[Legacy Of The Force] - 04(32)

“With no bodyguards,” Leia said.

Teppler nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up as a waiter droid, a cylinder on wheels with eight arms, rolled up. “Whiskey and water,” he said, making his voice hoarse. “Prewar.”

The droid rolled away, and Teppler returned his attention to the others, particularly Lando. “I don’t know you.” Lando extended his hand. “Lando Calrissian.”

Teppler shook it. “Nice to meet you. Though I think you picked a bad time to come out of retirement.”

“Just as you picked a bad time to go into politics.”

“True.” Teppler turned back to Han and Leia. “So why am I here?”

“The attack on Queen Mother Tenel Ka,” Leia said. “Ah.”

“First,” Han said, “did you have anything to do with it?”

Teppler shook his head.

“Or know anything about it?”

“Not until it was under way.”

“Han and I were at the site of the assassination attempt,” Leia said. “Because of that and for some other reasons, the GA suspects us of being involved, and because we transmitted a warning to Tenel Ka, the Corellians blame us for spoiling the plan. So we’re interested in clearing our names.”

“And in beating the responsible parties until they’re skin sacks full of stew,” Han added.

Leia glanced at her husband, her that-wasn’t-entirely-be-helpful look. She returned her attention to Teppler. “Now, I know that doing what we ask puts you in a quandary. If you accept, technically you’re betraying the secrecy acts of your government, a treasonable offense. But I also know you’re opposed to a lot of what goes on. Thrackan Sal-Solo is dead, but his spirit lives on in portions of the new government. And whoever ordered the attack on Tenel Ka has become our enemy. Our enemies don’t tend to fare very well, and we will do whatever we can to bring him or her down. So I put it to you that if you don’t tell us who ordered that mission, it’s only because it was someone you want to remain in power.”

Teppler was silent a long moment, not looking at any of them. The waiter rolled up during his pause and set down his drink. Teppler handed the droid a pair of credcoins, then sipped at the whiskey until the droid was out of earshot.

Finally, he said, “There’s no such thing as treason anymore, you know that?”

Han and Leia exchanged a confused glance. “How do you figure that, kid?” Han asked.

“Everything you do helps someone. Everything you do hurts someone. Everything you do violates a law while supporting an ethic, or vice versa. The only differentiation is whether you do things out of selfishness or altruism-and altruism just means, I’m doing this to create a better world, as I define better. And if there’s no such thing as treason anymore, there’s also no such thing as loyalty. You know what I mean?” He raised his glass again, and when he put it down it was empty.

Looking at him, Han felt a little pang of sympathy. Teppler’s eyes seemed devoid of life. “I think,” Han said, “when we leave Corellia, you ought to come with us.”

Teppler laughed. “I can’t leave.”

“We can get you offworld, no problem,” Han said. “We have a good transport.”

“I know. It’s at the Elmas port, correct?”

Han’s hand fell automatically onto the butt of his holstered blaster. He took a quick look around, but no one other than the waiter droid seemed to be paying them any attention. He kept his voice low, under control. “How did you know?”

“Where else would you be? You’re smugglers. Organized crime-of the syndicate kind, I mean-controls Port Pevaria, and Galactic Alliance Intelligence has its tentacles all through that place. If you were more upright GA citizens, you’d have had contacts there to berth with. And it’s there that CorSec is doing most of its looking for that mystery transport that made landfall earlier today. But smugglers, of the old-fashioned, freelance kind, they have most of their contacts over at Elmas, as they have for generations. If CorSec had any idea that it was Han Solo who made landfall, that’s where they’d be right now, in force.”

“Oh.” Han sat back and forced himself to relax … a little. “But that supports my point. We can get you offworld.”

“I’m no good with a blaster,” Teppler said.

Lando frowned. “You know, you’re more than commonly confusing to talk to, even for a politician.”

“I’m not a hand-to-hand combatant,” Teppler went on, “and I’m an indifferent pilot. I don’t have an affinity for technical gear. But listening to people, sorting out truth from lies, guessing at motivations, manipulating people, encouraging them, maneuvering them-that’s where I’m strong. You know, politics.”