Star Wars - X-Wing 02 - Wedge's Gamble Page 15

  Corran felt someone tap him on the shoulder and for the barest of moments thought Loor had spotted him. About the time he realized that hadn't happened—the fact that no stormtroopers were closing in and no alarms were going off cinching it for him—Rima said, "The danger is past. He's gone up another level."

  Corran pulled back and gave Erisi a quick kiss on the nose, then looked over at Rima. "How'd you know?"

  "Kirtan Loor's presence on Coruscant has not gone unreported. Correlating things I know about him and you were not difficult."

  Erisi blinked her big blue eyes a couple of times, then

  looked from Corran to Rima and back. "What was all that about?"

  "You saved my life." He smiled at her. "Forgive the liberty I took, but ..."

  She caught her breath, then returned the smile. "I un­derstand. If you ever need your life saved again, I'll be honored to be of service to you."

  He patted her on the knee. "Thanks. I'll remember that." He turned back toward Rima. "I'm not afraid of him."

  "I didn't think you were."

  "I want to kill him." Corran reached out and tapped her lightly on the temple. "Do you know why?"

  "I know many things, but not all things."

  "I caught the Trandoshan who killed my father, but Loor let him go." Corran took in a deep breath and let it out. "He'll pay for that one day. Sooner than later, I hope, but don't worry, I have my priorities straight. His date with justice can wait, wait until we bring down the government that gives people like him the power to per­petrate evil on more worlds than we can count."

  19

  It occurred to Gavin that if his father had any idea he'd end up sitting in the Azure Dianoga cantina, he'd never have let him leave the farm. If Mos Eisley was considered the armpit of the galaxy, this part of Coruscant could be considered anatomically lower and decidedly less hy­gienic. In the dim distance, in an alcove between the bar and the doors, Gavin could see a Kubaz quartet playing trunkflutes and percussion, but the din caused by hun­dreds of aliens speaking all at once walled away the sound of their music.

  Acrid green smoke drifted through the cantina's at­mosphere, stinging Gavin's eyes and painting another layer of grime across his face. Down in the lower reaches of Invisec he'd taken to wearing all of his clothes in lay­ers, rotating the inners to outers, and had been at it for the week since they'd landed. He felt he smelled like a dewback with bloat, but the worse his scent became, fewer were the complaints from the various aliens with whom they dealt.

  The mission given to their team had been quite broad. The top two items on the agenda were to deter­mine the level of control the Empire exerted over the

  lower reaches of the city—and the general mood of the alien population on the world—and to find out if the lower levels of the infrastructure would provide avenues of attack against the government. That seemed logical to Gavin because if Coruscant were built on a foundation the government didn't control, bringing it down would be just a little bit easier.

  Since their cover story had Gavin and Shiel working as partners, they had traveled independently from the others and had spent a great deal of time exploring the tunnels and ruins at the bottom of the world. The Shista­vanen wolf man had suggested they begin their explora­tion near the Invisec border because if there was no way to leave Invisec and penetrate the newer sections of the city, any invasion force that made planetfall in Invisec would be bottled up.

  The border proved fascinating because of the melange of building materials and architectural styles all jammed into a very small area. Where the huge construction droids had carved a swath that nibbled away at Invisec, the walls were formed of sheer ferrocrete with no preconstructed access ports to the other side. No matter how new these walls looked, all of them had been cov­ered with colorful writing—most of it being anti-Imperial invective—or had been gouged by sharp claws or nibbled by sharper teeth.

  Borrats appeared to be the pioneers that opened holes in these solid walls. The holes appeared to be about twice the size of a pilot's helmet, with claw marks that striated a cone shape going in and coming out on the other side. Clearly sapient beings had expanded on some of these holes, enlarging them to permit easy passage for most creatures. Some of the holes had been reseated, but the ferrocrete patches could be removed if they were chipped away at the edges, and in at least one case, a plug had been hinged so it looked normal from the far side and could provide easy access to areas outside Invisec.

  The perimeter of Invisec where the residents were moving out and taking over buildings previously outside

  their sector was known in local parlance as the Outer Rim. There the holes through the ferrocrete walls were numerous and large enough to permit all sorts of com­merce. Where the Imperials made an effort to stop the mi­gration of aliens, all windows and doors had been sealed with ferrocrete plugs. Messages splashed on walls indica­ted points where people suspected the Imps had set up booby traps. Arcane sigils and graffiti in more languages than Gavin knew existed marked the sites of fights where Imps had killed people to prevent the sullying of new ter­ritory.

  The Outer Rim clearly provided more opportunities for an invading force to push into the city proper primar­ily because the walls there were not as strong as the bar­riers on the other side of Invisec. That fact, however, would be the only bright spot in an otherwise very gloomy report. After days of wandering through the dark and twisted alleys and byways of Invisec, the vast scale of the invasion needed to wrest the planet from the Empire began to press in on Gavin. The planet had billions upon billions of people. The force needed to pacify the popu­lace and maintain order while fighting against Imperial stormtroopers would have to be incredibly huge.

  It would take more troops than the Rebellion has under arms. The shields make this place a tough nut to crack, but chewing up the meat isn't going to be any easier. Gavin hunched forward on the table in the corner booth and gripped his mug of lomin-ale with both hands. "Prospects don't look so good, do they?"

  Shiel lowered a mug from his muzzle and wiped ex­cess ale off on his sleeve. "If there's no prey, there's no reason to hunt."

  Nawara Ven and Rhysati Ynr cut through the smoke and slid into the booth, forcing Gavin to slide around to­ward the center of the semicircle. The Twi'lek's clothes were worn in only one layer, were more conservatively cut and decidedly cleaner than the ragged things Gavin and Shiel wore. Rhysati wore a skintight, dark blue body stocking supplemented with knee-high boots, belts,

  chains, and other straplike accessories that accented her already considerable charms. Gavin forced himself to meet her stare, then blushed when she winked at him.

  Nawara raised a hand and waved a serving droid over. "Churban brandy for me, or the closest synthesis you can manage. She will have a Durindfire, light on the phosphorescent agent." He settled a brain tail over Rhysati's shoulders as the droid scuttled off, then nodded to Ooryl and Aril Nunb as they joined the group. "All alive and well, I see."

  Ooryl tapped himself on the chest. "Gand has trav­eled extensively and has found much exotica. Items are available from throughout the galaxy, at prices that re­flect the distance they have been shipped, not any restric­tion on supply."

  Nawara rhythmically tapped his fingernails against the scarred and stained tabletop. "Estimates on how long those goods would last?"

  Aril cocked her head. "A month, perhaps more, pro­vided Imperial interests did not stage raids. The Imps appear to monitor trading. Everyone seems to pay protec­tion to the Imps, to Black Sun, and to local Invisec factions. If things were to get tight, some of the things here would be pulled outside."

  Gavin exchanged a glance with Shiel. The wolf man had said that he would have opted to starve the Imps out by blockading the planet. He estimated it could survive for two or three months. Aril's estimation of the supplies in Invisec meant that the alien population of Coruscant would be hurt worse by a blockade than the Imps would. Given the anti-alien bias the Empire had, that sort of r
e­sult wasn't surprising. If Ysanne Isard was smart she'd ransom the Invisec population for supplies, or she'd just have them killed and take their supplies for the humans.

  The general din of the cantina faded and died as Im­perial stormtroopers came through the doors. They wore the standard white armor seen across the galaxy, though they did have small pinpoint spotlights clipped to their right shoulders. Two soldiers remained at the doorway—

  they were armed with heavy blaster rifles—while the rest of the squad broke down into a pair of three-man groups that began to work their way around the dark oval room. Back through the doorway Gavin thought he saw more troopers and a large vehicle, but the swirling smoke and general gloom made a positive identification impossible.

  Aril kept her voice low. "Another sweep?"

  Nawara nodded but remained silent.

  The various alien denizens of the bar shifted around anxiously. The Gotal seated back to back with Nawara in the next booth over ducked his head, giving Gavin a clear view of the stormtroopers centered between the Gotal's horns. Gavin killed a smile as he recalled stories about Gotals being able to read minds. It would be very inter­esting to be able to know what's going on inside those helmets, if anything at all is. I wonder what they're after?

  The knot of stormtroopers nearest the Rogues stopped at a table where two squid-headed Quarren sat conversing with a tall Duros. The leader of the stormtroopers de­manded identification cards. He ran them one at a time through a slot on the datapad attached to the armor on his right thigh, then returned one card to the Duros.

  "You two will have to come with us." The storm-troopers behind him brought their blaster carbines up to cover the Quarren.

  "What have we done?"

  "Routine inquiries. You have nothing to fear if you have done nothing wrong."

  The Quarren, pulling their robes tightly around them, rose from their stools and scurried out. No one stared at them, but everyone seemed to be watching them go. Gavin could feel resentment rising in the room as it rose in him.

  The second trio of stormtroopers found no one inter­esting to harass, so they backed to the door while the first set of troopers approached the Rogues' table. The leader demanded Gavin's identification with an outstretched hand. "Far from home, aren't you? ID, now."

  Gavin fumbled for it, then turned it over.

  The stormtrooper ran it through his datapad's slot, but didn't return it immediately. "I asked you a question, son. What are you doing here?"

  "Ah, I, ah, I'm just here." Gavin fought to stop panic from choking him.

  The stormtrooper snapped the ID card on the table. "I have reports that say you left home under strange cir­cumstances. Maybe you want to come with us and return to your own kind. We won't let them hurt you."

  "No, I'm fine here, really."

  The trooper shifted his attention to Rhysati. "Identi­fication."

  She snuggled tighter beneath Nawara's brain tail and flicked her pink tongue salaciously over the grey flesh of the Twi'lek's throat. Nawara reached inside his tunic and held up an ID card between the second and third fingers of his right hand. As he lifted it toward the stormtrooper, Gavin saw the outline of a black triangular coin worth a hundred credits. "You don't really need to see her identi­fication."

  The stormtrooper took the ID card and neatly palmed the coin. He held the card up to compare the hologram with Rhysati, then tossed it down in anger when she turned her face toward him and winked. "Your kind makes me sick."

  "As does your kind, which is why I'm with him."

  That rocked the stormtrooper back on his heels for a moment and he seemed about ready to go for his blaster when a buzzing came from his helmet. He touched the side of it with his left hand, then turned to his two com­panions and jerked his head toward the door. Looking back at Nawara he said, "You're lucky this time, spoiler, but I'd be thinking about finding a new friend. It wouldn't do to have this one crying over your ashes, would it?"

  "Perhaps not."

  "Definitely not. Remember that."

  The stormtroopers withdrew and darkness again de­scended on the Azure Dianoga. The conversational tone

  remained low, which allowed some of the band's music to make it over to the table. Over near the doorway Gavin saw some figures get up and begin to sway or writhe in time to the music, though the twitching of one person led him to believe that some of the notes were being played well outside the range of his hearing.

  Aril appropriated Gavin's ale and downed a healthy swallow of it. "That was close."

  "Gand has previously avoided such contact. Gand has seen Imperials rounding up others, both Quarren and Gamorreans."

  Shiel nodded. "The kid and I saw a family of Gamor­reans herded off."

  "The stories we've heard indicate occasional sweeps taking in Gamorreans and Quarren on a weekly basis. They take a dozen or two." Nawara Ven scraped talons along his jawline. "Perhaps there has been an anti-Imperial uprising on Gamorr."

  "That would explain the taking of Gamorreans." Aril's garnet eyes sparkled in the backlight of the glowing drink the service droid placed in front of Rhysati. "Why the Quarren?"

  Nawara dropped a ten-credit piece in the slot on top of the droid's head and drew his brandy from the tray. "Quarren share the same world with the Mon Calamari, but the two populations are not wholly united. Perhaps they want to exploit the enmity between them."

  A petite, black-furred female Bothan came walking over to their table and smiled invitingly in Gavin's direc­tion. A diamond of silken white fur covered her from throat to navel—it being visible beneath her sleeveless jacket's loose lacing closures. White also sheathed her hands and carried on up to mid forearm. A blaze of white fur blossomed in the middle of her brow and splashed across her left eye and cheek to where it narrowed again at the corner of her jaw. Her light violet eyes shone brightly in contrast to the fur surrounding them, giving her a penetrating stare that sent a quick jolt through Gavin.

  Nawara looked up at her. "Is there something I can do for you?"

  "I think not, sir." She picked up Gavin's identification card, read it, and gently set it down again. "I noticed how you dared defy that stormtrooper, Vin Leiger, and I thought perhaps I would like to learn more of a man who can be so casual in a place where so few of his kind are found. I thought we might discuss this . . . privately."

  It took Gavin a half second to remember he was Vin Leiger, but that was because he'd not recognized himself in her description of the encounter with the stormtrooper. She must have somehow confused me with Nawara, but she's looking right at me. "Um, I, ah, I'm here with my friends."

  She nodded politely. "Of course, you would not want to abandon them. I understand." The Bothan glanced back over her shoulder toward where people were danc­ing. "Surely they would not begrudge my stealing you away for one dance?"

  "Ah, we're discussing something right now. Perhaps another time, Miss ..."

  "I am Asyr Sei'lar." Her smile slackened slightly. "Another time, then?"

  "Yes, certainly."

  A Gotal seated in the next booth over turned around. "He's lying, Asyr. Your approach made him nervous and your retreat filled him with relief." As the horned human­oid came around to face Gavin he produced a blaster and pointed it at the Rogues. Out of the corner of his eye Gavon saw Asyr move and a small blaster appeared in her right hand. While he saw no more guns, he heard a crescendo of safety switches being snapped off, so he in­stantly rejected the idea of digging for his puny hold-out blaster.

  Nawara's voice took on an edge, the sort of edge Gavin imagined it had when the Twi'lek had fought for his clients in court. "Would someone care to explain what my friend has done wrong here? Is it a crime to refuse to dance in the Azure Dianoga?"

  "Not at all, but his relief shows him to be as much a bigot as the stormtroopers who just left here." Asyr tapped Gavin's ID card with the muzzle of her blaster. "If he'd not lied, if he'd accepted my invitation, we'd have known he's like your woman—someone to wh
om species makes no difference. Since he's a bigot, we have other uses for him."

  "And those would be?"

  The Bothan smiled coolly. "The Imps have been kid­napping people from Invisec and they've not returned them. Something has to be done, so we have formed the Alien Combine. We need someone to take a message to the Imps to let them know we'll tolerate their predation no longer. Your friend has elected himself to fill that post and this will be one time when a dead man will tell a tale."

  20

  Kirtan Loor's ears popped as the lift ascended to the rar­efied precincts where Ysanne Isard lived. She does not live, she lairs. As much as he hated her intrusive holo-visitations to his tiny office, being summoned to see her personally was even less of a cause for celebration. And even though all of the news he had relayed to her had been very positive, he did not see her as someone who would invite a subordinate to her office to congratulate him on his successes.

  To eat him alive, perhaps, but not to congratulate him.

  The lift slowed, then stopped, and the doors slid open. He stepped out and paused, raising his arms away from his body. Though the scarlet-armored Imperial Guards on either side of the lift and at either end of the short corridor did not move or even seem to pay attention to him, he knew rash or casual movements could prove lethal in their territory. He waited, then lowered his arms and walked down the corridor to his right. After a couple more turns, passing several more guard stations, he ar­rived at the door to Isard's office and it slid open sound­lessly.

  Though he stood half a head taller than she did, Loor always felt dwarfed by her. That impression had nothing to do with her physical presence, though she was a strik­ingly handsome woman, and her mismatched eyes did lend her an exotic air. Instead it was the way she stood, how she moved, and how well she wore the scarlet uni­form that confirmed her right to rule. Though she made no claim to the title of Empress, she was very much Im­perial in her manner. In a time when the Empire was crumbling, that was enough to leave her in charge.