Tales From The Empire

by Peter Schweighofer

  make a life for himself.

  He was now officially Tinian's Second Undersupervisor and the very

  center of her life. She let him attach the pauldrons over her

  shoulders. They dangled to cover her elbows, enclosing her upper body

  with a loose, ill-fitting box. Field conduits clacked against each

  other when she turned toward Daye. If only she could reassure him-"I

  know why you're doing this." He leaned close and stared down at her.

  "I don't like it, but I understand. No one ever calls you a coward and

  gets away with it." He squeezed her forearm. "Force be with you,

  love."

  As he backed away, Tinian rotated a control on the breastplate.

  The first time she'd seen this field demonstrated, she'd worried at

  this point. The field didn't hum, buzz, sparkle, or even glimmer.

  "Grandfather?"

  As if awakening from the dead, he raised a small luma.

  Tinian held out her arm to one side. He switched on the luma. No

  bright spot appeared on her sleeve.

  "As energy encounters the anti-energy field," Grandfather said,

  regaining his voice, "the field responds and cancels it. We're now

  certain the field is operating."

  "Ready, Tinian?" the Moff asked. His voice was as bland as if he

  were inviting her to sit down for lunch instead of ordering her out in

  front of a firing squad.

  Tinian stalked to the wave trap, feeling ridiculous inside the enormous

  bucket, pauldrons, and body glove.

  Built like a pocket at one end of the spacious demonstration room, the

  wave trap's baffled duracrete walls and floor angled together to absorb

  unthinkable bursts of energy.

  Tiny shadowed pits in its walls gave evidence of past demonstrations.

  At least she couldn't smell the room anymore. Even without a helmet,

  the odor had stopped registering several minutes ago.

  Daye stood close to the barricade, frowning. She drew up tall--for her

  height--and barely smiled across at him.

  Wrrl edged toward the code panel.

  Kerioth swept his swagger stick toward three storm-troopers.

  "You three. Rifles," he snapped. They marched forward. Daye held

  both hands down at his sides. Usually, he kept one or both casually

  tucked in a pocket.

  Tinian stared at the blast rifles. Those weren't the shiny new factory

  items she generally dealt with.

  Daye glared at the nearest stormtrooper.

  "Ready," snapped the Moff. Three rifles lifted. "Aim for weak

  spots."

  Kerioth turned to eye Tinian. His lip curled. Evidently he enjoyed

  watching the I'att contingent sweat.

  She knew that the armor worked. But staring down three rifle shafts,

  she momentarily lost control of her panic.

  Instantly, Daye's face reflected her fear. He spun toward the trooper

  and tentatively reached for his rifle.

  "Now," Kerioth ordered.

  Three vermilion energy beams whizzed at Tinian's chest. She flinched,

  but she couldn't dodge quickly enough. Heat flashed over her back and

  shoulders despite the bucket's extra insulation. Daye froze and

  stared, stricken.

  "Cease fire." Kerioth twirled his swagger stick.

  Tinian straightened back up, let out her breath, then smiled weakly at

  Daye. The sale was as good as made.

  She'd done it, though she wished she hadn't tried to duck.

  Daye thrust a hand into his pocket and frowned. Her momentary panic

  had probably jabbed him deeper than it'd frightened her.

  Kerioth slipped a comlink out of his belt sheath.

  "Squads three, four, and five: seal entrances. No traffic or

  communication off grounds."

  "Excuse me?" Grandfather stepped forward, obviously as confused as

  Tinian abruptly felt. "Sir, what is the meaning of this?"

  Moff Kerioth tapped Grandfather's shoulder with his swagger stick.

  "Congratulations, I'att. I am buying your product."

  "You sealed our entrances."

  Kerioth clasped his hands at the small of his back. "It would be

  unfortunate if insurrectionist elements learned that we'd found a way

  to make stormtrooper armor invincible, would it not?"

  We found a way? Tinian silently protested.

  Grandmother Augusta glided forward, rustling her robes. "Our security

  has always been unparalleled, Moff Kerioth. You need have no fear

  concerning our--" "Naturally, then," continued Moff Kerioth, "you

  understand that everyone who has worked above certain levels on this

  project must return with me to the Doldur system. This item must be

  manufactured under strictly regulated conditions. The New Order

  controls Doldur right down to food prices. It is the safest world for

  advanced military manufacturing."

  It's your turf, Tinian realized. You want this manufactured where you

  can watch.

  Grandfather's eyes narrowed. "I am sorry, but this family cannot

  travel. Augusta needs medical care."

  Tinian fingered the black body glove's sleeve selvage.

  "After all these years of hard work, they deserve peaceful

  retirement," she protested. "Daye and I are prepared to run the

  plant.

  We'll . . ." She hesitated, then plunged on. It was the only way.

  "We'll go to Doldur with you. But Grandfather and Grandmother are

  retiring to Geridard."

  "No," said Kerioth. "You will return to Doldur with me. All of

  you."

  "Sir," Augusta spoke up, "I apologize for making things difficult, but

  our application for the Geridard Convalescent Center has already been

  processed. We've advanced them 90,000 credits for life care."

  Kerioth turned away. He tilted his chin as if rereading the I'atts'

  requests off the ceiling. When he pivoted back around, his

  condescending smile had returned. "You will not travel to Doldur? I

  cannot convince you?"

  "Unfortunately, sir, it's impossible." Strephan folded his arms over

  his black uniform's decorated breast.

  "Perhaps not so unfortunate. That enables me to dispose of your

  retirement and health worries simultaneously."

  Kerioth swung his swagger stick at the nearest stormtrooper.

  "Take them both."

  Before Tinian understood, the stormtrooper whipped up his blast rifle

  and fired twice. Grandfather Strephan tumbled to the duracrete.

  Augusta gasped before she collapsed over Strephan.

  They didn't move again. Too shocked to protest, Tinian covered her

  mouth with both hands. Daye bent his knees, ready to lunge. "Why did

  you do that?" he whispered.

  Kerioth angled his swagger stick like a weapon at Daye's chest.

  "I'll let you youngsters in on a secret," he announced.

  "I have been sponsoring research into this type of anti-blaster energy

  field on Doldur. Emperor Palpatine will be most grateful when I

  present this invention as my own . . . with all the uncooperatives out

  of the way.

  "You do wish to cooperate?" he asked blandly. Grandfather!

  Grandmother! Stunned by her grief and horror, Tinian had to survive

  .

  . . to avenge them. She nodded. Say yes! she mentally begged Daye.

  He straightened slowly, but he didn't speak.

  Kerioth shrugged. "Binders for t
he boy," he ordered another trooper.

  "How long and how comfortably you live, boy, will depend on how well

  you cooperate." He stressed the word again.

  Daye adjusted his stance, turning both feet out slightly.

  One trooper reached into a utility-belt compartment.

  Tinian glanced from the trooper to Daye. Daye eyed the trooper.

  Daye had learned some self-defense from Wrrl.

  He could move faster than anyone expected.

  She must create a distraction.

  "Wrrl!" she cried. "Help!" She spun around and dashed for the

  door.

  Wrrl's roar frightened even Tinian. He slammed the code panel with one

  gigantic paw. A transparisteel blast wall plunged out of the ceiling,

  trapping Kerioth and two stormtroopers on the inside.

  But four troopers remained. Wrrl rushed the pair blocking the exit,

  lifted each by a shoulder, and bashed their helmets together.

  Tinian sprang through.

  "Go left!" Daye shouted behind her. "Wrrl, stay with Tinian!"

  Tinian whirled left and tried to run. One of her loose leggings

  tripped her. Blaster fire whizzed over her head.

  Wrrl tried to scoop her up with long shaggy arms. Fur shriveled where

  he touched her.

  "Don't!" she cried. The field unpredictably damaged living flesh that

  touched it. Tinian scrambled to her feet. Wrrl sprinted past a

  bewildered-looking service droid. She caught a' whiff of burned fur.

  "Daye?" she cried. "Wrrl, where's--" Wrrl shrieked something about

  separating the storm-troopers.

  They reached the lift tube. Tinian jumped onto its floor grid.

  It didn't activate to carry her upward. "They've shut it oft" she

  cried.

  Wrrl stepped in front of her, clearly inviting her to climb onto his

  back: There was no other way out of this bottleneck. Tinian switched

  off the armor field, vaulted up, and clenched her hands in front of

  Wrrl's throat, hoping nobody shot at them. Singed, matted fur brushed

  her face. The stormtrooper-sized breastplate dug into her stomach.

  Wrrl leaped up the shaft wall, catching enormous claws-she hadn't even

  known that he had claws!--in its duracrete sides. Powerful muscles

  rippled under Tinian's hold. She clenched her knees around his sides,

  trying to keep her weight from choking him.

  He dragged his weight and hers up to the main floor. A security droid

  rolled toward them, four claw-mounted blasters and scanners installed

  atop a perfectly balanced sphere. It endlessly repeated, "Halt! Drop

  all weapons!

  Halt--" Tinian gulped a deep breath. "Recognition," she shouted over

  Wrrl's shoulder. Her voice ought to shut it off...

  "Confirmed." The droid spun in place. It retreated, still

  broadcasting.

  Daylight shone through the southeastern service door.

  Another pair of stormtroopers crouched beside it, obviously alerted

  over Kerioth's comlink. "Freeze," ordered one.

  Tinian slid off Wrrl's back and slapped the field control back on.

  Then she dashed at them, too full of adrenaline to cower or even flinch

  this time.

  While the troopers fired at TinJan, Wrrl sped past her on long, shaggy

  limbs. He reached them before she did and bodily flung them aside.

  She'd never seen a Wookiee's full strength before. He terrified her.

  Outside the service door, two energy-fenced conveyors connected the

  entry with I'att Armament's main receiving area. Wrrl howled

  encouragement at her.

  Tinian leaped onto one conveyor and dashed toward

  the open spaces and freedom. Fabric flapped around her feet, dangling but giving her feet

  some protection. She grabbed a fistful of loose fabric above each knee

  and pulled up. That helped a little, but she couldn't bend her elbows

  far enough to do any real good.

  She jumped off the conveyor onto gray duracrete. A three-meter wall

  surrounded the complex, surmounted by a catwalk with heavy gun

  emplacements. When Tinian glanced up, her heart sank. Five

  stormtroopers dashed along the top of the wall, three from the north

  and two from the west, converging on the corner ahead of her and

  Wrrl.

  Then she remembered her good-luck piece. "Wait!" she cried. She dug

  down through layers of clothing and extricated a small hunk of

  chepatite impact explosive.

  She'd picked it up the first day Grandfather (her mind spasmed in pure,

  illogical grief: Grandfather!) had let her work a full shift. A silly

  souvenir and dangerous, maybe, but she couldn't fling it hard enough to

  set it off.

  Wrrl could. "Take this," she exclaimed. "Throw it--there."

  She pointed at the big corner gun. Two troopers aligned its sights on

  her and the Wookiee. "Then duck."

  Wrrl bared his teeth, seized the explosive, and hurled it. Sweat

  trickled down Tinian's chest. She was roasting-Dust, grit, and

  duracrete boulders blasted in all directions.

  A gap appeared beneath where the gun had been.

  Tinian sprinted toward it. Her shoulders and back flashed hot again.

  More troopers must have rushed in behind her.

  The rubble pile was almost two meters high. Wrrl urged her to hurry.

  Tinian yanked the bunched fabric and scrabbled upward. "How

  bad--are--you hurt?" she gasped.

  He growled defiance.

  "Wrrl--you need--a medic--" He tossed his head and kept running.

  Tinian scrambled over the top. A laser blast whizzed off

  her right pauldron. That blast came from outside the wall! She flung herself

  backward into Wrrl's arms.

  Wrrl yipped surprise. Had she singed him again?

  He shoved her aside, grabbed a duracrete boulder, and heaved it down at

  the outside trooper. Then he woofed gently at Tinian, urging her

  out.

  A blast from behind struck him. He howled.

  "Are you all right?" Tinian cried.

  He gurgled and pointed outside the wall.

  "Not without you!"

  Disregarding the armor field, he cuffed her with a huge paw.

  Tinian jumped down the rubble pile, spun around, and glanced up.

  Wrrl stood framed by the gap. Another bolt caught him in his side. He

  screamed and turned full around, then lurched toward the stormtroopers

  inside the enormous guard wall.

  Grief-stricken and stumbling with every other step, Tinian dashed

  across a weedy field that surrounded I'att Armament. This was a secure

  area, maintained in case of internal disaster . . . and to enable

  guard wall staff to watch incoming traffic.

  Why weren't they chasing her? Had Wrrl stopped all of them?

  Wearing heat dissipation armor, she'd shine like a beacon to IR

  sensors. It would be easy to tag her with heavy weaponry. Moff

  Kerioth was probably calling over to IL Avali Spaceport right now.

  How could she have been so wrong about the Empire?

  When had it changed?

  At the weed field's edge, dilapidated duracrete buildings formed a

  toothy perimeter. Tinian slapped off the field projector and stumbled

  toward an abandoned warehouse.

  Its door hung askew. Two maybe-Human derelicts scrambled deeper into

  shadows inside.

  Tinian tried to imagine what they'd seen: the top
half of an armless,

  unhelmeted stormtrooper? She pushed away from that warehouse and ran

  two more turns

  around bends in the alleys, but didn't find any better

  cover.

  She shoved the flapping armor pieces up over her head, then shed the

  black glove like an old reptile skin.

  She was about to abandon it when a thought bigger than fear struck her:

  Moff Kerioth wanted this protection field badly enough to kill for

  it.

  She must use it to hurt Eisen Kerioth.

  She dug her utility vibro-knife out of another jumpsuit pocket.

  Painstakingly she sliced vital components off the breastplatemthree