A prestigious Imperial Senator, Mon Mothma of Chandrila, had recently met secretly with Brias superi-ors in the Corellian Rebel underground, and talked. The senator agreed that in the wake of the Empires massacres on planets such as Ghorman, Devaron, Rampa i and 2, that the Emperor was either pathologi-cally insane or totally evil, and must be overthrown by sentients of good conscience.
The Tharen woman spoke with misguided passion, her clear alto voice quivering slightly with controlled emotion. It was obvious she really cared about her cause.
When she was finished, Winfrid Dagore cleared her throat. Her voice was rough with age and strain. Com-mander Tharen, we sympathize with our brothers and sisters on CoreIlia, Alderaan and the other worlds. But here on the Outer Rim, we are so far away from the Core Worlds that we could be of little help to you, even if we did ally with your groups. We do things our way out here. The Emperor pays little attention to us. We raid the Imperial shipping, and oppose the Empire in many ways-but we value our independence. We are not likely to join a larger group.
Commander Dagore, that isolationist policy is an in-vitation to an Imperial massacre, Tharen said, her tone bleak. Mark my words, it will happen. Palpatine forces will not overlook your groups forever.
Perhaps , . . or perhaps not. Still, I doubt that we could do more than what we are currently doing, Com-mander Thareu.
Boba Fett heard a chair creak and the rustle of fabric as someone moved. Then Tharen spoke again. Com-mander Dagore, you have ships. You have troops. You have weapons. You are one of the closest worlds to the Corporate Sector, though we realize that a long way off. But still, you could help. You could help with pur-chasing weapons in the Corporate Sector and funneling them back here to be shipped to other undergrounds. Dont think because youre out here, that your help isnt needed.
Commander Tharen, weapons cost credits, Lieu-tenant Godalhi said. Where will those credits come from?
Well, wed certainly appreciate it if you Tethans man-aged to come up with a few million to help us out, Bria said dryly, and a sad chuckle ran around the room. But were working on it. Financing the resistance is very hard, but there are enough citizens who are being squeezed until they cant see straight that, even if they dont have the ability or the courage to join a Rebel group outright, theyre smuggling us spare credits. Some of the Hutt lords have also seen fit to contribute... elan-destinely, of course.
Interesting .... thought Fett. This was news to him, though, now that he thought about it, Hutts were noto-rious for playing both sides plus their own side in any conflict. If they could look forward to an increase in credits or power, Hutts were usually right there ....
We are not far from Hutt space, Dagore said, a thoughtful note in her voice. Perhaps we could make contacts with other Hutt lords... see if theyd be will-ing to help.
Help? Bria Tharen voice sputtered with laughter. Hutts? They may contribute, and some have, but they do it for their own reasons, trust me, and those reasons have nothing to do with our aims. Hurts are devious... but sometimes their gods and ours coincide. Thats when they hand out their credits. Half the time we cant even guess what benefit they may be getting as a result of their donation.
Probably better not to guess, Lieutenant Godalhi said. Still, Commander Tharen, there may be some merit in our increasing our commitment at this time. Our new Imperial Moff is far less... vigilant than Sam Shild was. We have been getting away with far more lately than we could under Shilds rule.
Thats another thing, Bria Tharen said. Weve been studying this new Moff, Yref Orgege. Most of the new procedures he put in place here in the Outer Rim are so ill-advised that were beginning to wonder if he has Gamorrean blood.
Laughter rippled throughout the room.
Bria continued, Orgege is both arrogant and stupid. Hes insisting that he wont make Shilds mistake, and he going to keep close personal control over his mili-tary force. This policy has cut down tremendously on the Imperial threat here in the Outer Rim. The Imp Commanders have to check with Orgege about the smallest things. He is managing them into paralysis, Commander Dagore.
Were aware of that, Commander, Dagore agreed.
What do you want us to do about it?
Increase your raids on Imperial supply vessels and munitions dumps here in the Outer Rim, Commander. We need those weapons. And by the time Orgege can be contacted and give his orders, you and your people will be long gone.
Dagore considered for a moment. I think we can promise you that much, Commander Tharen. For the rest... well take it under advisement.
Talk to your people today, Bria said. Ill be leaving tomorrow.
Boba Fett strained his ears, silently urging her to re-veal her plans. But there was no other sound except the scrapings of chairs as the Rebels got up and left the room.
Fett kept a close survey on all the nearby spaceports, but he was unable to catch even a glimpse of Bria Tharen the next day. She must have been smuggled aboard a Rebel ship by some clandestine means.
The bounty hunter was slightly disappointed at his failure, but the most important trait of any hunter-and Boba Fett lived for the hunt-was patience. He re-solved to find some way of tipping off the Imperials about Mon Mothmas treachery, and the Rebels plans, without letting them know who their informant was. Many Imperial officers were openly scornful of bounty hunters, referring to them as scum-and worse. Fett wished he had more specific information to offer as a tip. If only the Rebels had revealed plans for an actual operation!
In the meantime, Fetts trip to Teth would not be wasted. Hed checked with the Guild, and there was an open bounty here on their books, a rich, reclusive businessman who had a high-guarded and secure es-tate in the mountains of Teth.
Secure that is, insofar as ordinary bounty hunters went, but Boba Fett was in a class by himself. The businessmank activities had been so predictable that planning was laughably easy. The man was a creature of habit. Boba Fett wouldnt even have to go up against his bodyguards, since this was a bounty permitting disinte-grations. Only the kill was required.
Boba Fett had found a vantage point in a laakwal tree that would allow him to erect a temporary blind, make the kill, then slip away before the bodyguards or security forces could even pinpoint his location. One shot would be all that he needed ....
Over the next five months, Han Solo and his Wookiee First Mate rose to the top of the smuggler heap. For a miracle, Han managed to actually hang on to some of the money hed won long enough to do most of the modifications on the Millennium Falcon that hed envisioned.
His half-alien master technician and starship me-chanic, Shug Ninx, let him berth the Falcon in his Spacebarn. Shugs Spacebarn was almost a legend in the Corellian section of Nar Shaddaa. Within its cavernous interior, traders, pirates and smugglers tinkered with their ships, modifying them, determined to squeeze the last bit of speed and firepower out of them. After all, the faster a smuggler delivered a cargo, the quicker he, she or it could take off again with another shipment. Time was credits, in the life of a smuggler.
Han, Jarik and Chewbacca did most of the work themselves, with an occasional hand from Salla, who was also an expert technician, and Shug, the acknowl-edged master.
Once he had the ship armor-plating the way he wanted it-no lucky Imperial shot was going to take out the Falcon the way Han previous ship, the Bria, had been destroyed!--he started on the engines and the ar-mament. He added a light laser cannon under the nose, then moved the quad lasers so the Falcon had gun tur-rets both dorsally and ventrally-top and bottom. Then Han and Salla installed two concussion missile launch-ing tubes between the forward mandibles.
All the while that he was installing weapons and armor, Han, Shug and Chewie worked on the Falcons engines and other systems. The Falcon already boasted a military-grade hyperdrive. Together Hah and Shug tinkered with both the hyperdrive and sub-light engines until they were even more powerful, and the Falcon was making faster and faster times on Hans smuggling runs.
They also installed new sen
sor and jamming systems. The new jamming system had a less than auspicious first trial, however. When Han triggered it, the pulse was so powerful that it also jammed the Falcons own internal communications, disrupting the signals from the cockpit to the ships systems! The incident hap-pened at the worst possible time while the Falcon was ducking into a planets gravity well in an attempt to shake off an Imperial frigate. As their ship hurtled down, grazing upper atmosphere, totally out of control, Han and Chewbacca stared at their instruments in dis-may. Only the fact that the new jammer was so power-ful that it burned out almost immediately saved them from being incinerated in the planets atmosphere.
The day came when Han looked at the Falcon with satisfaction, and threw an arm around Shug Ninxs shoulders. Shug old pal, you are one master mechanic. I dont think theres anyone better with a hyperdrive in the whole galaxy. Shes purring like a Togorian kit-cub, and weve increased her speed another two percent.
The half-alien master mechanic smiled at his friend, but shook his head. Thanks, Han, but I cant claim that title. Ive heard that theres a guy in the Corporate Sec-tor name of Doc who can make a hyperdrive dance a jlzz-jg with one hand tied behind his back. If you want her to go even faster, youll have to hunt him up.
Han listened with some surprise, but filed the infor-mation away in his mind as potentially useful. Hed .al-ways had a yen to see the Corporate Sector, and now he had a reason to go there.
Thanks, Shug, he said. Tll have to consider con-tacting this guy if I ever get there.
From what Ive heard about Doc, you dont contact him. Hell contact you, if he decides its a good idea. Ask Arly Bron about him. HeS spent time in the Corporate Sector, he might know how youd go about contacting Doc.
Thanks for the word, Han said. He knew Arly Bron, as he did most of the smugglers who hung out in the Corellian Sector of Nar Shaddaa. Bron was a stocky, aging smuggler with a genial air and a sharp tongue. He enjoyed needling fools, but he was fast enough on the draw to still be among the living, which said something for his speed and accuracy. He flew a beat up old freighter named Double Echo.
Now that Han had the fast and (comparatively) reli-able Millennium Falcon, he could take on the most challenging jobs. He still worked mostly for Jabba, who was basically running the Desilijic kajidic these days, but he also took jobs for other employers. The Corellian and his Wookiee sidekick became almost a legend on Nar Shaddaa as they broke speed records for the Kessel Run and flew rings around Imperial patrol vessels.
Han had never been happier. He had a fast ship, friends in Chewie, Jarik and Lando, an attractive, savvy lady friend in Salla, and credits in his pocket. True, money had a way of slipping through his fingers, no matter how he tried to hold on to it, but to Han, that was only a minor worry. So what if he liked living high, gambling and expensive flings? He could always make more!
But even though Hans personal life was going splen-didly, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. The Emperor continued to tighten his grip, and his reach was extending even into the Outer Rim these days. There was a massacre on Mantooine in the Atrivis Sec-tor, and the Rebels that had managed to capture an Im-peri.al base there were wiped out practically to the last defender.
There were other massacres as object lessons to in-ner Imperial worlds. Gunrunners had to be increasingly wary and fast, in order to deliver their cargoes. When Han had first begun making the Kessel Run, it was un-usual to even pick up an Imp craft on ships sensors. Now it was unusual to not spot one. To support his fleets and armies, Emperor Palpatine levied taxes that had citizens of the Empire groaning beneath the finan-cial burden. These days, the average citizen of the Em-pire struggled just to put decent food on the table.
(Han and his friends, naturally, did not pay taxes. No tax collectors came to the Smugglers Moon-collecting taxes from the motley denizens of Nar Shaddaa was such a daunting task that the moon was simply over-looked each tax time.)
In the past, Han had paid little attention to news-vids about the struggle between the Imperials and the underground Rebel groups. But now, knowing that Bria might be involved in those actions, he found himself lis-tening to the news-vids with undivided attention. Pal-patine must be crazy, Han found himself thinking, on more than one occasion. He askinfor a wholesale re-bellion with these tactics... massacres, murders, citi-zens hauled out of their homes in the middle of the night, and never seen again ....You ,asss over people bad enough, long enough, youre askinfor revolt .... Dissent in the Imperial Senate was growing by leaps and bounds. One of the more prominent Senators, Mon Mothma, had been forced to flee not long ago, after the Emperor ordered her arrest on charges of treason. Mon Mothma had been a prestigious member of the Senate, and the Emperors high-handed move caused demonstra-tions on Chandrilla, her home planet-demonstrations that resulted in yet another ruthless massacre of Imperial citizens.
The Emperors attacks on financial well-being and personal freedom had another effect, one that Hah found particularly disturbing. More and more down-trodden, poverty-stricken people were chucking their old lives and heading for Ylesia to become Pilgrims-or, as Han knew, slaves.
Many of the new Pilgrims came from Sullust, Bothu-wui, and CoreIlia, worlds that had recently suffered reprisals for civil unrest and anti-taxation demonstra-tions. Han arrived home one day from a smuggling run to discover that, for the first time, the tlanda Til had held a revival on Nar Shaddaa. As a result, a number of Corellians from the Corellian sector of Nar Shaddaa had packed up and were waiting to board a ship bound for, among other places, Ylesia.
When he heard this, Han grabbed a tube over to the disembarkation point, and raced up to the line of hollow-eyed, weary looking Corellians waiting to board the transport. What do you think youre doing? he shouted. Ylesia is a trap! Havent you heard the stories about it? They lure you there, then turn you into slaves! Youll wind up dyin in the mines of Kessel! Dont go!
One old woman looked at him suspiciously. Shut up, youngster, she said. Were going to a better place. The Ylesian priests say theyll take care of us, and well have a better life... a blessed life. Im sick of scratchin here. The cursed Empire is making it too hard these days to earn a dishonest living.
The others muttered similar imprecations at him as he moved up and down the line, expostulating with the Pilgrim-candidates. Hah finally stopped and stood there, wanting to howl aloud with rage, like a Wookiee. Chewie did howl in frustration.
Chewie, short of setting my blaster on stun and shooting them all, there aint no way of stoppin them, the Corellian observed, bitterly.
Hrrrrrrrnnnnnnnn, Chewie agreed, sadly.
In a last ditch effort, Han tried talking to some of the younger people, even going so far as to offer one or two a job. None would listen to him. He soon gave up in dis-gust. This had happened to him once before, on Aefao, a remote world at the opposite side of the galaxy from Nar Shaddaa. There had been an Ylesian revival, and Han had tried to warn those who were heading for the ships, but he found he couldnt compete with the Pilgrim-candidates wide-eyed memories of the Exulta-tion. Only a few of the small, orange-skinned, hu-manold Aefans had listened to him. Over a hundred had boarded the Ylesian missionary ship ....
Hah watched the line of Corellians shuffling into the waiting transport, and shook his head. Some people are just too dumb to live, Chewie, he said.
Or too desperate, the Wookiee rejoined.
Yeah, well, just another reminder to me that stickin your neck out is a good way to get your head chopped off, Han said, disgustedly, as he turned his back on the doomed Corellians and began walking away. Next time I think about doin that, pal, I want you to give me a Wookiee love-tap that will put me on my butt. Youd think after all these years Id learn ....
Chewie promised, and, together, they walked away.
Despite the fact that he had his undersized hands full running Besadii, Durga the Hutt refused to give up his search to find his parents murderer. Six members of the household staff had died under rigorous interroga-tion, but there was absolutely
no indication that any of them had been involved.
If the household staff was innocent, then how had Aruk been poisoned? Durga had another conversation with Myk Bidlor, who confirmed this time that there were traces of X-1 in Aruks digestive tract. The lethal substance had indeed been eaten.
Durga terminated the communication, and went for a long undulation, roaming the halls of his palace, thinking. His expression was so forbidding that his staff already highly nervous, and understandably so- fled before his approach as though he were an evil spirit from the Outer Darkness.
In his mind, the young Besadii lord was going over the last months of his parents life, mentally ticking off every moment of every day. Everything Aruk had eaten had come from their own kitchens, prepared by the staff of chefs-including the ones now deceased. (He made a mental note to hire two new chefs .... )
Durga had had the entire kitchen and the servants quarters scanned for any trace of X-1. Nothing. The only place that theyd picked up even the smalle hint of the substance had been on the floor in Aruks office, not far from his usual parking spot for his repulsor sled. And that had been just the barest trace.
Durga frowned, contorting his birthmark-stained features into something resembling a demon-mask. Something was higgling at him. A memory. Niggling... wiggling... niggling...
Wiggling... wriggling! The nala-tree frogs/ Suddenly the memory was there, sharp and clear. Aruk, belching as he reached for yet another live nala-tree frog. Up until now, Durga had never considered the possibility that the poison could have been deliv-ered by means of a living creature-after all, it seemed only reasonable that the creature would die from the poison long before it could be ingested.
Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Rebel Dawn Page 10
