Star Wars - X-Wing 02 - Wedge's Gamble Page 13

  "Granite slugs and hawk-bats?"

  "Hawk-bats look good riding the thermals—just as long as you don't suck one into an engine. They prey on granite slugs and get the occasional borrat. Borrats get as big as two meters long."

  "Sounds like womp rats from back home."

  "Sure, except these things have tusks, spines, armored flesh, and claws that can dig through ferrocrete. The only good thing about them is that they tend to be solitary." Mirax flipped some switches overhead. "And there are all sorts of extraterrestrial beasties that someone brought to Coruscant and let loose. Most are benign, but ..."

  Gavin shivered. And why was it 1 agreed to this duty?

  The Skate slowly began an ascent, which Gavin thought would bump them against the bottom floor of the building above, but he discovered they were rising through an open hatchway in the overhang. "This is con­venient."

  "A lot of transport of goods goes on at the lower levels in the city—it keeps traffic lighter up above. This building used to be outside Invisec, but as the construc­tion droids slice a piece off one side of Invisec, the un-homed push out and take over new areas of the city. It's a slow migration and Invisec generally gains two kilome­ters for every one it loses."

  The Pulsar Skate drifted forward and put down its landing gear. It came to rest in the large, dark basement of the building, squeezed in between trash middens, hydro-reclamation processors, and the heart of the build­ing's heating and cooling facilities. Liat killed the

  repulsorlift drives but left the external lights on, provid­ing the only strong illumination in the facility.

  Mirax unstrapped herself from the command chair and punched a button. Gavin heard a whooshing hiss fol­lowed by the sound of servomotors lowering the access hatch. It touched down with a metallic thump. "C'mon, kid, let's see what they have set up for you."

  Gavin unfastened his restraining belts and followed her down the ramp and out into the building. The musty air filled his nose and dried it out. It reminded Gavin of how the air smelled just before a Tatooine dust storm hit with its full fury. He found the scent familiar enough to be reassuring.

  Mirax preceded him down the ramp and crossed over to one of the trash middens. Dropping to one knee, she waved him over. "Grab this end of the crate and pull."

  Gavin grabbed one of the handles on the duraplast box and slid it from beneath the trash. Mirax got the handle on the other end of the two-meter-long case and between them they lugged the heavy rectangular box over to a spot beneath one of the Skate's lights. The rest of the Rogues descended the ramp and joined them.

  Nawara Ven's black cape pooled around him as he knelt at the lockpad on the box. He studied it for a mo­ment, then looked up at Mirax. "This looks to be what we were told to find here. It should have gear and iden­tification cards in it. Should you be here when we open it?"

  She shrugged. "You're probably right, I shouldn't be, but I've got two standard hours before the clearances for my exit identity become live."

  Gavin frowned at Nawara. "We can trust her, you know."

  The Twi'lek held a hand up. "I do not doubt her hon­esty, Gavin—but the less she knows, the better for her. In the same way, our not knowing the particulars of her es­cape vector and identity means we cannot reveal it if we run into complications."

  Mirax patted Gavin on the shoulder. "Not to worry,

  Gavin. I've got navigational calculations to do. May the Force be with you all." She retreated up the ramp, then it ascended after her.

  Nawara punched a combination into the lockpad. The lock clicked and the Twi'lek slid the cover off. The gear inside had been packed into numbered boxes that Nawara pulled from the case and handed to the appropri­ate individuals. Gavin accepted box one and wandered away from the others to open it.

  Inside he found a folded change of clothes, a small satchel in which they could be carried, a hundred credits in various forms, a small hold-out blaster, and a packet filled with identification cards. He tore the packet open and poured its contents into his hand. He had a drawcard in his alias so he could pull money from a transaction ac­count as needed, a basic medical record card containing a medical history that would allow doctors to treat him without knowing who he really was, and his new identi­fication card.

  His cover identity was that of Vin Leiger, a young man from a Rimworld who had gotten into trouble. He'd hooked up with a Shistavanen—conveniently played by Riv Shiel—and had left home. The two of them had scraped by on a number of worlds by using Vin's appar­ent innocence to trick locals into trying to take him for all he was worth. Shiel—who would go by the name Shaalir Resh—would rob the con men targeting Vin, then they would move on.

  A chill ran down Gavin's spine as he ran through all the details of his new identity. Vin Leiger, he realized, had a more complete history than he did himself. It struck Gavin that it was utterly absurd for him to be trying to pass as an outlaw from another world. It was even more absurd for him to be a member of an elite Rebel squad­ron on a spy mission to the Imperial homeworld. How can I be here?

  He remembered standing on the edge of the pit where his family lived, looking out at the wastes of Tatooine, wondering if Luke Skywalker had ever stood where he

  stood and had seen what he'd seen. It was quite a con­trast to the scene below where his mother and siblings cleared away the debris from his sixteenth birthday cele­bration. Security, warmth, love, all existed down in the hole, while everything outside it was hostile, inhospitable, and unforgiving.

  His father had come up and had stood there with him. "You've got the Darklighter look on your face, and at your age, too." His father sighed. "I knew this day would come, just not this soon."

  Gavin had looked down at his father. "What do you mean?"

  "Us Darklighters have a point in our lives when we look outside ourselves. We look outside our lives. Some of us, like my father, never do it until the end, and then they regret all the things they didn't do. Your uncle Huff looked outside once upon a time and chose to ignore what he saw. That's why he's become a food magnate here. By building up his little empire here he's too busy to see what's out there."

  Gavin could once again feel his father's rough hand on the back of his neck. "Your cousin, Biggs, had the look at your age. He was determined to go to the Acad­emy and become a hero with his name written big in the stars. He succeeded, better than he ever imagined, I sus­pect, though I'd have settled for a bit less success and a bit more life for him. And now you, Gavin, my eldest, you have the look."

  "There's something out there for me, Father." Gavin had shrugged. "Maybe I'm dreaming, but it feels like my destiny is out there."

  "There's only one way for you to find out."

  His father's reply had surprised him. "Do you mean you would let me go off and join the Rebellion?"

  The elder Darklighter sighed heavily. "I couldn't stop you any more than Huff could stop Biggs, but Huff tried. When he saw he couldn't win, he secured Biggs an ap­pointment to the Academy—that way he was in control of his son's fate. Biggs went, of course, because that's

  what he had to do, but he resented his father's meddling. There was a rift there, and that eats at Huff every day of his life.

  "Well, I'm not going to stand in your way. You're welcome back here whenever you want to come, and no matter what you do, or don't do, or run from, you'll al­ways be welcome here. You're a Darklighter. Going out there is what you must do, so go with my fondest wishes that the Force will keep you safe and whole."

  Gavin had smiled and continued to stare out into the distance. "I feel as if the whole universe is opening up to me, and that all I have to do is step forward and I can make a difference. The feeling is powerful and exhilarat­ing. Is that how you felt when you looked, Father?"

  "I never looked until now, Gavin. I was always too afraid, and what I see now is a lot of pain and hurt." He smiled up at his son. "And regret I won't be out there with you. Whatever you do, remember who you are, what you are. A Darkligh
ter's destiny is waiting for you out there. This Rebellion, it's been without a Darklighter for too long. It's time that problem was solved."

  So now I'm with the Rebellion, on a dangerous mis­sion to find the weaknesses of a fortress planet. Whose vi­sion was more accurate, Father, mine of destiny, or yours of pain and regret? He shook his head. At least back there with you I have a safe haven. This mission is part of see­ing to it that everyone has a safe haven and the freedom to discover their own destiny. I think you'd probably tell me that with a Darklighter involved, we'll succeed. I hope you're right.

  Shiel's hand landed heavily on Gavin's shoulder. "Time to move, Gavin."

  "I don't know any Gavin, Shaalir." Gavin stuffed his clothes into his satchel, tucked the blaster into his belt, and pocketed the identification cards and money. "The name's Vin Leiger and I'm here to find out what makes this world spin, and then find a way to make it stop."

  17

  Wedge Antilles realized that the mission he and Pash Cracken had been given was the most difficult of all to complete. He suspected the other members of Rogue Squadron had been assigned tasks like mapping out power grids or locating shield generation stations. Pin­pointing those locations would be vital if any invasion was to succeed, but that data would be useless unless he and Pash succeeded and came away with a positive re­port.

  They had been charged with the duty of assessing the loyalty of the populace on the planet. Iella Wessiri had been able to provide them with her impressions of the general mood of the world's population, but she freely ac­knowledged she was more pessimistic than another might be. "Paranoia has a way of coloring your thoughts about the world."

  Wedge smiled as they moved out of the Galactic Mu­seum's Sith artifact room. "Paranoia may be an effect of the things in that room. Ghastly stuff ..."

  "But seductively powerful." Iella glanced down wist­fully. "Not as crude as a cubic meter of credits, but those things appeal to something even more base than greed."

  "My thoughts exactly." Because of his mission pa­rameters Wedge had decided touring the various Imperial facilities open to the public should form the basis of their survey, and in the week since his arrival they had covered a lot of ground. He had expected the Empire to put its best face forward and display things that would denigrate and demean the Rebellion, and he'd not been disap­pointed. By learning what it was the Empire wanted its citizens to believe about the Rebellion, he could then as­sess whether or not the Imperial propaganda efforts were successful.

  The museum had proved very instructive in this re­gard. The bottom two floors provided extensive displays of the flora, fauna, and mineral treasures from through­out the Empire. Several displays did provide notations that this plant or that animal had been made extinct on their native worlds by "outlaws and malcontents," and included among such beasts were Ewoks—and Imperial taxidermists had taken great pains to make them seem helpless and even more cute than they were in real life. However, despite such propagandistic comments, the dis­plays were impressive and reminded Wedge there was much more to the Empire than he'd consciously acknowl­edged before.

  The first two floors were clearly designed to impress and overwhelm visitors with their magnificence, so the next four floors had been put together to capitalize on the favorable impressions made below. Those floors covered the cultural and social developments of the Empire. One whole floor had been given over to the Emperor and his life. Holograms of people who had known him served as tour guides at each display while droids admonished the people to keep moving on. All the displays, from items shown to the descriptions that accompanied them, were slanted toward making the viewers believe everything the Emperor had done had been for their specific good.

  The final tableau presented on that floor made this point abundantly clear. It showed the Emperor lying in state upon a bier in a dark room. He looked far younger

  and more handsome than Luke had described him, as if the moral rot and evil in him had never been able to ooze out and reveal itself. The Emperor appeared just to be sleeping, ready to rise up if the Empire needed him again.

  A holographic image of Darth Vader sizzled to life when Wedge had approached. "Behold my Master and weep. He has been stolen from us by those who embrace hatred. The Emperor learned that the Rebels had stolen plans for an Imperial Planetary Ore Extractor and in­tended to use the one they were fabricating at Endor on inhabited planets. He assembled his fleet, and heedless of personal danger, he had me take him to Endor. He infil­trated the half-completed extractor, offering these Rebels his forgiveness and a hand in friendship. They rejected him and attacked his fleet. My Master had no alternative but to destroy this Death Star himself, perishing in the process so his citizens could live on. I was slain with him, but my death did not distress me, for it came in service to my Master."

  As Vader spoke, a fanciful holographic simulation of the battle at Endor played itself out against the backdrop of the chamber. An outnumbered and outgunned Imperial fleet drove a dagger into the heart of the Rebel formation. The pinpoint accuracy of Imperial gunners laid waste to the Rebels. As that war raged outside, the Emperor ap­peared looking beatific as he pleaded with an unseen Rebel host. His expression melted into sorrow and pain, then his eyes blazed and his fists knotted. Suddenly his image exploded, taking the Death Star with it. The explo­sion tore into the Rebel fleet, leaving only small, weak ships to flee.

  The whole presentation had sent a shiver through Wedge. He had been at Endor—he had fired the shot that helped destroy the Death Star—yet this telling of the story felt as compelling to him as the true history of what had happened. It suggested a benign purpose for the Death Stars and made the Rebels out to be monsters for think­ing to use one on an inhabited planet. By doing so, and by suggesting the Emperor had gone there to prevent that

  sort of perversion, the fear that lingered in everyone's heart concerning the destruction of Alderaan was shifted into fear directed at the Rebellion. The Emperor had sac­rificed himself to save everyone else, so only the most boorish of louts would not show gratitude of some sort toward him.

  As he moved on to the Hall of Justice with Iella he found himself amazed at how easily the Empire had been able to warp the truth into a story that sustained the realm. "The people who create these exhibits are very good at what they do."

  "That was never more evident as it is with this area concerning the Jedi." Iella linked her arm through Wedge's as they strolled on. "Were it not for the Emperor, we would be slaves to a tyrannical Jedi state."

  The history of the Jedi Knights was presented in a lin­ear fashion, moving from right to left around the room. The thousand-generation saga had been condensed such that it gave emphasis to the legendary Jedi Masters of old, then suggested a gradual deviation from that noble tradi­tion as the Knighthood grew. The corruption had begun—Wedge gathered by implication—when human Jedi Masters had taken on nonhuman disciples. The Jedi Knights went from being the guardians of the Old Repub­lic to the secret masters of its future. They used their powers to manipulate and direct the Republic's leaders.

  After the resolution of the Clone Wars, the Jedi began to move toward an open grab for power. Senator Palpatine circumvented them and deposed their puppet. In overthrowing the corrupt Old Republic, the Emperor stripped from the Jedi their political power and laid their evil bare for all to see. The Jedi denied the truth he re­vealed, all except one of their number. His fellows tried to murder him, but he survived their treachery and rose to assist the Emperor in rooting out the evil that had ruined the Knighthood. He was Darth Vader and, said the dis­play, never had there been a greater champion for the high ideals of the Empire than he.

  Wedge smiled. "At least that last bit is true—Vader was Imperial through and through."

  "Notice how they have the true line of Jedi Knights dying with Vader at Endor? No mention of Luke Skywalker, but the implication is that he is heir to the cor­rupt tradition." She shook her head. "I wonder if that is too subtle?" />
  "Appeals that play to fear can be subtle and still very effective." Wedge turned and looked back toward the far corner of the room. "It looks to me as if this chamber once opened onto another one, but the entrance has been sealed up."

  "I've seen an old version of a holographic museum tour—we have people who archive those sorts of things just to see what's been changed. Once upon a time, back in the days of the Old Republic, there were three more chambers that extended back there with mementos of fa­mous Jedi Knights and their exploits." Iella shrugged. "It's been sealed up for over thirty standard years. Rumor has it that most of the things in there now are memento mori, and the descriptions of some are enough to make the Sith artifacts look absolutely benign."

  Pash Cracken met them outside the Jedi exhibit carry­ing a small sack. "Are you two interested in getting out of here?"

  Wedge didn't answer immediately because his atten­tion was drawn to something beyond Pash. The museum had been constructed in such a way that the circular foyer rose all the way up to the roof, giving each floor a crescent-shaped opening onto it. The northern wall, through which the public entered the building, had been constructed of transparisteel, providing a commanding view of the Imperial Palace and the walkway that linked the Museum with the Imperial Justice Court.

  A vicious dark, roiling cloud was coalescing in the kilometer or so between the museum and the Palace. Golden lightning shot through it, then arced up into the air. A brilliant energy thread linked the cloud with the lowest of the planetary shields, then seconds later an ex-

  plosive rumble of thunder sent a tremor through the building. More lightning flashed at the heart of the cloud's dark depths and the cloud began to drift toward them.

  Wedge looked over at Iella. "That's a nasty-looking storm. Are we safe here?"

  "Sure," she said, taking her hands off the steel rail­ing. "A compressor probably blew in one of the buildings down there. Water vapor escapes into the air, condenses, and starts spitting energy. There's lightning rods all over the place on these towers and skyhooks, so we should be safe. You'll know it's a really bad storm when the sky­hooks detach their tethers and move off."