Star Wars: I, Jedi

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Cracken shook his head. “Not in my mind, but there is no evidence to prove she did. From Eiattu there is no trace of her—she escaped in a shuttle—until she had another run-in with Rogue Squadron. This time she was in command of a small band of pirates that proved somewhat less tractable than the Invids. She fled from that confrontation and hooked up with Teradoc. She obtained the Invidious from him by means unknown and vanished except for the occasional supply raid. She became more bold during Thrawn’s campaign, and first appeared with the Invids during the Emperor’s return. She was a minor concern then, but she learned very well how to manage her pirates.”

  An image of the Booty Full replaced her holograph. “What she has done is forged a loose coalition of freebooters and marauders into a fleet that looks to her for planning and coordination. She provides them times and places for rendezvous, then plots courses, downloads battleplans and uses the Invidious’ firepower to suppress planetary defenses. Her allies then loot and pillage to their hearts’ content, transferring half of what they take to her. She then vanishes and they return to their bolt-holes, waiting for her next call.”

  I frowned. “Why haven’t we gone after her fleet? Tracking them can’t be that difficult.”

  “It isn’t. We know, for a fact, that many of them spend their time at Nal Hutta, or lairing up in various and sundry smugglers’ hide-outs throughout the galaxy.” Cracken’s eyes narrowed. “Without Tavira and the Invidious, her fleet would fall apart and mopping them up would be simple. With her ship intact, we can’t begin to prey on the fleet unless we devote sufficient forces to be able to repel an ambush. You were at K’vath. We had a Mon Cal Cruiser and two Star Destroyers there to take down a bulk cruiser and eighteen Tri-fighters.”

  Tycho leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “The fact is, though, sir, that we were not ambushed at K’vath.”

  “I know, and that is one of the more troubling aspects of this whole affair.” Cracken sighed and I felt a wave of fatigue wash out with his breath. “The source that tipped us to the Booty Full’s raid appears to be one tied to Tavira. Riizolo says he wanted to go out on his own, so he severed ties with Tavira. He says he had been holding out on her anyway, which is why he was able to buy his own clutches. He even sliced the plans for the taking of the Glitterstar from her computer. Because we escorted the liner back to Coruscant, he believes he just got unlucky in the timing of the raid, since we were obviously there to escort the ship, not go after him.”

  I shook my head. “He’d not be the first criminal to refuse to believe he was set up.”

  “He still is stupid enough to think what little information he was able to give us will save him from prison.” Cracken hit another key on the datapad. “About the most useful thing he did give us is this updated image of Leonia Tavira.”

  Gone was the prim vixen from the previous image. Though still very young, Leonia had become sharper and far more beautiful. Her violet eyes had a piercing quality that belied the gentle smile on her face. Her hair had grown out somewhat and was raggedly cut, but held back with a red bandanna of the same hue as the scarlet panels on her black jacket. She wore blaster pistols on either hip, and the gunbelts that encircled her waist emphasized her slender, petite physique. Her black leggings clung to her like synthetic flesh, while armored boots encased her legs from the knees down.

  I shook my head. “Looks like life gave her some Iceheart lessons.”

  Cracken snorted a laugh. “I hate to think what Tavira would have become if Ysanne Isard had taken her on as an apprentice. Or even Grand Admiral Thrawn, for that matter. She appears to learn from her experiences very quickly and very well, which is part of the reason we have trouble locating her. As we suspected before, and as Riizolo confirmed, she initiates contact, not the other way around. None of the Invid pirates know where she hides her ship or when she will show up. Only those individuals recruited to crew on the Invidious learn those secrets, but that avenue of access is one-way only. Once you are invited to the Invidious, you do not leave it.”

  Tycho studied Tavira’s image, then glanced at Cracken. “I seem to recall a number of other operations launched against her that proved fruitless. Do you suspect she has sources of information that tip her to our plans?”

  “I certainly would like to think so, Colonel, because that means we could trap her if we could locate her source and feed him bad data.” Cracken opened his hands. “So far all efforts in that area have come up empty. In fact, I have had Iella Wessiri coordinating our efforts to locate any spies working for Tavira, and the both of you know how thorough she can be.”

  I smiled. Iella had been my partner in CorSec and had been the chief prosecution investigator in Tycho’s treason trial. “If she can’t find a spy, there isn’t a spy.”

  “A conclusion I am forced, reluctantly, to accept.” Cracken shook his head. “Somehow Tavira seems to know when we have prepared for one of her raids and calls it off. We’ve been able to figure out no pattern of behavior that would tip her off, so we have had to rely on more and more unorthodox methods for trying to locate her.”

  He turned to face me and ice crystallized in my guts. “Part of those efforts involve Mirax.”

  I slumped back in my chair, suddenly feeling as old as the galaxy itself. “I know, somehow, that she is not dead, but I cannot feel her otherwise. What do you know, General?”

  “I know very little, and some of that I cannot tell you.”

  Tycho frowned. “This is his wife, General, and she’s missing.”

  “I know that, Colonel, and I know where she might be.” Cracken held his hands up to forestall comment by either one of us. He needn’t have done it for me because I felt as if all my bones were turning to liquid and the very act of breathing was almost more than I could manage.

  “Mirax came to me to ask what she could do to help bring an end to the Invid raids. It turns out that a client of hers, a collector of antiquities, had lost some valuable items when an Invid raid hit a vacation home he maintained. He wanted the items back and was interested in having Mirax make some inquiries. She came to me offering her services, noting that such a cover story might allow her to go where my people could not. I explained to her that the Invids could prove very dangerous, but she was willing to accept that danger—though she did travel alone, not wanting to subject co-pilots to such risk. She said that the sooner the Invids were broken up, the less she would worry about their possibly killing Rogues, and that she and you could get back to your lives.”

  Somehow I balled my hands into fists and fought to stop the tears threatening to leak from my eyes. If I had not set the destruction of the Invids as a condition for our decision about having a child, she never would have taken this risk. I should have seen that, I should have known what she would do. She never was one to stand around idle when a goal eluded her grasp.

  Was she? With that question, with my realization that I couldn’t remember enough about her to answer it, the tears came. I wanted to apologize, but the lump in my throat choked off my words. My mouth gaped open in a silent scream, then I hammered my right fist down against the arm of my chair and snapped my mouth shut. I sniffed, swiped at tears, then sat back upright.

  “Please, forgive me,” I croaked.

  “Nothing to forgive, Corran.” Tycho gave me a brave smile. “You’re taking this a lot better than I would if I had the equivalent news about Winter.”

  Cracken reached out and patted me on the knee. “But for your sense of Mirax’s being gone, I would not be overly alarmed, Captain Horn. She is overdue for reporting in, but not by so much time that I see a need to assume the worst.”

  “I’m not assuming, sir.” I opened my fists and stared down at my empty hands. “She’s gone. Not dead, just gone! I was sleeping and heard her scream my name, and then she was gone.”

  Cracken’s head came up. “You think this is more than a nightmare?”

  “It was no nightmare.”

  “Then part of your Jedi heri
tage?”

  I stopped and thought hard. Did I maintain some sort of unconscious, untrained connection with Mirax through the Force? I didn’t know if that was possible.

  “I don’t know, General, I just know she is gone. I can’t feel her anymore.” I looked toward Tycho. “Tell me you can feel Winter’s presence, please.”

  Tycho smiled quickly. “I think I know what you mean, Corran, and I do feel her presence when we’re together, but it is not a constant thing. She’s off nursemaiding Anakin Solo and I have no idea where she is or how she is doing. Knowing her, I assume all is well. I can’t tell you, however, that I have the same bond with her that you share with Mirax.”

  “Thanks for your honesty.” I turned back to Cracken. “Tell me where she last was.”

  The general shook his head. “I cannot.”

  “You must.”

  “I can’t and won’t, Captain Horn.” Cracken’s face closed. “Think about it for a minute. I have agents in place who are very vulnerable.…”

  “It’s Mirax’s vulnerability I’m worrying about here.”

  “I know that, man, don’t think I don’t.” An edge crept into Cracken’s voice and sliced through my anger. “She’s in the same position you were when we inserted you and the Rogues here, into Coruscant. If I give you that information and you head out after her, you might just cause those who are dealing with her to think they have been set up. You have to trust her and trust that she will do the right thing.”

  “And if that isn’t enough?” I found my hands had become fists again, so I forced them open once more. “You may not want to give me the information, General, but you can be ordered to do so.”

  “Only by the New Republic’s ruling council.”

  I gave him as hard a stare as I could muster. “I’m willing to petition them to get me that information. What I’ve done for the New Republic may have aged a bit, and nothing is as tiresome as yesterday’s hero, but I’ll burn whatever political capital I have to save Mirax.”

  Cracken frowned at me. “But we don’t even know she needs saving yet.”

  “You don’t know, General, I do.” I stood and offered both men a salute. “I respect you both very much, and I do not mean to be insubordinate, but my wife is in trouble and I will help her. I’d like your help, but absent that, don’t try to stop me.”

  FOUR

  I knew General Cracken’s reasons for refusing to give me the information I wanted were good and sound, and I would have resisted my request the same as he had, were I in his position. That sort of cold logic melts away, however, in the face of the sort of anger and pain I was feeling. If I had just made a decision and not tried to delay things, Mirax wouldn’t be missing. I’d abrogated my responsibility once and I damned well wasn’t going to fail her a second time.

  My threat to petition the New Republic’s ruling council wasn’t an idle one, but Cracken knew he had little to fear from it. In theory, any citizen of the New Republic could communicate with a senator and, if their case warranted it, might even get an audience with the Council. In my case I could go more directly to Doman Beruss, the Corellian Councilor, and seek an audience that way. I was fairly certain the Council would let me speak to it, but that still put me far from getting what I needed from General Cracken.

  Even before going to the Council, I needed to enlist support of various members so I had a chance of getting my request approved. In reality I knew it would be fairly easy for my request to be dismissed in the name of security, but if a couple of Council members backed me, I might win the day anyway.

  To enlist that sort of support, however, I needed to ask friends for favors. My first stop in that quest—at least my first stop after returning home and changing into my service uniform—was the office of General Wedge Antilles. I did not call ahead and Wedge’s executive assistant, prim and cold though she was, seemed to accept my dropping in as a matter of course.

  The nature of Wedge’s office revealed a lot about the man I had come to know and trust over the years. The whole of the wall behind his desk had been formed of transparisteel, providing the illusion that he worked on a balcony. It gave him a great view of Coruscant and, more importantly, a lot of sky. The desk he had been given was big enough to land an X-wing on, and Wedge kept it clear enough so he could land an X-wing there. Off to the left side of the room Wedge had a couch, a low table, and some battered chairs that would have looked more at home in some squadron debriefing lounge.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, General.”

  Wedge gave me a big smile that pulsed some warmth back into me. “Corran, it’s good to see you. Been too long.”

  I gave him a salute, then shook his hand. “It has, General, far too long.”

  He frowned and waved me to a couch off away from his desk. He came around from behind the desk and took a chair facing me, leaving the low table between us. I noticed it matched the one I’d tripped over in my bedroom and my shin throbbed sympathetically. A scattering of datacards from military historical reviews and architectural publications littered the table.

  Wedge regarded me carefully as he sat. “You needn’t be so formal, Corran.”

  “Sorry, Wedge.” I forced a smile onto my face. “In the squadron we understood command moving you into fleet ops while the reborn Emperor threatened the New Republic, and even during the last four months you’ve been flying around pulling debris out of low orbits so it wouldn’t crash down and kill more folks here. Then when you took this ground assignment instead of coming back, well, some of us wondered if you hadn’t gotten used to the sound of General Antilles.”

  He smiled in that easy, open way he had about him, with his brown eyes bright. “Nothing I’d like better than to be back with the squadron, but, you know, I’ve spent the last eleven years of my life blowing things apart. When I returned to Coruscant and I saw all that had been destroyed here, and all the folks left homeless—like you and Mirax—I don’t know, something in me wanted a change.”

  Wedge leaned forward in his chair and one lock of brown hair swung down onto his forehead. He picked up one of the architectural journal datacards. “Way back when, when I lived on the Gus Treta station with my parents, I used to dream about having a home on the ground and building incredible buildings. The Rebellion and all intervened and I’d pretty much forgotten that dream, but flying over the destruction here rekindled it. I don’t know if I’ll stick with it, but for now it’s something I want to do.”

  Part of me wanted to protest and convince him to rejoin the squadron, but he just sounded so happy that I couldn’t begrudge him his change of jobs. “You know we’ll be happy to have you with us again.”

  “Thanks.” Wedge nodded and sat back in his chair. “So, what brings you here? Just visiting?”

  I swallowed hard. “Not exactly. I need a favor. A big favor.”

  His reply came a bit more gravely than before. “What is it, Corran?”

  “Mirax is missing and I need to find her. General Cracken knows where she was last reported to be—she was doing a job for him at the time—and he won’t tell me where that was.”

  Wedge frowned. “He doesn’t want you running off and jeopardizing her life and his operation.”

  “I know, but she’s in trouble and I need to help her. I want to know if you would be willing to speak to Councilor Organa Solo and see if she would help me petition the Council to order Cracken to give me that information.” I tried to make my request sound reasonable, but even as I heard the words, I knew it was insane. Even if Wedge helped, the Council could never give me what I wanted. I was way out of bounds and I knew it, but I had no other choice.

  Before Wedge could answer, a bright-eyed man swung in through the office doorway. He was looking back at Wedge’s assistant and said, “It will just take a second, and then I’ll be out again.” He looked over at Wedge with a rakehell grin as wide as a Hutt and full of trouble on his face. “Wedge, want to make a run with me to Kessel?”

  “Kessel?
That’s the last place I’d think you’d want to go.” Wedge blinked away his surprise. “Thanks for the invitation, Han, but I’ve got duties here.”

  “What duties? Construction droids run themselves. You can head out with me and check on folks you left there, like that Fliry Vorru.” Han Solo looked past Wedge and acknowledged me with a quick nod. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Wedge looked from him back to me, then smiled. “Have you two not met?”

  I shook my head. “I know General Solo by reputation, certainly.”

  Han Solo’s smile remained in place. “No longer a general, just a civilian, thanks.”

  Wedge smiled slyly. “I don’t think that’s the whole of the reputation he means, Han. This is Corran Horn. He used to be with CorSec.”

  Han extended a hand to me. “Then I know you by reputation, too. And your father.”

  “My father?”

  Corellia’s most notorious smuggler nodded. “He was on my trail once. Had to take an appointment to the Imperial Naval Academy to escape him.”

  Han Solo had a hint of smugness in his voice that I’d long associated with smugglers and criminals boasting of their narrow escapes, and I wanted to hate him for it. I knew he’d trafficked in spice for a Hutt and that, too, was cause for me to think him the dregs of the universe. Even the fact that Corellians were often seen as flashy scofflaws in the rest of the galaxy, largely because of the fame of his exploits, was more than enough to have earned him my enmity forever.

  But there was something in his eyes and the firmness of his grip that hinted at the honorable spirit at his core. It would have been easy to deride him as nothing more than a mercenary who had found his fortune in Princess Leia, but that denied the sheer pain he’d suffered and the effort he’d put into fighting against the Empire. Something in the man struggled against taking the easy way out, against abandoning friends and abandoning hopeless causes. Perhaps it was a will to succeed or a fear of failure, both or even more, but it caused me to realize that a catalog of his crimes and deeds could not sum this man up.