Alerted by her cry, Quarle turned back. Suddenly nauseated, and dizzied
by the burning pain, she faltered just outside the door and struggled to get
her bearings. "Which way?" she managed from between gritted teeth.
Quarle hesitated, but far behind him down the corridor, two stormtroopers
rounded the corner and the question suddenly became moot. Her arm felt
engulfed in flames, but she managed to fire a few discouraging bursts their
way before turning to run. As blaster fire echoed down the corridor, she felt
more than heard Quarle close on her heels.
They hadn't gone more than fifty meters before he pushed her firmly to
the right and slapped at a door panel there. Selby let him guide her, bursting
into a long, narrow room with no doors other than the one they'd just come
through. "Where're we going?" she demanded, pain making the question come out
harsh.
"Somewhere safe," Quarle said, just as shortly. He felt along the blank
wall on the far end of the room while Selby restlessly prowled, scanning the
room for possible avenues of escape. She was relieved to be out of the
immediate line of fire, but with no apparent way out, that relief was sure to
be short-lived. And the stormtroopers would be here any moment-
Turning back to Quarle, she was startled to see an old-fashioned swing
door in the far wall where she was positive none had previously existed.
"Hurry up," he said, and proved the door wasn't a mirage by pushing it open
and stepping into the darkness beyond.
Selby hastened into the narrow passage beside him, and watched as he did
something at a panel set in the back of the wall. The light streaming in the
open door suddenly changed. When Selby looked through it to the room beyond,
it was like looking through a gauzy curtain.
She flinched as the door at the far side burst open. One at a time, two
stormtroopers leapt into the room with weapons at the ready. But
astonishingly, they spared no more than a cursory glance at the far wall. She
realized then that they must see the same blank wall she'd seen when first
entering the room, and looked at the gauzy curtain with new respect.
Holoflage-some of the best holoflage she'd ever seen-concealed the secret door
from prying eyes.
"I'm impressed," she murmured tightly as Quarle shut the door, flicked on
a glowrod, and led the way down the dark passage. Her arm throbbed with each
step. "Very impressed. How did you know it was there?"
"Old family secret." He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "My
grandfather was Corlin Quarle Deld."
A moment later, the name clicked. "Verkuylian
BactaCo's principal owner," she said, and he nodded. Selby nodded, too,
as the pieces fell more neatly into place. No wonder Quarle masqueraded as an
Imperial while secretly plotting revolt. His family had owned the whole planet
before the Empire took it over.
She thought of the holoflage and felt a renewed stirring of hope. "Got
any other family secrets I'd like to know about?" she inquired.
Quarle paused before a door. Beyond, the passage disappeared into
darkness. Crouching, he shined the glowrod on a dusty keypad and punched in a
series of numbers. A lock snicked, and he opened the door to reveal a tiny
room.
"I might," he said finally, locking the door again behind them. "But we
need to figure out what we're going to do here. It's obvious that whatever
plan you and your partner came here with has fallen apart, and my cover's been
blown as well. At this point, just getting out alive seems the best we can
hope for."
"That's not good enough." Selby shook her head. "If I can get word to the
fleet, there's a chance we can still pull this off."
Quarle looked at her sharply. "The fleet?"
"There's a small New Republic battle force nearby waiting for a signal
from Claris-or rather," she amended, "a signal from me, before jumping in.
Once it shows up, unless Ein has a Star Destroyer or two hidden in his back
"I see," Quarle said slowly. He gazed off a moment, thinking, then
slanted her a faint smile. "And no, he doesn't." The grin faded as his eyes
went to her injured arm. "Why don't you tell me what's going on while we take
care of that burn?" he suggested. "We'll figure out where to go from there."
The medpac he produced contained only the mildest anesthetic, so Selby
was just as glad to focus on describing the mission as Quarle gently cleaned
the burn and slathered a viscous green gel over it. "Unstabilized alazhi," he
said at her doubtful look. "Not quite as effective as refined bacta, but it'll
certainly help."
It did. The cool gel soothed the burn and, as it hardened, provided a
protective coating which made bandaging unnec. Selby flexed the arm
experimentally, relieved to find the movement elicited only a dull throb of
protest.
"So," she said. "What do you think?"
"It's your arm." Quarle raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
"The arm's fine," she said, giving him a faint smile in thanks. "I meant,
what next? Can you get me access to a subspace comm unit?"
He pursed his lips thoughtfully and sat back. "Probably," he allowed,
then paused. "One question, though. What were the fleet's orders if it never
got a signal? Send someone to investigate, orjust go on home?"
"They wouldn't abandon us," Selby said. "They'd try to find out what
happened."
"So someone would eventually show up to find out why the signal never
came?"
"They wouldn't abandon us, "Selby said again, feeling a twinge deep
inside that, on the uncertain chance she could salvage the mission, she had
basically abandoned Vartos back there in the generator room. She knew that if
she failed, Intelligence would eventually send someone to investigate, but at
that point the mission would simply mean extracting the surviving team
members, if there were any, and pulling out. Vartos and Claris would have been
lost in vain, the rebelling Verkuylian workers would be purged, and the Empire
would win-perhaps permanently. Without enough support from the workers who
were left, the New Republic would probably not return.
"I see," Quarle said. "So it's call the fleet now, or never get another
chance."
"Looks that way," Selby agreed. She hesitated. "I'm sorry-this could get
a lot messier than originally planned. IfEin starts rounding up workers, using
them as hostages... we can still win, but victory may come at a higher price."
Quarle's cheek twitched. "All things worth having usually do."
"There could be fighting, in orbit or on the ground," she warned. "Will
it be worth it to you?"
He looked at her. In his eyes, she saw grim acceptance.
"I want what's best for Verkuyl," he said. "If bloodshed is what it
takes-was He looked away. "I'll regret it, but I'll learn to live with it.
"Now." He abruptly changed the subject. "I can think of three subspace
comms we might be able to get to. Let's figure out which one would be best to
try for...."
If she'd known of all the Hall's hidden passages la
st night, Selby
reflected as she followed Quarle down a narrow corridor, getting up to the
Governor's office undetected would've been as easy as shooting mynocks off a
power coupling.
The Hall had proven a virtual warren of hidden passages. Quarle's
grandfather had been a careful, one might even say paranoid, businessman-which
was fortuitous, given the present circumstances. It meant they could move
within the Hall with astonishing freedom, only needing to leave cover to call
the fleet. Selby smiled to think that when the Imperials, no doubt monitoring
outgoing subspace transmissions, came running to investigate the call, all
they'd find were unconscious guards in an empty room. She and Quarle would
slip back into hiding to await the fleet's arrival before confronting Ein.
"We're almost there," Quarle said quietly, pausing at an intersection.
"Before we go any further, I want to check the situation outside, see what
we're up against."
"Sounds good," she murmured back. "Lead on."
He hesitated, then turned to look at her. "I'd rather do it alone," he
said. "I know the passage system. You don't. And this way, if I get caught
there'll still be one of us left to finish the job."
Selby frowned. It made sense, but she did not particularly want to split
up. Quarle didn't have a blaster and would be unable to protect himself if he
ran into trouble. She felt another twinge, remembering Vartos. Team members
were supposed to watch each other's backs. She briefly considered giving him
her own blaster for the reconnoiter, but decided not to. Intelligence had
taught her to watch her own back first.
Quarle's eyes dropped to the blaster, too, but when she didn't offer it,
he didn't ask. "You wait here," he told her. "I shouldn't be gone too long."
Selby nodded. He looked at her a long moment more, as if wanting to say
something else, but then merely nodded, too. Turning, he started around the
corner-
"Watch your back," she said softly.
He glanced back, raised that eyebrow. "Always," he assured her, and
strode away.
Once he was gone, Selby leaned back against the narrow passage's wall and
sighed. Alone with her thoughts for the first time since the shoot-out in the
generator room, she could not get Vartos's face out of her mind. Had it simply
been incredibly bad luck, his being discovered by the stormtroopers? Or had
Claris already been "persuaded" to talk about her fellow operatives?
Which reminded her-
She reached up, slipping off the now-useless earsculpt. Holding it in her
palm, she stared at it thoughtfully.
Claris must have talked, she decided. For the eavesdropper to have cut
out so quickly and unexpectedly after her arrest, the Imperials must have
known exactly what to look for. She fingered the smooth curve of the metal,
feeling it gently flex, then brought it up close to study the intricate
scrollwork doubling as a tiny speaker.
When Quarle's voice sounded from it, she froze.
With hands that suddenly felt like ice, Selby held the device against her
ear. Silence; only her pulse pounding in her head. She frowned, carefully
flexed the earsculpt again, and this time whatever weak connection inside the
receiver that had apparently caused it to cut out now held. She listened,
growing colder with each word.
Tafno has promised backup within six hours," Ein was saying. "Two
Dreadnaughts at least, maybe more. Convince her to delay making the call until
then. When the Rebels arrive, they'll find a fleet with a little firepower of
our own waiting for them-not the easy pickings they expect."
"Yes, of course. Your Excellency," Quarle said. "But how do you propose I
convince her? We are nearly in position to make the call now. She'll want to
know why we should wait."
A long pause. Selby could barely breathe for the tight feeling in her
throat. "Tell her that we've imposed satellite silence," the Governor finally
said. "Due to this terrorist threat, I've ordered a temporary ban on outgoing
subspace comm traffic. Tell her the satellite relays have been shut down-but
that a very old, unofficial relay placed in orbit by your grandfather will be
within transmissible range in, oh, about six hours. And that you- - only you-
know how to access it."
Ein chuckled dryly. "You know, Daven, you may have hated the old man, but
you must admit being Corlin Quarle Deld's grandson has put you in a unique
position to realize his visions forVerkuyl."
"It's the only thing it ever has done for me," Quarle said. "The rest of
the time, I'd as soon forget the tyrant ever existed."
"I shouldn't worry about it," Ein said. "No one holds it against you.
You've already done more to make Verkuyl the success it is today than your
grandfather ever could have. Your service to the Empire will long be
remembered."
When Quarle rounded the corner, he found Selby waiting for him.
He stopped short at the sight of the blaster she held pointed at his
chest. His eyes took in the steadiness of her aim, then brushed past to settle
on her face. "Trouble?" he asked.
"How is it," she began conversationally, "that Corlin Quarle Deld's
grandson ends up on the same side of the Empire that stole his home and
destroyed his family's company?"
Quarle moved a few steps closer. Her aim did not waver. He stopped.
"BactaCo has hardly been destroyed," he said. "In fact, we currently have
more business than we can handle. And the new refinery will increase both
production and profits."
"I see," Selby said. Although determined to remain as cool about this as
he, she felt her eyes narrow. "Then you don't care what the Empire does to
Verkuyl, so long as the company gets its share of the credits."
He raised that eyebrow, and she had to fight back a sudden, violent urge
to wipe that calm look off his face. "Those credits are what feed and clothe
the workers, Selby. That's what a company is all about - comproviding goods or
services for a price. To whom, it doesn't matter. Don't kid yourself that it
was any different in my grandfather's day, and don't think your New Republic's
motives are any more pure. When it comes to running a company, the
accumulation of credits is the bottom line."
"At least your grandfather came by the company honestly," she bit out.
"He bought the planet, built the refineries, brought in the workers. He didn't
steal it from its rightful owners in the name of the Empire and enslave its
workers. He-was
"Don't preach that Rebel propaganda to me," Quarle broke in sharply. "He
did do that-and worse, he did it in the name of free trade. At least when the
Empire took over, Verkuyl began giving something back to the workers, not just
producing credits to satisfy my grandfather's greed."
He stopped, took a breath to compose himself. "Do you know how he got
workers to come to Verkuyl?" he continued, a little more quietly. "Remember,
this was before the Empire. People needed jobs, and they were willing to do
almost anything to get them. To sell themselves into slavery, even. And so
they did.
"In exchange for their passage here and the privilege of working in my
grandfather's refineries, they signed on for ten-year terms, at the end of
which they were promised a share of stock of the company they'd labored to
help build. My grandfather called it indenture," he added bitterly, "but it
was slavery."
Selby said nothing. Indentured servitude wasn't like being your own boss,
free and clear, but it wasn't slavery, either. Both parties willingly entered
into an agreement, and at the end of the contract-
"Wlien the contract expired, most of the workers were so deeply in debt
that even with their share of the stock, they couldn't get out," Quarle said.
"Once they cashed out and paid off what they owed, there wasn't enough left
over to leave. So they stayed."
She frowned. "How'd they get so far in debt?"
"The Company Store, of course," he said. "Most of the workers brought
families with them, or married and started families once they arrived. My
grandfather provided basic food and housing-soup kitchens and barracks-but
anything else cost extra. A lot extra. It added up. By the time the Empire
arrived to nationalize BactaCo, ninety out of every one hundred workers were
so deep in debt they didn't even get credit vouchers on payday. The wages were
simply transferred straight to their delinquent accounts."
He gave Selby a bitter smile. "If the Republic really wanted to liberate