Star Wars: The New Rebellion (46 page)

L
uke’s legs disappeared into the Thernbee’s mouth. Kueller turned away from the screen. Except for his new assistant, Kueller was alone in Femon’s control room. The masks glimmered at him from the wall. He didn’t like this place. He could still feel her presence. He would need to make some other place the center of his command.

“I want a guard on him at all times.”

His new assistant, Yanne, a slender man whose lined face and gray hair marked him as years older than Kueller, leaned forward. “I don’t think we’ll need it.”

Kueller had chosen Yanne because Yanne was one of the few of his people who actually expressed the opinion he had rather than the one Kueller wanted to hear. For the moment, it was a refreshing trait.

“Really, sir, only a miracle would save that man now. The Thernbee will toy with him, crushing one bone at a time, giving him the occasional illusion of escape, but never allowing him to disappear.”

“I know how a Thernbee kills,” Kueller said. He had grown up around them, large white menaces in the Almanian mountains. “I want that guard.”

“It’s a waste of manpower,” Yanne said.

Kueller nodded as if he had heard. “You’re right. We’d best put four guards on the Thernbee cages.”

“Four! Sir, you can’t be serious. Even if the man survived the Thernbee, he’d be too weak, too debilitated to do any harm. We’d be better off placing most of our people in battle positions. There are reports—”

“I’ve heard the reports,” Kueller said. “I’m prepared for them. But we have Luke Skywalker below. I only put him with the Thernbee because I need him alive until his sister arrives. But, as long as Luke Skywalker is alive, there is always the risk that he will defeat his adversary. We must be prepared for this risk.”

“He was wounded when we put him in there. A few bats from the Thernbee and he’ll be dead.”

“It won’t be that simple,” Kueller said.

“No man is that powerful,” Yanne said.

Kueller turned to him, no longer amused by Yanne’s mouth. He stared at the man until Yanne’s face turned ashen.

“Except you, milord.”

Kueller smiled. The smile was deadly. “It would do you well to remember that, Yanne.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Four guards, Yanne. At all times.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get on it right away, sir.” With a quick bow, he scrambled out the door.

Kueller turned back to the screen. The Thernbee’s jaws were still closed. Kueller sat down to wait until Skywalker appeared again.

It had taken Cole a few moments to convince Artoo to wait. The little droid was adamant about leaving Coruscant immediately. Threepio wasn’t pleased with Artoo’s plan. Artoo wanted to take the stock light freighter.

The problem was that Cole wasn’t authorized to use it. Nor did he feel he could leave Coruscant without permission.

He promised Artoo that he would get permission and aid. The two droids had had trouble seeing Mon Mothma. Cole might not be able to get her to see them, but he knew where to start.

He used the service computer in the stock light freighter repair room to contact General Antilles. He’d gone through six different systems before he got a response.

“I’m sorry, Fardreamer,” the slightly mechanized voice came back. “General Antilles is not receiving communications at this time.”

Cole had never heard of such a thing. “He told me to contact him with anything urgent. This is urgent. This is beyond urgent. Please, let him know—”

“I can’t, Fardreamer. Urgent or not, he’s only collecting messages.” The voice was rather curt. With only the barest consideration, it signed off.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear,” See-Threepio said.

Artoo squealed and rocked, his wheels clanging on the floor.

“Artoo says we haven’t much time.”

“I’m doing what I can, Artoo,” Cole said. “You don’t want to get out there, only to have Space-Traffic Control stop us for stealing the ship.”

“He has a point, Artoo,” Threepio said.

Cole ignored them. He sent a message to President Leia. The instant response came within the system that President Leia Organa Solo had resigned and all of her messages were being forwarded to Mon Mothma. When Cole tried to contact Mon Mothma, he met with the same wall that See-Threepio and Artoo had. She was already overbooked.

“You didn’t tell me that President Leia had resigned,” Cole said.

“We didn’t know ourselves until we tried to find her. Everything changed after those detonators.” See-Threepio shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I had never gone with Artoo.”

“To find the detonators?”

“No,” See-Threepio muttered. “Into that escape pod.”

Cole didn’t know what Threepio was referring to, and decided not to ask. Contacting Mon Mothma wouldn’t work either. He finally tried Admiral Ackbar. The response there was equally strange. Admiral Ackbar, his adjunct told Cole, was in a meeting, and his adjunct had no idea when, if ever, he would answer requests.

Cole kept his head bowed for a moment, hoping See-Threepio would think he was still studying the communications array. He needed to concentrate.

President Leia resigned.

Admiral Ackbar unreachable.

General Antilles unreachable.

Mon Mothma unreachable.

Something serious was happening.

The last time he had ignored Artoo, he had nearly gotten them all killed. Not to mention all the good people still out in unrepaired X-wings that might explode on them at any moment.

Artoo wailed.

“He says that we can’t wait any longer,” Threepio said. “He reminds you that you promised to help. Personally, Master Fardreamer, I wouldn’t hold you to that promise. After all, you’ve done what you can. Artoo is a bit eccentric—”

“And he’s been right each time he’s pointed something out,” Cole said. He put a hand on Artoo’s cylindrical
head. “I’ve tried to be official. I guess it’s time to be unofficial.”

Artoo squealed with joy. He hurried toward the stock light freighter.

“Threepio,” Cole said, “do you know the President’s codes?”

“Sir, those are private and subject to change every day. Why—”

“Do you know the President’s codes?”

“Of course,” See-Threepio said. “And the codes for her husband and children.”

“I just need hers. Without them, we won’t be able to leave Coruscant.”

“Oh, I can’t go along, sir. I’m in enough trouble already. Mistress Leia expects me to stay here.”

“The President resigned, Threepio, without telling you. I think she’d appreciate it if you helped prevent another bombing. The first one nearly killed her.”

See-Threepio tilted his golden head as if he were trying to see inside Cole’s. “You do have a point, Master Fardreamer.”

“I thought so,” Cole said.

Artoo squealed at them from inside the freighter.

“Let’s go,” Cole said.

See-Threepio climbed onto the boarding ramp, and walked into the freighter.

“I think I’m going to regret this,” he said.

C
hewbacca rode as copilot with Blue. After their experiences on Skip 6, Han wasn’t about to take any more chances. He’d known Blue as long as he’d known Kid, and not nearly as well.

The betrayals hurt, no matter how he could justify them. He sat in the air-breather’s section of Nandreeson’s Skipper. This Skipper was larger and slimmer than Blue’s, and had a pond on the lower deck. Neither Han nor Lando wanted to get near slimy water again. They sat in the tiny compartment near the top, filled with old, moldy couches (which Han suspected came from drained ponds) and mildew-covered tables.

Lando was resting beside him. His old friend had his eyes closed. His normally pristine clothing was water-stained and he had lost weight.

Han sighed and went over the events in his mind. There had been nothing he could do. Kid and Zeen had gone with the intent of betraying him. They hadn’t been his friends. They had made that clear from the moment he had arrived. Perhaps then they had been trying to warn him away.

That explained how Nandreeson’s men had known to find him on Skip 5.

Chewbacca had said that he thought Wynni would have helped them if Chewie hadn’t fought her intentions. Han wasn’t so certain. She probably knew about Chewie’s loyalty to his wife, or she might have felt rebuffed by Chewie all those years ago. With Wynni, the situation was always complex. She never did what was expected of a Wookiee.

Not even at the end.

He wondered how she was faring, alone in Nandreeson’s lair.

He was glad that she, at least, was alive. Zeen and the Kid, no matter what they had done, would always ride on his conscience.

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Lando said. His voice grated against his throat, his exhaustion evident. He had eaten all the human stores in Nandreeson’s Skipper and had drunk water as if he hadn’t been trapped in it at all.

“About what?” Han asked.

“About
what
?” Lando opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows. His face wasn’t as gray as it had been before. “About Kid and Zeen. They never were your friends.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Han said.

“I’m not. I’m just trying to make you see the truth.” Lando leaned his head against the steel wall. “You never belonged here, Han. We all knew it. Kid and Zeen, they tried to corrupt you from the beginning. They thought they could make you into one of them. But there were some lines you’d never cross. I think that made them mad.”

“I did everything they wanted,” Han said.

“No, you didn’t. Profit was never the most important thing to you. You had this layer you kept trying to hide.
It’s what made you go on that wild-goose chase with Skywalker right from the beginning. He’s told me about it. You could have bailed out at any time. You never did.”

“It was an exception.”

“It was the rule. Remember the case of the Wookiee slave you found?”

“Chewbacca doesn’t count. That circumstance was unusual.”

“Yeah,” Lando said. “As unusual as all the others. They hated it, Han. With every breath you took, you showed them that the life they led was dirty, ugly, and hate-filled.”

There was passion in Lando’s words. Han turned. Lando was staring at him.

“Did you hate me too?”

“No,” Lando said. “But you sure as hell made me ashamed of myself.”

He pushed off the cot and paced around the room. Then he yelped, bent over, and grabbed his calves. His face had gone gray again. Han got up and helped Lando back to the cot.

“Who’d’ve thought you’d get leg cramps from treading water?”

“Anyone who’s exercised,” Han said. “You should have asked Nandreeson to let you warm up before he tossed you in that pool.”

“Very funny.”

Han slowly stretched Lando’s leg, massaging the muscle. “No pushing, buddy. You almost didn’t survive that one.”

“I’m tough,” Lando said.

“Stupid is more like it. What were you thinking, coming back to the Run?”

“I had to find you, Han.” Lando stretched out his other leg. “You can let go now.”

“Why? What’s so important that you’d risk your life?”

“Someone’s setting you up, old friend,” Lando said softly. “They’re trying to make it look like you’re behind the bombing of the Senate Hall.”