his bidding."
"What about your family? Your boy? What if the Emperor ever found
out?"
"I assure you; no harm will befall them." Euphorically, he sighed,
"They will be safe."
Ross believed him. There was a certainty about the Jedi that went
beyond the sinister shadows that had once kept the two men at odds with
each other. But the smuggler's conscience demanded a bit more for
security. "How can you be sure?"
"I've never been more certain in my life." Placing a credit chit in
the smuggler's hand, he closed Ross's fingers over it. Ross noticed
another object in Brandl's hand, one which the Jedi tried to conceal
when he folded his hands together over it. "The chit is the remainder
of what I owe you and the Emperor's compulsory fee for capturing a
dangerous renegade." He grinned malevolently, amused by his own
sarcasm.
Slipping the chit in his duster pocket, Ross noticed the spherical,
metallic shape beneath Brandl's hands, and noted the raspy acid erase
etched into the explosive where the serial trace markers had been
removed. Eyes wild with the revelation, he stared into Brandl's
tranquil face.
"Consider all debts paid," the Jedi whispered. Turning curtly on his
heels, he retreated in the hangar corridor with the escort in tow.
Ross hurried up the ramp, rush sealing the corridor hatch.
"Kierra!" he hissed, sprinting through the access tunnel into the
flight cabin. "Kierra, wake up!"
"What do you mean wake up!" she snapped. "The engines have been on
line and waiting for the last hour. I even managed to knock one of the
ion coils in place by popping the shield housing." She snorted,
causing an er
ratic hiccup over the comm. "What's the rush? The main databanks were clean and according to this little as-tromech they had
on board--" "Never mind!" Ross shouted, strapping himself into the
acceleration chair. "Brandl has one of my thermal detonators and I
think he plans to---" A muffled explosion reverberated through the
docking corridors, blowing smoke and debris into the auxiliary bay.
Piercing, high-pitched alarms began to blare, alerting medics and
technicians to the area. Amid the chaos of shouting voices, the
klaxons, and the sound of armored feet rushing to secure the area, the
Kierra momentarily hovered above the flight pad. Several smaller
explosions echoed from the passage, rattling TIE fighters and shuttle
craft in the nearby racks.
Bewildered, Kierra gasped, "What would ever possess him to pull such a
stunt?"
"He had to protect his family," the smuggler replied wearily.
"But with him dead, there's no guarantee the Empire won't find them.
Then again," she mused aloud, "there's no guarantee the Empire will
even look for them." Flustered by the infinite innuendoes, she
quipped, "I'm just glad it's over."
"But it's not," he whispered. Banking sharply over an array of TIE
fighters and ejector racks, Ross guided the Kierra out of the launch
bay, repeatedly throttling the labored engines. "Brandl might have
made his final exit; but the play is far from over . . . for us .
. . or his family."
The Corellian grinned nostalgically. Mesmerized by the verdant face of
Trulalis, he watched the planet rotate before him, physically unmarred,
innocently unaware, momentarily unchanged. He sighed, his smuggler's
sense oddly at peace. There were no more shadows.
Casually resetting the astrogation system for Najiba, he braced himself
as the Kierra stuttered across the open void and then vanished into the
translucent brilliance of hyperspace.
Missed Chance
by Michael A. Stackpole Corran Horn smiled broadly as the R2 droid's
muted warble came to him from back in the darkened interior of the
temporary hangar. "Yes, Whistler, you have done a good job of
disguising this place." In his absence the droid had busied himself by
strewing all manner of debris inside the abandoned vehicle shed.
Between that and the growth of the purple djorra vine across the front
of the shed, no one would guess that the structure hid the only X-wing
fighter on Garqi.
Corran swung under the ship's sleek nose and squat-walked back to
where the little green and white droid stood. Things had been moved
around since he'd last visited Whistler and Gorran suspected he was
only seeing the latest in a long line of decorating schemes. "I'm
sorry I haven't visited sooner, but the whole city is going quite
insane about Rebel activity. The way everyone is being watchful, you'd
think some slicers grafting New Republic slogans and graphics onto
computer screens and public data displays was the same as murder."
The droid extended his I/O jack and plugged it into the port on a small
datapad resting atop a can oozing an oily gray substance. The screen
flicked to life and displayed the blade assembly for an X-wing's
centrifugal debris extractor. A chirp ran from low to high as the
droid's head swung from the image around to Gorran.
The pilot blushed, then shook his head. "No, I haven't figured out how
to get the part out of the Imperial Guards' possession. With the Rebel
activity around here they've not slackened their security the way they
normally would. Finding the spare parts and those proton torpedoes on
the Star's Delight was the biggest thing to happen to Imps on this
backwater, and it got Prefect Barris all hot to root out the Rebels
here. I don't know who he thinks that will impress--the Emperor is
dead and there's enough infighting on coruscant that we even get word
of it out here."
The droid's whistle scolded corran as the image of the debris extractor
faded into the crest of the New Republic.
"No, it's not a question of joining the Republic or not--and we've gone
over this before. There is no Rebel activity here. The 'Rebels' they
think they have are kids---students at Garqi Ag University, They
couldn't help me get those parts away from Imps if I gave them months
of instruction. Moreover, they'd get killed in the attempt." corran
shook his head adamantly: "Look, this is my problem.
Gaptain Nootka brought those torpedoes because he thought he could sell
them to me, or move them to his
Rebel contacts elsewhere. They got him caught, got his crew arrested and his ship impounded. I might owe
it to him to try to spring him, but doing that without having this ship
up and flying is not going to work."
As he spoke, Corran reached up and ran a hand along the side of the
X-wing. It shared the green and white color scheme of the droid,
though both of them could have used a few paint touch-ups. The fighter
had been Corran's during his time with the Corellian Security Force,
and Whistler had been his co-pilot and partner in countless missions to
stop smugglers and other trouble-makers from disrupting life in the
Corellian system.
Whistler let the datapad's screen go dark, producing a mournful tone as
he did so.
"I know, Whistler, I miss taking those night flights, too." W
hen
Imperial entanglements made remaining in CorSec impossible, he took off
with the ship and the droid. His purpose in coming to Garqi had been
to lie low and avoid drawing Imperial attention to himself. Despite
the fact that flying the X-wing put his life in jeopardy, he could no
more refrain from flying than he could refrain from breathing--though
he did make all of his flights at night to make it more difficult to
locate him and his ship.
And dodging the local troops was simplicity itself. If I'd not sucked
a rdava-bird into the starboard engine on that last flight, I'd still
be flying and no one would think Garqi was a hotbed of Rebel
activity.
He sighed. "Now I'm stuck here because rich kids who have decided they
want to shock their parents have started playing Rebel.
It's all a game to them."
Again the droid scolded him with a sharp whistle.
"You're right, Dynba Tesc probably doesn't think of it as a game, but
it's her own fault that she got caught last night. The Imps around
here are not exactly storm-trooper caliber, but she left a trail that
even our old Cor-Sec Imperial Liaison officer could have followed." He
reached out and patted the droid gently on the head.
"She'll spend some time in the local jail, then get kicked
loose.
Yes, she'll be interrogated, but they'll see she knows nothing and let
her go. I'm sure of it."
Whistler tooted another question.
"Yes, if she were in danger, I would do what I couldbut not because
she's a Rebel. I've got nothing to do with the New Republic and just
because the Empire hates the both of us doesn't mean we're allies."
Corran frowned heavily. "The Rebels might have killed the Emperor, and
they're saying they have the last living Jedi on their side, but
they're still a far cry from having the Empire down and out.
My priority is to lay low while they attract more attention than I
do.
The Rebellion, such as it is, has come to Garqi, and that means it's
time we're out of here."
He held a hand up. "No, no more protests. In fact, I don't want to
hear any more Rebellion squawk out of you, got it? I'll be spending
all my time working to maintain my cover and to keep my eye on the
extractor. I'll figure out a way to get it, then we're on our way."
Corran started to turn away, but the droid caught hold of his sleeve
with his pincer attachment. "What is it, Whistler?"
The droid hooted derisively at him.
"Yeah, well maybe back on the job I wouldn't have been so blase about
Dynba Tesc's problem, but now we're running from the law, not working
for the law." He pulled his arm free, but looked back at the droid and
hung his head. "Okay, no promises, but I will see what I can do. I
look to take care of us first, though, right?"
Whistler's head spun around as he crowed triumphantly.
"Yes, saving her and her friends would look good in my datafile."
Corran nodded to the droid as he headed back out of the hangar. Unless
the Empire is the one to put the notation in it, but they'd have to
catch me first. With that extractor, I can avoid them--and that is the
notation in my data file I most want to see.
Prefect Mosh Barris sat back in the overstuffed chair that he decided
was almost as deep and as black as the depression in which he found
himself. He felt old and tired, as if he were at a point in the
universe from which any other direction was up. The only thing Garqi
had to recommend it as a post had been its utter isolation and
insulation from the Empire, and even that shield had worn thin in his
year's tenure as the military prefect under the current--and seemingly
ever-absent Imperial governor.
"You see, Eamon," he began, "I had not expected her to make it easy for
us, but this Tesc woman's ability to resist narco-interrogation is
incredible. She steadfastly claims she knows nothing of the Rebellion
and claims no connection with Lai Nootka or his Star's Delight. Even
so, she seems to have an encyclopedic understanding of the phantom
X-wing's flightswhich she claims is because studying it was a hobby for
her--and full knowledge of her crime. Of this 'Xeno' she claims is the
ringleader of her slicer circus we have no record, and her speculation
that he is a member of the Delight's crew that eluded capture is one
more black mark against us."
Eamon Yzalli nodded slightly as he slid the silver tray with the
refilled snifter of Cassandran choholl. "Regrettable, sir. On the
whole, one could be led to believe by all this that she knows nothing
beyond what she has already revealed."
Barris took the glass and warmed it in his hands for a moment.
more a child than adult but that is standard among the adults here.
This damned world is so fertile that the great agri-combines need
nothing more than droids to tend the crops and accountants to tend the
profits. The people of Garqi are pampered and unrealistic, hardly
fodder for the Rebellion."
He drank in just enough of the Cassandran liquor to fill the hollow of
his tongue, and let it pool there for as long
as it took for the fragrant, fruity vapors to fill his sinuses.
"Of course, that is what she wants us to believe."
"What is, sir?"
"That she is too innocent to be part of the Rebellion."
Barris looked up at his green-eyed aide. "I cannot and will not be
tricked by her. A long time ago I did nothing in a situation that
called for action. I was deceived and I have paid for it since. It
was a long time ago . . . but I have told you of it before, yes?"
The blond man returned to the sideboard and replaced the tray before
turning and nodding to his master.
"I do recall having been told something of the alien incident, sir."
"Yes, the alien incident." Barris stared darkly into the depths of the
amber liquor. An alien--both humanoid and intelligent had run him and
his men around in circles on a planet that was--if it were
possible-even more of a backwater than Garqi. This alien had killed
his men, had brought down a TIE fighter and had even slain two
stormtroopers using technology he stole from the Imperials in
combination with native plants and animals. I advocated a planetary
bombardment to rid us of this menace, but Captain Parck invited this
murderous creature to join the Empire. The Emperor chose that time to
forego his normal xenopho-bia.
He advanced Parck's career, gave this Thrawn a career, and started me
on the long road from one humiliating post to another.
Barris had hoped the Emperor's hatred for him would die with the man,
but the Imperial institutional memory seemed to cherish the idea of
taking him lower and lower.
The man who had ousted Barris from his last post had been disciplined
for having allowed the last Jedi Knight to' escape Tatooine and murder
the Emperor. That man's punishment had pushed Barris even further from
the Galactic Core to the mottled red and p
urple world that was Garqi.
"I swore, Eamon, I swore that I would never let an opportunity to act
decisively and forcefully slip away with
out redeeming myself.
Uncovering and smashing the Rebels here on Garqi would allow me to do
that."
"If I may be permitted, sir, you have an abundance of time in which to
learn from Dynba Tesc what you need to accomplish this end.
You have only had her for two days.
She will break."
Barris tossed back the choholl and gritted his teeth against the fiery
feeling it ignited in his throat and gut.
"Would that what you say was true. I just received a priority message
via a courier droid that indicated Kirtan Loor, an Intelligence agent,
is being sent here by Coruscant to investigate. He will brief me on
his arrival as to what his mission is, but we both know he is coming
here to investigate me. He will find me deficient in some way and I
will be sent to some other world that is even more wretched than
this."
"I understand your alarm, sir."
"I think you do, Eamon, for we are alike, aren't we?"
"How so, sir?"
"We are both unhomed. I am hounded from post to post, with no claim to
any world. You, on the other hand, are an Alderaanian, and without a