Razor's Edge: Star Wars (Empire and Rebellion) (19 page)

Terae was the first to reach the traverse they had come down. She climbed the rough wall to reach it and popped her head over the edge. When she swore and let go to drop back down, Han figured it wasn't good news.

“They're coming down that way, too!” she whispered.

Han didn't need to look for himself. He heard shouts and boots pounding somewhere above, echoing off the rock.

They could keep going down the haulage tunnel, in the dark, and it might be blocked at any point. Han couldn't let them catch Terae, Fera, or Allian. If they were identified as
Aegis
crew, somebody might demand to see Leia and Metara, find them gone, and start a search.

“Take them and keep going,” he told Terae. “I'll cover you.”

She stared up at him. “But—”

“That's an order,” Han snapped, and Metara had trained her so well it was almost that simple.

She jerked away, then remembered who he was and glared at him. “You're not my commanding officer!”

Looking up at the traverse, he said, “If you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it.”

Terae hesitated, but they were obviously running out of time. She turned away, gestured sharply at Fera and Allian, and they ran up the tunnel into darkness.

Han switched his handlight on and started back the way they had come, very conscious of the pirates and security droids coming at him from both ends of the tunnel.

Catching up to him, Itran asked, “You planning to get caught?”

“I'm planning to get their attention and then head for that shaft we passed.” The only droid that had gotten close enough to count the intruders was a blasted mess, and Han bet nobody would take the time to check its memory storage, if there was anything still left of it. If they saw him running away, they wouldn't stop and search for anybody else. “Now get out of here!”

In the glow of his handlight, Han saw Itran shake his head, as stubborn as a rock. “I'm with you. It'll be more convincing with two of us.”

Han set his jaw and didn't bother to argue. If the idiot wanted to play hero, fine.

Behind them, the pirates arrived at the bridge with wild flashes of handlights and shouts, pebbles clattering down the wall of the haulage tunnel as they reached the edge. Han switched his own light off and spun to fire up at them, a short burst of bolts that made certain the pursuit would focus on this end of the tunnel. The returned fire slagged the tunnel wall just half a meter short of his head, and Han ducked and ran.

The flash of the pirates' lights had temporarily ruined Han's night vision. He couldn't see Itran at all, but he could hear heavy footsteps crunch over the crushed rock on the tunnel floor. Han figured it was going to be a long scramble down the shaft, even with the lighter gravity.

He thought he heard an engine whine somewhere ahead, but it was hard to tell with the echoes in the tunnel. It might be another heavy-duty security droid; that would be about all they needed. He glanced back and saw jumping lights as the pirates pounded toward them. There were only five of them, which was a relief. It would be hard for five to spread out and search multiple passages.
Now we just have to get down to the multiple passages,
Han thought.

“It's here,” Itran gasped, and Han almost fell headlong into the shaft.

Fortunately the gravity was even lighter in the shaft than it was in the haulage tunnel. Han slid down a near-vertical slope but caught a rocky projection on the wall and stopped his fall. Making enough noise for a reek in heat, Itran scrambled down after him.

They climbed down as fast as they could, trying to be quiet, but Han knew that as soon as the two groups of pursuers met in the haulage tunnel, they would realize this shaft was the only escape route. Then he heard pebbles and debris rattle somewhere above, and the echo of voices. Angry voices.

“Faster,” he whispered to Itran. He looked down and saw that the darkness at the bottom of the shaft was more gray than black; the next haulage tunnel was maybe fifty meters below them. It was tempting to let go and drop, relying on the lighter gravity, but he couldn't see what was down there, and a broken ankle would mean a messy death at the hands of the pirates.

“Going as fast as I can,” Itran muttered back.

Still climbing, still looking down, Han saw a shape in that darkness, something partially blocking the end of the shaft. Another rogue ore cart, maybe.

Then something creaked and groaned in the shaft above them. Han looked up into blinding light as someone aimed an arc light down at them.

“Drop!” he told Itran.

Itran looked down and grimaced, then pushed off from the wall. As Han launched himself, blasterfire filled the shaft, impacting the rock above and showering him with burning-hot rock fragments as the bolts shattered and heated the stone.

The problem with the light gravity was that the fall was too slow. The light flicked away, searched for them as they dropped out of its reach. Han heard a metallic thump and a scrabble as Itran hit the ore cart wedged across the shaft. Han resisted the urge to brace for the impact and made himself go limp instead. He hit feetfirst and his body folded up; the impact was bone jarring, but he didn't break anything. The metal surface was tilted, and Han half slid down toward where he could hear Itran ahead of him. Then the light hit him again, eye searing and disorienting. He looked up as something blocked the light just in time to see a big, flat shape plunge down toward them.
What in the …
he had time to think, and then he flung himself backward.

Whatever it was slammed into the ore cart and knocked Han into the air. He felt his shoulder bang into solid rock, and that was the last thing he knew.

In the near darkness, Leia carefully picked her way after Metara. A distant yell, sounding weirdly animal-like, sounded from one of the connecting tunnels. The crew member behind Leia stepped on the back of her boot and apologized in an embarrassed whisper. “It's all right,” she whispered back.

The route from the docking ring to the center of the mine went through an unused maze of haulage tunnels; it was some very ugly terrain.

Judging by the refuse Leia had seen and the stench, it was clear many of the castaways were badly addicted to spice; where they were getting it from was another question. She wondered if Viest or other pirates used a supply of spice to control them, or traded it to them in exchange for work or favors or other services Leia preferred not to contemplate too closely.

Leia didn't want anyone to see the seismic charge and get the idea to turn them in for a reward from Viest. But five well-armed humans, whether you knew they were carrying an explosive or not, was a large enough party that the smaller groups they had heard or glimpsed in the shadows seemed to be deliberately avoiding them. It helped that there were few lumas down here, and that most of those had been moved into clusters around the castaways' camps.

As they drew near the opening to one of the large spiral chambers, Metara signaled for everyone to mute their comlinks and extinguish their lights. Leia tucked her light away and thumbed the switch on her comlink, then drew her blaster. Silently, they crept around the opening to the spiral. A dim glow shone from it, and she heard faint noises echoing up: a shuffle of movement, voices, a clank that might have been a droid or a piece of old mining equipment. The draft rising from it stank of unwashed bodies and spice.

No one relaxed until they were well past, almost to the dim light at the end of the tunnel that marked the cavern entrance. When Metara switched her light back on, Leia took the mute off her comlink. Terae's voice whispered immediately, “Captain, Captain Metara, please come in.” Terae was breathing hard, agitated. Leia thought,
Oh, no …

Frowning, Metara lifted her own comlink. “This is Metara. Report, Terae.”

“We encountered a security droid,” Terae said. “There must have been a secure cargo dump down there that wasn't on the map and we almost walked into it. Solo held them off so we could fall back—”

Leia broke in. “Where is he?”

“They caught him, and Itran. I think they must be taking them to the control area. Fera is trailing them, and I'm monitoring her on another frequency.”

The other crew members shifted uneasily. Metara grimaced in dismay. Leia locked gazes with her.

“Do I continue with the mission?” Terae asked.

Leia knew that was a terrible idea. “If the pirates think this was an attempt to steal cargo, surely they'll increase the security on the slave pen.”

“I agree.” Metara told Terae. “Withdraw to a safe distance, but don't return to the ship. We may need you with us. Report to me as soon as you hear from Fera.”

Leia waited until she signed off, then said, “We should keep going. If they do take them to Viest in the control center, we have a chance to get them back.”

Metara eyed her. “One question. If it was two of my people, would you still say that?”

Leia understood what she meant; still, she couldn't help feeling offended. “Of course I would.”

Metara must have believed her. “Then we'll go on. Though as to what this does to the rest of our plan …”

The only part of the plan that was still on track was the transmission from Anakaret, and the timing for that had just gone all to ruin. Her voice firm, Leia said, “We're winging it.”

Waking up proved to be an experience Han could have done without. The first thing he was aware of was that his arms and shoulders ached like fire, more painful than the heavy pounding in his head. Eventually he got his eyes open. His vision was too bleary to make out much detail, but his head was tipped backward and his wrists were locked into binders suspended from a repulsor by a tangler field. His boots just managed to touch the floor.
Yeah, not good.

He felt like he had been run over by a large piece of mining equipment.
Oh, right, that's what happened.
He thought the pirates had taken one of the abandoned flatbed lifters in the haulage tunnel, one that must have still had just enough juice left in its power cells, and aimed it down the shaft at them.

He licked his lips and tasted blood. He thought he could move his head forward if he tried, though he wasn't certain it was worth it. Then he realized the noise he had thought was part of the ringing in his ears was actually someone nearby breathing heavily. He slowly lifted his head to look.

He was in a dome-shaped room, with a hatch at the far end, lit by a few drifting lumas. The remnants of old control panels were built into the walls, a few hanging open, the components inside looted long ago. A new sensor console with a large holographic plate had been installed, with exposed cables where it had been jury-rigged into the existing system. A large, round port on the far wall looked out into a dark space; squinting, he thought it was probably the asteroid's central cavern. From Leia's description and the map, this had to be part of the mine's control center. The furniture scattered around was almost sybaritic, a large richly upholstered couch and a few floatpads, none of them matching. It made a strange contrast with the all-business sensor console.

The rough breathing came from the only other living thing in the room that Han could see: Kifar Itran, who sat nearby, his wrists bound to the arms of his chair. He had darkening bruises on his cheeks and a discolored swelling around one eye. The pirates might have knocked him around, or maybe that was just from the crash with the ore cart—Han couldn't tell. Han groaned to himself. There was nothing worse than being taken prisoner with somebody who annoyed the hell out of you.

Itran looked toward the door, eyes narrowed and worried. His voice weak and rasping, Han managed to say, “Why aren't we dead?”

Itran jerked, startled, and stared up at him. “I don't know,” he said.

That was an unsatisfactory answer. Han noted that Itran's clothes were disarranged, as if he had been thoroughly searched without much regard for his privacy. Han looked down and saw he looked the same way. Han had returned the secure comlink from the
Gamble
to Leia, and the
Aegis
comlinks were old Alderaanian military issue, designed specifically with nothing to identify them, not the ship they were assigned to or their manufacturer or even their planet of origin. He hoped Terae had realized what had happened and been quick enough to cut them out of the comm network before any pirate smart enough to listen in had gotten hold of them. The tools would look just as likely to be used to cut open a secure door into cargo storage as to liberate a slave pen.
So why didn't they blast us already?

Choosing his words carefully, because somebody might be listening to them even now, Han said to Itran, “Did they ask you anything?”
Did you tell them anything?
was what he really wanted to know.

Itran shook his head. “They thought we were trying to steal from some kind of cargo storage near that traverse where the droid was posted.”

“Right,” Han said. If Itran was telling the truth, then that meant they had been kept alive to be made an example of, as what happened to stupid pirates who tried to steal other pirates' cargoes.
They're going to ask us what ship we came from. That could be tricky.
The only other shipowner Han knew by name here besides Metara was Anakaret. They could say they had been kicked off her ship before she left. It would work only if Viest hadn't met the rest of Anakaret's small crew. And if Anakaret had already taken her ship out of dock. “Itran,” Han rasped, “do you know how long we've been—”

The door slid open.

The first pirates to come in were clearly the muscle: a Gamorrean, a few big male humans, a couple of green-skinned Mirialans. The woman who strolled in after them was clearly the leader. This had to be Viest, the Lorrdian flightmaster. She smiled up at Han. “Good, he's awake.” She lifted a hand in a come-along gesture.

Two more pirates dragged in another human, or near-human, male. He was tall and thin, with straight, dark hair and a faintly green tint to his pale skin that might be his normal color or something caused by fear or rough handling. He was dressed in what had been a very fine robe over pants and a jacket but was now disarrayed and stained. He staggered, looked around nervously, then saw Han and blanched in horror.

I don't look that bad,
Han thought.

“Is that one of them, Janlan?” Viest asked.

Janlan, from the merchant consortium—the one who had told the pirates about the meeting on Arnot Station, Han realized.

Janlan shook his head. “I don't know. I never saw any of them. I told you, Davit made all the arrangements, and even he didn't know the names of the people we were going to meet.”

Oh, great,
Han thought. He winced, which made his head hurt worse. Obviously Viest had heard all about the meeting from Janlan, but what had made her suspect that Han and Itran had anything to do with it?
Well, there's one obvious answer to that.
Han looked down at Itran, trying to gauge his reaction. Itran's face was shocked and angry and worried; if he had talked, he was doing a good job of seeming surprised. So maybe he hadn't talked, maybe Viest had just questioned him and read the answers off his face and body.

Viest shook her head, her expression suggesting she felt sorrow rather than anger, as if Janlan were a friend who had disappointed her terribly. Han already didn't like her, and that little show didn't improve his opinion any.

“That's not how you presented this to us before, Janlan. You said you had all this information for us about how your merchant friends were selling off their goods to get ships to blow this place to nothing. You didn't tell us they were selling their goods to the Rebel Alliance.”

Han felt his insides freeze. The situation had just gotten a lot worse. He looked at Itran, who was still sitting there like he was a wounded hero, like he hadn't opened his big mouth and spilled everything to the pirates.
You piece of …

“I didn't know!” Janlan sounded weary, as if he knew a protest was useless, but still he went on, “I told you all I know, and you have the consortium's ship. You can ransom all those aboard. Their families, their trading partners, will pay for their release—”

It almost made Han feel sorry for Janlan. Almost. Had he really thought the pirates would just ransom his buddies? It was naïve at best. This whole mission had been plagued by people like Metara and Janlan, who seemed to think they could play both sides of the moral divide, steal and betray and get people killed, but still make it right. Like playing with a laser without getting burned.
There's a lesson there,
Han thought.
I think it's “naïve people will get you killed.” If loudmouthed idiots like Itran don't get you killed first.

“Ransom always sounds like a lot of work for not much return,” Viest told Janlan. She pointed at Han again. “Tell me if he's one of the rebels, and if he is, tell me what he's doing here.”

“I don't know!” Janlan shouted. “If he says he is, he must be one!”

Han rolled his eyes. “You know he's telling the truth—stop playing with him.” He realized a moment later that that was his head injury talking, that he should have just kept his mouth shut.

Viest stared up at him, as startled as if one of the chairs had spoken. Then she lifted her brows. “So who are you, then? And why are you here?”

“You tell me. You're the one who had us dragged here.” Han wondered if she would be able to read him, if he was giving anything away past “ow, everything hurts” and “probably going to die here in this room.” He didn't see how she could be reading his body language in this position.

Viest grimaced in annoyance. “Oh, come on, do you really want to prolong this? Just tell me why you came to this asteroid.”

Han noticed she wasn't asking how he had gotten here. Itran must have told her everything, maybe even about the
Aegis
and Leia. And from the looks of it, all the pirates had done was slap the guy around a little. It made Han want to pick up where they had left off.

Trying to ignore the sinking feeling of despair, Han wondered if Viest had ordered an attack on the
Aegis
yet, if Terae had been able to warn Leia. And what Leia was doing. Without some kind of cover for the
Aegis
's departure, Leia and the others couldn't even cut and run. Still playing the game, though he didn't think it would do much good, he said, “I came here to make money; same reason as anybody else.”

“That's certainly why Janlan here came to us,” Viest said, eyeing the merchant almost fondly. He looked away, trembling. “He wanted to trade his friends for safety, but I don't make deals with traitors. I just let them think I do.” She regarded Han again. “But I think you're here to see how many ships we have, how hard it would be to break up our little home.”

There was no point in denying it, but Han wanted to hear just how much she knew. “I don't work for anybody but myself.”

Viest nodded toward Itran. “What about your friend, here?”

This gave Han a reason to look at Itran. Itran glared defiantly up at him. Was he actually thinking that Han wouldn't be able to tell where Viest had gotten her information?
Idiot.
Han put some bored contempt into his voice. “He's just the hired help.”

Viest regarded him thoughtfully. “Hmm. Then I suppose I'm done with Janlan.”

She lifted a hand, and one of the pirates grabbed Janlan's shoulder and shoved him down on his knees. He struggled, shouting, “No, we had an agreement, you swore to me—”

Han winced, knowing what was coming next. Viest reached for her holster, and Han thought she would draw her blaster and blow the guy's head off. Instead, she drew a slim dagger out of a sheath beside the holster. It was too thin for a vibroblade, but she pressed something on the handle and Han felt a faint sonic hum that made the bones in his ears vibrate and his back teeth ache. It wasn't a knife—it was some kind of sonic probe. Maybe something meant for mining, for testing for mineral traces. Which meant it had to be able to pierce solid rock … She stepped forward as Janlan tried desperately to twist away. Her expression completely opaque, she gripped his hair and slid the probe into his shoulder. It passed through his clothing as if it were passing through air.

Janlan shuddered once, his expression confused, eyes wide, as if something was happening to his body and he had no way to process it.

Then he made a wet, choking sound, blood ran from his mouth, and his skull just collapsed.

Han flinched as the body fell into a heap, nothing left of the head but a steaming ruin. He wondered if this was what Viest had threatened Itran with, why the man had broken so easily—but Itran stared, eyes wide, as if this was a shock to him, too.
It was quicker than it could have been,
Han thought. He had expected her to draw the execution out much longer. But then, Viest had had plenty of time to torment Janlan, making him think she would keep her promise and let him go if he just twitched the right way for her. And now she had no one to play with besides Han and Itran.

Viest holstered her blaster and watched two of the pirates drag the body out. She glanced up at Han. “A ship just entered our system. Its ID says it's the
Millennium Falcon.
”

Oh, no, not now.
Han tried to keep his reaction off his face, but he wasn't sure he was successful. And he wasn't sure it would matter one bit if he did. If she knew enough to say this to him, then she at least knew he was Han Solo, that the
Falcon
was his ship. Stalling was about the only thing he could do at the moment, so he said, “What's that to me?”

“Then you don't mind if I order it destroyed.”

At the end of the tunnel, Leia saw a glow of bright light.
Are we in the wrong place?
she thought, frustrated. If the map was right, the tunnel should open into the asteroid's central cavern and there shouldn't be any active light source nearby. She motioned for Metara and the others to hang back, then stepped to the edge of the tunnel to carefully look out.

She found herself staring down at a work area on a large balcony extending from the wall of the cavern, lit by arc lumas positioned on stands, with tools, large power-cell chargers, and dismantled droids strewn across it. It had obviously been a recent addition. It was also occupied. Leia gritted her teeth, annoyed. They should have come out farther down.

The technician from the arena stood there, staring contemplatively at some project taking up most of the platform's open space. He looked up, spotted Leia, and his face lit with recognition. He fumbled for his holstered weapon just as she stunned him.

He collapsed onto the tool bench and a second figure, a Gamorrean, popped up from where he had been asleep behind one of the fabricating consoles. Leia fired again, and the Gamorrean snorted in dismay and fell backward. Leia carefully scanned the shadowy chamber for movement, but as far as she could make out it was empty. The arena was some distance below them, still lit by a few drifting lumas, but the spectator area was empty and the lift tubes were quiet. Above were the heavy shapes of the old drilling and digging vehicles. Any number of sentients could be hiding anywhere in the big chamber, but this part of it was silent and felt empty. Keeping her voice low, she said, “We're clear, as far as I can tell.”