Part 30 (1/2)
For the first couple of hours she found her heart jumping every time the door opened, followed by an equally quick flash of relief when it turned out to be only another customer. It wasn't until the afternoon lull began to ramp up again toward the pre-dinner hour that she noticed the subtle change in the customers' att.i.tude toward her.
At first she thought they'd simply given up on her; that they'd decided there was no point in expecting her to get the nuances of their culture right and thus no point in berating her, even politely, when she messed up. But while that might explain the regulars' new courtesy, it didn't explain those who hadn't seen her in fumbling action the previous day.
They were midway through the dinner rush when a large but quiet Adarian family arrived ... a family that included the child whose face she'd seen across from her window the previous night.
And then, finally, she understood. Chivkyrie had been right-her blasterfire had indeed woken up the entire neighborhood. But instead of reporting her to the patrollers, they'd realized it had been an attempt to help, and a successful one at that.
Apparently, their new tolerance for her failings was their way of thanking her.
Leia returned to the apartment later as weary in body as she'd been the night before. But this time, there was no despair to drag her still further down. Perhaps the people of Makrin City weren't yet ready to take a stand against Imperial Center's tyranny. But they were getting closer.
Whether this new determination and respect would survive when Imperial troops were marching through the streets, of course, was another question.
One way or another, Leia would find out soon enough.
Chapter Nineteen.
”COMING UP ON SHELKONWA,” QUILLER Announced. ”Are our guests ready to take their leave of us?”
”As far as I know,” LaRone said, gazing across the c.o.c.kpit at Marcross's profile. Even in the flickering hypers.p.a.ce glow, the tension lines in the other's cheeks and neck were clearly visible. ”Grave and Bright.w.a.ter are keeping an eye on them. Marcross?”
The lines s.h.i.+fted subtly, as if Marcross was coming back from some dark and distant place. ”What?” he asked, half turning to face the other.
”Just making sure you're all right,” LaRone said. ”You've been a little odd ever since Gepparin.”
”I'm fine,” Marcross said, turning back to face the canopy. ”I just want this over with.”
”a.s.suming we can find the BloodScars' contact,” Quiller commented. ”I know you think you got enough from that HoloNet log-”
”I got enough,” Marcross cut him off.
”Fine,” Quiller said. ”I just meant that Shelkonwa's a big planet-”
”I said I got enough.”
”Don't you think it's about time you shared that information with the rest of us?” LaRone suggested. ”At least give us the contact number that was on the setup log in case something happens to you and we have to find a way to backtrack it.”
The tension lines s.h.i.+fted again. ”You won't need to backtrack it,”
Marcross said. ”The traitor's at the palace.”
LaRone stared. ”The governor's palace?” ”That's the only palace down there.” ”I know, but-”
”But what?” Marcross snapped. ”You don't think traitors come in all sizes and shapes and ranks? Just look at the three we have in the back of our own s.h.i.+p.”
”Here we go,” Quiller said, and pulled the hyperdrive levers. The stars reappeared- Quiller stiffened in his seat. ”Oh, no,” he murmured.
”No, no, no.”
”Steady,” LaRone soothed, his own chest feeling a little tight as he gazed out at the huge command s.h.i.+p floating in high orbit over the planet. ”We've got our ID in place. We're all right.”
The comm pinged. ”Executor to incoming Suwantek freighter,” a crisp voice said. ”We're reading a military ID on you. Please confirm via clearance code.”
”Quiller?” LaRone prompted.
There was no response. Quiller was still staring at the huge s.h.i.+p as if he were seeing a ghost. ”I've got it,” Marcross said, swiveling around and punching the code panel.
For a moment there was silence. ”Code confirmed,” the voice said.
”Destination?”
”Makrin City,” Quiller said. ”Governor's palace.”
”The palace landing area's been temporarily closed down,” the voice said.
”I can clear you to either Makrin Main or Greencliff Regional. State your preference.”
”Why is the palace field closed?” LaRone asked, pulling up a map of the region. Makrin Main was in the heart of the city's northwest quadrant, only a few kilometers from the governor's palace, while Greencliff Regional was a much smaller port tucked between the northeast part of the city and a line of cliffs running down the entire eastern edge.
”There's a military search operation under way in the city,” the voice replied. ”The palace field's been shut down for security reasons.”
”What are they searching for?”
”Cla.s.sified,” the other said, starting to sound annoyed. ”State your landing preference.”
Marcross looked back at LaRone, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
”Makrin Main's closer,” he murmured.
”But Greencliff will be less crowded,” LaRone murmured back.
Marcross considered, then nodded. ”We'll take Greencliff,” he said aloud.
”Acknowledged. You're cleared for Greencliff Regional.”
”Thank you.” Marcross shut down the comm. ”Quiller? You all right?”
”Oh, sure, I'm fine,” Quiller said, his voice suddenly carrying a graveyard tone. ”I don't suppose either of you happened to notice the name of that s.h.i.+p?”
Marcross glanced a frown back at LaRone. ”The Executor” Marcross said.
”Why?”
”I guess you ground-thumpers don't need to keep up with Fleet news.”
Quiller took a careful breath. ”The Executor just happens to be the brand-new flags.h.i.+p of the Lord Darth Vader.”