The lack of post-flight maintenance felt wrong to Mara.
Certainly, some part of that feeling was the irritation at her weapons failing over Tyrena. Rieekan had declined to tell her who had handled the T-47 refits. Lacking both the perpetrator and the physical evidence, Mara could only speculate about the cause of failure. Even worse was that she’d never worked on a T-47 herself before, so she was reduced to holographic specification charts and diagrams produced by Skywalker’s R2 to even try guessing what had gone wrong.
Why the commander’s astromech had both stock schematics and details of the Alliance’s combat refit was a mystery of its own, but Mara wasn’t going to push that and risk the cantankerous droid shutting down her access to the information. He’s as bad as Chopper. Worse in some ways, less murderous in others.
“Maybe this power coupling?” Karie hazarded, sticking her finger into the holographic schematic to touch it.
“Maybe.” Mara frowned. “That does link both the main guns and the repeater with the speeder’s on-board power cells. If the bracket wasn’t properly secured, it could have shifted during maneuvers enough to pop the coupler out of position.”
“I was thinking more about the power draw,” Karie said.
Mara squinted at the Aurebesh technical specifications Artoo promptly displayed. “My guns were firing offset,” she said, shaking her head. “If they were linked and firing together, it’d be enough to overload the coupler, but not while firing one at a time.”
“You weren’t the only one shooting,” Karie pointed out. “I was firing the repeater right up until we went into that last maneuver. We probably overloaded it and when you tried to shoot coming out of that turn, the coupler cooked.”
“That might be it. I wish we had the actual machine to work on so we could tell for sure.”
“I think Rieekan thought you were going to shoot whoever had done the combat refit. There was no way he was going to tell us.”
“I wouldn’t have shot him.”
“And I wouldn’t have guessed that from the look on your face when we were debriefing.”
Mara was saved from responding by the unexpected arrival of the Millennium Falcon into Aux Two.
The battered YT-1300 had already breached the magcon field before the ship-arrival klaxon sounded. “Clear Auxiliary Two,” a harried voice called belatedly. “Light freighter inbound. Clear Auxiliary Two.”
Mara straightened up beside Skywalker’s X-wing and watched the Falcon slide into the hangar like Han Solo owned the Independence. Moving faster than regulation, the Corellian vessel rotated in the air while still sliding over the X-wings, nose coming back around to face the hangar aperture before dropping to its skids in the corner with deceptive gentleness. I know Solo drives Rieekan up a wall, but the man can fly. I wonder what he could do with a starfighter?
The boarding ramp had barely touched the deck before Solo was walking down it. Skywalker appeared simultaneously out of the doorway from Rogue Territory. “Han!” he called, breaking into a trot.
“Luke!” the smuggler said. Even from a distance, Mara could see the genuine smile on Solo’s face.
More of the Rogues entered the hangar, no doubt to meet Solo or see his infamous ship. Mara jerked her head toward the gathering group, received an answering nod from Karie, and the two women walked over as Skywalker gave Solo a very un-officer-like hug.
“…mised me repairs and fuel,” Solo said. “Rieekan also promised me replacement concussion missiles, but apparently there aren’t any Arakyds in the armory. Didn’t realize the Rebellion was using Dymeks.”
“How long are you here?” Skywalker asked.
“A few hours. I was asked to move the Falcon over to your hangar to free up space for the air wing. Chewie and I already patched up the damage from that little skirmish at Corellia, and Her Highness-ness asked me to swing by Mako-Ta. As soon as the crews get the bird fueled, we’ll be on our way again.”
Skywalker’s face was pained for a moment, but then the smile returned. “Then you have enough time to meet the squadron.”
“Sure,” Solo said, turning for the first time to take in the gathering pilots. “This is Rogue Squadron?”
“Yes. You remember Wedge from Yavin. He’s my second-in-command.”
“Antilles,” Solo said. “You’re keeping the kid in line?”
“As much as anyone can,” Wedge said dryly. “If you’ve got some pointers, I’m all ears.”
“You need a Wookiee.” Solo turned and grinned at the towering Chewbacca. “Guaranteed to help.”
The Wookiee chuffed and growled something in Shyriiwook. Mara tried to hide her grimace. I hate not understanding part of a conversation.
Skywalker began to introduce the Rogues to Solo, one by one. Mara watched from the edge of the crowd where she stood with Karie. Skywalker is really bad at formality, she thought. No ranks. No last names. Not even callsigns. Just a first name and a personal bit about each person. Then again, if Solo is half the things I’ve heard about him, he probably likes this approach better.
“And this is Mara,” Skywalker said, at last turning to her. “She’s my wingman.”
Solo turned to her with a cocksure grin and eyed her up and down once. “Mara,” he repeated, likely committing her name to memory. “You certainly didn’t come out of the Imperial Academy,” he added casually. “But you must be pretty good to keep up with Luke.”
“Wedge and Hobbie trained me,” Mara said, crossing her arms and striving to keep her tone even. She had the unsettling feeling that Solo saw more of her in one look than she wanted anyone to see. “So no, I didn’t get drummed out of the Imperial Academy.”
Solo’s grin widened. “Just as well. You didn’t miss much.” He turned back to Skywalker, glanced back at Mara, then at Skywalker again. “You moved on from princesses to redheads?”
“Han,” Skywalker said reproachfully, reddening just a bit.
The smuggler smirked. “Quite a group of reprobates you and Antilles put together. I know half your people by reputation, and if Rieekan keeps putting you out on missions the other half will all be on wanted posters soon.”
“Like you’re one to talk. What’s higher right now, the Imperial bounty or Jabba’s bounty?”
Solo’s posture stiffened just enough for Mara to notice, but his expression never wavered. “Jabba’s. But the Empire’s got a lot more reach, kid.” He looked around at the crowd. “If you ever decide you want to make credits instead of fighting your revolution, you’d have a pretty good crew here.”
Skywalker rolled his eyes. “You never give up, do you, Han?”
“And there are a lot more credits in this if we win the war,” Wes interrupted cheerfully. “Think about the endorsement deals! Hobbie could be a millionaire just off bacta deals.”
Snickers rose from the group, and Mara both chuckled and winced.
“As long as I’m waiting for refueling,” Solo said, “what do you have to drink around here? And do any of you play sabacc?”
The interrogation room was stark and white, though the chairs were comfortable enough and Rieekan had brought two battered mugs of caf with him.
Crix Madine sat in the chair away from the door, offering him a dour smile. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” Rieekan said simply, setting one of the mugs down in front of Madine. “I did get this from the officers’ galley. It’s decent. Better than what the alert pilots drink,” he added with a shudder.
Madine picked up the mug. “What do you want to know, Carlist? We both know we have a lot of work to do. The information I brought with me will get stale if we don’t move on it quickly.”
“Then we’ll start with the question we ask every defector: why now?”
“You mean aside from being caught out and scheduled for execution on Orinackra?” Madine grimaced. “The Senate.”
Of all the answers he could have expected, that was not what Rieekan had anticipated. “The Senate?”
“The Senate.” Madine took a long drink of caf, clearly ordering his thoughts. “I’ll try to make this coherent. You’ve been limited on long-range communications, right? Since you evacuated Yavin?”
Rieekan nodded.
“The Emperor dissolving the Imperial Senate changed everything. And given the war you’re fighting and your point of view, I don’t know that you can appreciate what’s changed.” Madine looked down at his mug. “We all know the Senate didn’t have much real power left. Palpatine’s office managed to centralize it, in bits and pieces, during the Clone Wars, but it took almost two decades to finish the job. And you would think, then, that dissolving the Senate doesn’t change much. But it changed almost everything about Imperial governance.”
“How so?” Rieekan asked.
“Palpatine gave regional governors direct control of their territories. And it filters down. Moffs control sectors, governors control systems, planetary governors control individual planets, and so on. It seems like it’d be more efficient and direct, right? Eliminate the bureaucratic controls and let the layers of the dictatorship run things directly.” He took another drink from his mug. “The Death Star was supposed to keep everyone in line – that was Grand Moff Tarkin’s pitch to the Emperor for dissolving the Senate. They needed the Senate to keep all the planetary populations in check; remove the representation, and they may revolt. But the threat of planetary annihilation would make revolt impossible, or at least highly unlikely.”
“And then Skywalker destroyed the Death Star,” Rieekan said.
“And then Skywalker destroyed the Death Star,” Madine repeated. “But the real threat of unrest and revolt hasn’t been the planetary populations. It’s been the Imperial governors.”
Rieekan frowned but listened.
“I suspect Tarkin knew it, too, but we can hardly question him about it. Without the Senate at the center of the galaxy to direct Imperial government, however ineptly or superficially, the governors now have free rein over their territories. And many of them are using that freedom to start consolidating their own power bases.”
“Are you suggesting the Empire is collapsing into inter-governor warfare?” Rieekan asked doubtfully.
“No. Not yet, anyway. None of them seem willing to cross the Emperor himself. But…” Madine hesitated, then stalled with another drink of caf before continuing, “I think the Emperor is encouraging it. He wants the conflict inside the Empire.” He looked up and met Rieekan’s eyes. “I know it sounds crazy. Like I’m suggesting the Emperor wants his own Empire to tear itself apart. I don’t think it goes that far; I think he is allowing the moffs and governors and everyone to wage political warfare against each other, with an eye toward the most effective taking over bigger swathes of territory. It’s no secret that Tarkin was one of the most powerful men in the Empire; maybe this is how Palpatine is finding a replacement.”
“How does this affect the Alliance’s operations, then?”
“I have intelligence on a number of the biggest threats in the Empire. Some of the moffs seem to think the best way to gain power is to focus on governance of their own territory. They’re lower-level threats. Others are actively trying to curtail resistance activity or hunt down Rebel groups. Those are the threats we need to worry about now.” Madine smiled briefly. “Moff Ghorin is a good example. He staged an elaborate deception in an attempt to weaken the Rebellion and specifically expose the Independence task force to attack. Obviously, he failed. But there are plenty more who are willing to step up now and will need to be dealt with.”
“What about the Imperial military? The Navy, the Army, the stormtrooper corps?”
“Politicized to a large degree, but not entirely. A majority of the Empire’s armed forces now fall under control of regional governors. Theoretically, that control is checked by Palpatine’s hand-picked Grand Admirals, who are all loyalists and hold the highest ranks, but twelve officers can’t be everywhere. The only truly independent task force in the entirety of the Empire is the Death Squadron. Admiral Ozzel answers only to Supreme Commander Darth Vader.”
“So how does that lead to your open defection?” Rieekan asked, dragging the conversation back to its starting point.
“The Imperial armed forces are rapidly being politicized, with high-ranking officers happily committing more and more atrocities if they think it’ll secure them power from the governors or from the Emperor himself. General Mohc’s project was horrific; I took risks I shouldn’t have to ensure the Alliance knew what was happening. Risks that led to my exposure.” Madine met Rieekan’s eyes again. “With the Senate gone, Imperial atrocities are going to increase. Massacres are going to become more common. Every governor or admiral with a surplus budget is going to try to turn it into a superweapon or warship or elite operations unit. At least as long as Palpatine’s at the top.”
“That’s the second time you suggested this all hinges on the Emperor,” Rieekan observed.
Madine nodded. “If something were to happen to the Emperor – say one of his Grand Admirals turned traitor and killed him – the Empire would fall apart into a collection of warlords. It’s already a collection of warlords, but right now they all answer to the Emperor.”
Rieekan leaned back in his chair and considered. He’s definitely right about one point; High Command has almost no understanding of how the political picture has changed since the Senate was dissolved. If either Mon Mothma or Princess Leia knows this, they haven’t been talking about it during strategy sessions.
“With Moff Ghorin neutralized,” he said slowly, “what Imperial governor is our most immediate threat, in your estimation?”
Madine waved a hand. “After Gerrard V, Moff Kohl Seerdon will come gunning for you. And he’ll definitely intrude on other governors’ territory to do it.”
“Gerrard V?” Rieekan repeated. “Unless something has happened in the last week, we’ve had no operations on Gerrard V in years.”
“You brought your task force into the Core,” Madine said. “I thought it was here for Gerrard V.”
“I brought the task force into the Core to retrieve you,” Rieekan said. “What’s happening on Gerrard V?”
Madine blinked, apparently recalculating. “Are you familiar with the planet?”
“The name is familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“Gerrard V has been a hotspot of Rebel activity for a decade and a half,” Madine said. “Long before the Corellian Treaty was signed, there were resistance efforts there. Most Core worlds aren’t Rebel-friendly; Gerrard V was an early one, and openly.”
Rieekan paused for a moment, memories clicking into place. “That’s why the name’s familiar. Bail Organa had contact with the local resistance there through the Fulcrum network. The locals went into open revolt a couple years ago and overthrew the Imperial planetary governor.”
“Camon Udeon,” Madine supplied the name. “He successfully overthrew the local governor and crushed the Imperial garrison. It lasted a few weeks before a Star Destroyer task force under Admiral Trynn returned and bombarded the capital city of Harazod. The planet fell back under Imperial control in days.”
“And now?”
“And now the locals are in an open revolt again. Udeon’s son is leading the resistance.” Madine grimaced. “They think they can be the next Lothal. Force the Empire off-world again and this time hold onto their own planet, with or without Alliance backing. You didn’t know about any of this?”
“We’ve been relying on courier ships,” Rieekan said grimly. “The last time we lit up our long-range communications array, we had a Star Destroyer task force breathing down our necks twelve hours later.”
“Imperial Governor Dannal has been preparing an evacuation. Seerdon ordered him to loot everything he can and ship it off-world. Seerdon’s strategy is to ensure that Gerrard V can’t afford to defend itself; either the Alliance would have to commit forces or it’ll fall again in weeks.”
“They haven’t finished the looting?”
Madine shook his head. “Dannal is thorough. If you’re going to stop him, you’ll need to move fast. This deep in the Core, your entire task force is in range to intervene before he finishes. You have a day at best. I’m guessing we’re eight hours away at flank speed?”
Rieekan grimaced. “What sort of orbital defenses does Gerrard V have?”
“Nothing substantial. The local defenses hadn’t been rebuilt after the last revolt.”
Rieekan stood up. “We’ll need to resume this discussion later, Crix.”
“Agreed.” Madine offered a twisted smile. “I have nowhere else to be.”