Soldier for the Empire (11 page)

The Governor, robes rustling, moved in for a closer look. Nathan did likewise. Slyder, who saw the whole exercise as a colossal waste of time, hung back.

The technician connected a cable, flipped a switch, and waited for some sort of reaction. A-Cee opened his eyes and tried to sit. Nothing happened. He remembered the chase, the programmed equivalent of pain, followed by darkness. He blinked as a trio of humans stared down at him. One of them wore a uniform.

A-Cee felt a subroutine kick in, heard the words, and knew his fate: "I am a bomb. Unauthorized access, manipulation, or interference with me or my programming, data storage modules, or other systems will result in the detonation of four point two kilos of plitex nine explosive . . . "

There was a frantic, desperate attempt to deactivate the droid and stop the countdown. But Slyder knew there wasn't enough time. All his plans, all the years of work, had turned to dust. The humans were worse than incompetent, they were irretrievably stupid, and deserved to die. Slyder drew his weapon, shot as many of them as he could, and waited for the inevitable. The trophies would go to his mother.

Kyle fought gravity as Jan put the Sorry into a tight turn. He was proud of the fact that his voice remained level. "What's the plan?"

"We can't outrun them," Jan said grimly, "so that leaves one choice."

"Blow our brains out?" Kyle asked lightly.

"Right idea - wrong people," Jan replied tartly.

The other vessel was closer now, so close that Kyle could see it with his naked eyes. Jan fired the Sorry's laser cannons, and he watched as coherent energy stuttered towards the chase ship. It was, Kyle thought, a courageous but mostly symbolic attack, since there was no conceivable way that the speedster's relatively light weapons would overcome the larger vessel's shields. Then the yacht exploded in a ball of flames. He threw an arm in front of his eyes. "What the - ?"

The fireball died as Jan jinked to the right. The Sorry wove her way through a steadily expanding debris field as Kyle tried to absorb what he'd seen. "Lucky hit?"

The Rebel shook her head. "No way - nobody's that lucky. Some sort of internal explosion would be my guess."

Kyle pondered that. "What happened to A-Cee?"

Jan snapped her fingers. "Of course! They brought him around, shoved a uniform in front of his sensors, and blammo! Poor thing. I liked him."

Nathan had been wearing a class B uniform the last time Kyle saw him. Revenge, if that's what it was, brought none of the satisfaction that he had expected.

Their boots clacked against the deck as Jan and Kyle marched the length of the gleaming white corridor. Though the ship was crewed by all manner of beings, none of whom displayed the spit-and-polish exactitude expected aboard Imperial vessels, there was no doubting their enthusiasm. Crew beings hurried toward duty stations, droids whirred this way and that, and a feeling of pent-up energy permeated the air.

The recently rechristened dreadnaught New Hope was more than six hundred meters long. She was old, slow, and in spite of efforts to upgrade her weapons systems, poorly armed. Kyle knew all that, but couldn't help being impressed by the ship's size, the spirit of her all volunteer crew, and the effort to make her operational again.

The dreadnaught had long been stationed over Churba as a sort of orbital war museum; the Alliance had used four deep-space tugs to break it free of the planet's gravity well and tow her away. Where they had gone, and how the refit had been carried out, were secrets. But the results were impressive. Especially from a psychological perspective, since the raid made the Alliance look strong and the Empire weak.

"So," Jan said as they rounded a corner, "what do you think?"

Kyle smiled. "You were right, Jan . . . she's impressive. Too bad a Victory-class Destroyer could fight her to a standstill."

It wasn't the wholehearted endorsement that Jan might have hoped for, so she let the subject slide. "I think you'll like Mon Mothma. Everybody does."

Kyle took note of the familiar way in which Jan used the Mothma's name, wondered if all the Rebels were so casual, and guessed that they were.

The twosome rounded a corner, walked the length of a short hallway, and stopped in front of two heavily armed guards. Jan motioned for Kyle to slide his ID card into a newly mounted scanner, waited for it to emerge, and pointed toward his blaster. Kyle felt self-conscious as one guard confiscated his side arm and the other patted him down. Apparently satisfied, the doors slid open, and Jan ushered him through. "Have a nice meeting, Kyle. I'll see you later."

The ex-officer nodded, stepped through the portal, and heard the doors close behind him. The cabin, built to pre Imperial standards, was large but musty. Some of the furnishings were more than a hundred years old. The single occupant, a woman whom Kyle judged to be in her middle forties, turned to greet him. She had short auburn hair, greenish blue eyes, and wore a long white robe. Energy crackled around her, and Kyle could practically feel the power of her mind. She smiled and extended her hand. It was slim and cool. "Greetings, Kyle. It's a pleasure to meet you. I was sorry to hear about your father. He was an important leader."

Kyle, surprised that she knew about his father, forgot his manner "You knew my father?"

Mon Mothma shook her head. "Not personally, but through a mutual friend, a Jedi named Rahn. He had a high level of respect for your father and sends his greetings."

Kyle was stunned. His father had known a Jedi? And earned the Jedi's respect? What else had been concealed from him?

Mon Mothma, unaware of Kyle's thoughts, gestured toward a conference table ringed with chairs. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Kyle did as he was bid. Mon Mothma sat on one corner of the table. "Jan tells me that you want to serve as one of our agents. Why?"

Kyle, who hadn't expected any sort of challenge, was taken aback. That being the case, his words were more direct, more honest than they might otherwise have been. "I want to find the people who murdered my father and kill them."

Jan, who was watching the proceedings via an array of small, barely noticeable vid cams, lifted an eyebrow. Though understandable, a desire for revenge could cloud Kyle's judgment, and lead to mistakes. That being the case, she expected Mon Mothma to dismiss him on the spot and was surprised when she didn't.

"I understand how you feel, Kyle, believe me, we all do, but we must struggle to remain objective. The people who killed your father were evil, but the greater evil lies behind them, and sits on a stolen throne. Once we defeat that, once we defeat Palpatine, the murderers will be found. So tell me, could you put your personal needs aside long enough to tackle a mission so important, it may change the course of the Rebellion?"

Kyle felt conflicting emotions. A healthy dose of skepticism, a leavening of fear, and pride at being asked. "Yes. I think so, anyway."

Mon Mothma weighed him with her eyes. "Good. May the Maker help me if I'm wrong, but I'm going to take a chance on you, and hope for the best. Watch the center of the table. I have a story to tell."

Mon Mothma regarded the slowly morphing holo with obvious distaste. "The Imperials call it the Death Star," the leader said grimly, "and it's an apt description given the fact that once the battle station is completed, it will be capable of destroying an entire planet."

Kyle frowned. "How?"

"It mounts the most powerful superlaser ever constructed."

Kyle tried to imagine it - a laser capable of drilling down through miles of rock, hitting the planetary core, and triggering an explosion so massive it would tear the world apart. What had Governor Donar said? " . . . The Emperor has a thing or two in store for the so-called Alliance, and your father will be revenged"? The statement made sense now - and sent a tingle down his spine. He gestured towards the holo. "Does it actually exist? Or are they planning to build it?"

Mon Mothma nodded. "Oh, it's real all right. The battle station is being constructed in orbit over the Despayre penal colony. Once completed it will measure a hundred and twenty kilometers in diameter, will have a complement of twenty-seven thousand and forty-eight officers, seven hundred seventy-six thousand, five hundred seventy-six troops, pilots, and other combat personnel, along with an additional four hundred thousand support personnel and twenty-five thousand stormtroopers.

"Besides the necessary crew, the Death Star will carry assault shuttles, blast boats, strike cruisers, drop ships, land vehicles, and more than seven thousand TIE fighters. Its hull will be protected by ten thousand turbolaser batteries, two thousand five hundred laser cannons, and more than seven hundred tractor-beam projectors."

Kyle didn't know which amazed him more, the Death Star itself, or the detailed information regarding its capabilities. "No offense, but how could you possibly know these things?"

Mon Mothma looked him in the eye. "We know because beings sacrificed their lives to find out."

Kyle nodded soberly. "And the mission?"

"The research complex where the Death Star was designed is located on Danuta. We want you to go there, find your way into the facility, and retrieve those plans. Assuming the engineers identify a weak spot, the Death Star could be destroyed."

Kyle felt his heart sink. Fighting to avenge his father was one thing - throwing his life away was another. "What you describe is little more than a suicide mission. Why not launch a commando raid instead?"

Mon Mothma nodded and touched her remote. The Death Star exploded into a thousand points of light. A series of overlapping 3-D surveillance photos appeared. They grew successively more detailed as increasing degrees of magnification were introduced. An arrow appeared and moved from object to object. "This is the city of Trid. The spaceport is here, the fusion plant, here, and, assuming our information is correct, the research facility is here . . . Within a thousand meters of these are homes, a school, and a temple. I'd be interested in your opinion. Which is better? To send an agent? In hopes of a miracle? Or, assuming such a thing could be done, put a company of commandos on the ground, and accept the collateral damage? The imperials would - why shouldn't we?"

Kyle felt blood rush to his face. Mon Mothma knew he'd been an Imperial officer, knew about the atrocities on Sullust, and was pushing his buttons. The knowledge made him angry. "Is this the way you get people to risk their lives? Through psychological manipulation?"

Mon Mothma nodded. "Sometimes . . . If I think it'll work."

Jan watched in open fascination as Kyle's and Mon Mothma's eves locked and stayed that way for a long, long time. Kyle was first to look away. "Was that all? Did your agents provide anything else?"

"Just this," the rebel leader replied. "Some video of the room in which the plans are kept."

Another holo appeared over the table. This one was grainy as if shot with a low resolution lens from inches above the floor. The kind of footage a maintenance droid might capture if it had been enlisted as a spy.

Kyle watched equipment racks roll by enough uniform clad legs to go with five or six troopers, a large expanse of highly polished floor, and there, on the far side of the room, a vaguely T-shaped construct, suspended in a U-shaped frame.

"That's it," Mon Mothma said. "The memory matrix in which the plans are kept."

Kyle was about to reply when an officer crossed in front of the lens. There was something familiar about the image. He motioned to Mon Mothma. "Would you back up, please?"

The Rebel leader complied with Kyle's request, hit play, and allowed the video to jerk forward one frame at a time.

Kyle looked and looked again. There was no doubt about it, the officer was none other than Meek Odom, his ex- roommate and best friend. It appeared that Odom's request for a Special Operations assignment had been granted. And quickly, too. Kyle felt tiny beads of sweat dot his forehead and resisted the temptation to wipe them away. "Thank you."

Mon Mothma's face was expressionless. "Do you know that officer?"

Kyle shrugged. "I thought I did - but I was wrong."

Mon Mothma nodded noncommittally and the holo disappeared. "So what's your decision? Will you take the mission?"

It was crazy, stupid, and possibly fatal, but Kyle nodded. Not for the Rebel cause, or in reaction to Mothma's blandishments, but for his father and those who died with him.

The interview ended shortly thereafter. Mon Mothma watched Kyle go, shook her head thoughtfully, and walked to the viewport. Jan entered through a concealed hatch. The leader spoke without turning. "So? What do you think?"

Jan shrugged. "He's scared - but who wouldn't be? The chances for survival are slim."

"And that bothers you?"

"Yes."

"Do the two of you have a relationship?"

"Not in the sense you mean. No."

"Could you kill him if you had to?"

Jan frowned. "Yes, if he deserved it. What are you suggesting?"

Mon Mothma turned. Their eyes met. "Katarn lied. The officer in the holo is named Meek Odom. He was Katarn's friend at the Academy, his only friend."

Jan struggled with conflicting emotions. "So? Maybe that means something and maybe it doesn't. Don't forget about the lives he spared on that asteroid, or his actions on the Star. Not to mention the fact that the Imperials killed his father."

Mon Mothma turned back to the viewport. "Yes, but what if the whole thing were planned? The head could be faked. What if his father is alive? Held prisoner against Kyle's actions? What if the whole thing is part of a complex plan to place a spy in our ranks? The Empire is capable of that and more. I want you to follow Katarn, watch his every move, and kill him if he flips. Can you do it?"

Jan nodded. "If I have to. But what then?"

Mon Mothma turned to take Jan's hands in hers. "The only thing better than a well-laid plan is a well-conceived backup plan. Our forces on Toprawa may have a shot at the Death Star plans as well. The problem is that while the Toprawa plans include the battle station's hull design, and life support infrastructure, the Danuta plans include additional engineering schematics, and, if we're lucky, a complete map to the offensive and defensive weapons emplacements. We need both sets to ensure success."