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Chapter 20

The Reluctant Mover

The Dawn Tangent lurched through the atmosphere, spitting smoke in its wake. Pedestrians ducked, scattered as the ship roared along the cityscape. The sheer force of its passing destroyed kiosks in the market. The tallest, leanest buildings rattled violently.

"Bweeeeeep!"

"Shut up!" growled Landon.

Sweat stung his eyes. He blinked rapidly as the ship careened right. A massive bridge—full of people—loomed huge in the window.

"Bweep bweep bweep!"

"I see it!" he shouted, diving down. The ship caromed off the ocean. The resulting splash cracked the cockpit window. Landon pulled up, completing a barrel roll, and streaked toward the heart of the city.

"Bweeeep?!"

"Find me a landing pad!"

R2 showed him two options. The first was too far; the second was between two large towers.

"Great choice, asshole!"

"Bweep!"

"Just shut up! You got a real mouth for a metal box!"

Checking the map, he realized the landing pad was ten stories below him. He skimmed over a rooftop, then entered a nosedive. The Tangent shot straight down the side of the building. Its sonic boom shattered the windows.

Landon's eyes slitted. His jaw clenched against g-force. Barely lucid, he saw their destination. Hand over hand, he pulled on the stick. The ship flattened out, Landon's seatbelt restraining him. R2 rolled in reverse out of the cockpit, screeching the whole way.

The engine caught fire. Alarms rang everywhere. Steeling his spine, Landon shot toward the landing pad. The trajectory was wrong; he needed to shave speed.

Landon jerked the stick left, taking the ship into a spiral. The resulting g-force sucked his face back. The ship spun five times—finding the center. Landon fired thrusters. The ship stopped on a dime and dropped on its belly, bouncing twice before settling. The air from the spiral had put out the fire.

Everything was still. Only the ringing in his head broke up the quiet.

Landon lay his head back. "How do you like me now?" he mumbled.

Outside, a crowd of pedestrians marveled at his feat. Less impressed was the Toydarian manager, a small, winged creature with a long nose curving down and two orange eyes on either side of its head.

Landon shut off all systems, opening the vents to allow air from outside. Exiting the cockpit, he found Obi-Wan at the ramp.

"Very graceful," Obi-Wan said.

"No, but we're very alive."

"Stay here."

Lowering the ramp, Obi-Wan walked outside to meet the Toydarian.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" its gravelly voice demanded. "You weren't cleared to land!"

Obi-Wan smiled charmingly. "Sorry, friend. We had a bit of engine trouble. It was an emergency."

The Toydarian stroked its whiskers. "Emergency, eh? Well, I am a reasonable man. I could permit you to stay—for an extra fee."

"How much?"

"Five thousand for the landing pad. Another ten for the trouble."

It was only a dent in their funds. Obi-Wan sighed, forcing a grimace. "Very well. Fifteen thousand."

He pressed his thumb to a data pad. When the pad blinked green, the Toydarian grinned. "Very good! The landing pad is yours. But if you give me any problems, additional fees apply."

Obi-Wan warded off an eye-roll. He returned to the ship, finding the crew gathered.

"How much did that cost us?" Padme wondered.

"Don't ask. What's our situation?"

"The regulator's shot," Miler said, wiping his face with a rag. "There's no way t'fix it. We'll have t'find a new one."

"Will that be difficult?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Afrai' so, Gen'ral. This ship's somethin' of a luxury. Parts are rare."

Padme said, "In other words, we won't find it at the local shop."

Obi-Wan's mind flashed to his old master. Qui-Gon once told him that you can find anything anywhere if you're willing to get dirty. "Mr. Solo, I believe this is your territory."

"Me?" Landon scoffed. "What do I have to do with it?"

"Your trade is smuggling rare goods. That is how we met."

"I don't think I appreciate your insinuation."

"Mr. Solo, I shall not cast a stone," Obi-Wan said. "I'm simply asking for your expertise. Surely you have contacts—someone plugged in to the 'secondary' market?"

Landon's neck coiled, straining his shoulders. For the first time, Obi-Wan felt his uneasiness. Whatever this planet held for Landon disrupted his mental shield. "Sorry, boss. Never been through here."

"You're clearly lying," said Miler.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Bweeeeep," R2 said.

Miler sighed. "Not R2. 'Are too.'"

The droid whined softly.

"Gentlemen," Obi-Wan interceded, "let's raise the level of discourse, shall we?" He held Landon's gaze. "Mr. Solo, whatever danger Axxila holds for you, the fact remains: we are stranded here without a coolant regulator. And the longer we're stranded, the more likely it is that danger will find you."

Landon was walking on a razor if he stepped outside. Yet Obi-Wan's logic sharply registered. "There may be someone," Landon conceded finally. "Haven't seen him in years. If he's still here, he'll be in the refugee sector."

Obi-Wan's eyes crackled as a plan formed. "Let's find out. We'll stay in contact. In the meantime—"

Miler cut him off: "Gen'ral, given our situation, might ya wanna stay here?"

Obi-Wan took his point. If there was a saboteur, they might act again. "Perhaps you're right. But someone—"

"I'll go," said Miler. He smiled brightly, slapping Landon's shoulder. "We'll play nice—right, mate?"

Landon scowled. He could smack that grin right off his face. "Sure," he drawled.

"Very well. Try to keep a low profile," Obi-Wan said. "And take R2; he can scan for deficiencies."

"I should go, too," Aayla said.

"It's too dangerous. The slavers take Twi'leks right off the street."

"I'll be fine. I can—"

Miler touched her shoulder, proffered calm through some osmosis. Aayla felt it in her bones. Her stare softened and broke.

Landon rolled his eyes. "Can we move this along? Before I vomit?" Padme fixed him with a glare. "What? We were all thinking it."

Miler grabbed his blaster, slotting it in the holster. He felt better balanced with the weight of his weapon.

"Are you all right?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Aye, I'm fine."

The Jedi glanced at the corridor. He kept his voice low. "Do you really think it's him?"

"I'll find out either way."

"I'm sure you will. Unless, of course, you're the saboteur."

"I could be," Miler said.

"Are you?"

"No."

"Well, that's one down then," Obi-Wan deadpanned.

They turned to find Aayla looking nervous and tentative. These things she wore poorly, for she had little practice. Obi-Wan couldn't help a feeling of concern. Under the weight of distraction, missions can buckle. He resolved to address this with Aayla later.

"Could ya give us a moment?" Miler asked Obi-Wan.

"A moment."

Miler's calm mask fell from his face. He took her hands, finding solace in their smoothness. Aayla said, "This isn't the 'morning after' I was hoping for."

Miler squeezed her fingers. "We'll have plenty o'chances to get it right."

There it was again: that boundless optimism. She thought she could bathe in it as she basked in the Force. Yet the Force was forever. He was mortal. "I was always afraid of love," Aayla said quietly. "Now all I fear is being without it."

"Brave heart. Y'never will be."

Aayla took a breath, letting his promise wash over her. She lifted his hand to place on her cheek. "Don't turn your back on him."

"Not for a second."

Aayla rose up to kiss him. He vigorously responded. Nothing in his life had ever felt so right.

Miler slowly released her, rubbing their noses. He kissed her forehead and they walked to the hallway. Julian stood there leaning on the wall. Aayla kept going, while Miler hung back.

Julian grinned. "Another connection from the 'love doctor.'"

"Sod off," said Miler.

The doctor chuckled, before his face became solemn. "Be careful, yeah?"

"I'll see ya soon, mate."

Vader's shuttle set down in the Invisible Hand. The frantic crew suspended its duties. The safest place to be was beyond a Sith's notice.

Vader stalked down the ramp, received by Grievous.

"Report," said Vader.

"Troops have been dispatched," Grievous said. "But the Halmans are resourceful. Victory will take time." The droid-man hurried on: "Lord Sidious wishes to speak with you. You may contact him by hologram."

Grievous remained very still in his trademark slouch. Vader swept past him, entered the elevator. When the dark lord was gone, activity resumed. The crew moved double-time to make up for their respite.

Coruscant and Sarna were universes unto themselves. Yet for all their majesty, all their darkness, they didn't hold a candle to the excess and danger of Axxila's cityscape.

The market was bustling, store-over-store stacked high into the clouds. The ground level was filled with kiosks, where shady merchants pushed souvenirs. Miler was polite in refusing their inquiries. He knew what it was like scraping by.

Ever aware of Neecho's bounty, Landon moved about warily. His contact, "Diablo," had connections to the junta and the blackest black market. They certainly weren't friends, but they'd struck a lot of deals.

Straight ahead was an an old arena fighter. Landon once screwed her out of thousands of credits.

He turned sharply into an alley, filled with trash and graffiti. Empty, stinking barrels were strewn all about.

Miler buried his nose in his collar. "Ya seem to know your way around. Any reason we're slinkin' in the dark?"

"'Cause people see you in the light."

The alley fed them to a backstreet. Landon felt Miler track his every move. The scrutiny was intolerable.

Landon smirked. "So, you and the Twi'lek—" Miler silenced him with a look. He'd pulled the right string. Now it was Miler off-balance.

"This way," said Landon.

Aayla sat in the cargo hold, examining sabers. Those with imperfections were set aside for repair. The monotony of the task was mildly comforting.

The door whooshed open. Padme sat down on a crate, folding her hands.

"Is something wrong?" Aayla asked.

"Yes," said Padme. "My friend looks sad."

"Are we friends?"

"Would you prefer we weren't?"

"No!" Aayla cried a little too quickly. "No, of course not. I'm just not used to having one."

"Me neither," said Padme. "I suppose our work leaves little time for it."

Aayla picked up the next saber, turning it in her palm. "One of many sacrifices."

"He's going to be fine," Padme said.

Aayla's blush deepened. She weighed the truth's repercussions before finally breaking. "Attachments are forbidden. I'm no use in this state."

"Why do you say that?"

"I can hardly focus," Aayla condemned herself.

Padme projected herself onto Aayla's quandary. "Worry is inevitable. When you care for someone, it's part of the package."

"You seem to handle it better than me."

Padme grunted. "Hardly. But I'm a politician. We're trained to be droids."

"Master Kenobi is partial to droids," Aayla said.

Padme's mouth opened then closed. "We're talking about you."

"We're talking about attachments."

"Obi-Wan doesn't feel for me in that way."

"Oh my," Aayla chortled. "I take instructions from the blind."

Padme glared, but it dissolved into laughter. She felt, at once, embarrassed and relieved. Somehow her feelings were more real for having been discovered. She pinched her lip between two fingers. "We're hopeless, aren't we?"

"Completely," Aayla said.

Obi-Wan waited as the link was established. On the fifth beep, Yoda appeared in a swirl of blue light. He looked tired and drawn, leaning on his crutch. His grooved forehead sagged over his eyes.

"Master Kenobi. Glad to hear from you, I am. Reports, we received from Halm," Yoda said.

"It was a terrible business. The scale of it—" Obi-Wan banished the thought. "We found what we needed."

"A trail of breadcrumbs, have you?" Obi-Wan nodded. Yet rather than elaborate, he only stared blankly. "Troubled, you are," Yoda observed. "Reveal your feelings."

"I've discovered something else. It could change everything."

"Speak."

"When you gave me this mission, you intimated my importance. You described my birth as unnatural—'redundant.' I believe you were right, Master; I am an echo in the Force. Padme—"

Yoda's image flickered. For a split second, a Sith officer took its place. Just as quickly, Yoda's face reappeared.

Obi-Wan flinched back. His heart beat double-time. The transmission had been intercepted!

He killed the link, causing Yoda to vanish. He sank in his chair with a quiet gasp. How? He'd sent the transmission through a thousand proxies. Not even a droid could break the code.

Perhaps it wasn't intercepted. With technical knowledge, an inside man could have bugged the com unit, setting it to relay messages to the Sith.

Obi-Wan checked the unit for evidence of tampering. None was apparent.

He pulled up a log of communications. His call to Yoda was the only one listed. But there were signs of another entry deleted from the record. Obi-Wan burned with frustration. He was still a step behind.

The refugee sector was home to the wretches of war-torn worlds. Men, women, and children slept in makeshift shelters made from containers. They awaited word of asylum from the Sith or Republic. But news moved slowly.

Petty criminals thrived in the refugee sector. It was the one place on Axxila the Hutts couldn't touch. Over many years, Landon had made good money here.

He led Miler and R2 to the middle of the encampment. Under a dirty red awning was a humanoid insect. Diablo was two meters tall, with golden skin; three-clawed hands and feet; and a deep, narrow head that ended in a beak. His upper lip, covered in tattoos, wrinkled at Landon.

"As I live and breathe," hissed Diablo. "Landon Solo..."

The scoundrel smirked. "Nice to see you're still preying on the weak."

"As though you don't?"

"It wasn't a criticism."

Diablo vibrated with what might've been a laugh. "I see you're traveling with companions. Or are they clients?"

"Jus' a concerned party," Miler said.

"I can understand why. The man you travel with is not well thought of."

Landon said quickly, "I'm not here to reminisce, Diablo. I'm here to help you make money."

Diablo's pincher teeth showed in a smile. "You always were a good samaritan."

"My ship's been damaged. I need a specialized part."

"Indeed? Special is expensive."

"I've got the credits," said Landon. "You'll get your finder's fee."

Diablo looked between them. His beady black eyes betrayed no inner monologue.

Something felt wrong. Miler's neck hair stood on end. He thought he was being watched. But a quick look around revealed no observers.

Diablo reached for a data pad. He skimmed the contents before smiling at a name. "Very well, Mr. Solo. You will have your specialized part."

Sidious stood at a viewport, regarded the far-flung galaxies, resolving all would someday be his. That's if he beat the Jedi to the artifact. Obi-Wan Kenobi was more resourceful than expected.

Dooku cleared his throat. "My lord, I've just received word: our agent has succeeded. General Kenobi's ship was diverted to Axxila. And we have the next the puzzle piece: a planet called Mareth. I've dispatched an advance team. We have a significant advantage, despite Vader's failure."

Sidious smiled enigmatically. Starlight poured through the window so his rotted teeth glowed. His intention behind it was a mystery to Dooku.

A red light on his throne marked an incoming message. "Leave me," said Sidious.

Vader's hologram appeared at the center of the room. Even in monochrome, Sidious saw the blood on him. "Lord Vader, I trust you're unharmed."

"I am, my master," the hologram replied. "I engaged General Kenobi, but he was saved by his minions."

"His time will come, my apprentice. But now you're needed elsewhere."

"I am ready to serve."

Sidious relished the moment. Vader and his team were about to end the war. "I've been informed the planet Mareth could you lead to the artifact. You're to join the advance team and find me the Mercy Seat."

Vader bowed. "It will be done, Lord Sidious."

The hologram flickered out. Vader's sycophantic frown vanished from his face. After all these years, it was finally time to take what he was due.

He walked to the bridge, joining Grievous and his Horsemen. "Commander Argyle," he ordered, "set a course for Lord Sidious' flagship."

Argyle squinted. "Sir?"

"I will only ask once, Commander."

Argyle swallowed. His head snapped to the helmsman. "You heard the man! Lay in a course!"

Grievous stood at Vader's side, his mechanized voice not quite a whisper. "Your order is... surprising, Lord Vader."

"I will abide no questions," Vader said. "If you serve me, I will make you more powerful than you can possibly fathom. If you do not..."

The droid-man's jaundiced eyes fixed on Vader's. Suddenly this Sith scared him more than Darth Sidious. Grievous bowed to his new master, before stalking to his office.

"What do you intend?" Demic asked Vader.

The fallen Jedi grinned wickedly beneath his black hood. "We're going to kill Darth Sidious."