“Did you?”
“You really want to know?”
“I guess not. Get ready; it’s show time.”
They were in luck. Aside from the bartender and a couple of deactivated serving droids behind the bar, the place was deserted. “Welcome back, gentlemen,” the bartender greeted them. “What can I get you?”
“Something to take back to our quarters,” Han told him, giving the shelves behind the bar a quick once-over. They had a good selection here—there were probably a hundred bottles of various shapes and sizes. But there was also a door off to the side that probably led back to a small storeroom. That’d be their best bet. “I don’t suppose you’d have any Vistulo brandale on hand.”
“I think we do,” the bartender said, peering back at his selection. “Yes—there it is.”
“What’s the vintage?” Han asked.
“Ah—” The bartender brought the bottle over. “It’s a ’49.”
Han made a face. “Don’t have any ’46, do you? Maybe stashed in the back room somewhere?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll check,” the bartender said agreeably, heading toward the door.
“I’ll come with you,” Han offered, ducking under the bar and joining him. “If you don’t have any ’46, maybe there’ll be something else that’ll do as well.”
For a second the bartender looked like he was going to object. But he’d seen the two of them having a friendly drink earlier with Bel Iblis himself; and anyway, Han was already halfway to the storeroom door. “I guess that’d be okay,” he said.
“Great,” Han said, opening the door and ushering the bartender through.
He didn’t know how long it would take Lando to get the repeater display off the wall, check it out, and then put it back up. On the theory it was better to play it safe, he managed to drag out the search for a ’46 Vistulo for a full five minutes. Eventually, with cheerful good grace, he settled for a ’48 Kibshae instead. The bartender led the way out of the room; mentally crossing his fingers, Han followed.
Lando was standing at the same place at the bar where he’d been when Han had left him, his hands on the bar, his face tight. And for good reason. Standing a few paces behind him, her hand on the butt of her blaster, was Irenez.
“Well, hello, Irenez,” Han said, trying his best innocent look on her. “Funny meeting you here.”
The innocent look was wasted. “Not all that funny,” Irenez said tartly. “Sena assigned me to keep an eye on you. You get what you came for?”
Han looked at Lando, saw the fractional nod. “I think so, yeah,” he said.
“Glad to hear it. Let’s go—outside.”
Han handed the bottle of Kibshae to the bartender. “Keep it,” he said. “Looks like the party’s been canceled.”
There was an old five-passenger landspeeder waiting outside when they emerged from the lounge. “Inside,” Irenez said, motioning to the vehicle’s aft doorway.
Han and Lando obeyed. There, sitting with uncharacteristic stiffness in one of the passenger seats, Sena Leikvold Midanyl was waiting. “Gentlemen,” she said gravely as they entered. “Sit down, please.”
Han chose one of the seats, swiveled it to face her. “Time for dinner already?”
“Irenez, take the controls,” Sena said, ignoring him. “Drive us around the camp—I don’t care where.”
Silently, Irenez made her way to the front of the vehicle; and with a slight lurch they were off. “You didn’t stay in your room very long,” Sena said to Han.
“I don’t remember the Senator saying anything about being confined to quarters,” Han countered.
“He didn’t,” Sena agreed. “On the other hand, a properly brought up guest should know better than to wander unescorted around sensitive areas.”
“I apologize,” Han said, trying to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice. “I didn’t realize your liquor supply was classified.” He glanced out the window. “If you’re trying to take us back to our quarters, you’re going the wrong way.”
Sena studied his face a moment. “I came to ask you a favor.”
It was about the last thing Han would have expected her to say, and it took him a second to find his voice again. “What sort of favor?”
“I want you to talk to Mon Mothma for me. To ask her and the Council to invite Senator Bel Iblis to join the New Republic.”
Han shrugged. Was that why they’d brought him and Lando all the way over here? “You don’t need a special invitation to join up. All you have to do is contact someone on the Council and offer your services.”
A muscle in Sena’s cheek twitched. “I’m afraid that in the Senator’s case it’s not going to be quite that easy,” she said. “It’s not so much a matter of joining the New Republic as of rejoining it.”
Han threw a frown at Lando. “Oh?” he said carefully.
Sena sighed, half turning to gaze out the side window. “It happened a long time ago,” she said. “Before the various resistance groups fighting the Empire were formally consolidated into the Rebel Alliance. You know anything about that period of history?”
“Just what’s in the official record,” Han said. “Mon Mothma and Bail Organa of Alderaan got three of the biggest groups together and convinced them to make an alliance. After that the whole thing snowballed.”
“Have you ever heard the name of that first agreement?”
“Sure. It was called the Corellian Treaty—” Han broke off. “The Corellian Treaty?”
“Yes,” Sena nodded. “It was Senator Bel Iblis, not Mon Mothma, who convinced those three resistance groups to agree to a meeting. And, furthermore, who guaranteed protection for them.”
For a long minute the only sound in the speeder was the hum of the repulsorlifts. “What happened?” Lando asked at last.
“To put it bluntly, Mon Mothma began to take over,” Sena said. “Senator Bel Iblis was far better at strategy and tactics than she was, better even than many of the Rebellion’s generals and admirals in those early days. But she had the gift of inspiration, the knack of getting diverse groups and species to work together. Gradually, she became the most visible symbol of the Rebellion, with Organa and the Senator increasingly relegated to the background.”
“Must have been hard for someone like Bel Iblis to take,” Lando murmured.
“Yes, it was,” Sena said. “But you have to understand that it wasn’t just pride that drove him to withdraw his support. Bail Organa had been a strong moderating influence on Mon Mothma—he was one of the few people whom she respected and trusted enough to pay serious attention to. After he was killed in the Death Star’s attack on Alderaan, there was really no one of equal status who could stand up to her. She began to take more and more power to herself; and the Senator began to suspect that she was going to overthrow the Emperor only to set herself up in his place.”
“So he pulled you out of the Alliance and started his own private war against the Empire,” Lando said. “Did you know any of this, Han?”
“Never heard a whisper,” Han shook his head.
“I’m not surprised,” Sena said. “Would you have advertised a defection by someone of the Senator’s stature? Especially in the middle of a war?”
“Probably not,” Han conceded. “I suppose the only surprise is that more groups didn’t back out like you did. Mon Mothma can be pretty overbearing when she wants to be.”
“There wasn’t any doubt as to who was in charge during the war, either,” Lando added dryly. “I once saw her make Admiral Ackbar and General Madine both back down on one of their pet projects when she decided she didn’t like it.”
Han looked at Sena, a sudden thought striking him. “Is that why you’ve cut back your raids against the Empire? So that you’d be ready to move against Mon Mothma if she turned the New Republic into a dictatorship?”
“That’s it exactly,” Sena said. “We moved here to Peregrine’s Nest just under three years ago, suspended all operations except materiel raids, and started working up tactical contingency plans. And settled in to wait for the Senator’s triumphal vindication.” Her cheek twitched again. “And we’ve been waiting ever since.”
Han looked out the window at the camp passing by outside, a hollow sense of loss filling him. The legendary Senator Bel Iblis … waiting for a return to power that would never come. “It’s not going to happen,” he told Sena quietly.
“I know that.” She hesitated. “Down deep, so does the Senator.”
“Except that he can’t swallow his pride long enough to go to Mon Mothma and ask to be let back in.” Han nodded. “So he gets you to ask us to—”
“The Senator had nothing to do with this,” Sena cut him off sharply. “He doesn’t even know I’m talking to you. This is on my responsibility alone.”
Han drew back a little. “Sure,” he said. “Okay.”