Star Wars_ The New Rebellion Part 2

Jarril bit his lower lip, as if he were struggling not to speak. Finally he said, "That's why I came here. You know people. Maybe you could find out what's going on. Unofficially."

"Since when does Smuggler's Run need legitimate help?"

"It can't be legit!" Jarril's stunned voice rose above all the other sounds in the casino.

The conversation halted. Han grinned at the faces that turned toward him, all of them pretending disinterest and hoping for blood. He was half-tempted to wave his blaster at them.

"You see something you don't like?" Han asked the Ssty who was peering over the back of her chair at him. She shook her angular fur-covered face.

He raised his eyebrows and scanned the rest of the room, silently asking the entire crowd the same question. One by one they turned away.

Han waited until the conversation rose before continuing. "If it can't be legit, why come to me at all?"

"Because you and Chewie are the only ones I know who can go between Smuggler's Run and the Republic, no questions asked."

"What about Lando? Talon Karrde? Mara Jade?"

"Karrde doesn't want anything to do with this. Jade's been with Calrissian, and you know about him and Nandreeson."

"Can't say as I do," Han said. He was lying. He knew of it, but he thought the matter had been settled years ago.

"C'mon, Solo. Don't make this hard. Nandreeson's had a price on Calrissian since the days of the Empire."

"It couldn't have been a big price. Everyone knows where Lando is."

"Calrissian's good at making friends," Jarril said. "But he doesn't dare go into the Run."

"And you think the problem is in Smuggler's Run?"

"I think some answers might be there." Han sighed and let his fingers relax on the blaster trigger. "How come you don't go after this yourself, Jarril?" Jarril shrugged. "There's no profit in it."

"Jarril," Han said, his voice low and menacing.

Jarril took a deep breath and leaned as close as he could. "Because," he said, his voice just above a whisper, "I'm in too deep, Han. Way too deep."

C-3PO stood outside the nursery, recovering. He had spent the morning with the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and their brother, Anakin. This morning had been particularly difficult for 3PO. The children had planned their a.s.sault the night before. They had not done their homework on the origins of the Old Republic, and to distract 3PO, they had staged a small food fight.

The distraction had succeeded. 3PO, covered with salthia beans and curdled milk, tried to discover how the food fight had started. He kept asking how food got into the nursery, although as the fight progressed, he bemoaned the children's lack of discipline.

The lack of discipline became most evident when Mistress Leia and Master Solo left. They were indulgent parents. Winter, who had helped raise all three children from infancy, at least understood the value of discipline.

Fortunately, she had arrived before Anakin located his slingshot.

She had eased 3PO out the door and told him to rest. He had tried to inform her that droids did not need rest, but she had smiled at him knowingly. Long after she had shut the nursery door, he still stood outside it, perhaps confused by the order to rest, or perhaps unwilling to leave the scene of the latest disaster.

The entry to the nursery belied the chaos within. The room was octagonal, with chairs resting against each small wall. It had once been a listening chamber off an important meeting room. The room was rarely used as more than a hallway. No one sat in the chairs, and the children did little more than skate across the marble in their stocking feet. The cleaning droid a.s.signed to this wing had complained of streak marks more than once.

A clatter in the hallway made 3PO look up. The clatter resolved itself into whirring footsteps. The door slid up, and a nanny droid glided in.

Her four hands were clasped over her ap.r.o.ned stomach. Her silver eyes glowed and her mouth turned upward in a permanent look of good humor.

"C-3PO?" Her voice was modulated for warmth. "I am TD-L3.5. I am here to replace you as the children's nanny."

"Oh, dear." 3PO looked over his shoulder at the nursery door. "I was not informed of this."

"It is," the nanny droid said, "an unusual situation, after all. A protocol droid caring for children? You have no synthetic flesh, no hug circuitry, and, quite frankly, my dear, you are out-of-date. A few upgraded protocol droids have the programming to handle such a difficult a.s.signment, but-"

"I a.s.sure you," 3PO said. "I have served these children well."

"I am sure you have." The nanny droid was clearly humoring him. "And I am sure you will be well rewarded for your service. But I am here to replace you."

"I have heard nothing of this replacement," 3PO said.

"Droids are never informed-"

"I have a special place in this family. I cannot be dismissed like a-a-"

"A rusting sanitation droid?" The nanny droid clucked at him. "Certainly we overrate our importance, don't we?"

"I do not overrate my importance!" 3PO said. "I daresay I am the most humble droid I know."

"As you have told me quite often." Winter leaned against the doorjamb, her tall frame filling it.

Jaina peeked out of Winter's skirts. "How can he be humble if that's all he talks about?" Jaina asked.

"Hush, child," Winter said.

"Mistress Winter," 3PO said. "I do believe protocol demands that if you're to replace me, you inform me first."

"You're getting rid of 3PO?" Jacen asked. He came to the door, his seven-year-old face a replica of Master Solo's. "Really, Winter, you should know better. We pick on him, but that's only because we like him."

"I wasn't planning to get rid of him," Winter said. She brushed a strand of her snow-white hair away from her face. "And neither were your parents."

"I was ordered specifically for this nursery," the nanny droid said. "I am TD-L3.5, and I am here to replace C-3PO according to instruction code Bantha Four Five Six."

"Bantha?" Winter asked. "That's not a family code."

"It's not my fault!" Anakin yelled from the other room.

"I don't think he liked it when you decided he was too old for The Little Lost Bantha Cub," Jacen whispered to 3PO.

"Really," 3PO said. "That story outlived its usefulness years ago. Why, just last week, I heard Master Solo express relief that none of you children wanted to hear it anymore."

"3PO," Winter said, caution in her voice. She stepped beside him.

"Forgive us, TD-L3.5. Apparently one of us was exploring areas of the shopping net that he wasn't supposed to."

"All the more reason for proper supervision," the nanny droid said.

"Under my charge, children behave with the utmost decorum. An outdated protocol model like the one you have guarding the children obviously cannot control them. You need experience-"

"Yes, you do." Winter crossed her arms over her chest. "Have you ever reared Force-sensitive children before?"

"Children are children," the nanny droid said. "No matter what their special talents. In my experience, oversensitivity can be related to a lack of discipline-"

"I thought you hadn't," Winter said. "3PO has done well with the singular challenges these children have presented him. All in all, I believe a nanny droid would be a disaster, both for the children, and for the adults."

"Are you dismissing me?" the nanny droid asked.

"You were ordered here by a child," Winter said.

"That was someone else!" Anakin yelled from inside the room.

Jaina put her hands over her mouth. Jacen went back into the nursery.

"Anakin, no sense lying about it. The code gave you away. And now we can't use it anymore."

"I should say not," 3PO said. "Imagine children with access to the shopping nets. What will they think of next?"

"Something equally outrageous," Winter said, her gaze still on the nanny droid. The droid hadn't moved. "TD-L3.5, you have no place here. I am dismissing you."

"Forgive me, Mistress," the nanny droid said. "I do believe you're making a mistake."

"How exceptionally rude," 3PO said. "Mistress Winter has charge of these children-"

"I'll handle it, 3PO." Winter was smiling now. "I will make note of your complaint," she said to the nanny droid. "It will go into the file." The nanny droid made a soft sound of disgust. Then her body swiveled, and she rolled out of the anteroom, the door sliding shut behind her.

"File?" 3PO asked. "I didn't know you kept files."

"I don't," Winter said.

"What were you thinking?" Jacen asked, his voice carrying through the open door.

"The holo was pretty," Anakin said.

Winter smiled at 3PO, then started for the nursery to settle the building dispute. "Anakin's life was once saved by a nanny droid, you know. He might have been simply wishing for the security of his babyhood."

"I am not-" Anakin started and then stopped as if his voice caught in his throat. 3PO hurried into the nursery. Anakin's face had gone white.

"What is it?" Winter asked.

Jacen and Jaina had frozen in place. Their eyes widened, and then, in unison, all three children began to scream.

FOUR.

Kueller strode across the hangar, his boots clanging on the metal.

Technicians prostrated themselves before him, their gloved hands extended on the webbing. He walked so close to the group on the left that the hem of his cape brushed their skulls. The death's-head mask adhered to his skin, giving him comfort, giving him power.

"I need a ship," he said, his Force-strengthened voice echoing in the large room. It was empty except for three TIE fighters in various states of repair.

"Prepared, milord." His faithful a.s.sistant, Femon, rose to her feet. Her long black hair hid her unnaturally pale face. With a flick of her head, she flipped the hair aside, revealing kohl-blackened eyes and blood-red lips. She had made her own face into a death mask that looked less realistic than his.

Kueller nodded. No one else moved. "Brakiss?"

"Gone, milord."

"He wasted no time."

"He said he had your permission."

"You didn't check?" Femon smiled. "I always check."

"Good." Kueller caressed the word. Femon straightened beneath his praise, as she always did. If she weren't so capable, he would...

He let the thought fade. No distractions, not even of the pleasant sort.

"Any reports from Pydyr?"

"One thousand people are imprisoned in their homes, as per your command,"

she said.

"Destruction?"

"None." The word hung between them.

He allowed himself to smile, knowing that the expression chilled even his hardest followers. "Excellent. Loss of life?" She clasped her hands behind her back, taming her silver cape and outlining her willowy form.

"One million, six hundred and fifty-one thousand, three hundred and five, milord."

"Exactly as planned," he said.

"To a person. You'll be investigating?"

"I always check," he said, throwing her words back at her.

She smiled. The expression softened her face despite her attempts otherwise. "Permission to accompany you?" For a moment, he hesitated. She had been with him from the beginning. This part of the plan had been as much hers as his. "Not yet," he said. "I have need of you here."

"I thought we would wait for Phase 2."

"Oh, no," he said, purposely gentling his tone. "The wheels are rolling.