for sure." He paused, staring out over the city. "But while we won't ever be
mistaken for the bright center of the universe, there are lots of things which
could be done to improve the situation here," he said, abruptly serious.
"Such as?" Selby asked, curious in spite of herself. Just how did
Verkuyl's Imperial masters envision molding the future of the planet they had
stolen from its rightful owners?
Quarle looked at her a moment as if deciding how to answer. Then,
apparently reaching a decision, he relaxed against the stone railing. Behind
him the comm tower's distant lights cast reddish glints off his golden hair,
and beyond the tower the absolute blackness of Verkuyl's vast alazhi jungle
stretched to the horizon.
"The Governor has several ideas, most of which are very sound," he began,
and though Selby had expected no less, she was somewhat disappointed when he
went on to recite the standard Imperial line. She couldn't quite dismiss the
nagging feeling he wasn't truly convinced though. So when he paused, she said,
"Now. Tell me what you would do if you were in charge."
Quarle favored her with another of those long, assessing looks. Selby
forced herself not to flinch as he stepped closer, narrowing the distance
between them. "You really want to know?" he asked, voice low, standing so
close their shoulders brushed.
Pulse abruptly pounding and all senses alert to any sign of attack, Selby
nodded.
Quarle stared at her intently a moment more. Then, slowly, he folded his
arms across his chest and eased back against the railing. "All right," he
said, looking away. "What I think is that a new approach is needed- - an
aggressive expansion that'll ultimately offer Verkuyl more economic
independence in the galactic community, give us more security, and address
some of the concerns the workers have been voicing lately."
He glanced over, gauging her reaction. Intrigued, Selby relaxed against
the railing herself and settled in to listen. Encouraged, he started to go on,
but was interrupted by a discreet beep. "Excuse me a moment," he said, pulling
a comlink from his pocket. "Yes, what is it?"
"Daven, it'sJorIi," said a voice Selby recognized as belonging to ajunior
aide on Ein's staff. "I'm sorry to bother you, but the reception's pretty much
wound down except for a few party-hards who won't take a hint. I turned off
the fountain and got the droids stacking chairs, but they still won't leave.
Should I call Security?"
"No," Quarle said with a sigh. "Leave them to me. I'll be down in a
moment." Repocketing the comlink, he looked at Selby ruefully. "I'm going to
have to cut this short. Duty calls."
"It always does," Selby said. She straightened up, too, wondering if
perhaps-"Would it be all right if I stayed up here a little longer? It really
is a beautiful view."
"Sorry, no," he said. "You'd need a thumbpass to get down the lift, and I
don't have any extras. This one's keyed to me-nontransferable."
"Oh. Okay." Not that she'd really expected he'd give her free run of the
Hall. Selby shrugged. "Well, then. Shall we go?"
The ride down was as quiet as it had been on the way up, the brief moment
of camaraderie gone. Quarle courteously escorted her to her room, bid her a
polite good evening, and strode away. Sternly resisting the urge to watch
until he'd disappeared into the turbolift, Selby shut the door behind her.
This was one of the worst parts of the job-whichenough an enemy showed himself
not as an adversary, but a decent-seeming person who just happened to be
serving on the opposite side.
She sighed. In her line of work, it was easier to see everything in black
or white, friend or foe, than to attempt sorting out all the shades of gray.
Color blindness was often healthier, as well. Agents who hesitated to silence
their foes often found that their newfound "friends" did not hesitate to
silence them. Working Intelligence meant keeping the battle lines clear, and
the enemy firmly fixed in your sights. There was no room for anything else.
Too bad, she thought. Something about Quarle-his concern for the workers,
perhaps-told her there was more to him than met the eye. Not that it mattered,
of course. She knew where her duty lay. She sighed again, turned around. From
the doorway connecting their rooms, Vartos regarded her with a frown.
"Everything okay?" he asked. "You were gone quite a while."
"Fine," Selby reassured him. Walking over to the bed, she sat down and
began pulling out the decorative combs that secured the neat crown of curls
atop her head. Auburn locks slipped down about her shoulders. "We okay to talk
here?"
"I checked it out. We're clean." He took a few steps further into the
room. "Did you get it set?"
"Uh-huh." Selby inspected the combs on the coverlet before her. Picking
one up, she touched a fingernail to a certain spot and activated the receiver.
They listened. Silence. She nodded in satisfaction. All quiet, as it should
be. The eavesdropper awaited tomorrow.
Suddenly, a faint squeak broke the quiet. She and Var tos exchanged a
glance. Another squeak, accented by the scrabble of tiny claws. Selby grinned.
"His Excellency appears to have a skitter problem."
"Let's hope it doesn't have an appetite for shiny little snacks."
"They don't eat metal," she told him. "It's about the only thing they
don't eat."
"Good." He studied her briefly. "So, what happened with that aide,
Quarle?"
"He caught me coming back downstairs," she admitted. "I thought there'd
be trouble, but it seemed to work out all right."
Vartos looked relieved. "Well, if you had to get caught, good thing it
was him. He's in a good position to bail you out."
Selby frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Bail you out-cover for you. Make an excuse why you're someplace you
shouldn't be." Vartos gave her an odd look. "Didn't he ask what you were up
to?"
"I told him I was trying to get up on the roof to see the stars."
"And he bought it?"
"He seemed to." She looked at him, still frowning. "Why would he cover
for me?"
"Wait, let me get this straight," Vartos said. "As far as you know he
knows, you were just wandering around the Hall because-was he grinned his-comy
wanted to go stargazing?"
"That's what I said," she gritted. "What did you mean-was
"Sel, he's on our side," Vartos said gently. "He's with the Verkuylian
resistance."
She caught herself before her jaw dropped. "He is?" It took another
moment to digest the news. "Then he knows all about us," she said. "He knew
the whole time what I was up to."
"No, I don't think so," Vartos said. "You know how these things are set
up, Sel."
She nodded, still taking it in. Members of resistance cells almost always
had nominal contact with each other, and limited knowledge of what was going
on in order to reduce liability. That way, if one Rebel was compromised or
caught, the damage to the overall group could be kept to a minimum.
She thought about it a little
more, recalling her initial impression that
Quarle wasn't quite what he seemed. "That takes nerve, playing both sides that
way," she said, rethinking their conversation on the roof in light of this new
information. "He's got a tough hull to patch passing himself off as a loyal
Imperial."
"So do we," Vartos said, rather tartly. "And unless we absolutely need
him for something, we're going to keep on treating him like he is one. Time
enough after the coup to compare notes on your respective undercover careers;
Sel."
The admonition was hard to miss. "Of course," she said, slightly hurt
that he'd think anything else. "You can count on me to put the mission first,
sir."
"I know." He studied her a moment longer, nodded once, and changed the
subject. "S. Here's what the security setup on the lower levels looks like."
He launched into a description of sensor panels, guard posts, and hidden
cameras. Selby listened, grateful her brain was kept busy visualizing the Hall
layout rather than replaying that evening's encounter with Quarle. Wondering
if the duplicity inherent in carrying off his masquerade gave him any
difficulties. Whether it was... lonely... living a life split between ideals
and duty, unsure who to call friend and who to call foe, but all too sure he
could not let his guard down with either.
Realizing the direction of her thoughts, Selby forced her mind back to
the task at hand. As Vartos had said, time enough for that sort of thing
later.
Or perhaps there would have been, if things had turned out differently.
Selby listened to the whispers from the tiny speakers concealed in her
ornamental earsculpts as she sped up to the Governor's office the next
morning. What she heard sent her stomach plunging as surely as if the
turbolift's floor had suddenly dropped out from beneath her. Which, in a
sense, it had. Claris, waiting at the comm tower for Selby's signal to hail
the fleet, had just been captured.
And in the short space of time that it took Governor Ein to be informed
of the arrest, and for Selby to overhear it before the eaves-dropper's signal
abruptly cut off, their carefully crafted plan went to pieces. The loss of
Claris shattered it as effectively as a change in cabin pressure
microfractured a ship's brittle hull.
For that first stunned moment, Selby felt panic freeze her mind as she
watched the floor indicators flash past, carrying her ever closer to her
meeting with the Governor. Claris captured, herself only seconds away from the
storm troopers sure to be awaiting her arrival at Ein's office-
Then a hot surge of adrenaline thawed the frost and sent her brain
scrambling to find a way to salvage the situation. Think, she ordered herself,
damning the eavesdropper for cutting out just when she needed an ear in the
Governor's office the most. Was there any way she could stop the lift, get off
it, and find a way to warn Vartos?
She bit her lip. Without a thumbpass, no. Not before first making a stop
on the Governor's floor. The guard below had entered her destination, notified
Ein's office she was on her way up, and keyed the lift for nonstop.
But there are other ways of making an exit, she thought, glancing up to
confirm the presence of a maintenance panel in the lift's ceiling. She could
knock out the panel, climb into the shaft, and go... where? Her hand, reaching
for the lift's controls, hesitated-
And then, suddenly it was too late. The doors slid open.
Selby froze. Two stormtroopers stood opposite the lift, blaster rifles
resting imposingly on their white-armored shoulders in traditional parade-
ground stance. She stared at them. They stared back, seemingly in no hurry to
take her into custody. Inside, hope battled with caution. Could it be that
they didn't know?
She couldn't just stand in the lift forever. Taking a deep breath, she
stepped out. Boldly, she announced:
"I'm here to see His Excellency."
The stormtroopers just stared at her without responding, but off to the
side a golden-eyed protocol droid snapped to attention. "I'm sorry, but the
Governor is unable to see you now," it apologized in an officiously smug
manner that made Selby suspect it delivered this particular speech quite
often. "Unexpected business has come up that requires his immediate attention.
May I reschedule your appointment to another time?"
"Oh, I suppose," she said, trying to look annoyed at the delay. Still not
quite believing her luck, she agreed to a time and re-entered the turbolift.
As it sped back down to ground level, she steeled herself to tell Vartos there
had been a change in plan. As the mission's commanding officer, it would be up
to him to decide what course of action that change required.
For just a moment, she allowed herself to think about Claris, now in
Imperial custody-an Intelligence operative's worst fear. Then the door slid
open, and she set out in search of the generator room where Vartos waited for
his signal to cut power to the Hall. If they hadn't been before, the Imperials
were monitoring electronic communications now for sure. She'd have to deliver
this message in person.
But as it turned out, she didn't have to. Vartos already knew.
Hands in the air and a grim expression on his face, he stood pinned
against one of the humming power-relay boxes. He turned his head to look at
Selby as she slipped in, and she had her own blaster out and in her hand
before the situation really even registered. But the stormtrooper holding the
blaster rifle on him didn't even glance her way. He didn't have to. Before she
got her weapon up to firing position, a harsh voice from the side ordered her
to drop it.
Selby froze mid-aim and slowly turned her head to look. A short distance
away, Daven Quarle had his hands half raised as he stood between two rows of
power relays. Behind him, the second stormtrooper's blaster rifle now pointed
in her direction. "Drop it! Now!" the trooper repeated forcefully.
Selby risked another glance at Vartos. His eyes met hers, and in their
grimly resigned depths she could see he understood her dilemma.
As it stood now, with the whole New Republic team captured and the fleet
not called, the mission was doomed to certain failure. Without the fleet to
encourage his surrender, Ein and his stormtroopers would simply crush the
rebelling workers, and the three-no, the four of them, counting Quarle-would
be interrogated and then most likely killed.
However, if she went ahead and took a shot at Vartos's captor, it would
probably result in her commanding officer's immediate execution, but if-and it
was a big if- - Quarle over there was as quick-minded as he'd seemed and
thought to divert the second stormtrooper, she just might manage an escape
during the ensuing firefight.
And if she got free, there was still a chance she could - comsomehow-call
the fleet.
You can count on me to put the mission first, she'd said to Vartos.
She'd meant it.
Raising the blaster, Selby fired.
The next few moments were a blur. As she dove be
hind a metal control box
that offered meager cover, the room lit up with blasterfire. Across the room,
Vartos crumpled. Pinned in place and uncomfortably aware of the blaster bolts
sizzling close all around, Selby kept shooting anyway until the first
stormtrooper went down. Then, twisting to aim at his comrade, who was
crouching behind a metal box of his own, a movement to the side caught her
eye.
It was Quarle, edging stealthily along the wall toward their only means
of escape, the door. Something else caught her eye as well-
"Daven-watch out!" she shouted, and fired. The bolt sizzled into a small
panel on the wall a scant few dozen centimeters before him. The lights blinked
out, blanketing the room in darkness.
And this was it-her only chance.
As if on cue the door slid open, illuminating her path to freedom.
Momentarily silhouetted, Quarle slipped through to safety in the corridor
beyond. Aiming a wild smattering of cover fire in the stormtrooper's
direction, Selby got to her feet and darted after him.
She almost made it unscathed. Just as she reached the door, a blaster
bolt grazed her outstretched arm, sending jagged claws of hot pain streaking
up to her shoulder and forcing out an involuntary cry as she stumbled into the
corridor beyond. The door slid shut behind her, the faint sounds of the
trooper's fire slamming uselessly against the metal barrier.
Tales From the New Republic Page 28
