by Timothy Zahn
“Back to the reception room,” Mara said. “I want a closer look at that cable.”
“You want me to come with you?” Luke asked, starting to stand up.
“Better not,” Mara said, shaking her head. “One Jedi poking around is idle curiosity; two of them is an official investigation. There’s no point in adding fuel to Drask’s fire.”
“I suppose.” Reluctantly, Luke sat back down on the bed. “Whistle if you need any help.”
“Of course,” Mara said, giving him an innocent look. “Don’t I always?”
She managed to get out of the room before he could come up with a suitably sarcastic reply.
* * *
The corridors back to the reception room were fairly quiet. Mara saw perhaps a dozen black-uniformed Chiss on her way, and most of them pretty much ignored her. A few seemed interested or intrigued by her alien appearance, but even that small handful said nothing as they passed by. Either the culture was just naturally polite, or else Formbi had given strict instructions as to how his guests were to be treated.
It was interesting, though, how much more of their emotional states she was able to pick up this time around. Back on Nirauan, during her first brush with groups of Chiss, she’d barely even been able to sense their presence. Experience and practice apparently paid off in this area.
Of course, back then she hadn’t been a true Jedi, either. Maybe that was part of the difference.
Not surprisingly, the reception room was deserted when she reached it. Somewhat more surprising was the fact that the loose cable that had nearly hit Luke had already been reattached.
She stood just inside the archway for a moment, eyeing the cable. It was nestled into a cable groove between the ceiling and the bulkhead, a good six meters off the deck. That wasn’t an impossible jump for a Jedi, but a simple jump wouldn’t accomplish very much. She needed to be able to sit there for a minute or two in order to examine the end where it had either broken or been cut. And as far as she knew, even Jedi couldn’t hover in midair.
But there might be another approach. Formbi had said that the reception area could be automatically reconfigured and decorated for arriving guests. . .
It took a minute for her to find the control panel, set into the bulkhead just inside the archway and hidden behind a plate colored the same neutral gray as the rest of the paneling. The controls consisted of a dozen buttons, each labeled with an alien mark. Experimentally, she pushed one of them.
Smoothly, and in complete silence, the room began to change. A dozen wall sections of various sizes and shapes began to swing outward, exposing intricate symbols or painted patterns on their other sides, then settled back against the bulkheads with the patterns now showing. Parts of the ceiling likewise swung free to hang like flags or else began to lower as rectangular or circular columns to various heights, leaving the room with a sort of stylized stalactite look.
The deck itself underwent the most dramatic changes. Instead of large panels flipping or rotating or otherwise changing, tiny lights that had hitherto been invisible came to life, forming intricate spirals and patterns of color. As she watched, the patterns altered, giving a sense of water flowing from the hatchway over to the arch.
A minute later, it was finished. Mara looked around at the entirely new room that had appeared, impressed in spite of herself, wondering which level of Chiss official could command this particular brand of welcome.
She tried two more buttons in turn. Each time, she noted, the room went back to neutral before changing into its new configuration.
Unfortunately, none of the changes did anything with the cable she wanted to examine. Through it all, that particular edge of ceiling stayed where it was, with the cable remaining firmly out of reach.
Which meant she was going to have to be clever.
She went back to the first button she’d tried, studying the positions of the swinging wall panels and lowering ceiling columns and counting off the seconds to herself. It would just be possible, she decided. And in her philosophy, anything that was possible might as well be tried.
She put the room back into neutral and prepared herself for action. One Jedi poking around is idle curiosity, she’d told Luke. She wondered if Formbi would really take it that way if he caught her.
Taking a deep breath, she touched the button and ran.
She caught the lowermost of the panels before it had swung more than a few degrees open, leaping up and grabbing its top edge with her fingertips. Her first fear, that it would break off under her weight and dump her ignominiously onto the deck, didn’t happen. She didn’t give it the chance to change its mind, either, but quickly pulled herself partway up and then shoved off it, lunging toward the next panel a meter to her right. She caught the top of this one about a quarter of the way open, again pulled herself up, and again shoved off for the next in the climbing pattern she’d worked out. By the time her last stepping-stone panel was about to swing closed, she was where she needed to be. Pushing off one final time, she leapt across a meter and a half of empty space and wrapped her arms around the side of the nearest of the lowered ceiling columns.
For a moment she just hung there, catching her breath and stretching out to the Force to draw renewed strength into her muscles. The column’s texture was rough enough for a good grip and, like the wall panels, seemed perfectly capable of handling her weight. Getting a grip on the lower part of the column with her knees, she started up.
The going wasn’t particularly easy, but the thought of some Chiss wandering in and catching her hanging up here like an oversized mynock added motivation to the climb. Halfway up, she reached another column and switched to a back-and-feet chimney-style ascent. Reaching the top, she grabbed on to one of the flaglike ceiling sections that was now hanging straight down. Using it as a pivot point, she swung over to a column hanging down in the corner.
And with that, she finally had a close-up view of the rogue cable.
She squinted at it, wishing she’d thought to bring a light. The room itself was well lit, but the end where the cable had been reattached to its connector was inconveniently lying in shadow from the ceiling column she was hanging on to.
Still, a Jedi was never entirely without resources. Looking awkwardly over her shoulder toward her waist, she reached out through the Force and unhooked her lightsaber from her belt. Levitating it carefully, she maneuvered it over to the corner, turning the handle over so that the blade would be pointing safely downward. Then, eyeing the stud, she ignited it.
The snap-hiss somehow sounded louder than usual in the corner of a quiet room. The lightsaber didn’t put out all that much light, but it was enough.
The cable had not, in fact, been cut, which had been her first suspicion. On the other hand, the connection appeared to be a double screw-type linkage, which was almost impossible for vibration or tension to work loose.
So how had it come apart?
Moving the lightsaber as close to the connection as she could without risking damage, she peered at it. On the side of the cable, just above the connector, was a slight indentation. Lifting her gaze to the ceiling itself, she spotted a small round opening above and to the right of the groove.
Adjusting her grip on the column, she freed one hand and gingerly extended a finger into the opening. Nothing. She moved the finger around in a circle inside the opening, searching for the machinery or electronic connectors or heat radiator vanes that should naturally be behind any opening on a ship.
Or rather, the equipment that should be behind any opening that was part of a ship’s actual design. The lack of anything up there strongly implied that this particular hole had been put in as an afterthought.
She was still working through the possibilities when a flicker of sensation touched her mind.
Instantly, she closed down the lightsaber, shutting off its gentle hum. In the sudden silence, she could hear footsteps coming her way. Several sets, by the sound, but in too close a step to be Chiss on a casual stroll
around the ship. This group was definitely military.
And here she was, trapped in a compromising position six meters in midair.
She looked around her, biting back an old curse from her days with the Empire. The column she was hanging on to was the only cover anywhere within reach. Problem was, she was hanging on the wrong side of it, in full view of the room below. She would have to work her way around to the wall side if she was going to have any chance of concealment; and from the speed those footsteps were approaching, she wasn’t likely to have enough time.
Reaching out her free hand, she grabbed her lightsaber and reestablished a firm two-armed, two-kneed grip on the column. Then, moving as quickly as she could, she started maneuvering herself around toward the far side.
She was almost halfway around when the intruders marched in beneath the archway. She froze in place, shifting her gaze downward to look.
As she did so, her heart seemed to turn to stone.
Those weren’t Chiss soldiers, sent by General Drask to hunt her down. They weren’t even Chiss soldiers on routine patrol, searching for suspicious activities.
There were five figures below her, standing just inside the reception room in a loose box formation. The one in the center was a human male, young looking, wearing a gray Imperial uniform modified with rings of red and black trim on the collar and cuffs.
The other four were Imperial stormtroopers.
CHAPTER 5
Mara stared down at the stormtroopers, a sudden flood of memories whipping around her like stones and debris in a hurricane-strength wind. She’d worked with stormtroopers many times through the years she served Palpatine as his Emperor’s Hand. She’d ordered them to do her bidding; occasionally, she’d led small groups of them on special missions.
She’d stood by and watched as they killed.
It was impossible. It had to be. The elite cadre of stormtroopers was all but extinct, wiped out in the long war against the Empire. Most of the cloning tanks used to create them so many years ago were gone, too, tracked down and destroyed so that no one else would ever again unleash such a terrible wave of death and destruction upon the galaxy.
And yet, there they were. It wasn’t an illusion, or a fraud, or a twisting of her own memories. They stood like stormtroopers, they held their BlasTech E-11 blaster rifles like stormtroopers, they wore stormtrooper armor.
The stormtroopers were back.
The young Imperial was looking around the room, his hand resting on the belted DH-17 blaster pistol riding his hip. One of the stormtroopers murmured something, and he looked up. “Ah,” he called. His voice sounded young, too. “There you are, Jedi Skywalker. Are you all right?”
With a supreme effort, Mara found her voice. “Sure,” she called back. “No problem. Why?”
He seemed a bit taken aback. “We heard the sound of a lightsaber being activated,” he said. “With a Jedi, that usually means there’s trouble.”
“Trouble for whom?” Mara asked pointedly.
“Just trouble in general.” The Imperial seemed better on balance now. “Do you need any help getting down from there?”
“Who said I wanted to come down?” Mara countered.
He snorted under his breath, and Mara caught a hint of annoyance. “Fine,” he said. “Have it your way. I just thought you might be interested in talking, that’s all.”
“About. . .?”
“About what you’re doing up there, for starters,” the young man said. “Maybe we could discuss this whole crazy mission, too.”
She frowned, stretching out with the Force. It was hard to read a stranger, especially at this distance. But as near as she could tell he seemed sincere.
Though she’d concluded the same thing about Jinzler, and had already decided how much simple sincerity was worth.
Still, if these Imperials were out to kill her, the simplest time to try it had already passed. And if she and they were on the same side, comparing cards might not be a bad idea. “Fine,” she said. “I was mostly done anyway.”
“You need any help?”
“No, thanks,” Mara said, setting her teeth as it occurred to her that there was perhaps one more tactical advantage he was waiting for before ordering his stormtroopers to open fire. Time for a small calculated risk. “On second thought, you can hold my lightsaber for me. Here—catch.”
She tossed it toward him. The young man stepped forward and deftly caught it.
There was no shout of triumph as he held her only defensive weapon in his hand. More importantly, none of the stormtroopers raised his BlasTech and started shooting.
She started breathing again. So they really didn’t mean any mischief. At least, not yet. “Okay,” she called. “Stand clear.”
She shifted her gaze to the control panel in the corridor behind them and stretched out with the Force, activating one of the buttons.
Once again, the room began to reconfigure. Mara swung herself over to one of the other columns as hers retracted toward the ceiling, then pushed off and down to grab hold of a swinging wall panel. A brief pause to catch her balance, and she jumped down to the next one in line. Three panels later, she landed on the deck.
“Thanks,” she said, stretching out her hand to the Imperial, her senses alert for a last-second betrayal.
But he merely handed over her lightsaber, most of his attention on the room itself. “Impressive,” he commented as the room hit neutral and then began shifting into the mode Mara had keyed it for. “Instant redecoration, whenever the mood strikes you.”
“It’s a little more functional than that,” Mara said. Up close, he looked even younger than he had from the ceiling, no older than his midtwenties. Like a kid playing soldier, the irreverent thought struck her. “Didn’t Formbi explain it to you? Or didn’t you get one of these rooms when you came in?”
“We haven’t talked to Formbi much,” the young man said. “Or any of the other Chiss. We’ve been trying to keep a low profile since we came aboard.” He smiled tightly. “I don’t think General Drask is exactly thrilled by our presence here.”
“General Drask doesn’t seem very easy to thrill,” Mara said. Stepping past the group to the control panel, she keyed the room back to its original neutral mode. “So,” she said, turning back to face them. “You going to tell me who you are? Or do I have to guess?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stiffened to full attention. “I’m Commander Chak Fel, warrior of the Hand. You may remember meeting my father a couple of years ago.”
“Very well,” Mara said, smiling tightly at the memory. “I’m sure General Baron Fel remembers me, as well.”
“With the greatest respect and admiration,” Fel assured her. “He asked me to send you his greetings, and to tell you he still has hopes that you’ll bring your talents to the Empire of the Hand someday.”
“Thanks, but I’ve had my fill of Imperial service,” Mara told him. “Any Imperial service. So you knew I was going to be here?”
“I hoped you would be,” Fel said. “Admiral Parck told me you and Master Skywalker had been invited, though he wasn’t sure you’d be willing or able to come.”
“He didn’t let you know we’d contacted him a few days ago?”
“No,” Fel said. “Of course, we were already on our way. Maybe he didn’t think it was worth recalling us at that point.”
“Which brings us to the rest of your party,” Mara said, looking at the silent stormtroopers.
“Oh, yes.” Fel waved a hand to encompass his escort. “This is Unit Aurek-Seven of the Imperial Five-Oh-First Stormtrooper Legion.”
Mara felt her stomach tightening. The Imperial 501st: Vader’s personal stormtrooper unit during the Rebellion. Dubbed “Vader’s Fist,” its very arrival in a star system had often caused Rebel forces and corrupt Imperial officials alike to run for cover. Nonhumans of every sort, even innocent bystanders, quickly learned to tremble at the sight of those white armored face masks. The Emperor’s bias against aliens had impresse
d itself indelibly onto the combat psychology of all his stormtrooper legions, but even more so on the soldiers of the 501st.
And so, of course, that was the specific unit Parck had revived for his Empire of the Hand. That said a lot right there as to how the admiral was running things. “I guess the old saying is right,” she said stiffly. “The one about old units never really dying.”
Fel shrugged noncommittally. “So what exactly were you doing up there?”
Mara glanced around. Still no Chiss in sight, but that wouldn’t last forever. “Not here,” she told Fel. “Follow me.”
Turning her back on them, she headed down the corridor. A moment later, without complaint or question, they had formed up behind her.
The Force connection between her and Luke wasn’t nearly as clear and precise as most people in the New Republic thought, as if it were a mental comlink conversation. He became aware of her approach as she neared their quarters, and she could tell he was also aware that she was bringing company.
But it wasn’t until he opened the door for her that he realized just what kind of company it was.
As usual, he recovered quickly. “Hello,” he said calmly, nodding in greeting. “I’m Luke Skywalker.”
“Commander Chak Fel,” Fel said, nodding in return. “This is my escort guard, Unit Aurek-Seven of the Five Hundred and First.”
Mara caught Luke’s flicker of recognition at the name and the unit designation. But he merely nodded again. “Honored, Commander,” he said. “Won’t you come in?”
“Just the commander,” Mara said before Fel could reply. “There’s no room for everybody, and I’d just as soon not have Drask’s people see stormtroopers hanging around outside our quarters.”
“Good point,” Fel agreed, giving the stormtroopers a hand signal. “Return to the ship.”
“Acknowledged,” one of them said in that flat, mechanically filtered voice that was one of the marks of a stormtrooper. Turning in perfect unison, they marched away.
“Now,” Mara said, waving Fel toward the conversation area as the door slid shut behind him. “Let’s start with you, Commander. What are you doing here?”
