Vorru's quarters on Invidious felt small tonight. He felt young again; the electric vigor of well-schemed victory coursed through him. I'm not nearly done yet, Vorru reminded himself, Karrde agreed in large part because of his confinement, and anyone would agree to a bargain with no alternatives. For the moment Vorru had both Karrde and his people in custody, and Karrde could not have missed the implicit threat to his life and prosperity. (And from Karrde's longstanding record the lives of his people were perhaps even more important to him than his credits). But his agreement showed a weakness and that had a great deal of value.
The door to the future was open.
He hadn't felt this good in decades. It was as if all the years lost to Kessel had been returned to him, a zest for life. His faith, his surety, that he would be returned to power had been proven right. It wasn't the power he had dreamt of, but no one could be an Emperor with the galaxy as it was, and Vorru had always been careful not to allow his dreams to become delusions.
Out the window of his quarters the massive Linuri orbital facilities loomed; he could see the Star Destroyer Agonizer under repair in the distance, swarming with maintenance and construction craft, two Katana Dreadnaughts keeping careful vigil. Despite all the activity around Agonizer, the activity there was actually minimal when compared to the swarms of ships and transports swirling around the rest of the base. Freighters were being loaded heavy with everything and everyone they could carry; the two Victory-class Star Destroyers were loading down heavy as well, turned into large freight-haulers for the Imperial evacuation.
Disra had not been responding to his comms, but that was alright for now. Once Disra was established elsewhere, in some new position of power in the Empire, Vorru would settle in on his shoulder and exploit him. For the moment, drawing too heavily on Disra might exhaust him entirely, and Vorru didn't want to do that just yet.
The only real question he had now was what to do about Tavira. She had become more and more confident and assertive and Vorru was beginning to think that their arrangement would have to change. Staying aboard Invidious with Eliezer put them both at risk, especially now that Tavira had received a large fraction of her share of their bounty. It was, Vorru thought, just about time to leave, before the wolf decided to eat the calf.
The door chimed and Vorru turned towards it. "Come in."
It slid open and Eliezer walked in, his furred expression concerned. The Drall waited until the door was closed behind him, then walked over to Vorru, his short legs taking hurried steps for his elderly legs. "Your jammer," he said.
Vorru lifted an eyebrow. He searched these quarters for listening devices regularly and had yet to find any, but… he walked over to his desk and took out an electronic jamming device, one that should scramble all but the best surveillance systems. "What is it?" he asked after activating it.
"We have a problem," Eliezer said worriedly. "There's been a flurry of HoloNet communications; military-grade encryption. After they were received, a number of ships have altered their previous courses." He put his datapad down on the table before Vorru and gestured at it pointedly. "They're coming here."
Vorru frowned, picking up the datapad, examining it. A number of ships had departed Ukio, including both of General Bel Iblis' starfighter carriers… and a number of the freighters Eliezer had been tracking had diverted from their courses along the Corellian Run…
"A few hours ago a communication went out from the New Republic force in Ukio," Eliezer said. "At the same time, the ships there hypered out." The Drall hissed nervously. "Do you think Karrde alerted them?"
"Possibly," Vorru said, stroking his chin. "Even probably. But for his capture to draw such a large New Republic force so quickly… Karrde must be even more valuable to the New Republic than I believed." He smiled thinly. And therefore more valuable to me as well.
"Should we tell Tavira and Disra?" Eliezer asked.
That was an excellent question. But if they did—if they made it possible for the Empire to ambush a New Republic task force—it would do considerable damage to Vorru's hopes of eventually rehabilitating himself in the eyes of the legitimate governments of the galaxy. If they didn't, Tavira would probably turn on him for good, but that was bound to happen eventually anyway (and it assumed she would escape, which she might not). Disra might or might not escape, but Vorru had faith he would. Disra had always been highly skilled at the art of self-preservation, if nothing else.
"No, I don't think so," he said. "I think it's time for us to leave." He picked up the datapad and tucked it into a pocket. "I need you to do one thing for me, then we're going to get out here. I'd prefer to be gone before the battle begins."
They cornered their pilot in the pilots' mess. He looked up at them warily, gaze turning from Vorru to Eliezer and back. "Can I help you boys?" he asked.
"Yes," Vorru said, sitting across from him. "We're looking for a ride."
The pilot wrinkled his nose, then sipped his caf with a sigh. "And you're coming to me and not Tavira with this request because…"
Vorru smirked, tilting his head to the side slightly, his gaze steady. "You're a smart man, Lieutenant Early. You know the answer to that question already."
Early frowned, putting down his cup of caf and rubbing his lower lip. "How much and where are we going?" he asked.
"We're going home," Vorru said softly. "How does a hundred thousand credits sound to you?"
Early folded his arms across his chest. "You're asking me to desert. With the bonuses Tavira is handing out, she might offer me more if I turn you in," he pointed out. "And if I do transport you, what keeps me from becoming a loose end that you just cut off to prevent anyone knowing where you ended up, hmm?"
Vorru was grudgingly impressed. "A million then," he said, putting more reluctance into his voice than he felt. A million was nothing compared to his newfound fortune, though it was important not to get into the habit of squandering it for every small objective. "And I'll make you my permanent pilot," he offered. "Plenty of opportunity for growth."
Early considered that. "I'm going to put in place other contingencies," he said after a moment. "To make sure that in the event of my death, there are… consequences. Understood?"
"Consequences?"
"No, I'm not going to explain," Early said, leaning in, his Talusan accent growing more pronounced. "I remember Corellia under you, Vorru. I remember that the system prospered, and I remember that those who challenged you tended to quietly disappear. I don't intend to give you any incentive to make me one of them, but I also don't intend to make it easy for you to disappear me, either."
"As you wish," Vorru said. "Now that we are done with the negotiations, we should leave. We don't want to still be here when the shooting starts."
"What shooting?"
The door to the conference lounge buzzed and there was a clicking sound. Karrde and his crew looked over at it, then at each other in confusion. Karrde nodded at it, and Dankin approached it cautiously. The sliding doors, previously securely locked, slid open to reveal a quiet, empty corridor outside. "That's a thing," said Dankin.
"Yes, it is," Karrde agreed with a frown. He stepped over, glanced down each end of the corridor. It was empty, and there were no alarms going off. "Very odd."
"Maybe not," said Faughn. She pointed down the large windows in the conference lounge, which looked down into Invidious' primary hangar.
Karrde strode over. There was an old, nondescript freighter down there, sitting next to Wild Karrde in the hangar. Boarding it was a middle-aged human, helping an elderly Drall up the ramp. Standing at the end of the ramp, looking up at them, was Fliry Vorru. He tossed Karrde a salute, then hurried up after his two companions. Within seconds the freighter had risen up on its repulsorlifts.
"It looks like our new business partner is getting ready to leave," said Dankin.
"Yes it does," agreed Karrde. "And it would seem he has given us the ability to depart as well." Below them the freighter turned towards the hangar exit and a handful of guards were trotting over, pointing at the freighter in confusion. "It would also seem he is leaving without permission," Karrde added thoughtfully.
"What do we do, Cap't?" asked Chin.
"What we do not do is stay here," Karrde replied. He nodded at the others. "With me. We move fast and quiet."
"I sure do wish Mara was here, Boss," said Dankin, his lips pursed unhappily.
Yes, Karrde agreed silently. Dankin wasn't the only one who was missing Mara right then. "Fast and quiet," he repeated instead. "Let's go."
There was something wrong.
The Tevas-kaar could feel it in his gut. Tension curling, the Force twisting around him, pulling and pushing, his danger sense singing with increasing pitch and volume. With each passing minute he could feel the sensation growing, could feel threat and anticipation boxing in around him, depriving him of options. But the exact nature of the threat… that was unclear.
Ever since his encounter with the Jedi on Coruscant, there had been tension and anticipation warring within him, neither interested in justifying itself. Opportunity was coming, change was coming—and with it came danger. He knew it, he was certain of it, but the Force had not explained more to him. He'd even tried meditation, a practice he'd long-since abandoned and only tried on very rare occasions, but all he'd seen was a memory of his past: his master's face and words, his master's blade.
His master's death. Again and again and again.
There was a reason he had stopped meditating.
But Tavira did not seem hindered by any such worries. She was in as good a mood as he could ever remember, flush with the rewards of her bargain with Vorru, gleaming with her own anticipation for the future. The Invidious hung in space on the other side of the massive orbital facility as Tavira personally oversaw the extraction of valuable items from the base as it was evacuated. Small freighters swarmed around, loading up and carrying items to Invidious and the other Star Destroyers, unloading them and returning. Cartons of blaster rifles and surplus gas cartridges; TIE interceptor components; spare parts for hyperdrives and shield generators, turbolaser batteries and tractor beams. Every Star Destroyer spare part a captain might need. Anything and everything she might use or sell she plucked and took for herself with clear glee.
The tension was growing, and he finally gave in. "My Lady," he murmured, leaning towards her.
Tavira turned and looked up, her violet eyes gazing up at his mask. "Yes, my Tevas-kaar?"
"Something is wrong, My Lady," he said quietly. "I don't know what, but I feel there is danger coming. I think we should return to Invidious and evacuate."
She stopped, frowning. She peered around them slowly, examining the other faces in the base's large open hangar. Stormtroopers marching into transports, repulsorlifts humming as they fled into space; technicians working frantically to box up supplies and ship them to Agonizer or the two Victory-class Star Destroyers which had been repurposed into transports. Pilots doing last system checks on their ships before making their own departures.
"If Vorru were going to have me assassinated, I doubt he would do it here," she said finally. "Disra doesn't have the guts to try it. Besides, any threat from them I'm sure you can handle."
He gritted his teeth. "My Lady—"
She waved away his concerns. "You're my bodyguard. If there is a threat to me, I have every confidence you will be able to address it." She wandered off, placing Invidious' name on the destination labels for multiple freight containers.
He took a deep breath. He wanted to protest, to explain that not every threat could be so easily dismissed, that it was exceedingly possible that they might face something more serious—something like the Jedi on Coruscant, whom he had only defeated because of his armor, something that would not likely work a second time. But he was sworn to her, and had already expressed his concerns. Doing so again would annoy her and accomplish nothing.
So he said nothing, following her as she browsed, feeling the tension in the air grow thicker and thicker.
Her comlink chirped and she plucked it off her belt and activated it. "Tavira."
"Admiral, we've had an unauthorized launch," said the voice of the man who had replaced Navarian as Invidious' communications officer. "A freighter, the—"
His voice was cut off suddenly; behind the man's voice was the howl of a battle klaxon. With a grimace Tavira pulled the comlink away from her ear. "Invidious?" she said. "What's going on up there?"
They both jumped as a new klaxon sounded, this one in the hanger they were standing in. So too did all the pilots, stormtroopers, technicians… even the loader droids paused to look around.
"Invidious, damn it, what is happening!" There was a rumble of footsteps and TIE pilots, half dressed in their flightsuits, were running or stumbling into the hangar now, racing for the lines of TIEs spaced haphazardly around, pushed out of the way so that the transports could make quicker landings.
"I'm sorry Admiral," the voice came back. There was a quaver in that voice. "There's a New Republic battle fleet that has just arrived in-system, and it's already launching fighters. They… they're headed your direction, ma'am."
Tavira stared at her comlink, then at the Tevas-kaar. "Kriff," she cursed, sounding stunned. He could feel in her Force-sense the sudden realization that all she had already won, all she had gained, was suddenly at dire risk. There was an edge of panic in her voice. "Prepare for immediate departure!" she ordered. "As soon as I'm back aboard we'll be leaving. Scramble all our fighters to protect the ship!" She turned towards him, and he had to resist the urge to point out that he'd warned her something was wrong. "Protect me!"
"Yes, My Lady," he said, feeling the Dark teasing him, insidious, feeding his resentment. "As you command."
Wedge Antilles' X-wing snapped back into realspace right on target, the rest of Rogue Squadron flickering in around him. Behind the snubfighters were the heavier ships: the five Katana Dreadnaughts which had been General Bel Iblis' fleet during his private war against the Empire, Admiral Areta Bell's Endurance, launching even more fighters from its large hangar, and Plourr's Uthorrferrell, unloading four squadrons of Z-95s and X-wings from the Eiattuan Queensguard.
He didn't have Atril in his ear, but Garm Bel Iblis' voice was there instead. The two of them rapidly took stock of the situation. "Main target is the second Golan station," Bel Iblis said. "Linuri-Beta. That one has a full field of fire over the orbital facilities where the prison is located. We can avoid Gamma and Alpha as long as we don't threaten the rapid repair facility or the ground facilities."
"Confirmed," Wedge said. "Looks like we caught the two Impstars in port. Invidious and Agonizer are both docked to the platforms, and by the looks of things Agonizer is missing half of one of her engines. The two Vicstars are the more immediate problem."
"You leave those to me," Bel Iblis growled. "My dreadnaughts should be able to match them and then some. I'll take enough fighters to match their squadrons. You take the rest of the force and hit the Golan. Once it's out of action we'll reassess."
There were already Imperial fighters spilling into space. Invidious was launching more of those odd TIEs that Tavira seemed to favor; the base was launching the more typical varieties of TIEs, with the typical TIE fighter most predominant. "There is a lot of traffic out here," Wedge pointed out. "I'm counting at least twenty Imperial freighters of a variety of makes."
"If they don't fight us let them go," Bel Iblis said. "We're here for one thing and one thing only, and that's our people. Our last report was they're on the base and the timeline for their execution could be short. Let's go get them."
"Right." Wedge flicked the com off private. "New Republic forces, this is General Antilles. Polearm, Guardian, Champion, and Torrent squadrons, your job is to screen our dreadnaughts and help knock out the two Vicstars—" he paused a moment to let his HUD update "—Arlionne and Furious. All other squadrons, our target is the Golan station Linuri-Beta. Warden Squadron, I want that station eliminated. Everyone else, keep the B-wings clear to launch."
There was a pause and each squadron leader echoed a confirmation.
Wedge pushed his throttle to full, the distant base facility starting to grow in his vision as Gate beeped to alert him to the growing number of enemy snubfighters. He quickly scanned through his own squadron's status reports one more time; was relieved to see all eleven of his pilots roaring after him (even Myn, clearly frayed after losing his fighter at the Battle of Ukio, had nonetheless scrounged an X-wing from Orthavan's squadrons). "They've got our own in there," he added. "We're going to get them back."
The distance between the mass of snubfighters, six full squadrons of fighters, and the Imperial starfighter squadrons closed to under ten kilometers. On Luke's HUD, Artoo counted down the distance, the number scrolling rapidly downwards. Luke reached out to the Force, feeling the seventy-two minds of New Republic and Eiattuan Queensguard. He felt their aggregated tension, their fear, their professionalism, their confidence. He felt their patriotism and their love and their dedication. Wes' passionate dedication to the Rogues and his unofficial role as morale officer; Tycho's meticulous, incredibly precise and thorough brain, already boxing in targets; Plourr's carefully controlled anger and quiet fear that she might never see her children again; Myn's exhausted determination to see the mission through.
Wedge's love for every one of them, and his endlessly creative, improvisational mind.
Luke gave them focus; he schooled their fears, not removing them but blunting the edge. Remembering C'baoth's ability to improve the combat potential of the Imperial forces, Luke sought to do the same, improving awareness and coordination, aim and response time. He could not push them beyond their abilities, but he could help each of them be the best they could be.
He frowned. Another mind, familiar and dazzlingly brilliant, edged his awareness. It was coming up behind them, surprised and then relieved, sudden affection surging as it reached back towards him and of course it was Mara, her subtle passion and ironfisted determination and sharpened wit and he leaned into her presence—
Skywalker?
"Fancy meeting you folks out here," Han's voice said over the com. "I hope you don't mind me crashing your party, Wedge. And is that you, kid?"
"I'll never turn down the Millennium Falcon," Wedge said with a laugh. "Welcome to the party, General. Fighters, redesignate Falcon as Gold Leader." Artoo beeped happily and updated Luke's HUD.
"It's me, Han," Luke smiled, splitting his attention between the falling distance to the TIEs and his brother-in-law. "What are you doing here?"
"We're here to rescue Karrde; saw Bel Iblis' fleet drop out of hyperspace and decided to join in the fun. Glad you're here to help us rescue him."
Luke thought about adding that they also needed to rescue the other prisoners, but decided it wasn't important enough to waste precious seconds. "Care to help us clear out this nest of Imperial pilots?"
"I've even got two gunners for the quads," Han said, his grin audible. "You'll never guess who."
Luke didn't need to guess. He reached out in the Force, felt Mara reach back. Mara.
The Millennium Falcon's arrival had an immediate impact on New Republic morale. The stock-freighter's speed was impressive and it easily outpaced a B-wing, and Luke and Hobbie spread their formation to offer an escort. That was odd, Luke thought, pulling himself away from the incredible temptation to just focus on Mara's luminous presence, there was another Force-strong presence on the Falcon—
But there was no time to focus on it as the TIEs reached firing distance and space erupted with laser fire.
TIE fighters, with their lack of shields, were most vulnerable at the point of contact with the enemy. Without shields head-on-head engagements were often suicide, so the enemy TIEs broke away just before effective laser range, curling around in an attempt to flank the New Republic snubfighters. The Eiattuan Z-95s broke after them, dual laser cannons spitting fire, catching a handful of the evading TIEs. The Rogues and Eiattuan X-wings equaled in numbers the fighters which had launched from Tavira's Invidious, torpedoes soaring from some of the X-wings at the three-winged TIEs.
Luke, still half-engaged in his Battle Meditation, could feel his fellow pilots. Plourr was already celebrating a kill, having put a torpedo through the cockpit of her first target. Tycho and Wedge were playing off each other, Tycho letting Wedge distract the enemy fighters and drive them into the Alderaanian's sights, where he coolly vaped them one by one.
One of the fighters was closing in on him, and Luke pulled himself fully out of the meditation, unable to sustain it and concentrate on the battle at the same time. Hobbie was there, his X-wing's lasers flashing and sending the TIE spinning out of the battle, two Z-95s racing in pursuit of its wingman.
The Falcon roared past, quad lasers snarling, plucking another TIE out of space, and Luke could hear Iella Wessiri's victorious shout over the com, hear her and Wedge exchanging the briefest of reunions. Luke grinned. He had Hobbie watching his back, Han, Chewie, Mara, and Iella in the Falcon, and it was time to just fly.
Mara had never had a real chance to see Skywalker fly. She knew he had a reputation for being a hot hand in an X-wing and she knew he had destroyed the Death Star the first time he'd ever stepped into a spaceworthy cockpit, but his flying prowess had never been a particular concern of hers. If she was going to assassinate him it wouldn't be flying ship-to-ship; she was a decent enough pilot, sure, but it wasn't her primary skill. And since they'd actually met his ground prowess had always been most important; that had been the domain of their competition, and of their teamwork.
The Falcon lurched, Han and Chewie keeping Mara's turret covering the field of fire where Skywalker's X-wing was visible. Skywalker spun, his wingman skillfully keeping in formation, and the two of them sent quick bursts of lasers out at a target she couldn't see. There was the brightness of an explosion, and she swiveled her turret and sent a barrage of fire at one of Tavira's fighters, sending it evasive.
Through it all, there was Luke. His presence had been unexpected to say the least, but once she had realized he was here she'd been drawn inextricably to him, a gleaming beacon luring her closer with irresistible gravity. There were no words—neither of them had the focus to attempt a conversation—but they didn't need one. She knew what he was about to do, almost like her hand rested atop his as he guided his X-wing, and could tell that he in turn just knew what she was aiming at.
She could feel, too, his sheer joy and delight at flight. Yes, they were in a fight for their lives, but even that couldn't diminish Luke's pure happiness as he guided his fighter with skill she could honestly say she had never seen matched. She could share in that joy too, and wondered, with silent detachment as she protected his life with the Falcon's heavy quad, if there would ever be a time in herlife when she was as happy as Luke Skywalker was flying an X-wing.
Wedge pulled the trigger, sending four bursts of laser fire burning through his target. The trefoil TIE spun away, now short two wings and spinning out of control in the direction of Linuri. The planet, in contrast, remained placidly in its orbit, unchanged by the battle above.
Proton torpedoes rang against the shields of the Golan station that hung above the Linuri orbital facility, the station's large turbolaser batteries blasting back. Golan stations weren't designed to fight snubfighters, and their capital-grade batteries had serious trouble hitting the small craft, but even one hit from those batteries would kill a starfighter and Golans could take a lot of punishment.
The two Star Destroyers in port were still locked into their moorings. Invidious was buzzing with activity, but remained unable to engage while Agonizer, still bearing wounds inflicted at Hishyim and Ukio, was at the more distant repair facility and escorted by two distant dreadnaughts which had not yet moved to involve themselves in the fight.
I wonder what they're waiting for.
Wedge, finding himself out of the melee for a moment, took a breath and thought hard as he toggled through his HUD. The Queensguard fighters were acquitting themselves well, but the two antiquated Z-95 squadrons had still suffered losses. The Rogues were performing extraordinarily well, so well that Wedge had to do a double take. His attention settled on Luke and found himself grinning.
Luke was everywhere. He had an uncanny ability to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Whenever one of the Rogues found themselves in a tight spot, there were Luke and the Falcon, Luke chasing the enemy away or nailing them with precise fire. The ones Luke didn't get, the Falcon mostly did.
Luke's fighter had picked up a rather determined tail, so he adopted a straightforward weave, preventing the TIE from getting a good shot off at him. The Falcon's gunner sniped the TIE with a daring shot that had barely missed Luke's fighter, Luke dodging out of the way just in time to avoid taking the fire himself. Either it had been the riskiest shot Wedge had ever seen, or Luke and the Falcon's gunner shared a brain.
Hobbie's fighter roared after Luke, desperately trying to catch up, and Wedge laughed. "Having trouble keeping up with Rogue Three, Four? Remember, you're the one who wanted to be his wingman."
"I can't decide if I like this or hate it," complained Hobbie, sounding breathless. "I feel like I've run a marathon."
Wedge chuckled, then spun his fighter to get a visual on Linuri-Beta. The Golan had suffered proton torpedo strikes but was still clearly in action, and he gripped his stick. "All fighters, time to hit the Golan. We can't put landing forces on the orbital facility until we've knocked it out, so that's our next job." The was an echo of confirmation, and Wedge toggled over to proton torpedoes, lining up his first shots.
The Golan's turbolaser batteries snarled as one, firing above and behind him, and from that position came returning turbolaser and ion cannon fire. Endurance and Uthorrferrell spat furiously at the Golan, their weapons plugging away at the heavy platform, weakening its shields as the snubfighters swerved close to attack.
Then the amount of fire pouring into the Golan suddenly doubled, and doubled again. Wedge frowned in astonishment and confusion. "Gate, who's shooting?"
His astromech whistled cheerfully, and on the HUD popped up a list of a dozen freighters, each one listed as belonging to the Smugglers' Alliance. There was a Corellian corvette, the Kern's Pride, five bulk freighters also of Corellian make, a handful of converted Kuati yachts, a half-dozen other irregular ships… and many of them were launching proton torpedoes or concussion missiles.
"Imperials, this is Captain Gillespee of the Kern's Pride," an older, confident male voice came over the wide-band on the com with relish. "I suggest you finish your evacuation before we finish it for you."
"Are you seeing this, Leader?" asked Tycho.
"Yep," Wedge said, his HUD humming the solid tone of a good target lock. "Let's finish it, Two."
Proton torpedoes exploded against the Golan station. It spun, maneuvering thrusters wheeling it around to bring its undamaged side to bear, but that made little difference against the starfighters. The Rogues curved around to come back in on the damaged flank, putting torpedoes through its diminished shields, tearing holes in its hull. Bleeding atmosphere, the station's shields failed and Endurance's big guns and ion cannons raked devastation in their wake, disabling some weapons, shredding others. The Smugglers' Alliance ships added still more weapons fire, their lower-grade weapons wreaking their own havoc, while more proton torpedoes ripped deep before exploding.
The com beeped. "All Smugglers' Alliance vessels, this is Mara Jade," her authoritative voice came over the com. "The station's finished, save your torpedoes and missiles for now."
Wedge thumbed his com. "General Antilles to all fighters, Linuri-Beta has been disabled, well done." His gaze shifted to the still moored Invidious. "Repriotize targeting. Invidious is next. Major Page, you're up."
"That's generous of you, Red," Han said over the intercom. "Giving the Imperials time to get off that deathtrap?" Linuri-Beta was now no longer an active combatant, escape pods jettisoning from it in all directions, most of them homing in on the planet below as a safe landing location.
"Hardly," Mara replied, swiveling her turret to watch over Luke. Every time the Falcon spun and put him out of her view her heart lurched. "Every torpedo they fire is an invoice that will appear on my desk tomorrow. Do you have any idea how much those things cost?"
"Maybe I should join up too," Han mused. "It would be nice to be able to send you a bill for the missiles I use."
"Remember, every invoice they send me I'll be forwarding on to your wife with a twenty percent markup."
Han winced audibly. "Okay, maybe not."
The hangar turned from busy to frantic in a matter of moments. The three-winged TIEs had been pushed to the back of the Invidious' hangar to make plenty of space for the flock of transports which had been moving supplies from the Linuri base to the Star Destroyer. The enormous cargo containers were being hauled into deeper storage one by one, but when the battle klaxons went off everything stopped, and then the process of frantically moving those containers far enough out of the way to let the TIEs get out of the hangar began.
Enormous cargo lifter droids dragged transport containers in one direction or another, clearly not very experienced in the task. They left scars on the hangar deck as they worked hastily, pilots screaming to clear the path so they could launch.
The chaos was perfect. Karrde waved at his crew, then the four of them started walking purposefully across the deck towards Wild Karrde, which was blocking a trio of TIEs from exiting the hangar.
"Are you responsible for this freighter!" a TIE pilot yelled at them over the hammering noise and chaos. "Move it!"
Karrde tossed a salute. "That's what we are here to do," he called back. "It will only take a minute."
"You better hurry!" the pilot yelled at them. "The New Republic is here and the Admiral is still on the base! We've been ordered to hold off the enemy for long enough to evac her and the Tevas-kaar then get out of here! I wouldn't want to be responsible for endangering her safety!"
Karrde picked up his pace to a quick jog. The men who had been guarding Wild Karrde had been drawn away to help move one of the cargo containers. He stopped at the Wild Karrde's raised ramp, plugged in the command codes, and the ramp descended to allow his crew to board.
Dankin was up the ramp and running into the ship before the ramp was even half-lowered, Faughn next. Karrde and Chin, not as young or nimble, waited until it was lower before pulling themselves up. Karrde hastily climbed up the ramp, then slapped the ramp control to close it behind them. "Get us ready for departure!" he called.
In response, Wild Karrde's repulsorlifts thrummed to life, the ship humming and lurching beneath him as they lifted off the deck. He raced to the bridge, found Dankin and Chin clustered around the main control station as Faughn brought up the ship's scanners and comms.
Dankin pointed through the main bridge windows. "Got a problem, Boss," he said, breathing heavily. "We're blocked in."
A freighter had just arrived and landed in the shallow space between Wild Karrde's nose and the magnetic shield that separated the hanger from open space. Karrde glanced at the ship's monitors, saw in the hangar there was now a cluster of armed troopers talking to the TIE pilot they'd passed. He turned back to Dankin. "Can we push it out of the way?"
Dankin stared at him. "You mean physically?"
Karrde nodded. "We're bigger," he pointed out. "More powerful engines, better armor." He pointed at the monitor. "And we've got troopers on us."
Dankin cursed viciously. "Belt in," he said reaching for his own belt and locking it around his waist. "This is going to be bumpy."
"Just do it," Karrde ordered, turning and jumping into his command chair, strapping himself in securely. "Brace!"
In the pilot's chair, Dankin rested his hand on the throttle and pushed it gently. Wild Karrde stirred, gliding forward a few meters. He grimaced painfully and Wild Karrde shuddered as its nose made contact with the smaller in-system transport, a Kiara cargo ferry. The unshielded freighter screeched, sliding over the hangar deck, and Karrde could see the ship's shocked crew in its bridge, clustering at the window to gaze with horror back at them.
Wild Karrde kicked as Dankin pushed the throttle higher, and the screech of metal-on-metal grew deafening as the Kiara was pushed back farther, sliding towards the hangar's magnetic shield. The faces vanished, the other freighter starting to hum itself as its crew worked to activate its systems—
Karrde brought up his ship's weapons and fired once. At point blank range against an unshielded target, Wild Karrde's weapons delivered a devastating amidships blow. All of the Kiara's lights went dark.
Chin cursed and with a pained grimace Dankin pushed the throttle up again. The cargo ferry was pushed out over open space, drifting without power. Behind it, Wild Karrde dropped out of the hangar, curling down and away, Dankin spinning the freighter in an evasive maneuver.
"Watch for tractor beams," Karrde ordered, watching Invidious behind them. But the Star Destroyer was locked in the embrace of the orbital platform, unable to pursue, and Dankin ducked them behind one of those long station arms to shield them from turbolaser fire and the grip of tractor beams alike.
"Captain," Faughn said, her hand on her ear, listening to the comm chatter of the battle. "Listen to this!"
She routed the communication over to his station. "All Smugglers' Alliance vessels, this is Mara Jade. The station's finished, save your torpedoes and missiles for now."
Karrde grinned, looking out at the arrayed New Republic and Smugglers' Alliance ships. "Give me comms, Faughn," he said. Her expression was enthusiastic and fierce as she worked, then nodded when she was ready. "New Republic, Smugglers' Alliance, this is Talon Karrde," he announced. "Wild Karrde has just escaped from Invidious, we're coming to join the main formation."
There were a few seconds of comms chaos as lots of people talked over one another. The voice that finally cut through belonged to Wedge Antilles. "Karrde, this is General Antilles," he said. "Glad to hear you got away. We've got additional prisoners to rescue on the main platform, so our work isn't done here yet."
"I understand," Karrde said, examining the plot. The New Republic snubs were clearing a path for a large commando transport. One of them caught his eye. "Is that you, Solo?" he asked, surprised.
"It's me," Han groused. "I've got Mara and Iella aboard too. They insisted I come get you." Karrde could hear his frown. "You're really racking up the favors you owe me, Karrde. One of these days I'm gonna call em' in."
Karrde smiled thinly. "I pay my debts," he agreed. "Mara?"
"I'm here, Talon," her voice came after a moment, and Karrde could hear the relief in her voice—though she would no doubt deny it if confronted, of course.
"It's good to hear your voice," Karrde said. "I heard you had a bit of excitement on Coruscant after I left."
"A bit."
"I have reason to believe that Leonia Tavira and the Force-adept you and Skywalker were discussing at dinner are on the platform as well. One of the men called him the Tevas-kaar, if that means anything to you," he informed her.
There was a pause. "Understood," she said.
"I'll take care of it," a new voice came. Luke Skywalker's. "I'll follow Major Page down."
"We're landing," said Han, determined. "I'm not letting you go into another nightmare without me, Luke."
There was a soft, relieved breath on the com that likely only Karrde recognized as Mara's.
"Major Page is making his landing now," Wedge said. "Better hurry. Hobbie, you go with Luke and Han."
Hobbie's sound of disgust was audible despite the staticky communications channel. "You do know what they call an X-wing pilot when he's on the ground? Target practice."
Wedge would have smirked, but his memory of Ukio's TIE pilots and their smashed garrison was too fresh. "You'll be with Luke," he pointed out instead. "He'll look after you."
"That might work on the young ones, Wedge," Hobbie complained, "but I'm old enough to remember that most of the time Luke is the one that needs looking after."