Tales From The Empire

by Peter Schweighofer

  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.

  "Looks can be deceiving, Eamon. Looking at her I see a woman who is

  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