by Steve Perry
She sighed. She hoped Chewie had gotten away. Not that it would do her much good, but at least if he’d made it, he could fill Luke and Lando in, so they’d know to get Luke as far away from Black Sun as possible. Luke would want to come and rescue her, but Lando was a realist; he should be able to talk Luke out of it. They needed to be free, to rescue Han. That was the important thing.
Forgive me, Han, for what I almost did. It was a drug, I know, but I’m sorry I was so weak.
When she saw him again—well, if she saw him again—maybe she would tell him about it. Then again, maybe not. No point in upsetting him, right?
The idea of seeing Han again made her feel momentarily better, but she had to admit that her chances didn’t seem particularly good just now.
She sat on the bed and considered her options. At the moment, she didn’t seem to have an awful lot of them.
She leaned back, stretched out. One of the things she’d learned while working with the Alliance’s military personnel was: When in doubt, take a nap. Never knew when you would get the chance again.
Not that she thought she’d be able to sleep, given all that was going on. She’d just lie here and try to relax for a few moments.
She surprised herself by dropping into a deep sleep almost immediately.
Lando didn’t want to stop, but Luke insisted.
“Look, I trust the Force and it’s telling me Leia is in danger. So let’s just put in a call and check, okay?”
“Can’t it wait until we get to Tatooine?”
“No.”
Lando sighed. “All right. But you remember I did this. You owe me one.”
He dropped the Falcon out of hyperspace.
“How do we call?” Luke asked.
Lando smiled. “I’ve got a little surprise for you. Han isn’t the only one who can rig the Falcon.”
“What do you mean?”
Lando put the ship on automatic control and led Luke to the aft cargo hold. He pointed at a device mounted on one wall.
“That looks like a comm unit.”
“Bright boy. Go ahead, make your call.”
Luke punched in the relay codes that Lando gave him while the gambler kept fiddling with the override to make sure the communication wasn’t tapped.
Dash didn’t answer, but there was a recorded computer response.
Luke turned to Lando. “Do we have the ‘play message’ code?”
“Yes.” Lando gave it to him.
The image that ghosted into being surprised them. A Wookiee with a bad haircut. Luke didn’t recognize him at first. Until he started talking. Yelling was more like it.
Chewie!
“What?” Lando said.
“What is it?”
“Oh, no!”
“Lando!”
Lando translated. “Leia is being held on Coruscant by Black Sun. They tried to kill Chewie but he escaped—the princess made him go, it wasn’t his idea—”
Abruptly the transmission ended.
“What happened?”
“I dunno, my codes just went blank. Somebody must have reported the override’s theft.” He pulled the override from the comm unit’s slot and tossed the electronic card on the floor.
“Let’s go,” Luke said.
“To Tatooine, right?”
“Wrong.”
“Somehow I knew you were gonna say that. We can’t go to Coruscant! It’s too dangerous.”
“You can stay here if you want.”
“Luke …”
“Leia needs my help. I’m going.”
Lando stared at the ceiling for a moment, then shook his head. “Why me? Why do these things always happen to me?”
Time and space shivered, and the Millennium Falcon dropped out of hyper- and into realspace.
Luke glanced at the control screens. “We’re still a pretty long way off,” he said. “It’ll take days to get there.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Lando said. “We’re not talking about some backrocket world with two cities and a small town on it. Coruscant is one big building complex that almost covers the entire planet. The space around it is filled with skyhooks, wheel-worlds, power sats, and a whole river of commercial and private traffic, not to mention a great big chunk of the Imperial Navy. It’s like a huge canopy, and the holes in it are real tiny. We aren’t going to sail merrily past all that in this ship. My guess is that the Falcon is plastered on computer wanted screens all over the galaxy and, sure as lizards like sunshine, on every security scanner here in the center of the Empire. I don’t think a swiped security code is gonna get us past. We won’t do Leia any good locked in an Imperial prison.”
“I get your point.”
“So we work our way in slow and try to figure out something. Got any bright ideas?”
Luke thought about it. “Well, actually, yes.”
Lando blinked. “Yeah? Let’s hear it.”
Luke told him.
“I don’t know about this,” Lando said.
“Hey, Han did it—and on a Star Destroyer and not a droid-operated robotic freighter, too.” Luke paused a second. Then said, “If you want, I’ll take over.”
Lando raised his eyebrows. “Listen, I taught Han that trick.”
Luke smiled.
In theory, it ought to work. They were near the freighter lanes leading to and from Coruscant. Here was where the big vessels lumbered along, bulk freighters or container ships, in restricted channels. To be there, you had to be flying something that hauled a couple hundred metric tons or more. While the law said there had to be somebody other than droids on board one of the big ships, that law was usually ignored and seldom enforced, especially when it was somebody delivering goods for the Empire. A droid programmed to ferry ships in and out of gravity wells wasn’t apt to be paying a lot of attention to what went on around it once it got into the lanes—the system’s vack-traffic-control took care of all that, so sneaking up to the belly or backside of a big freighter ought to be as easy as snapping your fingers. After that, you just had to stay in its shadow all the way down until you were off the grid and into planetary Doppler. The Falcon had jammers that should take care of that without any problems—a bright ten-year-old could build a decent jammer from an old microwave cooker and a couple of detuned repulsor grids.
The trick was to match the speed and course of the bigger vessel so you’d stay in exactly the same place relative to it. A good pilot should be able to manage it, but if he zigged when he should zag, well, that might mean getting vaporized by an Imperial picket ship or a planetary defense battery. But it was doable if you had the nerve and the skill. It ought to work—in theory.
Yes, the Empire had rings of ships around the planet, but they were designed to stop an attacking force. Space was too big for them to be able to see everything, and what was a single ship going to be able to do to a whole planet, especially if—as the Alliance did—your enemy refused to attack and destroy civilian targets anyway?
“Ready?” Lando said.
“Ready,” Luke said.
“We’re ready, too,” Threepio said. “If anyone cares.”
Artoo whistled.
Lando grinned. “Hang on. Here we go.”
The freighter moving in their general direction was a big one, actually a modified tug towing a series of closely linked cylindrical cargo containers, arranged in a long ring. Each of these containers was as big as the Falcon, and each was hung with orbital braking rockets. It was a bit small for a supertransport, but the ship’s cargo was probably pushing eight or nine hundred m-tons, not exactly tiny. The freighter put out a bounce signal identifying it as the ISO—Independent Ship Owners’—vessel Tuk Prevoz, registered on Imperial Center and flying under contract to Xizor Transportation Systems.
Lando brought the Falcon around in a long, shallow arc, almost a hemispherical 180, first heading away from the freighter, then behind and under its belly.
“This ought to be right in their sensor shadow,” h
e said.
Luke nodded. Big ships had plenty of blind spots, especially those towing large cargoes. If they could stay in the sensor shadow as they approached, the crew couldn’t spot them. Once they were safely next to one of the cargo containers, nobody in the ship would be able to visually tag them, and, unless they passed within spitting distance of one of the picket line ships, no Imperial eyes would be able to make them out, either.
Luke looked at the scopes. Lando was dead on his flight plan. A degree or two either way and the crew on the freighter might get a blip on their scopes, but so far, so good.
The cargo containers loomed bigger. Problem with visual flying out here in the outvack was perspective; movement became pretty subjective. Relatively speaking, either they were getting closer or the freighter was dropping down upon them, and when you got right down to it, it didn’t matter—as long as they stayed on the line inside the sensor shadow.
Lando moved his hands precisely, like a microsurgeon splicing nerves. The Falcon slowed, slowed … stopped.
The surface of the nearest cargo pod was three meters away.
“Good job,” Luke said. Despite his giving Lando a hard time, he was a good pilot.
“Yeah, but that’s the easy part. Now we got to stay with this boomer until we get into atmosphere and he drops his cargo into a spiral-in orbit. I’m shutting down the transponder and nonessential systems. We don’t want anybody seeing our lights or picking up active sensors. From here on in, it’s seat-of-the-pants.”
“You thought about what we’re going to do once we land?”
Lando snorted. “Let’s worry about landing first, how about? I know some people, I have a few contacts. We’ll be okay.”
Luke nodded. He hoped Lando was right.
Of course, they might stray off course on the way to the planet and get roasted by a coherent light battery and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Not that that made him feel any better.
He reached out, tried to find Leia, using the Force. Pushed to the limit of his abilities …
Nothing. If she was there, he was too far away to touch her.
Well. They’d be closer soon. If they survived, he would try again.
If they survived.
Sitting naked in his chamber and working on his healing meditation, Darth Vader frowned. There was a disturbance in the Force. He reached for it with the power of the dark side …
He could not connect with it, whatever it was.
Abruptly the sensation of a ripple passed.
The dark side still had surprises for him. Like a fire, it could warm or burn, and great care must be taken not to trip and fall into it. He had seen what extensive use had done to the Emperor; it had eaten away at him physically. But that would not happen to Vader, for he intended to master the dark side. He was well on the way. It would be only a matter of how long, of when, not if. And when he finally snared Luke, the process would go faster. Two powerful magnets would attract more of the dark energy than one. Together they would manipulate the Force quicker than either could alone.
So strong, the boy. Who could have known? Luke Skywalker—his son—might well be the most powerful man in the galaxy.
He allowed himself a smile, even though the expression stretched scar tissue and was painful. He could withstand pain.
He was the Dark Lord of the Sith, and he could withstand anything.
30
“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Master Luke. I believe it would be much better if Artoo and I went with you and Master Lando.”
Artoo cheeped his agreement.
“Look, you’ll be fine here on the ship,” Luke said. “We need you here in case we need help. Besides, it’ll be a lot more dangerous out there than in here.”
“Ah. Well, in that case, perhaps we should stay here.”
Artoo cheeped.
“No, you heard Master Luke, he needs us on the ship in case anything goes wrong.”
“Wrong, what could possibly go wrong?” Lando said. “Just because we’ve got huge rewards posted everywhere in the galaxy for us, dead or alive, and we’ve plunked ourselves down smack in the black and evil heart of the Empire?”
Luke shook his head. “Come on. Where would be the last place you’d look for us if you were an Imperial operative or a bounty hunter?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. They’d figure nobody would be that stupid. Lucky for us they don’t know we are that stupid.”
Luke shook his head. All this banter was an attempt to make light of the situation. The truth was, this was dangerous, no two ways about it. To Threepio, he said in a more serious voice, “Look, I’ll be honest. There’s a good chance we won’t make it back. If that happens, don’t call the Alliance for help. There’s no point in putting any part of the fleet in jeopardy.”
Threepio said, “I understand.”
Artoo whistled and cheeped rapidly. The tone was upset.
Luke looked at the little droid. He squatted down and laid one hand on his dome. “Just stand by the comm, okay? We’ll call you if we need you. If we get in trouble, you can try to come and get us. Threepio has the hands and feet, you have the astronavigational skills. I’m sure the two of you working together can fly the Falcon in an emergency.”
“There’s a happy thought,” Lando said. “Han knew that, it would thaw him out faster than a laser torch.” Lando was still trying to keep things cheery, but Luke imagined the gambler had a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, too. This was not going to be a piece of cake.
Artoo did not seem to think very much of the idea of flying the Falcon, either.
“Don’t be rude,” Threepio said. “I wasn’t always a protocol droid, you know. I’ve programmed converters, and I once ran a shovel loader for an entire standard month. I’ve watched Master Han and Master Lando and Chewbacca often enough. I daresay I can pilot this ship better than you can!”
Artoo made more rude noises.
“Oh, really? Well, at least I don’t look like an overgrown garbage can!”
“Come on, Luke,” Lando said. “If we’re going to go, we need to get moving. We can get ourselves some disguises, and if we hurry, we can be underground before daylight. These two will argue all night.”
“Okay.” Luke rose from his squat. “See you in a little while.”
“Do be careful, Master Luke.”
Artoo seconded that.
Luke hoped he didn’t look as grave as he felt. “We will.”
Lando already had his disguise in place. His head was wrapped in a beggar’s scarf and cowl, his normal clothes hidden under a ragged robe. Luke donned similar garb and covered the lower part of his face as well.
Outside the huge building, Luke and Lando worked their way through a relatively sparsely populated area. There weren’t many spots completely void of occupants, but this area was in the southern hemisphere not far from the pole—and it was cold. There were apparently more comfortable places to live and work. Lando had a “business associate” who owed him a favor, and he paid it by allowing them to hide the Millennium Falcon in a warehouse that was half full of what looked like dried plankton and smelled a lot like a Tatooine landfill in the heat of summer.
“Just how many people owe you favors?”
Lando flashed his bright smile. “A whole lot of them who should never gamble. Lucky for me they do.”
“So now what?”
“We catch a ride into the Southern Underground. Keep that lightsaber out of sight but close to hand—this is not the kind of place you want to take your granny for tea, if you know what I mean.”
“Bad as Mos Eisley?”
“Parts of it are worse.”
“Great. Why are we going to such a delightful part of this chrome-plated planet, anyhow?”
Lando led them down a narrow, twisting alley. Luke saw that he kept his hand on his blaster as they moved. The air was frigid; it clawed at the jacket Luke wore, nipped at his ears, and turned their breaths to crisp, white fog as th
ey moved.
Lando paused at the end of the alley, peeped out, then continued to the next confined passageway. “Well, it’s like this. You ever hear of the celebrated shipjacker Evet Scy’rrep?”
“Sure, I used to watch Galactic Bandits on the holoproj as a kid. They based a whole series on him. He knocked off something like fifteen starliners, got away with millions of credits and jewels. But they caught him eventually.”
“That’s right. At his trial, somebody asked him why he robbed luxury cruisers. And Scy’rrep said, ‘Because that’s where the credits are.’ ”
Luke smiled and shook his head.
Lando said, “We’re going into a cesspool of a place because that’s where my contacts are.”
“Lead on. I hope it’ll be warmer than here.”
Xizor was in his bath, a sunken tub carved from dense black garden stone and large enough to seat ten comfortably. He spent a lot of time bathing, part of his species’ heritage. The Falleen were born of the water, and it was always nice to return to it. Vapor rose from the hot water, bringing with it the scent of the eukamint oil that swirled in the tub. Blowers sent soothing waves and bubbles circulating through the liquid. Here was a place where he allowed himself to relax totally. There was no holoproj, no comlink, no admittance, save for himself and any guests he wished to entertain. And Guri, of course. He would sometimes have music piped in, when the mood struck him, but otherwise, he wanted nothing to intrude on his peace while he soaked away the day’s tensions.
He leaned back against the warmed stone and sipped a mild after-dinner drink, a smoky blend of wormwood and spice extract, just potent enough to add an inner glow to the water’s warmth around him. Life always looked better from in here. Things were almost perfect.
He’d invited Leia to join him but she had declined to do so.
Things were … almost perfect.
Guri strode into the bathroom and stopped next to the tub.
“You know I hate to be disturbed here,” he said. Which was, he realized even as he spoke, a pointless thing to say. Guri would not have bothered him if whatever she wanted had been something that could wait.
She produced a small com. “The Emperor,” she said.
