Star Wars VIII: Stand of the Republic

11: Unfriendly Welcome

Han Solo stood on the command deck of the Mon Calamari cruiser Venture. The pristine white walls and flawless smooth design favored by the Mon Calamari builders were very different from the closely packed and versatile layout of the Millennium Falcon. Through the front viewport, hyperspace streamed by in an endless tunnel of silvery white.

"Something wrong, General?" a Mon Calamari lieutenant questioned. The large eyes on the sides of its coppery head blinked slowly.

Han released the railing he'd been leaning on when he realized his knuckles were turning white.

"The First Order's been moving fast," Han answered, measuring his response to not reveal too much of his unease to his subordinate. "Corellia is a major shipyard and a prime target. After the devastation we found on Mygeeto, I'm just hoping we're in time to reinforce the defenses."

The lieutenant nodded thoughtfully.

"Bring me the latest reports on Corellia's military strength and all Republic forces in nearby systems," Han instructed.

The lieutenant hurried away to retrieve the information. Han remained where he was and muttered, "I have a bad feeling about this."

***

The fleet under Han's command dropped out of hyperspace, snapping into existence over the industrialized world of Corellia. Massive shipyards orbited the blue planet, hovering in space where vessels of all sizes could be constructed and immediately launched.

Han's eyes scanned everything out the forward viewport, checking over ships, stations, and all the black space in between. He didn't find bright lances of weapons fire, floating debris, or any sign of a battle. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized they'd arrived before the First Order. Not wanting to let the crew see his relief and realize his worrisome concerns, he straightened up and tried to look like the part of a military general.

"Deploy fighters into standard perimeter formations," Han ordered. "Contact the Quartermaster for the shipyard and transfer the communication to my console."

Han heard the acknowledgement and turned away from the railing where he'd been overlooking the lower level of the bridge and stepped over to a communication terminal. A burst of static filled one of the screens briefly before the image formed of the leader of the Corellia shipyards. White hair crowned the man's head and deep lines marked the stone-like expression.

"Greetings to you, General," the Quartermaster said, his voice rough and sharp, devoid of any warmth in the expected salutation. "What brings you to my shipyards?"

"We're here to reinforce the Republic defenses," Han explained, trying to ignore the hairs prickling on the back of his neck.

"I thank you for your concern, but Corellia is secure, we need nothing else," the Quartermaster dismissed.

"Reinforcement was ordered by the Republic High Command," Han stated.

"They are not necessary," the Quartermaster insisted. His jaw moved so little he was practically speaking through gritted teeth.

"Nevertheless, we are here under orders and will carry them out," Han declared.

"Very well," the Quartermaster relented, abruptly ending the communication.

"Keep the fleet on high alert," Han ordered the captain of the Mon Calamari ship. "The First Order could be here at any time. Wait for my signal before sending anyone else down."

The captain nodded, but Han was already heading for the launch bay.

***

Corellia had changed since Han had been there last. The towering buildings of the capital were the same, but the bustling walkways were empty without a soul in sight. Even the sky lanes, normally crowded with merchant ships, heavy cargo haulers, and supply runners were clear for the first time Han could remember, letting him see the open sky in all directions. Without attracting any notice, he casually reached down and undid the flap on his holster.

Han wiped his palms on the legs of his pants as he left the transport ship on its landing pad and headed toward the entrance of the Quartermaster's office. A squad of ten Republic soldiers followed behind him, their dark green uniforms showing up well against the mostly gray cityscape. Han left two of the guards behind to keep watch on the ship, the rest kept pace with him. The city was utterly silent, and the steps of the visitors' boots echoed hollowly through the stillness.

A hiss sounded as the door to the Quartermaster's building withdrew into a pocket above the door, opening the way inside. The Republic soldiers tensed, and Han's hand went instinctively to the blaster holstered at his side. No threats appeared, but Han didn't change the position of his hand as he slowly approached the threshold.

The building interior was made of the same smooth gray alloy as the rest of the city. The only difference was a carpet of dark blue draped down the center of the hall to muffle the footsteps of those traversing the building. A single figure stood in waiting for Han and his people.

"Come in, General," the Quartermaster said with more pleasantness than he'd ever shown in the time Han had known him. What the gaunt man lacked in width, he made up with height, being nearly a head taller than anyone in Han's group. Standing just inside the entrance, his gray suit had a military cut to it, reminding Han of the old Imperial uniforms with the exception of lacking the colored pins of rank on the chest. The man's stone expression hadn't softened, despite his words of welcome, as if his face was locked in a perpetual scowl.

"Quiet day," Han remarked with a nod to the outside world.

"We do have them once in a while," the Quartermaster admitted. He gestured down the corridor. "Would you please follow me to my office?"

Han nodded an acceptance. As he walked a few paces behind the Quartermaster, his eyes prowled his surroundings. Turning a corner, Han found the first people other than the Quartermaster. Guards in pristine, dark blue armor and visored helmets of Corellia's military were stationed at even intervals. Each soldier was armed with a blaster rifle held ready in both hands and a pistol holstered on the outside of one leg. The guards' helmets turned slowly as Han and his people walked past, keeping them under constant watch.