Mirta, to her credit, was completely silent. Fett wouldn’t have blamed her if she had allowed herself a scream or two.
“Have you done this before?” she asked, voice shaking.
“Once.”
“That’s encouraging.”
Corellia filled Slave I’s viewscreen. It was sobering to note how much of a planet a ship covered when decelerating. They were over Coronet; Fett recognized the city. The big park that was split in two by the speeder highway hadn’t changed. The hull sensor had settled back into the yellow zone, and apart from some ominous creaking Slave I had slowed enough for a normal vertical landing on her down-jets.
“Coronet ATC to unidentified Firespray, I have you on visual … you’re a little big for a speeder bike, aren’t you?”
“Slave One here,” said Fett. Oops. He disabled the decoy system and the ship resumed her normal profiles. “Your scanner must be having problems.”
“Just can’t get the maintenance staff these days. You’re cleared to land in the priority bays. Follow the red lights.”
“It’s nice to feel welcome.”
“President Sal-Solo is sending a speeder for you.”
Slave I settled on her dampers, and Mirta let out a breath loud enough for Fett to hear. But he never allowed himself that degree of relief. One danger had passed, and now he simply moved on to the next one: holding Sal-Solo at arm’s length, getting off Corellia again, finding that clone, and getting him to surrender his secrets.
And facing Ailyn, which suddenly felt more dangerous than anything he’d ever done in his life.
Why does a man who’s dying anyway worry about crashing?
“Come on,” he said. “Help me secure the ship. I don’t trust Sal-Solo any farther than I can spit.”
“You’re letting me come with you?”
“I’m not letting you sit in Slave One for a few days.” Fett set the intruder countermeasures, this time including the self-destruct. He didn’t trust anybody, but there was still a scale of distrust, and Sal-Solo was up there with the Hutts. “Just do as I tell you.”
“Is that because I’m useful, or because you want to keep an eye on me?”
“Because I don’t want to have to hunt you down and shoot you before you tell me what happened to my wife,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he said it to shock, or because he meant it. He didn’t have to care either way. “I did love her. I just didn’t know how to be part of a family.”
Do I mean that? Yes, I think I really do.
Fett didn’t let Mirta see all the codes that turned Slave I into a booby trap for anyone insane enough to try breaking into her, but the girl learned the basic routines fast. By the time they climbed out of the forward hatch, there was an airspeeder waiting on the permacrete strip and three men in business suits standing in front of it with hopeful expressions.
A Corellian stepped forward-dark-haired, young, but with an air of being well into middle age-and held out his hand for a few awkward seconds before realizing Fett wasn’t about to shake it.
“Welcome to Coronet, sir,” he said. “We represent the three main political parties of the Corellian Assembly. We hope you’ll be able to help us.”
So Sal-Solo had sent his minions. Okay, that was understandable. Fett checked his weapons status in his HUD, just in case things didn’t go quite as planned, shoved Mirta in the back of the speeder, and then sat up front with the driver. That appeared to surprise his welcoming committee.
“I’m Dur Gejjen, by the way,” said the young-old Corellian, commendably unfazed. “It’s very good to meet you.”
Gejjen would be trouble. Fett could feel it.
Chapter Fifteen
We’re under siege. The Galactic Alliance has violated our airspace, marooned civilian workers on orbiters without food and water, and opened fire on our defense forces. The Alliance has committed more acts of war against us. We’ll stand alone if we have to, but I invite other planets to ask themselves this: which of you will be the Alliance’s next target? Support us while you still can.”
-Thrackan Sal-Solo in a speech to the Corellian Assembly, broadcast live on HNE’s Corellian affiliate network
SENATE BUILDING: DAY THREE OF THE CORELLIAN BLOCKADE.
An ocean of people-perhaps half a million-churned and surged around in the plaza in front of the Senate Building. Jacen could see a very long line of hundreds of blue-uniformed CSF officers with riot shields and visors pulled down, forming a defensive barrier across the face of the building. It was a protest: not exactly a mass riot, given the population of Galactic City, but it wasn’t a welcoming committee for the heroes of the blockade, either. Judging by the position of the police lines, there appeared to be two hostile factions yelling abuse at each other-Coruscanti versus the pro-Corellian lobby. Coruscant and the Galactic Alliance were indivisible.