Star Wars: The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  THIS IS A WORKING PLANT. DO NOT STRAY FROM THE MARKED SIDEWALKS.

  WAIT NEAR YOUR VEHICLE. A REPRESENTATIVE WILL APPROACH YOU.

  SHIPS WILL BE SCANNED BEFORE LIFTOFF.

  THEFT IS AN INTERGALACTIC OFFENSE, PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.

  That last sign had an Imperial insignia on it. Apparently the managers of the Telti factory had not seen the need to remove it.

  The dome clicked shut over them. Then a light on the side control panels flicked on. A rear hatch had opened.

  “Artoo,” Threepio said. “Master Cole, you must stop him!”

  Cole shook his head. “Artoo is the one that brought us here. We need to trust him, Threepio.”

  “But the signs! They’ll deactivate him for certain.”

  Threepio might have had a point. Cole opened the cargo door. “Not if we distract them,” Cole said. He left the cockpit and went out the door. Threepio followed.

  “Go after Artoo,” Cole said softly. “Make sure he’s all right.”

  “But, sir, the signs strictly forbid my leaving this vessel.”

  “That’s why I want you to go now. If anyone stops you, try to convince them you’re from this place. If that doesn’t work, tell them I forced you to leave the ship, and you think I’m abandoning you here.”

  “You aren’t, are you, sir? I know that they have come out with a new-model protocol droid, but Mistress Leia—”

  “You aren’t mine to abandon, Threepio. Now go.”

  “Yes, sir.” Threepio trundled down the path in the direction that Cole had pointed him. Cole watched him for a brief moment, wondering how a droid managed to sound so injured without sighing, sniffing, or using any of the common human clues.

  Then he patted his blasters, and scanned the area. Signs everywhere. The dome was clear and open to the sky. There were walkways along the side of the runway, and doors as high up as he could see. There were probably alarms everywhere, and someone was probably watching. Threepio had better be as cunning as he bragged he was, because someone would stop him, and quickly.

  A small door opened near the freighter. A man walked toward Cole. The man wore a cape and had the same sort of undefinable radiance that Skywalker had. Although this radiance had a touch of darkness. Cole wouldn’t be able to define it if he were asked, but he knew it was there.

  The man was slender, tall, and very blond. He was also startlingly good-looking, a fact that shocked Cole. Cole rarely noted how attractive anyone was, male or female, and now he had done it twice in the last week or so. First with President Organa Solo, and now with this man.

  There had to be more to him than was obvious to the eye.

  “Hello,” the man said, his voice warm and welcoming. “My name is Brakiss. I run this facility.” He held out his hand as he approached.

  Cole took it, even though he had to suppress a shudder as he did so. “Cole Fardreamer.”

  Brakiss surveyed him as closely as Cole had surveyed Brakiss. “We don’t often get much call for droids from people arriving in stock light freighters. Are you buying or selling, Fardreamer?”

  “Neither,” Cole said. He felt odd, as if his mind were moving more slowly than usual. He wanted to like this man, indeed he felt as if he had always known this man, but beneath that feeling was a layer of distrust so strong that it turned his stomach. “I have found a problem, and I think you might be able to help me with it.”

  “A problem, Fardreamer? You own some of our droids?”

  “Not exactly,” Cole said. He glanced around. The landing strip, which had been empty before, was filled now with dozens of droids. Most of them were models he had associated with the Empire: black assassin droids; probe droids; fighter droids with their powerful arms, and their lack of control. He was in a droid factory, he reminded himself, and Brakiss was probably letting Cole know how difficult any deviousness would be. He kept straining to hear Threepio’s outraged voice, but so far he had heard nothing.

  “I was wondering,” Cole said, “if we could talk in private.”

  “Most people are not bothered by my droids,” Brakiss said.

  “Well, you’ll understand my concern in a moment,” Cole said. “Please, may we speak alone?”

  Brakiss waved a hand and, as silently as they had appeared, the droids vanished. “All right,” he said.

  “I assume you have holocams here,” Cole said.

  Brakiss’s smile was thin. “We have watchers everywhere, Mr. Fardreamer. No matter where I take you, someone will be observing. It is for my safety as well as yours.”

  Cole wanted to glance over his shoulder, to see if he could see Threepio. But he didn’t. Instead, he gripped the side of the freighter with one hand and leaned as close to Brakiss as he could comfortably get. “Someone is sabotaging your droids,” he whispered.

  Brakiss blinked and took a step backward before he managed to cover his reaction. “What?”

  Cole nodded. He held out his other hand, filled with several tiny detonators. “We found these in droids shipped to Coruscant. Those droids were traced here.”

  “What are those?” Brakiss now seemed calmer, as if nothing could ruffle him. Cole didn’t know how to read that initial reaction: Had the man truly not known? Or was he pretending not to know?

  “Detonators,” Cole said. “When combined with the proper order, action, or code, they will make the droids explode.”

  “Explode.” Brakiss put a hand to his face. On the superficial emotional level, Cole believed Brakiss was upset. But underneath, he felt an anger. Or something like anger.

  That darkness again.

  Darkness he couldn’t pinpoint.

  “I’m afraid so,” Cole said. “One of your workers might be sabotaging—”

  “My workers are droids,” Brakiss said. “They cannot harm their masters or themselves.”

  Cole’s mouth had gone dry. Still nothing from Threepio or Artoo. Perhaps they had gotten away. Perhaps security wasn’t as tight as it seemed. “These were in the droids,” Cole said.

  “Yes,” Brakiss said. He frowned. “Our clientele varies. Was the shipment a direct one to Coruscant?”

  “I don’t know,” Cole said. He felt a faint thread of relief. Brakiss believed him. “All I know is that the droids came from here.”

  Brakiss nodded. “And you came directly here?”

  “As soon as I could.”

  “Why didn’t one of your people contact me directly?”

  Good question. Cole wished he had a good answer. “We—ah—I thought—”

  “That you could blackmail me?” Brakiss’s smile was tight. “It’s not likely, Fardreamer. You outthink yourself. I control Telti. You would have done better to meet me elsewhere.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about blackmail.”

  “Of course not.” Brakiss’s voice was smooth. He had a lot of charm when he chose to use it. “You just happened to come here alone, in a freighter that is registered to someone else, without any orders or contact from the New Republic’s government. It seems quite suspicious to me.”

  “The government sent me, hoping that you would work with me,” Cole said. “We—ah—hoped to keep this as quiet as possible. Droids are everywhere and people would be alarmed if they knew the droids to be dangerous.”

  “Indeed they would, Mr. Fardreamer.” Brakiss put his hands behind his back. They swept his cape away from his hips, revealing a lightsaber like the one Luke Skywalker carried. “You don’t lie very convincingly. Perhaps you want to tell me why you brought an outdated R2 unit and an old protocol droid with you.”

  Cole didn’t lie very well. It had never been a skill he had wanted to cultivate. He had never had much use for it before.

  “They travel with me,” Cole said.

  “I see,” Brakiss said. “You sent your droids off alone. Can’t you read the signs?” He pointed at PERSONAL DROIDS MUST REMAIN ON SHIPS.

  “I didn’t see that one until it was too late,” Cole said. “They’ll be all right, won’t t
hey?”

  “I can’t guarantee it,” Brakiss said. “This is a factory. Droids often come here for reconditioning and repair. They might have a memory wipe or be disassembled.”

  “I’m sure you can prevent that,” Cole said, when he wasn’t sure of that at all.

  “I’m sure I can,” Brakiss said, “if you tell me who sent you and why.”

  “I did tell you,” Cole said.

  Brakiss smiled. This smile had cruel edges. The charm was gone. “Maybe you want to try again.”

  Cole was about to answer when he looked around. The droids were back. Only these weren’t the ones he had seen earlier. These were modified assassin droids. Their obsidian faces had no visible eyes. Their arms were blasters, and more appeared from the center of their chests.

  “What are those?” Cole asked.

  “My personal army,” Brakiss said. “I won’t hesitate to use them unless you tell me why Skywalker sent you.”

  “Skywalker?”

  “That protocol droid belongs to his sister. The astromech droid belongs to him. If you value your life, you will tell me what he has planned.”

  “Nothing,” Cole said with complete honesty. “I’m here alone.”

  Brakiss tilted his head as if he were listening to all the things Cole hadn’t said.

  “Traveling alone across the galaxy is dangerous, Fardreamer.”

  Cole managed a smile. “I’m beginning to realize that,” he said.

  Forty

  Droids often came from places like this.

  Therefore Artoo-Detoo did not swivel his head as he looked out of the freighter. It was obvious that he was not surprised by what he saw.

  He opened the back hatch and rolled out. Once he was on the ground, he began swiveling his head, searching for something.

  Artoo raised his video sensor and scanned the area. Then his head swiveled toward the astromech area, eighty meters to his left. He rolled down the concrete walk. Clearly this entire place had been designed for droids.

  At the edge of the walk, he encountered See-Ninepio. Brakiss had sent Ninepio to intercept Artoo just before Brakiss came out to greet Cole.

  “I say,” Ninepio said. “You’re not one of ours, are you?”

  Artoo didn’t answer.

  “So really, you should go elsewhere to be recommissioned. I’m certain they could have done it on Coruscant.”

  Artoo sped up. The door to the astromech building was shut. Artoo’s video sensor scanned for other entrances.

  The astromech building appeared to be underutilized. With the upgrading of X-wings and other ships to do without astromech units, it made sense. But astromech units had other uses besides navigation. The upgraded units had to be manufactured somewhere.

  Artoo veered to the left, following the walkway down. The C-9PO hurried after him.

  “That facility is off-limits to old droids!” Ninepio said. “You must stop immediately.”

  Artoo continued. The decline caused him to speed up even more. He was going slightly faster than usual. The protocol droid couldn’t keep up.

  “My master instructed me to have you wait,” Ninepio said with some alarm.

  The path forked and Artoo took the right fork this time. It led to an open door. He zoomed inside, put down his brake, and stopped.

  Ninepio was still yelling. “The recommission area is aboveground.” It repeated the phrase several times, and then it said, as if speaking to itself, “R2 units. How dreadful. They never listen to their betters.”

  Artoo leaned against the wall. He used a tiny glowlight beam to scan for a computer. The computer on the wall was merely a door panel. Whoever had designed this moon had done so with droids in mind.

  He couldn’t jack in.

  The protocol droid’s prissy voice floated down to him. “I saw it disappear down this path. I believe we must conduct a search for it. It’s not acting rationally.”

  Artoo used a glowlight to scan the room. Mostly junk, scrapped equipment, and piles of corroded wire. Another door stood open at the end. He rolled toward the door. Ninepio’s voice grew fainter.

  Artoo plunged deeper into Telti’s droid factory, heading into the unknown, alone and unassisted.

  It hadn’t taken Leia too long to reach Almania. She had circled the planet for some time before she got another sense of Luke. Then she found a docking bay near the area where she had felt his presence. The bay was perfect for the Alderaan: the right size, the right construction, even the right weight restrictions. She slid her ship into the bay with no trouble at all.

  She sat very quietly in the darkness, waiting for something to go wrong. She was so nervous that she didn’t trust what she was feeling.

  She was feeling that the entire planet was wrong somehow, that something was completely off-kilter. She had felt that ever since she had slipped into the atmosphere, beneath their sensors, undetected and unwatched.

  That had bothered her. They were sending ships after her fleet, and they weren’t watching their own skies? It felt like a trick Vader might pull, a double-switch of some kind. As she’d brought the Alderaan in, she had watched for needle ships or other kinds of ships that could hide behind clouds and suddenly attack.

  Nothing.

  Just as there was no one in this bay.

  The planet felt deserted. That was what had bothered her.

  Even the bay, now that she looked at it closely, appeared unattended, as if no one had been in it for a long, long time. Tiles were falling out of the wall, and the Alderaan had kicked up dust as she slid into place. No one monitored the doors, or the nearby skies. If she had flown into a building, no one would have warned her.

  For a planet that had just declared war on the New Republic, that seemed decidedly odd.

  Unless Kueller was using the tricks that the Rebels had used during the fight against the Empire. Do the unexpected. Always catch them off-guard.

  It would mean that he had an inferior fighting force. Small forces always used commando tactics. It gave them the advantage.

  She suddenly wished she could contact Wedge. His attack would be different if he knew that Kueller had few resources. She would order an all-out fight. But if Wedge thought Kueller had a lot of ships, he might try strategy, he might start working according to all the battle orders that the military on Coruscant had developed over the years.

  She could sense no one around. She took her lightsaber, and her blaster, and set the Alderaan’s internal alarms. She also set the self-destruct, should anyone other than the handful of authorized people overpower the alarms. Luke and Wedge were the only people nearby who could use the ship.

  Then she got out.

  The air smelled stale. Every movement she made kicked up dust. The equipment was rusted; the computer panels were ripped open. This bay was not abandoned; it had been murdered. Someone intended it never to be used again.

  Leia went to the bay doors. They were jammed open. Tiny footprints in the dust showed that some creatures had gotten use out of the area, but probably not the creatures the area had been designed for. She stepped outside into the fading light, and saw dozens of buildings, all in a state of disrepair.

  It looked as if no one had lived on Almania in a long, long time.

  Yet she could feel Luke. He seemed much closer. And she could feel other presences as well. They seemed far away, and she couldn’t tell how many of them there were.

  She would have to follow the feeling to find him.

  Someone was watching her.

  She whirled, the feeling as startling as if she had seen someone run across the street. But she was alone. She could see no one, feel no one, hear no one. Nothing had changed except the sudden crawling of her skin; the way the hair on the back of her neck rose. She dropped her hand so that it was close to her blaster, an old, practiced, nervous move.

  The shadows in the bay were deep, but they didn’t move. She heard no breathing, saw nothing glinting in the darkness.

  She was alone.

&n
bsp; Someone was watching her.

  Surveillance? But all the obvious signs of it were ruined. The broken walkways around the doors, the shattered glass. Something terrible had happened to this place, and she didn’t know what it was. But she knew it precluded the standard forms of surveillance.

  She took a deep breath, unwilling to leave the Alderaan, but knowing that she had to. Maybe the sense she had gotten had come from Luke.

  Maybe it had come from Kueller.

  It had probably come from Kueller. He wanted her here. He had shown her Luke, had sent her messages right from the start. And her arrival had been too easy.

  Perhaps that made her the most nervous of all. Someone should have noticed her. Someone should have prevented her from flying onto Almania. Someone should have come after her by now.

  But she had no choice. She was on this course. Together she and Luke would be stronger than Kueller.

  She had to remember that.

  The key, of course, would be to find Luke.

  Before Kueller killed him.

  Forty-one

  Wedge stood in the command post of the Yavin, his legs spread, his hands clasped behind his back. His station was on a slight rise, with a bar below him. The Mon Calamari Star Cruisers these days were fancier than the ones he had first served in. These new ones were built from scratch, unlike the earlier models, which had been redesigned over pleasure yachts. The new ships had round command centers that took advantage of all parts of space. The command center was a clear bubble in the center of the ship, with catwalks crossing it. The catwalks were made of thin diamond-shaped mesh, which gave him an imperfect vision of the area below as well as above.

  Despite the fact that his people had designed them, Admiral Ackbar had argued against these newer-model ships, saying that they allowed an attacker to find the command center more easily. Wedge, on the other hand, liked them. They gave him the same feeling he had had as a fighter pilot, a feeling that only a thin wall of material separated him from the vastness of space.

  It also gave him great perspective, allowing him to remember that in space battles, as opposed to ground battles, the attacks could come from any position: above, below, behind, or sideways. So many commanders forgot that after years out of a fighter pilot’s chair.