Tatooine Ghost

by Troy Denning

  “Efficient, sir.”

  “Good.” The officer motioned two subordinates to help the sergeant to his feet. “And you understand why it is so important for us to find these Rebels and their painting?”

  “Because the admiral wishes to add it to his collection,” the sergeant said.

  Han, who had grown so absorbed with the lesson that he had nearly forgotten that the Imperials were in the same hotel, could almost see the officer’s eyes rolling behind his helmet’s lenses.

  “What about the Rebels? Why is it important that we capture them?”

  An eager recruit stepped forward. “Sir, because the admiral says it is. That is all we need to know, sir.”

  The officer did not turn toward the recruit. “Sergeant, you will control your squad.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sergeant leveled his blaster rifle at the offender, then thought better of shooting the man and glanced at the officer. When the officer shook his head, the sergeant settled for bringing the butt of his rifle up under the recruit’s chin.

  Han knew by the way the trooper’s body went limp that he had been knocked unconscious.

  “Whoever this new admiral is, he’s teaching old rancors new tricks.” Han’s gaze remained glued to the data-pad. “That officer isn’t following Imperial doctrine.”

  “No, he isn’t. But unless you want him teaching us new tricks, you’d better finish getting dressed.” Leia motioned at the tunic hanging forgotten in Han’s hands. “I have a feeling this squad isn’t going to settle for a look at Dama’s registration records.”

  Han slipped the tunic over his head, then rapped on Chewie’s wall again. This time, he was answered by the acknowledging thuds of a Wookiee fist. The officer continued his exercise.

  “Sergeant, do you need me to repeat the question?”

  “No, sir. It’s important to capture these Rebels because they are New Republic scum.”

  The officer remained expectantly silent.

  “Because they were prepared to destroy the painting rather than let us have it,” the sergeant continued. “Because they were wearing elaborate disguises at the auction, and the admiral wishes to know who they really are.”

  “Excellent, Sergeant.” The officer stepped back to join the other troopers. “Handle this well, and I may promote you to platoon leader.”

  The sergeant’s posture grew instantly more upright.

  “I don’t like that officer,” Leia said. She was already dressed and strapping on her blaster holster. “He’s good.”

  “Yeah,” Han said. “And he’s still using us for training exercises. I hate that.”

  The Pa’lowick and her escort of stormtroopers returned with a sleepy-looking woman whom Han remembered vaguely from when Chewbacca carried him into the Sidi Driss. She had a round face and dust-colored hair with eyes he could see glinting defiance even in the datapad’s tiny screen.

  The woman went to the counter and glared directly at the squad leader. “I’m Dama Brunk, owner of the Sidi Driss. If it’s rooms you’re looking for, you’ll have to go down to the SandRest. We’re booked solid.”

  The squad leader ignored Dama and turned his helmet lenses on the Pa’lowick. She quickly stepped behind Dama and began to quiver again.

  “First,” the squad leader said, “I apologize for the treatment your assistant received at the hands of my predecessor. Such brutality is not proper Imperial procedure.”

  The Pa’lowick’s proboscis curled upward in surprise.

  Dama narrowed her gaze and demanded, “Since when?”

  “It’s a recent directive.” The squad leader continued to look at the Pa’lowick. “As you can see, he’s been relieved of command and, I assure you, he will be punished when we return to our ship.”

  “Who do you think you’re fooling?” the Pa’lowick demanded. “I know who pulled my nose.”

  “You’re mistaken. The man who handled your nose has been punished and demoted,” the stormtrooper lied in his electronic voice. He pulled the orange pauldron off his armor and snapped it onto the armor of the man next to him, then took it back. “I’m his replacement. We have codes of conduct and chains of command, and when they are not followed, action is swift.”

  “Sure it is,” Dama said. “You wanted something?”

  “A few answers. We’re looking for some Rebels—”

  “None here.”

  “I’m sure you believe that,” the squad leader said. “But they wouldn’t be wearing uniforms. We’re looking for a man and woman, human, with a Wookiee and possibly a protocol droid—”

  “I didn’t register anyone like that.” Dama turned to the Pa’lowick. “You, Keesa?”

  Keesa shook her head.

  Dama looked back to the Imperial. “Anything else?”

  “How about Squibs?”

  Dama shook her head. “None of them, either.”

  “You’re certain?” the squad leader asked. “Because we heard three of them were seen in your lobby. They might have arrived on a three-seated swoop.”

  Dama’s bearing grew tense. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Then it’s true?” the squad leader asked. Dama remained silent, obviously debating how to answer.

  “We’ve got trouble,” Han said.

  The door buzzer sounded and Leia, who was already hanging water packs on her utility belt, went into the sitting room and admitted Chewbacca and C-3PO.

  “What about the Squibs?” Han asked.

  Chewbacca growled that they were at the end of the hall, finally asleep after a long night of water play.

  “We’ll collect them on the way out.” Leia was furiously loading the portable holocomm and other equipment into a utility satchel.

  On the datapad, Dama collected her wits and pretended to consult the inn’s registry. “No Squibs,” she said. “But we’ve got Ranats. Maybe someone was mistaken.”

  “Maybe,” the squad leader said. “But you won’t mind waking them, will you? We’ll only disturb them for a minute—providing, of course, that you’re not the one who was mistaken.”

  “Of course. We’ll show you the way.” As Dama turned to step out from behind the counter, she cast a quick glance into the hidden security cam and mouthed the word “go,” then started down the corridor. “They’re in the east wing.”

  “That’s at the opposite end of the inn.” Leia pulled her sand cloak over her head and threw Han’s to him. “She’s trying to buy us time.”

  “And not doing very well,” Han said, now carrying the borrowed datapad along as he stuffed the last of his possessions into a utility satchel. “The Imps aren’t buying it.”

  The display screen showed only two stormtroopers following Dama and Keesa toward the east wing.

  Dama stopped and turned toward the squad leader. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “We want to disturb your inn as little as possible,” he said. “Two of my troopers will be enough to determine whether your guests are Squibs or Ranats. The rest of us will wait here with Keesa.”

  Keesa’s proboscis began to quiver again.

  Dama glared at the stormtrooper, but could only nod. “As you wish.” She squeezed Keesa’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”

  But, of course, it was not. No sooner was Dama gone than the squad leader turned to the Pa’lowick.

  “You like your employer, I can see that.”

  Keesa nodded uncertainly.

  “Then you don’t want to see her hurt.”

  Keesa shook her head.

  “And only you can prevent that,” the squad leader said. “We know she’s lying.”

  Keesa’s eyes grew wide. “She is?”

  The squad leader nodded. “Where are the Squibs?” he asked. “Where are the humans and their Wookiee?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie!” the squad leader snapped. “Lie, and I’ll—”

  “Sergeant!”

  The squad leader stopped and turned to face the troope
r who had barked at him. “Yes?”

  “Perhaps she really doesn’t know,” the trooper—the officer, Han assumed—suggested. “Does that prevent her from helping us?”

  “I see your point, sir.” The squad leader turned back to Keesa. “Very well, you are—”

  “You don’t see, Sergeant.” The officer stepped forward and fixed his lenses on Keesa.

  Han and Leia were already following Chewbacca and C-3PO down a dimly lit corridor toward the Squibs’ room.

  “If you were trying to hide a party of several beings in this hotel, where would you put them?” the officer asked. “Answer honestly, and I promise no harm will come to you or your employer.”

  Keesa pointed down a corridor opposite the way Dama had gone. “The Hutts’ luxury wing. There’s hardly ever anybody in it, since Jabba and Gardulla stopped meeting here.”

  Han glanced over the darkened corridor down which they were walking. It was large and round, the way Hutts liked them, with glide ramps instead of steps where the hall changed elevations.

  “Get ready,” Han said. “We’ve got company coming.”

  But instead of sending the squad rushing off in the direction the Pa’lowick had pointed, the officer turned to the squad leader.

  “Sergeant, summon B-squad back to reinforce us and send two men with Keesa to cover the secret exit. As long as she shows them to the proper exit, she is free to go once the Rebels reveal themselves.”

  “Yes, sir.” The squad leader assigned two troopers to go with the quivering Pa’lowick and commed the other squad, then asked, “If I may, sir?”

  “You have a question.” The officer armed his weapon, and the rest of the squad followed his lead. “Proceed. Questions are good.”

  “Are you sure there’s a secret exit?”

  “With Hutts, there’s always a secret exit.” The officer waved the rest of the squad down the corridor, but held the leader back long enough to add, “And, Sergeant, questions are good. Doubts are not. If you expect to survive in my command, you will keep the difference in mind.”

  The squad leader snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”

  The officer waved him forward and followed down the corridor at a run.

  Han came up behind Leia at the door to the Squibs’ room. “Sweetheart?”

  Leia pressed her finger to the door buzzer and did not let it up. “Yes, dear?”

  “You weren’t planning on slipping out a secret exit, were you?”

  Leia half turned and gave him a tight little smile. “Married less than a year, and you already know me so well.”

  Chewbacca groaned a warning about being sick.

  “Then you’d better do it now,” Han retorted, “because I don’t think you’re going to have a chance later.”

  He told them about the stormtroopers Keesa was leading around to cover their escape route, then activated a surveillance lock on the officer. The datapad would now show the Imperial wherever he went. If it came down to a fight—and that seemed likely—Han wanted to know where that officer was at all times.

  Leia tapped the door buzzer, as though that would make the Squibs respond faster.

  Han brought up a schematic of the building. The luxury wing was a four-room annex in the rear of the Sidi Driss, separated from the rest of the inn by a locked security door. The officer was already passing the first of two intersections before the main corridor dead-ended at the security door.

  “What’s taking those Squibs so long?” Leia complained.

  “Whatever it is,” Han said, “we either have to leave them or find another way to wake ’em.”

  “We can’t leave them,” Leia said. “They know too much.”

  Chewbacca extended his climbing claws and ripped the control panel off the wall, setting off an alarm buzzer in the room. He sorted through the tangle of wires, then quickly found the ones he needed, stripped all three by running them between his fangs, and crossed the bared lines.

  The oversized door slid open to reveal Emala filling water bottles at the bar sink. Sligh and Grees were struggling to stuff more bottles into a trio of tattered backpacks larger than they were.

  “Humans don’t know the meaning of privacy?” Sligh asked.

  “Sorry to interrupt your stealing,” Leia shot back. “But we’ve got Imperials coming.”

  “Imperials?” Sligh hoisted his pack onto his back and—amazingly—managed to remain standing beneath the weight. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Han checked the borrowed datapad and found the stormtroopers at the wing security door, the squad leader wiring a slicer box into the control panel.

  Leia peered over his shoulder. “Trapped again,” she observed. “How do you want to handle it?”

  Han glanced around the ornate corridor. He found a repulsor couch hovering in front of a decorative panel that depicted a watery oasis he was sure existed nowhere on Tatooine.

  “The secret exit behind there?”

  Leia shook her head and pointed to the door across from the Squibs’ room. “Through there. It’s not a real room. Maybe we can pull a Smuggler’s Fade?”

  Han shook his head. “This officer’s too good for that.” He pointed back toward their door and the one opposite. “We’d better hit them with a crossfire ambush. Everyone into those rooms.”

  As the Squibs lumbered past, Han plucked a jug of water out of Sligh’s pack.

  “Hey! You’re unbalancing—”

  “It’s not too late to bait our trap,” Han warned.

  When Sligh fell silent, Han tossed the water jug under the repulsor couch, then followed Leia and Sligh into the first suite. Chewbacca took C-3PO and the other two Squibs into the room opposite, and they were barely inside before the security doors opened. Han watched on the datapad as the officer and squad leader cross-stitched cautionary blasterfire through the doorway. The two subordinates charged down the corridor with their weapons at the ready, then stopped at the end, one turning around to cover up the corridor while the other peered through the still-open door of the Squibs’ suite.

  “Clear!” this one reported. He glanced around the corridor, then kneeled down in front of the repulsor couch and withdrew the water jug Han had thrown under there. “It looks like they’ve used the escape door.”

  “You’re quite certain?” The officer was careful to remain hidden behind the security door bulkhead. “You’re willing to wager your life on that?”

  “Sir, yes I am.”

  “Then you are a waste of stormtrooper armor,” the officer said. “Remove it so the Rebels won’t damage valuable Imperial resources killing you.”

  “Sir?”

  “That is an order, trooper.” The officer looked across the doorway to his squad leader. “Summon the owner’s escorts. We’ll need them to flush the scum out.”

  “Hutt slime!” Han turned to his companions. “We have to take ’em now. Sligh, you hit the floor and fire down the corridor. Leia?”

  “Yes?”

  “You stay back and be the surprise reserve—”

  “Han?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Han sighed. “Okay, you and I fire across the corridor at the officer. Chewie takes the sergeant, and Grees and Emala help Sligh.”

  “Sounds good,” Leia said.

  “No way!” Sligh objected. “How come the Squibs have to drop on the floor?”

  “Because you’re closer,” Leia said.

  “And I’ve seen you shoot,” Han said. “You couldn’t hit the officer.”

  “Okay, no need to get nasty,” Sligh said, slipping out of his heavy pack. “Just asking.”

  Han shook his head, then turned to Leia. “One more thing.”

  “I know.” She rose on her toes and kissed him hard and long. It was almost enough to make him forget what they were doing, especially when she finally stopped. “You love me.”

  “Yeah, that, too.” Han flashed her a scoundrel’s grin. “But what I really wanted to ask is did
you remember to recharge my blaster?”

  Leia’s eyes started to flash, then she caught Han’s expression and got a pinched little smile.

  “What do you think?” She propped a hand on her hip. “Can we get on with it?”

  “Just trying to give that stormtrooper time to get out of his armor.”

  Han angled the datapad so that she and Sligh could see that the stormtrooper was obeying his officer’s command—even if he was starting with his shin protection. Then, keeping one eye on the datapad, Han activated his com-link and gave the others across the hall their instructions.

  “And what am I to do, Captain Solo?” C-3PO asked.

  “Don’t get left behind.”

  The officer cocked his head as though listening to a voice inside his helmet, then glanced toward the Solo suite. Though Han had expected the Imperials to be listening for comlink transmissions, he had not thought they would be so quick to pinpoint the source. The Chimaera’s crew was fast starting to look like one of the Empire’s best.

  Han dropped the datapad in the pocket of his sand cloak, then simultaneously commed Chewbacca and depressed the OPEN button. “Go!”

  The door hissed, and Han and Leia began to pour blasterfire out through the widening gap. Several bolts ricocheted off the officer’s helmet and breastplate, forcing him to roll into a corner behind the security door bulkhead.

  Chewbacca’s bowcaster chuffed once from the door opposite. A loud clatter sounded from the direction he had been firing. The acrid fumes of scorched plastoid began to fill the air, and the squad leader’s kicking boots slid into view on the other side of the security door.

  Suddenly, the corridor was quiet. Han looked down to find Sligh lying between his feet, no longer firing.

  “I thought I told you—”

  “Both dead,” Sligh said, rising. “I guess our aim isn’t that—”

  “Han!”

  Leia jerked him out of the doorway a few milliseconds ahead of a line of blaster bolts.

  “Be careful, will you?”

  Sligh dropped to his belly and wiggled back into the room, the fur on his back smoking from a near miss. Han tried to return fire and nearly lost his hand as the blaster bolts continued to pour through the door. He felt a hand on his hip, then glanced back to see Leia pulling the data-pad from his cloak pocket.