Allegiance (20 page)

There it was: two men and a Rodian, seated at a table near the door, all three with the same coiled-spring anticipation he’d sensed in Ben’s predator image.

And not just anticipation, but simmering evil.

“Kid?”

Luke snapped his attention back. “What?”

“We’re not boring you with this strategy stuff, are we?” Han asked.

“No,” Luke said distractedly, turning and searching across the tapcafe in the direction the two human predators were looking. There were seven men back there, seated around a pair of tables. “You know those men?” he asked, pointing at the latter group.

Porter glanced over his shoulder. “Off-duty Consolidated Security,” he said. “They get their drinks half price here—encourages them to hang out in the neighborhood. Why?”

“They’re being watched,” Luke said. “The two men and the Rodian by the door.”

“Ridiculous,” Porter said with a snort. “No one makes trouble
here
.”

“Those swoopers did,” Han reminded him, looking sideways at the table Luke had indicated.

“That was way outside town,” Porter countered. “Not counting the hub, this is the main part of Consolidated’s
local operation. It’s got their HoloNet center, their main administration offices—”

“And a bank repository right across the street,” Han interrupted.

“That’s it,” Luke said as the pieces suddenly fell into place. “They’re going to rob it.”

“Terrific,” Han growled. “This place got a back door?”

“Right through there,” Porter said, pointing at a curtained doorway at the side of the bar.

“Good,” Han said, starting to get up. “Nice and easy.”

“Wait a second,” Luke objected. “We’re going to
run
?”

“From a bank robbery?” Han countered. “You bet.”

“But we have to help.”

“Which side?” Han retorted. “Robbers against a big corporation? Big choice.”

“That’s not fair,” Luke objected.

“He’s right, kid,” Porter put in nervously. “Besides, we’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Luke grimaced. His words to Ben on Tatooine whispered through his mind:
I can’t get involved
. Yet if he hadn’t, Tarkin and the Death Star would have won, and Leia and Rieekan and hundreds of others would now be dead. “Fine—you keep your low profile,” he said. “I’ll do it myself.”

Across the table Chewbacca rumbled a protest, his massive paw batting at Han’s arm.

“Oh, for—” Han broke off, glaring up at his partner. “Chewie—oh, all
right
. You two stay put—Chewie and me’ll handle it.”

“Solo—” Porter began.

“Or go ahead and run,” Han cut him off. “I don’t care which.”

“But I want to help,” Luke objected.

“Then find a way to distract them,” Han said, standing. “Come on, Chewie. Let’s get it over with.”

“There they go,” Grave murmured as the Corellian and Wookiee stood and headed unconcernedly toward the door. “Think they’re with whoever’s outside?”

“Could be,” LaRone said, watching the kid. He and the farmer were still sitting at the table, the boy fingering something inside his tunic. Getting ready to draw a blaster? The Corellian and Wookiee walked past the trio at the table, the Corellian’s hand dropping casually toward his holstered blaster.

And then from the street outside came the sound of a muffled explosion. The murmur of conversation in the tapcafe abruptly cut off as everyone froze, listening.

Everyone, that was, except the threesome at the table. Even as a second blast rumbled, all three abruptly stood, one of the humans pointing a large blaster at LaRone and Grave, the other targeting the two tables of security men at the back, the Rodian turning to cover the Corellian and Wookiee. “So much for taking them by surprise,” Grave muttered.

“Right,” LaRone murmured back. The would-be ambushers had turned to face the Rodian now, the Corellian with feigned bewilderment on his face, the Wookiee just looking dangerous. Out of the corner of his eye LaRone saw the kid stand up beside his table and raise his arm over his head.

And with a sizzling
snap-hiss
a blue-edged blade blazed into existence.

The distinctive sound of a lightsaber probably hadn’t been heard on Drunost since the Clone Wars. But it wasn’t an easy sound to forget. Instantly, magically, every eye in the tapcafe turned to look at the lightsaber the kid was holding over his head like a war banner.
Even the Rodian half turned before he remembered he was supposed to be on guard and spun back.

But that half second of inattention was all it took. The Corellian took a long step forward and grabbed the end of the Rodian’s blaster, twisting it to point toward the ceiling as he yanked out his own weapon. The Wookiee’s approach was even more straightforward: grabbing the front of the Rodian’s shirt, he lifted the alien straight off his feet and hurled him over the table into his two companions. All three went down, crashing into both their own table and the one next to them and disappearing from LaRone’s view into a confused snarl of arms and legs.

The Rodian was quick. Even as LaRone drew his hold-out blaster the alien rolled back up into view, chattering curses at everyone within range. Dragging his blaster out of the tangle, he lifted it toward his attackers.

LaRone was lining up his blaster on the Rodian’s back when the Corellian fired a single shot. This time the Rodian went down for good.

And then the security men from the back tables were there, three of them swarming over the two men on the floor with binders at the ready, the rest brushing past the Corellian and the Wookiee. The security man in front threw open the door, paused there a moment to assess the situation, then charged through with the others close behind. As the door swung closed again LaRone could hear the sounds of blasterfire beginning to fill the street.

The Corellian and Wookiee didn’t follow. Their job apparently done, they turned and headed back to their table. The kid with the lightsaber closed it down and tucked it away as their farmer friend got to his feet, and all four of them made for a curtained door beside the bar. As the others passed through the curtain and a hidden door behind it, the kid with the lightsaber paused and turned around.

And looked directly at LaRone and Grave.

For a moment he held that pose. Then, turning back, he disappeared through the door with the others.

“Well,
that
was different,” Grave commented, fingering his hold-out blaster as he stood up. “We joining the party?”

“I don’t know,” LaRone said, getting out his comlink. There had been something in the kid’s look that had set his skin tingling. “Quiller?”

“On our way,” the other’s voice came back. “ETA, about ninety seconds.”

“Does Consolidated have anything in the air yet?”

“Oh, they’ve got
everything
in the air,” Quiller said. “Patrol boats, high-cover skimmers, even a couple of small gunboats. Give them full points for preparedness.”

LaRone looked back toward the curtained back door. “In that case, break off and swing up and over the line of buildings east of the repository. I want you to find and track a group of four people: three humans and a Wookiee.”

“Hang on.”

The comlink went silent. “You thinking maybe our farmer may be mixed up in something a little more complicated than dirt scratching?” Grave asked.

“Dirt scratching is complicated enough,” LaRone told him. “But yes, I was wondering that. If he was a loot-sniffer on that swooper raid, it could be he and his three friends are associated with the BloodScars.”

“Who wanted to prevent the bank robbery and why?” Grave asked.

“Maybe the raiders are from a rival gang,” LaRone said. “I just think they’re worth keeping an eye on.”

“Got ’em,” Quiller’s voice announced. “Two different landspeeders—one with one of the humans, the other
with the other two and the Wookiee … the singleton’s splitting off.”

LaRone made a fast decision. “Stay with the threesome.”

“Acknowledged,” Quiller said. “Looks like they’re heading for one of the service yards.”

Did that mean their mission was over? “We’ll pick up the trail behind them,” LaRone said, standing up and gesturing Grave toward the back door. “Let me know when they mark their ship. And set up a track—we’re going to want to follow them.”

“We are?” Grave asked. “Why?”

“Because they’re connected to this,” LaRone said. “I don’t know exactly how, but they are. And at the moment, they’re our
only
solid connection.”

“Doesn’t sound all that solid to me,” Grave said doubtfully.

“It may be a little loose,” LaRone conceded. “But it won’t cost us anything to at least see where they’re going.”

Grave shrugged. “Nothing but time and fuel.”

“We’ve got the time, and ISB’s providing the fuel,” LaRone pointed out as they slipped into the tapcafe’s back room and headed for the exit. “Let’s go before they spot Quiller.”

“No,
Purnham
,” Han repeated. “The
Purnham
system. Where Porter said you got hit once by pirates?”

“Are you crazy?” Casement’s voice demanded over the
Falcon
’s comm. “We’re trying to
avoid
pirates, remember?”

“No, we’re trying to lock down this BloodScar thing,” Han said.

“But the Purnham attack wasn’t
from
the BloodScars,” Casement objected.

Han rolled his eyes as, beside him, Chewbacca warbled
a softly contemptuous growl. Couldn’t these idiots
see
it? “Look,” Han said, pitching his voice as if he were talking to a small child or a midlevel bureaucrat. “We don’t know where the BloodScars are, but you and Porter think they’re trying to snap up other fringe groups. Maybe they’re also trying to recruit the Purnham gang; and we
do
know where
that
group hangs out. If we can catch a couple of them, maybe they can tell us where to find the BloodScars.”

“Well … maybe,” Casement conceded. “But getting them to talk won’t be easy.”

Han looked at the glowering Wookiee beside him. “Let me worry about that,” he said. “You just get a cargo ship there—let’s make it three days from now. Be sure you route the manifest the same way you did before, in case someone’s slicing the dispatch records for good targets.”

“Fine,” Casement said, a heavy layer of resignation in his voice. “Whatever you say. But I’ve got to tell you, I’ve got a bad fe—”

“Three days,” Han said, and cut off the comm. He turned a glare toward Luke, sitting quietly behind Chewbacca. “Or are there other objections?” he challenged.

“No, no, I like it,” Luke assured him hastily. “The last thing they’ll expect is an ambush.”

“Good,” Han said, turning back to the controls. “Then we’re all agreed. Wonderful.”

Keying on the repulsorlifts, he lifted the
Falcon
off the pad.
Go and talk to the supply people
, Rieekan had said.
That’s all. Just go and talk to them
.

Yeah. Right.

“My engineers say everything will be up and running in four more hours,” Captain Ozzel said, taking a hasty step backward as a long shielding plate on its way
across the
Happer’s Way
engine room swung dangerously in their direction. Mara, her eyes and brain automatically making quick size and distance calculations, didn’t bother to move as the metal plate passed no closer than five centimeters from her face. “Is there any other way we can serve you?”

“I’ll need two of your crewers,” she told him. “Men who can both fight and handle a ship this size.”

“You mean close-in fighting?” Ozzel asked doubtfully. “That won’t be easy.”

“Maybe you can pull them from your stormtrooper contingent,” Mara suggested.

There was a flicker of something in Ozzel’s face and sense. “That may be possible,” he said carefully. “I’ll check with the group commander.”

“Don’t bother—I’ll meet with him myself,” Mara said. “Tell him to report to the bay duty office.”

“Right away,” Ozzel said, pulling out his comlink.

Maneuvering her way along the
Happer’s Way
’s narrow corridors, Mara stepped out through the hatch into the
Reprisal’
s hangar bay, where the freighter had been brought for repairs. As per her orders, the purely cosmetic damage Shakko’s men had inflicted on the outer hull hadn’t been touched. She glanced over it, satisfied herself that there was nothing to show that the repairs hadn’t been made in deep space by the
Happer’s Way
’s own crew, and headed for the duty office.

A smooth-faced man wearing colonel’s insignia was waiting when she arrived. “Emperor’s Hand,” he greeted her gravely. “I’m Colonel Vak Somoril. I understand you wished to see me?”

“You’re the stormtrooper group commander?” Mara asked.

“Not the overall commander, but I head a specialized contingent,” Somoril explained. “Captain Ozzel thought
my unit would be more likely to have the sort of men you’re looking for.”

“I need two warriors who also know their way around a Rendili heavy freighter,” Mara told him. “Can you supply them?”

“I think so,” Somoril said. “When do you want them?”

“Immediately,” Mara said. “Have them collect civilian gear and report to the
Happer’s Way
. Captain Norello will meet them there for a quick orientation to the ship and its systems. We’ll be leaving the
Reprisal
in four hours.”

“As you wish,” Somoril said briskly. “They’ll be aboard in twenty minutes.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Somoril left. For a few seconds Mara gazed at the closed door, allowing him time to get across the hangar bay. Then, stepping over to the duty office computer terminal, she punched in her special override password and keyed for a search of the
Reprisal
’s personnel roster.

There was no Colonel Vak Somoril listed.

Pursing her lips, Mara keyed for the bridge log and repeated her search. Again, nothing. Switching to the flight log, she searched for arrivals and departures.

There, finally, she found something. There were still no names, Somoril’s or anyone else’s, but a little over two standard weeks earlier eight nonmilitary vessels had arrived aboard the
Reprisal
and been given berths in Hangar Bay 5. One of the ships had left three days later, though under odd circumstances and with some apparent contradictions in the sequence of log reports. The other ships were still aboard.