by Jason Clarke
"No, it's all right," Fenrell said. "We have more important matters to attend to."
"Indeed," Tarkin nodded in assent. "The captured Rebel vessel is the more immediate matter. Has it been entirely accosted?"
Fenrell checked the tactical screen. "Nearly, sir," he replied. "It will be in our docking bay in two minutes."
* * * *
"Who are they?" Han asked again.
Chewbacca repeated his answer, and Han sat back in his chair. He was in disbelief; after so long, he'd finally run into them again. The Ghorman. His old ship, back again. And he knew Tarkin was aboard. He remembered Dorgan. White-hot rage suddenly erupted in Han.
Grasping the controls, he rolled the Falcon and plunged below the Star Destroyers, turning upside-down and gliding along the bottom of the Ghorman.
"Get in the tunnel, Chewie!" Han said as he brought the Falcon near the captured Rebel ship. "Hurry!" he shouted.
At the time, Han had tried to follow Fenrell's lead, to ignore Dorgan's death. But despite this his hatred of Tarkin grew, even as he grew greater in prestige in the eyes of the Grand Moff. Now, years later, Han saw Dorgan's death through new eyes, from a perspective that allowed him to fully comprehend the evil of the act. Han slammed his fist on the transceiver.
"Tarkin!" he shouted.
* * * *
Aboard the Ghorman, the entire bridge crew was startled by the sudden shout that came out of the communications panel. Grand Moff Tarkin snapped to attention and whirled at the sudden call of his name.
"Who was that?" he demanded.
"The pilot of that freighter, sir..." the communications officer replied hesitantly. "Captain Glesin..."
"Tarkin! I know you're there!" the maniac screamed over the channel again. "And Fenrell! I bet you're there, too!"
Shaken, Captain Fenrell replied, "Er, yes, this is Captain Fenrell...and what do you think you're doing, addressing us in such a man--"
"Oh, shut up, Fenrell!" the man shouted again. "You're such a sell-out! Serving under the very man who killed Dorgan like that!"
Tarkin was outraged; he remembered Dorgan well, and the strange manner of this speaker and his knowledge of the past was maddeningly perplexing.
"Who are you?" Tarkin demanded.
But recognition had already dawned on Fenrell.
"Han..." The voice on the other end chuckled. "That's right, Fenrell," Han said. "I'm back, buddy. So, Captain now, eh? You must be cozy with the ol' Grand Moff now, huh? And you never worry about him tossing you out a bulkhead, like he did to Dorgan?"
At the mention of Han's name, Tarkin had immediately recalled the man.
"Han? Han Solo?" The wonder of recognition quickly faded under the scrutiny of the bridge crew; Tarkin's expression became smug. "So, Solo, you're reduced to this now, eh? Smuggling just to stay alive. Are you still fond of Wookiees?"
"Sir--" the tactical officer began, but Tarkin silenced him with a hand.
"Actually, I've got one as my co-pilot now," Han replied.
"Interesting," Tarkin said. "Is it the same one you threw away your career for?"
"Yep," was Han's terse reply.
"Indeed," Tarkin said, again raising a hand when the tactical officer tried to get his attention. "And so tell me, Captain Han...before we destroy you for your impertinence...was it worth it? Do you regret your choice?"
"First of all, Tarkin, you'll never catch me...and second of all, not for a damn second."
"Sir!" the tactical officer cried.
"What is it?" Tarkin demanded, frustrated by Han's audacity.
"The freighter has destroyed our tractor beam! We've lost the Rebel ship!" For a moment, the entire bridge was silent as Tarkin stood, his mouth trembling with rage. Then, a slow, quiet chuckle drifted over the channel.
"You darn Imperials," Han said patronizingly. "So easily distracted. It's a shame, though...I'm sure capturing those Rebels would have really made your day, wouldn't it've?"
* * * *
"Solo!" was the only word that came over the transceiver, but it was so loud that Han almost had to cover his ears. Han laughed again as he shut off the transceiver.
"Score one for ol' Han," he said as Chewbacca started to come out of the gun tunnel. "No, not yet, Chewie!" Han said. "Get back in there! That was some nice shooting, but I'm not done yet!"
Chewbacca growled a question, but Han waved him away and said,
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing!"
The hyperspace course was already set...so there was nothing wrong with one last blast, Han thought. He angled the Falcon away from the bottom of the Destroyer as the Rebel ship entered hyperspace. The Falcon came up and over the tapered bow of the Destroyer, Han pouring on the speed as the freighter neared the head of the huge ship.
"Chewie," Han said over the comlink, "I'm going to send you some coordinates...aim for this spot, if you can..."
The Falcon crossed the mile-long distance in seconds, and an instant before striking the massive superstructure above the wedge-shaped hull of the shape, Chewbacca fired a burst of lasers that struck the superstructure point-blank. At the last possible moment, Han pulled the Falcon up and away from the Destroyer. TIE fighters were already surrounding them as Chewbacca returned to the co-pilot seat.
"Get ready," Han said, and he pulled on the hyperdrive lever, catapulting the Falcon into hyperspace and far out of reach of the pursuing Imperials.
* * * *
The bridge of the Ghorman was a wreck. A smoky haze filled the air, and small fires lit the shadows not touched by the red auxiliary lighting. The large viewing window was shattered, and much of the artificial atmosphere had been lost before the protective shield had activated, making the air rather thin. Bruised and battered, Grand Moff Tarkin pushed a large chunk of metal debris off his body, then pulled himself to his feet. Beyond the few minor abrasions and a pounding headache, he found himself in satisfactory condition.
Fenrell was another matter. As several officers tried to pull the large broken console off his body, Tarkin could plainly see that the captain's chest had been crushed by the blow...and the blood that covered the deck certainly wasn't a good sign either. No, Captain Fenrell had finally met his untimely doom at the hands of a former fellow officer. Even through his anger, Tarkin could see some twisted justice, or perhaps simply fate, in the whole matter.
"Did we catch him?" Tarkin growled wearily, to no one in particular.
The tactical officer, who had managed to suffer no injuries, reported to him. "Negative, Grand Moff. The ship entered hyperspace and escaped our fighters."
"Damn!" Tarkin cried out, in an out-of-character display of anger. Solo...Han Solo. The promising young pilot, seemingly destined for a stellar career in the Imperial Navy, who threw it all away for the life of a Wookiee slave. Tarkin remembered watching the court-martial as the tribunal carried out his explicit instructions that Solo was not to be executed, by simply drummed out of the service. He remembered watching the former commander, grim-faced and yet unrepentant, exit the court with a dignity that seemed out of place for his situation. And now, years later, that same man, a common smuggler, had managed not only to free a Rebel starliner from a Star Destroyer, but to kill the vessel's captain and nearly destroy the entire bridge. Indeed, Solo had known precisely where to strike the ship...
For a few moments, as he was led to sickbay by one of the medical officers, Tarkin toyed with the notion of placing a bounty on Solo's head. No one would question it, after this act; but Tarkin found he had little desire to do so. He admired Solo's fortitude, and his strength in his beliefs, though misplaced, was admirable. Beyond that, his success in what seemed both impossible and suicidal merited a respect that Tarkin found he could not suppress; and so, the Grand Moff merely selected a new captain and continued on his way to the Horuz system, where his beloved Death Star was nearing completion. Despite his reputation, his demeanor, and his philosophy, Tarkin still found room for honor in life.
* * * *
&nb
sp; On board the Millennium Falcon, still soaring through the hyperspace tunnel, Han Solo was still chuckling to himself.
"Not a bad piece of work, eh, Chewie?" Han said as he got up to check the cargo manifest.
Chewie growled in agreement, then wuffled a question.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I suppose it was a nice thing to do..." Han said as he sat down in the pilot seat again. "But saving those Rebels was never my intention, Chewie. It was just something I did to get Tarkin all riled up, to get back at him, I guess."
Chewbacca expressed doubt at the statement.
"C'mon, Chewie, what would I want with the Rebellion?" Han said defensively. "The whole thing gets in the way of business. And somehow, I doubt that a new Rebel government would have customs officials as easy to bribe as the Empire does."
Chewbacca acknowledged this, then became silent. Han knew that the Wookiee still thought he'd saved the starliner out of the kindness of his heart, though. But Han knew better...like he said, what did he want with the Rebellion? He'd just wanted to get back at Tarkin...and Fenrell, too... for the death--and staining of the memory of--Hojn Dorgan.
Hadn't he?
PART III
TWENTY-FOUR YEARS LATER
THE ATHDEN SYSTEM, OUTER RIM TERRITORY
Slowly but surely, Han Solo piloted the Millennium Falcon through the deserted Athden system. The system contained one small red dwarf star and two planets, neither of which supported any life, though there was evidence that one had once held a great and powerful civilization.
Now, the territory was little more than a galactic garbage dump. A special magnetic anomaly made the area particularly excellent for placing old, useless vessels, space stations, and any other assorted junk that the former owners didn't want any more, but found they couldn't simply annihilate. The system had once been a thriving home for scavengers, but a new New Republic outpost that charged for scavenged materials had somewhat diminished its popularity.
A-wing fighters patrolled the endless floating debris, watching out for any unauthorized scavenger vessels. But Han had pull within the New Republic, and many could recognize he and his vessel by sight. He had little trouble getting past the outpost and entering the massive collection of garbage.
Han had come to Athden on an anonymous tip. Someone had known something about his past, and he had received a transmission telling him that the Star Destroyer Ghorman, now a useless hulk, had been dropped off at the Athden Dump just recently. Despite Leia's protests, Han had found the temptation to visit his old ship irresistible, as distasteful as his memories of it might be.
After confirming with Outpost Athden, Han had said good-bye to his kids and Leia and even told Chewbacca that he had to go on this one alone. Flying the Falcon without a co-pilot was easier now, thanks to the constant upgrades to it that were fully funded by the New Republic. The ship was still nowhere near the standards of the new YT-class freighters, but it was much more powerful than it had been when he'd taken Luke and Ben Kenobi for that first ride.
Han slowly guided his old freighter through the wreckage, its powerful new systems responding quickly and easily to his touch. As he passed, he took note of several classes of vessels he recognized; an old Firespray-class patrol ship, heavily modified, now a worthless piece of trash; several Imperial shuttles, which reminded him of the Tyridium, the shuttle he had piloted undercover to Endor; untold hundreds of TIE fighters, now utterly useless; a battered Mon Calamari cruiser, half of its port side gone, now a dignified, inactive hulk; a few Corellian freighters that looked a little too much like the Falcon for Han's comfort; and there, floating near the planet of Athden II, were the Star Destroyers. There were three of the mile-long vessels here, bruised and battered from their long battles with the Rebellion. Besides the Ghorman, which sat in the center (Han recognized it by the distinctive lack of a finished bow, the wound the ship had suffered in the Battle of Endor), were the Gorbag and the Shagrat, both in far worse condition than the Ghorman.
The Falcon's sensors informed him that there was no life support active on board the Ghorman; this disappointed Han, but it was to be expected, he supposed. All of the computer files on the ship had been downloaded by the Rebellion's techs long ago, but Han suspected their was something that the former Rebels had missed.
The computer of the Ghorman was still weakly operating, though it could do little more than react to what was asked of it. Han downloaded a file from the central computer core through a brand-new device that had been installed on his ship less than a month ago. Thanking the Force for small favors, Han eyed his old vessel while the computer beeped and hummed at its task.
Years after his court-martial, when Han had been in a dreary bar somewhere in the Outer Rim territories, he'd found out where the name of Tarkin's ship had come from. Ghorman was a planet located in the system of the same name in the Sern sector near the Core Worlds, and was the site of the infamous Ghorman Massacre, an early atrocity committed by the Empire. During a peaceful anti-tax demonstration, a warship sent to collect the taxes landed on top of the protesters-- killing and injuring hundreds. Tarkin, the warship's captain, was promoted to Moff for this action. The Ghorman Massacre was commemorated every year on its anniversary by those opposed to Palpatine's New Order, and it convinced Bail Organa of Alderaan to join the cause of the Rebellion. That Tarkin would commemorate the action as well...by naming a Star Destroyer after the planet...seemed to Han to be the product of a sick and twisted mind.
As he gazed at the huge vessel, old thoughts and feelings long suppressed gently entered Han's mind. He remembered piloting that huge ship...that huge, wedge-shaped monstrosity, and the wonderful feeling of strength and power one felt at its controls. He recalled his few friends... smug Dorgan, and that slime devil Fenrell, and a few others whom he'd hung around with. Life had been... orderly, simple, in the Empire. Now, life was complicated...he had a wife and kids, a generalship, a Republic to think about. And who knew? Had he continued to pilot the Ghorman, he might have become captain, instead of Fenrell...
The computer suddenly beeped, shaking Han out of his reverie. He cleared his head and tried to open the long file he'd downloaded. It was encrypted, of course; quite well, actually, for the time it had been a part of, but the computer quickly deciphered it. It then demanded a password, and Han stared at it, perplexed.
"Ghorman" he typed in. "Access Denied" flashed the screen. Too obvious. He tried "Deathstar." Same result. He tried "Fear," "Empire," "Nikrat" (Tarkin backwards), and even "Grandmoff." All came up negative.
Han sat back, stumped. He tried to recall everything he could about the long-dead Grand Moff, every little fact and figure about the man. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead.
"Daala," he typed in. "Access Denied," the screen flashed.
He typed in "Alaad." Han let out a small breath of satisfaction as the personal log of the late Grand Moff Wilhulf Tarkin glowed on the screen before him. Though he was sure the historians back on Coruscant would find the contents of the log invaluable, Han wasn't interested in most of it. He thought hard for a moment, trying to recall the day he'd gained his promotion, and the day he'd attacked the Ghorman in the Falcon. After a few minutes of searching, he found the files he was looking for.
He first looked at the log of the day of his promotion. For a moment he was taken aback; he'd forgotten that Admiral Ackbar had once been Tarkin's servant. In fact, in all his years of knowing the admiral, he'd never even recalled that he'd actually served with him, in a way.
The log read:
Today went rather well. The conquest of H'Zonalm II has gone off without hindrance. There was some resistance in the form of an ion cannon, but thanks to the quick action of our new pilot, Lieutenant Han Solo, we were able to avoid the blast. I promoted Solo to commander right on the spot, and also demoted that worthless tactical officer, Trawets, to lieutenant. Also, Ackbar made the most wonderful dinner today.
There was...unpleasantness today, unfortunately. I had a communiqué with Vader
, and still he threatens me, silently mocks my position. If I dare, I may speak to the Emperor about correcting that dark Jedi's attitude.
Worse yet, one of my officers, a Hojn Dorgan, was again running at the mouth today. He learned far too much of my ambitions, and worse yet, he spoke too much of them. I executed him through vacuum today, much to my own distaste. However, I cannot abide such impudence and gossip amongst my officers. I also cannot allow free knowledge of my plans throughout the ship, particularly when I already suffer so much from that boorish Motti.
Once we have finished this conquest, we are to proceed to the Horuz system, where I shall oversee the beginning of the Death Star project. My heart leaps slightly at the thought...the most powerful weapon ever known, to be under my command...
The log ended there. Han skipped over his court-martial; he didn't want to know Tarkin's thoughts on that. His court-martial had been a grim, ugly time for him, and one he didn't care to remember. He located the file from the day he and Chewie had attacked the Ghorman.
