Star Wars: The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Han frowned. “But why?”

  “Because he hates the New Republic. He thinks it harms people more than it helps them.”

  “And he did this?” The anger seeped out of Han’s voice before he could stop it.

  Blue froze, her hand stopped in midcaress. She closed her eyes.

  “Blue?”

  “It was supposed to be a clean weapon, Han. It wasn’t supposed to do so much damage.”

  “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not that dumb. Really. I wouldn’t let this happen to my friends. To Davis.”

  Han clenched his fists. He wanted to hurt something. But he had to hold himself in check. “What does he want with Leia?”

  “He wants her and Skywalker gone. He wants to be the master of the Force in the galaxy. He wants to lead all the planets.”

  “He wants to be Emperor.”

  She shook her head. “He’s a good man.”

  “They say Palpatine was once, too,” Han said. He pushed up, unable to be close to her anymore.

  “He’s not like that, Han.”

  Han shook his head. “You misjudged me, Blue. Why wouldn’t you misjudge this Kueller? You didn’t see beyond the credits.”

  “I saved your life,” she said. “So did Davis.”

  “Because you needed me to lure Leia to her death. That doesn’t count, Blue.”

  “Han, please—”

  He shook his head, and backed away from her. Then he stopped when he realized something. “If this wasn’t supposed to happen here, what went wrong?”

  “I forgot,” she whispered. “About the stolen droids.”

  “Stolen? From where?”

  “Everywhere. Smugglers always steal droids. You know that.”

  “But these droids. The ones that blew. Where were they stolen from?”

  She raised her gaze to him as if he should have figured it out. As if he should have known. And he was afraid he did know, but he waited for her to say it anyway.

  “Coruscant,” she whispered. “They were stolen from Coruscant.”

  Thirty-eight

  The fleet continued moving forward. Kueller watched it on his screens, saying nothing. The room was dimly lit, the only true light coming from the screens and the lamps at the workstations. The dome showed the silent night sky. Hard to believe he would easily win a battle up there in a matter of moments.

  Yanne had given the order. Kueller had watched the serial numbers scroll on his remote.

  Too much time had passed.

  At first he wondered if the fleet was moving forward on momentum. Then he realized, as the wave of cold and death failed to wash over him, that nothing had happened.

  “Yanne,” he said to his assistant, figuring a double check was necessary. “Did you give the order?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The wave hit, finally, terrifyingly chill and weak, as if it had come from a long distance. It was oddly prolonged: a few deaths, then a few more, and then a few after that. He raised his arms, felt the power surge in him, but there was no satisfaction in it. The droids he had designed especially for the Coruscant fleet were somehow somewhere else.

  Slowly he lowered his arms. Yanne was watching him curiously, as if he had never seen him before. Kueller was tempted to pick the old man up and break his thin neck as a sign of power. But he knew that would gain him nothing.

  The ships were growing closer, ever closer. Too many of them. If he let them get too close, they would destroy Almania.

  “I’ve deployed our ships,” Yanne said.

  “Good,” Kueller said, ignoring Yanne’s triumphant tone. The little man wanted Kueller to lose, wanted Kueller to be defeated. But Kueller wouldn’t be. I want the Imperial warships to be the first thing they see. I want them to think they’re still fighting the Empire.”

  “Won’t that give them a psychological advantage, sir?”

  Kueller smiled. “A psychological disadvantage, Yanne. The Empire becomes the enemy that never dies. They’ll use strategies with the Empire they’d never use with us.”

  “And that’s to our advantage?”

  “Keeping the true nature of our attack hidden is always to our advantage.” He leaned forward. “I will conduct the battle from here. I want you to discover what went wrong. Why our weapon didn’t work.”

  “You relied too much on that one weapon,” Yanne said.

  Kueller shook his head. “The droids exploded, Yanne. But they exploded somewhere else. I want you to let me know where the damage occurred, and what happened on this fleet.”

  Yanne watched him a moment. Kueller glowered at him. Finally, Yanne said, “Yes, sir.”

  His attitude needed work. He was a competent man who was about to walk the road that Femon died upon. But because he had served Kueller so well, he deserved a warning.

  A symbolic warning.

  Kueller raised a hand, and clenched it.

  Yanne brought a hand to his throat. He was gagging, his tongue out, his eyes wide.

  Kueller let go.

  Yanne dropped to his knees, and remained there, gasping.

  “You need to remember, my friend, that I am more powerful than you, and always will be.”

  “I … have never … forgotten … that, milord …”

  “Your attitude tells me otherwise. I value your opinion and your ideas. See that I don’t lose the wisdom of your council.”

  “Yes … sir.” Yanne brought himself slowly to his feet. His neck carried bruises where Kueller’s imaginary hand had been. “I … shall endeavor … to … prevent the … loss.”

  “Excellent.” Kueller turned his back on Yanne. “Carry out your orders.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kueller felt Yanne stare at him a moment before leaving the room. When Yanne was gone, Kueller signaled one of the guards to him.

  She bowed her head, clearly frightened. “Yes, milord?”

  “Bring Gant to me.”

  “Yes, milord.” She clicked her heels and disappeared.

  Gant wasn’t nearly as talented as Yanne, and he didn’t even fall into the same category as Femon. Neither of them did. But Gant would be Kueller’s next choice for an advisor. Best to start training him now. Kueller had a feeling that Yanne wouldn’t be with him much longer.

  This time the cold felt as if someone were pelting her with ice cubes. With a shaking hand, Leia put Alderaan on automatic, amazed that she was able to do that much as she felt death all around her. This wave wasn’t as strong, but it lasted longer, which made it even more terrifying.

  She couldn’t pinpoint its location, but the feelings were the same: sudden shock and betrayal, followed by fear, and then nothing, except a broad expanse of chill.

  She braced herself to see Kueller’s face, but surprisingly, it didn’t surface this time. Instead, she felt Luke.

  It was a small sense: one of great pain and great effort, but it was a sense all the same. Luke was alive.

  He was alive.

  She reached for him. Luke?

  And got no response. But instead of being discouraged, she was heartened. At least she hadn’t hit that white wall she had hit before.

  He was alive.

  She swallowed. They were entering the Almanian sector. Soon the fleet would show on whatever kind of monitoring equipment Kueller had. Her time would be limited, and she would have to act quickly.

  She was still alone in the cockpit. She had kept the military personnel out with the promise of allowing them to help once the battle started. By now, she should have felt tired, but she was curiously elated. She loved this feeling. She had had it several times in her life. The first was the day she met Han. After the experience with the interrogation droid, after watching Alderaan shatter, after losing everything, she should never have been able to run through those corridors, blast her way into that garbage bin, and shoot her way to the Falcon. But she did.

  Han called it a core of strength within her,
but it was more than that. No matter what, she would never give up. She would win and take risks just as Han did. She had proven that when she had sent the fleets to Koornacht the year before.

  Now she would have to do it again.

  Only this time, it was her own life she gambled with. Hers and Luke’s.

  She just hoped she would be able to contact him before she reached Almania. Her plan depended on knowing where to find him.

  Almost as if it heard her thought, a private message light appeared on the controls before her. It had come on the channel she used with Luke, a private channel that they had relied on ever since she had gotten the Alderaan.

  She shut off any speakers to the rest of the ship, then ordered the computer to play the message for her.

  She glanced at the screen.

  CODED, IT READ, FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.

  She acknowledged the coding. The Alderaan knew who she was. No need for a retinal scan. The computer skipped all of the preliminaries and went straight to the message.

  IT IS IN BINARY. DO YOU WANT ME TO TRANSLATE?

  Luke had never sent a message in binary before. But she didn’t know his circumstances. This might be the best way for him to reach her.

  She asked the computer to translate and waited until the message scrolled onto the screen.

  NEW-MODEL DROIDS DANGEROUS. TO BE SAFE, SHUT DOWN ALL DROIDS. REPEAT. NEW-MODEL DROIDS DANGEROUS. TO BE SAFE, SHUT DOWN ALL DROIDS.

  There was no signature. But the message continued to scroll, repeating over and over.

  Leia studied the message. It made no sense. If Luke was in the kind of trouble she believed him to be in, he wouldn’t have sent a message like that. Unless it was another code.

  Or unless it was true.

  She shuddered, and buzzed the galley. “Lieutenant Tchiery to the cockpit, please.”

  The lieutenant acknowledged her, and signed off. A moment later, he appeared in the cockpit door, his bowling-ball shape barely fitting in a door designed for humans.

  She showed him the message, explained the circumstance, and asked his opinion.

  He glanced at her, then at the message. “This message makes sense, President,” he said. “Given the detonators on the X-wings.”

  She nodded. She had already thought of that. “How important are the droids to the fleet’s mission?”

  “Important,” Tchiery said. “But we can get along without them. We aren’t using many X-wings, and we still rely on sentients for much of the shipboard work.”

  “Then I want you and your team to deliver this message to the fleet.”

  “I’ll leave some of the officers here.”

  “No,” Leia said, hoping she hadn’t spoken too quickly. “We can’t send messages. I received this one only by virtue of the code that my brother and I had developed. If you keep two officers here, and the message was important, and something happens, we’ll always regret it. I’ll be all right for the time it will take to make the deliveries.”

  “Ma’am, my orders are to take care of you.”

  Leia smiled. She had suspected as much. “I’m afraid, Lieutenant, that I’ve always done quite well at taking care of myself. I’m changing your orders. Now we don’t have time for argument. I will dock with one of the nearby ships momentarily.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The lieutenant nodded to her, took the message, and left the cockpit.

  She let out a deep sigh, and leaned her head against the chair. In a moment, they would all be gone. She would leave the matter of the droids in Wedge’s hands. He would know what decision to make.

  And he would make it after she had gone to Almania.

  Alone.

  Thirty-nine

  The strange prolonged agony from a distant system had drained his energy. Luke had sent heat, as he had before, but it took something out of him.

  Luke leaned against the wall, his splinters around him. The creature remained in the other room, snuffling. A constant threat, but for the moment it left him alone.

  Almost as if it knew he suffered.

  He was dizzy and tired and his back still hurt, although the pain had subsided somewhat. He couldn’t feel his ankle at all, unless he stood on it. Then pain shot through his leg. Only the splint held him up. He needed water. The burns were bad enough to continually sap his strength.

  Kueller wanted both of them, him and Leia.

  He would have both if Luke didn’t do something about it.

  Which meant getting out of there.

  The creature snuffled again. Luke didn’t entirely understand the creature, either. It had clearly just eaten before Luke was placed in its cage. So was it there to hold him? Or was he to be tomorrow’s lunch?

  It peeked its head around the corner. The massive face had a quizzical look to it. It held out its paw, and large drops of blood fell on the ground. Yet the creature didn’t seem angry.

  But then, it hadn’t seemed angry when it had tried to swallow Luke, either. Maybe it was a big, cheerful eating machine.

  It mewled at him. Then it extended its injured paw. Luke raised a splinter, and the creature batted it from his hand, sending him flying head over heels. He hit his back, and the pain made him cry out.

  He stopped rolling and tried to get to his feet. The creature had run beside him. It looked down on him, its face getting closer and closer.

  He had no more weapons.

  The creature opened its mouth.

  Luke ducked.

  Artoo-Detoo led Cole and See-Threepio to a small moon. Telti, according to Cole’s navigational computer, had been a droid factory and recommissioning area since the Old Republic. Telti joined the Empire late in the Empire’s existence, when Palpatine threatened to destroy Telti if it didn’t join. Telti continued to sell droids to anyone whose credit was good, and except for that Imperial threat, the factory’s politics had remained neutral. After the Truce at Bakura, Telti petitioned the New Republic for membership, which had been granted, and had remained a quiet, stable member ever since.

  So Cole felt fairly awkward, arriving in what might be considered a stolen freighter on the hunch of a droid. Artoo, on the other hand, seemed quite calm. He was in the lounge now, but earlier he had been in the cockpit. He made no sounds during the flight, but he did jack into the computer once the ship was away from Coruscant. Cole suspected that Artoo was sending more messages. Cole watched Artoo send one to President Leia, using Luke Skywalker’s codes. Cole wasn’t certain who the little droid was sending messages to, but he trusted Artoo to make the right choices.

  The messages would help. Cole really didn’t want to be doing this on his own.

  As the ship entered orbit over Telti, Cole requested an immediate landing.

  He received no response.

  “Perhaps, sir, they use only mechanized equipment,” Threepio said. He sat in the second seat, the one behind the pilot, designed for passengers. The problem was that Threepio’s voice spoke directly in Cole’s ear. “It wouldn’t be unusual. Why, the factory on Tala 9 allowed no sentients at all. They discouraged sentient participation by using only droid languages for landing codes. Of course, they discontinued that practice when two ships collided mid-orbit because their systems weren’t designed to handle …”

  Cole tuned out the chatter. He sent his message again.

  “… Then on Casfield 6, they discovered that the use of droid languages in landing codes caused shipboard computers to malfunction when six ships, all built by …”

  And again.

  “… exploded on the launching pad. Quite a blow to the Offens, as I understand it. They were new to space travel …”

  And again.

  “… when their queen, a six-thousand-year-old woman kept alive by …”

  “State your business, freighter.” The voice that came across the speaker was mechanized. It lacked the vocal range of Threepio’s.

  “It’s a new-model navigator droid, sir. I recognize the pitch.”

  It took Cole a moment to absorb
what Threepio had told him, since Cole had worked so hard at ignoring him.

  “Freighter. State your business.”

  “I—ah—I’m Cole Fardreamer. I have business with your manager.”

  “Personal or sales?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Is your business personal or would you like to meet with a sales representative?”

  The last question was not one that Cole expected. “It’s personal,” Cole said.

  The mechanized voice gave him landing coordinates. Cole made certain that the computer entered them properly, then felt the freighter bump as it veered onto a new course.

  “How very interesting,” Threepio said. “They must handle their own sales here. Some droids are good at business, you know, but most lack the finesse needed for what sentients call ‘The deal.’ ”

  Cole scanned the surface. “The deal?”

  “Well, yes,” Threepio said. “Droids are not adept at lying, you know, and we have no interest in profit. There are no droid smugglers, at least none that I’ve ever heard of.”

  The entire moon was covered in buildings. The buildings went deep underground. The landing coordinates that the voice had given him were near another, smaller landing strip. They had to have him coming in on an official path.

  “When I was Irving on Tatooine,” Cole said, not really interested in the conversation, but wanting to keep Threepio occupied, “I had heard that Jabba the Hutt had droids helping him.”

  “Helping him is an entirely different thing. A droid must serve his master. That is his primary function. Why, I even worked for Jabba the Hutt for a very short time. I served as its translator. Quite discouraging work, let me tell you. The things the Hutt said …”

  Cole headed toward the landing strip. The buildings were massive, as he had thought, and there were droids all over the surface.

  “… my counterpart Artoo-Detoo serving drinks. It was quite humiliating. I’m not sure he ever got over it.…”

  The freighter landed on the coordinates the voice had given Cole. A dome rose overhead and closed on the ship. All around him, signs flared in several languages.

  PERSONAL DROIDS MUST REMAIN ON SHIPS.