Part 15 (1/2)
”Han would never be involved in something like that.” She lifted her gaze to Lando's. He thought ”fireworks” related to the bomb, then, too. ”I know that,” she said. ”But maybe Jarril didn't.”
”Jarril knew Han. Everyone did. His ethics were a subject of bitter complaint among the smugglers. He got more of us into trouble because of his conscience than anyone would like to admit.”
”And saved more of you because of it, too.” She bit her lower lip while she thought. ”Han thought Jarril was connected to the bombing. He was right.”
”Han's hunches are usually good.” She nodded. And she hadn't believed him. Jarril, though, was dead. A p.a.w.n, nothing more. Like Han? ”That second message is really unclear,” she said. Subtle, even. ”What if it signals the opening of a trap?”
”That's what I figure. Jarril wasn't exactly left in a busy area of s.p.a.ce. No one was supposed to see that message. In fact, it had been deleted. If I hadn't known his s.h.i.+p's codes, we wouldn't know this at all.”
”Where was it sent?”
”A place called Almania. Have you heard of it?” Leia shook her head.
”It's on the farthest reaches of the galaxy. It makes Tatooine look close. It's so far out that neither the Empire nor the Rebellion claimed it during the recent conflict.”
”You think an Imperial base is there now?” Leia asked.
”I found a stormtrooper helmet on that s.h.i.+p. And some odd Imperial equipment. But this doesn't seem like the Empire's style. They always destroyed first, asked questions later.”
”The Empire isn't run by Palpatine anymore. Or Vader.” Or Thrawn or any of the other pretenders who had arisen in the last seventeen years.
”Someone new might have a new style.” A subtler style. One that blended better with the politics of the present. Destroy the belief in the New Republic. Implant some of your own people in the Senate-and take over, as Palpatine had done all those years before.
Leia shuddered. ”We have to reach Han. We have to warn him.” Lando nodded. ”You send him a message, if you can. I'll go after him. Where'd he go? ”
”Smuggler's Run.” Lando sank into the couch beside her.
”What's the matter, Lando?” He took a deep breath. ”I can't go to the Run. A rather nasty character named Nandreeson has a price on my head.”
Leia felt the air leave her body. If Lando couldn't go, she'd have to send someone else. But whom? From Han's description of the Run, no one but a select few people knew how to find it.
Then Lando pushed off the couch, his cape flying behind him. He almost looked as if he were flying. ”But that shouldn't stop me, should it?” he said as he reached the door. ”What's a few credits between friends?”
”It's not necessary, Lando,” she said softly. ”We can find someone else.”
”Not quickly enough,” he said. ”And not someone I'd trust to help Han.
No. I have to go.”
”Lando-” He held up his hand to stop her from saying any more. ”You can't change my mind, Leia,” he said. ”On Bespin I nearly killed Han through my own greed and recklessness. I'll never forget that.”
”You helped rescue Han. You've worked well for the New Republic. I think you've more than made up for that moment.”
”I'll never make up for it, Leia,” he said, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. Then he grinned, the wide rogue's grin that someone must have taught every shady character who once visited Smuggler's Run.
”But no one can stop me from trying.”
Cole Fardreamer had never rea.s.sembled an old X-wing before. And he certainly had never done it while supervised by an outdated R2 unit. This little unit seemed to have a mind of its own. It bleeped at him every time he moved away from the X-wing. If it had had arms, they would have been crossed in front of its silver-and-blue barrel-like chest.
He had tried to bring in a Kloperian to help, but the little R2 unit had rocked on its wheels and squealed so loudly that Cole rethought the idea.
Skywalker had said the R2 unit had been ”imprisoned” by the Kloperians.
An odd choice of words, but the R2 unit's very human reaction gave them credence.
This part of the bay was empty. Whenever coworkers approached, the R2 unit would whistle. Cole would greet them, and if they were curious about what he was doing, he would report that he was working on a special project. No one questioned him further - except his supervisor, who, upon learning that the project and the X-wing belonged to Luke Skywalker, left Cole alone.
He was glad Skywalker hadn't waited. This job had already taken longer than Cole had expected. The R2 unit had commented on that-at least, Cole thought that was what the R2 unit was giving the raspberry to when Cole mentioned his difficulty with rea.s.sembling the X-wing. Cole couldn't really understand the R2 unit, but the unit was so expressive that at times he felt he didn't have to.
What had Skywalker called it? R2. As if the designation of type were a nickname. Thinking of the droid as the R2 unit seemed like a mindful.
Cole grinned at it.
”Now we get to work on the socket for the astromech unit, R2.” The droid whistled and rocked, but Cole didn't know if that was in response to Skywalker's nickname for it, or to the action Cole had just outlined. He thought it might be both.
He climbed behind the small c.o.c.kpit and removed the bolts holding in the upgraded astrogation and hyperdrive computers. Five new computer outlets had been installed in the X-wing. Cole had already removed three. Once he removed these two and set them aside, he would have to reattach the astromech socket and its ejector seat. Then he would have to reinsert the chips the droid still held and reprogram the flight and sensor computers.
He had done that sort of thing on Tatooine, trying to build X-wings out of damaged equipment he had managed to find before the Jawas, but he had never been completely successful.
Cole was sprawled on his stomach, leaning into the small bay where the socket used to be. The position made his back ache, and the metal lip of the bay dug into his stomach. He had to hold his arm at an odd angle to work the rotator wrench.
As it hummed, he watched the bolts come out. Imagine him working on Luke Skywalker's X-wing. He had seen Skywalker a few times on Coruscant, but had only heard of him on Tatooine. He was a well-known figure in Anchorhead-and everyone, if the tales could be believed, had been his friend.
Cole had mentally collected stories about Skywalker, half hoping to follow in his footsteps. Somehow he hadn't put it together that Skywalker's heroics were tied to his Jedi talents. Someone pointed that out to Cole, ending his dream.
He shook the bolts off the rotator wrench's magnet and they clattered on the ground. The R2 unit watched them, as it did everything he removed from the s.h.i.+p, as if it were afraid he would again remove something important.
After that, Cole had wandered around Anchorhead, doing odd jobs. It wasn't until someone who had known him-and who thought his loss funny-had taunted him (Whazzamatta, Fardreamer, can't become a hero by repairing other people's machines?) that he realized his talents were just as valuable as Skywalker's, only in a different manner. A lot of people in the galaxy, a lot of beings, important beings, had no Force capabilities, and yet they contributed all sorts of things to the New Republic.
He had left on the next transport to Coruscant, and offered his services as a mechanic to the government. They had started him with meaningless work, work a droid could have done better, including sorting bolts by size, hoping to drive him away. But he couldn't be driven. And when he showed more expertise in hands-on a.s.sembly than their best Kloperian, he was finally allowed to do the kind of work he loved.
The kind of work that, ironically, brought him to Luke Skywalker.
The last bolt rotated out. Cole slipped his fingers under the panel and yanked. He wasn't strong enough to pull it out. He didn't have the proper leverage.
The R2 unit moaned.
Cole tried again. The panel should have slipped out, but it didn't. He climbed off the X-wing and brushed the dirt off his clothes.
The R2 unit bobbed and whistled.
”I'll get back to it,” Cole said. ”It just doesn't want to come off.” But his response didn't quiet the little creature. It continued to make noise. He watched it with a stunned expression on his face. Maybe its systems were malfunctioning. Maybe-Then it b.u.mped him aside and approached the X-wing. A small metal arm emerged from its cylindrical body. At the end of the arm was a mechanical claw. The claw attached to the panel, and the R2 unit pulled.
”Hey!” Cole said. The droid could break the panel, the very thing Cole didn't want because then he would have to replace it out of his own salary.
But the droid didn't stop. The panel popped away from the fitting, leaving a five-centimeter gap. Then the droid swiveled its head 180 degrees to face Cole.