Shadows of the Empire (13 page)

Vader was silent save for his measured, mechanical breathing, which suddenly seemed quite loud. Xizor could almost see Vader’s brain working, measuring, calculating. Wondering: What was the head of Black Sun up to?

Xizor kept his face carefully neutral for the recording holocams he knew were watching. His, the Emperor’s, Vader’s—and whoever else might be good enough to get past the Emperor’s security to be spying on them.

“Of course,” Vader finally said. “Where is this base?”

“In the Baji Sector, out on the Rim. The Lybeya System, hidden on one of the larger Vergesso Asteroids. It is my understanding that there is a shipyard full of vessels undergoing repair. Scores, perhaps hundreds, of Rebel ships, ranging from fighters to troop carriers.”

Vader said nothing.

“Destruction of such a base would no doubt greatly cripple the Alliance,” Xizor continued. A bland under-Statement,
offered as if ice would not melt upon his tongue.

Again, a protracted silence. Then: “I’ll have my agents check it out,” Vader said. “If it is as you say, then the Empire will be … indebted to you.”

Oh, that must have hurt, to have to say that. Xizor gave Vader a courteous nod. “Merely my duty, Lord Vader. No thanks are necessary.”

He could almost feel Vader squirming. To have to owe Xizor must have rankled. But what could he do? If this report was true—and certainly it was—it was a succulent and ripe offering. The Rebels didn’t have so many ships that they could afford to lose any, much less an entire yard full of them. This truly was a service to the Empire.

That the shipyard was, unknown to either the Rebels
or
the Empire, owned by Ororo Transportation, the same company that had dared tread on Black Sun’s spice operations in that sector—well, so much the better. Here was another way to skewer two eels with one spear: Ororo would be much damaged, and the Emperor’s trust in Xizor would be greatly enhanced at the same time.

It truly was an ill wave that washed no good ashore.

Vader turned and left, black cape flagging behind him. Xizor’s bodyguards prudently stepped well aside to allow him to pass.

Vader would have to verify the report. The Emperor would send forces to attend to the base. With any luck at all, Vader would be the one dispatched, given the Emperor’s well-known disposition regarding such things: You found it, you take care of it. That would get Vader out of the way and allow Xizor a bit more freedom to continue the unfolding of his plan.

He turned and looked down at the miniature jungle below. Schemes were like plants in many ways. You put them where you wanted them, fed and watered
them, pruned them as needed, and they grew as you expected. By and large.

He waved one of his bodyguards over.

“My lord?”

“Find out who is in charge of this.” He waved at the park. “Offer him twice the credits he is being paid to come to work on my skyhook.”

“My lord.” The bodyguard bowed and hurried away.

Xizor took a deep breath and inhaled the oxy-rich and jungle-scented air. It smelled very alive. Like wet mushrooms and leaf mold and fresh grasses all mixed into a fine odor. Very alive, and he never felt more so himself than when he was manipulating things to his satisfaction.

L
uke covered the X-wing with the camo-netting and stood back next to Artoo. “There. That ought to do it.” From the air, the ship should be invisible, and with all its power systems shut down and offline, a flyby wouldn’t pick it up on a quick sensor scan. Not that he was particularly scared after the incident with the crew chief; it just made good sense not to let passersby know there was an Alliance ship parked here.

Heat rose from the ground in shimmery waves, and the suns seethed and offered yet more light and warmth than the desert could absorb. The reflections from the sand were actinic and bright, and Luke had to squint against the hard light. He didn’t worry too much about somebody just happening to pass by—nobody came out here without a really good reason.

He walked back to the house—he still thought of it as Ben’s—with Artoo rolling along the bumpy ground behind him. The short droid chirped and whistled at him. He sounded concerned, and Luke guessed he was talking about Leia and the others.

“Yeah, I know, I worry about them, too. But they’ll be all right.”

He hoped.

Inside, Luke touched a control, and a panel of synstone on the curved roof slid back and exposed the solar panels hidden underneath. The house had been running in reduced mode on battery power while he’d been gone, and it was not much cooler inside than out. With the panels suddenly feeding the system more power than it could use, the air conditioner kicked on and a welcome cool breeze blew through the small house.

Luke felt grubby from his flight. He stripped and took a long shower. Fortunately, the water condensers had filled the underground tanks while he was away, and he had enough water to lather and rinse twice. When he was done, he felt a lot better. It was a long hop from Gall, and he was looking forward to stretching out and sleeping in a bed for a change.

But maybe he would just finish the facets on the lightsaber jewel first. He had a lot to think about, and he didn’t think he would be able to take a nap just yet; too many things buzzing around in his head. Might as well do something useful.

He put on a robe and moved to the worktable.

“R
odia?” Leia said.

“Rodia,” Lando said.

They were in the
Falcon
, moving through hyperspace. Chewie was asleep in the bunk behind the lounge—the only one long enough to hold him stretched out—and Threepio had powered down. So it was just the two of them in the cockpit.

“Why Rodia? That’s a long way from here, halfway to Coruscant.”

“I know, but that’s where my contact is. Name is Avaro; he owns a small casino in the gambling complex
in Equator City. The complex is run by Black Sun. Avaro will know who to contact.”

“Okay.”

“Might be a little tricky, though.”

“Why is that?”

Lando shook his head. “Well, before Vader showed up on Cloud City and gave him to Boba Fett, there were other bounty hunters looking for Han. I found out when we were poking around in Mos Eisley that a Rodian thug named Greedo caught up with Han in one of the cantinas there. Greedo was going to blast him for the reward. There was a shootout. Han walked away. Greedo didn’t.”

“So?”

“Greedo was Avaro’s nephew.”

“You think he’ll hold that against us?” Leia asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not. All I know about Rodian customs is that they are big on hunting. If somebody had shot my nephew, I might be unhappy with them.”

“We didn’t shoot him, Han did.”

Lando grinned. “Well, yes, that’s true. But we
are
his friends.”

Leia leaned back in her seat. Always more obstacles. Then again, maybe this wasn’t really a problem. No way to tell until they got there.

Around them, hyperspace flowed as the
Falcon
carried them to whatever awaited.

V
ader knelt on one knee as the Emperor stared through his viewer plate at the spires of the city. Abruptly he turned. “Do get up, Lord Vader.”

Vader obeyed.

“So our agents have verified this report?”

“They have, my master.”

“A hundred Rebel ships? Plus, no doubt, their pilots and officers.”

“Likely, yes.”

“That’s Grand Moff Kintaro’s sector, is it not? He has been lax in allowing such a base to become established. We will speak to him.”

Vader said nothing. Grand Moff Kintaro would likely be out of a job soon and also likely out of breath—permanently.

“Well. You must take part of the fleet and go there immediately. Destroy the base. The loss of ships and troops will be most damaging to the Rebels.”

“I thought perhaps Admiral Okins might command the expedition.”

The Emperor smiled. “Did you?”

Vader felt his hope evaporate. “But if it is your wish, I shall lead the attack.”

“It is my wish. You may take Okins if you like, but you are to personally ensure the assault.”

Vader bowed. “Yes, my master.”

As he left the Emperor’s most private chamber, Vader fumed. The base was there, just as Xizor had said. It would be a powerful victory for the Empire and relatively easy—ships under repair would not be able to lift to defend themselves, and it would be like shooting game birds at roost, but he did not trust the Dark Prince, and he knew the man did nothing for free.

What was in this for Xizor? What did he hope to gain?

Vader brooded as he walked. At least he had not conveyed to the Emperor who had given the Rebel base’s location. He’d had the recordings from the skyhook’s holocams erased and his own recordings locked away. A small victory, but any such triumph over Xizor was better than none.

Vader was met at the exit of the Imperial Palace by Admiral Okins. “Prepare your ships, Admiral. I shall be carrying the flag on my Destroyer.”

Okins bowed. “At once, Lord Vader.”

Vader looked up into the night skies over Imperial Center. The darkness was held at bay by the millions of
lights on the surface, and up where the glow dimmed, the tiny dots of spacecraft arriving and leaving looked like a swarm of Belvarian firegnats, reds and greens and blinking white ventral landing beacons. He would take his ships and crush the Rebel shipyard, smash it flat, and then he would hurry back here. Xizor was up to something, and it would be best if he found out what quickly.

L
uke took a deep breath. He stood outside Ben’s house, the first stars of evening aglimmer, the moon still on the rise. The air was warm but not as scorchingly hot as it had been. He held the completed lightsaber in his right hand. He had assembled it according to the old book’s direction; everything should work.

Should
work. But he’d come outside to test it. That way, if it blew up, at least it wouldn’t take Ben’s house with it.

Artoo stood nearby, watching. Luke could have had the droid try it without any risk to himself, but what kind of Jedi would do that?

“Go back inside,” he told Artoo.

Artoo was not happy with that and said so, ending in an air-forced-through-rubbery-lips noise.

“Go on. If something happens, I need you to tell Leia.”

Yeah. Tell her Luke, the galaxy’s biggest idiot, flash-flamed
himself into a black crisp because he couldn’t follow an elementary circuit diagram
.

Artoo left, whistling his protest as he went.

Luke let his breath out. He waited until Artoo was out of sight, then took another deep breath, held it, and pushed the control button—

The lightsaber glowed; the blade extruded to full length, just under a meter, and began to hum with power. It gave off a green gleam that was quite bright in the early night.

Luke grinned and let his indrawn breath escape.
Whew
.

Well, it wasn’t like he
really
thought it was going to explode.

He waved the lightsaber experimentally. It had a good balance, maybe even better than his first one. He drew himself up into a ready stance, slid forward, and swung through a series of downward cuts, alternating from left to right and back.

Yes!

There was a thin spire of rock jutting up from the dry ground a few meters away. He moved to it, cocked the lightsaber, and whipped it down at a forty-five-degree angle. The humming blade crackled, sheared through a wrist-thick chunk of rock, left a smooth cut.

He nodded and relaxed his fighting stance. He held his left hand near the blade. No sensation of heat; that was good; it meant the superconductors were working.

Behind him, Artoo chirped and rolled to a stop.

Luke shut the lightsaber’s power off. Saw the droid and shook his head. He had a mind of his own, Artoo did.

“Hey, it works great,” Luke said. “I knew it would, you know.”

Did Artoo’s whistled agreement have a sarcastic tone?

Luke chuckled. Well. No matter. He had built the elegant weapon, and it worked. That was something.

Maybe he would learn how to be a Jedi Master after all.

He looked up at the stars. He hoped Leia and the others were doing okay.

L
eia, Chewie, and Lando sat in Avaro’s private office, facing him across a large desk made of some kind of carved yellowish bone.

Avaro’s skin had faded to a dull green; he was much fatter than most of the Rodians Leia had seen, and he spoke Basic with a lispy accent.

“I thee no prowblemth,” he said. “Gweedo thouldn’t have twied to take Tholo alone. He wath not vewwy bwight, my nephew. Tholo ith fwothen, Kenobi ith dead, yowah money ith ath good ath anybodyth.”

Well. So much for family ties. Made things easier, though she wished Avaro would speak some language in which he was more proficient. She didn’t know what, given that her Rodian was elementary. Oh, well. She could understand him with a little work, and that was all that was necessary.

“So you will put us in touch with the proper people?”

Avaro nodded. “Yeth. It will take a few dayth. Local contakth won’t do you any good, you need an off-planet wepwethentative.”

“Fine.”

“Meanwhile, feel fwee to enjoy owah cathino. Woomth will be made available fowah you.”

Leia nodded. “Thanks.”

If Mos Eisley was bad, this place was worse, Leia thought, as they left Avaro’s office and moved toward the hotel section. There were electronic gambling devices, card games, wheels of fortune and the like, with players and dealers and operators busy at them, but the floor was worn and dirty, the air filled with smoke and an odor of spice that indicated some of the patrons
might be chemically enhanced—or chemically debilitated, depending on how you viewed such things. Large armed guards stood at regular intervals, looking, she thought, for somebody to shoot. It all looked seedy and unkempt.

Lando glanced around with a critical eye.

“See anything you like?” Leia said.

“Couple of the card games look as if they might be honest. Place like this in a complex with so many other casinos pretty much has to be on the up-and-up. House percentage ensures a good profit, and if there aren’t a few big winners now and then, the customers go elsewhere. Better stay away from the credit disk machines and the wheels, though. Those’ll be rigged.”