by Timothy Zahn
"Would it be possible for you to supply such an expert?" Pellaeon asked. With a supreme effort, Leia pushed her fears away. "I don't know," she said. "I don't think so." Pellaeon seemed taken aback. "You don't think so?"
"No," Leia said, glancing over at the tech station again. Ghent was still facing the control board, but his head was turned just enough to let him surreptitiously watch the conversation around the game table. "Perhaps later, after we have an official agreement. But not yet."
"By the time there's an agreement it might be too late," Pellaeon warned. "Our scout ships are picking up only occasional news reports, but even from what I know the situation in the New Republic is clearly getting worse. Even with an expert slicer at work, the project is going to take some time."
He grimaced. "And there's one other factor, as well. We suspect that one of Moff Disra's agents may already have found his way into those Special Files once. We don't know what he was looking for, but the Caamas Document is definitely one possible target. If we delay too long and he's able to get in again to erase the file, we may never learn the truth. Only if we act immediately—"
"All right," Ghent interrupted, swiveling abruptly around in his chair to face them. "All right. I'll go." Leia blinked. Once again, he had taken her completely by surprise. "You don't mean that," she said. "This could be dangerous."
"The danger would be extremely small," Pellaeon insisted.
"Doesn't matter," Ghent said. His voice was trembling, but his jaw was set firmly. "On the way from Coruscant Elegos told me all about what happened to his world. It was terrible—everyone killed, all the animals, too. I hated the people who'd done it—I really hated them. And I hated the Bothans for making the whole thing happen in the first place."
He looked over at Elegos. "But he told me hatred was wrong, that it was one of those things that hurt the hater more than the people he hated. He told me there can be justice without hatred, and punishment without revenge. He said we were all responsible for what we do and what we don't do, and no one should have to pay for someone else's crimes."
He locked eyes with Leia. "I'm a slicer, Councilor Organa Solo. I'm a good slicer. And I'm responsible for what I do and what I don't do, just like you or Elegos. If I can help and I don't, I'm just as guilty as anyone else." He waved a hand helplessly. "I'm not too good at stuff like this. You understand what I'm trying to say?"
"I understand perfectly," Leia assured him. "And I very much appreciate your offer. The question is whether I can allow you to put yourself at risk this way."
"It would seem that should be a straightforward question for you to answer, Councilor," Elegos said. "As a Jedi, does Crypt Chief Ghent going to Yaga Minor seem the correct path?" Leia hid a grimace. Once again, the Caamasi's perception had come through, reminding her of the true source of her insight and guidance.
Except that for once that source had failed her. Or perhaps more correctly, she had failed it. No matter how hard she stretched out to the Force, all she could see was the turmoil of her own fears for Han's safety. Fears that she'd managed to suppress until now; guilt that she'd allowed him—even encouraged him—to step onto a hostile world in the first place; resentment and anger that after all their years of sacrifice she and Han were still the ones who always seemed to be called on to risk everything for others.
Blinking back tears, she tried to push back the sudden surge of emotion. But it remained a restless churning pool washing across her mind and spirit.
And as the Jedi calm eluded her, so did any hope of reading Ghent's path.
"I don't know," she admitted at last. "I can't seem to get any kind of reading."
"Does that mean you can't guarantee his safety?" Pellaeon asked, frowning.
"No one's safety is ever guaranteed, Admiral," Elegos said. "Not even by a Jedi." He smiled faintly, an oddly melancholy expression. "Though, of course, most of us travel through our entire lives without any assurance at all that the path we are on is the correct one. No assurance except that of our own spirits within us."
"Elegos has been spouting that sort of stuff ever since we left Coruscant," Ghent said with a weak attempt at a grin. "I guess some of this nobleness stuff must have rubbed off on me." Unsteadily, he got to his feet. "This is the right path. And I'm ready. When do we leave?"
"At once," Pellaeon said, sliding around the end of the table and standing up. "I'll put together a letter of introduction for General Hestiv and detail one of my most trusted pilots to fly you to Yaga Minor." His eyes flicked across Ghent's outfit. "I think we'll also put you in an Imperial uniform. Disra may have informers on Yaga Minor, and there's no point in drawing unnecessary attention by bringing an obvious civilian onto a military base."
"You won't be taking him there yourself in the Chimaera?" Leia asked. Pellaeon shook his head. "Once you and I have finished our discussions, I'll be heading directly to Bastion. There are some rather pointed questions Moff Disra owes me answers for." Leia swallowed. "I see."
"With your permission, then, I'll go arrange for Crypt Chief Ghent's transport." Pellaeon smiled faintly at Ghent. "I mean Imperial Lieutenant Ghent's transport. Come with me, Lieutenant." Stepping past Sakhisakh, he headed for the Falcon's exit. "Sure," Ghent said, starting after him.
"So long, Elegos. You too, Councilor."
"Go in wisdom and courage," Elegos said gravely.
"May the Force be with you," Leia added. "And thank you."
* * *
Captain Ardiff was waiting in the aft bridge when Pellaeon emerged from the turbolift. "The Millennium Falcon has cleared the sentry perimeter and jumped to lightspeed," he reported.
"Good," Pellaeon said, looking past him to the viewport. In the distance, he could see the faint flickers of reflected sunlight from the solar panels of the TIE fighter escort as they headed back to the Chimaera. "And Lieutenant Mavron?"
"He and his passenger left half an hour ago." Ardiff lifted his eyebrows slightly. "May I ask...?"
"How the talks went?" Pellaeon shrugged. "As well as preliminary talks ever go, I suppose. Organa Solo isn't about to commit the New Republic to a course of action based on my word alone, and I made it similarly clear that I can't accept her word as guaranteeing Coruscant's future actions. So there's a great deal of careful verbal dancing yet to be done."
"But she's willing to talk."
"She's very willing to talk." Pellaeon hesitated. "At least, about most things." Ardiff frowned. "What do you mean?"
Pellaeon gazed out at the stars again. "There's something she wasn't telling me," he said.
"Something important—that much I'm sure of. But what exactly it was..." He shook his head. "I don't know."
"Private information having to do with the Bothans, perhaps?" Ardiff suggested. "Or something more personal? She's been in political trouble on Coruscant before—could it be that she's about to lose her influence there entirely?"
"I hope not," Pellaeon said. "Political problems between her and Coruscant would make this process far more difficult than it already is. They might reject any proposal simply because she was involved with it."
"Or might support it because she was involved," Ardiff pointed out. "The polarization we're already seeing over the Caamas issue could easily bleed over into something like this."
"That's one of my biggest concerns," Pellaeon agreed grimly. "That peace will be rejected by some for no better reason than that their political enemies are for it." He stepped past Ardiff onto the command walkway. "But all of us have only the cards the universe has dealt us," he said. "If Organa Solo refuses to show us some of her cards, we'll just have to play the game that way.
"And in the meantime," he added, "we have other matters to attend to. Set course for Bastion, Captain. It's time Moff Disra and I had a long, serious talk."
* * *
In front of the Falcon, the stars flared into starlines, and Leia slumped a little in her seat. "Do you think he really meant it?" she asked, turning to look at Elegos.
Elegos gave one of his full-body Caamasi shrugs. "I believe Admiral Pellaeon himself is sincere," he said. "As I presume you know with more certainty than I do. I suspect the question you really wish to ask is whether his sincerity can be trusted."
"I don't know," she said. "You're right, I don't sense any duplicity in Pellaeon himself. But with Thrawn back on the scene..." She shook her head. "Nothing was ever the way it seemed with him, Elegos. He could maneuver you into doing exactly what he wanted you to do, despite the fact that you knew he was trying to do it. Thrawn may be using this peace initiative of Pellaeon's for some other end entirely."
"Is that why you didn't tell him that Captain Solo was on Bastion?" Elegos asked. Leia started. "How did you know about that?" she demanded. "I didn't tell you Han had gone there."
Elegos shrugged again. "You've dropped hints," he said. "As have the Noghri. It hasn't been difficult to put the pieces together." His blue-on-green eyes bored into her face. "Why didn't you tell Admiral Pellaeon that?"
Leia turned away from that gaze, pretending to study the Falcon's engine monitor. "We know that Imperials are encouraging at least some of the violence that's been occurring in the New Republic," she said, fighting through the sudden dryness in her throat. "That riot on Bothawui, for one—my Noghri guard found evidence that the shots that started it came from a rare Imperial sniper weapon."
"Interesting," Elegos murmured. "You didn't tell Pellaeon about that, either."
"The problem is we have no real proof of any of it," Leia said, shaking her head tiredly. "And even if we did... fighting Thrawn is like fighting a shadow, Elegos. He's never where you think he is, doing what you expect him to do. Everything he does is circles within circles within circles."
"Yet you cannot allow uncertainty to paralyze you," Elegos pointed out. "That path allows him to win by default. At some point, right or wrong, you must take action." His eyes seemed to bore into hers. "You must decide who you can trust."
Leia blinked back sudden tears. "I can't trust Pellaeon," she said bluntly. "Not yet. If Thrawn is orchestrating this whole operation, Han would be a terribly useful hostage or bargaining chip for him. I couldn't take the chance he'd find out from Pellaeon that Han was there."
"Yet you trusted him enough to allow him to take Ghent into a situation of potentially equal danger," Elegos pointed out.
"Ghent wanted to go," she said, knowing even as she spoke that such an argument was dangerously slippery ground. "Besides, he wouldn't be of any use to Thrawn."
"You know better than that, Councilor," Elegos said, the soft reproach in his voice a painful jab in Leia's heart. "Ghent is highly knowledgeable about New Republic encrypt and decrypt techniques. In a war situation, such knowledge would be of immense value to the Empire."
"We've already been over this," Leia reminded him, the first stirrings of anger coloring the guilt rumbling within her. Who was this Caamasi to tell her what was right or not right for her to do?
"There's no way for us to avoid taking risks here."
"I agree," Elegos said. "And I don't suggest that your decisions were necessarily wrong." Leia frowned, the growing anger turning to suspicious uncertainty. "What are you suggesting, then?" she demanded.
"That you're worried you used your power and authority to protect your husband more than you did a relative stranger," Elegos said. "That you're worried you've betrayed the trust that is yours as a High Councilor, a diplomat, and a Jedi."
"She does not need to answer to you, Trustant A'kla," a harsh Noghri voice came from behind them.
Leia turned her head to see Sakhisakh standing in the open cockpit door. "Trouble?" she asked him.
"No trouble," the Noghri assured her, stepping forward and taking up a position just behind her.
"I came to report that no one is in pursuit, and that Barkhimkh is shutting down the weapons systems." He turned his dark eyes on Elegos. "If she chooses to protect her clan from danger, that is no concern of yours."
"I agree," Elegos said calmly. "As I've already said, I'm not here to pass judgment."
"Then why do you press her about it?" Sakhisakh demanded.
"Because as I also said, she herself is not convinced she did right," Elegos said, turning his gaze back to Leia. "It's important that she think this matter through and come to a conclusion, one way or another. Either to accept her decisions as right and continue on, or to acknowledge them as wrong and also continue on."
"Why must she do this?" Sakhisakh asked.
The Caamasi smiled sadly. "Because she is a High Councilor, and a diplomat, and a Jedi. Only when she is at peace with herself will she have the insight and wisdom we will all need to rely on in the days ahead."
For a long moment none of them spoke. Leia stared out at the mottled sky of hyperspace rushing past, the acrid bite of shame adding to the rest of the emotions swirling within her. Once again, Elegos was right. "You should have been a Jedi, Elegos," she said with a sigh as she unstrapped from her seat and stood up.
"I do not have a Jedi's ability to touch the Force," Elegos said, an odd note of regret in his voice.
"And yet, you speak more truly than perhaps you know. It is a legend among my people that, at the very dawn of their age, the first of the Jedi Knights came to Caamas to learn from us the moral use of their power."
"I don't doubt the legend is true," Leia said, gesturing to the seat she'd just vacated. "Sakhisakh, if you'd take control here, I'll be in the cargo hold. I have some serious thinking and meditating to do."
CHAPTER
20
"Good day, citizen-scholars of the M'challa Order of the Empire," the ancient SE2 service droid behind the reception desk wheezed its usual greeting. "How may I and the Imperial Library serve you this morning?"
"Just assign us a computer station," Han said, putting a firm restraining bolt on his already grouchy mood. Already it was shaping up to be a hot, muggy day, and he felt both uncomfortable and stupid parading around the city streets in the traditional M'challa scholar's robe he and the others had been wearing ever since landing here on Bastion. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time trading banter with an SE2 droid. "We can handle our own data search, thanks."
"Certainly." The droid peered at him, then at Lando, then at Lobot. His gaze lingered on the latter, as if wondering why he was wearing his hood so close about his head on such a warm day. "You citizens have been in here before," he said. "Each of the past three days, if my memory has not degraded."
"We're doing a long-term study," Lando stepped in smoothly. "It takes a great deal of time."
"Would you like assistance?" the droid asked helpfully. "We have several research droids and interface counterparts available for hire at a purely nominal fee."
"We're doing fine," Han told him, striving mightily to keep from shouting in the droid's metal face.
"Just assign us a station, all right?"
"Certainly, citizen-scholar," the droid said affably. "Station 47A. Go through the double doors to your left—"
"We know where it is," Han said, turning on his heel and stalking toward the indicated doors.
"And thank you," Lando added.
He and Lobot caught up with Han just inside the double doors. "You think you can draw a little more attention to us?" Lando growled as Han headed off through the maze of individual and group booths that filled the huge room, only a handful of which were currently occupied. "Maybe you should try kicking the droid back and forth across the desk a few times—that ought to do it."
"A lot of Imperials don't like droids," Han growled back. "Even scholars. Let's just get on with it, okay?"
Lando didn't answer, and Han felt a twinge of guilt for snapping at his friend that way. After all, Lando was doing him a big favor by even being here in the first place.
But his mood was already too sour for the guilt to make much headway against it. Three days of softfooting around the Imperial capital city having to put up with smarmy Imperials, overcharging tapcafe owners, and
idiot SE2 droids was starting to get to him.
Especially considering how much progress they'd made so far in getting into the Special Files section. Namely, none.
They reached Station 47A and Han snagged a third chair from an unused booth to supplement the two already there. "All right," Lando said, activating the booth's privacy field as he sat Lobot down in front of the keyboard and then took the chair beside him. "You have a good contact with Moegid?" Lobot's answer was to place his fingers on the keyboard. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he began tapping the keys.
Hitching his chair up behind Lando, stifling a sarcastic remark that wouldn't have done anyone any good and was probably uncalled for anyway, Han sat down and tried to settle in. Maybe this time, they'd get lucky.
* * *
The ship had been quiet for nearly an hour before Karoly decided that, once again, she had guessed wrong.
It was aggravating. No, actually, it was infuriating. To have come all this way with Solo and Calrissian—to have spent days buried alive in this cramped smuggling compartment beneath the elegant living section of Calrissian's yacht—and then to not even find Karrde and Shada waiting at the end of the ride was maddening.
She took a deep breath in the darkness, ordering herself sternly to settle down. Maybe Karrde and Shada had simply been delayed, and were still on their way. She would just have to be patient and wait them out.
In the meantime, there was clearly nothing to be gained by hanging around in this hole feeling sorry for herself. Reaching above her, she worked the catch that popped the hidden access panel and eased it carefully to one side.
For a moment she remained motionless in a half crouch, listening for any indication that she might have been heard. Then she eased up and out into the corridor, breathing deeply as she flushed the stale air of the compartment out of her lungs.
No one was visible. Not that that was surprising, really. Solo, Calrissian, and that biocomp-wired cyborg they called Lobot had all gone off together that morning, leaving the Verpine presumably in his usual place in the aft control room. That had been the procedure every day since they'd landed here, and there'd been nothing in the snatches of conversation she'd overheard that might indicate the routine had been changed. Briefly, she considered sneaking aft to again try to figure out what the Verpine was doing, but decided against it. Her last two efforts in that direction had failed to discover anything useful, and she couldn't see wasting any more time on it.
