Shadows of the Empire (35 page)

“Certainly I shall. Right away,” Threepio said.

Luke chewed at his lip. They were about to go into the sewers. He didn’t need any more problems.

V
ader stood on the balcony of his castle, immune to the night breeze that washed over him. He had tried to reach out with the Force and find Luke, but had failed. Surely it
was
Luke? Who else could it be? And if it was
—where
he was exactly was probably not as important as
why
he was here in Imperial Center.

Had he come to challenge Vader? Had he been sent on some Rebel scheme to attack the Emperor? The protective line of Imperial warships would stop any attack by the Rebel forces, but it was designed to detect large vessels and not mites. A determined pilot in a small ship could find ways through the Imperial skynet.

What is it, my son? Why have you come here? Let yourself hear me, reveal your whereabouts and I will come to you
.

If Luke heard his call, there was no response.

“My lord Vader,” came the voice from behind him.

He turned. The little man who had supplied him with the damning information on Xizor stood there. Vader had left orders he was to be admitted no matter when he arrived.

“You have something for me?”

“Yes, my lord. We have uncovered a pirated copy of certain of the planetary files for Falleen, thought to be destroyed.”

“Why should I find this interesting?”

“It contains some material about Prince Xizor’s family. His father was king of a small nation there.”

Vader frowned. “I knew his father was royalty, but I have been given to understand that Prince Xizor was orphaned at an early age.”

“Not precisely, my lord. You may recall a biological experiment on Falleen that … went awry a decade or so past.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“During the, ah,
sterilization
procedure, some Imperial citizens’ lives were lost.”

“A regrettable incident.”

The little man touched a control on his belt. A hologram appeared between him and Vader. It appeared to be a family portrait of eight Falleen. Vader looked at the group. There was a certain familial resemblance among them—wait. One of them was Xizor. He looked much the same, a little younger, perhaps. It was hard to say; Falleen aged very slowly; they were a long-lived species.

“Prince Xizor’s family,” the little man said. “All of whom were killed during the destruction of the mutant bacterium that escaped from the lab.”

A light dawned then, bright and clear and sudden in Vader’s mind. Ah! That explained much. It was not simply that Xizor considered Vader a competitor for the Emperor’s affection, not merely a roadblock to his ambitions.

It was
personal
.

“How did the records of this come to be destroyed?”

The little man shook his head. “We do not know. For some reason, all references to Xizor’s family simply vanished, shortly after the destruction of the city.”

Darth Vader had been in charge of that project. Xizor must consider him responsible for the deaths of his family. And now he wanted to kill Luke—Vader’s
son. Not simply to make him lose face in the eyes of the Emperor, but for revenge!

It made sense. Through Black Sun, Xizor had the means to get to and eliminate the records. He was Falleen and thus patient. Was it not the Falleen who said that vengeance was like fine wine? It should be aged until it was perfect. They were cold, the lizard men; they could wait for a long time to get what they wanted.

Well. So could he.

“Once again you have served me well,” Vader said. “When you finish this project, you will no longer have need to worry about money, such is my gratitude.”

The little man bowed low. “My lord.”

Vader waved him away. He had things to think about.

Things to do.

B
y the time they were ready to leave, the small band was outfitted with all the gear they thought they might need for a long hike through the sewers followed by an assault on a heavily fortified building.

Luke certainly didn’t consider himself a Jedi Master, but he elected to use his lightsaber as a weapon. Chewie managed to locate a bowcaster, and Lando and Dash stuck to their own blasters. Nobody offered Vidkun a weapon—if the shooting started, they weren’t at all sure which way he might be firing.

Dash had expressed it by saying that people like Vidkun were useful—but you didn’t trust them any farther than you could see them. You paid them what you owed and then got as far away as you could, fast.

They elected to go during the daylight hours. Vidkun would normally be off work and thus would not be missed. That far under the ground, it wouldn’t matter what the sun was doing, either.

Luke shifted some of the gear on his belt, adjusted
the small backpack so it rode more comfortably on his shoulders.

Dash said, “Ready?”

Everybody was.

“Let’s do it.”

D
arth Vader received a call from the Emperor, via the holonet:

“My master.”

“Lord Vader. How are things there?”

Why was he asking that? “Calm. There are no problems.”

“Stay alert, Lord Vader. I have felt a disturbance in the Force.”

“Yes, my master.”

When the Emperor had discommed, Vader stood and stared into infinity. Was it Luke the Emperor sensed? Or something else? Black Sun and its amoral leader?

Well. It was time, he decided, to see if he could back that particular adversary into a corner. To his computer, he said, “Get me Prince Xizor.”

I
n his sanctum, Xizor was mildly surprised at the incoming call.

“Lord Vader. What a pleasant surprise.”

The image of Vader looked, as always, imperturbable. But when he spoke, the durasteel in his voice was barely covered by a thin layer of civility:

“Perhaps not so pleasant. I have been made aware of your attempts to kill Luke Skywalker. You will cease all attempts to harm the boy immediately.”

Xizor kept his face neutral, even though he felt a violent surge of anger. “Your information is in error, Lord Vader. And even if it were correct, I am given to understand that the boy is a Rebel officer, all of whom
are traitors and wanted dead or alive. Is this sudden change of policy an official Imperial decree?”

“If Skywalker is harmed, I will hold
you
personally accountable.”

“I see. I assure you that if I should happen to come across Skywalker, I will extend to him the same courtesy I would to you, Lord Vader.”

Vader broke the connection.

Xizor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Again he told himself it was to be expected that Vader would uncover some information about Skywalker sooner or later, as had the Emperor. Few things of any real value could be kept secret forever; still, it was another irritant. This should have no effect on his plans, either; he would merely have to be more circumspect in his actions. When Skywalker could not be found, Vader might
suspect
who was responsible, but as long as he did not have
proof,
Xizor would be safe.

Knowing that did not quite erase the lingering echo of fear.

Of course, the Emperor could always shift his stance. He had done so more than a few times and for reasons that often seemed capricious at best. Still, if Xizor could deliver the leaders of the Alliance, that would go a long way toward keeping Imperial favor. With the Rebellion beheaded, a lot of effort would be saved; billions of credits and tens of thousands of men and machines would be freed for the Emperor’s other pleasures, whatever those might be. The Dark Lord of the Sith might rant, but as long as he was that useful, Xizor would be blasterproof and untouchable.

Darth Vader was too much the Emperor’s puppet to go against Palpatine’s wishes.

This conversation was thus mildly upsetting, nothing more, and in fact had given Xizor knowledge he had not had before. Vader was not sleeping, and that was good to know. Underestimating one’s enemy was always a bad thing.

L
eia went through the second exercise routine of the day, but kept it light. She might need to move in a hurry, and she wanted to be flexible and warmed up but not exhausted.

Things were about to happen.

T
he sludge was a greenish black, thick, oily, and it stank worse than anything Luke had ever smelled before. Dregs of the dregs, the silty goop was liquid, or at least fluid, and it flowed around their feet, sloshing sometimes deeper than their ankles.

Luke was very glad he had calf-length boots with his new clothes.

The tunnel in which they walked was as big as Vidkun had promised. It was lighted from a row of somewhat dim overhead glowsticks but bright enough to see as much as they wanted.

Something ahead of them chittered, and there came a pair of splashes, as if somebody had dropped a couple of head-size stones into the inky liquid.

Chewie, in the lead, muttered something. He sounded quite agitated. He stopped moving.

Lando, right behind him and just ahead of Luke and Vidkun, said, “I heard it. It’s not my fault you didn’t
want to wear boots. Go on, it’s more afraid of you than you are of it.”

Behind them, bringing up the rear, Dash said, “Yeah, better watch yourself, Chewbacca! I hear that sewer serpents
love
Wookiee toes!”

Chewie’s reply to that was short, sharp, and probably obscene.

Lando said, “Fine, forget the life debt you owe Han. Let the bad guys keep Leia because you’re afraid of a toothless little slitherette.”

Chewie growled, but started moving again.

Vidkun said, “What’s with the Wook?”

“He doesn’t like little swimming or running things,” Luke said. “He
really
doesn’t like ’em.”

Vidkun shrugged. “A few hundred more meters,” he said. He was apparently unaffected by their slog through the foul flow sloshing against their legs.

“Hey!” Dash said. “Look out!”

Luke spun, pulled his lightsaber from his belt, and thumbed the weapon’s control on—

Just in time to see a large bloodshot eye pop up on a fleshy stalk attached to something slithering through the murky effluvium toward him. He also caught sight of Dash’s fast draw. A dianoga!

“Don’t shoot!” Luke ordered. With that, he dropped into a crouch and swung the lightsaber.

The dianoga tried to duck, but it was too slow. The shimmering beam of hard light sliced through the stalk, and the eye tumbled into the sludge. The wounded creature began to thrash wildly, heaving large and muscular coils of its body every which way.

Luke stepped in closer and brought the blade down. Hit the dianoga’s body a solid blow and chopped it in half.

The cut pieces continued thrashing, but the spasms quickly subsided.

Dash spun his blaster around his finger and dropped it back into his holster. “Nice move, kid.”

“I’ve seen these things before,” Luke said. “Last time I ran into one was in a trash compactor. It nearly got me.”

Chewie harned his agreement.

“You spend a lot of time in places like this?” Dash said.

“Not if I can help it.”

The five of them continued to wade through the mire.

“Just ahead, there,” Vidkun said.

They stopped. There were two large, round holes in the wall, covered with finger-thick metal mesh gates. The holes were angled down slightly. More sludge ran from the smaller tubes in a shallow stream to join the slow-moving slurry in the large pipe.

Lando said, “Okay, Vidkun, let’s see if those codes you have work.”

The engineer moved forward, did something to the locking mechanisms with a plastic card. The gates swung open. He grinned at them. “See? Just like I told you. We want the one on the right.”

Chewie started to climb into the new tunnel. It was a little short for him, but the others should have no trouble walking upright in it.

Chewie slipped, nearly fell, managed to catch himself. He had to put one hand into the goo to do it, and when he pulled that hand out, it was as dark as the stuff that covered it. He shook his hand violently.

Chewie was
not
happy.

“Careful,” Vidkun said. “It’s a little slippery in places.”

Chewie turned slowly to stare at Vidkun. Lucky for the engineer that Wookiee eyes weren’t lasers; otherwise, Vidkun would have been burned into a crispy black lump where he stood.

Lando chuckled. “Yeah, be careful, you big clumsy—yow!”

Lando skidded and sat down in the sludge. He came
up fast, but not fast enough to keep his backside from being soaked.

Chewie laughed so hard Luke thought he might fall again.

Luke fought his own grin. It served Lando right, but he didn’t want to be next, so he kept quiet. Things had a way of happening if you tempted fate.

“You should have worn old clothes,” Dash put in.

“Hey, Rendar, I don’t
have
any old clothes.”

“You do now. I don’t think you’ll ever get ’em clean enough to wear in public. They’d drum you right out of the Elite Stormtroopers smelling like that.”

“Shut up,” Lando said.

They moved into the drain and climbed the slight incline very carefully.

“Coming on the zap field,” Vidkun said. “Lemme run the deactivator.”

Everybody stopped while the engineer fiddled with the controls on a small black box he pulled from his belt.

Just ahead of them the air shimmered. There was a brief flash of purplish light.

“Should be okay now,” Vidkun said.

“Fine, you go first,” Lando said.

The engineer glared at him but moved to the front. When he’d walked a few more meters without turning into crispy fried Vidkun, they followed him.

You’d think that after a while you’d get used to the smell,
Luke thought. But it seemed to be constantly shifting, going from bad to worse, bringing forth stinks he’d never imagined.

It was going to take a real hot and real long shower to wash the stench off.

Where they walked, the sludge reflected the pale glowstick light onto the walls of the tunnel in eerie, rippling waves. The smallest sounds were magnified and echoed, lapping back at them from the hard duracrete walls.