Star Wars: The New Rebellion (20 page)

She spoke the last softly. Angering a man like Brakiss could be deadly. “And then they had no more use for him here. So he left. He said he had skills he could sell. I didn’t hear from him for a long time after that. Until recently. When he said you would come here, looking for him.”

The pain was subsiding. So was the thirst. Luke stood.

“He wants you to find him, Luke Skywalker.” She twisted her hands in front of her. “I think you should go home. Forget him. Nothing good can come of this. Whatever was good in my boy died a long, long time ago.”

“No,” Luke said. “It didn’t die. It’s just buried real deep.” And would be harder to get to than it would be with almost anyone else, because Brakiss’s foundation in the dark side was never his choice, as it had been with
Anakin Skywalker. The choice had been made for him, before he even had conscious thought. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

She nodded. “He told me. He wants you to come. But you’re a nice man, Luke Skywalker. I can’t send you there. My son wants to kill you.”

“I know,” Luke said. “I’ve been in danger before.”

“Not like this,” she said. “Oh, Luke Skywalker. Not like this.”

There were always abandoned sleeping quarters on Skip 1. But they were abandoned for a reason, and the reason was never a good one.

Han shoved the door open for the room he would share with Chewie. Chewie roared.

“Stop complaining, you big turbali. There’s nothing I can do about the stench.” Han put his traveling duffel on the mildewy cot. The greenish-yellow ooze slid down the walls in this chamber and went through a drain in the floor. The main floor was flat and untouched by the ooze.

Blue had assured him that this was the best room available.

If it was the best, he didn’t want to see the worst.

Chewbacca growled and moaned, then wailed.

“So sleep on the
Falcon
if it’ll make you feel better. You know that’s the best way to get beat up and have the ship tossed.” Han lifted the blanket. The mildew went all the way down to the mattress. Maybe Chewie’s idea about the
Falcon
wasn’t a bad one.

Chewie yerled.

“Yeah, I know you’ve slept on the
Falcon
before. But that was on Skip 8. And do you remember how I found you?”

Chewie shook his shaggy head and mumbled.

“If you could’ve gotten out of it, you would have done
it long before I showed up. You don’t need false bravado with me.” Han sighed. “You got your sleeping bag? I wouldn’t lie on that mattress otherwise.”

Chewie nodded and pulled his bag from his pack. He laid the bag on the mattress and it fell off both sides. Chewie growled softly, but didn’t address his remarks to Han. Han ignored him anyway. On principle. One night, maybe two, in this place. Then they could leave.

But he didn’t want to stay on the ship, partly because other smugglers believed that a guarded ship was a valuable one, and partly because no one would approach him on the
Falcon
. Now that his presence was known on Skip 1, he might see some interesting visitors.

“Okay, Chewie, let’s settle in,” Han said. He loudly pulled his bag out of his duffel while Chewie searched beneath the cots for listening devices. He collected three before looking at the walls.

Pitifully.

His fur would get coated with the ooze. Han would have to help him clean it off. Either way, Han would have to touch the stuff.

“All right, you big baby,” Han said. He tossed his bag at Chewie, who folded and unfolded it, making the plastic rustle noisily.

Han stood on the nearest cot, half-closed his eyes, and stuck his fingers in the ooze. It felt as disgusting as touching the evil Warn on Crseih Station. The ooze was warm and viscous. He knew it would take days to get the stench off his fingers. As he carefully searched the walls and ceilings, he found four more listening devices, some of them rusted.

He still pulled them free. Then he made Chewie hand him the other three. Chewie mimed stomping on them, but Han shook his head.

He took the devices into the hallway, and threw them into the next room. That way, the devices would get
some ambient sound, and Han wouldn’t have to search through the ooze again before they left.

He washed his hands in the well down the hall, paying particular attention to his fingernails.

As he went back to the room, he was startled to see the door still open. He pulled his blaster before going inside.

There, Chewie had his bowcaster pointed at Seluss. The little Sullustan had his gloved hands in the air. He was quiet. His wide eyes were shiny with fear, and his big ears were bent forward in defensive position.

“Nice work,” Han said to Chewie as he came in and closed the door. “You know, Seluss, it’s easier to assassinate someone
after
he’s fallen asleep.”

Seluss chittered pathetically.

“Yeah, right. I’ll believe you’re on a peaceful mission when my butt stops hurting.” Han kept his gaze on Seluss, and leaned against the door. “Want to tell us why you’re here?”

Seluss nodded. His chittering was rapid, and Han hadn’t had much use for Sullust since the Battle of Endor. He glanced at Chewie and saw that Chewie wasn’t getting it all either.

“I’m not going to kill you until you’re finished,” Han said. “It’s in your best interest to slow down.”

The folded flesh above Seluss’s mouth wiggled. His lower lip protruded. He continued to speak, but much slower.

Much slower.

This time, Han caught it. Or he thought he did. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “Jarril told you to shoot me when I arrived so that everyone would think we’re enemies? That way, no one would follow you, and no one would notice that you were talking to me? Do you buy this, Chewie?”

Chewie growled for some time.

“The language is a bit harsh, but his meaning is clear, I think.” Han nodded. “It was a stupid idea. Try again, Seluss.”

Seluss took a step forward, chittering as he moved. Han’s blaster whipped into place, his finger very tempted against the trigger.

“Stay where you are, pal. I’m short-tempered today.”

Seluss froze, then raised his hands again. He chittered—slowly—and Han began to listen.

I’m in too deep, Han. Way too deep
, Jarril had said.

Seluss was confirming that, in his own panicked way.

“What did you say they’re smuggling? Imperial equipment? That ruined junk that the Jawas gathered on Tatooine?” Han frowned. That made no sense, certainly not at the prices Seluss was quoting him. “I don’t understand why you and Jarril are complaining when it’s making you rich.”

Seluss glanced at Chewie.

Chewie shrugged.

“Okay, I agree,” Han said. “Not even that kind of money is worth dying for. But how do you know the deaths are connected?”

Seluss chittered fast, then chopped his arm in the air three times. And then he moaned.

“All three of the dead guys had spoken out about this? They didn’t have anything else in common?”

Seluss half-growled, a puny sound when compared with Chewie’s growl, but a threat nonetheless. Chewie moved in closer, but Han waved him back.

“I’d hope you’d be this worried about me if I didn’t come back from that kind of mission, Chewie.” Han righted his blaster, made sure his aim was still on Seluss. “I need to think about this.”

Seluss had essentially confirmed Jarril’s story, but he had added some details. Most of the folks on Smuggler’s Run were selling junked-out Imperial equipment at outrageous
prices. And, both Jarril and Seluss claimed, some were dying because of it. Han still didn’t know how that tied into the bombing on Coruscant, but he knew it did. Somehow.

The fact that Jarril hadn’t returned added some veracity too. As well as the stupid plan Seluss had made. Jarril was always doing things like that to mislead others. Seluss had attacked Han so that everyone would think they were enemies, and wouldn’t realize they were talking together. It did make a curious kind of sense.

Han lowered his blaster.

Chewie moaned.

“It’s okay, Chewie,” Han said. “I think we can trust the little guy. For the moment.”

Chewie lowered his bowcaster, but kept a tight grip on it all the same.

“What do you think I can do?” Han said.

Seluss chittered softly.

“I think you have a better chance of discovering who’s paying for the equipment than I do.”

Seluss shook his head, speaking all the time.

“Resources? You have all the resources here. You’re the ones dealing with the buyers. Just take it a step further.”

Seluss shook his head really hard now, speaking so fast that Han almost lost the thread. Almost.

“All three of them had tried to go beyond the buyers? And all three turned up dead?” He whistled between his teeth. “And Jarril tried to trace the source, too?”

Seluss bowed his head. His chitter was soft, almost hesitant.

“Jarril came to me.” Han sighed and lowered the blaster all the way. Now Jarril was missing. Han didn’t like the sound of this. If Jarril had died for coming to him, then whoever had killed Jarril would be gunning for Han next. “Wonderful.”

Seluss chittered apologetically.

Chewie looked somber. Things were worse than they had known. A lot worse.

“All right,” Han said to Seluss. “What’s the plan?”

Seluss glanced at Chewie, then at Han. Finally, the Sullustan chittered.

“You don’t have a plan?!” Han swung his blaster in disgust. Seluss ducked. Han didn’t have his finger on the trigger. He didn’t understand the Sullustan’s overreaction. “You don’t have a plan. No one ever has a plan. How come no one ever has a plan?”

Chewie roared.

Seluss, cowering near the mildewy cots, chittered.

“You thought
I
would have a plan? I just found out about this, pal. Chewie, you make the plan.”

Chewie shook his head.

“Great,” Han said. “Just great. I come here as a favor to a man who has disappeared and he doesn’t even leave me with a plan.”

Seluss chittered softly.

“Thanks a lot,” Han said. “But somehow I believe this has more to do with Jarril’s poor management skills than his faith in my brilliance.”

Or maybe it had to do with Jarril’s very real fear on the day of the bombing. Maybe Jarril couldn’t plan any further ahead.

Seluss was watching Han through gloved hands. Chewie was pretending to check his bowcaster.

“Of course I’ll come up with a plan,” Han said. “Don’t I always?”

Chewie growled.

“I don’t guarantee quality, fuzzball. I don’t even guarantee it’ll work. I just guarantee movement.” Han glared at both of them. “And for now, that’ll have to be good enough.”

C
ole backed away from Skywalker’s X-wing and hurried to the nearest completed upgrade. The R2 unit was beeping at him, as if it was chastising him for abandoning his post.

“Listen, Artoo,” Cole said. “If we’re going to work together, then you’re going to have to trust me.”

Had he just said that to a droid? He shook his head slightly and climbed the work platform to the reconditioned X-wing. Its computer was attached with bolts and he had forgotten his wrench.

Artoo came up behind him, the wrench in his outstretched claw. A few of Cole’s other tools hung from Artoo as if he were part of an Artesian space collage.

“Thanks.” Cole grinned at the little unit. “Guess I’ll have to trust you too.”

Artoo beeped in agreement.

Cole removed part of the panel on the reconditioned X-wing, then leaned back on his heels, whistling softly under his breath. This X-wing had a detonator too.

And so did the next reconditioned X-wing, and the next.

Artoo cheebled urgently and Cole nodded. They were
thinking alike. If the reconditioned X-wings had this problem, did the new ones have it too?

That would be a bit more difficult to discover. Cole wasn’t authorized to work on the new X-wings. It didn’t matter. If he got caught, he would report his findings.

To whom? What if someone in the maintenance bay had authorized these systems? Maybe Skywalker hadn’t been so far off when he claimed that his little droid had been imprisoned.