Star Wars: Choices of One

by Timothy Zahn

  He really wasn’t planning a suicide run. But you never knew.

  Watching over her shoulder, the faint scent of Leia’s hair wafting up at him, he got to work.

  Ferrouz’s secret exit, to Mara’s relief, turned out not to be booby-trapped. Also to her relief, the switchback stairway only went down three floors before becoming an equally narrow but more easily navigable slight downward slope.

  Some governor bolt-holes dead-ended in a safe room, which would be heavily fortified and usually stocked for a long siege. But most such escape routes also continued on past the safe room to a hidden exit somewhere well beyond the palace grounds, where a vehicle of some sort waited to provide a fugitive with quick transport elsewhere.

  Such was indeed the case here. Mara led them past the entrance to the safe room—which, interestingly, was nearly as well camouflaged as the secret door back in the office had been—and continued on down the long, dark corridor.

  The permacrete around them had changed subtly, indicating to her that they’d left the palace grounds and entered some forgotten part of the city’s infrastructure, when Axlon finally spoke up. “How far is this safe room, anyway?” he asked, his breathing labored.

  “We’re not going to the safe room,” Mara told him, pausing and placing her hand on the side of the tunnel. It was cool to the touch, cooler than it should have been, and she could feel a faint vibration. A relatively thin wall, she concluded, with open air on the other side.

  “Then where are we going?”

  “Here,” Mara said, motioning the others to a halt. Taking a step away from them, she drew her lightsaber. “Into the sewer.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Axlon protested. “What kind of sewer are we talking about here? Sewage, or storm drainage?”

  “We’re about to find out,” Mara said. Igniting her lightsaber, she delicately cut a small opening in the tunnel wall at eye level. Closing down the weapon, she stepped forward and gave the gap a cautious sniff.

  There was a faint smell of mustiness, plus a combination of rotting vegetation and dirt, but no stench. “Storm drainage,” she reported. Igniting the lightsaber again, she sliced a person-sized opening and stepped through.

  It was indeed a storm drainage conduit, rounded on the bottom but tall enough for her to stand more or less upright. The vibration she’d felt had been from the air streaming down the conduit, along with the flow coming in from a grating set into the top of a short vertical cylinder a dozen meters away. Carried on the breeze were the muted sounds of the city around them. “Wait here,” she murmured. “Keep quiet.”

  She crossed to the grating and for a moment stood beneath it, gazing up and listening. From the lack of passersby and the distance of the traffic sounds, she tentatively concluded that the grating opened into an alley. There was a short ladder set into the vertical cylinder; climbing it, she stretched out to the Force and eased the grating up and away from the opening. She shifted her grip to the edges of the hole and pulled herself cautiously up to eye level.

  The grating did indeed open onto an alley, a narrow service passageway tucked in between two rows of buildings, very similar to the one where she’d taken out the two palace stormtroopers earlier that morning. The shop doors opening up onto the alley had small signs identifying the various businesses. The signs, unfortunately, were too small for Mara to read from her distance and vantage point.

  But five doors down from the grating was the top of a hydraulic lift platform tucked closely in to one of the buildings. That implied a tapcaf or cantina, with the lift there to lower full kegs from supply trucks down to the cellar and bring the empties back up to be discarded.

  For the moment, a tapcaf storage cellar was probably their best bet. Taking a final look around the alley, she dropped back into the conduit and returned to the rest of the group.

  “There’s a tapcaf five doors down on the south side of the alley,” she told them. “LaRone, you and Marcross will go around to the front—get rid of everyone and close the place down. When everyone’s out—”

  “Close it down?” Axlon asked, his eyes widening. “How are they supposed to do that?”

  “Understood,” LaRone said, ignoring the interruption. “What then?”

  “Lock up, go down to the cellar, and raise the supply lift,” Mara told him. “We’ll get the governor in that way.”

  “We’re going to hide in a tapcaf cellar?” Axlon asked.

  “And if Master Axlon’s very lucky,” Mara added, looking Axlon in the eye, “he may still be alive by then.”

  Axlon clamped his mouth shut.

  “Understood,” LaRone said again. “If you’d rather keep Marcross here on guard, I can do the job alone.”

  Mara shook her head. “I can handle things here, and people react faster to two stormtroopers than they do to one. Have the others finished suiting down?”

  “Yes, and they’re waiting in the truck,” LaRone said.

  “Get the tapcaf’s name and get them over here,” Mara instructed. “Better have them stay on foot for the moment, with minimal equipment. Have them do a quiet sweep of the neighborhood and then join us.”

  “Via the supply lift?”

  “Yes,” Mara said. “And have them bring the green bag at the back of the truck—it has my combat suit in it.” She gestured to the grating. “You going to need any help getting up there?”

  “No, we can handle it,” LaRone said. “We’ll see you soon.”

  The two stormtroopers walked over to the open grating and, one by one, pulled themselves up and out into the alley. “Now we wait?” Axlon asked.

  “Now we wait,” Mara confirmed. “But we wait over there, where we can watch.”

  They went over to the grating, and Mara helped the Rebel ease Ferrouz off his shoulder and onto the conduit floor. The governor’s heartbeat seemed steadier now, but his breathing was still slow. Mara eased her fingers across the edges of the burn patches, wishing she’d had more medical training.

  Without warning there was a catch in Ferrouz’s breathing and he opened his eyes. “Wha—” he croaked.

  Axlon was on his knees beside Ferrouz in an instant. “Governor!” he said, sounding relieved. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Ferrouz said, his eyelids fluttering a little as he looked at Axlon and then Mara. “What happened?”

  “Your friend Nuso Esva apparently didn’t trust me to kill you all by myself,” Mara told him grimly. “He had some hired guns standing by to help.”

  “Yes,” Ferrouz murmured, his forehead creasing with concentration. “I remember now. They attacked us. In my office, right?”

  “Right,” Mara said. “And you blocked one of their shots with your head. Generally not a good idea.”

  Abruptly, Ferrouz’s eyes widened. “Where are we?” he said, his gaze shifting past Mara to the open grating above them. “I have to get back—he said I wasn’t supposed to leave the palace.”

  “Who said?” Axlon asked.

  “Nuso Esva,” Ferrouz said, fumbling his hands against the cold permacrete and struggling weakly to get up. “He said he’d kill them if I left. I have to go back.”

  “Easy,” Mara soothed, gently but firmly holding him down. “No one’s killing anyone. Not today.”

  “But he said he would,” Ferrouz pleaded.

  “Who’s getting killed?” Axlon asked. “What’s going on?”

  “A self-styled alien warlord named Nuso Esva has kidnapped the governor’s family and given him a list of demands.” Mara raised her eyebrows. “One of which was to make this deal with you and the Rebel Alliance.”

  Axlon drew back. “What?” he asked carefully.

  “You heard right,” Mara said, stretching out with the Force. Axlon’s face was under rigid control, but she had no trouble sensing the turmoil of anger and frustration swirling behind it. “You haven’t found a corrupt governor you could manipulate, Master Axlon. You found a loyal governor under extreme coercion.”

  Axlon t
ook a deep breath. “I see,” he said. “What now?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you over to Lord Vader,” Mara assured him. “Even if I knew where to find him. More important, I can still use you. So here’s the offer: Until we get Governor Ferrouz’s family back, we have a truce. Once that happens, I’ll give you and your fellow Rebels two hours to get out of the Poln system. Deal?”

  Axlon huffed out a breath. “I doubt I’ll get a better offer anywhere else today. Yes, deal.”

  Mara looked down at Ferrouz. “You okay with that, Governor?”

  “I am,” Ferrouz said grimly. “Provided they weren’t involved with the kidnapping. If they were, I want them all dead.”

  “By the time I have your family back, I’ll know who was involved,” Mara promised. “Tell me about the other ways into the palace compound besides the main gate.”

  Ferrouz frowned. “There aren’t any.”

  “Sure there are,” Mara said. “Your secret exit, for one. We used it to get out, which means someone else could have used it to get in.”

  “No one came in that way.”

  “Then they came in some other way,” Mara said. “Or else someone in high authority passed them through the gate and then tucked them away somewhere for at least several hours and possibly a day or two.”

  Ferrouz exhaled softly. “It’s a big palace,” he said. “I don’t even know how you’d ever find out that there’d been someone hiding there.”

  “There are ways,” Mara said. “It usually comes down to an analysis of the palace food, power, computer, and water usage. But hiding people’s always risky. I’m inclined to think our attackers were slipped in earlier today, around the same time I came in.”

  “But there aren’t any other entrances,” Ferrouz protested.

  “Maybe something you wouldn’t normally think of as an entrance,” Mara suggested. “A garbage shaft or sewage outflow whose safeguards and defenses can be removed. Or some passage or doorway that was retrofitted after the palace was built, like that interrogation room and access corridor.”

  “Like maybe the way they get rid of the bodies after their interrogations,” Axlon muttered.

  Ferrouz looked sharply at him. “You’re right,” he said. “There’s a disposal chute leading from the interrogation room. And it was specifically designed to be large enough for a human body to pass through.”

  “Where does it go?” Mara asked.

  “Supposedly, a secure facility where any waste can be processed and put into the city’s regular sewage system,” Ferrouz said. “But I’ve never seen it, so I really don’t know.”

  Mara nodded. There were still other possibilities to be explored, but her gut was telling her that they’d indeed identified the attackers’ entrance. “New subject: who has access to the interrogation area?”

  “Only the top staff and security people,” Ferrouz said. “Myself, General Ularno, Security Chief Colonel Bonze, and about five of his top people.”

  Mara felt her eyes narrow. “Including Major Pakrie?”

  “Yes,” Ferrouz said, frowning at her sudden change in tone. “You’re not seriously suggesting …”

  “Why not?” Mara said. “You said earlier that he was new to his position. Explain.”

  “He was promoted to major about a month and a half ago,” Ferrouz said, his eyes unfocused and thoughtful. “After his predecessor was killed in an airspeeder accident.”

  “This was about three weeks before your family was kidnapped?”

  Abruptly, Ferrouz’s face went rigid. “Are you saying he was the one who arranged that?”

  “More likely he was one of a group,” Mara said. “I’ll know better after I run his profile. If you can give me all the palace security passwords and access codes, it’ll save me the trouble of slicing them myself.”

  Ferrouz shook his head, his mind clearly still on Pakrie. “No use. You can’t access the computer system from out here.”

  “That’s why I’ll be going back in as soon as I have you settled,” Mara said. “If Pakrie is involved, he’ll have left a trail somewhere. Maybe I can use it to backtrack to the kidnappers and figure out where they’re holding your family.”

  “Won’t they be looking for you in there?” Axlon said.

  “Probably not,” Mara said. “Even if they are, they won’t find me.”

  “But you’ll be finding Pakrie?” Ferrouz said darkly.

  Mara shrugged. “If he’s smart, he’s already on the run. If I do run across him, we may have a short chat.”

  In the distance, she heard the faint creaking of machinery. “Sounds like LaRone’s got our door open,” she said, standing up. “Let me check, and then we’ll get you up there.”

  Marcross was waiting at the supply lift when she and Axlon and a still-shaky Ferrouz arrived. “Welcome back, Governor,” the stormtrooper greeted them.

  “Thank you,” Ferrouz said.

  “Any trouble?” Mara asked as they gathered together on the lift.

  “No,” Marcross said, touching the control and starting the platform back down. “LaRone told the owner his place was suspected of harboring Rebel operatives and that we were shutting him down while we investigated. He couldn’t have been more helpful in kicking everyone out and giving us the passkey.”

  Axlon muttered something. “Good,” Mara said, ignoring him. “That won’t buy us more than a couple of days, but it might be enough.”

  The supply cellar was about what Mara had expected: a single large room with rough permacrete walls and floor, its walls lined with kegs and racks of bottles.

  Though not as many as Mara had anticipated. Either the owner had been preparing to reorder, or else business wasn’t going so well.

  “We spotted a couple of long couches upstairs,” Marcross said as Mara gave herself a quick tour of the room. “The stairway’s a little narrow, but I think we can probably get one of them down here for the governor.”

  “I’m all right,” Ferrouz said.

  “Yes, good idea,” Mara said to Marcross. “Take Axlon and go get one of them. LaRone still upstairs?”

  “Yes, checking for supplies,” Marcross said, beckoning to Axlon. “No point eating ration bars if there’s something better available. Come on, Axlon.”

  The two men crossed to the stairway and disappeared upstairs. “You trust them?” Ferrouz asked quietly.

  “I trust mine,” Mara said. “You trust yours?”

  Ferrouz grimaced. “He’s a Rebel. Can any of them truly be trusted?”

  “Point,” Mara conceded. “Still, simple self-preservation ought to keep him in line long enough for us to end this.”

  “Yes.” Ferrouz hesitated. “Is there really a chance, Agent—You know, I don’t even know what to call you.”

  “Call me Jade,” Mara said. “And yes, there’s a chance. A good chance, I think. Whatever Nuso Esva hopes to accomplish, killing his hostages won’t get it for him. If we’re fast enough, I should be able to get to them while he’s still trying to figure out how to play this new situation we’ve suddenly presented him with.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Ferrouz said, his face sagging a little.

  “I am,” Mara said, stepping to his side and taking his arm. Conscious or not, he was still in pretty bad shape. “I’m also very good at my job. As soon as we’ve got you settled and resting, I’ll get to work on it.”

  Three minutes later, with much huffing and under-the-breath cursing, Marcross and Axlon had the couch down the stairs and set up beside a row of racked bottles. Five minutes after that, Grave, Brightwater, and Quiller arrived, reporting that the neighborhood seemed quiet and that their speeder truck was stashed near a mechanic’s shop where it would be unobtrusive but within reasonably quick reach.

  Five minutes after that, dressed now in her skintight black combat suit and boots, with her lightsaber and hold-out blaster at the ready, Mara was once again in the underground passageway, heading back upslope toward the palace.
<
br />   And as she walked, it occurred to her that she would be going right by Ferrouz’s emergency safe room. If Pakrie or some of Nuso Esva’s other allies had missed Ferrouz by now, they might assume he’d gone to ground. If so, they might even now be gathered around the armored door, trying to break their way in.

  She rather hoped that they were.

  THE HELM OFFICER PEERED AT HIS MONITOR, THEN LOOKED UP AT Pellaeon. “Course reading confirmed, Commander,” he said. “We have a positive tracking on the vector given us by Lord Odo.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Pellaeon said, nodding. “Carry on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The officer turned back to his console, and Pellaeon continued his solitary walk along the command walkway. Ahead of him, the forward viewport was filled with the flowing hyperspace sky.

  Normally, Pellaeon found the view rather soothing. Appealing, even, in an artistic sense. But not today. Today, that sky was ominous and threatening, with unknown dangers behind it.

  They weren’t running some well-known route, where every sizable astronomical body had been carefully identified and mapped. They were in the Unknown Regions now. There could be anything lurking in their path—gas giant planets, brown dwarf stars, even full-fury supernovae. No one on the Chimaera would even know the danger was there until it was too late.

  And even if they made it through, what then? Lord Odo had been suspiciously evasive on the topic of what they might face when they arrived at his destination and dropped out of hyperspace.

  “Commander?” the comm officer called. “Lieutenant Commander Geronti requests your immediate attention in the main engine control room.”

  Pellaeon turned, focusing on the engineering monitor station. “What’s the trouble?” he asked.

  “Nothing indicated here, sir,” the engineering officer reported, running quickly through the paging sequence on his displays. “All systems appear to be functioning normally.”

  “Sir?” the comm officer called again. “The lieutenant commander urgently requests your presence. He says you’ll need to see this for yourself.”