# C H A P T E R 10

“AS YOU CAN SEE,” Wedge said, his voice grimly conversational as he crunched through plastic and ceramic underfoot, “the place is something of a mess.”

“That’s for sure,” Leia agreed, feeling a little sick as she looked around at the flat-bottomed, rubble-strewn crater. A handful of other Republic representatives from her party were wandering around the area, too, holding quiet conversations with their Bpfasshi escorts and occasionally pausing to pick through the pieces of what had once been a major power plant. “How many people died in the attack?” she asked, not at all sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“In this system, a few hundred,” Wedge told her, consulting a data pad. “Not too bad, really.”

“No.” Involuntarily, Leia glanced up at the deep blue-green sky above them. Not bad, indeed. Especially considering that there had been no fewer than four Star Destroyers raining destruction down on them. “A lot of damage, though.”

“Yeah.” Wedge nodded. “But not nearly as much as there could have been.”

“I wonder why,” Han muttered.

“So does everyone else,” Wedge agreed. “It’s been the second most popular question around here these days.”

“What’s the first?” Leia asked.

“Let me guess,” Han put in before Wedge could answer. “The first is, why did they bother pounding on Bpfassh in the first place.”

“You got it.” Wedge nodded again. “It’s not like they didn’t have any better targets to choose from. You’ve got the Sluis Van1 shipyards about thirty light-years away, for starters—a hundred ships there at any given time, not to mention the docking facilities themselves. Then there’s the Praesitlyn communications station at just under sixty, and four or five major trade centers within a hundred. An extra day of travel each way, tops, at Star Destroyer cruising speeds. So why Bpfassh?”

Leia thought it over. It was a good question. “Sluis Van itself is pretty heavily defended,” she pointed out. “Between our Star Cruisers and the Sluissi’s own permanent battle stations, any Imperial leader with a gram of sense would think twice before tackling it. And those other systems are all a lot deeper into New Republic space than Bpfassh. Maybe they didn’t want to push their luck that far.”

“While they tested their new transmission system under combat conditions?” Han suggested darkly.

“We don’t know that they’ve got a new system,” Wedge cautioned him. “Coordinated simultaneous attacks have been done before.”

“No.” Han shook his head, looking around. “No, they’ve got something new. Some kind of booster that lets them punch subspace transmissions through deflector shields and battle debris.”

“I don’t think it’s a booster,” Leia said, a shiver running up her back. Something was starting to tingle, way back at the edge of her mind. “No one in any of the three systems picked up any transmissions.”

Han frowned down at her. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she murmured, shivering again. “I was just remembering that when—well, when Darth Vader was having us tortured on Bespin, Luke knew it was happening from wherever he was at the time. And there were rumors that the Emperor and Vader could do that, too.”2

“Yeah, but they’re both dead,” Han reminded her. “Luke said so.”

“I know,” she said. The tingling at the edge of her mind was getting stronger…“But what if the Imperials have found another Dark Jedi?”

Wedge had gotten ahead of them, but now he turned back. “You talking about C’baoth?”

“What?” Leia frowned.

“Joruus C’baoth,” Wedge said. “I thought I heard you mention Jedi.”

“I did,” Leia said. “Who’s Joruus C’baoth?”

“He was one of the major Jedi Masters back in pre-Empire days,” Wedge said. “Supposed to have disappeared before the Clone Wars started. I heard a rumor a couple of days ago that he’s surfaced again and set up shop on some minor world named Jomark.”3

“Right.” Han snorted. “And he was just sitting around doing nothing during the Rebellion?”

Wedge shrugged. “I just report ’em, General. I don’t make ’em up.”

“We can ask Luke,” Leia said. “Maybe he knows something. Are we ready to move on?”

“Sure,” Wedge said. “The airspeeders are over this way—”

And in a sudden rush of sensation, the tingling in Leia’s mind abruptly exploded into certain knowledge. “Han, Wedge—duck!”

—and at the rim of the crater a handful of well-remembered gray-skinned aliens appeared.

“Cover!” Han shouted to the other Republic reps in the crater as the aliens opened up with blasters. Grabbing Leia’s wrist, he dived for the limited protection of a huge but badly twisted plate of shielding metal that had somehow gotten itself dug halfway into the ground. Wedge was right behind them, slamming hard into Leia as he reached cover.

“Sorry,” he panted in apology, yanking out his blaster and turning to throw a cautious look around the edge of their shelter. One look was all he got before a blaster bolt spattered metal near his face and sent him jerking back. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but I think we’ve got trouble.”

“I think you’re right,” Han agreed grimly. Leia turned to see him, blaster drawn, returning his comlink to his belt with his free hand. “They’ve learned. This time they’re jamming our communications.”

Leia felt cold all over. Way out here, without comlinks, they were as good as helpless. Totally cut off from any possibility of help…

Her hand, reaching automatically for her stomach, brushed her new lightsaber instead. She pulled it free, a fresh determination pushing past the fear. Jedi or not, experienced or not, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

“Sounds like you’ve run into these guys before,” Wedge said, reaching around the barrier to squeeze off a couple of blind shots in the general direction of their attackers.

“We’ve met,” Han grunted back, trying to get into position for a clear shot. “Haven’t really figured out what they want, though.”

Leia reached for her lightsaber’s control stud, wondering if she had enough skill yet to block blaster fire … and paused. Over the noise of blasters and crackling metal she could hear a new sound. A very familiar sound…“Han!”

“I hear it,” Han said. “Way to go, Chewie.”

“What?” Wedge asked.

“That whine you hear is the Falcon,” Han told him, leaning back to look over their shelter. “Probably discovered they were jamming us and put two and two together. Here he comes.”

With a screaming roar the familiar shape of the Millennium Falcon swooped by overhead. It circled once, ignoring the ineffectual blasts ricocheting from its underside, and dropped to a bumpy landing directly between them and their attackers. Peering cautiously around their barrier, Leia saw the ramp lower toward them.

“Great,” Han said, looking past her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll go first and cover you from the bottom of the ramp. Leia, you’re next; Wedge, you bring up the rear. Stay sharp—they may try to flank us.”

“Got it.” Wedge nodded. “Ready when you are.”

“Okay.” Han got his feet under him—

“Wait a minute,” Leia said suddenly, gripping his arm. “There’s something wrong.”

“Right—we’re getting shot at,” Wedge put in.

“I’m serious,” Leia snapped. “Something here’s not right.”

“Like what?” Han asked, frowning at her. “Come on, Leia, we can’t sit here all day.”

Leia gritted her teeth, trying to chase down the feeling tingling through her. It was still so nebulous … and then suddenly she had it. “It’s Chewie,” she told them. “I can’t feel his presence on the ship.”

“He’s probably just too far away,” Wedge said, a distinct note of impatience in his voice. “Come on—he’s going to get the ship shot out from under him if we don’t get going.”

“Hang on a minute,” Han growled, still frowning at Leia. “He’s okay for now—all they’re using is hand blasters. Anyway, if things get too hot, he can always use the—”

He broke off, a strange look on his face. A second later, Leia got it, too. “The underside swivel blaster,”4 she said. “Why isn’t he using it?”

“Good question,” Han said grimly. He leaned out again, taking a hard look this time … and when he ducked back under cover there was a sardonic half-grin on his face. “Simple answer: that’s not the Falcon.”

“What?” Wedge asked, his jaw dropping a couple of centimeters.

“It’s a fake,” Han told him. “I can’t believe it—these guys actually dug up another working YT-1300 freighter somewhere.”5

Wedge whistled softly. “Boy, they must really want you bad.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that impression myself,” Han said. “Got any good ideas?”

Wedge glanced around the edge of the barrier. “I don’t suppose running for it qualifies.”

“Not with them sitting out there at the edge of the crater waiting to pick us off,” Leia told him.

“Yeah,” Han agreed. “And as soon as they realize we’re not going to just walk into their decoy, it’ll probably get worse.”

“Is there any way we can at least disable that ship?” Leia asked him. “Keep it from taking off and attacking us from above?”

“There are lots of ways,” he grunted. “The problem is you have to be inside for most of them. The outside shielding isn’t great, but it blocks hand blasters just fine.”

“Will it block a lightsaber?”

He threw a suspicious frown at her. “You’re not suggesting …?”

“I don’t think we’ve got any choice,” she told him. “Do we?”

“I suppose not,” he grimaced. “All right—but I’ll go.”

Leia shook her head. “We all go,” she said. “We know they want at least one of us alive—otherwise, they’d just have flown by overhead and blasted us. If we all go together, they won’t be able to fire. We’ll head straight in as if we’re going aboard, then split off to the sides at the last second and take cover behind the ramp. Wedge and I can fire up and inside to keep them busy while you take the lightsaber and disable them.”

“I don’t know,” Han muttered. “I think just Wedge and me should go.”

“No, it has to be all of us,” Leia insisted. “That’s the only way to guarantee they won’t shoot.”

Han looked at Wedge. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s the best chance we’re going to get,” the other said. “But if we do it, we’d better do it fast.”

“Yeah.” Han took a deep breath and handed Leia his blaster. “All right. Give me the lightsaber. Okay; ready…go.”

He ducked out from cover and charged for the ship, crouching down as he ran to avoid the blaster fire crisscrossing the crater—the other Republic reps, Leia noted as she and Wedge followed, doing a good job of keeping the rim attackers busy. Inside the ship she could see a hint of movement, and she gripped Han’s blaster a little tighter. A half second in the lead, Han reached the ramp; and swerving suddenly to the side ducked under the hull.

The aliens must have realized instantly that their trap had failed. Even as Leia and Wedge skidded to a halt at opposite sides of the ramp, they were greeted by a burst of blaster fire from the open hatch. Dropping to the ground, Leia squirmed as far back as she could under the ramp, firing blindly into the hatch to discourage those inside from coming down after them. Across the ramp, Wedge was also firing; somewhere behind her, she could hear a faint scrabbling across the ground as Han got into position for whatever sabotage he was planning. A shot blazed past from above, narrowly missing her left shoulder, and she tried to back a little farther into the ramp’s shadow. Behind her, clearly audible through the blaster fire, she heard a snap-hiss as Han ignited her lightsaber. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself, not knowing quite why—

And with a blast and shock wave that knocked her flat against the ground, the whole ship bounced a meter in the air and then slammed back down again.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard someone give a war whoop. The firing from the hatch had abruptly stopped, and in the silence she could hear a strange hissing roar coming from above her. Cautiously, she eased away from the ramp and crawled a little ways out of concealment.

She’d been prepared to see the freighter leaking something as a result of Han’s sabotage. She wasn’t prepared for the huge white gaseous plume that was shooting skyward like the venting of a ruptured volcano.

“You like it?” Han asked, easing over beside her and glancing up to admire his handiwork.

“That probably depends on whether the ship’s about to blow up,” Leia countered. “What did you do?”

“Cut through the coolant lines to the main drive,” he told her, retrieving his blaster and handing back her lightsaber. “That’s all their pressurized korfaise gas floating away.”

“I thought coolant gases were dangerous to breathe,” Leia said, looking warily at the billowing cloud.

“They are,” Han agreed. “But korfaise is lighter than air, so we won’t have any trouble down here. Inside the ship is another matter. I hope.”

Abruptly, Leia became aware of the silence around them. “They’ve stopped shooting,” she said.

Han listened. “You’re right. Not just the ones inside the ship, either.”

“I wonder what they’re up to,” Leia murmured, tightening her grip on the lightsaber.

A second later she got her answer. A violent thunderclap came from above them, flattening her to the ground with the shock wave. For a horrifying second she thought the aliens had set the ship to self-destruct; but the sound faded away, and the ramp beside her was still intact. “What was that?”

“That, sweetheart,” Han said, pulling himself to his feet, “was the sound of an escape pod being jettisoned.” He eased cautiously away from the relative protection of the ramp, scanning the sky. “Probably modified for atmospheric maneuvering. Never realized before how loud those things were.”

“They usually take off in vacuum,” Leia reminded him, standing up herself. “So. Now what?”

“Now”—Han pointed—“we collect our escort and get out of here.”

“Our escort?” Leia frowned. “What esc—?”

Her question was cut off by the roar of engines as three X-wings shot overhead, wings in attack position and clearly primed for trouble. She looked up at the white tower of korfaise gas … and suddenly understood. “You did that deliberately, didn’t you?”

“Well, sure,” Han said, looking innocent. “Why just disable a ship when you can disable it and send up a distress signal at the same time?” He gazed up at the cloud. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “sometimes I still amaze myself.”6

“I can assure you, Captain Solo,” Admiral Ackbar’s gravelly voice came over the Falcon’s speaker, “that we are doing everything in our power to find out how this happened.”

“That’s what you said four days ago,” Han reminded him, trying hard to be civil. It wasn’t easy. He’d long since gotten used to being shot at himself, but having Leia under the hammer with him was something else entirely. “Come on—there can’t be all that many people who knew we were coming to Bpfassh.”

“You might be surprised,” Ackbar said. “Between the Council members, their staffs, the prep crews at the spaceport, and various security and support personnel, there may be up to two hundred people who had direct access to your itinerary. And that doesn’t count friends and colleagues any of those two hundred might have mentioned it to. Tracking through all of them is going to take time.”

Han grimaced. “That’s great. May I ask what you suggest we do in the meantime?”

“You have your escort.”

“We had them four days ago, too,” Han countered. “It didn’t do us a lot of good. Commander Antilles and Rogue Squadron are fine in a space battle, but this kind of stuff isn’t exactly their area of expertise. We’d do better with Lieutenant Page7 and some of his commandos.”

“Unfortunately, they’re all out on assignment,” Ackbar said. “Under the circumstances, perhaps it would be best if you simply brought Councilor Organa Solo back here where she can be properly protected.”

“I’d love to,” Han said. “The question is whether she’ll be any safer on Coruscant than she is here.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Han could imagine Ackbar’s huge eyes swiveling in their sockets. “I’m not sure I appreciate the tone of that question, Captain.”

“I don’t much like it either, Admiral,” Han told him. “But face it: if the Imperials are getting information out of the Palace, they might just as easily be able to get their agents in.”

“I think that highly unlikely,” Ackbar said, and there was no missing the frostiness in his tone. “The security arrangements I’ve set up on Coruscant are quite capable of handling anything the Imperials might try.”

“I’m sure they are, Admiral.” Han sighed. “I only meant—”

“We’ll let you know when we have further information, Captain,” Ackbar said. “Until then, do whatever you feel is necessary. Coruscant out.”

The faint hum of the carrier cut off. “Right,” Han muttered under his breath. “Bpfassh out, too.”

For a minute he just sat there in the Falcon’s cockpit, thinking evil thoughts about politics in general and Ackbar in particular. In front of him the displays that normally monitored ship’s status were showing views of the landing field around them, with special emphasis on the areas just outside the hatch. The underside swivel blaster was extended and ready, the deflector shields set for hair-trigger activation, despite the fact that the things weren’t all that effective inside an atmosphere.

Han shook his head, a mixture of frustration and disgust in his mouth. Who’d ever have thought, he marveled to himself, that the day would come when I was actually paranoid?

From the rear of the cockpit came the sound of a soft footstep. Han turned, hand automatically dropping to his blaster—

“It’s just me,” Leia assured him, coming forward and glancing at the displays. She looked tired. “You finished talking with Ackbar already?”

“It wasn’t much of a conversation,” Han told her sourly. “I asked what they were doing to find out how our pals with the blasters knew we were coming here, he assured me they were doing everything possible to find out, I managed to step on his toes, and he signed off in a huff. Pretty much like usual with Ackbar these days.”

Leia gave him a wry smile. “You do have a way with people, don’t you?”

“This one’s not my fault,” Han objected. “All I did was suggest that his security people might not be up to keeping these guys out of the Imperial Palace. He’s the one who overreacted.”

“I know.” Leia nodded, dropping wearily into the copilot’s seat. “For all his military genius, Ackbar just doesn’t have the polish to be a good politician. And with Fey’lya nipping at his heels …” She shrugged uncomfortably. “He just gets more and more overprotective of his territory.”

“Yeah, well, if he’s trying to keep Fey’lya away from the military, he’s got the wrong end of the blaster,” Han growled. “Half of them are already convinced that Fey’lya’s the guy to listen to.”

“Unfortunately, he often is,” Leia conceded. “Charisma and ambition. Dangerous combination.”

Han frowned. There had been something in her voice just then…“What do you mean, dangerous?”

“Nothing,” she said, a guilty look flicking across her face. “Sorry—talking out of turn.”

“Leia, if you know something—”

“I don’t know anything,” she said, in a tone that warned him to drop it. “It’s just a feeling I have. A sense that Fey’lya has his eye on more than just Ackbar’s job as supreme commander. But it’s just a feeling.”

Like the feeling she had that the Empire was up to something big? “Okay,” he said soothingly. “I understand. So. You all done here?”

“As done as I can be,” she said, the tiredness back in her voice. “The rebuilding’s going to take some time, but the organization for that will have to be handled from Coruscant.” She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Convoys of replacement equipment, consultants and maybe extra workers—you know the sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Han said. “And I suppose you’re anxious to get right back and start the ball rolling.”

She opened her eyes and gave him a curious look. “You sound like you’re not.”

Han gave the outside displays a thoughtful scan. “Well, it’s what everyone’s going to expect you to do,” he pointed out. “So maybe we ought to do something else.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. Find somewhere no one would think to look for you, I guess.”

“And then …?” she asked, her voice ominous.

Unconsciously, Han braced himself. “And then hole up there for a while.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she said, her tone just about what he’d expected. “I have commitments back on Coruscant.”

“You’ve got commitments to yourself, too,” he countered. “Not to mention to the twins.”

She glared at him. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

She turned away from him, an unreadable expression on her face. “I can’t be out of touch, Han,” she said quietly. “I just can’t. There’s too much happening back there for me to bury myself away.”

Han gritted his teeth. They seemed to be running over this same territory a lot lately. “Well, if all you need right now is to keep in touch, how about if we go someplace that has a diplomatic station? You’d at least be able to get official Coruscant news there.”

“And how do we make sure the local ambassador doesn’t give us away?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m talking like this,” she muttered. “It’s like we’re back being the Rebellion again, not the legitimate government.”

“Who says the ambassador has to know?” Han asked. “We’ve got a diplomatic receiver on the Falcon—we can tap into the transmission on our own.”

“Only if we can get hold of the station’s encrypt scheme,” she reminded him. “And then plug it into our receiver. That may not be possible.”

“We can find a way,” Han insisted. “At least it would buy Ackbar some time to track down the leak.”

“True.” Leia considered, slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. The New Republic’s encrypt codes are nearly impossible to break.”

Han snorted. “I hate to disillusion you, sweetheart, but there are slicers8 running around loose who eat government encrypt codes for breakfast. All we have to do is find one of them.”

“And pay him enormous sums of money?” Leia said dryly.

“Something like that,” Han agreed, thinking hard. “On the other hand, even slicers occasionally owe other people favors.”

“Oh?” Leia threw him a sideways look. “I don’t suppose you’d know any of them.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Han pursed his lips. “Trouble is, if the Imperials have done their homework, they probably know all about it and have someone watching him.”

“Meaning …?”

“Meaning we’re going to have to find someone who’s got his own list of slicer contacts.” He reached over to the console and tapped the Falcon’s comm switch. “Antilles, this is Solo. You copy?”

“Right here, General,” Wedge’s voice came back promptly.

“We’re leaving Bpfassh, Wedge,” Han told him. “That’s not official yet—you’re in charge of telling the rest of the delegation about it once we’re off the ground.”

“I understand,” Wedge said. “You want me to assign you an escort, or would you rather slip out quietly? I’ve got a couple of people I’d trust all the way to the end of the galaxy.”

Han sent Leia a lopsided smile. Wedge understood, all right. “Thanks, but we wouldn’t want the rest of the delegation to feel unprotected.”

“Whatever you want. I can handle anything that needs doing at this end. See you back at Coruscant.”

“Right.” Han cut off the comm. “Eventually,” he added under his breath as he keyed for intercom. “Chewie? We ready to fly?”

The Wookiee growled an affirmative. “Okay. Make sure everything’s bolted down and then come on up. Better bring Threepio, too—we might have to talk to Bpfasshi Control on the way out.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Leia asked as he started the prelaunch sequence.

“I already told you,” Han said. “We need to find someone we can trust who has his own list of illegals.”

A suspicious glint came into her eye. “You don’t mean … Lando?”

“Who else?” Han said innocently. “Upstanding citizen, former war hero, honest businessman. Of course he’ll have slicer contacts.”

Leia rolled her eyes skyward. “Why,” she murmured, “do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?”