She leaned against the wall. “Do you know how many people have died in the last few weeks, Solo?”
“Enough,” he said, thinking of the Run.
“More than enough,” she said. “Too many. Kueller’s using them to build strength. He’s absorbing the dark side like a droid hooked up to a power cable. If this continues, he may be unbeatable.”
“You don’t believe that,” Han said.
She raised her head. She was stunning, he had to give her that, with her bright green eyes, and red, almost auburn, hair. A woman to respect. A woman that no one ever should tamper with. “I haven’t felt power like this since Palpatine in the early days. If this continues, Han, Kueller will be stronger than the Emperor ever was, and he’ll do it quicker.”
“So you’re not here for Luke after all.”
She swallowed. “It may be too late for Luke. I’m here for the rest of us.”
“Why didn’t Karrde stay, then?”
“He was going to,” she said, “until he saw the battle raging near Almania.”
“What’s going on?”
“Three Victory-class Star Destroyers versus the New Republic fleet. When we came out of hyperspace we saw one of the Mon Calamari Star Cruisers explode. The New Republic is losing the battle, Han. They’ll die out here, and that will give Kueller even more power.”
There was more strength in her voice now. Chewie must have gotten the ysalamiri to at least the periphery of her range.
“He can’t be all-powerful,” Han said. “We would have known.”
“Luke knew,” Mara said. “My sources say Kueller was one of his students. Luke let him get away.”
“Luke never lets students ‘get away.’ They’re free to leave if they want.”
“Well, my sources say Kueller left in hatred. That vision of Luke backs it up.”
Han didn’t want to think about his friend dying alone on some strange planet. Anakin’s voice came back to him. I can’t get Mama or Uncle Luke. “That settles it, then,” he said. “Is Kueller on the Star Destroyers?”
Mara shook her head. “It didn’t feel that way from the Wild Karrde. From the snatches of communication transmissions Talon was picking up, it seemed like Kueller was on the ground.”
How like the Emperor, always there, always behind the scenes.
“Verify that, would you, Mara?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop this.”
“All by yourself? Han, he defeated Luke.”
Han grinned. “I’m not worried.”
“Overconfidence can get a man killed.”
“Exactly,” Han said. “I’m counting on it.”
She studied him for a moment. “You really believe that old wives’ tale, don’t you? You really believe that the best way to defeat a powerful man is to become his equal.”
“The ysalamiri won’t make me his equal, Mara,” Han said. “They’ll give me an advantage.”
She shook her head. “If he was trained as a Jedi, he’s physically powerful. It takes a lot of stamina to go through the training.”
“I know,” Han said. “But I just watched you under the influence of those things. Luke described it as being blind and deaf. A man who has lost power is obsessed with its loss. That’ll give me a momentary advantage.”
“Be sure you take it,” she said. “Because a moment may be all you have.”
Ships blowing up in space reminded Kueller of the past. Even though he was winning this battle, with the destruction of most of the A-wing squadrons and one Star Cruiser, he felt as if he had failed.
War allowed people to feel fear. It gave them time to curse their leader. Survivors often blamed not their own incompetence, but the desires of the person who had sent them into battle.
He had hoped to avoid this. His Star Destroyers were for show, not for might. And yet, the crews were serving him well, better than he had hoped.
If only something weren’t nagging at him, some detail he was forgetting.
Another A-wing exploded on several screens scattered around the room. On the tactical display, a blip disappeared. A man’s scream was cut off mid-thrum on the overhead speakers. He wondered if the New Republic knew that their communications had been tapped.
He wondered if they even cared.
Yanne was shouting orders to the tactical team before him. Voices echoed throughout the command center. Some were digitized voices of TIE fighter pilots. Some were the less-audible voices of the A-wing pilots.
And there were two new blips on the tactical screen, nearly outside Almanian space.
“What are those?” Kueller asked.
“Newcomers, milord,” Gant answered. “The first ship appeared, almost joined the fray, then turned tail. As it ran back to its hyperspace launch point, the other ship appeared almost on top of it.”
“I want those ships identified.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kueller looked at the dome above him. Except for the big flash of light that had appeared moments after the Star Cruiser exploded, he had seen no evidence of battle. If the people of Almania were still alive, they would have seen no battle in the skies above.
If they were still alive.
He smiled. He had their wealth, along with that of Pydyr, and Auyemesh. He would soon use these places of his power and hold the entire galaxy in thrall.
His TIE fighters were flying in an inverted V formation toward the next Star Cruiser. Didn’t the New Republic realize that he knew the schematics of their vessels? That included the easiest way to destroy the ships. He had learned his lessons from Master Skywalker well.
Skywalker.
That was what he was feeling. Skywalker was moving. Kueller detached himself from the group as Vek came to him.
“Sir, we’ve identified the ships.”
“Not now, Vek.” Kueller pulled back even farther.
“But, sir, Yanne said you needed to know. It’s the Wild Karrde and the Millennium Falcon.”
Kueller suddenly focused on the young man before him. His face was round, his eyes a dark reddish-brown, and his skin still covered with acne. One of the hand-picked survivors of Kueller’s revenge on Almania. One of the thousand who made it, and Kueller had trouble remembering why he had let the child live.
“Han Solo’s ship?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kueller smiled. The boy took a step backward. “Well, Sinewy Ana Blue did her job, even if she is a bit late. Double her credit account as promised.”
The boy looked at him oddly. “Yes, sir.”
Solo was here. He didn’t really need him anymore because Organa Solo was already on the planet, but Kueller would take what he could. Solo was a vigorous defender of family and friends, and once Kueller was done with Solo’s wife and brother-in-law, he would go after Solo’s children. It would be a lot easier to do that with Solo gone.
“Yanne!” Kueller yelled.
Yanne looked up from his post near the tactical display. “Milord?”
“We have guests in the outer rim of our sector of space. Veer off a destroyer and get rid of them, will you?”
“Sir, we’ve got the New Republic fleet in a perfect pincer movement. If we veer off ships now, we run the risk of losing all of them.”
Kueller shrugged. “Do as you see fit. But don’t let those two new ships leave. I want them destroyed.”
Yanne frowned. “Yes, sir.”
“And Yanne.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Until I return, you are in charge of all of this.” Kueller smiled. “And remember. I dislike failure.”
Yanne put a hand to his throat. “I’m not likely to forget, sir.”
“Good.” Kueller left the command center. It had fatigued him to be inside. That sense of failure followed him. Yanne had tracked down the feelings Kueller had gotten after giving the orders. The droids had been destroyed on Smuggler’s Run. The stolen droids. But the regular ones had not. Which meant that someone ha
d discovered the detonators and deactivated them.
Brakiss?
Kueller shook his head. He would have sensed the betrayal. No. It had come from a source he hadn’t suspected, hadn’t even known existed. Someone on Coruscant must have discovered the droids.
He should have thought of that.
But no matter. The government on Coruscant was self-focused. They wouldn’t think to warn all the governments in all the sectors. And Brakiss had outfitted all new droids with the detonators—had done so now for nearly two years. That would be enough to put terror in the hearts of the entire galaxy.
Kueller would do that shortly. First he would guarantee he had all the power he needed.
It was time to take care of Skywalker and his sister.
Kueller had sensed the disturbance in the Force when Organa Solo landed on the planet. His own private monitor had shown her ship landing near the towers, and he had felt Skywalker’s valiant attempt to drive off his guards. Kueller had ordered that there be no reinforcements.
He wanted them for himself.
The tower wasn’t far from here.
With Skywalker weakened, and Organa Solo untrained, Kueller would have the advantage.
He gripped his lightsaber in his right hand. An advantage did not guarantee a win. He would have to have some backup.
Skywalker and Organa Solo would not leave Almania alive.
Forty-seven
As Brakiss and his droids marched Cole deep into the factory, Cole’s mother’s angry description of him ran through his head like a mantra: impetuous, stubborn, impulsive. She had said those words to him when he wanted to go to the Jedi academy, when he went to work in Anchorhead, and when he left Tatooine. She had said his desire to be a hero would get him in trouble one day.
She was right.
Even though her words ran like background music through his brain, his conscious mind was examining the possibilities. Brakiss had him at blaster-point. The assassin droids also had their weaponry out, and up ahead, he saw old-style Imperial gladiator droids.
Cole was alone, with one rather flaky protocol droid and one savvy R2 unit, both of whom were, at the moment, not available to help.
Maybe by now, Mon Mothma or Admiral Ackbar might know where he was, but there was no guarantee that they’d care.
Impetuous, stubborn, impulsive.
Might as well add stupid to the list. His faith in Artoo was so great that he had somehow thought the little droid would have things under control.
Strike that.
His faith in himself hadn’t allowed him to think of this possibility. He had thought that a hero only needed to be on the right side in order to win.
The floor sloped downward, and all the signs had disappeared. The walls were unfinished, and the glow panels above were bare—something he had never seen before. They gave a starkness to the scene, a bleakness that matched what he was feeling inside.
Of course Brakiss knew about the detonators. He’d put them there. And he seemed to have the same sort of charisma that Leia Organa Solo had, something that Cole was beginning to understand came from the Force.
He was letting them take him far from the freighter, but he saw no other choice. He had to give Artoo time to work, to do whatever he thought he could do here.
Finally they reached a large steel door. Brakiss keyed in a code, and the door hissed open. Cole tried to take a step back, but Brakiss placed a hand against Cole’s back.
The room was large and smelled of ozone and burning metal. Sparks flew as droids screamed. Large zaps and zots filled the air, followed by more cries from artificial voices. This was a droid torture chamber. Cole had heard of them but had not believed in them.
It took a particularly sadistic mind to determine effective ways to torture creatures that could not feel pain.
But Cole could.
The steel on the door had double reinforcements, and so did the walls. A thin droid made from unfinished metal chuckled when she saw him.
“A human for you, Eve,” Brakiss said. “See what you can do with him. I want to know why he’s really here, so don’t kill him.”
“Deal with him yourself,” the droid said in an hypnotic female voice. “I hate easy targets.”
“Hurting him is easy. Keeping him alive is hard, and keeping him sane will be even harder. I trust your devious mind can find ways to do both.”
The droid walked toward Cole on thin legs. She tilted her head and peered into his face. Her eyes were gold slits, and her metal smelled of blaster scorches.
“I am Eve-Ninedeninetwo. I have headed cyborg operations and retraining at this facility since my prototype, Eve-Ninedenine, was purchased by a Tatooine crime lord. I am said to be twice as ruthless as she. I tell you this as a warning, and with the thought that you might want to confess whatever it is my master wishes to know now, before I discover the limits of human pain.”
In spite of himself, Cole shuddered. So far, though, he didn’t see any R2 units in here, nor did he see Threepio. “I told your master why I’m here.” He glanced at Brakiss, whose eyes glittered as cruelly as the droid’s did. “I found some detonators in some droids that came from this facility, and I thought he might want to know about it.”
“An altruist,” Brakiss said dryly. “Who conveniently forgets that he sent his droids out into the nether reaches of my facility.”
Eve rubbed her clawlike hands together. “I would prefer to have the droids.”
That confirmed, at least, that they hadn’t caught Threepio or Artoo so far.
“I didn’t see the signs,” Cole said.
“This story has its limitations, Fardreamer,” Brakiss said. He was standing alone in the doorway. The assassin droids remained in the hall. “Tell me how useful you are to Skywalker, and I might let you go.”
Cole shrugged. “I’m just his mechanic.”
“A man who can go off on his own, with some of the most important droids in the galaxy? Skywalker must trust his servants, then.”
A boxy droid with a cylindrical head was having its feet heated and reshaped. The droid’s scream was a high-pitched whistle that eeped intermittently. Off in a side room, there was a loud splash, accompanied by a droid begging in unmodulated mechanical tones.
“No,” Cole said. “He just expects us to have initiative.”
“I see,” Brakiss said. “And no one else could have come here? No one else could have sent a message to me?”
“I thought the matter rather delicate,” Cole said. “It wouldn’t do to broadcast that droids all over the galaxy weren’t safe.”
“No, it wouldn’t do at all,” Brakiss said. He shoved Cole toward Eve. Her claws grabbed his arms so tightly that it cut off the circulation.
“Remember,” Brakiss said. “Alive, and sane.”
“I won’t forget,” she said.
The assassin droids had disappeared. This had to be quite the terrifying place, even for droids.
He would only get one chance. “Did you know,” he said to Eve in a husky, satisfied voice, “that you have your claws wrapped around my pleasure centers?”
She swiveled her head in startlement.
“No,” Brakiss said, but it was already too late. She had loosened her grip.
Cole pulled his arms free, and ran for the door. He bumped Brakiss as he did so, and grabbed Brakiss’s blaster.
The assassin droids outside were gone as if they had never been. If he could only remember—
A bolt of electricity wrapped itself around him, sending a tingly jolting feeling through him. His body jerked, and flailed, and jerked, and his breath locked in his throat. His eyes were bugging out of his head, and he couldn’t breathe …
… couldn’t …
… breathe …
—and then the bolt released him. He fell to the floor, flopping like a fish, wishing he could stop, but completely unable to. Finally his muscles stopped jerking and he lay still, his muscles as useless as water.
Brakiss k
icked him, turning him over. There was no one else near him. Eve remained in her torture chamber, in the same position she had been in before. Cole saw no stun equipment, nothing that could have caused that thoroughly unpleasant experience.
“Don’t cross me again, boy,” Brakiss said. “I could easily torture you myself, but I don’t have the time to waste.”
“You did that?” Cole asked, even though it came through his immobile mouth sounding like “eww ii aa?”
“Your friend Skywalker frowns on such use of the Force, but I find it helpful. Now cooperate with me, Fardreamer, and I’ll let you go.”
“Can’t,” Cole said. It came out as “aae.” He couldn’t even talk, couldn’t even defend himself.
“I’ll leave you to Eve for the time being. If at any time you change your mind about your story, just let her know. She’ll contact me.”
He stepped over Cole and walked down the hallway. Little tremors ran through Cole’s body. He had no control at all. Eve stepped over him, bent down, and gripped his ankle in her claw. He couldn’t even kick at her.
She dragged him by the leg back into the torture chamber. Then she lifted him as if he weighed nothing and threw him on a tilted, ribbed piece of metal. It reclined slightly. Above him were dozens of drills, saws, and welders. He recognized all of them, and knew most of them were built for metal equipment.
Eve seemed to smile as she bent over him. “This is your last chance, human.”
But his mouth didn’t work. He couldn’t confess, even if he wanted to.
Luke rested for a moment beside Leia. A lesser man would have been dead by now. She was amazed that he could keep going.
“We have to get out of here,” she said.
“I know.” He spoke softly.
But he seemed to be waiting for something. She hoped that something wasn’t Kueller.
She put her arm around Luke’s waist, careful to avoid the wounds on his back, and pulled him to his feet. Then she slung his arm over her shoulder, taking his weight off his ankle, and together they walked toward the hangar.
Just as a familiar double tone warned her that the Alderaan’s self-destruct had just kicked in.
“We’ve got trouble,” she whispered.
Star Wars: The New Rebellion Page 41
