STAR WARS: ANOTHER PATH

Episode I: "Thieves in the Night"
by RJB

DISCLAIMER: Just fan fiction. I don't own it. No money is involved, and no infringement intended.

--

ACT FOUR

What had been a comfortable home for a family of four was now a disaster area.

The windows of the Minister of State's quarters had all broken, and smoke billowed through them like a cry for help. What used to be the living room was now a pile of scorched rubble, with two Noghri bodies lying atop it. Deadly fighters, the Noghri. Terrors in a straight fight. The trick was to make sure they never saw it coming.

On the other side of the ransacked apartment, in a small bedroom dominated by a crib, was someone else who'd hardly seen it coming: The Minister of State's chief aide, a woman with strange, white hair whom Terel remembered from Imperial files as 'Targeter.' Now the white hair was streaked with crimson and her milky-white complexion was scarred and burned. Green eyes stared unseeing as she reached out toward the crib, even in death. Strange to think that after all those years giving the Ubiqtorate fits, Organa Solo's prize lapdog should fall doing something as mundane as guarding year-old brats.

Again Terel felt the odd sense of mental double-vision: Part of him wanted to laugh, to cheer the death of this infamous traitor. But somewhere inside he felt cold, even horrified, as though he was caught in a dream and kept doing terrible things without his own consent. The crying of the twins was like an accusation.

There remained one terrible thing yet to do. Or rather, two terrible things. Terel drew a vibroblade from its shealth and stepped toward the crib.

A footstep behind him, someone's boots crunching on gravel. Terel smiled.

"I'm almost glad you're here."

"Don't be," said Han Solo in a low voice, devoid of feeling. Turning slightly, Terel saw him framed in the doorway, holding that famous DL-44 and looking more than a little stunned. Their eyes met, and there was a flicker of recognition...

"Aric Terel?"

Terel inclined his head. "Long time, Solo. I'm sorry it's like this. I didn't think I would be, but I am."

He turned back and reached into the crib.

"One more move, Terel, and they're not gonna be able to find what's left of you."

That small place inside Terel registered fear. He'd never heard quite that note in the Corellian's voice, and he'd seen Solo go up against bounty hunters...

"Come on, Solo--" Moving with speed he didn't know he possessed, Terel ducked behind the crib and and scooped one of the twins-- the boy, still crying-- into his arms. "You're not gonna shoot me through your own son?"

-Do it now,- something in his mind said. Terel's blade hand twitched toward the baby...

Suddenly his hand was on fire and his knife was flying across the room. Solo actually shot the blade out of his hand, and before Terel's initial shock subsided, was across the room in two strides. He slammed a knee into the ex-merc's generous gut and relieved him of the baby even as he doubled over in pain.

-I'll be damned,- Terel thought. -He's even a little bit faster than he used to be.-

He reached out toward Solo, reaching for the child almost the same way Winter did, but the hilt of Solo's blaster pistol came crashing down on the base of his skull and suddenly the room was upside down.

Terel could still see Solo, see his upside-down face, cold as Hoth, lips compressed into a thin line and hazel eyes boring into him.

"Why? You never loved the Empire."

Terel managed a smile. All the warring parts of him wanted to smile, although for different reasons. "Nobody's what they seem, Solo. You ought to know that. And this is only the beginning."

"No," Solo said. "This is over."

The Corellian holstered his weapon, shifted his son into one arm and picked up his daughter in the other, and walked in the other direction. He paused at Winter's body and shuddered visibly, but then seemed to quicken his stride.

"That's it, Solo?" cried Terel, feeling disappointed. "I thought you'd kill me!"

"No such luck."

"Then what're you going to..."

Terel trailed off, the last syllables tinged with dread. Just outside the room, he heard Solo talking to someone he couldn't see:

"Leave a little piece for Page, huh?"

Then Solo was gone, and Terel was left staring at the door, his heart in his throat. If he could just find his balance, get his feet under him... but in the manner of all bad dreams, he found he couldn't move.

Then he heard the growling sound, and a huge, ominous shape filled the doorway, blocking out the light. Chewbacca was most displeased.

"Oh, my," said Terel, in lieu of a scream.

--

The Onebee droid kept scooting around and fussing; it seemed to be his mission to find one million different ways to prod Leia Organa Solo, making sure she came to regret living through her assassination attempt. He failed at this: Stuck in bed with Luke at her side, Mara Jade pacing the room, and half her upper body on fire, Leia wasn't suicidal. Just terrified and very angry.

The door snapped open, and Leia's heart leaped into her throat.

"Jacen? Jaina?"

"They're okay," said Han Solo, who registered relief of his own at seeing her alive. "But..."

Even if she hadn't been a Jedi, Leia would have known what he'd say next. She knew her husband, and she knew her friend.

"Winter."

Han nodded. He went to her bedside, and with his touch the reality of the situation seemed to crush Leia all at once. Her closest confidant, practically her sister, the only thing she had left from the life she'd known growing up. From her whole world. And now...

The last Priness of Alderaan buried her head in her husband's shoulder and wept. He held her gently, mindful of her wounds, his own sense full of despair. They stayed like that for what seemed like a long time.

Luke broke the silence, utterly weary. "It wasn't just us, either. They pulled off several simultaneous attacks on the heroes of Endor. Page still doesn't know how, but Crix Madine is dead, and Nien Nunb is in serious condition."

"Lando?" Han asked.

"He was meeting with the Council when they instituted lockdown. He's fine. Wedge called in, too. He's still on assignment."

"Okay."

Leia felt ashamed of herself for not remembering she had other friends in trouble, friends who might be prime targets for anyone looking to make a statement on Liberation Day. But Han stroked her hair and whispered into her ear, and grief for Winter swallowed her again.

Han continued, "Okay, we'll get through this. Maybe Page can get something out of our guy, unless Chewie goes overboard with him. I almost did."

That remark hung in the air for a long time. Leia wondered whether she'd blame Chewie if the assassin turned up deceased. She decided it wasn't the right time to think about that.

Mara cleared her throat. "I'm gonna go try Karrde again. If anybody can find these guys, it's him." She hesitated at the door and met Leia's eyes. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I really am."

Leia nodded gratefully as the redhead left the room. She tried to think tactically, to consider what they knew about their enemies and how they might be defeated, but her mind refused to show her anything but Winter's face and the faces of her babies, who she'd come so close to losing. Hadn't she been thinking just this morning about all the things she'd endured and how they'd all been worth it, despite the pain?

Suddenly, maybe for the first time, Leia Organa Solo wasn't sure that was true.

--

The decryption chamber of the ISS CHIMERA was a small, dusty room, constantly too hot from having too many computers running in the same enclosed space. Tschel tried not to come down here when he could avoid it, so he was surprised by the young lieutenant who met him and Pellaeon at the door. The young -female- Lieutenant, an attractive brunette with bright blue eyes.

Pellaeon made a small, discontented sound. "You found something, Lieutenant...?"

"Lieutenant Karina Hayle, sir. I was... Grand Admiral Thrawn recruited me."

Pellaeon nodded-- as much as he'd respected Thrawn and his reforms, he was a bit too much an old-line Imperial to be comfortable with the increased presence of aliens and females within the Fleet. Tschel only wished he'd needed something decoded a long time ago.

"Report, then," said Pellaeon.

Hayle led the way to a computer screen in the back of the room, where she called up an analysis of the datapad left by their visitor.

"It's an old Sith dialect," she said, with obvious fascination.

"Well, he said he served the Sith, didn't he?" Pellaeon murmured.

Can you read it?" Tschel asked.

"In part."

Hayle touched several keyes, and the pad's image rotated on the screen. Imperial script rolled across, translating key phrases of the document.

Pellaeon read from the screen: "'He who conquered death... has now become death.'"

"It's gibberish," said Tschel.

"No... it's not. One Sith did conquer death, or so the legends claimed when I was young."

"Darth Plagueis," Hayle said immediately.

Tschel rolled his eyes at the overwrought Sith title, but Pellaeon nodded to her, grudgingly impressed.

"They used to tell his story to frighten children. I took it for myth."

"Everyone did," said Hayle. "Sith legend is poorly understood. But there's another tradition about Darth Plagueis."

"At a guess: It prophesies his return?"

She nodded. "To usher in a new era for the Sith, and lead the Galaxy to its final destruction."

Tschel blinked. "Its-- I'm sorry, what? Destruction?"

"Don't look so glum, boy," said the admiral, with a touch of black humor. "We've finally got something to look forward to...

--

Han Solo sat alone on his couch, in what was left of a burned-out room, staring out a patched-up window with a drink in one hand and a datapad in the other, waiting.

After several eternities, he heard what he was waiting for: A door chime.

"C'mon in," He said, waving with the hand that held the pad.

Lando Calrissian rushed inside, his usual poise somewhat disturbed. "Are you a sight for sore eyes, you old swindler! When I heard about the Palace, I thought you'd--"

"Yeah, so did I," Han said. "Sit down, Lando. Have a drink."

Lando crossed to the bar and poured himself something, obviously expecting Han to comment. But the Corellian didn't speak until his friend had taken his drink and sat down on the smoke-damaged chair across from the couch.

"They told me Leia was resting comfortably. Is there anything I can do?"

Han shook his head. "She's tough. 'Course, so was Winter."

Lando plainly didn't know what to say to that. Then he noticed the pad.

"What's that?"

"A hundred names I told Ackbar I didn't know."

He offered it to Lando, who frowned and then scowled as he read it. Han had expected no less. Too many details given, too much old dirt disturbed. The pad was full of things that veterans of the Trade simply didn't talk about.

This is quite a list, old buddy," Lando said diplomatically. "Wait-- Aleanna Quaid? I used to date her!

"Bad taste was one of the criteria."

"Han!" Lando snapped. He read a few more lines. "You can't do this. For the Hutt operatives alone, you'll have a price on your head from here to Kashyyyk!"

"I don't care about that," Han said, waving off concern for himself.

"Alright, but it's not just the slime merchants. Sure, there's a few of those, but there's good people here, too. People just getting by."

"Well, here's to good people."

Han clinked imaginary glasses and drained his drink. Lando put down the list, staring at him. For two old friends, they hadn't spent much time being straight with one another, let alone earnest. But Han was in earnest now.

"Aric Terel was good people, wasn't he? We used to go out drinking with him-- that place on Trogan, remember?" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I saw Terel in my kids' room. He had a blade. He was going to--"

"Han, think about this," said Lando. "I know how you feel, but it's not your fault."

Before Han knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, and his glass was shattering against the far wall. "It is my fault! Ackbar came to me-- he begged me to help him, and I laughed it off! I said those people were just like me! Well, you know what, Lando? They're not. I would never do what he did. Never."

"No, you wouldn't," Lando agreed. He sipped his drink slowly, put it down, and stood. "That's why you were such a lousy smuggler."

"I was a -great- smuggler!

"No. You were a great adventurer. You were a great risk-taker. But you never got rich, so you weren't much of a smuggler. You didn't think like the rest of us, Han. It wasn't all about the deal to you." Lando paused, couldn't quite meet his friend's eyes. "Not everyone can be that strong... but they don't deserve this. They're not the ones you're angry with."

"I'm not doing it for payback," Han told him. "It's like Luke always says: There's a light side and a dark. I thought I didn't have to pick a side. I found out different today."

Lando nodded, and -now- they locked eyes. "Which side do you think I'm on?"

Han shifted uncomfortably. "That's what I'm asking. I'm going to war, Lando. I want you with me."

"And if I'm not?"

"Then don't get in my way."

Lando looked a little frightened by whatever he saw in Han's hazel eyes. Han felt a little shaky himself. Lando picked up the list and pushed it toward him.

"You take this and you sleep on it. It'll look different in the morning."

"In the morning, it's going to Ackbar."

Lando's expression darkened. "And a lot of people go to Kessel, is that right?"

"Pretty much."

"Must be great to be so high and mighty."

"Come on, I don't think--" He reached for Lando, but the other pulled his arm away. \

Han backed off; he'd expected trouble over this, but he'd always figured he could talk Lando over to his point of view. He suddenly wondered what would happen if he couldn't. Despite what he liked to say, it had been a long time since Han hadn't trusted Lando Calrissian. Could he now? Could the New Republic? If they couldn't trust one of their oldest allies, how could they ever again trust the Smuggler's Alliance?

On some level, the Rebellion (and hence, the New Republic) had always been an uneasy alliance between ex-Republic liberals like Leia and Mon Mothma and cantina trash like Han and Lando. What would happen if those two sides couldn't reconcile their competing interests? Division? Anarchy? Another war?

After they'd both gathered their thoughts, Lando summed it up. "Those people you're selling out didn't get to marry a princess and rub shoulders with the Jedi Knights. They didn't turn into officers and gentlemen like us. They didn't get the chance."

"Everybody has chances, Lando. You gotta take 'em, that's all."

"And what if the odds turn against you? What if you'd been a second later heading back to that Death Star, or I'd abandoned Leia on Cloud City? Would we be on the list to get hunted down?"

"Maybe, yeah." Han studied his boots for a minute, and then what he was trying to say came to him. "You know what else, buddy? We'd deserve it."

He tried to give Lando the list again, but the gambler wouldn't take it. Han dropped it on the table, almost a physical barrier between the two of them.

"I guess I know how you feel," said Han quietly.

"I guess you do."

"And it don't make any difference to you that these old buddies of ours just killed Winter and hurt Leia and tried to kill my kids?"

To his credit, Lando winced. "I hate that as much as you do, but I seem to remember us making a few things blow up in our day."

"That was different!" Han insisted. "It was war!"

"Sometimes it was money. Or don't you remember that little incident on Sullust?"

-Sullust? What happened on... oh. The commuter train with the lockbox. That job for Heater... Damn, it's been a long time since I thought about that. I can't believe I didn't...-

He looked up at Lando, who was waiting for an answer. All the great Han Solo had to offer was a weak excuse.

"I've changed since then..."

Judging by his expression, Lando knew it, and felt a little regret at bringing it up. He clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Han. Most days, I think I'm a good guy, too.

After a last, apologetic look, he walked out the door in a whirl of cape, leaving Han alone with his list. He sat down to study it.

Was Lando right? Had he just gotten lucky? Cashed in? Wasn't this the 'reward' he'd asked Leia for back on Yavin-- everything he could have wanted for rescuing a princess, and more? Wealth, prestige, family... and all he had to do was turn his back on everything he used to think was important. Maybe he'd gotten so caught up in all the respectability that he'd forgotten where he came from.

Han's finger hovered over the pad's 'delete' key. He thought of Terel's fat, ugly face leering down at Jacen and Jaina. He pressed 'Save' instead.

--

Worn to a frazzle and now quite worried he might be the last sane person left in the Galaxy, Lando Calrissian returned to his guest quarters in the Imperial palace. He sat down on the bed with his head in his hands.

Maybe Han had a point. Save for a couple old friends like Quaid, the people on that list would have sold -him- out as soon as look at him... and Lando wasn't under the illusion that even his friends were such good people. He'd never been one for honor, among thieves or otherwise. Why stick his neck out?

Because it wasn't only the people. It was his whole way of life at stake. It was the idea that a man could live without a government giving him orders, by the luck of the draw. If Lando believed in anything, he believed in that.

Han did, too. He was upset, that was all. Give it a couple of days and a few carefully-phrased reminders, and he'd come around.

Lando wasn't sure if he believed that or not, but it cheered him enough that he could lift his head up again. When he did, he noticed a green light blinking on the computer screen by the bed. He pressed a key-- and performed a perfect double-take.

-Well, I'll be a rancor's chew toy...-

Talon Karrde's face was on the viewer, the smuggling kingpin looking piratical as always. The room behind him was nondescript, and Lando couldn't pick up any details before the other man launched into a pre-recorded message.

"Hello, Calrissian. I'm sending this to you because I hoped you, of all people, would understand. After all, you forgave Drang his little indiscretion back on Myrkr..."

Lando grunted. "Damn vornskr nearly took off my hand. Clever, Karrde... throw in a personal detail so I'll know it's really you..."

"I've been looking into something out near the Anoat system-- something which, I believe, may have exploded into the assassination attempt on Leia Organa Solo. Give her my best, by the way.

"You bet," said Lando, who took a flask out of his desk drawer and drank to Leia's health.

"If you'll meet me on Cloud City, I'll be able to fill you in more completely. I don't trust an open comm. It's best if you come alone. You can tell the others where you're going if you wish, but leave Mara out of it. I don't want her involved in this." Karrde looked around nervously, then turned back to the comm with his usual reserve shaken. "There's not much time. I'll expect you within three days, Calrissian. Hurry, if you can."

The viewer went blank. Lando stared at it for a moment, wondering what to do.

He had no love for Karrde, and tried hard to avoid bravery. But he did owe Karrde a little something, and Leia more than a little. The exhortation to leave Mara out of it worried him; since Karrde cared about her most of the New Republic crowd, she was the one he'd logically leave out of a trap. But Karrde had also added that bit about the vornskr-- a detail meant not just to confirm Karrde's identity, but to imply the matter was important enough for him to -need- confirmation. That had to mean something, and Lando couldn't help but be curious. It wouldn't cost him much to quietly check things out.

In the end, Lando did what he'd done all his life: He rolled the dice.

"Lobot," he said the intercom, "see if you can get the LADY LUCK scheduled for immediate departure."

"Are we leaving already?"

"Just me. You're staying to help them beef up security."

The cyborg's voice was droll. "Wizard, as the kids say. The Council might not be pleased. You promised..."

"It's still a free Galaxy, isn't it?" Lando interrupted.

"For the moment."

"Then do like I tell you. Calrissian out."

He cut off the comm and began to get dressed, hoping he wasn't going to regret the rare flash of selflessness. As a rule, he usually did.

--

Talon Karrde sat in a chair, in the nondescript room seen by Lando Calrissian, and groaned to himself. He hadn't really meant to ask for help. He'd probably regret it for a very long while. On the other hand, no man was an island, and he did have the excuse of being drugged quite out of his mind.

Dimly, as though they were a very great distance away, Karrde saw distorted shapes of black cloaks, and heard two rasping voices. In his present condition, he found their overblown seriousness very amusing.

"That's it, then," one said to the other. "Now we must wait and see."

The other cloaked figure, whose scarred face Karrde remembered being quite distorted even when he was clear-headed, replied with an obscene smile.

"Calrissian will come.. Nothing can deter the master's plan now. As the Jedi are reborn, so, too, are the Sith.

As they walked away from Talon Karrde, some small voice deep inside that still remained his own said, -Well. That really wasn't very funny at all...-

THE END

(to be continued in Episode 2: A Place to Stand!)