Shadows of the Empire (8 page)

Wedge said, “… moon has some bad atmospheric conditions, big cyclonic storms that get real mean, mostly in the southern hemisphere. You wouldn’t want to try to fly through one of those.”

Dash laughed. “Maybe
you
wouldn’t want to, Antilles, but I eat thunderstorms for breakfast.”

Or maybe there isn’t more to him
, Luke thought.
Maybe he’s just crazy
.

Wedge continued the briefing. The Imperial Enclave was home base to two Star Destroyers—turned out the carrier was just a rumor—but that was plenty. Luke knew that a standard Destroyer carried a wing of TIE fighters, each wing made up of six squads, which meant seventy-two TIEs per Destroyer. A hundred and forty-four of them against the twelve in Rogue Squadron.

Well. Thirteen, counting Luke’s ship. That made the odds a hair less than twelve to one. Not so bad compared to some battles they’d been in.

He grinned. It was a measure of how lopsided the war between the Empire and the Alliance was when twelve-to-one odds didn’t seem so bad.

As Luke listened, he started thinking about a plan. Simpler the better, he figured.

Wedge finished his briefing. “That’s about it. What do you think, Luke?”

“Piece of cake,” Luke said. “I know just how to do it.”

Leia and Lando both looked at him as if he’d turned into a big spider. He grinned again.

I
n his sanctum Xizor grinned at the information floating holographically before him. Well, well. The misguided young man who had seen fit to try to kill him—what was his name? Hoff?—had gained access to the protected corridor through an Imperial checkpoint a mere few hundred meters away. And here was an odd coincidence—the guard who had been on duty at that checkpoint had mysteriously vanished. So whatever subterfuge the dead man had used would never be known, him being dead and the guard having disappeared.

Xizor would bet half his fortune against a bent decicred that the absent guard would never be heard from again, either. Somebody had caused the guard to allow the would-be assassin to pass, and whoever that was, they did not wish their involvement known, Xizor was also sure of that.

He considered it. His enemies were legion, were myriad, at the very least, and many of them would happily see him dead. A single guard would be easy enough to bribe and get rid of; a hundred of his foes here on Coruscant might be in a position to do that.

Who hated him the most? A difficult question, there being so many.

Who was likely to have the nerve to make such an attempt? Here was another matter. Black Sun was nearly invulnerable, and while many would cheerfully lop off its leader’s head if they thought they could get away with it, not many would be so certain they could do the deed undetected. So narrow that down to somebody powerful, somebody who might, should it become known, survive not only Black Sun’s wrath, but the possible ire of the Emperor himself.

Well, that narrowed it down a whole lot more.

Xizor leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. This was a little game he sometimes played with himself, pretending that he was using reason and logic to arrive at a conclusion he had already made intuitively.
He
knew
who had caused the attack, just as he knew it had not really been meant to succeed. It was no more than a small thorn set in his path, a tiny sticker upon which he was to step and be irritated, no more.

A small grief offered to his person by a man who feared neither Black Sun nor the Emperor’s displeasure. There was only
one
such man.

Xizor was tempted to hire a dozen assassins, not tell them who their target was, and loose them on Vader. The killers would fail, of course, be squashed like insects by Vader with less effort than Xizor had expended on the man in the walkway. Vader could kill with a wave of his hand, though he enjoyed a chance to use his lightsaber from time to time.

But—no. That might foul Xizor’s plans to appear to be Vader’s friend—or at least, not his enemy. If Xizor could figure out who had been party to the pathetic attempt on his life without any evidence save his feeling, Vader could also determine who might be brave enough to send shooters after him.

Certainly he would be quick to at least consider that it was a retaliation in kind for the attack on Xizor.

No. Satisfying as it might be to worry Vader with an attack, it would not be prudent, given the larger plan.

But it was good to know that Vader disliked him enough to want to see him dead.

L
eia laughed. “
That’s
your plan?”

Luke looked indignant. “What’s wrong with it?” His breath made fog-vapor in the cold room.

“You and Rogue Squadron will attack the Imperial Enclave, keep a hundred and some-odd TIE fighters and two Star Destroyers busy while Dash leads the
Millennium Falcon
to where Boba Fett’s ship is docked? We’ll just land, rescue Han, and fly away? Why, nothing is wrong with that plan. What could I possibly be thinking was wrong? It’s perfect.” She shook her head.

“Okay, so it’s simple—” Luke began.

“Simple
minded,
” Leia said.

He set his jaw. Uh-oh. She’d insulted his manhood. She knew that look.

“If you have a better idea …?” Luke said, his voice tight.

Leia sighed. That was the problem. She didn’t have a better idea. Luke’s plan was straightforward, and while it might be foolhardy enough to get them all cooked by Imperial turbolasers, it might also be just crazy enough to work. If she were the local commander, she’d never expect anybody to do anything so stupid. “Well …” she began.

“That’s what I thought,” Luke said. There was a small note of triumph in his voice when he said it, too.

“Not to put a governor on your drive or anything,” Dash said, “but if we’re going to sneak in the back way, it’ll take some pretty fancy flying. Treetop-level stuff to avoid local sensors. Might have to drop into the Grand Trench canyons.” He looked at Lando. “Even if that piece of Corellian junk you’re in doesn’t fall apart, you think you can manage it?”

Lando said, “You flew it?
I
can fly it.”

“Yeah, well, I was in the
Outrider
when I did it.”

“The
Millennium Falcon
has had a few modifications since I owned her,” Lando said.

Chewie said something.

“That right?” Dash said. “Where’d you get sublight engines that fast?”

Chewie said something else, waved his left arm.

Dash grinned. “Yeah, I guess Solo would be dumb enough to do something like that.” He nodded at Luke and Wedge. “Okay. If you can keep the TIE fighters and the Destroyers busy, I can get Lando to where Boba Fett’s ship is.”

Chewie said something. Leia figured she knew what it meant. He was offering to go along.

“You don’t have to, pal,” Lando said.

Chewie spoke again.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Count me in, too,” Leia said.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea—”

Leia interrupted him. “You don’t think the Imperial commander is going to send all his TIEs out to deal with a dozen X-wings, do you? He’s bound to have somebody on the planet. If they start shooting at the
Falcon
, you’ll need somebody to shoot back. If Chewie is in the dorsal turret, who is going to cover your belly?”

Lando and Luke looked at each other. Luke shrugged. “She’s right. And she’s a good shot.”

“Thank you,” Leia said.

“Okay, I guess that’s it,” Wedge said. “The boys’ll be glad to fly under your command for this mission, Luke.”

“Thanks, Wedge.”

Dash said, “Want to see something, kid?”

Luke looked at him.

“Through that door there.”

Luke walked toward the door. Curious, Leia followed them.

Dash opened the door, into another large, hangarlike room.

“Wow,” Luke said.

Leia looked through the doorway.

A ship sat perched on the cheap plastic flooring. It had smooth lines, heavy cannon mounted above and below, and it shined with a dark gleam, like chrome. It was almost the size of the
Millennium Falcon
and had an offset cockpit module, but that was as close as it got. This ship was a top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art craft; Leia had seen enough ships to recognize that it was something special.

A droid stood next to it, a stripped-down skeletal model with a tool bag slung over one shoulder.

“The
Outrider,
” Dash said. “And my droid, an LE-BO2D9
—he answers to ‘Leebo,’ when he bothers to answer at all. He thinks he’s funny.”

“How’d you afford a ship like that?” Luke said.

“Well, it wasn’t clean living. You like it?”

Luke nodded. Leia could see he itched to inspect the vessel, to climb into it, to see what it would do with him at the controls.

Like boys with an expensive toy
, she thought. She hoped the mercenary who owned it could fly half as well as he claimed. This didn’t sound as if it was going to be an easy trip.

Leia stared at the
Outrider
. She was about to risk her life again, and that wasn’t something you got used to doing, even when it was necessary. That she was going to risk it to rescue Han somehow made it worse. That she would be that … vulnerable, to want something—no, some
one
—so badly was scarier still. She could justify putting herself at risk for the Alliance; that was of galactic importance. But to do it for the love of a man …?

She’d never thought it would happen. Her dedication to the Alliance, to defeating the Empire, had never allowed for much of a personal life. Oh, sure, there had been friends, even some with whom she’d been close, but she had always thought that her life would be spent fighting against the Emperor and his evil. She’d never seen herself falling in love, settling down, having a home or children. Probably that wouldn’t happen anyway, given all that could get in the way, but at least it was a possibility now. Assuming they could find and free Han. Assuming they could escape and not get killed in the process.

Assuming Han had any real interest in her. He hadn’t said the words. She’d believed he felt the same thing, but he hadn’t said it.

Big assumptions, those.

Well. They’d just have to see. One thing at a time.

One thing at a time.

D
arth Vader held his lightsaber firmly, wrists locked, and watched the killer droid circle to its left. The droid was a new model, one of a dozen identical units constructed to his personal specifications. Like Vader, it also held a lightsaber. It was tall, spindly, looked something like the general-purpose Asps to be found all over the Empire, but with a number of special modifications. The unit was faster than an ordinary man, stronger, programmed with the knowledge of a hundred sword masters and a dozen different fighting styles. Against a normal person, the droid would be unbeatable and deadly—

The droid stepped in fast and cut at Vader’s head. Vader blocked, and the droid chopped again, circling the humming blade in a second cut at Vader’s side. Fast, but again a block—

The droid’s third attack came from the opposite side as its blade flashed in a large half circle—

Vader parried and riposted, angling a slash at the droid’s head—

The droid blocked and slid back a meter, out of range, blade held over its head, point angled down.

The slight ache in Vader’s shoulder where Luke had cut through his armor during their fight was definitely better. He hardly felt any soreness at all with that series.

He moved in, swung a feint at the droid’s neck, twisted his wrists, and pivoted the lightsaber for a second feint at the same side, then a third feint, a jab at the midsection.

The droid stepped back and crossblocked the final feint—

Vader V-stepped to his left, cocked his blade over his left shoulder, and hacked forty-five degrees at the base of the metal neck—

The droid’s block was a quarter second slow. Strong as it was, it was not strong enough to offset the power and momentum of Vader’s strike. The blades met, hissed and sparked, but Vader’s sword shoved the droid’s blade to the side. It tried to backpedal—

Too late. The lightsaber hit midway between the droid’s neck and shoulder joint, sheared through the exoframe and halfway through the chest. Circuitry sparked, shorted out. Sparks and acrid smoke erupted from the droid’s body. It dropped the lightsaber as its hand controls died. Fell to its knees.

Vader cocked the weapon over his right shoulder and swung in a flat horizontal arc—

The lightsaber sliced through the droid’s neck and took its head off. The head fell, bounced, and the droid’s decapitated body fell backward.

Vader stood over the downed droid. Soon he would have to order another dozen of them produced—this was the eighth one of the originals; he had but four left. And the next batch would need to be improved. It was getting too easy.

His shoulder definitely felt better.

He shut off his lightsaber and turned away from the droid.

An aide stood in the doorway, looking impressed and nervous.

“Clean up the mess,” Vader said.

He strode away. He did not look back.

I
nside his X-wing, Luke took a deep breath. “You ready, Artoo?”

Artoo whistled assent.

“This is Rogue Leader,” Luke said. “Lock your foils into attack position, accelerate to sub-six and acknowledge.”

“Rogue One, copy,” Wedge said over the comm.

“Rogue Two, that’s affirmative, lock and load.”

“Rogue Three, I copy.”

The rest of the squadron acknowledged Luke’s orders. They were ready, as ready as they were going to get. The dayside Destroyer lay dead ahead, and by now its long-range sensors would have spotted the incoming X-wings, and the commander would have started scrambling his fighter force. The latest TIE fighters were a couple of sublight units faster than an unmodified X-wing, TIE interceptors faster still, but they couldn’t get to top speed immediately, so Rogue Squadron would get one relatively free pass at the Destroyer before the TIEs got clear and moving. Not that they’d be able to do much to the Destroyer with fighter-wattage laser cannons or proton torpedoes; Destroyer shields and armor were too thick. But a lucky shot might do a little damage, and it would make the Imperials keep their heads down—they couldn’t know if the Alliance might have outfitted its snub fighters with some new weapon. It would make them sweat a little.