Dark Force Rising (Star Wars) swtt-2
Page 11
But even as Luke ran through the sensory enhancement techniques, something else caught his attention. It was an odor: a faint whiff of Carababba tabac and armudu. The same combination Lando had called his attention to on the Sluis Van space station...
Luke opened his eyes and looked around the crowd. "Niles Ferrier," he called. "Will you step forward, please."
There was a long pause, punctuated only by Lando's sudden hissing intake of air at Ferrier's name. Then, with a rustle of movement from one side of the circle, a familiar bulky figure pushed his way to the front. "What do you want?" he demanded, his hand resting on the butt of his holstered blaster.
"I need to know the unofficial exchange rate between Imperial and New Republic currencies," Luke said. "I thought perhaps you could tell me what it is."
Ferrier studied him with ill-concealed scorn. "This is your problem, Jedi. Leave me out of it."
There was a low rumble of displeasure from the crowd. Luke didn't reply, but held Ferrier in a level gaze; and after a moment, the other's lip twisted. "The last time I did business on the other side, we settled on a five to four Empire/Republic conversion," he growled.
"Thank you," Luke said. "That seems straightforward enough, then," he continued, turning to the Radian. "Pay your associate with New Republic currency at a five/four exchange rate and take the Empire scrip back for the next time you work in their territory."
The Radian spat something. "That is lie!" the Barabel snarled back.
"He says he doesn't have enough in New Republic currency," Lando translated. "Knowing Radians, I'd tend to agree with the Barabel."
"Perhaps." Luke stared hard into the Radian's faceted eyes.
"Perhaps not. But there might be another way." He looked back at Ferrier, raised his eyebrows questioningly.
The other was sharp, all right. "Don't even think it, Jedi," he warned.
"Why not?" Luke asked. "You work both sides of the border. You're more likely to be able to spend Imperial scrip than the Barabel could."
"Suppose I don't want to?" Ferrier countered. "Suppose I don't plan to go back any time soon. Or maybe I don't want to get caught with that much Imperial scrip on me. Fix it yourself, Jedi-I don't owe you any favors." The Barabel whirled on him. "You talk respect," he snarled. "He is Jedi. You talk respect."
A low rumble of agreement rippled through the crowd. "Better listen to him," Lando advised. "I don't think you'd want to get in a fight here, especially not with a Barabel. They've always had a soft spot for Jedi."
"Yeah-right behind their snouts," Ferrier retorted. But his eyes were flicking around the crowd now, and Luke caught the subtle shift in his sense as he began to realize just how much in the minority his opinion of Luke was. Or perhaps he was realizing that winding up in the middle of an official flap might buy him more attention than he really wanted to have. Luke waited, watching the other's sense flicker with uncertainty, waiting for him to change his mind.
When it happened, it happened quickly. "All right, but it'll have to be a five/three exchange," Ferrier insisted. "The five/four was a fluke-no telling if I'll ever get that again."
"It is cheat," the Barabel declared. "I deserve more from Radian."
"Yes, you do," Luke agreed. "But under the circumstances, this is probably the best you're going to get." He looked at the Radian. "If it helps any," he added to the Barabel, "remember that you can pass a warning to the rest of your people about dealing with this particular Radian. Not being able to hire expert Barabel hunters will hurt him far more in the long run than he might cost you now."
The Barabel made a grating noise that was probably the equivalent of a laugh. "Jedi speak truth," he said. "Punishment is good. Luke braced himself. This part the Barabel wasn't going to be nearly so happy about. "You will, however, have to pay for the repair of the droid you shot. Whatever the Radian said or did, he is not responsible for that." The Barabel stared at Luke, his needle teeth making small, tight biting motions. Luke returned the cold gaze, senses alert to the Force for any intimation of attack. "Jedi again speak truth," the alien said at last. Reluctantly, but firmly. "I accept judgment."
Luke let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Then the matter is closed," he said. He looked at Ferrier, then raised his lightsaber to his forehead in salute to the two aliens and turned away.
"Nicely done," Lando murmured in his ear as the crowd began to break up.
"Thanks," Luke murmured, his mouth dry. It had worked, all right...but it had been more luck than skill, and he knew it. If Ferrier hadn't been there-or if the ship thief hadn't decided to back down-Luke had no idea how he would have solved the dispute. Leia and her diplomatic training would have done better than he had; even Han and his long experience at hard bargaining would have done as well.
It was an aspect of Jedi responsibility that he'd never considered before. But it was one he'd better start thinking about, and fast.
"Han's following one of Fey'lya's Bothan pals up on Level Four," Lando was saying as they moved through the crowd toward the exit. "Spotted him from the west central ramp and sent me to-"
He stopped short. From outside the Mishra the sound of wailing sirens had started. "I wonder what that is," he said, a touch of uneasiness in his voice.
"It's an alarm," one of the tapcafe patrons said, his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he listened. The pitch of the siren changed; changed again..."It's a raid."
"A raid?" Luke frowned. He hadn't heard of any pirate activity in this sector. "Who's raiding you?"
"Who else?" the man retorted. "The Empire." Luke looked at Lando. "Uh-oh," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Lando agreed. "Come on.
They left the Mishra and headed out into the wide avenue. Oddly enough, there were no signs of the panic Luke would hayed expected to find. On the contrary, the citizens of Ilic seemed to be continuing about their daily business as if nothing untoward was happening. "Maybe they don't realize what's going on," he suggested doubtfully as they headed for one of the spiral ramps.
"Or else they've got a quiet agreement with the Empire," Lando countered sourly. "Maybe the leadership finds it politically handy to align themselves with the New Republic, but they also want to keep in the Empire's good graces. Since they can't pay anything as overt as tribute, they instead let the Imperials come in every so often and raid their stocks of refined biomolecules. I've seen that sort of thing done before." Luke looked around at the unconcerned crowds. "Only this time it might backfire on them."
"Like if the Imperials spot the Lady Luck and your X-wing on the landing records."
"Right. Where did you say Han was?"
"Last I saw, be was on Level Four heading west," Lando said, digging out his comlink. "He told me not to call him, but I think this qualifies as an unforeseen circumstance."
"Wait a minute," Luke stopped him. "If he's anywhere near this aide of Fey'lya's-and if Fey'lya is working some kind of deal with the Empire...?"
"You're right." Lando swore under his breath as he put the comlink away. "So what do we do?"
They'd reached the ramp now and stepped onto the section spiraling upward. "I'll go find Han," Luke said. "You get up to the landing area and see what's happening. If the Imperials haven't actually landed yet, you might be able to get into the air control computer and erase us from the list. Artoo can help if you can get him out of my X-wing and over to a terminal without being caught."
"I'll give it a try."
"Okay." A stray memory flicked through Luke's mind-"I don't suppose the Lady Luck's equipped with one of those full-rig slave circuits you talked about back on Nkllon, is it?"
Lando shook his head. "It's rigged, but only with a simple homing setup. Nothing much more than straight-line motion and a little maneuvering. It'd never be able to get to me through the middle of an enclosed city like this."
And even if it could, Luke had to admit, it wouldn't do them much good. Short of blasting a huge hole through the outer wall, the only way out of Ilic for anything the
size of a spaceship was through the exit ducts above the landing area. "It was just a thought," he said.
"Here's where Han got off," Lando said, pointing. "He headed that way.
"Right." Luke stepped off the ramp. "See you soon. Be careful."
"You, too."
CHAPTER
8
The graying woman took Han to a small office-type room in the Amethyst building, turned him over to a couple of other guard types there, and disappeared with his blaster, comlink, and ID in hand. Han tried once or twice to strike up a conversation with the guards, got no response from either of them, and had just about resigned himself to sitting quietly, listening to the sirens outside, when the woman returned.
Accompanied by another, taller woman with the unmistakable air of authority about her. "Good day to you," the tall woman said, nodding at Han.
"Captain Han Solo, I believe?"
With his ID in her hand, there didn't seem much point in denying it.
"That's right," he said.
"We're honored by your visit," she said, her tone putting a slightly sardonic edge to the polite words. "Though a bit surprised by it."
"I don't know why-the visit was your idea," Han countered. "You always pick people up off the street like this?"
slightly. "You want to tell me who you are and who sent you?" Han frowned. "What do you mean, who am I? You've got my ID right there.
"Yes, I do," the woman nodded, turning the card over in her hand.
"But there's some difference of opinion as to whether or not it's genuine." She looked out the door and beckoned And Tav Breil'lya stepped past her into the room. "I was right," the Bothan said, his cream-colored fur rippling in an unfamiliar pattern. "As I told you when I first saw his ID. He is an impostor. Most certainly an Imperial spy."
"What?" Han stared at him, the whole situation tilting slightly off vertical. He looked at the alien's neck piece-it was Tav Breil'lya, all right.
"What did you call me?"
"You're an Imperial spy," Breil'lya repeated, his fur rippling again.
"Come to destroy our friendship, or even to kill us all. But you'll never live to report back to your masters. He turned to the tall woman. "You must destroy him at once, Sena," he urged. "Before he has the chance to summon your enemies here."
"Let's not do anything rash, Council-Aide Breil'lya," Sena soothed.
"Irenez has a good picket screen in position." She looked at Han. "would you care to respond to the Council-Aide's accusations?"
"We have no interest in the ravings of an Imperial spy," Breil'lya insisted before Han could speak.
"On the contrary, Council-Aide," Sena countered. "Around here, we have an interest in a great many things." She turned back to Han, lifted his ID. "Do you have any proof other than this that you're who you claim to be?
"It doesn't matter who he is," Breil'lya jumped in again, his voice starting to sound a little strained. "He's seen you, and he must certainly know that we have some kind of arrangement. Whether he's from the Empire or the New Republic is irrelevant-both are your enemies, and both would use such information against you."
Sena's eyebrows lifted again. "So now his identity doesn't matter," she said coolly. "Does that mean you're no longer certain he's an impostor?" Breil'lya's fur rippled again. Clearly, he wasn't as quick on his verbal feet as his boss. "He's a very close likeness," the other muttered.
"Though a proper dissection would quickly establish for certain who he is." Sena smiled slightly. But it was a smile of understanding, not of humor ... and suddenly Han realized that the confrontation had been as much a test of Breil'lya as it had been of him. And if Sena's expression was anything to go by, the Bothan had just flunked it. "I'll keep that recommendation in mind," she told him dryly.
There was a soft beep, and the gray-haired woman pulled out a comlink and spoke quietly into it. She listened, spoke again, and looked up at Sena.
"Picket line reports another man approaching," she said. "Medium build, dark blond hair, dressed in black"-she threw a glance at Breil'lya-"and carrying what appears to be a lightsaber."
Sena looked at Breil'lya, too. "I believe that ends the discussion," she said. "Have one of the pickets meet him, Irenez, and ask him if he'll join us. Make it clear that's a request, not an order. Then return Captain Solo's weapon and equipment to him." She turned to Han, nodded gravely to him as she returned his ID. "My apologies, Captain. You understand we have to be cautious. Particularly given the coincidence of this." She gestured toward the outside wall.
Han frowned, wondering what she meant. Then he got it: she was indicating the sirens still wailing outside. "No problem," he assured her.
"What are the sirens for, anyway?"
"It's an Imperial raid," Irenez said, handing him his blaster and comlink.
Han froze. "A raid?"
"It's no big deal," Sena assured him. "They come by every few months and take a percentage of the refined biomolecules that have been packaged for export. It's a covert form of taxation the city governments have worked out with them. Don't worry, they never come any farther in than the landing level."
"Yeah, well, they may change the routine a little this time," Han growled, flicking on his comlink. He half expected someone to try to stop him, but no one even twitched. "Luke?"
"I'm here, Han," the younger man's voice came back. "My escort tells me I'm being brought to where you are. You all right?"
"Just a little misunderstanding. Better get in here fast-we got company.
"Right."
Han shut off the comlink. Sena and Irenez, he saw, had meanwhile been having a quiet conversation of their own. "If you're as touchy about Imperials as Breil'lya implied, you might want to find a hole to disappear into," he advised.
"Our escape route's ready," Sena assured him as Irenez left the room.
"The question is what to do with you and your friend."
"You can't just firm them loose," Breil'lya insisted, trying one last time. "You know full well that if the New Republic learns about you-" The Commander is being notified," Sena cut him off. "He decide."
"But-"
"That's all, Council-Aide," she cut him off again, her voice suddenly hard. "Join the others at the lift shaft. You'll accompany me on my ship." Breil'lya threw one last unreadable look at Han, then silently left the room.
"Who's this Commander of yours?" Han asked.
"I can't tell you that." Sena studied him a moment. "Don't worry, though. Despite what Breil'lya said, we're not enemies of the New Republic. At least, not at the moment."
"Oh," Han said. "Great."
There was the sound of footsteps from the hallway outside. A few seconds later, accompanied by two young men with holstered blasters, Luke stepped into the room.
"Han," Luke greeted his friend, giving Sena a quick once-over.
`You all right?"
"I'm fine," Han assured him. "Like I said, a little misunderstanding. The lady here-Sena-" He paused expectantly.
"Let's just leave it at Sena for now," she said.
"Ah," Han said. He'd hoped to get her last name, but clearly she wasn't' in the habit of giving it out. "Anyway, Sena thought I was an Imperial spy. And speaking of Imperials-"
"I know," Luke nodded.
"Lando's gone up to see if he can clear our ships from the landing record."
"He won't be able to," Han shook his head. "Not in time. And they're bound to pull the landing list."
Luke nodded agreement. "Then we'd better get up there."
"Unless you'd all rather come with us," Sena offered. "There's plenty of room on our ship, and it's hidden away where they won't find it."
"Thanks, but no," Han said. He wasn't about to go off with these people until he knew a lot more about them. Whose side they were on, for starters. "Lando won't want to leave his ship."
"And I need to get my droid back," Luke added. Irenez slipped back into the room. "Everyone's on their way down, and the ship's being prepped," she told S
ena. "And I got through to the Commander." She handed the tall woman a data pad.
Sena glanced at it, nodded and turned back to Han. "There's a service shaft near here that opens up into the west edge of the landing area," she told him. "I doubt the Imperials know about it; it's not on any of the standard city maps. Irenez will guide you up there and give you what help she can."
"That's really not necessary," Han told her. Sena held up the data pad. "The Commander has instructed me to give you whatever aid you require," she said firmly. "I'd appreciate it if you'd allow me to carry out my orders."
Han looked at Luke, raised his eyebrows. Luke shrugged slightly in return: if there was treachery in the offer, his Jedi senses weren't picking it up. "Fine, she can tag along," he said. "Let's go."
"Good luck," Sena said, and disappeared out the door. Irenez gestured to the door after her. "This way, gentlemen." The service shaft was a combination stairway and liftcar tube set into the outer city wall, its entrance almost invisible against the swirling pattern of that section of the mural. The liftcar itself was nowhere to be seen-probably, Han decided, still ferrying Sena's group to wherever it was they'd stashed their ship. With Irenez in the lead, they started up the stairs.
It was only three levels up to the landing area. But three levels in a city with Ilic's high-ceilinged layout translated into a lot of stairs. The first level ran to fifty-three steps; after that, Han stopped counting. By the time they slipped through another disguised door into the landing area and took cover behind a massive diagnostic analyzer, his legs were beginning to tremble with fatigue. Irenez, in contrast, wasn't even breathing hard.
"Now what?" Luke asked, looking cautiously around the analyzer. He hasn't breathing hard, either.
"Let's find Lando," Han said, pulling out his comlink and thumbing his call. "Lando?"
"Right here," the other's whispered voice came back instantly.
"Where are you?"
"West end of the landing area, about twenty meters from Luke's X-wing. How about you?"