Star Wars - The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  And then he went under.

  "Nandreeson!" Han said. He dove too. Nandreeson had Lando by the foot and was watching him flail. Han grabbed Lando's hand and pulled, but Lando wasn't moving. Han held a finger to his lips, mimed holding still, and went back to the surface.

  "Give me the bowcaster," Han said.

  Chewie roared.

  "We don't have time to argue. Nandreeson'll kill him."

  Chewie whined, then dove, loading the bowcaster as he went. Han swam around Lando's front, stopping a few meters from Nandreeson and then kicking at the Glottalphib's snout.

  Lando was turning red. He mimed strangulation. Han ignored him. He kicked Nandreeson again, and Nandreeson roared. As he opened his mouth, an energy quarrel bubbled through the water and lodged in the back of Nandreeson's throat.

  Fire spewed from his mouth, instantly doused by the water. He let go of Lando's leg and Lando swam for the surface. Nandreeson made burbly strangling sounds, grabbed at his mouth, and sank deep into the muck.

  Han didn't wait to see any more. He tugged Chewie's suit and together they swam to the surface. Lando was already climbing the stairs. He reached the ledge, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  "I never thought I'd be able to sit again."

  "We're not done yet," Han said. He had to grip the rock sides as he climbed. The stairs were slippery.

  "Indeed we're not," Blue said. She was standing on the ledge behind them, clinging to the wall. "Have you thought about how we're going to get back to my Skipper?"

  Chewie roared at her.

  She shrugged in response.

  "Playing both ends against the middle, Blue?" Han asked, essentially rephrasing Chewie's remark in more polite terms.

  Blue smiled prettily at him. "I did think it was in my best interest to see who was going to win that little skirmish, don't you, Han?"

  "I think if we could've trusted you, you'd've been here fighting for us, Blue."

  "Don't expect too much of the girl," Lando said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "At least she didn't shoot at us."

  "See, Han? One man understands my side."

  "He won't when he sees pieces of the Lady Luck all over your Skipper."

  Lando opened his eyes and sat up. "You raided my ship? Hand me the blaster, Han. The woman deserves to die."

  Blue held open her hands, her blaster gripped only in her right thumb and forefinger. "I thought you were dead. Nandreeson wasn't going to let you live."

  "You have no faith, Blue," Lando said.

  "You'd have done the same," she said.

  "She's got you there," Han said.

  "Maybe before Cloud City," Lando said. "I'm a good guy now."

  "A careless good guy." Han sat beside him. "What did you come here for?"

  "Came to get you, buddy. Heard you were in some trouble. Thought I'd help."

  "We can discuss your personal life later. I just want to know how you plan to get out of here," Blue said.

  "How'd you get on the rock?" Han asked.

  “Climbed," she said. "You missed the handholds near the cavern door."

  Chewie roared his agreement. He sloshed his way up the stairs, stood over Han, and howled.

  "All right, all right, we'll leave," Han said.

  "How do you plan to get out of here?" Lando asked.

  Why did everyone think he always had a plan? Han sighed. "I thought maybe you knew where Nandreeson's favorite Skipper was."

  "He brought me in it, but he left a few Reks beside it."

  "They should be gone by now," Blue said. "They hate watumba bats as much as Glottalphibs do."

  "Not accurate, Blue," Lando said. "Glottalphibs love watumba bats. They're host to half a dozen Glottalphib delicacies. They just hate it when watumba bats notice them."

  Blue laughed. "Good point."

  Chewie was already sloshing his way to the cavern door. He stopped on a wide ledge and stripped out of the suit Wynni had given him, tossing it into the pond with an expressive and extremely vulgar Wookiee curse.

  Blue glanced at Wynni. "Think she'll be all right?"

  Chewbacca added another sentiment to the one he'd just expressed.

  "Let's drag her onto the ledge," Han said. "At least she'll have a fighting chance when Nandreeson's henchmen return."

  Chewbacca cursed again, then stomped across the ledge and used a nearby stick to pull Wynni to the water's edge. He reached down and hauled her out, grunting as he did so.

  "Nice of you, Chewie. I thought I would have to nag," Han said.

  Chewbacca growled.

  "You know," Lando said softly, "you once told me never to make a Wookiee angry."

  "Right," Han said.

  "You seem to ignore that advice fairly regularly."

  "He owes me a lift debt," Han said. "It would be dishonorable for him to kill me."

  "I suppose," Lando said, "but would that stop him from ripping off your arms?"

  "It has so far," Han said, "but let's not give him any ideas, shall we?"

  Chewbacca growled again, then left Wynni's side. She was still unconscious, but Han could see her pink-covered chest moving up and down. Blue stepped over her gingerly. Despite soaking in filthy water, Blue looked fresh and dignified. Even her wet hair looked planned.

  She was clutching her blaster and used her other hand to guide her along the rock wall. "Where's the Skipper?" she asked.

  "Two tunnels up," Lando said. "I'll lead the way."

  He looked as if he couldn't move a muscle. Han had never seen Lando's skin so gray. But Lando climbed across the rocks as if he hadn't been exercising at all. Apparently the thought of freedom appealed to him.

  "What about the other Glottalphibs?" Han asked.

  "I don't think we have to worry about them," Lando said.

  Han joined him in the cavern door. Dozens of Glottalphibs were sprawled on the rocks and in the pond. Most of their long snouts were open, and the insides picked clean.

  "Watumba bats did that?" Han asked. "Why would the Glottalphibs keep them around?"

  "Sometimes you have to take risks for a good meal," Lando said.

  The stench of smoke, dead Glottalphib, and rotting greenery was overpowering.

  Chewie began to growl.

  "I know, I know," Han said. "It stinks."

  "That's an understatement," Blue said. She had her hand over her nose. "I don't want to be here when these things decay."

  They picked their way across the bodies. The opening into the next cavern was also full of Glottalphib bodies, and five Skippers, all of which were unattended.

  Blue smiled. "Reks. You've gotta love them. They only think of themselves."

  "Rather like you, huh, Blue?" Han said.

  She patted his shoulder. "I do a good deed now and then, Solo. I didn't have to bring you here."

  He moved her hand away from him. "You could have worked harder to rescue me, Blue. I saved your life."

  "A favor for a favor, Han. I figured we were even at that point."

  Lando and Chewie were looking at the Skippers. "This one is ready to go," Lando said. "If you know how to hot-wire these things."

  "There's always an access code," Blue said. "And with Nan-dreeson, it should be obvious."

  She pushed them aside, and studied the small voice monitor.

  "You don't think it has voice recognition, do you?" Han asked.

  Blue laughed. "All Glottalphibs sound alike." She tapped the edge. "What are Nandreeson's favorite things, Lando?"

  "Why ask me?" he said. "I hadn't seen the man for years."

  "I thought you'd know his obsessions," she said.

  "I only knew of one," Lando said.

  "All right." She leaned against the jamb and said, "Kill Calris-sian," in a remarkable approximation of a nasal Glottalphib voice.

  The door slid back. She grinned. "Well, gentlemen, let's go back to Skip 1 and see if they stripped the Falcon in our absence."

  C-3PO and R2-D2 had returned to the Solos' chambers
to discover that Leia had left. The computer informed them that she had resigned her position as Chief of State and had given orders to shut down the apartments until a family member returned, then it threw the droids out.

  Mon Mothma had replaced Mistress Leia, and the droids were in her anteroom now, along with a collection of senators' aides, well-wishers, and employment seekers. The antechamber was packed. 3PO leaned against the wall, next to a metal sculpture that looked suspiciously like a droid's innards, and R2 rocked beside him. They were the only droids, except for the receptionist droid, a new model who refused to acknowledge 3PO at all. On her list, she kept adding the sentients first, from the Kloperian guard Leia had relieved of duty (and from whom R2 had hidden behind an Ychthytonian) to a winged Agee that had flown into the room on a lark.

  When the Kloperian went into Mon Mothma's chambers, R2 began rocking. Hard.

  "Settle down, R2," 3PO said. "I'm sure Mon Mothma will see us. She knows how important we are."

  R2 whistled and the conversation in the room stopped. Heads swiveled, and focused on the droids. 3PO put his hands up as if nothing had happened, and the conversations resumed. Except for the receptionist. She continued to stare at 3PO as if he had committed a major breach of etiquette.

  "Now you've done it," 3PO said. "Your rudeness will get us tossed out of here."

  R2 cheebled and rocked, his wheels clanging on the tile floor.

  "That is a bit melodramatic, even for you. No one is going to die simply because we're waiting in line."

  R2 blatted at him, and the Ychthytonian looked down at him.

  "Yer little friend is kind of agitated."

  3PO nodded. "He believes we've found—"

  R2 shrilled.

  The Ychthytonian put all four hands over his ears. Some of the humans cringed. The Agee flew out of the room as quickly as she had arrived.

  "That's it," the receptionist droid said as she stood. "You droids can leave."

  "See what you've done?" 3PO hissed at R2. "Now I have to go convince her that we should stay. It won't be an easy battle, what with all the names you've called her. Most droids, no matter what their designation, dislike being termed traitor, you know. She's only doing her job, and rather well at that, if I might say so."

  He left R2's side and pushed his way to the desk. The receptionist droid was standing, her bronze arms crossed. "You have no business here," she said. "The President is only dealing with important matters today."

  "This is important," 3PO said.

  "I'm certain it is to you," the receptionist said. "But whatever the problem is, it can wait."

  "I'm afraid it can't," 3PO said. He lowered his voice. "You see, my counterpart and I have found the cause of the bombing in the Senate Hall. We were going to report this to President Leia Organa Solo, but she has stepped down. So we came to her successor."

  "Delusional," the receptionist said. "They really should have retired your make a generation ago. I had heard that your type was given to hyperbole. I hadn't believed it until now."

  "This is not hyperbole!" 3PO said, pulling himself up to his fullest height. "This is fact. You should know the difference."

  "If you don't move from my desk, I shall have you removed by force," the receptionist droid said.

  "You will not," 3PO said. "I am the personal droid of President Leia Organa Solo, and my counterpart belongs to her brother, the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. We are above your petty bureaucratic power gambits. If you tamper with us, you'll be tampering with some of the most important people in Coruscant."

  "Your counterpart?" the receptionist droid asked. "Do you mean the astromech droid that was squealing rudely a few moments ago?"

  "Yes," 3PO said. "He's eccentric, but he's a hero of several battles and is quite well-known."

  "Well, then you shouldn't have any trouble finding him," the receptionist droid said.

  "Finding him?"

  "He left when you came up here."

  3PO spun. "R2? R2!"

  The room had quieted as the petitioners watched the exchange between the receptionist droid and 3PO. There was a gap in the wall near the sculpture where R2 had been. The Ychthytonian pointed his top left arm toward the door.

  "She's right," he said. "Yer little buddy zoomed out while you were arguing. He was heading toward the pilots' turbolift."

  "The pilots' turbolift?" 3PO said. "Oh, dear. Oh, dear." He started out, then stopped, and turned to the reception droid. "I expect you to inform Mon Mothma that we were here. If you do not, I will personally make certain that you are demoted to working as a translator for mechanical garbage compactors."

  Then he hurried out of the room, calling for R2. The hallway was full of more petitioners arriving to see Mon Mothma. Apparently the change in leadership meant that opportunists were trying to see if Mon Mothma would help them where Mistress Leia had not. 3PO pushed past several young humans, a Gosfambling, and a Llewebum, and stopped in front of the pilots' turbolift.

  It was called that because it led directly into the shipyard. The Emperor's pilots had been on call all the time. Any threat to the Empire had the pilots on the turbolift, going down kilometers to the ships, and taking off to defend Coruscant. The New Republic had deemed the lift useful, and had kept both it and its name.

  The turbolift was just returning to this floor.

  "R2," 3PO said softly, "when I catch up with you, I am going to recommend a restraining bolt."

  The turbolift doors opened, and 3PO stepped on. He hit Express and braced himself as the car plunged. At the bottom, the doors opened. 3PO peered through them.

  The doors into the pilots' wing were opened, the panel on the computer-locking system on the ground. R2 had been in a hurry; normally he replaced such things. Machinery hummed at the far end of the wing.

  3PO scurried down the hallway. It was empty. He slid into the bay. Dozens of X-wings were in various states of disrepair. Master Luke's stood near the space doors, as if waiting for him to return.

  Beyond that were other ships in various states of disrepair. And no sign of R2.

  "Oh, dear," 3PO said. "I don't like this."

  He stepped over power cables and computer parts. Then a movement flashed in the next room. 3PO hurried toward it. R2 was standing near a stock light freighter. It appeared newly reassembled. Someone had taken the time to clean the carbon scoring and space dirt off the sides.

  "What are you thinking, R2?"

  R2 whistled.

  "I can't pilot a freighter. You know droids can't. We need help, R2."

  R2 chirruped.

  "They aren't ignoring you. R2, you must see someone in charge!"

  R2 beeped again. 3PO hurried toward the freighter.

  "R2, really. Just because you couldn't speak to Mon Mothma when you wished doesn't mean that you can't wait. It would have been only a moment longer, and I would have gotten you inside."

  R2 bleebled.

  "Of course you have time. There's always time."

  R2 moaned.

  "Surely it can't be as bad as all that, R2!"

  R2 warbled.

  "Let me talk with Mon Mothma," 3PO said. "I'm sure she'll send someone—"

  R2 emitted a long, lengthy raspberry.

  "R2, really. What were you planning to do? Wait for the owner to return? You have no idea what sort of person flies this contraption—"

  R2 beeped indignantly.

  "All right," 3PO said. "So I don't know what your plan is. But I believe that if we take the official route—"

  R2 warbled. The sound was almost happy.

  Footsteps sounded behind them.

  3PO turned.

  Cole Fardreamer stood in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. "I suppose the cryptic message Luke Skywalker left for me on the systems computer actually came from you, R2, since Master Skywalker isn't here to meet me."

  R2 cheebled.

  "R2," 3PO said softly, "you aren't supposed to tamper with the equipment. And using Master Luke's codes!"


  "I think the chiding can wait. The message sounded urgent," Cole said.

  R2 swiveled his head and beeped.

  "R2 wants to know who owns the stock light freighter," 3PO said, "although I don't know why. Frankly, Master Far-dreamer, R2 has acted strangely since he was hit with that blaster fire."

  "R2 has good instincts," Cole said. He came into the room.

  "The freighter was stolen, and we impounded it. I've been fixing it up. No one really owns it. I think we'll try to sell it."

  R2 churbled and rocked.

  "R2," 3PO said. "Really, Master Fardreamer, he's not himself."

  Cole smiled. "I think you might want to translate for me."

  3PO glanced at R2. R2 wailed. "Oh, all right," 3PO said. "R2 believes he knows who bombed the Senate Hall. He says if we don't go there immediately, there will be another explosion."

  "To the Senate Hall?"

  "No," 3PO said, as if Cole were slow. "To the place that the detonators came from."

  R2 cheebled urgently.

  "He wants to know, sir, if you can help us."

  Cole Fardreamer frowned at the stock light freighter. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "But I can certainly try."

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Leia had six military personnel on her small ship. Wedge had insisted that she have them in case of attack, but she suspected they were all on board to guard her. Wedge—and Mon Mothma—weren't certain what she was going to do, and they wanted to keep her from doing something crazy.

  She had never let anyone stop her before.

  They wouldn't stop her now.

  Even though the young lieutenant, Tchiery, had insisted on piloting, Leia had rebuffed him. She needed the control. This was her mission, even though she was letting Wedge lead the fleet. She wanted to know the course, and the plan, and not veer from it.

  Unless she wanted to.

  Once she saw Almania, she would know what to do.

  Her new crewmembers were in the galley, arguing over dinner. The cockpit was blessedly silent, allowing her to think. The copilot's chair still bore the impression from Tchiery's body. He was a Farnym. Farnyms were creatures noted for their bowling-ball roundness, and the incredible strength behind their unusual shape. They had close-cut fur, small snouts, and large orange eyes. Tchiery was no different. They also had a peculiar odor, like ginger mixed with san-dalwood, an odor that remained in the cockpit long after Tchiery was gone.