by Timothy Zahn
"It's all right, Solo," Carib said, his voice studiously neutral. "Maybe you'll agree now I was right when I talked about this back on Pakrik Minor."
Han winced again. Carib's contention that there was still heavy prejudice against clones in the New Republic... "Yeah. Sorry."
"It's all right," Carib repeated. "My part's done; I'm heading home. Good luck to you." The freighter curved away over the Lady Luck and flickered with pseudomotion as it made the jump to lightspeed. "He's sure in a hurry to get away," Lando growled.
"He's heading home," Han reminded him, turning his attention back to the chart. A course of forty-three by fifteen from the Ubiqtorate station would put it...
"Looks like the Sartinaynian system," Lando said, looking over his shoulder.
"Yeah, it does," Han agreed, nodding.
"Funny place to put an Imperial capital," Lando said, an edge of suspicion still coloring his tone.
"Oh, I don't know," Han said, skimming down the data the Lady Luck's computer had on the place. "It was a sector capital once, so they're probably used to having a bureaucracy underfoot."
"Still a long way from the glittering towers of Coruscant, though," Lando said.
"Isn't everything?" Han countered. "Come on, we're wasting time." Shaking his head, Lando dropped into the pilot's seat. "Sure. Let's just walk into the middle of the Imperial capital. Why not?"
"Lando, look—"
"No, it's all right, Han," Lando said with a tired sigh. "I said I'd do it, and I will. I just wish I didn't have to." He reached over and keyed the nav computer. "But wishes don't bring you the cards you want. Give Lobot and Moegid a call, will you, and tell them to strap in."
"Sure," Han said, reaching for his own restraints with one hand and going for the comm switch with the other. "Hey, don't worry. It's going to work out fine."
"Yeah," Lando said. "Sure."
* * *
"No!" Ishori Senator Ghic Dx'ono snarled, slamming a horny-tipped fist down on the table for emphasis. "It is completely out of the question. The Ishori will not accept anything less than full and complete justice for the Caamasi and the people of the New Republic."
"Justice is what we all seek," Diamalan Senator Porolo Miatamia countered, his voice the glacial calm of his species. "But—"
"You lie!" Dx'ono all but screamed, his ears flattened against his head. "The Diamala demand the impossible, and refuse to settle for anything else!"
"Senators, please," President Ponc Gavrisom cut in, his wings sweeping briefly between the other two as if trying to separate a pair of enraged shockball players. "I'm not asking for a resolution of the Caamas situation here and now. All I'm asking—"
"I know what you're asking," Dx'ono snarled. "But justice postponed is too often justice ignored." He jabbed a finger accusingly toward Miatamia. "And that is precisely the situation the Diamala are trying to engineer."
"The Diamala have every intention of seeing justice served," Miatamia said coldly. "But we understand that more urgent matters should take priority."
"Thrawn is dead!" Dx'ono snarled, leaping to his feet as if to physically attack the other. "He is dead! All Imperial records agree!"
Miatamia remained unmoved. "I saw him, Senator. I saw him, and heard him—"
"Lies!" Dx'ono cut him off. "All lies, created to distract us from the search for justice." Seated in the small room behind the false wall, Booster Terrik shook his head. "Idiots," he muttered. "Both of them."
"Now, now, Father," his daughter Mirax Terrik Horn said, squeezing his arm. "Both of them are probably sincere, from their own different points of view."
"And we all know what road is lined with sincere people," Terrik said sourly, glancing back over his shoulder. "Where is that blasted Bel Iblis, anyway? I've got work to do."
"You've got nothing but overhaul and maintenance work on the Errant Venture scheduled for the next three weeks," Mirax admonished him firmly. "And you're not needed for a single bit of it." Booster sent a glare at her, a glare that worked about as well as such looks had ever worked on her. Which was to say, not very. "I thought daughters were supposed to be a source of pride and comfort to their fathers in their old age," he grumbled.
She smiled. "When you get there, I'll see what I can do," she promised. The smile faded as she turned back to the false wall. "This whole thing is starting to get out of hand. Have you heard that a hundred systems have already petitioned to rejoin the Empire?"
"My sources say it's only been twenty systems," Booster said. "Everything else is just rumors."
"Whatever the numbers, it's still something to worry about," Mirax said, a note of quiet dread in her voice. "If Thrawn is really still alive, and if all this turmoil persuades people they want or need his protection, then the Empire could regain its territory without firing a single shot."
"I doubt they're going to talk that many systems into coming back," Booster argued. But he didn't feel nearly as confident as he was trying to sound. "Anyway, there's not a lot we can do about it." Behind him, the door slid open. "Ah—Captain Terrik," General Bel Iblis said, striding in and offering his hand. "Thank you for coming. I trust you've been well entertained?"
"If you mean the dance show, I've seen better," Booster said, jerking a thumb toward the loud drama in the next room as he reluctantly and briefly gripped Bel Iblis's hand. He and authority had never gotten along very well. "Speaking of dance shows, I've got a bone to pick with you over that nonsense in the Sif'kric system three weeks ago. The bureaucrats there still haven't released the Hoopster's Prank back to me."
"I didn't know that," Bel Iblis said, shutting off the speaker that was bringing the argument in from the next room and pulling over the room's remaining chair. "I'll give orders to have it sprung as soon as we finish here."
Booster eyed him warily. "The word 'finish' implies a start."
"Indeed it does," Bel Iblis agreed, positioning the chair to face the two of them and sitting down.
"I didn't ask you here just for a private showing of Gavrisom's mediation skill. Incidentally, I presume I don't have to tell you that anything you heard here is to be considered confidential."
"Really." Booster frowned thoughtfully at his daughter. "Let's see. The Ishori scream when they debate and want a square meter of skin off every Bothan to give to what's left of the Caamasi. The Diamala want the same square meter, but only from the Bothans who helped destroy Caamas—exhuming them if necessary—as soon as anyone figures out who they were. Who do you think we should sell these big secrets to first, Mirax?"
She gave her father a patient look and shifted her attention to Bel Iblis. "We understand, General," she said. "What is it you want?"
"I let you see a bit of this private conversation because I thought it would help drive home the seriousness of the situation we're in," Bel Iblis said, nodding back toward the discussion still going on now inaudibly behind him. "The buildup of warships over Bothawui is being repeated all over the New Republic as worlds and species line up behind the Ishori and Diamala over this issue. The only way we're going to defuse the situation is to find out who exactly the Bothans were who sabotaged the Caamas planetary shields."
"As a dancer, General, you're no better than they are," Booster said. "Get to the point." Bel Iblis locked eyes with him. "I want to borrow the Errant Venture." Booster stared at him, too stunned even to laugh in the general's face. "You must be joking," he got out at last. "Certainly not."
"What do you need it for?" Mirax asked.
Bel Iblis shifted his gaze to her. "We think there may be a complete copy of the Caamas Document in the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor," he told her. "Gavrisom has decided to launch an information raid to try to get hold of it."
"A data raid on a Ubiqtorate base?" Booster echoed. "What poor sucker pulled that assignment?"
Bel Iblis regarded him coolly. "I did," he said.
For a moment the room was silent. Booster studied Bel Iblis's face, wishing the general had glazed over the false wal
l behind him when he'd turned off the sound. The argument back there, particularly the Ishori Senator's wide-armed flailing, was highly distracting. As Bel Iblis probably intended it to be. "Okay," he said at last. "I get the picture—you need a Star Destroyer to sneak in through their outer defenses. Last I heard, the New Republic still has some captured ones. Why not use one of those?"
"Two reasons," Bel Iblis said. "First, they're all too well known. Disguising their markings and engine ID signatures would take too long."
"And probably not fool anyone for long," Mirax murmured.
Booster glared at her. Whose side was she on here, anyway?
"Right." Bel Iblis nodded. "Second, and more importantly, we can't pull any of them away from their assigned patrol duties without everyone in the sector instantly missing them. You know what an information raid is like: if the target gets even a whiff of your plans, you're sunk." Booster crossed his arms across his chest. "Sorry, General. I sympathize with your problem and all, but no deal. I went through too much for that ship to risk it in some crazy scheme that's none of my business anyway."
Bel Iblis cocked his head slightly to the side. "You sure about it being none of your business?" Booster uncrossed his arms far enough to tap at his upper chest. "You see a New Republic military insignia here?"
"You see the Diamalan Senator back there?" Bel Iblis countered. "They're allies with the Mon Cals on this Bothan situation; and you know how much the Mon Cals hate smugglers. If all-out war breaks out, one of the first things they're likely to do is move against all smuggling groups they can find, if for no other reason than to drain the potential pool of privateers the other side can use." He lifted an eyebrow. "And with an Imperial Star Destroyer in your possession, where do you think you'll end up on their list of things to do?"
Booster grimaced. "Somewhere near the top?"
"That's where I'd put you," Bel Iblis agreed. "So helping me is very much in your own best interests."
He had a case, Booster had to admit. And he could feel the accusation behind Mirax's eyes as she gazed at him, reminding him of his glib comment not five minutes ago about how there was nothing they could do.
And it occurred to him—as it might not yet have to his daughter—that if Bel Iblis was going to Yaga Minor, Mirax's husband, Corran, and the rest of Rogue Squadron would probably be going in with him.
But to be asked to risk his beloved Errant Venture this way was just too much. Yes, it was falling apart, with half its systems questionable or totally dead, and with an operating cost that would make an Imperial baron blanch. But it was his. All his...
He paused. What in the worlds was he thinking of?
He uncrossed his arms and resettled himself in his seat, eyeing Bel Iblis speculatively.
"Unfortunately, even if I said yes, you'd never get away with it," he pointed out. "You turn a halfway decent sensor array on the Errant Venture and a blind wampa could tell we're not up to Imperial standards anymore. We'd need turbolaser and tractor-emplacement upgrades, shield rebuilds, whole system replacements—you name it, we need it."
Bel Iblis's gaze had hardened noticeably during the recitation. "I see," he said dryly. "Airen Cracken warned me about you."
"Glad to hear he remembers me." Booster shrugged. "It's up to you, General. I'll lend you the ship; but in exchange, you have to upgrade the systems. And win or lose, those upgrades stay put when it's all over."
"The Mon Cals will love that."
"If war breaks out, the Mon Cals will be the least of my worries," Booster said bluntly. "Every two-bit pirate and smuggling group in the galaxy will be trying to get their hands on the Venture. That's my offer; take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," Bel Iblis said, standing up. "Where's the ship now?"
"Parked over in the outer Mrisst system," Booster told him, standing up as well and trying not to show his surprise. His admittedly spotty experience with New Republic officials was that they needed more cajoling and a lot more bargaining before they finally gave in. And New Republic military officials were even worse. "Where do you want it delivered?"
"I'll tell you once we're aboard," Bel Iblis said.
Booster frowned. "You're coming with us?"
"Along with two hundred of my crewers," the general said. "We'll assist you in flying the ship until we pick up a proper crew at the rendezvous point."
"I have a proper crew," Booster retorted. He should have known Bel Iblis wouldn't give in this easily.
"For running a mobile smugglers depot, perhaps," Bel Iblis said. "Not for impersonating an Imperial warship. I'll be bringing a full skeleton complement aboard before we leave the rendezvous point."
Booster drew himself up to his full height. "Let's get one thing straight right now, General," he said stiffly. "The Errant Venture is my ship. If I don't captain her, she doesn't go anywhere." Once again, Bel Iblis surprised him. "Certainly," he said calmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I have a shuttle waiting; we'll leave at once."
"Whatever you say," Booster said, fighting against the bad feeling that, despite appearances, Bel Iblis had still not given in quite the way it sounded. "Mirax, you might as well take my shuttle and head back home."
Bel Iblis cleared his throat. "What?" Booster demanded suspiciously.
"I'm afraid Mirax will have to come with us," Bel Iblis said apologetically. "It's absolutely vital that we have complete security on this, and that means no one who knows about it can be allowed to wander around loose."
Booster drew himself up again. "If you think I'm going to let my daughter come on a raid against a Ubiqtorate base—"
"Oh, no, not at all," Bel Iblis hastened to assure him. "She and her son will stay behind at the rendezvous point with the prep crew."
Once again, Booster had the distinct feeling of having had the blocks knocked out from under him. "Fine," he muttered. "Well, let's get going. If you're determined to go marching into an Imperial base, we might as well get to it."
"Yes," Bel Iblis said. "And let me thank you once again for your help. Don't worry; it'll all work out fine."
"Yeah," Booster grumbled as he took Mirax's arm. "Sure."
CHAPTER
17
With one final truncated lightsaber sweep, the last of the chunks came away from the opening and crashed hollowly to the rocky floor. "There," Luke said, peering into the hole. "What do you think?" Mara stepped close to his side and shined her glow rod into the opening. "Still going to be tight for the droid," she said. "But I think it'll do."
Luke glanced back over his shoulder, to the eight Qom Jha hanging from the passageway ceiling. Yes, it would do. More importantly, now that Splitter Of Stones and Keeper Of Promises had returned with the Qom Jha hunters Eater Of Fire Creepers had promised, they should get moving before they lost any prestige in their guides' eyes.
Or to put it another way, before they lost so much confidence in Master Walker Of Sky that they decided to back out of this trip entirely. They hadn't said much about Builder With Vines's violent death, but they were definitely avoiding the area where their friend had died. And they weren't going out of their way to be nice to Child Of Winds, either. If he and Mara didn't get moving, there was likely to be more of the same trouble they'd already had too much of.
"I agree," he said, returning his lightsaber to his belt and stepping over to the shrunken collection of items that had been his pack before the fire creepers had gotten to it. Aside from the food bars in their metal case, the spare blaster power packs and glow rods, and some of the syntherope, there wasn't much left. The bedrolls, survival tent, medpacs, even the detonator casings on the grenades had all been ravaged into useless shreds. "I guess we just take whatever we can salvage of this stuff?"
"That's what I'm doing," Mara said. She had one of her ration boxes open and was sorting out the bars between the various pockets in her jumpsuit. "Soldiers' first rule: concentrate on the food."
"Understood," Luke said, starting to fill his own pockets. Artoo rolled uns
teadily up to him on the uneven ground and with a beep of invitation slid open the hidden compartment in his dome. "I'm putting what's left of the syntherope in Artoo," Luke called to Mara, stuffing the coil into the compartment. "In case you need it."
"Fine," Mara said. "I'm ready."
"Me, too," Luke said, gazing into the darkness. "You want to stay with the same marching order?"
"You mean with you in front and me behind handling the luggage?" Mara asked, nodding toward Artoo.
Luke felt his face warming. "I meant—"
"I know what you meant," Mara said, giving him a wry smile. "But you're the Jedi; and if there's anything in there with big teeth, you've got the best chance of toasting it before it draws blood. So. After you."
Luke looked up at the waiting Qom Jha. "Sure," he said, shifting his glow rod to his left hand and drawing his lightsaber. "We're ready, Splitter Of Stones."
Follow me, the Qom Jha said, dropping off the ceiling and fluttering into the darkness. It was quickly evident that their route wasn't so much a passageway as it was a narrow, V-shaped crack in the rock. Within the first three steps Luke was forced to return his lightsaber to his belt and wedge his glow rod into his tunic to free up his hands to help pull himself along. Behind him he could hear Artoo's continuous nervous twittering and the occasional muted thunk where Mara bumped him into one of the side walls.
Each time that happened, he had to fight back the impulse to offer his help. If Mara needed him, she would ask. Probably.
Fortunately, the crack was only no more than three meters long, with a yellowish wall blocking the far end. This is the way inside, Splitter Of Stones said from a perch at a small gap that broached the yellow wall near the top. Beyond this wall is the High Tower.
"I'd say we're here," Mara commented. "That wall's definitely artificial."
"Agreed," Luke said, wedging himself into a more or less steady position in front of the wall and drawing his lightsaber. "You and Artoo keep back."
