CHAPTER FOUR
“Tell me, Sal-Solo… what do you know about your family history?”
Thrackan Sal-Solo peered through the blinds of his personal office’s main window, gazing upon the city of Coronet below. “I’ve already told you what I know,” he grunted.
“Yes, but what do you know?” The other person in the room put emphasis on the last word, still busying themselves about the office as they admired the many artifacts and knick-knacks that decorated the room. “What you’ve told me is what you’ve told the rest of Corellia in order to cling onto your position as head of state. But I am not Corellian, Sal-Solo. You do not need to convince me.”
Thrackan turned to face his accomplice, the sunlight from the window silhouetting his body. “If I tell you, what’s stopping you from leaking it to the rest of Corellia and causing me to lose my office?” he growled.
“The fact that doing so would cause us to lose you and thus force us to relocate our operations once again. My superiors would… not be too happy about that, needless to say.”
Thrackan wasn’t sure if he believed that. Nonetheless, he decided to humor his audience.
“Everything I know about my family comes from what I’d managed to gather from my mother — in her rare moments of lucidity — and public records,” Thrackan said, leaning on his chrome-tipped cane. “My grandparents, Denn and Tira Gama Solo, were forced to separate to escape from pirates and split their twin children between them. Tira took Tiion, my mother, while Denn escaped with Jonash, her brother. For the longest time, Mother and I thought they were dead… until I ran into a certain someone named Han Solo.”
“Han Solo.” Thrackan’s accomplice spoke the name with a sense of reverence that caused Thrackan’s eye to twitch. “I had heard that he was given the surname by an Imperial recruitment officer.”
Thrackan snorted. “First I’ve heard of it. I’d imagine he started telling that story to avoid anyone making the connection between him and I.”
His accomplice looked at him thoughtfully. “And you are convinced that your grandfather, Denn Solo, is none other than the legendary pirate Dalla Suul and rightful heir of King Korol Solo?”
Thrackan shrugged. “I see no reason not to believe it.”
“But what evidence do you have to believe it in the first place?”
Thrackan’s expression became grave as he fixed his accomplice with a stony gaze. “I have enough,” he said coldly. “It’s really not any of your concern.”
“Perhaps not,” the other admitted. “Forgive me for pressing the matter. Sometimes I get carried away when pursuing historic knowledge.”
“I’ve gathered as much,” he replied, relaxing somewhat. “You seem to have a great interest in the House of Solo.”
“Naturally. A royal bloodline from the Core Worlds? Their history is sure to be as rich as the galaxy’s itself.”
Thrackan smirked. “Ain’t that the truth?” He turned back to the window, marveling at how the rising sun cast its golden glow on the silvery city. “Is there a point to your visit, Curator?”
“The point is that I know of something that can prove your heritage once and for all.”
At this, Thrackan stiffened. His head slowly pivoted over his shoulder to look at the Curator, his brown eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“It is a family heirloom, one said to have been passed down since as far back as the days of Prince-Admiral Jonash e Solo. From what I’ve been able to gather, it contains a complete record of the Solo bloodline, dating as recent as 7909 C.R.C., if not even sooner.”
Thrackan could feel his heartbeat quickening, though whether it was out of excitement or fear or some strange mixture of both, he could not tell.
“If what you tell me about your family history is true,” the Curator went on, “then the heirloom will verify your claim to the throne of Corellia and solidify your rule. If it doesn’t… well, I think we both know the answer to that.”
Thrackan swallowed hard. “Do you know where this heirloom is?”
“I do. And I already know how to go about getting it.”
The Curator stepped over and placed a hand on Thrackan’s shoulder. He didn’t bother to shrug it off.
“Relax, my friend. In a week’s time, you will no longer just be Thrackan Sal-Solo, cousin of the famous Han Solo. In a week’s time, Han Solo will come to see himself as the cousin of His Royal Majesty, King Thrackan e Solo.”
The Curator then whispered into his ear, though the weight of the words rang like a thousand bells.
“Long live the King.”
* * *
Wedge Antilles stood in what amounted as the Resistance’s base of operations on Corellia. Piggy had not been joking about it being a farm; outside of the ranch house that served as the “command center,” there was a nearby barn where Fulcrum’s agents kept their equipment. That was it. That was all there was to the “base.” At least, as far as anyone had been willing to show Wedge.
Standing with him at the large dining room table, which had been relocated to the main living room to accommodate everyone, was Fulcrum — whom Wedge knew better as his wife Iella Wessiri — along with Shadow, Piggy and his Wraiths, Wallen Nix, and Xemer. Wedge had a feeling that there was more to Iella’s team then just the people in this room, but he figured he would learn about them when he needed to.
A single holodisc laid in the center of the table, displaying a large holographic image of Coronet City. Iella adjusted the image to zoom in and focus on one of the city’s largest skyscrapers, which seemed slightly out of place with its almost blade-like shape.
“We have reason to believe that the Cabal is operating from the very heart of Coronet,” Iella said, pointing to the skyscraper. “If you look closely, the design of this building does not match the architecture of the rest of the city.”
“Do we know when it was built?” Wedge asked. “Maybe the Cabal want to stand out from the crowd.”
Iella shook her head. “We don’t think it was built at all.” The holoimage zoomed in even closer to the skyscraper. “Upon closer inspection, we believe it is actually a Kalevalan star yacht that has taken harbor in the center of Coronet.”
Wedge’s eyes widened. “A star yacht? And people don’t think there’s anything weird about that?”
“If they do, they haven’t said anything. If they did say anything, they would probably get arrested.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our sources have determined that Thrackan Sal-Solo has returned to his position as Head of State of Corellia and put an iron grip over the planet.”
Wedge’s expression turned grim. “I thought Sal-Solo was removed from power after the Glorian War, along with Governor Saxan.”
“He was,” Iella replied. “However, he appears to have seized power again amid all of the confusion brought about by Darth Taral’s insurgence. We do not know exactly how long he’s been in power, at least not yet.”
“Does it matter?” asked Wallen. “If you ask me, even one day is one day too many with someone like Thrackan.”
Wedge nodded in agreement, recalling the crisis Thrackan had helped instigate on Corellia twenty-four years ago. The twisted cousin of Han Solo had been arrested following the crisis’ resolution, yet someone somewhere thought it would have been a good idea to release him. If Wedge ever found out who they were, he was going to break their knees… but only after they had broken Thrackan’s.
“Does Han and his family know about this?” he asked Iella.
“I can’t tell you that,” she said, though the look in her eyes more or less said, Of course they know about this.
Turning back to the hologram, he said, “What’s the plan then?”
“There isn’t one, at the moment. We’re still waiting for some agents to get back to us to verify some sources and confirm things that we are only ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure on. We can’t do anything until we know for sure who and what we’re dealing with. This is not an operation we want to screw up; we’re already in hot water as it is.”
Wedge beamed at the others. “I think I’m in love with this woman.”
Myri rolled her eyes. Shadow cleared his throat as he shifted restlessly.
“In the meantime… what should we do until we hear back from them?”
Iella adjusted the holodisc again and the image of Coronet City turned into a location that looked more rural than the metropolitan capital. “There is an informant in Kor Vella who claims to have valuable intelligence. General Antilles will meet with them, accompanied by two of Piggy’s Wraiths.”
Wedge looked at her. “Is this why you dragged me into this?”
Iella met his questioning gaze evenly. “The informant says they will only speak with you. And before you ask, no, we do not know who they are.”
Wedge frowned. “You don’t think it’s a trap?”
“Oh, it very well could be. That’s why Wraiths Five and Four specifically are going with you; they specialize in intimidation and blowing stuff up.”
“Respectively, of course,” commented Jesmin Tainer, earning her a glare from Trey Courser.
Wedge let out a deep exhale, running a hand through his thin graying hair. A part of him had secretly hoped that being brought back into the thick of things would make him feel young again. So far, he felt anything but.
“Great. So when do we leave?”
“The sooner, the better,” Iella said. “The informant says they won’t be around for very long.”
“All right.” Wedge took in a deep breath, taking a moment to steel himself. Age is just a number, his mind tried to convince him. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
* * *
All six of the Azumel’s eyes blinked as they tried to focus on the four humans standing in front of him. His pupils were all glazed over and pointing in different directions, which did not give Toah any confidence that he was going to be of any help to them.
“Looks like he’s high on death sticks,” remarked Jessika Pava, looking down at the Azumel with a mixture of disgust and pity. “I say we move on and find someone else.”
“No, no,” Poe protested, crouching down to be at eye level with the six-eyed being. “Slakeel has never let me down before. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
“Wah?” was all Slakeel managed to utter in his dazed, drug-induced state.
Jessika huffed with impatience. “Come on, Poe. We’re not gonna get anywhere with him.”
Reluctantly, Poe stood up and started to move away from the Azumel. Suddenly, Rey moved to take his place, kneeling in front of Slakeel. Before Toah could question or stop her, she raised a hand in front of Slakeel’s face, two fingers pointing upward, and glided them from one set of eyes to the other.
“You will tell us what you know about the Cabal,” she said in a peculiar tone.
“I, uh… wha… huh?” Slakeel replied, sounding even more addled.
Rey frowned as she repeated the gesture, her voice taking on a more commanding tone. “You will tell us what you know about the Cabal.”
Slakeel’s response showed no improvement in terms of lucidity. Toah stepped over and rested a hand on Rey’s shoulder.
“That’s enough of that,” he said sternly. “Leave him be.”
Rey acquiesced to her master’s instruction but did not hide the irritation on her face. “I could have gotten something out of him,” she muttered.
“Not like that. While the Force can be used to persuade the weak-minded, it should not be used for interrogation. That path leads to the dark side.”
Rey nodded but Toah was not convinced she fully understood his words. Nonetheless, he let the matter drop for now as the two Jedi followed Poe and Jessika out of the alleyway. So far, none of the delinquents that dwelt in Coronet’s Blue Sector had yielded any information concerning the elusive Cabal. Either they truly did not know anything about the organization in question… or someone had already scared them into silence. In which case, none of the tactics that Poe or anyone on the team were willing to use would get them to talk.
Suddenly, Toah found his mind going back to Zarin and the rest of his new “friends” back at the cantina. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to ask them….
As the quartet turned a corner and came out of the alleyway, Toah spotted Zarin and his entourage emerging from Bovo’s cantina. This time, the Kiffar appeared to sense his fellow Jedi through the Force and their eyes locked from afar, bringing their respective groups to a halt. Before Toah could make the first move, Zarin began striding towards him, ignoring the confused looks of the others.
“Toah Jarsan,” the Kiffar said, the ghost of a smile on his worn face. “Wasn’t expecting to find you around here.”
“Likewise,” Toah replied, eying his fellow Jedi carefully. He did not believe he had even interacted the Kiffar since he left the Jedi Order at the end of the Imperial Sith War, and the two had scarcely crossed paths even after Toah had returned. Even so, this wasn’t the first time Toah had unexpectedly run into another Jedi… only this time, he felt that Zarin was the one who had drifted away from the Order.
He redirected his gaze to Zarin’s companions, his eyes moving over each member of the assortment. When his eyes landed on a young woman with long black hair, he felt something shift in the Force, though it was gone as soon as he noticed it. He decided not to read too much into this, figuring that the woman (and perhaps even others in the group) was sensitive to the Force.
“Interesting crew you’ve got going,” Toah finally remarked.
“We’re not his crew,” protested a Mirialan smuggler. She stepped forward and extended a hand to Toah. “Captain Kyla Kishanti. Pleasure to meet you, Toah Jarsan.” As he shook her hand, she narrowed her blue eyes at him. “Wait a minute… aren’t you the Jedi who defeated Darth Vorath?”
Toah smiled slightly. “Believe it or not, I actually don’t get asked that question very often. But yes, that would be me.”
“Crazy. Well, it’s been an honor to meet you.” She stepped away from him and turned back to the others. “Anyway, let’s get going. We should probably—”
“What do you know about the Cabal?” Rey asked.
Toah winced while Kyla froze. The rest of her crew, including Zarin, all adopted looks of surprise as they stared at the young Jedi.
“Why are you asking?” questioned the woman with black hair.
Toah sighed but decided to take advantage of this opportunity. He only hoped that Zarin’s presence meant that these people could be trusted.
“Perhaps we should meet back at Bovo’s,” he said. “I don’t think its safe to discuss this topic out in the open.”
“Agreed,” said Zarin. Kyla whirled around to glare at him.
“You do not get to call the shots here,” the Mirialan said through gritted teeth. “If you want to hang out with these guys, suit yourself, but my crew goes where I say they go.”
“Kyla, relax.” A Bothan placed a placating hand on her shoulder. “This might be a good opportunity for us.”
Kyla fixed her glower on him before glaring back at Toah and the others. After a moment, she muttered, “So long as they have money,” before turning on her heel and storming back towards the cantina.
As the others watched her go, Poe let out a low whistle. “Well, this mission sure took a wild turn.”
Toah could not help but feel the same way.
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