by Timothy Zahn
Ferrier was smirking. Not obviously—almost invisibly, in fact, behind that beard of his. But enough. More than enough.
And now, far too late, he finally understood. What Chin had seen—and what all of them had subsequently failed to catch—had been Ferrier's shadowy Defel.
Mazzic's men were here. Karrde's were three levels down, guarding his ship and base against a danger that was long gone. And all his guests were waiting for his answer. "The Wild Karrde is berthed down below," he told them. "If you'd care to follow me?"
Dankin and Torve were conversing together at the foot of the Wild Karrde's entrance ramp as the group arrived. "Hello, Captain," Dankin said, looking surprised. "Can we help you?"
"No help needed," Karrde said. "We've decided to hold the meeting aboard ship, that's all."
"Aboard ship?" Dankin echoed, his eyes flicking over the group and obviously not liking what he saw. Small wonder: among the smuggler chiefs, aides, and bodyguards, Mazzic's enforcers stood out like a landing beacon cluster. "I'm sorry—I wasn't informed," he added, hooking the thumb of his right hand casually into the top of his gun belt.
"It was a rather spur-of-the-moment decision," Karrde told him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rest of his people in the banquet chamber beginning to drift from their assigned tasks as they spotted Dankin's hand signal. Drifting into encirclement positions . . .
"Oh, sure," Dankin said, starting to look a little embarrassed. "Though the place really isn't set up for anything this fancy. I mean, you know what the wardroom looks like—"
"We're not interested in the decor," Mazzic interrupted. "Please step aside—we have business to attend to."
"Right—I understand that," Dankin said, looking even more embarrassed but holding his ground. "Problem is, we've got a scanning crew aboard right now. It'll foul up the readings if we get more people coming and going."
"So foul them up," Ferrier put in. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"
Dankin didn't get a chance to come up with an answer to that one. A whiff of perfume-scented air brushed across the side of Karrde's face, and the hard knob of a blaster muzzle dug gently into his side. "Nice try, Karrde," Mazzic said, "but it won't work. Call them off. Now."
Carefully, Karrde looked over his shoulder. Mazzic's decorative bodyguard looked back, her eyes cool and very professional. "If I don't?"
"Then we have a firefight," Mazzic said bluntly. "Right here."
There was a quiet ripple of movement through the group. "Would someone like to tell me what's going on here?" Gillespee murmured uncertainly.
"I'll tell you inside the ship," Mazzic said, his eyes steady on Karrde. "Assuming we all live to get in there. That part's up to our host."
"I won't surrender my people to you," Karrde said quietly. "Not without a fight."
"I have no interest in your people," Mazzic told him. "Or your ship, or your organization. This is a personal matter, between you and me. And our fellow smugglers."
"Then let's have it out," Dankin suggested. "We'll clear a space, you can choose weapons—"
"I'm not talking some stupid private feud," Mazzic cut him off. "This is about treachery."
"About what?" Gillespee asked. "Mazzic—"
"Shut up, Gillespee," Mazzic said, throwing a quick glare at him. "Well, Karrde?"
Slowly, Karrde looked around the group. There were no allies here; no friends who would stand firmly by him against whatever these phantom charges were that Mazzic and Ferrier had concocted. Whatever respect any of them might have for him, whatever favors they might owe him—all of that was already forgotten. They would watch while his enemies took him down . . . and then they would each take a piece of the organization he'd worked so hard to build.
But until that happened, the men and other beings here were still his associates. And still his responsibility.
"There's not enough room in the wardroom for anyone but the eight of us," he told Mazzic quietly. "All aides, bodyguards, and your enforcers will have to stay out here. Will you order them to leave my people alone?"
For a long minute Mazzic studied his face. Then he nodded, a single curt jerk of his head. "As long as they're not provoked, they won't bother anyone. Shada, get his blaster. Karrde . . . after you."
Karrde looked at Dankin and Torve and nodded. Reluctantly, they moved away from the ramp and he started up. Followed closely by the people he'd once hoped to make into a unified front against the Empire.
He should have known better.
They settled into the wardroom, Mazzic nudging Karrde into a chair in one corner as the others found places around the table facing him. "All right," Karrde said. "We're here. Now what?"
"I want your data cards," Mazzic said. "All of them. We'll start with the ones in your office."
Karrde nodded over his shoulder. "Through the door and down the corridor to the right."
"Access codes?"
"None. I trust my people."
Mazzic's lip twisted slightly. "Ellor, go get them. And bring a couple of data pads back with you."
Wordlessly, the Duro stood up and left. "While we're waiting," Karrde said into the awkward silence, "perhaps I could present the proposal I invited you to Hijarna to hear."
Mazzic snorted. "You've got guts, Karrde—I'll give you that. Guts and style. Let's just sit quiet for now, okay?"
Karrde looked at the blaster pointed at him. "Whatever you wish."
Ellor returned a minute later, carrying a tray full of data cards with two data pads balanced on top. "Okay," Mazzic said as the Duro sat down beside him. "Give one of the data pads to Par'tah and start going through them. You both know what to look for."
[[I must acknowledge at the beginning,]] Ellor said, [[that I do not like this.]]
[Iy agree,] Par'tah said, her head appendages writhing like disturbed snakes. [To fiyght openly agaiynst a competiytor iys part of busiyness. But thiys iys diyfferent.]
"This isn't about business," Mazzic said.
"Of course not," Karrde agreed. "He's already said he has no interest in my organization. Remember?"
"Don't try playing on my words, Karrde," Mazzic warned. "I hate that as much as I hate being led around by the nose."
"I'm not leading anyone by the nose, Mazzic," Karrde said quietly. "I've dealt squarely with all of you since this whole thing began."
"Maybe. That's what we're here to find out."
Karrde looked around the table, remembering back to the chaos that had flooded through the twilight world of smuggling after the collapse of Jabba the Hutt's organization. Every group in the galaxy had scrambled madly to pick up the pieces, snatching ships and people and contracts for themselves, sometimes fighting viciously for them. The larger organizations, particularly, had profited quite handsomely from the Hutt's demise.
He wondered if Aves would be able to beat them off. Aves, and Mara.
"Anything yet?" Mazzic asked.
[We wiyll tell you iyf there iys,] Par'tah said, her offpitch tone betraying her displeasure with the whole situation.
Karrde looked at Mazzic. "Would you mind at least telling me what it is I've allegedly done?"
"Yeah, I want to hear it, too," Gillespee seconded.
Mazzic leaned back in his seat, resting his gun hand on his thigh. "It's very simple," he said. "That attack on Trogan—the one where my friend Lishma was killed—appears to have been staged."
"What do you mean, staged?" Dravis asked.
"Just what I said. Someone hired an Imperial lieutenant and his squad to attack us."
Clyngunn rumbled deep in his throat. "Imperial troops do not work for hire," he growled.
"This group did," Mazzic told him.
"Who said so?" Gillespee demanded.
Mazzic smiled tightly. "The most knowledgeable source there is. Grand Admiral Thrawn."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Dravis found his voice first. "No kidding," he said. "And he just happened to mention this to you?"
"T
hey picked me up poking around Joiol system and took me to the Chimaera," Mazzic said, ignoring the sarcasm. "After the incident at the Bilbringi shipyards I thought I was in for a rough time. But Thrawn told me he'd just pulled me in to clear the air, that no one in the Empire had ordered the Trogan attack and that I shouldn't hold them responsible for it. And then he let me go."
"Having conveniently implied that I was the one you should hold responsible?" Karrde suggested.
"He didn't finger you specifically," Mazzic said. "But who else had anything to gain by getting us mad at the Empire?"
"We're talking a Grand Admiral here, Mazzic," Karrde reminded him. "A Grand Admiral who delights in leisurely and convoluted strategies. And who has a personal interest in destroying me."
Mazzic smiled tightly. "I'm not just taking Thrawn's word for this, Karrde. I had a friend do a little digging through Imperial military records before I came here. He got me the complete details of the Trogan arrangement."
"Imperial records can be altered," Karrde pointed out.
"Like I said, I'm not taking their word for it," Mazzic retorted. "But if we find the other end of the deal here"— he lifted his blaster slightly—"I'd say that would be hard evidence."
"I see," Karrde murmured, looking at Ferrier. So that was what his Defel had been doing down here. Planting Mazzic's hard evidence. "I suppose it's too late to mention that we had an intruder down here a few minutes before you arrived."
Ferrier snorted. "Oh, right. Nice try, Karrde, but a little late."
"A little late for what?" Dravis asked, frowning.
"He's trying to throw suspicion on someone else, that's all," Ferrier said contemptuously. "Trying to make you think one of us planted that data card on him."
"What data card?" Gillespee scoffed. "We haven't found any data card."
"Yes, we have," Ellor said softly.
Karrde looked at him. Ellor's flat face was stiff, his emotions unreadable as he silently handed his data pad to Mazzic. The other took it; and his face, too, hardened. "So there it is," he said softly, laying the data pad on the table. "Well. I suppose there's nothing else to say."
"Wait a second," Gillespee objected. "There is too. Karrde's right about that intruder—I was with him upstairs when the alert came through."
Mazzic shrugged. "Fine; I'll play. What about it, Karrde? What did you see?"
Karrde shook his head, trying to keep his eyes off the muzzle of Mazzic's blaster. "Nothing, unfortunately. Chin thought he saw some movement near the ship, but we weren't able to locate anyone."
"I didn't notice all that many places out there where anyone could hide," Mazzic pointed out.
"A human couldn't, no," Karrde agreed. "On the other hand, it didn't occur to us at the time just how many shadows there were along the walls and near the doors."
"Meaning you think it was my wraith, huh?" Ferrier put in. "That's typical, Karrde—fire off a few hints and try to fog the issue. Well, forget it—it won't work."
Karrde frowned at him. At the aggressive face but wary eyes . . . and suddenly he realized he'd been wrong about the setup here. Ferrier and Mazzic were not, in fact, working together on this. It was Ferrier alone, probably under Thrawn's direction, who was trying to bring him down.
Which meant Mazzic honestly thought Karrde had betrayed them all. Which meant, in turn, that there might still be a chance to persuade him otherwise. "Let me try this, then," he said, shifting his attention back to Mazzic. "Would I really be so careless as to leave a record of my treachery here where anyone could find it?"
"You didn't know we'd be looking for it," Ferrier said before Mazzic could answer.
Karrde cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, so now it's 'we,' Ferrier? You're assisting Mazzic on this?"
"He's right, Karrde—stop trying to fog the issue," Mazzic said. "You think Thrawn would go to all this effort just to take you down? He could have done that straight-out at Trogan."
"He couldn't touch me at Trogan," Karrde shook his head. "Not with all of you there watching. He would have risked stirring up the entire fringe against him. No, this way is much better. He destroys me, discredits my warnings about him, and retains both your goodwill and your services."
Clyngunn shook his shaggy head. "No. Thrawn is not like Vader. He would not waste troops in a deliberately failed attack."
"I agree," Karrde said. "I don't think he ordered the Trogan attack, either. I think someone else planned that raid, and that Thrawn's simply making the best use of it he can."
"I suppose you're going to try and put that one on me, too," Ferrier growled.
"I haven't accused anyone, Ferrier," Karrde reminded him mildly. "One might think you had a guilty conscience."
"There he goes—fogging things again," Ferrier said, looking around the table before turning his glare back to Karrde. "You already practically flat out accused my wraith of planting that data card in here."
"That was your suggestion, not mine," Karrde said, watching the other closely. Thinking on his feet obviously wasn't Ferrier's strong point, and the strains were starting to show. If he could push just a little harder . . . "But since we're on the subject, where is your Defel?"
"He's on my ship," Ferrier said promptly. "Over in the western courtyard with everyone else's. He's been there since I landed."
"Why?"
Ferrier frowned. "What do you mean, why? He's there because he's part of my crew."
"No, I mean why isn't he outside the Wild Karrde with the rest of the bodyguards?"
"Who said he was a bodyguard?"
Karrde shrugged. "I simply assumed he was. He was playing that role on Trogan, after all."
"That's right, he was," Gillespee said slowly. "Standing over against the wall. Where he was all ready to hit the Imperials when they came in."
"Almost as if he knew they were coming," Karrde agreed.
Ferrier's face darkened. "Karrde—"
"Enough," Mazzic cut him off. "This isn't evidence, Karrde, and you know it. Anyway, what would Ferrier have to gain by setting up an attack like that?"
"Perhaps so he could be conspicuous in helping us fight it off," Karrde suggested. "Hoping it would soothe our suspicions about his relationship with the Empire."
"Twist all the words you want," Ferrier said, jabbing a finger at the data pad sitting on the table beside Mazzic. "But that data card doesn't say I hired Kosk and his squad. It says you did. Personally, I think we've heard enough of this—"
"Just a minute," Mazzic interrupted, turning to face him. "How do you know what the data card says?"
"You told us," Ferrier said. "You said it was the other half of the—"
"I never mentioned the lieutenant's name."
The room was suddenly very quiet . . . and behind his beard, Ferrier's face had gone pale. "You must have."
"No," Mazzic said coldly. "I didn't."
"No one said it," Clyngunn rumbled.
Ferrier glared at him. "This is insane," he spat, some of his courage starting to come back. "All the evidence points straight to Karrde—and you're going to let him off just because I happened to hear this Kosk's name somewhere? Maybe one of the stormtroopers on Trogan shouted it during the fight—how should I know?"
