THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  "He even wanted to give me a confirmed kill."

  "A kill? For what?"

  "For the Yevethan fighter I shot down over Polneye, the day the Yevetha

  destroyed it--the day they killed my family," Mallar said, and shook

  his head. "I didn't want any special treatment--I wanted to be good

  enough on my own. Just good enough to do something to help. But I'm

  not--or you wouldn't be trying to send me back. So all I can do now is

  beg you, Colonel---don't send me back."

  "Offer me an alternative," Gavin said quietly.

  "It doesn't matter," Mallar said. "Find something I can do to help.

  Anything. Find some way that my being here makes it easier for you to

  hand the Yevetha the same kind of hurt they handed me. That's all I

  ask.

  Because what they did to us was wrong. Just let me be a little part of

  teaching them that lesson. That's the only thing that matters to me

  now. I'm the only one left I have to speak for all of them."

  Gavin studied him as he spoke, and for a long time after. "Draw a

  flight suit," he said finally. "Meet me at my gig in ten minutes.

  We'll talk more on the way to Floren."

  "Yes, sir. But the shuttle's supposed to leave within the hour--" "I

  know," said Gavin, patting Mallar on the shoulder as he moved past

  him.

  "I'm afraid you may miss it."

  Inbound to Utharis, Mud Slotb came out of hyperspace crippled by a data

  bus power surge that left the port navigation sensors and the navcom

  unable to talk to each other. The surge had come at the worst possible

  time, during the cascade in which the hyperdrive systems shut down and

  the realspace systems reinitialize.

  "This is why you should never buy a bargain starship," Luke grumbled as

  he climbed back out of the service access compartment belowdecks.

  "What do you mean?" asked Akanah.

  "Just that Verpine cut every corner they could building this thing,"

  Luke said, sliding the access panel back into place. "The power bus

  can't handle all the

  systems, so the cascade processor has to juggle them, turning this one

  off before turning that one on. But for that to work right, the buffer

  circuits--" He saw her eyes glazing over and stopped. "Anyway, it

  means we're going to be delayed at Utharis."

  "How long?"

  "Until it's fixed," Luke said. He secured the last of the access panel

  hold-downs and looked up at her. "If there's a wrench jockey at

  Taldaak Station who knows this model better than I do, maybe only a day

  or two."

  "Two days! You said we were going to stop only long enough to top off

  the consumables and reset the counters."

  Luke shrugged. "I'm not any happier about it than you are," he said.

  "But better this happened now, in-bound to a full-service port, than

  somewhere in the middle of Farlax."

  "I can't bear the thought of any more delay, this close to the

  end--this close to the Circle."

  "I know," Luke said. "But this ship won't go into hyperspace again

  until she's gone into a service bay."

  He flashed a wry smile. "At least you'll have plenty of time to pick

  out that souvenir hat I promised you."

  Utharis was in the grip of war fever. Even though Koornacht Cluster

  was more than two hundred light-years away, Utharis had a border

  world's heightened sensitivity to matters of interplanetary politics.

  It was impossible to go anywhere in Taldaak without hearing about the

  clouds of war gathering over Farlax Sector, and the talk had prompted a

  quiet but noticeable exodus through Taldaak Station and the planet's

  other major ports.

  The exodus had not yet spread beyond the most affluent, mobile, and

  well-connected segments of Utharian society, but it had energized

  conversations everywhere, and intruded on the smooth working of the

  planet's economic machine.

  "Sure, we can take care of you, Stonn," said the

  Tyrant's Test 83

  yard manager of Starway Services. "But it'll be three days before we

  can even look at it."

  "Three days! Never mind---rent me a service bay," Luke said, nodding

  toward a sign offering that option.

  "Sure," said the manager. "Let me check the schedule."

  His fingers danced over his datapad. "Yes, I should have one available

  in five or six days."

  "Come on, dear--let's go," said Akanah, tugging at Luke's arm.

  "Someone in this city must know how to treat visitors properly."

  "Suit yourself. But you're not going to do any better anywhere else,"

  said the manager.

  "And why is that?" Luke asked.

  "I had one crew chief and three mechs decide this would be a good time

  to take a family vacation. Most of the other shops are even more

  shorthanded," the manager said. "And I had twenty-eight of my regulars

  call to schedule early annuals or work they'd been putting off.

  If I weren't keeping a bay open for transients and referrals, you'd be

  waiting a week."

  "Li, dear, I've read about this sort of scam in Port of Call," Akanah

  said. "The yards take kickbacks from the hoteliers for keeping

  travelers stranded."

  Catching the sudden glower in the manager's eyes, Luke patted Akanah's

  hand patronizingly. "Now, darling, let's not insult the man just

  because our plans have been upset," Luke said. "Why are you so busy?"

  he asked the yard manager.

  "Because of the war, of course," the manager said.

  Akanah's gaze narrowed. "War? What are you talking about?"

  "Don't you ever link to the grids? The New Republic and the Duskhan

  League have been growling and feinting at each other for months."

  Akanah turned to Luke. "Did you know about this?"

  "I heard something of it on Talos," said Luke. "I didn't want to worry

  you. It was only rumor then. I guess it's become something more, if

  people are running the other way."

  "You can see Koornacht Cluster in the night sky from here, you know,"

  said the manager. "The idea that a thousand warships are poised to

  clash somewhere over their heads makes people nervous."

  "A thousand warships?" Akanah asked in an awed whisper.

  "That's what they're saying." The manager shrugged. "Some of them,

  anyway. You hear a lot of different stories. So--what are you gonna

  do?"

  "We'll leave our ship with you," said Luke, pushing the registration

  pad across the counter. "But can you tell me how long it might take

  after you get to it? Do you have a local source for parts?"

  "For a Verpine Adventurer?" the manager asked, glancing down at the

  pad. "Oh, sure. We've got four of them in our scrapyard alone. Call

  us in three days."

  The manager's casual acceptance of war on his doorstep deepened the

  chill of fear that had come over Akanah on hearing the news. It's too

  soon--he's not ready for this, she thought wildly as she followed Luke

  out of the depot. I'm taking him exactly where I don't want him to

  goright into the heart of temptation.

  He's still trying to direct the Current. He's not ready to watch

  others fight without raising a hand of his own-"We can't stay here,"

  s
he said in a worried whisper when they were outside. "It doesn't feel

  safe. I don't know what it is, but this place is shadowed."

  "I don't see a lot of alternatives," Luke said, leading them back

  toward the northbound slidewalk. "You need to be able to tell the

  hyperdrive which way to jump, and Mud Sloth can't do that right now."

  "I understand that," she said, clinging to his arm.

  "But we could be here a week or more. Isn't there something else we

  can do? Can't you buy the parts from him and fix it yourself?"

  "Didn't you hear him in there? We're headed into a war zone," said

  Luke, stopping short. "For all we know about what's happening,

  J't'p'tan could be one of the battlegrounds. Don't you think it'd be a

  good thing to be able to count on our hyperdrive?"

  She tried desperately to find a fear that would move him. "If we

  linger here too long, we can count on more Imperial agents finding

  us.

  We can't let that happen. We can't let them follow us."

  "Even the New Republic can't find us, thanks to your tricks," said

  Luke. "Look, all we have to do is find a quiet place to stay and play

  tourist for a few days. Besides, I want to learn more about what's

  ahead of us--and it may take a while to sort the facts from the

  rumors."

  "Does it matter what's ahead?" she asked. "Would you even consider

  turning back now? Your mother--my mother--they're almost within

  reach."

  "Not with Mud Sloth on crutches, they aren't," said Luke.

  "Then we have to get a different ship."

  Luke snorted. "How?"

  She looked at him in earnest surprise. "Don't you think that with our

  combined talents we can take almost any ship we want from here?"

  "Don't even think about it," Luke said tersely. He scanned about to

  see if anyone could have heard her, then grabbed her elbow and

  practically dragged her away from the service center's entrance and

  onto the slidewalk.

  "Yes, we probably could," he said in a sharp whisper as the moving

  surface whisked them along.

  "But not without attracting unwanted attention. Do you really want a

  Utharian patrol boat following us to J't'p'tan? Do you want every ship

  under New Republic registry alerted to watch for us?"

  "I can hide us."

  "We're already hidden. All we have to do is wait.

  You've gotten this close by biding your time until the right time.

  This is the wrong time to give in to impatience."

  "This is the wrong time to delay," said Akanah, still casting about for

  emotional leverage. "Luke, the

  darker the clouds, the more important it is for us to move quickly."

  "The war's already started," Luke said grimly.

  "The Yevetha attacked more than a dozen worlds not long after we left

  Coruscant. We can't arrive before the storm--we can only hope it

  leaves J't'p'tan untouched."

  "Luke, it's not that the Circle is in danger," Akanah pressed. "The

  danger is that we'll lose touch with them. It's impossible to work

  when the Current is in chaos. And it's intensely uncomfortable to

  remain connected when the Current is carrying so much pain.

  I'm not afraid for them--the Circle is strong. I'm afraid they may

  already have left J't'p'tan. And any sign they leave for me could be

  destroyed as easily as Norika's house in Griann was."

  "I can ask for another tracking report on Star Morning, find out where

  it went after Vulvarch. That should tell us something about the

  Circle's plans."

  "And what will we chase them in, Mud Sloth? You were right, Luke. We

  can't count on our ship. We should have something faster, more

  reliable--and we may need room for more than the two of us. Please--we

  have to leave here now."

  "I'm not going to help you steal a starship, Akanah."

  Even before he spoke, she realized she had made a mistake. They shared

  a goal, but he still observed limits on the means he would allow

  himself to employ in pursuing it. She had committed everything to this

  quest, while he had a life to return to if it ended in failure. And

  she had forgotten that difference between them in a moment of selfish

  anxiety.

  "You're right-oh, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking.

  It's just so hard being this close after so long," she said, hastily

  troweling over the crack in her facade. "If we don't find them--"

  "We'll find them," Luke said.

  "I want to believe that with all my heart, and at the same time I'm

  afraid to, because I don't know if I can bear another

  disappointment," she said. The tears that glittered in the corners of

  her eyes were real. "Forgive me. It isn't that I thought you a

  thief--" "I know," he said. "It's forgotten."

  She smiled gratefully at him and let him draw her into the curl of his

  arm. "If we must stay here, then at least let's get away from

  Taldaak," she urged, ending a brief silence. "Let's find some private

  place safely away from all these eyes. I'll use the time to teach you

  more of our disciplines."

  "First things first," Luke said. "I want to go back to the ship and

  put out some queries, then see what I can learn here. I want to find

  out everything I can about what we might find in the Koornacht

  Cluster--about what our people are up against."

  That was the last thing Akanah wanted. Of all the impulses capable of

  moving Luke's hand toward his lightsaber, she feared the power of his

  loyalty to his sister most. In frustration, she pulled away from him,

  moving to the opposite edge of the slidewalk.

  "What?" he asked in surprise. "What is it?"

  Akanah sensed his confusion and uncertainty and targeted her words

  there. "I'm just wondering if maybe we've gone as far as we can

  together," she said. "Maybe it was a mistake to make you part of

  this.

  If you don't have the commitment or the trust--" "Akanah " "I have to

  think about what to do now," she said, and stepped neatly off the

  slidewalk.

  Luke whirled about but did not follow, letting the slidewalk carry him

  on toward the port. Their gazes locked together for a moment, then she

  turned away.

  Eyes now closed, she studied the Current's flow through and around him,

  reading its eddies and meanders.

  There was exasperation there, but a new and still raw worry as well.

  Good, she thought. Wonder about me. Worry that I'll steal a ship on

  my own and leave you behind. Then perhaps you won't worry so much

  about other people's wars or think about joining them. Your place is

  with me, Luke Skywalker--I still have lessons to teach you.

  Han had lost track of time. There was no day-and-night cycle in the

  brightly lit Yevethan prison cell, no regular meals to mark out

  intervals. Han dozed, exercised, paced, played endless games of

  hop-stone solitaire on the dusty floor, dozed. His mouth was parched,

  and his head and empty stomach were possessed by constant aches too

  sharp now to simply ignore.

  In the beginning Barth had joined him in what Han had dubbed the

  planetary championship of two-handed hop-stone, but both of them were

 
; too short-tempered for competitive games now. They had exhausted their

  repertoires of bawdy jokes, with Barth emerging the uncontested winner

  for both variety and delivery. In revenge, Han had taught Barth all

  eighty-six verses of a song that their brains kept singing long after

  their voices were stilled.

  Of late Han had taken to talking to the ceiling, to their unseen

  jailers. He had peppered his monologues with increasingly savage

  insults, hoping to provoke a response, any response, that would lead to

  the cell door opening, that might give them a chance to do something

  about their circumstances. When he ran out of words, he mentally

  rehearsed scenarios for overpowering any number of guards up to five.

  But all he accomplished was to make both Barth and himself tired of the

  sound of his voice. By the time the cell door opened, they were so

  weak from hunger and dehydration that they could barely stand.

  One of the three Yevethan guards threw Han a pair of loose-fitting

  white pants and gestured at Han's uniform.

  "You will wear what we have given you," he ordered, and tossed another