Star Wars: X-Wing II: Wedge's Gamble Page 15

  Hurt returned to Rima’s eyes. “He’s had a hard life.”

  “So haven’t we all.”

  Rima’s head came up. “You don’t understand. His family died …”

  “I do understand.” Corran kept the volume of his voice down, but let the emotions bubbling up in him pour straight through into his words. “I have no family either and do you know what? I saw my father get shot up. Murdered. And I couldn’t do anything about it. I was a hundred meters away, watching him by remote, backing him up, when a bounty hunter walked into the cantina and lit up the booth where he was sitting with two other people. Killed them all and I couldn’t do anything about it. I got there and held my father in my arms, but it was too late. You want a hard life, there’s a hard life for you.”

  Corran’s hands contracted into fists and Erisi leaned over to hug him. He stared openly at Rima, daring her to deny his pain. He wanted her to break, to lose that look of superiority she wore. He wanted her to admit that nothing Tycho had been through, even the destruction of his homeworld or his Imperial captivity, could have measured up to what Corran had endured.

  Even as Erisi whispered, “I’m so sorry,” in his ear, Corran knew he had overreacted and overreacted badly. What’s gotten into me? He searched his mind for an answer, tracing back fleeting thoughts, and slowly came to a realization that surprised with its simplicity and amazed him with its power.

  Tycho, in saving his life and in shepherding him through his introduction to Rogue Squadron, had moved into an august company in Corran’s mind. Corran’s father, his CorSec supervisor, Gil Bastra, and Wedge Antilles were the only other people that Corran saw in the guardian and mentor roles in his life. With his father and Gil both dead, Corran realized he had begun to rely on Wedge and Tycho to serve as touchstones and moral compasses for him.

  The fact that Tycho could not be fully trusted had gone to war with the esteem in which Corran had held him. As he had mentally distanced himself from Tycho, he began to feel that Tycho had somehow betrayed him. The anger he felt toward Tycho, the anger that had triggered his outburst, had come from this sense of betrayal and Corran’s guilt at having elevated someone so untrustworthy to a rank equal to that of his father.

  This is crazy. I have to sort all of this out. Tycho has not betrayed me or anyone else. I need to apologize to him and to Rima.

  Before he could say anything, Rima began speaking in low, even tones. “I do not doubt the sincerity of the anguish you feel, and I am most sorry for you. As tragic as is your story, though, I think Sel’s story can be considered of equal weight.”

  Corran wanted to tell her she need say nothing more, she need not explain, but the solemnity of her tone froze his words in his throat.

  “He had graduated from the Academy and was assigned to a Star Destroyer—the Accuser. On the occasion of his birthday—something most TIE pilots celebrate because of their rarity—he was engaged in a realtime HoloNet connection to our home. His family was there: father, mother, brother, sisters, grandparents, and his fiancée. He was speaking to them when the transmission was cut off. That sort of thing was not unusual and he planned to chide his father about it since his father ran Novacom, the largest HoloNet provider on the world. The fact was that Sel never got a chance to do that because, as he discovered shortly thereafter, his family had died in a monumental catastrophe.”

  Corran’s stomach collapsed in on itself like a neutron star. Tycho was speaking to his family when Alderaan was destroyed. I saw my father die, but he saw everyone die. I was able to hold my father and give him a funeral. I was able to comfort his friends and be comforted by them. My father may have died alone, but I didn’t have to endure his death alone. My life’s as soft as a Hutt’s underbelly by comparison.

  He heard Erisi stifle a sob and felt a tear moisten the side of his neck. He turned to face her, then saw a vision from the past that sent a chill straight through him. His hands came up to cup Erisi’s face, tipping her chin upward, then he pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely. He felt her start to pull away, but he restrained her gently and she flowed into his arms to return the kiss with a passion that all but melted what he felt inside.

  Part of him wanted the kiss to end and wanted him to escape her arms. Corran resisted the idea of escape because he couldn’t be certain of how he would spend his freedom. What he really wanted to do was insane on an Imperial scale. It would compromise the mission. It had the potential to delay or prevent the New Republic from taking Coruscant and finishing the Empire. It ran the risk of destroying everything the Rebellion had worked for.

  But it would feel very, very good.

  Over Erisi’s shoulder Corran had seen Kirtan Loor. The tall slender body, the crisp gait, and the head held imperiously high were unmistakable. He’d memorized all those things about Kirtan Loor months before his father’s death. Subsequent to it he had reveled in the fury and contempt they had spawned when he saw the man.

  What Corran wanted to do at that moment, more than anything else in the galaxy, was to walk over, grab Loor, and pitch him from the promenade. He would have preferred being on a higher level to do so—a much higher level—but that problem could not be helped. He hoped the fall would kill the man, though from a mere ten meters up the chances were it would only break a few limbs and possibly rupture some internal organs.

  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 mélange 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 resealed, 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 result 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 stormtroopers 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.