by Timothy Zahn
“You’re right.” Lando swore under his breath as he put the comlink away. “So what do we do?”
They’d reached the ramp now and stepped onto the section spiraling upward. “I’ll go find Han,” Luke said. “You get up to the landing area and see what’s happening. If the Imperials haven’t actually landed yet, you might be able to get into the air control computer and erase us from the list. Artoo can help if you can get him out of my X-wing and over to a terminal without being caught.”
“I’ll give it a try.”
“Okay.” A stray memory flicked through Luke’s mind—“I don’t suppose the Lady Luck’s equipped with one of those full-rig slave circuits you talked about back on Nkllon, is it?”
Lando shook his head. “It’s rigged, but only with a simple homing setup. Nothing much more than straight-line motion and a little maneuvering. It’d never be able to get to me through the middle of an enclosed city like this.”
And even if it could, Luke had to admit, it wouldn’t do them much good. Short of blasting a huge hole through the outer wall, the only way out of Ilic for anything the size of a spaceship was through the exit ducts above the landing area. “It was just a thought,” he said.
“Here’s where Han got off,” Lando said, pointing. “He headed that way.”
“Right.” Luke stepped off the ramp. “See you soon. Be careful.”
“You, too.”
CHAPTER
8
The graying woman took Han to a small office-type room in the Amethyst building, turned him over to a couple of other guard types there, and disappeared with his blaster, comlink, and ID in hand. Han tried once or twice to strike up a conversation with the guards, got no response from either of them, and had just about resigned himself to sitting quietly, listening to the sirens outside, when the woman returned.
Accompanied by another, taller woman with the unmistakable air of authority about her. “Good day to you,” the tall woman said, nodding at Han. “Captain Han Solo, I believe?”
With his ID in her hand, there didn’t seem much point in denying it. “That’s right,” he said.
“We’re honored by your visit,” she said, her tone putting a slightly sardonic edge to the polite words. “Though a bit surprised by it.”
“I don’t know why—the visit was your idea,” Han countered. “You always pick people up off the street like this?”
“Just special ones.” The tall woman’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You want to tell me who you are and who sent you?”
Han frowned. “What do you mean, who am I? You’ve got my ID right there.”
“Yes, I do,” the woman nodded, turning the card over in her hand. “But there’s some difference of opinion as to whether or not it’s genuine.” She looked out the door and beckoned—
And Tav Breil’lya stepped past her into the room. “I was right,” the Bothan said, his cream-colored fur rippling in an unfamiliar pattern. “As I told you when I first saw his ID. He is an impostor. Almost certainly an Imperial spy.”
“What?” Han stared at him, the whole situation tilting slightly off vertical. He looked at the alien’s neckpiece—it was Tav Breil’lya, all right. “What did you call me?”
“You’re an Imperial spy,” Breil’lya repeated, his fur rippling again. “Come to destroy our friendship, or even to kill us all. But you’ll never live to report back to your masters.” He turned to the tall woman. “You must destroy him at once, Sena,” he urged. “Before he has the chance to summon your enemies here.”
“Let’s not do anything rash, Council-Aide Breil’lya,” Sena soothed. “Irenez has a good picket screen in position.” She looked at Han. “Would you care to respond to the Council-Aide’s accusations?”
“We have no interest in the ravings of an Imperial spy,” Breil’lya insisted before Han could speak.
“On the contrary, Council-Aide,” Sena countered. “Around here, we have an interest in a great many things.” She turned back to Han, lifted his ID. “Do you have any proof other than this that you’re who you claim to be?”
“It doesn’t matter who he is,” Breil’lya jumped in again, his voice starting to sound a little strained. “He’s seen you, and he must certainly know that we have some kind of arrangement. Whether he’s from the Empire or the New Republic is irrelevant—both are your enemies, and both would use such information against you.”
Sena’s eyebrows lifted again. “So now his identity doesn’t matter,” she said coolly. “Does that mean you’re no longer certain he’s an impostor?”
Breil’lya’s fur rippled again. Clearly, he wasn’t as quick on his verbal feet as his boss. “He’s a very close likeness,” the other muttered. “Though a proper dissection would quickly establish for certain who he is.”
Sena smiled slightly. But it was a smile of understanding, not of humor … and suddenly Han realized that the confrontation had been as much a test of Breil’lya as it had been of him. And if Sena’s expression was anything to go by, the Bothan had just flunked it. “I’ll keep that recommendation in mind,” she told him dryly.
There was a soft beep, and the gray-haired woman pulled out a comlink and spoke quietly into it. She listened, spoke again, and looked up at Sena. “Picket line reports another man approaching,” she said. “Medium build, dark blond hair, dressed in black”—she threw a glance at Breil’lya—“and carrying what appears to be a lightsaber.”
Sena looked at Breil’lya, too. “I believe that ends the discussion,” she said. “Have one of the pickets meet him, Irenez, and ask him if he’ll join us. Make it clear that’s a request, not an order. Then return Captain Solo’s weapon and equipment to him.” She turned to Han, nodded gravely to him as she returned his ID. “My apologies, Captain. You understand we have to be cautious. Particularly given the coincidence of this.” She gestured toward the outside wall.
Han frowned, wondering what she meant. Then he got it: she was indicating the sirens still wailing outside. “No problem,” he assured her. “What are the sirens for, anyway?”
“It’s an Imperial raid,” Irenez said, handing him his blaster and comlink.
Han froze. “A raid?”
“It’s no big deal,” Sena assured him. “They come by every few months and take a percentage of the refined biomolecules that have been packaged for export. It’s a covert form of taxation the city governments have worked out with them. Don’t worry, they never come any farther in than the landing level.”
“Yeah, well, they may change the routine a little this time,” Han growled, flicking on his comlink. He half expected someone to try to stop him, but no one even twitched. “Luke?”
“I’m here, Han,” the younger man’s voice came back. “My escort tells me I’m being brought to where you are. You all right?”
“Just a little misunderstanding. Better get in here fast—we got company.”
“Right.”
Han shut off the comlink. Sena and Irenez, he saw, had meanwhile been having a quiet conversation of their own. “If you’re as touchy about Imperials as Breil’lya implied, you might want to find a hole to disappear into,” he advised.
“Our escape route’s ready,” Sena assured him as Irenez left the room. “The question is what to do with you and your friend.”
“You can’t just turn them loose,” Breil’lya insisted, trying one last time. “You know full well that if the New Republic learns about you—”
“The Commander is being notified,” Sena cut him off. “He’ll decide.”
“But—”
“That’s all, Council-Aide,” she cut him off again, her voice suddenly hard. “Join the others at the lift shaft. You’ll accompany me on my ship.”
Breil’lya threw one last unreadable look at Han, then silently left the room.
“Who’s this Commander of yours?” Han asked.
“I can’t tell you that.” Sena studied him a moment. “Don’t worry, though. Despite what Breil’lya said, we’re not enemies o
f the New Republic. At least, not at the moment.”
“Oh,” Han said. “Great.”
There was the sound of footsteps from the hallway outside. A few seconds later, accompanied by two young men with holstered blasters, Luke stepped into the room.
“Han,” Luke greeted his friend, giving Sena a quick once-over. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” Han assured him. “Like I said, a little misunderstanding. The lady here—Sena—” He paused expectantly.
“Let’s just leave it at Sena for now,” she said.
“Ah,” Han said. He’d hoped to get her last name, but clearly she wasn’t in the habit of giving it out. “Anyway, Sena thought I was an Imperial spy. And speaking of Imperials—”
“I know,” Luke nodded. “Lando’s gone up to see if he can clear our ships from the landing record.”
“He won’t be able to,” Han shook his head. “Not in time. And they’re bound to pull the landing list.”
Luke nodded agreement. “Then we’d better get up there.”
“Unless you’d all rather come with us,” Sena offered. “There’s plenty of room on our ship, and it’s hidden away where they won’t find it.”
“Thanks, but no,” Han said. He wasn’t about to go off with these people until he knew a lot more about them. Whose side they were on, for starters. “Lando won’t want to leave his ship.”
“And I need to get my droid back,” Luke added.
Irenez slipped back into the room. “Everyone’s on their way down, and the ship’s being prepped,” she told Sena. “And I got through to the Commander.” She handed the tall woman a data pad.
Sena glanced at it, nodded, and turned back to Han. “There’s a service shaft near here that opens up into the west edge of the landing area,” she told him. “I doubt the Imperials know about it; it’s not on any of the standard city maps. Irenez will guide you up there and give you what help she can.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Han told her.
Sena held up the data pad. “The Commander has instructed me to give you whatever aid you require,” she said firmly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to carry out my orders.”
Han looked at Luke, raised his eyebrows. Luke shrugged slightly in return: if there was treachery in the offer, his Jedi senses weren’t picking it up. “Fine, she can tag along,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Good luck,” Sena said, and disappeared out the door.
Irenez gestured to the door after her. “This way, gentlemen.”
The service shaft was a combination stairway and lift-car tube set into the outer city wall, its entrance almost invisible against the swirling pattern of that section of the mural. The liftcar itself was nowhere to be seen—probably, Han decided, still ferrying Sena’s group to wherever it was they’d stashed their ship. With Irenez in the lead, they started up the stairs.
It was only three levels up to the landing area. But three levels in a city with Ilic’s high-ceilinged layout translated into a lot of stairs. The first level ran to fifty-three steps; after that, Han stopped counting. By the time they slipped through another disguised door into the landing area and took cover behind a massive diagnostic analyzer, his legs were beginning to tremble with fatigue. Irenez, in contrast, wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Now what?” Luke asked, looking cautiously around the analyzer. He wasn’t breathing hard, either.
“Let’s find Lando,” Han said, pulling out his comlink and thumbing his call. “Lando?”
“Right here,” the other’s whispered voice came back instantly. “Where are you?”
“West end of the landing area, about twenty meters from Luke’s X-wing. How about you?”
“About ninety degrees away from you toward the south,” Lando answered. “I’m behind a stack of shipping boxes. There’s a stormtrooper standing guard about five meters away, so I’m sort of stuck here.”
“What sort of trouble are we looking at?”
“It looks like a full-fledged task force,” Lando said grimly. “I saw three drop ships come in, and I think there were one or two on the ground when I got here. If they were fully loaded, that translates to a hundred sixty to two hundred men. Most of them are regular army troops, but there are a few stormtroopers in the crowd, too. There aren’t too many of either still up here—most of them headed on down the ramps a few minutes ago.”
“Probably gone to search the city for us,” Luke murmured.
“Yeah.” Han eased up to look over the analyzer. The top of Luke’s X-wing was just visible over the nose of a W-23 space barge. “Looks like Artoo’s still in Luke’s ship.”
“Yeah, but I saw them doing something over that way,” Lando warned. “They may have put a restraining bolt on him.”
“We can handle that.” Han scanned as much of the area around them as he could see. “I think we can make it to the X-wing without being spotted. You told me on the trip here that you had a beckon call for the Lady Luck, right?”
“Right, but it’s not going to do me any good,” Lando said. “With all these boxes around, there’s no place I can set it down without opening myself to fire.”
“That’s okay,” Han told him, feeling a tight smile twist at his lip. Luke might have the Force, and Irenez might be able to climb stairs without getting winded; but he would bet heavily that he could outdo both of them in sheer chicanery. “You just get it moving toward you when I give the word.”
He switched off the comlink. “We’re going over to the X-wing,” he told Luke and Irenez, adjusting his grip on his blaster. “You ready?”
He got two acknowledgments, and with a last look around the area headed as quickly as silence permitted across the floor. He reached the space barge lying across their path without incident, paused there to let the others catch up—
“Shh!” Luke hissed.
Han froze, pressing himself against the barge’s corroded hull. Not four meters away a stormtrooper standing guard was starting to turn in their direction.
Clenching his teeth, Han raised his blaster. But even as he did so, his peripheral vision caught Luke’s hand making some sort of gesture; and suddenly the Imperial spun around in the opposite direction, pointing his blaster rifle toward a patch of empty floor. “He thinks he heard a noise,” Luke whispered. “Let’s go.”
Han nodded, and sidled around to the other side of the barge. A few seconds later they were crouched beside the X-wing’s landing skids. “Artoo?” Han stage-whispered upward. “Come on, short stuff, wake up.”
There was a soft and rather indignant beep from the top of the X-wing. Which meant the Imperials’ restraining bolt hadn’t shut the droid down entirely, just blocked out his control of the X-wing’s systems. Good. “Okay,” he called to the droid. “Get your comm sensor warmed up and get ready to record.”
Another beep. “Now what?” Irenez asked.
“Now we get cute,” Han told her, pulling out his comlink. “Lando? You ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be,” the other came back.
“Okay. When I give the signal, turn on your beckon call and get the Lady Luck moving. When I tell you again, shut it off. Got that?”
“Got it. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Trust me.” Han looked at Luke. “You got your part figured out?”
Luke nodded, holding up his lightsaber. “I’m ready.”
“Okay, Lando. Go.”
For a long moment nothing happened. Then, through the background noise of the landing area, came the distinctive whine of repulsorlifts being activated. Half standing up, Han was just in time to see the Lady Luck rise smoothly up from among the other docked ships.
From somewhere in the same general vicinity came a shout, followed by the multiple flash of blaster fire. Another three weapons opened up almost immediately, all four tracking the Lady Luck as it made a somewhat ponderous turn and began floating south toward Lando’s hiding place.
“You know it’ll
never get there,” Irenez muttered in Han’s ear. “As soon as they figure out where it’s going, they’ll be all over him.”
“That’s why it’s not going to get to him,” Han countered, watching the Lady Luck closely. Another couple of seconds and every stormtrooper and Imperial soldier in the place ought to have his attention solidly fixed on the rogue ship … “Ready, Luke … now.”
And suddenly Luke was gone, a single leap taking him to the top of the X-wing. Over the commotion Han heard the snap-hiss as Luke ignited his lightsaber, could see the green glow reflected from the nearest ships and equipment. The glow and sound shifted subtly as Luke made a short slice—
“Restraining bolt’s off,” Luke called down. “Now?”
“Not yet,” Han told him. The Lady Luck was about a quarter of the way to the far wall, blaster bolts still scattering off its armored underside. “I’ll tell him when. You get ready to fly interference.”
“Right.” The X-wing rocked slightly as Luke moved forward and dropped into the cockpit, its own repulsorlifts beginning to whine as Artoo activated them.
A whine that no one else out in all that confusion had a hope of hearing. The Lady Luck was halfway to the wall now … “Okay, Lando, shut down,” Han ordered. “Artoo, your turn. Call it back this way.”
With full access again to the X-wing’s transmitters, it was a simple task for the droid to duplicate the signal from Lando’s beckon call. The Lady Luck shuddered to a halt, reoriented itself to the new call, and started across the landing area again toward the X-wing.
It wasn’t something the Imperials had expected. For a second the blaster fire faltered as the soldiers chasing the yacht skidded to a halt; and by the time the fire resumed in earnest, the Lady Luck was nearly to the X-wing.
“Now?” Luke called.
“Now,” Han called back. “Put ’er down and clear us a path.”
Artoo twittered, and the Lady Luck again halted in midair, this time dropping smoothly to the ground. There was a shout that sounded like triumph from the Imperials … but if so, it was the shortest triumph on record. The Lady Luck touched down—