(no subject)
I.
Lando (along with the rest of the Alliance high command) had stood in the back of the room when Mon Mothma did the broadcast. She herself announced the arrests of the Grand Admirals and Grand Moffs, by name. She announced the retaking of Hoth. And she stated to the galaxy with a gaze conveying total certainty that Emperor Palpatine was dead.
Within hours, the unshakeable Empire was shaken. Alliance operatives on Coruscant reported that spontaeous protests in support of both rebellion and empire had erupted around the palace. Long-suffering loyal citizens of the old regime, according to scattered reports, were celebrating, stormtroopers only watching for the moment. The Imperial Fleet was at a loss as to what to do next, aside from declaring a state of emergency.
But as Lando sat in his quarters aboard the Lady Luck, he was not celebrating. He wasn’t depressed, of course. But he knew some of what was coming. In 25 years, there would still be an Empire. There would be an alliance with the remains of the Empire. He, like everyone else, had thought that you simply kill the Emperor and Vader. Clearly, this would not be the case.
And what was getting to Lando was the thought that if he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t be able to. There would be a need for a General Calrissian for the next 25 years. A need for someone who could organzie men and material and ships, who could make things happen. An important job, to be sure, but not one that would ever suit Lando. The sooner he resigned, the easier it would be.
“General?” The comm buzzed. He knew that voice. Colonel Tenzil Bast, from Intelligence. A good man, suited to the military life in a way few were. And a cunning sabacc player as well.
“Colonel. What can I do for you today?”
“We’ve begun the interrogations of the Grand Admirals, and it was suggested that you could be of some help.”
“Help? I might be intelligent, Colonel, but I’m not up on my intelligence briefings.” Well, he was, but didn’t really want another job.
“We know that, General. But these men, Admirals and Moffs both, they’re proving very hard to get anywhere with. And the idea came up that since you have some experience with tough negotiators, you could watch some of the initial sessions and let yus know if you spot any, er, clues as to what they might not be telling us.” Lando knew just where that suggestion must have come from. Han probably sat in on a few sessions, and remembered the only man who ever saw through that rascal’s sabacc face.
“It’s a bit outside my usual experiences, Colonel. There is quite a difference between an honest buiness negotation and staring down a Grand Admiral. But I could do with the change of pace.”
“Then meet us on the prison ship. Colonel Bast, out.”
A little excitement? Probably not. The Grand Admirals didn’t get to that lofty post without learning some things about keeping quiet. And the Grand Moffs tended to think of themselves as being nearly as lofty, and were therefore just as likely to play the same game.
Still, Lando wondered about the Grand Admirals and the Grand Moffs, about the twelve great strategists reputed to have the ear of Palpatine and the thirty or so Imperial governors who turned Palpatine’s iron rule in reality across the galaxy. In his youth, when the Imperial Senate still seemed to have some power, no one gave much thought to the Grand Moffs. And once the Senate was disbanded, Lando made it a practice to spend his time in sectors known for weak governors or none at all.
It might interesting to see what made the power beneath the power work. And if the Empire would live on, so would such power. It would be worth knowing about, wouldn’t it?
II.
Nearly two months had passed. And certain things were becoming clear. The big meeting on Hoth was not a strategy session for preserving the Empire. It was the galactic equvalent of what some called a fire sale. Each admiral and moff had his eye on keeping and expanding personal power. They intended only to prop up the structure of the Empire long enough to create an alliance of their own, dedicated to personal power and profit.
The Rebel Alliance didn’t need Lando to figure this out. The data trails, sliced open by dedicated Intelligence operatives, showed that a certain level of corruption had set in years earlier. But his close study of what they were saying, and what they weren’t, pointed the the investigators in the right direction time and again. Key phrases that might be good passkeys. Passing references to planets that old smugglers kew more about than the military. Colonel Bast recommended Lando - technically his superior, but both knew which one was the real pro - for special recognition. Which was not worth that much to Lando, but still appreciated.
Lando didn’t enjoy this work too much. It required sifting through transcripts and holos of the self-important for hours at a time. But there was something strangely pleasing about seeing the Empire’s essential dishonesty revealed. For years, many in Lando’s circle knew that while many of the rank and file in the Imperial Fleet were fantically loyal to the Emperor, many in the upper echelons were clearly getting rich. To Lando, this more than justified the end-run around the Empire he and his associates made a way of life. The fact that there hadn’t been any proof till now was not important, of course. What mattered that the truth was known.
Still, there was little challenge to this task. If he hadn’t found the Bar, he might have thrown his arms up in frustration and begged off the job. Might have pulled the trigger on that resignation much sooner. But the time in the Bar was time to think, far from the noise of the Fleet. And Lando began to see something in the larger pattern, even as he flirted with Amanda, even as he tried Earth delicacies and learned one of their languages.
III.
Lando had spent a week in the Bar, during which time only a day had passed at home. So when friends and colleagues saw him, they were astonished at how relaxed and polished he looked. Even though, most would admit, he always looked polished. He made his way to the command deck, where at luck would have it, Admiral Ackbar had ten minutes in his schedule that no one else had managed to claim. But then, Lando always had luck.
The admiral’s office was large, spacious, big enough to become a command center in moments, and to give the Mon Calamari the room he needed to move freely. Ackbar’s desk was covered with datapads and flimsies, the debris of what Lando knew could be endless briefings.
“General Calrissian, please sit. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you of late. Colonel Bast tells me that you have been quite capable in the interrogations.”
“I do my part, Admiral.”
“What can I do for you today? I hope it’s simple, since my time and my concentration are limited.” Lando thought he detected in Ackbar’s tone a bit of a sense of humor. Which would be a surprise, but then who really knew him?
“I’m here to resign my commission, Admiral. With the war shifting from large-scale to small-scale operations, I feel that my usefulness is coming to a close. And I would like to get my own house in order, awy from the fleet.”
To Lando’s ever-greater surprise, the admiral smiled.
“I was wondering when you would resign. I have to admit, you never struck me as the military type, and I myself had expected you to leave at the first possible opportunity. The military is ususally no place for...entrepreneurs.” Ackbar’s grin hid something. Hid the sheer contempt that his people hold for smugglers and pirates. That Lando was trusted at all by such people was probably an indication of how much things had changed in a time of rebellion.
“No, Admiral, it rarely is. The fleet is in fine hands without me. Which I am sure you know. I would like to complete one or two more reports, and then leave by the end of the month.”
“No need to get my permission, General. We didn’t conscript you, and no one serves against their wills here.
“But I suspect that your absence will be noted. Your work has been commendable, and who is to say how things would have gone at the battle without you.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have other things to do. You can talk to one of my aides about filing the appropriate paperwork.
And with that, Lando had finally resigned.
It was too easy. He would have thought Ackbar would resist. Clearly, he’d overestimated his role. Which never happened to Lando.
IV.
“Colonel.” It was Sabacc Night on the Lady Luck. Han would be along in a bit, as would some of Gold Squadron’s finest. But Colonel Bast arrived first. Early.
“Good evening, General. I brought the lum.”
“Excellent. Place it on the table.” A fine selection of potables, including Lando’s brand of Corellian ale, were waiting.
“Lando, where in the stars did you get Hazzik’s Ale? They stopped exporting that after the Corellian Treaty.”
“I have my sources, Tenzil.” Lando wondered what the colonel would think of the Bar.
“The less you tell me, the less I will have to tell the Alliance when the revenue ships start flying.” Bast grinned at Lando. “Now, let me tell you why I’m here so early.”
“I thought it was because you wanted to sneak a peek at my deck and see if I’m really cheating.”
“Lando, it’s actually a bit more serious than that.”
“What’s more serious than a good game of sabacc?” Lando only now saw that Bast’s face was deadly earnest.
“We had something of a breakthrough yesterday. Our slicers, acting on information that they say you helped to weed out, finally broke the lock on Grand Moff Sedco’s personal datapad.”
Lando thought and then look a bit puzzled. “I don’t recall doing that.”
“You made a comment that you thought he was keeping at least two mistresses. Turns out he was, in plain sight, on Gordinine. Their names were the key.” Bast poured himself a glass of ale.
“Your men would have figured it out.”
“Eventually. But we aren’t accustomed to thinking that way.”
“So I did my job. What makes this different?”
“What makes it different is that Sedco was the only Moff foolish enough to bring his datapad with him to Hoth. There is a Hutt’s treasure of classified information there. Five years of covert activity, detailed to the last stormtrooper.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re telling me this.”
Bast paused and collected his thoughts. “Lando, I showed the data to Mothma. And there was one piece that caught her attention. One that she wants me to tell you before it goes any further. I don’t know why, but she seems to feel that she owes you. Which is not an everyday occasion.”
Lando thought about Mothma’s refusal to liberate Cloud City. Was she feeling bad about that? Or was she simply glad that he hadn’t left immediately after that setback. Or maybe it was her idea of a going-away gift.. “I don’t understand. Is what you’re telling me going to stay classified?”
“Not for long. But she just felt you should be one of the first to hear.” Bast’s face grew grim. He pulled out his own datapad and keyed in a long and complex passkey, and handed it to Lando. “We know that you might have a vested interest in this.”
“Sithspawn.” At last Alliance Intelligence had found where the bulk of the Wookiee race, long enslaved by the Empire, were imprisoned. Lando didn’t read far. He knew just enough to make himself mad, and that was plenty.
“You know I’ll have to share this with Han and Chewie, Tenzil.”
“We know, Lando. And Chewbacca should know. But this goes no further than them for the moment. Mothma wants to figure out the proper way to handle this.”
“The proper way, Colonel, is to rescue the Wookiees. Immediately.” Lando began to seethe a bit, now wondering if Mothma was going to play the same game on him twice and keep him from doing anything remotely useful.
“Agreed. But the Wookiees are in a heavily fortified facility, as the data will show. This will take a fairly subtle approach. One that the Alliance can’t afford to get wrong.” Was that Bast talking, or Mothma? What we they up to?
Or was Lando just being suspicious? He knew that no one in the Alliance would let the Wookiees remain under the slaver’s lash for very long.
“You have a point. But they’ve been slaves for 20 years. It’s high time that changed.”
“It will, Calrissian. But we need time.” Bast sighed a bit. “Look, you and Han will be the circle on this, don’t worry.”
“I would hope so.” He handed the datapad back to Bast. “But I have news as well. I turned in my resignation. I’m leaving as soon as I can.”
“Oh, yes, I know that.” Naturally. “Not that we all didn’t see it coming. Taking refuge here so often. Scanning all the incoming data about the markets.
“But that doesn’t change what you’ve done for us. Or what we can or can’t do.” Bast opened the ale and poured himself a mug. “I promise, the Alliance will handle this, one way or another. And when we do, you’ll know.”
V.
Six hours later and 500 Imperial credits richer, Lando was cleaning up the mess. He hadn’t been on his game. Han had even won three hands, an almost unheard-of event. His mind was elsewhere.
He knew Mothma and Ackbar. Nothing in the fleet - in the Alliance - happened without Mothma’s knowledge. Or forethought. Letting him know about the Wookiees was not merely a reward, or a farewell gift. It was a plan. One that, he would admit, made sense.
The Alliance couldn’t launch a raid. If it failed, the Empire would have a propaganda victory, and the free Wookiees in the new Senate might bolt if things went too badly. Something had to be done. And if that something were done not by operatives under orders but by a former general with a history of establishing his own authority, then the Alliance would have a good deal of distance from the mission if it went wrong.
Lando wondered if Mothma or Bast had uncovered the location of the prison planet earlier, and waited till he resigned. He dismissed that, as Bast’s own sense of duty and honor seemed to preclude that. Even if his career was as a keeper and finder of secrets. No, it was simple fate. Or luck. And Lando knew that luck can turn and bite even the Commander of Staves.
He would take his leave of the fleet, and once he found a quiet world to refuel and plot a course, he would enter the Bar. Once there, he thought, he would talk to friends and see if he could come up with a plan. Maybe after that, he’d recruit Han and Chewie. But he suspected that the fate of the Wookiees had been placed in his hands, and he knew that the mission had to be done right.
Lando (along with the rest of the Alliance high command) had stood in the back of the room when Mon Mothma did the broadcast. She herself announced the arrests of the Grand Admirals and Grand Moffs, by name. She announced the retaking of Hoth. And she stated to the galaxy with a gaze conveying total certainty that Emperor Palpatine was dead.
Within hours, the unshakeable Empire was shaken. Alliance operatives on Coruscant reported that spontaeous protests in support of both rebellion and empire had erupted around the palace. Long-suffering loyal citizens of the old regime, according to scattered reports, were celebrating, stormtroopers only watching for the moment. The Imperial Fleet was at a loss as to what to do next, aside from declaring a state of emergency.
But as Lando sat in his quarters aboard the Lady Luck, he was not celebrating. He wasn’t depressed, of course. But he knew some of what was coming. In 25 years, there would still be an Empire. There would be an alliance with the remains of the Empire. He, like everyone else, had thought that you simply kill the Emperor and Vader. Clearly, this would not be the case.
And what was getting to Lando was the thought that if he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t be able to. There would be a need for a General Calrissian for the next 25 years. A need for someone who could organzie men and material and ships, who could make things happen. An important job, to be sure, but not one that would ever suit Lando. The sooner he resigned, the easier it would be.
“General?” The comm buzzed. He knew that voice. Colonel Tenzil Bast, from Intelligence. A good man, suited to the military life in a way few were. And a cunning sabacc player as well.
“Colonel. What can I do for you today?”
“We’ve begun the interrogations of the Grand Admirals, and it was suggested that you could be of some help.”
“Help? I might be intelligent, Colonel, but I’m not up on my intelligence briefings.” Well, he was, but didn’t really want another job.
“We know that, General. But these men, Admirals and Moffs both, they’re proving very hard to get anywhere with. And the idea came up that since you have some experience with tough negotiators, you could watch some of the initial sessions and let yus know if you spot any, er, clues as to what they might not be telling us.” Lando knew just where that suggestion must have come from. Han probably sat in on a few sessions, and remembered the only man who ever saw through that rascal’s sabacc face.
“It’s a bit outside my usual experiences, Colonel. There is quite a difference between an honest buiness negotation and staring down a Grand Admiral. But I could do with the change of pace.”
“Then meet us on the prison ship. Colonel Bast, out.”
A little excitement? Probably not. The Grand Admirals didn’t get to that lofty post without learning some things about keeping quiet. And the Grand Moffs tended to think of themselves as being nearly as lofty, and were therefore just as likely to play the same game.
Still, Lando wondered about the Grand Admirals and the Grand Moffs, about the twelve great strategists reputed to have the ear of Palpatine and the thirty or so Imperial governors who turned Palpatine’s iron rule in reality across the galaxy. In his youth, when the Imperial Senate still seemed to have some power, no one gave much thought to the Grand Moffs. And once the Senate was disbanded, Lando made it a practice to spend his time in sectors known for weak governors or none at all.
It might interesting to see what made the power beneath the power work. And if the Empire would live on, so would such power. It would be worth knowing about, wouldn’t it?
II.
Nearly two months had passed. And certain things were becoming clear. The big meeting on Hoth was not a strategy session for preserving the Empire. It was the galactic equvalent of what some called a fire sale. Each admiral and moff had his eye on keeping and expanding personal power. They intended only to prop up the structure of the Empire long enough to create an alliance of their own, dedicated to personal power and profit.
The Rebel Alliance didn’t need Lando to figure this out. The data trails, sliced open by dedicated Intelligence operatives, showed that a certain level of corruption had set in years earlier. But his close study of what they were saying, and what they weren’t, pointed the the investigators in the right direction time and again. Key phrases that might be good passkeys. Passing references to planets that old smugglers kew more about than the military. Colonel Bast recommended Lando - technically his superior, but both knew which one was the real pro - for special recognition. Which was not worth that much to Lando, but still appreciated.
Lando didn’t enjoy this work too much. It required sifting through transcripts and holos of the self-important for hours at a time. But there was something strangely pleasing about seeing the Empire’s essential dishonesty revealed. For years, many in Lando’s circle knew that while many of the rank and file in the Imperial Fleet were fantically loyal to the Emperor, many in the upper echelons were clearly getting rich. To Lando, this more than justified the end-run around the Empire he and his associates made a way of life. The fact that there hadn’t been any proof till now was not important, of course. What mattered that the truth was known.
Still, there was little challenge to this task. If he hadn’t found the Bar, he might have thrown his arms up in frustration and begged off the job. Might have pulled the trigger on that resignation much sooner. But the time in the Bar was time to think, far from the noise of the Fleet. And Lando began to see something in the larger pattern, even as he flirted with Amanda, even as he tried Earth delicacies and learned one of their languages.
III.
Lando had spent a week in the Bar, during which time only a day had passed at home. So when friends and colleagues saw him, they were astonished at how relaxed and polished he looked. Even though, most would admit, he always looked polished. He made his way to the command deck, where at luck would have it, Admiral Ackbar had ten minutes in his schedule that no one else had managed to claim. But then, Lando always had luck.
The admiral’s office was large, spacious, big enough to become a command center in moments, and to give the Mon Calamari the room he needed to move freely. Ackbar’s desk was covered with datapads and flimsies, the debris of what Lando knew could be endless briefings.
“General Calrissian, please sit. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you of late. Colonel Bast tells me that you have been quite capable in the interrogations.”
“I do my part, Admiral.”
“What can I do for you today? I hope it’s simple, since my time and my concentration are limited.” Lando thought he detected in Ackbar’s tone a bit of a sense of humor. Which would be a surprise, but then who really knew him?
“I’m here to resign my commission, Admiral. With the war shifting from large-scale to small-scale operations, I feel that my usefulness is coming to a close. And I would like to get my own house in order, awy from the fleet.”
To Lando’s ever-greater surprise, the admiral smiled.
“I was wondering when you would resign. I have to admit, you never struck me as the military type, and I myself had expected you to leave at the first possible opportunity. The military is ususally no place for...entrepreneurs.” Ackbar’s grin hid something. Hid the sheer contempt that his people hold for smugglers and pirates. That Lando was trusted at all by such people was probably an indication of how much things had changed in a time of rebellion.
“No, Admiral, it rarely is. The fleet is in fine hands without me. Which I am sure you know. I would like to complete one or two more reports, and then leave by the end of the month.”
“No need to get my permission, General. We didn’t conscript you, and no one serves against their wills here.
“But I suspect that your absence will be noted. Your work has been commendable, and who is to say how things would have gone at the battle without you.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have other things to do. You can talk to one of my aides about filing the appropriate paperwork.
And with that, Lando had finally resigned.
It was too easy. He would have thought Ackbar would resist. Clearly, he’d overestimated his role. Which never happened to Lando.
IV.
“Colonel.” It was Sabacc Night on the Lady Luck. Han would be along in a bit, as would some of Gold Squadron’s finest. But Colonel Bast arrived first. Early.
“Good evening, General. I brought the lum.”
“Excellent. Place it on the table.” A fine selection of potables, including Lando’s brand of Corellian ale, were waiting.
“Lando, where in the stars did you get Hazzik’s Ale? They stopped exporting that after the Corellian Treaty.”
“I have my sources, Tenzil.” Lando wondered what the colonel would think of the Bar.
“The less you tell me, the less I will have to tell the Alliance when the revenue ships start flying.” Bast grinned at Lando. “Now, let me tell you why I’m here so early.”
“I thought it was because you wanted to sneak a peek at my deck and see if I’m really cheating.”
“Lando, it’s actually a bit more serious than that.”
“What’s more serious than a good game of sabacc?” Lando only now saw that Bast’s face was deadly earnest.
“We had something of a breakthrough yesterday. Our slicers, acting on information that they say you helped to weed out, finally broke the lock on Grand Moff Sedco’s personal datapad.”
Lando thought and then look a bit puzzled. “I don’t recall doing that.”
“You made a comment that you thought he was keeping at least two mistresses. Turns out he was, in plain sight, on Gordinine. Their names were the key.” Bast poured himself a glass of ale.
“Your men would have figured it out.”
“Eventually. But we aren’t accustomed to thinking that way.”
“So I did my job. What makes this different?”
“What makes it different is that Sedco was the only Moff foolish enough to bring his datapad with him to Hoth. There is a Hutt’s treasure of classified information there. Five years of covert activity, detailed to the last stormtrooper.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re telling me this.”
Bast paused and collected his thoughts. “Lando, I showed the data to Mothma. And there was one piece that caught her attention. One that she wants me to tell you before it goes any further. I don’t know why, but she seems to feel that she owes you. Which is not an everyday occasion.”
Lando thought about Mothma’s refusal to liberate Cloud City. Was she feeling bad about that? Or was she simply glad that he hadn’t left immediately after that setback. Or maybe it was her idea of a going-away gift.. “I don’t understand. Is what you’re telling me going to stay classified?”
“Not for long. But she just felt you should be one of the first to hear.” Bast’s face grew grim. He pulled out his own datapad and keyed in a long and complex passkey, and handed it to Lando. “We know that you might have a vested interest in this.”
“Sithspawn.” At last Alliance Intelligence had found where the bulk of the Wookiee race, long enslaved by the Empire, were imprisoned. Lando didn’t read far. He knew just enough to make himself mad, and that was plenty.
“You know I’ll have to share this with Han and Chewie, Tenzil.”
“We know, Lando. And Chewbacca should know. But this goes no further than them for the moment. Mothma wants to figure out the proper way to handle this.”
“The proper way, Colonel, is to rescue the Wookiees. Immediately.” Lando began to seethe a bit, now wondering if Mothma was going to play the same game on him twice and keep him from doing anything remotely useful.
“Agreed. But the Wookiees are in a heavily fortified facility, as the data will show. This will take a fairly subtle approach. One that the Alliance can’t afford to get wrong.” Was that Bast talking, or Mothma? What we they up to?
Or was Lando just being suspicious? He knew that no one in the Alliance would let the Wookiees remain under the slaver’s lash for very long.
“You have a point. But they’ve been slaves for 20 years. It’s high time that changed.”
“It will, Calrissian. But we need time.” Bast sighed a bit. “Look, you and Han will be the circle on this, don’t worry.”
“I would hope so.” He handed the datapad back to Bast. “But I have news as well. I turned in my resignation. I’m leaving as soon as I can.”
“Oh, yes, I know that.” Naturally. “Not that we all didn’t see it coming. Taking refuge here so often. Scanning all the incoming data about the markets.
“But that doesn’t change what you’ve done for us. Or what we can or can’t do.” Bast opened the ale and poured himself a mug. “I promise, the Alliance will handle this, one way or another. And when we do, you’ll know.”
V.
Six hours later and 500 Imperial credits richer, Lando was cleaning up the mess. He hadn’t been on his game. Han had even won three hands, an almost unheard-of event. His mind was elsewhere.
He knew Mothma and Ackbar. Nothing in the fleet - in the Alliance - happened without Mothma’s knowledge. Or forethought. Letting him know about the Wookiees was not merely a reward, or a farewell gift. It was a plan. One that, he would admit, made sense.
The Alliance couldn’t launch a raid. If it failed, the Empire would have a propaganda victory, and the free Wookiees in the new Senate might bolt if things went too badly. Something had to be done. And if that something were done not by operatives under orders but by a former general with a history of establishing his own authority, then the Alliance would have a good deal of distance from the mission if it went wrong.
Lando wondered if Mothma or Bast had uncovered the location of the prison planet earlier, and waited till he resigned. He dismissed that, as Bast’s own sense of duty and honor seemed to preclude that. Even if his career was as a keeper and finder of secrets. No, it was simple fate. Or luck. And Lando knew that luck can turn and bite even the Commander of Staves.
He would take his leave of the fleet, and once he found a quiet world to refuel and plot a course, he would enter the Bar. Once there, he thought, he would talk to friends and see if he could come up with a plan. Maybe after that, he’d recruit Han and Chewie. But he suspected that the fate of the Wookiees had been placed in his hands, and he knew that the mission had to be done right.