Tales from the New Republic (9 page)

Bel Iblis waited five minutes after Moranda and the others had left the scene before cautiously approaching the now abandoned landspeeder and letting himself in. No one shouted in triumph at his appearance; no one, so far as he could tell, even noticed him. Two minutes later, working awkwardly in the cramped space, he had the inner door panel off.

The datacards were there, all right, jumbled together at the bottom of the narrow space. Nestled in among them was an extra datacard, this one bearing official Imperial markings. Ysanne Isard’s missing Intelligence ID, no doubt.

For a moment Bel Iblis considered taking it with him, decided it wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught with it, and left it where it was. Besides, if Moranda was right about being able to talk her way out of detention—though how she was going to do that he couldn’t even begin to imagine—she might want to track down the vehicle and borrow the ID herself.

He refastened the panel loosely back in place, feeling a twinge of stung conscience as he did so. Yes, this had all been Moranda’s idea in the first place, a challenge she’d seemed eager to take on, but this was his mission, and the Rebellion’s, and yet it was Moranda who had ended up doing most of the work and taking all of the risks.

And not for the flat million in Imperial currency she’d demanded from Isard, but for the relative pittance he and Arkos had been able to throw together. Someday, if they all lived through this, he would have to find a way to make it up to her.

And the first step in the survival process, he reminded himself, would be to rendezvous with Arkos and get himself and these datacards off Darkknell and back to the Rebellion. And there to find out what exactly Tarkin’s Death Star project entailed.

“Good luck, Moranda,” he murmured as he climbed out of the landspeeder and closed the door gently behind him. “May the Force be with you. May it be with us all.”

Hal would have bet money that Isard’s eyes couldn’t have gotten more wild than they had been outside the ClearSkyes Boutique. He was wrong.

“What do you
mean
she’s gone?” she thundered, looming over Nyroska’s desk like a berserk storm cloud. “How could she be gone? You locked her in a
cell
, for Palpatine’s sake!”

“I’m sorry, Field Operative Isard,” Nyroska said apologetically, clearly trying to press as far back into his chair as he could manage. “My people assured me she was properly secured. Apparently they were wrong.”

“Apparently they were idiots,” Isard shot back. “And what precisely are you doing to recapture her?”

“We have an all-planet alert out,” Nyroska told her. “If she’s still on Darkknell, we’ll get her.”

Isard’s snort concisely delivered her opinion of that. “And you,” she bit out, turning her glare onto Hal. “If I find out that was Savich—and that you knew she was and didn’t say anything—I’ll have your head for shockball practice. Clear?”

“Clear,” Hal said. “And I repeat: I don’t see how it could have been her standing there hugging me when she was on the comlink at the same time giving us directions to the warehouse. Best guess is that it was her ally running interference for her.”

“In that case, you’d better hope Nyroska catches her,” Isard said. “Because if she or anyone else gets off the planet with that datapack, I’ll have both your heads.”

She turned back to Nyroska. “I’ll be at my ship,” she ground out. “You’ve got my comlink frequency. Let me know if anything turns up on either woman.
Anything
. Understood?”

“We will, Field Operative Isard,” Nyroska said humbly.

Spinning around, she stalked to the door and stomped out.

Nyroska exhaled raggedly. “We’re in trouble now, Inspector,” he said quietly. “The whole Empire may be in trouble if that datapack gets off-planet,” Hal agreed. “At least, if her reaction to the whole situation is anything to go by. But to be honest, I don’t think you and I are going to take the brunt of it, not from her anyway. Isard has about three TIE squadrons’ worth of pride, and bringing official Intelligence wrath down on us will put her in an embarrassingly bad light.”

“As bad a light as it would put us in?”

“Probably not,” Hal conceded. “But people like that only risk losing face if the potential rewards are worth it. Frankly, neither of us qualify.” He shook his head. “No, whatever shrapnel comes of this is going to hit elsewhere.”

“Against members of the Rebel Alliance, perhaps?”

Hal shrugged. “Or those Isard decides are members,” he said. “Whether they are or not.”

Nyroska tapped his fingertips against the side of his desk. “A mess, indeed,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be in her boots when she has to go back and report this to her father.”

Hal nodded soberly. “I’ll drink to that.”

“What is this?” the barman demanded, frowning at the two small items resting in the palm of his hand.

“They were inside the mug at that table over there,” the young cleaner said excitedly, pointing across the tapcafe. “The one where the dark-haired woman was sitting.”

“Which? The one involved in that Defense Agency todo down the street?”

“Yes, her.” The cleaner pointed at the comlink in the barman’s hand. “See, the comlink is still on. I tried talking, but no one answered.”

“Cut off from the other end,” the barman grunted.

“That’s what I thought,” the cleaner agreed. “But that recorder is the really strange part. Go ahead—play it.”

Throwing the kid a speculative look from under his bushy eyebrows, the barman plucked the wafer-thin recorder from his palm and touched the play button.

“Next, you’re to cross the street and pick up a northbound transport,” a female voice came from the device. “If there isn’t one there, just wait—there will be. You ride it to the corner of Pontrin and Jedilore, then get off and go into the clothing store you’ll find on the corner—”

“You hear that?” the cleaner said. “It’s like a treasure hunt, isn’t it?”

The barman sniffed. “It’s a prank,” he declared, shutting off the recording and thrusting it and the comlink back at the cleaner. “Here—you can keep them.”

The kid took them uncertainly. “But what if it isn’t a prank?”

“It is,” the barman assured him with a sniff. “Trust me, lad. There’s no treasure worth hunting for on Darkknell. Never has been; never will be.”

“Excuse me, folks—I’m looking for Talon Karrde.”

Mara Jade looked up from the engine monitor, peripherally aware that, on the other side of the board, Chin was doing the same. The voice coming from the direction of the
Wild Karrde
’s bridge door was completely unfamiliar to her.

As, she discovered, was the face that came with the voice. “Captain Karrde isn’t here at the moment,” Mara told the stranger, eyeing him narrowly. Just because they were in a familiar docking bay in a familiar port was no reason why strangers should be wandering loose around the ship. “How did you get in here?”

The man waved vaguely behind him. “Oh, Dankin was back at the hatchway, and he let me in. Karrde and I are old friends—he and I go way back. Any idea when he’ll be showing up?”

“I really couldn’t say,” Mara said, throwing a glance at Chin. Someone who went way back with Karrde should logically go way back with Chin, too, given how long the older man had been with the organization. But there was no recognition on Chin’s face, either. “If you’d like, you can leave a message.”

The man sighed deeply. “No, I’m afraid that won’t do.” He waved toward the viewport behind them and the bustling spaceport scene beyond it.

Abruptly, the back of Mara’s neck tingled with subtle warning. Her right hand dropped to the blaster holstered at her side—

And froze there. The intruder’s waving hand had abruptly split open down the middle, revealing the blaster that had been hidden inside the prosthetic shell. “And I don’t have time to wait for him, either,” he said, his voice as unconcerned as ever. “My employer would like a word with all of you. He’d prefer you arrive undamaged, but he’d understand if that’s not possible.”

Mara hissed softly between her teeth. On her own, she knew, she could take him easily, trick weapon or no. But she wasn’t alone, and Chin didn’t move nearly as fast as he used to. And whether by accident or design, the intruder’s weapon was pointed squarely at the older man. No, better to find out what this mysterious employer wanted and wait for a better opening. “I’d hate to disappoint him,” she said, lifting her hand away from her holster. “Especially after such a gracious invitation. Please, lead on.”

Though if he had harmed any of the
Wild Karrde
’s crew getting inside, she promised herself darkly, her cooperation would be coming to a quick end. A painfully quick end.

Fortunately for him, he hadn’t.

“Sorry, Mara,” Dankin apologized, looking rather sheepish as he and the rest of the crew piled out of the group of black-windowed landspeeders in which their captors had brought them here. “They got the drop on us at the hatchway.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mara said, glancing around as they were herded toward the side door of an ornate and well-guarded mansion. There was no indication of who the owner was or even exactly where they were, though from the sounds of spacecraft in the distance they probably weren’t more than a few kilometers from the spaceport. “Let’s see what all this is about. We can always get annoyed about it later.”

They were ushered through the front door, up a staircase, and along a corridor to a huge office whose luxury level left the rest of the mansion in the dust. A group of chairs had been set up facing a massive desk that looked to be nearly half the size of the
Wild Karrde
’s entire bridge.

And seated behind the desk, peering at them like a meat-buyer assessing a passing herd of bruallki, was a large, heavily built man. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice penetrating the distance without giving any impression that he was eyen pushing the limits of his volume. “Please be seated.”

“Your invitation was hard to ignore,” Mara told him, choosing the chair directly in front of him and sitting down. “You might want to consider trying a more polite approach.”

“If I’d had the time, I would have,” the round man said, glancing over them again. “Where’s Karrde?”

“He’s not here,” Mara said.
And not likely to bump into this meeting any time soon, either
, she added silently to herself. He was over in the Gekto system making some shipping arrangements, and wasn’t due to return until tomorrow. She could only hope he wouldn’t be as easily nabbed as the rest of them had been. “I’m Mara Jade, currently in command of the
Wild Karrde
. What do you want?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. Mara met his gaze evenly; after a few seconds, his face cleared and he even smiled slightly. “Mara Jade: I’ve heard a great deal about you, young lady. Yes, you’ll do nicely.”

Beside Mara, Dankin stirred as if he was about to speak. Mara shot him a quick glance, and he subsided.

“Very good, indeed,” the large man murmured. “Perfectly in command, both of yourself and of your people. Yes, you’ll do.”

He took a deep breath. “First, some introductions. My name is Ja Bardrin. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

Mara kept her face steady, wincing inwardly at the ripple of surprise that ran through the rest of the crew. Of course they’d heard of the industrialist—half the sector had—but that was no reason to play into this false-modesty, ego-stroking game of his. “I think I’ve noticed your name go by once or twice in a footnote,” she told him calmly. “Under weapons and ship systems, if I recall correctly. Usually dealing in market areas Uoti hasn’t gotten to yet.”

She had the small satisfaction of drawing a flash of annoyance from him on that one. The Bardrin Group and the Uoti Corporate had been jockeying for market position and prestige for over two decades now, a rivalry that was deep and bitter and showed no signs of being resolved any time soon.

Unfortunately, Bardrin’s brief flicker of anger subsided too quickly for her to use the lowered mental guard to pull any insight from his mind. “But enough of this chitchat,” she continued. “I’ll ask again: what do you want?”

Bardrin locked eyes with her. “My daughter Sansia has been captured. I want you to rescue her.”

Mara frowned. “I think your information sifters need a refresher course in how to do their job. We don’t handle military operations.”

“The mission requires a woman,” Bardrin said. “A resourceful, competent, combat-trained human female.”

“So go hire a Mistryl.”

Bardrin shook his head. “There’s no time to contact them, even if I knew how to go about it. I have to get Sansia back now, before her captors realize who it is they have.”

“What are you talking about?” Odonnl spoke up. “You said they kidnapped her.”

“I said they captured her,” Bardrin countered, pinning Odonnl into his chair with a single contemptuous glance. “Kindly pay attention.”

He brought his gaze back to Mara. “She and the SoroSuub three-thousand luxury yacht she was flying were taken by a pirate gang while in port on Makksre and given to a slaver consortium headquartered on Torpris and run by a Drach’nam named Praysh.” He lifted his eyebrows slightly. “I presume you’ve also come across
that
name in your footnote perusals.”

“Once or twice,” Mara conceded, suppressing a grimace. In the circles the
Wild Karrde
moved in, the name of Chay Praysh was even more well known than Bardrin’s. “I understand he makes the late and unlamented Jabba the Hutt look like a fine, upstanding citizen.”

“Then you understand why I want Sansia and her ship out of his hands,” Bardrin said, his voice suddenly low and with an underlying edge of desperation. “I know Karrde would have been willing to help me, but Karrde’s not here. You, Jade, must make the decision.”

“What about the authorities?” Dankin spoke up. “The Sector Patrol, or even the New Republic?”

“And have them do what?” Bardrin shot back. “Request an audience with Praysh? Mount an attack on his fortress that will leave it in ruins and everyone inside dead? Besides, their security leaks like rock sifters. If Praysh learns who Sansia is, he’ll bleed me for everything I own. And then kill her anyway.”

He looked at Mara, an almost pleading look in his eyes. “Sansia will have been sent to work in the slime pits in his fortress,” he said. “He sends all human female captives there—some deep desire to humiliate them, I presume. You’ll have to get them to take you in as another prisoner—”

“Wait a minute,” Mara cut him off. “I’ve already told you we don’t do this sort of work.”

“Then you’d better learn how quickly,” Bardrin rumbled, his earlier desperation changing abruptly into ominous threat. “There’s no time for me to get anyone else. You’re it.”

Mara crossed her arms, bringing her hand close to the tiny blaster concealed inside her left sleeve. “And if I refuse?”

“There are twenty-four blasters concealed in the walls of this room,” Bardrin said. “Three trained on each of you. Before you could even pull that weapon clear, you’d watch your crewmates die around you.”

Mara flicked her eyes across the room, stretching out to the Force as she did so. He was right; she could sense the alert presences hidden behind the ornately carved walls all around them.

And if she hadn’t been willing to risk Chin’s life earlier, she certainly wasn’t going to play games with the entire
Wild Karrde
’s crew now. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, unfolding her arms.

“You won’t refuse,” Bardrin declared, leaning back in his chair. “You see, you’ve just now given me all the leverage I need. You’ll go to Torpris and bring back Sansia and her ship… or I’ll execute your entire crew.”

Someone off to her left inhaled sharply. “You can’t be that stupid,” Mara said, trying to put confidence she didn’t feel into her tone. Through the Force she could read Bardrin’s intentions, and knew he was deadly serious. “You kill Karrde’s people, and Karrde will come after you. And I guarantee he’s not an enemy to trifle with.”

“Neither am I, my dear,” Bardrin said darkly. “A contest between us might prove quite interesting.”

He leveled a thick finger at her. “But regardless of the outcome, you would still have to live out your life with the knowledge that it was your obstinate stubbornness that had sent them to their deaths. I don’t think that’s a burden you really want to carry.”

“There’s no need to be quite so melodramatic,” Mara said, forcing her frustration and anger deep down where it wouldn’t show. To find herself being so easily manipulated was infuriating.

But she had no choice. She was Karrde’s second-in-command, and she’d seen the concern and respect he consistently showed toward his people. She wasn’t about to lower those high standards, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk her people’s deaths by refusing Bardrin. And everyone in the room knew it. “I’ll see what I can do. What can I have in the way of equipment?”

“Anything you want,” Bardrin said, standing up and waving a hand. Behind them, Mara heard the doors open. “My people will escort your crewmates to their quarters, where they’ll remain until you and Sansia return. You and I will go make whatever arrangements you need.”

“Fine,” Mara said, falling into step beside him as he passed between the entering lines of guards.

But that didn’t mean the matter would end with Sansia’s rescue, she promised herself silently. Not by a long shot.