Star Wars - The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  The fleet fanned out behind her, thirty strong. How Mon Mothma was going to justify Wedge taking most of the working ships in the arsenal was beyond Leia. Wedge and his commanders rode in three large ships, and were accompanied by squadrons of smaller ships, mostly A- and B-wings. It was amazing how many ships he and Admiral Ackbar had been able to scrape together quickly.

  Admiral Ackbar had opted to remain behind. He would cover their tracks as best he could, but surely Meido and his gang would notice thirty ships leaving Coruscant simultaneously. What they would not notice was the tiny, unmarked Alderaan. Leia counted on that. She didn't want anyone to know she was part of this mission until it was too late to recall the ships.

  She leaned back in the pilot's chair, took a handful of her long hair, and quickly tied it into a ponytail. It was the third time she had made a ponytail. She kept pulling out the twist, a nervous habit from childhood that she thought she had lost. A lot of nervous habits had returned since Kueller had destroyed that second planet. She knew that when she returned she would have to deal with all the feelings those habits hid.

  If she returned.

  She had no idea what sort of weapon Kueller was using. The planets remained, but the people seemed to disappear. That wasn't a Death Star or a Sun Crusher. No great single weapon to destroy with a bolt. The fleet couldn't bomb it out of existence because they didn't know what it was.

  They couldn't bomb Almania out of existence either. That would make the New Republic no better than the Empire had been.

  Leia wasn't certain Wedge had thought all those details through. She would send his military personnel back with a message to his ship, the Yavin, when they reached Almanian space. No overall bombing until the target was sighted. If the target was obvious, then of course she wouldn't even send the message. But if it wasn't, the crew would go back to Wedge, and she would disappear into Al-mania's atmosphere.

  To find Kueller herself.

  Because she still wasn't certain if he was after the New Republic or if he was after her family. He was strong in the Force, which made him a powerful enemy. For the thousandth time, she wished she had listened to Luke and completed her Jedi training. She wouldn't be able to outnegotiate Kueller, at least not for the long term. But she might be able to outfight him, with Luke's help.

  She pulled the twist out of her hair, and the strands cascaded down her back. The stars looked no different. Even in hyperdrive, the distance to Almania was incredible. It was amazing that Kueller had even considered his planet part of the New Republic. Planets this far out usually liked to retain their independence. Almania had maintained its independence from the Empire. It should have continued such behavior under the New Republic.

  Yet another detail that didn't make sense.

  So many details about Almania didn't make sense, partly because the information about the planet was sketchy. She suspected that the Je'har had aligned themselves with the Rebellion for form's sake and to protect their government, not because of any real allegiance or caring about the fight against the Empire. So far as she could tell, no Almanian joined the military on either side.

  But someone had mentioned that Almanians had sent a distress message to her government years ago that never got a response. Perhaps that was why Kueller had come after the New Republic.

  Perhaps it had nothing to do with her family at all.

  All the nagging worries. She had a thousand of them. She hadn't been able to find R2 before she left, and she had counted on him. It would have been nice to have the little droid beside her in Alderaan. 3PO might have been helpful, too, at least as a distraction. But they were both missing. R2 had left the maintenance facility shortly after he checked in, and 3PO had gone with him. No one had seen them since.

  Just as no one had heard from Han. He hadn't answered any of her messages. She finally had to leave him one saying that she would be out of touch for a while, but she would find him. It was essential that the fleet have communications silence, but it worried her. Han's mission to Smuggler's Run had taken way too long, and with that cryptic message trying to frame Han, Leia wondered if the delay was bad news.

  She hadn't reached Lando, either. Lando, who had put his life in jeopardy for Han's. She could only hope that Lando had found Han and they were both all right, tracking down the person or persons who had gone after Han.

  And then there was Luke. She had been reaching for him ever since she had seen that holocording from Kueller. Except for that plaintive, pain-filled call, she hadn't heard from Luke. The silence was unnerving.

  Every once in a while, though, she would get strange aches and pains. Her left ankle gave out on her as she finished the final check in the cockpit, sending severe pain up her leg. But when she checked it, she discovered nothing wrong. Shortly after takeoff, she had relaxed in her pilot's chair, and cried out as a thousand needles poked into her back. Again, the sensation was gone in a moment, and there was no visible sign of injury (or of needles embedded in her chair). Both times she had gotten a sense of Luke before the pain faded.

  He was alive. She knew that much. But she also knew he was badly injured, and alone.

  She had to reach him soon. Even though they were straining the Alderaan's engines, they weren't going fast enough for her.

  She had to reach her brother before he died—or worse.

  Luke awoke to a barely lit room. He was on his stomach, his back aching fiercely. His head throbbed and his mouth tasted fuzzy. The shot shouldn't have worked, but it did, mostly due to his own weakened state. He hadn't had enough energy to fight Dolph/Kueller and to maintain consciousness against the power of the medication.

  And now they had him here.

  Wherever here was.

  He blinked. Even his eyes felt grimy. He was still dehydrated. He could feel it in each movement, in each throb of his head. But the rest had given him some strength back. He could get beyond this weakness. He would be able to defend himself now.

  The pallet was only a few inches above the floor. The floor was covered with dirt, and beneath it, the surface was made of wood. How unusual.

  The light that filtered in, giving the room its grayish-brown color, came from grates above. He suspected the grates opened into another room or the light would have been brighter.

  He forced himself to sit up slowly, the very movement pulling on his back, reminding him of the source of his pain. His X-wing was gone. It had exploded over Pydyr, and when he was there, he hadn't been able to figure out what happened.

  But as he had slept, the realization struck him.

  Someone must have tampered with the X-wing on Telti. Brakiss couldn't have done it. He had been with Luke during most of that time. But one of the droids could have, under Brakiss's orders.

  And if the X-wing had exploded on Almania, as planned, Brakiss would have taken care of both of the men he feared: Luke Skywalker and Kueller.

  Luke brushed his face, and hit something prickly. He brought his hand down. Straw. He looked down. The pallet was covered in straw.

  How odd.

  And his hands weren't bound.

  Neither were his feet.

  But his lightsaber was gone.

  So. Kueller believed there was no escape from this place, but he also believed that Luke might have had use for the lightsaber.

  Which meant that Luke would not be alone for long.

  He got up slowly, moving with caution so that the throbbing he felt wouldn't turn into dizziness. The splint enabled him to put some weight on his ankle. Slowly he crept forward.

  The room was more like a series of rooms. The ceilings were high enough that he didn't want to try to jump them with his injured ankle, and the walls were smooth. Yet fresh air flowed in, along with the scent of raw meat.

  The thought of such food made his stomach churn, but he knew that food would have value for him, not so much for its nutritional content, but for its moisture. He followed the scent, and discovered more straw on the far side of the room he had awakened i
n.

  Mixed in with the straw were long white hairs, and the faint smell of animals.

  The next room was dark. The scent of meat was stronger here. It mixed with the animal odor. Luke wasn't sure he would like what he was going to find. He squinted, forcing his eyes to adjust.

  Nothing.

  The room was emptier than the first, with only one pile of straw, and no pallet at all. The raw-meat smell came from a corner filled with large, empty bowls, but no meat rested there. Obviously the meat had been eaten. Only the smell lingered.

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He was alone, but it didn't feel as if he were alone.

  He didn't like the feeling.

  He limped back to his pallet and sat down. There was no way to tell how long he had been out. Or exactly where he was. His only hope was to engage one of the guards and to escape by stealing one of Dolph/Kueller's ships.

  But before he did that, he would want to find the source of Kueller's disturbing power. It had to be near Kueller somewhere. He wouldn't let it too far out of his sight, whatever it was.

  A faint snuffling echoed from the far room. Luke looked up. A large white creature sat in the doorway, nearly filling it. If the creature stretched on its hind legs, it might be able to reach the grates. It obviously had no desire to.

  The snuffling continued. Then Luke realized that it was sniffing the air.

  It was smelling him.

  He sat very still. His lack of restraints made him nervous. This, then, was the thing Kueller had planned for him.

  It rose on all fours, standing twice his size. Chewbacca would be tiny next to this thing. It had a smallish face (compared to its body), short ears, and slitted blue eyes. Its shoulders were broad, and its back flat. Its hair was white and flaked off with each movement. It had a long, thin tail that Luke suspected carried a lot of power.

  Maybe if he didn't move, it wouldn't harm him. Most creatures, when faced with a monster like this one, shrieked and ran. The first best gamble was always to wait it out.

  The creature came closer. Drool dripped off its mouth, landing in giant puddles near its feet. It continued snuffling, following the path that Luke had made to the door and then to the straw.

  Luke worked to control his own breathing, keeping it shallow. He willed himself invisible, but he didn't know how to send that vision to the thing in front of him. He couldn't yet tell if it had any real intelligence.

  It followed his scent from the straw to the pallet, and it stopped in front of him, sniffing the air. Drool landed on his feet, soaking them in warm, slimy liquid. He didn't move.

  The creature kept sniffing. Its size was amazing. If he stood, he might be able to reach its barrel chest. Fortunately its mouth was small, or he would be eaten in one chomp.

  The creature followed the scent downward, finally focusing on Luke. It shoved its muzzle at him. The cold nose covered him from forehead to stomach. He resisted the urge to shove it away, but instead he sat, forcing himself to remain calm. It sniffed him, pausing for a moment at his back. He closed his eyes. The wet nose-slime slid down his arms, and pooled near his feet. He could drown in this creature's bodily fluids.

  Then it pulled back. He let out a small sigh. It hadn't registered him as anything different from the straw or the pallet. If he could remain still a little longer, he would be all right.

  The creature tilted its head, its eyes glinting at him. Luke made eye contact.

  That was his mistake.

  With one quick movement, the creature took him in its jaws, and bit down.

  Hard.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Luke's legs disappeared into the Thernbee's mouth. Kueller turned away from the screen. Except for his new assistant, Kueller was alone in Femon's control room. The masks glimmered at him from the wall. He didn't like this place. He could still feel her presence. He would need to make some other place the center of his command.

  "I want a guard on him at all times."

  His new assistant, Yanne, a slender man whose lined face and gray hair marked him as years older than Kueller, leaned forward. "I don't think we'll need it."

  Kueller had chosen Yanne because Yanne was one of the few of his people who actually expressed the opinion he had rather than the one Kueller wanted to hear. For the moment, it was a refreshing trait.

  "Really, sir, only a miracle would save that man now. The Thernbee will toy with him, crushing one bone at a time, giving him the occasional illusion of escape, but never allowing him to disappear."

  "I know how a Thernbee kills," Kueller said. He had grown up around them, large white menaces in the Almanian mountains. "I want that guard."

  "It's a waste of manpower," Yanne said.

  Kueller nodded as if he had heard. "You're right. We'd best put four guards on the Thernbee cages."

  "Four! Sir, you can't be serious. Even if the man survived the Thernbee, he'd be too weak, too debilitated to do any harm. We'd be better off placing most of our people in battle positions. There are reports—"

  "I've heard the reports," Kueller said. "I'm prepared for them. But we have Luke Skywalker below. I only put him with the Thernbee because I need him alive until his sister arrives. But, as long as Luke Skywalker is alive, there is always the risk that he will defeat his adversary. We must be prepared for this risk."

  "He was wounded when we put him in there. A few bats from the Thernbee and he'll be dead."

  "It won't be that simple," Kueller said.

  "No man is that powerful," Yanne said.

  Kueller turned to him, no longer amused by Yanne's mouth. He stared at the man until Yanne's face turned ashen.

  "Except you, milord."

  Kueller smiled. The smile was deadly. "It would do you well to remember that, Yanne."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Four guards, Yanne. At all times."

  "Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away, sir." With a quick bow, he scrambled out the door.

  Kueller turned back to the screen. The Thernbee's jaws were still closed. Kueller sat down to wait until Skywalker appeared again.

  It had taken Cole a few moments to convince R2 to wait. The little droid was adamant about leaving Coruscant immediately. 3PO wasn't pleased with R2's plan. R2 wanted to take the stock light freighter.

  The problem was that Cole wasn't authorized to use it. Nor did he feel he could leave Coruscant without permission.

  He promised R2 that he would get permission and aid. The two droids had had trouble seeing Mon Mothma. Cole might not be able to get her to see them, but he knew where to start.

  He used the service computer in the stock light freighter repair room to contact General Antilles. He'd gone through six different systems before he got a response.

  "I'm sorry, Fardreamer," the slightly mechanized voice came back. "General Antilles is not receiving communications at this time."

  Cole had never heard of such a thing. "He told me to contact him with anything urgent. This is urgent. This is beyond urgent. Please, let him know—"

  "I can't, Fardreamer. Urgent or not, he's only collecting messages." The voice was rather curt. With only the barest consideration, it signed off.

  "Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear," C-3PO said.

  R2 squealed and rocked, his wheels clanging on the floor.

  "R2 says we haven't much time."

  "I'm doing what I can, R2," Cole said. "You don't want to get out there, only to have Space-Traffic Control stop us for stealing the ship."

  "He has a point, R2," 3PO said.

  Cole ignored them. He sent a message to President Leia. The instant response came within the system that President Leia Organa Solo had resigned and all of her messages were being forwarded to Mon Mothma. When Cole tried to contact Mon Mothma, he met with the same wall that C-3PO and R2 had. She was already overbooked.

  "You didn't tell me that President Leia had resigned," Cole said.

  "We didn't know ourselves until we tried to find her. Everything changed after those detonato
rs." C-3PO shook his head. "Sometimes I wish I had never gone with R2."

  "To find the detonators?"

  "No," C-3PO muttered. "Into that escape pod."

  Cole didn't know what 3PO was referring to, and decided not to ask. Contacting Mon Mothma wouldn't work either. He finally tried Admiral Ackbar. The response there was equally strange. Admiral Ackbar, his adjunct told Cole, was in a meeting, and his adjunct had no idea when, if ever, he would answer requests.

  Cole kept his head bowed for a moment, hoping C-3PO would think he was still studying the communications array. He needed to concentrate.

  President Leia resigned.

  Admiral Ackbar unreachable.

  General Antilles unreachable.

  Mon Mothma unreachable.

  Something serious was happening.

  The last time he had ignored R2, he had nearly gotten them all killed. Not to mention all the good people still out in unrepaired X-wings that might explode on them at any moment.

  R2 wailed.

  "He says that we can't wait any longer," 3PO said. "He reminds you that you promised to help. Personally, Master Far-dreamer, I wouldn't hold you to that promise. After all, you've done what you can. R2 is a bit eccentric—"

  "And he's been right each time he's pointed something out," Cole said. He put a hand on R2's cylindrical head. "I've tried to be official. I guess it's time to be unofficial."

  R2 squealed with joy. He hurried toward the stock light freighter.

  "3PO," Cole said, "do you know the President's codes?"

  "Sir, those are private and subject to change every day. Why—"

  "Do you know the President's codes?"

  "Of course," C-3PO said. "And the codes for her husband and children."

  "I just need hers. Without them, we won't be able to leave Coruscant."

  "Oh, I can't go along, sir. I'm in enough trouble already. Mistress Leia expects me to stay here."

  "The President resigned, 3PO, without telling you. I think she'd appreciate it if you helped prevent another bombing. The first one nearly killed her."