THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

And for that, he needed information.

  After stopping at the port office to authorize Starway Services to move

  Mud Slotb to their work bay,

  Luke returned to the skiff. Locking the entry not only against strangers but against Akanah as well, he settled

  at the flight console and began making queries.

  A connection to Utharis GridLink gave him ac-cess-at a refreshingly

  reasonable price--to both New Republic Prime and Coruscant Global

  archives, as well as to the back numbers of several smaller

  newsgrids.

  But the most complete information Luke found came from two local

  services, Eye-On-U and Taldaak Today! The Coruscant-based grids were

  obsessed with Imperial City politics and offered only a cursory--and

  frequently mis-leading-overview of the military aspects of the

  crisis.

  "Access Fleet Watch," Luke said. The newspacket of the Alliance

  Veterans Victory Association, Fleet Watch was usually current enough

  and comprehensive enough that many senior staff members at Fleet HQ

  kept it on their browse lists as a supplement to official sources.

  "Requested source is temporarily unavailable," the comm pad reported.

  "Why?"

  "Access has been voluntarily suspended by the provider. Message

  available."

  "Let's hear it."

  The recording contained a familiar face and voice--that of Brigadier

  Bren Derlin, NRDF, Ret. Der-lin and Luke had been thrown together on

  Hoth, where Derlin had been one of the field commanders at the Rebels'

  base. Derlin was more of a steadying influence than a leader, but he

  was a good soldier and a quiet but likable man. Luke had not seen him

  again until war's end, and since then only once, at the ceremonies when

  more than a hundred Hoth survivors gathered to dedicate a memorial to

  the many more who had fallen there.

  Now Derlin was commander of the AVVA, an organization with the status

  of a retirees' club but the ambition to be something more akin to a

  militia or the Fleet's ready reserve. The recording began with a

  spiral of unit insignias surrounding the AVVA logo, and a smart salute

  from a uniformed Derlin.

  "Thank you for your inquiry. Due to the current military situation,

  the AVVA board of governors has placed the membership on a status two

  alert. For security reasons, access to past and current volumes of

  Fleet Watch has been restricted to members only. Please join us in

  supporting the soldiers and pilots who are even now risking their lives

  to guard our freedom."

  "How long has that lockout been in effect?" Luke asked the comm pad.

  "Nine days."

  "I wonder what happened to bring that on," Luke said, scratching his

  head. "What else do you have?

  Show me a list."

  After another half hour, Luke had satisfied himself that he had all the

  information he was likely to garner from public news sources.

  Unfortunately, it was not enough to settle his mind.

  He was more reluctant to contact Coruscant directly than he had been

  the last time he needed information.

  If a contact watch had been set up for his authorization codes, even

  querying the impersonal, automated sources might throw him into the

  middle of a conversation he didn't want to have--with Ackbar, or

  Behn-Kihl-Nahm, or Han, or possibly even Leia herself.

  For the question gnawing at Luke was not whether Leia wanted his help,

  but whether she needed it. If his presence might mean the difference

  between triumph and defeat, then he would go to her--as she had come to

  him in his darkest moment, aboard the clone Emperor's flagship.

  Leia had pulled him back from the precipice of the dark power, and

  joined her power to his to defeat Palpatine. If she had not been

  willing to sacrifice herself and the child inside her in confronting

  the reborn Emperor, Luke would never have broken the grip of the dark

  side--and the history of the intervening years would have been written

  with the pen of tyranny. He could not have done it alone.

  But having seen not only the great strength in her heart but also the

  Jedi power she could summon, Luke was all the more loath to volunteer

  himself as a rescuer.

  He knew that Leia had within her extraordinary resources of will and

  power--resources she had of late become reluctant to draw upon. Luke

  thought that he was much of the reason, with both his example and his

  presence creating disincentives. It was important that she find that

  strength again.

  It seemed to Luke that Leia had neglected, even abandoned, her own

  training, and that her training of the children had become unbalanced,

  with the disciplines of warrior and weapon excised as if they were

  dispensable. Luke had not spoken of it with her, but from what he had

  seen, it was almost as though Leia hoped to delay, training the

  children as Jedi clerics rather than as Jedi Knights--as if the path

  before her, the path he had followed, promised to take her somewhere

  she did not want to go.

  It was her choice to make. Her destiny was no more clear to him than

  it was to her. But whatever that destiny was, it seemed that she was

  fighting it rather than following it.

  And it was certain she would learn nothing from an errant Knight's

  well-intentioned but unnecessary res-cue--if she would even allow it to

  happen. Knowing her streak of aristocratic, self-reliant pride, Luke

  was not at all confident he could count on her to ask for help, even if

  she needed it--not after the fight they had had the night he left

  Coruscant.

  No, those around her, the others who loved her, would urge Luke to

  return to her side, no matter what the circumstances. And Leia herself

  would insist that he stay away, no matter what the circumstances. It

  was essential that Luke make his own assessment of the situation, that

  the decision be his alone. And it was better that Luke stay out of

  sight and out of reach until the decision was made.

  Ackbar, especially, would never understand, Luke thought in passing.

  He's as devoted to her as a good father to a beloved child--I wonder

  how clearly she sees it.

  Still, he needed more information--information that could only come

  from Coruscant. He began by retrieving his registered hypercomm

  messages from the master archive maintained by the Communications

  Office.

  As a hedge against the vagaries of hyperspace transmission, the archive

  kept a copy of every registered-recipient message sent out over the New

  Republic system. Undeliverable messages were held until their intended

  recipients requested an update--something most people did routinely

  every time they emerged from hyperspace.

  But save for those few hours while outbound from Teyr, Luke had been

  off the system since leaving Yavin 4.

  The update took nearly twenty minutes to spill into Mud Slotb's comm

  bank. As always, there were hundreds of blind messages--love letters

  and propositions, requests for personal favors, questions from amateur

  and would-be Jedi, the occasional diatribe from an Imperialist

  stubbornly resisting the i
dea that his world had changed.

  Luke almost never looked at any of it. The novelty value of blatant

  proposals had long ago faded, and the one-two punch of praise and

  begging had worn thin even faster--it was as uncomfortable as being

  surrounded by a crowd in which everyone wanted to touch him.

  The priority queue contained a copy of the message from Streen, which

  Luke realized he had never viewed and released, and a second message

  from him time-stamped a day later. But there were no other messages

  from the twenty or so senders on his priority list--and that was

  something of a surprise. By and large, he had not announced his

  hermitage to his friends, so he could only suppose that the word had

  spread from the few who did know of his self-imposed isolation.

  "Show me number one," said Luke.

  Streen's face appeared. "Master Luke," he said,

  bowing his head slightly. "I received your latest instructions for Artoo and

  Threepio.

  But I regret to say that so far, I've been unable to deliver them.

  Perhaps it slipped your mind that the droids are now with Lando

  Calris-sian?

  I'll try to locate them and forward your message to "Lando," Luke said,

  shaking his head in surprise.

  "What would the droids be doing with him? Show me number two."

  Streen's face shifted to the right, and his caftan changed from

  goldenrod to rus. "Master Luke," he said, bowing his head once more.

  "I've tried to contact Lando Calrissian by every means available to me,

  without any success. I not only can't get a message through, I can't

  find anyone who'll admit to knowing where he or the droids are. It's

  possible that they're simply in hyperspace somewhere, but I'm guessing

  that there's more to this, and you probably know more about it than I

  do.

  I'm afraid you'd better see to this on your own."

  The combination of the two messages left Luke mystified, but he did not

  devote much time or energy to penetrating the mystery. Apparently

  Lando had absconded with the tWo droids, probably in furtherance of

  some scheme--any deeper understanding would have to wait. The droids'

  errand had become moot, in any case.

  If Luke went on with Akanah, he would have all the answers he needed in

  just a few days.

  Luke considered the long list of sources he had tapped the last time,

  but none seemed promising enough to justify the time and trouble. What

  he really wanted most was something he had tried for before and been

  denied--the Fleet Office's daily tactical briefing memorandum.

  But to get one, he would have to find a military-grade secure-link

  hypercomm. Or--"Access Fleet Almanac," he said.

  "Ready."

  "Reference current location."

  "Referencing Taldaak Station, Utharis."

  "Identify the nearest Fleet asset in this sector--training center,

  repair yard, supply base, whatever."

  'This access requires a current level blue authorization code."

  Luke rattled off his code. "Now give me some good news."

  The only New Republic Defense Fleet installation on Utharis was a tiny

  listening post. The listening post consisted of a three-man office in

  Taldaak, a four-man maintenance crew flying a work skipboat based at

  the planet's main geosynchronous station, and a pair of complex antenna

  arrays located in hundred-year solar-polar orbits.

  The highest-ranking officer on orbit was a senior specialistdirtside,

  it was a green lieutenant in the first month of a yearlong rotation.

  The operational continuity of the post came largely from the three

  civilian employees, all Utharis natives.

  It was one of those civilians who Luke encountered first when he

  entered the security foyer of the listening post's small silo-dome,

  located adjacent to an abandoned Imperial fighter base, now home only

  to wild jack-a-dale and black-winged touret. Luke had dressed to the

  Jedi stereotype, black cape and dangling light-saber, and allowed the

  Li Storm disguise to dissolve as he passed through the concussion

  hatch.

  "I am here to see the post commander," Luke said, resting his palm on

  the scanner.

  The young woman looked up at him with eyes widened by surprise. Her

  tattooed forehead and cheeks marked her as a follower of the Duality, a

  popular and benign Tarrack cult founded on the tWin principles of joy

  and service. She looked down at the scanner when it beeped at her,

  then back up to Luke's face wearing a look of awe on her own.

  "You are him," she said.

  Luke flashed a small smile as he lifted his hand from the scanner.

  "But I am not here," he said.

  "I understand."

  "Who is the duty officer?"

  "Tomathy--Senior Specialist Manes. Lieutenant Ekand comes on in two

  hours. But I can call him in early--" "There's no need," said Luke.

  "I will speak with Manes. Clear me through, please."

  "Yes, of course."

  The secure room of the installation accounted for the rest of the

  volume of the silo--a floor full of instrument stations, a domed

  ceiling fifteen meters overhead, and two rings of catwalks spaced

  between to give access to the transceiver arrays.

  "I'll be right down," called a voice from above.

  That was followed by the brisk clatter of shoes descending metal-mesh

  stairs.

  While waiting, Luke sized up the installation. The first thing that

  struck his eye was that the data system used three black-bodied memory

  droids for storage.

  That meant that everything of value, staff and secure data, could be

  removed from the post in a matter of minutes in a six-place speeder or

  orbital jumper.

  "My goodness," Manes said, his steps slowing as he reached the main

  level and saw Luke clearly. "My goodness. This is an honor." As an

  afterthought, he gathered himself for a salute. "Forgive me, sir--I

  don't know your proper rank--" "I no longer hold one," said Luke,

  leaning over one of the data stations.

  "Oh--I see. Then I'll confess that I've never met a Jedi. Nothing

  unusual there, I guess--I don't know anyone who has. Is there a proper

  form of address--" "You can call me Luke."

  "Of course. Thank you." Manes shook his head.

  "Forgive me for staring. I'm on my second tour here, and in all that

  time you're only the second person to come through that door who didn't

  work here. And to have it be you--" As though suddenly aware of his

  flustered babbling, Manes cut himself off. "How can I help you,

  Luke?"

  "I need a copy of the current tactical briefing memorandum."

  "Of course. You can use the comm pad at my station"right over here--"

  "I need you to retrieve it for me," Luke said. "I'm here on a

  sensitive matter, and I can't have my location revealed."

  "Got it," said Manes. "No problem. We get the teebeam twice a day.

  I'll bring the latest one up for you."

  "I need a copy I can take with me." As he spoke, Luke reached out with

  the Force and gave the senior specialist a gentle nudge.

  Manes stared blankly for just a moment. "What am I thinking," he

  said.

 
"You'll want a copy you can take with you. I'll get a datacard."

  "Thank you."

  Less than five minutes later, Li Stonn was climbing into his rented

  speeder, the datacard securely tucked away. But he did not immediately

  drive away. Sitting at the controls, Luke reached out into the

  listening post and found its two occupants excitedly discussing their

  surprise visitor.

  The event had given both such inexplicable pleasure that he hated to

  take those memories away from them, but he had no choice. He had

  already blocked the machine records of his visit from being written to

  the logs. Compressing a nerve here, a blood vessel there, Luke brought

  on a moment of unconscious paralysis, and in that moment swept the

  memories from their minds.

  Akanah had not yet returned to the skiff, nor had the 'service depot's

  tow dolly come to claim it. Taking advantage of the privacy, Luke

  locked himself inside while he reviewed the information on the

  datacard.

  The situation in Koornacht Cluster had escalated to a high level of

  precariousness. New Republic forces had clashed with a Yevethan fleet

  at Doornik 319 while trying to enforce a blockade, and dozens of Fleet