Harry Potter and the Dark Lord of the Sith

Chapter 32.

In the months following the disaster at Bespin, Ron and Hermione, although they hadn't said so much as a word to each other, both looked for chances to find out about Harry everywhere they went. They had no luck, but neither of them would believe that Harry was dead. Not until they saw a body. Maybe not even then

They never got any hints of Harry, or of the mysterious woman who captured him. But if a way for them to return home would open now, neither of them would take it. That would be real betrayal.

Hermione continued flying with Rogue Squadron, growing closer to Wedge. Ron, soon after Bespin, resumed working for Intelligence, volunteering for the most dangerous missions. And while the Rebellion was gaining steam, there were rumors, whispers... the Empire was definitely planning something big. Big and secret--which meant it couldn't be good.

Hermione looked at the clear blue sky. Despite the light clothing she wore, she was drenched in sweat. It's got to be at least a hundred fifty degrees, she thought. How could Luke live here? And after he left, how did he manage to get used to Hoth?

She stood outside the hangar where Jabba the Hutt--an enormous slug who headed a star-spanning criminal empire--kept a number of vehicles, including a large repulsorcraft called the Khetana, which he used for trips to the desert. Hermione and Lando infiltrated the place sometime ago, in order to rescue Han Solo, whose frozen form was now on display in Jabba's audience chamber. The first time Hermione saw it, fear came over her. She shuddered at the thought of Harry being in a similar predicament.

Lando had himself hired as one of Jabba's guards. Since the Hutt wouldn't have a woman guard, that option was not available to Hermione. Not wishing to pose as a dancing girl-- doing that would be both humiliating and dangerous (and Wedge would kill her if he ever found out)--she had only one choice. And so, she was here, covered in Harry's invisibility cloak, which she would only take off for a few minutes to eat something in the dead of night. She constantly watched her surroundings. In addition to her wand, she had a blaster at her hip, but it did not make her feel any more secure.

She took a last breath of fresh air and headed back into the palace. One reason she came up was to catch her breath. If it didn't smell so bad already, they'd find me with or without the cloak, she thought. Sitting invisible in Jabba's court was a good way to gather information, but watching everything that went on in there... She hoped today would be a relatively quiet day.

Bib Fortuna, Jabba's Twi'lek majordomo, entered the throne room and stepped up to his sleeping master. Behind him came two very familiar figures, R2-D2 and C-3PO.

Hermione smiled. Looks like Luke's plan is in motion.

The droids stopped in front of Jabba. "The message, Artoo, the message," Threepio urged.

The astromech droid beeped, turned his domed head, and his projector lighted up. An image shimmered and resolved itself into a hologram of Luke Skywalker. He stood in a simple black tunic, his lightsaber hanging on his belt.

"Greetings, Exalted One," the hologram said. Hermione snickered. Politeness was good, but this might be going just a bit too far. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend to Captain Solo. I know you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audience with your greatness to bargain for Solo's life." There was a short burst of laughter from the rest of the court.

"With your wisdom,"--at this point, Hermione had to struggle not to burst out laughing-- "I am sure we can work out an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial, and will allow us to avoid any unpleasant confrontations. As a token of my good will, I present to you a gift--these two droids."

"What did he say?" Threepio was shocked.

"Both are hard-working, and will serve you well," the hologram finished and vanished.

Hermione knew that Luke's plan was to infiltrate everyone--himself, her, Lando, Leia, Chewie, and the droids--into Jabba's entourage. She hoped it would work. Luke said Artoo had special programming that allowed him to ignore restraining bolts that might be placed on him. She was still worried. She didn't know Luke's exact plan, only that they should try to stay together. So she watched the proceedings.

"Artoo," Threepio insisted to his companion, "you're playing the wrong message."

Jabba laughed. Hermione never fount time to learn Huttese, but you couldn't live in this palace for more than a day without picking some up. "...no bargain..." Jabba was saying. "...my favorite... Solo where he is..." He pointed at the carbonite block.

"It's Captain Solo!" Threepio exclaimed. "And he is still frozen in carbonite!" Artoo beeped. The Gamorrean guards led the droids away.

The court resumed its revelry. Hermione left to steal something from the kitchen to drink. Even in the basement, the heat of Tatooine could make you thirsty.

XXXXXXXX

Ron looked around himself in awe, despite the fact that he was already here for several hours. You could probably live here for years, he thought, and not cease to be amazed. Buildings many miles tall rose to the sky. The city extended beyond the horizon. Millions of aerial vehicles moved over the artificial landscape on hundreds of levels of traffic lanes. Ron couldn't even imagine how far down you had to go before you found anything natural. Despite what Hermione told him about Eriadu, he wasn't prepared for this. This was bigger and grander than the other city-covered planet. This was Coruscant.

Coruscant. The capital of the Empire. In fact, Ron saw the Imperial palace during his descent. The palace was the tallest building on the planet, and Ron suspected he wasn't the only one who got a creepy feeling that the Emperor could see everything from there. He shook his head. He had to concentrate on his mission. When he joined Intelligence, the first thing they told him was this: in the field, you pay attention, or you die. It was all too true.

He entered a bar where he was supposed to meet his contact. The Empire was up to something big, and the job of Alliance Intelligence was to find out what. Any information about this project was top priority. Ron wasn't supposed to be here, but the Alliance had a valuable agent inside the Imperial military headquarters, and his regular contact was somehow identified, and the Imperials tried to arrest her. She tried to fight, and was killed. The information was too valuable to let it pass, however, and Ron was sent to pick it up. It was supposed to be easy. Ron had a feeling it wouldn't be.

"Corellian ale," he ordered. He didn't want to drink, but not getting anything would get him noticed. Before he headed here, he took a pill that would neutralize the alcohol in his blood. Getting drunk right now was a very bad idea. He might have to escape in a hurry, which would mean he'd need to fly something. From what he'd heard, Coruscant police did not look favorably on drunken pilots.

Ron picked a table in a corner next to a window. He sipped his ale, watching the crowd. Most of the patrons were humans, but he saw two Rodians, a Twi'lek, a Bothan, and several aliens he didn't recognize. He made sure to arrive a little bit early so he could get stock of the surroundings. Glancing at his chrono, he saw that it was almost time.

"Can I sit here?" A man dressed in black approached his table. Ron recognized the code phrase that meant things were okay. Had the man used may instead of can, that would mean trouble.

"If you wish," Ron replied neutrally.

The man left and returned with two mugs of lomin-ale. That was the final confirmation Ron needed. "So, what brings you here?" he asked.

"Business. I have information to sell that certain... parties may find valuable."

"Could I be one of those parties?"

"I wouldn't know. Here's what the information is, stranger." The man showed Ron a datapad. Of course, it didn't openly say that the information was about a secret Imperial military project. In fact, the screen displayed only one word. Coronet. Ron nodded. That was the code word assigned to this particular piece of intelligence.

"How much?" Ron asked.

"Four thousand."

"Three," Ron haggled. This was for anyone who might listen in. The actual payment was already agreed upon.

"Three point seven," the man offered.

"Three and a half."

"Deal." Ron and the man both took out datacards. Ron's contained access codes to a secret bank account, where the money was already deposited. Ron took the man's card, finished his ale, and prepared to leave.

"One moment," the man said and before Ron could do anything, he saw the man point a blaster at him. "You're under arrest, rebel."