Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 22
Bria looked up at tile Moff inquiringly. Really, Sam?
How so?
He kept his voice low, but it was still intense, still force-ful. Once my fleet has wiped out Nar Shaddaa, and brought the Hutts to their... well, brought them to heel, my power in this sector will be unquestioned. And when I tap into the wealth of the Hutts the lesser dans and Desilijic, at least I will be able to afford to augment my military forces until I can take on much greater foes than a mob of thieving smugglers.
Why does he always stn, nd like he g making a campaign speech? Bria wondered. Aloud she said, Desilijic? Why not Besadii, too?
In a private communique, the Emperor made it clear that Besadii is to remain unmolested, Shild said. Theyre useful to him, providing the Empire with trained slaves. Besadii must continue to prosper.
Bria filed this information away as something to relay to Rion as soon as she could. Palpatine even has his fingers in Hutt internal politics? Is there anything the Emperor doesnt try to turn to his personal advantage? Aloud she said, Oh, well, that makes sense.
Yes, the Emperor is a canny fellow, Shild said, still speaking in that almost whisper. But . . . perhaps . . . not canny enough.
Bria was puzzled. What do you mean, Sam?
He smiled, his public smile, but there was something in his eyes that made Bria uneasy. I fear that between the growing rebellions on the innermost worlds and the inter-hal political squabblings in the highest echelons, our be-loved Emperor has overextended himself. He is losing his grip in the Outer Rim Territories. The Imperial forces are spread so thin in these sectors that a strong leader with a powerful military force to back him could simply . . . se-cede . . . from the Empire.
Bria looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. He was talking sedition! Didnt he realize that?
Shild mistook her look for amazed appreciation. He beamed at her. Oh, dont think I havent thought of it, my dear. Theres no reason that the Outer Rim Territories couldnt become another Corporate Sector, with no ties or allegiance to the Empire. If I had sufficient military might, I could lead the Outer Rim to independence and prosper-ity-it would be glorious!
Bria had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw from drop-ping. What in the name of Xendors Minions has gotten into him? I always knew Sam was arrogant, but he sounds like a madman!
Was it possible that the Moffhad fallen under some kind of . . . influence? Bria knew there were some telepathic species of aliens, but shed never heard of any that could do anything like this. Maybe Shild had simply gone crazy. That was one possible explanation.
But the light in Shilds dark eyes was not that of a mad-man, it was the light of a man with a mission.
And after leading the Outer Rim Territories to glory, my d6ar-he gave her another one-armed hug-its pos-sible that I should turn my concentration . . . well, shall we say, toward more populated areas of the galaxy. There are unhappy worlds, here in the Empire, worlds that are looking for new leadership. I could provide that leader-ship.
I cant believe Im hearing this/Hes talking about chal-lenging the Emperor!
Bria was terrified to even stand here and listen to Shild. Palpatine had ears everywhere. Surely the Emperor would discover Shilds outrageous ambition, and eliminate him as casually as she might slap a stinging insect.
The Imperial fleet was moving magnificently past them now, passing in review. Shild dropped his arm from around Bria, stepped forward to stand on the very edge of the platform, looking slim and elegant in his Moffs uniform. He saluted his troops as they glided past him.
Bria stood back, near the entrance, feeling that coldness, that near panic grow, until it was everything she could do not to leave, to just run away and abandon Shild to face the consequences of his own egotistica] ambition.
Ill find out just what hes planning, if I can, she prom-ised herself, and then Ill go.
Bria stared at Shild, realizing she was now regarding him the same way she would a man who had contracted a terri-ble incurable disease. A walking dead man. She found she was actually sorry that Shild had contracted this disease, this craving for power. The Moff had always treated her well, and her assignment could have been far worse.
For a wild moment she considered trying to talk some sense into Shild, but she quickly abandoned the thought. The Moff knew she was intelligent, and he valued that, but he had sufficient masculine arrogance that hed never listen to a woman he was using as a front to disguise his sexual peccadilloes.
The fleet was nearly past the reviewing stand now. In minutes, as soon as theyd cleared Teths gravity well, theyd jump to hyperspace on the first leg of the long jour-ney to the YToub system. On the Outer Rim, systems tended to be spread farther apart than they were in the more crowded central portions of the galaxy.
Bria found herself, as she often did, thinking of Han. Surely he was no longer on Nar Shaddaa. Hed gone back to his Hutt masters, delivered Shilds warning, then taken off. Han was good at self-preservation. He wouldnt try any-thing crazy like trying tofight the Imperial squadron, would he?
Would he?
Brias mouth was terribly dry. She licked her lips, forced herself to swallow, then drifted back through the massive door to the magnificent reception inside, in search of a cup of stim-tea.
As she sipped it, Bria tried again and again to convince herself that Han was long gone from Nar Shaddaa, safe from Admiral Greelanx and his troops.
But, in her heart of hearts, she didnt believe it. Bria had a sudden vivid memory of the Corellian that time they were about to be boarded by slavers, remembered Hah drawing his blaster and squaring his jaw . . . remembered him vowing, Theyre not getting me without a fight! The odds against them had been approximately forty to three . . .
Brias hands were shaking so badly she had to put the cup down on the table. She closed her eyes, fighting for control. What if he tries to fight? What fi they kill him? I wouM probably never know . . .
And that was the most terrible thought of all . . .
Captain Soontir Fel stood on the bridge of the Dread-naught Pride of the Senate, preparing to follow his com-mander into hyperspace. In his gray uniform, with decorations and rank insignia providing touches of color, Fel was an impressive sight that inspired confidence in those under his command.
One of the youngest people ever to receive a captains conunission in the Imperial Navy, Fel was a tall, muscular man, broad-shouldered and exceptionally strong. Black hair, dark eyes, and rugged, almost handsome features made him look as though hed just stepped out of an Impe-rial Navy recrniting rolo-poster.
Fel was a good, conscientious officer, well liked by his men. He had a special camaraderie with his TIE fighter pilots. Soontir Fel had once been a TIE fighter pilot him-self, and his exploits and accomplishments were almost legendary.
In a way, Fel wished he could be back down there in the TIE fighter squad room fight now, relaxing, joking, and sipping cups of stim-tea with the others. Fel was unhappy with his current assignment.
For one thing, this Dreadnaught was a clunky old wagon, especially compared to the new Imperial Star De-stroyers. Fel would have given a great deal to be able to command one of those ships!
But he was determined to do his best by the Pride; he just hoped hed get the chance. Fel had studied Admiral Greelanxs battle plan, and he was not impressed. Oh, it was by the book, all right, but Fel thought the battle plan was too inflexible, too dependent on several assumptions that Fel perceived as either shaky or outright erroneous.
In the first place, Greetanx was certain that the smug-glers were nothing but a disorganized rabble, who couldnt possibly mount a coordinated attack. Soontir Fel had com-manded Customs patrol ships (as had Greelanx), and he knew for a fact that many of these smuggler pilots were the equal of any Imperial pilot ever graduated. They had fast reflexes, were excellent shots, and possessed a reckless courage that made them dangerous customers in a fight.
They were tough and independent, but if the smugglers found someone to lead them wisely, Fel thought that they might well put together a defense to be reckoned with.
Secondly, Greelanx believed that since the smugglers could not possibly pose a threat to this force, there was no point in attempting surprise. The admirals plan called for their squadron to emerge from hyperspace well within range of Nar Shaddaas sensors.
Fel thought that assumption amounted to overconfi-dence, pure and simple. And overconfidence was fre-quently a disaster in combat.
The worst problem, as far as Fel was concerned, was implementing order Base Delta Zero on Nar Shaddaa.
Fel knew that last wasnt Greelanxs fault. The Sector Moff had issued that order. But in the admirals place, Fel would have at least tried to get Sam Shild to modify that instruction. The Emperors directive had been to shut down the smuggling operations out of Nar Shaddaa and other smuggler nests, especially the gunrunners. The direc-rive hadnt included anytiling about razing the entire moon. Fel had had considerable combat experience, and he knew that sentients of most spe(Aes would fight like cornered Corellian vrelts when it came to protecting their homes and families.
There were millions of sentients on Nar Shaddaa, many of whom were only peripherally involved with the smug-gling business. Elderly sentients, children . . . Soontit Fel grimaced.
This would be his first Imperial-ordered massacre. Hed been lucky to avoid such an order for this long, the way things were going.
Fel would carry out his orders, but he wasnt happy about them. He knew images of the flaming buildings would haunt him, as he gave each order to fire. And after-ward . . . theyd have to send down shuttles and ground troops to mop up, and he, Fel, being a conscientious com-mander, would have to oversee that operation.
Visions of smoking rubble strewn with blackened corpses filled his mind, and Fel took a deep breath. Stop it, he ordered himself sternly. There nothing you can do about it. Tormenting yourself over it serves no pur-pose . . .
As Fel watched, the Imperial Destiny suddenly acceler-ated strongly, then vanished from sight as it engaged its hyperdrive. Peacekeeper followed.
Fel was relieved to have something to do, anything to distract him from his thoughts. He glanced over at his navi-gator. Course laid in, Commander? Yes, Captain.
Very well. Commander Rosk, prepare to make the jump to lightspeed, on my order. Yes, sir.
Fell watched the coordinates flash by on the navigational boards, then said, Engage hyperdrive. Yes, sir.
Fel watched as the stars suddenly elongated, and there was, for the first time, a sensation of terrible velocity aboard the big ship.
The mission to wipe out Nar Shaddaa was under way.
Admiral Winstel Greelanx stood on the bridge of his own Dreadnaught, watching the star trails of hyperspace. The admiral had his own concerns about this mission, very different concerns from those felt by his captains, Reldo Dovlis and Soontir Fel.
Greetanx was aware that Fel did not think much of his planned strategy. Dovlis was a less imaginative, older of_ ricer, content to follow orders without question, so Gree-lanx expected no problems with him. Fel, on tile other hand . . . there could be problems there.
Greelanx sighed. If only this mission was as cut and dried as it appeared on the surface! Go to Nar Shaddaa, wipe out the wretc hed smugglers, and then blockade the YToub system. But it was far from being that simple.
Less than a full day after Moff Shild had called him into his office on Teth to give Greelanx his marching orders, file admiral had received a message in the most secret Imperial code, sent eyes only under the tightest security to Gree-lanxs persona] comlink.
The secrecy code on this message had bden so restrictive that the admiral hadnt even dared to have it decoded by one of his staff, even his top administrative aide or seere-tarial droid. No, hed laboriously sat down with a code key and translated the entire thing by himself, writing it out by hand onto a sheet of flimsy.
As directed, the admiral had kept no copies of the mes-sage, destroying the flimsy as soon as he was finished read-ing it through.
The admiral had checked and rechecked the codes, thinking there had to be some mistake. But they all checked out. This message came from the very highest ech-elons of Imperial Intelligence. Excomm was the branch of Imperial security that was answerable only to the Emperor himself, or to his top-ranking aide, Lord Vader.
Greelanx had never received such a message before in his career-and he had served over thirty years in the Navy.
He had memorized the message, and that was easy, for it had been short. The message had read
Admiral Winstel Greelanx, eyes only, destroy after read-ing. Regarding Nar Shaddaa/Nal Hntta engagement.
You are advtsed for the good of your Empire to engage the enemy and suffer a strategic defeat. Minimize Impe-rim losses, and withdraw in good order.
Repeat you are to LOSE, Admiral. Do not attempt to confirm these orders. Do not discuss them with anyone. If you fail to comply, no excuses will be accepted.
Do NOT fail.
What did it all mean? Greelanx wondered. Someone very high up wanted Sam Shilds foray against the Hutts to fail. Who? And why?
Greelanx was not a particularly imaginative or intelligent man, but he was smart enough to realize that if he told Sam Shild about those orders, he would sound like a madman. He had no proof that he had received them. The encoded message had been time-sensitive impossible to copy, except manually, and designed to vanish within minutes after being downloaded.
And then had come the Hutt bribe. What a supreme irony, under the circumstances! A chance to increase his retirement nest egg by a thousandfold or more. Even if he hadnt gotten those secret orders, Greelanx would have found the Hutt offer difficult to reject.
Could the two things be related somehow? he won-dered. Or was it just an incredible coincidence? Greelanx had no way to tell.
The admiral was edgy and nervous about the entire ven-ture. Schemes ran through his head, only to be discarded as too risky. Should he try to contact the High Command? Tell the Moff? Take the Imperial Destiny to some remote location, then abscond in an Imperial shuttle?
That last option seemed the most likely to ensure his continued existence. He could go to the Corporate Sector, perhaps. Somewhere far, far away.
But if he did that, Greelanx had soon realized, his family would pay for his escape. His son and daughter, his wife. Perilaps even his two mistresses.
Greelanx was not particularly fond of his wife, but he wished her no harm. And he loved his children, who were grown and married. He had a grandchild on the way.
No, the admiral decided, he could not risk them. If hed kept the flimsy and showed it to the Moff, Greelanx knew that hed have signed his and their death warrants. The hnperial security forces were swift and ruthless. Greelanx and his family could run to the ends of the universe, and the storm troopers would still hunt them down. All he could do was obey, and hope for the best.
As he stood on the bridge of his ship, Admiral Winstel Greelanx thought of the young smuggler who had brought the Hutt offer. An offer he hadnt been able to refuse. Had the young man sensed filere was more going on than Gree-lanx was telling?
Hed seemed like an intelligent young fellow. Greelanx would have been willing to bet hed worn an Imperial uni-form before. Why had he left the service to become an outlaw?
The admiral hated to think that young smuggler might be one of the sentients hed have to kill in order to make his attack on Nar Shaddaa appear legitimate.
Greelanx watched the star trails, thinking . . . and wor-rying. How did I get myself into this? he wondered. And how in the name of all thats sacred do I get myself out of it?
Durga the Hutt was working in his office when a servitor droid rolled rapidly in. Sir! SirT The Ix)rd Aruk has been taken ill! Please come!
The young Hutt Lord abandoned his datapad and wrig-gled quickly after the droid, down endless corridors in the huge Besadii enclave. He found his parent lying limp, eyes rolled back in his head, sprawled across his repulsor sled. Aruks personal physician, a Hutt named Grodo, was work-ing over the unconscious Besadii leader, assisted by two med droids.
What happened? Durga demanded breathlessly as he undulated up to them, his tail pushing him along in long, swift glides. Is he going to be all right?
We dont know yet, sir, the physician said brusquely. He was working hard over the unconscious Hutt, giving him a jab with an injector, then administering oxygen. A circulatory pump stim-unit was adhered to Aruks misec-tion, automatically sending mild jolts into the massive body to keep Aruks heartbeat regnlar.
Aruks green-slimed tongne lolled limply out of his mouth. The sight terrified Durga. The young Hutt forced himself to halt several meters away, not wishing to get in the way. He was talking to his scribe, giving an order about some work, when suddenly, as the droid reported, he just slumped over.
What do you think caused this? Durga said. Should I summon security, have them seal off the palace?
No, sir, Grodo said. This is the result of some kind of
brain seizure, I suspect due to poor circulation. You know I
have been warning your parent about-
Yes, yes, I remember, Durga said. In his anxiety, he grabbed the edge of a low inlaid table, and only realized hed been twisting it when the heavy wood splintered in his hands.
Minutes later Aruk suddenly blinked, stirred, and then slowly raised himself, looking very puzzled. What? he croaked, his deep voice raw. What happened?
You collapsed, Lord, Grodo said. Some type of brain seizure. Caused by lack of oxygen to the brain, I suspect.
Caused by poor circulation, no doubt, Aruk grunted. Well . . . I feel fine, now. Except that my head is pound-ing.
I can administer something mild for the pain, Lord, the physician said, triggering his injector.
Moments later Aruk sighed with relief. Much better. Lord Aruk, the physician said sternly, I want you to promise me that you will take better care of yourself. Let this episode be a warning to you.
Aruk grumbled deep in his massive chest. At my age, I
