“Like for what? Tell me some, that I get feel of it.”
“Why is this so important to you?” Han asked. He wondered just how far he could trust Dracmus. So far she had behaved very well indeed—but he had not the slightest idea what she was up to, or why she had been thrown in a Human League prison. About all he had to go on was the idea that the enemy of his enemy might well be his friend.
“I will give explain later, if time. But it is important. Please.”
Han considered, and decided the stakes were too high. He needed more than that. “No. Tell me first. Why did you need to know about human lying?”
Dracmus hesitated. She stood up, walked toward the door of the cell, and then back to her cot, her tail lashing. “Is a terrible problem. I need to know much more of human doings than I do. It is a great trouble that my sept sister died.”
“What’s the problem?” Han asked.
“I ask you to explain human lying, but if can explain then is because you are skilled at it. I think you a good liar, I am sure, honored Solo.”
“Thanks,” Han said. “So I’ve been told.”
“Was a deadly insult, not a compliment,” Dracmus said. “But you make my point stronger by taking it so. If I tell you more, I tell you things others must not know. But how can I trust human proud of his good lying?” She waved her arm about to indicate the whole underground complex. “This could all be trick to make me say what I am about to say.”
Han smiled. “I see Selonians are good at paranoia, even if they are not so good at lies.”
“Oh yes. Paranoia, that we are very good at.”
“Then you should be careful of what you say to me in any event. There could be all kinds of spy eyes and hidden microphones in this cell. They could be recording everything we are saying. Maybe we should switch to Selonian.”
“Pointlessness,” said Dracmus. “I am sure they are not snooping us, but if they were, they would record all and play back to Selonian speaker.”
“True enough. But how do you know they are not recording?”
“I must say no more about that.”
Interesting. Whatever else you could say about Selonians, they were clearly not much good at concealing the presence of a secret. How could a race of inept liars be otherwise? It was plain that Dracmus knew more about this place than she was supposed to, but at the moment Han figured it was best to play along. “What can you say more about?” Dracmus stared at him, her eyes piercing and intense, but she said nothing. Han sighed. “Would it help if I gave an oath on—on the lives of my children—that I will not reveal what you tell me to Thrackan or his people?”
“A strong oath, if you mean it. In the Selonian way of oath taking, mine is the right and duty to hunt your children down and kill them if you transgress.”
Han hesitated a moment. Suppose they used torture or mind probes or drugs on him? Would that matter to Dracmus? He doubted it. But Thrackan and his goons had shown no signs of wanting to interrogate him—and even if he was tortured, and he cracked, and Dracmus decided to hunt down his children, she’d have to find them first—and get past Chewbacca in the process. It was Chewbacca that decided Han. No one got past him. “I take the oath,” Han said. “I will not betray you. But what of you?”
“The lives of all my sept sisters be forfeit if I betray you,” said Dracmus.
“I can’t ask fairer than that,” Han said. “Talk to me.”
Dracmus let out a sigh and sat down on her cot. “Very well,” she said. “Let me tell you a tale.”
Han settled in to listen.
“Was a riot in Selonian enclave of Bela Vistal city that started crisis, and was Selonians who riot after intolerable and forever provocation from the Human League—but I not think was we who started it. Must admit that even I not sure if the street scuffle that sparked it all was real, or staged by Human League. I believe it was League.”
“It had to be,” Han said. “Things spread too far too fast for it to all be chance. The timing was very convenient from the League’s point of view. They probably don’t even much care if everyone really believes they touched things off, as long as no one can prove it. They wanted an excuse, a justification, not a reason.”
“Yes! For many reasons, most well-timed. But I think you do not know the all of it, the biggest of it.”
“How do you mean?” Han asked.
Dracmus paused again, then plunged in. “I believe this—am all but certain that Thrackan is bluffing. His Human League could not have blown star that went supernova. That, I think, is his lie.”
“What?” Han asked.
“Think of it,” said Dracmus. “Their group is too small, too stupid. Yes, now they win a fight, they will grow fast, but just a little ago, League was little more than Thrackan and a few hangers-on. Had not resources, ability—or brains—to do such a thing. Nor the money to buy those who could do it. Making starbuster system is massive breakthrough, huge endeavor. You think could these drunken fools who watched us fight make it happen?”
“So you’re saying that Thrackan is bluffing,” Han suggested. “You think the star when nova by itself.”
“Yes and no,” said Dracmus. “I believe Thrackan didn’t do it, League didn’t do it, but star could not have gone nova on its own. Wrong star type. Someone set it off. Somehow. For some reason. I believe was meant to be secret test shot.”
“Secret? But everyone knows about it.”
“Think, honored Solo! A messenger drone had to bring proof of the explosion to Corellia. Otherwise none would notice that it had gone nova for years yet. The star was in uninhabited system. Speed-of-light delay means light of the nova not reaching inhabited system for decades. Only came to notice because of the anonymous message sent by Thrackan’s people. And was Thrackan Sal-Solo’s people who sent message. No doubt of that.”
“How do you know all this?” Han asked. “Some of this information no one is supposed to have.”
“I must say nothing at all about that.”
Dracmus was definitely not good at hiding secrets. “I’ll say one thing for you. You’re consistent. All right, you can’t say how you know. But go on.”
“It is all logic. The star could not blow on its own. Human League no science lab. They could not blow star. Thus must be some others blew that star—and likely must be could blow others.”
“Your logic is plain enough, if you grant the idea that our hosts aren’t up to the job. So who blew the star, and how did the League find out about it, and how do they relate to the League—and how kindly are they going to take the League taking the credit?”
“No ideas on that. But whoever organization is, has not shown itself yet, for whatever reason. Perhaps they never show selves at all. Might be suits their purposes to have Human League taking the credit, and blame. Who shall search for real conspirators while believing League is to blame?”
“So that’s what you want my opinion on? You want to know if your logic is right, and that Thrackan is lying about the starbuster?”
“Yes,” Dracmus said. “Opinion, please.”
Han thought it all through, as carefully as he could. “You’re right. The League isn’t the sort of outfit to be much on technology or science, and if anyone had the starbuster for sale, it’s got to be that they could have found a higher bidder. If you are right on that point, then I think the rest of it must be right. Someone else is allowing the Human League to take credit for the starbuster.”
“If all so, then the questions become who controls this interesting device, why they do it, and what is their relation to Human League?”
Han shook his head. “I have no idea. Whoever they are, the starbusters haven’t shown their hand yet. But somehow, thinking about it all, I am starting to wonder if the Human League is just a front.”
“A front? A front to what?”
“Sorry,” Han said. “Another idiom. A false front. Something put up just to hide what’s behind.”
“Ah. The starbuster people h
ide behind the Human League who are in front, and the League’s actions provide an explanation for various activities.”
“Right,” Han said.
“But this brings us no closer to finding the starbusters themselves.”
“Wait a second,” Han said. “Maybe we are close. Much closer than we thought, or than we would want to be. Maybe the person who delivered the message was much more than just the messenger.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Before the revolt started. After the nova went off, but before anyone knew about it, we got a message. Governor-General Micamberlecto, my wife, and I. It told all about the supernova and warned us to obey further instructions, or else stars of inhabited planets would be exploded.”
“Yes. But what of it?”
“Mara Jade.”
“Mara Jade? The trader? She has had many dealing with the Selonians. We know her well, and trust her.”
“Yeah, well, Mara Jade is a lot more than just a trader. Did you know that she used to be the Emperor’s Hand? The Emperor’s personal, private, secret agent and assassin?”
“No,” Dracmus said, clearly startled. “Do you speak truly?”
“Very much so,” Han replied, a trifle excitedly. “It also would explain how the bad guys managed to get hold of the Chief of State’s private diplomatic cipher. She used to be a spy. She knows how to get that kind of stuff.” He thought for a moment and then spoke again. “It all fits. Mara Jade brought us the message, and she gave us some long complicated story about how it got to her. From what was on the message container, it looked as if it had been meant for Luke Skywalker, but that they had used Mara as a backup when that failed. But what if that was all an elaborate charade—one that we bought into all the way?”
“You are suggesting Mara Jade brought a message she had written herself? That she is part of the starbuster plot?”
“Yes!” Han said. “And she was nowhere to be found the day Corona House was attacked.”
“Ah! Of this I can speak, and glad to do so, to defend the honor of Mara Jade, which I wish to do. She has been sighted in Corona House since day after rocket attack.”
“How do you know that—okay, okay, I should have known. You must say no more about it. You’re just full of secrets you can’t tell, aren’t you? But I don’t know that her being there before the attack and after it, but not being around during it is much of a defense.”
“But why would she do it? What would be motive?”
Han hooked a thumb at the cell door. “Our kindly hosts are very obviously all either ex-Imperial or people who just want the good old Imperial days back. Thrackan said as much to me. Now, I grant, she has done a lot of good for the Republic over the years, and she hasn’t gone around chanting the Emperor’s name out loud or anything, but Mara has never been one to show her hand. She always was good at keeping secrets. I doubt anyone is ever quite sure of what she intends. Suppose, just suppose, that Mara has changed her mind again. What if she’s decided she wants the Empire back after all? Maybe she looks at Corellian and figures you have to start somewhere. I grant it’s a little hard to believe, but it seems to me we’re in the position of having to choose between improbable explanations.”
“The idea has logic, but does not convince,” said Dracmus. “I do agree Jade is hard-edged, ruthless. But she has honor, and we speak of wiping out whole planets. Could she truly be capable of such brutal savagery?”
Han nodded. “I grant you have a point. She’s always been tough, and hard, but never barbaric. I can’t see her as the sort to murder millions. But maybe we don’t have the whole story. We might be missing something. Remember the first nova didn’t hurt anyone. Maybe the threat to inhabited systems is a bluff.”
“Mine is another theory,” said Dracmus. “I believe the folk behind this are indeed ex-Imperial, but not Imperial spies. The Imperial Navy. Some remnant formation of Imperial ships has finally made an old Imperial superweapon work. Starbuster is like Death Stars or world devastators. A huge weapon, meant for terror, not true military use.”
“No way,” Han said. “A lot of time has passed since the last of the Imperials were beaten back, and we’ve had a good look through the Imperial archives. Virtually all Imperial forces have been accounted for. You might be able to spin out a story where someone managed to scrape together a task force from ships mistakenly listed as destroyed. Some people say there are whole fleets out there that no one knows about. But even if that were true, where are the thousands of trained crew supposed to come from? Every time anything goes wrong anywhere in the Republic, some conspiracy buff or another trots out a theory of a cabal intent on reviving the Empire. If someone runs out of place mats in the palace commissary, it’s an Imperial plot. I for one no longer believe in that particular bogeyman. The Empire is as dead as Darth Vader. I still say it’s Mara Jade. She’s a master trader, and an ex-Imperial intell operative. She’s got ships, resources, technical centers, and spies everywhere, and she’s real. She’s no imaginary fleet of ships drifting in the Sand Crab Nebula. She had means, motive, and opportunity.”
“Unless, of course, we are both right,” said Dracmus. “To make conspiracy is to draw many together. Perhaps one plot pulls in Jade, Imperial Navy fragment, Human League, and others, too. But I hope you are all wrong, honored Solo. I truly do.”
“Why, Dracmus?”
“It is not obvious? If she is behind this plot, she has quite deliberately arranged things so she is where she is right now, to be where she can do the plot the most good.”
“What’s your point?” Han asked.
“Right now,” she said, “Mara Jade is in same place with your wife.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trust
I must be granted access to working communications equipment!” Leia Organa Solo told the guard, not for the first time. She stood there, her fists balled up, seething with rage, as the guard ignored her and set the tray down on the table. She had been locked up in Corona House, for days now. Until a few days ago, it had been the Governor’s residence, and now it was a Human League prison. It was not a place she wanted to be any more. “Didn’t you hear me? You must grant me access—”
The Human League guard was puffing a bit, as he always did when he brought in the food. Once he had set the tray down and caught his breath, he seemed to feel he could pay attention to his captive, and proceeded to laugh in her face, not for the first time. “Guess what?” he asked. “I’m not gonna do it. I’m not going to grant you access to nothing. But tell you what. You go on telling me to do it every time I bring your food up from downstairs.” The guard leered unpleasantly. “I don’t mind, and maybe it makes you feel better.” He plopped down the lunch tray and took away the breakfast tray. “You can tell me to do it again at dinnertime, if you like.” He seemed to think that was all very funny, and laughed louder than ever as he headed out of the guest room, now made over into an improvised cell, where Leia was being held.
Just before he reached the door, he turned back and spoke again. “Oh,” he said, “I almost forgot. We’re rearranging the cells. Seems one female prisoner had a fight with another. Gotta divide ’em up. Right after lunch, you get a new cell mate.” The guard laughed one more time as he stepped out into the hallway.
Leia heard the lock snick shut behind him. She always heard the lock. Why was it the one thing this bunch of incompetents always remembered to do was lock the door?
Leia forced herself to calm down. She opened up her fists, and took three deep breaths. There were Jedi exercises she could have done to calm herself more completely, but she didn’t want to be completely calm. She wanted the luxury of a little anger.
Though she was not in the least bit hungry, and the food appeared to be poorly prepared field rations again, Leia forced herself to sit down at the table and eat it. She needed to keep her strength up. Sooner or later the Leaguers were going to decide what to do with her, and she needed to be rested, ready, alert. She took a sip of water to
wash down whatever the unappetizing glop on her plate was, and tried to think.
If the secret message they had sent her was to be believed, the League was going to blow up its second star, Thanta Zilbra, in three and a half weeks, unless the New Republic agreed to their demands—and yet the demands were impossible.
Why make demands so outrageously unrealistic in the first place? Leia wondered. And why had the League gone to all the trouble of sending a secret message when the League publicly announced a slightly less detailed version of the same information only a day later?
Something did not fit. Either something had gone seriously wrong with the League’s plan of action, and they were now merely improvising, as best they could, bluffing it out. Or else the secret message had been a piece of misdirection, intended to serve some other, as yet unknown purpose.
Leia realized that she had finished her meal, though she still wasn’t all that clear on what she had been eating. She shoved the tray aside and tried to think. None of it made sense.
The problems, the contradictions, the illogic went around and around in her head. Leia could find nothing she could get a handle on. It might have been two minutes or two hours later that she suddenly realized someone was unlocking the door.
Yes, of course. The guard had said something about a new cell mate. Good, she thought. It will be nice to have someone to talk to. Maybe the Human League thought she would interpret forcing her to have a roommate as some sort of elaborate insult, an invasion of the sanctity of the Chief of State’s quarters, or whatever. If so, they were going to be disappointed. Leia Organa Solo was a diplomat, first and foremost. She would give the newcomer a proper welcome. Leia stood up, came around the table, and put a smile on her face.
The door swung to, and a grinning Human League trooper shoved Leia’s new companion into the room. Leia’s smile faded away.
It was Mara Jade.
The door slammed shut, and the two women stood staring at each other. Mara Jade. Why her? Leia wondered. There were too many unanswered questions about Mara’s role in this whole crisis. She had brought the message, but there was no evidence, beyond Mara’s own word, that she had received the message cube in the way she described. She had vanished completely during the attack on Corona House, and only reappeared the next day, picking her way out of the rubble of one of the ruined upper stories, claiming to have been trapped there during the first assault. Again, there was no evidence of that but her word. And now here she was, in Leia’s cell. Was it chance? Did the guards do it with some vague idea that Mara and Leia would not hit it off, and put them together for their own amusement? Or was she a plant?
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