Vision of the Future pt2

"That, and the changes I saw in you," she said. "You didn't seem interested in listening to any warnings about what you were doing, and I decided that when it collapsed around you it wouldn't do either of us any good if I got caught in the rubble, too." She shrugged. "Anyway, Corran was there, and he seemed to have his head bolted on straight."

"He wasn't there very long, though," Luke murmured.

"Yes, I found that out afterward. Pity."

For a moment neither of them said anything. Luke craned his neck to peer to the side, wondering if the end of the fire creeper swarm was visible yet. This introspection was both embarrassing and painful; and besides, they had urgent work to do.

But the black carpet still stretched as far as the passageway's turns and irregularities permitted him to see. "What about you?" he asked, turning back to Mara again. "You were the Emperor's Hand. Why hasn't your life been dominated by the dark side?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Maybe it has. It certainly was from the time Palpatine took me from my home till I got rid of that last command he'd jammed into my mind."

Her gaze clouded over oddly, as if she were looking into some private place within herself. "Though it's funny, somehow. Palpatine never really tried to turn me to the dark side, at least not the way he turned Vader and tried to turn you. Actually, I don't think I was ever really in the dark side at all."

"But everything you were doing was the Emperor's work," Luke said. "If he was on the dark side, shouldn't you have been, too?"

Mara shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I wasn't." Her gaze came back, and Luke could sense the protective barrier going up again, as if she'd suddenly realized her private feelings had been a little too visible. "You're the Jedi Master. You figure it out."

"I'll work on it," Luke promised. Yes, the barriers were back up.

But not as high as they'd once been. Not nearly as high.

"In the meantime," she said, "do those sustained control techniques you taught me work on arm muscles as well as lightsabers?"

Luke focused on her arms, noticing for the first time that they were trembling slightly with muscle fatigue. "They do okay," he said. "But for muscles there's a better technique. Let me show you..."

* * *

It was another hour before the swarm of fire creepers finally finished its migration beneath them and disappeared down the cavern passageway. In their wake they left Artoo and everything metal or otherwise indigestible from their packs, though the packs themselves had vanished.

And, of course, Builder With Vines's remains.

Mara glanced once at the scattered bones, then firmly turned her eyes away. Yes, it was the Qom Jha's own fault that he'd gotten himself killed; and yes, on one level it was merely the balance of nature at work; and yes, she'd tried her best to keep Luke from taking any of the blame on himself. But none of that meant she had to like what had happened, or wanted to look at the results. "Good thing the food bars were in metal boxes," she commented, massaging her fingers as she prodded what was left of their equipment with the tip of her boot. "The water bottles didn't hold up nearly as well, though."

"There's plenty of water down here," Luke reminded her. He was standing near their cut, looking up at Child Of Winds. "We just won't be able to carry extra supplies with us. It's all safe now, Child Of Winds. You can come down."

The young Qom Qae didn't budge, that almost-voice going again. "I understand," Luke said gently. "But you have to come down. You're in the way up there, and we don't want to hit you with our lightsabers."

For a moment Mara thought Child Of Winds would decide he preferred to stay high up off the floor and take his chances with the lightsabers. Then, with clear reluctance, he spread his wings and fluttered down to a slightly awkward perch on top of the droid's dome.

"What now?" Mara asked, crossing to Luke's side. "Back to hack and slash? "

Luke shrugged. "The wall's not going to fall apart on its own," he said. "Unless you think we ought to risk using the grenades."

Mara peered down the passageway. Nothing was visible, but after that fire creeper swarm she was feeling a little spooked herself. "Let's stick with the lightsabers for now," she suggested. "If Splitter Of Stones gets back with the reinforcements before we're finished we'll consider it."

"Sounds good," Luke agreed, pulling his lightsaber from his belt and igniting it.

"Artoo, keep an eye out for any more trouble."

The droid warbled a slightly nervous acknowledgment and extended his sensor unit again, nearly knocking Child Of Winds off his perch as he did so. "Okay," Luke said, taking his position to the side of their cut again. "Let's get started."

"Right," Mara said, igniting her own lightsaber. Luke's lightsaber slashed and died; Mara's followed similarly?

And that, she realized, was that. They'd had the conversation she'd known was coming, and had been dreading, since he first arrived here. And while he'd obviously not exactly been thrilled by the realization of how badly he'd wrecked the past few years, he'd taken the news better than she'd expected him to.

The question now was what he would do with this newfound knowledge. Whether he would take it solidly to heart and commit to what he now knew was right, or whether the lure of power and quick solutions would eventually drag him back to the easy path. The dark path.

She would just have to wait and see.

CHAPTER

16

From behind him came the sound of an opening door, and Han turned his head to see Lando step into the Lady Luck's bridge. "Okay, it's done," the other announced, his tone tense and decidedly grumpy. "Everything's been shut down to standby. Engines, sensors, computer system?the works."

He crossed the bridge and dropped into the pilot's seat beside Han. "And I'd like to go on record right now as saying I hate this."

"I'm not exactly happy about it myself," Han had to admit. "But this is the way it has to be."

Lando snorted. "Says a self-admitted Imperial clone TIE pilot," he added accusingly. "You know, Han, I've done some crazy things in my time, but this one takes the prize."

Han grimaced, gazing out at the stars. It was crazy, all right. Somewhere out there, a hyperspace microjump away, was an Imperial Ubiqtorate contact station, with all the security and firepower and just plain nastiness that that implied.

And here they were, probably well within its defensive perimeter, sitting around like a belly-up gornt with their systems cranked way back to keep from being too visible to any auto-rovers the station might have out wandering the area.

Waiting for an Imperial clone to come back and tell them where in the shrunken Empire the capital of Bastion was located. "Leia said he was all right," he told Lando.

"She said he was sincere and not planning to betray you," Lando corrected darkly.

"She didn't say he was a competent enough liar to pull this whole thing off.

Especially not in front of some congenitally suspicious Ubiqtorate agent. "

Han eyed him. "You don't like clones, do you?"

Lando snorted again. "No, I don't," he said flatly. "Palpatine may have talked about alien species as being subhuman, but clones are really down there."

For a minute the bridge was silent. Han gazed out at the stars some more, rubbing his fingertips over his blaster grip and trying not to let Lando's nervousness get to him. Leia had agreed to let him come out here, after all, and Leia was a Jedi. Surely she'd have seen or felt or guessed if something bad was going to happen. Wouldn't she?

"Tell me about this Baron Fel," Lando said suddenly. "I mean the original one.

What was he like?"

Han shrugged. "Typical Corellian, I suppose. Well, no, actually he wasn't. He was a farm boy, for one thing, who got bribed with an academy appointment to stop him testifying in a legal action against some big agro-combine official's son. We were at Carida together for a while, though I didn't hang around with him much. He was an honorable sort, I suppose?even a little stiff-necked about it sometimes?and a pretty fair pilot."

"As good as you?" Lando asked.

Han smiled tightly. "Better," he said, a little surprised he was actually admitting that out loud. "At least, with something the size of a TIE fighter."

"So how did he wind up getting cloned?" Lando asked. "As I remember the history, he quit the Empire, joined Rogue Squadron, then got recaptured. So the question is, why would anyone clone a guy who'd already turned once? I don't care how good a pilot he was."

"Leia and I asked Carib the same question on Pakrik Minor," Han said. "He told us he didn't know, that it wasn't part of the flash-learning they'd been given in the cloning tanks."

Lando grunted. "Look. They would have had to hold him for three or four years, minimum, before Thrawn got his cloning tanks up and running. Right?"

"They didn't need all of him," Han murmured. "C'baoth cloned Luke from the hand he lost at Bespin, remember?"

"Yes, but Luke's hand was one of Palpatine's trophies," Lando pointed out. "Why would anyone bother keeping parts of Fel in storage? No one even knew Palpatine had all those cloning tanks hidden away, let alone that Thrawn would show up and get them running again."

"Point," Han conceded. "So they probably kept him alive somewhere."

"Right," Lando said. "The question is where?"

"I don't know," Han said. "No one ever found records about him at any of the Imperial prisons or penal colonies we liberated. With his connections to Rogue Squadron, we would have heard if they had."

He hesitated. "The other thing you might not know is that a month or two after his recapture, his wife pulled the same sort of vanishing act."

Lando frowned. "I remember Wedge talking about that once. But you say 'vanishing'?I thought it was the Empire who snatched her."

"That's what everyone thought at the time," Han agreed. "But once they started sifting through the evidence, it was a lot less clear what had happened. Anyway, no one ever found a trace of her, either."

Lando shook his head. "If any of this is supposed to reassure me, it's not. The only way Isard could have gotten Fel back on the Empire's side would have been to braintwist him. You want to tell me what kind of clone is going to come from that?"

Han sighed. "I don't know. All I know is that Leia cleared him."

Lando nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

Again, silence descended on the bridge. This time, it was Han who broke it. "What are Lobot and Moegid doing back there?" he asked.

"They were practicing their slicing techniques before you had me shut the computer down," Lando said, still sounding grumpy. "They're probably checking over Moegid's equipment now."

"Did you tell them where we were going?"

Lando's lips compressed briefly. "I told them we were going into the Empire. I didn't tell them exactly where. Or why."

"Maybe you'd better go do that," Han suggested. "Moegid may need to brush up on Imperial computer systems or something."

"I don't think Verpine ever have to brush up on anything," Lando said. But he nevertheless levered himself out of his seat. "Sure, why not? We might as well all be worried together. It's better than sitting around waiting for the hammer to drop, anyway."

"Don't worry," Han called after him as he left the bridge. "It'll work out.

Trust me."

There was no response but the metallic thud of the door as it slid shut behind him. Sighing again, Han turned his attention back to watching for Carib's freighter to return.

Trying hard not to worry.

* * *

The Ubiqtorate agent seated at his console gazed up at his visitor from under bushy eyebrows. "All right," he said in a voice that somehow reminded Carib of a thousand prasher worms scratching their wings against tallgrain leaves. "Your ID checks out."

"Glad to hear it," Carib said, trying to put some righteous indignation into his tone. To his ears, though, he sounded merely plaintive. "Does that mean you're finally ready to listen?"

The agent leaned back in his seat, regarding Carib coolly. "Sure," he said. "Provided you're ready to hear a list of charges against you if this big news of yours isn't as flacking urgent as you seem to think it is."

He slammed his stylus down on the desk in front of him. "Blast it, Devist, you know you're never supposed to come here yourself. All you people are supposed to know that. Everything you have to report goes through channels. Everything."

Carib remained standing at attention, listening to the reprimand with half an ear and waiting with all the patience he could muster for the other to run out of words. The self-generated tirade, he knew, was one of the Ubiqtorate's classic tactics for rattling someone they wanted to be vulnerable.

But no. That wasn't something he knew. It was something Baron Soontir Fel had known. Something that had been artificially transferred along with his piloting skill to Carib and his brothers. Memories that were not his own, from a person who was not him.

And yet, on some level, was indeed him.

It was a mind-numbing thought, a painful and depressing blurring of identity that had cost Carib many a sleepless night back on Pakrik Minor before he'd finally made the conscious decision to bury it as far back at the edge of his mind as he could.

And he'd done a fair job of keeping it there... until the long-awaited, long-feared orders had come in from the remnants of the Empire?could it really have been only two weeks ago??reactivating his TIE combat unit. Then, all the old uncertainties and questions and self-doubts had surged back to the front of his mind. He was a clone. A clone. A clone...

Stop it, he snarled at the word. I am Carib Devist. Husband of Lacy, father of Daberin and Keena, tallgrain farmer of the Dorchess Valley of Pakrik Minor.

Where I came from and how I came to be don't matter. I am who I am.

He took a careful breath... and as he did so, the doubts once again returned to their uneasy sleep in the deep crevices of his mind. He was Carib Devist; and despite what anyone might say or believe, he was indeed a unique individual.

The Ubiqtorate agent was starting to wind down now, and with a flicker of private amusement Carib realized that for once the old intimidation tactic had backfired. Far from unnerving its intended victim, the tirade had instead given him the time he needed to collect his thoughts and his nerve and to prepare for verbal combat.

"So let's hear it," the agent snarled. "Let's hear this vitally important news of yours."

"Yes, sir," Carib said. "There was an Imperial attack on New Republic High Councilor Leia Organa Solo over Pakrik Minor five days ago. It failed."

"Yes, thank you, we know that," the agent said sarcastically. "Are you telling me you broke security??"

"The reason it failed," Carib continued, "was because?"

"I'm talking here, Devist," the agent snapped. "You broke security for a story we could have pulled off Coruscant Hourly??"

"?was because," Carib went on doggedly, "they were assisted?"

"Will you shut up? I'll have your skin pickled in?"

"?by an unknown alien ship," Carib finished.

"?a Hutt's slimy?" He broke off. "What do you mean, an unknown alien ship?" he demanded.

"I mean a ship with a completely unknown design," Carib said. "It had four outboard panels like the two on a TIE fighter, but the rest was definitely non-Imperial."

For a long moment the agent measured Carib with his eyes. "I don't suppose you happened to pull any records of the battle," he said at last, his tone challenging.

"Not of the battle itself," Carib said, pulling a datacard from his side pouch.

"But we did get something of the ship afterward."

The agent held out his hand. Carib dropped the datacard into it, mentally crossing his fingers. Solo had cobbled this thing together during the trip here from a pair of records he and Organa Solo had had with them in their ship. Where they'd gotten the originals Carib didn't know.

And really didn't care, either. Combat, intrigue, galactic security?none of those were matters he and his brothers wanted anything to do with anymore. All they wanted was to be left alone to raise their families and tend their farms and live their lives.

And all he cared about at this immediate moment was that Solo's gimmicked record be good enough to fool this glowering bit-pusher into believing it. If it was...

The agent whistled under his breath, peering at his reader. "Tarkin's teeth," he muttered, shaking his head. "Are these energy readings correct?"

"That's what was there." Carib hesitated, but he couldn't resist. "So was it worth breaking security for?"

The agent looked up, but it was clear he wasn't really seeing Carib anymore. "I'd say so, yes," he said absently, keying his board furiously. "Sure. Just watch it when you head home, and keep with the zigzag. Dismissed."

And that was it. No thank-yous, no well-dones, no nothing. Just a petty little Ubiqtorate agent on dead-end duty at the edge of nowhere with visions of promotion dancing through his head.

But that was okay, Carib knew as he headed down the corridor. His part was done now, or almost done, and Solo would take it from here. He could go back to Lacy and his brothers and sink back into the quiet anonymity that was all any of them desired.

Unless...

He grimaced as a thought belatedly struck him. Yes, the Ubiqtorate' agent back there had swallowed the bait in a single eager gulp. But that was no guarantee the military analysts on Bastion who would take the record apart would do the same.

And it was no guarantee at all that Grand Admiral Thrawn wouldn't see instantly through the scam. If he did, and if Solo was still in Imperial space at the time...

He shook his head once to clear it. No. He'd done what they wanted, and had risked his own neck to do it. What happened now was in their hands, not his. His part was done. Period.

Quickening his pace, he headed toward the docking tunnel where his freighter was berthed. The faster he got out of here and back to his farm, the better.

* * *

From off to the side, the speaker suddenly crackled. "Solo?"

Hastily, Han dropped his feet off the edge of the control board where they'd been propped and keyed the comm. "Yeah, I'm here, Carib," he said. "You got it?"

"Yes," Carib said. "He sent the droid probe off on vector forty-three by fifteen."

Behind Han, the bridge door opened. "Is that Devist?" Lando asked.

"Yeah," Han said as he punched up a chart. "You sure this is the vector to Bastion?"

"It's the direction the probe went," Carib said. "I'm sending you a copy of the recording."

"What I meant was are you sure he was sending it to Bastion," Han said as a beep from the board acknowledged receipt of the transmission.

"He didn't say anything one way or the other," Carib said. "But from the shining vision of promotion in his eyes, I can't see where else he would have sent it."

"How about to the main Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor?" Lando countered. "Isn't that his proper chain of command?"

"Usually, yes," Carib said. "But matters of immediate military importance go directly to the high command. Your unknown alien ship should come under that heading."

"We hope," Lando muttered.

"Besides which, there are military politics involved," Carib added. "Anyone stuck out on a contact station like this is here because the upper echelons have basically written him off. The only way to get out is to impress someone higher up in the military. Again, that means sending it straight to Bastion."

Han lifted his eyebrows at Lando. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"I suppose," Lando said suspiciously, peering with narrowed eyes at the freighter hanging in space outside the Lady Luck's viewport. "So Baron Fel was pretty good with military politics, was he?"

Han winced. Whatever Lando's feelings about clones might be, there was no reason to go out of his way to antagonize Carib. Especially when the man was trying to help them.

Even more especially when they were sitting at the edge of Imperial space within spitting distance of a Ubiqtorate station. "Carib?"

"It's all right, Solo," Carib said, his voice studiously neutral. "Maybe you'll agree now I was right when I talked about this back on Pakrik Minor."

Han winced again. Carib's contention that there was still heavy prejudice against clones in the New Republic... "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's all right," Carib repeated. "My part's done; I'm heading home. Good luck to you."

The freighter curved away over the Lady Luck and flickered with pseudomotion as it made the jump to lightspeed. "He's sure in a hurry to get away," Lando growled.

"He's heading home," Han reminded him, turning his attention back to the chart.

A course of forty-three by fifteen from the Ubiqtorate station would put it...

"Looks like the Sartinaynian system," Lando said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, it does," Han agreed, nodding.

"Funny place to put an Imperial capital," Lando said, an edge of suspicion still coloring his tone.

"Oh, I don't know," Han said, skimming down the data the Lady Luck's computer had on the place. "It was a sector capital once, so they're probably used to having a bureaucracy underfoot."

"Still a long way from the glittering towers of Coruscant, though," Lando said.

"Isn't everything?" Han countered. "Come on, we're wasting time."

Shaking his head, Lando dropped into the pilot's seat. "Sure. Let's just walk into the middle of the Imperial capital. Why not?"

"Lando, look?"

"No, it's all right, Han," Lando said with a tired sigh. "I said I'd do it, and I will. I just wish I didn't have to." He reached over and keyed the nav computer. "But wishes don't bring you the cards you want. Give Lobot and Moegid a call, will you, and tell them to strap in."

"Sure," Han said, reaching for his own restraints with one hand and going for the comm switch with the other. "Hey, don't worry. It's going to work out fine."

"Yeah," Lando said. "Sure."

* * *

"No!" Ishori Senator Ghic Dx'ono snarled, slamming a horny-tipped fist down on the table for emphasis. "It is completely out of the question. The Ishori will not accept anything less than full and complete justice for the Caamasi and the people of the New Republic."

"Justice is what we all seek," Diamalan Senator Porolo Miatamia countered, his voice the glacial calm of his species. "But?"

"You lie!" Dx'ono all but screamed, his ears flattened against his head. "The Diamala demand the impossible, and refuse to settle for anything else!"

"Senators, please," President Ponc Gavrisom cut in, his wings sweeping briefly between the other two as if trying to separate a pair of enraged shockball players. "I'm not asking for a resolution of the Caamas situation here and now.

All I'm asking?"

"I know what you're asking," Dx'ono snarled. "But justice postponed is too often justice ignored." He jabbed a finger accusingly toward Miatamia. "And that is precisely the situation the Diamala are trying to engineer."

"The Diamala have every intention of seeing justice served," Miatamia said coldly. "But we understand that more urgent matters should take priority. "

"Thrawn is dead!" Dx'ono snarled, leaping to his feet as if to physically attack the other. "He is dead! All Imperial records agree!"

Miatamia remained unmoved. "I saw him, Senator. I saw him, and heard him? "

"Lies!" Dx'ono cut him off. "All lies, created to distract us from the search for justice."

Seated in the small room behind the false wall, Booster Terrik shook his head. "Idiots," he muttered. "Both of them."

"Now, now, Father," his daughter Mirax Terrik Horn said, squeezing his arm. "Both of them are probably sincere, from their own different points of view."

"And we all know what road is lined with sincere people," Terrik said sourly, glancing back over his shoulder. "Where is that blasted Bel Iblis, anyway? I've got work to do."

"You've got nothing but overhaul and maintenance work on the Errant Venture scheduled for the next three weeks," Mirax admonished him firmly. "And you're not needed for a single bit of it."

Booster sent a glare at her, a glare that worked about as well as such looks had ever worked on her. Which was to say, not very. "I thought daughters were supposed to be a source of pride and comfort to their fathers in their old age," he grumbled.

She smiled. "When you get there, I'll see what I can do," she promised.

The smile faded as she turned back to the false wall. "This whole thing is starting to get out of hand. Have you heard that a hundred systems have already petitioned to rejoin the Empire?"

"My sources say it's only been twenty systems," Booster said. "Everything else is just rumors."

"Whatever the numbers, it's still something to worry about," Mirax said, a note of quiet dread in her voice. "If Thrawn is really still alive, and if all this turmoil persuades people they want or need his protection, then the Empire could regain its territory without firing a single shot."

"I doubt they're going to talk that many systems into coming back," Booster argued. But he didn't feel nearly as confident as he was trying to sound. "Anyway, there's not a lot we can do about it."

Behind him, the door slid open. "Ah?Captain Terrik," General Bel Iblis said, striding in and offering his hand. "Thank you for coming. I trust you've been well entertained?"

"If you mean the dance show, I've seen better," Booster said, jerking a thumb toward the loud drama in the next room as he reluctantly and briefly gripped Bel Iblis's hand. He and authority had never gotten along very well. "Speaking of dance shows, I've got a bone to pick with you over that nonsense in the Sif'kric system three weeks ago. The bureaucrats there still haven't released the Hoopster's Prank back to me."

"I didn't know that," Bel Iblis said, shutting off the speaker that was bringing the argument in from the next room and pulling over the room's remaining chair.

"I'll give orders to have it sprung as soon as we finish here."

Booster eyed him warily. "The word 'finish' implies a start."

"Indeed it does," Bel Iblis agreed, positioning the chair to face the two of them and sitting down. "I didn't ask you here just for a private showing of Gavrisom's mediation skill. Incidentally, I presume I don't have to tell you that anything you heard here is to be considered confidential."

"Really." Booster frowned thoughtfully at his daughter. "Let's see. The Ishori scream when they debate and want a square meter of skin off every Bothan to give to what's left of the Caamasi. The Diamala want the same square meter, but only from the Bothans who helped destroy Caamas?exhuming them if necessary?as soon as anyone figures out who they were. Who do you think we should sell these big secrets to first, Mirax?"

She gave her father a patient look and shifted her attention to Bel Iblis. "We understand, General," she said. "What is it you want?"

"I let you see a bit of this private conversation because I thought it would help drive home the seriousness of the situation we're in," Bel Iblis said, nodding back toward the discussion still going on now inaudibly behind him. "The buildup of warships over Bothawui is being repeated all over the New Republic as worlds and species line up behind the Ishori and Diamala over this issue. The only way we're going to defuse the situation is to find out who exactly the Bothans were who sabotaged the Caamas planetary shields."

"As a dancer, General, you're no better than they are," Booster said. "Get to the point."

Bel Iblis locked eyes with him. "I want to borrow the Errant Venture."

Booster stared at him, too stunned even to laugh in the general's face. "You must be joking," he got out at last. "Certainly not."

"What do you need it for?" Mirax asked.

Bel Iblis shifted his gaze to her. "We think there may be a complete copy of the Caamas Document in the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor," he told her. "Gavrisom has decided to launch an information raid to try to get hold of it."

"A data raid on a Ubiqtorate base?" Booster echoed. "What poor sucker pulled that assignment?"

Bel Iblis regarded him coolly. "I did," he said.

For a moment the room was silent. Booster studied Bel Iblis's face, wishing the general had glazed over the false wall behind him when he'd turned off the sound.

The argument back there, particularly the Ishori Senator's wide-armed flailing, was highly distracting.

As Bel Iblis probably intended it to be. "Okay," he said at last. "I get the picture?you need a Star Destroyer to sneak in through their outer defenses. Last I heard, the New Republic still has some captured ones. Why not use one of those?"

"Two reasons," Bel Iblis said. "First, they're all too well known. Disguising their markings and engine ID signatures would take too long."

"And probably not fool anyone for long," Mirax murmured.

Booster glared at her. Whose side was she on here, anyway?

"Right." Bel Iblis nodded. "Second, and more importantly, we can't pull any of them away from their assigned patrol duties without everyone in the sector instantly missing them. You know what an information raid is like: if the target gets even a whiff of your plans, you're sunk."

Booster crossed his arms across his chest. "Sorry, General. I sympathize with your problem and all, but no deal. I went through too much for that ship to risk it in some crazy scheme that's none of my business anyway."

Bel Iblis cocked his head slightly to the side. "You sure about it being none of your business?"

Booster uncrossed his arms far enough to tap at his upper chest. "You see a New Republic military insignia here?"

"You see the Diamalan Senator back there?" Bel Iblis countered. "They're allies with the Mon Cals on this Bothan situation; and you know how much the Mon Cals hate smugglers. If all-out war breaks out, one of the first things they're likely to do is move against all smuggling groups they can find, if for no other reason than to drain the potential pool of privateers the other side can use."

He lifted an eyebrow. "And with an Imperial Star Destroyer in your possession, where do you think you'll end up on their list of things to do?"

Booster grimaced. "Somewhere near the top?"

"That's where I'd put you," Bel Iblis agreed. "So helping me is very much in your own best interests."

He had a case, Booster had to admit. And he could feel the accusation behind Mirax's eyes as she gazed at him, reminding him of his glib comment not five minutes ago about how there was nothing they could do.

And it occurred to him?as it might not yet have to his daughter?that if Bel Iblis was going to Yaga Minor, Mirax's husband, Corran, and the rest of Rogue Squadron would probably be going in with him.

But to be asked to risk his beloved Errant Venture this way was just too much.

Yes, it was falling apart, with half its systems questionable or totally dead, and with an operating cost that would make an Imperial baron blanch. But it was his. All his...

He paused. What in the worlds was he thinking of?

He uncrossed his arms and resettled himself in his seat, eyeing Bel Iblis speculatively. "Unfortunately, even if I said yes, you'd never get away with it," he pointed out. "You turn a halfway decent sensor array on the Errant Venture and a blind wampa could tell we're not up to Imperial standards anymore. We'd need turbolaser and tractor-emplacement upgrades, shield rebuilds, whole system replacements?you name it, we need it."

Bel Iblis's gaze had hardened noticeably during the recitation. "I see," he said dryly. "Airen Cracken warned me about you."

"Glad to hear he remembers me." Booster shrugged. "It's up to you, General. I'll lend you the ship; but in exchange, you have to upgrade the systems. And win or lose, those upgrades stay put when it's all over."

"The Mon Cals will love that."

"If war breaks out, the Mon Cals will be the least of my worries," Booster said bluntly. "Every two-bit pirate and smuggling group in the galaxy will be trying to get their hands on the Venture. That's my offer; take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," Bel Iblis said, standing up. "Where's the ship now?"

"Parked over in the outer Mrisst system," Booster told him, standing up as well and trying not to show his surprise. His admittedly spotty experience with New Republic officials was that they needed more cajoling and a lot more bargaining before they finally gave in. And New Republic military officials were even worse.

"Where do you want it delivered?"

"I'll tell you once we're aboard," Bel Iblis said.

Booster frowned. "You're coming with us?"

"Along with two hundred of my crewers," the general said. "We'll assist you in flying the ship until we pick up a proper crew at the rendezvous point. "

"I have a proper crew," Booster retorted. He should have known Bel Iblis wouldn't give in this easily.

"For running a mobile smugglers depot, perhaps," Bel Iblis said. "Not for impersonating an Imperial warship. I'll be bringing a full skeleton complement aboard before we leave the rendezvous point."

Booster drew himself up to his full height. "Let's get one thing straight right now, General," he said stiffly. "The Errant Venture is my ship. If I don't captain her, she doesn't go anywhere."

Once again, Bel Iblis surprised him. "Certainly," he said calmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I have a shuttle waiting; we'll leave at once. "

"Whatever you say," Booster said, fighting against the bad feeling that, despite appearances, Bel Iblis had still not given in quite the way it sounded. "Mirax, you might as well take my shuttle and head back home."

Bel Iblis cleared his throat. "What?" Booster demanded suspiciously.

"I'm afraid Mirax will have to come with us," Bel Iblis said apologetically. "It's absolutely vital that we have complete security on this, and that means no one who knows about it can be allowed to wander around loose."

Booster drew himself up again. "If you think I'm going to let my daughter come on a raid against a Ubiqtorate base?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Bel Iblis hastened to assure him. "She and her son will stay behind at the rendezvous point with the prep crew."

Once again, Booster had the distinct feeling of having had the blocks knocked out from under him. "Fine," he muttered. "Well, let's get going. If you're determined to go marching into an Imperial base, we might as well get to it."

"Yes," Bel Iblis said. "And let me thank you once again for your help. Don't worry; it'll all work out fine."

"Yeah," Booster grumbled as he took Mirax's arm. "Sure."

CHAPTER

17

With one final truncated lightsaber sweep, the last of the chunks came away from the opening and crashed hollowly to the rocky floor. "There," Luke said, peering into the hole. "What do you think?"

Mara stepped close to his side and shined her glow rod into the opening. "Still going to be tight for the droid," she said. "But I think it'll do."

Luke glanced back over his shoulder, to the eight Qom Jha hanging from the passageway ceiling. Yes, it would do. More importantly, now that Splitter Of Stones and Keeper Of Promises had returned with the Qom Jha hunters Eater Of Fire Creepers had promised, they should get moving before they lost any prestige in their guides' eyes.

Or to put it another way, before they lost so much confidence in Master Walker Of Sky that they decided to back out of this trip entirely. They hadn't said much about Builder With Vines's violent death, but they were definitely avoiding the area where their friend had died.

And they weren't going out of their way to be nice to Child Of Winds, either. If he and Mara didn't get moving, there was likely to be more of the same trouble they'd already had too much of.

"I agree," he said, returning his lightsaber to his belt and stepping over to the shrunken collection of items that had been his pack before the fire creepers had gotten to it. Aside from the food bars in their metal case, the spare blaster power packs and glow rods, and some of the syntherope, there wasn't much left. The bedrolls, survival tent, medpacs, even the detonator casings on the grenades had all been ravaged into useless shreds. "I guess we just take whatever we can salvage of this stuff?"

"That's what I'm doing," Mara said. She had one of her ration boxes open and was sorting out the bars between the various pockets in her jumpsuit. "Soldiers' first rule: concentrate on the food."

"Understood," Luke said, starting to fill his own pockets. Artoo rolled unsteadily up to him on the uneven ground and with a beep of invitation slid open the hidden compartment in his dome. "I'm putting what's left of the syntherope in Artoo," Luke called to Mara, stuffing the coil into the compartment. "In case you need it."

"Fine," Mara said. "I'm ready."

"Me, too," Luke said, gazing into the darkness. "You want to stay with the same marching order?"

"You mean with you in front and me behind handling the luggage?" Mara asked, nodding toward Artoo.

Luke felt his face warming. "I meant?"

"I know what you meant," Mara said, giving him a wry smile. "But you're the Jedi; and if there's anything in there with big teeth, you've got the best chance of toasting it before it draws blood. So. After you."

Luke looked up at the waiting Qom Jha. "Sure," he said, shifting his glow rod to his left hand and drawing his lightsaber. "We're ready, Splitter Of Stones."

Follow me, the Qom Jha said, dropping off the ceiling and fluttering into the darkness.

It was quickly evident that their route wasn't so much a passageway as it was a narrow, V-shaped crack in the rock. Within the first three steps Luke was forced to return his lightsaber to his belt and wedge his glow rod into his tunic to free up his hands to help pull himself along. Behind him he could hear Artoo's continuous nervous twittering and the occasional muted thunk where Mara bumped him into one of the side walls.

Each time that happened, he had to fight back the impulse to offer his help. If Mara needed him, she would ask. Probably.

Fortunately, the crack was only no more than three meters long, with a yellowish wall blocking the far end. This is the way inside, Splitter Of Stones said from a perch at a small gap that broached the yellow wall near the top. Beyond this wall is the High Tower.

"I'd say we're here," Mara commented. "That wall's definitely artificial. "

"Agreed," Luke said, wedging himself into a more or less steady position in front of the wall and drawing his lightsaber. "You and Artoo keep back."

The wall was quite thin and, more importantly, not made of cortosis ore. Three quick slices of the green blade, and they had their entrance.

Luke dropped through the opening, lightsaber and Jedi senses at the ready.

Beyond the wall was a dark, high-ceilinged room, incredibly dusty, that extended out beyond the range of his glow rod beam. Spaced along the walls at two different heights were elaborately tooled wall sconces that looked like they had once held torches or torchlike lights. Above the sconces, at perhaps a dozen other points around the room, other gaps showed where sections of the yellow wall had crumbled away from the ceiling. Aside from the sconces, there were no other decorations or furnishings.

"Doesn't look like Hijarna," Mara muttered from behind him, waving her own glow rod around.

"What?" Luke asked.

"There's a ruined fortress on the planet Hijarna," she explained. "Karrde sometimes uses it as a meeting place."

"Yes, he said something about that when I saw him on Cejansij," Luke said. "He said if this fortress was like that one it could probably shrug off any attack he could throw at it."

"Him, or the New Republic in general," Mara said grimly. "The Hijarna fortress was made of some incredibly hard black stone that could eat massed turbolaser fire for breakfast."

She gestured with her glow rod. "My first look at the High Tower from outside the cave mouth reminded me of that one. But the wall material here isn't anything like it."

Artoo whistled, his sensor unit extended and rotating back and forth as if searching for something. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Luke pointed out, squatting down in front of the droid and peering at the datapad they'd rigged up to serve as translator for his more complicated comments. "They could have been built by two different groups of the same people."

"Maybe. What's he saying?"

"He says that from the fastenings he doesn't think the wall sconces were part of the original furnishings," Luke said. "For whatever that's worth."

He straightened up and pointed toward the unseen part of the room. "He also says there's a very strong power source operating somewhere over there."

"Really," Mara said with interest, taking a step in that direction and shining her glow rod into the darkness. "Let's go take a look."

No! Keeper Of Promises said sharply from above Luke.

"Hang on," Luke said to Mara, looking up. Keeper Of Promises was perched on one of the wall sconces, his wings quivering with agitation. "What's wrong? " he asked.

That way lies destruction, the Qom Jha said. Others have searched that direction.

None have ever returned.

"He says there's danger that way," Luke translated for Mara. "Specifics unknown."

"Except that it eats Qom Jha, I presume," Mara said. "On the other hand, the only way out of here has to be that direction."

No, there is another way, Splitter Of Stones said from one of the other sconces.

Come.

He flew across to the wall to their left and settled to a perch in one of the other gaps beneath the ceiling. Here, he said. Here is the entrance to the hidden passage.

"Really," Luke said, feeling his eyes narrow. The Qom Jha hadn't said anything about a hidden passage before. "And this hidden passage leads into the High Tower?"

Come, Splitter Of Stones said. You will see.

"Hidden passage, huh?" Mara commented as they crossed the room, Artoo rolling along behind them. "I don't recall that being mentioned before."

"Me, neither," Luke said. "It could have been just an oversight."

"Or an awkward but conveniently forgotten fact," Mara said darkly.

Artoo twittered questioningly. "Awkward because hidden passages usually also have hidden exits," Mara said to the droid over her shoulder. "And unless the Qom Jha have found a way through those exits, they won't know any more about the layout of the High Tower than we do."

"How about it, Splitter Of Stones?" Luke asked. "Have you and your people been inside, or haven't you?"

We have traveled all through the hidden passage was the somewhat sullen reply.

There are places where we can see the Threateners and hear what they are saying.

"Let me guess," Mara said. "They've never actually been in the High Tower, but they're sure they'll be able to find their way around once we get them in."

"Basically," Luke said heavily. "Apparently, for all their talk, no one's actually been inside the place."

Some of the Qom Qae have been inside, Child Of Winds spoke up. I know of some who have done so.

Luke frowned at him. "They have? Who? When?"

Friends from other nestings have entered from above, Child Of Winds explained.

But they have always been quickly driven out, and have seen very little.

"Still, that's apparently more than the Qom Jha have done," Luke said, looking at Splitter Of Stones again. The Qom Jha was maintaining a stiff silence, but Luke could tell he was not at all pleased with this revelation. "Have you yourself been inside, Child Of Winds?"

No, he said. Only friends from the nesting nearest here.

"What's the debate?" Mara asked.

"Child Of Winds says some of the younger Qom Qae of the region have poked around inside the upper areas of the High Tower," Luke said. "But how is it you're in contact with these others, Child Of Winds? I thought Hunter Of Winds said matters outside your nesting were of no concern to you."

They are of no concern to adult Qom Qae, Child Of Winds said. But all children may fly freely wherever they wish.

"Ah." So adult Qom Qae were territorial, but their children mixed together across nesting boundaries however they wanted.

And in the process played the role of informal ambassadors and information gatherers? Possibly. Something to remember if and when the New Republic decided to make official contact with them.

Beside him, Mara cleared her throat. "Is any of this no doubt fascinating conversation helping us get inside the High Tower?"

"Not really," Luke agreed, pushing the glimpse into Qom Qae social structure aside for now. Stepping to the yellow wall beneath where Splitter Of Stones was sitting, he ran an exploring hand across the surface. If there was a hidden door there, it was very well hidden. "You think we should look for a release, or open it the easy way?"

Mara's answer was the snap-hiss of her lightsaber. "Get out of the way," she said. "You, too, Qom Jha."

Splitter Of Stones fluttered hastily to one of the wall sconces. Three quick slashes, and Mara had a man-sized opening cut in the wall. Lightsaber held ready, she jumped into the gap and ducked to her right. Luke was right behind her, ducking to the left.

They were in a narrow passageway, no more than a meter and a half across, which like the room behind them extended to the right beyond the range of their glow rods. In the other direction, the passageway ended in a wall only a few meters away.

And leading up over their heads from that end was a set of stairs.

"Over here, Mara," Luke called quietly over his shoulder as he headed that direction. The stairs were narrow, and like the passageway itself extended past the range of his glow rod beam. Overhead to the left he could see just the hint of an angled and rising ceiling: another flight of steps, he decided, probably connecting with this set at some unseen landing ahead. Rising vertically along the inside edge of the stairway were a series of thick cylinders that ran from below the level of the passageway up into the darkness above.

"That's our way up, all right," Mara said from his side. "Uh-oh."

"What?" Luke asked, frowning as he stretched out with the Force. There was no danger he could detect.

"The stairs," Mara said, her glow rod shining downward on the lowest steps. "Now that looks like Hijarna building material."

Luke frowned down at it. "Any way to tell for sure?"

"A couple of blaster bolts ought to do it," she said. "But the noise would probably travel farther than we'd like. Anyway, at the moment it's irrelevant?we're not launching a full-scale assault on the place."

"Right?we're trying to sneak in," Luke agreed. "Looks like we'll have to go single file."

"I think we're all used to that by now," Mara said, playing her glow rod up and down the steps. "Reminds me of that secret passageway Palpatine had in the Imperial palace."

"Reminds me of the service shaft in Ilic on New Cov," Luke said, remembering that long walk he and Han had taken up those stairs to a landing area crawling with Imperials.

"You'd think just one of these secret-stair-builders would have the courtesy to install a turbolift," Mara said, shaking her head. "Or at least a droid carrier."

"It would be nice," Luke agreed. "Well, nothing for it but to start climbing.

Let's go."

* * *

With the narrow but relatively open area ahead and above them, Luke decided to let Splitter Of Stones and his cadre of Qom Jha take the point, flying up and ahead of them. Luke went next, carrying the droid for a change, leaving Mara and Child Of Winds to bring up the rear.

Mara had groused a little about that, arguing that she wasn't tired and could handle the droid just fine. But Luke had declared the staircase safe enough for him to take droid duty, and had ignored her complaints.

Not that she'd complained too hard or too long. The droid had been getting heavier and heavier lately, and she was just as glad to be rid of the burden for a while.

"Any idea what these are?" she asked Luke, running her fingertips across the first of the thick vertical cylinders as she passed it. From this position on the stairs she could now see to the first landing, and a quick count showed there were twenty of the cylinders rising through the gap. "They don't look like ventilation shafts."

The droid warbled. "Artoo says they're power lines," Luke told her. "Probably bringing energy to the High Tower from that big power source he picked up."

"That's one blazing lot of capacity," Mara said, eyeing the cylinders uneasily.

"Are all twenty of them pulling power?"

The droid twittered again. "Only three are active at the moment," Luke said. "But the others are still functional. Running to weapons or shield generators, maybe?"

"I was just wondering that myself." Mara felt her lip twitch. "From near the mouth of the cave you can see three towers rising from the fortress: three intact and one broken."

"Yes, I remember that from the record the Starry Ice brought back," Luke said, his voice and emotions tight. "You suggested that the shot that took out that tower might have also gouged out some of the ravine you flew in through. Is Hijarna stone that tough?"

"I don't know," Mara said grimly. "But Hijarna stone plus seventeen power lines' worth of shield generators might do the trick."

Luke whistled softly, shaking his head. "You know, this place is starting to look more and more impregnable by the minute. I don't think I like that."

"I'm sure I don't like it," Mara retorted grimly. "Especially in potentially unfriendly hands. It'd be worse than Mount Tantiss."

They reached the landing and the expected switchback and continued on up. For a while Mara tried to keep track of the stair count, but somewhere in the mid-two hundreds she gave up the exercise as useless.

They had passed the fourth landing when she began to detect the alien presence.

She kept at the sensation for the next few minutes until she was sure. Then, as they started to round the fifth landing, she leaned over and caught Luke's eye.

"Luke?" she murmured. "Company."

"I know," he murmured back. "I've been picking them up for a while now. We must be getting close to the inhabited parts of the High Tower."

"The sensation seem at all familiar to you?"

"Very," he assured her. "They're the same species as the pilots who tried to shoot me down on my way in."

"I've never gotten that close to any of this particular group," Mara said, a sudden shiver running through her. "But I've definitely felt this sense before."

Luke seemed to brace himself. "Thrawn?"

She nodded. "Thrawn."

For a long moment they stood there in silence. "Well, you called it," Mara reminded him. "You said that might be a group of his people in there."

"It's starting to look that way," Luke said, looking up and waving toward him. "Splitter Of Stones?"

There was a rustling of wings, and the Qom Jha fluttered to a landing on one of the stairs ahead of Luke. "You said there were places where you could see or hear into the High Tower," Luke said. "How close are we to the nearest of those?"

Splitter Of Stones began to speak. Suddenly tired of this second-class status of hers, Mara reached over and took Luke's hand.

?not too far away, she heard the Qom Jha's voice echoed through Luke's mind. Two and a portion more turns.

"A portion?" Mara asked, frowning.

"The spot must be partway up one of the stairways," Luke said, glancing at the cylinders running alongside them. "At least these power lines should help mask our life-form readings if anyone's looking. That's convenient."

"It also means Artoo won't be able to pick up much of anything, either," Mara pointed out. "Not so convenient."

But that will surely not be a problem for you, Child Of Winds spoke up. You have the Force.

"True," Luke agreed.

"Some of us more than others, of course," Mara added, suppressing a grimace. As he had on that trek across Wayland ten years ago, Luke had been giving her more or less nonstop Jedi instruction during the trip through these caverns. But despite those efforts, she was apparently no closer to hearing this weird Force-driven communication of the Qom Jha and Qom Qae than she'd been when she first arrived on the planet.

And it was starting to bug her. It was starting to really bug her. What did she have to do to break through this invisible barrier to full Jedi powers, anyway?

She didn't have an answer. Luke might, but she didn't. And there was no way in the galaxy she was going to ask him. Not anytime soon, anyway.

Disgustedly, she let go of his hand. "Well, come on," she growled. "If we're going to do this, let's do it."

"Right," Luke said. If he'd picked up on her sudden sour mood, he didn't comment on it. "Okay, Splitter Of Stones, let's go. And warn your people to be especially quiet from this point on."

They resumed their climb, Mara followed along behind Luke, putting one foot in front of the other strictly on autopilot, her full attention turned outward as she stretched out to the alien presences growing steadily closer. None seemed to be very close, but from past experience she knew that with unfamiliar alien minds apparent distances could be misleading.

Two and a third flights of stairs later, as promised, they reached Splitter Of Stones's observation post.

"That's an exit, all right," Mara muttered, peering into the alcove that opened off to the side of the stairway. Roughly three meters wide and one deep, it ended in a door-shaped panel made of black stone equipped with a locking wheel and a pair of hand-grip releases. In the center of the panel was a tiny hole through which an equally tiny ray of reddish light shone through. "Looks like it swings outward."

"Yes," Luke murmured back, stepping into the alcove for a closer look. "Interesting, this locking wheel. Why lock it from this side?"

"Maybe it was for the exclusive use of certain high-ranking parties who wanted everyone else kept out," Mara said, stretching out with the Force. The alien presence was still pervasive, but still muted. "If you want to give it a try, this is probably as good a time as any."

"Right." For a moment Luke held his face against the door, peering through the peephole. Then, gripping the wheel, he turned it to the left.

Mara winced in anticipation, but the screech of rusted metal she'd expected didn't happen. In fact, the muted sound struck her as more like pieces of polished stone sliding smoothly against each other. Luke finished turning the wheel, then took hold of the two grip releases. "Here we go," he muttered, and squeezed.

Whoever had designed the self-lubrication for the locking wheel had apparently also designed the hinges. Again with only the faint rumble of stone against stone, the door swung open.

Mara was through the opening before the door had finished its swing, blaster in hand, her senses stretched fully alert.

They were at the end of a fairly wide corridor, she saw, that stretched for perhaps twenty meters before opening into an open, atriumlike area with a wide central pillar running vertically through it from which pale reddish light was streaming. Spaced along each side of the corridor were five recessed doors, each flanked by two of the wall sconces that they'd seen in the underground room below. Unlike those, though, the upper sections of these sconces were glowing with a muted white light, the illumination adding to the dimmer red coming from the pillar in the atrium. The corridor's floor and ceiling were covered in an intricate pattern of tiny interlocked tiles, while the walls were a contrasting plain silvery metal.

From the entryway behind her came a soft twitter. "Artoo says the red light is the same spectrum as the sun," Luke said from her side. "Either we're near the top or they're piping the light down here."

"I'd guess the latter," Mara said. "The decor's a surprise?the Hijarna fortress is nothing but plain black stone. Feel like a little reconnoiter?"

"Sure," Luke said. "Splitter Of Stones, if you or the others know anything about the High Tower you haven't told us, this is the time to do it."

There were more of the Qom Jha chirps and almost-speech; and abruptly all eight of them flapped past Mara and headed down the corridor. Reaching the end, they split up and vanished off in different directions. "He said they don't know anything more," Luke told Mara, "but that they're eager to learn."

"As long as they don't bring the locals down on us," Mara said, flicking off her glow rod and sliding it away into a pocket. "You'd probably better leave the droid here."

"I was planning to," Luke said. "Artoo, get back in the alcove out of sight and close the door. Child Of Winds?no, you stay here with Artoo."

There was an obvious complaint from the young Qom Qae. "Not now," Luke said firmly. "Later, maybe, but not now. Come on, Mara."

They headed out along the corridor, Child Of Winds still fussing behind them. "Looks like a residential area," Luke commented, nodding toward the doors they were passing.

"Yes," Mara said, frowning at the central pillar they were approaching. As they neared it she could see that it was shaped like a giant circular stairway, except with a smooth ramp instead of a staircase spiraling around it. And the edge?"Is that ramp moving?"

"It does look like it," Luke said, craning his neck. "Like a spiral slideway going up."

They reached the end of the corridor, and Mara eased an eye around the corner.

More corridors like the one they were in were visible, spreading out like sunburst rays centered on the open area around the spiral slideway. "Definitely a barracks section," she said. "I wonder where the down ramp is."

"It's on the inside half of the up ramp," Luke said, pointing. "See?that inner section is going down?"

"I see it." Mara nodded. "Must be tricky getting across the up ramp when you want to get off."

"We'll probably get a chance to try it," Luke said, stepping close to Mara and putting his arm around her shoulder. She frowned at him, opened her mouth to ask what he was doing?

?no one, Keeper Of Promises's voice came as the Qom Jha fluttered into sight from one of the other corridors. Some of the other passages end in walls, but most continue on into other such caverns.

"Did you see anyone?" Mara asked.

We saw no one, Keeper Of Promises said in the slightly miffed tone of someone who's been asked a question he's already answered.

"Thank you." Luke tilted his head to look at Mara. "What do you want? Up or down?"

"Up," Mara said, easing away from him. It was always a little disconcerting to look at someone whose face was barely fifteen centimeters away. "All the command rooms and other interesting stuff at Hijarna were on the upper floors."

"Up it is," Luke said, releasing his grip on her and crossing to the spiral slideway. "Looks clear," he added, looking cautiously up into the opening as Mara joined him. "You picking up any danger?"

"No more than I have been for the past ten minutes," Mara said. "Sure, let's try it."

"Right." Luke waved at Keeper Of Promises. "Come on, Qom Jha?we're heading up."

They stepped onto the outer section of the slideway, both of them stumbling slightly as their bodies were forced to catch up with suddenly moving feet. "It definitely feels like we're getting closer to the aliens," Luke commented as the group of Qom Jha flapped past on their way to the next level. "I just wish I had a better benchmark for the species."

"Yes, it'd be nice to know how close they actually were," Mara agreed, watching above them as the Qom Jha split up again and headed off in all directions. One of the reinforcements?Flyer Through Spikes, Mara tentatively identified him?reappeared overhead as she and Luke reached the level, jabbering away. "He says they've found no one up here, either," Luke reported. "Splitter Of Stones has suggested?"

The flare of her danger sense was Mara's only warning. "Luke!"

"Down!" Luke snapped, igniting his lightsaber.

Mara was already dropping to one knee, spinning around as her eyes and blaster searched for a target. A movement just inside one of the corridors caught her eye?she tracked her blaster toward it?

And abruptly the world exploded into a flash of brilliant blue.

Instinctively, she ducked away from the bolt, her blaster spitting return fire.

Another blue flash changed to green as Luke's lightsaber slashed across it, deflecting the bolt across the room. There was another blue flash, again caught by the lightsaber blade. Mara fired twice, had the satisfaction of seeing the half-hidden gunman duck back?

"Behind you!" Luke barked.

Mara dropped from her kneeling crouch to land flat on her stomach on the ramp, twisting around to face the other direction as she did so. Two burgundy-uniformed gunmen were visible back there, sprinting from the end of one of the corridors toward the protection of something that looked like a small service vehicle. She fired two shots?missed with both?

And abruptly one of the gunmen stopped dead in his tracks, raising his weapon toward her in a two-handed grip. Mara tracked her blaster toward him, a small part of her mind noting the blue skin of his face and hands and the glowing red eyes glaring out at her?

"Watch out!"

But the warning came too late. Even as Mara fired again and then twisted around to search out the new threat there was another flash of blue?

And a lance of agony jabbed into her right shoulder.

She might have gasped in pain; she wouldn't remember later whether she had or not. But suddenly Luke was crouching on the slideway beside her, his surge of fear dimly sensed through the waves of pain hammering at her. His hand briefly probed the area of the wound, and she could feel the pain ease somewhat as the Force flowed from him into her. "What do you think?" she managed through clenched teeth. "We seen enough for this pass?"

"Sounds good to me," he said, his lightsaber humming angrily as he swatted more of the blue blasts.

"Then?"

She blinked in surprise. Above her was the edge of one of the fortress floors; but it was pulling up and away from her. Even now, she could see, they were coming down to the level they'd started from. "How'd we get to the down part of the slideway?" she asked.

"You rolled onto it when you were hit," he told her, shifting his hand from her neck to a supporting grip cradling her shoulders. "Don't you remember?"

She shook her head. The movement sent a fresh surge of agony through her shoulder. "Combat reflex, I guess. Wait?my blaster!"

"It's all right?Keeper Of Promises picked it up," Luke assured her, shutting down his lightsaber. He half rose from his crouch, and she could feel herself also rising in the eerily intangible grip of the Force. "Here we go."

The level they'd come in on was starting to move past them now. Stretching out to the Force, carrying Mara with him, Luke leaped over the up section of the slideway to land on the solid floor beyond. Cradling her in both arms, he hurried down the corridor toward their hidden door.

"Look, I can walk on my own," Mara growled, glancing back over Luke's shoulder as he ran. Some of the Qom Jha were visible coming up behind them, but so far there was no sign of other pursuit. "You don't have to carry me?"

"Don't argue," Luke bit out, his mind frothing with concern and worry. "I just hope Artoo didn't lock the door?ah."

Ahead, the door was swinging ponderously open toward them, pushed by an obviously straining Child Of Winds. Trying to work past her pain, Mara stretched out to the door with the Force, giving him as much assistance as she could manage. The droid, rolling forward to help, squawked in surprise and hastily backed up just in time as Luke and Mara charged in, followed by four of the Qom Jha.

Seal the door, Mara heard Splitter Of Stones's order through Luke's mind as the Qom Jha flapped madly to a halt.

"What about the others?" Luke asked as two of the Qom Jha landed on the hand grips and began tugging.

They have gone into the other passages, Splitter Of Stones said. They will try to lead the Threateners away from this area.

"We can hope," Luke said as the door swung back into place. "Seal the door?I'm going to take Mara down to that last landing."

"No?go up," Mara said, digging out her glow rod with her left hand as Luke started down the stairs. "If they find the door, they'll probably assume we went down."

"Makes sense," Luke agreed, turning and heading up. "Artoo, you make sure they get it sealed and then stand guard."

A minute later they'd reached the landing. "I wish we still had our bedrolls," Luke said as he laid her carefully down on the cold stone and took the glow rod from her. "How does it feel?"

"Like someone's roasting an Ewok in there," Mara told him. "Not as bad as it was, though. Is that a pain-suppression trick you're using on me?"

"For what it's worth," Luke said, sticking the glow rod between his teeth and stripping off his jacket. "It's not nearly as effective on someone else as it is on yourself," he added, talking around the glow rod as he bunched the jacket and slid it under her head as a pillow.

"I knew there was something else I should have stuck around the academy long enough to learn," she said, hissing between her teeth as Luke set the glow rod down on her chest and began carefully pulling the burned edges of cloth away from the wound. "I don't suppose you offer a crash course."

"I usually like to ease into that lesson a little more gradually." Luke's lip twitched. "Ouch."

Mara looked down at her shoulder, and immediately wished she hadn't. " 'Ouch' doesn't even begin to cover it," she told him, feeling a little sick as she resolutely turned her eyes away. The burn was a lot nastier than she'd guessed.

"I think I've just decided I'm going to miss the medpac more than I am the bedrolls."

"Don't give up just yet," Luke soothed. His fingers were stroking the skin of her shoulder and neck; and as they did so the pain again decreased. "I know a couple more tricks."

"That feels good," Mara said, closing her eyes.

"I'm putting you into a healing trance," Luke explained, his voice sounding oddly distant. "It can be a little slow, but sometimes it's as effective as a bacta tank."

"I hope this is one of those times," Mara murmured. Suddenly she was feeling very tired. "Yet another wonderful Jedi trick you'll have to teach me sometime.

'Night, Luke. Don't forget to wake me if the bad guys crash the party."

* * *

"Good night, Mara," Luke said softly. Softly, and uselessly?she was already sound asleep.

Is she going to die? an anxious voice asked from beside him.

Engrossed in Mara's injury and the setting up of the healing trance, he hadn't noticed Child Of Winds's arrival. Some Master Jedi. "No, she'll be all right," he said. "The wound isn't dangerous, and I have some healing abilities."

Child Of Winds sidled a little closer, peering with unblinking eyes at the woman stretched out at Luke's side. Was it my fault, Jedi Sky Walker? he asked at last.

Did I not open the door quickly enough?

"No, not at all," Luke assured him. "It had absolutely nothing to do with you."

Then it was the Qom Jha who failed you.

Luke frowned at the young Qom Qae. Given the annoyingly persistent rivalry between the two groups, he would have expected a note of condemnation or at least lofty superiority in Child Of Winds's judgment. But there was nothing there but regret and sadness. "Perhaps," Luke said. "But it may not really be their fault, either. The Threateners may have detected our arrival and put together an ambush. And don't forget that cave-dwellers like the Qom Jha probably don't see as well in lighted rooms as you or I would."

Child Of Winds seemed to consider that. If the Threateners laid a snare, they may enter this place to search for you.

"They might," Luke agreed. "If they even know about it, of course. They might not?all the dust in here would indicate it hasn't been used for quite a while."

Still, they may know even if they do not use, Child Of Winds reminded him. Your friend-machine and the Qom Jha watch and wait below. Should not someone also watch and wait above?

"That's a good idea," Luke agreed. "Go tell Splitter Of Stones I want him to send two of his hunters to stand watch at the next stairway exit above us."

I will obey, the Qom Qae said, stretching out his wings. But he will need send only one hunter. I will go myself to watch with him.

Luke opened his mouth to object; closed it again. Child Of Winds had been chafing under the casual contempt of the Qom Jha ever since they'd reached the cave. This was something useful he could do that probably wouldn't be too dangerous. "All right, Child Of Winds. Thank you."

There are no thanks needed, Child Of Winds said. It is only what is right for me to do for the Jedi Sky Walker. He cocked his head for one final look at Mara.

And for his beloved companion.

Spreading his wings, he flapped away into the darkness of the stairway, leaving that last comment echoing uncomfortably in Luke's mind. Beloved companion.

Companion. Beloved...

He looked down at Mara, her familiar features thrown into starkly contrasting areas of light and shadow by the beam of the glow rod. Beloved...

"No," he murmured to himself. No. He liked Mara, certainly. Liked her very much.

She was smart and resourceful, with a mental and emotional toughness he could rely on, plus a sharp humor and irreverence that made for a refreshing contrast with the automatic and unthinking awe too many people held him in these days.

She'd been a trusted ally through some very hard and dangerous times, sticking with him and Han and Leia even when the rest of a hostile New Republic hierarchy had declared her untrustworthy.

And perhaps most important of all, she was strong and capable in the Force, with the ability to share his thoughts and emotions in a way that even a couple as close as Han and Leia couldn't experience.

But he wouldn't love her. He couldn't take that risk. Every time in the past that he had allowed himself the luxury of caring that deeply about a woman something terrible had happened to her. Gaeriel had been killed. Callista had lost her Jedi abilities and finally left him. The list of tragedies sometimes seemed endless.

Still, if Mara's theory was right, all of those disasters had happened while he was still under the lingering effects of his brush with the dark side. Would things be different now? Could they be different?

He shook his head firmly. No. He could try all the logic in the world? could come up with reason after reason why he could perhaps allow himself to have feelings like that again. But not now. Not with Mara.

Because hanging like a dark specter over all of this was the memory of that vision he'd had barely a month ago on Tierfon. The vision where he'd seen Han and Leia in danger from a mob; where he'd seen Wedge and Corran and Rogue Squadron in the heat of battle; where he'd seen himself on the Cejansij balcony from which he would later be taken to Talon Karrde and learn of Mara's disappearance.

And where he'd seen Mara surrounded by craggy rock and floating motionlessly in a pool of water. Her eyes closed; her arms and legs limp. As if in death.

He gazed down at her again, a quiet ache in his heart. Perhaps that was her destiny, an end to her life that he could do nothing to prevent. But until that was proved, he would tear his own life apart if necessary to prevent it from happening. And if part of that sacrifice was to keep her out of the shadow of destructive dark side influence he had had on so many others, then that was a sacrifice he would have to make.

But for now what she needed most was to be healed. And that would take no sacrifice, merely time and attention. "Good night," he said again, knowing she couldn't hear him. On impulse, he leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

Then, stretching out on the cold stone next to her, he rested his head beside hers on a corner of his folded jacket and laid his arm across her chest where his fingertips could touch the area around her burned shoulder. Easing himself into a sort of half trance to aid in concentration, he stretched out to the Force and set to work.

CHAPTER

18

It took a few minutes' searching, but Wedge finally found the others at a small, open-air tapcafe half a block down from the space traffic registration office. "There you are," he said a little accusingly as he dropped into the third seat at the table.

"What's the problem?" Moranda asked, sipping at the pale blue-green liqueur that had been her constant tapcafe companion ever since they'd met her. "I told you we'd be down the street here."

"You're right?I should have guessed where exactly down the street you meant," Wedge countered, throwing a sour look at her drink. "Aren't you starting a little early in the day?"

"What, this?" Moranda asked, lifting the glass and turning it this way and that in the morning sunlight. "This is nothing. Anyway, you wouldn't be so heartless as to deny an old woman one of the last remaining pleasures of her declining years, would you?"

"That 'old woman' excuse is starting to wear a little thin." Wedge shifted his attention to Corran and the aromatic mug he was cradling. "And what's your excuse?"

Corran shrugged. "I'm just keeping her company. I take it the incoming-ship search went badly?"

"It didn't go at all," Wedge growled, glaring at Corran's mug. Now that he thought about it, a drink actually sounded pretty good. But after that rather self-righteous tirade he could hardly beckon a droid over and order something himself?

There was a movement at his side, and a mechanical hand set a mug down on the table in front of him, spilling a few drops first in the ancient annoying Bothan custom. "What's this?" he asked.

"We ordered it when we saw you coming down the street," Moranda said. "Figured that after dealing with Bothan bureaucracy you'd want something a little stronger than hot chocolate."

Wedge grimaced. So much for the grand mystique of command. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip.

"So what happened?" Moranda asked. "They wouldn't let you look at the records for incoming ships?"

"Not without fifteen forms of authorization," Wedge told her. "It's crazy.

Doubly crazy given that everything on those lists is technically a matter of public record. If I wanted to sit at the spaceport and write down the names of every ship as it came in, I could do it."

"They're getting nervous," Corran murmured, swirling his mug. "Worried that Vengeance might start taking potshots at their best customers."

"Whatever, there's no point in kicking against a bureaucracy," Moranda said. "Let's think this through logically."

Wedge waved a hand in invitation. "We're listening."

"All right." Moranda took a sip of her drink. "I think we can all agree that if someone is after the Drev'starn shield generator, a frontal assault is out.

Unless they brought a portable proton torpedo launcher with them, that building is far too well protected."

"Which means they'll have to rely on subterfuge," Corran agreed. "Fairly obvious so far."

"Don't rush me," Moranda admonished him. "Now, we can also assume they won't be able to suborn any of the techs or other people who work inside. But how about planting something on one of them?"

"You mean like a bomb?" Wedge asked doubtfully. "I doubt it. That's a big area down there. Any bomb strong enough to do any serious damage would be easily detected."

"Besides, if they have any brains at all, they have the workers change clothes before they go into the actual generator areas," Corran added. "That also protects against spy monitors being slipped onto anyone."

"So the workers are out," Moranda said. "What about the various underground conduits that bring in power and water?"

"There aren't any water conduits," Wedge said thoughtfully. "Water and food are supposedly brought in from outside and triple-scanned for contaminants." He looked at Corran. "Power, though, is another matter entirely."

"You might be onto something," Corran agreed, frowning as he drummed his fingers softly on the table. "Each shield generator is supposed to have its own self-contained power supply. But it's referred to as a backup supply, which implies the primary power source comes in from the outside."

"Where are you getting all this stuff from, by the way?" Moranda asked. "Not Bothan propaganda, I hope."

"No, we pulled it from New Republic military files," Wedge told her. "Unfortunately, what we had was a little skimpy on details."

"Typical Bothan paranoiac closemouthness," Moranda grunted. "I don't suppose you'd have any idea where exactly the conduits are located."

"Not even a guess," Wedge told her.

"Well, that's our second order of business, then," Moranda said. "Getting the complete schematics of that building."

Corran cocked an eyebrow. "I hope you're not expecting the Bothans to just give them to us."

Moranda snorted. "Of course not," she said. "That's why it's our second order of business. We can't very well go visit the construction records building during the day."

Wedge exchanged looks with Corran. "The building's only open during the day," he pointed out carefully.

"That's right," Moranda said, smiling encouragingly. "You catch on fast."

Wedge looked at Corran again. "Corran?"

The other made a face, but then he shrugged. "We do have our orders," he reminded Wedge. "And this isn't just to protect the Bothans, remember."

"I suppose," Wedge said reluctantly. So much for the mystique of command; so much for command at all. Still, Moranda was making sense. Unfortunately. "So if that's the second order of business, what's the first?"

"I thought we'd go pull the records for the last few days' worth of outgoing transmissions," Moranda said. "If Vengeance is plotting something, their group here probably has to report in every now and again."

Wedge felt his mouth drop open. "You want to go check message traffic? Do you have any idea how much of that there is from this planet?"

"That's exactly why they won't worry about it," Moranda said cheerfully. "They'll figure no one would be crazy enough to bother sifting through it all. "

"Present company excepted, obviously."

"Well, of course." Moranda held up a hand. "Now, wait a minute, it's not as bad as it sounds. We can cut out all transmissions from major or established corporations?even if one of them was involved, they wouldn't send out anything under their own name. We can also cut out any nonencrypted messages, and we can cut out any message over, say, fifty words. That ought to give us something manageable."

Wedge frowned. "Why everything over fifty words?"

"The shorter the message, the harder it is to decrypt," Corran explained, sounding as dubious as Wedge felt. "One of the things I learned in CorSec. My question is, if we aren't going to be able to read it, why bother looking for it in the first place?"

"To find out where it's going, of course," Moranda said, draining the last of her liqueur. "The guys at this end can be as cagey as they want; but if they've got a sloppy contact down the line, we can still nail them. All we need is a likely system and I can call Karrde's people down on them from that end."

"It still sounds crazy," Wedge declared, looking at Corran. "What do you think?"

"It's no crazier than breaking into the construction records building after hours," Corran pointed out.

"Thanks for the reminder," Wedge sighed. "Sure, let's give it a try. I just hope the computer on our shuttle is up to a job like this."

"If not, the one on my ship can handle it," Moranda assured him, getting to her feet. "Come on, let's get moving."

* * *

"Captain?"

Nalgol turned away from the unremitting blackness hanging in front of the Imperial Star Destroyer Tyrannic. "Yes?"

"Relay spark from the strike team, sir," Intelligence Chief Oissan said, coming to a parade-ground halt and handing the captain a datapad. "I'm afraid you're not going to like it."

"Really," Nalgol said, giving Oissan a long, hard look as he took the datapad.

Given the Tyrannic's blindness out here, it was unarguably nice to receive these brief reports from the Imperial Intelligence strike team on the Bothawui surface.

But on the other hand, any secret transmission, even an innocuous one sent to an unobtrusive relay buoy, simply gave the enemy one more handle to latch on to.

And for that potentially dangerous transmission to contain bad news...

The message was, as always, brief. Now ten days to completion of flash point.

Will keep timetable updated.

"Ten days?" Nalgol transferred his glare from the datapad to Oissan. "What is this ten days nonsense? The report two days ago said it would only be six days."

"I don't know, sir," Oissan said. "All messages to us have to be kept short?"

"Yes, I know," Nalgol cut him off, glowering at the datapad again. Ten more days in this clytarded blindness. Just exactly what the crew of this twitchy ship needed. "They just blazing well better be keeping Bastion better informed than they are us."

"I'm sure they are, Captain," Oissan said. "Paradoxically, perhaps, it's much safer to send out a long transmission on a commercial frequency via the HoloNet than it is to send a short-range spark to us out here."

"I'm fairly well versed in communications theory, thank you," Nalgol said icily.

A prudent man, he reflected darkly, would have found a way to beat a hasty retreat after delivering news like this. Either Oissan wasn't as prudent as Nalgol had always assumed, or he was twitchy enough himself to be spoiling for a fight with his captain.

Or else this was part of a private evaluation of his captain's mental state.

And much as he would like to deny it, Nalgol had to admit this idleness and isolation were getting on his nerves, too. "I was simply concerned that the delay not upset Bastion's master plan," he told the other, forcing calmness into his voice. "I also wish I knew how in blazes they could lose six whole days out of a two-month timetable."

Oissan shrugged. "Without knowing what exactly their job is down there, I can't even hazard a guess," he said reasonably. "As it is, we'll just have to rely on their judgment." He lifted his eyebrows slightly. "And on Grand Admiral Thrawn's own genius, of course."

"Of course," Nalgol murmured. "The question is whether all those armed hotheads around Bothawui will be able to hold off another ten days before they start shooting. What's the warship count up to, anyway?"

"The latest probe ship report is in that file, sir," Oissan said, nodding toward the datapad. "But I believe the current number is one hundred twelve."

"A hundred and twelve?" Nalgol echoed, frowning as he pulled up the report.

There it was: a hundred and twelve. "This can't be right," he insisted.

"It is, sir," Oissan assured him. "Thirty-one new warships have come in, apparently all in the past ten hours."

Nalgol scanned the list. A nicely matched set, too: fourteen pro-Bothan Diamalan and D'farian ships to seventeen anti-Bothan Ishori ships. "This is unbelievable," he said, shaking his head. "Don't these aliens have anything better to do?"

Oissan snorted under his breath. "From the news reports the probe ships have been bringing in, it's only because most of the New Republic does have better things to do that we haven't been buried by three times as many ships," he said.

"But don't worry. I have faith in the New Republic's diplomatic corps. I'm sure they'll keep things calm until we're ready to move."

"I hope so," Nalgol said softly, turning to gaze out at the blackness again.

Because after all this waiting, if he didn't get a clear shot at this alien-loving Rebel scum, he was going to be very angry.

Very angry, indeed.

* * *

The annoyingly cheery door chime of the Exoticalia Pet Emporium rang, and Navett stepped in through the back-room doorway to see Klif close the door behind him.

"Business is booming, I see," he commented, glancing around the customer-free store as he walked between the rows of caged animals to the service counter.

"Just the way I like it," Navett said, leaning an elbow on the counter and gesturing the other to a chair. "You get those messages off?"

"Yeah." Klif circled behind him and dropped into one of the seats. "But I don't think any of them are going to like it."

Navett shrugged. "They can join the club. It's going to be awkward for us, too, you know?we're going to have to delay the delivery date for those three mawkrens.

But there's not a lot any of us can do about it. It was the Bothans' idea to start keeping their techs locked in the shield building for six days at a time, not ours."

"Yeah," Klif said heavily. "I suppose we can't be expected to send our little time bombs in with the next shift any earlier than the next shift goes on duty."

"Don't worry about it," Navett soothed him. "Our cover is plenty secure, and it won't hurt Horvic and Pensin to wash dishes for the Ho'Din awhile longer. We can hover an extra six days without any trouble."

"Maybe not," Klif said darkly. "Guess who I spotted at the comm center while I was checking for messages."

Navett felt his eyes narrow. "Not our two New Rep military types?"

"In the skin and twice as pompous." Klif nodded. "And they had company: some old woman in a hooded cloak who seemed to know her way around better than they did.

A fringe type, no doubt about it."

Navett scratched his cheek. "You think she's the one who got their wallets back from the Bothan lifters?"

"Well, they had their wallets with them," Klif said. "So I'd say, yeah, she's probably the one."

"Um." New Rep military types with a fringe lifter. Interesting. "Were they picking up or delivering?"

"Neither," Klif told him. "They were pulling a list of all outgoing transmissions for the past five days."

"Interesting," Navett said, drumming his fingers gently on the countertop. "Analysis?"

"They're on to us," Klif growled. "Or at least, they know someone's here. " He lifted an eyebrow. "And they suspect it has to do with the Drev'starn shield generator, or they wouldn't have spent so much time hanging around there."

"Recommendation?"

"We vape them," Klif said bluntly. "Tonight."

Navett shifted his eyes past him to the display window across the store, gazing at the hundreds of pedestrians and dozens of vehicles hurrying past. Drev'starn was an immensely busy city, made all the more frantic by the presence of those warships overhead. Humans and aliens rushing around all over the place... "No," he said slowly. "No, they're not on to us. Not yet. They suspect something is in the works, but they don't know for sure. No, our best plan right now is to lay low and not let them draw us out."

Klif's lips puckered, but he nodded reluctantly. "I still don't like it, but you're the boss. Maybe all they're trying to do is get a handle on Vengeance; and they're not going to look for a group that big in a little pet store."

"Good point," Navett agreed. "We could even consider staging another riot for their benefit if they seem to be getting too close. If you're up to another performance, that is."

Klif shrugged. "Two riots on Bothawui might be pushing our luck," he said. "But I can get one going if we have to."

Across the room, one of the animals squawked twice and then fell silent again.

Probably one of the pregnant mawkrens, Navett decided, muttering in her sleep.

He'd better get those injections started if he didn't want a mess of tiny lizards running around underfoot six days before he needed them. "I just wish we knew who our opponents were," he commented.

"Maybe we can find out," Klif said, pulling out a datapad. "I followed them back to the spaceport and their ship. A surplused Sydon MRX-BR Pacifier, as it turns out."

Navett grimaced. The Pacifier had been the Empire's scout vehicle of choice, able to seek out new worlds and deliver a devastating pounding to them if it proved necessary. Considered by the New Republic to be too provocative for the delicate sensitivities of frightened primitives, their use had been summarily discontinued. Just one more reminder, if he'd needed it, of how badly things had been falling apart since Endor. "You get a name?"

"And a registration code," Klif said, handing him the datapad. "It's the woman's ship, unfortunately?she was the one who unlocked it?but we might still be able to backcheck them through it."

"Excellent," Navett said as he took the datapad. "The Fingertip Express, eh?

Sounds like a lifter's ship, all right. A smart-mouth name for a smart-mouth lifter."

He handed the datapad back. "There should be a Bureau of Ships and Services office somewhere in Drev'starn. Find it and see what you can pull up. "

* * *

"Aha," Moranda said from her ship's tiny computer alcove. "Well, well, well."

Sitting in the lounge just off the alcove, Wedge turned his eyes away from the expensive contour sculp on the wall in front of him, and his thoughts away from contemplation of how Moranda might have come into possession of such a prize. "You found something?" he asked.

"Could be," Corran said. Arms crossed and leaning against the wall, he'd been watching over Moranda's shoulder for the past two hours. "Three messages, all short and encrypted, have gone out in the past five days." He looked over at Wedge. "The last one just this morning."

"What time this morning?" Wedge asked, getting to his feet and crossing to the others.

"About ten minutes before we got there," Moranda said, peering at the display. "I guess we shouldn't have lingered over that drink. Too bad."

Wedge grimaced, a bad taste in his mouth. Too bad wasn't the half of it. With Corran and his Jedi skills along, they might actually have been able to identify and tag the sender if they'd been there in time.

If. "Where were the transmissions headed?"

"Toward Eislomi sector," Moranda said. "Specifically, in the direction of the Eislomi III HoloNet relay station."

Wedge suppressed a sigh. "In other words, a dead end."

"Looks like it."

"Still, if they've already sent three messages, they might send more," Corran pointed out. His voice was calm and controlled, without any trace of the frustration and disappointment Wedge knew he must also be feeling over this near-miss.

"If worse comes to worst, we could always stake out the place."

"A waste of time," Moranda sniffed. "If they've got any brains at all, they'll spot a loiterer upwind from sixty paces away with their eyes closed."

"That depends on how the loitering is done," Corran countered stiffly. "And on who's doing it."

"What, you?" Moranda scoffed, looking him up and down. "Right. Like you wouldn't stand out like a stormtrooper at an Ewok roast."

"I thought it was like a Wookiee at a Noghri family reunion."

"No, no?you're versatile enough to do both."

"Oh, thank you," Corran growled. "Thank you very much."

"Both of you simmer down," Wedge interrupted sternly. "Corran's right, Moranda?he's exceptionally good at stakeouts. However, Moranda's right, too, Corran?we don't have the time or the troops to cover all outgoing transmissions, even if we were sure they'd use the same center again."

"At least we now know for sure that someone's operating here," Moranda offered.

"That's something."

"Not much, though," Corran muttered.

"It occurs to me, though," Wedge said, raising his voice, "that there's still one route we haven't tried. Assuming Vengeance isn't homegrown?and considering its anti-Bothan sentiment, I think we can assume that?they'll have to have found some place local to set up shop. Question: where?"

Moranda snapped her fingers. "A business. Has to be some kind of business."

"She's right," Corran agreed, his frustration and miffed professional pride suddenly forgotten. "An apartment wouldn't work?too risky to have lots of people coming and going at odd hours. With a business, you can always cover it as deliveries or cleanup crews."

"And working for someone else doesn't give you enough privacy when you need it," Moranda added. "And it'll have to be something fairly recently set up, and probably as close to the shield generator building as they can get."

"My thoughts exactly," Wedge said. "And since we can't hit the construction records building until later anyway...?"

"What are we waiting for?" Corran demanded, detaching himself from the wall and heading for the hatchway. "Someone in Drev'starn must have a list of all new businesses. Let's go find him."

CHAPTER

19

"No," Captain Ardiff said, jabbing his fork for emphasis. "I don't believe it.

Not for a minute."

"What about the news reports?" Colonel Bas countered. "Even stuck out here we've pulled in, what, five of them? If this thing's a hoax, it's a kriffing good one.

If you'll pardon the language, sir," he added belatedly, looking with some embarrassment at Pellaeon.

"Language pardoned, Colonel," Pellaeon said, suppressing a smile. Bas had clawed his way up through the TIE pilot ranks to become the Chimaera's fighter commander; and though he tried hard to fit in with the generally more cultured men who made up the officer corps, the saltier language of his youth did periodically intrude.

Personally, Pellaeon rather liked that. Not the expletives per se, but the fact that the man's language was an outward sign of honest and straightforward opinions or emotions. Unlike some Pellaeon had dealt with, Bas seldom if ever tried to hide his thoughts or feelings behind polite slip-talk.

"They're rumors, Colonel?that's all," Ardiff said, shaking his head. "Face the facts: Thrawn died. Admiral Pellaeon was there to see it. Now, if that was some trick?"

Pellaeon lowered his eyes to his plate and forked another bite of the braised bruallki, mentally tuning out the discussion. It was the same endless argument, with the same opinions and speculations, that had been playing its way around the ship in the week since Lieutenant Mavron had returned with the story of Thrawn's supposed appearance in the Kroctar system. Everyone from Ardiff on down had his own opinion on whether or not it was true, none of them could prove their opinion to anyone else, and the entire ship was about as tense as an overwound throwbow.

But the waiting, at least, was about to come to an end. He'd given General Bel Iblis a full month and a half to make his plans, and the Chimaera itself had been here at Pesitiin for two weeks. Clearly, for whatever reason, Bel Iblis wasn't coming.

And it was time to go home. To return to the Empire, and to Bastion. And, on several levels, to find out what exactly Moff Disra was up to. He would give the order to prepare for departure as soon as he was finished with his meal. If Bel Iblis didn't arrive in the hour after that?

"Admiral Pellaeon, Captain Ardiff, this is the bridge," Major Tschel's voice came from the mess table speaker. "Report, please."

Ardiff got to the switch first. "Captain here," he said. "The Admiral's with me.

What is it?"

"A ship's just entered the system, sir," Tschel said, his voice tight.

Ardiff flashed Pellaeon a sharp look. "A repeat performance by our pirates?"

"I don't think so, sir," Tschel said. "So far, at least, it's only a single ship: YT-1300 light freighter, minimally armed. They're transmitting a request to come aboard and speak with the Admiral."

Pellaeon took a deep breath. "Is there a name attached to the transmission?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Tschel said. "She claims to be New Republic High Councilor Leia Organa Solo."

* * *

With the four TIE fighters riding escort positions on both flanks, the Falcon rose up out of sight of the distant sun, up into the shadow of the Star Destroyer's hangar bay. "We're committed now," Elegos said softly from the seat beside Leia.

"Yes," Leia agreed, her hands resting on the controls, watching as the Chimaera's tractor beam reeled them steadily into itself. "We are indeed."

"Does that disturb you?" the Caamasi asked. "What are you thinking?"

Leia shrugged, a quick movement of tense shoulders. "On one level, of course it disturbs me," she told him. "Risks are always something a rational being prefers to avoid. But not all risks are bad. All in all, this is a good risk."

She half turned and tried a smile. "As to the other part of your question, I was just thinking that if Threepio were here, he'd probably be saying 'We're doomed' about now."

Elegos chuckled, a uniquely Caamasi sound. "Very good," he said. "I have not known much about you, Councilor, save what I have read and heard from others.

This voyage, short though it has been, has been greatly instructive. Whatever happens next, I will always consider myself honored to have had these few days together with you."

Leia took a deep breath. The words themselves, taken alone, could be construed to have an ominous ring to them. But spoken with the Caamasi's quiet warmth, all potential threat or fear vanished. What came across instead was courage and hope and resolve; an inspiration and strength that came not so much from Elegos as it did from hidden reserves of her own. Reserves his words and presence were somehow able to draw out of her.

It was small wonder, she thought with distant ache, that the power-insatiable Senator Palpatine had wanted such a dangerous people destroyed.

There was a lone figure waiting at the foot of the Falcon's ramp as Leia and the other three started down: a white-haired man of medium height, his face lined with age but with the parade-ground-straight back of a professional military officer. He wore the Imperial uniform well, Leia thought; he wore the chest insignia of a Fleet admiral even better. "Councilor Organa Solo," he said, nodding gravely as she approached. "I'm Admiral Pellaeon. Welcome aboard the Chimaera."

"Thank you, Admiral," Leia said, nodding back. "It's been a long time."

His forehead wrinkled. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," he said. "I wasn't aware we'd met."

"It wasn't a formal introduction," Leia told him. "But I remember my father pointing you out to me as one of the Fleet's most promising officers during the annual Grand Alderaanian Gathering at the Royal Pavilion when I was ten."

Pellaeon's lip twitched. "I remember those days well," he said quietly. "In some ways, I'd prefer not to."

His eyes shifted to Elegos, standing at Leia's left. "Perhaps you'll introduce me to the rest of your delegation?"

"Certainly," Leia said, passing over for the moment the distinctly unofficial status of the group. "This is Elegos A'kla, Trustant for the Caamasi Remnant."

Pellaeon smiled faintly as he nodded. "Trustant A'kla."

"Admiral Pellaeon," Elegos said, lowering his head in a Caamasi bow.

"On my right is Sakhisakh clan Tlakh'sar," Leia continued, gesturing to the Noghri beside her.

Pellaeon's smile remained, but Leia could sense a new brittleness behind it. "Of course," the Admiral said. "Alderaanian, Caamasi, and Noghri. Three beings with the most reason to hate the Empire."

Sakhisakh stirred? "We hold no anger toward you personally, Admiral," Elegos said calmly before the Noghri could speak. "Nor have we animosity toward the people of the Empire. Each of our worlds was destroyed by the hand of Emperor Palpatine, and he too is now dead. Continuing to nurture the fires of hatred would gain us nothing."

"Thank you, Trustant," Pellaeon said. "I appreciate your generosity and your wisdom." His eyes flicked briefly to Sakhisakh, then turned to Ghent, standing nervously at Elegos's other side. "And what particular grievance do you represent, sir?"

"Me?" Ghent asked, starting. "Oh, no, I'm not part of this group. I mean? I'm just the slicer who reconstructed Vermel's message for General Bel Iblis."

The last hint of a smile vanished from Pellaeon's face. "What do you mean, reconstructed?" he demanded. "Didn't the colonel present his message in person?"

"I'm afraid he didn't get that far," Leia said. "According to General Bel Iblis, his Corvette was intercepted by a Star Destroyer while on approach to Morishim."

Pellaeon's eyes had gone deadly. "Intercepted and destroyed?"

"No, or at least not at that time," Leia said. "The Star Destroyer brought his ship into its hangar bay and then escaped."

"I see." For a long moment Pellaeon stood there, his eyes gazing at nothing, his face hard and almost cruel, his emotions edged with simmering anger. Leia stretched out to the Force, trying to read past the emotion and wondering if she should break the silence or wait for him to do so.

Elegos took the decision out of her hands. "I take it Colonel Vermel was a close friend," he commented quietly.

Pellaeon's eyes and attention came back. "I will hope that he still is," he said.

"If not, someone will pay heavily for his death."

He exhaled. "But you came to talk peace, not vengeance. If you'll follow me, I have a room prepared for us off the hangar bay."

"I'd prefer to hold our discussion aboard my ship, if you don't mind," Leia said.

"I'm afraid my bodyguards insist on that."

For a fraction of a second there was a flicker of uncertainty, even fear, in Pellaeon's emotions. But then the fear faded, and he again smiled. "You have more Noghri aboard, of course," he said, glancing up at the Falcon looming over them. "No doubt watching even now with weapons at the ready."

"There will be no danger to you, Admiral," Elegos spoke up. "Not unless you yourself bring it aboard."

Pellaeon waved a hand at the ramp. "In that case, Councilor, I accept. Please; lead the way."

A minute later Leia, Pellaeon, and Elegos were seated around the Falcon's game table?a distressingly informal place for such a momentous occasion, Leia thought with some embarrassment, but the only place on the ship where they could all sit comfortably together. Sakhisakh, without comment, had taken up a guard position where he could watch both their discussion and the entrance ramp. Ghent, also without comment, had gone over to the tech station and was busying himself with the Falcon's computer.

"I'll get right to the point, Councilor," Pellaeon said, his eyes flicking briefly to Ghent and the Noghri. "The war that began twenty-odd years ago is effectively over... and the Empire has lost."

"I agree," Leia said. "Is this opinion shared by others in the Empire?"

A muscle in Pellaeon's cheek twitched. "I'm sure the average Imperial citizen has recognized that truth for quite some time," he said. "It's merely been the leadership who have clung to the hope that the inevitable could somehow be prevented."

"And does that leadership now agree with the two of us and the average Imperial citizen?"

"Yes," Pellaeon said. "Reluctantly, but yes. I've been authorized by the eight remaining Moffs to open peace negotiations with the New Republic."

Leia felt her throat tighten. She had heard Vermel's message; had come aboard and seen Pellaeon waiting alone for her... but only now did it suddenly seem truly real.

Peace. With the Empire.

"Yet as you have already said, the Empire has lost," Elegos spoke into the silence. "What then remains to be negotiated?"

Leia resettled her shoulders, sending a silent word of thanks in Elegos's direction for his subtle reminder of her duty here. She was representing the New Republic, and could not allow the emotional lure of peace to blind her to the hard intellectual realities of the situation. "Trustant A'kla makes a good point," she said. "What you would gain from a peace treaty is obvious. What would we gain?"

"Perhaps what we would gain is not as obvious as you think," Pellaeon said. "The New Republic is after all struggling with internal turmoil, with every indication that matters are getting worse."

He looked pointedly at Elegos. "Several of the Moffs, in fact, believe you're on the verge of collapsing into total civil war over this Caamasi issue. In the midst of such anarchy, the remnants of the Empire could easily be overlooked.

Why then should we bother with the humiliation of a treaty at all?"

Leia's mouth felt dry. It was an all too reasonable question. "If you really believed we were about to destroy ourselves, you wouldn't be here," she pointed out.

"Perhaps," Pellaeon said. "Perhaps I merely don't believe the more virulent haters of the Empire would forget about us." He paused. "Or perhaps I may be able to keep that civil war from happening."

Leia frowned. "How?"

"Let me first state what the Empire would want included in any treaty between us," Pellaeon said. "We would want our current borders confirmed and accepted by Coruscant, with guarantees of free travel and trade between our worlds and those of the New Republic. No harassment; no border skirmishes; no propaganda pressure against us."

"What about the nonhumans living under Imperial rule?" Sakhisakh demanded. "Are we to merely accept their slavery?"

Pellaeon shook his head. "The Empire which once enslaved and exploited thinking beings is dead," he told the Noghri. "The human domination of Palpatine long ago became full cooperation between all the beings within our borders."

"Do all your subjects agree that they're now equals?" Leia asked.

"Probably not," Pellaeon conceded. "But once we had the security of a peace treaty, any Imperial system wishing to join the New Republic would be offered the chance to do so."

He lifted his eyebrows. "By the same token, we would expect systems within your borders who wish to rejoin the Empire to also be allowed to make that choice, with the same security and free trade guarantees extended to them."

Sakhisakh bit out a Noghri curse. "What people would be so foolish as to give you their freedom?" he demanded contemptuously.

"You might be surprised," Pellaeon said. "Freedom, after all, is a highly relative and subjective thing. And as I say, we're not the Empire you knew."

The Noghri rumbled under his breath again but remained silent. "Of course, all guarantees of safety would work the other direction as well," Pellaeon said, turning back to Leia. "No attacks by Imperial forces; no provocation; no hired privateers." His face twitched in an almost-smile. "And, of course, if we should happen to stumble across another superweapon Palpatine had hidden away, we would work with you to dismantle it."

Leia braced herself. "And what about the superweapon you're already using?"

Pellaeon frowned. "What superweapon?"

"The one that nearly defeated us once before," Leia said. "Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Pellaeon's lips compressed briefly, and Leia could sense the wave of uncertainty and quiet fear washing through him. "I don't know, Councilor. I have no idea at all what's going on there."

Leia threw a glance at Elegos. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Pellaeon told her. "I've been here at Pesitiin waiting for General Bel Iblis for the past two weeks, and was running under a communications blackout for several days before that. I didn't even know Thrawn had been reported alive until a week ago."

Leia frowned, stretching out to Pellaeon with the Force. But there was no duplicity in his thoughts or emotions that she could detect.

"You say 'reported alive,' Admiral," Elegos said. "Does your choice of words imply you don't believe he has actually returned?"

"I don't know what to believe, Trustant," Pellaeon said. "Certainly I had every reason to think he was dead. I was there on the Chimaera's bridge, standing at his side, when he appeared to die."

"Again, you say 'appeared' to die," Elegos persisted. "Did he or did he not truly die?"

"I truly do not know," Pellaeon said with a sigh. "Thrawn was an alien, with an alien physiology, and..." He shook his head. "Has he actually been seen by anyone from the New Republic? Someone whose word and judgment you trust?"

"My friend Lando Calrissian was intercepted and taken aboard the Relentless, along with the Diamalan Senator," Leia said. "Both of them claimed it was indeed Thrawn."

"The Relentless," Pellaeon murmured, frowning. "Dorja's ship; and he was one of those who did meet Thrawn personally. Hard to believe he would be easily taken in by a trick. Or, for that matter, that he would risk his ship without exceptionally good reason."

Leia hesitated; but there was no easy way to say this. "It occurs to me, Admiral, that these talks may be somewhat premature," she said. "If Thrawn is alive, then you are presumably no longer head of the Imperial military."

"If he's alive, he will most certainly relieve me of supreme command," Pellaeon said evenly. "However, at the moment that consideration is irrelevant. The military is subordinate to the Moffs; and the Moffs have authorized me to negotiate this treaty."

"Wouldn't that authority be rescinded, though, in the face of Thrawn's return?" Leia countered.

"It may," Pellaeon acknowledged. "But until I'm informed of such a decision, my authority stands."

"I see," Leia murmured, gazing at the old Admiral with a sudden new understanding. He had learned about Thrawn's return a full week ago; yet, instead of rushing back to learn more, he had deliberately remained here under communications blackout. Not just to wait for Bel Iblis, but to make sure he still had the authority to negotiate if and when Bel Iblis arrived. To start the ball rolling, perhaps beyond the ability of the Moffs or even Thrawn to easily stop it.

This was not a game, or at least not a game he was helping to run. Admiral Pellaeon, Supreme Commander of Imperial forces, genuinely wanted peace.

"Did Thrawn say anything to Calrissian and the Senator?" Pellaeon asked into Leia's musings. "I presume they were allowed to leave?very few people simply escape from an Imperial Star Destroyer."

"Actually, in some respects his message was similar to yours," Leia said. "He warned that the New Republic was headed for self-destruction and offered to help us avoid that."

"Are you considering his offer?"

"Unfortunately, his proposed method was deemed unacceptable by the Senate," Leia said. "He wanted to speak privately with the Bothan leaders, and from those conversations determine who had sabotaged the Caamasi shields."

"Interesting," Pellaeon said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder how merely talking with them would accomplish that. Unless the clan leaders do indeed know the truth."

"They claim they don't," Leia said. "And considering the growing threat to the entire Bothan species, I think they would give us that information if they had it."

"You suggested you might also have a way to prevent civil war," Elegos reminded the admiral. "Would you care to elaborate?"

Leia could sense Pellaeon pulling his attention back from his own thoughts. "I'm sure it's occurred to you that the crisis could be resolved by finding a complete version of the Caamas Document," he said. "In exchange for favorable peace terms, the Empire would be willing to offer you a copy of that record."

Leia shot a glance at Sakhisakh, saw the Noghri's own subtle reaction. If they were on schedule, Han and Lando should be right now conducting their own search for that record on Bastion. "Just like that?" she asked Pellaeon. "You'd simply turn it over to us?"

"Once we have it in hand, yes." He paused. "There is, however, one problem. If it does indeed exist, it would be located in the Special Files section of the archives, which is severely restricted and heavily encrypted. I don't have any way into those files; neither does anyone I know. If we're going to get to the document in time, the New Republic will need to loan us a top-rate decryption expert."

There was a sort of choked-off gurgle from the direction of the tech station.

Ghent was still facing the control board, but his back had suddenly gone rigid.

"Where would he need to go?" she asked Pellaeon, her eyes still on Ghent. "To Bastion?"

"No, to the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor," Pellaeon said. "The commander there is a personal friend, and there's a somewhat isolated computer access station he could use. Bastion itself would be far too dangerous."

Leia looked back at him, her heart catching suddenly in her throat. "How do you mean, dangerous?"

"Bastion is the home base and stronghold of one of the most vehemently antipeace officials in the entire Empire," Pellaeon said grimly. "Moff Disra. He also appears to be up to his neck in a private little war using mercenary pirate gangs and illegally obtained funds."

"Yes, we've noticed all the pirate activity," Leia said, fighting to keep her voice steady. Han and Lando on Bastion... "You don't think Moff Disra would appreciate having a New Republic representative on his world?"

Pellaeon snorted. "Digging into private Imperial files? Hardly. Your expert wouldn't be there six hours before Disra would know about it. It wouldn't be six hours more before some convenient accident would happen to him. But he'd be safe enough on Yaga Minor."

"I'm glad to hear that," Leia said, looking again at Sakhisakh. The Noghri's face was rigid with the same ache and fear she herself was feeling. Han on Bastion, in the middle of a vengeful Moff's stronghold...

"Would it be possible for you to supply such an expert?" Pellaeon asked.

With a supreme effort, Leia pushed her fears away. "I don't know," she said. "I don't think so."

Pellaeon seemed taken aback. "You don't think so?"

"No," Leia said, glancing over at the tech station again. Ghent was still facing the control board, but his head was turned just enough to let him surreptitiously watch the conversation around the game table. "Perhaps later, after we have an official agreement. But not yet."

"By the time there's an agreement it might be too late," Pellaeon warned. "Our scout ships are picking up only occasional news reports, but even from what I know the situation in the New Republic is clearly getting worse. Even with an expert slicer at work, the project is going to take some time."

He grimaced. "And there's one other factor, as well. We suspect that one of Moff Disra's agents may already have found his way into those Special Files once. We don't know what he was looking for, but the Caamas Document is definitely one possible target. If we delay too long and he's able to get in again to erase the file, we may never learn the truth. Only if we act immediately?"

"All right," Ghent interrupted, swiveling abruptly around in his chair to face them. "All right. I'll go."

Leia blinked. Once again, he had taken her completely by surprise. "You don't mean that," she said. "This could be dangerous."

"The danger would be extremely small," Pellaeon insisted.

"Doesn't matter," Ghent said. His voice was trembling, but his jaw was set firmly. "On the way from Coruscant Elegos told me all about what happened to his world. It was terrible?everyone killed, all the animals, too. I hated the people who'd done it?I really hated them. And I hated the Bothans for making the whole thing happen in the first place."

He looked over at Elegos. "But he told me hatred was wrong, that it was one of those things that hurt the hater more than the people he hated. He told me there can be justice without hatred, and punishment without revenge. He said we were all responsible for what we do and what we don't do, and no one should have to pay for someone else's crimes."

He locked eyes with Leia. "I'm a slicer, Councilor Organa Solo. I'm a good slicer. And I'm responsible for what I do and what I don't do, just like you or Elegos. If I can help and I don't, I'm just as guilty as anyone else." He waved a hand helplessly. "I'm not too good at stuff like this. You understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I understand perfectly," Leia assured him. "And I very much appreciate your offer. The question is whether I can allow you to put yourself at risk this way."

"It would seem that should be a straightforward question for you to answer, Councilor," Elegos said. "As a Jedi, does Crypt Chief Ghent going to Yaga Minor seem the correct path?"

Leia hid a grimace. Once again, the Caamasi's perception had come through, reminding her of the true source of her insight and guidance.

Except that for once that source had failed her. Or perhaps more correctly, she had failed it. No matter how hard she stretched out to the Force, all she could see was the turmoil of her own fears for Han's safety. Fears that she'd managed to suppress until now; guilt that she'd allowed him? even encouraged him?to step onto a hostile world in the first place; resentment and anger that after all their years of sacrifice she and Han were still the ones who always seemed to be called on to risk everything for others.

Blinking back tears, she tried to push back the sudden surge of emotion. But it remained a restless churning pool washing across her mind and spirit.

And as the Jedi calm eluded her, so did any hope of reading Ghent's path.

"I don't know," she admitted at last. "I can't seem to get any kind of reading."

"Does that mean you can't guarantee his safety?" Pellaeon asked, frowning.

"No one's safety is ever guaranteed, Admiral," Elegos said. "Not even by a Jedi." He smiled faintly, an oddly melancholy expression. "Though, of course, most of us travel through our entire lives without any assurance at all that the path we are on is the correct one. No assurance except that of our own spirits within us."

"Elegos has been spouting that sort of stuff ever since we left Coruscant," Ghent said with a weak attempt at a grin. "I guess some of this nobleness stuff must have rubbed off on me."

Unsteadily, he got to his feet. "This is the right path. And I'm ready. When do we leave?"

"At once," Pellaeon said, sliding around the end of the table and standing up. "I'll put together a letter of introduction for General Hestiv and detail one of my most trusted pilots to fly you to Yaga Minor." His eyes flicked across Ghent's outfit. "I think we'll also put you in an Imperial uniform. Disra may have informers on Yaga Minor, and there's no point in drawing unnecessary attention by bringing an obvious civilian onto a military base."

"You won't be taking him there yourself in the Chimaera?" Leia asked.

Pellaeon shook his head. "Once you and I have finished our discussions, I'll be heading directly to Bastion. There are some rather pointed questions Moff Disra owes me answers for."

Leia swallowed. "I see."

"With your permission, then, I'll go arrange for Crypt Chief Ghent's transport." Pellaeon smiled faintly at Ghent. "I mean Imperial Lieutenant Ghent's transport.

Come with me, Lieutenant."

Stepping past Sakhisakh, he headed for the Falcon's exit. "Sure," Ghent said, starting after him. "So long, Elegos. You too, Councilor."

"Go in wisdom and courage," Elegos said gravely.

"May the Force be with you," Leia added. "And thank you."

* * *

Captain Ardiff was waiting in the aft bridge when Pellaeon emerged from the turbolift. "The Millennium Falcon has cleared the sentry perimeter and jumped to lightspeed," he reported.

"Good," Pellaeon said, looking past him to the viewport. In the distance, he could see the faint flickers of reflected sunlight from the solar panels of the TIE fighter escort as they headed back to the Chimaera. "And Lieutenant Mavron?"

"He and his passenger left half an hour ago." Ardiff lifted his eyebrows slightly. "May I ask...?"

"How the talks went?" Pellaeon shrugged. "As well as preliminary talks ever go, I suppose. Organa Solo isn't about to commit the New Republic to a course of action based on my word alone, and I made it similarly clear that I can't accept her word as guaranteeing Coruscant's future actions. So there's a great deal of careful verbal dancing yet to be done."

"But she's willing to talk."

"She's very willing to talk." Pellaeon hesitated. "At least, about most things."

Ardiff frowned. "What do you mean?"

Pellaeon gazed out at the stars again. "There's something she wasn't telling me," he said. "Something important?that much I'm sure of. But what exactly it was..." He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Private information having to do with the Bothans, perhaps?" Ardiff suggested.

"Or something more personal? She's been in political trouble on Coruscant before?could it be that she's about to lose her influence there entirely?"

"I hope not," Pellaeon said. "Political problems between her and Coruscant would make this process far more difficult than it already is. They might reject any proposal simply because she was involved with it."

"Or might support it because she was involved," Ardiff pointed out. "The polarization we're already seeing over the Caamas issue could easily bleed over into something like this."

"That's one of my biggest concerns," Pellaeon agreed grimly. "That peace will be rejected by some for no better reason than that their political enemies are for it."

He stepped past Ardiff onto the command walkway. "But all of us have only the cards the universe has dealt us," he said. "If Organa Solo refuses to show us some of her cards, we'll just have to play the game that way.

"And in the meantime," he added, "we have other matters to attend to. Set course for Bastion, Captain. It's time Moff Disra and I had a long, serious talk."

* * *

In front of the Falcon, the stars flared into starlines, and Leia slumped a little in her seat. "Do you think he really meant it?" she asked, turning to look at Elegos.

Elegos gave one of his full-body Caamasi shrugs. "I believe Admiral Pellaeon himself is sincere," he said. "As I presume you know with more certainty than I do. I suspect the question you really wish to ask is whether his sincerity can be trusted."

"I don't know," she said. "You're right, I don't sense any duplicity in Pellaeon himself. But with Thrawn back on the scene..." She shook her head. "Nothing was ever the way it seemed with him, Elegos. He could maneuver you into doing exactly what he wanted you to do, despite the fact that you knew he was trying to do it. Thrawn may be using this peace initiative of Pellaeon's for some other end entirely."

"Is that why you didn't tell him that Captain Solo was on Bastion?" Elegos asked.

Leia started. "How did you know about that?" she demanded. "I didn't tell you Han had gone there."

Elegos shrugged again. "You've dropped hints," he said. "As have the Noghri. It hasn't been difficult to put the pieces together." His blue-on-green eyes bored into her face. "Why didn't you tell Admiral Pellaeon that?"

Leia turned away from that gaze, pretending to study the Falcon's engine monitor.

"We know that Imperials are encouraging at least some of the violence that's been occurring in the New Republic," she said, fighting through the sudden dryness in her throat. "That riot on Bothawui, for one?my Noghri guard found evidence that the shots that started it came from a rare Imperial sniper weapon."

"Interesting," Elegos murmured. "You didn't tell Pellaeon about that, either."

"The problem is we have no real proof of any of it," Leia said, shaking her head tiredly. "And even if we did... fighting Thrawn is like fighting a shadow, Elegos. He's never where you think he is, doing what you expect him to do.

Everything he does is circles within circles within circles."

"Yet you cannot allow uncertainty to paralyze you," Elegos pointed out. "That path allows him to win by default. At some point, right or wrong, you must take action." His eyes seemed to bore into hers. "You must decide who you can trust."

Leia blinked back sudden tears. "I can't trust Pellaeon," she said bluntly. "Not yet. If Thrawn is orchestrating this whole operation, Han would be a terribly useful hostage or bargaining chip for him. I couldn't take the chance he'd find out from Pellaeon that Han was there."

"Yet you trusted him enough to allow him to take Ghent into a situation of potentially equal danger," Elegos pointed out.

"Ghent wanted to go," she said, knowing even as she spoke that such an argument was dangerously slippery ground. "Besides, he wouldn't be of any use to Thrawn."

"You know better than that, Councilor," Elegos said, the soft reproach in his voice a painful jab in Leia's heart. "Ghent is highly knowledgeable about New Republic encrypt and decrypt techniques. In a war situation, such knowledge would be of immense value to the Empire."

"We've already been over this," Leia reminded him, the first stirrings of anger coloring the guilt rumbling within her. Who was this Caamasi to tell her what was right or not right for her to do? "There's no way for us to avoid taking risks here."

"I agree," Elegos said. "And I don't suggest that your decisions were necessarily wrong."

Leia frowned, the growing anger turning to suspicious uncertainty. "What are you suggesting, then?" she demanded.

"That you're worried you used your power and authority to protect your husband more than you did a relative stranger," Elegos said. "That you're worried you've betrayed the trust that is yours as a High Councilor, a diplomat, and a Jedi."

"She does not need to answer to you, Trustant A'kla," a harsh Noghri voice came from behind them.

Leia turned her head to see Sakhisakh standing in the open cockpit door. "Trouble?" she asked him.

"No trouble," the Noghri assured her, stepping forward and taking up a position just behind her. "I came to report that no one is in pursuit, and that Barkhimkh is shutting down the weapons systems." He turned his dark eyes on Elegos. "If she chooses to protect her clan from danger, that is no concern of yours."

"I agree," Elegos said calmly. "As I've already said, I'm not here to pass judgment."

"Then why do you press her about it?" Sakhisakh demanded.

"Because as I also said, she herself is not convinced she did right," Elegos said, turning his gaze back to Leia. "It's important that she think this matter through and come to a conclusion, one way or another. Either to accept her decisions as right and continue on, or to acknowledge them as wrong and also continue on."

"Why must she do this?" Sakhisakh asked.

The Caamasi smiled sadly. "Because she is a High Councilor, and a diplomat, and a Jedi. Only when she is at peace with herself will she have the insight and wisdom we will all need to rely on in the days ahead."

For a long moment none of them spoke. Leia stared out at the mottled sky of hyperspace rushing past, the acrid bite of shame adding to the rest of the emotions swirling within her. Once again, Elegos was right. "You should have been a Jedi, Elegos," she said with a sigh as she unstrapped from her seat and stood up.

"I do not have a Jedi's ability to touch the Force," Elegos said, an odd note of regret in his voice. "And yet, you speak more truly than perhaps you know. It is a legend among my people that, at the very dawn of their age, the first of the Jedi Knights came to Caamas to learn from us the moral use of their power."

"I don't doubt the legend is true," Leia said, gesturing to the seat she'd just vacated. "Sakhisakh, if you'd take control here, I'll be in the cargo hold. I have some serious thinking and meditating to do."

CHAPTER

20

"Good day, citizen-scholars of the M'challa Order of the Empire," the ancient SE2 service droid behind the reception desk wheezed its usual greeting. "How may I and the Imperial Library serve you this morning?"

"Just assign us a computer station," Han said, putting a firm restraining bolt on his already grouchy mood. Already it was shaping up to be a hot, muggy day, and he felt both uncomfortable and stupid parading around the city streets in the traditional M'challa scholar's robe he and the others had been wearing ever since landing here on Bastion. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time trading banter with an SE2 droid. "We can handle our own data search, thanks."

"Certainly." The droid peered at him, then at Lando, then at Lobot. His gaze lingered on the latter, as if wondering why he was wearing his hood so close about his head on such a warm day. "You citizens have been in here before," he said. "Each of the past three days, if my memory has not degraded. "

"We're doing a long-term study," Lando stepped in smoothly. "It takes a great deal of time."

"Would you like assistance?" the droid asked helpfully. "We have several research droids and interface counterparts available for hire at a purely nominal fee."

"We're doing fine," Han told him, striving mightily to keep from shouting in the droid's metal face. "Just assign us a station, all right?"

"Certainly, citizen-scholar," the droid said affably. "Station 47A. Go through the double doors to your left?"

"We know where it is," Han said, turning on his heel and stalking toward the indicated doors.

"And thank you," Lando added.

He and Lobot caught up with Han just inside the double doors. "You think you can draw a little more attention to us?" Lando growled as Han headed off through the maze of individual and group booths that filled the huge room, only a handful of which were currently occupied. "Maybe you should try kicking the droid back and forth across the desk a few times?that ought to do it."

"A lot of Imperials don't like droids," Han growled back. "Even scholars. Let's just get on with it, okay?"

Lando didn't answer, and Han felt a twinge of guilt for snapping at his friend that way. After all, Lando was doing him a big favor by even being here in the first place.

But his mood was already too sour for the guilt to make much headway against it.

Three days of softfooting around the Imperial capital city having to put up with smarmy Imperials, overcharging tapcafe owners, and idiot SE2 droids was starting to get to him.

Especially considering how much progress they'd made so far in getting into the Special Files section. Namely, none.

They reached Station 47A and Han snagged a third chair from an unused booth to supplement the two already there. "All right," Lando said, activating the booth's privacy field as he sat Lobot down in front of the keyboard and then took the chair beside him. "You have a good contact with Moegid?"

Lobot's answer was to place his fingers on the keyboard. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he began tapping the keys.

Hitching his chair up behind Lando, stifling a sarcastic remark that wouldn't have done anyone any good and was probably uncalled for anyway, Han sat down and tried to settle in. Maybe this time, they'd get lucky.

* * *

The ship had been quiet for nearly an hour before Karoly decided that, once again, she had guessed wrong.

It was aggravating. No, actually, it was infuriating. To have come all this way with Solo and Calrissian?to have spent days buried alive in this cramped smuggling compartment beneath the elegant living section of Calrissian's yacht?and then to not even find Karrde and Shada waiting at the end of the ride was maddening.

She took a deep breath in the darkness, ordering herself sternly to settle down.

Maybe Karrde and Shada had simply been delayed, and were still on their way. She would just have to be patient and wait them out.

In the meantime, there was clearly nothing to be gained by hanging around in this hole feeling sorry for herself. Reaching above her, she worked the catch that popped the hidden access panel and eased it carefully to one side.

For a moment she remained motionless in a half crouch, listening for any indication that she might have been heard. Then she eased up and out into the corridor, breathing deeply as she flushed the stale air of the compartment out of her lungs.

No one was visible. Not that that was surprising, really. Solo, Calrissian, and that biocomp-wired cyborg they called Lobot had all gone off together that morning, leaving the Verpine presumably in his usual place in the aft control room. That had been the procedure every day since they'd landed here, and there'd been nothing in the snatches of conversation she'd overheard that might indicate the routine had been changed. Briefly, she considered sneaking aft to again try to figure out what the Verpine was doing, but decided against it. Her last two efforts in that direction had failed to discover anything useful, and she couldn't see wasting any more time on it.

Which left her with the question of what exactly she should be wasting her time doing.

There weren't all that many options, actually. For the past three days, she'd followed Solo and the others to what the SE2 on desk duty had identified as an Imperial Library. The first two days she'd sneaked in behind them to watch; yesterday, tired of staring through a privacy field watching them punch computer keys all day, she'd left them inside and scouted around the building and neighborhood.

Now, having sneaked back aboard the ship last night, she had tested the theory that Shada might actually be meeting with the Verpine while Solo and the others were out. But that one had fallen through, too... and as far as Karoly could see, she was out of options. For all the evidence to date, Shada might not be coming here at all.

And that was an immensely irritating thought. It would mean she had completely misinterpreted that conversation she'd eavesdropped between Solo and Calrissian, and had come out here on a total wild tresher hunt.

Wherever "here" actually was. It was Imperial space?that much had been obvious from the all-human populace even before she'd spotted her first Imperial Security uniform. But where in the Empire it actually was, she didn't know.

Not that it mattered all that much, except for the fact that if Solo and Calrissian managed to give her the slip it might mean trouble getting back home.

Unlikely, though?from the way they'd been talking this morning, whatever their objective was they were still a long way from achieving it.

Still, Karrde had been mentioned in that conversation, so maybe he was just being cagey. Another quick scout around the library's neighborhood, she decided, then tag Solo again when they took their usual early-afternoon meal break.

And maybe this time they would actually say something worth listening to. Easing down the corridor, alert for any sounds, she headed for the hatchway.

* * *

"Another report from your new Empire, Your Excellency," Tierce said, laying a pair of datacards on Disra's desk. "The Ruurian governments have forwarded a copy of the fully executed treaty between their systems and the Empire."

"Systems?" Disra asked, picking up the datacard and frowning at it. "I thought our treaty was only with their home system."

"It was," Tierce said smugly. "Apparently, our little demonstration against those Diamalan Marauders convinced three of their independent colonies that they wanted to be on the winning side, too."

"Did it, now," Disra said, looking at the datacard with new interest. The Ruurian independent colonies were joint efforts with a half-dozen other species.

"Did the other co-owners of those worlds agree?"

"Apparently so," Tierce said. "The treaties speak of the colony systems in their entireties, with no mention of specific regions or districts." He smiled. "Of course, the Ruurians are quite good at persuasion."

"They're not the only ones," Disra said, looking across the room to where Flim was hunched over in a chair, staring moodily out a window. "Congratulations, Admiral. You've picked up three more systems."

Flim didn't answer, and Disra felt his lip twist with contempt. Apparently, the con man was still sulking.

"Don't worry," Tierce said, following Disra's glare. "He'll get over it soon enough."

"Or else he'll soon find himself impaled on a sharp pole somewhere out in Unknown Space," Flim growled without turning around. "Right next to the two of you."

Disra looked up at Tierce. "What's his problem?"

"Nothing serious," Tierce said, dismissing the con man with a wave of his hand.

"He's worried about that alien ship, that's all."

"Ah," Disra said, smiling tightly. Yes?the mysterious alien ship which that sleeper cell pilot had spotted and made a recording of off Pakrik Minor. "What's the status on that, anyway?"

"The analysts should be finished anytime," Tierce assured him. "I have a feeling this may be it, Your Excellency."

Disra felt a shiver ripple up his back. "You really think that was the Hand of Thrawn in that ship?"

"You saw the design," Tierce pointed out. "Part TIE fighter, part something else.

Yes, I think that's the Hand, or else his agent, or else someone from Captain Parck. Whichever, I think we may finally have lured our target into the open."

Flim made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat. "Like you might lure out a Death Star," he muttered.

"You're overdoing the melodrama just a bit, Admiral," Tierce said, his patience starting to sound a little strained. "Whoever they are, there are a dozen ways we can keep them from getting close enough to figure out you're a fraud."

"And what if they want to say hello?" Flim countered. "What are you going to say then? That I've got laryngitis? That I just stepped out for a week?"

"Hold it, both of you," Disra cut them off as the comm light on his desk began to blink. "This may be it."

He keyed the comm. "Moff Disra," he said.

The man on the display was middle-aged, with the slightly nearsighted look of someone who has spent long years staring at a computer display. "Colonel Uday, Your Excellency: Imperial Intelligence Analysis. I have the final report on that record you sent me."

"Excellent," Disra said. "Send it immediately."

"Yes, sir," Uday said, glancing down and working keys off-camera. Another light on Disra's display winked on and then off again, marking the transfer. "I'm afraid there wasn't much we could get on the ship itself," Uday continued. "But what there was is in there."

"Thank you," Disra said, trying not to sound too impatient. The sooner he could cut off this garrulous fool, the sooner he and Tierce could start going over the report line by line. "You'll be receiving a commendation for your quick work."

"Two points, first, if I may, Your Excellency," Uday said, holding up two fingers.

"I'm sure it's all in your report," Disra said, reaching for the off switch. "Thank you?"

"According to the note that accompanied the file, the sighting was made by a TIE fighter off Pakrik Minor," Uday said. "That turns out not to be the case."

Disra froze, finger poised over the switch. "Explain."

"The file is actually a compilation of two separate sightings," Uday said. "One was made in the Kauron system, we think, the other either in the Nosken or Drompani systems. Neither was made by a TIE fighter, either."

Disra threw a hard look at Tierce. The Royal Guardsman's face had turned to stone. "How do you know?" he demanded.

"That they didn't come from TIE fighters?" Uday asked. "The sensor profiles are all wrong. I'd guess an X-wing or A-wing for the first one, some kind of well-equipped warship for the second. Not a New Republic ship?the verification signature is wrong for that." The colonel shrugged. "As to where they were made, that's easily pulled from the background star patterns."

Disra took a careful breath. "Thank you, Colonel," he said. "You've been most helpful. As I said, a commendation will be forthcoming."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Uday said.

Disra stabbed the comm switch, and the colonel's face vanished. "Well," the Moff said, looking at Tierce again. "It seems we've been lied to."

"It does indeed," Tierce said, his voice soft, his expression gone suddenly deadly. "I think, Your Excellency, that we have been betrayed."

Disra swore viciously. "That kriffing clone. That kriffing clone. We should never have trusted them. Thrawn should never have started this kriffing project in the first place."

"Calm down," Tierce said, his tone suddenly sharp. "Thrawn knew what he was doing. And don't forget that a good many of those clones died fighting for the Empire."

"They're still an abomination," Disra snarled. He'd spoken with clones; had ordered them into battle; had even sold them to the Cavrilhu Pirates in exchange for Zothip's precious Preybird starfighters. They still made his skin crawl. "And you can't trust any of them."

"Can we get off Carib Devist and clone treachery for a minute?" Flim put in tautly. "Seems to me the question ought to be why he sent us a faked record in the first place. What did he have to gain?"

Tierce took a deep breath, clearly forcing calmness into himself. "That is indeed the question. Disra, how did the record come in?"

"Aboard a drone probe from the Ubiqtorate contact station at Parshoone," Disra told him. "Sent by the agent in charge?"

"Sent directly here?" Tierce cut him off. "No handoffs or course changes? "

"No," Disra said, one hand curling into a fist as it suddenly and belatedly struck him. "They wanted Bastion's location."

"And they got it," Tierce said darkly, his comlink already in his hand. "Major Tierce to Capital Security: full background alert. Possible spies in the city; locate and put under surveillance. Do not?repeat, do not?detain at present.

Confirmation from Moff Disra will be forthcoming."

He got an acknowledgment and keyed off. "You need to send them a confirmation, Your Excellency," he said.

"I know," Disra said, frowning at him. "Excuse me if I seem unusually dense today; but you don't want them detained? Spies or saboteurs in my city, and you don't want them detained?"

"I don't think they're saboteurs," Tierce said. "After all, they've been here at least a couple of days and nothing has blown up."

"Oh, that's comforting," Disra said icily. "Why don't you want them detained?"

"As Thrawn often said, within every problem lies an opportunity." Tierce shifted his gaze to the side. "It occurs to me we have an extremely interesting opportunity here."

Frowning, Disra followed his gaze...

"You'd better not be thinking what I think you're thinking," Flim warned, his eyes flicking uneasily back and forth between Tierce and Disra.

"Of course we are," Tierce assured him. "A Rebel spy team, being confronted personally by Grand Admiral Thrawn? It would be the perfect cap to your performance."

"The perfect slab under my funeral pyre, you mean," Flim shot back. "Are you crazy, Tierce? They get one glimpse of me, and you're going to have a martyred Grand Admiral on your hands."

"Which might not be such a bad idea," Disra growled, keying confirmation of Tierce's security alert into his board. "Tierce is right?this is a perfect chance to demonstrate your omniscience."

"I can hardly wait," Flim said sourly, crossing his arms.

"Calm down, Admiral," Tierce said, nudging Disra aside and keying the display for a search grid overview. "We'll have them spotted in fifteen minutes, and the whole thing will be over in thirty."

There was a beep from the display. "Your Excellency?"

Muttering a curse, Disra keyed the comm switch. "Yes, what is it?"

A young, earnest-looking man appeared on the display. "Major Kerf, Your Excellency: spaceport control," he identified himself. "I thought you'd like to know that his shuttle has just landed."

Disra shot a look over the display at Tierce, got a shrug in response. "Whose shuttle has just landed?"

"I thought you knew, sir," Kerf said, looking a little bewildered. "He said he was on his way to the palace to see you, and I just assumed?"

"Never mind your assumptions, Major," Disra snapped. "Who is it?"

"Why, the admiral, sir," Kerf stammered. "You know?Admiral Pellaeon."

* * *

The waiter at the open-air tapcafe set the plate of mesh-cooked trimpian slices down on the table, accepted payment with a not-quite sneer, and strolled his way back toward the overhang where the bar was located. "He's a real gem, isn't he," Lando grumbled, glaring after him.

"Probably figures M'challa scholars wouldn't know good service if it fell over them, so why bother," Han said, picking up one of the slices and dipping it into the yellow-swirled miasra sauce, being careful not to let the sleeve of his robe drag into it. Despite the fact they again had no progress to show for their morning's work, he was actually feeling better than he had earlier.

Lando, on the other hand, seemed to have caught his bad mood. "So what, that means our money's no good?" he growled. "I tell you, Han, they're getting cocky again."

"Yeah, I know," Han said, taking a bite as he looked out at the people hurrying along the streets bordering the tapcafe. Hurrying about their business, with a light step and an optimism they probably hadn't had in years. And it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

Grand Admiral Thrawn had returned.

"They have to realize they're still completely overmatched," he pointed out around his mouthful. "They've got, what, a thousand systems left?"

"It's not a lot," Lando agreed, snagging a piece of the trimpian for himself and dabbing it delicately into the miasra sauce. Lobot, Han noted, without the distraction of conversation or moodiness to slow him down, was already on his second slice. "But you sure wouldn't know it by looking at them."

"Yeah," Han said, looking around some more. Happy people, cheerful people, confident that the universe was about to open up and rain wonders down on them again. It was enough to turn a bad mood really rotten...

He paused, the tangy bite of trimpian between his teeth suddenly forgotten.

Beyond the pedestrians, the vehicular traffic had come to a momentary halt as a speeder truck halfway down the block maneuvered toward a loading ramp. And in one of the landspeeders a few meters back from the tapcafe?

"Lando?over there," he hissed, nodding toward the landspeeder. "That dark green open-top landspeeder. The guy with the thick blond beard?"

Lando pulled back the side of his hood for better visibility. "I'll be a scruffy nerfherder," he breathed. "That's not Zothip, is it?"

"Sure looks like him," Han agreed grimly, fighting the impulse to pull his own hood a little tighter around his face. Captain Zothip, head of the Cavrilhu Pirates, and one of the nastier forms of semi-intelligent rotscum he'd ever had the misfortune to cross paths with. Considering the bounty on Zothip's head, there shouldn't have been a civilized planet anywhere in the galaxy where he should have been able to show his ugly face.

And yet there he was, crammed into a landspeeder with five equally ugly bodyguards in the middle of the Imperial capital, shouting obscenities at the speeder truck as if he owned the whole town. "I'd say we've found the pirate-Empire link Luke and me have been looking for," he muttered. "Clones and all."

"I'd say you're right," Lando said, his robe twitching as he shivered. "I sure hope you're not going to suggest we follow him and confirm it."

Han shook his head. "Not a chance, pal. I tangled with him once a long time ago.

I haven't the slightest interest in trying it again."

"Me, neither." Lando exhaled audibly. "You know something, Han? We're getting old."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Han said. "Come on, let's eat up and get back to the library."

He glanced up at the brilliant sunlight and blue, cloudless sky. "Suddenly this town seems a lot less friendly than it did five minutes ago."

* * *

The speeder truck finished its maneuvering, the traffic began to move again, and Solo and the others went back to their meal.

And setting a high-denomination coin down beside her own half-finished snack, Karoly left the tapcafe and slipped out into the stream of pedestrians. Suddenly, there was something more interesting than Solo and Calrissian and their library research to attract her attention.

Something far more interesting.

The dark green Kakkran landspeeder hadn't made it more than a street away when she found what she was looking for: an old, beat-up Ubrikkian 9000, untended, parked at the side of the street. Palming her Mistryl-issue inciter, she hopped into the driver's seat, taking the control stick with one hand and sliding the inciter beneath the readout panel with the other. The motor coughed reluctantly to life, and with a glance over her shoulder she pulled out into a gap in the vehicular stream. A casual observer would have seen nothing unusual; she could only hope that the owner wouldn't miss his vehicle until she was finished with it.

She wove in and out of traffic until she had trimmed enough off Zothip's lead to be able to catch frequent glimpses of the dark green Kakkran. The more official-looking buildings, including what was obviously the local governor's palace, were situated on the higher ground at the northern edge of the city off to their left.

If the Imperial connection Solo had mentioned was real, the pirates should be turning off anytime now.

But to her growing surprise, they didn't. Instead, the Kakkran continued east, angling northward only after the palace was far behind them. They reached the outskirts of the city and headed out into the wooded hills that bordered the area to the north, and Karoly found herself dropping farther and farther back as the traffic thinned out.

The pirates changed roads twice more, curving farther and farther north, and Karoly began to regret she'd never gotten around to picking up a map of the area.

The road they were on seemed to be taking them in a circle around the city, which made no sense to her at all unless they were trying to come up on the palace from behind.

She was still toying with that thought when the Kakkran suddenly pulled to the side of the road and disappeared into the trees.

She pulled off, too, slipping out of her Ubrikkian and heading into the woods on foot. She'd gone only a little ways when the sound of the repulsorlifts ahead of her cut off.

"You sure this is it?" a rough voice drifted back toward her through the trees.

"Doesn't look like any escape route I've ever seen."

"Trust me, Captain," a more cultured voice assured him. "I scoped the place out thoroughly the last time we were here." Karoly got a glimpse of movement through the trees, headed for the cover of a squat bush?

"Here it is," the cultured man said; and as Karoly dropped into a crouching position behind the bush she saw one of the six pirates reach out an arm and swing away some hanging branches from a tree growing out of the rocky cliff face.

"Your typical Imperial rat-run."

Zothip grunted, ducking down to peer inside. "Couple of landspeeders stashed away in there. The tunnel wide enough for 'em, Control?"

"I presume we'll find out," the cultured man said. "Grinner, get it started."

The pirates disappeared beneath the hanging branches, and a minute later there was the sound of a repulsorlift powering up. The sound revved, then faded away into the distance. Karoly gave them a count of ten, then eased to the tree and ducked under the branches.

She found herself in a small room, no more than twice as wide as the tile-walled tunnel that extended into the hills from its rear wall, with a small Slipter landspeeder parked along the side. In the distance, she could see the reflected glow from the other landspeeder's lights receding rapidly down the tunnel.

Using her inciter, she started up the Slipter, hoping the sound of the pirates' own vehicle would cover up the extra noise. Swinging it around, leaving the lights off, she headed off in pursuit.

* * *

"Report from Security Team Eight, sir," the young trooper at the comm monitor said, his voice academy crisp. "Three possibles have been spotted in a landspeeder outside the Timaris Building. Security Team Two reporting two possibles have just entered a jewelry store on the fourteenth block of Bleaker Street."

"I've got data feeds from both teams," the trooper at one of the computer displays added. "Running facial matches now."

"He'll be running them against the complete Fleet record system over at Ompersan, Your Excellency," the lieutenant standing beside Disra explained. "If they've ever crossed paths with the Empire, their faces will be in there."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Disra said, looking around the darkened palace situation room with a mixture of satisfaction and envy. Satisfaction, because the command team he'd installed here a year ago was working with the kind of speed and efficiency that had once been the proud hallmark of the Imperial military. Envy, because it wasn't him they were performing for. "Any suggestions, Admiral?"

Standing behind the main comm monitor station, Thrawn lifted his eyebrows politely. In the dim lighting his glowing red eyes looked even brighter than usual. "I suggest, Your Excellency," he said, the word "suggest" carrying just the barest emphasis, "that we first allow the analysis staff to do their work.

There's nothing to be gained by showing our hand until we're sure who the spies are."

"Maybe they all are," Disra countered, suddenly tired of the polite condescension. In character or not?dangerous or not?it was high time he took the con man down a stroke or two. "Coruscant has been trying to learn Bastion's current location for a good two years now. I doubt they would waste that hard-fought knowledge just to drop one or two spies on us."

He could feel Tierce's eyes on him, and the heat of the Guardsman's disapproval of his verbal challenge. But Thrawn's blue-black eyebrows merely lifted politely.

"What do you suggest, then, Your Excellency? That a saboteur team has been sent in to bring down our planetary shields in preparation for a major attack?"

Disra stared at him, the sudden jolt momentarily sidetracking his irritation.

That was precisely the scheme they themselves were working against the Bothan homeworld of Bothawui. What in the Empire was Flim doing talking openly about such a thing here?

He was saved from his sudden confusion by the trooper at the computer console. "Report from Ompersan, Admiral," the other announced. "Suspected possibles have been cleared. All are listed as Imperial citizens."

"Very good," Thrawn acknowledged. "Continue the search. Your Excellency, I presume you have not forgotten your appointment."

Disra looked at his chrono, suppressing a scowl. Yes, Pellaeon would be arriving at the palace any minute now. And between that time crunch and the confusion his barbed remark about saboteurs had caused, the con man had managed to blunt the Moff's verbal attack without saying anything that could be construed as insubordination.

Just the sort of thing the real Thrawn might have done. Disra supposed he ought to be pleased. "Thank you for the reminder, Admiral," he said. "Carry on here.

And let me know the minute?the minute?you find anything."

* * *

They had been back at work for half an hour when Lobot's fingers abruptly came to a halt. "What is it?" Han asked, the smell of the miasra sauce on his breath wafting by Lando's ear as Han leaned over his shoulder. "Are we in?"

"I don't know," Lando said, frowning at Lobot. The other's face had changed subtly, too, at about the same time his fingers had stopped typing. More importantly, the pattern of tiny lights on the frequency readout of his cyborg implant had changed. "Something's interrupted his contact with Moegid."

"Uh-oh," Han muttered under his breath. "You think they're on to us?"

"I don't know," Lando said again, studying Lobot's profile and wondering if he should try talking to him. Lobot's eyes seemed almost glazed over, as if he were in a trance or deep in thought. "I've never seen that comm pattern before."

"Um." Han reached out and experimentally touched Lobot's shoulder. There was no response. "Backup frequency, maybe?"

"Could be," Lando agreed. "I didn't know they'd set up a second biocomm frequency, but that would make sense. I just wish?"

Abruptly, the pattern of tiny lights changed again. "Beware," Lobot croaked out, his voice an eerie parody of a Verpine's insectine speech. "Security frequencies very active."

"Moegid's talking through him," Lando said, a tight sensation in the pit of his stomach. As far he could remember, Lobot and Moegid had never done that before, either. "Moegid, can you hear me?"

There was a long pause, as if some kind of awkward two-way translation was taking place. "I hear," Lobot said at last. "Beware. Security frequencies very active."

"They're on to us," Han said decisively, standing up. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"You think that's a good idea?" Lando asked, looking at the slightly blurred scene outside their privacy field. "At least here they'll have to come right up to us to get a good look at our faces."

"Only if they can't find a display unit to plug that droid out there into," Han said tartly. "Come on, give me a hand with Lobot?he might not be able to steer himself right now. Moegid, is there anyone snooping around the ship?"

They had made it halfway to the door, each of them gripping one of Lobot's upper arms, before Moegid's answer came back. "No one," Lobot assured them in the same Verpine croak. "Instructions."

"Stay put," Han told him. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Better cut off your transmissions to Lobot, too."

"And don't touch anything," Lando added. "You start up the engines and they'll have you targeted in half a minute."

"They might anyway," Han warned as they continued toward the exit. "Two will get you the hand pot they figured out the record Leia and I gave Carib wasn't taken at Pakrik Minor. All they have to do is run the records for any ships that arrived after that drone probe did."

"Unless Moegid got into the spaceport computer and changed our arrival date," Lando grunted.

"Was he going to do that?"

"He was going to try. I don't know if he managed it or not."

The lights on Lobot's implant changed again; and suddenly, like a sleepwalker suddenly coming awake, he straightened up in their grasp, his tread becoming steady and firm. "We'll just have to get back as fast as we can," Lando said, letting go of Lobot's arm and reaching beneath his cloak to loosen the small, undetectable slugthrower hidden there. Theoretically undetectable, anyway. "And hope we get there before they do."

* * *

Ahead, the lights from the pirates' landspeeder stopped bouncing. Karoly took the cue and brought her own vehicle to a quick halt, shutting down the repulsorlifts as soon as it was safe to do so.

Just in time. Even as the whine from her own repulsorlifts faded into silence she could hear the last echoes of sound as the vehicle ahead also powered down.

The lights were still pointed forward, away from her. Hopping out of her landspeeder, she headed that direction in a deceptively awkward-looking walk that struck a balance between speed and silence.

Not that the silent part was all that necessary. Zothip, in particular, didn't seem at all worried about noise. "Typical Imp rat-run, all right," his gruff voice boomed, unnaturally loud in the confines of the tunnel. "Where does this turbolift go?"

"Up into the palace, I presume," Control replied. He seemed to be at least making an effort to keep his volume down. "I've never actually?"

"Then where does this other part of the tunnel go?" someone else cut in.

"I don't know," Control said patiently. "As I started to say, I've never actually been in here."

Karoly was close enough to see them now, framed at the edge of the landspeeder's lights. "We'd better find out," Zothip grunted. "Grinner, call the turbolift and stay here with it when it gets here. The rest of you, let's go for a walk."

The five of them strode off through the illumination of the landspeeder's lights, Zothip in the middle with the four guards forming a protective box around him.

The remaining pirate, Grinner, punched the turbolift call once, then turned back to watch his departing comrades.

Karoly had reached the rear of the landspeeder by the time the turbolift car arrived. She dropped down behind the rear quarter, freezing in place with blaster ready, as Grinner turned back around to where he'd be able to see her.

But with the lights blazing practically in his face, he didn't have a hope of spotting her back there in the shadows. He glanced once into the car, apparently confirming it was empty, and reached in to push the hold button. Then, satisfied that he'd carried out his orders, he turned back around to watch for Zothip's return.

There were, Karoly realized, not a lot of choices open to her at this point, and the ones she had weren't all that palatable. She could settle the Mistryl's score with Zothip right here and now, counting on surprise and her Mistryl training to make up for her numerical disadvantage. But from what she'd overheard, it seemed there was something very interesting going on between Zothip and someone in the palace above them. A planned assassination, perhaps?

Or even a coup?

Not that she particularly cared what happened to Imperial governors. Or soldiers or Moffs, for that matter. The whole lot of them could crash and burn as far as the Mistryl were concerned. But pirates sneaking into a governor's palace on an Imperial world was just odd enough to have piqued her curiosity. Rising from her crouch, she eased silently up behind Grinner.

With his attention down the tunnel, and his mind who knew where, he never heard a thing. Sidling around behind him, watching to make sure she wasn't coming into his peripheral vision, she slipped into the turbolift car.

It was, as she'd guessed from the glimpse she'd gotten of its interior, a transplanted military turbolift car, probably scavenged from an old Dreadnaught.

And as was the case with all such turbolifts, the door she'd just entered by was mirrored by another one on the opposite side of the car.

It hadn't been used recently; a single glance told her that much. But by the same token, it also looked like it hadn't been sealed.

There was only one way to find out for sure... and the time for that test was now. In the distance she could hear echoing footsteps, and as she looked back at the doorway she saw Grinner disappear in that direction as he took a few steps down the tunnel toward the returning pirates.

It was the work of five seconds to pull her climbing claws from her hip pouch, open them, fasten them securely to her hands, and ease their points into the crack between the closed doors. Setting her teeth, she began to pull them apart.

For a moment nothing happened. She pulled harder, putting Mistryl-honed muscle behind it; and with a suddenness that startled her they came apart, sliding smoothly and almost noiselessly into the walls of the car.

Unlike the car itself, the turbolift shaft behind the doors hadn't been transplanted from anywhere. It had been carved out of solid rock, with only a light gridwork frame installed to support the repulsorlift and tractor equipment that powered the system.

The clearance between the gridwork and the car was minimal, but adequate.

Stepping through the door, turning again to face into the car, she found a toehold on the doorframe lip and got a grip on the doors.

She had them pulled back down to a slight crack when Zothip rounded the corner and stomped into the car.

She froze, abandoning the rest of her effort, her eyes searching the outside of the car now. If Grinner noticed the doors were cracked more than they had been earlier there was going to be trouble. But Grinner hadn't struck her as the observant type, and there was nothing she could do about it now anyway. More important was the fact that if she didn't find a way to hang on, she was going to be left behind.

There were no convenient handholds that she could get to, which meant she was going to have to make some. Timing it to the exact moment when one of the pirates stomped into the car, she jabbed her climbing hooks into the grillwork behind two of the glow panels. She'd barely gotten them set when there was the vibration of the main doors closing, and they were off.

"So what was at the other end of the tunnel?" she heard Grinner's voice ask through the crack between the doors.

She'd expected the response to come from Zothip, but it was Control's voice that answered. "Looked like some sort of apartment," he said. "Rather nicely appointed."

"Anyone in it?" Grinner asked.

"Not at the moment," Control said. "But whoever was living there liked having his own personal Star Destroyer captain's chair."

"His own what?" Grinner growled. "What in Vader's face would anyone want with something like that?"

"Very good," Control said archly. "You've got the question. Now if we had the answer, we'd have a complete set."

"I don't like this," Zothip rumbled. "I don't like any of it. He's playing something real close to the chest, and I don't like it."

"Whatever it is, we'll find out soon enough," Control assured him. "We might want to go in a little quieter than you'd planned, though."

"Oh, we'll go in quiet, all right," Zothip promised darkly. "Don't worry about that. He'll never hear a thing."

CHAPTER

21

They had made it five blocks?which was four blocks farther than Han had thought they would get?when the whole thing started to unravel.

"Han?" Lando murmured as the three of them hurried across a busy street with a crowd of other pedestrians. "That security landspeeder there to the left just slowed down."

"I know," Han said grimly, peering around the edge of his scholar's hood. Near as he could tell through the curved windows, there were two men in the vehicle.

Alert young men, by the looks of them, undoubtedly armed to the teeth. "That's, what, the third one that's taken an interest in us?"

"About that," Lando sighed. "Where's Luke and his Jedi tricks when you need them?"

"Luke or Leia," Han added, wishing mightily now that he hadn't argued so successfully against her coming on this trip. They might well have been spotted a lot sooner; but at least when they were they would have had a Jedi here on their side. "He's turning back around?they're on us, all right."

"Well, don't give up just yet," Lando said, glancing around. "You still have official standing with the New Republic?we may be able to talk our way out of it.

Especially if they know how Leia reacts when one of her family gets in trouble."

"You mean like when one of the kids gets kidnapped or her husband gets beaten to a pulp or something?" Han growled, feeling his face warm.

"I didn't mean it that way," Lando protested.

"Thanks anyway," Han said, looking around for inspiration. His gaze fell on a tapcafe across the street with a large sign reading SABACC TOURNAMENT TODAY prominently displayed in the privacy-glazed window... "Over there." He nudged Lando in the tapcafe's direction. "You have your slugthrower, right?"

"Uh... yes," Lando said cautiously. "What exactly have you got in mind?"

"What's the one thing security types can't ever resist?" Han asked. "Especially young, cocky ones?"

"I don't know," Lando said humorlessly. "Working prisoners over?"

Han shook his head. "A good commotion," he said, nodding toward the tapcafe. "You take Lobot into the middle of the place and clear it out. I'll handle the rest."

"Right. Good luck."

They made it across the traffic in one piece and went into the tapcafe. Inside, it was just as Han had hoped: large, well lit, and crowded to the gills with sabacc players hunched over tables and kibitzers standing behind them gazing over their shoulders. Breaking to the right just inside the door, he sidled around behind a wall of observers as Lando and Lobot worked their way in toward the curved bar bulging out into the room from the center of the left-hand wall.

By the time they reached it Han had managed to work his way out of his scholar's robe. Kicking it back out of the way against the wall, he rubbed the sweat off his palms and waited for Lando to make his move.

He didn't have to wait very long. "All right, that's it!" Lando abruptly bellowed, his voice cutting through the low murmur of background conversation like a lightsaber through a block of ice. All heads turned toward the bar?

And jerked back in shock and fright as the slugthrower blew a gaping hole in the ceiling.

"We'll settle this right here and now, you mangy kowk brain," Lando shouted over the echoing thundercrack and a handful of gasping shrieks. "Everybody else?out!"

It was as unclear to Han as it was to everyone else just who the mangy kowk brain was that Lando was referring to. But if the sudden panicked exodus from the room was any indication, no one seemed eager to accept the title. Drinks, cards, and dignity completely forgotten, the whole crowd made a concerted dash for the door.

Han let about half of them get past him. Then, shoving his way into the stream, he squeezed through the door and out into the street.

He'd been right about the two security men. Their quiet surveillance totally abandoned, they were pushing their way upstream against the crowd toward the sound of the slugthrower shots, their blasters drawn and ready. Elbowing his way crosswise against the flow, Han angled toward them.

Concentrating on the tapcafe, the first one shoved past Han without a single glance. Han waited until the second was just passing him; then, grabbing the kid's gun hand, he swiveled on one heel and drove his elbow hard into the other's stomach. The air went out of him in a loud, agonized whoosh that clearly announced he was out of the fight.

Unfortunately, the sound also clearly announced trouble to his partner. Even as Han wrenched the blaster from his victim's limp hand the other security man, still enmeshed by the crowd, turned to see what had happened.

The kid was certainly young and agile enough. But he had turned around to his left, which left his blaster out of line for a quick shot behind him. Han, on the other hand, already had his appropriated weapon aimed. With a silent plea for the complete trappings of civilization to be in place here in the Imperial capital, he fired.

His plea was answered. Instead of the killing flash of full-power blaster fire, the weapon in his hand spat the brilliant blue rings of a stun jolt.

The security man dropped like a rock beneath the flow of the crowd, already scattering away from this new threat to their peace and quiet. Brandishing the blaster high, Han leaped over the prone body and dashed back to the tapcafe.

Inside, the place was deserted. Even the bartender had found somewhere to disappear to. "Not like the old days in the Outer Rim," Lando commented almost wistfully, stripping off his own scholar's robe with one hand as he kept his slugthrower ready.

"Lucky for you it isn't," Han reminded him. "On Tatooine or Bengely there'd have been fifteen blasters on you before you got your second shot off. Come on?back door's that way."

Nevertheless, he felt a twinge of regret of his own as the three of them headed for the back of the tapcafe. Those had indeed been fine days...

* * *

Bracing himself, Disra lifted his eyes from the datapad. "I don't know what to say, Admiral," he said, careful not to overdo the hurt indignation in his voice and expression. "I categorically deny all of this, of course."

"Of course," Pellaeon echoed, his eyes cool and measuring. "I'm sure it's nothing more than a carefully orchestrated smear campaign against you by your political enemies."

Disra bit down on his tongue in annoyance. That had indeed been the line he'd been planning to run with. Vader take the man, anyway. "I wouldn't go quite that far," he said instead. "I have no doubt that at least some of your sources have been sincere. Whatever their motivations or sincerity, though, their information is wrong."

Pellaeon exchanged glances with Commander Dreyf, seated beside him. Patient, knowing glances on both sides. "Really," Pellaeon said, looking back at Disra. "And what do you suggest is the motivation an sincerity of the official trading data Commander Dreyf uncovered on Muunilinst?"

"That's section fifteen on the file," Dreyf offered helpfully. "In case you missed it."

Disra ground his teeth, looking back at the datapad. Vader take Pellaeon and Dreyf. "All I can suggest is that someone deliberately planted those numbers," he said.

It was an unbelievably weak defense, and everyone in the office undoubtedly knew it. But even as Pellaeon opened his mouth to most likely point that out, there was a diffident tap from across the room and one of the double doors swung ponderously open. Disra looked up, ready to scorch the person who'd had the temerity to intrude on a private conversation?

"Your Excellency?" Tierce said, blinking with nicely underplayed surprise at the sight of the two armed troopers flanking the doorway, guards Pellaeon had had the effrontery to bring in here with him. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir?"

"No, that's all right, Major," Disra said. "What is it?"

"I have an urgent message for you, Your Excellency," Tierce said, hesitantly crossing toward the desk, his eyes on Pellaeon. "From the palace situation room."

"Well, let me see it," Disra growled, waving the other impatiently forward and trying to cover his sudden misgivings. Tierce could just as easily have called down on the comm with news of their spy search; the speaker focus was set so that no one but Disra could hear. To have come down personally implied that something had gone seriously wrong...

Tierce reached the desk and handed Disra his datapad. And something had indeed gone seriously wrong.

Enemy spies identified as former New Republic generals Han Solo and Lando Calrissian plus an unidentified man with cyborg head implant. Subjects were spotted and identified at the corner of Regisine and Corlioon, but have broken surveillance and escaped. Capital Security is currently attempting to reestablish contact.

Disra looked up at Tierce, saw the hard edge to the Royal Guardsman's eyes. "I don't like getting reports like this," he said darkly. "What exactly is the lieutenant doing about it?"

"They're all working on it," Tierce said. "They seem to be doing their best."

"Is there a problem?" Pellaeon spoke up. His question was addressed to Disra, but his eyes?and his attention?were clearly on Tierce. "Perhaps you'd like to see to it personally."

Disra ground his teeth again. Yes, he very much wanted to see what was going on up there. But Pellaeon wouldn't have offered to let him squirm off the hook, even temporarily, unless he had some devious plan of his own in mind.

He suppressed a smile as it struck him. Of course?Pellaeon wanted the chance to pull a quick private interrogation on Tierce, and was trying to get the Moff out of the way.

And it was now equally clear that the hope of dangling that precise bait in front of him was precisely Tierce's reason for delivering the message personally.

"Thank you, Admiral," Disra said, getting to his feet. "I believe I will. Major Tierce, perhaps you'll keep the Admiral and his party company until I return."

"Me, sir?" Tierce asked, giving the visitors a simpleminded, wide-eyed expression. "Why, certainly, sir. If the Admiral doesn't mind."

"Not at all," Pellaeon said softly. "I'd be delighted."

"I'll be back soon," Disra promised. "Enjoy yourselves. Both of you."

Thirty seconds later he was back in the situation room. "What in the name of Vader's teeth happened?" he demanded.

"Calm yourself, Your Excellency," Thrawn said, his eyes flashing warningly at Disra. "We've only lost them temporarily."

Disra glared at the other, biting back a blistering retort. If this mess was the con man's fault, he was going to nail him to the wall. "May I inquire how something like this could happen?"

"Solo and Calrissian are combat veterans, highly experienced at survival, " Thrawn said calmly. "The security men they came up against were neither." He shrugged, a subtle movement of shoulders beneath the white uniform. "Actually, it was rather instructive, pointing up as it did some obvious deficiencies in Capital Security's training procedures. We'll have to remedy that."

"I'm sure they'll be delighted to have your input," Disra said, looking over at the status board. An overview of the city was currently displayed, along with the locations of all the Capital Security forces scattered around it. "Wouldn't it make more sense to concentrate our surveillance on the spaceport? They're probably trying to get back to their ship."

"I'm sure they are," Thrawn agreed. "However, if they arrive to find a ring of stormtroopers blocking their path, they'll simply find an alternative way off Bastion."

"I suppose you're right," Disra said reluctantly. Tierce's argument, undoubtedly.

Most likely his exact words, too; Disra could practically hear the Guardsman's characteristic inflections in the con man's voice. "May I ask what you suggest we do, then?"

Thrawn turned his glowing red eyes toward the status board. "The first step in catching a sentient prey is to think as he does," he said. Again, words that sounded straight out of Tierce's mouth. "What was their mission here, and how did they intend to accomplish it?"

"How about sabotage?" Disra gritted. "That sound like a likely mission?"

"No," Thrawn said firmly. "They wouldn't send men like Solo and Calrissian in as saboteurs. Spies, perhaps, but not saboteurs."

"Admiral Thrawn?" one of the troopers spoke up from his station. "I've got a partial backcheck on the targets now. We've got a droid download that shows they've spent the past three days in the Imperial Library."

"Very good," Thrawn said, looking back at Disra. His head tilted fractionally toward an unoccupied corner of the room?

"I'd like to speak with you a moment, Admiral," Disra said, picking up on the cue. "Privately, if I may."

"Certainly, Your Excellency," Thrawn said, gesturing toward the corner. "Let's step over here."

They crossed to the corner. "Don't tell me?let me guess," Disra muttered, keeping his voice low. "They're here after the Caamas Document."

"What an amazing revelation, Your Excellency," Flim said, not quite sarcastically, his tone changing subtly out of his Thrawn character. "The interesting part is that I've never heard of either Solo or Calrissian having anywhere near the slicing training for a job like that."

Disra frowned. Getting past the con man's impertinence, he had a good point. A very good point. Disra himself had worked his way into the Emperor's Special Files, but he'd had years to do it and any number of experts to call on for advice along the way. "Then the slicer must be the head-implant who's with them," he suggested.

Flim's mouth puckered slightly. "No, I don't think so," he said. "They didn't get a good enough look at him for a positive ID, but my guess is that that's Lobot, Calrissian's old administrator from his pre-Endor days on Bespin. As far as I know Lobot hasn't got any slicing expertise, either..."

He trailed off, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "What is it?" Disra demanded.

"There's a trick I heard about once," Flim said slowly. "A slicing trick someone in the fringe came up with a few years ago. Now, how did that work? No, be quiet a minute?let me think."

For a dozen heartbeats the only sound in the room was the murmur of background conversation as the men working their boards reported to each other new information as it came in. All of it negative. Disra took deep breaths, concentrating on keeping a firm leash on his impatience. There were enemy spies loose in his city...

And abruptly, Flim's eyes focused on him again. "Verpines," he said with a note of triumph in his tone. "That was it. Verpines."

He took a half step past Disra. "Lieutenant, start a wide-spectrum comm frequency scan," he ordered, his voice suddenly that of Thrawn again. "Concentrate on Verpine biocomm frequencies."

The lieutenant's eyebrows didn't even lift. "Yes, sir," he said briskly, setting to work.

"Wait a second," Disra said, almost grabbing at Flim's sleeve and remembering just in time that that would be out of character. "Verpine biocomm frequencies?"

"It's really an impressively cute trick," Flim said, dropping his voice again to a level where only Disra could hear. "You have a Verpine slicer sitting off in a hole somewhere while a runner with an implant tuned to his personal biocomm frequency goes to the system you want to slice. With the data flow the implant can handle, the whole thing acts almost like a telepathic link. The Verpine sees through the implant's eyes and works the slicing on his own computer board, and the runner's fingers mimic his on the real system."

"He turns him into a puppet, in other words," Disra bit out, his stomach twisting with distaste. For an alien to play a human being that way, even an implant who was no longer really human, was a vileness that bordered on the obscene.

"Basically," Flim agreed casually. "Like I said, a real cute trick."

"I'll take your word for it," Disra growled. Naturally, to a con man mired in the fringe himself, such obscenities were probably just a commonplace way of life. "So what if they've shut the link down?"

Flim shrugged, the same Thrawn-like gesture he'd used earlier. Out of earshot of the other troopers, he was still cagey enough to stay visually within his role.

"Then we crump out, and we'll have to try something else."

Disra looked over at the status board. "What if we try broadcasting on those biocomm frequencies?" he asked. "Maybe tell the Verpine to start up their repulsorlifts or something? That would at least smoke out their ship for us."

"We'd have to know how to encode a message into Verpine," Flim said doubtfully.

"I doubt we could find someone who can do it fast enough."

"Couldn't a protocol droid handle the translation?"

"Not without a special module," Flim told him. "Off-the-floor models don't usually come equipped to translate Verpine. Not enough call for it."

He stroked his lower lip thoughtfully. "On the other hand, if Lobot's still got the link open from his end, we might be able to pick up a resonance echo if we hit the right frequency. That was something we used to have to worry about with our comlinks when we were running against some of the more sophisticated planetary patrol groups. If we can get a receiver close enough, and if we're lucky, we might be able to locate them."

Disra felt his lip twist. "An awful lot of ifs in there."

"I know," Flim conceded. "But we've got to try something, and that's the best I can do right now." He nodded toward the door. "Maybe you'd better get Tierce back up here. This is tactics, and he is our tactics expert."

And Pellaeon had had enough time alone with the man, anyway. "I'll send him up," he said, heading toward the door. "Keep me informed, Admiral."

* * *

With one final lurch, the turbolift car came to a halt. "This it?" Zothip's voice growled.

"I expect so," Control said as the doors slid open. "Yes?this should be it."

"So which way?" one of the other pirates demanded.

Easing her head to the side, Karoly lined up one eye with the crack still showing between the back doors. The pirates were half in and half out of the car now, Zothip standing in a narrow passageway outside with his fists set on his hips, all of them looking back and forth both directions down a narrow corridor.

"I don't know," Control said, looking around once himself and then pointing to the left. "Let's try that way first."

"Okay," Zothip said. "Grinner, lock down the car?we don't want anyone coming up behind us."

"Right," Grinner said, doing something Karoly couldn't see with the control board. "Done."

The pirates disappeared out of sight to the left. Karoly gave them a five-count; then, finding a toehold on the doorframe lip, she set her climbing claws into the crack between the doors and pried them open.

She stepped into the car; and she was just starting to close the doors again when she heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside.

The pirates were coming back.

There was no time for anything but instinctive reaction. Putting her full strength into the effort, she pulled the doors to within a couple of centimeters of being closed. They hung up there, but there was no time for her to try to free them. Crossing the car in two quick strides, she squeezed herself as invisibly as she could into the front left-hand corner.

Just in time. Even as she pressed her climbing claws firmly against the car walls to avoid the telltale clink of metal on metal should they accidentally brush together, the footsteps reached her.

"I don't see what the big deal is that he's got company," Zothip was muttering as the first puff of air from their passage wafted in through the car opening. "Anyway, I only heard two voices in there."

"That doesn't mean there aren't more," Control said patiently as the group passed the open door and continued down the passageway. "Besides, if we're seen by the wrong people this arrangement of ours goes straight down."

"So what?" Zothip growled, his voice fading as they all continued down the corridor. "Canceling the arrangement?and Disra?is the whole idea, isn't it?"

"We ought to at least talk first," Control said. "We might be able to recast the deal."

"Hey, Grinner, you sure know your way around a control panel," another voice put in from the rear of the pack as the group continued on its way. "Did you know that when you locked the car down you popped the back doors?"

Karoly held her breath; but Grinner's response was a brief obscenity and an uninterrupted tread down the corridor. She gave them another five-count; then, pulling off the climbing claws and putting them away, she drew her blaster and headed out after them.

She wasn't more than a few steps into the corridor when a subtle wave of air in her face warned her that somewhere ahead a door had opened. She picked up her pace a bit, and came around a slight curve in the passageway just in time to see a rectangle of muted light close down to a sliver as the pirates closed a door down to a crack. Hurrying silently forward, she stopped at the door and eased her ear against the crack.

"Fancy place," she heard one of the pirates say, his tone a mixture of contempt and envy. "Look at this?Ramordian silk sheets and everything."

"Maybe he'll give you a set for your bunk," Zothip growled. "Where's the? oh, there it is."

There was the soft sound of a chair being pulled back across a thick carpet.

Karoly moved her eye around the crack, trying to see what was going on. But from her angle all she could see was a small section of an elaborate wall hanging. "What are you going to do?" Control asked.

"Put in a call to his office," Zothip grunted. "Whoever he's got in there, I figure he can tell them to wait."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Admiral," Major Tierce said, his fingertips rubbing nervously at the sides of his pant legs. "But with all due respect, I really don't know what you're talking about. I don't think I've ever been to Yaga Minor. If I have, it would have been as part of a training cruise when I was a cadet. Certainly not?what did you say; six weeks ago?"

"About that," Pellaeon said, watching Tierce's face closely and wishing mightily that he had enough evidence on him to order a full verity analysis. The man was lying through his teeth?that much Pellaeon was sure of. But until he could positively identify Tierce as the man who'd sliced into the Yaga Minor computer system, there was nothing else he could do.

Or until that New Republic slicer Ghent found evidence of Tierce's tampering.

That was a wild card neither Tierce nor Disra knew about.

Behind Pellaeon, the double doors swung open. "I apologize for the delay, Admiral," Disra said, striding past Commander Dreyf and around the side of the ivrooy desk. "That will be all, Major," he added curtly to Tierce.

"Yes, Your Excellency," Tierce said. For the briefest instant their eyes met, and Pellaeon thought he saw Disra give his aide a microscopic nod. Then, moving with the air of a man trying to run from a group of besiioths while still keeping some shreds of dignity, the major crossed the office and escaped.

"I trust Major Tierce was congenial company for you," Disra commented.

"Quite congenial," Pellaeon assured him, studying that twisted face closely. Not so much a face as a mask, he thought, built to conceal the mind behind it.

And he knew what was in that mind. The trouble was, he couldn't prove it. Not yet. But let him have one slip on Disra's part?just one?

"Now, where were we?" Disra asked briskly, leaning back in his chair. The short break had definitely done his confidence a mountain of good. "Oh, yes? those unfounded and slanderous things other people have been saying about me. It's occurred to me, Admiral?"

He broke off as the call signal sounded from his desktop comm. Scowling, he leaned forward again and jabbed the switch. "Yes?" he barked. "What is it?? "

He stiffened, his eyes widening momentarily, his jaw dropping a fraction of a centimeter. His eyes darted to Pellaeon, back to the comm display. "Yes, I'm busy," he growled. "And I don't appreciate being interrupted this way for? "

Abruptly he stopped. Pellaeon strained his ears, but the speaker was focused toward Disra and he could hear nothing from his position on the opposite side of the desk.

And then Disra's eyes widened again... and Pellaeon saw something he had never seen before. Something he had never expected to see.

Moff Disra, liar, conniver, and probable traitor, went white.

Dreyf saw it, too. "Your Excellency?" he asked, standing up and starting around the side of the desk.

The moment of shock passed, and Disra's expression of stunned disbelief suddenly changed to that of a crazed rancor. "Back!" he snarled at Dreyf, his hand slashing at him as if trying to ward away a dangerous animal. "I'm all right.

Just stay back."

Dreyf stopped, throwing a confused look at Pellaeon. "Is anything the matter, Your Excellency?" Pellaeon asked.

"Everything's fine, Admiral," Disra said, the words coming out like they'd been sent through a grain-grinder. His eyes, Pellaeon noted, were still fixed on the comm display. "If you'll excuse me again, there's another matter I need to attend to right away."

He stood up, keying off the comm with a vicious stab of his finger. "I'll be right back," he growled, heading at a not-quite run toward the double doors.

"Of course," Pellaeon called after him. "Take whatever time you need."

The last word was cut off by the boom as the doors closed behind him. "Well, that was interesting," Dreyf commented, looking at the doors and then back at Pellaeon. "Another trick to buy himself some breathing space?"

"I don't think either of these interruptions has been an act," Pellaeon said, frowning thoughtfully at the Moff's desk. Historically, the majority of people who were able to afford culture-grown ivrooy furniture were wealthy politicians, industrialists, and fringe crimelords. All of whom always had things to hide...

"No, something's going on out there. Something important."

"Mm," Dreyf murmured. "Shall I wander down the hall and see if I can find out what it is?"

"Maybe later," Pellaeon said. "In the meantime, it seems we've been left alone.

In Disra's office."

Dreyf lifted his eyebrows in understanding. "Yes, we have, haven't we," he agreed, looking around the office. His gaze fell on the desk... "Of course, it's a little dubious legally," he reminded his superior, throwing a sideways glance at the two troopers guarding the door. "We haven't got a search order, and Disra hasn't been officially charged with anything."

"I'll take the responsibility," Pellaeon said. "Go ahead and see what you can find."

"Yes, sir," Dreyf said, giving him a tight smile as he circled around to the other side of the desk. "It'll be a pleasure."

* * *

Tierce was standing near the door as Disra burst into the situation room. "We've got an echo," the former Guardsman murmured, a note of malicious satisfaction in his voice. "Once we triangulate in?"

"Zothip's here," Disra cut him off. "He's in my quarters."

Tierce's smile vanished. "How?"

"How in blazes should I know?" Disra shot back. "But he's there. I recognized the furnishings when he called me in my office."

Tierce threw a look at the consoles, at Flim holding position again behind the lieutenant. "This just gets better and better," he said darkly. "Did Pellaeon hear any of it?"

"I don't think so," Disra said. "That slinker of his?Dreyf?started to come around the desk, but I don't think he could hear or see anything, either. "

Tierce hissed between his teeth. "We've got to get rid of him."

"Brilliant tactical thinking," Disra growled. "You have any suggestions as to how? He didn't come alone, you know."

Tierce looked over at the consoles again. "I can't just walk out of here, " he said. "Solo and Calrissian are slippery. Until Security actually has them in their sights?"

"We can't just leave Zothip resting his feet in there, either," Disra cut him off. "Don't you understand? He's in my quarters. That means he has clear passage to my office. Where Admiral Pellaeon is."

Tierce looked sharply at him. "You left Pellaeon alone?"

"Of course he's alone," Disra snapped. "What was I supposed to do, tell the outer door guards to go in and watch him?"

"That wouldn't have been such a bad idea," Tierce retorted. He held up a hand. "All right, all right, let's take this in order. Pellaeon... I suppose he'll keep.

Solo and Calrissian?"

"We've got a second biocomm frequency echo, Admiral," one of the troopers reported, looking up at Flim. "Security reports ready to move in as soon as we have a solid fix on the location."

"Thank you," Thrawn said, turning those glowing eyes toward the conversation by the door. "Continue the operation. Is there a problem, Your Excellency?"

"A small problem only, Admiral Thrawn," Tierce spoke up before Disra could answer. "But it may require a few minutes of your attention."

"Certainly," Flim said easily.

"What are you doing?" Disra hissed as the con man crossed the room toward them.

"You aren't suggesting??"

"There are only two ways to deal with someone like Zothip," Tierce said, his voice cold. "Kill him, or scare him." He nodded toward Flim. "Can you think of anything that could possibly scare him more than a Grand Admiral?"

Flim had reached them in time to hear the last part. "Who are we trying to scare?" he asked.

"Captain Zothip," Disra said. "He's in my quarters."

Flim's eyes widened, just noticeably. He looked at Tierce?"You'll be fine," the Guardsman soothed him. "Zothip's in this for the profit, and you're our guarantee there will be profit. He's not going to risk hurting you."

"Unless he's here for revenge," Flim pointed out uneasily. "For the job Pellaeon did on him out at Pesitiin, remember?"

"He'll forget all about that the minute he sees you," Tierce said impatiently. "At any rate, I'll be there with you. Whoever he's got in there, I can handle them.

You'll be fine."

"What about Solo?" Flim persisted, glancing back to the consoles. "What if they lose him again?"

"How?" Tierce countered. "We've picked up two echoes?we know what part of the city they're in. They'll have them in restraints by the time we get back. Now let's go."

Flim grimaced, but nodded. "Continue the operation, Lieutenant," he ordered, half turning, his calm Thrawn voice betraying none of his obvious nervousness. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Tierce gestured toward the door, and together the three of them headed out. "I don't know," Flim muttered, just loud enough for Disra to hear. "I don't think I'm going to like this at all."

* * *

Their first warning was a sudden, subtle jerking motion from Lobot. "What is it?" Lando asked, peering at the other.

"What is what?" Han asked from Lobot's other side.

"He seemed to hesitate right there," Lando said, pulling back the floppy-brimmed hat that had taken over the job of camouflaging Lobot's head implant and studying the tiny indicator lights there. The pattern wasn't the same one that had been showing the last time he looked.

"Maybe he just stumbled," Han said impatiently, looking around the crowds. "Come on, we've got to keep moving."

"Hold on a minute," Lando insisted, widening his examination to the suddenly introspective expression on Lobot's face. He knew the other far better than Han did, and it was clear to him that both the jerking movement and the other's strange look were indications that something odd was going on. Ignoring it would be just begging for trouble.

"Lando?"

"Just a minute," Lando cut him off. Abruptly, Lobot jerked a second time, the indicator lights again changing their pattern. They held the new array a moment, then changed back?

And with a sudden hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, Lando realized what had just happened. "They're doing a comm echo search," he told Han. "Keyed to Verpine biocomm frequencies."

"Terrific," Han said, catching Lobot's arm to steady him and frowning under the brim at the implant. "They have the right frequency yet?"

"Doesn't look like it," Lando said, looking around for inspiration. They were still a half hour away from the spaceport if they stayed on foot. A landspeeder could get them there faster, but that would mean either hiring or stealing one.

Each option carried its own set of risks.

His eyes fell on a large, glistening sign over one of the shops just down the street. A sign bragging in large print about hundreds of droids in stock, the best prices in the Empire, and everything on sale for one day only...

"Come on," he said, taking Lobot's other arm and pulling him toward the droid shop. "In here. I've got an idea."

They made it inside before the Imperials' frequency search hit the right one again. "What now?" Han muttered, looking around the wall-to-wall crowd of bargain-hunters.

"Over there," Lando told him, shouldering his way toward an overhead sign marking the astromech droid section. "We need about a dozen R2 or R8 models."

"No problem," Han assured him, craning his neck to look over the mass of shoppers. "I see at least twenty of them. I hope you remember what our cash supply is like."

"We're not going to buy them," Lando said. "All we're going to do is talk to them."

They pushed their way through the crowd and into the astromech droid section, which was?not surprisingly?less densely populated than the servant and chef droid areas seemed to be. "Good afternoon, worthy citizens," a silver-colored protocol droid said, stepping up to them. "I am C-5MO, human-cyborg relations.

May I assist you in your selection?"

"Yes, thank you," Lando said. "We're looking for a droid that can serve as a long-range comm interface on certain very select frequencies."

"I see, sir," the droid said, half turning to gesture toward the lines of shiny rounded cylinders behind him. "May I suggest something from either the R2 or R8 line. Both lines come with full-frequency comm systems as standard equipment."

"Sounds good," Lando said, stepping toward the line of R8s. "Do you mind if I give them a little test?"

"Of course not, sir," the protocol droid said. "Feel free to administer any test you choose."

"Thank you." Lando gestured to the first R8. "You?first in line?I'd like you to transmit a multitonal signal on the following frequency." He rattled off the number. "Next one: I'd like you to do different tones on a different frequency." He supplied the number.

"Just a moment, sir," the protocol droid interrupted, sounding distressed. "I'm afraid you can't simply transmit unauthorized comm signals in the middle of the city?"

One of the R8s twittered a short message. "Oh," the protocol droid said, somewhat taken aback. "You're certain neither frequency is used here? By anyone?"

The R8 gave an affirmative warble. "I see," the droid said. "My apologies, sir.

Please continue."

Lando continued down the line, giving each droid one of the major Verpine biocomm frequencies to transmit on. "All right," he said when he had finished, turning back to the C-5MO. "Excellent. Now, if you'll keep them transmitting, I'll go out to my landspeeder and make sure they're holding the frequencies properly."

"You wish to leave them transmitting?" the droid asked, starting to sound distressed again. "But, sir?"

"You can't expect us to buy such a large order just on your word that they're transmitting correctly, can you?" Han put in. "Don't worry?one of our people will still be here." He pointed across the way at a man in a dark green coat examining the line of servant droids.

"He'll stay here until we get this checked out and get back to you," Lando added.

"You do extend corporate credit for orders of twenty or more, don't you?"

"Certainly, sir," the droid said, brightening considerably. "You'll simply need to show your corporate authorization when you place your order."

"Good," Lando said, lifting his eyebrows at Han. The other took the hint, easing Lobot toward the nearest exit sign. "We'll be back in a few minutes."

Two minutes later, they were out on the street again. "Nice touch, that bit about leaving someone behind," Lando commented to Han. "Should buy us a few more minutes before they start asking themselves awkward questions."

"As long as they don't start a conversation with the guy, anyway," Han grunted.

"So what's the plan? Straight back to the ship?"

"It was," Lando said. "Unless you think it would be worth the time to be a little more devious than that."

"I wonder," Han said, rubbing his cheek. "Those droid transmissions ought to blanket any more echo searches, at least for now. But they did already have an idea where we were in the city. If we can hop a cargo carrier, that would let us get around the spaceport and hit it from the other side."

"If we don't get caught," Lando warned. "They take a dim view around here of people riding cargo carriers."

"It's worth the risk," Han said, making it clear that he'd already made up his mind. "Come on?nearest access is this way."

CHAPTER

22

The conversation?or at least the part Karoly had been able to hear through the half-open door?had been short, sharp, and unpleasant.

And very enlightening. The Cavrilhu Pirates, allied with the Empire?

On one level, she supposed, it wasn't that much of a revelation, particularly not after that overheard conversation between Solo and Calrissian. Imperials had been doing under-the-board business with the dregs of the fringe for years, after all, from that accursed murderer Palpatine's cozy relationship with Prince Xizor on down. Now that the vast, star-spanning Empire had been reduced to a pitiful handful of sectors, all the more reason they would have to hire out some of their dirty work.

But on another level, this was indeed something new. Zothip hadn't been talking to Moff Disra as a hireling would to his master, but as a full equal. A very unhappy equal, moreover, if the pirate chief's tone and streams of invective were any indication.

Even more interesting, given Zothip's veiled threats to go public, it would also appear that this arrangement was neither sanctioned by nor even known to the rest of the Imperial leadership.

Karoly had originally followed Zothip with the idea of exacting revenge against the pirates for their part in the Lorardian slaughter three years ago. Now, she had stumbled on something far more interesting.

"You think he'll come?" one of the pirates' voices intruded on Karoly's musings.

" 'Course he will," Zothip grunted. "You think he wants us announcing our deal on the all-Bastion comm broadcast frequency?"

"He won't be coming alone," Control's voice warned. "He'll have guards with him."

"Not many of 'em," Zothip said. "There aren't a lot of people that slug trusts."

"A hidden backup might still be a good idea," Control said, and Karoly could hear the verbal nudging in his tone. "Just in case."

"Oh, all right," Zothip conceded with ill grace. "Crans, Portin?go get back in the passageway. If I whistle, come out and kill everything that's not us."

There was a pair of acknowledgments and the sound of approaching footsteps.

Moving with considerably less noise, Karoly retreated around the slight bend in the passageway. The dim light increased as the pirates pulled open the door, decreased again as they partially closed it down.

And she now had a decision to make. Back here, four meters behind the two hidden pirates and their mutterings, she wouldn't be able to hear the upcoming conversation between Zothip and Disra the way she'd like to. Moreover, the thought of even an Imperial Moff getting ambushed by the likes of the Cavrilhu Pirates did not sit well with her.

She smiled tightly in the darkness at the irony of the situation. It was precisely the same thing Shada had objected to back on that windswept rooftop on Borcorash five weeks ago, and the reason Karoly was even here.

But the deep philosophical considerations could wait till another day. In the meantime, the Cavrilhu Pirates owed a death debt to the Mistryl... and the first installment would be collected right here and now. Putting her blaster away, Karoly drew a pair of slender knives and moved silently forward.

Crans and Portin, crouched side by side behind the partially open door, whispering and chuckling to each other in grim anticipation of the carnage to come, never even heard her coming.

It was another minute's work to quietly drag the bodies a few meters back in the passageway where they'd be out from underfoot. Then, returning to the partially open door, she crouched down and eased the tip of one of her knives along the thick carpet into the room.

The image reflected in the metal was small and somewhat distorted, but Karoly had done this a thousand times before and knew how to read it. As she'd expected, Zothip and his three remaining men were all facing the ornate door set into the right-hand wall. Zothip was seated rather arrogantly at the Moff's computer desk, the others slouched against walls or pieces of furniture at various other places around the room. All were fingering blaster butts or rubbing gun hands in preparation; all were well clear of her line of fire and the ambush they still thought was set up.

She was just working through her likely attack plan, should it come to that, when there was the soft click of a lock from across the room. Instantly, the pirates' muttered conversation ceased. The door swung open, and two men stepped inside.

The one on the right was Moff Disra; that much was obvious from his age and his robe of office and the arrogant hauteur with which he strode into the room. The second man, on Disra's right, dressed in an Imperial uniform?

Karoly felt her breath catch in her throat, an unpleasant tingling on the back of her neck. The second man was a warrior.

Not a soldier: a warrior. She could see it in his stance, in his walk, in the way he held his hands, in the way his eyes took in the situation in front of him.

Control had warned that Disra would bring guards with him. Dimly, Karoly wondered if any of the pirates was capable of recognizing the warrior beneath the uniform.

Zothip himself, apparently, could not. "Took your own sweet time getting here," he growled as the warrior swung the door closed. "Who's the nerf?"

"Get out of my chair," Disra growled back, ignoring the question and gesturing irritably at the lounging pirate chief.

"I'm doing the talking here, Disra," Zothip said, making no move to vacate the chair. "Wait a minute?I know you," he added, leveling a finger at the warrior. "Yeah?you're the snotter who pulled all my advisers out on me. You rotten, rark-eating sovler."

Karoly winced, half expecting sudden death to be the warrior's response to the insult. But he wasn't so easily provoked. "That's right," he said, his voice glacially calm. "I'm Major Tierce. And as I explained at the time, the Empire had a more pressing need for their services."

"So you just upped and pulled them, huh?" Zothip countered, his voice darkening.

"Well, maybe that's how you Imperial dreg-sifters do things. But that's not how it's done in the fringe. You make a deal, you stick with it." He leveled his finger again. "Or you get to spend your last couple of minutes of life regretting it."

"I thought that in the fringe you also didn't lose your nerve," Disra put in disdainfully. "Did Pellaeon scare you that badly?"

"Never mind Pellaeon," Zothip bit out. "I'll deal with him later. Right now you're the one in the hot circle. Starting with full compensation for my battlecruiser and the eight hundred men who died with it."

"Apparently, he has lost his nerve, Your Excellency," Tierce said. "The sabacc pot's grown too big for his taste, and he wants out."

Zothip snorted. "Words. That's all it is with you, Disra. Words and promises, and we end up doing all the work and all the dying. But not anymore. I figure twenty million ought to cover it?"

"Suppose we can show you we have more than words," Tierce interrupted, an edge of challenge to his voice. "Suppose we can give you proof that the Empire is once again on the rise, and that this time there will be no stopping us. Would you still want to quit?"

Zothip laughed, a thoroughly humorless sound. "Proof, huh? If you think anything you've got can?"

He broke off as behind Disra and Tierce the door again swung open. One of the pirates half drew his blaster?

"Good afternoon, Captain Zothip," the white-uniformed figure said calmly as he stepped into the room. "Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Grand Admiral Thrawn."

* * *

It took Commander Dreyf less than a minute to locate the secret drawer hidden away beneath the ivrooy desk's writing surface. It took only two minutes longer, with the help of some rather illegal tools, for him to force it open.

Inside were eight datacards. Three of them carried the labels of official governmental briefings: one from the Ubiqtorate, the other two from Fleet Intelligence.

But the other five...

"Make copies of them," Pellaeon ordered as Dreyf slid one of the unlabeled datacards into his datapad. "All of them, even the official ones. We'll see what the Chimaera's decrypt section can do with them."

"Let me try something first, if I may, sir," Dreyf said, pulling a datacard from his pocket and inserting it into his datapad's auxiliary slot. "One of the little extras that fell out of my backcheck of Lord Graemon's finances was the encrypt he was using to communicate back to Bastion. Let's see if Disra was careless or overconfident enough to use the same one here... Well, well. Our clever little Moff seems to have missed a bet."

He smiled tightly at Pellaeon. "It's here, Admiral. It's all here."

Pellaeon stepped to his side and looked over his shoulder. It was there, all right: names, dates, amounts, details of the various transactions. Everything. "You'll be able to link this with Graemon's end of the operation?" he asked.

"Easily," Dreyf assured him, still scrolling through the files. "Disra was even kind enough to supply dates on everything. All I really need to do?"

"Wait," Pellaeon cut him off, slapping fingertips at the other's arm. Something had caught his eye as it went past. "Back up a few files. No, try one more. One more."

And there it was: the name Pellaeon had spotted going past. The name, current location, imprisonment order?

"Colonel Meizh Vermel," Dreyf read, frowning. "Isn't he one of your aides, Admiral?"

"He is indeed," Pellaeon said, his satisfaction with the catch they'd just made vanishing suddenly into the haze of dark fury. "He vanished while on a special mission for me."

"Did he, now," Dreyf said, his own voice darkening. "So Disra's branched out into kidnapping now, has he?"

"Only on special occasions," Pellaeon said, looking at the hidden drawer. Dreyf had done an efficient job of forcing the lock, but there was no way the damage could be covered up. The minute Disra opened the drawer again he would know someone had been in there.

And Pellaeon came to a decision. "Never mind copying them," he said, gathering up the datacards. "We'll take the originals."

Dreyf blinked. "Sir? But?"

"And we're leaving," Pellaeon added, looking over at one of the troopers guarding the door. "Signal the Chimaera," he ordered. "Captain Ardiff is to prepare for departure as soon as I'm aboard. Then call Lieutenant Marshian at the shuttle and tell him we're on our way."

"Yes, sir." The trooper pulled out his comlink.

"What about Disra?" Dreyf asked. "We haven't settled with him yet."

"Disra will keep," Pellaeon said grimly. "Right now, my main concern is to get Vermel free before Disra decides he's a liability."

"You'll be going yourself?"

"Yes," Pellaeon said, sliding the hidden drawer closed. "Depending on how Disra's set up the imprisonment order, it may take my personal authority as Supreme Commander to get him out. Besides, at this point I don't trust anyone off the Chimaera not to be in Disra's pocket."

"Or in Thrawn's?" Dreyf murmured.

Pellaeon grimaced. "If Thrawn is indeed alive," he said. "Regardless, I'm going."

"It could be tricky," Dreyf warned, dropping into step beside Pellaeon as they headed for the double doors. "Rimcee Station is a couple days' flight away.

Disra's certainly going to miss these datacards before then."

"Don't worry, I have a few tricks of my own available," Pellaeon said. "Trooper?"

"Lieutenant Marshian reports the shuttle will be ready to fly when we arrive, sir," the trooper reported. "Captain Ardiff reports likewise for the Chimaera."

"Good," Pellaeon said, motioning the troopers to open the doors. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

* * *

For a few seconds the room was utterly quiet. The silence of a cave, or a forest, or a tomb. Disra let the stillness linger, thoroughly enjoying the look of stunned disbelief on Zothip's face. It was high time the cocky, slime-eating pirate ran face-first into something his noise and bluster couldn't handle.

He would have liked to see the consternation last a little longer. But for reasons known only to himself, the con man chose to break the spell. "You seem surprised by my presence here," he said, his smooth Thrawn voice as absolutely perfect as the silence had been. "I can only conclude you haven't been paying attention to the news coming out of Coruscant."

For a moment Zothip's mouth worked silently, the movement amplified grotesquely by the bushy beard, before he finally found his voice. "No, I heard you were back," he said at last, the words coming out with some difficulty. The sound of his voice seemed to embolden him. "I just didn't believe it, that's all," he added, straightening his shoulders.

"Why not?"

Zothip's eyes darted to one of his men, as if reassuring him that he was the one in control here. "Because I figured anyone who'd gotten away from this slime-hole of an Empire wouldn't be stupid enough to come back," he said, his voice suddenly aggressive again.

On Thrawn's other side, Tierce stirred. But Thrawn merely smiled. "Not bad," he said. "A bit slow, but otherwise not bad at all."

Zothip's eyebrows pressed together. "What are you talking about?"

"The Empire is poised to rise again," Thrawn said, crossing in front of Disra as he gave each of the other three pirates a brief, measuring look. "And while we certainly do not need allies, we are also not averse to having them."

One of the pirates, standing behind Zothip and a little ways toward the right-hand wall, snorted in a refined sort of way. "Is that how you think of us?" he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. "As allies?"

"Control's right," Zothip seconded, jerking a thumb back at the other. "You give the orders and pull the profits while we do the dirty work. What kind of ally is that?"

"The kind of ally who stands to gain position beyond his wildest dreams," Thrawn said, his voice cooling noticeably. "Position, power, and the wealth to buy and sell whole systems."

"And when is all this supposed to happen?" Control put in. He was, Disra noted with a touch of uneasiness, drifting slowly away from Zothip toward the wall. As if distancing himself from his boss in preparation for some kind of action...

Tierce saw it, too. Out of the corner of his eye Disra saw the Guardsman take a quiet step that same direction, maintaining his same distance from Control as he simultaneously moved closer to the other pirate leaning against the wall to Zothip's left.

Which left only the pirate standing at Zothip's right out of the Guardsman's quick reach. Disra glanced furtively that direction, hoping Tierce hadn't forgotten about him.

"Quite soon," Thrawn assured him. "Most of the pieces are already prepared and in position. Those which aren't will be soon."

"Those pieces being your other allies?" Control suggested. "Is that how you see us? As pieces in a game?"

"I don't like being called anyone's game piece," Zothip growled before Thrawn could reply. "We're the Cavrilhu Pirates. We don't play any games but our own."

He broke off at a twitter from the computer desk. "You expecting a call?" he asked sarcastically.

Disra ignored the comment, stepping forward and keying the comm as he swiveled the display around to face him. "Yes?"

It was the lieutenant in the situation room... and from the look on his face Disra could tell it wasn't good news. "Your Excellency, we have a problem," the other said tautly. "The spies appear to have slipped out of the net."

Disra bit back a curse. "How?"

"They used droids from a shop to blanket the Verpine biocomm frequencies, " the lieutenant said, sounding disgusted. "By the time we located the shop and shut off the transmissions, they'd made it out of range of our echo detectors. Is Grand Admiral Thrawn there with you?"

"Yes," Thrawn said, stepping to Disra's side. "I'll be there shortly. In the meantime, disperse your echo detectors into a grid pattern to both sides of their last location and see if you can pick them up again."

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said.

Disra blanked the display, throwing a quick glare at Tierce. He should never, ever have let himself be talked into this confrontation with Zothip while Solo and Calrissian were still on the loose. "We'd better get back," he said, looking at Thrawn.

"So what, you're just going to leave us here?" Control asked. He had backed away another step from Zothip, his arms still folded across his chest.

"Don't be absurd," Disra snapped, suddenly very tired of Zothip and his pirates.

"You don't want to be on the winning side? Fine?there are plenty who do. Major Tierce, call for an escort to show our visitors out."

"You hold it right there," Zothip rumbled, heaving his bulk out of the chair and dropping his hand to his blaster. "We'll leave when I've got my twenty million.

Now fork it over or else."

"Or else what?" Disra demanded. "You ungrateful, slimy?"

"That's it," Zothip snarled. Lifting a finger to his mouth, he blew a piercing whistle. The two pirates on either side of him grabbed for their blasters?

And Tierce moved.

The pirate nearest to the Guardsman never even got his blaster clear of its holster before Tierce was on him. A short jab?a blurred movement of hands? a muffled snap of bone?and the pirate crumpled to the carpet like an empty sack.

There was a startled curse from his compatriot across at Zothip's right; but even as Disra turned his head to look, there was a whisper of movement from Tierce's direction and the hilt of a knife sprouted suddenly in the man's chest.

A knife that joined the one already sticking out of his neck.

Disra caught his breath, his eyes darting away from the pirate to the tall, slender woman who had suddenly appeared in the room by the hidden doorway. Her hand twitched, there was a flicker of reflected light?

And Zothip gasped with pain, lurching forward directly into the devastating kick Tierce had thrown at his stomach. Another agonized gasp as the kick connected, and the pirate chief sprawled with a thud over the computer desk, his blaster flying out of a suddenly limp hand to land on the floor.

And Disra found himself staring at the knife hilt that had appeared in the center of Zothip's back. A gift, obviously, from the woman.

He looked up at her as she walked quietly to the desk, ignoring the three Imperials. Gripping Zothip's beard, she turned his dulled eyes up to face her. "That was for Lorardian," she said, her voice quiet but bitter.

Zothip's mouth moved once, but no sound came out. The dull eyes became duller, and closed, and as the woman let go of his beard he sagged once more and lay still.

Again a silence descended on the room. And once again, Thrawn was the one who broke it. "Nicely done," he said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Not that I needed it," Tierce put in tautly. Disra glanced at him, noting with some surprise that the Guardsman had produced a small blaster from somewhere and had it trained on the woman. "Who are you?"

She looked up from Zothip's body, her eyes dark and slightly contemptuous as she looked Tierce up and down. "Apparently, not all your people are as appreciative as you are, Admiral Thrawn," she said, ignoring the Guardsman's question.

"You'll have to forgive Major Tierce," Thrawn said soothingly. "My safety is one of his primary concerns, a responsibility he takes very seriously. But he doesn't understand you the way I do." He waved toward Tierce's blaster. "You may put the weapon away, Major. The Mistryl shadow guards do not kill casually or without cause."

Disra suddenly felt cold. A Mistryl shadow guard? Here in his palace?

The woman blinked, obviously taken aback by Thrawn's revelation of her identity.

"How did you know who I was?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Come now," Thrawn said, mildly reproving as he waved a languid hand around at the carnage. "After that demonstration of your combat skills, who else could you be but a Mistryl? And of course, there was your reference to Lorardian," he added, his voice softening. "My condolences on that."

"Thank you," she said, almost reluctantly tilting her head in acknowledgment. "I didn't think anyone else knew or cared what happened there. "

"Information is part of my job," Thrawn said.

"I suppose so." The woman nodded to her left. "What are you planning to do with the leftovers?"

"I don't know yet," Thrawn said. "Tell me, Control: what shall we do with you?"

Disra shifted his gaze away from the woman, suddenly and belatedly realizing that the last pirate had indeed not been accounted for.

And with good reason. Control was standing perfectly still in the spot where he'd been when the fight began, his hands held open and empty in front of him, his blaster still in its holster. Yet on his face was not fear or anger, but cool contemplation of the scene. "My congratulations to you, Admiral," he said, nodding at Thrawn and then at Tierce. "And to you, Major. I was expecting stormtroopers in hidden wall niches. Your way was much more subtle and equally effective."

He turned his head to look at the woman. "Your appearance, on the other hand, was completely unexpected. I gather you sneaked in behind us. I'd give a great deal to know how you did that."

"The only thing the Mistryl have to offer the Cavrilhu Pirates is death," she countered coldly. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't start with you."

Control shrugged; but Disra could tell he wasn't quite as calm as he was trying to let on. "Because you've already avenged the Mistryl deaths at Lorardian," he said. "Zothip was the one who forced the issue there. There was nothing any of the rest of us could do about it."

He turned his eyes back to Disra. "Just as he was also the one demanding revenge on you and Admiral Pellaeon for the fiasco at Pesitiin, Your Excellency," he added. "I'd like to suggest that all such unpleasantries can and should be put behind us."

Tierce snorted something under his breath. "Certainly the courageous one, isn't he?"

"You miss the point, Major," Disra said, smiling at Control. Suddenly, it was all making sense. "Control here isn't scrabbling around desperately trying to save his skin. He had this whole confrontation mapped out right from the start."

The Mistryl frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that he decided he was tired of being second in line," Disra told her, watching Control closely. The slight, knowing smile on the other's lips was all the proof he needed that he had hit it precisely. "All of it was pure politics."

"It was more than just politics, Your Excellency," Control said. "Zothip had mouth and bluster; but he didn't have the brains to run an organization as large as ours. For years now I've been the one who's been holding it all together. It's high time I took over the perks as well as the work."

"How convenient that we've cleared the path for you," Thrawn said. "Is there anything more you want from us?"

"For starters, I'd like to leave here alive," Control said, giving each of the Imperials a smile that managed to be smug and ingratiating at the same time. "Other than that?" He hesitated. "Zothip was right about our arrangement with Moff Disra," he said, turning his attention to Thrawn. "We made out pretty good, but we were also taking too many of the risks. Besides that, the New Republic seems to be on to us now. I think it's time we bowed out."

"Then you forfeit your chance to share in the division of the galaxy at the Empire's victory," Disra warned, wondering why he was even bothering to try to talk Control into this. Certainly he didn't really care if the Cavrilhu Pirates walked or not.

He needn't have worried. "We'll take our chances," Control said. "You may be a genius, Admiral, but frankly I don't think even you can pull it off."

"As you wish," Thrawn said. "You will, of course, still keep the Preybird production line operating."

"We'll keep it running," Control promised. "In fact, I'll give you our interest in the whole operation as a welcome-back present."

He smirked, but in Disra's eyes the expression rang just a little bit hollow. "And as a token of our past association with the Empire, and of our friendly parting of the ways."

"Of course," Thrawn said, giving him a knowing smile in return. "And just in case you're wrong about the extent of my genius?"

The smirk twitched and vanished. "A lot of fringe groups got caught in the middle the last time you went up against the New Republic, Admiral," he said. "I'd rather the Cavrilhu Pirates not wind up in that position."

"I think that can be avoided," Thrawn agreed. "Certainly as long as the Preybirds continue to be delivered."

"You've got a deal," Control said, his eyes flicking to the Mistryl as he cautiously lowered his arms. "If that's all, then, I have an organization to restructure. Good luck to you, Admiral."

"And to you, Captain Control," Thrawn replied, inclining his head slightly. "I don't expect to see you or any of your pirates in Imperial space again."

Control swallowed visibly. "No, sir," he said as he backed toward the door to the secret passageway. "You won't."

He slipped into the doorway and vanished. "I hope letting him go was the right thing to do," Disra muttered. Pellaeon was at the other end of that passageway, and they only had Control's word that he wasn't interested in revenge.

"Don't worry," Thrawn assured him. "As you already pointed out, he put a great deal of time and thought into maneuvering Zothip here this way. No, he'll head directly back to his ship with his tale of woe, and that will be that."

"What about her?" Tierce asked, nodding at the woman. He had lowered his blaster as ordered, but was still holding it ready at his side. "She did come in with them."

"I came in behind them," the woman corrected. "I overheard a comment about clones and pirate arrangements with the Empire and?"

"Clones?" Disra cut her off. "Who was talking about clones?"

She regarded him coolly. "A couple of New Republic agents named Han Solo and Lando Calrissian," she said. "You may have heard of them."

"I believe we have, yes," Thrawn said with an easy smile. "Actually, we're trying to make contact with them at the moment."

Her lip twitched. "I'll bet you are."

"But more interesting to me," Thrawn continued, "would be to hear your response to the offer I made to you a few minutes ago."

She frowned. "What offer?"

"Don't you remember?" Thrawn asked. "I pointed out that your recovery to my appearance had been a bit slow, but otherwise not bad. I then spoke of the Empire's wish to acquire allies."

Her forehead furrowed. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "You made that offer to Zothip, not me. You didn't even know I was there."

"On the contrary," Thrawn said quietly. "I knew full well you were there. And if you'll think back to my offer, you may notice that I never mentioned either Zothip or his pirates."

She stared at him, her face struggling as she obviously tried to sort out whether he was being truthful or feeding her a load of lies. Flim weaving yet another of his spells... and even with the audience prejudiced against him, it appeared to be working.

But right now Disra didn't have time to enjoy the show. "I'm sure you and the lady have a great deal to discuss, Admiral," he murmured, taking a step back toward the door. "If you'll excuse me, though, I need to get back to Admiral Pellaeon."

"Certainly, Your Excellency," Thrawn said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Perhaps we'll move to another room to continue our discussion." He lifted an eyebrow at the woman. "Assuming, that is, you're interested in what my new Empire has to offer the Mistryl."

"We've never worked for the Empire before," the woman said cautiously as Disra stepped to the door and pulled it open.

"That was Palpatine's Empire," Thrawn reminded her. "The Empire I propose to rebuild?"

The rest of the sales pitch was lost as Disra closed the door behind him and hurried down the corridors. The secret passageway would have been faster; but Pellaeon didn't know about that, and Disra would just as soon it be kept secret.

Switching corridors, rounding the last corner, he headed down the main hallway toward the door guards. "Has Admiral Pellaeon asked about me?" he asked as the guards saluted and stepped aside.

"No, Your Excellency," one of them said as the double doors began to swing open.

"Actually, he's already left."

Disra came to an abrupt stop. "What do you mean, he's left?" he echoed, peering in through the opening doors. The office was indeed empty. "Where did he go?"

"He didn't say, Your Excellency," the guard said.

Disra stepped into the office, frowning around the room as the doors closed behind him. This made no sense. Why would Pellaeon and that slinker Dreyf just leave? Surely they hadn't simply decided to let him off the hook.

His eyes fell on his desk...

He was around the side of the desk in five quick strides, swearing the whole way, feeling a clammy sweat breaking out on his face. No. They couldn't have.

But they had. The hidden desk drawer had been forced open.

And the datacards were gone.

CHAPTER

23

Disra's groping hand found the comm switch. "Tierce, get in here," he managed, his voice sounding odd through the pounding of his heart in his ears. "Now."

He switched the comm to the guards outside. "When did Pellaeon leave?" he demanded.

"Five or six minutes ago, Your Excellency," the voice came back.

Which meant he would be out of the palace by now and headed for the spaceport, with the Capital Security forces who could have intercepted him dispersed uselessly around the city in their hunt for Solo and Calrissian. Disra ground his teeth together, a vision of the grand scheme he'd worked so hard to create collapsing in front of his eyes. Everything was on those datacards?everything.

Encrypted, of course; but if Pellaeon was able to decrypt them...

And then another, even more awful thought jabbed up under his heart. Colonel Vermel, hidden away in a quiet little detention cell on Rimcee Station...

It took nearly a minute to get the long-range comm keyed through the various relays to the Rimcee system. And when he did...

Across the room, the secret door opened and Tierce stepped into the office. "We have them," he announced with grim satisfaction. "Their ship's in Docking Bay 155?"

"Pellaeon's got the datacards," Disra cut him off viciously.

"What?" Tierce demanded, picking up his pace.

"The datacards, fool," Disra snarled. "The Vengeance scheme, our arrangement with Zothip's pirates, names and details of the industrial/financial web I've been using?everything."

Tierce hissed between his teeth, throwing a look at the empty drawer. "Incredible," he said, almost as if talking to himself. "He actually broke into your private records. I would never have thought him capable of doing that. It must have been Dreyf's idea."

"We can get the details at the trial," Disra snapped. "Forget whose idea it was.

What are we going to do?"

"What do we have to do?" Tierce said with a shrug. "They're encrypted, aren't they? By the time Pellaeon decrypts them?"

"He already has," Disra cut him off. "At least well enough. He knows Vermel's at Rimcee Station."

Tierce's face hardened. "How do you know?"

"Because I just tried to get through to them," Disra gritted. "Pellaeon's had all transmissions to the entire system blocked off."

Tierce threw a dark look at the blank comm display. "Fast work," he murmured. "Very good, Admiral."

"Never mind that," Disra snapped, almost shaking with fear and rage and frustration. Didn't Tierce understand the whole plan was about to collapse on top of them? "We've got to stop him. We've got to pull Vermel out before Pellaeon gets there?"

"No," Tierce said, his voice suddenly decisive. "What we have to do is catch Solo and Calrissian before they get to their ship and have our Grand Admiral put on a show for them."

"Are you insane?" Disra snarled. "To Kessel with Solo?this is my neck we're talking about!"

"Calm down, Disra," Tierce said, his voice like a slap of cold water in the Moff's face. "Whatever Pellaeon's got doesn't matter. You understand? It doesn't matter.

We have the ultimate clear-card: Grand Admiral Thrawn. All he has to do is take command and declare everything we've done to have been at his direction. Now snap out of it."

Disra took a shuddering breath, glaring at Tierce in silent, impotent fury.

Silent fury that the Guardsman was dismissing so casually all the years Disra had put into this project. Impotent fury because he was right. "Fine," he choked out. "So we forget Pellaeon. What do we do instead?"

"You weren't listening," Tierce said, his eyes still narrowed as he watched Disra's face. "We've got their landing bay number?that Mistryl woman D'ulin rode in with them as a stowaway. The admiral and I have to get there before they get back. You understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Disra growled, his brain only now starting to unfreeze from the shock and panic. "I'm not a child, you know."

"Glad to hear it," Tierce said coldly. "Because while we're out there, you're going to go talk to D'ulin. Find out what she wants and what it'll take to bring the Mistryl onto our side."

Disra felt his mouth drop open a centimeter. The reports he'd heard about the Mistryl? "You want to try to make allies of them? Have you lost your mind? They hate the Empire!"

"We need a new fringe group to replace the Cavrilhu Pirates," Tierce said, his voice one of exaggerated patience. "And we do not have time to argue about it.

Thrawn and D'ulin are in the library across from your quarters. Go take over so that he and I can get to the spaceport. Understand? Now move."

The snapped command made Disra jump. "Don't ever talk to me that way again, Major," he warned, his voice quietly deadly. "Ever."

"Then don't ever fall apart on me again, Your Excellency," Tierce countered. If he was either impressed or intimidated by Disra's warning, he didn't show it. "Now get moving."

* * *

The legion of Imperial troops Han had feared would be ringing the spaceport wasn't there. Neither were the hard-eyed guards he'd expected at the entrypoint, the monitor droids along the access street, or the stormtroopers at the door to their docking bay. In fact, from all appearances it looked like they'd gotten completely away with it.

And that all by itself was enough to worry him. A lot.

Lando felt it, too. "I don't like this, Han," he muttered, glancing around the street behind them as Han unlocked the bay door. "This is way too easy."

"Yeah, I know," Han agreed, taking one last look around as he took Lobot's arm and guided him through the doorway. Lando's on-the-fly changes to his implant's programming over the past hour may have thrown the Imperials off the scent, but they'd also left Lobot rather dazed. If it came to a fight at the Lady Luck's ramp, he was going to be no help at all.

The dark passageway through the docking bay's service and supply area was also deserted. "Soon as we're aboard you get the engines fired up," Han told Lando as they stepped out onto the permacrete beneath the open sky. The Lady Luck was still there, looking just the way they'd left her. "I'll handle the weapons.

Maybe Moegid can get into the spaceport computer and get us a quick exit slot?"

"That won't be necessary," a quiet voice came from behind them.

Han spun around, yanking out his appropriated blaster. Behind them on the permacrete had appeared the flickering full-sized holo of a man. A man with blue skin, wearing a white Imperial uniform...

Lando made a strange sound in the back of his throat. "It's him," he murmured.

Han nodded, feeling numb. It was indeed.

Grand Admiral Thrawn.

"Please lay your weapons on the ground," Thrawn directed. "I'd prefer to speak with you face-to-face, but understandably have no desire to be shot."

"Understandably," Han agreed, keeping a firm grip on his blaster, his eyes darting around the landing bay. There must be some actual troops in here somewhere...

The holo smiled. "Come now, Captain Solo," he said soothingly. "Surely you don't think you'll be able to simply blast your way out of Bastion as you have from so many other systems during your checkered career. Don't you wish to see your wife and children again?"

Han adjusted his grip on his blaster, feeling sweat gathering on his forehead. "Yeah, that's kind of the point, isn't it?" he said.

The holo shook his head. "You misunderstand, Captain," Thrawn said. "You have nothing to fear from me. All I want is a few words with you, and then you and your companions will be free to go your way." He nodded toward Lando. "Ask Captain Calrissian. I allowed him to leave my Star Destroyer."

"This isn't exactly the same," Lando said tightly. "This is your hidden capital.

You aren't going to want anyone knowing where it is."

"Come now, Captain," Thrawn said, rather scornfully. "Do you really think I would expect knowledge of Bastion's current location to die with you? The seat of Imperial authority has been moved before, many times. It can certainly be moved again. Still, you apparently need more persuasion."

A movement at the corner of his eye caught Han's attention. He looked up?

To see a row of stormtroopers lined up along the rim of the landing bay's storage area roof, blaster rifles trained on them.

He sighed. They should have made a dash for the Lady Luck when the holo first appeared instead of letting Thrawn stall them this way. Too late now. "How'd you find us?" he asked, setting the blaster's safety and laying the weapon on the ground in front of him.

"It wasn't difficult," the holo said as Lando reluctantly followed suit with his slugthrower. "I knew none of you had the slicing expertise needed to invade the Special Files. I suspected you were using a Verpine for that, and so instructed my men to run a scan on those comm frequencies."

"Looking for an echo," Han said, nodding. "I would have sworn we cut that off before you could get a fix."

"You misunderstand, Captain. I wasn't looking for an echo." Abruptly, the holo vanished?

And from around a stack of storage crates to their right Thrawn himself appeared, his white uniform dazzlingly bright in the afternoon sunlight.

But no more dazzling than the gleaming armor of the six stormtroopers flanking him in guard position. On second thought, Han decided, a mad dash for the Lady Luck wouldn't have been such a clever plan after all.

"I was merely seeking confirmation that your slicer was a Verpine," Thrawn continued as he walked up to them. "Once you supplied that confirmation by blanketing those biocomm frequencies, all I had to do was search the spaceport records for a ship that had supposedly landed here eight, twelve, or seventeen days before the drone probe you followed in from the Parshoone Ubiqtorate contact station."

"Wait a minute, you've lost me," Han said, frowning. "Eight, twelve, or seventeen days?"

Thrawn smiled. "Those are important numbers to the Verpines," he said. "Not consciously, perhaps, but nevertheless anchored deeply within them. It was obvious that your Verpine was the master slicer of your group; therefore, he would have been the one to make any alterations in the spaceport records to hide your ship's location. Need I go on?"

"No," Han said, a cold chill running through him. Back at his and Leia's Orowood Tower retreat Lando had claimed to have seen Thrawn; had claimed it, had argued it, had maintained it despite all the evidence and arguments to the contrary.

Han had wondered then how his friend could have been so easily spooked.

Now, finally, he understood.

"Good," Thrawn said, peering at him with a depth of understanding Han didn't care for at all. "Then let us get down to business." He raised his voice slightly. "Major?"

From behind another stack of boxes to the left a youngish man wearing major's insignia appeared, his eyes wary on the prisoners. In his right hand he held a blaster; in his left, a datacard.

"As you may recall our last conversation, Captain Calrissian," Thrawn went on as the major walked toward them, "you suggested that if I wanted to save the New Republic from its current crisis I should simply give you a complete copy of the Caamas Document."

"Yes, I remember," Lando said as the major came to a stop a meter in front of him. "You told me that would take too much time."

"Less time than I thought, as it turned out," Thrawn agreed. "There it is."

The major held out the datacard. "What do you mean, there it is?" Lando asked, looking at the datacard like he expected it to explode in his face.

"The Caamas Document," Thrawn said simply. "It's yours. Take it."

Slowly, hesitantly, Lando took the card. "What's the catch?" he asked as the major took a step back.

"There's no catch," Thrawn assured him. "As I told you before, I merely wish to help."

"Sure you do," Han put in, his words sounding harsh in his ears after the Grand Admiral's more urbane tones. "Like you helped wreck the Combined Clans Building on Bothawui?"

The glowing red eyes focused on him. "Explain."

"There was an Imperial team behind that riot," Han said stiffly. Beside him, Lando was making shushing noises, and he had to admit that accusing Thrawn to his face like this was probably not the most politic thing he could have done.

But it had been his neck on the line there, his and Leia's, and he was not going to just stand here and let Thrawn get away with making conciliatory noises. Not after all the death and destruction that riot had caused. "We found the redirection crystal they used with their Xerrol Nightstinger sniper blaster."

He had hoped for a flicker of guilt, or at least a twinge of recognition. But instead Thrawn merely gave him a brittle smile. "Yes, a Xerrol Nightstinger," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Apparently still a favored tool of assassins and saboteurs. But in this case, you're looking the wrong direction.

The Empire's last five Xerrols were stolen six months ago from a Ubiqtorate cache on Marquarra."

His eyes glittered. "If you want to find them, I suggest you search the private estate of High Councilor Borsk Fey'lya."

Han exchanged startled glances with Lando. "Fey'lya?"

"Yes," Thrawn said. "It was his private army who stole them."

"No," Han said, the word coming automatically. "That's ridiculous."

And yet...

Fey'lya had known he and Leia were going to the Combined Clans Building to check out the true state of Bothan finances, a job they'd somehow never gotten around to finishing after the riot. And it was just the sort of back-blading stunt the Bothans were famous for.

Thrawn shrugged. "I'm not going to try to convince you. The truth is there for you to find if you care to. In the meantime?" He nodded toward the datacard in Lando's hand. "Good day, gentlemen. Have a good voyage."

Without waiting for an answer he turned and headed for the exit, half of his stormtrooper guard falling into formation around him. The remaining three stormtroopers and the major waited until he was out of sight before turning and following. As they too vanished through the doorway the row of stormtroopers above them turned and headed away across the roof.

And a moment later Han, Lando, and Lobot were alone.

Han turned to Lando, found the other staring at him from under hooded eyelids. "Well, Lando," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. It wasn't one of his better efforts. "I guess I owe you an apology."

"Never mind the apologies," Lando said, stooping to retrieve their weapons as he ran a quick glance around the empty rooftop. "Let's just get out of here, okay?"

"Yeah," Han said, taking Lobot's arm and turning him toward the Lady Luck's ramp.

"Let's."

* * *

"You should have seen their faces," Flim said, swirling his drink around in his glass, his moody voice in odd contrast with what should have been gloating words.

"They were so petrified, and trying so hard not to show it. It was really rather funny."

"I'm sure you could hardly keep from breaking out laughing," Disra said sourly.

"The question is, did they buy it?"

"They bought it," Tierce assured him, sliding a datacard out of his datapad and picking up the next one from his stack. Alone among the three of them, he seemed to have no doubts about Flim's performance. "Our Grand Admiral was as smooth as polished transparisteel. He didn't even flinch when Solo threw the Bothawui commando team in his face."

"The Bothawui team?" Disra demanded sharply. "Our Bothawui team? Navett's group?"

"Relax?he was talking about them in conjunction with the Combined Clans Building riot," Tierce said. "There was no indication they know Navett's back there now."

"I hope not," Disra growled. On the other hand, that whole scheme was listed on the datacards that Pellaeon had stolen from him. Still, it was unlikely Pellaeon would run straight to Coruscant to warn them, even if he stopped sifting through the financial data long enough to notice it was even there. "How did they find out we staged the riot?"

Tierce shrugged. "Who knows? It doesn't matter, though?the Admiral deflected them nicely." He looked over at Flim. "What was all that about a weapons cache being stolen from Marquarra? I don't remember hearing about that."

Flim sipped at his drink. "You don't remember," he said, "because I made the whole thing up. I figured it would?"

"You made it up?" Disra cut him off. "What kind of fool stunt was that?"

"One that got Solo off my back," Flim said stiffly. "Why? You disapprove? "

"Yes, I disapprove," Disra bit out. "It's out of character. Thrawn didn't go around making things up?if he didn't know something, he said so."

"Calm down, Your Excellency," Tierce said. But he didn't look all that happy, either, as he gazed at Flim. "He had to say something?we can't be offering Coruscant the Caamas Document with one hand and helping foment riots with the other. At least he's bought us the time it'll take them to check up on it."

Disra snorted. "However little that is."

"However little it is will be enough," Tierce said firmly. "In seven days the New Republic's civil war is set to begin. At that point, no one's going to care about a few riots and a handful of Xerrol Nightstingers."

He nodded back toward the secret door. "And speaking of buying things, how did your talk go with our guest? Are we going to be able to buy their services?"

"I don't know," Disra said, his mouth tightening briefly. "Mistryl don't work for Imperials?she must have told me that fifteen times. On the other hand, she did agree to call one of their leaders to come talk to us. And there is something they very much want, but I wasn't quite able to get her to tell me what that is."

"What they want is revenge," Flim said soberly. "Like everyone else these days."

"Revenge against whom?" Disra asked.

Flim shrugged. "The story around the fringe is that their world was devastated in a war with person or persons unknown some number of decades ago. The money the Mistryl earn hiring out their services still supposedly goes to support the survivors."

"What's the name of the world?" Disra asked.

"I don't know," Flim said. "They keep it very quiet. Probably afraid whoever did it will come back and finish the job."

"She said something about revenge for Lorardian," Tierce mused. "Could that be the system?"

"I have no idea." Flim shrugged. "I don't even know who or what Lorardian is."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Disra said, frowning. "You sounded like you knew all about it back there."

"I also sounded like I knew she was hiding behind the door the whole time," Flim countered patiently. "The whole trick behind being a good con man is convincing the target you know more than you really do."

Disra grimaced. Con men. "Of course. I forgot."

"Don't go all high and nobly indignant on me, Disra," Flim warned, his face darkening. "Your Cavrilhu Pirate raids on New Republic shipping were as much a con as this is. So is your precious little Vengeance movement, for that matter," he added, shifting his glare to Tierce. "A few Imperial agitators pretending to be a huge group of civilian malcontents. Not to mention this whole Thrawn charade. You don't like cons? Well, too bad. You're up to your necks in them, both of you. Not that you've got any choice. Not with the shape the Empire's in."

He dropped his feet back onto the floor with a muffled thud and stood up. "And I'll tell you something else," he added. "If and when you ever get to the point where you've got all the military strength you want, you're still going to need me."

He slapped at his chest. "I'm the only one of this group who knows the fringe.

Who the pirates and mercs are, where to find a good bounty hunter on short notice?you want to hire more privateers, you'll have to come to me. I'm the one who could finger D'ulin as a Mistryl just by the way she fought."

"We're not arguing," Disra said, a little taken aback by the fire of the con man's tirade. "So what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that if and when this Hand of Thrawn of yours shows up, you might not need my Thrawn masquerade anymore," Flim shot back. "But you'll still need me."

For a long moment the room was silent. Flim glared back and forth between the two of them, breathing a little heavily.

Tierce broke the silence first. "You finished?" he asked mildly.

Flim studied his face, and some of the stiffness seemed to leave his back. "Yes," he muttered. "I just... this is going to stir the pot, Tierce, from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. Unless the Hand of Thrawn is living under a rock, there's no way he's going to miss this."

"I told you before that we could protect you from him," Tierce said. "And we will. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah." Flim took a long drink from his glass. "Yeah. Sure."

* * *

Lando pulled back the hyperdrive lever, and in front of them the stars of Bastion's sky stretched into starlines. "Well," he said. He'd meant the word to come out sounding casual, but all it sounded was hoarse. "I guess he really meant it. About letting us go."

Beside him, Han didn't answer. For that matter, he probably hadn't said ten words since Thrawn had walked out of the docking bay. Lando looked sideways at his friend, wondering if it was time he started worrying about him.

Han must have felt the other's gaze. "It was really him, wasn't it?" he said quietly, his own gaze still on the swirling patterns of hyperspace.

Lando nodded, his throat feeling tight. "Perfectly calm, perfectly in control, three steps ahead of us the whole way," he said. "No one else but Thrawn."

"I wouldn't have believed it." Han looked at Lando, his mouth twitching. "I guess I didn't believe it," he amended. "Whatever I said to you back at the Orowood Tower?"

"Forget it," Lando said, waving the apology away. "I was right there that first time, and I didn't even believe it. At least, I didn't want to."

Han shook his head. "We're in trouble, Lando," he said. "From now on, we can't trust anything we see. Anything we see, anything we hear, anything we think we ought to do. Not with Thrawn back on the scene."

"I don't know," Lando said doubtfully. "Thrawn or no Thrawn, the Empire is still down to eight sectors. Maybe this is really all he's going for, hoping to confuse Coruscant so badly it just freezes up."

"Who knows?" Han growled, some heat starting to seep into his voice. At least he didn't sound dazed and demoralized anymore. About time, Lando thought. "That's what drives you so crazy about him. You try to do something, and odds are it's exactly what he wanted you to do. You stand still and don't do anything, and he runs a smartrope around you."

"So what do you suppose he expects us to do with this?" Lando asked, holding up the datacard.

"I don't know what he expects," Han said, reaching over and taking it. "But I'll tell you what we're going to do. First, we're going to read it and see if it gives those names everyone's so hot to get hold of. Second, we're going to call Leia as soon as we're in range of the HoloNet and let her know we've got it. And third?"

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "We're going to turn Moegid loose on the thing and have him check it sixteen ways from center. See if he can find whatever surprises Thrawn has tucked away."

Lando eyed the datacard warily. "You think there are surprises?"

"It's Thrawn," Han said simply.

Lando nodded. "Right."

Getting out of his seat, Han gave the instruments one final check. "Come on?I don't trust this thing anywhere near the ship's computer," he said, heading for the cockpit door. "Let's get a datapad and find out what it says."

CHAPTER

24

The first navigational stop the Wild Karrde had made after leaving Dayark had showed nothing ahead. Nothing but the twisting glow of the Kathol Rift and the fiery frozen wisps of ionized gas streamers and miniature nebulae that looked as if they'd been torn from it by violence. So had the second stop, and the third, until Shada had begun to wonder if the legendary lost world of Exocron was truly nothing but a myth.

On the fifth stop, they found it.

"It looks quite pleasant," Threepio commented somewhat doubtfully from Shada's side as they gazed out the Wild Karrde's bridge viewport at the small planet rapidly approaching. "I do hope they will be friendly."

"I wouldn't count on it," Shada warned him, feeling an unfamiliar and unpleasant dryness in her mouth. Down there somewhere, if Jade and Calrissian were right, Jorj Car'das would be waiting for them.

At the helm, Odonnl half turned in his seat. "Shouldn't we have the turbolasers ready?" he asked Karrde. "Just in case they're not happy at having their privacy infringed on?"

Shada looked at Karrde. He was hiding his nervousness well, but she herself had no trouble seeing it. "We're here to talk, not fight," he reminded Odonnl, his voice steady. "I don't want anyone down there getting the wrong impression."

"Yes, but after Dayark?"

"We're here to talk," Karrde repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "H'sishi, are we picking up any sensor probes? Or transmissions, Chin?"

[No probes yet, Chieftain,] the Togorian said. Her fur, Shada noted, had fluffed out just noticeably. Apparently, she'd picked up on Karrde's mood, too.

"Nothing of transmissions either, Cap't," Chin added. "Perhaps they not see us come in."

"Oh, they see us, all right," Karrde said, a hint of grimness creeping into his tone. "The only question?"

He broke off at a beep from the comm. "Incoming starship, this is Admiral Trey David, second-in-command to Supreme Admiral Horzao Darr of the Exocron Combined Air-Space Fleet," a courteous but firm voice said. "Please identify yourselves."

Chin reached for his board? "No, I'll do it," Karrde told him, visibly bracing himself as he touched his comm switch. "This is Talon Karrde aboard the freighter Wild Karrde, Admiral David. Our intentions are totally peaceful. We'd like permission to land."

There was a long pause. A very long pause, in fact. Shada rubbed her knuckles gently, visualizing a heated argument going on in the Exocron Combined Fleet office...

"Wild Karrde, this is Admiral David," the voice came back. "I'm told you're here to see Jorj Car'das. Can you confirm that?"

Shada watched Karrde closely. But aside from a brief twitch at the corner of his mouth there was no reaction. "Yes, I can," he said, his voice a little hollow but under control. "There's a vital matter I urgently need to discuss with him."

"I see." There was another pause, shorter this time. "Is he expecting you?"

Another twitch of the lip. "I don't know if expecting is the proper word. I do believe he knows I'm coming."

"Do you," David said, his voice suddenly sounding a little odd. "Very well, Wild Karrde, you're cleared for Circle 15 at the Rintatta City military landing field.

Coordinates are being sent to you now."

"Thank you," Karrde said.

"Got it," Odonnl muttered, studying his nav display. "Looks pretty straightforward."

"We have an escort on the way," David continued. "I trust I don't have to tell you to cooperate with them."

"I understand completely," Karrde said. "Will I be seeing you there?"

"I doubt it," David said; and this time there was definitely a darkness in his voice. "But perhaps we'll all be lucky. You never know. David out."

For a moment the bridge was quiet. Shada looked around at the others, at their tight faces and tense shoulders and grim expressions. If they hadn't known before what they were getting into, she decided, they knew now.

And yet, she saw no indication that any of them were even thinking of trying to back out. A truly loyal, close-knit crew, completely dedicated to their chief.

Much as Shada herself had once been dedicated to the ideals of the Mistryl. Even when the Mistryl themselves had all but forgotten those ideals.

Even in the face of the looming danger ahead, the memory of that loss still hurt.

"Instructions, Captain?" Odonnl asked quietly.

Karrde didn't hesitate. "Take us down," he said.

* * *

Rintatta City was a middling-sized cluster of military-style buildings interspersed with about fifty landing pads of varying sizes, many with ships already settled down onto them. The military areas were in turn surrounded by a wide ring of civilian-style homes and businesses and community buildings. The whole thing was nestled up against the base of a short but rough-sided ridge of mountains, the city giving way to a grassy plain on its other sides.

There was no shakedown like there had been at Pembric 2. Nor was there any sort of customs or entrance inquiry at all as the Wild Karrde headed in to the surface. The two aging system patrol ships that Admiral David had sent escorted the freighter to its assigned landing circle, watched as it set down, then headed off again into the sky without comment. Around the other ships, hundreds of men and women and dozens of small vehicles were hurrying about various tasks of their own, completely ignoring the offworld ship that had set down in their midst. From all appearances, Karrde thought as he and the others started down the ramp, all of Exocron might be trying to pretend the visitors didn't exist.

With one notable exception.

"Good day, Captain Karrde," Entoo Nee beamed from the foot of the Wild Karrde's landing ramp. "Welcome to Exocron. I see that even without my help you were able to find us. Hello, Shada; hello, Threepio."

"Hello, Master Entoo Nee," Threepio replied, sounding distinctly relieved to see a familiar face. "I confess I had not expected to find you here."

"There was some question about you, as well," Entoo Nee said cheerfully. "When I last saw you on Dayark, you seemed to be having pirate trouble." He took a step closer to the ramp and peered up into the ship. "Will your charming Togorian be joining us?"

"No, H'sishi will be staying with the ship," Karrde told him, eyeing the little man with some bemusement. H'sishi was an increasingly valued member of his crew, but charming was not a descriptive term that would have automatically sprung to mind.

"Too bad," Entoo Nee said, looking at Shada and Threepio again. "Is this it, then? You don't want to bring any others along?"

Karrde felt his muscles tense up again, despite all his efforts to relax them.

Certainly he wanted to bring more people along. The Wild Karrde's entire crew, for starters, plus the crews of the Starry Ice and the Etherway, General Bel Iblis's complete New Republic task force, Rogue Squadron, and about four clans' worth of Noghri warriors.

But even if he had had such resources, it would be a futile gesture. Car'das was waiting for him, and bringing more people would only mean putting more people at risk. That wasn't why he was here. "Yes," he told Entoo Nee. "This is it. Do I assume you're here to take us to Jorj Car'das?"

"If you wish to see him," the little man said, his eyes thoughtful on Karrde's face. Once again, as on Dayark, glimpses of the true Entoo Nee were peeking through the carefully crafted facade of harmlessness. "Well. Shall we go?"

He led the way to an open-topped landspeeder at the edge of the landing circle?a landspeeder, Karrde noted, that despite Entoo Nee's apparent surprise at the small size of the party was only a four-seater. Weaving his way expertly in and out of the rest of the traffic, the little man headed off toward the mountains.

"What's going on here?" Shada asked, gesturing around them as Entoo Nee dodged around a particularly slow-moving fuel truck.

"They're preparing for some sort of maneuvers, I expect," the other said. "Military people are always maneuvering one direction or another."

"How far is it to where we're meeting Car'das?" Karrde asked, not particularly interested in what the Exocron Combined Air-Space Fleet had on its agenda for the day.

"Not far," Entoo Nee assured him. "Do you see that light blue building straight ahead, the one just a bit up the slope of the mountain? That's where he is."

Karrde shaded his eyes from the sunlight. From this distance, at least, it was not a very impressive place. Not a fortress; not even a mansion.

In fact, as Entoo Nee cleared the military area and started across the more sparsely trafficked civilian section of the city, the light blue building ahead began to look more and more like a simple, unassuming house.

Shada was apparently thinking along the same lines. "Is that where Car'das lives, or just where we're meeting him?" she asked.

Entoo Nee threw her a quick smile. "It's always questions with you, isn't it?

Such a good, thoughtful mind."

"Asking questions is part of my job," Shada countered. "And you haven't answered me."

"Answering questions isn't part of my job," Entoo Nee said. "Come now, there's no need for impatience?it's only a little farther. Just relax and enjoy the trip."

The blue house continued to look smaller and less impressive the closer they got.

Smaller, less impressive, older, and considerably shabbier. "As you can see, it was built right up against the cliff face," Entoo Nee commented as they drove past the last cluster of other houses and started across a grassy field with a rapid creek running through the middle of it. "I believe the original owner thought that would provide extra stability during the winter winds."

"What happened to the left side?" Shada asked, pointing. "Did a wing get torn down?"

"No, it was never built," Entoo Nee told her. "Car'das once began to add on to the house, but?well, you'll see."

An unpleasant tingle ran down Karrde's back. "What do you mean, we'll see? What stopped him?"

Entoo Nee didn't answer. Karrde glanced over at Shada, found her looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

A minute later they were there. Entoo Nee brought the landspeeder to a smooth halt in front of a once-white door whose paint had chipped and faded with age and neglect. "You lead the way," Shada said to Entoo Nee, sliding herself deftly between Karrde and the house. "I'll be behind you; Karrde will be behind me."

"Oh, no, that won't do at all," Entoo Nee said. He shook his head, a quick, nervous-looking movement. "Only Captain Karrde and I will be able to go in."

Shada's eyes narrowed. "Let me put it another way?"

"No, that's all right, Shada," Karrde said, moving around her and taking a step toward the door. Away from the center of the group, with nothing between him and the blank and empty windows, he felt painfully exposed. "If Car'das only wants to see me, then that's the way it has to be."

"Forget it," Shada said flatly, catching hold of Karrde's arm and hauling him bodily to a stop. "Entoo Nee, either I go in with him or he doesn't go in at all."

"Shada, this isn't helping," Karrde growled, glaring at her. Did she want all of them to be summarily shot down before he even had a chance to plead the New Republic's case? "If he wanted me dead, he could have done it at any of a hundred points along the way. He could certainly do it right here."

"I know that," Shada shot back. "And it doesn't matter. I came along as your bodyguard. And that's what I'm going to do."

Karrde stared at her, a sudden strange sensation running through him. Back at that Orowood Tower meeting with Solo, Organa Solo, and Calrissian, Shada had merely agreed to come along on this trip to help out. When during the two and a half weeks since then had that grudging agreement transmuted into the far deeper commitment of bodyguard? "Shada, I appreciate your concern," he said, quietly but firmly, reaching up to where she still gripped his arm and putting his hand gently on top of hers. "But you need to remember the big picture. My life, and what happens to it, isn't the most important thing at stake here."

"I'm your bodyguard," Shada said, just as quietly and just as firmly. "It's the most important thing to me."

"Please," Entoo Nee spoke up. "Please. I think you misunderstand. Captain Karrde and I must go in first, but you may certainly come in right behind us. It's simply that?well, you'll see."

Shada still didn't look happy, but she gave a reluctant nod. "All right, fine," she said. "Just remember that if anything happens, you personally will be directly in my line of fire. You two first, then me, then Threepio."

"Really, Mistress Shada, I'm sure it's not necessary for me to come in with you," the droid hastened to assure her, taking a shuffling step back toward the landspeeder. "Perhaps I should remain here and guard the landspeeder?"

"Actually, he may be useful," Entoo Nee said, smiling reassuringly. "Come, Threepio, it'll be all right."

"Yes, Master Entoo Nee," Threepio said in a resigned tone. Moaning almost inaudibly to himself, he shuffled to a spot half a meter behind Shada. "But I must say, I have a bad feeli?"

"Good," Entoo Nee said cheerfully. The solemn moment past, he was radiating his usual harmlessness again. "Shall we go?"

The door was unlocked. Karrde followed the little man in, feeling more vulnerable than ever as they stepped out of the sunlight into a dank, gloomy room.

A room that, to his surprise, had apparently not been used for some time. The few pieces of furniture scattered about were old and dusty, with the same signs of long neglect that they'd seen in the exterior of the house itself. The three windows, which from the outside had seemed so dark and threatening, could now be seen from this side to be merely incredibly dirty, with the slight frosting effect that came from years of wind-driven dust or sand slashing across them. In the shafts of dim sunlight that managed to penetrate the grime, long strands of cobweb could be seen stretching from some of the chairs to the ceiling.

"This way," Entoo Nee said quietly, his voice an intrusion in the eerie atmosphere as he led them across the room to a closed door. "He is here, Captain Karrde. Please prepare yourself."

Karrde took a deep breath. Behind him, he heard the faint scraping sound as Shada's blaster came free of its holster. "I'm ready," he said. "Let's get it over with."

"Indeed." Reaching past him, Entoo Nee touched the door control. With a faint squeak, it slid open.

It was the smell that hit Karrde first. An odor of age, and distant memories, and lost hopes. An odor of sickness and tiredness.

An odor of death.

The room itself was small, much smaller than Karrde would have expected. To both sides built-in shelves covered each of the side walls, on which were stacked a strange assortment of small art objects, useless-looking knickknacks, and medical vials and equipment. A large bed took up most of the rest of the space, the foot coming to within a meter of the doorway and leaving barely enough room left over for two people to stand.

And lying in the bed beneath a stack of blankets, humming softly to himself as he stared at the ceiling, was an old man.

"Jorj?" Entoo Nee called softly as he stepped through the doorway. The humming stopped, but the man's gaze remained on the ceiling. "Jorj? There's someone here to see you."

Karrde stepped in beside him, squeezing into the remaining space, his mind spinning. No. Surely this couldn't be Jorj Car'das. Not the vigorous, hot-tempered, ambitious man who'd almost single-handedly created one of the greatest smuggling organizations ever known. "Jorj?" he called carefully.

The wrinkled face frowned, and the head lifted up. "Mertan?" a quavering voice asked. "Mertan? Is that you?"

Karrde let his breath out in a tired sigh. The voice, and the eyes. Yes, it was indeed him. "No, Jorj," he said gently. "Not Mertan. It's Karrde. Talon Karrde.

You remember?"

The old man's eyes blinked a couple of times. "Karrde?" he said in the same uncertain voice. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Jorj, it's me," Karrde assured him. "Do you remember me?"

A tentative smile started on the old man's face, fading as if the muscles were too old or too tired to hold on to it. "Yes," he said. "No. Who are you again?"

"Talon Karrde," Karrde repeated, the bitter taste of defeat and disappointment and utter fatigue in his mouth. All this way. They'd come all this way to see Car'das and plead for his help. All of Karrde's fears about this meeting?his fears, his regrets, his guilt?all of it for nothing. The Jorj Car'das he had lived in quiet terror of for so many years was long gone.

In his place was an empty shell.

Dimly, through the darkness swirling through his mind, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Karrde," Shada said quietly. "There's nothing here anymore."

"It was Karrde, right?" the old man asked. A thin arm came up from beneath the blankets, flailing a bit before the hand was able to tuck the pillows tighter behind his neck. "Tarron Karrde?"

"It's Talon Karrde, Jorj," Entoo Nee corrected, his voice that of a patient parent to a very young child. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Car'das frowned, his head settling back onto the pillow, his eyes again drifting to whatever it was he saw on the ceiling. "Shem-mebal ostorran se'mmitas Mertan anial?" he muttered, his voice almost inaudible. "Karmida David shumidas krree?"

"Old Tarmidian," Entoo Nee murmured. "The language of his childhood. He's been slipping into that more and more lately."

"Threepio?" Shada prompted.

"He's asking if Mertan has been by here today," the droid translated. For once, there was no mention of how many types of communication he was fluent in. "Or that nice Admiral David person."

"No, neither of them," Entoo Nee said to the figure in the bed, motioning Karrde to back out of the room. "I'll be back later, Jorj. Try to get some sleep, all right?"

He followed Karrde out of the room and reached for the door control. "Sleep?" The old man snorted weakly, giving a cackling laugh. "Can't sleep now, Mertan.

Too much to do. Far too much to?"

The door slid shut, mercifully cutting off the rest. "You see, now, how it is," Entoo Nee said quietly.

Karrde nodded, the taste of ashes in his mouth. All those years... "How long has he been this way?"

"And why did you even bother bringing us here in the first place?" Shada demanded.

"What can I say?" Entoo Nee said. "He's old?very old?with the many and varied afflictions that so often come of long age." His bright eyes shifted to Shada. "And as for bringing you here, you were the ones who wanted to come."

"We wanted to see Jorj Car'das," Shada bit out. "What's in there is not what we had in mind."

"It's all right, Shada," Karrde said. All those years... "It's my fault, not Entoo Nee's. I should have come here years ago."

He blinked sudden tears from his eyes. "I suppose there's only one more question to be asked. Entoo Nee, Car'das once had a huge datacard library. Do you have any idea where it might be?"

Entoo Nee shrugged. "Whatever he did with it, he did it long before I came to be in his service."

Karrde nodded. So much for even their last hope of finding a copy of the Caamas Document here. Wasted fears, and now a wasted trip. Suddenly, he was feeling very old. "Thank you," he said, pulling out his comlink and keying it on. "Dankin?"

"Right here, Chief," Dankin's voice came promptly, an edge of tautness to it. "How are things?"

"Running quite smoothly, thank you," Karrde said, giving the all-clear code response. "The mission is over. Get the ship ready; we'll be leaving as soon as we get back."

"Yeah, well, that might be a bit tricky," Dankin said, his voice turning grim. "There's something about to happen here, Chief, something big. Every ship on the field's getting tooled up for combat."

Karrde frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Dankin said. "There are racks of missiles being taken aboard, gunner-type flak-vac suits?the works. And they seem to be arming a lot of civilian ships, too."

"It's Rei'Kas and his pirates," Entoo Nee murmured quietly at Karrde's side. "It would appear one of them followed you in."

Karrde grimaced, yet another piece of his carefully built up mental picture crumbling to dust. He'd been so sure that Rei'Kas had been hired and brought here by Car'das. "No one should have been able to follow us," he told Entoo Nee.

"We always watch our backtrail very closely."

Entoo Nee shrugged again. "I don't know how they did it. I only know that they did. According to Admiral David, their entire fleet has now left its hidden base and is on its way to Exocron."

"You knew about this before we even landed?" Shada demanded. "Why didn't you say something?"

"What should I have said?" Entoo Nee countered. "The damage had already been done. They had found Exocron." He gestured upward. "In fact, that was why I wanted to bring you here myself from Dayark, Captain Karrde. They wouldn't have been able to track my ship."

Karrde grimaced. As if his guilt burden hadn't been heavy enough, now this. "How long before they reach the planet?"

"Excuse me," Threepio spoke up before Entoo Nee could answer. "But if pirates are on their way, shouldn't we be planning our departure?"

"He's right," Entoo Nee agreed. "Still, there's no particular hurry for you.

They won't be here for at least another eight hours. Possibly more."

"What about you?" Shada asked.

Entoo Nee's mouth puckered. "I'm sure we'll be all right. I'm told the Combined Air-Space Fleet is quite good."

"Maybe against the occasional smuggler or rock-dodger," Shada said darkly. "But this is Rei'Kas we're talking about."

"It's our trouble, not yours," Entoo Nee said firmly. "You'd best make preparations to go."

The comlink, Karrde suddenly realized, was still on. "Dankin?" he called. "You get all that?"

"We got it, Chief," Dankin confirmed. "You still want me to get the ship ready?"

Karrde looked past Entoo Nee at the room's darkened windows. Beyond those windows were people his actions, however unintended, had put in deadly danger.

Which meant there really wasn't any decision here to be made. "Yes, get it ready," he told Dankin. "But get it ready for full combat."

He looked back at Entoo Nee. "We're going to stay and fight."

CHAPTER

25

It was, Booster Terrik thought, about as chaotic aboard the Errant Venture as he'd ever seen it. And considering this was the Errant Venture he was talking about, that was really saying something.

They were all over the place: New Republic techs and workers and officer types, thousands of them, crawling around every corner of his Star Destroyer. Fixing things, adding things, taking things out, upgrading things, and occasionally changing things around just for the fun of it. His own people had been overridden, nudged aside, superseded, or flat out run over as this oversized rancor of a restoration crew lumbered through his ship.

And moving around the center of it, like the single calm spot in the middle of a circlestorm, was General Bel Iblis.

"Five more warships arrived in the system last night," a harried-looking aide was saying, hurrying to keep up with Bel Iblis as the general strode briskly along the Starboard-16 weapons emplacement corridor. Booster, with his longer legs, had less of a problem in that department. Still, in his opinion, Bel Iblis had a lot more energy than anyone had any business having this early in the morning. "The Freedom's Fury, Spirit of Mindor, Starline Warrior, Stellar Sentinel, and Welling's Revenge."

"Good," Bel Iblis said, stopping beside a turbolaser monitor panel. "What about the Garfin and Beledeen II?"

"No word on them yet," the aide said, checking his datapad. "I've also heard rumors that the Webley's here, but so far they haven't checked in."

"They're here," Booster spoke up. "Captain Winger is, anyway?those mechanical fingers of hers leave pretty distinctive marks on metal ale tubes."

The aide's eyes darkened. "All incoming ships are supposed to check in immediately?"

"It's all right," Bel Iblis calmed him. "Don't worry, they'll surface in plenty of time. Alex probably just wanted her crew to get some rest before the orders started flying."

"They're not the only ones who could use some rest," Booster muttered under his breath.

Bel Iblis frowned slightly, as if only now noticing the big man's presence. "Was there something you wanted, Terrik?" he asked.

"Just wondering when the work on my ship will be finished," Booster said.

"We're almost there," Bel Iblis said. "Lieutenant?"

"Looks like the major refitting will be completed inside of twelve hours, " the younger man confirmed, studying his datapad. "There may be a few odds and ends left, but they can be finished on the way to Yaga Minor."

Bel Iblis looked at Booster. "Was there anything else?" he asked.

"Yeah, there was," Booster said. He stopped, looking significantly at the aide.

Bel Iblis took the hint. "Lieutenant, go check on the Number 7 tractor beam emplacement," he said. "Make sure the balance adjustments are being made properly."

"Yes, sir," the aide said. Throwing a speculative look at Booster, he headed at a quick walk down the corridor.

"Why don't we step in here out of the way," Bel Iblis suggested, crossing to a door with the bright red markings of an emergency med station.

They went inside. "Up to now, you've been pretty quiet about what your plan is for this little raid," Booster said when the door was sealed again behind them.

"I think it's about time I heard some details."

"There's not much to tell," Bel Iblis said. "We'll be taking the Errant Venture in past their sentry line and, hopefully, through their main defense perimeter.

Once we're inside, the rest of the task force will come in behind us from hyperspace and attack the perimeter. If we're lucky, the Imperials will be so busy with them they won't give us a second look."

"That assumes their first look doesn't pin us to the wall, of course," Booster pointed out darkly. "Assuming that, what then?"

"Yaga Minor has a peculiarity that as far as I know is unique among Imperial installations," Bel Iblis said. "There are a pair of outrider computer stations set up at the end of a corridor/walkway tube that extends about a hundred meters out from the main orbiting Ubiqtorate station."

Booster frowned. "Odd design."

"The idea was to give high-ranking civilian researchers access to the computer records system without having to let them into the Ubiqtorate base proper," Bel Iblis told him. "Grand Moff Tarkin ran a lot of his more private stuff through Yaga Minor, and he didn't want his political enemies getting even a glimpse of what he was up to."

"Okay, so there's a convenient remote connection to the computer," Booster said.

"I don't suppose it happens to have an equally convenient access hatchway where we can get to it."

"There are hatchways, but unfortunately they're not at all convenient," Bel Iblis said, his voice turning grim. "We'll probably have to blast a hole in the side of the walkway tube and send in our slicers in vac suits."

Booster snorted. "Right?blow a hole in the side of the station. That'll sure go unnoticed."

"It could," Bel Iblis said. "The main force will be firing barrages of proton torpedoes at the time. The Imperials may assume that was one that got through."

"And if they don't?"

Bel Iblis shrugged. "Then you and I and the rest of the Errant Venture's crew start earning our pay the hard way. We'll have to hold them off long enough for the slicers to pull up a copy of the Caamas Document and transmit it out to the attacking ships."

Booster snorted again. "No offense, General, but that has to be the worst plan I've ever heard in my life. What happens to us once we've got the document?"

Bel Iblis looked him straight in the eye. "What happens to us doesn't matter," he said bluntly. "If they accept our surrender, fine. If not... they turn the Errant Venture into scrap around us."

"Hold it a second," Booster said, frowning. Buried in among all that breathtakingly lousy strategy he'd suddenly noticed a highly important word. "What do you mean us? I thought you were going to be out there with the main fleet."

Bel Iblis shook his head. "This ship is the key to the operation," he said quietly. "This is the ship that has to survive long enough to first get the Caamas Document and then punch it out through whatever jamming the Imperials have going. This is where I'm needed the most. So this is where I'll be."

"Now, wait just one mradhe mucking minute," Booster growled, pulling himself up to his full one-meter-nine height. "This is my ship. You told me I would still be her captain."

"You're still the captain," Bel Iblis agreed. "I'm simply the admiral."

Booster let out a long, hissing breath. He should have known Bel Iblis hadn't really given in on anything. He should have known it. "And if I refuse to give you command?"

Bel Iblis lifted his eyebrows slightly. Booster nodded, a sour taste in his mouth. With the Errant Venture crawling with Bel Iblis's people, the question wasn't even worth answering. "Right," he muttered. "I knew I'd regret this."

"You can stay here if you want," Bel Iblis offered. "I'm sure Coruscant would compensate you for?"

"Forget it," Booster bit out. "This is my ship, and you're not taking it into combat without me. Period."

Bel Iblis smiled faintly. "I understand," he said. "Believe me, I understand.

Was there anything else?"

"No, that ought to about do it for now," Booster said glumly. "You might want to see if you can come up with a better plan in the next three days."

"I'll try," Bel Iblis promised. Turning, he headed for the door?

"Wait a second," Booster said as a new thought struck him. "You say we're going to blow a hole in that outrider computer station. What happens if someone's in there at the time?"

"I'm not expecting anyone to be there," Bel Iblis told him. "I doubt it's used much anymore. Besides, I can't see any other way to do this."

"But what if there is someone?" Booster persisted. "You said yourself the place was only used by civilians. You blow a hole in the wall and you're going to kill them."

A shadow seemed to cross Bel Iblis's face. "Yes," he said quietly. "I know."

* * *

"Well," Klif said, consulting his chrono. "It's been four hours. What do you think?another two before the panic call comes?"

Navett shrugged, running through a quick mental calculation of his own. He and Klif had been conspicuously elsewhere at the time, just in case backchecks were made, but according to Pensin the subtle transfer of their little organic time bombs to the Bothan techs' clothing had gone as smooth as spun gemweb. Four hours now since those techs had vanished into the Drev'starn shield generator building; give them another hour to make their presence known, two more after that for the Bothans to become fully aware of the magnitude of the problem and to exhaust all other possibilities for dealing with it... "I'm guessing at least three," he told Klif. "They aren't going to be in a hurry to call in offworlders."

"Well, the stuff's ready whenever they do," Klif said with a shrug.

Across the shop, the annoyingly cheery chime rang out as the door swung open.

Settling his face into what Klif had dubbed their earnest-but-stupid expression, he looked up.

And felt the expression freeze across his face. There, walking into the shop, were their two New Rep military types.

Beside him, Klif made a faint choking sound in the back of his throat. "Quiet," Navett murmured, adding a slightly dopey smile to his expression and bounding eagerly around the end of the counter toward their visitors. "A day of fun and profit to you, or however that goes," he said, keying his voice to the pleasant yet vaguely pushy tone of a merchant determined to make a sale. "Can I help you?"

"Just looking, thanks," one of the men said as they wandered down the row of cages. They were two of a kind, Navett noted: both somewhat short, both with slightly graying brown hair, the speaker with brown eyes while his companion had green.

And seen up close, Brown Eyes especially looked familiar.

"Sure, sure," Navett said, hovering nearby in traditional shopkeeper style. "Anything special you're lookin' for?"

"Not really," Green Eyes put in, gazing down into the polpian cage. "What are these? Polpians?"

"Sure are," Navett said. Both of them had faint Corellian accents, too. "You know your petstock."

"I know a little," Green Eyes said, gazing at him with a glint in his eye that Navett didn't care for at all. "I thought Bothans are allergic to polpians."

"Yeah, some of 'em are, I suppose," Navett said with a shrug.

"And yet you brought them to Bothawui?"

Navett put on a bewildered expression. "Well, sure," he said, trying to sound slightly wounded. "Just 'cause some people are allergic to something doesn't mean someone else won't wanna buy it. Not all Bothans are allergic to 'em, either, and anyway there are lots more people here than just Bothans?"

He broke off as Brown Eyes sneezed. "There?see?" he said, jabbing a finger toward the other as if the sneeze was a sort of vindication. "Probably something in here he's allergic to, too. But you still came in, right? And I'll bet I can find something that'd make a really great pet for you."

The door chime sounded again, and Navett turned to see a thin old woman come in.

The fringe companion Klif had mentioned? "Hi, there," he said, nodding to her. "A day of fun and profit to you. Can I help you?"

"I hope so," she said. "You have any ratter thists?"

Navett felt his throat tighten. What in blazes was a ratter thist? "Don't think I've ever heard of 'em," he said carefully, knowing better than to pretend knowledge he didn't have. "I can check the lists, though, see if we can get 'em from somewhere. What kind of critter are they?"

"They're not all that popular, really," the woman said. Her voice was casual, but she was watching him as closely as Green Eyes was. "They're small and agile, with tan-striped fur and retractable claws. They're sometimes used as livestock border guards in mountainous terrain."

"Oh, sure," Klif called from the far side of the counter. Leaning casually on it, there was no sign of the datapad he undoubtedly had going out of sight under the flat surface. "You're talking about Kordulian krisses."

"Oh?Kordulian krisses," Navett said with a knowing nod. He'd never heard of those, either, but Klif's cue was obvious. "Sure. I just never heard of 'em by that other name before. Klif, can we get 'em in?"

"Let me check," Klif said, making a show of pulling the datapad up onto the counter and pretending to turn it on.

"What are these?" Brown Eyes called. He was standing over the mawkren tank, looking in with a somewhat leery expression.

"Baby mawkrens," Navett told him, stepping to his side and looking fondly down through the clear plastic at the tiny lizards scrabbling restlessly around on top of each other. "Just whelped this morning. Cute, huh?"

"Adorable," Brown Eyes said, not sounding like he meant it.

"Here it is," Klif called. "Kordulian krisses. Let's see..."

There was a beep from Navett's comlink. " 'Scuse me," he said, pulling out the instrument, a sudden feeling of dread coming over him. If this was the call they were expecting... "Hello?"

"Is this Proprietor Navett of the Exoticalia Pet Emporium?" a stiff but harried-sounding Bothan voice asked.

"Sure is," Navett said, striving for earnest-but-stupid cheerfulness. It was the call, all right; and with all the rotten luck it had come with a pair of New Rep agents standing right there listening. "What can I do for you?"

"We have a small but troublesome insect infestation problem," the Bothan said. "Our attempts to eliminate them have so far proved futile. As a dealer in exotic animals, it was thought you might have some suggestions."

"Probably," Navett said. "Klif and I did some bug-squash work before we got into the pet business. What kind are they?"

"They're unfamiliar to our experts," the other said, sounding disgusted. "All we know is that they're very small, do not respond to any of our extermination methods, and at random intervals all begin making a loud humming noise."

"Could be skronkies," Navett suggested doubtfully. "They make a pretty annoying noise. Or aphrens, or?wait a minute. I'll bet they're metalmites. You got any electronics or heavy machinery in the area?"

There was a sort of strangled sound from the comlink. "A considerable amount of it, yes," the Bothan said. "What do metalmites do?"

"Chew through metal," Navett said. " 'Course, they don't actually chew through the stuff?they've got enzymes that?"

"I don't need the physiological details," the Bothan cut him off. "How do we eliminate them?"

"Well, let's see," Navett said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully for the benefit of the New Rep agents. Green Eyes had that glint in his eyes again... "First thing you gotta do is some spraying. You got any?let's see?any CorTrehan around? That's cordioline trehansicol, if you need the whole name."

"I don't know," the Bothan said. "But I'm sure we can get some made up."

"Before you do, make sure you got someone who knows what they're doing," Navett warned. "Won't do you a bit of good to just slather the stuff around."

There was a brief pause. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you can't just slather the stuff around, that's what," Navett said, letting a little impatience creep into his voice. "You gotta get all the spots where they're going to feed, but also leave 'em enough bare spots?" He sighed. "Look, this isn't something for amateurs to mess around with. We've got the equipment to spray with?we use 'em to disinfect our cages and stock. You get us the CorTrehan, and Klif and me can do the job for you."

"Impossible," the Bothan said sharply. "Offworlders cannot be permitted in that area."

"Oh. Okay." Navett shrugged. He'd expected the automatic rejection of his first offer. "Just trying to help. You'll have plenty of time to get rid of a single brood before it does much damage."

He frowned, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. "It is just a single brood, isn't it? When they hum, do they all make one note, or are there a couple of different pitches?"

There was a short pause. "There are several different notes," the Bothan said. "Five, perhaps six."

Navett let out a low whistle. "Five of 'em? Ho, boy. Hey, Klif?they got five different broods in there. Well, good luck to you. I sure hope you can get someone on 'em before the brood war starts."

He keyed off the comlink. "Five broods," he murmured, shaking his head. "Wow."

"Shocking," Green Eyes agreed, the glint still in his eyes. "Pretty exotic pests, metalmites."

"They come in on ships sometimes," Navett said, wishing he could read that face.

Green Eyes was suspicious, all right. But was he suspicious of Navett personally, or just the general metalmite situation? "I've heard of 'em riding mynocks, too.

Sort of scavenging along behind as they?"

There was another beep from his comlink. " 'Scuse me again," he said, pulling it out. "Hello?"

"This is Field Controller Tri'byia again," the same Bothan voice came, sounding disgusted. "I spoke with you a few moments ago."

"Yeah, sure," Navett said. "What can I do for you?"

"I've been instructed to ask how much you would charge for getting rid of the metalmites," Tri'byia said.

"Oh, not much," Navett said, carefully suppressing a smile. From the tone of Tri'byia's voice, it was clear the sudden official change of heart wasn't his idea. "Matter of fact, as long as you spring for the CorTrehan?well, look. The guy at Customs said we're gonna need a special merchant's license to sell our pets outside Drev'starn.

You get us that license, and we'll do it for free."

"For free?" Tri'byia repeated, the pitch of his voice dropping a few steps. "Why so generous?"

"Listen, I've seen what metalmites can do," Navett said stiffly. "If you think I want to run a business in a town where they've gotten a foothold, you can think again. And the faster we get started, the easier it'll be to get rid of them.

You get us a merchant's license and the juice, and we'll call it even."

"I believe that can be arranged," Tri'byia said reluctantly. "You and your equipment will have to submit to a full scan before you can be allowed into the facility."

"No problem," Navett said. "Actually, this'll be kind of fun?just like old times.

When do you want us?"

"A landspeeder will pick you up in thirty minutes," the Bothan said. He still didn't sound happy, but there was a cautious note of relief in his voice. "Be ready to go."

"We will," Navett promised.

The Bothan clicked off without bothering to say good-bye. "Man, you just never know, do you?" Navett said philosophically, sliding the comlink away. "Sorry, folks. Did you want us to order some of those krisses for you, ma'am? Klif, you find anything on the lists?"

"Looks like we can get 'em from a supplier on Eislo?have 'em here in two or three days," Klif reported. "Or we can get 'em shipped in straight from Kordu itself. That'll probably be a little cheaper, but it'll take longer."

"You want to order today?" Navett asked hopefully. "You only have to put a tenth down up front."

The old woman shook her head. "I think I'll see if anyone else in town has them in stock first."

"Well, if you don't find anyone, come on back," Klif called as the three of them headed for the door. "We can get express service for a pretty reasonable fee."

"We'll keep that in mind," Brown Eyes promised. "Thanks. We may be back."

They filed out, passing across the front window and out of Navett's view as the door closed behind them. "I'll just bet you will," he said softly to himself.

He shook his head, dismissing them from his mind. Fringe lifters and even New Rep agents were completely unimportant right now. What was important was that their little metalmite time bombs, introduced into the shield generator techs' clothing, had done their job.

And now it was time for Klif and him to do theirs.

"Let's get ready," he said, heading briskly toward the back room. "Mustn't keep the Bothans waiting."

* * *

"And here," General Hestiv said, keying a combination into the keypad, "is where you'll be working."

"Okay," Ghent said, glancing nervously down the long corridor behind them. It was a long way back to the main base, and Hestiv had assured him that hardly anyone ever came out here anymore. But there was a whole Imperial Ubiqtorate station back there, and he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched by unfriendly eyes.

With a puff of slightly stale air the door swung open. "There we go," Hestiv said, gesturing him forward. "Go on in."

Ghent stepped into the doorway, throwing Hestiv a sideways glance as he passed.

Admiral Pellaeon had vouched for him, he knew. But the man was still an Imperial officer, and Ghent was from the New Republic. If this Moff Disra person wanted to do away with him, this would be a perfect place to do it.

And then he got his first glimpse of the room itself...

"This is your new temporary home," Hestiv said from behind him. "What do you think?"

Ghent hardly heard him. Could hardly believe his eyes, for that matter, as he looked around the tiny room. Crammed into it were an Everest 448 DataSifter, a pair of Fedukowski D/Square decrypt/decipherers, five Wickstrom K220 heavy-duty peripheral processors, a Merilang-1221 full-spectrum numerical analyzer?

"The equipment's probably nothing like what you're used to," Hestiv said apologetically. "But hopefully it'll do."

?and there as a centerpiece, nothing less than a brand-new Rikhous Masterline-70 OcTerminal. A Masterline-70! "No, not really," Ghent managed, still staring goggle-eyed at the shining array. And they were going to let him have this whole room? All to himself? "But it'll do just fine."

"Good," Hestiv said, crossing the room in front of him and keying open another door Ghent hadn't yet noticed. "Your living quarters are in here, so you won't have to leave this section at all. In fact, you might want to change the coding on the door lock after I leave so that no one can even accidentally walk in on you."

"Sure," Ghent said, his nervousness about this place already forgotten. "I can seal it up real tight. Okay if I get started?"

"Whenever you're ready," Hestiv said. Dimly, Ghent was aware the other was staring at him oddly. "You know how to get hold of me if you need anything. Good luck."

"Sure," Ghent said as Hestiv stepped back through the doorway. There was another puff of air, and Ghent was alone.

Dropping his carrypack to the floor, he shoved it with his foot in the general direction of the living area. Imperial Moffs, lurking danger, and even imminent civil wars all but forgotten, he pulled out the chair in front of the Masterline-70 and sat down.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

It took an entire hour of scans and examinations under the watchful eyes and ungentle hands of what seemed to Navett to be half of Drev'starn's contingent of Bothawui Security. But at last, with the obvious reluctance of a being who heartily dislikes a situation but has no better alternatives available, Field Controller Tri'byia finally led him and Klif down into the lower levels of the shield generator building.

Into the very center of the Drev'starn defense system.

"Impressive stuff," Navett commented to his glowering guards as he glanced casually around the room. "I can see why you wanna get rid of 'em fast."

He hoisted the tank of CorTrehan a little higher on his shoulder. "Okay," he said, waggling his slender sprayer loosely in his hand. "First thing is for you to show me anything really delicate or critical you don't want 'em getting into."

"We don't want them getting into any of it," Tri'byia snapped, his fur rippling.

"Yeah, sure, sure," Navett soothed. "I just meant where do you want us to start spraying? We should do the most delicate stuff first."

Tri'byia's fur rippled again. "I suppose that seems reasonable," he said unhappily. Clearly, the last thing he wanted to do was point out the most important parts of their precious shield generator to a couple of humans. "This way."

Not that it mattered, of course. Navett knew perfectly well what everything in this complex was, and neither he nor Klif needed the Bothans to point out the kill-points to them. But it was something an earnest but stupid pet shop owner might be expected to ask. Besides, he was curious to see how honest the Bothans might get in the middle of a crisis like this.

"You may start there," Tri'byia said, stopping and pointing to a completely nonvital backup comm console.

"Okay," Navett said. Apparently, not very.

They'd been spraying for fifteen minutes, laying out the elaborate curlicue chemical trails that were the only way to effectively kill metalmites, when things finally began to get interesting. "This one next," Tri'byia said, laying a hand protectively on the edge of one of the consoles responsible for maintaining the power-frequency coupling between the various poles of the planetary shield.

"Right," Navett said, his heart starting to beat faster as he stepped over to the console. This was it: the first blade thrust into the heart of the species whose actions had cost the Empire so much over the years. The Bothan techs had already removed the access panels; shifting his grip subtly on the sprayer as he crouched down, Navett eased the tip into the maze of electronics and gave it a delicate squirt.

Only this time he left more than just the metalmite-killing CorTrehan to bead up on the circuit cards and drip slowly down onto the power supplies and ventilation fan casings below. This time, his new grip had allowed the slender tank built into the sprayer handle to dribble some of its own special contents into the mix.

The hour-long examination the Bothans had put their equipment through had scanned for everything those paranoid minds could have thought of: weapons, spy equipment, explosives, poisons, soporifics, acids, wire-spinners, and probably fifty other potential threats.

But nowhere in all those multiple layers of precautions had anyone thought to program a check for food.

Not that anyone in the generator building would have found this particular brew even remotely appetizing, not even the metalmites. In fact, now that the rotten little vermin had played their part, it was time for them to die.

He and Klif spent the next two hours moving systematically through the complex, laying down their poison trails and, at perhaps twenty carefully selected points, adding in a squirt of their liquid nutrient. By the time they finished, the thick, sweet-sour smell of the CorTrehan was almost like a physical barrier that had to be pushed aside as they walked through it.

"Okay," Navett said cheerfully as they were finally escorted back into the security entrance area. "First step's done. Now all you gotta do is put a loudspeaker on that's blasting out the broods' different carrier pitches. That keeps 'em from talking back and forth inside their groups, and that keeps 'em from breeding faster so they can fight with the other broods. Gives the CorTrehan time to work. You see?"

"Yes," Tri'byia said, looking marginally less unhappy now that the offworlders were no longer in direct contact with his precious machinery. "How long will this be necessary?"

"Oh, a week ought to do it," Navett said. "Eight or nine days just to be on the safe side. Some broods are harder to kill than others. Don't worry, though?they won't be eating anything during any of that. Mostly, they'll just be dying."

"Very well," Tri'byia agreed reluctantly. "I have only one more question, then.

I am told these pests are quite rare. How is it they were able to find their way in here?"

Navett shrugged as casually as he could. The groundwork had been laid, but that didn't mean they were out of the snake pit yet. If the Bothans decided to be suspicious enough to go back in and clean out everything he and Klif had just laid down, this whole setup would have been for nothing. "You got me," he said.

"You bring any new equipment in here in the past week or two?"

The Bothan's fur rippled uncertainly. "There were two pieces of equipment that arrived seven days ago. But both were scanned thoroughly before they were brought in."

"Yeah, but I'll bet your scanners aren't programmed for heavily metal-based life like these things," Navett pointed out. It was a safe bet; certainly the Bothans' scanners hadn't spotted the little beasts riding in on their incoming techs' clothing. "Tell you the truth, I don't know if anyone really knows where they come from or how they get around. They just pop up now and then and make trouble.

They probably came in with that equipment, though. You might want to catch a couple of 'em and use 'em to reprogram your scanners so they can't make any more trouble."

"Thank you," Tri'byia said, a bit huffily. Apparently, Bothans of his stature were not used to having the obvious pointed out to them.

"No problem," Navett said cheerfully. Earnest but stupid, he was the type to take everything at full face value, without noticing any undertones. "Glad we could help. And you'll get that merchant's license for us, right?"

"I will do what I can to help with it," Tri'byia said.

Which was, Navett noticed, not precisely what he'd originally promised. But that was all right. In six days, if all went according to plan, Tri'byia would cease to exist, along with the city of Drev'starn and as much of the rest of Bothawui as the Imperial Star Destroyers hidden out there could manage.

And on that day, Navett planned to look down on the shattered world from one of those Star Destroyers and laugh. But for now, all he needed to do was smile. "Great," he said cheerfully. "Thanks a lot. And if you guys ever need anything else, just give us a call."

He and Klif didn't say anything to each other on the ride back to the pet shop.

Nor did they speak once they were there, at least not about anything of substance, until they'd gone over each other thoroughly with the spy-mike detector hidden in the bottom of the dopplefly cage.

But if Tri'byia didn't especially like them, he apparently wasn't overly suspicious of them, either. The spy scan came up clean.

"Sloppy," Klif grunted as they returned the detector back to its hiding place. "You'd think they'd at least want to hear us slapping each other on the back about getting our license so cheap."

"I'm sure they backchecked our records before they called us in," Navett said, sniffing in disgust as he slapped at his shirt. That blasted CorTrehan stuck to everything. "Did you get a chance to see where our power conduit came into the building? I never got to that side of the building."

"I saw it." Klif nodded. "They've actually got a splice going off one of the power cables, probably ready to go to the new equipment Tri'byia mentioned."

"But they hadn't opened the wall any?"

Klif shook his head. "They're not that stupid. No, the whole wall's still there."

"Fine," Navett said, shrugging. It would have been handy to have had some of that meter-thick, reinforced, heavily braced, multiple-layered, impenetrable wall out of their way. But it certainly wasn't necessary.

"I'm just worried about it taking another six days before we can spring this," Klif continued. "Won't the stuff we left start to deteriorate?"

"Not a problem," Navett assured him. "The tricky part now is going to be digging down to the power conduit from that Ho'Din place and then cutting through it without setting off sensors from here to Odve'starn."

"You think they've wired the conduit itself?"

"I would if I were in charge," Navett said. "Horvic and Pensin can get us into the place after hours, but we won't have much time each night to work. Slow and steady is the way to go, and six days should be just about right."

"I suppose," Klif said, sobering. "Of course, that assumes we even have six more days. Or have you finally decided to do something about those New Rep agents?" Abruptly, he snapped his fingers. "Oh, blast?I just made that face. Wedge Antilles."

"You're right," Navett said, grimacing as the name belatedly clicked with Brown Eyes's face. General Wedge Antilles, leader of that multi-cursed Rogue Squadron.

A single insignificant group of X-wings that had probably caused the Empire more trouble than all the Bothans in the galaxy put together. "And that's going to make things that much more awkward. Even without New Republic celebrities involved, a triple murder would create a major fuss."

He let his eyes drift around the shop, taking in the rows of cages, the subtle mix of smells and sounds. Surely Antilles wouldn't see any threat in a harmless pet shop.

But no. They'd been standing right here when the call came through, and knew he and Klif had been invited into the shield generator building. No, they'd have the pet shop marked now for sure. "But I don't suppose we can afford to let them poke around anymore, either," he conceded. "I guess it's time we took them out."

"Now you're talking," Klif said with dark approval. "You want me to take care of it?"

Navett cocked an eyebrow. "What, all by yourself?"

"Hey, they're just X-wing jocks," Klif said. "At least Antilles is. Outside their cockpits they're babes in arms."

"Maybe," Navett said. "But they found us okay. And that old woman looks like she knows her way around, too."

"Meaning?"

Navett gave him a tight smile. "Meaning you don't take them out by yourself," he said. "We'll do it together."

* * *

Moranda sipped at her blue-green liqueur. "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "I can't say that any of them really leaped up and waved at me."

"That's one way to put it," Wedge said sourly, massaging his aching temples with thumb and middle finger. Fifty different shops, businesses, service spots, and eating establishments. All of them set up in Drev'starn since the warships began gathering overhead; all of them visited personally by him, Corran, and Moranda in the past four days. The business turnover rate on Bothawui must be astronomical. "Another way is to just admit we've hit another dead end."

"I'm not sure I'd go quite that far," Corran said slowly, meditatively swirling his drink around in its glass. "There were a couple of places that were definitely more on edge than others. That Meshakian jewelry owner, for one."

"Stolen goods dealer," Moranda dismissed him with a flip of her hand. "And he spotted us right off as anything but casual customers, by the way. You've really got to learn how to rein in that straight-backed CorSec stance of yours, Corran."

"And that Ho'Din tapcafe," Corran continued, ignoring her as he ran a finger down their list. "It's sitting right on top of one of the power-cable conduits to the generator building."

"And has been there for ten years," Moranda reminded him.

"Except that the day manager mentioned they'd just hired a couple of humans for the late cleanup shift, remember?" Corran countered. "There's something about that that bothers me."

Wedge eyed him over his cup. Corran, he knew, had never had much luck with the mind-reading aspects of the Force, not like Luke or Leia. But if he couldn't retrieve other people's thoughts, he could still pull out impressions and hints and textures. Combined with his old CorSec detective training, it meant that anything that bothered him was worth taking a hard look at.

"And then, of course," Corran added, "there are our friends at the Exoticalia Pet Emporium."

Wedge looked at Moranda, waiting for her rebuttal. But it didn't come. "There's them, all right," she said instead, frowning down at the tabletop. "I don't like that one at all."

"I thought you said none of them had jumped out at you," Wedge reminded her.

"No, they didn't," Moranda agreed. "That's just the point. The pet guys acted just perfect. But how many pet shop owners do you know who also happen to be experts at getting rid of vermin? And exotic ones like metalmites, yet?"

"We should be able to backcheck them and see if that kind of experience shows up in their records," Corran said. But he didn't look any happier than Moranda did.

"I just wish we knew where exactly this metalmite invasion had taken place."

"Has to be someplace with really high security," Wedge said. "They weren't even going to let them in at first."

"And at the same time, that decision got overruled real quick," Moranda said, nodding. "Someplace with ultra high security, but yet extremely sensitive and vital."

For a moment the three of them looked at each other. Corran broke the silence first. "It's the shield generator building," he said. "There's nothing else in Drev'starn that fits."

"Agreed," Moranda said, sipping at her drink. "Question now is, was the metalmite incursion the attack or the bait? If it's the attack?"

She broke off at a muffled beep from Wedge's comlink, buried deep in a pocket of his jacket. "Who knows you're here?" she asked.

"Our shuttle," Wedge told her, digging out the instrument. "We set up a relay for any incoming transmissions." Thumbing it on, he keyed for low volume. "Go Red Two," he gave the codeword.

The message was very short. "This is father," Bel Iblis's familiar voice said. "All is forgiven; come on home."

Wedge squeezed the comlink hard. "Acknowledged," he said. "On our way."

He keyed the comlink off and looked up to find Corran's gaze hard on him. "Dad?"

Wedge nodded. "Dad," he confirmed. "Time to go home."

"Meaning?" Moranda asked.

"Meaning we have to leave," Wedge told her. "Right now."

"Oh, that's convenient," Moranda growled, glaring at him. "What about the shield generator?"

"From now on the Bothans are on their own," Wedge said, draining his drink and sorting out coins onto the table. "I'm sorry, but we were only on temporary loan anyway."

Moranda grimaced, but nodded. "I understand," she said. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"You should probably give Bothan Security a call," Wedge said, standing up. "Point them to our friends at the pet shop."

"Whatever," Moranda said, waving a hand. "Happy flights."

"Thanks," Wedge said. "Come on, Corran."

"Just a second," Corran said. He hadn't moved from his chair, and there was a glint in his eyes as he looked at Moranda. "I want to know what Moranda's going to do now."

"Oh, go on," she chided him, making little shooing motions with her hands. "I'll be fine."

"In other words, you're going to stay on this," he said bluntly.

She lifted her eyebrows. "That's very good. CorSec teach you how to do that?"

"You haven't answered the question," Wedge said, sitting back down again. "You are going to call Security, aren't you?"

"And tell them what?" she countered. "We don't have a scrap of proof. It's worse than that, really?they presumably already did a backcheck on Navett and his buddy, and they still let them into the generator building."

"So what are you going to do?" Wedge persisted. "Stay on this by yourself?"

Moranda's mouth set itself into hard lines. "I was given an assignment, Wedge," she said quietly. "I'm supposed to stay here and watch for Vengeance attempts against Bothawui."

Corran shook his head. "That's not a good idea," he said. "If Vengeance is being driven or guided by Imperials?"

"So where are you two off to?" Moranda demanded scornfully. "A vacation on the beaches of Berchest? I'll lay you fifty-to-one it'll be a lot more dangerous wherever you're going than anything I'm likely to run into here."

"Moranda?" Wedge began.

"Besides which, you don't have time to argue about it," she cut him off. "If 'Dad' is who I think he is, he's not going to be happy if you two get home late. Now scoot, both of you. Thanks for all the drinks."

Reluctantly, Wedge stood up again. She was right, of course; and she was certainly more than old enough to make this kind of decision for herself. But that didn't mean he had to like it. "Come on, Corran. Moranda... you watch yourself, okay?"

"You, too," she said, smiling up at him. "Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine."

CHAPTER

26

There was a strange, almost unworldly aroma tugging at her senses as Mara drifted toward consciousness. Something strange, yet vaguely pleasant...

"Good morning," Luke's voice came through the haze. With a jolt, Mara came fully awake.

And in that first disorienting moment wished she hadn't. Even as she opened her eyes to the dimly lit gloom around her, she suddenly became aware of a hundred sparks of pain jabbing through her muscles from her heels through her legs and back and right to the nape of her neck. "Ow," she grunted under her breath.

Luke's face appeared overhead, looking down at her with concern. "Is your shoulder still hurting?" he asked.

Mara frowned, blinking away a little more of the haze clouding her mind. Right?her badly burned shoulder. Craning her neck down, focusing eyes that still weren't entirely awake, she peered down at her charred jumpsuit.

At her charred jumpsuit, and the smooth, unmarked skin showing through the hole there.

"No," she said, not quite believing it. "The shoulder feels just fine. It's?oh, right. Your healing trance."

"Some disorientation is normal when you first come out of it," Luke assured her.

"Don't worry."

"I wasn't." She eased her shoulders around, trying to ignore the extra wave of tingles the movement sent running through her back. Luke's hand was there, gripping her arm and helping her sit up. "You said it was morning?"

"Well, afternoon, actually," Luke amended. "But Han once told me that anytime you woke up was technically morning."

"That sounds like his casual slant on things," Mara said. "How long?in real time?have I been lying there?"

"About five days," Luke told her. "Easy, now."

"Oh, you bet," she agreed, wincing as muscles that had been laid on for five straight days continued to complain loudly about their mistreatment. "I'm impressed. I don't think even a bacta tank would have done the job that fast."

"You have a strong Force gift," Luke said, his hand hovering ready by her arm. "That usually helps the healing process."

"It's definitely one I'm going to have to learn," she decided, looking around.

That aroma she thought she'd dreamed was still there...

"It's some kind of roast avian," Luke explained, nodding toward the back of the landing. "A wake-up gift to you from the Qom Jha."

"Really," Mara said, hoisting herself carefully to her feet and hobbling over there on unsteady legs. It was a roast avian, all right, simmering on a cooking pad. "Awfully nice of them. Where did you get the cooker?"

"I sent Keeper Of Promises back to your Defender for the rest of the survival gear," Luke explained. "I'd rather have sent them back to my X-wing? the spare kit Karrde put together was a lot more complete. But after our brush with the Threateners they're not all that eager to go roaming around outside."

"This from the species that eats fire creepers raw?" Mara pointed out as she eased back into a sitting position by the cooking pad. "Pretty selective skittishness."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Luke said, seating himself cross-legged on the floor across the cooking pad from her and gesturing toward the food. "Hence the gift, actually. They've come to the conclusion that you saved their lives in there."

"I don't know how they figure that," Mara grunted, tearing off a piece of the roast. "We were the ones being shot at, not them."

Luke's lips puckered. "Actually, there's some question about that. Splitter Of Stones thinks it was the Qom Jha who the Threateners were firing at, not us, at least until you started shooting back. And as I've gone back through my memories of the battle, I think he's right."

Mara took a careful bite. The meat was a little overcooked for her taste, but not bad for all that. Anyway, as her loudly growling stomach reminded her, a person who hadn't eaten in five days couldn't afford to be too choosy. "Interesting thought," she said, "but I'm not sure where it gets us. Whoever they were shooting at, the fact is, they're still touchy about strangers."

"Maybe," Luke said, his tone odd. "But maybe not. Haven't you wondered why the Threateners never came into the cave looking for you after you knocked yourself out?"

"Are you sure they didn't come in?" Mara countered around a mouthful of food.

"The Qom Jha say they didn't," Luke told her. "There were a couple of flybys with their ships, and that was it. In fact, as far as Child Of Winds knows, they never even conducted an outside ground search of the area."

Mara chewed thoughtfully, resisting the urge to point out that Child Of Winds was not exactly the most reliable source of information around. "Okay," she said.

"Let's assume the Threateners lost interest in me. Where does that get us?"

"If they simply lost interest, I don't know," Luke said. "But what if they didn't lose interest, but just decided to wait until you found your own way into the High Fortress?"

Mara took another bite. That was a disturbing thought. In fact, it was an extremely disturbing thought. All the more so since that exact course of action was one she had actually considered early in her captivity. "I don't know if Karrde mentioned it to you," she said slowly, "but the way we found this system was by tracking the escape vectors from two of their ships to an intersect point.

My assumption has always been that they simply didn't know we could track their vector for a few microseconds after they jumped to lightspeed. But now I'm not so sure."

"You think they wanted you to come here?"

"It would fit with them not searching all that hard for me after I landed," Mara pointed out. "Of course, if we argue that direction we then have to come up with an explanation as to why they tried to shoot you down."

"Maybe they're not interested in having more than one guest at a time," Luke suggested, gazing out into space. "Or maybe they don't want to talk to anyone from the New Republic until they've talked to you first."

Mara eyed him closely. There had been a flicker in his emotions just then... "Is that just off the top of your head?" she asked. "Or are you getting something from the Force about it?"

He shook his head, still gazing at nothing. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I have the feeling... no, never mind."

"No never mind what?" Mara demanded suspiciously, pressing at the corners of his mind. "Come on, we don't have time for games."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "I get the feeling it's you they want to see," he said. "You, specifically."

Mara lifted her eyebrows. "I'm flattered. My fame just continues to spread."

"Eater Of Fire Creepers did say they'd heard the Threateners talking about you," Luke reminded her. "I wish we knew the context of the conversation."

There was a flapping from the stairway, and one of the Qom Jha appeared. It spoke?"Thank you, Flyer Through Spikes," Luke said. "Go see if Keeper Of Promises has any news, if you would."

The Qom Jha replied, and with a flurry of wings was gone down the stairway. "I've had some of the Qom Jha patrolling the upper areas of the stairway and listening for activity outside the doors," Luke explained. "Flyer Through Spikes tells me the upper areas of the fortress were active for a while this morning, but they seem to be quiet again."

"Ah," Mara said, tearing off another bite with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. Those blasted Qom Jha and their blasted unintelligible voices?

"Something wrong?" Luke asked.

Mara glared at him. "You know, Skywalker, it's really hard to keep any thoughts to yourself when you're around."

He gave her an innocent look that had far too much amusement in it for her taste.

"Odd. I seem to remember a situation not too long ago when you couldn't wait to unload some of those choicer thoughts on me."

Mara grimaced. "Feeling a little more cheerful about our past mistakes this morning, are we?"

He sobered. "Not cheerful, no," he said. "Just learning how to acknowledge them, learn from them, and then pick up and move on. I've had a lot of time for thinking during these past five days, you know."

"You reach any particular conclusions?"

He looked straight at her. "I know why you didn't turn to the dark side," he said. "And why you keep coming up against limits on what you can do through the Force."

With a casualness she didn't especially feel, Mara took another bite and settled her back against the stone wall behind her. "I'm listening."

"The essence of the dark side is selfishness," Luke said. "The elevation of yourself and your own desires above everything else."

Mara nodded. "Fairly obvious so far."

"The point is that all the time you were serving the Emperor, you were never doing so out of selfish motives," Luke said. "You were serving, even if it was Palpatine and his own selfish ends. And service to others is the essence of being a Jedi."

Mara thought about that. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I don't like it.

Service to evil is still evil. What you're saying is that doing something wrong isn't really wrong if your motives are good. That's nonsense."

"I agree," Luke said. "But that's not what I'm saying. Some of the things you did were certainly wrong; but because you weren't doing them for your own purposes, the acts themselves didn't open you to the dark side."

Mara glowered at her food. "I see the difference," she said. "But I still don't like it."

"Actually, it's not that much different from the situation with the Jensaarai that Corran and I ran into on Susevfi," Luke said. "They didn't know how to be Jedi, but were still serving the best they knew how."

"And in the process had gotten themselves so bent around that you were years untwisting them," Mara reminded him tartly. "Anyway, they at least had the memory of a role model to follow, didn't they? That what's-his-name Jedi?"

"Nikkos Tyris," Luke said, nodding. "Which brings up an even more interesting thought. Maybe you had a role model, too."

Mara shook her head. "Not a chance. There wasn't a single person in the inner court with a scrap of what I'd consider virtue or morality."

"Then maybe it was someone in your life before you were taken to Coruscant," Luke suggested. "Your parents, or some close friend."

Mara bit off the last bite of her meal and tossed the carcass back into a corner.

"This is a dead-end conversation," she declared firmly, wiping her hands on her jumpsuit legs where the oils and grime would eventually flake off. "Let's get back to the job at hand. Where did you stash my blaster?"

Luke didn't move. "I know you don't remember much about your past," he said quietly. "For whatever it's worth, I understand how you feel."

"Thanks," Mara growled. "That certainly helps."

"Would you like to have that past back again?"

She frowned at him, conflicting emotions surging suddenly against each other. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"There are techniques Jedi can use to pull out buried memories," he said. "And you could be a Jedi, Mara. You could be a powerful Jedi."

"Right," Mara bit out. "All I have to do is declare I'm ready to serve the galaxy, right?"

Luke's forehead creased, and she caught the flicker of puzzlement from him. "What is it about that that scares you?" he asked. "You've served and worked with people all your life?Palpatine, Karrde, Leia and Han and me. And once you've offered your loyalty, it's for keeps. You can do this?I know you can."

Mara squeezed her hand into a fist, half minded to close the subject again and this time make sure she sat on the lid. But deep inside she knew he deserved an answer on this one. "I can't just offer that kind of blank-line invitation," she said. "Sure I can be loyal; but only to the people I choose to be loyal to. I'm not ready to open myself up to anyone who walks in off the street."

She grimaced. "Besides, I keep remembering stories about how the last step to becoming a Jedi is usually making some supreme and rather ugly personal sacrifice. I'm not crazy about that one, either."

"It's not always as bad as it seems," Luke said, and Mara could sense his discomfort as unpleasant memories of his own floated back to the surface. "Just before he died, Master Yoda told me that before I would truly be a Jedi I needed to face Vader again. I jumped to the conclusion that that meant I had to either kill him or let him kill me. As it turned out, it didn't happen either way."

"But you had to be willing to make that sacrifice if necessary," Mara pointed out. "Thanks, but I'm not interested."

"Then you automatically limit your capabilities," Luke said. "If you aren't willing to make a commitment?"

"Commitment?" Mara snorted. "You're the one telling me about commitment? What about Callista, or Gaeriel, or any of the other women you've brushed paths with over the past ten years? Where's been the commitment there?"

Luke's flash of anger was so sudden and so unexpected it physically shocked her back against the stone wall. "You should talk," he snapped. "What about Lando?

Huh?"

For a long moment they just glared at each other. Mara held her breath, bracing herself for another outburst, stories of uncontrolled Jedi anger running ominously through her mind.

But instead, she felt his anger drain away, replaced by shame and a deep embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said, dropping his eyes away from her face. "That was uncalled for."

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," Mara said, trying to hide her own guilt feelings from him and knowing she was being only partly successful. She knew better than to fight like that. "I know how you felt about those women, and what happened to them. I'm sorry."

"That's all right," Luke murmured. "What happened to them was probably partly my fault. Maybe even mostly my fault. I'm the one who dabbled in the dark side, not them."

"You acknowledge your mistakes, and learn from them," Mara reminded him. "Then you pick up and move on. It's time to pick up and move on."

"I suppose." Still not looking at her, he climbed to his feet. "You're right?we should get moving. I had the Qom Jha make some measurements while you were sleeping, and it looks like the upper door out of here should let us out in one of the top three floors of the fortress. Let's try that approach."

"Just a second," Mara said, looking up at him. She had promised herself? rather cavalierly, she realized in retrospect?that she wasn't going to tell him this until he point-blank asked her about it. But her silence was childish. Anyway, the accusation he'd just thrown in her face was probably close enough. "You wanted to know about Lando and me. Right?"

She saw the twitch in his neck. "That's all right," he said. "It's really none of my business."

"I'm making it your business," Mara said, getting to her feet so she could look him straight in the eye. "What was between Lando and me was... absolutely nothing."

His eyes flicked suspiciously to hers. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just what I said: absolutely nothing," she repeated. "Karrde had an important mission for me to carry out, and because Lando had supplied the starting point he invited himself along. The?well, personal aspects to the whole thing were nothing but window dressing to keep people from figuring out what we were up to."

She could feel Luke probing at the edges of her mind. "You could have told me," he said, not quite accusingly.

"You could have asked me," she countered. "You never seemed all that interested."

He grimaced, and she could feel a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over him. "I didn't, did I?" he admitted.

"You learn, and move on," Mara reminded him. "Actually, if you want to come right down to it, you were the one who got the whole thing started in the first place. Remember that beckon call you found on Dagobah and took to Lando's place on Nkllon?"

Luke looked at her sharply. "Yes. In fact, I was just thinking about it a few days ago. I wondered why it had suddenly come to mind."

"Proddings of the Force, no doubt," Mara said. It was as good an answer as any.

"It turns out that particular beckon call used to belong to someone Karrde once knew who had dropped out of sight some years back. Fellow named Jorj Car'das?ever hear of him?"

Luke shook his head. "No."

"Apparently, not a lot of people have," she said. "Made things so much more challenging. Anyway, with the beckon call we had a starting point, and Karrde asked me to try to track him down. And as I said, Lando?smelling profit, no doubt?insisted on tagging along."

"Must have been a long search," Luke murmured. "The stories of you and Lando..."

"It took some years," Mara said. "Off and on work, of course." She lifted her eyebrows. "For whatever it's worth, the romance part of the cover story drove me crazy. But finding Car'das was important to Karrde, so I stuck with it. Like you said, loyalty."

She hissed gently between her teeth with the memories. "Though it did prove exceptionally embarrassing at times. There was one particular week on M'haeli where Lando was trying to sugar-talk the Vicebaron Sukarian out of some information we needed. I had to become a giddy, vacant-brained bit of decorative fluff, because Sukarian automatically put that class of woman beneath his contempt and the role gave me the freedom of movement I needed. The worst part was that Solo caught me in the act with a comm relay when I thought it was Sukarian calling. I've never quite had the nerve to ask him what he thought of that."

"I don't think it would have ruined his opinion of you," Luke said, his voice an odd mixture of support, gallantry, and lingering embarrassment. "Though I imagine Sukarian's opinion is probably beyond repair at this point."

"Oh, I don't think so," Mara assured him. "I usually wore one of Lando's shirts during Sukarian's late-night visits and comm calls, and I made sure to leave one of them hanging on the open door of his private office safe. After I'd gutted it."

Luke smiled. A tentative, still somewhat shamefaced smile, but a genuine smile nevertheless. At this point, that was enough. "His reaction must have been interesting."

Mara nodded. "I like to think so."

"Yes." Luke took a deep breath, and she could sense him forcing old memories and extraneous thoughts to the back of his mind. "But as you said, we've got a job to do," he said briskly, "and it's going to be a long climb. Let's pack up the gear and get going."

* * *

It was, as Luke had estimated from the numbers the Qom Jha had gathered for him, indeed a long climb. Nearly as long as it had been from the bottom of the hidden stairway to that first door, in fact. And with Mara's muscles still recovering from five days of idleness, and Luke himself therefore handling Artoo and all the rest of their equipment, it should have been something of a strain.

But to his mild astonishment, it wasn't. And it didn't take any deep Jedi insight to understand why.

The barrier he had set up between him and Mara was gone.

The odd part was that he hadn't even realized there had been a barrier there.

The communication they had together?their ability to sense each other's thoughts and emotions?had been so close that he'd simply assumed that was as strong as it got.

He'd been wrong. He'd been very wrong.

It was an exhilarating experience; and yet, at the same time, a somewhat intimidating one as well. He'd experienced close-mind contact with other people on occasion, but never to the same level as he was experiencing now. Mara's thoughts and emotions seemed to flow over him, their level and intensity now seemingly limited only by her personal barriers, as his own thoughts and emotions flowed the other direction back to her. There was a new rapport between them, a deepening of their old relationship that he only now realized how sorely he'd missed.

Confession, apology, and forgiveness, Aunt Beru had been fond of reminding him, were the tools friends used to break walls down into bridges. Seldom if ever in his life had he had that truth so graphically demonstrated.

With concern for Mara's physical condition and stamina foremost in his mind, he made sure the party took frequent rest breaks as they climbed, a policy that drove Mara just slightly less crazy than it did the Qom Jha. But he insisted, and as a result it took them nearly an hour to reach their target door. But when they did, at least, Mara was fully ready to go.

"All right, here's the plan," Luke told her, stretching out with the Force. As near as he could tell, the entire area outside the hidden door was clear. "We'll leave Artoo and the Qom Jha in here and do a little reconnoiter on our own."

"Sounds good." Mara pulled out her blaster and checked it, and Luke could sense her working to control her private misgivings about going back in there.

Understandable, of course; she was the one who'd gotten shot. Luke had had something of the same trouble the first time he'd gone back to visit Cloud City.

"How about leaving one of our comlinks here with them?"

"Good idea," Luke agreed, pulling his comlink from his belt and putting it in Artoo's light-duty grasping arm. "Don't forget and turn it off," he admonished the droid.

Artoo warbled indignantly, the translation scrolling across the datapad. "Yes, I know," Luke assured him. "I was just kidding."

"What?" Mara asked.

"He said turning off comlinks at critical moments was Threepio's trick," Luke told her. "Private joke. You ready?"

He could sense her reaching out to the Force for calm. "Ready," she said. "Let's do it."

The secret door, gratifyingly enough, opened as quietly as the other one had.

With Luke in the lead, they stepped out, closing the door behind them.

"Now this," Mara said quietly in his ear, "is like the Hijarna fortress."

Luke nodded acknowledgment, looking around. They were in a vast chamber, with short wall segments scattered around apparently at random linking the floor with the relatively low ceiling. The shiny wall coverings, elaborate flooring, and wall sconces they'd seen below were absent, leaving nothing but unadorned and unrelieved black stone. Despite that, though, the place seemed oddly airy. "Doesn't look like our friends downstairs are using this area," he said. "I wonder why."

Mara took a few steps to the side and pointed around the end of one of the wall segments. "There's your answer," she said. "Come on?let's go see."

She disappeared around the wall. Luke followed, noticing for the first time a gentle flow of air coming from that direction.

And the reason for it was quickly clear. Beyond the wall, at the far side of the room, the black stone had been gashed open to the sky.

"Collateral damage from the battle that knocked down that tower, I'll bet," Mara said, already crossing to the gash.

"Be careful," Luke warned her, hurrying to catch up.

"Yeah, yeah," Mara said. She reached the gash and cautiously looked out. "I was right," she said, pointing. "There it is. Or what's left of it."

Luke reached her side and looked out. They were looking across a vast, circular rooftop that slanted downward from their position at a reasonably steep angle.

The stub of Mara's ruined tower was ahead of them and slightly to the left, eighty meters or so away. The distance and dim sunlight made it hard to tell for sure, but to Luke's eye the jagged edge looked slightly melted. "And you say this stone absorbs turbolaser fire," he said.

"Like a very dry sponge," Mara agreed grimly. "Whoever the builders of this place were, they must have had some impressive enemies."

"Let's hope they were satisfied with wrecking that one tower and then went away," Luke said, giving the rest of the rooftop a quick but careful examination.

Symmetrically placed on the right side of the slanting rooftop was another tower, this one undamaged, stretching a good ninety meters into the sky and topped with a ring of ominous-looking protrusions. Weapons systems, undoubtedly. At the far end of the roof, almost two hundred meters from where he and Mara stood, he could see twin bumps that seemed to extend outward from the roof and then continue down the wall on that side. Twin guardhouses, possibly, flanking the main entrance. Beyond the roof, he could see a smooth surface stretching through the craggy mountaintop away from the fortress that could only be an access road.

In the center of the fortress was a thirty-meter-long structure whose flat-topped roof extended horizontally out from the main rooftop, making the whole thing look rather like a round-cornered wedge that had been stuck on as an afterthought.

"There's a landing pad on top," Mara said, pointing to the structure. "You can just make out the markings."

Luke nodded. The markings were dim, but visible enough when you knew to look for them. "They probably have lights they can turn on when something friendly is on its way in."

"With turbolasers ready at the top of that tower in case they're not so friendly." Easing through the gap in the wall, Mara took a few steps out onto the rooftop, peering toward the landing pad. "Looks like the area under the pad is open in front," she reported. "Probably their hangar. Might be a handy place to make for if we ever get caught too far away from our exit." She turned back around?

And her breath caught, a surge of surprise shooting through her. "Whoa," she said, her eyes tracking upward. "Come take a look at this."

Maneuvering through the crack, Luke crossed to her side and turned around.

Rising from atop the room they'd just been in was yet another tower.

And it had friends. Spaced around the curve of the fortress rooftop to the left were three more, all of the same design. Even with Luke's skewed perspective, he could tell that these four rear towers were both thicker and a good twenty meters taller than the single one standing below them.

And as with the one below, each of these was also crowned by a ring of weapons emplacements.

"This must have been one impressive place in its heyday," Mara commented. Her voice was steady, but Luke could tell that she was feeling the same vague uneasiness he was. "Like the one on Hijama. I wish to blazes I knew what they were built to protect."

"Or to defend against," Luke added, taking one last look around the rooftop. No lights; no movement; no signs of life at all. "Let's get back inside and find the way down."

The way down was on the far side of one of the other wall segments: a smaller version of the spiral slideway they'd used in the barracks section down below.

Unlike that one, though, the slideway here wasn't moving. "Either damaged or shut down for lack of use," Mara said, easing a cautious eye over the edge. "Next level down doesn't look inhabited, either."

"This whole section is probably out of use," Luke said as they started down. "The way the roof slopes toward the broken tower, each of the levels ought to have a little more floor space as we go down. They've probably set up shop on the larger levels."

"Makes sense," Mara agreed. "Let's keep going until we reach a floor with a working slideway somewhere on it. That should be either their highest working level or close to it."

The floors did indeed extend farther outward as they continued down, with the pattern of random wall segments changing with each level. It wasn't until the fourth level that Luke finally caught the faint hum of working machinery. "I think we're here," he murmured, shifting his grip on his lightsaber and stretching out with the Force. There still didn't seem to be anyone nearby.

"Looks like it," Mara agreed, cupping a hand around one ear. "That sounds like one of the slideways. Shall we take a look?"

Luke nodded. "I'll go first. You stay behind me."

He headed out, moving as silently as he could across the empty space, trying to ignore Mara's annoyance from behind him. She could call it overprotectiveness if she wanted?and she undoubtedly was calling it exactly that?but after watching her do five days in a healing trance he much preferred to err on the side of caution. He reached one of the rare?at least on this level?wall segments and eased an eye around it. Beyond it, set right up against the far wall, was the spiral slideway they had heard. "All right," Luke murmured over his shoulder. "Real easy, now?"

He sensed Mara's emotional call; but it wasn't coming from directly behind him.

He glanced around, feeling a flash of annoyance of his own as he spotted her standing at the corner of one of the other wall segments twenty meters off to his left. She beckoned to him, a quick, impatient gesture.

And there was a sudden sense of dread in her emotions...

He made it to her side in less than ten seconds. "What is it?" he hissed.

She nodded toward the wall, a silent churning in her eyes and mind. "Around there," she said.

Lightsaber ready in his hand, Luke slid around the end of the wall segment.

Beyond it was a large open space that had been set up as a sort of command center, though it was currently as unoccupied as everywhere else they'd been today. Two circles of command consoles had been laid out, the boards and displays winking status lights toward the empty chairs in front of them. To one side, a larger and more elaborate chair ringed by its own status boards had been set up on a meter-high platform where it could overlook the entire operation.

And in the center of it all was a sight that sent a shiver of memory along Luke's spine: a holographic map of the galaxy, with the sectors of the New Republic, the Empire, and the rest of the known regions marked out in a bewildering array of a dozen different colors. The whole variegated mosaic stretched across perhaps a quarter of the huge spiral, fading into neutral white where the edges of the Outer Rim Territories gave way to the vastness of the Unknown Regions beyond.

It was a duplicate of the galactic holo Emperor Palpatine had had in his throne room in Mount Tantiss.

Luke swallowed, tearing his eyes away from the holo to give the surrounding equipment a closer look. Yes, the consoles were indeed Imperial issue: status and computer-access boards from a Star Destroyer or other major capital ship.

The chairs, likewise, were straight from a Star Destroyer's bridge crew pits.

And the overseer chair and boards were those of an Imperial fleet admiral. Such as the one Grand Admiral Thrawn would have used.

He felt the whisper of air as Mara came up close beside him. "I think we've found our link to the Imperials," he told her. "It looks like even Palpatine may have had a hand in this place."

Her hair swished against his shoulder as she shook her head. "You're missing the point, Luke," she muttered. "Look at that holo. I mean really look at it."

Luke frowned, focusing on the galactic spiral again. What in space was she referring to?

And then, abruptly, he caught his breath. No. No?he was seeing things. Surely he was seeing things.

But he wasn't. At the edge of the known galaxy, where Palpatine's holo had shown only the white stars of the Unknown Regions, an entirely new area had been colored in.

A huge new area.

"Funny, isn't it," Mara said, the dread still swirling through her. "He was exiled from the Imperial court, you know. Just summarily thrown out."

"Who was?" Luke asked.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn," she said. "Picked the wrong side in one of the political battles that were always going on there and lost. Everyone else in the cabal wound up demoted or imprisoned or else reassigned to a semiprivate torture chamber like garrison duty in the Outer Rim. But not Thrawn. Oh, no. Even the Outer Rim was too good for this ungrateful alien who'd been accepted into Imperial society and paid them back for their kindness with a slap in the face.

No, they had to come up with something very special for him."

"And that something was exile to the Unknown Regions?"

Mara nodded. "If the Outer Rim was a torture cell, the Unknown Regions was a fully populated rancor pit," she said. "So with some prodding?and probably a lot of deal-making?they got Palpatine to put him aboard a Star Destroyer and send him on a one-way trip past the Outer Rim."

She snorted out a derisive laugh. "And just to add insult to injury, they managed to make it a mapping expedition. Imagine?one of the best strategists the Empire had ever known being reduced to mapping duty. Ruining his life and his reputation with a single stroke. I'll bet they were chuckling together about it for years afterward."

Luke shook his head. "I seem to be missing the joke."

"So did they," Mara said, her dark mood darkening even further. "The joke is that it apparently never occurred to any of them that Palpatine was always one step ahead of whatever was happening in his court. And if he was a step ahead, a strategist like Thrawn was at least two steps ahead."

Luke's mouth felt dry. "Are you saying that Thrawn and Palpatine had the whole thing planned out from the beginning?"

"Of course they did." Mara gestured at the holo. "Just look at all the territory he opened up. He couldn't possibly have done that by himself, with just a single Star Destroyer, Palpatine must have been feeding him men and ships all along the way."

"But that can't all be Imperial territory," Luke said. "I mean... it can't."

"Why not?" Mara countered. "Oh, I agree there probably aren't more than a few actual colonies out there. But you can bet there are Imperial garrisons scattered all over the place, plus intel centers and listening posts and probably a few full-blown shipyards. And if I know Thrawn, probably a whole network of alliances with the natives, too."

"But if that's Imperial territory, why hasn't the Empire made any use of it?" Luke argued. "I've seen the data, Mara?they're down to practically nothing over there."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" she said quietly. "They're not using it because they don't know it's there."

For a long minute neither of them spoke. Luke gazed at the holo, listening to the distant hum of the spiral slideway, the terrible implications of those gently glowing lights tumbling over each other in his mind. There had to be the equivalent of two hundred fifty sectors there?nearly thirty times the Empire's current size.

With thirty times the Empire's number of warships, garrisons, and shipyards?

Very possibly. If all those resources were suddenly put at Bastion's disposal...

"We need more information," he said, starting toward the console rings. "Let's see if there's a computer jack Artoo can plug into."

"Risky," Mara warned. "This is a command center, and command centers always have security flags set up to catch unauthorized access."

He stopped, grimacing. Unfortunately, she had a point. "All right, then," he said, turning again to face her. "What's your plan?"

"We go directly to the source." Mara took a deep breath. "I go downstairs and talk to them."

Luke felt his mouth drop open. "And you call my plans risky?"

"You have a better suggestion?"

"That's beside the point," he growled. "Anyway, if someone's going to go down there, it ought to be me."

"Not a chance," Mara said firmly. "Point one: they shot at you on the way in, but they didn't shoot at me. Point two: you said yourself you had the feeling they wanted to see me. Point three: if the situation degenerates to the point where a rescue is called for, you and your Jedi skills are better against a crowd than mine. And point four?"

With a tight smile, she unhooked her lightsaber and stepped over to him. "Point four is that they may not know the extent of my Force skills," she said, handing him the weapon. "If shove comes to shake, that may give me the edge I'd need."

Luke fingered her lightsaber, feeling the familiar coolness in his hand. His own first lightsaber, the one Obi-Wan had given him, which he had given her in turn on the palace rooftop on Coruscant. He'd been younger than she was when he'd first taken that lightsaber into danger. Younger, less experienced, and far brasher. But still...

"And the last thing I need right now is for you to start getting all overprotective," Mara added, just the hint of a warning glare in her eyes. "I've survived just fine all these years. I can take care of myself."

Luke locked eyes with her. Odd, he thought, that he'd forgotten just how brilliant a green those eyes were. Though perhaps it was just the lighting. "No way I can talk you out of it?" he asked, trying one last time.

"Not unless you can come up with a better plan," she said, pulling out her comlink and sleeve blaster. "Here?there's no point in my keeping these. They'll just take them away from me anyway. I'll keep my BlasTech; they'd be suspicious if I came in completely unarmed."

Luke took the comlink and sleeve blaster from her, his hand lingering on hers before she withdrew it, oddly unwilling to let it go. "I wish we hadn't left the other comlink with Artoo," he said. "You could have kept this one and I'd have been able to listen in on what was going on."

"If something goes sour, you might need to whistle up the Qom Jha in a hurry," she reminded him. "Anyway, can't you follow me with the Force?"

"I can follow your presence," Luke said. "I can get your emotions and probably some images that way. But I can't get much in the way of words."

"Too bad you're not Palpatine," Mara commented, busying herself with removing her sleeve holster. "I could talk to him just fine."

Luke felt a stab of guilt and shame, her earlier indictment of his dark side dabbling flooding back. She caught the emotion, or else the expression on his face, and smiled tightly. "Hey, I was kidding," she assured him, handing him the sleeve holster. "Look, you just follow what you can. I'll give you a full report on the details when I get back."

"All right," Luke said. "Be careful, okay?"

To his surprise, she reached out and took his hand. "I'll be fine," she told him, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go. "See you."

And with that she was gone, slipping out of the command center and around the wall toward the slideway.

With a sigh, Luke stepped over to the nearby wall segment and sank down into a crouch with his back pressed against it. Closing his eyes for better concentration, he stretched out with the Force.

In times past, on Dagobah and Tierfon and other places, he'd been able to use the Force to obtain glimpses of future places and events. Now, as Mara headed down the slideway, he tried to focus that same ability onto real-time observation, hoping to be able to see what was happening to her.

It worked, too, at least after a fashion. The image he got of Mara and her surroundings was faint and foggy, heavily colored by her emotions and shifting mental state, and with the same discomfiting tendency to ripple or metamorphose that seemed to be characteristic of Jedi visions in general. But with Mara's mind there to act as anchor, he was able to quickly drag the images back to something at least vaguely understandable. It was hardly ideal, but it seemed clear that it was all he was going to get.

The slideway from this level seemed to be roughly the same size as the one they had used to get down from the roof. Mara moved to the inner section and headed down, apparently making no attempt at concealment. The lack of any sudden combat twinges in her emotions as she reached the next level implied she didn't see anyone, though he had the impression that she was still hearing distant sounds.

She made no move to get off at this level, but let the slideway carry her on down. The next level was more of the same, with no one coming near the slideway.

Luke could sense a definite annoyance beginning to seep through the alertness in Mara's mind, an annoyance aimed both at the aliens' seeming disinterest in her and at their incompetence at basic internal security. She passed that level, and the next, and started down toward the next?

And suddenly there was a dizzying jolt that slammed like a ground-quake through her emotions, accompanied by a brief flash of pain.

Luke stiffened, eyes jerking open as he scrambled to his feet. But even as he did so he felt a warning flicker of reassurance from her, together with understanding of what had just happened. Without warning, the slideway section she'd been riding on had suddenly reversed direction, yanking her feet out from under her and slamming her flat on her chest on the ramp.

And as the moment of dizziness from the impact faded away, her combat emotions flared to full alertness.

She was no longer alone.

Luke clenched his hands into helpless fists as he rode her emotions to try to pierce the hazy image. There were several people standing around her, of the same species as those they'd tangled with once already.

And as near as he could tell through the wavering view, one of them was calling Mara by name.

For a moment he continued to talk to her, and though Luke couldn't hear any of the words he had the impression that he was asking her to accompany them farther into the fortress. She agreed. There was a flicker of inevitability as they took her BlasTech, and then the whole group was walking away from the slideway down a corridor that Mara recognized as decorated similarly to the barracks area they'd seen farther below.

Soon?all too soon?the group reached an open door. Another exchange of unheard words, a suppressed flutter of uneasiness from Mara, and she stepped alone through the door into the room beyond.

From her thoughts he could tell that there were others waiting inside for her.

One of them?possibly more than one?called out to her as she moved farther inside.

Mara answered, surges and flickers of emotion marking bits of information that the vagueness of their contact prevented Luke from getting himself. She continued to walk farther into the room?

And without warning, right in the middle of a step, the touch of her mind cut abruptly off, leaving Luke staring at the quiet lights of the command center.

Heart pounding in his chest, he stretched out with the Force, trying to reestablish the contact. Mara? Mara!

But it was no use. There was no response, no returning contact, no sense of her presence. Nothing at all.

She was gone.

CHAPTER

27

Mara took in the room in a glance as she stepped through the doorway. It was long and narrow, stretching perhaps fifty meters back from the door but no more than five meters wide. Near the far wall was a solid-looking chair, facing away from her. Five meters beyond that, right at the room's back wall, were six more of the blue-skinned aliens, all wearing the same tight-fitting burgundy patchwork-design outfits as the ones who had escorted her here from the slideway.

And like her escort, each of the aliens was wearing Imperial ranking bars on their chests beneath the high-topped black collars.

But even as her glance took in those details, her main attention was caught by the man in the center of the group, seated in a duplicate of the empty chair facing him a few meters away. His hair was gray, his skin lined with age; but his eyes were alert and shrewd, and his back was straight and proud.

And he was wearing the uniform and insignia of an Imperial admiral.

"So here you are at last, Mara Jade," he said, waving her forward with a gnarled hand. "I must say, you took your time."

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Mara countered with an edge of sarcasm as she walked toward them. She could feel Luke's concern and nervousness at the back of her mind, and tried to send him a reassurance she didn't entirely feel. These people knew who she was and presumably what she was; and yet here they were, letting her move freely toward them. It all looked far too casual, and she didn't like it one bit. "If your people hadn't been so trigger-poppy, I'd have been here a lot sooner."

The admiral bowed his head briefly. "My apologies. For whatever it's worth, it was an accident. Please, come sit down."

Mara continued forward, trying to watch all of them at once, her senses alert for trouble. If they had a trap set, it would be sprung somewhere before she got too close to them...

And without warning, right in the middle of a step, Luke's presence suddenly vanished from her mind.

Her brain froze in shock, sheer momentum keeping her feet moving. Luke? Luke!

Come on, where are you?

But there was no response. No emotion, no sense of mind or thought, no sense of presence at all. Incredibly, impossibly, he was gone.

Gone.

"Come sit down," the admiral said again. "I imagine you must be quite worn out after all you've been through."

"You're too kind," Mara said, the words sounding distant and mechanical through the pounding of blood in her ears as she forced her feet to keep moving her forward. What in the worlds could possibly have happened to him?

There could only be one answer. Somehow, they'd gotten past his Jedi senses, had penetrated his Jedi powers, and had launched a sudden, undetected, and unblocked attack.

And Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, was unconscious.

Or dead.

The thought slashed into her mind, cutting through her heart like a jagged blade.

No?it couldn't be. It couldn't. Not now.

The gray-haired man was still gazing at her, a thoughtful look on his face, and with an agonized effort Mara shoved the fear and pain away to the back of her mind. If Luke was merely unconscious, they could still get out of this. If he was dead, she would most likely soon be joining him. Either way, this was no time to let her emotions muddy her thinking.

She made it the rest of the way to the chair and sank carefully into it. "You don't need to look quite so worried," the admiral said soothingly. "We have no intention of harming you."

"Of course not," Mara said, hearing the bitterness in her voice. "Just like you had no intention of harming me on my last trip in here?"

The admiral's lip twitched. "As I said before, that was a regrettable accident," he said. "They were shooting at the vermin flying around near you? we've had some problems in the past with them getting inside. When you started shooting back, I'm afraid they jumped to the wrong conclusion. My deepest apologies."

"That makes me feel so much better," Mara growled. "Now what?"

The admiral seemed mildly surprised. "We talk," he said. "Why else do you think we gave you our location in the first place? We wanted you to come see us."

"Ah," Mara said. So her guess earlier had been right?those two ships had deliberately flown off on vectors that would lead her here.

Unless, of course, he was lying after the fact to cover up his pilots' blunders.

"You could have just sent me an invitation," she told him, feeling her forehead crease slightly as she stretched out toward him with the Force. Odd; for some reason, she couldn't seem to touch him. Not him, not the aliens flanking him. "Or would that have been too straightforward and easy?"

The admiral smiled knowingly. "With an open invitation I doubt you would have come alone. Something more vague seemed a better arrangement. I apologize for not having an escort waiting, by the way?your landing caught us a bit by surprise."

"As did your arrival earlier inside the fortress," the alien standing at the admiral's right added, his voice smooth and cultured, his glowing red eyes steady on Mara. "If we'd known you were coming our people would have been much more careful with their charrics. May I ask how you managed to penetrate the fortress without being spotted?"

"We turned ourselves into vermin and flew in, of course," Mara told him. "It was faster than walking."

"Of course," the admiral said with a smile. "Or perhaps you scaled up the side of the fortress and came in through one of the cracks?"

Mara shook her head. "Sorry. Trade secret."

"Ah," the admiral said, still smiling. "It's not important; I was merely curious.

The point is that you are here, Mara, just as we wished. May I call you Mara, by the way? Or would you prefer Captain Jade or some other title?"

"Call me anything you want," Mara told him. "And what should I call you? Or doesn't anyone in this place have a name?"

"All thinking beings have names, Mara," the man said. "Mine is Admiral Voss Parck. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"Likewise," Mara said, staring at him as a ripple of shock went through her.

Voss Parck: the Victory Star Destroyer captain who had found Thrawn on a deserted world and brought him to the Imperial court. And who had subsequently joined him in his shame and supposed exile from the Empire.

But the man in front of her...

"I imagine I look rather older than you might have expected," Parck said offhandedly. "Assuming you had any expectations at all, of course. I may have overly flattered myself to assume the Emperor's Hand would even remember my name, let alone my face."

"I remember both," Mara said. "You were one of the people every faction in the court used as an example of what not to do in the middle of a political fight." She glanced at the aliens. "But then, those were the same people who also thought Palpatine sent Thrawn out here as a punishment. So what did they know?"

"And you think Mitth'raw'nuruodo's mission was otherwise?" the alien at Parck's right asked.

"I know otherwise," Mara assured him, looking him up and down. "Tell me, Admiral, does the whole race talk like Thrawn? Or is this some special cultural training you give your troops in case they're all invited out for High Day drinks?"

The alien's eyes narrowed?"Calm yourself, Stent," Parck said dryly, holding up a hand. "You must understand that one of Mara Jade's most subtle weapons has always been her talent for irritating people. Irritated people don't think clearly, you see."

"Or maybe I just don't like any of you very much," Mara said, feeling a touch of annoyance at Parck's quick and casual insight. Usually her enemies didn't figure that one out nearly so quickly. The slower ones never figured it out at all. "But enough about me. Let's hear about this grand push of yours out into the Unknown Regions. You gave up a lot, after all: Coruscant, the status and camaraderie of the Imperial Fleet?" Deliberately, she looked at Stent. "Civilization."

Stent's eyes narrowed again, but Parck merely smiled. "You've met Thrawn, " he said, his voice softening to near-reverence. "Any true warrior would have given up whatever was necessary for the chance to serve under him."

"Except those of his own people, I gather," Mara countered. "Or did I hear the story wrong of how he wound up on Coruscant?"

"No, I'm sure you heard correctly," Parck said with a shrug. "But like everything else people think they know about Thrawn, that particular story is somewhat incomplete."

"Is it, now," Mara said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, a posture designed by its apparent helplessness to put suspicious people at ease.

With the same motion she surreptitiously rocked the chair back a bit, trying to gauge its weight. Very heavy, unfortunately, which eliminated it as a grab-and-throw weapon. "I seem to have some time on my hands. Why don't you start at the beginning?"

Stent laid his hand on Parck's shoulder. "Admiral, I'm not sure?"

"It's all right, Stent," Parck calmed him, his eyes steady on Mara. "We can hardly expect her help unless she has all the facts, now, can we?"

Mara frowned. "My help in what?"

"It started better than half a century ago," Parck said, ignoring her question.

"Back when the Outbound Flight project was preparing to fly, just before the Clone Wars broke out. Well before your time, of course?I don't know if you'd even have heard of it."

"I've read about the Outbound Flight," Mara said. "A group of Jedi Masters and others decided to head out to another galaxy and see what was there."

"Ultimately, their destination was indeed another galaxy." Parck nodded. "But before that particular expedition began, it was decided to send them and their ship on a, shall we say, shakedown cruise: a great circle through part of the vast Unknown Regions of our own galaxy."

He waved a hand back toward Stent and the guards. "A route, as it turned out, that was to bring it across the edge of territory controlled by the Chiss."

Chiss. So that was what they called themselves. Mara ran the name through her memory, searching for any reference the Emperor might have made to them. Nothing.

"And the Chiss didn't feel like being good hosts that day?"

"Actually, the ruling Chiss families never had the chance to decide one way or the other," Parck said. "Palpatine had already decided that the Jedi represented a grave threat to the Old Republic, and had sent an assault force into the region to quietly take care of Outbound Flight when they showed up."

"And there they were, busily setting up their ambush, when Thrawn found them."

He shook his head. "You have to understand the situation, Mara, to truly appreciate it. On one side were handpicked units of Palpatine's own private army, equipped with fifteen top-line combat ships. On the other side were Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense and perhaps twelve small and insignificant border patrol ships."

"I appreciate it just fine," Mara said, suppressing a shudder. "How badly did Thrawn slaughter them?"

"Utterly," Parck said, the ghost of a smile creasing his face. "I believe only a single one of Palpatine's ships remained capable of flight, and that only because Thrawn wanted some of the invaders left alive to interrogate.

"Fortunately for that remnant, and perhaps one day for the galaxy as a whole, among the survivors was the leader of the task force, one of Palpatine's advisers. A man named Kinman Doriana."

Mara swallowed. That name she most certainly did remember. He'd been Palpatine's right-hand man, supposedly one of the grand architects of his rise to power. "I've heard it, yes," she said.

"I thought you would have," Parck said, nodding. "Very much a shadow adviser?few people ever even heard his name, let alone knew his true position and power. But among those who did it was sometimes speculated that his untimely death left a gap which Palpatine ultimately tried to fill with three other people: Darth Vader, Grand Admiral Thrawn?" He smiled again. "And you."

"You're too kind," Mara said evenly, not even a whisper of pride rising within her at such a statement. So she had indeed had position and authority in Palpatine's eyes, perhaps more than even she had realized.

But it didn't matter. That part of her life had died, unmourned, a long time ago.

"You're very well informed, too."

"This was Thrawn's personal base," Parck said, waving a hand around him. "And information, as you may have noticed, was one of his few obsessions. The databases in the fortress core below us are possibly the most extensive in the galaxy."

"Magnificent, I'm sure," Mara said. "Too bad all his knowledge couldn't keep him from getting killed."

She had hoped to spark some kind of reaction from them. To her surprise, though, none of them so much as blinked. Parck, in fact, actually smiled. "Never assume, Mara," he warned. "But that's getting ahead of the story. Where were we?"

"Doriana and Outbound Flight," Mara said.

"Thank you," Parck said. "At any rate, Doriana explained the entire situation to Thrawn and convinced him that Outbound Flight had to be destroyed. Two weeks later, when the ship arrived in Chiss space, Thrawn was waiting."

"Good-bye, Outbound Flight," Mara murmured.

"Yes," Parck agreed. "But though that was the end of that, it was the beginning of trouble for Thrawn himself. The Chiss military philosophy, you see, did not recognize the morality of preemptive strikes. What Thrawn did was, in their minds, equivalent to murder."

Mara snorted gently. "No offense, Admiral, but it sounds to me like it's your perceptions that need an overhaul. How can the slaughter of a bunch of Jedi Masters minding their own business be anything but murder?"

Parck looked at her gravely. "You'll understand, Mara," he said, his voice almost trembling. "In time, you'll understand."

Mara frowned. The man was either a terrific actor or there was something buried in all of this that had him well and truly terrified. Again, she stretched out with the Force; again, she couldn't seem to touch him at all.

With an obvious effort, Parck pulled himself together. "But again, I'm getting ahead of myself. As I said, Thrawn's action did not sit well with the ruling Chiss families. He was able to talk his way clear and retain his position, but from that point on they watched him very carefully.

"And eventually, as he dealt with some of the Chiss's enemies, he pushed things just a little too far. He was brought up on charges, stripped of all rank, and sent into exile on an uninhabited world at the edge of Imperial space."

"Where who should show up but a Victory Star Destroyer," Mara said. "Captained by a man willing to take the risk of bringing him back to Coruscant." She raised her eyebrows. "Only it wasn't nearly as much of a risk as everyone thought, was it?"

Parck smiled. "It most certainly wasn't," he said. "In fact, I learned later that Palpatine had made at least two unsuccessful attempts over the years to contact the Chiss and offer Thrawn a position with his soon-to-be Empire. No, he was most pleased with my gift, though because of the political realities of the court he had to keep that pleasure hidden."

"So Thrawn went into private military training and eventually rose to the highest rank Palpatine could offer," Mara said. "And then, what, arranged to have himself sent back here so he could make the Chiss ruling families pay for what they'd done to him?"

Parck looked shocked. "Certainly not. The Chiss are his people, Mara?he has no interest in hurting them. Quite the opposite, in fact. He came back here to protect them."

"From what?"

Stent gave a contemptuous snort. "From what," he bit out harshly. "You soft, complacent female. You think that because you lounge around your quiet worlds behind a ring of warships that the rest of the galaxy is a safe place to live?

There are a hundred different threats out there that would freeze your blood if you knew about them. The ruling families can't stop them; neither can any other power in the region. If our people are to be protected, it's up to us."

"And you are? You specifically, I mean?"

Stent drew himself up straighter. "We are Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo's Household Phalanx," he said, and there was no mistaking the pride in his tone. "We live only to serve him. And through him to serve the Chiss."

"Whether they want your help or not, I guess," Mara said, noting the alien's use of the present tense. There it was again: the assumption or belief that Thrawn wasn't dead. Could they be that out of touch? "Do they even know you're out here?"

"They know the forces of the Empire are out here," Parck said. "And while the ruling families pretend they don't know Stent and his unit are working with us, the average Chiss does in fact know. We have a steady flow of young Chiss arriving at our various bases and garrisons to enlist in our fight."

Mara suppressed a grimace. So they did indeed have bases out here. "Palpatine wouldn't have been very pleased to see aliens mixing with Imperial forces," she pointed out. "I doubt the current regime on Bastion would, either."

Parck's expression sobered. "Indeed," he said. "Which brings us to the problem and situation we now face. Many years ago Thrawn told us that if he was ever reported dead we should keep at our labors here and in the Unknown Regions, and to look for his return ten years afterward."

Mara blinked in disbelief. They really were out of touch. "It's going to be a long wait," she said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "He was stabbed in the chest, right through the back of his command chair. Most people have a hard time recovering from that kind of treatment."

"Thrawn is not most people," Stent reminded her.

"Was," Mara said. "Not is; was. He died at Bilbringi."

"Did he?" Parck asked. "Did you ever see a body? Or hear anything about his supposed death that didn't come from the Imperials' own news sources?"

Mara opened her mouth... paused. Parck was leaning slightly toward her, a glint of anticipation in his eye. "Was that a rhetorical question?" she asked. "Or are you expecting me to have an actual answer?"

Parck smiled, leaning back in his chair again. "I told you she was quick, " he said, looking up at Stent. "As a matter of fact, yes, we thought you might. You have complete access to Talon Karrde's information network, after all. If anyone would know the truth, it would be you."

A sudden jolt of understanding shot through Mara. "You weren't hunting Imperial connections when you buzzed the Cavrilhu base and Terrik's Star Destroyer, were you? You were hunting me."

"Very good, indeed," Parck said approvingly. "In fact, when Dreel spotted you near that Star Destroyer he thought you and Thrawn might already have come to an arrangement. Hence, his transmission asking Thrawn to make contact."

Mara shook her head. "Look, I know you've been out here a long time, and I realize it must have been hard for you. But it's time to face the hard, cold facts. Like it or not, Thrawn is dead."

"Really," Parck said. "Then why is the HoloNet buzzing with the news that he has returned and is making alliances?"

"And that he's been seen by many planetary and sector leaders," Stent put in. "Including the Diamalan Senator to Coruscant and former General Lando Calrissian."

Mara stared at him. Lando? "No," she said. "You're wrong. Or you're bluffing."

"I assure you?" Parck broke off, his eyes shifting to a point behind Mara as a breath of air on the back of her neck announced the door behind her had opened.

She turned, tensing. But it was only a youngish middle-aged man, walking with a slight limp along the left-hand wall of the long room toward her. Despite his age he wore the uniform of an Imperial TIE fighter pilot; between his graying goatee and similarly graying shock of dark hair he wore an almost unheard-of rarity: a black patch over his right eye. "Yes, General?" Parck called to him.

"Mid-course transmission from Sorn, Admiral," the man said, his one eye trained unblinkingly on Mara as he strode past her. "His pass through the Bastion system was inconclusive. Lots of rumors and speculations, but no hard evidence." He paused. "But the rumors do say Thrawn is currently there."

"Wait a minute," Mara put in, frowning. "You know where Bastion is?"

"Oh, yes," Parck assured her. "Thrawn anticipated that the seat of government might periodically change, and he wanted us to know where it was at any given time. So he had a special homing device installed in a dummy file in the central Imperial Records Library, reasoning that where the government went the library would soon follow."

"It's a device of Chiss design," Stent added with clear pride. "Totally dormant except when in hyperspace, a time when virtually no one thinks to do scans for such things. We've followed Bastion's movement from system to system with a great deal of interest."

"Indeed." Parck looked at the pilot again. "Is Sorn on his way back?"

"He'll be here in about three hours." The pilot nodded at Mara. "Has she given you anything useful?"

"Not really," Parck said, looking at Mara as he gestured to the newcomer. "But I'm forgetting my manners. Mara Jade; this is General Baron"?he paused dramatically?"Soontir Fel."

Mara kept her face expressionless. Baron Soontir Fel. Once a legendary TIE fighter pilot, later turning his back on the Empire to become a member of Rogue Squadron, he had vanished years ago into a trap set by Imperial Intelligence Director Isard and never been heard of again. The general assumption had been that Isard had had him summarily executed for treason.

Yet here he was, apparently once again flying with Imperial forces. And a general, yet. "General Fel," she nodded acknowledgment. "Do I take it from the admiral's tone that I'm supposed to be impressed?"

The young Fel, she suspected, would have taken instant offense at that. But this older version merely favored her with a faint smile. "There's no time for pride out here, Jade," he said gravely. "Once you've joined us, you'll understand."

"I'm sure," Mara said, folding her arms across her chest and squeezing her hands tightly into fists with the effort as she stretched out with all her strength.

The Force was there?she could feel it flowing through her. Yet for some reason she still couldn't touch any of them, human or Chiss. It was almost like the Force-suppressing effect of those sessile Myrkr creatures called ysalamiri. But that couldn't be it, because she could still feel the Force perfectly well.

Besides, there weren't any of the creatures in the room with them?

She swallowed a sudden grimace, feeling like a fool as she focused on Parck and the Chiss standing with their backs to the wall. Of course there weren't any ysalamiri in the room?they were one room over, pressed up against the other side of the wall where they could protect her interrogators from her mind probes.

They'd probably put the creatures along the sides, too; probably why Fel had been so careful to hug the wall on his way across the room. Maybe even scattered some above the ceiling?

She took a deep breath, a huge part of the tension in her chest abruptly easing.

Of course there were ysalamiri in the ceiling. That was how and why her link to Luke had been so abruptly cut off.

Which meant he was still alive.

She took another breath, suddenly aware that Parck and Fel were both staring at her. "Such a gracious invitation," she said, trying to pick up on the threads of conversation before her silence became too blatant. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I already have a job."

But too late. "I see she's figured it out," Fel said conversationally.

"Yes," Parck said. "I'm rather surprised it took her this long, actually.

Particularly since she noticed the ysalamiri effect as soon as she came within the effect of their shroud. I could see the break in her step."

"At least it proves she has Jedi abilities," Fel said. "Just as well we were prepared."

"I congratulate you all on your cleverness," Mara said, putting some scorn into her voice. "You are indeed the true heirs to Thrawn's genius and military might.

Let's stop dancing around, shall we? What exactly do you want from me?"

"As General Fel has already said," Parck said. "We want you to join us."

Mara felt her eyes narrow. "You are joking."

"Not at all," Parck said. "In fact?"

"Admiral?" Stent interrupted, his head tilted slightly to one side as if listening to something. "Someone's just tried to access the Upper Command Room computer."

"Skywalker," Fel said with a nod. "Nice of him to save us the trouble of tracking him down. Have the Phalanx bring him here, Stent. Remind them that only those carrying ysalamiri are to approach him."

"Yes, sir." Stent stepped past Fel and headed along the wall at a fast walk, speaking rapidly in his own language as he headed for the door. As he passed Mara, she caught a glimpse of a small device in his ear?the Chiss version of a comlink, no doubt.

"He'll be joining us in a few minutes," Fel said, looking back at Mara. "You must rank very highly indeed in Coruscant's eyes for them to send Luke Skywalker himself to rescue you. I hope he won't resist to the point of the Chiss having to hurt him."

"I hope for the Chiss' sake they haven't bitten off more than they can swallow," Mara countered, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Luke had had to function under the handicap of ysalamiri before, but that had been a long time ago. "Speaking of getting hurt, General, what happened to your face? Or is that patch just something you wear to impress the natives?"

"I lost my eye in our final battle against one of the many would-be warlords out here," Fel said, his voice calm but with an edge to it. "Our medical replacement facilities are limited, and I opted to forgo a new eye in favor of others of my pilots who might need the operation." He smiled tightly, a glimpse of the younger, brasher Fel showing through the age and maturity. "Besides, even with one eye I'm still the best pilot around."

"I'm sure," Mara agreed. "But imagine what you'd be like with two of them again.

And the way the war with the New Republic has dwindled down to basically nothing, I imagine the Empire's got a pretty good surplus of spare prosthetics. All it would take is you showing up and asking for one."

She looked back at Parck. "But of course, that would mean letting Bastion in on the big secret, which is apparently something you don't want to do. Why not?"

Parck sighed. "Because everything we've done here?everything we have here?really belongs to Thrawn. And at this point, we frankly don't know which side of your conflict he's going to come down on."

Mara blinked. "Excuse me? An Imperial Grand Admiral, and you don't know which side he's going to take?"

"The Empire has been whittled down to eight sectors," Fel reminded her. "Militarily, they're no longer a power even worth considering."

"And as you've already pointed out, they still have a lingering problem with anti-alien biases," Parck added. "On the other hand, Coruscant has serious problems of its own, most notably its inability to keep its members from fighting with each other."

"Which is where you come in," Fel said. "As the Emperor's Hand, you knew a great deal about the Empire and those in power there. On the other hand, as a friend of Skywalker and his associates, you're also well acquainted with the New Republic regime on Coruscant."

He smiled tightly. "And of course, as Talon Karrde's second-in-command, you know a great deal about everything else. You'd be invaluable in helping us end the conflict, unify this region, and begin preparations for the challenges ahead."

"Your expertise and knowledge are very important to us," Parck said. "Our attention has been necessarily turned outward, with the result that we're somewhat out of touch with matters in this part of space. We need someone who can fill that gap."

"And so naturally you thought of me," Mara said sardonically.

"Don't be so flippant," Fel admonished.

"I'm not being flippant; I'm being disbelieving," she countered. "I hardly think Thrawn would have approved of you hiring me as your local affairs adviser."

"On the contrary," Parck said. "Thrawn regarded you quite highly. I know for a fact that he intended to offer you a position with us once the Empire had regained its territory."

One of the Chiss beside Parck stirred, tilting his head as Stent had done earlier. "Admiral?" he said softly, squatting down beside the chair and whispering something into Parck's ear. Parck replied, and for a minute they held an inaudible conversation. Mara ran her eye over Fel and the five Chiss, mentally mapping out how she might be able to take them down if it came to a fight.

But the attempt was little more than a mental exercise, and she knew it. With their eyes steady on her, and their hands resting on their holstered weapons, there was no chance she could take out all of them before they got her. Not without the Force.

The conversation ended, and the Chiss stood back up and strode rapidly away along the wall. "Please excuse the interruption," Parck apologized as the alien left the room.

"No problem," Mara said. Down to four Chiss now, plus Fel and Parck. Still rotten odds. "Having trouble pinning Skywalker down?"

"Not really," Parck assured her.

"Glad to hear it," Mara said, wishing more than ever that she could pick up something of his thoughts. That exit hadn't looked like the departure of someone who wasn't really having trouble. If she only had some idea what Luke was up to...

"So Thrawn intended to offer me a commission, did he?"

"He did indeed," Parck said. "He knew who all the best people were, both in overall skills and the kind of mental toughness he needed." He gestured toward Fel. "General Fel is a good example. His rebellion against Isard was of no consequence to Thrawn. What mattered was his feelings for the people and worlds of this region. So after Thrawn had Isard capture him?"

"Wait a minute," Mara interrupted. "Thrawn was involved with that?"

"It was entirely his plan," Fel said. "You don't think Isard could have come up with anything that clever, do you?" His mouth tightened, his remaining eye gazing away thoughtfully into the distance. "He brought me out here," he said quietly. "Showed me what it was we faced, and what we'd have to do to stop it.

Showed me that even with all the resources of the Empire and New Republic combined, and with himself at the head, there were no guarantees of victory."

"On the contrary, he's already made contingency plans for defeat," Parck added soberly. "Ten years ago he had sleeper groups of the best of his cloned warriors scattered around the Empire and New Republic, ready to form the nuclei of local resistance forces should Bastion and Coruscant fall. Men who loved their homes and their land and their worlds, and who would give their lives in their defense."

"Yes," Fel said. "Once I understood?once I really understood?I had no choice but to join him."

"As you will, too," Parck said.

Mara shook her head. "Sorry. I have other plans."

"We'll see," Parck said calmly. "Perhaps Thrawn will be able to convince you himself when he returns."

"And what if he doesn't return?" Mara asked. "What if the rumors are just that: rumors?"

"Oh, he'll return," Parck said. "He said he would, and he always kept his promises. The only question is whether or not this particular rumor is actually him."

He looked up at Fel. "And under the circumstances, I suppose the only way we're going to find out for sure will be for me to finally make a trip to Bastion. If Thrawn has indeed set up a headquarters there, that should answer the question of which side he'll be working from."

Mara felt her hands tighten into fists. "You don't know what you're saying," she said. "You can't just turn all of this over to the Empire. All these resources, bases, alliances?"

"They won't misuse them," Parck said, his voice grim. "We'll make sure of that.

The task ahead of us is far too serious for anyone to waste time on anything as petty as politics or personal gain."

"If you think that, you are out of touch," Mara snapped. "Try to remember back to Palpatine's court, and what the taste of power did to those people. Personal gain is all some of them ever think of."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Parck said firmly. "We'll be careful, certainly?we'll speak with Sorn when he gets back and sift through the data he collected from his pass through the Bastion system. But unless there's something that positively quashes the rumors of Thrawn's return, it's time to make that contact."

Mara took a deep breath. "I can't let you do that," she said.

"You can't let us do it?" Fel asked pointedly.

"No," Mara said. "I can't. You give this to Bastion, and the first thing they'll do is turn it straight against Coruscant."

"Don't worry," Parck said. "We won't give anything away until we're sure Thrawn is with them."

"On the other hand, we may do well to worry about her, Admiral," Fel pointed out, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Someone as vehemently opposed as she is to our contacting Bastion could be trouble."

"I suppose you're right," Parck said reluctantly. He levered himself out of his chair, one of the Chiss stepping to his side and offering him a supporting arm as he stood up. "I'm afraid, Mara, that you and Skywalker will have to be our guests for a while."

"And if Thrawn is back, and I still don't want to join up?" Mara demanded. "What then?"

Parck's lips compressed briefly. "I'm sure it won't come to that," he assured her. But his eyes didn't quite meet hers as he spoke. "We'll have it all sorted out within a few days. Certainly no more than a month at the most."

Mara snorted. "You aren't serious. You really think a couple dozen ysalamiri are going to hold Luke Skywalker and me that long?"

"She's right, Admiral," Fel agreed. "It's going to take more to keep the two of them quiet."

Parck studied Mara's face. "What do you suggest?"

Fel gestured to one of the Chiss. "Brosh, your charric. Set for level two."

"Wait a second," Mara said hastily, jumping to her feet as the Chiss drew his hand weapon. A brief flood of emotion surged through her?Stall, the urgent thought leaped into her mind?"Wait just a Hoth-frost second. I'm an unarmed prisoner."

The other Chiss were drawing their weapons now, too. "I know," Fel said. He sounded genuinely regretful, for whatever that was worth. "And I'm deeply sorry about having to do this. But I've had some experience with Jedi, and the only way I can think of to keep you a proper prisoner for a few days is to force you to go into a healing trance." He looked over at Brosh?

"Wait a minute," Mara said. Stall, stall, stall. "You said you wanted to make a deal with me, right? Well, I can tell you flat out that shooting me will definitely not get any such negotiations off on the right foot. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that it might put me off working for you entirely."

"It won't," Fel assured her darkly. "Not when you know the full extent of the threats facing us."

"Maybe it will, and maybe it won't," Mara countered. "And don't forget Karrde, either. If you really want information, he's the one you're going to have to deal with. And Karrde does not take kindly to anyone who takes potshots at his people. I've seen him take whole organizations apart for that sort of crime. In fact, there was one particular Hutt group?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Parck interrupted, frowning. "Really, Mara, you're making far more out of this than you need to. Charric burns are certainly serious, but that's hardly even a consideration for someone with the Jedi skills of pain suppression and healing. And General Fel is right: we do need to keep you quiet for a while."

"Yes, I understand that," Mara said. "And it's a brilliant idea?really it is.

There's just one small problem: I don't know how to do either the pain suppression or healing tricks."

"Come now," Parck said reproachfully, gesturing toward the black-edged hole in her jumpsuit. "Your shoulder indicates otherwise."

"Skywalker put me into the trance," Mara said, consciously relaxing her muscles in anticipation. "And he's not here. I could die of shock, or bleed to death?"

"You'll do neither," Fel assured her. "I know both the power and limitations of Chiss weaponry. Think of it as an added incentive for Skywalker to surrender to us."

He caught Brosh's eye and nodded. The Chiss nodded back and lifted his weapon?

And from it came a brilliant green flash.

CHAPTER

28

Without warning, right in the middle of a step, Mara vanished. Mara? Luke thought desperately toward her, stretching out to the Force. Mara!

But there was no response. Somehow, they must have gotten past her danger sense and combat skills and had launched a sudden and overwhelming attack.

And she was unconscious. Or dead.

"No," he whispered aloud, his pulse pounding in his ears. Once again, a person he'd cared for...

"No!" he bit out between clenched teeth, the agony in his heart swirling into something dark and deadly as the pain turned into a growing fury. Deal out casual death, would they? If death was what they wanted, he would show them just what death looked like. In his mind's eye he saw himself striding down the spiral slideway, throwing the aliens aside like sand dolls, their bodies slamming against the unyielding black stone and dropping crumpled to the floor.

His lightsaber would flash through their ranks, cutting through weapons and bodies and leaving more death in its wake?

His lightsaber.

He looked down at the lightsaber in his hand. Not the weapon he himself had made in the oppressive heat of the Tatooine desert, but the one his father had made so many years before. The weapon he had given to Mara...

He took a deep breath, letting go of the rage and hatred, a cold shiver running through him as he realized the magnitude of what he had almost done. Once again, he had come to the very brink of giving in to the dark side. Had nearly surrendered to hatred and the lust for revenge, and the overwhelming desire to use his power for his own selfish ends.

If you honor what they fight for... Master Yoda's words echoed hauntingly through his mind. "All right," he murmured aloud. No, he would not avenge whatever had happened to Mara, at least not for vengeance's sake. But he would seek out the truth of her fate.

With an effort, he cleared the last lingering emotion from his thoughts, Mara's picture of songbirds singing inside an ore-crushing facility flickering once through his mind as he did so. Stretching out with the Force, he focused his mental probe toward the spot where Mara's presence had vanished. Unless they had already taken it away, he should at least be able to sense her body..

.

But there was nothing. Not Mara, not the humans or aliens she had supposedly been moving toward when she disappeared.

In fact, within a certain area, he could detect nothing at all. Almost as if something was blocking his access to the Force...

Abruptly, his breath went out of him in a rush, relief and chagrin flooding into him in equal quantities. Of course?the aliens had moved ysalamiri into the space between him and Mara. Even given the four-floor distance between them, he should have immediately recognized what was happening. Once again, it seemed, he was having to relearn Yoda's warning against acting while in the grip of strong emotion.

But there was no time for self-recrimination. Within the ysalamiri effect, Mara's fledgling Jedi powers were useless; and it was up to him to get her out.

He pulled out his comlink and thumbed it on. "Artoo?" he called softly. "I need you down here?take the nonmoving spiral slideway behind the wall to the right of the hidden exit doorway and come down four floors. Splitter Of Stones, leave someone behind in the stairway to seal the door, and the rest of you come with Artoo. Got that?"

There was a twitter from the droid and a chirp from the Qom Jha. Luke returned the comlink to his belt and walked slowly across the floor toward one of the level's back corners, stretching out beneath him with the Force as he moved. He could sense beings on the next level down, but none of them seemed to be in this particular area.

That could be misleading, given that he still didn't have a clear reading on this species. But he would have to risk it. Igniting Mara's lightsaber, the feel of the weapon bringing back a flood of old memories, he gripped it with both hands and dug the blue-white blade into the floor.

His big fear had been that like the cortosis ore in the cave below, the strange black stone would resist the lightsaber in some way. But though it felt rather like dragging a tree branch upstream through a rapidly flowing river, the blade sliced through the stone without trouble. Walking in a tight circle, beveling the edge inward so that the plug wouldn't fall through to the floor below, he carved out a round hole a little wider than Artoo.

Finishing his cut, he confirmed one final time that no one seemed to be below him. Then, stretching out to the Force, he lifted the stone plug out.

It was heavy?far heavier than anything of such a small size had any business being. Maneuvering it off to the side, he set it down with its edge just overlapping the hole, then dropped flat to the floor and peered carefully down.

The area did indeed appear to be deserted. Getting a grip on the rim, he eased himself in to hang full-length through the hole. Bracing himself, drawing on the Force to strengthen his muscles, he let go.

The floor was about four meters down, a trivial fall for a Jedi. He let his legs collapse as he hit, absorbing the impact and dropping him into a hopefully unobtrusive heap as he stretched out his senses for any sign he'd been seen or heard. But there was nothing. Getting carefully to his feet, he looked around again?

Master Walker Of Sky?

Luke looked up. Keeper Of Promises was in the room above him, peering down through the hole in the floor. "Keep quiet," he warned the Qom Jha. "Where are the rest of your people?"

They are coming in a flanking curve, Keeper Of Promises said. Some guard your machine?it is the slowest.

"Let me know when he gets there," Luke told him, stretching out with the Force.

There were, he could tell, more of the aliens on the next level down, but again they didn't seem to be too close to him. Igniting the lightsaber again, he began cutting a new hole directly beneath the first one.

He'd finished the hole and had dropped to the next floor down when a quiet whistle from above signaled Artoo's arrival. "Great," Luke called softly, looking up at the blue-and-silver dome peering cautiously over the lip two floors up as he pulled out his comlink and thumbed it on.

The droid backed out of sight, and there was another acknowledging whistle from the comlink. "All right," Luke said, glancing around. He'd come down into a deserted room this time, but through the open door he could see glimpses of moving shadows. "You see the control boards over there? I want you to go find a computer jack you can access and plug into it. Try to get a floor plan of the fortress if you can; if you can't, just look around and see what else you can find. When I signal you again, unplug and get back over to the hole as fast as you can. Got all that?"

There was a slightly nervous-sounding twitter, and the comlink went dead.

Gripping Mara's lightsaber, trying to get a feel for all the minds around and below him, Luke waited.

When it happened, it happened all at once. Suddenly, virtually in unison, all the alien minds changed, their various tones and concerns and textures all shifting to focus in the same direction. Not with fear, concern, or even surprise, but with the calm, deadly purpose of professional soldiers.

Artoo had tripped the flags Mara had warned him about, and the fortress was mobilizing for action.

Luke crouched a little closer to the floor, acutely aware that everything now hinged on what exactly that action would consist of. If all the aliens merely settled in where they were and braced for possible attack, he would have no choice but to fight his way through them to get to Mara. If, however, they instead concentrated on the slideway ramps and the floor where the attempted break-in was occurring...

And they did. Even as Luke held his breath, he could sense the aliens below moving purposefully toward the slideway Mara had taken earlier. If he was careful?and quick?the path to her might just be open.

Especially if he was quick. Igniting the lightsaber, he set to work carving yet another hole in the black stone.

He had finished the opening and dropped through to the next level down when his probing senses picked up the cue he'd been waiting for: the subtle change in the alien minds as the assembled assault teams readied themselves. "Now, Artoo," he called softly into the comlink. "Send the Qom Jha to me down the hole, and get over there yourself."

The droid acknowledged, and Luke stepped beneath the hole to wait. The Qom Jha weren't wasting any time; already they were dropping through like leaves blown from a tree, folding their wings tightly as they passed through each successive hole, opening them up between floors to regain control of their flight. Through the flurry of falling Qom Jha he spotted Artoo's dome lean cautiously over the edge, and caught an echo of the surprised and nervous twitter as the droid saw how much farther down Luke was now than the last time he'd looked.

A twitter that turned into an electronic gasp as Luke reached out with the Force to pick him up and drop him wheels-first through the hole.

Luke winced at the noise; but fortunately Artoo quickly realized what was happening and quieted down before the sound of a descending electronic scream could give the whole thing away. Luke got the droid safely to the floor beside him, then stretched out again to the edge of the stone plug he'd left poking over the side of the first hole above. At this distance it felt even heavier; but with alien warriors presumably even now fanning out toward the command center, he had great motivation for speed. Three seconds later, the plug was securely back in place.

Fifteen seconds after that, working his way down, he had all the rest of the holes sealed as well. "Mara's one more level down," he told Artoo and the huddled group of Qom Jha, stretching out with the Force. All the aliens below were gone, and there hadn't been any changes in the overall mental state that would indicate they'd tumbled to his trick.

Though oddly enough, he could no longer sense the assault teams themselves.

Equipped with ysalamiri, perhaps?

Probably. But for the moment, those groups were too far away to worry him. "Stay close to me," he said, igniting the lightsaber and starting his final cut. "We'll try to keep this as quiet as we can, for as long as we can."

But if they discover us? Child Of Winds asked anxiously.

Luke frowned at him in mild surprise. He hadn't realized that the young Qom Qae had come in with the Qom Jha. In fact, he'd intended to give instructions that the child stay behind with whoever had sealed up the hidden door. Clearly, it had slipped his mind; just as clearly, it was too late to do anything about it now. "If the alarm goes up, you're to split up and create confusion," Luke told the aliens. "Draw them as far away from me as you can, then find your own ways out of the fortress and head back home."

We will obey, Splitter Of Stones said, fluttering his wings.

"And try not to get hurt," Luke added, finishing the cut and lifting the stone disk out of the hole. "Child Of Winds, you stay with Artoo and me."

He leaned down for a quick visual scan of the empty room below. "All right," he said, slipping his feet into the opening and bracing himself for another drop. "Let's go."

From the hazy look he'd had of this floor before his contact with Mara had been cut off, it had seemed fairly well structured, with rooms and wide corridors instead of the random wall segments they'd encountered upstairs. Not exactly an ideal arrangement for quiet skulking.

But for the first few minutes it seemed to work. Luke led the way cautiously toward the blank spot that marked the cluster of ysalamiri, splitting his attention between the area around him and the various warrior groups assembled near the slideways. Only half a dozen of the aliens wandered near enough to pose potential problems, and he was able to get his party past them unseen using Force-created noises and other distractions. The warriors on the command center level were clearly the methodical types, and as Luke neared the ysalamiri he began to think he might actually be able to burst in on Mara and her captors unannounced.

Han might have been that lucky. Luke, unfortunately, was not. They had nearly reached their goal when the illusion abruptly crumbled.

"They're on to us," he murmured.

Do they know where we are? Flier Through Spikes asked.