Tatooine sail barge. "Leia!" she called. "Leia, it's so grand to see you alive
and well!"
"Addath." Leia's tone was so warm as she embraced the larger woman that Han
couldn't tell whether her affection was genuine or not. "I was so happy to hear
that you survived."
"And I, you." Addath beamed down at the smaller woman.
Han decided that Vannix's Senator was a distinguished-looking woman. She
was not pretty, but she carried herself with grace and dignity. In contrast with
the overwhelming gaudiness and complexity of her garments - Han was surprised
that there were no blinking lights or mechanical toys running about among the
crimson ruffles and pleats, golden bows and ribbons-her makeup was understated,
merely illuminating and directing attention to her large, intelligent eyes.
"Addath, you never had the opportunity to meet my husband, Han Solo."
"No, but I know him well-doesn't the entire New Republic? - from the
holodocumentaries and histories, biographies, and holodramas based on his
exploits," Ad-dath's expression turned sober. "Allow me to offer my condolences
about young Anakin and Jaccn. I suspect that their sacrifice means that
countless thousands of others will live, and that is how they will be
remembered."
"Thank you." For once, Leia did not offer up her conviction that Jacen was
alive somewhere. "Addath, I would not impose on your time, but our mission is an
important one. I don't have access to all the Senatorial records, so I have to
rely on your help. We need an appointment with Presider Sakins as soon as we can
arrange or connive one."
Addath's expression did not change, precisely, but Han saw something happen
to it, all real cheerfulness disappearing, leaving only a shell behind. Addath
took Leia by the arm and gently guided her around toward the ceremonial, flag-
draped landspeeder waiting outside the visitors' bay. As Han and the droids
turned to follow, the military and civilian escort dropped into step behind
them. "That will be difficult," Addath said, her voice dripping with poisoned
sweetness. "A week after Corus-cant fell, Sakins looted the capital treasury,
taking gems and other valuables dating back thousands of years-a tremendous
fortune, and one easily transportable-and departed Vannix on the rickety but
very comfortable military corvette that served as his personal transportation.
He took his Presider-Aide, his mistresses, his children, and a number of his
favorite financial supporters with him. I doubt he'll be back."
"Oh, dear," Leia said. "Who is in charge of planetary government?" She
boarded the oversized landspeeder ahead of Addath; Han followed the Senator
aboard and settled in beside her, separated from his wife by the Senator's
substantial girth.
"Well, that's not exactly clear," Addath said. She turned her attention to
the landspeeder pilot. "Presider's residence, please." Then she returned her
attention to Leia. "I'm more or less in charge of civilian matters. A crusty and
not-too-bright naval officer named Apelben Werl heads up the military. We're now
campaigning for a runoff election that will decide which of the two of us will
be the Presider. You've arrived at a good time; the election is in a matter of a
few days. The famous Solos might be able to swing the election with a few well-
managed public appearances, a few kind words."
"Count on it," Leia said.
Two hours later-or forty, if you asked Han how long he thought it had been
since they'd set down-they were left alone in quarters in the Presider's
residence. The rooms were lavishly decorated in the Vannix style, thick with
ponderous cushioned couches and chairs in well-coordinated browns and golds,
every surface covered-ankle-brushing carpeting below, draped curtains on the
walls, tassels covering every centimeter of the ceiling and making it an ever-
moving, almost organic overhead view.
But no viewports. Han settled down onto a couch beside Leia, felt a little
alarm as he continued to sink for nearly half a meter. "Is this going to support
me or swallow me?"
Leia smiled. "Grope around under the cushions and see if you encounter any
digestive juices."
"That's the most revolting thing you've said all day.
And don't these people believe in fresh air? Maybe a balcony?"
"Sure they do. They believe in other things, too. They're known for the
adeptness of their politicians and the skills of their snipers, characteristics
that help keep one another in check."
"Good point. So let me ask you something important."
"Sure. But first-" Leia turned to the droids. "Artoo, how about some music?
Something Coruscanti."
R2-D2 whistled obligingly. Then from his interior wafted music, an ancient
Coruscant chamber composition played mostly on strings.
Han, puzzled, opened his mouth to ask when she'd put a music module in the
astromech, but Leia placed a hand over his mouth, placed a finger to her own
lips.
Then Han heard his own voice coming from the droid, clear and as realistic
as if Han were standing there. "So when we decide to settle down again, where
would you like it to be?" Leia's voice was next; "I'm not sure. What if I'm
needed to help rebuild Coruscant?"
The real Leia, her voice a faint whisper, said, "Now we can talk."
Han matched his volume to hers. "That's the conversation we had coming back
from dropping the Jedi kids off,"
Leia nodded. "I've been recording us from time to time for situations just
like this. Each conversation is cued to a different piece of music. It's much
simpler than hunting down and exterminating all the listening devices that are
likely to he planted here."
"Politics..." Han shook his head. "Not my strength.
Care to let me know what we're looking at here, so I have an idea of what
to shoot at?"
Leia nodded and crooked a finger at C-3PO. The protocol droid moved up to
stand before the couch, and, when Leia beckoned again, leaned forward until his
golden head made the third point of a triangle with theirs. "Yes, mistress?"
"Have you been sampling the local information broadcasts?"
"I have."
"Can you synopsize the Presider's election and the candidate positions?"
"There are three candidates, but two are sufficiently out ahead of the
third so far in pre-election polls that only their participation has any
meaning," the droid said. "Addath Gadan is a twenty-year representative of
Vannix before the New Republic Senate, and Admiral Apelben Werl heads the
planetary system's navy. Since the abdication of the previous Presider, each has
come to dominate, through political strategems, force of will, and calling due
of personal markers, ever-greater portions of the planetary infrastructure. It
is expected that the upcoming election will end the competition between them,
but it remains possible that the loser in the contest will choose not to accept
the election results and seize the government by force. Addath Gadan promotes an
agenda of coopera-tion with and appeasement of the Yuuzhan Vong, while Admiral
Werl favors military opposition. As is customary
in politics, each supports the
notion that her election constitutes a mandate of the masses related to these
pre-eminent campaigning issues rather than a matter of personal charisma."
"Nicely boiled down," Han whispered. "Can you do the history of the Sith in
thirty words or less?"
"Only in the most general terms, sir, and without including most pertinent
dates and personality profiles-"
"Han, stop that." Leia scowled at him.
"Sorry, easy target, I know." Han sighed. "All right. We've actually
accomplished our number one objective here. If they haven't already, our two
secret passengers will soon drag their crates of comm gear, weapons, and trade
goods out of the Falcon and run off to begin setting up a local resistance cell.
So we could leave tomorrow and consider this mission a success."
"We could."
"Bur not with your conscience clean."
"Or yours either."
"My conscience is always clean. But we would be leaving the planet in a
situation where it might elect an appeaser to rule the government, which means
the day after that the Yuuzhan Vong have another ally in their war on us."
"That's right."
"So I expect you'll want to stay for a few days."
"That's right."
"And fire a political concussion missile right into the campaign plans of
your friend."
Leia nodded, her expression regretful. "Addath is not my friend. She's just
a politician whose skills I respect. I don't owe her any ill will. But this is
business, and it's obvious that our interests have gone their separate ways..
probably forever. We can't let her win, Han. The only question is whether we can
let this Admiral Werl win, either."
Han couldn't keep a grin from his face. "Election rigging is illegal, you
know. Not entirely suited to a law-abiding politician from a good family."
Leia's smile matched his. "I'm not a politician anymore, Han. I'm just
pretending to be one. I've come over to the scoundrel side of the Force."
Han waited for a break in the recorded dialogue issuing from R2-D2, then
scowled at the droids. "Hey, you two. Go take a walk. Give a couple of
scoundrels some privacy here."
Borleias
"You're the nosebleed guy, aren't you?"
The voice came from the other side of the blue sheet separating Tam's bed
from the next one to his left. It was a boy's voice.
"The 'nosebleed guy'?"
A small hand pulled the sheet partway aside and Tam could see the speaker,
a boy of perhaps twelve, brown-haired, blue-eyed, with a cleanly chiseled dimple
in his chin giving him a surprisingly adult look. "They say that the scarheads
did awful things to you and when you didn't do what they wanted, it made you
bleed so bad from your nose you almost died."
"Well, it's not as simple as that." Tam shrugged, surprised that he wasn't
annoyed by the boy's prying. "What they did to me makes my head hurt when I
refuse. My head hurts, my blood pressure goes as high as if my body were a
compression chamber. That can give me really bad nosebleeds. But the pain is the
more dangerous part."
"That's why you have to wear the stupid helmet?"
"That's why 1 have to wear the stupid helmet." Tam extended his hand. "I'm
Tam."
The boy took it. "I'm Tarc. It's not my real name. That's just what
everybody calls me. Nobody calls me Dab anymore."
"What are you in here for, Tarc?"
"You know the other day, when the scarheads made their big attack, and
Lusankya bombarded their guts out?"
"I know about it. I fell unconscious just as it was starting."
"Well, they got close enough to shoot at the main building, and some plasma
stuff burned through the shields and the wall where I was, and some of it
splashed on me. My leg got burned." Tarc whipped his sheet off, displaying the
bandage on his right calf. "But I get out today." His tone suggested that he was
making a break from prison rather than leaving a hospital.
"I get out-well, I guess I can leave whenever I want.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"No place to go, I guess. No one trusts me. Anyone who does, shouldn't."
Tam leaned back, grimacing at the painful reality of those words.
"But you fought back! You won. That's what everyone says."
"I should have fought back from the start. I should have let it kill me
before I did anything bad."
Tarc looked at him, wide-eyed, and then his expression turned to one of
scorn. "Does everybody just get stupid when they grow up?"
"What?"
"You heard me. That's a stupid thing to say."
"Tarc, listen. I'm just some guy who was of no use to anybody, and then the
Yuuzhan Vong grabbed me, chewed me up, and spat me out in one of their plots."
"Yeah, me too."
Tam gave him a closer look. "Huh?"
"Me, too. The Yuuzhan Vong grabbed me, chewed me up, and spat me out, just
like you said." Tarc leaned hack, his weary posture an imitation of Tam's. "I
look just like Anakin Solo. You know, Han Solo's son. The dead one. On
Coruscant, this lady spy for the Yuuzhan Vong made me go with her to the Solos
so they'd be weird and distracted, so she could kidnap Ben Skywalker. Then I
guess I was supposed to die, but the Solos brought me here, even though it hurts
their feelings to look at me." He looked away and his face became very still. "I
don't know where my real family is. Maybe still on Coruscant." He didn't have to
add, Maybe dead.
"There aren't a lot of kids here. Not a lot of civilians of any sort. What
do you do when you're not recovering from burn wounds?"
Tarc grinned. "I stay with Han and Leia Solo. 'Cept they're gone a lot,
like now. So I explore." He lost his smile; his expression became melancholy.
"And I have to study."
"Not even having a world knocked out from under your feet can change some
things, Tarc. How would you like to learn to be a holocam operator?"
"What's that?"
"Well, anytime you see a holocast, the image is being recorded by a
holocam. The holocam is worked by a holocam operator. That's what I do."
"That's... interesting." Tarc sounded dubious.
"Give it a try. I need to find Wolam Tser and see if he needs my services.
Want to come along?"
Tarc's eyes got bigger. "You know Wolam Tser? My parents used to watch him.
"
Tam mocked his tone. "You know Han and Leia Solo? Sure, kid. I'm Wolam's
holocam operator."
"I'll come along."
"Good." Tam leaned back and shrugged to himself. Well, at least it would
give him something to do.
Yuuzhan Vong Worldship, Coruscant Orbit
The shaper, Ghithra Dal, looked upon Tsavong Lah's arm and hesitated.
The warmaster knew the news would be unfavorable. He could feel the
increased activity of the carrion-eaters in his arm, could see and feel the
emergence of new spines in the Yuuzhan Vong flesh above the join. "Speak," he
said. "Your words cannot anger me. Nor your conclusions. If they are presented
in a quick and correct fashion, you have nothing to fear from me."
The shaper bowed in gratitude. "It is growing worse, Warmaster. I fear for
your arm. All my shaper's arts are not saving it."
"So I am doomed to become one of the Shamed Ones." Tsavong Lah leaned
forward on his chair, staring off into the distance, into the future, paying the
shaper no more mind. "No, that will never happen. When my arm is at its worst,
but before I am truly among the Shamed, I will offer myself in sacrifice, or
throw myself against the enemy and die appropriately. My only concern now is to
support a new warmaster who can lead the Yuuzhan Vong ably and well." He cupped
his chin in his good hand and considered. "I think Gukandar Huath will serve
best, don't you?"
It was a ploy, one that Tsavong Lah would have considered appropriately
cruel had he merely been offering it for his own amusement, but it had a
purpose. Gukandar Huath was a fine warrior and war leader, but was well known
for the support he offered the priests of Yun-Yammka and Yun-Harla, and for his
barely disguised indifference to the Creator god, Yun-Yuuzhan. If, in fact,
Ghithra Dal was part of some conspiracy with Yun-Yuuzhan's priests, he would be
forced now to offer-
"If I may, Warmaster, I said that the shaper's craft was inadequate to the
task... not that you were doomed," Ghithra Dal said. "You may have one other
avenue left to you-and it is an avenue of attack, not an avenue of retreat."
Tsavong Lah considered the shaper as if he'd just been reminded that he was
still there. He did not allow any nope to creep into his expression or tone.
"Speak, my servant."
Ghithra Dal lowered his tone as if to thwart eavesdroppers. "The shaper's
arts cannot help you, 1 am certain, because the one force in the universe more
powerful than those arts afflicts you. The will, the anger of the gods is what
you suffer."
"No, Ghithra Dal. I bring victory to the twin gods, and they know that soon
I will have a twin sacrifice for them. Their priests tell me of the gods'
pleasure with my successes."
" Their priests, yes. Their priests rejoice, and the priests of Yun-Yammka
anticipate your father's victories in the Pyria system, so that they may occupy
the rich world there. But though they are the gods whose names are most upon the
lips of our warriors and great leaders, they are not the only gods."
Rebel Stand Page 7
