by Timothy Zahn
The three guards raised their blasters and fired—
—and staggered and fell onto the dusty floor a second later as a brilliant lightsaber blade flashed into existence in front of the woman, catching all three blaster bolts and caroming them straight back at the shooters.
For a single heartbeat Doss goggled in disbelief at the sudden and unexpected carnage. Then, throwing himself backward over the edge of the scan table in a desperate bid for cover, he yanked out his blaster and fired.
He was still trying for the relative safety of the table’s rear when his shot was ricocheted back at him, blowing off the side of his head. He disappeared over the edge of the table, his blaster dropping onto the table and clattering to the floor at Yost’s feet.
And as the lightsaber blade settled down in front of the woman and the magenta glow bathed her shadowed face in soft light, LaRone felt his breath freeze in his throat.
This wasn’t just a simple peasant woman, or even some important Imperial functionary or bounty hunter. This was the Imperial agent who called herself Jade.
This was the Emperor’s Hand.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the hum of Jade’s lightsaber. “Well?” she invited calmly, her eyes on Yost.
Yost’s breath was coming in quick, shallow puffs. “I’m Chancellor Yost,” he stammered. “Chancellor of—”
“Of Skemp District on Elegasso,” Jade finished for him. “Yes, I know. I was there when you got the call from Doss.”
Yost’s tongue dabbed nervously at his lips. “I’m a duly elected government official,” he insisted.
The lightsaber blade lifted. “Are you?” Jade asked pointedly.
Yost shot a furtive look at LaRone. “I … there may have been … some questions …” He trailed off.
“Let’s try a different approach,” Jade suggested. “Doss captured five men. Four are here. Where’s the fifth?”
Yost looked at LaRone again. “Aboard their ship,” he said. “Not Doss’s ship—their ship. He said they needed to … persuade … the pilot to unlock the helm for them.”
LaRone frowned. That one actually made a certain amount of sense.
Except that Brightwater wasn’t their pilot. Quiller was, and Quiller was right here with the rest of them.
So why had they taken Brightwater?
“Good,” Jade said briskly. With a sizzling hiss the lightsaber blade disappeared. “You’ve just bought yourself your life. Your ship is waiting at the other end of the field. You’ll get aboard her, go home, and never mention this incident to anyone. And …”
Yost stared at her, looked at LaRone, back at Jade. “And?” he asked carefully.
Jade cocked her head. “If you have to ask, I may have to kill you after all.”
Yost swallowed visibly. “There may have been some irregularities with the election,” he conceded. “Perhaps it would be best if I called for a new one.”
“A wise idea,” Jade said. “You’ll step down, of course, until the new results are in.”
Yost’s lips drew back in the beginnings of a snarl. But then his gaze dropped to the lightsaber hilt in her hand and the snarl faded away. “Of course.”
“Good,” Jade said briskly. “Then go.”
That one, at least, Yost didn’t have to hear twice. He rounded the end of the table and walked as quickly toward the door as he could without breaking into an actual run. “And remember,” Jade called after him. “We will be watching.”
The other didn’t reply, turn around, or even slow his pace. The door opened at his approach, and he hurried out into the night.
“Well,” Jade said briskly as she strode over to the four stormtroopers. “Everyone all right?”
“Yes, I think so,” LaRone said, eyeing her uncomfortably. Now that the immediate crisis had passed, the question of what she was doing here was raising shivers across his back.
Because offhand, he couldn’t think of any answer to that question that he was going to like.
“Good.” Jade stepped around behind the row of chairs, and with a snap-hiss her lightsaber blade once again sent a glow of magenta light across the room. “Let’s get you out of here and go get Brightwater, shall we?”
“If Yost wasn’t lying about where they had him,” Quiller warned.
“He wasn’t.” There was a slight tug at LaRone’s wrists as the lightsaber sliced through his binders. “One of Doss’s men told him all about Brightwater while they were heading over here from Yost’s ship.”
“You were close enough to hear them?” Grave asked, sounding puzzled.
“It wasn’t very hard,” Jade assured him. “I came in aboard Yost’s ship.”
“Aboard his ship?” Quiller echoed, sounding stunned.
“First rule of following someone,” Jade said as she freed the others. “The simplest way is always to hitch a ride with him.”
“That’s the easy way?” Marcross asked.
“I said it was simple,” Jade corrected. “I didn’t say it was easy.”
“Please don’t take this wrong,” LaRone said, massaging his sore wrists as he stood up, “but what are you doing here?”
“All in good time,” Jade said as she stepped around in front of them. Exactly, LaRone thought, like a field commander preparing to lead the troops. “First things first. Grab those blasters, and let’s go find Brightwater.”
Doss had left five men on duty in the Suwantek, plus two more busy at the task of interrogating Brightwater. All seven were caught by surprise at the sudden appearance of Jade and the four stormtroopers. All seven decided to make a fight of it.
All seven died quickly.
Though if LaRone had realized up front what they’d done to Brightwater, he might have been tempted to make their deaths last a little longer.
“About time,” Brightwater said as LaRone and Quiller unstrapped him from the bed where the mercenaries had tied him. His voice was weak; his eyes were swollen half shut. “Who’s that? Watch it—there’s someone behind you.”
“It’s all right,” Quiller assured him, his voice dark and grim as Grave popped open the medpac. “It’s Jade. She came by to help.”
“Jade?” Brightwater asked, making an effort to open his eyes a little wider. “What’s—” He broke off into a coughing fit. “What’s she doing here?”
“Helping get you out,” LaRone told him. “Hold still, will you?”
“So much for your lucky coin,” Grave commented as he loaded a hypo with a painkiller.
“Hey, I’m alive, aren’t I?” Brightwater pointed out weakly.
“Lucky coin?” Jade asked as she peered into Brightwater’s eyes and delicately touched his forehead. Some Force thing, LaRone guessed.
“A worthless old pre-Empire druggat he picked up a couple of months ago,” Grave told her. “Some grateful farmer was trying to unload them on us. Brightwater’s the only one who took one. You see the kind of luck the thing gets you.”
“Like I said, I’m still alive,” Brightwater said.
“So am I, and I don’t have to lug around extra stuff,” Grave countered as he injected the painkiller.
“This from a guy who carries around a T-28 sniper rifle for the fun of it,” LaRone said. “How is he?”
“Like he says, he’s alive,” Jade said. “But he’s going to need a few days in a bacta tank. You have one aboard this ship?”
“A subminiature, yes,” Marcross said grimly. “Our bacta supply’s running low, but we should have enough for at least one more treatment.”
“That’s all right,” Jade said. “I’ve got a tank and plenty of bacta aboard my ship back on Elegasso. Give me the helm lock code and I’ll get us into the air.”
“That’s okay—I’ll take us up,” Quiller said. “Where on Elegasso are you?”
“Coskone Field, northern edge of Skemp City,” Jade said. She frowned. “You’re the pilot? Then why were they interrogating him?”
“Because they’re mercenaries,” Brig
htwater said. “That means they’re stupid.”
“And also because this idiot pushed past me into the cockpit when the gas started flooding in,” Quiller said, giving Brightwater a final worried glower as he slipped past Jade. “They probably found him sitting in the pilot’s seat when they got in,” he added over his shoulder as he headed forward toward the cockpit.
LaRone nodded. He should have guessed it would be something like that. Quiller would have been just leaving the cockpit when the attack started, which would have been Doss’s cue that he was the one to beat the lock code out of.
Only Brightwater had made sure he would be the one actually in the cockpit when their captors started looking around. “That true, Brightwater?” he asked.
“I was just looking for someplace soft to black out in,” Brightwater protested. “You know how uncomfortable these decks are to fall on.”
“Sure,” LaRone said.
“Joking aside, that was a pretty stupid thing to do,” Marcross said. “They could have crippled you.”
“Hey, I fly speeder bikes for a living,” Brightwater said, wincing as he tried to shrug. “Sitting-down work. I’m not the one who always has to be running around everywhere.”
“Or they could have killed you,” Grave said bluntly.
Brightwater tried the shrug again. “Better me than Quiller.”
Marcross shook his head and turned to face Jade. “You going to ask, LaRone? Or should I?”
LaRone braced himself. “I will,” he said. “I think ‘all in good time’ has arrived, Jade.”
“So it has,” Jade said. “Bottom line: I’m on a job that requires me to infiltrate a heavily guarded governor’s residence. The governor in question has brought in a lot of his sector’s stormtroopers to guard him. It occurred to me that a few unknown stormtroopers mixed in among a lot more unknown stormtroopers might be able to do some efficient recon and infiltration.”
The room had suddenly gone quiet. Even Brightwater’s labored breathing seemed subdued. “You’re asking us to work for you,” LaRone said.
Jade’s eyebrows went up fractionally. “Did I say anything about asking?”
The room went even quieter. LaRone could feel the others’ eyes on him as he gazed into Jade’s unreadable expression. “Just because they don’t know us doesn’t mean we can pass without being challenged or identified,” he said. “And if we’re caught, we’re dead.”
“Not to worry,” Jade assured him. “I have all the authority I need to get you out of any trouble you land in.”
“Only if you’re there at the right place and time,” Marcross said. “It doesn’t sound like we’re going to be running in the same circles you are.”
“What’s this governor supposed to have done?” Grave asked. “If it’s not a big secret.”
“We think he’s trying to make a deal with the Rebellion,” Jade said.
“Really,” LaRone said, his mind flicking back to Governor Choard on Shelkonwa. “Is this your specialty now? Dealing with seditious governors?”
“My specialty is doing things quietly,” Jade told him. “Any other concerns?”
Grave cleared his throat. “If this is a Rebel Alliance thing,” he asked, “are we likely to find Lord Vader coming into play somewhere down the road?”
“I got Lord Vader off your backs once,” Jade reminded him. “I can do it again if I have to.”
Beneath LaRone’s feet, the deck lurched slightly as Quiller got the Suwantek into the air. “Meanwhile, we need to get Brightwater into bacta as soon as possible,” Jade went on as she stepped back into the doorway. “Does Quiller know about the hyperdrive kick setting?”
“I don’t know,” LaRone said. “What’s a kick setting?”
“It’s something ISB ships are sometimes equipped with,” Jade said. “Engaging it jumps your hyperdrive speed about twenty percent.”
“No, I don’t think he knows about that,” LaRone said, feeling his eyebrows rising on his forehead. After all these months, there were still secrets to this ship that he and the others hadn’t found? “That could have been very handy on occasion.”
“Often it’s not, since it eats up fuel forty percent faster,” Jade said. “In this case, I think the Empire can afford the extra expense.” Her eyes shifted to Brightwater. “Take care of him. We’re likely to need a good speeder scout on this mission.” She stepped into the corridor and headed toward the cockpit.
Grave let out a quiet sigh. “Terrific,” he muttered. “Doesn’t this just cap off an already lovely day?”
LaRone grimaced. “It could be worse.”
“Really?” Grave countered. “May I point out that Jade’s wonderful secret credentials only get us out of trouble if the governor and his stormtroopers haven’t gone over to the Rebels. If they have, she’s got nothing.”
“Except a lightsaber,” Marcross reminded him.
“That’s great for her,” Grave said. “Not so great for us. And then there’s Vader.”
“Whom Jade can deal with,” LaRone said.
“Who drags along the entire Five-oh-First everywhere he goes,” Grave retorted. “You want to try explaining to one of them our current lack of operational IDs?”
“You want to tell Jade thanks, but we’re turning down the job?” LaRone said sourly.
“LaRone?” Brightwater said weakly.
LaRone looked down in surprise. He’d assumed Brightwater was already fast asleep. “Yes?” he said.
“We’re going out anyway,” the injured man said. “We know that.” He took a careful breath. “Let’s go out with a bang.”
“I agree,” Marcross said quietly. “If we can keep a Rebel governor from dragging his whole sector into chaos, we’ll have done more for order and justice than ten years of these little operations could accomplish.”
“Besides which,” Grave added, “it didn’t sound like Jade was giving us a choice.”
LaRone grimaced. But they were right. “I know,” he said. “Okay. If this is going to be the Hand of Judgment’s final mission, let’s make it one for the legends.”
“If there’s anyone left to remember,” Grave murmured.
“There will be.” LaRone looked down at Brightwater again. “In the meantime, it’s three hours to Elegasso. Let’s get Brightwater to the medical bay and see what we can do for him until then.”
ACCORDING TO THE INFORMATION HAN HAD BEEN ABLE TO DIG UP, Whitestone City, the capital of Poln Major and Candoras sector, was a vibrant, cosmopolitan sprawl with a dynamic business and light manufacturing community, exciting nightlife, and a robust citizenry of humans and dozens of alien species.
Maybe the rest of the city was like that. But as far as he could tell, the spaceport district looked more like Mos Eisley than any genteel “cosmopolitan sprawl.”
Han had some decidedly mixed feelings about Mos Eisley. He’d been robbed more than once there, and even beaten up a couple of times. It was also one of Jabba the Hutt’s main terminals for contraband, which meant there were always plenty of unpleasant and dangerous people wandering around. He’d had to shoot his share of troublemakers there, Greedo being only the latest of that crowd.
Mos Eisley was also where he’d fallen in with Luke and the late crazy Jedi Kenobi, which was how he’d met Leia and gotten tied in with the whole Rebel Alliance. Some days that fell on the good side of the ledger. Some days it didn’t.
This was rapidly turning out to be one of the days when it didn’t.
“I’ll tell you one last time,” Axlon said, leaning hard on the word last. “I don’t need you out there holding my hand. I can navigate the city perfectly well on my own.”
“Yeah, you’re going to do great out here,” Han said, eyeing the scruffy, furtive, and otherwise low-grade humans and aliens filling the streets outside their docking bay. “You going to walk all the way to the governor’s palace, or what?”
“There’s an airspeeder rental stand less than a kilometer away,” Axlon said patiently.
“Solo—”
“And on the way,” Han said, “we can stop by Luke’s docking bay and bring him along.”
Axlon drew back a little. “What are you talking about?” he asked cautiously.
Han sighed. Just because he and Chewie were smugglers, did people like Axlon always have to assume they were stupid? “We saw his Z-95 on the way in,” he told Axlon as patiently as he could. “Not sure where he put down, but from the vector he was on I’d say he was somewhere between bays fifty-two and fifty-eight.”
Axlon sighed. “It’s fifty-six,” he said reluctantly. “Blast it, Solo. You weren’t supposed to know he was along.”
“Yeah, I already figured out that part,” Han growled. And he’d already decided he was going to have a very long talk with General Rieekan when they got back. “You want to stand here all day? Or do you want to go get him?”
Every spaceport Han had ever visited had its own unique set of sounds and smells, and Whitestone’s was no exception. Unlike some places, though, a lot of the sounds seemed to be oddly residential, including the cries and noises of playing children, and most of the aromas seemed to be coming from cooking.
The reason for that was quickly evident. At their side of the port, at least, only about half the landing bays were actually in service. The rest had been taken over by locals and turned into slum quarters.
Or refugee camps. Two of the bays they passed seemed to have become home to beings of species that Han had never seen before. Various styles of booths had been set up around the entrances to each of those bays, and were being run by aliens offering everything from exotic foods to jewelry to brightly colored cloth and clothing.
And this was on Poln Major, Han thought glumly as he and the others maneuvered their way through the crowds. He could hardly wait to see what things were like on Poln Minor, the less reputable half of the double planet.
Luke was waiting outside his docking bay, looking around at the masses with the same expression Han had seen on the kid inside the Mos Eisley cantina. He spotted them as they came around the corner—or more likely he spotted Chewie towering over the crowd—and Han saw his expression change. Not much, but enough to know that the kid was surprised to see the two of them with Axlon.
