Star Wars_ Allegiance Part 5

"The problem," Mon Mothma said, "is that the leaders of two of the sector's other groups are as strongly opposed to the project as Chivkyrie is in favor of it."

"How strongly?" Han asked.

Mon Mothma's lips compressed briefly. "They're threatening to pull out if Chivkyrie's plan is accepted."

"Are they worth keeping?" Han asked.

Luke looked at him in disbelief. "What kind of question is that?"

"A perfectly good one," Han said, sounding a little defensive. "I thought the reason we pulled the Teardrop listening post out was because the Alliance didn't have much of anything going on in Shelsha."

"Actually, Skywalker, it is a good question," Rieekan said. "We've had trouble getting a real foothold in the sector, partly because of cultural problems, partly because of infighting like this."

"If you go strictly by numbers, Chivkyrie's group is the smallest of the three we're discussing here," Leia added. "Adarians have a strict social tier system, which means Chivkyrie's recruited almost exclusively from second-tier people like himself. The rest of the populace doesn't seem interested in fighting against the Empire."

"I thought everyone was supposed to give up this kind of infighting when they joined the Alliance," Luke said.

"That was the agreement," Rieekan said. "But Adarians are a stubborn people. Once they've made up their minds, it's almost impossible to change them." He shifted his gaze to Leia. "Unless whoever has the alternative idea is from a higher tier, which is why we're sending Princess Leia to try to mediate."

"I take it you don't think much of Chivkyrie's scheme?" Luke asked.

"Actually, we have no idea what it is," Rieekan said. "He refuses to discuss the matter via HoloNet, not even with encrypted transmissions.

The only way we're going to find our about it is for you to go to Shelsha sector and talk to him."

It took Luke a second to notice the p.r.o.noun. Han, typically, caught it right away. "For us to go?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes," Rieekan said, looking him square in the eye. "Pd like you and Skywalker to accompany the Princess."

Luke felt his heartbeat pick up a little. Another mission for the Rebellion-and he'd get to spend time with Leia, too?

"We want to keep the whole thing as low-profile as possible," Leia explained. "That means no Alliance ships, and no obvious Alliance personnel."

"No obvious Alliance personnel?" Han echoed.

Luke frowned at him. What was eating Han, anyway? "She just means we don't have any official rank or status yet," he explained, trying to be helpful.

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Han flashed him an almost glare, then turned back to Rieekan. "Where exactly would we be going?"

"As the Princess said, we all want to keep it low-key, Chivkyrie included," the general said. "He lives in Makrin City, the government seat on the capital world of Shelkonwa, but you'll actually be rendezvousing in an uninhabited system a few hours' flight time away."

"We don't know if the Empire's monitoring his movements," Leia added, "but if so, he should be able to sneak away that long without triggering any alerts."

"a.s.suming you can sort out the infighting without a week of discussion,"

Han said.

"She'll sort it out," Mon Mothma said, quietly confident. "Are you willing to accompany her?"

"I am," Luke said firmly, daring to send a small smile in Leia's direction. His reward was an equally subtle smile in return.

"Yeah, I suppose," Han said, his tone far more reluctant. "When do we leave?"

"Not for another few days," Rieekan said. "We need to get some details arranged first with Chivkyrie and the other leaders."

"Like what shape the conference table should be?" Han suggested.

Leia and Rieekan exchanged glances. "We'll let you know the schedule as soon as we have it," the general said. "Thank you for coming."

"And once again, the Alliance is in your debt," Mon Mothma said.

"Right," Han said. Standing up, he strode out of the room. Luke watched him go, wondering what exactly was going on.

It was, apparently, a universal question. "What's bothering him?" Rieekan asked.

"I don't know," Luke said. "He was like this on the way back from Teardrop, too."

"I'll go talk to him," Leia volunteered, standing up. "Thank you for your time, Mon Mothma; General Rieekan."

"Thank you," Mon Mothma said gravely.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do regarding Solo," Rieekan said.

"We need all the good people we can get."

"You really think there's a good person under all that?" Leia asked drily. "Of course there is." Rieekan shrugged. "Somewhere."

Leia caught up with Han at the Falcon just as the techs were carting off the last of the Teardrop equipment. "Han," she greeted him gravely.

"Your Worshipfulness," he countered, inclining his head to her.

With an effort, she bit down on the retort that wanted to come out. Why did he do that? He knew she hated that kind of sarcasm.

Or maybe that was why he did it. "You were a little abrupt in there," she said instead. "And disrespectful."

Han's lip twitched. "I didn't mean it that way," he said. "I don't disrespect them. Well, not Rieekan, anyway-I've seen enough bad officers to know a good one when I see him."

"Well, if it wasn't disrespect, it was a pretty good imitation," Leia said.

Han turned his back on her and started fiddling with a piece of equipment on the Falcon's underside. "I just don't like politics," he said over his shoulder.

"This isn't about politics, Han," she said. "This is about survival against-"

"Of course it's about politics," he interrupted, turning back to glare at her. "It's always about politics. One Rebel leader pushes to get what he wants, the other leaders try to keep him from grabbing all the credit, and you and Mon Mothma and Rieekan try to soothe everyone's ruffled feathers. That's not survival, Princess. That's politics."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Leia asked, sifting rapidly through his tirade as she hunted for clues. "You're not getting enough credit?"

"Of course I'm getting enough credit," he said. "Don't you remember that shiny medal you hung around my neck?"

Leia felt her cheeks burning. "My apologies, Captain Solo," she ground out with more acid than she'd really intended. "I'm just trying to understand you."

For the briefest fraction of a second she thought she saw something almost vulnerable in his eyes. But the moment pa.s.sed, and the mask of cynical indifference dropped back into place. "Don't bother," he advised.

"Even if you did, you wouldn't believe it."

He turned away again, his hands and eyes pretending to busy themselves with random bits of the Falcon's equipment. Leia remained where she was for a few seconds, until it was clear the conversation was over. Spinning around, she strode back across the hangar floor, her cheeks still warm.

Never in her life had she met a man whose strengths she so admired while at the same time wanting to strangle him with her bare hands.

Luke was waiting just outside the hangar door. "Anything?" he asked.

"Just the usual bl.u.s.ter," Leia said with a sigh. "Maybe you can get something out of him."

Luke's eyes flicked over her shoulder. "Probably better to wait until he cools down."

"I just wish I knew what had stirred him up in the first place," Leia said. "He talked about politics, but I know that's not the whole story."

Meanwhile, we have to get to Shelsha sector," Luke said. "I hope General Rieekan's got a backup plan for transport."

"I'm sure he does," Leia said. "But we've got a few days. Maybe we can bring Han around." "Yeah," Luke said doubtfully. "Maybe."

Chapter Five.

FROM THE AIR, THE DRUNOST HUB OF CONSOLIDATED Shipping looked exactly like its familiar star-in-swirl corporate logo. Standing behind Marcross, peering over his shoulder, LaRone could see a dozen large transports parked at various points around its edges, with several small landing/service areas forming a loose ring a few kilometers farther out.

A couple of kilometers southeast of the hub, a medium-sized city pressed up against the edge of a swift-flowing river.

"See all the transports?" Quiller said, pointing at the hub building. "A convoy must have just come in. That's good-means lots of people and vehicles and ships moving around picking up their stuff."

"A crowd we can lose ourselves in?" Marcross suggested.

"Exactly"

"What are all those little landing areas around the hub's edges?" LaRone asked.

"Privately owned service fields," Quiller told him. "They're for people who want to come and pick up shipments or buy directly from Consolidated's outlet center."

"We're not going to the hub itself, are we?" Grave asked from the shield/sensor station behind Quiller. "We're not even waving at it,"

Quiller a.s.sured him.

"Consolidated has their own security force, and they're not a group you want to tangle with. But these transfer fields have their own shopping areas. Actually, once I put down we shouldn't have to go more than a couple hundred meters from the ship to find all the food and gear we need."

"What about Imperials?" Bright.w.a.ter asked from the astrogation/comm seat behind LaRone. "They're bound to have a presence here."

"Actually, probably not," Marcross told him. "Consolidated doesn't like having government flunkies underfoot, and they're big enough that Imperial Center usually cuts them some slack."

"Which is one reason I chose this spot in the first place," Quiller confirmed.

"We still might want to warm up the lasers," Bright.w.a.ter warned. "Even if we don't see any Imperials, raiders like to hang around transfer stations, too."

"Especially when they don't see any Imperials, either," Grave said drily.

"Good point," LaRone agreed. "Why don't you and Bright.w.a.ter go ahead and fire up the cannons?"

"Sure," Grave said. He gestured, and he and Bright.w.a.ter left the c.o.c.kpit.

LaRone glanced back to see them circle past the life support and ship computer stations on either side in the anteroom and slip through the small blast doors into the two gunwells flanking the ship's nose.

"Those lasers are going to be a nasty surprise to anyone we have to fire at," Quiller commented as he flipped on the gunwell intercoms. "I took a quick look earlier, and they've been seriously upgraded from anything that's standard for this cla.s.s of ship."

"Figures," LaRone said, studying the ring of landing areas as they dropped toward the ground. "Quiller, what do you say we take that medium-crowded field due east of the hub?"

"Sounds good to me," Quiller said. "I'll put her down near those two Barloz freighters at the northern end."

"So how do we work this?" Marcross asked. "We spread out with shopping lists?"

"I don't think we should split up quite that much," LaRone said. "I was thinking Grave and I would do the shopping while the rest of you stay here. We'll buy a few days' worth of supplies, bring them back to the ship, then go to a different shop and buy a little more. That way it'll be less obvious that we're stocking up for a long trip."

"Sounds reasonable," Marcross said. "I presume the rest of us can at least put in special requests?"

"Hey, this is on the ISB," LaRone reminded him. "Just give me your lists."

The landing field was rough and aged, its permacrete surface crisscrossed with cracks and dips and ridges, its nav markings faded or nonexistent.

Despite ail that, they settled almost gently onto the surface, with far less b.u.mping than even the typical stormtrooper drop ship. Either Quiller was a better pilot than LaRone had realized, or else the Suwantek's landing gear had been as lovingly upgraded as everything else on the ship.

"Keep an eye out for trouble," LaRone told the others as Grave maneuvered one of the two landspeeders onto the cargo lift.

"You too," Marcross said. "If they've got an alert out, this whole place could be plastered with our pictures by now."

"I hope not," Grave said, patting the sport blaster belted at his side.

"For their sake."

Either Drunost had been left out of the loop or else Captain Ozzel and the ISB were still trying to figure out how to word a wanted posting for stormtrooper deserters. LaRone watched the shopkeepers closely as he and Grave filled their baskets, but there was no hint of recognition or even interest in the two strangers.

They paid for their purchases with ISB credits and headed back outside.

To the west a wave of loaded airspeeders flew out from the Consolidated complex with freshly obtained cargoes, and a line of speeder trucks and landspeeders shimmered their way down the road or across the hardened ground on either side of it. Plodding along among them were half a dozen men and women in threadbare farmers' garb, leading a pair of animal-drawn wagons loaded with large plastic crates.

"The nearest farmland looked to be a good fifteen kilometers away," Grave commented quietly, nodding toward the latter procession as he and LaRone loaded their packages into the landspeeder. "Going to be a long walk."