by Timothy Zahn
Mara nodded to herself. So a minor infraction, even a mysterious one, would only earn the perpetrator a talking-to outside the wall. It would presumably take a more serious threat to get hauled inside for more thorough questioning.
Fortunately, serious threats were one of Mara’s specialties.
She finished her drink, left a pile of credits that included a generous tip, and headed off into the market section that extended several blocks away from the palace compound. In the center of the market section, tucked away between the cantinas and legal offices, was a small electronics store.
The salesclerk was a male Verpine, two meters of bipedal insectoid cheer and technological enthusiasm who would probably have described everything in the store in minute detail had Mara given him half a chance. Fortunately, she knew what she wanted, and ten minutes later she left with a child’s model airspeeder and the toy’s remote controller unit, plus a few other inexpensive electronic components. She returned to the hotel, spent a few minutes flying the airspeeder around the room to check it out, then set it aside and pulled out her comlink.
“Report,” she ordered when LaRone answered.
“We’ve done a preliminary check,” the stormtrooper told her. “Assuming this station runs on the same protocols and procedures as the palace contingent, I think we’ve got a pretty good handle on how to deal with them.”
“Good,” Mara said. “Get back to the ship, load your gear into the speeder truck, and get over here. I’ll meet you at the Iceview Tapcaf across from the palace in two hours. I also want you to pull a record of all ships that have entered or left the system in the past three days.”
“Acknowledged,” LaRone said. “Any equipment in particular you want us to bring?”
“Everything you’ll need for an incursion,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the plan tonight after we eat.
“Tomorrow morning, we’re going in.”
The double planet drifting across the starfield ahead did not, in Pellaeon’s opinion, have anything particularly noteworthy about it. Aside, of course, from the relative novelty of it being a double planet in the first place.
But apart from that there was nothing. The number of spaceships moving in and out was nothing like the traffic around Imperial Center or Corellia, neither in quantity nor in the size and sheer opulence of the vehicles involved. The power-grid map showed large areas of Poln Major still relatively undeveloped, and much of Poln Minor to be virtually uninhabited. The Golan I Defense Platform orbiting Poln Major was more than half deserted, with barely 30 percent of its weapons still powered. A single Dreadnought, the Sarissa, circled Poln Minor, and was even less functional than the Golan. All in all, the place was practically the definition of a galactic backplanet.
Which made it a perfect place for Rebels and alien warlords to meet in secret and seduce an Imperial governor from his sworn duty.
There was a footstep behind him, and Pellaeon turned to see Captain Drusan striding down the command walkway. “So that’s the place,” the captain rumbled as he came to a halt beside Pellaeon. “Not much to look at, is it?”
“No, sir, it isn’t,” Pellaeon agreed. “I wonder how long it’s been since they’ve had a Star Destroyer pay a visit.”
“If they’ve ever had one here at all,” Drusan said. “A shame we can’t give them more of a show. See those eight ships over there, the ones cutting across the Sarissa’s bow on their way into Poln Minor? What do you make of them?”
Pellaeon peered out the viewport, resisting the temptation to look at the tactical display or call for a comm-scan readout. Drusan obviously wanted to see what he could see by himself. “The three big ones are Gallofree Yards GR-75 transports,” he said. “The other five are probably Corellian light freighters of some sort—I can’t tell which model from this distance.”
“Anything unusual about their formation?”
Pellaeon gave the rest of the traffic pattern a quick look for comparison. “Not really,” he said. “There’s still enough mining on Poln Minor for transports that size to make stops, both to bring in new equipment and supplies and to take out finished product.”
“Reasonable enough,” Drusan said. “What if I also told you that comm-scan reports all the ships are heavily armed? Heavily enough to be skirting the law, in fact.”
“That would raise my suspicions enough to take a closer look,” Pellaeon said. “But there are also a large number of smuggler and pirate gangs operating from this system. Even a legitimate operation would need to arm both its transports and its escort ships or risk attack and capture.” He pointed. “And the fact that they’re moving past the Sarissa instead of avoiding it implies that they are, in fact, legitimate.”
“Yes, that’s the crowning subtlety, isn’t it,” Drusan agreed grimly. “But in this case, appearances are deceiving. Lord Odo has informed me that those are, in fact, Rebel Alliance ships.”
Pellaeon felt his throat tighten. If the Rebels had brought in that much carrying capacity, they must be expecting to obtain a great deal of matériel from their coming deal with Nuso Esva. Matériel, or soldiers.
And the fact that the Sarissa was letting them skim right past its turbolasers was a strong indication that Odo was also right about Governor Ferrouz being involved. “Do we take them now, sir?” he asked Drusan. “Or do we wait to see if they bring in more?”
“Neither,” Drusan said. “Lord Odo has something else in mind. We’ll take a leisurely pass by Poln Minor, as if we just dropped out of hyperspace to recalibrate our course, and then head out.” He paused. “Into the Unknown Regions.”
Pellaeon felt his mouth drop open. “The Unknown Regions?”
“Don’t worry, we won’t be going very deep,” Drusan assured him. “Only a few hours. And we have full nav data for the route we’ll be taking. Perfectly safe.”
Pellaeon grimaced. Perfectly safe … except for all the possible dangers out there, from pirates, mercenaries, and aliens like Nuso Esva. “May I ask the nature of our mission?”
“Lord Odo was a bit vague on that point,” Drusan conceded. “I gather we’re going to be delivering a bit of a surprise to one of Nuso Esva’s attack squadrons.”
“Ah,” Pellaeon murmured. “By ourselves?”
“We’re an Imperial Star Destroyer, Commander Pellaeon,” Drusan said, his voice darkening. “We don’t need anyone’s help to bring the Empire’s strength and order to bear. On anyone.”
“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said, ducking his head. “My apologies.”
“Yes,” Drusan said. “And we’ll hardly be alone. Senior Captain Thrawn and the Admonitor are also out there, and Lord Odo assures me we’ll be joining with them somewhere along the way.”
“And Senior Captain Thrawn is no doubt aware of our imminent arrival?”
“Someone’s certainly aware,” Drusan said. “If not Thrawn, then who?”
Pellaeon nodded. He’d also seen the reports from Security about Odo’s use of the Chimaera’s HoloNet transmitter to send messages to someone in either Wild Space or the Unknown Regions. “Who indeed?” he agreed.
Which still left them traveling into an unknown situation, going up against an unknown enemy with unknown resources. Only now they would have the dubious assistance of another Star Destroyer and a small flotilla of smaller warships, under the command of an alien officer who was apparently so poor at the fleet’s political games that he kept getting kicked off Imperial Center and booted out into the Unknown Regions.
All of it on the orders of someone whose full plans they still didn’t know.
Still, it was the Emperor himself who had given Odo his orders. Presumably, he knew what he was doing.
“Helm?” Drusan called, interrupting Pellaeon’s thoughts.
“Sir?” the helm officer answered briskly.
“Complete our observation arc past Poln Minor, then take us out,” Drusan ordered. “Course as per Lord Odo’s data card.”
“Yes, sir.”
Drusan smiled tig
htly at Pellaeon. “Cheer up, Commander,” he said. “We’re going hunting.”
Car’das looked up from the sensor display. “They’re Rebel transports, all right,” he confirmed. “And those armed Corellian freighters are their escort.”
Thrawn nodded. “How well armed are they?”
Car’das snorted. “I’m sure they’re doing their best. Knowing Rebels, they’ll probably put up a decent fight.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Let’s hope they don’t simply compute the odds and slink away.”
Car’das shrugged noncommittally. Thrawn didn’t think much of the Rebels, he knew. More than that, his study of the Republic had given him a dim view of any governing body that relied on the consensus of dozens of species, each of which had its own way of thinking about the universe and one another. In Thrawn’s view, a strong, unified government was the only way the galaxy would survive against the shadowy alien threat moving across the galaxy. A threat that had already touched Chiss space and would someday reach the Empire.
Car’das understood Thrawn’s thinking on the subject, and on one level he could certainly agree. While Thrawn had been pushing against governmental inertia in the Chiss Ascendancy, Car’das had lived through the chaotic middle of the Separatist movement and the Clone Wars. He’d seen the damage a hundred species with a hundred private agendas could do.
On the other hand, only a fool could believe that the Empire under Palpatine was doing a better job in the unity department than the Republic had.
“So what’s next?” he asked, mostly to change the subject.
“I need to contact my agent on Poln Major,” Thrawn said. “Once I’ve had his report, we’ll be ready to leave.”
“To the Unknown Regions,” Car’das said, grimacing. For him, the Unknown Regions didn’t exactly hold fond memories.
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Nuso Esva will certainly be there. We need to be, too.”
“To make sure his game fails?”
“On the contrary,” Thrawn said softly. “To make sure it succeeds.”
The Poln Minor atmosphere was thin, dank, and—especially at night—cold. Very cold. Leia had never really liked cold all that much, and as she stood on the rocky ground of Poln Minor’s surface she could practically feel ice forming on her eyebrows.
But at the moment, the cold was the farthest thing from her mind.
The Star Destroyer was leaving.
“You sure?” Cracken asked from beside her.
“Very sure,” Leia said, pressing her electrobinoculars to her eyes and trying not to accidentally nudge her breath mask. “It’s pulling away—there it goes.” She lowered the electrobinoculars. “It just made the jump to hyperspace.”
Cracken heaved a sigh. “That,” he said, “was way too close.”
Leia nodded soberly. Any agreements Axlon had made with Governor Ferrouz would hardly be honored by other Imperials. And the unexpected arrival of a Star Destroyer, even for a brief time, was definitely a cause for concern. “I wonder if someone suspects something.”
“I’m sure somebody does,” Cracken said, still gazing out at the stars. “Ferrouz can’t possibly have hidden this deal from everyone. The real question is whether that someone has managed to get Imperial Center’s attention.”
“With a corrupt governor at the center of it, I’d say that’s likely,” Leia said. “I wonder if we should take what we’ve got and get out while we can.”
Cracken scratched his cheek. “I don’t know,” he said. “We haven’t even gotten all the cold-weather gear together, let alone all those nice T-47s. I’d hate to leave all that behind for no reason.”
“If it is for no reason,” Leia warned. Still, if Imperial Center had any serious suspicions, that Star Destroyer should at least have stayed long enough to do some spot checks. Maybe it really had just been passing through. “Axlon’s supposed to meet Ferrouz tomorrow morning. Maybe he can find out what that was all about.”
“I’ll call and have him put that on the agenda,” Cracken said. “Meanwhile, it might be a good idea to bring in more firepower. At least enough to hold off any attack while we get the transports out.”
Leia winced. The idea of putting even more of the Alliance’s precious ships at risk here than they already had sent warning shivers through her. But Cracken was right. Losing the Gallofree transports, let alone the goods that were being loaded aboard them, would be a devastating blow to the Alliance’s ability to move people and equipment around the Empire. “All right, but nothing too obvious,” she said. “No cruisers or frigates.”
“I’ll keep it down to X-wings and maybe a couple of gunships,” Cracken promised. “I just wish I knew how well armed the Dreadnought and Golan are. The way Imperial Center prioritizes things, I’m guessing both are being held together by hopes and curses. But there’s no way to know for sure unless one of them actually opens fire on us.”
“Which we really don’t want happening,” Leia agreed. An odd idea flicked across her mind. “Do you know where Han is?”
“Solo? I assume he’s back on Poln Major.” Cracken raised his eyebrows. “Where you sent him three days ago.”
“With Han, getting an order isn’t necessarily a guarantee of compliance,” Leia pointed out. “I was just thinking that some of the smugglers who hang out here must have gone head-to-head with either the Sarissa or the Golan over the years. Maybe we should bring Han back and see if he can sound out the locals for us.”
“You want him here when Axlon’s about to go into the palace?” Cracken asked, frowning at her over his breath mask. “I thought you wanted him nearby in case Axlon needed a quick extraction.”
“If Ferrouz hasn’t pulled a double cross by now, I doubt he’s going to,” Leia said. “Besides, it’s not like Han is exactly in position for a quick rescue anyway. He’s out at the spaceport, while Axlon’s all the way across town in one of the hotels near the palace.”
“I’ll bet Solo’s thrilled to death with that arrangement,” Cracken said drily.
“I’ve seen him happier,” Leia conceded.
“Not sure I ever have,” Cracken said with a grunt. “But no, talking to the locals makes sense. You want me to give him his new orders?”
“No, that’s all right,” Leia said reluctantly. Han had been a master at punching her switches almost since their first meeting aboard the Death Star, and he’d only gotten better at it over the past few months. But irritating though that might personally be for her, she’d also noted that he took orders from her better than he did from Rieekan or anyone else. Not well, but better. “I’ll tell him.”
“Mm.”
She looked over. “What?” she demanded.
“Solo’s certainly got the capability,” he said. “He’s proved that time and again. The question is whether he’s got the will.”
Leia shook her head. “That’s entirely up to him.”
“Is it?” Cracken countered. “I’ve noticed that you have an unusual level of influence over him. Even more than Skywalker does. If you pressed him, it might be enough to tip the balance.”
Leia grimaced behind her breath mask. “You really want that to be his reason for becoming a full part of the Alliance? My pressure on him?”
“This is war, Princess,” Cracken said bluntly. “I’ve taken in deserters, fringe criminals, scoundrels, general all-around scum—” He grimaced. “—even former politicians. I mean to win this thing, by whatever means and with whatever levers I have to use to do it.” He gestured to her. “If you’re not …” He left the sentence unfinished.
“We’ll win, Colonel,” Leia said. “But not by manipulating people. Certainly not the good ones.”
“I admire your idealism,” he said. “I hope it doesn’t backfire on you.”
Leia turned away, her eyes filling with sudden tears. Idealism was what had gotten her involved with the Rebel Alliance in the first place. It had cost her her reputation, her status, and her seat in the Senate.
It had also
cost her her home, her father, and nearly everything else she’d ever held dear. “We’d better get back,” she said over her shoulder. “You need to call Axlon. And I need to call Han.”
There wasn’t much floor space in the Falcon where a person could get a proper angry stomp going. But Han did his best, with the result that both Luke and Chewie were already looking up as he came around the corner from the cockpit tunnel.
“What’s happened?” Luke asked anxiously.
“What else?” Han growled, stomping a little more as he crossed over to where the two of them were sitting at the game board. “Or maybe I should say who else?”
Luke winced. “Leia?”
“Like I said, who else?” Han said, dropping onto the wraparound couch beside Chewie. “Doesn’t the Alliance know any other smugglers beside me?”
Chewie rumbled a suggestion.
“Come on—the rest of them can’t be that untrustworthy,” Han argued. “Rieekan wouldn’t keep them around if they were. I think Her Worshipfulness just likes throwing things like this in our lap.”
“What things?” Luke asked.
“They want me to go back to Poln Minor and mingle with the other riffraff,” Han told him. “See what I can find out about the weapons readiness of the Golan and that Dreadnought out there.”
“I thought Ferrouz was on our side,” Luke said, frowning. “Why do we care about that?”
Chewie warbled a question.
“No, there’s no sign of Nuso Esva’s fleet,” Han told him. “If the guy even has one. At least nothing Leia told me about.”
