by Timothy Zahn
"Sorry," Aves said. "I'm just getting tired of everybody always being so suspicious of everybody else."
Gillespee shrugged. "We're smugglers. We've had a lot of practice at it. Personally, I'm surprised the group's held together this long. What do you think he's doing?"
"Who, Karrde?" Aves shook his head. "No idea. But it'll be something important."
"Sure." Gillespee pointed ahead. "That the marker buoy?"
"Looks like it," Aves agreed. "Get ready to copy the course data. Ready or not, here we go."
The orders came up on Wedge's comm screen, and he gave them a quick check as he keyed for the squadron's private frequency. "Rogue Squadron, this is Rogue Leader," he said. "Orders: we're going in with the first wave, flanking Admiral Ackbar's Command Cruiser. Hold position here until we're cleared for positioning. All ships acknowledge."
The acknowledgments came in, crisp and firm, and Wedge smiled tightly to himself. There'd been some worry among Ackbar's staff, he knew, that the long flight here to the rendezvous point might take the edge off those units that had first had to carry out decoy duty near the supposed Tangrene jump-off point. Wedge didn't know about the others, but it was clear that Rogue Squadron was primed and ready for battle.
"You suppose Thrawn got our message, Rogue Leader?" Janson's voice came into Wedge's thoughts.
Their message . . . ? Oh, right—that little conversation outside the Mumbri Storve cantina with Talon Karrde's friend Aves. The one Hobbie had been firmly convinced would be going straight to Imperial Intelligence. "I don't know, Rogue Five," Wedge told him. "Actually, I sort of hope it didn't."
"Kind of a waste of time if it didn't."
"Not necessarily," Wedge pointed out. "Remember, he said they had some other scheme on line that they wanted to coordinate with ours. Anything that hits or distracts the Empire can't help but do us some good."
"They've probably just got some smuggling drop planned," Rogue Six sniffed. "Hoping to run it through while the Imperials are looking the other way."
Wedge didn't reply. Luke Skywalker seemed to think Karrde was quietly on the New Republic's side, and that was good enough for him. But there wasn't any way he was going to convince the rest of his squadron of that. Someday, maybe, Karrde would be willing to take a more open stand against the Empire. Until then, at least in Wedge's opinion, everyone who wasn't on the Grand Admiral's side was helping the New Republic, whether they admitted it or not.
Sometimes, even, whether they knew it or not.
His comm display changed: the vanguard cone of Star Cruisers had made it into their launch formation. Time for their escort ships to do the same. "Okay, Rogue Squadron," he told the others. "We've got the light. Let's get to our places."
Easing power to his X-wing's drive, he headed off toward the running lights ahead. Two and a half hours, if the rest of the fleet assembly stayed on schedule, and they'd be dropping out of lightspeed within spitting distance of the Bilbringi shipyards.
A shame, he thought, that they wouldn't be able to see the looks on the Imperials' faces.
The latest group of reports from the Tangrene region scrolled across the display. Pellaeon skimmed through them, scowling blackly to himself. No mistake—the Rebels were still there. Still slipping forces into the region; still doing nothing to draw attention to themselves. And in two hours, if Intelligence's projections were even halfway accurate, they would be launching an attack on an effectively undefended system.
"They're doing quite well, aren't they, Captain?" Thrawn commented from beside him. "A very convincing performance all around."
"Sir," Pellaeon said, fighting to keep his voice properly deferential. "I respectfully suggest that the Rebel activity is not any kind of performance. The preponderance of evidence points to Tangrene as their probable target. Several key starfighter units and capital ships have clearly been assembled at likely jump-off points—"
"Wrong, Captain," Thrawn cut him off coolly. "That's what they want us to believe, but it's nothing more than a carefully constructed illusion. The ships you refer to pulled out of those sectors between forty and seventy hours ago, leaving behind a few men with the proper uniforms and insignia to confuse our spies. The bulk of the force is even now on its way to Bilbringi."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said with a silent sigh of defeat. So that was it. Once again, Thrawn had chosen to ignore his arguments—as well as all the evidence—in favor of nebulous hunches and intuitions.
And if he was wrong, it wouldn't be simply the Tangrene Ubiqtorate base that would be lost. An error of that magnitude would shake the confidence and momentum of the entire Imperial war machine.
"All war is risk, Captain," Thrawn said quietly. "But this is not as large a risk as you seem to think. If I'm wrong, we lose one Ubiqtorate base—important, certainly, but hardly critical." He cocked a blue-black eyebrow. "But if I'm right, we stand a good chance of destroying two entire Rebel sector fleets. Consider the impact that will have on the current balance of power."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said dutifully.
He could feel Thrawn's eyes on him. "You don't have to believe," the Grand Admiral told him. "But be prepared to be proved wrong."
"I very much hope so, sir," Pellaeon said.
"Good. Is my flagship ready, Captain?"
Pellaeon felt his back stiffen a bit in old parade-ground reflex. "The Chimaera is fully at your command, Admiral."
"Then prepare the fleet for hyperspace." The glowing eyes glittered. "And for battle."
There were no real paths up Mount Tantiss; but as Luke had predicted, the Noghri had a knack for terrain. They made remarkably good time, even with the droids slowing them down, and as the sun was disappearing below the trees, they reached the air intakes.
It was not, however, exactly the way Luke had envisioned it.
"Looks more like a retractable turbolaser turret than an air system," he commented to Han as they moved cautiously through the trees toward the heavy metal mesh and the even heavier metal structure the mesh was set into.
"Reminds me of the bunker we had to break into on Endor," Han muttered back. "Except with a screen door. Easy—they might have intruder detectors."
Anywhere else, Luke would have reached out into the tunnel with the Force. Here, within the ysalamiri effect surrounding him, it was like being blind.
Like being on Myrkr again.
He looked at Mara, wondering if she was having similar thoughts and memories. Perhaps so. Even in the fading light, he could see the tension in her face, an anxiety and fear that hadn't been there before they entered the ysalamiri bubble. "So what now?" she growled, flashing a brief glare at him before looking away again. "We just sit around until morning?"
Han had his macrobinoculars trained on the intake. "Looks like a computer outlet there on the wall under the overhang," he said. "The rest of you stay put—I'll take Artoo over and try plugging him in."
Beside Han, Chewbacca rumbled a warning. "Where?" Han muttered, drawing his blaster.
The Wookiee pointed with one hand as he unlimbered his bowcaster with the other.
The whole group froze, weapons ready . . . and it was then that Luke first heard the faint sounds of distant blaster fire. From several kilometers away, he thought, possibly somewhere down the mountain. But without his Jedi enhancement techniques, there was no way to know for sure.
From much closer came a birdlike warbling. "A group of Myneyrshi approach," Ekhrikhor said, listening intently to the signaling. "The Noghri have stopped them. They wish to come forward and speak."
"Tell them to stay there," Han said, hesitating just a second before holstering his blaster. Pulling the bleached satna-chakka clawbird out of a pocket of his jacket, he beckoned to Threepio. "Come on, Goldenrod, let's go find out what they want."
Ekhrikhor muttered an order, and one of the Noghri moved silently to Han's side. Chewbacca stepped to the other side, and with a helplessly protesting Threepio trailing along they all headed off into the trees.
Artoo gurgled uncomfortably, his dome head swiveling back and forth between Luke and the departing Threepio. "He'll be all right," Luke assured him. "Han won't let anything happen to him."
The squat droid grunted, probably expressing his opinion of the depths of Han's concern for Threepio. "We may have more problems than Threepio's health to worry about in a minute," Lando said grimly. "I thought I heard blaster fire from down the mountain."
"I did, too," Mara nodded. "Probably coming from the storehouse entrance."
Lando looked over his shoulder at the massive air intake. "Let's see if we can get that vent open. At least it'll give us another direction to go if we need to jump."
Luke looked at Mara, but she was avoiding his eyes again. "All right," he told Lando. "I'll go first; you bring Artoo."
Cautiously, he moved through the trees toward the intakes. But if there were any anti-intruder defenses, they didn't seem to be working anymore. He made it in under the metal overhang without incident, and with the wind of the inrushing air ruffling through his hair he studied the mesh. At this distance he could see that it was more like a heavy grating, with each strand of what had looked like mesh actually a plate extending several centimeters back into the tunnel. A formidable barrier, but nothing his lightsaber couldn't handle.
There was the sound of a footstep through leaves, and he turned as Lando and Artoo came up. "The outlet's over there, Artoo," he told the droid, pointing to the socket in the side wall. "Plug in and see what you can find out."
The droid warbled acknowledgment, and with Lando's help maneuvered his way across the rough ground.
"It's not just going to open up for you," Mara said from behind him.
"Artoo's going to check it out," Luke told her, peering at her face. "You all right?"
He'd expected a sarcastic comment or at least a withering glare. He wasn't prepared for her to reach out and grip his hand. "I want you to promise me something," she said in a low voice. "Whatever it costs, don't let me go over to C'baoth's side. You understand? Don't let me join him. Even if you have to kill me."
Luke stared at her, an eerie chill running through him. "C'baoth can't force you to his side, Mara," he said. "Not without your cooperation."
"Are you sure of that? Really sure?"
Luke grimaced. There was so much he didn't know yet about the Force. "No."
"Neither am I," Mara said. "That's what worries me. C'baoth told me back on Jomark that I'd be joining him. He said it again here, too, the night he arrived."
"He may have been mistaken," Luke suggested hesitantly. "Or lying."
"I don't want to risk it." She gripped Luke's hand tighter. "I'm not going to serve him, Skywalker. I want you to promise that you'll kill me before you let him do that to me."
Luke swallowed hard. Even without the Force, he could hear in her voice that she meant it. But for a Jedi to promise to cut someone down in cold blood . . . "I'll promise you this," he said instead. "Whatever happens in there, you won't have to face him alone. I'll be there to help you."
She turned her face away. "What if you're already dead?"
So it was down to this: the same battle she'd been fighting with herself since the day they met. "You don't have to do it," he said quietly. "The Emperor's dead. That voice you hear is just a memory he left behind inside you."
"I know that," she snapped, a touch of fire flickering through the cold dread. "You think that makes it any easier to ignore?"
"No," he conceded. "But you can't use the voice as an excuse, either. Your destiny is in your hands, Mara. Not C'baoth's or the Emperor's. In the end you're the one who makes the decisions. You have that right . . . and that responsibility."
From the forest came the sound of footsteps. "Fine," Mara growled, dropping Luke's hand and taking a step back away from him. "You spout philosophy if you want to. Just remember what I said." Spinning around, she turned to face the approaching group. "So what's going on, Solo?"
"We've picked up some allies," he said, throwing what looked like a frown in Luke's general direction. "Sort of allies, anyway."
"Hey—Threepio," Lando called, waving to him. "Come over here, will you, and tell me what Artoo's all excited about."
"Certainly, sir," Threepio said, shuffling over to the computer terminal.
Luke looked back at Han. "What do you mean, sort of allies?"
"It's kind of confusing," Han said. "At least the way Threepio translates it. They don't want to help us, they just want to go in and fight the Imperials. They followed us because they figured we'd find a back door they could get in through."
Luke studied the group of silent four-armed aliens towering over the Noghri guarding them. All wore four or more long knives and carried crossbows—not exactly the sort of weapons to use against armored Imperial troops. "I don't know. What do you think?"
"Hey, Han," Lando called softly before Han could answer. "Come here. You'll want to hear this."
"What?" Han asked as they went over to the computer terminal.
"Tell them, Threepio," Lando said.
"Apparently, there is an attack taking place at the main entrance to the mountain," Threepio said in that perennially surprised manner of his. "Artoo has picked up several reports detailing perimeter-guard troop movements into the area—"
"Who's attacking?" Han cut him off.
"Apparently, some of the Psadans from the city," Threepio said. "According to the gate reports, they demanded the release of their Lord C'baoth before they attacked."
Han looked at Luke. "The data pad."
"Makes sense," Luke agreed. A message from C'baoth, inciting them to attack. "I wonder how he managed to smuggle it out to them."
"Confirms he's been locked up, anyway," Mara put in. "I hope they've got some good guards on his cell."
"Pardon me, Master Luke," Threepio said, cocking his head to one side, "but as to the data pad Captain Solo mentioned, I would suggest it arrived the same way the weapons did. According to reports—"
"What kind of weapons?" Han said.
"I was getting to that, sir," Threepio said, sounding a bit huffy. "According to gate reports, the attackers are armed with blasters, portable missile launchers, and thermal detonators. All quite modern versions, if reports are to be believed."
"Never mind where they got them from," Lando said. "The point is that we've got a custom-cut diversion here. Let's use it while it's still there."
Chewbacca rumbled suspiciously. "You're right, pal," Han agreed, peering into the grating. "It's awfully convenient timing. But Lando's right—we might as well go for it."
Lando nodded. "Okay, Artoo. Shut it all down."
The squat droid chirped acknowledgment, his computer arm rotating in the socket. The inflow of air across Luke's face began to decrease, and a minute later had stopped completely.
Artoo warbled again. "Artoo reports that all operating systems for this intake have been shut down," Threepio announced. "He warns, however, that once the duty cycle has ended, the dust barriers and driving fields may be reactivated from a central location."
"Better get moving, then," Luke said, igniting his lightsaber and stepping over to the intake. Four careful slices later, they had their entrance.
"Looks clear," Han said, climbing gingerly through the opening and stepping over to the limited protection of the side wall. "Got maintenance lights showing up down the tunnel a ways. Artoo, you get us any floor plans for this place?"
