should be objective?"

  "Yes," Gno said. "I do. You're the head of government. We need your calmness."

  "Calmness? Calmness? This is not a situation for calmness, Gno. This is exactly what we feared when we brought the Imperials into this body. They're dividing us. Can't you all see the ploy?"

  "Leia," Gno said.

  Meido's entire face had gone white, except for crimson lines near his eyes and mouth. "I'm sorry, President."

  "I will not accept your apology. How dare you—"

  "He dares because he is doing the right thing." C-Gosf stood beside Leia and put a delicate arm around her shoulders. "Better he discusses this here, in the Inner Council, than among the other senators. Better that we do what we can to silence these rumors than allow them to spread all over Coruscant. For if we do, General Solo will always be under suspicion, even if we later learn of his innocence."

  All of her supporters were siding with Meido. "I'm sorry, President," he said again.

  "Han had nothing to do with this," she snapped.

  "Leia," Gno said, "I think you need to absent yourself from this discussion. None of us can be objective about the ones we love, no matter how hard we try."

  Her heart was pounding. "You believe Meido. You believe him."

  "I believe we need to investigate this, Leia." Gno looked away from her. "I'm sorry. But the charge is too serious to let slip."

  She looked around the room, at her closest remaining allies in the government. Familiar faces, and three unfamiliar faces, elected after the bombing. Meido, R'yet, and Wwebyls watched her warily. Her friends had sympathetic expressions on their faces. Even those who normally opposed her were looking at her with pity.