“She’s not my girlfriend,” Lando insisted.
“I thought this one was different,” Han said.
“She is. She’s just…We’re…you know what, let’s concentrate on getting out of this mess and tracking down Gor so we can all go home and go about our lives, okay?”
“That’s exactly what I was trying to do,” Han shot back as they headed into the main hull of the Vermillion, “when you showed up fists-first at my balcony door, hotshot.”
“None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t been so deep in debt you had to chase every low-life job that swung your way.”
“Just ’cause I was good enough to actually catch the damn thing and you barely even got a look at it, doesn’t mean—”
“Greetings, gentlemen,” Captain Krull said, stepping on board through the air lock. He was a short man with an aggressively bored face, sleepy eyes, and a pugnacious goiter. He stood at attention, surveying the dingy hull of the Vermillion with an air of mild distaste. Two towering KX security droids emerged from the air lock behind him and stood to either side, their long arms dangling from wide shoulders that seemed to have spit out an incongruously small round head.
For a moment, no one said anything.
“Ah,” Krull chortled. “You are concerned about the droids, no doubt. Of course. They were indeed once Imperial units, yes. But we found them quite easy to reprogram, you know, and I assure you they are quite content fighting for whomever they are programmed to, hehe.”
No one else found it funny.
“You’re not wearing a chem suit,” Lando pointed out.
“Ah, yes, quite quite, no indeed,” the captain said. “It seems, I’m afraid, we don’t believe a word you said, of course. The story appeared extremely ah unlikely, really, your little narration, as it were.”
“We have passcodes,” Taka said. “The ship is registered with the NR prison transport authorities. I can show you all the documents you need.”
“Ahaha, that won’t be necessary of course.”
“Oh?”
“You see, we’ve had quite a bad turn of things here, you know, what with Sergeant Magernon’s Amnesty and all. He was never trustworthy, you know. We never trusted him, that is. He was always quite the Imperial, is what I mean. No reason to think he’d be anything different when the war was over, but of course Chancellor Mothma had her own plans, her own form of amnesty, if you will. So he got to go right on ahead running the Substation Grimdock prison, and of course here we are, aren’t we? The sergeant went ahead and freed all the Imperial-friendly death squads and terrorists and such, first one by one, then in a giant general flood, unfortunately, and it seems they contacted some of their pirate friends to come pick them up. And so, of course, we had to bring the fleet in, didn’t we? So we did, and blockaded the fools in, but here we are, or were, I suppose, a bit of a standoff really.”
“Quite quite,” Taka said. Han elbowed them.
“Which brings us to your little…vessel, hm? Doesn’t it? Seems you have quite a bit of firepower on here, if I’m quite clear on what I witnessed, wouldn’t you say that’s the case?”
Lando hadn’t been sure who exactly the captain had been addressing with all his weird little rhetoricals, but suddenly both KX droids perked up slightly and nodded. “Indeed, indeed,” they chirped. Lando had just about had enough of this nonsense. The standoff made sense now—he’d heard about this Sergeant Magernon, had thought it was ridiculous to leave him in charge of a prison full of like-minded war criminals, but no one asked Lando what he thought. And it explained why Leia had gotten that early-morning wake-up call from Mothma the same day Lando had shown up to deck Han.
But to be lectured at so imperiously by this low-level bureaucratic cog? It took everything in Lando not to tell the captain off.
“So, who will answer for this ship and its mission, hm?” Krull demanded, all traces of the genial old uncle gone. “Who will tell me”—he got up in Han’s masked face—“why exactly this little pewtey pot has a more functional artillery than my star cruiser, hm?”
Amazingly, Han didn’t deck the captain. He just stammered through yet another boneheaded explanation littered with ers and non sequiturs and then stood at attention as if he’d made sense.
Lando put a gloved hand over his goggles and shook his head.
The captain whirled around and stepped far too deep into Lando’s personal space, gazing up at him. “Would you like to give it one more shot before I have my droids tear this ship apart, young man? Perhaps you could make more sense than your friend here.”
“It’s like we told you,” Lando said.
“You told me nothing!” Dots of the captain’s spittle sprinkled Lando’s goggles. That was it, now he was gonna have to deck the guy. They’d deal with the droids one way or another. He widened his stance, tightening both fists, and was pulling back when a blue image shimmered out into the middle of the room.
Senator Leia Organa.
“Captain Krull,” Leia said in a voice that didn’t conceal the sharp edge it wielded.
The captain gaped for a few seconds at the holo, taking a step back as if it might suddenly explode all over him. His already pale face blanched even further. Then he snapped to attention. “Senator Organa.”
Lando noticed Han cock his head at the sudden appearance of his wife. Then both Han and Lando glanced back to the source of the projection: Taka.
“It seems you’ve stumbled upon a highly classified intelligence mission of the utmost secrecy,” Leia said.
“I-I’m not quite sure I understand,” Krull stuttered.
“Oh, I’m quite sure you don’t,” Leia said with a wry smile. “At least, you’d better not. The information is quite a bit above your level of classification, I’m afraid. So if you do know what I’m talking about, a massive data breach has occurred, which will of course trigger an intensive investigation.”
“No, no!” Krull shook his head, insistent. “I assure you, I have absolutely no idea whatsoever of that which you speak of. In fact, I was trying to ascertain exactly that information, without, of course, knowing of its classified status, when you appeared in such a timely and remarkable, ah, fashion.”
“Very well, Captain Krull.”
Lando knew he was pretty skilled in the art of saying one thing and conveying another, but Leia Organa took it to a whole other level entirely. She was smiling, and even her body language seemed to agree with the words, but there was no mistaking the threat lying barely concealed beneath the surface of what she said.
“As I said,” the senator continued, “these three agents are on a top-secret mission on behalf of the Galactic Senate. They have been invested by the New Republic with the authority to do whatever must be done to succeed in that mission. They are also, I might add, heroes of the Rebellion, all of them. They warrant nothing less than the utmost respect and subservience from any loyal member of the New Republic armed services. Have I made myself perfectly clear, Captain?”
“Abundantly,” Krull said, snapping a salute.
“Further, you are to provide these New Republic agents with every resource necessary and available to you that will assist them on their mission.”
“It shall be so, Senator Organa.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, Captain Krull.” She returned his salute, then shot a sly nod at Han. “Good luck, agents of the New Republic. You have all of our gratitude for your service.”
And then she was gone, and three masked faces looked at Captain Krull.
“Well,” the captain said. “Seems I…quite…yes, yes.”
“Seems you what?” Lando asked, relishing the moment.
“Seems I, apparently, owe you each a sincere…” He nodded, then made little circles with his hand, indicating etc., etc.
“I didn’t quite hear what it was you owe us,” Lando said.
“Apology!” the captain sputtered. “I owe you an apology, it seems.”
“Mm,” Lando mused. “Indeed indeed.”
“YOUR LITTLE TRANSPORT IS COOL and all,” Lando was saying to Taka as Han walked onto the ultra-fancy deck of the Chevalier, “but this…this is living.”
“Whatever,” Taka grumbled. “The Vermillion got us where we needed to go and jacked up that Mon Cal cruiser, which I’m quite sure this little ship could not do.”
“Touché,” Lando said, running his fingers along the velvety seat cushions and playing with the adjustable light fixtures. “But still…” He lay out on one of the benches and wrapped his hands behind his head. “Luxury!”
“I’m with you, Taka,” Han said. “This is a whole lot. The navicomputer is nice, though, gotta admit.”
Chewie glanced around and grunted something unimpressed.
“Speaking of admitting things,” Han said with a pointed look at Taka.
Taka threw up both hands and flashed a wily grin. “I can explain!”
“Mmhm,” Lando said, sitting up. “Better start then.”
“Here actually.” They tapped something into the datapad on the (impressive, unblemished, state-of-the-art) holoprojector. “She can explain better.”
Leia’s smiling face appeared full-sized and totally unpixilated before them.
“Now, that is an impressive holoprojector,” Lando said.
“Well,” Han said, “if it isn’t my loving wife.”
“We did agree not to talk about the details of work stuff,” Leia reminded him. It didn’t help that she was looking particularly gorgeous in a simple blue gown, and the holoprojector’s precise rendering made it feel like she was right there in front of him. That uncomfortable feeling snaked up around Han’s heart again, that longing.
“Seems like that made more sense when our work didn’t intersect quite this much,” Han said. He was good at making things needlessly complicated, he realized, but this was very simple: He missed his wife. And there she was, right in front of him and a billion klicks away. And keeping secrets. “There something you want to tell me?”
Leia frowned. “Maybe we should talk in private.”
“No, I think here is exactly the place to have this conversation, since Taka already apparently knows more about what’s going on with you than I do.”
“I can go,” Lando suggested, standing.
“No,” Han and Leia both growled.
Lando sat back down. “All righty then.”
“Taka isn’t just some random pilot you hired,” Leia admitted. “They work for me.”
“You’re spying on me,” Han said.
“No,” Leia said. “That’s not it.”
“I’m listening.”
“I knew about what was going on at the prison—that was the emergency call I got from Mon the morning Lando showed up. Wasn’t hard to figure out that the two situations might well be related. And from what I heard about Gor at the security council meeting, it sounded…” Her voice trailed off.
Han narrowed his eyes. “Yes?”
“It sounded like there was a chance you two might be in over your heads.”
Lando stood again, fists on his hips. “You sent us a bodyguard?”
“Not exactly,” Leia said. “While the New Republic was massing part of its fleet at Grimdock to prepare for what was about to happen, we also deployed agents to hunt down the early recipients of Magernon’s Amnesty that had trickled out before the levees broke. So Taka’s mission…corresponds nicely with yours. On top of that, they happen to be a skilled pilot and one of the best fighters I know.” She looked back and forth at Han’s and Lando’s skeptical faces. “Besides you two, of course.”
“How did you know we’d hire them?” Han demanded.
“I figured your own name might get your attention,” Leia said with a snicker.
“Hard to argue that point,” Lando admitted.
“Quiet, you,” Han snapped.
“And then it was just a matter of making sure they had exactly what you were looking for.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lando said. “I do believe she played us.”
“It was for your own good,” Leia said, still grinning. “But yes, you’ve been played.”
“You…” Han sputtered.
Leia got serious. “I am sorry I deceived you, though.”
Lando nodded. “Thank yo—”
“That was for my husband,” Leia snapped. “Not you, hotshot.”
“Oh.”
Han shrugged. “That’s all right…I guess.”
Leia gave him the look that meant she was waiting for him to say more. But what else was there to say? Besides everything, of course. They’d only been apart for a couple of days and he’d already felt the absence of having someone to talk about all the little nonsenses of his day with. No, not someone, her. Leia who knew when to push him and when to let him be. Leia who understood his silences as clearly as his words. Leia who still fell asleep holding him tight sometimes, like if she let go she’d float away.
“In truth,” Han said, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone else’s stares on him, “you actually really saved our asses. I mean, Taka has, at least twice now, by my count.” He nodded awkwardly at Taka, who smiled. “And so as much as, you know, yeah…” He tilted his head in deference to the deception, the apology, all that. “I appreciate what you did. So thank you.”
Leia smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Ben’s little head appeared in the holo, and his eyes went wide. “Dada!”
Han stepped back, and an unstoppable smile burst across his face. “Hey, kiddo! You all right?”
Ben nodded then opened a toothy grin of his own. “Unca Wanwo!”
“Hey, little starfighter,” Lando said.
“All right,” Leia said. “I’ll let you guys go. Be safe out there.” She blew Han a kiss and waved at the other two. “Say bye, Ben.”
“Come back, Dada,” Ben said, articulating each word carefully.
“Soon, son, I promise,” Han said. “As soon as—”
“Breetachaka!” Peekpa announced, bustling into the room with her datapad and a confident grin on her small furry face.
“—that happens,” Han finished.
Leia signed off with Ben still waving wildly at everyone.
Chewie and Kaasha came in next, discussing something quietly and then pausing to admire the Chevalier’s impressive interior design. They’d dropped off a still-cringing Captain Krull, along with Aro, on the Tribulan Vort and, with the Chevalier still attached to the Vermillion, blasted far enough away from Substation Grimdock not to get wrapped up in whatever further nonsense unraveled there.
“First order of business,” Taka said. “Peekpa?”
A holomap of the galaxy zipped snappily into place in front of them. It was pristine and meticulously detailed: If you stared long enough you’d actually feel like you were floating amid the stars along some spectral intergalactic currents.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Lando said.
“Frizi prat sabreenka Phylanx chacha,” Peekpa explained in an excited ramble as a series of blinking red dots appeared across the holomap. “Freebata srinkacha malamala sprat nu bala kaaatan charachara mak.”
Lando squinted at the map. “Does anyone—”
“I do,” Kaasha said. “She said the Imperials had been tracing the Phylanx Redux Transmitter but couldn’t get an accurate enough signal to bother deploying for it. It would pop up every couple of years, but only the slightest blip of a signal, and then it’d be gone. When it next showed up, it’d be somewhere else entirely.”
“And these dots are its locations over time?” Han asked. “Looks like it’s a pretty clear trajectory, no?” The points formed a jagged line
across the Mid Rim. “Why didn’t they just calculate where it’d probably be next and then go there?”
Peekpa squeaked and chirped a complex reply, which Kaasha translated: “Sounds like they did, but it wasn’t there. There are numerous logs from a particular Imperial commander, Admiral Ruas Fastent, who went escapading for it a number of times. He got a bit obsessed with it, Peekpa has surmised from the notes, and it might’ve driven him mad. He was given an honorable discharge a few years before the Battle of Yavin and shoved in an Imperial asylum on Grava, never heard from again.”
“So, what, this thing is giving off a phantom signal of some kind?” Lando said, eyes flickering with the holomap lights.
“Like a signal that’s refracted off another source?” Kaasha suggested.
“Or it doesn’t exist at all anymore,” Han said. “And what’s left is just an echo.”
Lando shook his head. “Imagine, all this for a ghost of a device…”
Chewie roared and shook his head.
“I don’t think so, either, Chewie,” Han said. “Peekpa, what else you got?”
Peekpa nodded sagely at Chewie and then erupted into another high-pitched discourse.
“Ohhh,” Kaasha said, scratching her chin and nodding as Peekpa talked. “Fascinating.”
“Care to share with the rest of us?” Lando asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Peekpa doesn’t think it’s gone. The signals might be refracted, but even weak as they are, they’re not some leftover thing. More than likely, according to Peekpa, this Fyzen Gor character programmed the Phylanx to move in a random or at least self-determined trajectory through the galaxy. Probably, she thinks, so he wouldn’t have the information himself so it couldn’t be tortured out of him. And the homing signals it’s sending out are encrypted, essentially. They’re not where the Phylanx is, but they correspond to points where it was, somehow, or maybe even where it’s going? And probably only Fyzen has the key to unlock the code.”
“We still don’t know what exactly this thing is,” Lando reminded them. “If we could just take out Fyzen, none of this would matter.”
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