Star Wars: The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “Forgive me, President,” Meido said. “But whoever planted that bomb had to have access to the Chamber. Very few people had such access. The person who set the bomb will be one we trust. I can guarantee that, just from the circumstances. And I think when you’re calm you’ll realize that too.”

  Leia stood slowly, drawing upon all her regal training to stare down Meido. “When I was eighteen years old, I stood beside Grand Moff Tarkin as he gave one order from the depth of space and wiped out Alderaan, my home planet, with a single blast from the Death Star. Until that moment, I had believed the destruction of a planet in an instant was impossible. So don’t tell me what has to be true, Meido. I am Force-sensitive. If my husband were to betray me or the Republic, I would know. And so would my brother, who is a Jedi Master. We still don’t know what happened in the Hall that day. And until we do, we can’t be certain if a friend betrayed us, or if someone tested a new weapon. But if I were you, I would stop making baseless accusations now. Such accusations will only divide us. And now, more than ever, we need to be unified.”

  She met everyone’s gaze individually. Borsk Fey’lya was leaning back in his chair, his eyes bright. Bel Iblis wasn’t looking at her. ChoFï was studying his hands. C-Gosf’s whiskers were trembling, and she wouldn’t meet Leia’s gaze. Gno was the only one of her friends who smiled at her, in an attempt to reassure her.

  They would not do any more than they already had. She could count on them to hear the evidence, nothing more.

  Leia nodded once. “This meeting is adjourned until tomorrow morning. By then,” she said, “I expect answers. Not accusations. Concrete information. Am I clear?”

  Leia didn’t give them a chance to respond. She turned and walked out of the room, holding herself as proudly as she could. But once she was alone, she let the shaking overtake her.

  It had begun. The unity she valued above everything except her family was shattering.

  Just as she had known it would.

  As the Lady Luck landed on Skip 1, Lando visually scanned the docking bay for the Millennium Falcon. The Falcon had features that were obvious even next to the same model Corellian stock light freighter. Lando saw none of those.

  Blast Solo. It would be like him to be gone by the time Lando decided to do the heroic thing. Still, Lando wouldn’t be able to track him any other way.

  He hoped Han was all right.

  The Lady Luck bounced her way onto the surface. Landing without slave circuitry and only relying on outdated tractor equipment was more of a risk than he had thought it would be. He cursed and resisted the urge to run a check on his ship.

  When the ship stabilized, he went to the cargo door and opened it from the inside.

  Sinewy Ana Blue stood outside, one hand on one slender hip. She looked good in her shorts and tightly tied shirt, a little older, but no wiser. He grinned. He had always been unable to resist Blue.

  “That cargo list was one of the most embarrassing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “It’s clear you haven’t been doing much with yourself since you left here.”

  “I don’t have time for chitchat, Blue,” he said. “I need to fix this baby and get off this mud ball before Nandreeson discovers I’m here.”

  “It’s probably too late,” Blue said. “Nandreeson keeps track of all the traffic around the Run. You’d better hope he’s busy with something else.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t have much of a choice,” Lando said. “Most of the circuitry quit. I need some repairs.”

  Blue shook her head. “You won’t get any with that cargo list. Nothing worth trading. What have you got in your hold?”

  “Nothing. I’ve been out of the business a long time.”

  She grinned. “That’s right. You went legit. Just like Solo. So be straight with me, Lando. You here to be with your old buddy?”

  “I’m here because the Luck’s down.” He had to play this cool. “Why’re you asking about Han?”

  “Because he and that furball of a partner of his showed up a few days back. Figured you wouldn’t be long behind.”

  “And since Solo rejected her, she’s hoping for your blood.” Kid DXo’ln leaned his balding head around the door. “How ya been, Calrissian?”

  “Up and down.”

  “Yeah, heard about that gas mining on Bespin. Turning legit has its rewards, huh?”

  “I lost that little property to the Empire,” Lando said. He ducked under the partially open door, and stopped. Two dozen smugglers were at the base, blasters trained on him. He raised an eyebrow. “You folks sure know how to make an old friend feel welcome.”

  “You’re not a friend, Calrissian,” Zeen Afit said. He was standing near the Kid at the base of the ramp. “You’re here to spy on us.”

  “For whom?”

  “Whoever pays the most,” the Kid said.

  “Don’t accuse him of things when you have no proof,” Blue said.

  “I just want to get the Luck fixed,” Lando said, even though his excuse was beginning to sound lame, even to him.

  “Yeah?” Zeen said. “You know how it works around here. You don’t have enough cargo to trade for bantha dung, let alone a repair.”

  “I know that,” Lando said. “But I have a lot of credits to offer.”

  “So why didn’t you do that up front?” someone yelled from the side.

  “Because, in my day, offering money to the Run was the best way to show you didn’t belong.”

  Blue walked up the ramp and slid her arm through his. “It’s still that way, Lando,” she said. “Don’t let them scare you off.”

  “I’m not,” he said, “But I do want to know if I can get repairs.”

  “It’ll cost you,” Zeen said. “Ten thousand credits.”

  “Ten thousand?” Lando pulled Blue closer. “You don’t even know what’s wrong yet.”

  “Don’t have to,” Zeen said. “Figure you want to keep that ship away from Nandreeson’s people. The ten thousand is just for protection.”

  Lando snorted. “As if you can protect me from Nandreeson. How many of his drones have blasters on me right now?”

  “None,” the Kid said. “Nandreeson’s got Skip 6. We don’t let him near Skip 1.”

  “Right,” Lando said. “And you guys all work for free now,”

  “Lando, things have changed,” the Kid said.

  “Not that much. Don’t insult my intelligence just because I’ve been away, and I won’t insult yours. I’ve got a legitimate problem with my ship or I wouldn’t be on the Run. So you find me the best mechanic around here, and I’ll guard the Luck myself.”

  “How much you willing to pay?”

  “As much as it takes to do this fast,” Lando said. Then he frowned at Blue. She seemed convinced, even if no one else did. “What were you saying about Solo?”

  “You know he’s here, Lando.”

  “I don’t see the Falcon.”

  “I didn’t know you were looking for it.”

  “How else did he get here?”

  “Lando, don’t play dumb.”

  “I’m not playing dumb,” he said. “You want to check my ship yourself? I haven’t spoken to Han in a long time. I’ve been trying to set up a legitimate mining operation on Kessel.” He pulled away from her and adjusted his cape. “But if Han is here, I would love to see him. Chewie knows as much about the Lady Luck as he does the Falcon. He could help me repair her, and then I won’t bother anyone.”

  Blue studied him a moment, her magnificent eyes taking in all of him. Then she smiled, slowly, seductively. “You’ve always been a mystery to me, Lando. I like that in a man.”

  “You like anything in a man,” Zeen said from below. “Don’t believe any of that about Han. Lando’s here for him. Something’s going down.”

  Lando shook his head. “I know I’m not going to convince you, Zeen, but at least Blue believes me. Just lead me to Han and I’ll leave all of you alone.”

  Zeen blocked the edge of the ramp, his blaster pointed at L
ando’s heart. “You’re not going anywhere, Calrissian. You’re wanted by Nandreeson, and you haven’t been to the Run in almost twenty years. That makes you an outsider. We don’t like outsiders much.”

  Lando’s mouth went dry. “I don’t like having a blaster pointed at me either, Zeen. You want to put that aside?”

  “No can do, Calrissian.”

  “Put down the blaster, Zeen,” Blue said. “He’s my responsibility.”

  “Fine,” Zeen said. “You stay with him on his precious ship, then. And we’ll all wait for Solo to return. Then Calrissian can leave us in peace.”

  “What are you so afraid of me for, Zeen?” Lando asked.

  “We don’t need Nandreeson’s people here,” Zeen said.

  “Too late.” The voice that had spoken before, the one Lando hadn’t been able to place, spoke again. A Rek stepped out from the crowd. His slender, whiplike body blended in with the crowd, but his orange eyes blazed like a freighter’s running lights. In his rope-thin hands, he held a blaster, trained on Lando. “You’re coming with us, Calrissian. Nandreeson will be happy to see you.”

  Another Rek stepped out from against the wall. Then another, and another, until thirty Reks surrounded the group of smugglers, “Very happy,” one of the Reks said. “About two million credits’ worth.”

  “Wow,” Blue said. “If I’d known you were worth that much, I’d’ve turned you in myself.”

  The sum startled Lando, too. “It was only fifty thousand last I heard.”

  “Come with us peacefully,” the first Rek said, “and I will leave your ship alone.”

  “What good will that do me?” Lando asked. “I can’t use it if I’m dead.” He reached for his own blaster, but a rubbery appendage wrapped itself around his wrist. He looked down. Another Rek had twisted its arm around his skin. Its slitted mouth opened in a Rek’s version of a smile. This Rek was female; her purple eyes gave away her gender.

  “I wouldn’t try it, big boy,” she said. “You’re still worth a million credits to Nandreeson dead.”

  “All right,” Lando said to Blue. She was his only hope now. “No more pretense. I’ve got to find Han. He’s in big trouble.”

  “I’ll say,” the female Rek said. “He’s going to meet us on Skip 6. I’m sure your reunion will be a happy one.”

  Blue backed away, holding her hands up. “Sorry, Lando,” she said. “I never get involved in Nandreeson’s business.”

  “Some friend you are,” Lando said.

  “I never said I was a friend,” Blue said. “Just an interested party. You never should have come here, Lando.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said.

  Twenty-three

  Four new languages in the last day. Threepio sat at his computer bay in the Solos’ apartments. He had had no duties since the children left, and he was using the time to catch up on the new languages. Two were from recently discovered planets, and two were new droid languages. That made eighteen new droid languages in the last week, or 2.571 languages per day.

  The computer bay was near the children’s quarters. Threepio sat in the chair because Jaina had once insisted he do so. Anakin had pasted stickers of heroes of the Old Republic onto the bay walls. Threepio had asked him to remove them, but Anakin had “forgotten,” a word he often used when he meant that he did not want to.

  A tiny icon flashed on the corner of the screen. It was a small R2 unit. Threepio pressed a key with a golden finger and the icon covered the screen. Then he pressed another key and the icon turned into a single blinking message:

  EMERGENCY

  EMERGENCY

  EMERGENCY

  There was a small code tagged onto the y. Threepio opened the code, and binary covered the screen. The message was from Artoo. He was in the cargo bay with someone named Cole Fardreamer, and they were being accused of sabotage. The message was new, and it kept repeating, over and over.

  Threepio pressed two more keys. Artoo was still online. Threepio started to send a message back when the screen went blank. Then nothing.

  Artoo was gone.

  It amazed him how quickly the credits disappeared. Kueller sat at his desk on Almania. The curtains were open, revealing the lights of the city below. The towers of the Je’har were black blotches against the night skyline. Emptiness. Ruins. A sign of Kueller’s tremendous power.

  But wealth supported power. He would have to strip Pydyr of its treasures and sell them on the open market. His agents were already sending out discreet feelers to the greatest collectors in the galaxy. If he could sell the homes of Pydyr as a set, the gems of Pydyr as another, and the clothing of Pydyr as a third, he would have enough credits to complete Phase 3 of the operation.

  Phase 1 was over, and Phase 2 was underway.

  Kueller leaned back in his chair. His gloves were on the table beside the five small computer screens. His hands looked pale in the artificial light. A young man’s hands. Not the hands of the most powerful man in the galaxy.

  Not yet.

  But soon. Very soon.

  A chime rang softly on his private line. He touched the screen in response. Brakiss’s face appeared. His blond hair was tousled, and his eyes looked tormented. Brakiss had faced Skywalker, then. Kueller knew the signs.

  “So,” Kueller said, not waiting for Brakiss to speak, “he raised questions in your tormented heart.”

  Brakiss flinched. If Skywalker could tempt Brakiss, a man who had loved the Empire with all of his twisted heart, he could tempt anyone. Kueller had made the right choice: Destroying Skywalker and all who believed in him was the next step. Kueller would not succeed without doing so.

  “Is he your master now, Brakiss?” Kueller asked.

  “No!” Brakiss actually backed away from his screen. His image was smaller—Brakiss seemed smaller.

  “Then who is your master, Brakiss?”

  “No one,” Brakiss said. His mouth was a thin line, his eyes full of terror and sadness. “I want out this time, Kueller. I’m done.”

  Kueller let his death mask smile, even though his own irritation was deep. “What did Skywalker do to you?”

  “Nothing,” Brakiss said.

  “Then why this sudden loss of faith?”

  “It’s not sudden, Kueller. You wouldn’t let me kill him.”

  “Even though you tried.”

  Brakiss flinched again.

  Kueller leaned forward, knowing the movement would make his death’s-head mask fill Brakiss’s view-screen. “You tried and you failed, and Skywalker, out of the goodness of his Jedi heart, let you live. And now you are grateful to your old master, and you wonder how anyone could best him, and you are not certain whether anyone should best him, am I right, Brakiss?”

  “I hate Skywalker,” Brakiss said.

  Kueller shook his head. “You don’t hate Skywalker. You hate the way he makes you feel. You hate yourself, Brakiss. You hate what you’ve become.”

  Brakiss raised his chin. “He says I could go back to the academy. He says I could abandon the dark side. He says Vader did.”

  “Of course Vader did,” Kueller said, his voice calm, even though he felt like shredding Brakiss for even listening to Skywalker. “Vader was dying. Skywalker was beside him. The Emperor was gone. Vader had nothing left. He had no power and no hope. He took what Skywalker offered. He had no real choice.”

  “Skywalker says he did.”

  “Skywalker was trying to take you into his power. Did he succeed, Brakiss?”

  Brakiss crossed his arms. “You can’t tell?”

  Kueller smiled, glad he had not used the holo-projector. He seemed bigger on the screen, more powerful, and he needed all that power at this moment. “I think Skywalker could have taken you back if he truly wanted to, but he did not. He’s not interested in you. You are nothing to him. You aren’t even worth killing.”

  Brakiss flinched again. So Brakiss had left himself open, made it easy for Skywalker to kill him. And the virtuous Luke Skywalker had not.
/>   “Skywalker wants me,” Kueller said. “He knows that to maintain his power, he must defeat me.”

  “He doesn’t even know you exist,” Brakiss said. His tone had defiance in it. Just enough defiance to make him still useful.

  “Oh, he knows,” Kueller said. “You sent him to me, didn’t you?”

  “I warned him away from you.” Brakiss’s eyes widened even as the words left his mouth. He apparently hadn’t planned on telling Kueller that.

  “Good,” Kueller said. “Skywalker is more apt to come to me now. You did well, Brakiss.”

  “Well?” Brakiss sounded stunned.

  “Yes,” Kueller said. “You did my work even better than I had hoped you would.”

  “Th—then I can stay here?” Brakiss stammered like a small child. He loved the factory. It gave him a peace that Kueller found very useful.

  “Is that what you want?” Kueller asked.

  Brakiss nodded, slowly, as if he was afraid to reveal himself to Kueller.

  “Then of course you can stay, Brakiss. You have served me well.”

  “And you won’t send anyone else here?”

  Kueller smiled. “No one else needs to come. Telti is yours, Brakiss. I will continue to subsidize it for you. And you will continue to work for me, as you always have. And we will never again discuss Skywalker, the academy, or Yavin 4. Is that what you want?”

  “I want Skywalker to stay away.”

  “You’ll always be alone there. Your Force talents will go to waste, but that will be your loss, Brakiss, not mine. Your usefulness is done.”

  “And Skywalker?” Brakiss couldn’t seem to let it alone. Skywalker must have made an impression. More of an impression than Kueller was comfortable with.

  “Skywalker is mine now,” Kueller said. “Soon he will bother no one ever again.”

  Twenty-four

  The Glottalphib smiled at Han. Smoke seeped between his long yellow teeth, narrowly missing the walls of the Falcon. “Well, General Solo,” he said. “We meet again.”

  Han had to struggle to recall his name. “You’re outnumbered, Iisner.”