Star Wars: Choices of One Page 4

  “Don’t worry about it,” Han said. At least someone appreciated him.

  “If you’ll take a seat, Solo?” Rieekan said, gesturing to the chair beside Axlon.

  “Sure,” Han said, pulling out the chair beside Leia and taking that one instead. “What’s going on?”

  “Actually, we’re not sure,” Rieekan said, resuming his seat at the head of the table. “It’s either a great opportunity or an extremely obvious trap. Master Axlon?”

  Axlon cleared his throat. “A few days ago I received a communiqué from Governor Bidor Ferrouz of Candoras sector,” he said. “I’m sure a seasoned traveler like Captain Solo knows all about Candoras, but for the rest of you it’s an Outer Rim region that edges into Wild Space and sort of trails off into the Unknown Regions. Under the Republic it was considered something of a bulwark against potential threats from both those areas. Under the Empire—” He made a face. “It’s apparently considered expendable.”

  “Since Governor Ferrouz’s communiqué arrived we’ve been working our usual information sources, trying to learn everything we can about the situation out there,” Rieekan said, touching a key on his control board. The table’s holodisplay lit up, showing a portion of the Outer Rim and a small, ragged-edged sector bordering on the blank area of Unknown Space. “As Master Axlon indicated, Candoras is far from the mainstream of Imperial life and commerce, with a sector fleet consisting of four antiquated Dreadnoughts and some smaller ships, and limited resources of all sorts.”

  “Unfortunately, they also seem to have an alien warlord named Nuso Esva edging his way along their border,” Axlon said grimly. “According to our sources, Nuso Esva has already conquered a number of systems in the Unknown Regions and is thinking about adding some Imperial territory to his collection. Candoras, apparently, is number one on his list.”

  “So what does this have to do with us?” Han asked.

  “What it has to do with us, Captain,” Axlon said heavily, “is that Governor Ferrouz is offering a very intriguing deal: a full-fledged base for the Alliance, complete with logistical support, docking facilities, and one of the finest natural supply depots in the galaxy—”

  “Wait a minute,” Luke interrupted, his eyes wide. “He’s offering us a base? Not just an anchorage or hiding place, but an actual base?”

  “That’s what he says,” Rieekan said. He manipulated the controls, and the holo zoomed in on a single star and then on a double planet circling that star. “This is the Poln system, Candoras’s capital. Poln Major, the larger world, is the actual seat of government. The smaller world, Poln Minor, used to be a center of mining and manufacturing, and while its significance has decreased over the years it still has a fair role in both areas. That’s where he proposes we establish our base. I’ve already confirmed that the system has enough ship traffic to disguise our own movements.”

  “Poln Minor also has a network of deep caverns and abandoned mining hubs,” Axlon said. “Some of them are being used as storehouses, but others are empty and would be ideal for caching our own equipment.” He gestured. “That’s what I meant by a natural supply depot. A few of the caverns are just under the surface, but others are deep enough to be completely hidden from any external scan.”

  “Sounds ideal,” Leia said. “What does Governor Ferrouz want for all this generosity?”

  “According to the communiqué, nothing,” Axlon said. “He assures us we’ll be safe, protected by his sector fleet, and more than welcome. He also hints that he’s planning to secede from the Empire in the near future and throw his official support to the Alliance.”

  Han snorted. “Like we haven’t heard that one before.”

  “Granted,” Axlon conceded. “And no one’s saying that we necessarily believe him. The point is that we’ve been offered a base where, if nothing else, we’ll have plenty of warning before a major attack.”

  “The question is, a major attack by whom?” Leia asked. “I assume it’s obvious to everyone that Ferrouz is angling to have Alliance firepower on hand to bolster his defenses if this Nuso Esva character tries to move against him.”

  “Or like you said, it could be a straight-out trap,” Luke said. “The minute we settle in, fifty Star Destroyers show up and we’re caught like womp rats.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility,” Axlon agreed. “But it may surprise you to hear that I think the odds of that are fairly small. Our sources say Ferrouz petitioned the fleet for more warships about four months ago and no one even bothered to respond to his request. All indications are that Imperial Center has largely forgotten Candoras even exists.”

  “Besides, if they wanted to lay a trap for us, there are more likely places to do it,” Leia commented. “Someplace with a decent sector fleet, for starters. Getting a strike force to Candoras would mean shifting and retasking a lot of ships. That would take a lot of time and effort, and be pretty obvious to our spies.”

  “So instead we move in and get hit by Nuso Esva,” Han said. “Not sure I see how that gains us anything.”

  Axlon turned a scowl toward him. “Captain—”

  “It gains us in two ways,” Rieekan interrupted. “First, if the presence of an Alliance force makes Nuso Esva reconsider his invasion plans, that risk goes completely away. Second, if Nuso Esva does attack, our forces may be able to help Ferrouz beat him back.”

  “Since when did we start doing the Imperial fleet’s job for them?” Han asked.

  “Since the ultimate goal of the Rebellion is to free the galaxy,” Rieekan said with an air of strained patience. “It wouldn’t be much of a victory if we overthrew one tyrant only to have him replaced by another.”

  “Is Nuso Esva that powerful?” Luke asked.

  “We have no idea how powerful he is,” Axlon said. “All we know is that Governor Ferrouz is clearly concerned.”

  “Let’s talk about Ferrouz for a moment,” Leia said. “What do we know about him?”

  “Ten years ago he was considered an up-and-coming young politician, one of the brightest to have come out of Imperial Center over the past decade,” Axlon said. “He’s young, barely into his forties, with a wife and a six-year-old daughter. He’s also apparently an excellent administrator.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, that’s all we know.”

  “Which is why someone has to go out to Poln Major and actually meet the man,” Rieekan said. “Mon Mothma and I think a small group could slip in without any difficulty—”

  “Wait a second,” Han interrupted. “You’re sending Leia into danger again?”

  “As it happens, no,” Rieekan said calmly. “Master Axlon has volunteered for the negotiator’s position.”

  Han looked at Axlon, feeling the unpleasant sensation of the deck dropping out from under him. “Oh,” he said lamely.

  “The original plan was to fly him to Poln Major in one of our transports,” Rieekan continued. “But I’m thinking now that you and the Millennium Falcon would be even better.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Axlon said, eyeing Han thoughtfully. “With the deterioration of Poln Minor’s mining infrastructure over the past few years, a lot of smugglers and other criminal types have taken over significant parts of the planet. You would fit right in.”

  Han grimaced. Didn’t the Alliance know any other smugglers they could use for these things? He opened his mouth to point that out—

  And only then did he spot the look on Rieekan’s face. A cool, measuring, judging look.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Han growled. “When do we leave?”

  Rieekan turned to Axlon. “Master Axlon?”

  “I’d like one last brief talk with Mon Mothma to clarify a couple of our negotiating boundaries,” Axlon said. “After that I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Fine,” Han said, standing up. “I’ll go find Chewie and see what it’ll take to get the Falcon ready.” He headed away, slapping Luke’s shoulder lightly in passing as he headed for the door. “See you, kid.”

  He ignored Leia completel
y. Not that she probably noticed.

  The meeting had ended, and Luke was heading down the corridor when he heard a voice from behind call his name. He turned to find Axlon hurrying toward him. “A word, if I may?” the older man said.

  “Sure,” Luke said, frowning. He wasn’t very good yet at sensing moods and emotions through the Force, but even with his limited skills Axlon had struck him as an odd mixture of icy calm and burning passion. “Is there something you need?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” Axlon said as he trotted to a halt. “I want you to go to Poln Major with me.”

  “I appreciate the invitation,” Luke said. “But you heard General Rieekan back there. I’m on first-wave fighter duty.”

  “Which would be a complete waste of your talents,” Axlon scoffed. “The Alliance has any number of men and women who can fly transport escort.” He lifted a finger. “But it has only one Jedi.”

  “I’m hardly a Jedi,” Luke said. “Not yet.”

  “But you’re the closest we’ve got,” Axlon persisted. “That makes you someone I very much want beside me when I sit down to talk with Governor Ferrouz. Not for defense, but for psychological insight.”

  “If you want insight, you’d do better to take someone like Admiral Ackbar,” Luke said. “Even Leia’s better than I am.”

  “Both of whom are busy with assignments of their own,” Axlon said firmly. “Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to General Rieekan about this—that’s why I stayed behind just now. He said that if you’re willing, you can go with me.”

  Luke pursed his lips. Though he would never have said so aloud, he’d been less than enthusiastic about having to stay behind and put together an escort for the first Alliance forces into Poln Major. Especially when Han and Leia had been given much more interesting assignments. Going in with Axlon would definitely be a step up. “If the general’s game, I guess I am, too,” he said.

  “Excellent,” Axlon said. “One more thing. I want you to come into Poln Major independently of Captain Solo and me. A wild card, as it were, in case Ferrouz’s offer isn’t what it seems.”

  “Oh,” Luke said, his growing excitement taking an unpleasant power drop. Even with the Falcon’s many quirks, he always enjoyed flying aboard her, especially when she was working well and Han was in a correspondingly good mood. And Chewie was good company. “So I’ll be coming in one of the Alliance’s other freighters?”

  “No, no,” Axlon said. “You’d be coming in one of our Z-95 Headhunters.”

  “A Z-95?” Luke echoed, feeling his eyes widen. “Isn’t that a little obvious?”

  “Not at all,” Axlon assured him. “Z-95s are a common enough sight in that part of the galaxy. A couple hours’ work to get rid of the Alliance markings, swap out the ID transponder for one with a copy of the safe-conduct code that Governor Ferrouz gave us, load the hyperdrive course, and you’ll be all set.”

  “I suppose,” Luke said, his enthusiasm dropping another few points. Alliance Z-95s had perfectly capable hyperdrives, and even though they weren’t equipped with astromech droids they could comfortably hold the settings for a trip to and from the Poln system.

  On the other hand, X-wings weren’t exactly designed with long-range travel in mind, and Z-95 cockpits were even more cramped. “If you really think that’s necessary.”

  “It is,” Axlon said firmly. “So that’s settled. Good. I don’t know how long Captain Solo will take getting his ship ready, but I don’t want you too far behind us.”

  “Behind you?” Luke said, frowning. “We’re not even flying in convoy?”

  Axlon shook his head. “As I said, Z-95s are common enough, but they’re usually with private security firms that only fly escort for liners and other top-end ships.” He considered. “Besides, it might be best if Captain Solo didn’t know you were coming along. The more freedom of movement you have, the better.”

  Luke thought back to Han’s reaction in the crawl space when he’d found out that Leia hadn’t told him the true nature of their information raid. “That might not be a good idea,” he warned. “Han likes to know what’s going on.”

  “Captain Solo is a soldier,” Axlon said, his tone cooling. “He gets to know what’s necessary for his part of the mission. No less, no more.”

  “Sure, I understand,” Luke said. “But in Han’s case—”

  “And we really don’t have time to discuss it,” Axlon interrupted. “I’ve alerted the mechanics to start removing the markings, but I imagine you’ll want to supervise the ID swap-out procedure personally. Good luck, and I’ll contact you once we’re on Poln Major.” Without waiting for a response, he gave Luke a brisk nod and walked away.

  Luke watched him go, wincing. Despite its downsides, this was definitely a more exciting mission than the one he’d originally been given, and he was grateful to Axlon for getting it for him. But Han wasn’t going to like being left in the dark twice in two missions. He was likely to not like it very loudly, and probably with a blaster close to hand.

  And it occurred to Luke that Chewie wasn’t always good company.

  But Axlon was right. This was war, and they all had to do what they were told. Han would get over it.

  He hoped.

  THE MAN WAS FAT, RED-FACED, AND SWEATING PROFUSELY. THE KIND OF sweating that could only come of having the muzzle of a small hold-out blaster a meter from one’s face.

  Mara Jade had often seen men in that kind of sweat. Far too often. “Judgment has been passed, Judge Lamos Chatoor,” she said formally. “Have you any final words to say in your defense?”

  “Only that your so-called judgment is insane,” Chatoor ground out. “Because of a single dubious decision—one decision—after twenty years in the judicator’s seat, you condemn me to death?”

  Mara sighed. The sweating was common. The passionate and selfserving rationalizations were universal. “You haven’t been listening,” she said. “A single decision may have brought you to my attention, but it’s hardly the reason for your sentence.”

  “Then what have I done wrong?” Chatoor asked, his voice half demanding, half pleading. “I’ve worked hard to dispense the Empire’s justice to the best of my ability, in deeply trying circumstances that were not of my making. How can you hold an occasional lapse of judgment against me?”

  He was stalling for time, Mara knew. But she was willing to oblige. Even when the evidence was clear and her mind was made up, she never entered into these things lightly. “We’re not talking lapses of judgment,” she said. “We’re talking five years of systematic extortion, theft, and influence selling. You’ve made a second career of levying extra fines and declaring overline surcharges, then shunting the extra money to your friends and supporters.”

  “They were people in need,” Chatoor insisted. “Is it wrong for a judge to have friends among such people?”

  “It is when the so-called friendships are based solely on the exchange of money and favors,” Mara said, a flicker of sensation stirring at the back of her mind. Two men were coming through the empty courtroom back there, making their stealthy way toward the chamber door behind her. “That’s not friendship,” she went on, subtly shifting her weight onto her left leg. “That’s criminal collusion.”

  “But I’ve done nothing illegal,” Chatoor persisted. “You can look at the records, speak to the people involved—”

  And right in the middle of his sentence, the door behind Mara slammed open and a pair of blaster bolts exploded toward her back.

  The shots never reached their intended target. Mara had already dropped her blaster, letting it fall with a clatter onto the judge’s desk, and spun around, yanking out her lightsaber. The magenta blade snap-hissed into existence in front of her, deflecting those first two bolts into the walls.

  Unfortunately for the gunmen, they continued firing. Mara sent their next bolts, one each, straight back into their own chests.

  She waited until both men had crumpled lifelessly to the floor, just to be sur
e. Then she spun back around, tucking her elbows and twisting her lightsaber with her.

  Just in time to halt Chatoor’s desperate lunge across his desk as he tried to reach her dropped blaster.

  For a long moment, she held the pose, the tip of her lightsaber blade almost touching Chatoor’s throat, his own hand frozen bare centimeters from her blaster, his face white and contorted with fear and impotent rage. “For the record,” Mara said at last, keeping her voice steady, “the innocent never try to shoot an Imperial agent in the back.”

  “You can’t win,” Chatoor bit out, his voice hoarse. “You can kill me—you can kill a hundred like me—but your precious Empire is still doomed. If the Rebels don’t bring it down, it’ll collapse from its own internal rot.” His eyes bored into hers. “And then where will you be, my arrogant young Imperial agent? Your power will be gone, your protectors dead or imprisoned. You already don’t have any friends.”

  He turned over his outstretched hand so it was palm-upward. “But I can help you. I can be your friend. Spare my life—leave me in my position here—and I can create a refuge where you’ll be safe when it all falls apart around you—”

  With a flick of her wrists, Mara passed the lightsaber blade through his neck, silencing his voice forever.

  For a moment she remained standing there, gazing at the body slumped over the desk where so many quiet deals had been made to defraud the Empire of its rightful assets and the Empire’s citizens of their lives and liberty. “In the name of the Emperor,” she said softly.

  Shutting down her lightsaber, she retrieved her blaster and slid it back into its forearm sheath. Then, turning her back on yet another bit of freshly cleansed corruption, she left the chamber.

  She passed fifteen more people on her way out of the courthouse. All of them stared at her, openly or furtively, as she strode past. None of them was foolish enough to try to stop her.

  Her rented airspeeder was waiting unmolested where she’d left it three blocks away. Her transport, a heavily modified Sienar Lambda-class shuttle that she’d left on an out-of-the-way field two hundred kilometers north, was likewise.