41

“Looks different, doesn’t it, Corran, when you’re walking on the ceiling?”

“Yeah, but not any better.” Despite having the lights strung throughout the Lusankya prisoners’ quarters, the warren’s rough-hewn walls still pressed in on Corran. He turned toward Tycho Celchu as he climbed over the low wall into what had been Jan Dodonna’s cell. “It’s very strange to have mounted this whole operation to try to get Jan and the other prisoners out, just to get in here and find Isard had them shipped out by shuttle to other places months ago. Deep down she must have known we’d win, so she did this to frustrate us.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, my friend.” Tycho patted Corran’s right shoulder with his left hand. “When you escaped from the Lusankya, you ruined it for her. She could no longer view her little prison without thinking about how you beat her. Whereas anyone else would have beefed up security, she decided to scrap the whole facility. And it’s just as well, because this section of the ship lost atmosphere—everyone would have died in here. Had Isard really been on her game, she would have let them die that way and would have us blaming ourselves for killing a bunch of the Rebellion’s heroes.”

Corran nodded slowly. In the week since the battle for Thyferra he’d waited for repair crews to restore atmosphere to the prison area on the ship. To the others that had seen it, the whole area was just part of a ship where the bulkheads had been lined with rock. The fact that the primitive latrines had drained into a zero gravity vacuum, then the waste settled wherever it had drifted when gravity and atmosphere had been brought back, did not help things. Everyone who visited the facility could see very clearly why he hated it.

But the stink and the crudity of its manufacture wasn’t why he hated it. Corran frowned. “It feels to me as if despair and failure have permeated these walls. The men who were in here didn’t dare try to escape, and yet most of them could have, I’m certain. Jan could have come with me, but he didn’t because he felt a responsibility to the others. That made him more a prisoner than these walls.”

“But what you saw as a prison for him was not what he saw for himself. Jan knew he was keeping people alive by leading them. He hadn’t surrendered, so they couldn’t quite do it themselves.” Tycho brushed fingers across the rocky surface of the walls. “What he was doing, by staying behind, was as much a part of him as your need to escape was a part of you. I don’t remember much of my time here, but I felt certain I was going to die here. It’s a terrible thing to come back to your senses after having been out of it, to find yourself in a place where you think you’re going to die. Jan told me I wasn’t, and I didn’t.”

“And you escaped from the place where she sent you after you left here.”

“Right.” Tycho smiled. “We have to hope the others will be able to do that, too.”

“It’ll be fine if they do, but I’m still on for finding them myself.” Corran smiled. “Zraii’s already got my X-wing back to normal—well, as normal as it gets after a Verpine messes with it—so I’m ready to hunt. You with me?”

Tycho nodded thoughtfully. “I am, though I think we’re going to have some stiff competition. One of the first ‘repair’ crews in this area was a forensic team from Alliance Intelligence. They are supposed to have swept this place, pulling fingerprints, hair and tissue samples—even samples of some of the solid waste floating around. You know better than I what that sort of evidence can tell them, but I gather they were able to confirm the identities of some of the prisoners from what they got.”

Corran smiled slowly. “Which is why General Airen Cracken showed up two days ago. The New Republic is going to hunt for the prisoners, then?”

“That would be my guess. They couldn’t do it before because they only had your word to go on—my identifications were spotty and old. Since you chose to resign from Rogue Squadron and started all this, they had to disassociate themselves with our effort. Now they have solid evidence, which changes everything.”

“Great, they can race us in finding them.”

“Ah, there you are, Corran.” Ooryl filled the entryway. “I thought I could find you here.”

What? Corran stared at the Gand. “Ooryl?”

“Did Ooryl say that right?” The Gand’s mouthparts snapped open and shut excitedly. “Ooryl wanted you to be the first to hear.”

Corran looked over at Tycho, but the Alderaanian just shrugged. “Yes, Ooryl, you said that correctly, but I thought Gands didn’t use personal pronouns unless …”

The Gand’s fist clicked off his chest. “I am janwuine. The ruetsavii, they have declared me janwuine. They have returned to Gand to tell Ooryl’s, ah, my story. What we did here, Ooryl’s part in the taking of Coruscant, and the battles against Iceheart, these will become known to all the Gand. If Ooryl says ‘I,’ they will know to whom I refer.”

“That’s great, Ooryl.” Tycho extended his hand to the Gand. “The Gands have every right to be proud of you.”

Ooryl shook Tycho’s hand, then Corran’s as well. “There is more. Each of you have been declared hinwuine. This means that when you come to Gand for Ooryl’s janwuine-jika, you may speak of yourselves with personal pronouns and will not be thought vulgar or rude.”

Corran’s eyes narrowed. “You mean to tell me that the whole time you’ve been here in the squadron you felt the way we talked made us vulgar or rude?”

The Gand shook his head. “Ooryl never assumes vulgarity when ignorance suffices as an explanation.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Tycho shot him a sly smile. “That should be ‘Corran thinks.’ ”

“But not often,” Ooryl added.

“Corran thinks Ooryl should practice using personal pronouns more regularly before he tries comedy.” Corran opened his arms wide. “Not much better than the shack we shared on Talasea, is it, Ooryl?”

“The mineral deposits do add some color, but Ooryl, er, I would not like to live here.” The Gand held a hand up. “I would explore this place with you more, later, for the story of your time here will be vital to my janwuine-jika, but there are other things we must do right now. Captain Celchu, Commander Antilles asked Ooryl to tell you he is waiting for you in the Lusankya’s staff officers’ mess.”

“Last minute things before his party?”

“Ooryl, I mean I, believes this is the case, Captain. And Corran, General Cracken has asked to speak with you.”

I wonder what that’s about? “Where do I find him?”

“Ooryl will take you there.”

The trio of pilots carefully picked their way out of the cavern complex and took the turbolift up. Tycho exited first while the Gand and Corran continued on, climbing higher and higher in the Lusankya’s superstructure. When the turbolift stopped, Corran found Airen Cracken waiting for him outside the door to the Captain’s ready-room.

He nodded at the Gand as the turbolift’s door closed behind him, then turned to the older man. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Cracken raked fingers back through reddish hair tinged with white. “I need you to talk some sense to Booster Terrik.”

Corran immediately raised his hands. “Got a Death Star you want killed instead?”

“Close.” Cracken shook his head. “Booster wants to keep the Virulence.”

“And you want him to give it to the New Republic?” Corran laughed aloud. “He won’t listen to me.”

“Mirax suggested I get you up here.”

“Okay, you have me, but I don’t know what I can do.”

“Back me up, or we’re going to have Booster Terrik in command of a fully operational Impstar deuce.” Cracken sighed. “Terrik was never as bad as some of the smugglers out there, but now he’s hooked up with Talon Karrde and …”

“Booster and Karrde are together? Allied? I mean, I knew Karrde had come into the system, but I assumed it was to work a deal with Thyferra’s new government about hauling bacta. Are you sure Karrde and Booster are working together?”

“See for yourself.” Cracken opened the door to the ready-room and allowed Corran to precede him in. Corran found Booster at the far end of an oval table, with Mirax seated on his right and a handsome man he took to be Karrde seated on his left. Corran went over to Mirax’s side of the table and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Booster, you’re looking fit.”

“Captaining a starship agrees with me.”

Corran extended a hand across the table to the other man. “Talon Karrde, I presume. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Better now than when you were with CorSec.” Karrde seemed to be watching him very closely. “The resemblance to your father is unmistakable.”

“Thanks.” Corran sat down, fighting to conceal a shiver. He didn’t know why, but he gained the impression that Karrde knew more about him than perhaps even Airen Cracken did, and that disturbed him. I think I’m happy I didn’t meet him when I was with CorSec as well. He would have been to me what Booster was to my father, but I don’t think I would have been sending Karrde to Kessel.

Booster looked up at Cracken, then jerked a thumb at Corran. “Did you think he could convince me to give up my ship?”

Great, this is off to a good start. Corran glanced at Cracken and shrugged.

“Booster, I just thought Lieutenant Horn here could supply you with some more perspective on why you’re not going to be able to keep the Virulence. That ship presents a rather major danger …”

“Right, a danger to anyone who tries to take it away from me.”

“Let me see if I can rephrase this—the only people with that sort of firepower at their disposal are Warlords and other Imperial renegades. The New Republic has to consider any Star Destroyers that are not under the control of itself or its allies to be an immediate threat to the New Republic’s stability.”

“Fine, General, fine. I’ll just take the Virulence, conquer some planet with it, have the planet become one of the New Republic’s allies.”

Mirax shook her head. “That’s pretty much what they’re afraid of, Father.”

Booster winked at his daughter. “Okay, then try this: I’ll make the Virulence herself a nation. We’ll just move from system to system, trading here and there, and we’ll be sovereign and even join the New Republic. Think of all the guns as ground-based defenses.”

Cracken’s breath hissed in between his teeth. “No, I don’t think that will work. That would constitute quite a large threat to peace in the galaxy. Such a threat would have to be dealt with.”

Booster’s artificial eye’s light seemed to flare for a second. “I think there are several different degrees of threat, General, and I’d have to say, right now, you’re acting more threatening than I’ve ever contemplated being. The Virulence is mine. She was surrendered to me.”

“But only after three squadrons of New Republic A-wings appeared in the Yag’Dhul system, giving Captain Varrscha the impression she had been trapped by New Republic forces.” Cracken pressed his hands flat against the white tabletop. “She thought she was surrendering the ship to the New Republic, and you know that’s true. Your representations to her did not dissuade her of this fact.”

Corran looked over at Booster and shook his head. “You let Isard’s conviction that we were a covert New Republic operation trick Varrscha into believing we actually were part of the New Republic? Not bad, Booster.”

Mirax’s father smiled proudly. “She was looking for any excuse to get out of trouble, so I just used the one she gave me.”

Corran winced. “Unfortunately, that means you’ve given the New Republic a claim on the Virulence.”

“What?!”

“Mirax, tell him. It’s the same as a partnership for salvaging hulks. Just because one partner is ceded ownership, he doesn’t own it—the partnership does.”

“Corran’s right, Father.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Mirax laughed. “No? As I recall, that’s how you got your share of the Pulsar Skate.”

Booster frowned heavily. “That’s not the same thing at all, not at all. But, for the sake of argument here, let’s say Captain Varrscha was mistaken about my connection with the New Republic. I still possess the ship, and if they have a share, so do I.”

Cracken nodded. “You do. We will justly compensate you for it, of course, and you’ll earn our undying gratitude. Even a pardon for any indiscretions you might have committed …”

“You can stop there, General. Unless you want to give me back the five years I spent on Kessel, I’m not interested in any judicial rewards, thanks. How much?”

The New Republic’s representative hesitated. “The current situation is such that an immediate payment is out of the question, but I think we could compensate you with five million credits.”

“Ha! This is an Imperial Star Destroyer Mark II we’re talking about. It doesn’t have a scratch on it. It is worth billions and billions of credits. I’ll settle for a billion credits, payable in two hours, or I’m flying it out of here.”

“Ah, Booster, you’re dreaming if you think that ship is going anywhere.” Cracken smiled confidently. “As you know, Thyferra has voted to join the New Republic. Because of this, all ships in the system are subject to New Republic law. In accord with said laws, your navigation and engineering section crews have been taken planetside for debriefing.”

“That’s piracy.”

“No, it’s actually a security concern. As Lieutenant Horn can attest, a number of prisoners who were on this ship are missing. We want to question anyone who might have been used to move them to other locations, and your astronav crews could have been employed in that capacity. Right now, your ship is going nowhere.”

Booster frowned. “Okay, I’ll come down to five hundred million credits.”

The sum seemed to stagger Cracken for a moment, then Karrde spoke. “Booster, be reasonable. Try twenty percent of that.”

Booster stared at him. “You’re being very generous with my money, Karrde.”

“Twenty percent of something, Booster, is better than one hundred percent of nothing.”

“True, but if they can’t deliver, why not think big?”

Corran raised a hand. “It just struck me that we might be arguing about the wrong thing here. Booster, how serious are you about making the Virulence into a hyperspace-capable smuggler’s den?”

Booster scratched at the beard stubble on his throat. “Very. I spent my life hauling cargo from one point to another. It would be nice to own a place where the cargo came to me and I just brokered deals for it. The Virulence would do nicely in that regard.”

Corran smiled. “So would the Freedom.”

“No!” Booster and Cracken dismissed the idea at the same time. They exchanged surprised glances, then shook their heads.

“I don’t want the Freedom. Refitting it will take a lifetime. I’d have to get it to Sluis Van, and General Cracken here would guarantee my work was never scheduled. Stick to flying, Horn, because that idea was really dumb.”

Mirax slapped her father on the arm. “Don’t speak to my fiancé like that.”

“What?!” Booster’s jaw dropped. “No, that’s impossible.”

Corran raised an eyebrow. “Mirax, I’m not sure this was the best time to mention that.”

Booster pointed at Cracken and then Corran. “He wants to take away my ship, and he wants to take away my daughter.” He turned to Karrde. “I suppose you want something of mine, too.”

“Perhaps, Booster.” Karrde smiled in a very genial manner. “I think I want you to reconsider what Lieutenant Horn suggested. It strikes me that General Cracken is primarily concerned with your being in command of a ship with enough firepower to slag an inhabited world.”

“Succinctly put, Karrde.”

“Thank you, General.” Karrde looked at Booster. “Now you’re concerned that your ship would fall prey to all sorts of pirates if they take its weaponry away. Even stripped of weapons a hulk like the Freedom would be quite a prize.”

Booster nodded slowly. “You’re talking sense, Karrde. This scares me.”

“Booster and I agree on something.” Corran narrowed his eyes at Karrde. “Where’s this going?”

“You know the law, Lieutenant. A ship the size of the Virulence, in private ownership, would be allowed to lawfully carry how much in the way of weaponry?”

Corran sat back. “Nothing that size in private ownership, but it would be something on the order of two tractor beams, ten ion cannons, and ten heavy turbolaser batteries.”

“My calculations exactly, which leaves eight tractor beams, ten ion cannons, forty heavy turbolaser batteries, and fifty heavy turbolasers to be pulled off the Virulence. General Cracken, those weapons would pretty much replace what the Freedom lost here, wouldn’t they?”

Cracken frowned. “For having been here less than a week, Talon Karrde, you know more than I’m comfortable having you know.”

Booster shook his head. “Those guns aren’t leaving my ship.”

Cracken snarled, “The Virulence is not your ship.”

Karrde held a hand up. “Ah, but it can be. According to the Admiralty regulations governing salvage disputes, Booster has named a fair price for his share of the salvage rights to the Virulence. Since you can’t meet his price, he can assume control of the vessel by depositing ten percent of that price, in this case ten million credits, with a duly recognized judicial authority—such as the government of Thyferra.”

Booster frowned. “I don’t have ten million credits, Karrde.”

“No, Booster, you don’t, but you do have a lot of surplus military-grade hardware that you’re going to have to get rid of. I’ll buy it for ten million.”

Cracken tapped a finger against the table. “I’m no more comfortable with you having that hardware, Karrde, than I was with Terrik having it.”

“I expected that, General. I’ll sell you the weapons for twenty-five million credits.”

Cracken’s jaw shot open. “You’ll what?”

Booster smiled. “I want fifteen million, Karrde. I have operating expenses.”

“I’ll make it eighteen if you also sell me four squadrons of TIE fighters.” Karrde sat back in his seat. “And the price to you, General, is now thirty-five million, but you’ll find I issue credit more easily than my friend. Once the court here on Thyferra has reviewed the Virulence case, Booster will pay you whatever additional amount they decide he owes you.”

Corran laughed aloud. “The Virulence’s appearance here tipped the balance in the Thyferran war of liberation, so I suspect Booster isn’t going to owe much.”

“I suspect the judges here might be swayed by that fact, but the New Republic will be able to argue its case.” Karrde pressed his hands together. “Booster, you get your ship and, General, you get weapons out of his hands and into yours.”

Cracken remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You bargain very well, Karrde. Perhaps there is other business we can do.”

“No, General, I don’t think so. I did this for the obscene profit you’ll pay me, which, since you don’t have liquid capital available, will be rendered in trading concessions for bacta and other things. I don’t mind dealing with you, but I’m not of a mind to take sides in this civil war. Isard and Zsinj are two examples of countless Imperial holdouts. I’d like to avoid becoming a victim of future wars.”

“You’d rather be caught between us than with us?”

“I’d rather not be caught at all.” Karrde’s smile carried up into his pale blue eyes. “Have we a deal?”

“The Provisional Council will have a piece of my hide for this, but, yes.” Cracken stood and nodded to Booster. “The Virulence is yours. Please change the name.”

Booster stood at his end of the table. “I already know what I’ll call her: the Errant Venture.”

Corran smiled weakly at General Cracken. “Sorry I couldn’t have been of more help.”

“It wasn’t the solution I wanted, but it was a solution.” Cracken tossed them a casual salute. “Until later.”

Mirax glanced at her chronometer, then stretched languidly. “Two hours until Wedge’s party.” She smiled at Corran. “Any ideas about how to kill that time?”

Booster settled his right hand over her left. “Yes, my dear. We’re going to discuss this engagement of yours. My daughter isn’t going to marry anyone from CorSec—they’re all of low morals and intellect. Not going to happen. Period.”

Corran looked over at Karrde. “You want to help me out here?”

“Do you think you could afford my help, Lieutenant?”

“No, probably not.”

Karrde nodded solemnly. “Definitely not. Fortunately for you, however, now Booster has to pay for my help. We need to head over to the Errant Venture and pull specs on your weapons.”

Booster frowned. “Now?”

“Unless you want Cracken to do it first and leave you with the weapons most likely to break down, we better do it now.”

Booster’s eyes narrowed. “This discussion is just delayed, not abandoned.”

“Yes, Father.” Mirax kissed him on the cheek. “See you in two hours at the party.”

The two smugglers exited the ready-room, leaving Corran and Mirax alone. He shook his head. “How far away from here can we get in two hours?”

“Not far enough, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not looking forward to this discussion of our engagement.”

“My father may growl like a rancor, but his claws aren’t that sharp.”

“Oh, that makes me feel lots better. He’ll be insufferable for the period of our engagement, you know.”

“Agreed.” She took his hands into hers. “However, I think I know a way to deflect him.”

“How?”

“You’ll see.” Mirax stood and pulled him up out of his chair. “Come with me, love, and all shall be made clear to you.”