Death Star (38 page)

B
ehind the bar, the liquor bottles rattled on their shelves, and Memah felt a gentle but insistent thrum under her feet.

“What—” she began.

“We’re moving,” Rodo said.

Next to him, Nova nodded. “Sublight engines, so we aren’t going far.”

The customers—about a quarter capacity this time of cycle—paused for a few seconds, then went back to what they were doing. Nobody seemed too perturbed by the event.

“Why are we moving? Construction isn’t finished yet,” she said. “Is it?”

“Apparently enough so that the ship can be relocated,” Rodo said.

After a moment, the vibration evened out. The bottles stopped jittering. The hum quieted and became very faint, barely felt.

Memah turned to Nova. “What does this mean, Sarge?”

He laughed. “Oh, right, me being so critical to the running of the station, the Moff called me up and gave me a personal briefing just a minute ago on my comlink. Didn’t you notice?”

Rodo said, “I don’t believe I’m giving away any military
secrets when I say it probably has to do with the battle we just fought.”

She looked at him. “What battle?”

Rodo shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but a couple of things just happened that kind of hint at one. Several wings of TIE fighters suddenly decided to leave the station, more than a thousand ships, and shortly thereafter you might recall that the lights dimmed for a couple of seconds? My guess is the power capacitors that fill up a big chunk of this big metal ball got diverted to that big honkin’ gun.”

“How come you know stuff like this?” Nova said.

“How come you don’t?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know it.”

Memah said, “So is Rodo right?”

Now it was Nova’s turn to shrug. “He’s not wrong. Word I got was that a Rebel carrier ship popped out of hyper a couple of thousand klicks away and kicked out a load of X-wings, presumably to come and shoot at us. According to my source, they turned the superlaser at the carrier and blew it all the way back to Imperial Center.”

She blinked in astonishment. “It’s that powerful?”

Nova said, “Oh, yeah. A ship is nothing. The power to the beam was only in the single digits—cranked up full, anything within half a million klicks isn’t safe, including asteroids, moons, even planets.”

“No!”

“Yes. Why else would they spend all that time and money on this”—he swung one arm to encompass the entirety of their surroundings—“if it couldn’t produce some major damage? Why else would they call it ‘the Death Star’?”

“It’s hard to imagine,” she said.

“For you. For me, even. Not for the Imperial high-level mucks who get paid to come up with such things. What I heard, this thing’s been in development, in one form or another, for years. And once it starts rampaging through the
galaxy, the Rebellion’s crisp. If Tarkin even thinks there’s a Rebel base on a planet or a moon—” Nova moved both hands in a motion simulating the flowering of an explosion. “Boom. End of base, end of problem. Two or three worlds go up in a flash like that, and the war’s over. Who would risk losing billions or even trillions of people to hide a few insurrectionists? It’ll be all finished except for the bands and the medals.”

“You think?” Rodo asked.

“No question. Maybe when my tour is done, I’ll open up a school somewhere quiet, maybe out in one of the arms, settle down, even have a few kids, because war as we know it won’t happen with things like this”—he patted the bar top gently a couple of times—“flying around. Build a few more of ’em, you won’t need armies or navies or planet-bound military bases. You get a hot spot, some systems get cranky, you send a Death Star, and it’ll be game over.”

Memah thought about it. The sarge was right. Even with just one Death Star operational, the Rebellion wouldn’t stand a chance. Build a whole fleet of them, and the Empire would have the galaxy gripped in a durasteel hand forever.

She saw Nova wince. “You okay, Sarge?” she asked.

“Got a headache that won’t quit. Maybe I can kill it with this embalming fluid you sell here. Next round’s on me,” he said. “We can toast the end of the war.”

“It’s not over yet,” Rodo said.

“Only a matter of time,” Nova said.

“You’re confident of this?”

Motti nodded. “Yes, sir. The interior is not finished, but the hull is patent and the hyperdrives will be ready shortly. Enough for a partial shakedown.”

“Good. Since the Rebels know our location, we cannot
risk staying in the same system until we are at full readiness.”

“Prudent.”

“And the superlaser?”

“Engineering tells me that we can manage thirty percent power and, after a fast capacitor recharge for an hour or two, that much again.”

“How strong will that beam be?”

Motti shrugged. “Theoretical. Nobody knows for sure.”

“Well, then we need to test it before we embark.”

“That would be wise. Do you have a target in mind?”

Tarkin smiled. “Yes. I do.”

Motti wanted to ask how Daala was faring, to show concern, but it didn’t seem appropriate to bring it up just now. Besides, he already knew. She had suffered some kind of memory damage and was already on a fast ship back to the Maw. Tarkin might be besotted with her, but he wasn’t a total fool. He knew it would be unwise to risk Vader or the Emperor finding out she had been here against orders.

Well, no matter. Even though the ship wasn’t quite ready for full-scale battle maneuvers, Motti would have it running well enough in a matter of days.

What target did the old man have in mind, though? There weren’t any to choose from here; they’d pretty much scoured the system clean. There were two
Bespin
-class gas giants, one in an outer orbit, the other a sun skimmer, but they were too big to be practical. They needed a solar body at least big enough for its own gravity to crush it into spherical shape. Something that size would be the only way to calculate how powerful the beam would be at a third of its projected strength.

Vil leaned back on the couch next to Teela, feeling distracted. “So how was your shift?” he asked.

“Pretty good. The crews finished two sets of officers’ quarters, another five-hundred-person barracks, and a rec center. It’s amazing to stand on an overlook and see these things just sort of appear in a matter of days.”

“Sounds like you’re pleased.”

“Oh, I am. It’s not the job I would have chosen, working on a battle station, but it’s what I’ve been handed. And there is a sense of accomplishment in taking a standard design and tweaking it so it costs less and works more efficiently.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

“What’s wrong?”

He looked at her. How could she know? He hadn’t been in all that many relationships, and the ones he’d been in had usually been short and shallow. Teela noticed things that none of the others had seemed to catch.

“Nothing.”

She grinned at him. “You might be able to fly, Vil, but that won’t. What’s up?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t really talk about it.”

“You mean the battle yesterday?”

“How do you know about that?”

“It’s a big station, but people do talk to each other. Word gets around.”

He signed. “Yeah, I guess. Well, I was part of it.”

“And?”

“I made double ace. You know what that means?”

“No.”

“I shot down ten enemy fighters.”

She sighed. “I’m not a fan of war, but that’s your job, isn’t it? Wouldn’t congratulations be in order?”

“Yeah.”

“But?”

Vil looked at her. Could he really talk about this with her? Yes, he decided. He could. There really was something different about her, something that said she would understand, even if she didn’t necessarily approve.

“It wasn’t as much fun as I always thought it would be.”

She looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I wouldn’t think that killing people would be.”

“You can’t think of them as people, just as the enemy. It’s not that. It was … too easy.”

She leaned back and blinked at him. “Too easy?”

“It was like shooting at targets. They were so intent on getting to the station, they didn’t offer much of a fight. We cut them to pieces.”

“I don’t get it. You
wanted
them to shoot at you?”

“No, no. Well—yes. I mean, I wanted to survive, of course. I wanted to win, but I wanted it to be … I know it sounds stupid, but I wanted to have to work harder.”

Teela sighed. “I understand.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You do?”

“Sure. Nobody wants to skate along the easy path all the time. You wanted a challenge, so you could feel like you’d accomplished something.”

“Yeah. Sometimes long odds are the only ones worth playing.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry it wasn’t more dangerous. Besides, I assume there’ll be more battles—”

Vil shook his head. “Maybe not. Knowing that Tarkin could just pull up and blow the whole world right out of the sky? I think wars are going to be a thing of the past pretty quick.”

Teela looked puzzled. “And that’s bad because …?”

“Well, it’s not—not for civilization, of course not. Big picture and all that. But for fighter pilots? We’re going to be put out to pasture.”

“You could get a job flying commercial spacecraft.”

“I had it in mind that if I survived, someday I would do that. But … not yet.”

She put her arms around him and pulled him closer to her. “You don’t always get your first choice in life. Things happen, you have to adjust. Nobody knows that better than I do.”

He nodded.

“But if you wanted to be an ace, now you are one. That’s something. Congratulations.”

“Well, a double ace, if you want get technical about it.”

“Oh, yeah, let’s you and me get technical, hey?”

Vil laughed. There was definitely something different about this one.

R
atua had trouble jamming his way into the cantina. It was packed, and he understood why. A lot of celebrating was going on. The encounter with the Rebel carrier was all over the station, and if the TIE pilots involved had been cocky before, they would be strutting a lot prouder after that victory.

He wasn’t political, and who won the war didn’t matter much to him, except that being here meant they’d be moving away from the prison world, and eventually back to civilization. And it would be the safest of safe rides. So all this was to the good.

He saw Memah working frenetically behind the bar. Even with all the droids and servers on duty, he knew he wouldn’t get much of a chance to visit with her this shift.

Ah, well. He certainly didn’t begrudge her the work. The crowd would thin, eventually.

Meanwhile, his latest scam was getting ripe. A few more days and he’d be rolling in credits. Well, maybe not. But certainly he’d have enough to cover the walls of his cube, with plenty left over to outfit the ceiling and deck.

“What is thy bidding, my Master?”

Vader kneeled in front of the holo projector, offering obeisance to the larger-than-life-sized image of the Dark Lord of the Sith.

As always, his Master’s voice was as brittle as crystalline hydrogen. “You have recovered the plans for the Death Star?”

“Not yet, Master. I know where they are and I’ll have them soon.”

“I have every faith in you, Lord Vader.”

Vader inclined his head in a military bow. He felt a sense of pride. Praise from his Master was infrequent, and therefore to be relished.

“I have dissolved the Imperial Senate,” Sidious continued. “You will return to the battle station and convey this to Tarkin.” He paused. “I want Tarkin to know how important I think this is, that I would send you in person.”

“Yes, my Master.”

“The station is nearly operational, and I would have it made completely so as soon as possible.”

“I will see to it.”

“And once you have gotten whatever information you can from Senator Organa, you will terminate her?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. There are strange currents in the Force, Lord Vader, swirling about so that even I cannot see the future, save through a hazy pall. We must move with great care until things become clearer.”

“Yes, Master.”

The holo blinked off, and Vader stood. His Master’s expression of confidence notwithstanding, the conversation had been disquieting. The Emperor was the most powerful Sith in a thousand years, and he was always confident, always
in control, able to manipulate complex situations as he saw fit with a celerity that was, to any uninitiated into the dark side of the Force, nothing less than astonishing. There were wheels within wheels, cogs great and small, and Emperor Palpatine was the master machinist who ran all of them.

And yet he had sounded concerned … What could possibly concern so powerful a personage?

Vader’s agents would recover the jettisoned escape pod from Tatooine. Meanwhile he had been ordered to go to the Death Star, and that was where he would go.