Isard's Revenge

  Corran stiffened, then spitted her with a harsh glare. “What you know of my father you stripped from my brain when you had me on Lusankya. I’m not going to let you use my own memories against me.”

  “Oh, it’s not your memories I’m using, but my own.” Her smile tightened slightly as she began a third set of repetitions. “I met your father once. Spent some time with him. He was most annoying and prevented me from accomplishing my mission.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  “Indeed.” Isard crawled out of the weight machine and stood slightly taller than Corran. “The annoyance factor with you is getting to be too much. I want you to stop trying to send messages out of here. You’ll jeopardize the mission.”

  Corran shook his head, then walked over to a triceps extension machine and sat down. He glanced over at her. “You don’t fool me, Isard. You don’t fall in love with someone like the Emperor because you like the way he laughs or the cute dimples he has. You fall in love with him because you feel a kinship to him. You wanted what he wanted, which was power; and that lust for power won’t go away. Just the way you brought us here and keep us here reflects your need for control. You have a goal and everything else will be subordinate to it.”

  She dabbed with her towel at a droplet of sweat running down from her left temple. “General Antilles knows what I want. He knows what the price for my cooperation is. What I want from you is your cooperation so that I have my best chance at success.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I know, Corran Horn, you are capable of fierce loves and loyalties. If you persist in sending messages out, I will have your astromech taken apart, and I will scatter those parts further than my clone ever scattered the Lusankya prisoners. With a thousand years and a thousand Jedi you would not be able to reconstruct Whistler. His fate is in your hands.”

  Corran let his jaw drop open to cover his surprise. Her bald-faced threat to Whistler didn’t surprise him. He’d considered the droids hostages from the second the restraining bolts had been placed on them. What her threat did mean, however, was that no one had noticed Whistler was missing yet. As nearly as Corran could determine the droid had vanished a week previously, which meant he was fairly well along on the mission Corran had given him.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face, then hung his head. “You know, the only problem with you is that while you might have loved, you never were loved back. You know how much your threat hurts, but only because you’ve seen such threats hurt others. You don’t know firsthand the pain you’re inflicting.”

  “I don’t have a problem with being saved that sort of pain.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do.” Corran looked up at her and met her bicolored stare openly. “You know, the real pity in that is this: You also don’t know that the best balm for that pain is having a friend, a true friend, someone you can trust no matter what. But, I imagine, to you that sort of blind trust is simply a tool that can be used against someone.”

  “Very effectively, too.”

  “I’m sure.” Corran reach back behind his head for the weight bar. “Well, the one thing I trust about you is that you’ll be true to your nature. And that nature, Madam Director, is what will kill you in the end.”

  Wedge Antilles raked his fingers through his brown beard. He didn’t think the beard made him look any different, and his mental image of himself still hadn’t adjusted to include it. Even so, it changed the outline of his jaw enough to fuzz recognition and, combined with the prosthetic he’d wear to become Antar Roat again, it should enable him to get past any security screening Krennel put him through.

  Colonel Vessery looked over at him from across the holoprojector’s sector map of Ciutric. “Do you have reservations about this plan?”

  Wedge shrugged. “Same I have about every plan before it goes off. We get slipped into Ciutric as an Imperial unit looking for sanctuary. We fit in, then I send out a message that gets to you and in twelve hours you show up with the commandos we’ll need to break open the prison holding the Lusankya prisoners. At the same time the New Republic shows up with a fleet that will pound Krennel and liberate Ciutric. A lot of things can go wrong there.”

  Vessery smiled. “True enough, but most of them come in along the lines of command and control. With the Director controlling communications and making sure messages go where they’re meant to go, everyone should show up on time. Your flight missions are fairly straightforward. One flight will eliminate the shields over Ciutric while the other neutralizes the defensive positions around the prison. Both units will then suppress ground defenses and air support. As you have seen in the simulations, the Defenders are well suited to these tasks and more than capable of standing up to the punishment.”

  “Nice machines. I still prefer my X-wing, but I’ll take a trip in a pinch.”

  “Flying one in combat will convince you.” Vessery looked over at the doorway as a silhouette filled it. “Come in, Major. This is General Antilles, Major Telik. Major Telik will be leading the commandos on the operation.”

  Wedge took the slender man in with a glance. His high cheekbones and sharp nose gave his face an angular cast. Dark brows, which matched the close-cropped hair on his head, shadowed deep brown eyes. Not terribly muscled, Telik took Wedge’s proffered hand and shook it with a surprisingly strong grip.

  “Glad to have you with us, Major.”

  “My pleasure, General.” He turned to Vessery. “I’ve studied and annotated the plan for hitting the prison. I like the basic setup, but I’ve got a few changes in mind. I don’t want to lock them in until I can run through a sim with my people, but I think they will streamline the operation and minimize casualties.”

  Vessery nodded. “That’s to be desired.”

  Telik turned back toward Wedge. “I would have preferred to be in on the planning from the start, but I was on Commenor and have only recently returned. While I was there I saw two acquaintances of yours: Mirax Terrik and Iella Wessiri.”

  Wedge blinked. “What were they doing on Commenor?”

  “Following up on the leads planted by Krennel’s people to lure Rogue Squadron to Distna.”

  “Interesting.” Wedge scratched at his throat. He’d noticed that Telik had referred to “Krennel’s people” and not “Isard’s clone” as the one who had been planting those clues. Either he didn’t know, or didn’t feel he could pass that information on to Wedge if he did. Wedge expected no less in the way of informational security by Isard’s people, which was why the whole mention of Commenor struck him as odd.

  Telik smiled. “The Wessiri woman impressed me a great deal. She was in a difficult situation and I managed to slip her a blaster, which she used to effect her escape. Terrik went with her and, later, I saw they were fine. Not but one out of a dozen people could have done what she did.”

  “For as long as I’ve known her, she’s been very good.” Wedge pasted a smile on his face. There was no way Telik would have mentioned his run to Commenor, his having helped Iella and Mirax, and their escape, if Isard had not told him to do so. Hearing what he’d heard certainly put Wedge in Telik’s debt, which would help inspire the sort of trust that would make the mission work more smoothly.

  By the same token, I’ve just been told that Isard has a line on two friends of mine. If things do not go the way she wants them to go, Iella and Mirax could be killed, or worse. The sorry plight of the Lusankya prisoners had not escaped Wedge’s mind. Just because Isard wants me to trust Telik isn’t a reason not to trust him, but I will guard against problems, somehow.

  Wedge sighed. “Well, we’ll be going back and forth over these plans for a long while, I guess, since we don’t have someone as good as Iella here to tell us how to fix them. It strikes me that the only remaining part of the plan to put into place is for me to record a message for Admiral Ackbar that will get him to bring a New Republic fleet with him to destroy Krennel.”

  Vessery nodded. “Two messages, actually. One
will outline the plan and prepare the New Republic to move. The second will contain the order for them to go. Moving forces around a galaxy seldom allows for split-second timing—as we have all learned—but it can be closely simulated and we’ll have to settle for that.”

  “Worked when we took Coruscant.” Wedge suppressed a smile. “Well, let us cook up the text of the first message I’ll send, so the Director can approve it. Then we can set about ending Delak Krennel’s long reign.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Whistler dodged around workers stacking crates on binary load lifters and shot down the ramp from the Worldhopper’s cargo hold. The captain, an older man with two twin sons who crewed for him, glanced in his direction but did nothing to stop him. Rennik had been paid to get Whistler and Gate to Oradin, on the planet Brentaal, and no further. He’d done his job and turned his attention back to adjudicating a dispute between his sons.

  Whistler whirled his head around and piped a call to Gate to join him. The R5 droid whistled back mournfully, then slowly rolled down the ramp. His previously pristine red and white exterior was stippled with a series of black and brown burn marks. More galling than that, however, Gate had been fitted with a conical scrap-metal cap that trailed a long ribbon of bright blue fabric. A few spot welds held it in place and, despite their best efforts, neither droid had been able to free Gate from the cap.

  Whistler fixed his visual lens on the Rennik brothers and digitized their exact likenesses. He had no program in place at the moment to exact revenge for what they had done to Gate, but when time allowed he would pull up one of the many practical joke programs he’d picked up at CorSec and in his time with the squadron, and implement it with the Rennik twins as the target.

  He communicated his intention to Gate.

  Gate replied that it would be suitable for the two boys to be made targets.

  Whistler agreed. To relieve the boredom of the trip, the two boys had welded the cap to Gate’s head, then used powered-down blasters to try to shoot the ribbon that trailed after Gate as the droid ducked and dodged through the cargo hold. The ribbon quickly proved to be too tough a target for them, so they settled for shooting the droid. The number of crates being unloaded from the ship bearing burn marks gave testimony to how bad the brothers were at marksmanship, but in the confines of the hold Gate couldn’t dodge forever.

  Whistler swiveled his head around, taking in a full view of the hangar area where the Worldhopper had landed. Oradin boasted an Imperial-class spaceport, but the Worldhopper had put down at one of the older portions of it. The center of the landing bay area was open to the night sky and, once ships touched down, a small tractor beam in each unloading bay would pull the ship into its own little niche. A dozen ships could be serviced at this one area, making it a hive of activity.

  For a living creature, the chaos might have been overwhelming, but Whistler remained focused. Large holographic projectors filled the air with all sorts of advertisements for everything from upscale resorts like the Grand Oradin Hotel to places that offered tiny coffinlike spaces for sleep. Restaurants displayed endless assortments of dishes, all glistening, some still moving, to temp spacers tired of prepackaged fare. Machines large and small darted about, shifting crates from ship to ship, or ship to storage, with customs officials and transit agents all screaming at each other in loud voices. All manner of creatures and droids wandered around, some with clear intent, others moving furtively—causing Whistler to classify them as possible threats. Everything else he ignored because none of it was important to accomplishing his mission.

  He asked Gate to keep watch on some of the threats, then moved over to a communications station and inserted his probe into the appropriate jack. He entered the MESTOP system with ease and fed into it the communications address he’d fabricated for any messages. The “Messages to Spacers” system took a little while to retrieve the single message that had been sent to him while in transit, and the message itself consisted of nothing more than a room number at the Grand Oradin Hotel and a span of dates.

  Whistler confirmed that the present date was within the span and hooted with joy. He spun his head around to let Gate know they were in time to make their next leg of the trip, but only managed to get out a low moan. Gate echoed the tone and slowly rolled back toward Whistler.

  In knots of two and three, some Ugnaughts slowly sauntered toward them. The little creatures avoided looking at them directly, but some carried restraining bolts and others the flash-welders needed to fix them to the droids. Lurking further back, a hooded Twi’lek flicked lekku impatiently at the Ugnaughts, encouraging them to be bolder.

  Whistler hooted at Gate and the larger droid brought out his pincer. Blue sparks arced between the forks, widening the Ugnaughts’ eyes. They slowed their approach, which drew the Twi’lek in close enough for Whistler to get a good look at his face.

  In seconds, using codes he’d employed many times with CorSec, Whistler sliced into the Spaceport Security Authority. He married the Twi’lek’s image to a fugitive warrant template, added charges of smuggling, slavery, and several other unsavory crimes, tacked on a reward of 25,000 credits, and pumped it into the system. He flipped a bit that noted the suspect was armed and extremely dangerous and a moment later the Twi’lek’s image burned to life in the air over the hangar, accompanied by the blaring of a dozen loud sirens.

  The Twi’lek, the Ugnaughts, and just about everyone else in the hangar looked upward. The Twi’lek’s lekku twitched furiously and he began to run in the direction of the Worldhopper. The Rennik twins immediately shouted at him and, with blasters in hand, started scattering shots in his general direction. People screamed and ran, more blaster-fire erupted, and scarlet energy bolts filled the air.

  Into the maelstrom Whistler charged, with Gate at his side, ribbon snapping and popping. Rolling at full speed they blasted into a trio of Ugnaughts, toppling them and sending their tools flying. Other Ugnaughts gave chase, but an errant burst of blasterfire cut one down and sent the rest diving for ferrocrete.

  Howling like wounded banthas in the Jundland Wastes, the droids cut to the left and into a small corridor. Whistler took the turn a bit wide and crashed into the wall, with sparks trailing from his right flank. Spinning his head about he saw the smear of green paint he left behind on the wall, but two blaster bolts burned into it, leaving guttering little fires to consume it. Cutting to the left to see past Gate and his ribbon, Whistler just missed toppling a customs official. The droids raced past her, ignoring her calls to stop, and sped out into the shadowy Oradin streets.

  Finding the Grand Oradin Hotel did not present much of a Problem for the droids. A quick scan of the facade revealed hints of old lettering that had once graced the building. The owners had simply replaced the word “Imperial” with the word “Oradin” to reflect the planet’s changing loyalties. Inside the lobby the Aurebesh letter Isk still appeared in decorations, but all the new signs had the Osk for Oradin in the appropriate place.

  The main turbolifts steadfastly refused to admit two unescorted droids, informing Whistler that the hotel had standards. Whistler matched Gate’s sulking tone, then headed off around the corner and through a door marked STAFF ONLY. At the rear of the main lifts lay the freight lift, which was quite happy to help the droids out. It turned out that the freight lift’s main processing unit had once operated one of the passenger turbolifts until it had been replaced during an upgrade cycle. The lift indicated its processor had been deemed too “Old Republic” to work during the Imperial regime.

  Whistler and Gate patiently exchanged glances as the turbolift went on about the various individuals he’d lifted and lowered during his time. The lift rose to the fourteenth floor and opened slowly, spinning out a tale of the battle for Brentaal that Gate actually wanted to hear, since it involved Wedge, but from a time well before Gate flew with him. Whistler suggested they could get the download on their return trip and the lift promised them a smooth ride.

  The droids rolled
down the hallway to the room 1428. Whistler played out a series of tones meant to announce them, but the door did not open. He tried again, but the door remained closed. Gate rolled forward and played the tones out, too, getting a result neither of them expected.

  Behind them, the door to 1429 opened. Whistler swiveled his head about and looked up at the dark-haired man staring down at him. The man stroked his goatee, then smiled slowly. “Well, I knew Booster hadn’t sent that message to me, but I didn’t expect a droid, much less two.”

  “You should be careful, Karrde, they could be bait for a trap.”

  Talon Karrde glanced back into the room and tossed the datapad he’d been holding to the man standing there. “They didn’t scan for explosives or weapons, though that hat looks somewhat lethal.”

  Gate moaned.

  Whistler turned his body around and projected a message identifying himself.

  Karrde squatted down to read it. “Whistler, yes, the droid partnered with Booster’s son-in-law. Now that’s curious,- since you’ve both been reported dead at Distna. What is it I can do for you?”

  Whistler spelled out his request.

  “Take you to Booster’s Errant Venture?” He turned in the doorway and looked at the other man. “Mind if we take a side trip on our way to picking up your ship, Aves?”

  “I’ve waited this long for my own command, Karrde, another week or so won’t hurt.” The man smiled broadly. “Besides, seeing Booster and the Venture is always amusing.”

  Whistler hooted and flashed another message in the air.

  Karrde laughed and patted Whistler on the head as he straightened up. “Yes, Whistler, I do demand payment for my services. I suspect there are things you can tell me that will more than pay for your passage. If you negotiate with me as well as you negotiated your way here, I’m certain we’ll reach a deal that will work for all concerned.”