Star Wars - Rebel Force 01 - Target

by Alex Wheeler

  "They'll work," Leia said. "General Dodonna assured me."

  Luke admired her certainty. Her faith in the Rebel Alliance never flagged. It was as rock solid as her loyalty and her determination. He wondered if she'd ever experienced a true moment of doubt.

  As they neared the atmosphere, the Imperial official manning the spaceport called in with a request for their authorization. Leia read off the landing code she'd been given.

  There was a pause.

  "One moment, please," the Imperial said tonelessly.

  Luke and Han exchanged a nervous glance. "Now's when they start shooting," Han predicted.

  "Permission to land granted," the official informed them.

  Han broke into a wide grin. "See? What'd I tell you—piece of cake."

  Luke gaped wide-eyed at the towering marble columns looming over the crowded streets of Pilaan, one of Muunilinst's largest cities. Rising hundreds of stories above his head, they disappeared into a swirling mist of gray clouds.

  "They don't call it Moneyland for nothing," Han said, his eyes drinking in the precious gems encrusted in several of the buildings' edifices.

  "That's Moneylend," Leia corrected him. "Nearly every wealthy being in the galaxy owes some portion of his fortune to the Muuns. It's the only reason the Empire tolerates them."

  It was well known that the Emperor considered nonhuman beings to be second-class citizens, unworthy of the privileges of Galactic power. But he made an exception for the Muuns. Although the Muun-controlled InterGalactic Banking Clan had long since been dissolved, Muunilinst retained its power as the financial center of the universe, and the Muuns remained in control.

  With a heavy Imperial presence to ensure they didn't misbehave. Luke fixed his eyes on the sidewalk as they passed by a line of stormtroopers standing guard over one of the elaborate marble temples.

  "Just act like you belong, kid," Han advised him. "No one will look twice."

  Luke had worried they would make a strange group: four humans, two droids, and a Wookiee. But the crowded streets were filled with beings of all kinds, and no one seemed curious about any of the others. The Muuns themselves were especially unconcerned. Tall and slender, with ashy gray skin, they stood stiffly erect, their faces expressionless. It was as if they were made of marble as well.

  Luke could overhear them murmuring to each other as they passed, a confusing language of short, repetitive sounds. It sounded like a world of R2 droids.

  He knew he was drawing attention to himself, gaping at everything they passed, but he couldn't help it. He'd been on so few planets in his life, and all of them had housed more animals than people. Yavin 4 was nearly uninhabited, and despite its small cities, Tatooine's empty stretches of sand often seemed to stretch on forever.

  This city, its streets pulsing with noise and color, its millions of inhabitants shuffling up and down the pavements, landspeeders jamming the streets, airspeeders streaking overhead—it was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

  After all, not long ago, he'd been an isolated farm boy in the middle of nowhere, staring up at the stars and wondering if he would ever reach them. Now he was on the other side of the galaxy, on a secret mission in the heart of Imperial space.

  Life had become infinitely more dangerous, but at the same time, infinitely more interesting. He couldn't imagine going back.

  Except back then, Uncle Lars and Aunt Beru were still alive, he thought. Shouldn't I want to go back to that old life with them? Even if it's not possible, shouldn't I wish that it were?

  Before he could let himself answer the question, they'd arrived at the rendezvous point.

  "Mak Luunim lives on the twenty-third floor," Leia said, leading them to a turbolift just inside the grand white building. Even Han paused to appreciate the golden fountain glimmering at the center of the marble-encrusted lobby. But Leia was completely unfazed by the luxury.

  Tobin Elad followed close behind her, seeming just as unconcerned by the surroundings.

  If possible, the twenty-third floor was even more opulent than the lobby they'd left behind. The turbolift opened into a small entry area, filled with marble statues, all of the same Muun.

  "My master." A sallow-faced Muun appeared behind them, seemingly from nowhere. He was dressed in a simple robe of gray and brown, his gaze fixed on the sculptures. "The great Mak Luunim. He commissioned work from Muunilinst's finest artisans, and naturally, they were all inspired to turn their talents to his noble form."

  "Naturally," Han muttered. "I'm sure their commission had nothing to do with it."

  Leia shot him a look, its meaning clear: Behave.

  "We have an appointment with your master," Leia told him. "He should be expecting us."

  The Muun hung his head and passed his fingers along the wall. A hidden entryway opened in the marble. "You are to come inside."

  They stepped into a wide parlor, squinting in the reflected glare. Dancing points of light shimmered from crystalline chandeliers, bouncing off golden walls and floor. Mak Luunim's apartment had nothing of the elegant beauty of the streets of Pilaan. Golden statuettes and framed, gilded paintings crowded nearly every inch of surface space. Even the furniture contained more gold than fabric.

  Artistic representations of Mak Luunim's face gazed back at them from every wall.

  "Should we wait here for your master?" Leia asked.

  Luke hoped the Muun would arrive soon. He was beginning to feel deeply uncomfortable. What kind of being would choose to live like this?

  "I have no master," the Muun said mournfully.

  "But you said Luunim was your master," Luke pointed out, confused. Something felt off, and he was beginning to realize it wasn't just the furniture.

  "Indeed," the Muun said. "Was my master. Is no more. The noble Mak Luunim has left us."

  "Left us to go to the store?" Han asked hopefully. "Because we can wait."

  "Left our mortal realm." The Muun's long face seemed to grow even longer as his mouth stretched in a sigh of sorrow.

  Luke's hand crept toward his lightsaber.

  Han frowned. "Princess, maybe we should—"

  "How did he die?" Leia asked. "And when?"

  "We'll ask the questions here," a voice said from behind them. Luke whirled around. The door they'd entered through was gone, turned back into solid marble. And standing in front of it, blasters drawn, was a line of six Imperial stormtroopers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "What business do you have with Mak Luunim?" one of the stormtroopers asked through his voice intercom.

  "Who?" Han asked innocently. "Must have the wrong apartment. Now, I'm not saying all Muuns look alike, but just between you and me—"

  "State your business," the stormtrooper repeated, raising his blaster. Han did some quick calculations. They were surrounded, outgunned, outnumbered.

  His kind of odds.

  "Looks like we're done with the sweet talk portion of the evening," Han muttered under his breath. He exchanged a look with Tobin Elad, who nodded and inched toward the closest guard. Good, Han thought. The man knew how to read a room.

  "Come quietly for detainment," the stormtrooper informed them. "Otherwise we'll shoot you right here."

  "Death now or death later?" Han mused, readying his blaster. "What's behind door number three?" He pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, that's right," he added. "Fire."

  Elad aimed a lightning-fast kick at the nearest stormtrooper, who went down in a clatter of armor. The others guards turned in his direction, distracted just for a moment. Long enough. Han unleashed a burst of blasterfire at the troopers, then dived behind a couch before they could retaliate.

  Luke and Leia fled to opposite corners, whipping out their blasters as they ran. Their fire provided enough cover for Han to take his time, aiming for the cracks in the stormtrooper armor. One by one, the Imperials went down.

  The opulent apartment quickly turned into a war zone. Blasterfire tore through satin upholstery; statues of Mak Luunim blew up in a
hail of marble dust. Chewbacca snarled as one of the stormtroopers tried to knock him out with a blaster to the head. He hoisted the soldier over his head and flung him through a wall separating the parlor from the dining area.

  "No, no, no!" Luunim's servile employee sniveled, distraught. He ignored the blasterfire and scurried back and forth across the apartment, steadying wobbling golden vases and tossing himself across priceless heirlooms. "The master wouldn't like this at all!"

  The master probably doesn't like being dead much, either, Han thought, shoving the Muun out of the way just before a burst of blasterfire could slam into him. Sometimes you don't have a choice.

  "And stay down," Han advised the Muun, who had curled up beneath a coffee table, clutching a shimmering silver figurine to his chest. The creature had clearly set them up for an ambush, but that didn't mean he deserved to die.

  Elad suddenly swiveled around, aiming his blaster directly at Han's head. "Hey—" Han shouted—just as the blasterfire seared past his face. There was a cry of pain from behind him as a stormtrooper took the hit.

  "You're welcome," Elad smirked.

  "Next time you could just say 'behind you,'" Han grumbled. But he was grateful for the save. He had to admit, Elad was just as good with a blaster as he was with a ship. He fought like a machine, cool and efficient.

  Deadly.

  Speaking of machines…

  "What are you doing?" he shouted at R2-D2, almost tripping over the droid. "Figure out a way to get that door open again!"

  R2-D2 beeped indignantly, but he rolled toward the door, injecting a manipulator arm into the instrument panel.

  Smoke clouded the air, heavy with the acrid stench of blasterfire. Half the stormtroopers were down, but three more crouched behind a toppled chair and table. Every few seconds, they popped up from behind their makeshift barricade and unleashed another volley of fire. Han and Elad were pinned behind a thick marble column. There was too much cover in the room, and too little space—it was impossible for Han to get a clear shot without exposing himself.

  The fight was a draw…at least until the stormtroopers called in reinforcements.

  Which could happen any minute.

  "How we coming with those doors?" Han asked urgently. How long could it take to pry open some millionaire's front door?

  Then again—Han took a look around the ruined apartment, realizing there was probably more wealth between these four walls than he'd smuggled in his lifetime. It was understandable that Luunim would have wanted a state of the art system to keep people out.

  Or keep people in.

  R2-D2 trilled triumphantly as the doors slid open.

  "Go!" Elad shouted, a second before Han was about to do the same. "I'll cover you."

  The droids rushed out first, followed by Leia, Luke, and Chewbacca.

  "Go!" Elad shouted again, pinning down the stormtroopers with another round of fire.

  "You go!" Han insisted. "I'll cover you."

  "You want to fight about this, or you want to live?"

  "You have to ask?" Han grinned.

  "On three?"

  Han nodded, counting silently.

  One…two…three, he mouthed, and they both took off for the door, twisting backward as they ran, firing at the stormtroopers who followed. As blasterfire punched holes in the marble wall, they slipped out of the apartment, just as the doors shut behind them.

  "Can you stop them from coming through?" Han asked the astromech droid.

  R2-D2 whistled a response.

  C-3PO looked at him in surprise. "He says he's already done so, Captain Solo. He jammed the command circuitry. Who told you to do that, Artoo?"

  R2-D2 beeped and whistled, sounding proud.

  "What do you mean, you came up with it on your own?" C-3PO asked, horrified. "Need I remind you of our place, Artoo? We're to carry out orders, not concoct crazy schemes sure to—"

  "Nice work, Artoo," Luke cut in, smiling. "You saved us all."

  "Well…yes, now that you mention it," C-3PO blustered, "I suppose we did."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They slipped safely out of the building, quickly absorbed by the dense crowds. Leia led them up and down packed streets, wandering aimlessly in hopes of losing any Imperials that might be on their trail. But as nearly an hour passed without incident, they decided that they were safe.

  For now.

  They eventually found themselves on the fringes of the city. There were no more gleaming marble edifices here, only squat stone buildings the color of mud. Orange dragon beasts, nearly as large as a human foot, scampered through the streets, nibbling at the piles of garbage that lay piled on every corner. It was obvious that none of the wealthier Muuns, with their rich satin robes and fat bank accounts, ever strayed toward this part of town.

  "We need to figure out why the Imperials killed Mak Luunim," Leia said, stumbling over a narrow ditch. Luke reached out to steady her, but Elad was faster. He caught her arm just before she fell. She shook him off. "If they discovered his connections to the Alliance, we could be in danger."

  "Princess, those stormtroopers back there nearly turned us into burnt mealbread toast," Han pointed out. "I'd say we're already in danger."

  "We need to ask around, find out whatever we can about Luunim," Luke suggested.

  Han shook his head. "We need to lay low."

  "Might I suggest a way of doing both?" Tobin Elad paused in front of a dingy cantina, its blinking sign hanging precariously over the door. So much mud spotted the windows that the transparisteel had turned a uniform brown.

  "Ah, my kind of place." Han nodded appreciatively.

  "This?" Leia wrinkled her nose and jerked out of the way as a grunting Gamorrean pushed through the doorway, his stench trailing behind him like a shadow. "It's a total dump!"

  Han broke into a wide grin. "Exactly."

  The inside of the cantina was even dingier than the outside. It took several minutes for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Leia almost would have preferred it if they hadn't. Then she wouldn't have had to watch the Gungan on the next stool brushing his companion's hair with a long, pink tongue. Or the unusually scruffy Muun behind the bar serve her a glass of water that he'd just used to wash his feet.

  But in addition to clean feet, the Muun had a big mouth, and that was serving them well.

  "That gundark-face Luunim owed me money," Han lied, leaning toward the bartender like they were old friends. "Should've known he'd rather die than pay me back."

  "Luunim owed everyone money," the bartender said. His voice was nearly a hiss. "It was bound to get him into trouble one day." The bartender had confided that Mak Luunim died when his airspeeder's central turbine failed in midair. An Imperial inquest had deemed the incident an accident. The bartender sneered at anyone gullible enough to believe it.

  "Thing is, who's going to pay me now?" Han complained. "Imperials are crawling all over the place, and I get the sense they're not too interested in paying his debts."

  "Imperials!" The bartender spit into his glass. Leia resolved to keep an eye on it, lest he try to serve it to her next. "Only honorable beings repay their debts. The Imperials merely take and take—and then move on." He snickered. "Lucky thing for Nal Kenuun that he always takes first."

  Han tensed, and Leia could tell he was trying his best to sound casual. "So this Nal Kenuun guy got at Luunim's place before the Imperials showed up?" Han asked. "Did Luunim owe him, too?"

  "Everyone owes Nal Kenuun," the bartender said. "I have no doubt he collected on his debt, whether or not Luunim was alive to pay him."

  Han glanced at Leia, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. If this Nal Kenuun had plundered Luunim's apartment, looking for items of value, then it was possible he had possession of the Rebellion's datacard—or at least might know where to find it.

  Certainly it was the best lead they had, since they couldn't very well go back to Luunim's apartment and look for themselves. Not with the Empire swarming all over it.
r />   "Don't suppose you know where I could find this Kenuun," Han said.

  The bartender stiffened. "I wouldn't know anything about that." He scooped their glasses off the counter and retreated into a back room. "I got dishes to wash. Leave your payment on the counter when you go."

  "That Muun never washed a dish in his life," Leia said, glancing at the spotted glasses littering the bar.

  "He was definitely spooked when we started talking about Kenuun," Han agreed. "Must mean we're on the right track."

  It could, in fact, have meant anything, but Leia decided not to mention that. She wanted to believe that Han was right. Because they needed that datacard—the Rebellion needed that datacard. And this was their only lead.

  Unfortunately, the bartender wasn't the only one who refused to help. They split up, wandering into different areas of the cantina, casually dropping Nal Kenuun's name into conversations. Each conversation ended abruptly.

  When they met up again outside the front door, they were no closer to Kenuun than when they'd started.

  "He's rich, he's powerful, and he likes to gamble," Luke reported. "And no one wants to cross him. That's all I found out."

  "Looks like that's all any of us found out," Leia said, defeated. She supposed they could return to the city center and track him down through the central directory, but with the Imperials on their tail, that seemed too great a risk.

  A loud hiss slipped out of the alley behind the bar.

  They fell silent, turning as one toward the source of the noise. A scaly Dug emerged from the shadows. "Yeah, you," he whispered, curling a finger toward them. "C'mere."

  Chewbacca growled softly.

  "I know," Han muttered. "I saw him too. Sitting alone. Watching us."

  "Limited time offer," the Dug warned, retreating further into the alley.

  C-3PO raised a finger in protest. "I must say, I find it highly unadvisable to follow this being into—wait, where are you all going?"

  Leia led the way.

  The Dug was shorter than most of his kind, barely a meter high. His scaly flesh hung thick and loose around his neck. He wore a scooped metal blade in a holster slung across his shoulders.