Tales From the New Republic Page 5

  had undoubtedly given the order that slew his family and almost got him. His

  hands closed into fists, but he didn't lash out; he didn't smash Ysanne Isard

  in the face with all his might, though he sorely wanted to. No, even killing

  her would not hurt her father, and even hurting him is not the focus here. The

  datapack she's hunting for, that will help bring down the Empire. If we do

  that, never again will there be a place-or an Armand Isard or Emperor to hurt

  people.

  Gaining control of his anger, Bel Iblis turned to watch the door close

  behind Isard and Horn. "Well, Arkos, the time we have to complete our business

  is slipping away. I think we should conclude it before the Emperor himself

  comes wandering in, don't you?"

  Moranda Savich saw the landspeeder cruise down and come to a stop in

  front of the store and felt as if a hand were tightening around her heart.

  She'd spent a lot of time doing her best to avoid Imperial scrutiny, but that

  didn't mean she allowed herself to be ignorant of her enemies. Imperial

  Intelligence ops, as a rule, cast a wide web when going after a target. The

  fact that she could see the spider in the center of that web meant that other

  forces were closing in.

  And that means I get caught holding a prize morsel. Again the urge to

  throw the datapack away nearly overwhelmed her. She reached into her pocket to

  get it, then noticed the landspeeder's driver's-side window sliding down into

  the door. The bruiser of a driver glanced around, then looked at himself in

  the rearview mirror. His vanity, which struck her as very human, brought her

  out of her panic and sparked a plan.

  She pulled the datapack out of her pocket, broke it open, and pulled out

  the eight datacards. She stacked them one on top of another and laid them

  against the bottom of her datapad. Straightening up, she tugged her jacket

  into place, then boldly strode over toward the landspeeder. She consulted the

  map on her datapad a couple of times, looked around, and let a puzzled

  expression contort her brow.

  She'd closed to within three meters before the driver noticed her, and by

  then she was flashing her datapad at him. "Excuse me, please. I believe I'm

  lost. Can you help me, please?"

  The man's expression eased. "Yeah, I guess maybe I could."

  Moranda leaned over and smiled broadly at him. She took the datapad from

  her left hand into her right and thrust it into the vehicle, stabbing toward

  the datapad he had mounted in the dashboard holder. "Our maps look different."

  The driver studied her map, then his own, taking her datapad into his

  hands to do so. Moranda crossed her arms and let the datacards in her left

  hand slip, one by one, down into the window well of the landspeeder's door.

  She coughed lightly to cover the minute clicks as they descended, and was

  pretty certain that the driver would take any sounds he heard to be key clicks

  from the datapad.

  The driver handed her back her datapad. "See, this is East Ryloth Street.

  Your map was showing West Ry loth Street. You were five kilometers off, that's

  why you couldn't tell where you were."

  "Oh, thank you very much." Moranda studied the datapad, then shook her

  head and smiled. "I can't tell you what a big help you've been." She backed

  away from the vehicle and headed off the way she had come, valiantly resisting

  the urge to burst out laughing. The prize he came here for is now ten

  centimeters from him and he has no clue.

  Unable to help herself, Moranda spun around in midstreet, thinking to

  thank the man again. As she came around, she looked up and locked eyes with

  Hal Horn.

  Seeing Moranda Savich there, in the middle of the street, capering around

  in a circle like a child, sent a jolt through Hal Horn. He started to move

  after her, but the Darkknell Security woman's hand became a claw on his arm.

  Moranda had already turned and begun to run when Hal looked at his escort.

  "She's getting away."

  "Trabler," the woman snapped, "get her." The driver's door on the

  landspeeder in front of the store opened and a huge man piled out. Hal knew he

  was huge not only because he towered over the roof of the landspeeder, but his

  massive paw dwarfed the blaster he drew from beneath his jacket. Hal

  recognized it as a Luxan Penetrator, favored by many because of its con

  cealability and the serious power it packed. Most models didn't even have a

  stun setting and that, combined with a cool sense of lethality rippling off

  the man, prompted Hal to act.

  He took a second to focus, then used a trick his father had taught him

  long ago, before the Clone Wars and before the Jedi hunters had come. He

  pushed his consciousness into Trabler's mind. He saw through Trabler's eyes,

  watching the Penetrator come up and center itself on Moranda Savich's back. He

  watched Trabler track her for a second and knew she'd never reach the safety

  of the alley in time.

  Drawing on the Force within himself, he projected a blurred image of

  Moranda into Trabler's mind.

  Trabler's finger tightened on the trigger. A red-gold beam stabbed out

  and caught Moranda in the shoulder just as she reached the alley. Hal heard

  her scream and watched her tumble down into a pile of debris. He started to go

  after her, but Isard held on to him again.

  Hal batted her arm away. "What are you doing? She's down, either dead or

  seriously wounded. I need to check."

  The woman's eyes narrowed and though their color did not match, the venom

  in them did. "We will have the locals find her and bring her to the morgue. We

  have more important business to attend to."

  Hal frowned, wishing he could get a solid read off the woman. His use of

  the Force had left him a bit drained- - it had been far too long since he had

  done anything that active, and he was grossly out of practice. As a result, he

  couldn't even get the menace that had to be roaring off Trabler as the man

  turned and aimed his blaster at Hal. "What's going on here?"

  Glasc's face tightened. "I couldn't tell you in there, but we have a

  Rebel operative on the loose and I need your help in tracking him."

  "Look, you got me out here saying you were helping me with my case, and

  now your man has killed my suspect. I'm not here to hunt Rebels."

  Her chin came up. "But you are loyal to the Empire, are you not?"

  "I serve CorSec to maintain order, so, yes, I'm loyal to the Empire."

  She let her expression soften and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial

  whisper. "There are members of Darkknell Special Security who are not, which

  is why my search is running into trouble. I have to rely on someone from

  outside my own service-you-to make some headway. I know this is unorthodox,

  but surely you've resorted to unusual methods to push cases forward before."

  "Some, but I don't see that this is any concern of mine, really." Hal

  shook his head. "My purpose for being here is lying in a heap over there."

  "So it might seem, but the Rebel we're after was involved in the

  assassination of Senator Garm Bel Iblis and his family." The woman's voice

  became very solemn. "The speech he was to give that night w
as one in which he

  was going to denounce the Rebellion. They murdered him so that wouldn't

  happen. I thought that you, a Corellian, might want to help us find his

  killer."

  Hal shivered and felt his flesh puckering. As much as he couldn't believe

  the casual way Trabler had shot Moranda-notothing in her file warranted death

  as a punishment-the idea of a bomber who killed hundreds of people just to get

  one man filled him with revulsion. If Bel Iblis's assassin is here, he must be

  found and brought to justice. Bel Iblis was from Corellia. I owe it to him to

  help find his killer.

  The CorSec inspector nodded. "Okay, I'm in." He leveled a finger at

  Trabler. "Just no shooting first, okay? If your suspect murdered Bel Iblis, we

  want him to talk and lead us back to the others involved in the Rebellion,

  right?"

  Glasc nodded, then opened the landspeeder's rear door. "After you,

  Inspector Horn. With your help, our quarry won't get away."

  As the landspeeder sped off, Bel Iblis stumbled from the shop and ran

  across the street. He'd seen the woman's senseless murder and though he would

  not have questioned the truth of someone reporting Ysanne Isard had ordered

  such a thing, to see it unfold before him was another thing entirely. Reaching

  the alley mouth he saw blood and, just for a moment, he expected to follow the

  trail and find his wife at the end of it.

  No, she's gone. PoorArrianya, you died for a cause you didn't even

  believe in. Bel Iblis choked back the lump rising in his throat, then looked

  deeper into the dim alley and saw the woman slumped against a wall. Her right

  arm hung limply at her side, the sleeve other coat soaked in blood. A cigarra

  hung from the corner of her mouth, and she kept trying to strike a lighter

  with her blood slicked left hand.

  The woman looked over at him and grinned. "Got a spark, pal?" Then her

  eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed.

  The senator ran to her and knelt at her side. The only virtue of being

  shot with a Penetrator is that the tiny beam makes a neat hole. Bel Iblis saw

  a nasty entry wound and a smaller exit on the front side of her shoulder. He

  stripped off his own coat and wrapped it around the wounds, then lifted her in

  his arms and started back toward Arkos's store.

  It occurred to him that the last woman he had carried in his arms like

  this had been his wife, on an anniversary getaway several years earlier. It

  had been a wonderful time, an escape from the pressures of his office and her

  duties, and they had both told each other that they would do it again, soon.

  Very soon.

  Bel Iblis's expression hardened. I lost her to the Empire; I'm not losing

  anyone else. He knew, given the course the Rebellion would likely take, that

  resolution would never hold. Well, at least I won't lose this woman. It's not

  saving the galaxy, but it's saving the part of it I can, and that works for

  now.

  He looked up as Arkos held the shop's door open. "We need to get her some

  medical help-now. That woman was Ysanne Isard, late of Imperial Center and

  employed by Imperial Intelligence."

  "If she's here..." Terror choked off Arkos's voice.

  The senator put steel into his voice. "Hang with me, Arkos. She's not

  invincible-she walked right past me, remember, and snagged someone who's got

  nothing to do with our business. Keep your head and we'll all keep ours."

  Arkos thought for a moment, then nodded quickly. "You're right. Thanks."

  "Not a problem. Let's get things going." Bel Iblis smiled. "There will

  come a point when Isard realizes she needs to come back here and complete her

  business with you. By then I want everything we need to do done, and the only

  thing left for her here is our laughter at her blunder."

  ***

  Interlude at Darkknell

  PART 3

  by Michael A. Stackpole

  Hal Horn's afternoon sojourn with Agent Glasc and her aide, Trabler, made

  one thing abundantly clear to him. These two, as efficient as they might be as

  investigators, were not part of Darkknell Special Security, not even whatever

  they might call their internal investigations bureau. They have all the

  arrogance I'd expect from the Isk-isk division, but it's usually only

  displayed to Hutted-up cops, not civilians.

  Glasc had moved Hal from location to location, proclaiming each to be a

  suspected Rebel contact site. Most were sleazy little holes like Arky's store,

  but a couple had been more upscale and toward the west side of Xakrea. The

  gourmet caf shop where Hal and Trabler waited outside on either side of the

  door was one of the more prosperous places. Hal had enjoyed the rich aroma of

  the small shop, and had reluctantly agreed to wait outside as the owner took

  Glasc into her private office to discuss things.

  Hal arched an eyebrow at Trabler. "Hard to believe the owner didn't think

  we'd fit in with the clientele."

  The bigger man frowned, causing his blond brows to kiss each other above

  his nose. "You think we look like Rebels?"

  Hostility poured through Trabler's voice and Hal was perfectly glad his

  Force senses were a bit tired, since it saved him the full force of the anger

  rolling off the guy. "Easy, my friend, I didn't mean to suggest that at all.

  You know as well as I do that the Rebel tag on this place was likely snitched

  by the other caf shop around the corner. Customers here seem a bit too

  prosperous to be Rebels."

  "Think so, do you?" Trabler snorted coldly. "You'd be surprised at how

  highly some Rebels are placed. Then again, maybe you wouldn't."

  "And that's supposed to mean?"

  "Means one can't be too sure who's gone over or not." Trabler half

  smiled. "The Core Worlds have their share of Rebels, sure, but rimkin have

  more."

  "Interesting point." Hal let a pair of women exiting the shop shield him

  from Trabler. The last time Hal had heard the word "rimkin" used, he had

  broken up a fight in a Corellian tapcafe where a local had beaten someone from

  Imperial Center to a pulp for applying such an insulting term to him. Not too

  many rim-dwellers apply that word to themselves.

  The door opened again and Agent Glasc appeared. She was daubing a white

  handkerchief against a dark spot on her gray blouse. "She was useless. Broke

  down and blubbered about evading taxes, but she knows nothing about the

  Rebellion. Or the plot against Bel Iblis."

  Trabler glanced at his datapad, then pointed on down the street.

  "Continuum Void is next on the list. It's that way."

  Hal took the lead and found Glasc quickly pacing beside him. "The owner

  didn't react to any of the holographs you showed her?"

  Glasc shook her head. "Ignorant, completely ignorant, as was her staff.

  Places like this claim to bring the latest in Imperial culture to Darkknell,

  but it's only what they imagine really goes on at the heart of the Empire. I

  mean, Corellia is a Core World-did you think the Corellian blend car was the

  sort of thing you'd drink at home?"

  "Well, no, but that's because at CorSec we brew it strong enough to be

  used for medicinal purposes." Hal shrugged. "When doing a
rimstint I try not

  to let the in digs and their ways get to me, you know?"

  "You're very charitable, Inspector Horn."

  Hal smiled. "I try to be." The fact that Glasc didn't react at all when

  he referred to the citizens of Darkknell as "indigs" or his time on the world

  as a "rimstint," told him very clearly she wasn't the local she was purporting

  to be. A local could no more have failed to react than Moranda could give up

  her cigarras. Something is not right here, and I'm not looking forward to

  fending out how wrong it's become.

  Trabler moved ahead and opened the door to the crowded tapcaf. Hal

  descended the trio of steps to the serving floor, then worked his way around

  past a table of boisterous Devaronians. He wanted to reach the bar before

  Glasc did. He managed to delay her by tapping a Devaronian on the shoulder. As

  the man swung his head around to see who had touched him, a horn snagged

  Glasc's uniform tunic, slowing her down.

  Hal spotted a small man wearing a name tag that proclaimed him to be the

  manager and moved to intercept him before the guy could head through a doorway

  leading into an office marked "Private." "I'm Inspector Horn; these are Agents

  Glasc and Trabler. We have some questions for you. Do you want to answer them

  now, or after we lock this place down and have it searched for contraband?"

  The little man gulped air audibly, and coughed half of it back up. "I

  don't want trouble."

  Hal half turned toward Glasc. Her glare had only been partially melted by