Star Wars: The Corellian Trilogy II: Assault at Selonia

by Roger MacBride Allen

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ebrihim said, scrambling to his feet and brushing the dirt out of his fur.

  “Now then, tell me quick and no foolish answers. Why did that pilot sneak up on the house? Why did he land in the trees, if you have nothing to hide?”

  “We weren’t hiding from you,” Ebrihim said. “We were afraid someone from the outside might spot us. The pilot put down there to try and keep out of sight from above.”

  “Hppphm. I see,” said Aunt Marcha. She slung the blaster rifle over her shoulder and bent down to examine one of the bright blue flowers Ebrihim had crushed when he dove for cover. Straightening up, she surveyed the ground under the Millennium Falcon’s landing pads. “Next time,” she said, her voice more peeved than ever, “tell your pilot friend to land somewhere besides my nannarium beds.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Seems Like Old

  Times

  The bucketful of water hit Han square in the face. “Wake up,” an unpleasantly familiar voice told him as he sat upright, spluttering and coughing. “Show’s over.”

  Han opened his eyes cautiously, and instantly knew that caution was called for. He was back in his cell, and the light was none too bright. Even so, it hurt his eyes. For that matter, pretty much every part of him hurt. That Selonian, Dracmus, packed one heck of a wallop.

  Thrackan tossed the empty metal bucket into the far corner of the cell, and its clattering was enough to set off a pounder of a headache at the base of Han’s skull.

  “Come on,” Thrackan said, his voice impatient. “Snap out of it. My medics checked you over, and they told me you’d live. Said you were too mean to kill easy.”

  “Being mean was always your department, Thrackan,” Han said, his voice barely more than a croak. He opened his eyes a bit more fully, and watched as his cousin laughed, pulled up a stool, and sat down facing Han on the cot.

  “There’s the Han I always knew,” Thrackan said. “Good to hear you show some spirit.”

  Thrackan was close to Han. Oddly close. Han suddenly realized he could smell alcohol on his cousin’s breath. He noticed that Thrackan was carrying a bottle of what looked very much like Vasarian brandy. His cousin was at least a little drunk. “What do you want now, Thrackan?” Han asked, not sure of what was going on. “You’ve had your entertainment.”

  “Don’t push it, Han. Don’t have much patience left for you, believe me.”

  “So why are you here?” Han asked, unable to control his temper completely. “Is it a slow day, and you want to kill an hour or two pulling my fingernails out?”

  “Don’t give me ideas,” Thrackan said. “I don’t need any. I already have an idea. A surprise for you. But I’ll show you that in a little while. First I want to talk with you.”

  Han tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a strangled cough. “Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do. What is it that brings you down here?” Besides that bottle you have in your hand. At a guess, his cousin had started feeling just a trifle guilty about what he had done, and had come down here to force Han to say it was all right. Not the most logical train of thought, but it was the sort of thing Thrackan would do.

  “Wanted to see you,” Thrackan said, a trifle indistinctly. “Besides, there’s something I wanted to tell you before the surprise. And something I need you to do.”

  “All right,” Han said. “What did you want to tell me?”

  Thrackan let out a sigh. “I’m here because I need your help. Otherwise, I’d have executed you by now f’r the attack on the spaceport.”

  “Did you think that having a Selonian beat me to a pulp would inspire me to help you?”

  “That was necess’ry,” Thrackan said dismissively. “Real-life theater for the officers. You’re the most important prisoner we have taken—and you know as well as I do about family loyalty on this damn planet. All those stories about a man who sacrifices principles and duty to take care of his family. My men needed to see I wasn’t influenced by that sort of thing.”

  “Glad I could help demonstrate your integrity,” Han said. He remembered those stories a bit differently, of course. The moral of those stories was that it was good to put family first. Apparently, there would be none of that nonsense in the Human League. “But why do you need me?”

  Thrackan looked his cousin straight in the face. “For two reasons. First, I’m gonna let everyone know you are where I am. You’ll be a sort of insurance policy. This place is hidden pretty good, but they’ve found better-hidden places than this. Pretty strong place, too, but get a big enough bomb and aim it carefully enough, and no structure will stand.”

  Han smiled. “If anyone gets a chance to take a crack at you, I doubt they’ll be much worried about taking me out at the same time.”

  “Brave words, but not true. If—and it is a very big if—Governor-General Micamberlecto manages to stage a counterattack, or if the New Republic manages to join the party, they won’t wanna make any attack that would endanger you. Do you really b’lieve the Governor-General and your wife would order a bombing run ’gainst the structure you were in? Or that a fleet of New Republic ships, captained by all your old buddies, would wanna try it? Never,” Thrackan said, with a flat finality. “Maybe they’d take a crack at some sort of crazy commando raid to rescue you, but lemme tell ya, we are all set to deal with that eventa’lity.” Thrackan seemed to realize that he had a little trouble with that last word and frowned.

  There was enough truth in what Thrackan was saying that Han didn’t wish to pursue it further. “What was the second reason you need me?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

  Thrackan took another pull off the bottle, and then made a vague sort of gesture with his free hand. “Right now I’m telling lies to the world. All part of the plan. When the time comes for me to tell the truth—or at least to let the truth get out—you will be a very useful messenger. People—the people who matter—will believe you.”

  “Telling lies and truth about what?” Han asked.

  Thrackan smiled. “Oh, no. No, no. No. I’m not taking chances. Might’ve said too much already.” Thrackan paused for a moment, and looked Han straight in the face. He put his hand on his cousin’s knee, and gave it an affectionate little squeeze that sent fresh spasms of pain through Han’s bruised body. Thrackan clearly did not notice. “You know, much as I hate to admit it, it’s good to see you. Maybe we’re enemies at the moment, and you’re my prisoner, but I suppose that old family feeling is still there. Takes me back to the old days.”

  “Same here,” Han said. Not that the old days with his cousin were anything he wanted to remember, but his dancing lesson with Dracmus had certainly reminded him of them. Still, if Thrackan was in a talking mood, he wanted to encourage him. “But it seems to me that we have a lot to worry about here in the present.”

  “That we do. At least I do. You’re not going to be going anywhere or doing much of anything for a while.”

  “I sort of figured that.”

  Thrackan made an attempt to put a crafty expression on his face, and shook his finger at Han. “But can I count on your cooperation while you’re here? When the time’s right, you’ll be released, and we’ll give you a message to carry—unless, of course, you’ve caused so much trouble in the meantime that it’s not worthwhile keeping you around.”

  “Thrackan, I don’t now how to say this, but I am something close to a prisoner of war in all this. It’s my job to cause trouble.”

  “I was afraid you’d see it that way. I don’t suppose I could get you to give me your parole, the way Dracmus did?”

  “Sorry. No can do.”

  “And even if you did, I don’t think I’d trust you as far as I’d trust her,” Thrackan said. Amazing, really, the casual arrogance of the man. One moment he was waxing nostalgic over the old days spent beating smaller children to a pulp, and the next he was tossing off a contemptuous insult of Han’s honor that was made worse by being completely unconsidered. “We almost got your kids, you know. Our spot
ters saw that Wookiee pal of yours hustle them into your ship, and we scrambled a flight of PPBs to go after them. If we had caught them, we’d really have some leverage on your wife.”

  Han stared at his cousin, astonished in spite of himself. It took a very special kind of mind to come up which such schemes, to see so much and yet be so blind. “How can you do it, Thrackan? How can you go against the best traditions of our people? Never involve the innocent. Always protect your family. Don’t those words sound familiar at all?”

  “I don’t run my life according to the morals from old nursery stories,” Thrackan said.

  “So how do you run your life?” Han asked, his temper starting to get the better of him. “What are the moral lessons you live by?”

  Thrackan chortled and took another pull at his bottle. “Fine questions coming from a pirate and a smuggler and a traitor.”

  “I’ve been called worse,” Han said evenly. “But we’re talking about you. I really want to know. How did you get to where you are?” There was no such thing as enough information about the enemy. Han knew the size of his cousin’s ego. If Han could twist his vanity, get him talking about himself, Thrackan might well reveal something valuable. “When I left Corellia,” Han went on, “you weren’t much more than an Imperial bureaucrat. How did you get to be the Grand Exalted Hidden Leader, or whatever it is they call you now?”

  Thrackan sneered. “They call me by my proper title. They call me the Diktat. And it’s a title I have ev’ry right to claim.”

  “How so? How did you earn it?”

  Thrackan smiled coldly. “The old-fashioned way,” he replied. “With old-fashioned determination. Determination and ambition.”

  “With maybe a little backstabbing and skulduggery thrown in for good luck,” Han said.

  “Watch what you say to me, Han, or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Han said, tired of playing nice. “Beat me to a pulp? Try and kidnap my children? Order a rocket attack on the building my family is in? Don’t tell me a man capable of all that didn’t play a trick or two here and there on his way to the top.”

  “And suppose I did play the game? There’d be nothing new in that. Lots of other leaders have to do it on their way up.”

  “Now there’s a fine moral lesson for you. Everyone else does it.”

  “I should have let the Selonian kill you,” Thrackan muttered.

  “Yeah. What a pity you seem to need me. But you were telling me about your heroic climb to the top.”

  “Maybe I will let her kill you,” he said, in a sulky tone. “But about me, there’s not that much to tell. Let’s just say that I maneuvered my way into progressively more important posts. By the time your stinking Rebellion won its first battles against the Empire, I was the heir presumptive to the Diktat. Dupas Thomree was the Diktat, Daclif Gallamby was heir apparent, and I was third in the line of succession.”

  “That would be news to a lot of people,” Han said. “I remember Thomree, of course, but I’ve never heard of Gallamby—and I never knew you were up there, too.”

  “Th’ fact was not widely known,” Thrackan said, once again trying to speak in formal tones—and not quite pulling it off. “But the Imperial government of Corellia had a tradition of secrecy. We din’t answer to anyone.”

  “You’re forgetting your close personal friend the Emperor. You must have answered to him.”

  “Not really. The Emperor believed in order, and we kept order here. I can assure you of that. In exchange for keeping order, which we would’ve done anyway, and for swearing absolute loyalty to the Emperor’s external policies, the Emperor granted Diktat Thomree permission to run the sector any way he pleased. There was no reason for the public to know the arrangements for the succession. Even the most powerful members of the leadership were unknown to the public. People jus’ knew who the Diktat was. Secrecy was a real handy thing for those in power.”

  “So what happened?”

  “When the war against the Rebellion started, Thomree kept his side of the bargain. He provided troops and ships for the Emperor. But not long after, Thomree, ah, well, he—he died unexpectedly.”

  “I bet it’s a real interesting story how that happened,” Han said, noticing his cousin’s hesitation. “There might even be more than one version.”

  “I had nothin’ to do with it,” Thrackan said. “But I won’t kid you. Lots of Diktats died under suspicious circumstances. I think Thomree figured he had protected himself from assassination by makin’ a nobody his successor. Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried that—or the first time it failed.”

  “So who did succeed?”

  “Gallamby took over. He was the last Diktat. If you can call him that. Jus’ a figurehead, a puppet on a string—”

  “Were you one of the ones pulling the string?” Han asked.

  “Nope. I tried, but others got to ’im first. They managed to control policy. They called for economy. They cut back on Thomree’s support of the war against the Rebellion.” Thrackan paused a moment and shook his head. “How close were some of those fights, cousin?” he asked. “Do you think maybe a few more Corellian ships, a few thousand more Corellian troops, might’ve tipped the balance? Do you think maybe Gallamby and his gang might’ve won the war for you?”

  Han did not answer. It was no secret that the Rebel Alliance had won more than once by the skin of its teeth.

  “Yeah, don’t talk,” Thrackan said. “I say a few fools eager to save a credit or two lost us the war.”

  “There was more to it than who had the most ships, Thrackan. We had other things going for us.”

  “Skywalker, you mean.”

  “Well, yes. Luke Skywalker. And maybe the forces of history.”

  “I’ve never believed in fate,” Thrackan said. “I’ve always made my own fate.”

  “Except the Rebel Alliance defeated the Empire,” Han said. “You weren’t able to do much about that.”

  “Why do you take such pleasure in baiting me, when I could have you killed or tortured any time I want?”

  “Mostly because I don’t like you,” Han said. “But I want to hear this story and you want to tell it. What happened in the Corellian Sector when we defeated the Empire?”

  “Even up to the end, I was struggling, behind the scenes, to return Corellia to her former policy.”

  “You were trying to seize power.”

  “Of course I was, y’ fool. Gallamby was letting everything fall apart. Act of patriotism to try and kick ‘im out. And by the time of the battle of the second Death Star, I was almost ready to get rid of him. We were all set.” Thrackan paused for another swig on his bottle, and his face darkened. “But then we heard about the Emperor’s death, and about the defeat at Endor. That was enough for the alien scum here, and for their sympathizers.”

  “Aliens? What aliens?”

  “You know damn well. The nonhuman scum here on Corellia.”

  “The Selonians and the Drall.”

  “Right.”

  “How could they be aliens? They’ve lived here for thousands of years.”

  “They aren’t human. So they’re aliens.” Obviously, as far as Thrackan was concerned, there could be no argument. “And they all figured that without an Emperor, there wasn’t any Empire. There were celebrations here when the Emperor died, if you can believe that.”

  “Do tell,” Han said. “Amazing.” He was starting to understand something. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Thrackan couldn’t quite believe that Han, his own flesh and blood, could not see the true way. It must be that Han had never heard the real story, in all its self-evident logic. But once it was all explained, once Han understood what had really happened, the scales would fall from his eyes. He would be converted to Thrackan’s way of thinking. Han could play along with that, if need be. “Even his enemies mourned the death of a worthy adversary.” That, of course, was a bald-faced lie. News of Emperor Palpatine’s death had been met with dancing in the streets. But telling T
hrackan that wouldn’t accomplish much of anything.

  “Thanks, Han, for telling me that. Here, they celebrated. Nearly all of ’em. Even the troopers and the navy crew. Deserted in droves. No one defeated the Empire in Corellia. It jus’ collapsed.” Thrackan stood up a little straighter and made an effort to focus himself. “A regime without authority cannot rule,” he said, very grandly. “And the regime here lost all authority.”

  “The people stopped being afraid of you, is that it?”

  “Fear,” Thrackan said, “is a great organizing principle. But the end of fear wasn’t the only thing that made it crack. It was us startin’ to fear them. Gallamby made a run for it. Him and his handlers. Took half the credits in the treasury with them. And that was just the start of it. Scavenger hawks. They came in like scavenger hawks and grabbed everything that wasn’t nailed down. And then people started to get hold of files and started arresting gov’ment officials, trying them for crimes committed in office. Crazy stuff. How could anythin’ done in service of the Empire be a crime?”

  “Beats me,” Han said. “So the Empire collapsed. What did you do? How did you get here?”

  “I started planning. Plotting. Thinking of the long term. Finding friends one place, favors someplace else. Started searching out people who’d done all right under the Empire, and wanted the old days back.”

  “So that’s your goal. Bring back the Empire? Give up now, Thrackan. It’s dead, dead and gone.”

  “I know that,” Thrackan said. “I don’t like it, but I can see it. Could see it the day Palpatine and Darth Vader died. All over. But Palpatine’s New Order, the Imperial system—that we can bring back, at least here. Just no Emperor over the Diktat. No one telling the Corellian Sector what to do. In-de-pen-dent. Just us here, putting the aliens back in their place.”

  “I thought you were going to kick them off the planet Corellia,” Han said. “I heard the announcement. If the New Republic didn’t move all the nonhumans off the planet, you’d blow up another star?”