[Book] [Dark Forces] - 2 - Rebel Agent

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DARK FORCES

REBEL AGENT

WILLIAM C. DEETS

EZRA TUCKER

STAR WARS: DARK FORCES / 2

CHAPTER ONE

Morgan Katarn was afraid. Afraid that he had

missed something important, afraid that the planet which

hung just beyond the transparisteel view port would prove

unsuitable, and afraid that in spite of his considerable

efforts, the Imperials would find the three hundred and

forty-seven men, women, and children under his care and

transport them to slave labor camps from which few, if any,

would return.

All because they had exercised that most basic of

human liberties - the right of free speech. First in meetings

held within the privacy of their own homes, then in loosely

organized gatherings, and finally in Baron's Hed, Sulons

principal city. Because the demonstration was over before

Imperial forces had time to react, the colonists escaped

without arrest, much to the local Commandant's

embarrassment.

However, thanks to the holos that had been taken

and a traitor in their midst, it was only a matter of time

before the "agitators" would be identified and punished.

Even though Morgan Katarn admired the

philosophy of nonviolent resistance, which the

demonstrators espoused, and believed the strategy would

work in the long run, he feared the "long run" might last a

thousand years - a period of time during which millions

might suffer and die. That being the case, he had elected to

REBEL AGENT / 3

stay home. Some of the demonstrators had labeled him a

coward and pointed out that nonviolent resistance often

required more courage than combat, but Morgan stuck to his

convictions. Armed resistance had weakened the Empire's

grip and armed resistance would bring it down.

The Imperials could have responded to the

demonstration in anynumber of ways - including show trials,

transportation to slave labor camps, or out-and-out murder.

But the demonstrators considered that unlikely . . . until

three families were massacred in one night, their homes

burned to the ground, and Imperial AT-AT tracks left for

everyone to see.

Morgan Katarn had their attention by then and,

with funding supplied by Rebel sympathizers, organized an

escape plan. The effort that followed, which involved hiding

the fugitives on a long-abandoned space station, hiring a

blockade runner, slipping out of Sulon's system undetected,

and making the long, uncomfortable flight to Ruusan, had

been nothing less than a series of minor miracles. However,

the hard part was over now - or so Morgan hoped. He turned

to Captain Jerg.

The merchant officer was a tall, somewhat gaunt

man, who favored a Republic-era Captain's cap, a sweat-

stained tank top, and once-white pants. His feet, for reasons

Morgan had never understood, went eternally bare. "So,"

Morgan asked, "what's it like down there?"

Jerg gave a characteristic shrug. "There's some low-

profile indigs, pockets of ruins, and a lot of good-for-

nothing real estate. The planet has a class-one atmosphere

though, enough gravity to keep your feet on the ground, and

something more . . . Something so special you can't hardly

find it anymore."

Morgan saw the gleam in the other man's eyes,

knew it was a setup, and asked the question anyway.

Success, assuming such a thing was possible, would hinge

on Jerg's cooperation. "Yes? What's that?"

STAR WARS: DARK FORCES / 4

Jerg grinned. His teeth were badly in need of

cleaning. "There ain't no Imperials down there .... Get it?"

Morgan forced a chuckle, indicated that he "got it,"

and posed the obvious question. "So how did you find it?

And what's to say the Imperials won't, too?"

Jerg shrugged. "It happened about ten years ago.

There was a Destroyer on our tails. We took a random

hyperspace jump and wound up here. As for the rest, heck,

you're old enough to know there ain't no certainties, no way

to be absolutely sure of the crew or to guarantee that an

Imperial probe droid won't drop in for a look-see. But it ain't

happened yet . . . and that makes this the best shot you're

likely to get."

The answer wasn't especially reassuring, but it was

honest, and the fact that Jerg and his crew continued to store

contraband on Ruusan was a testament to the blockade

runner's faith. That, plus the fact that the space station's

holds were both cold and crowded helped make the

decision. Morgan nodded. "All right, then . . . take them

down."

The Cyclops carried two shuttles - both of which

were kept in excellent repair - a necessity since so many of

Jerg's cargoes were transferred under less-than-ideal

circumstances. And it was a good thing, since each shuttle

would have to make nine trips before the fugitives and their

gear arrived dirtside. Morgan accompanied the first load of

passengers.

The colonists, for that's what they were about to

bccome, were an uncharacteristically silent group - teeth

chattering from days spent in the nearfreezing holds and

bodies hidden beneath multiple layers of clothes. The

children, a normally rambunctious lot, were withdrawn.

Morgan could hardly blame them. Life on Sulon

had been hard, but most of the protesters had been second-

or even third-generation farmers, which meant the security

REBEL AGENT / 5

of a house to live in, whatever possessions they had

managed to accumulate, and enough to eat.

Now they faced starting over, and, even worse, on a

planet they'd never heard of, with a minimum of supplies

and the constant threat of discovery. It was enough to make

the most determined optimist a little depressed. A line

formed and jerked through the lock as a crew member

checked the settlers against the list on his datapad.

Morgan spotted a woman struggling to corral three

small boys. Citizen Roskin, if he remembered correctly. The

Rebel leader scooped the youngest of the brood into his

arms and offered the boy's mother a grandfatherly smile.

"Can I give you a hand? My son is grown. But I remember

when he was this size."

The woman smiled gratefully, provided her name to

the purser, and passed through the lock. Morgan nodded and

followed. One vessel was dawn on the surface, so the hangar

bay seemed half empty. The remaining shuttle crouched as

if ready for action. The ramp gave slightly as they shuffled

aboard. The interior smelled of paint and ozone. Twenty

rows of bolt-down seats had been installed in the cargo

compartment. A crew woman pointed them toward the rear,

and they obeyed. Morgan found a seat for the boy, secured

his harness, and did the same for himself.

There was a wait, and the youngster atarted to fuss.

Morgan removed the multi-tool from a belt pouch, popped

the power pak into the palm of his hand, and offered the

device for inspection. Kyle had given it to him five years

before, and the handle bore his initials. The toddler grabbed

the tool and shoved one end into his mouth.

Morgan remembered that Kyle had been equally

fascinated by his father's tools and, more important, by what

they could accomplish. By the time he was a teenager, the

lad could disassemble, troubleshoot, and repair anything on

the farm, including Wee Gee, the family's one-of-a-kind

droid.

STAR WARS: DARK FORCES / 6

The pilot interrupted Morgan's thoughts with a

perfunctory safety lecture, lifted the shuttle on its repulsors,

and guided the vessel out through widely gaping doors. The

cargo compartment had no view ports, so there was nothing

to look at.

The boy removed the now-gooey object from his

mouth, said something unintelligible, and allowed the tool to

slip from his grasp. Morgan strained against his harness and

managed to grab the device before it drifted away. His

thoughts returned to Kyle.

There were only two things he regretted about his

life - his wife's premature death, and the fact that his lack of

financial resources had forced Kyle into a choice between

life as a subsistence farmer and the Imperial Military

Academy on Carida, an institution well known for its

engineering curriculum, its unbending discipline, and its

ability to produce the kind of fanatics he sought to defeat.

Morgan remembered the day they had parted - how

Kyle had looked in his uniform and how difficult it had been

to keep his voice steady. "I want you to remember, son,

when you're at the Academy, how very proud I am of you."

Kyle nodded, said all the right things, and boarded

the first in a series of ships that would carry him to Carida.

Time passed, but the questions continued to nag: What

would the Imperials make of his son? A man to be proud of?

Or a monster capable of murdering people in their beds?

And whose fault would that be? Kyle's? Or his?

The boy gurgled, smiled engagingly, and crossed

his eyes. Morgan smiled in return. "I don't know about Kyle,

but they won't get you."

"Fort Nowhere," as Jerg's crew liked to call it, was

shaped like a six-pointed star. All-purpose blaster cannon

had been mounted at each of the star's points, the ball turrets

REBEL AGENT / 7

ensuring that any attacker, regardless of approach, would

enter an effective crossfire.

The cannons, plus subsurface missile batteries and

rammed-earth walls, made the fort impregnable by anything

less than a full-scale Imperial raid. A more-thansufficient

deterrent to pirates and the rarely seen natives.

A series of interconnected caverns were used to

warehouse Jerg's cargoes and the supplies required to

maintain the 'Clops.

The pilot produced the necessary codes, received

clearance, and lowered the shuttle onto a sun-faded X.

The ramp touched duracrete, a light appeared,

harnesses were released, and the passengers were allowed to

disembark. Many

appeared dazed as they left the ship, staggered under the

weight of the noonday sun, and shucked layer after layer of

clothes.

Morgan followed them off the ship, located those

he had identified as having leadership potential, and led

them through a blastproof gate. The land looked tough, as if

it had been half-cooked and then left out to dry under the

sun.

Mountains were a barely seen presence to the west.

A roadbed so old that only its vegetation-clad symmetry

served to give it away angled to meet them. The settlers

eyed the harsh landscape, squinted into the sun, and kept

their thoughts to themselves as they climbed a hill. Fresh

crawler tracks led the way.

The supplies were stacked as Morgan had

requested, within eyesight of the fort but beyond the scope

of its direct influence, a necessity if the newcomers were to

establish their independence and protect their children from

the seamier aspects of fortress life.

The site occupied a rise and looked out onto one of

the planet's many reddish-orange wastelands. The location,

plus the supplies, and the cool, clean water that gushed from

STAR WARS: DARK FORCES / 8

the recently drilled well, were sufficient to raise the

colonists' spirits. Jokes were told and discussions begun.

Twenty minutes later, the newly landed colonists were hard

at work revising Morgan's plans, arguing over how to divide

the surrounding land, and jockeying for power within a

government they hadn't formed yet. Morgan smiled. Things

were on the right track.

Morgan stayed with the settlers for three local days,

welcomed successive waves of colonists, ensured fair

treatment of the newcomers by the "firsties," helped erect

temporary shelters, and guided groups into the caverns

where mirrors and fiber-optic cable would be used to pipe

sunlight down from the surface. Morgan was a farmer

himself, and when he explained how sunlight could be

combined with fertilizer and drip-style irrigation to produce

healthy crops, they believed him.

Finally, when it became apparent that some of the

colonists had become too dependent on his leadership and

others chafed under the restrictions it imposed, Morgan

knew that it was time to leave them for a while.

He borrowed a skimmer. It was more than ten years

old, dented from hard use, and nearly stripped of its yellow

paint. The name Old Codger had been hand lettered onto the

floater's bow, and that seemed to tell the story. But

appearances can be deceiving. Morgan conducted his own

inspection and found that the skimmer, like all of Jerg's

equipment, was in excellent repair.

The rear seats had been removed to make room for

cargo, so Morgan had plenty of space to stash his borrowed

camping gear, a crate full of

parts, the tools required to install them, and four five-liter

containers of water. This would be more than enough if he

was careful.

The natives weren't supposed to be hostile, but

Morgan took a blast rifle just to be safe, along with a comm

set and survival gear.

REBEL AGENT / 9

Morgan knew that as in most desert environments,

the best time to travel was at night. But he wanted to see the

countryside. By traveling in the morning and evening, he

hoped to avoid the worst part of the heat and still see the

sights.

He left so early in the morning that the stars were

out, and the sentry shook his head in amazement. He figured

that anyone who ventured into the badlands, and didn't have

to, was out of his mind.

Morgan, who hadn't taken anything like a vacation

in more than fifteen years, gloried in his freedom. The

speeder hummed, the stars wheeled, and the wind caressed

his face. It was fresh and carried the scent of the low-

growing bushes - from which aromatic oil could be

extracted if the colonists cared to give it a try - that covered

much of the land.

For lack of a better destination, Morgan chose to

follow the old roadbed. It took considerable resources to

build such a highway . . . . So where would it lead? To a

city? Full of ancient ruins? He hoped so.

Jerg's crew, none of whom looked forward to

rotations on Ruusan, did what they were required to do but

ventured no farther than was absolutely necessary. The

initial survey, conducted years before, had revealed one low-

profile sentient life form, and that was all they needed or

wanted to know.

Morgan, who never tired of learning, reveled in the

opportunity to explore and observe. The landscape assumed

a soft, almost surreal quality as the early morning light

painted it in shades of lavender and gold. The air, which was

so completely different from the stale, recycled stuff

available aboard ship, was fresh and cool.

The feeling of intoxication was so strong that he

laughed out loud, opened the throttle, and cheered as the

skimmer surged ahead. It was good to be alive!

STAR WARS: DARK FORCES / 10

Hours passed, the sun hung high in the sky, and

Morgan looked for a place to stop. He was hungry and, more

important, very, very warm. A semirigid awning had been

included in his equipment, and it was time to deploy it.

Morgan scanned the terrain ahead, spotted an

interesting rock formation, and angled off to meet it. The

boulder, for that was what it appeared to be, looked like a

half-buried loaf of bread. The sun was just past its zenith,

which meant that "big loaf" threw some shade to the east.

Morgan steered the speeder into the rock's protection and

felt the temperature drop.

Work had always come before play in Morgan's

life, and some habits are hard to break. He instructed the on-

board computer to run a routine diagnostics check on the

floater's power plant and tugged, snapped, and swore the

awning into place. It was then, and only then, that he took

time for lunch.

The cooler, which had its own power source, was

extremely efficient. The beer was cold, the locally grown

fruit juicy, and the sandwich filling.

Having eaten his fill and restowed his gear, Morgan

decided to circle the rock. The landmark was so prominent

and so close to the road that it was certain to have been

noticed. Maybe, just maybe, he'd find something of interest.

Gravel crunched under his boots, an insect buzzed

in his face, and beads of sweat dotted Morgan's forehead. A

wave of hot, sultry air swept in from the plains, ruffled the

low-growing bushes, and lost its will to live.

Fissures appeared in the rock. Some were large

enough to stick his hand into, though he didn't. Patches of

lichen clung here and there, and an animal scurried into its

burrow. Interesting but not what he had hoped for. No

graffiti, no pictographs, and no tool marks.

Finally, having circumnavigated three-quarters of

the rock and concluding that it had no secrets to conceal,

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@DARKFORCESREBELAGENTWILLIAMC.DEETSEZRATUCKERSTARWARS:DARKFORCES/2CHAPTERONEMorganKatarnwasafraid.Afraidthathehadmissedsomethingimportant,afraidthattheplanetwhichhungjustbeyondthetransparisteelviewportwouldproveunsuitable,andafraidthatinspiteofhisconsiderableefforts,theImperialswouldfindthethreehund...

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[Book] [Dark Forces] - 2 - Rebel Agent

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