Allegiance (25 page)

There was a soft click as the contact was broken. “There he goes,” Quiller reported.

“So now all we have to do is hit up the HoloNet station
and see what kind of messages they sent to systems along that vector,” Han said. “That pretty much what you had in mind, Luke?”

“Yes,” Luke confirmed.

“Let’s hope they like Consolidated Shipping people down there,” Han added, eyeing LaRone closely.

The other’s face didn’t even twitch. “Fortunately, we won’t have to find out,” he said. “As it happens, we already have the Conso City HoloNet records from just after the swooper attack.” He smiled faintly. “That’s why
we
were on Drunost. We thought that whatever was left of the gang might have called big brother for help.” He gestured to one of the two men who’d played backstop earlier. “Marcross?”

“I’ll set up the program,” Marcross said, giving Han a speculative look as he brushed past. He went through a door at the forward end of the lounge, and Han caught a glimpse of a cockpit anteroom before the door closed again.

“This is Brightwater, by the way,” LaRone added, gesturing to the remaining man.

“Nice to meet you,” Han said. “I guess we’ll be off, then. If I could have my blaster back?”

“What’s your hurry?” Brightwater asked.

“Independent shippers, remember?” Han said. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“What schedule?” Brightwater countered. “You haven’t got any cargo.”

“
And
you have a damaged hyperdrive,” Grave added.

“It’s not
that
damaged,” Han said.

“Let’s cut to the core,” LaRone said. “Bottom line is, we’re not sure we want to let you out of our sight just yet.”

The hairs on the back of Han’s neck were starting to tingle again. “We gave you that vector,” he pointed out.

“There could be any number of reasons the BloodScars
wouldn’t mind us having that,” LaRone countered. “It could lead to a base they’ve already abandoned, or into a trap.”

“But don’t worry,” Grave assured him. “I think you’ll find the accommodations up to independent shipper standards.”

“Great,” Han growled. “We’re dead.”

“If you’ll call the Wookiee up here, we’ll be off,” LaRone said. “He’s to come unarmed, of course.”

“What about our ship?” Han asked, keeping his expression neutral.
Unarmed Wookiee
—now
there
was a contradiction in terms. “We can’t just leave it here.”

“Quiller?” LaRone called.

“No problem,” the pilot’s voice came. “We can lock it to the hatch collar and take it in tow.”

“You’re kidding,” Han said, frowning. “The
Falcon’
s as big as you are.”

“It’ll work,” Quiller assured him. “Trust me—we’ve got power to spare.”

“Call the Wookiee,” LaRone said. “Then we’ll show you to your quarters.”

The cabin door slid shut on the glowering Wookiee. LaRone double-checked the lock, and then he, Brightwater, and Grave returned to the lounge.

Marcross and Quiller were waiting for them there, Marcross still seated at the computer desk. “They all happily snugged in?” Quiller asked.

“As happily as possible, which isn’t very,” LaRone told him. “Opinions?”

“There’s definitely something off key about them,” Brightwater said. “I just don’t know yet what it is.”

“How sure are we they
aren’t
with the BloodScars?” Grave asked. “A smart enforcer might have been able to spin that kind of story for us on the fly. Might even have
been willing to frost those local pirate ships to throw us off the mark.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t explain their work at Conso City,” Quiller pointed out. “According to the latest reports, the raiders made off with about fifty thousand in cash, plus a few passengers.”

“The BloodScars picking up the swoop gang survivors,” Brightwater murmured.

“With the robbery as a diversion or cover,” Quiller said, nodding. “And Solo and his friends were definitely working against them.”

“Part of a rival gang, then?” Grave suggested.

“Possible,” LaRone said. “But they just don’t feel like pirates to me.”

“You’re sure you’re not letting that lightsaber influence you?” Grave countered.

LaRone snorted. “Not when the only other person I’ve ever actually seen carrying one is Lord Vader.”

“Interesting you should mention Vader,” Marcross said thoughtfully. “There was a rumor making the rounds awhile back about some special Imperial agent called the Emperor’s Hand who’s popped up onto the scene. Reports directly to Palpatine, outranks practically everyone in the Empire—”

“
And
carries a lightsaber,” Brightwater said suddenly. “Yeah, I heard that same rumor.”

“Rumors being worth half a credit a truckload, of course,” LaRone reminded them.

“But it’s definitely the sort of thing Palpatine would do,” Marcross pointed out. “Look at how he tried to outflank the regular military establishment with the ISB and the Grand Admirals.”

“You think Luke might be this Emperor’s Hand?” Grave asked doubtfully. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem the type, somehow.”

“Maybe that’s what he
wants
you to think,” Marcross
said. There was a beep from the computer, and he swiveled back around. “Got it,” he said, peering at the display. “Correlation between Solo’s vector and our HoloNet data gives us exactly one system: Gepparin. A few farming settlements, a good-sized mining complex, and not much else.”

“Good spot for a pirate hideout,” Brightwater commented. “How far out is it?”

“About forty hours,” Marcross said. He cocked an eyebrow at LaRone. “I trust you weren’t planning to show our guests our shiny white dress outfits?”

“Not to worry,” LaRone said. “As long as they’re locked in their cabins, we can come and go as we please.”

“Speaking of locking, I hope someone remembered to lock down the armories in those three rooms,” Quiller warned.

“I did,” Brightwater assured him. “There’s a simple sequence in the cabin computers that can lock and unlock them. What about the two kids in the hold?”

“Purnham security’s going to take them off our hands,” Quiller said. “Their brig shuttle’s on its way now.”

“Good,” LaRone said. “Quiller, set course for Gepparin. We’ll leave as soon as the prisoners are off.”

M
ARA’S TRAINING HAD INCLUDED A BASIC OVERVIEW
of starship operation, but most of that had been geared to military craft. Fortunately, Tannis seemed to know his way around civilian ships like the
Happer’s Way
, as did the two men Colonel Somoril had sent with her.

Mara had dealt occasionally with ISB men and generally found them to be rather cold fish. But even by that standard Brock and Gilling were exceptional. They were unbendingly formal, keeping to themselves and away from both her and Tannis as much as possible. Even when accepting and carrying out orders, they spoke no more than necessary, often completing a job in complete silence. They asked no questions, made no comments, indulged in no idle chatter. For all their companionship, Ozzel might as well have given her a pair of maintenance droids.

As a result, Mara focused on Tannis, spending as much free time with him as possible as she tried to learn everything she could about this nest of gundarks she was flying into.

The BloodScars had apparently been on Gepparin for only two years, having taken over the big mining complex at that time. They had set up their base in one half, Tannis explained, leaving the other half still pulling out
low-grade ore as a cover for their other activities. Most of their loot was taken directly to the base, where it was sorted and repackaged into ore crates and sent out either directly to buyers or to various warehouses like the Birtraub Brothers operation on Crovna.

“But there are a few cargoes that go directly to Caaldra,” Tannis added as he sketched out a floor plan of the base. “This ship was supposed to be one of them, actually. Taking it to Gepparin could get us in trouble.”

“Blame it on Shakko for dying with that data instead of surrendering like I told him to,” Mara said.

“Blame it on anyone you want, but it’s going to be trouble,” Tannis warned. “I hope your buddies back there are good fighters.
And
that they don’t start blasting before they have to.”

“Captain Ozzel wouldn’t have given us anyone but the best,” Mara assured him, wishing she actually believed that. Knowing ISB, it was more likely Somoril had picked a pair of expendables. “How many crew are typically at the base?”

“Depends on whether there are any ships there,” Tannis said. “There are only thirty or so full-timers, but a couple of unloading ships could double that.”

“Any idea how many ships might be there right now?”

Tannis shook his head. “With all these other gangs Caaldra and the Commodore have been bringing into the nest, your guess is as good as mine.”

Mara nodded. Apparently they would have to find out the hard way. “So what’s behind all this, anyway? I assume Caaldra is smart enough to realize that creating a huge pirate gang just begs Shelkonwa
and
Imperial Center to come down on you.”

“Caaldra is mostly noise,” Tannis said contemptuously. “Well, noise and credits.”

“Any idea how much he’s dropped on the whole operation?”

“Not really,” Tannis said. “But it’s one to five million straight up front to every group that signs on, plus a bonus if they’ve got a lot of ships or special skills or something.”

And Moff Glovstoak had shelled out a good six to eight hundred million in embezzled money for the artworks Mara had found in his safe. Depending on how much of that Caaldra and the BloodScars had gone through, they could be looking at a coalition of more than a hundred raider gangs.

All of them apparently in this single sector. What was so special about this sector? “Well, I’m sure the Commodore knows all that,” she said.

Tannis snorted. “Question is, can you get him to tell you?”

Mara shrugged. “We’ll find out.”

Gepparin was a cold, dark world circling a red star, one of a trinary system that also included a small yellow star and a brilliant blue-white one. Tannis had threaded them neatly between the two brighter stars and was bringing them in toward the planet when the first challenge came.

It was, not surprisingly, perfectly civil. “Incoming Rendili freighter, this is Gepparin Landing Control,” a cultured voice said. “Please identify yourself and your parent transport corporation.”

“Hey, Capper, it’s Tannis,” Tannis said. “Is the Commodore around?”

There was a brief silence. “What are you doing here, Tannis?” Capper asked. He didn’t sound nearly so cultured now. “Where’s Shakko?”

“Still with the
Cavalcade
—they had some work to do
on it,” Tannis told him, throwing Mara a sideways look. “We’ve got some possible new allies aboard.”

“
Possible
allies?” Capper said ominously. “You brought them here and they’re only
possible
allies?”

“Laser cannons coming online,” Brock murmured from the sensor station behind Mara.

“Where?” Mara murmured back.

“Midway up those drill derricks,” he said, pointing at the intricate framework of buildings and support structures on the main display.

“Hey, chill out, Capper,” Tannis chided. “They want to join—trust me. They just need to work out the details.”

“Fine—we’ll play,” Capper said. “Pad Eight. Don’t lower your ramp until the reception committee gets there.”

The comm clicked off. “What kind of ships are we reading down there?” Mara asked.

“Aside from five small insystem ore transports, I see two actual freighters,” Brock reported. “Probably both are pirates.”

“They are,” Tannis confirmed tightly. Now that he was no longer having to play a role, the tension was back in his voice. “That size, I’d say fifteen to twenty crewers each. Means there could be as many as seventy pirates total on the ground.”

“I’m more interested in this reception committee,” Gilling said darkly.

“Were you expecting an open door and the key to the Commodore’s quarters?” Tannis growled back. “They don’t trust you. I wouldn’t, either, if it was me down there.”

“Calm it, everyone,” Mara ordered. “We go in unarmed and let them convince themselves we’re harmless.”

“What do you mean, unarmed?” Gilling demanded.

“The word is straightforward enough,” Mara told him. “No weapons, no equipment that anyone might think could be weapons, no harmless devices that could be turned into weapons.”

“They’d take anything like that away from you anyway,” Tannis said.

“Exactly,” Mara said. “And above all, relax. We’re not here to start a fight. We’re here to talk politely with possible allies, pull a little information, and leave.” She looked at Tannis. “Peaceably,” she added.

Pad 8 was a circle of heavy gridwork mesh surrounded claustrophobically on three sides by derricks and catwalks and connecting support girders. It was a difficult area to get into and would be even harder to get out of.

Tannis, fortunately, was up to the challenge, easing them through the obstructions without trouble. As he set the freighter down in the center of the grating, Mara could see the promised reception committee emerging from the buildings and maintenance hangars in front of them. There were about two dozen men and aliens total, half of them crowded into a pair of approaching landspeeders, the others spreading out on foot a cautious distance back. All of them were armed with belted sidearms, blaster rifles, or both.

“And they’ll have heavier stuff pointed at us from the derricks and catwalk supports,” Tannis warned as he shut down the systems. “Try anything, and you’ll be slagged where you stand.”

“No one’s going to try anything,” Mara promised, peering out the canopy. The structural maze around them, plus the relatively dim light from Gepparin’s red sun, was creating a labyrinth of small shadows that stretched all the way across the mining area to the pirate base half of the complex. “As soon as you finish shutting down, get to the ramp,” she ordered Tannis as she
headed to the cockpit door. “Brock, Gilling, go with him.”