Star Wars: Shadow Games (37 page)

“Could take days, you know,” Han complained, “during which we will be completely vulnerable to attack.”

Luckily, they were only moments from the perimeter of Alderaanian space when the hyperdrive used up the last of its reserves. That put them hours, rather than days, out. Mel went back up to the dorsal laser cannon; Dash and Javul hunkered down with Han in the cockpit. They had no more than entered the system when they were hailed.

“Unidentified freighter, this is Alderaan Space Control. Please provide ID.”

Han swore. “What’s up with that? I fly into Alderaan time after time with almost no trouble and
this
time they ask for ID?”

“That’s because you’re not broadcasting your ID, Han,” Dash reminded him. “You haven’t been broadcasting ID since we left Bannistar.”

“Well, I don’t feel too good about starting now.”

Javul leaned in from the jump seat to activate the comm. “Alderaan Space Control, this is Javul Charn. This vessel is now part of my entourage.”

There was a long moment of silence, then the controller came back with a cautious, “Javul Charn, would you please transmit your personal identification code?”

She slid farther down between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats and typed a series of characters on the communications keypad.

“Checking your ID, please wait—oh, I’m informed you may establish orbit around Alderaan at your earliest convenience.”

“At your earliest convenience,” muttered Han. “I’ll bet that’s not what he was informed.”

They were in orbit before Alderaan control established contact with them again. This time the agent was a female—probably the superior of whoever had hailed them before.

“Charn,” she said in a rich contralto, “may I ask what happened to your tour? We weren’t expecting you for two weeks and with different vessels.”

“We had an equipment failure en route and had to hire another vessel and captain to carry my crew and cargo. We also had a bit of trouble on Bannistar that prompted a change of schedule.”

“I hope everything is all right. You said an equipment failure—you haven’t lost any technology or personnel, have you?”

“No, but we have had to separate our remaining vessels.”

“Are you aware that the ship you’re on is wanted for unspecified infractions against the Empire?”

“Now, wait a minute!” said Han. “All we did—”

Javul silenced him with a look. “Very much aware, Control.”

“In fact, the ship is suspected of smuggling.”

Javul gave Han a sidewise glance. “Yes, well … our captain does have an entrepreneurial streak.”

“Guy’s gotta make a living,” muttered Han.

“Sounds like a real scoundrel,” said the controller wryly.

Dash glanced down at the tactical display. “Uh-oh. We’ve got company …”

Han followed his gaze. “What? Oh, come
on
. Who’s that?”

“Um, Control,” said Javul. “We seem to have an escort.”

“Yes, you do. And you will follow the lead ship in that escort all the way in or the vessel behind you will take exception to your actions. We’re getting a docking facility ready. When you enter atmosphere, we’ll activate a homing beacon. At that time, you will relinquish control of your vessel to our autopilot.”

Dash looked at Javul, a cold, hard knot in the pit of his stomach. “Javul …”

“Do as she says.”

“You’re sure?”

Javul shrugged. “What’re the alternatives, really?”

“We can cut and run,” suggested Han. “Melikan’s still up in the turret.”

“Cut and run using what for fuel?” asked Javul. “Besides, those aren’t Imperial ships, Han. They’re Alderaan Port Authority vessels. These are the friendlies.”

“Yeah,” muttered Dash, “real friendly. Friendly with those Imperials, I’ll bet.” He nodded to port, where two Imperial cruisers peeked menacingly around the planet’s equator. They were making no moves toward the
Millennium Falcon
, though.

The descent was uneventful, though nerve racking as far as Dash was concerned. The only thing that set his mind at ease was that Javul did not seem so much nervous
as determined. He saw less and less the touring diva and more and more the Rebel operative.

The autopilot took control as they entered atmosphere and drew them to the planetary capital, Aldera—more specifically to the main docking facility in a secure part of the spaceport. That made both Dash and Han a bit squeamish.

By the time they were approaching their landing bay, Mel had made his way to the cockpit, as well. The
Millennium Falcon
slowed. All four humans watched in silence as a warren of docking pads and service facilities passed beneath them.

As they approached a cluster of hemispherical buildings, Mel turned a solemn gaze on the two Corellians. “I want you both to know,” he said, “Al—I mean Javul—was perfectly serious when she suggested you’d be an asset to the Rebel Alliance. To say you’ve been invaluable to us would be a tremendous understatement. We simply wouldn’t have survived this far without you—either of you.”

“I’ll second that,” said Javul. “Seriously, Dash, Han, the offer still stands—”

Han was already shaking his head. “Sorry, sister. Dash’ll tell you—I don’t do causes. I’m the only cause I …” He hesitated. “I’m used to being responsible for me and nobody else. I’m not at my best when other people are depending on me.”

Mel fixed him with a laser gaze that Dash knew from experience cut right to the soul. “Your friend Chewbacca doesn’t depend on you? Can’t trust you to be at his back? I find that hard to believe, Captain Solo.”

Han just shook his head and returned his gaze to the view from the cockpit.

“What about you, Dash?” Javul said softly. “Are you ready to sign on? It seems to me you already have.”

Suddenly Dash felt as if he and Javul were the only two people in the cockpit. He looked into those intense silver eyes and knew he was being drawn in—reeled in, maybe. He had the unworthy thought that Javul Charn was one heckuva Rebellion recruitment tool. He shook off the thought, but the chill remained.

“I can’t argue with the ends, Javul,” he said finally, “but I … I’m a freelancer. I’m the boss on the
Outrider
. You understand? I’m not real good at taking orders from on high.”

She looked sincerely aggrieved. But was there anything personal in it, or was it just the disappointment of losing an asset for the “cause”? He wished he could ask, but with Han sitting there, watching him out of the corner of his eye …

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Javul said. “For a lot of reasons. But think about it—both of you—” She turned her head to take in Han. “The Empire is tightening its hold on our lives—
all
our lives—day by day. You function freely now—if you can call it that—so maybe you think this isn’t your fight. You’re wrong. It is your fight. It’s
our
fight. All of us. If you wait to act until the Empire reaches out for you, personally, you will have waited too long.”

“I can’t,” Dash said, and felt a deep and sincere regret. “I’m just not made for this sort of work. I’m my own man. I make my own rules. Fly my own course. It’s safer that way—for everyone concerned.”

Mel smiled and shook his head. “You really believe that, do you?”

“C’mon, Mel. You’ve seen me operate. I’m just bad at taking orders. And
he’s
even worse.” He jabbed a thumb at Han. “We might look like assets, but in the end we’d be liabilities. We’d go rogue at some point. Screw something up. I wouldn’t want that.”

The control beeped just then, and Dash looked out
through the forward viewport to see that one of the docking domes had opened up below them. They were descending toward it.

“Charn,” said the woman from the control center, “prepare your crew for landing. You should be on the ground in approximately two minutes. Standard procedure.”

Javul pressed the
TRANSMIT
button on the console. “Affirmative.” She turned back to Dash. “I guess we’d better get ready to debark.”

“What’s to get ready?” Han grumbled. “They’re running the show. All we have to do is show up at the air lock. What’s gonna happen to our cargo?”

“I don’t know,” Javul answered. “This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.”

Han blinked. “You mean you’re making this up as you go along?”

She smiled, dazzlingly. “Pretty much.”

The ship settled gently into her berth in the landing bay and the dome slid shut, closing her in. Han, looking up through the forward viewport, shook his head.

“I don’t like this. This feels bad.” He climbed out of the pilot’s chair and headed aft.

Mel followed him. Javul didn’t. She turned to Dash as he rose from his jump seat.

“You won’t reconsider?”

“Who’s asking—the Rebel operative or the woman?”

“One and the same, Dash. The Rebellion isn’t something I do. It’s something I am.” She took a deep breath, let it out. “But if you’re asking if I, personally, would like you to stay on for my own selfish reasons … the answer is yes. My motives aren’t entirely defined by what the Alliance needs. And that worries me a little. Sometimes I think it’s a bad idea to form attachments here, now, under these circumstances. And other times I think …”

“That life’s all about attachments?” he finished.

She nodded. “That those attachments to people we care about are essential to the fight … and make the fight essential.”

She kissed him this time, and he thought about attachments and things worth fighting for. He’d fought for her during this tour again and again. He’d almost died a few times. Eaden
had
died fighting for both of them and for his dead master. Dash knew, on some level beneath the clamor of his hormones and heartbeat, that there was a truth of some sort in what Eaden had done.

In a blinding flash of insight, as their lips parted and Javul pulled away, he thought he knew part of that truth: Eaden hadn’t died to avenge his master’s murder. He had died to save the lives of the two remaining members of his order—his sister and his cousin.

Watching Javul walk away from him toward the main cargo hold, Dash almost called her back to tell her he’d throw in with her—with
them
, with the Rebels. But something stopped him. He tried to tell himself it was common sense.

There was an escort awaiting them when they left the ship—half a dozen soldiers armed with blaster rifles. The crew of the
Millennium Falcon
were quickly disarmed and led to a holding area. Leebo, who had exited the ship with them, was ordered back aboard. The human members of the group were marched into a small, spare room and left. They’d been there only moments when another set of guards appeared to take Mel and Javul away for questioning.

The look Javul gave him as she left the room made him squirm.
We’re on Alderaan
, he reminded himself.
They’re civilized people. They won’t do anything nasty
.

“Those soldiers,” murmured Han. “Did you notice?”

“Notice what?” Dash brought his mind forcibly back from his unwelcome thoughts.

“They weren’t regular army. They were some sort of elite corps.”

That was alarming. “What sort of elite corps?”

“Not sure. Didn’t recognize the uniform. There was an insignia on the collar. Gold. Sort of an upside-down triangle.”

Dash shook his head. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning they could have been Royal Guards—House of Organa.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Han gave him a strange look. “You tell me. Who’s your girlfriend’s liaison on Alderaan?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess she doesn’t trust you that much after all.” Han grinned.

Dash felt a flare of anger under his breastbone, but tamped it down. “It makes sense that she wouldn’t tell me. That way if I ended up in enemy hands—”

“Like now, for example.”

“Maybe like now. The point is, I couldn’t give up critical information, put that person’s life in danger. If I were—you know—interrogated or something.”

Han seemed darkly amused. “ ‘Or something’? You mean like tortured?”

But as it turned out, they were neither interrogated nor tortured. Instead, after roughly an hour in the holding area, the doors slid back and they were marched back to the docking bay with an invitation to leave. Quickly, quietly, and anonymously.

“Why wouldn’t they at least question us?” Han asked as the landing bay doors slid shut with an emphatic
thud
, as if to underscore the “invitation” to get lost.

“Maybe because we’re not members of the Rebel Alliance,” Dash said.

“You mean you think they believed Javul when she told them we were just unlucky mercs?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” The impulse to throw himself at the durasteel doors and demand that Javul be sent out was strong, but not strong enough to overthrow his rationality … or his dignity. Instead of making such a token display, he turned on his heel and went back to the ship.

The main cargo hold was empty. Every piece of Javul’s equipment had been removed. Han stood and stared at the empty compartment for a moment.

“Blast! I wonder what else they took.”

He and Dash moved methodically from hold to hold. Sure enough, every scrap of Javul Charn’s presence had been removed from the
Falcon
. Even her personal effects were gone.

Anxious, Han hurried to the secret compartments beneath the decking in the starboard passageways. He knelt to activate the hydraulic mechanism on the aftmost deck plate. Apparently it rose too slowly for his taste; he poked his head beneath the rising hatch cover to check the contents, then sat back with a sigh of relief. The cargo he’d picked up on Bannistar was intact.

“Good news. They didn’t find this stuff.”

“No, they found it, they just didn’t care,” Dash amended. He was looking down into the forward compartment. “The container is gone.”

“The container? You mean the one we lifted from Bannistar? Sure it’s gone. They stowed it aboard the
Nova’s Heart.
”

“No, they didn’t. They moved the droid and reengaged his signaling devices. They put the container back. We had it all the time. They took it.”

“
Who
took it?”