“If you want, sir, I can have the X-wing for you by this time tomorrow.”
Luke studied the boy’s face. He had no doubt Cole would give the repair of the X-wing his all. But that wouldn’t be enough. “I’d wait if I could,” Luke said softly. “But I have a feeling that time is running out.”
Smugglers Run hadn’t changed. The Run was an asteroid belt that had, over the years, become the hideout for hundreds of smugglers. The entry into the Run was complex: Han was surprised he had remembered it after all the years.
But he had. He landed the Falcon on Skip 1, the thirty-fifth asteroid in the system, and the one first settled. Skip 1 had always supported human life the best and was extremely well-protected.
The hideouts were deep inside the Skip, carved centuries ago by creatures that Han didn’t even want to think about. As he and Chewie made their way down the old, familiar passages, he remembered the feeling of claustrophobia distinctly. He’d always associated it with the feeling of being on the run. But he wasn’t on the run these days, and the feeling remained.
Chewie growled.
“Yeah,” Han said. “You’d think that they’d have controlled that stink by now.”
The corridors smelled of sulfur, rancid meat, and rotting flesh. The stench had always been a part of the Run. Chewie complained about it each and every time they came.
The source of the odor was a greenish-yellow ooze that ran down the center of the corridors and into the main trading areas. When Han had first arrived on the Run, he’d witnessed the first and only attempt to block the ooze. Some Bothan got it into his brain to plug the ooze at its source. He did, and Skip 1 was instantly rocked by the biggest groundquake in its history.
“The place has gas,” the Bothan later explained. “Either we let it stink around here, or Skip 1 will explode.”
The smugglers chose to live with the stink. They hadn’t found a better hiding place in the entire galaxy.
Or a better-defended place. Han knew that the Falcon was being watched from the moment of her approach. What he hadn’t expected were the armed guards at the end of the corridor.
Five of them, all old friends.
Chewie roared in indignation. Han put a restraining hand on his friend’s furry arm. He scanned the group. Kid DXo’ln, bald now, had taken Han on his first run to Kessel. Zeen Afit, his craggy face even more lined than Han remembered, had first brought Han and Chewie to the Run. Sinewy Ana Blue, looking more beautiful than ever, had run the sabacc games in which Han won a lot of credits. Wynni, the Wookiee who had tried to seduce Chewbacca on his first visit to Skip 1, looked exactly the same. And Seluss, the Sullustan who usually traveled with Jarril, clutched his blaster as if he couldn’t wait to use it.
Han held out his hands. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?”
“You’re no friend, Solo,” Sinewy Ana Blue said.
“So how soon until your friends in the New Republic show up to arrest us?” Zeen Afit asked.
“Have you done something illegal?” Han asked.
Wynni growled.
“A guy can ask a simple question,” Han shot back at her.
“Not if he already knows the answer,” Kid DXo’ln said.
Chewie’s arm tightened. Han kept his grip on Chewie’s fur.
“If the Republic was going to go after Smuggler’s Run, it would have happened a long time ago.”
Seluss cluttered, his mouse ears wiggling forward as he spoke.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Han said. “As if there is a list for you guys to finally rise to the top of. You’re overestimating your importance, Seluss, don’t you think?”
Wynni roared. Chewbacca roared back.
“Stop it, Chewie,” Han hissed. “No need to bring personalities into this.”
Chewie grumbled. Han understood Chewie’s frustration: Wynni had never acted according to Wookiee code—she had abandoned her family and two life debts to pursue her smuggling career—but Han didn’t want an old wound to fester into something ugly. Especially when Han and Chewie were outgunned.
“Personalities are already in this, Han,” Kid said. “You left us a long time ago. You have no right to come back here.”
“I have as much right to be here as you do,” Han snapped. “And when did it become a privilege to be on the Run? I seem to remember when most of us here were struggling to leave.”
“The Run’s a different place,” Blue said.
“Sure smells the same,” Han murmured.
They moved closer to him. Zeen poked Han with his blaster. Chewie growled again. Wynni waved her bowcaster at him.
“What? Are you going to push me all the way back to the Falcon? Or shoot me right here?” Han grabbed Seluss’s blaster, and pulled the short humanoid toward him. “I’m here on the invite of your partner, buddy. You want to bring him over here?”
Seluss let go of the blaster and chittered, loudly and angrily. Han raised his left hand—the one without the blaster—in self-defense.
“Hey, how was I to know he’s not here? I figured he was coming right back.”
Seluss shoved Han, still chittering. The shove was surprisingly hard, considering that the Sullustan only came up to Han’s waist.
Chewbacca growled and grabbed Seluss by his collar, lifting him off the ground.
“Put him down, Chewie. He’s upset.”
“He’s got a point,” Zeen said. “Jarril went to see you and never came back. Now you’re here.”
Seluss kept chittering. He was swinging wildly with his arms and legs. Chewie held him an arm’s length away—Chewie’s arm. Seluss looked like an angry pinwheeling mouse.
“You guys know me. I don’t double-cross people and I don’t murder them in cold blood.” Han was beginning to get angry now. “I came here because Jarril said there was trouble.”
“You came here because Jarril told you about the money,” Kid DXo’ln said.
Wynni moaned a caution.
Han raised an eyebrow. “First I’m an enemy of the Run, and then I’m after your money? Which is it?”
Chewie barked softly.
“I think ‘paranoid’ is too mild a word,” Han said. “What are you guys hiding?”
“See?” Zeen said. “I told you he was here for the New Republic.”
Sinewy Ana Blue elbowed Zeen. “It’s a legitimate question. Put Seluss down and we’ll talk.”
Chewie shook his head. Seluss tried to swing at him, and succeeded only in making Chewie’s hold on his collar tighter.
“Put him down, Chewie,” Han said.
Chewie yowled.
“I said put him down.” Han didn’t want to fight everyone.
Chewie held Seluss over the ooze, and dropped him. Seluss screamed, an ear-piercing whistle that had the Wookiees covering their ears. Seluss landed, splashing ooze everywhere, doubling the stench. Han backed up, while the other smugglers angrily wiped greenish-yellow goo off themselves.
Seluss sprang out of the ooze and yanked his blaster out of Han’s grasp.
“Hey!” Han shouted.
Chewie grabbed for the blaster, but it was too late.
Seluss fired.
Thirteen
Lando waited most of the night, and it felt too long. He tried to sleep, but his mind kept feeding him dreams. Dreams he didn’t like. Memory dreams, mostly, of Han in the carbon-freezing chamber. What’s going on … buddy? Han asked over and over. Lando tried to tell him that Vader had betrayed them all. But Lando couldn’t speak. And then the dreams would shift to Chewbacca’s hands on his throat, repeating over and over in Wookiee that Lando could have prevented this.
Lando could have …
… prevented …
He sat up on his cot, the thin gold thermal blanket gathered around his thighs. He was cold despite the perfectly adjusted temperature. This particular nightmare hadn’t come to him in a long time, but he remembered its effects vividly.
It always left him cold, shivering with the most intense cold of his life. And the chill cam
e from within. He felt as if—
—as if he’d been shoved in carbon freeze and left to die.
Lando glanced at his screen. No responses from Coruscant. He’d left messages for Han, Chewbacca, Leia, and finally for Winter. Repeated messages of urgency, and he received no response at all. Usually someone got back to him.
He had also tried Yavin 4, figuring Luke would know where everyone was, but all he got was Streen, who made certain the academy ran smoothly in Luke’s absence. Streen said Luke had left rather suddenly for Coruscant, but didn’t know why.
Lando had left Luke several messages after that. One keyed to his X-wing, which got bounced back to Lando over the vagaries of interspacial communications, another at Coruscant, and another at the Imperial Palace.
Then he tried Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and Wedge Antilles. He’d even left a general message for any member of the Coruscant Inner Council.
None of those was answered either.
Someone should have answered him by now.
The hair stood up on the back of his neck. His teeth were chattering. He got out of bed, slipped on his thickest, warmest robe, and poured himself a cup of hot Aitha protein drink. He wrapped his fingers around the cup to gain additional warmth. Then he sat in front of the computer, trying to quell the low-grade panic his dream had left him with, and called Mara Jade.
She answered with such immediacy that he was startled. He had half-expected her to have disappeared as well. She was in the cockpit of Talon Karrde’s ship, Wild Karrde, his vornskrs partially visible behind her.
She grinned as she answered his hail. “Can’t be away from me even a few days, huh, Lando?”
“Each moment seems like years, Mara,” he said, knowing he had to keep up his side of the banter, even though his mood was anything but light.
“You can do better than that,” she said, suddenly serious. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been trying to raise Han and Leia for almost a day now, and I can’t,” he said. He no longer tried to keep the worry from his voice. He braced his wrists on the desk so that she couldn’t see his hands shaking. “In fact, I can’t raise anyone on Coruscant.”
“That’s not a surprise,” she said.
His spine stiffened. She wasn’t smiling.
“You’ve been busy with something, haven’t you?” she asked.
Big news, then. News he should have heard.
“Don’t toy with me, Mara.”
“I’m not, Lando. It’s been the buzz of this sector, at least.”
“What has?”
“The bombing. Of the Senate Hall.” Her lips formed a thin line. Behind her, Karrde came into the cockpit and paused as he saw Lando on the screen. “Don’t worry. From all I heard, Organa Solo only had minor bruises, and Han wasn’t anywhere near the Hall.”
“And Luke?”
“Wasn’t on Coruscant at all when it happened. But a lot of people died and even more were injured. It’s played havoc with the communications array.” She glanced over her shoulder. Karrde sat down beside her.
Lando’s mouth was dry. It was, as he had expected, something bad. How bad yet he wasn’t sure. “I thought you said the destruction was at the Senate Hall?”
She nodded. “But everyone’s been trying to contact Coruscant. From political problems to inquiring about relatives. The volume of calls actually knocked part of the array off-line.”
“It’s been a mess with business,” Karrde said.
“I expect it has,” Lando said. “But traffic is getting onto Coruscant?”
Karrde nodded. “Not the place I’d want to go now, Calrissian. From what I hear, they’re all waiting for another attack.”
… could have prevented …
FIREWORKS.
SOLO KNOWS.
FIREWORKS.
“You all right, Lando?” Mara was giving him her concerned look from clear across the galaxy.
“You said Han is all right?”
She nodded.
“Who did this?”
“If they knew,” Karrde said, “Coruscant wouldn’t be in such an uproar.”
“Lando?” Mara asked.
Lando frowned. “Talon, what’s Jarril been up to these days?”
Karrde leaned back in the chair. Then he glanced at Mara. She shrugged. “I haven’t worked with Jarril in two years, maybe more.”
“You’re not answering me,” Lando said.
“I think you should make a trip to the Run,” Karrde said.
“I can’t go to the Run,” Lando snapped. “I thought you knew that.”
“What’s Jarril got to do with this?” Mara asked.
“Ask your friend there,” Lando said.
“Talon?”
“The Run’s a different place these days,” Karrde said. “Not a place I enjoy discussing, Calrissian.”
And not on an open line. Karrde’s message was clear.
FIREWORKS.
Jarril had just been to Coruscant.
SOLO KNOWS.
And now Jarril was dead.
“Thanks,” Lando said. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
He signed off before they could say anything else. His dreams had been right.
He couldn’t risk sending a message that wouldn’t get through.
He had to go to Coruscant.
He had to warn Han, before it was too late.
Kueller shoved open the door to Femon’s office. His guards flanked him, but he waved them back. He wanted them to observe, not to act.
Femon had taken her death masks off the wall. The room looked odd without them. But that wasn’t the only change. She was different too. She had scrubbed her face clean. He had almost forgotten what she looked like without the makeup. The years showed. But she was still a striking woman, with her alabaster skin and dark blue eyes.
She didn’t seem surprised to see him.
But the fifteen guards who had accompanied him seemed surprised to see her. Even with their faces hidden in their stormtrooper helmets, he could sense their shock at her appearance.
“I didn’t order anyone to stand ready,” he said.
She got out of her chair. “I did. You’re too bent on revenge, Dolph.”
He started at the name, but he didn’t allow it to show. His mask was working again, ever since he had returned to the artificial environment on Almania, and it gave him more control of his movements than a normal person had.
“We aren’t ready,” he said. “To do this your way would invite disaster.”
“To do it yours loses our advantage.” She was nearly as tall as he was. Her eyes sparkled with fury. He had never expected her to cross him, but he should have foreseen it. She was more passionate about the mission than about anything else in her life, even him. She needed this to succeed. She needed to control everything around her so that nothing bad would happen again.
His understanding gave him no compassion, only a muted pity that her needs had driven her to oppose him.
He turned to one of his guards. “Rescind the orders. Tell everyone to stand down.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she said to the guard.
The guard, to his credit, turned to Kueller, nodded, and said, “I shall do as you wish, milord.”
“No!” she shouted.
“Thank you,” Kueller said to the guard. Then he walked closer to Femon, his black cape swirling about him. Her body odor was sharp in the close room; she was nervous, no matter how she presented herself.
He tilted his head and looked at her from the corners of his eyes. She lifted her chin, defiant to the last.
“You think I’m bent on revenge,” he said.
“I know it.” She kept her arms free, but he saw no weapon. She had to have something planned. A woman like her would leave nothing to chance. “You and Brakiss talked often about repaying Skywalker.”
“And I intend to.”
“Do it after we take over the Republic,” she said. “We have everything in place now.”
<
br /> “Not everything,” he said.
“Enough.”
He shook his head. “Impatience is the downfall of most megalomaniacs, Femon.”
“I am not a megalomaniac.”
He smiled. “Neither am I.”
The guards were watching, clearly unable to understand the conflict. They edged closer to him.
“I have studied the history of this galaxy, Femon,” Kueller said softly. “Have you?”
“History is old, dusty, and unimportant,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a no.” His smile grew. He kept his voice low, infusing it with as much charm as he had. “History, Femon, provides lessons. Lessons in living, lessons in dying. Lessons in the way this galaxy works.”
“I know how it works,” she said.
“Do you?” He put a slight threat into his tone and she almost flinched.
Almost.
Then she nodded. “I do.”
He reached out and tucked a strand of her long black hair behind her ear. “Then you know,” he said tenderly, “why I fight Skywalker.”
“Revenge,” she said. “He did something to you and Brakiss long ago. I don’t need history for that.”
“Ah, but you do.” He let his hand drop. “I’ve had my revenge. Conquering Almania was my revenge. I know clean ways of killing, Femon. Why do you think I spent a week torturing the leaders of the Je’har?”
“Information.” Her voice was husky.
He shook his head. “Revenge, sweet. My revenge for their slaughter of my family and the destruction of the place I loved. I thought the Je’har should have a small taste of the pain they caused. I think you should notice that I have not tortured anyone since.”
“You found better methods,” she said.
He tugged at his black gloves, looking at his hands. His powerful hands. “I knew better methods then. I simply did not believe the Je’har deserved them. I am a reasonable man, Femon. You should have remembered that.”
“You’ve been trying to be fair?” she asked. He suppressed a smile. At that moment, her certainty wavered. She had lost, and she hadn’t even realized it. “You’ve been baiting Skywalker to give him a chance to defend himself?”
“Skywalker needs no favors.” He was speaking now not just for her, but for his guards. He had brought them as witnesses, so that tales of her treachery would be muted by tales of his response to it. “Skywalker is the most powerful man in the galaxy.”
Star Wars: The New Rebellion Page 10