Star Wars - When the Domino Falls (3 page)

A glow rod ignited in the cell. “That’s ’cause everyone knows, it’s the old fleas that make you scratch the worst.” There was laughter from the dark rim beyond the light.

Ancher spun slowly, shielding Drake behind him. “I know that cocky snicker.” Throwing a restraining hand against the defensive Wookiee, he whispered. “Tait? Tait Ransom?”

“None other,” the smuggler said slowly, offering his hand to the Corellian. “Bad to see you, Ancher. Never figured you to do time in an Imperial lockup.”

“Drake, come over here,” Ancher beamed, moving into the light. “This here is the best damned smuggler I’ve ever had the chance to cheat.” The aging Corellian winked playfully, elbowing the boy in the chest. “The only man with guts enough to even rival your pop.”

Drake shook the stranger’s hand, marvelling at the raven black hair that flowed in thick waves around the handsome face. Dark skin framed even darker eyes, casting an odd, swarthy aura over a lean, powerful figure. He was older than Drake, perhaps a bit younger than his father, surrounded by the ageless atmosphere of a man used to living on the edge. “This is Nikaede,” he introduced the Wookiee.

“What are you doing here?” Ancher demanded.

“I just got nominated to a hard-time academy. The blackheads caught me lifting some there special gear. Armor. Weapons. The expensive stuff.” Ransom shrugged nervously. “They’re shipping me off to Vizcarra.”

“The Imperial prison planet?”

“Yep,” Ransom whispered. “And here I sit, picking my nose hairs, with half of my crew docked across the street, waiting for me. By dawn, my co-pilot will figure I got snuffed on the job and will jump planet.”

“Tait,” Ancher scolded, “ain’t like you to be caught without a plan. What happened?”

“This happened.” Ransom replied. He threw a cylindrical object toward him. “Or rather it didn’t happen.” Ancher deftly caught the personal transponder in his hand. “When the Imperial armory alarms went off, that transponder was supposed to alert my back-up team.” Frustrated, he whispered. “Somehow it got busted in the shakedown and without the signal, the Boys in White tracked us down faster than old Jabba could lay claim to a debt. No backup, no chance, no way out.”

“Where are they?” Drake asked timidly, staring around at the empty cells. “The other half of your crew?”

Ransom pursed his thick lips together, handsome, even the midst of a frown. “Permanently retired, kid. Since I was the leader, they kept me alive to make an example.”

“Can’t you fix it?” Ancher questioned, examining the unit.

“If it were a ship’s transponder, I could fix it, change it, make it sing the Republic anthem.” Ransom shook his head, as a few dark strands fell into his eyes. “That thing? I haven’t got a clue.”

“Can I see that transponder?” Drake took the unit from Ancher, handing it to the Wookiee. “Can you fix it?”

“Hold on now,” Ransom protested.

Drake silenced him with a dismissive gesture. Holding the glow rod over a nearby cot, he watched Nikaede pull the delicate leads through the top section. Yowling to herself, the Wookiee began to inspect each wire, sniffing out the defective cord. She carefully disconnected a stray cable, making a rough assessment of the damage, then promptly set about wrapping the wire around the lead heads, continuing to peel the housing apart. “Tait,” the Socorran boy whispered, “you better help her. I don’t know much about transponder codes. She’s afraid she might alter the signal.”

Moving beside Ancher, Drake leaned against the scuffed plasti-shield enclosure. The cell wall was constructed of a clear plastic fiber, reinforced with antiquated steel bars that had been welded against the structure. The old smuggler’s eyes were distant and stony, seeing nothing beyond the darkness. “Whatcha thinking, Ancher?”

The Corellian sniffed, a smile playing across his lips. “I was just thinking of all the stupid stunts I’ve pulled in my lifetime. All the suicidal runs, the friends I made … and enemies,” he growled, frowning suddenly. Then the characteristic smirk returned. “And of course the ladies.” Ancher sighed nostalgically. “You know, when that report comes in tomorrow, there could be enough warrants against me to total 300,000 credits.” He hesitated. “I used to think that was a mark of distinction.”

“What changed your mind?”

“The value of life, Drake. The value of
my
life.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “And the few people I care about.”

“Is that why you and my dad argued today? You’re worried about him?”

“Drake, I don’t agree with what your father is doing. He’s asking for too much trouble, bad trouble.” He averted his gaze. “The same kind of trouble that started this bad blood between me and that Imperial stiff. Somebody tried to warn me, telling me it wasn’t worth it, not for one night with a pretty gal.” He shrugged, eyes clouding with the memory. “But at the time,” he whispered, conjuring a mental image of the young woman, “it certainly seemed worth it.”

“He only wants to help those people, Ancher.”

“What will he prove? What will he have when it’s over, if he survives.”

“He won’t know that until it’s done.” Drake hesitated, hearing his father’s bitter tone in his own voice. “Ancher, you’ve been living on Socorro all these years and you still don’t understand. Maybe a Corellian smuggler could look the other way, but a Socorran smuggler can’t. It goes against our nature.”

“That’s what your father said!”

“Because there’s a difference, Ancher. You call it pride. I call it honor.” Drake took a shuddering breath. “Why do you think bounty hunters avoid Socorro? Because you and others like you are protected by Socorran tradition, a tradition that kneels to no government, no authority, no law.”

Subdued, the Corellian moved away, shielding the pride behind his eyes. “Damned if you’re not just like him.”

Grinning, Drake replied, “Why should that surprise you?” Behind them, he heard Nikaede’s low voice, miserably yowling defeat.

“You did your best, Wook.” Ransom consoled, needing no translation to define her surrender. “Damn it!” he spat, roughly brushing his hands through thick, black hair. “There’s got to be another way!”

“Ancher,” Drake whispered. He leaned his head against the smuggler’s chest. “We can’t stay here.”

“We’re not, Drake,” Ancher soothed, cradling the boy against him. “Tait, we don’t need that damned thing. Risking a few lumps, we could ditch this place and get to the starport.”

“We’ll take more than few lumps,” Ransom chuckled. “They keep at least six armed security men and two stormtroopers overnight.”

Staring up at the Wookiee, Ancher grinned. “The odds sound right about even.” Challenging Nikaede, he whispered, “Why don’t you go over there to them bunks and show us how you feel about the Imperials taking over your homeworld.”

Nikaede humphed inquisitively, inclining her head to one side.

“We need a distraction, Nikaede,” Drake explained. “Go on, show them how you feel about being locked up in here.”

Howling a maniacal war cry, Nikaede threw a side kick, high and wide, smashing the exterior window and bending the bars beyond the building. Retractable climbing claws sprang forward, slicing walls and ripping through bedding. Demolishing the small cell, she snatched at the bunks, easily ripping the bottom tier from the wall. For a moment, Drake thought the Wookiee had really berserked, watching pensively as she swung the cot over her head.

Ancher grabbed the young Socorran, pulling him into a safe corner. “Help!” he started shouting. “Somebody help!”

“The shag’s gone bloody!” Tait screamed, slapping his hands against the cell wall. “You plastic heads get me out of here!” He flinched visibly as Nikaede grasped the top bunk tier and yanked, shattering plaster and cement as she ripped the bolts from the floor. Summoned by the alarmed voices, four guards and a stormtrooper burst into the cellblock, brandishing weapons.

“She’s berserk,” Ancher said calmly. “It happens when they get penned up like this.”

“You idiots put her in here!” Ransom screamed. “Get her out before she comes after me next!”

“10-33, Code Blue,” the stormtrooper reported over the comlink. “Get them out!” he snapped to the security team.

Accessing the keypad, the sentry opened the door, pulling Drake and Ancher out of the cell. As the other stormtrooper and the remaining sentries rushed to the scene, another guard grabbed Ransom by the sleeve, forcing the smuggler behind the security team and out of danger. Storming the deranged Wookiee, the first stormtrooper secured his rifle and fired a quick burst.

“No!” Drake screamed and lunged at the guard beside him. Swinging his fists in wide, controlled arcs, he managed to dislodge the rifle. The result was a wild ricochet that bounced off the corner wall before striking the Wookiee. Nikaede howled in pain as the bolt struck her shoulder and arm.

Dodging the stormtrooper, Ancher reached for the blaster rifle. But before he could accomplish his goal, the raging Wookiee snatched the rifle from thestormtrooper’s frantic hands, breaking the weapon over his head. Shrugging off the singed burns, Nikaede roared, charging the door with the wrecked rifle locked in her grip.

Ransom leaped against the plasti-shield wall, unexpectedly rebounding onto the astonished guards. Beneath his flailing fists and elbows, two men fell to the floor unconscious. “Drake!” Negotiating a spinning back kick, he knocked the second stormtrooper into the wall. Unfortunately, as the stormtrooper fell, he took three of the other guards and Drake to the floor with him. Wrestling through a tangle of legs and arms. Ransom quickly grasped the stormtrooper by the head and twisted sharply, effectively breaking the Imperial’s neck and removing the combat helmet.

Alarmed by the sight of Drake being held and beaten by the remaining guards, Ancher grabbed one of them from the floor, slamming his fist into the man’s jaw and smashing his knee against another sentry’s mouth. Nikaede swarmed through the guards with unmitigated violence, fracturing skulls beneath her fingers.

“I’m okay,” Drake whispered, as she pulled him from the carnage.

“Rusty!” Ransom screamed into the commandeered comlink. He manipulated the signal transmitter. “Rusty?”

“Tait, we heard you got snuffed!” came the startled reply. “Where are you?”

“In the Imperial playpen across the street.” Ransom chuckled. “Look. Rusty. I got a little Imperial hot foot.”

“What’s their ETA?”

Ransom stared at the alarm that tripped when the stormtrooper fired his blast rifle. “About 10 minutes for them to get here,” he replied. “Five to figure out what happened and another five to start closing down the port.”

“Acknowledged, I’ll have Seth clear a path for us.”

“Don’t worry, my boys’ll handle it,” Ransom urged, ushering Drake and the Wookiee to the door. “Just run!”

They followed the outside walls of the Bureau jail, staying in the shadows. The streets were quiet except for a herd of distracted Ithorian tourists, who were examining a series of carbonite plaques displayed against the starport wall. Darting across the street, they slipped into the port entrance, using the Ithorians to dodge a squad of stormtroopers running toward the exit signs, which led to the outside street.

Inside the hangar arena, Ransom recognized the portly security executive. Standing beside a security sealed dock that was reserved for port authority ships, Seth quickly motioned to one of his guards. He acknowledged the all clear sign from the Elomin and nodded, waving the fugitives into the massive shadow of the starport generators. Leading them into the inner recesses of the port docks, he scolded, “Tait Ransom, somehow you always seem to stir up trouble when you’re around.”

“I had a good teacher,” Ransom replied, throwing an accusing look at Ancher.

Guiding Drake by the shoulder, Seth led them to Omman’s government controlled dock. “I’ve relayed our emergency coordinates to your co-pilot. Here,” he surrendered the bowcaster to the Wookiee. “Hopefully, you won’t need this before you get off the planet.”

“How is the traffic?” Ransom asked breathlessly, scanning the starport floor for stormtroopers.

“Clear,” Seth reported. “So don’t bother to declare your departure. The tower is aware of the problem.”

“I owe you, Seth. We all owe you a big one.”

“I’ll expect a few cases of Socorran raava to arrive within the next 24 hours.”

“Agreed,” Ancher snapped, ushering Drake and the Wookiee onto the dock. “Even if I have to fly it here myself!”

The rotund security director bowed deeply. “Clear skies, gentlemen and lady.” His shadow played against an adjoining corridor wall, then vanished in the darkness beyond the access tunnel.

“Come on!” Ransom hollered. An ominous Corellian gunship sat moored at the dock, locked tight and sealed for departure, except for the cargo bay. Sprinting up the ramp, Drake tripped and slid across the polished floor as the pressurized seal began to close.

“Go, go!” Ransom screamed as the boy recovered. Bracing themselves across the interior hull wall, the fugitives struggled against the turbulence of the gunship’s sudden liftoff.

“Where to, Boss?” Rusty’s voice echoed in the empty cavern of the cargo bay.

“Socorro!” Ransom screamed over the wail of modified ion drives. The cargo deck plates rumbled violently beneath him as the gunship shifted to the side. “Rusty, what’s the update on traffic?”