Star Wars_ Allegiance Part 9

"Someone needs to go out there, talk to our supply people directly, and see if we can get a handle on what exactly is going on."

"And it should be someone who knows more about fringe types than the rest of us," Luke added.

Leia frowned at him with sudden understanding. "Are you talking about Han?"

Luke shrugged uncomfortably. "Mostly," he admitted. "I mean, I don't like the idea of throwing him into danger like this-"

"It shouldn't be that dangerous," Rieekan put in. "He'd be there to gather Intel, not take on the pirates single-handed."

"I know," Luke agreed, looking only marginally relieved. "The point is-he just doesn't seem to fit in anywhere around here. If we can't make him feel useful, I think we're going to lose him." He looked at Rieekan. "I don't think we want that to happen."

"In that case, we definitely want to give him this," Rieekan said.

"I agree," Leia said, bracing herself. Over the short period of time that she'd known Luke, she'd developed a pretty good feel for him, and she was quite sure he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. "And if he accepts, I think Luke should go with him."

Luke's jaw dropped a few millimeters, his eyes widening by roughly the same amount. "I thought I was going with you."

"I'm meeting with trusted Alliance leaders in the safety of deep s.p.a.ce,"

Leia reminded him. "Han will be rubbing shoulders with criminals and possibly ducking Imperials and local government patrols. He'll need you more than I do."

"But he'll have Chewie," Luke protested. "That's all he's ever needed before."

"He wasn't on Imperial watch lists before," Rieekan said. "I agree with Princess Leia. If Solo goes, someone needs to go with him."

"But-" Luke broke off, grimacing. "You're right," he said with a sigh.

"You want me to go tell him?"

Rieekan caught Leia's eye and raised his eyebrows. "No, I'll do it," she said, getting to her feet.

"Meanwhile, you'll need contact information," Rieekan said, swiveling around to his terminal and punching keys. "Let me pull up some names and locations for you."

They were sitting together at the display, Rieekan in private optimism, Luke in private disappointment, when Leia slipped out of the room.

She found Han in the hangar, crouching on top of the Falcon's starboard arm, his arms buried to their elbows in one of the maintenance access bays. "Han?" she called up to him.

"Hang on a second," he said, straightening up and craning his neck to look across the hull at the c.o.c.kpit. "Chewie? Give it a try."

Faintly through the transparisteel canopy, Leia heard the Wookiee's answering bellow. For a moment nothing happened. Then, with a m.u.f.fled thunk, a thin wisp of smoke drifted up from the access bay. "Okay, great," Han called. "Go ahead and shut 'er down."

There was another acknowledgment, and Han coiled his welder and slid off the arm onto the deck. "Okay, great?" Leia echoed, raising her eyebrows.

"Sure," he said blandly. "Why?"

"I don't remember smoke usually being part of okay, great starship repair work."

"Oh, that." He waved a hand. "Extra soldering compound. No problem."

"If you say so," she said, part of her just as glad she wasn't going to have to ride this thing to her rendezvous. "Something's come up that General Rieekan would like you to look into."

His lip twisted. "Is this before or after I take you to this Grand Royal Elite Privileged Ball?"

With an effort, Leia forced herself to stay calm. In their brief acquaintanceship Han had somehow managed to learn exactly where all her irritation keys were and took great satisfaction in flipping them.

"Actually, you're off the hook on that one," she said.'

"What?" he said in a tone of wounded outrage. "You mean I had the Falcon fumigated for nothing?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure it needed it," Leia said, determined for once not to let him goad her.

"I ordered new carpet, too."

Leia clenched her teeth. "You want to hear this, or don't you?"

"Sure."

She gave him a quick rundown of the situation in Shelsha sector. "So this is a send-the-sc.u.m-to-catch-the-sc.u.m sort of thing?" he asked when she'd finished.

"You're not going out there to catch anything," she told him. "All we want is information and maybe some ideas on how to rearrange our supply lines so pirates can't hit them."

"That is the trick," he agreed, frowning in thought. "People trying to fly under the scanners make good targets, and every pirate in the galaxy knows it."

"True,'' she said. "And since you've probably been in that situation once or twice, we thought you might know ways to avoid it."

Han shrugged. "Mostly, you try real hard to have the faster ship," he said. But Leia could see he was becoming intrigued by the mission. That, or he was simply relieved that he wouldn't have to attend the meeting with Chivkyrie.

Or perhaps he was relieved he wouldn't have to spend so much time with Leia herself.

"So it'll just be you and Luke at your little finger-sandwich party?" he asked casually.

"What?" Leia yanked herself back to the conversation, annoyed at having let her mind wander. Especially over something like that. "No. No, we're asking Luke to go with you instead."

Han raised his eyebrows. "We're asking?" he echoed, a slight edge to his voice.

"General Rieekan and I made the decision," Leia told him. Too late, she realized she should have phrased the statement so as to give Rieekan all the responsibility. Knowing Han, he was bound to jump to the conclusion that Leia didn't want Luke along, or at least didn't want him there without Han. Not only was that completely wrong, but it made her feel- Actually, she wasn't exactly sure how it made her feel. But she knew she didn't like it.

"Ah," Han said, nodding. "Makes senses." He was playing it cool, but Leia could hear the mocking amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice. The amus.e.m.e.nt, and definitely the wrong conclusion. "It's not like that," she insisted.

"Nor like what?" he asked innocently. "Never mind," she said between clenched teeth. He'd done it again. How did he always manage to do this to her? "The general's giving Luke the names and locations of your contacts. You can leave whenever you're ready."

"Absolutely, Your Worshipfulness," he said. "Your simplest wish is my-"

"Good luck, and try not to get yourselves killed,' Leia cut him off.

"Sure," he said, mock-solemnly. "You, too." She turned and, with all the dignity she could manage, made her escape from the hangar. But she could feel his eyes on her back the whole, long way.

LaRone was running an integrity check on one of the sets of armor in his hidden closet when Quiller pinged him. "We're here," the pilot announced.

"On my way."

The others were already gathered when he reached the c.o.c.kpit. "How's it look?" he asked as he came up behind them, "The northern continent's our best bet," Quiller said, pointing to the map of Ranklinge he'd pulled up. "If we avoid Ranklinge City and the Incom fighter plant, we've got a choice between one major city with a decent-sized port and about a hundred hole-in-the-ground regional fields scattered around the ranching and mining areas."

"How big is the city?" Grave asked.

"Not very," Quiller said. "Maybe a hundred thousand. More like a big town, really."

"There's nothing on the southern continent?" Bright-water asked.

"Nothing but a civil war," Marcross told him grimly. "Been going on for the past ten years."

"Let's definitely skip that," LaRone said, wincing. In the aftermath of the Clone Wars, the newly declared Empire had made a strong effort to clamp down on these planetary and regional conflicts as it tried to reestablish order. But there had been too many of them, and eventually Palpatine had given up and turned to other matters. "Any suggestions?"

"We tried the small-field approach on Drunost and ended up having to dust a swoop gang," Grave said. "I vote we try something with a decent patroller presence this time."

"Patrollers who might have our pictures plastered across their datapads?"

Bright.w.a.ter asked pointedly.

"If the big-city group has them, so will the smaller ones," Quiller replied.

"But it's easier to shoot your way out of a small port." "We're not shooting our way out of anywhere," LaRone said firmly. "Not against patrollers who are just trying to protect Imperial citizens. Besides, we've got all these new ident.i.ty tags that ISB's magic machine cranked out for us. We'll be fine."

"If you say so," Bright.w.a.ter said, still sounding unconvinced. "What's the name of this town-sized city?"

"Ja.n.u.sar," Quiller said. "It's got decent port facilities, a good air-defense system to discourage raiders, and all the supply shops we should need."

"Sounds good," LaRone said. "Give port guidance a shout and get us a bay."

Quiller nodded and keyed the comm. "Ja.n.u.sar Port Guidance, this is freighter Ville Brok," he called. "Requesting a docking bay a.s.signment."

"Freighter Ville Brok, this is Ja.n.u.sar Guidance," a voice came back.

"What's your cargo?"

Quiller threw a frown over his shoulder at LaRone as he tapped the mute key. "Should they be asking that?"

"I don't know," LaRone said, an odd sensation starting to tickle the back of his mind. "I've never heard of a port asking that question before a freighter's even landed."

"Maybe it's some local regulation," Grave suggested.

"So what do I tell him?" Quiller asked.

"Tell him we're picking something up," Marcross said.

Quiller nodded and keyed the microphone again. "No cargo yet, Ja.n.u.sar.

We're hoping to pick up something there."

"From who?"

"We don't know yet," Quiller said. "Like I said, we're hoping. If it's the docking fees you're worried about, that won't be a problem."

There was a brief silence. "Fine," port guidance said. "Docking Bay Twenty-two."

On Quiller's map display an indicator flicked on, marking the landing site. "Bay Twenty-two, acknowledged," Quiller said.

"By the way, you have any weapons aboard?"

LaRone smiled grimly. If they only knew. "Nothing to speak of," he said.

"Why?"

"Just asking," the other said. "Ja.n.u.sar Guidance out."

Quiller switched off the comm. "Curious types, aren't they?" he commented.

"Oddly curious," Marcross seconded. "I wonder why they wanted to know about weapons."

"I don't know," LaRone said. "But I think the question all by itself means we definitely go in armed. Holdouts only, though, and we keep them out of sight until and unless they're needed."

The Ja.n.u.sar s.p.a.ceport consisted of a basic core region, well laid out but showing its age, surrounded by a patchwork of newer areas that had been added on over the years. The add-ons, LaRone noted, seemed to be further divided into high-cla.s.s and low-cla.s.s sections. Bay 22 turned out to be in one of the low-cla.s.s areas. "I'm guessing freighters that come sniffing around for on-spec cargoes usually don't get much business from the upper-cla.s.s merchants," Quiller commented as he shut down the Suwantek's systems.

'That, or you need a secret pa.s.sword to get into the nice side of town,"

Grave said.

"Doesn't matter," LaRone said. "All we want is food and fuel, and we can get those anywhere. Same duties as last time: Grave will go with me, the rest of you stay here-"

"Hold it," Marcross interrupted, leaning toward the right-hand side of the canopy and frowning aft toward the starboard boarding ramp. "We've got company: five patrollers plus an officer. Look's like sergeant's insignia."

There are five more over here," Quiller said, looking out his side of the canopy. "No officers."

Bright.w.a.ter muttered something under his breath and started aft. "Come on, Grave, let's. .h.i.t the turrets. What was that someone said about not having to shoot our way out?"

"Wait a second," Marcross said, still looking out the canopy as he caught Grave's arm. "This is way too small a crowd to be facing down military fugitives."

"He's right," Quiller agreed. "Nothing but hand blasters, still bolstered. They're probably just here to collect our docking fees."

"They need a whole squad for that?" Bright.w.a.ter asked suspiciously.

"Maybe incoming freighters with no cargo kick up a warning flag," LaRone said.

From the direction of the starboard boarding ramp came the sound of a fist hammering on metal. "Well, if we don't answer, it really will kick up a flag," Marcross pointed out, getting up from his seat. "Come on, LaRone."

The visitors had resumed their pounding by the time LaRone and Marcross reached the boarding ramp. LaRone slapped the release, and the ramp lowered to reveal six scowling faces.

"About time," the sergeant growled as he stalked his way up into the ship. "Go let in my men on the other side and get me your registry and cargo manifest."