Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis 1 - Before the Storm

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  Ackbar shook his head slowly. “I thought that before you made your decision about giving up your work, you needed to know that there's still more for us to do. Whoever sent those ships to Polneye is the enemy of the peace you've tried so hard to build.”

  “Isn't there something in the apocrypha about wisdom beginning with knowing your limitations? Peace was a goal, not a guarantee. Besides—I was naive. Which would make a fine summation of my short career,” she added acerbically.

  “Admiral Ackbar's right,” Han said, shaking his head. “All this other stuff who burned the toast, who borrowed whose shirt, who left the light on—none of that matters. What matters is, what are we going to do now?”

  “What can I do?” Leia asked plaintively. “Nothing. Polneye wasn't a member of the New Republic. They weren't even applicants.”

  “You're talking about obligations,” said Han. “I'm talking about the right thing to do.”

  “But that's the trick, isn't it? You can't get three people to agree on the right thing to do,” Leia said. “Peace is impossible. No matter what, it seems like there's always someone who wants to kill someone else. You can't give them enough reasons not to. At least, I can't.”

  “Leia—”

  “I'm sorry about the Polneye, I truly am. But it's too late to help them. Besides, if I were to send forces anywhere near Koornacht, I wouldn't have to resign—the Senate would hang me first and impeach me later.”

  Leia shook her head. “I hope Mallar lives—though I'm not sure that's not being cruel, if it turns out he's the only survivor. Who else knows about him? Who else has seen the recording?”

  “A very short list,” Ackbar said.

  “See that it stays that way,” she said, and moved toward the door. “I'm going home, Han. Are you coming?”

  Han was looking at her as though she were a stranger. “I think I'll stay awhile,” he said.

  Leia shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Han cocked his head to one side and shot Ackbar a quizzical look. “I have just one question—who was that person, and what have you done with Leia?”

  “She is hurting,” said Ackbar. “She is questioning herself, and her ideals.”

  “Tell me something I don't know,” Han said. “What in the world happened while I was away?”

  “I will tell you what I can,” said Ackbar. “But I am afraid some of the answers will have to come from her.”

  A stranger was sitting cross-legged in the street outside the family entrance, facing the house, when Leia reached it in a borrowed Fleet skimmer. He was dressed in a long robe the color of saffron, which spilled out around him in a circle on the pavement. She recognized neither his profile nor his species, and slowed only so that she could hop the fence at a speed that wouldn't alarm the house defenses.

  But after she had disembarked and sent the speeder heading back, curiosity got the better of her.

  She walked out to the fence and, with the security droid hovering protectively nearby, called out to him.

  “You—who are you?”

  “Jobath, the councillor of the Fia, of Galantos,” he said, and then his face brightened. “But I know you. You are Princess Leia, the warrior queen who rallied the oppressed to rise up against the Emperor. You saved my people from slavery.”

  “Well—you're welcome. But that was a long time ago,” she said. “And I don't know whose version of history you've been listening to, anyway. I don't remember ever being a queen or a warrior.”

  “Oh, yes, I know all the stories. You are a great woman. It is an honor to meet you.”

  “What are you doing out there?”

  “I am waiting for you,” the Fian said. “Your metal servant said that you were not receiving visitors, but my need is urgent. And now I see you have re turned. May I rise and approach without alarming your loyal protector?”

  “What? Oh, the droid. No, he doesn't like people loitering around the entrances. What was your name again?”

  “Jobath, of the Fia.”

  “Did we have an appointment, Jobath of the Fia?”

  “No, Princess.”

  “All right. I was afraid for a moment I'd forgotten,” she said. “Here's the way it is, Jobath of the Fia—I intend to go inside and sleep for about three days. If I'm still president when I get up, you can make an appointment with the scheduling center, in the protocol office.” She turned away from the fence and started toward the house.

  “Princess! Please, wait! I've come about what's happening in The Multitude. You must talk to me now!”

  “Must I?” said Leia, looking back. “The Multitude—what's that?”

  “The Great Multitude of the Circle of the Heavens,” Jobath said earnestly. “There is another name, an ugly name—”

  “Are you talking about Koornacht?”

  “Yes!” Jobath said brightly. “Koornacht.”

  Leia scowled. “This is too much. You tell Ackbar that I'm tired of being manipulated.”

  “Admiral Ackbar?”

  “Right. Tell him he can have this job anytime he wants it. All he has to do is say the word.”

  “Oh, yes, Ackbar, I know this name, too. He, too, was a great warrior in the Rebellion. But you are mistaken. I have not had the honor of the counsel of the Ackbar,” said Jobath.

  “No?”

  “I have come here directly from your Eastport, and before that from Galantos, to speak with you in a matter of great urgency. A terrible evil prowls The Multitude. Many have died already. My people fear for their future.”

  As he was speaking, Leia was slowly drawn back to the fence. She curled her fingers around the wrought work and closed them into fists.

  “How do you know what's happened?”

  “There was a warning sent to us from a ship which came out of The Multitude,” said Jobath. “A freighter bound for Woqua intercepted the beam of this signal, or we would not have heard the warning for a very long time—if ever. We sent our own vessel out to find this ship. It, too, found the signal, but the ship itself has vanished.”

  Leia realized that Plat Mallar, facing unconsciousness, must have used the interceptor's combat comm to transmit his recordings toward his destination. Doing so would make him, and even his ship, expendable, since no force in the galaxy could gather up or destroy his comm signal.

  “We have the ship,” she said, resting her forehead against the fence. “And the pilot.”

  “I am glad to know this. I would like to offer him refuge on Galantos, and, if he wishes it, citizenship in the Fia.”

  “That will have to wait, I'm afraid,” said Leia. “What do you want from me?”

  “I've come to ask the protection of the New Republic and the great Princess Leia for my planet and my people,” said Jobath, clasping the fence with long fingered hands just below where Leia clung to it. “I be seech you to accept a petition for membership, and fortify us against these murderers.”

  Leia pulled her hands back as though fearing contact with Jobath.

  “I'll consider your petition,” she said uncomfortably, and started to back away.

  “Please hurry,” said Jobath. “There is little time. If they who fell on Polneye choose to leave The Multitude, we could be the next to suffer their predation. Our entire navy has only two patrol corvettes, and the cutter which brought me here. Half a million lives are at risk on Galantos alone.”

  ****(diplomatic) hostel. They'll provide you with quarters. I'll send word to you there.”

  Then she turned and fled into the house. But the walls did not offer the same sanctuary they had recently promised, and sleep was no longer possible.

  Within an hour of Jobath's arrival at the diplomatic hostel, three other worlds with legations quartered there submitted emergency petitions for membership. Two of the three were located in sectors far from Koornacht, the third in Hatawa, but still many light-years from the trouble.

  All three, along with the Fia, received only silence in reply. />
  For the moment there was silence, too, on the newsgrids. So far the Polneye tragedy had escaped their attention. Coruscant Global Newsgrid was still dissecting the fallout from the explosive Senate session earlier in the week.

  But in its midday refresh, Global added a new item to the feature queue—a speculative report that Princess Leia had already resigned as president. According to the rumor (treated as fact), an announcement would be made as soon as the top military leaders and the Senate agreed on a replacement.

  Sitting in his Fleet office, Admiral Ackbar viewed that news with mixed contempt and bemusement. Even if Leia had resigned, the idea that the Fleet would have any part in selecting a new Chief of State was absurd.

  The idea that any such negotiations would take place without him was equally absurd.

  But Ackbar pondered long and hard whether he should pick up his comlink and start a rumor of his own. “We ought to get out in front this time,” he said aloud to himself. “Put Plat Mallar's face and story on the grids. Show everyone what happened on Polneye, and bring them over to Leia's side. That's what I would do. If she could just bring herself to admit that the viceroy never was a friend—” He shook his head. It wasn't time yet. He would watch the news from Farlax, where the Fifth Fleet's prowlers were now all on station outside Koornacht Cluster, sweeping hyperspace with their sensitive ripple filters, and the news from the Senate and administrative complex, where every analyst and commentator in Imperial City was on duty, sifting the corridor gossip with their hypersensitive news antennae. And he would wait to see which situation changed first.

  Absurd or not, the Global report on Leia's resignation ran through the diplomatic hostel like a virulent infection. It puzzled many, and worried Jobath, who began to fear he had brought his appeal to the wrong ears. That fear carried him, in the company of the seneschal of the Marais, to the office of Chairman Behn-kihl-nahm.

  Half an hour later they left the office reassured that Leia still held executive power for the New Republic and that their petitions were being acted on with all possible dispatch. The moment they were gone, Behn-kihl-nahm tried one more time to reach Princess Leia. But he had no more success than with any of his many previous attempts that morning.

  Behn-kihl-nahm was fast losing patience with her—Leia had closed everyone out at exactly the worst time, when they should be planning their strategy and response together. He disliked having to make tactical decisions unilaterally.

  Would Leia approve of his tying the withdrawals of the Walalla and the others up in procedural knots, as he had successfully done that morning? Or would she have preferred he simply let them go? Should he offer Peramis and Hodidiji the appointment to negotiate the return of the bodies? He thought it might give both a way to justify a change of heart, but would they conduct themselves with dignity, or simply become an embarrassment?

  Even more than making decisions, Behn-kihl-nahm disliked being caught out uninformed. The business with the Polneye, the pilot in the hospital—why should he have had to hear about' that from a couple of ambassadors-without-portfolio? How had one of them been able to meet with Leia while his calls were still going begging? Was she going to resign? If not, what was she going to do about the petitions for protection?

  When his usual sources were unable to satisfy his curiosity, Behn-kihl-nahm called Hiram Drayson. The machinery of governance was frozen, paralyzed in the face of crises that would only grow worse if not attended to. Did Drayson know what had gotten stuck in its gears?

  “I couldn't say, Chairman,” Drayson said.

  “You can't say, or you don't know?”

  “Chairman, my suggestion to you would be to put up the best pretense you can that everything's under control. And that includes letting whoever wants to huff and puff in the well of the Senate do so to his or her heart's content.”

  “Admiral,” said Behn-kihl-nahm gravely, “that advice worries me more than any other development of the last week.”

  “Admiral Ackbar.”

  The man in the doorway wore casual civilian clothing, but he still had the posture of a soldier in uniform.

  “Mr. Drayson. Come in.”

  “I'm not here to visit this time. Can you get me in to see Leia?”

  “I'm afraid I cannot,” said Ackbar. “My key was deactivated this morning.”

  “I have to talk to her,” Drayson said simply. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  Ackbar grunted. “I'm a little surprised to learn that the Old Ghost of Coruscant has no secret passages or secret passwords available to him.”

  “Getting in isn't the problem,” said Drayson. “Getting listened to is. I'm afraid that none of the means at my disposal would be likely to earn me a reasoned hearing.”

  “There are many people who want to talk to her,” said Ackbar. “She does not seem to want to talk to US.”

  “I'm afraid I can't permit her the luxury of refusing,” said Drayson.

  “She is tired of being pushed and poked at,” said Ackbar. “If we give her some time--”

  Drayson shook his head so slightly it was almost imperceptible. “There's no more time,” he said.

  Blinking slowly, Ackbar sat back in his chair. “Do you know her husband?”

  “Not professionally,” Drayson said. “But his loyalty to her is well known.”

  Ackbar nodded thoughtfully. “He was here with me for three hours today,” he said. “He was the one who ordered the prowlers to Koornacht—not General A'baht.”

  “Interesting.”

  “There is more. He brought the Fifth Fleet back, as she ordered—but only as far as the outer marshaling point, and he kept it at combat readiness, with full crews aboard. He understands the stakes. He may be more sympathetic than you expect. But I cannot promise that she will even listen to him.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” said Drayson. “That's useful. If you'll excuse me—”

  “Admiral—”

  “Yes?”

  “I was wondering—could the viceroy have done this to Leia? All those hours he spent alone with he r—we know so little about the Yevetha,” said Ackbar. “Is it possible that something happened in that room? Is it possible that he has done something to her mind?”

  “No,” said Drayson. “No, I can tell you that nothing happened in that room.”

  The answer did not seem to please Ackbar.

  “Thank you,” he said all the same.

  The sounds of splashing and gleeful childish laughter covered any sounds of footsteps on the walk.

  But Leia, with her wariness magnified by powerful feelings of isolation, was aware of Admiral Drayson's approach before he had even emerged from the trees.

  Jaina, in turn, quickly sensed her mother's dark mood. “Mommy, who's that? Do you want me to make him go away?”

  “No—no,” Leia said with a quick smile, and tousled her daughter's wet, stringy hair. “Jacen, Jaina, take Anakin inside. I want you all dry and dressed when I come in.”

  For once the children obeyed without argument.

  Leia thought it a telling sign that the stress and chaos of the last weeks, of the last few days, was affecting them as well.

  Drayson stopped a polite distance away, hands laced together behind his back. “Princess.”

  “You know, if security is supposed to keep unwanted people out, the security around the president's residence leaves a great deal to be desired.”

  “Your husband admitted me, Princess Leia.”

  “Did he,” she said. “Well, my husband leaves a bit to be desired himself lately. What do you want?”

  “Five minutes,” said Drayson. He brought his right hand forward and showed her the datacard he had cradled in the palm. “I think this will be useful to you in regard to the decision you're facing.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “The only one that matters.”

  “Five minutes?”

  “And then I'll be gone.”

  “All right,” she said with a sigh.
“Five minutes.”

  The datacard contained a brief recording, timestamped less than two hours earlier. The recording showed a pair of Yevethan thrustships unloading on a hilly, brush-covered landscape. The kind and volume of material being unloaded and the shape and size of the clearing being made for it dictated one conclusion—it was the first phase of a colonization landing.

  “Where is this?”

  “The astrographic office knows it as Doornik-319,” Drayson said. “It's part of a system inside the Koornacht Cluster. The Kubaz who lived there till yesterday called it Morning's Bell.”

  “What happened yesterday?”

  “The same thing that happened to Polneye,” said Drayson. “And it doesn't stop there. The evidence I've seen suggests that every non-Yevethan settlement in Koornacht received the same sort of treatment.”

  “What evidence? Where did you get this recording?”

  “I'd rather you not ask me that, Princess.”

  “I am asking you.”

  Drayson nodded. “Princess, is it absolutely necessary that you know the source for you to credit the evidence? If so, then I'll answer. But if you don't need that knowledge to accept what that recording means, then I'd rather not risk those assets any more than I already have by revealing what they've discovered. The information is what matters.”

  Leia stared at him.

  “I think my five minutes are up,” he said, with a little bow. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Stop!” she said sharply. “Who are you, really?”

  Drayson turned and looked back at her. “I do what I do under the authority of an executive order issued by Mon Mothma,” he said. “You'll find it in your personal library files as D9020616.”

  “Mon Mothma! She never said a word about this—”

  “She found the machinery of the New Republic unwieldy when it came to certain aspects of statecraft—-getting information into the right hands, projecting policy into ambiguous situations. I try to address those shortcomings.”

  “Who do you answer to?”

  **** one at our level does,” Drayson said. “I answer to my conscience and my sense of duty. And yes, if either ever fails us, we can do a great deal of harm—and probably hide most of it, too. But that's all there is, isn't it? Conscience or obedience. Leader or follower. Whose orders do you obey?” He pointed at the datacard. “Who will tell you what to do about that? You see? Conscience and duty.” He bowed again. “Good evening, Princess.”