Therefore R2-D2 did not swivel his head as he looked out of the freighter. It was obvious that he was not surprised by what he saw.
He opened the back hatch and rolled out. Once he was on the ground, he began swiveling his head, searching for something.
R2 raised his video sensor and scanned the area. Then his head swiveled toward the astromech area, eighty meters to his left. He rolled down the concrete walk. Clearly this entire place had been designed for droids.
At the edge of the walk, he encountered C-9PO. Brakiss had sent 9PO to intercept R2 just before Brakiss came out to greet Cole.
"I say," 9PO said. "You're not one of ours, are you?"
R2 didn't answer.
"So really, you should go elsewhere to be recommissioned. I'm certain they could have done it on Coruscant."
R2 sped up. The door to the astromech building was shut. R2's video sensor scanned for other entrances.
The astromech building appeared to be underutilized. With the upgrading of X-wings and other ships to do without astromech units, it made sense. But astromech units had other uses besides navigation. The upgraded units had to be manufactured somewhere.
R2 veered to the left, following the walkway down. The C-9PO hurried after him.
"That facility is off-limits to old droids!" 9PO said. "You must stop immediately."
R2 continued. The decline caused him to speed up even
more. He was going slightly faster than usual. The protocol droid couldn't keep up.
"My master instructed me to have you wait," 9PO said with some alarm.
The path forked and R2 took the right fork this time. It led to an open door. He zoomed inside, put down his brake, and stopped.
9PO was still yelling. "The recommission area is above-ground." It repeated the phrase several times, and then it said, as if speaking to itself, "R2 units. How dreadful. They never listen to their betters."
R2 leaned against the wall. He used a tiny glowlight beam to scan for a computer. The computer on the wall was merely a door panel. Whoever had designed this moon had done so with droids in mind.
He couldn't jack in.
The protocol droid's prissy voice floated down to him. "I saw it disappear down this path. I believe we must conduct a search for it. It's not acting rationally."
R2 used a glowlight to scan the room. Mostly junk, scrapped equipment, and piles of corroded wire. Another door stood open at the end. He rolled toward the door. 9PO's voice grew fainter.
R2 plunged deeper into Telti's droid factory, heading into the unknown, alone and unassisted.
It hadn't taken Leia too long to reach Almania. She had circled the planet for some time before she got another sense of Luke. Then she found a docking bay near the area where she had felt his presence. The bay was perfect for the Alderaan: the right size, the right construction, even the right weight restrictions. She slid her ship into the bay with no trouble at all.
She sat very quietly in the darkness, waiting for something to go wrong. She was so nervous that she didn't trust what she was feeling.
She was feeling that the entire planet was wrong somehow, that something was completely off-kilter. She had felt that ever since she had slipped into the atmosphere, beneath their sensors, undetected and unwatched.
That had bothered her. They were sending ships after her fleet, and they weren't watching their own skies? It felt like a trick Vader might pull, a double-switch of some kind. As she'd brought the Alderaan in, she had watched for needle ships or other kinds of ships that could hide behind clouds and suddenly attack.
Nothing.
Just as there was no one in this bay.
The planet felt deserted. That was what had bothered her.
Even the bay, now that she looked at it closely, appeared unattended, as if no one had been in it for a long, long time. Tiles were falling out of the wall, and the Alderaan had kicked up dust as she slid into place. No one monitored the doors, or the nearby skies. If she had flown into a building, no one would have warned her.
For a planet that had just declared war on the New Republic, that seemed decidedly odd.
Unless Kueller was using the tricks that the Rebels had used during the fight against the Empire. Do the unexpected. Always catch them off-guard.
It would mean that he had an inferior fighting force. Small forces always used commando tactics. It gave them the advantage.
She suddenly wished she could contact Wedge. His attack would be different if he knew that Kueller had few resources. She would order an all-out fight. But if Wedge thought Kueller had a lot of ships, he might try strategy, he might start working according to all the battle orders that the military on Coruscant had developed over the years.
She could sense no one around. She took her lightsaber, and her blaster, and set the Alderaan''s internal alarms. She also set the self-destruct, should anyone other than the handful of authorized people overpower the alarms. Luke and Wedge were the only people nearby who could use the ship.
Then she got out.
The air smelled stale. Every movement she made kicked up dust. The equipment was rusted; the computer panels were ripped open. This bay was not abandoned; it had been murdered. Someone intended it never to be used again.
Leia went to the bay doors. They were jammed open. Tiny footprints in the dust showed that some creatures had gotten use out of the area, but probably not the creatures the area had been designed for. She stepped outside into the fading light, and saw dozens of buildings, all in a state of disrepair.
It looked as if no one had lived on Almania in a long, long time.
Yet she could feel Luke. He seemed much closer. And she could feel other presences as well. They seemed far away, and she couldn't tell how many of them there were.
She would have to follow the feeling to find him.
Someone was watching her.
She whirled, the feeling as startling as if she had seen someone run across the street. But she was alone. She could see no one, feel no one, hear no one. Nothing had changed except the sudden crawling of her skin; the way the hair on the back of her neck rose. She dropped her hand so that it was close to her blaster, an old, practiced, nervous move.
The shadows in the bay were deep, but they didn't move. She heard no breathing, saw nothing glinting in the darkness.
She was alone.
Someone was watching her.
Surveillance? But all the obvious signs of it were ruined. The broken walkways around the doors, the shattered glass. Something terrible had happened to this place, and she didn't know what it was. But she knew it precluded the standard forms of surveillance.
She took a deep breath, unwilling to leave the Alderaan, but knowing that she had to. Maybe the sense she had gotten had come from Luke.
Maybe it had come from Kueller.
It had probably come from Kueller. He wanted her here. He had shown her Luke, had sent her messages right from the start. And her arrival had been too easy.
Perhaps that made her the most nervous of all. Someone should have noticed her. Someone should have prevented her from flying onto Almania. Someone should have come after her by now.
But she had no choice. She was on this course. Together she and Luke would be stronger than Kueller.
She had to remember that.
The key, of course, would be to find Luke.
Before Kueller killed him.
FORTY-ONE
Wedge stood in the command post of the Yavin, his legs spread, his hands clasped behind his back. His station was on a slight rise, with a bar below him. The Mon Calamari Star Cruisers these days were fancier than the ones he had first served in. These new ones were built from scratch, unlike the earlier models, which had been redesigned over pleasure yachts. The new ships had round command centers that took advantage of all parts of space. The command center was a clear bubble in the center of the ship, with catwalks crossing it. The catwalks were made of thin diamond-shaped mesh, which gave him an imperfect vision of the area below
as well as above.
Despite the fact that his people had designed them, Admiral Ackbar had argued against these newer-model ships, saying that they allowed an attacker to find the command center more easily. Wedge, on the other hand, liked them. They gave him the same feeling he had had as a fighter pilot, a feeling that only a thin wall of material separated him from the vastness of space.
It also gave him great perspective, allowing him to remember that in space battles, as opposed to ground battles, the attacks could come from any position: above, below, behind, or sideways. So many commanders forgot that after years out of a fighter pilot's chair.
And it had been too long since Wedge was responsible only to himself.
Sometimes he missed those days.
"General, a fleet of ships has just left the planet's surface," the lieutenant on the lower level said.
"Keep me apprised," Wedge said.
"I think, sir, that we should reactivate the droids," said Sela, his second in command. She was a thin, nervous woman who had been a crack shot and an invaluable assistant on Coruscant. She had yet to prove herself in a battle command.
"We can fight without them," Wedge said.
"Begging the general's pardon, but our support services are hampered without their presence."
Wedge nodded. "But President Organa Solo went to some trouble to let us know about the droids. I think we should respect her choice."
"President Organa Solo does not command the fleet," Sela said.
Wedge debated whether or not he should call her on her breach of military etiquette. Finally, he decided on the soft approach. "President Organa Solo has led more troops into battle than you have ever seen, Major. I have learned, over the years, to pay attention to her suggestions."
Sela sighed, clearly understanding the rebuff. "Yes, sir."
"However, Major, if you can find a way to duplicate the droids' services without reactivating them or pulling essential personnel, I will be grateful."
Sela smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir."- She turned and hurried along the catwalk, as if his order had been her intention all along.
"Sir," said Ginbotham, a Hig, from below. He was a slender blue creature whose piloting skills were renowned. "Those ships are moving toward us quickly."
"How quickly?" Wedge asked.
"They're moving faster than anything we have, sir."
"They appear familiar, sir," said Ean, a Mon Calamari. "I think they're Imperial."
"What?" Wedge asked. "How is that possible?"
"Their design, sir. They're Victory-class Star Destroyers, modified Imperial style."
"They?" Wedge asked, not liking the sound of this. He had gone up against Wcfory-class destroyers before. They had their weaknesses, but those weaknesses were hard to breach. "How many are we looking at here?"
"Three by my count, sir," said Ean. "Along with a full complement of TIE fighters. Although there's something odd about the fighters."
"Figure out what that is," Wedge said. "Let Sela know that we need A-wings out there, and quickly."
He took a deep breath. He had not expected this. A ragtag fleet of some sort, perhaps, cobbled together from various other ships. Or maybe even a home complement. But not Star Destroyers, nor so many.
This Kueller had trained military personnel operating some of the most powerful ships in the galaxy. How had he come by all of this? And so quickly?
And why did it feel so wrong?
Wedge didn't have time to reflect on the answers. He gave the instructions to follow command pattern 2-B, and almost belayed that order. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
"Get Sela back into the command center. And get me General Ceousa," he said.
"We're breaking communication silence then, sir?" asked Ean.
Wedge nodded. He needed to know if Ceousa's instruments showed the same squadron heading toward them, if somehow Kueller had manipulated their technology. Leia, and the message she had sent with his staff, had implied that somehow Kueller had messed with the droids. Maybe he controlled the scanning equipment as well.
Still, Wedge had to prepare for a full-scale battle.
For the first time in years, he was nervous.
He hated being caught by surprise.
His entire military zoomed through space. Several thousand troops and ground personnel. He had never expected to use them.
But Kueller was prepared. Despite what he had said to Yanne, he planned for all contingencies. He was just surprised that his weapon hadn't worked. For the first time, it had failed to work in the way it was designed. Someone else had died. The droids hadn't been delivered to the right place.
Brakiss would pay.
Later.
Kueller had to concentrate on the battle now.
Although Leia Organa Solo's nearness was distracting. He had felt her ship break through the atmosphere, but he hadn't checked on her since. She wouldn't be hard to find. Her Jedi powers radiated from her like a searchlight.
He would concentrate on her after he had defeated her fleet.
He almost wished he was with his people.
Almost.
But he knew the risks that entailed, and he didn't need risk now. Not with his objective so close.
Whatever happened in space mattered less than his defeat of Skywalker and his sister. Once they were gone, the galaxy would be his. It would take only an instant, and every threat to him would disappear.
If Brakiss hadn't betrayed him again.
"Sir," said Gant, his advisor. "Commander Bur wants to know if you will be commanding from below."
Kueller smiled. His people never knew what he would do. "Tell Commander Bur that I have full faith in his ability. And that I will be watching."
"Yes, sir," said Gant.
That would be warning enough. His people knew that Kueller judged failure harshly. If he got even a whiff of loss from his favorite commander, that commander would die. Kueller would never lead a fleet in a traditional sense. He'd often felt that leaders who bothered with the trivia of who shot whom lost the battle. But he would lead as best he could from below. All he cared about was that the battle went his way.
He didn't care who survived, as long as no one from the New Republic landed on Almania.
No one except Leia Organa Solo, that is.
FORTY-TWO
Han was frantic for Leia. More bombs on Coruscant. She might be dead by now. The entire planet might be in flames.
He hoped she had gotten the children away.
He backed away from Blue, from another old friend who had never been a friend at all, leaving her with Davis's body. All around them, the cries and the screams continued. Lando was powering up the Lady Luck. Han's repairs at least allowed that.
Chewbacca was beside him. Han didn't know how much Chewie had heard.
"We have to get out of here. Coruscant was the intended target," Han said.
Chewbacca moaned.
"But we can't leave these people like this." Han's brain was moving faster than his mouth. He wanted to be gone, wanted to be outside the Run so that he could contact Coruscant and find out if anyone had survived.
Find out if Leia had survived.
His hands were shaking. All he could see was his beautiful wife, her white dress torn and scorch-marked, her hair falling around her ears, her nose bleeding, her body bent with the strain of carrying a senator three times her own weight. Leia during the last bombing. She might have collapsed if he hadn't taken her from there.
He wasn't there to rescue her now.
Chewbacca was talking to him. Han hadn't heard much more than the last yowl.
"Yeah, I know, buddy. They need us here. Find out how many ships still work, how much rescue power we have here. Then let's load up the Falcon. I want to be one of the first ships off the Run. We can find out about Coruscant then."
Chewie moaned.
Han nodded. "We'll check Kashyyyk too. I'm sure your family is fine. There aren't many droids, at least that I reme
mber."
Chewie agreed with Han's recollection, and then walked off into the smoke to check on the availability of the other ships. Han took a deep breath, grateful for his mask. The smoke, though thinner, still filled the air. The air-filtration system on Skip 1 had never been good. He wondered how many would die from smoke inhalation alone.
A few of the smugglers with medical experience were working their way through the rubble, separating the survivors into groups. Han knew what they were doing, even though he deplored it. They were separating those who were likely to survive the next few hours from those who weren't. With limited medical resources, those who were likely to survive would have to receive treatment first. The cuts and bruises would wait, of course, but the risky procedures would wait as well. Better to save several lives than lose them, and the person being operated on, by wasting time.
Time. This could be happening all over. It might be occurring on Coruscant even now.
Leia.
He climbed back over the rubble, resisting the urge to pull his blaster and shoot Blue out of existence. Doing that would only fuel his anger. That kind of revenge would only make matters worse.
But it would make him feel a little less helpless.
Because he knew, despite the efforts of the medical teams, and the other survivors, that this scene of devastation would be repeated all over the Run. Skip 1 had droids, but so did Skips 2, 3, 5, and 72. He would wager even Nandreeson's skip, Skip 6, had several droids. Only there the loss of life might have been minimal, given the fact that Nandreeson was gone.
Han climbed the ramp to the Falcon. Inside he detached seats, and made room on the floor, filling tiny storage areas with nonessen-tial items. He would be able to carry a large group of wounded.
He hurried down the ramp. The smoke was even thinner now. Across the devastation, he saw Lando loading stretchers of wounded onto the Lady Luck. Chewie was talking to the Sullustans who had sprayed the last of the fires. They were nodding as they spoke.
Han stopped near one of the few medical workers. "I can take a shipload of the critically wounded," he said. "Let's load them up."
The medic's face was covered with soot and blood. He kept wiping his hands on the antiseptic wipes in his medical kit, but even then Han could see that the wipes were doing little good. The medic had several pairs of gloves in the kit, too, and he pulled them out each time he worked on a patient.
Star Wars - The New Rebellion Page 35
