Han Solo - Rebal Dawn Part 13

Bria nodded, her eyes lighting up. "It means a lot to me, to be able to give those people back their lives. Their families will be glad to see them ....They'll be able to live in dignity, and comfort .... "

"Unless, of course, they choose to join up with us," Torbul said. "Which apparently some of them are al-ready talking about doing once they're returned to health. Which may take a couple of months. I gather that malnutrition plays a pretty big part in the brain-was.h.i.+ng they undergo on Ylesia."

Bria nodded. "I remember my gums started to bleed all the time, It took me two months of decent food to overcome most of the effects."

He glanced back down at his datapad. "Helot} Shackle is almost finished being refitted for combat. We can really use her, Tharen, thank you for acquiring her for us. With that in mind... want the honor of re-naming her?"

Bria thought for a moment. "Call her Emanc.i.p.ator," she said.

"That~ a good one," Torbul said. "Emanc.i.p.ator she is."

Torbul clicked off his datapad, leaned his elbows on his desk, and leaned forward. "Bria..." he said. "Now that the official stuff is over and done with, I have to tell you that I'm concerned about some aspects of your record."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "But, sir--!!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Tharen. You are a good fighter, an able leader. n.o.body~ gainsaying that. But look at the name those slavers gave you, that your squadron cheerfully adopted. Red Hand symbol of no quarter. Look at this report on the taking of Helot} Shackle. No prisoners. Not a single one."

Bria stiffened. "Sir, they were slavers. They know how the civilized world regards them. They put up a lot of resistance, and not a one offered to surrender. They fought to the last."

"I see .... "Torbul said. The two of them exchanged a long look, and it was the ranking officer who looked away first.

An awkward silence ensued until Torbul cleared his throat. "Things are heating up in the Outer Rim," he announced. "The Rebel groups out there are really understaffed. I'd lille Red Hand to stay out there for a while, give them some a.s.sistance."

"Yes, sir," Bria said. "Sir..."

"Yes?"

"I think I may know a way to get more recruits."

"What is that?"

"Well, the best we've ever done curing the Ylesian Pilgrims of addiction before was about fifty percent. Remember?"

He nodded.

"But now, with the new techniques Daino is using to help the Pilgrims we took to Grenna Base, he thinks his success rate will be better than 90 percent."

"That's very encouraging. But what does that have to do with getting more recruits?"

Bria leaned forward, her blue-green eyes holding his dark ones. "Sir . . . there are over eight thousand Pil-grims on Ylesia."

He sat back. "What are you suggesting, Tharen?" "Give me just a little help . . . an old troops.h.i.+p for transport, a couple more cruisers, some more troops, and I can take that planet. I can shut down the Ylesian operation for good. We'll take every colony, free every slave there. Hundreds of them are bound to join us, if the percentages we've seen so far are any indication." "That's a big 'if,' "Torbul said.

"I know, sir. But I think the risk would be worth it." "We don't have the troops. Not all of the Corellian resistance would be enough to take a whole planet, Tharen!"

"We're getting recruits in from Alderaan every day," Bria pointed out, truthfully. "And there are so many Bothan and Sull.u.s.tan Pilgrims on Ylesia, those worlds might send us some troops and s.h.i.+ps. It's worth asking them. And what about Chandrila? They're part of the new Rebel Alliance-sworn to help us!"

"Recruits... it's an incentive, certainly."

She nodded vigorously. "Sir, it could work. We can free those slaves. And while we're at it, we could take the spice to sell on the open market. We're always short of credits. Think of how many turbolasers or proton tor-pedoes that much spice would buy us! We could bomb the warehouses and factories when we had emptied them. Ylesia and its filthy trade would be a thing of the past."

Bria realized that she had lost her composure, but in her pa.s.sion, she didn't care. Her hands were shaking; she gripped the edge of Torbul~ desk so he wouldn't see the betraying tremor.

"I don't believe the Rebel Alliance would think much of selling drugs as a means of financing the Re-bellion," Torbul said.

"Then, with all due respect, sir, don't tell them where you got the credits!" Bria~ smile was more than a little savage. "You know as well as I do that they won't look a gift traladon in the mouth. They'll take the credits and use them. We need weapons, medical supplies, uni-forms, ammo... you name it!"

"True," he said. "Fighting a resistance is an expen-sive proposition."

"Think it over," Bria urged. "I know Red Hand could do it. And without Ylesia siphoning off some of Corel-lia's best, we'd have more recruits. Think about who's going to Ylesia these days. Young people, dissatisfied with their lives, unable to pay the horrendous taxes, wanting something more, a better life. Those are exactly the kind of people we need."

"True," he said again. "But what about the Ylesian at-mosphere? Your raid on Colony Three two and a half years ago freed a hundred slaves-but we lost a s.h.i.+p in that blasted atmosphere. That treacherous atmosphere of Ylesia~ is one of their best defenses."

Bria's features twisted in remembered anguish. "I warned them, but... that wind shear just caught the s.h.i.+p .... "

"Tharen... it wasn't your fault. But we have to think about that. Command is bound to point that out."

She nodded. "I'm working on that, sir. There's got to be a way to deal with the atmosphere. Better pilots, for one thing. Our people are enthusiastic, sir, but face it... most of them haven't had much experience. Our training programs need work .... "

"I agree. We're working on ways to make our sims better, and broaden their experience before we turn them loose."

Bria stood up and leaned across the desk. "Sir... just promise me you'll think about it. I can do it. I even have some ideas about how to fund the raid. At least consider it, okay?"

He gave her a long, level glance. "All right, Tharen. I promise you I'll think about it."

"Thank you, sir."

Interlude 1: The Corporate Sector Dressed only in his trousers, barefoot, Han Solo wandered out of the bedroom in Jessa~ tiny apartment. Her little flat was located on her father~, Dock, outlaw' tech base, a grim, utilitarian place, but both Doc~ and Jessa~ personal quarters were surprisingly well~ furnished and comfy.

Han yawned and scratched his head, rumpling his hair even further, then threw himself down on the elegant couch with a thud, and signaled on the big vid-unit.

The official news from the Corporate Sector Au-thority came on, and Han watched it with a cynical grin. The Authority was getting worse every day. Wouldn't take much to make them as repressive as the Empire ....

At least the Falcon was now in the best shape of her life. Before his capture and removal to Stars' End prison, Doc had upgraded her hyperdrive until she'd now make point-five past lightspeed. I oughta be able to outrun just about anything the Imps could throw at me with that, Han thought smugly. Or the Authority either.

Then, in order to induce Hah to go after her father and rescue him from Stars' End, ]essa had fixed the Fal-con up with an all-new sensor suite and dish, to replace the ones damaged in aright with an Authority lighter.

Later, following Doc~ rescue, the grateful ]essa had recently finished the Falcbn's repairs, putting in an all-new guidance system and repairing all of the hull dam-age the YT-1300 had accrued. Han had even considered giving the s.h.i.+p a coat of paint, so she'd look just like new, but, after some consideration, had rejected the idea. The Millennium Falc~n's beat-up appearance was one of her strongest a.s.sets in catching opponents unaware.

n.o.body expected a grubby old freighter to have a military-grade hyperdrive that had been customized and upgraded by the galaxy~ master tech, a sophisti-cated sensor suite, topnotch jamming capability, and all the other improvements Han had bestowed on the love of his life.

]essa was still asleep in the other room. Hah leaned back and propped his feet up on the table, thinking about Jess. She was certainly the best thing to come his way so far in the Corporate Sector. The two of them had had a lot of fun ....

Just the other day, they'd flown the Falcon to one of the sw.a.n.kiest casinos in a nearby sector, and put on their best bib and tucker for a gambling spree. Jess had gotten her blond curls done in a wild new style, striped bright red, and bought a stunning red gown that was snug in all the right places. Han had been proud to be seen with her, and a.s.sured her she was the most beauti-ful woman in the place.

The news-vid changed from Corporate Sector re-ports to a brief report from the Empire. Palpatineg forces had stifled yet another uprising on yet another world. Hang mouth twisted. Same old, same old... He found himself thinking about SaUa, wondering if she'd gotten over being mad yet. He suspected not. It was a good thing she wasn't here to see him with Jessa. SaUa was the jealous type. She was one tough lady, but, then, so was Jessa. Han was profoundly grateful that the two of them were unlikely ever to meet.

Thoughts of SaUa led naturally to wondering how Lando, Jarik, Shug and Mako were doing. Han even thought of Jabba with something approaching nostalgic affection. He bet the Hutt leader was having a hard time replacing him. If he ever decided to go back to Im-perial s.p.a.ce, Hah suspected Jabba would welcome him with open arras... repugnant as that thought was.

Han watched another brief news bite from the Em-pire. Seemed that the Empire had now declared that the Rebel forces in the Outer Rim had been completely crushed. Sure, he thought. Right. That must mean that they're quite a thorn in the Imps' side ....

He wondered whether Bria had anything to do with hara.s.sing those Imp forces . . . . or was she back to being a spy these days?

Han sighed, realizing that he actually missed Nar Shadtiaa. The Corporate Sector was a fun place, lots of adventures to be had and profits to be made, but it wasn't home.

He wondered whether he should just cut his losses and head back for Imperial s.p.a.ce. At the very least, it was probably time to head out and look for some action (translation: profit) here in the Corporate Sector. True, he'd promised Jessa to help her and Doc in their cam-paign against the Authority. But that might be risky. And it wasn't as though he owed ]essa anything. He'd rescued her father, hadn't he? At great risk to his own precious hide? A tiny honest corner of his mind re-minded him that he'd mostly gone on that rescue mis-sion for Chewieg sake. No way he was letting his pal languish in an Authority prison ....

And yet. ~ . things were very pleasant here for the moment, though he knew it couldn't last. Right now, things were going well with ]essa. They were having a good time. Maybe he'd just postpone leaving for an-other month... or two... or three ....

"Hah ?" came a sleepy murmur from the bedroom.

"I'm here, honey. Just watchin' the news," Han said.

He flicked off the vid and went out to the tiny kitchen. He'd make Jessa a hot cup of imported stim-tea that she'd come to be very fond of, and take it to her....

Boba Fett stood in the queue waiting to board the luxury liner Queen of Empire, for her voyage to Velga Prime and points in between. The liner was the sister s.h.i.+p to Haj s.h.i.+pping Lines' Star of Empire and was fully as large and opulent.

Boba Fett was boarding the liner from an orbiting s.p.a.ce docking platform, but there were nearly a thou-sand sentients waiting to board, so each line was several hundred beings long. The bounty hunter gauged the slow progress of the line, and figured it would be at least ten minutes before he'd be free to carry his large, heavy traveling case to his cabin.

The line moved forward a few paces, and the bounty hunter shoved his heavy case 'along with his foot, as he moved with it. For just a moment he indulged himself in imagining what would happen were he suddenly t9 appear as his real self, as Boba Fett in his Mandalorian armor, instead of as he currently was, disguised as an Anomid.

It was necessary from time to time, he'd discovered, to appear as a being other than himself. Anomids were perfect beings to a.s.sume as disguises, since hardly any of their bodies showed in their ordinary street garb. They were willowy humanoids native to the Yablari system, and typically dressed in oversized robes that covered them from their hooded heads to their six-toed feet. They also wore gloves and vocalizer-masks, so hardly any of their translucent, whitish skin showed. Anomids had wispy grayish hair, leaf-shaped ears, and large silvery blue eyes.

Boba Fett of course wore a head-mask beneath his vocalizer-mask, but it was a very good one, custom-made to fit over his own features so that it would move quite naturally on his face. Silver-blue "eyes" were built into the mask, and were specially engineered so he could see nearly as well as he could with his unaided eyes.

Still, he felt somewhat naked without his armor and its extended senses. With his armor on he had a range of visual modes available to him, enhanced audio pick-ups, and a host of other sensor data displayed on the telltales inside his helmet. With nothing but the Ano-mid robes, hooded cloak, mask and gloves on, he felt light and vulnerable---too vulnerable.

But it was necessary. If Boba Fett had attempted to book pa.s.sage on the Queen as his tme self, panic would have ensued. Each pa.s.senger aboard and much of the crew would have been convinced that he, she or it was the bounty hunter's intended quarry.

Citizens, Fett had discovered long ago, 'all had guilty consciences. Virtually every sentient in the galaxy had done something in his past that he, she or it could flash back on and imagine was a reason for having a bounty placed on their heads. The being who had once been Journeyman Protector Jaster Mereel, and was now Boba Fett, the galaxy's most notorious bounty hunter, had watched the reactions of the citizens around him for years, as he hunted bounties of one sort or another.

He'd seen the face of a young mother clutching her infant change when she'd seen him, seen her clutch her baby to heT breast as though he, Boba Fett, were going to s.n.a.t.c.h the child from her arms and drag both of them away. Several times citizens had panicked when he'd even come into their vicinity, throwing themselves on the floor, babbling out their (mostly imaginary) fatal transgressions and pleading for mercy... only to pull themselves up in mingled relief and dawning indigna-tion when they realized that they were not Fett's quarry, and had humiliated themselves and spilled their secrets for no reason ....

The line moved forward again. Boba Fett automati-c'ally surveyed the crowds around him, but he wasn't really expecting to see his quarry. Bria Tharen had boarded the Queen on its previous stop, back on Corel-lia. It was unlikely that she would be coming outside the vessel during its short layover on Gyndine.

The bounty hunter had missed the chance to catch up with the Tharen woman when she'd first boarded the Queen because she'd come aboard under an a.s.sumed name in the last minutes before the s.h.i.+p undoeked. The Haj s.h.i.+pping Line, while outwardly loyal to the Em-pire, was known to do favors for the Rebel Alliance when it suited them; the Tharen woman~ last-minute booking was doubtless the result of some official string-pulling.

Also, Bria Tharen~a.s.sumed ident.i.ty was not one of the ones she'd used before. This time she was traveling as "Bria Lavval," a minor starlet and cabaret singer who was headed for a booking at one of the large casinos, The Chance Castle, on Nar Shaddaa.

Boba Fett had access to a great many sources of data from many places in the galaxy. Since he hunted boun-ties from time to time for the Empire, he had access to some of the mid-security level Imperial databases. He 'also had access to many newswires, and the Guild databases.

Fett had ordered his systems to flag certain "priority" names and physical profiles. When a "Bria Lavval" showed up one morning on his database summaries as a pa.s.senger aboard the Queen when the liner had de-parted CoreIlia that morning, a quick check of the woman~ ID and physical description had shown Fett that there was a better than 70% chance that this was actually Bria Tharen-Commander in the Corellian resistance.

Only a visual inspection. would a.s.sure Fett that she was the right woman, so here he was... standing in line to board the huge liner.

The Queen was fully two kilometers long, and equipped to carry five thousand pa.s.sengers. She con-tained most amenities any sentient could wish... in-door pools and spas, casinos, null-gee gliding areas, exercise rooms, as well as upscale shops where a wealthy being could spend a great many credits indeed.

Fett moved forward yet again, nudging his case along with him. It contained, in camouflaged compa~ments, his Mandalorian armor and several select weapons. The sides of the case were reinforced with durinium, an 'al-loy that would resist sensor scans. And, in the outer-most layer of the case, there were microminiature projection devices that would generate false readings about the contents to any scanning device.

Fett finally reached the head of the line, and pro-duced his IDs, ticket and credit vouchers. The s.h.i.+p's official who checked his reservation offered to call for a luggage droid, but Fett politely refused, his harsh voice reverberating through the vocalizer-mask.

Amongst themselves, Anomids did not converse in oral speech, but by an elaborate and very beautiful form of sign language. They were known to be sociable be-ings, and Boba Fett was hoping there would be no real Anomids on board. If there were, he would have to plead illness and stay in his cabin, for he did not know the Anomid sign-language.

But none of the individuals on the pa.s.senger roster had listed Yablari as their world of origin.

When he reached the safety of his cabin, Fett stowed his trunk, first making sure to activate its anti-theft pro-tections. Anyone unfortunate enough to attempt to re-move the trunk from Fett's cabin, or to try and open it, would lose digits-at minimum.

The Queen~ scheduled itinerary called for her to stop at a number of ports of call. Their path would take them through some of the most dangerous areas of Im-peri'd s.p.a.ce-including a stop in Hutt s.p.a.ce at Nar Hekka... hardly a garden spot of the galaxy, but Nar Hekka was head and shoulders above either Nal Hutta or Nar Shaddaa. Fett suspected that Bria Tharen had chosen this liner because it was one of the largest, and thus probably the safest. There had been a lot of pirate activity lately.

Over the next three days, Fett wandered the s.h.i.+p in his Anomid disguise, staying mostly to himself. He made a visual ID of Bria Tharen on the first day, and followed her to find out where her stateroom was. He discovered that she had a suite, and shared it with three men. Two of the men were older, and Fett figured that they, too, were officers in the Corellian resistance. The third man was in his mid-thirties, and, from the way he carried himself, was a seasoned combat veteran who was serving as security and bodyguard for the Corellian officers.

The two officers and the bodyguard, like Bria Tharen, dressed in civilian clothes. The Tharen woman was sel-dom u alone outside of her stateroom: Often, she was sur-rounded by male admirers, 'although Fett noticed that she never took anyone back to her cabin with her, merely smiled and flirted casually. She played sabacc, careful neither to lose or win much, and she browsed the shops, but never bought anything of significance.

Fett kept her under observation, and laid his plans carefully....

Lando Calrissian enjoyed traveling aboard cruise s.h.i.+ps, and had done a lot of it lately, since losing the Millennium Falcon to Han Solo. Now that Han and Vuffi Raa had trained him to be a better-than-average pilot, he could have taken any of the s.h.i.+ps on his used s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p lot for his own, but Lando wasn't that inter-ested in any of them. He was waiting for just the right s.h.i.+p to come along.

His ideal s.h.i.+p would be more luxurious than the utili-tarian Falcon-but every bit as speedy and capable of defending herself. Lando was on the lookout for a nice yacht he could get for a good price. So far, no bargains had surfaced.

And, besides, private s.h.i.+ps didn't have casinos. Lando liked casinos. He'd been spending a lot of time in them for the past year, working to recoup his liquid credit resources. The young gambler had been wiped out by the sabacc tournament, but since then, he'd managed to turn Hun Solo~ loan of fifteen hundred credits into many thousands. Lando had been able to repay Hun the money he'd "borrowed" several months before his friend had taken off for the Corporate Sector.

Queen of Empire, an~ her sister s.h.i.+p, Star of Empire, were two of Lando~ favorite ways to get around the galaxy. They weren't as fast as some of the newer s.h.i.+ps, but there was no doubt that Haj s.h.i.+pping Lines knew how to build a luxury vessel. And the Queen and the Star were big, a major advantage these days, with ,all the pirate activity going on.

This time, he'd chosen the Queen for his trip back home. From Nat Hekka, he could easily catch a system shuttle back to Nar Shaddaa. This particular evening, Lando was wearing his newest stylish outfit-red s.h.i.+rt embroidered with black, narrow black trousers, and a red and black short cape that swung from his shoulders with a rakish flare. His dark hair and mustache were im-peccably groomed, thanks to a trip to the s.h.i.+p's barber that day. His black softboots shone with the subdued glow of real Numatra snakehide. Calrissian was looking good, and he didn't miss the admiring glances cast at him by some of the female patrons in the club.

Lando was sitting in the Queen's sw.a.n.kiest nightclub, the Star Winds Lounge, following a highly successful session at the sabacc tables. His credit pouch was care-fully stashed in a secret compartment close to his skin, and was satisfyingly heavy. This trip, he'd make roughly four times what his expensive ticket had set him back. Not a bad profit margin.

While he was gambling-serious business!--Lando was abstemious, rarely partaking of anything alcoholic. But at the moment he was relaxing, sipping a Tarkenian Nightflower, and munching on a handful of dried, salted jer-weevils. The band in the Star Winds was quite good, doing selections of older hits as well as the mod-em j.i.z.z-tunes, and many patrons were dancing. Lando eyed the unescorted ladies in the lounge, wondering whether he was interested enough in any of them to ask for a dance.

His eyes kept returning to one woman who was sit-ting at a table with not one, but two male escorts. Hu-man, yes, and stunning. Long reddish hair swept up with jeweled sapphire combs, and a face and figure that just wouldn't quit. Lando couldn't decide whether she was romantically attached to either of her escorts. She sat close beside them, smiling and bending forward to listen as first one, then the other, spoke into her ear. But the more Lando watched her, the more he became con-vinced that neither of the men was her date. Her smiles were more... comradely... than romantic. There was no suggestion of a lingering intimacy in the brief con-tacts of their shoulders as they brushed hers.

Lando finished his drink, and was almost ready to go over and ask the lovely stranger if she'd like to dance, when the excellent Rughja orchestra-band, Umjing Baab and his Swinging Trio, finished their current se-lection. There were only three members in the band, but, since each Rughja had fifteen flexible limbs, and played at least ten instruments apiece, they sounded like a genuine orchestra. In fact, looking at Umjing Baab and his two band members, it was difficult to dis-tern anything but limbs ending in a.s.sorted instruments, though occasionally one of the being~ multiple eyes would be visible through the tangle.

The band was very versatile, playing everything from swing-bop to modern j.i.z.z selections. The gambler clapped politely as they finished a mellow version of "Mood and Moons," then settled back in his seat as the bandleader, Umjing Baab, put down his Kloo horn, dis-engaged from the halargon, and writhed his way up to the public address system. The Rughja's voice had a mechanical timbre... understandable, because it was artificially generated. Rughja were a species whose natural communication was not audible to humanoids. Umjing Baab "spoke," as the spotlight refected off his glossy, mauve, upper-limbs. "Good evening, gentles. Tonight we have an honored guest with us, a celebrity whom I am hoping we can prevail upon to favor us with a number! Join me in welcoming Lady Bria Lawal!"

Lando clapped politely, but his applause soon be-came genuine when he realized that the bandmaster was referring to his attractive stranger. Blus.h.i.+ng, smil-ing, she half-rose from her seat to take a bow, but then, urged on by the applause, she picked up the skirts of her long, electric-blue sheath (a c~1or that set off her hair) and walked up the steps to the bandstand.

After conferring briefly with Umjing Bwah, she stepped up to the microphone, tapped her jeweled, slippered toe as the percussion started up, and then the band broke into a slowed down version of last year's. .h.i.t, "Smoky Dreams."

Bria Lawal began to sing. Lando had heard a lot of singers in his time, and she was far from being the best. Her breath control was uneven, and she cut short some of the high notes because of it. But her voice was strong and in key, and her contralto was pleasantly husky. With her figure, face and smile, Lando was willing to forgive her lack of professional technique. Within moments of starting her song, she had 'all the humanoid males in the palm of her hand.

She sang with pa.s.sion of lost love, of tender sadness, of misty memories fading with time ....

Lando was totally captivated. When she fnished the number, he clapped as loudly as the rest of the audi-ence. Smiling and blus.h.i.+ng becomingly, she allowed herself to be escorted back to her table by Umjing Baab, who genufiected deeply to her, and then returned to his fellow Rughja band members.

As the Swinging Trio struck up a catchy tune, Lando got unhesitatingly to his feet and walked over to the chanteuse, narrowly beating out a wealthy Alderaani-an banker whom Lando had relieved of many of his ex-cess credits earlier that evening.