Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [145]
“Yes?”
It was Riten. He sounded very agitated. “I’ve been trying to reach you—why haven’t you answered?”
“Sorry. I left the comlink in my office.”
He hissed in exasperation. “It’s past time to go, Teela!”
“In a few minutes. I have to—”
“You don’t have a few minutes. You need to get to the rendezvous now!”
“Listen, the Rebel attack—I know what they’re up to!”
“It doesn’t matter what they’re up to. Go!”
“You don’t understand! They could destroy the station!”
There was a short pause, no more than a couple of heartbeats. Then: “So?”
Teela blinked, confused by his response. “Riten—”
“We live on a battle station called the Death Star, Teela. It’s already killed billions of people, and you know it can and will do worse. Anybody who tries to stand against the Empire will feel its teeth. There’s no limit to how many this abomination could slaughter.”
“But—all the people on board—”
“Don’t begin to approach the numbers who were on Alderaan. Go, Teela. Get off while you can. You don’t want to be a part of this any further.”
Her emotions warred with themselves. All her work. All the dead of Despayre and Alderaan, and all those who might yet die. All her friends and colleagues. Civilians. Prisoners. A thousand worlds within easy reach of the Death Star.
He was right.
“I—”
“Go, now!”
“All right,” she said.
She left the images floating over her desk and hurried out into the corridor.
FLIGHT CORRIDOR SEVENTEEN, DEATH STAR
Vader strode down the hall, where he came upon a pair of his own pilots. It was time for him to take the field. These Rebels were up to something—he could feel it. To the pilots he said, “Several fighters have broken off from the main group. Come with me.”
His TIE fighter was fueled and ready—it was always fueled and ready—and he would personally show the Rebels what happened when you went up against Darth Vader. His prototype craft was the Advanced x1—faster, better armed, and equipped with short-range hyperspace capabilities that the older models did not have.
Whatever the resistance upstarts had in mind, he was going to stop it.
Vader gestured, and the hatch to his fighter slid open as if by itself. He climbed into the ship, fired up the engines, and, with his two wingmates, flew through the open bay doors and into the black coldness of space.
MEDCENTER, DEATH STAR
Uli, having just received the comm call from Riten, was in his office packing a small tote with the few mementos of a military life. Suddenly the door panel opened without buzzing first. Two military security officers, uniforms starched and creased, hair severely cut and wearing implacable frowns, stepped in.
“Captain Dr. Kornell Divini?” one of them asked.
Uli stared at them, feeling the hope that had burned in his heart for the last few hours flare and go out. It was over. They’d been discovered. All that was left to look forward to now was a speedy military trial and then a blasting squad.
He felt no fear for himself, oddly enough. What he felt was that he’d let two people down—two women who had made a big difference in his life: Princess Leia Organa and Jedi Barriss Offee.
“Yes,” he said. No point in denying it; no point in denying anything anymore. “I’m Dr. Divini.”
The other officer said, “You are under arrest for violation of Statute OB-CPO-One-One-Nine-Eight, illegal medical research.”
“Come with us, please,” the first one ordered.
Uli was too astonished to ask any questions, which was probably just as well. The two security officers marched him out of his office and down the passage toward the main conduit corridor. They fell in with the traffic flow of servicemen, civilian workers, and droids, most of whom gave Uli and his escorts a wide berth.
Uli was relieved that his friends and co-conspirators were evidently not in the same jam that he was. They apparently still stood a chance of escaping. At least he wasn’t dragging them down with him.
But illegal medical research? What could he have possibly done that qualified as—