by Timothy Zahn
"And you are? You specifically, I mean?"
Stent drew himself up straighter. "We are Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo's Household Phalanx," he said, and there was no mistaking the pride in his tone. "We live only to serve him. And through him to serve the Chiss."
"Whether they want your help or not, I guess," Mara said, noting the alien's use of the present tense. There it was again: the assumption or belief that Thrawn wasn't dead. Could they be that out of touch? "Do they even know you're out here?"
"They know the forces of the Empire are out here," Parck said. "And while the ruling families pretend they don't know Stent and his unit are working with us, the average Chiss does in fact know. We have a steady flow of young Chiss arriving at our various bases and garrisons to enlist in our fight."
Mara suppressed a grimace. So they did indeed have bases out here. "Palpatine wouldn't have been very pleased to see aliens mixing with Imperial forces," she pointed out. "I doubt the current regime on Bastion would, either."
Parck's expression sobered. "Indeed," he said. "Which brings us to the problem and situation we now face. Many years ago Thrawn told us that if he was ever reported dead we should keep at our labors here and in the Unknown Regions, and to look for his return ten years afterward." Mara blinked in disbelief. They really were out of touch. "It's going to be a long wait," she said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "He was stabbed in the chest, right through the back of his command chair. Most people have a hard time recovering from that kind of treatment."
"Thrawn is not most people," Stent reminded her.
"Was," Mara said. "Not is; was. He died at Bilbringi."
"Did he?" Parck asked. "Did you ever see a body? Or hear anything about his supposed death that didn't come from the Imperials' own news sources?"
Mara opened her mouth... paused. Parck was leaning slightly toward her, a glint of anticipation in his eye. "Was that a rhetorical question?" she asked. "Or are you expecting me to have an actual answer?"
Parck smiled, leaning back in his chair again. "I told you she was quick," he said, looking up at Stent. "As a matter of fact, yes, we thought you might. You have complete access to Talon Karrde's information network, after all. If anyone would know the truth, it would be you." A sudden jolt of understanding shot through Mara. "You weren't hunting Imperial connections when you buzzed the Cavrilhu base and Terrik's Star Destroyer, were you? You were hunting me."
"Very good, indeed," Parck said approvingly. "In fact, when Dreel spotted you near that Star Destroyer he thought you and Thrawn might already have come to an arrangement. Hence, his transmission asking Thrawn to make contact."
Mara shook her head. "Look, I know you've been out here a long time, and I realize it must have been hard for you. But it's time to face the hard, cold facts. Like it or not, Thrawn is dead."
"Really," Parck said. "Then why is the HoloNet buzzing with the news that he has returned and is making alliances?"
"And that he's been seen by many planetary and sector leaders," Stent put in. "Including the Diamalan Senator to Coruscant and former General Lando Calrissian." Mara stared at him. Lando? "No," she said. "You're wrong. Or you're bluffing."
"I assure you—" Parck broke off, his eyes shifting to a point behind Mara as a breath of air on the back of her neck announced the door behind her had opened.
She turned, tensing. But it was only a youngish middle-aged man, walking with a slight limp along the left-hand wall of the long room toward her. Despite his age he wore the uniform of an Imperial TIE fighter pilot; between his graying goatee and similarly graying shock of dark hair he wore an almost unheard-of rarity: a black patch over his right eye. "Yes, General?" Parck called to him.
"Mid-course transmission from Sorn, Admiral," the man said, his one eye trained unblinkingly on Mara as he strode past her. "His pass through the Bastion system was inconclusive. Lots of rumors and speculations, but no hard evidence." He paused. "But the rumors do say Thrawn is currently there."
"Wait a minute," Mara put in, frowning. "You know where Bastion is?"
"Oh, yes," Parck assured her. "Thrawn anticipated that the seat of government might periodically change, and he wanted us to know where it was at any given time. So he had a special homing device installed in a dummy file in the central Imperial Records Library, reasoning that where the government went the library would soon follow."
"It's a device of Chiss design," Stent added with clear pride. "Totally dormant except when in hyperspace, a time when virtually no one thinks to do scans for such things. We've followed Bastion's movement from system to system with a great deal of interest."
"Indeed." Parck looked at the pilot again. "Is Sorn on his way back?"
"He'll be here in about three hours." The pilot nodded at Mara. "Has she given you anything useful?"
"Not really," Parck said, looking at Mara as he gestured to the newcomer. "But I'm forgetting my manners. Mara Jade; this is General Baron"—he paused dramatically—"Soontir Fel." Mara kept her face expressionless. Baron Soontir Fel. Once a legendary TIE fighter pilot, later turning his back on the Empire to become a member of Rogue Squadron, he had vanished years ago into a trap set by Imperial Intelligence Director Isard and never been heard of again. The general assumption had been that Isard had had him summarily executed for treason. Yet here he was, apparently once again flying with Imperial forces. And a general, yet. "General Fel," she nodded acknowledgment. "Do I take it from the admiral's tone that I'm supposed to be impressed?"
The young Fel, she suspected, would have taken instant offense at that. But this older version merely favored her with a faint smile. "There's no time for pride out here, Jade," he said gravely.
"Once you've joined us, you'll understand."
"I'm sure," Mara said, folding her arms across her chest and squeezing her hands tightly into fists with the effort as she stretched out with all her strength. The Force was there—she could feel it flowing through her. Yet for some reason she still couldn't touch any of them, human or Chiss. It was almost like the Force-suppressing effect of those sessile Myrkr creatures called ysalamiri. But that couldn't be it, because she could still feel the Force perfectly well. Besides, there weren't any of the creatures in the room with them—
She swallowed a sudden grimace, feeling like a fool as she focused on Parck and the Chiss standing with their backs to the wall. Of course there weren't any ysalamiri in the room—they were one room over, pressed up against the other side of the wall where they could protect her interrogators from her mind probes. They'd probably put the creatures along the sides, too; probably why Fel had been so careful to hug the wall on his way across the room. Maybe even scattered some above the ceiling—
She took a deep breath, a huge part of the tension in her chest abruptly easing. Of course there were ysalamiri in the ceiling. That was how and why her link to Luke had been so abruptly cut off. Which meant he was still alive.
She took another breath, suddenly aware that Parck and Fel were both staring at her. "Such a gracious invitation," she said, trying to pick up on the threads of conversation before her silence became too blatant. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I already have a job." But too late. "I see she's figured it out," Fel said conversationally.
"Yes," Parck said. "I'm rather surprised it took her this long, actually. Particularly since she noticed the ysalamiri effect as soon as she came within the effect of their shroud. I could see the break in her step."
"At least it proves she has Jedi abilities," Fel said. "Just as well we were prepared."
"I congratulate you all on your cleverness," Mara said, putting some scorn into her voice. "You are indeed the true heirs to Thrawn's genius and military might. Let's stop dancing around, shall we?
What exactly do you want from me?"
"As General Fel has already said," Parck said. "We want you to join us." Mara felt her eyes narrow. "You are joking."
"Not at all," Parck said. "In fact—"
"Admiral?" Stent interrupted, his
head tilted slightly to one side as if listening to something.
"Someone's just tried to access the Upper Command Room computer."
"Skywalker," Fel said with a nod. "Nice of him to save us the trouble of tracking him down. Have the Phalanx bring him here, Stent. Remind them that only those carrying ysalamiri are to approach him."
"Yes, sir." Stent stepped past Fel and headed along the wall at a fast walk, speaking rapidly in his own language as he headed for the door. As he passed Mara, she caught a glimpse of a small device in his ear—the Chiss version of a comlink, no doubt.
"He'll be joining us in a few minutes," Fel said, looking back at Mara. "You must rank very highly indeed in Coruscant's eyes for them to send Luke Skywalker himself to rescue you. I hope he won't resist to the point of the Chiss having to hurt him."
"I hope for the Chiss' sake they haven't bitten off more than they can swallow," Mara countered, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Luke had had to function under the handicap of ysalamiri before, but that had been a long time ago. "Speaking of getting hurt, General, what happened to your face? Or is that patch just something you wear to impress the natives?"
"I lost my eye in our final battle against one of the many would-be warlords out here," Fel said, his voice calm but with an edge to it. "Our medical replacement facilities are limited, and I opted to forgo a new eye in favor of others of my pilots who might need the operation." He smiled tightly, a glimpse of the younger, brasher Fel showing through the age and maturity. "Besides, even with one eye I'm still the best pilot around."
"I'm sure," Mara agreed. "But imagine what you'd be like with two of them again. And the way the war with the New Republic has dwindled down to basically nothing, I imagine the Empire's got a pretty good surplus of spare prosthetics. All it would take is you showing up and asking for one." She looked back at Parck. "But of course, that would mean letting Bastion in on the big secret, which is apparently something you don't want to do. Why not?"
Parck sighed. "Because everything we've done here—everything we have here—really belongs to Thrawn. And at this point, we frankly don't know which side of your conflict he's going to come down on."
Mara blinked. "Excuse me? An Imperial Grand Admiral, and you don't know which side he's going to take?"
"The Empire has been whittled down to eight sectors," Fel reminded her. "Militarily, they're no longer a power even worth considering."
"And as you've already pointed out, they still have a lingering problem with anti-alien biases," Parck added. "On the other hand, Coruscant has serious problems of its own, most notably its inability to keep its members from fighting with each other."
"Which is where you come in," Fel said. "As the Emperor's Hand, you knew a great deal about the Empire and those in power there. On the other hand, as a friend of Skywalker and his associates, you're also well acquainted with the New Republic regime on Coruscant." He smiled tightly. "And of course, as Talon Karrde's second-in-command, you know a great deal about everything else. You'd be invaluable in helping us end the conflict, unify this region, and begin preparations for the challenges ahead."
"Your expertise and knowledge are very important to us," Parck said. "Our attention has been necessarily turned outward, with the result that we're somewhat out of touch with matters in this part of space. We need someone who can fill that gap."
"And so naturally you thought of me," Mara said sardonically.
"Don't be so flippant," Fel admonished.
"I'm not being flippant; I'm being disbelieving," she countered. "I hardly think Thrawn would have approved of you hiring me as your local affairs adviser."
"On the contrary," Parck said. "Thrawn regarded you quite highly. I know for a fact that he intended to offer you a position with us once the Empire had regained its territory." One of the Chiss beside Parck stirred, tilting his head as Stent had done earlier. "Admiral?" he said softly, squatting down beside the chair and whispering something into Parck's ear. Parck replied, and for a minute they held an inaudible conversation. Mara ran her eye over Fel and the five Chiss, mentally mapping out how she might be able to take them down if it came to a fight. But the attempt was little more than a mental exercise, and she knew it. With their eyes steady on her, and their hands resting on their holstered weapons, there was no chance she could take out all of them before they got her. Not without the Force.
The conversation ended, and the Chiss stood back up and strode rapidly away along the wall.
"Please excuse the interruption," Parck apologized as the alien left the room.
"No problem," Mara said. Down to four Chiss now, plus Fel and Parck. Still rotten odds.
"Having trouble pinning Skywalker down?"
"Not really," Parck assured her.
"Glad to hear it," Mara said, wishing more than ever that she could pick up something of his thoughts. That exit hadn't looked like the departure of someone who wasn't really having trouble. If she only had some idea what Luke was up to... "So Thrawn intended to offer me a commission, did he?"
"He did indeed," Parck said. "He knew who all the best people were, both in overall skills and the kind of mental toughness he needed." He gestured toward Fel. "General Fel is a good example. His rebellion against Isard was of no consequence to Thrawn. What mattered was his feelings for the people and worlds of this region. So after Thrawn had Isard capture him—"
"Wait a minute," Mara interrupted. "Thrawn was involved with that?"
"It was entirely his plan," Fel said. "You don't think Isard could have come up with anything that clever, do you?" His mouth tightened, his remaining eye gazing away thoughtfully into the distance.
"He brought me out here," he said quietly. "Showed me what it was we faced, and what we'd have to do to stop it. Showed me that even with all the resources of the Empire and New Republic combined, and with himself at the head, there were no guarantees of victory."
"On the contrary, he's already made contingency plans for defeat," Parck added soberly. "Ten years ago he had sleeper groups of the best of his cloned warriors scattered around the Empire and New Republic, ready to form the nuclei of local resistance forces should Bastion and Coruscant fall. Men who loved their homes and their land and their worlds, and who would give their lives in their defense."
"Yes," Fel said. "Once I understood—once I really understood—I had no choice but to join him."
"As you will, too," Parck said.
Mara shook her head. "Sorry. I have other plans."
"We'll see," Parck said calmly. "Perhaps Thrawn will be able to convince you himself when he returns."
"And what if he doesn't return?" Mara asked. "What if the rumors are just that: rumors?"
"Oh, he'll return," Parck said. "He said he would, and he always kept his promises. The only question is whether or not this particular rumor is actually him."
He looked up at Fel. "And under the circumstances, I suppose the only way we're going to find out for sure will be for me to finally make a trip to Bastion. If Thrawn has indeed set up a headquarters there, that should answer the question of which side he'll be working from." Mara felt her hands tighten into fists. "You don't know what you're saying," she said. "You can't just turn all of this over to the Empire. All these resources, bases, alliances—"
"They won't misuse them," Parck said, his voice grim. "We'll make sure of that. The task ahead of us is far too serious for anyone to waste time on anything as petty as politics or personal gain."
"If you think that, you are out of touch," Mara snapped. "Try to remember back to Palpatine's court, and what the taste of power did to those people. Personal gain is all some of them ever think of."
"It's a risk we'll have to take," Parck said firmly. "We'll be careful, certainly—we'll speak with Sorn when he gets back and sift through the data he collected from his pass through the Bastion system. But unless there's something that positively quashes the rumors of Thrawn's return, it's time to make that contact."
Mara too
k a deep breath. "I can't let you do that," she said.
"You can't let us do it?" Fel asked pointedly.
"No," Mara said. "I can't. You give this to Bastion, and the first thing they'll do is turn it straight against Coruscant."
"Don't worry," Parck said. "We won't give anything away until we're sure Thrawn is with them."
"On the other hand, we may do well to worry about her, Admiral," Fel pointed out, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Someone as vehemently opposed as she is to our contacting Bastion could be trouble."
"I suppose you're right," Parck said reluctantly. He levered himself out of his chair, one of the Chiss stepping to his side and offering him a supporting arm as he stood up. "I'm afraid, Mara, that you and Skywalker will have to be our guests for a while."
"And if Thrawn is back, and I still don't want to join up?" Mara demanded. "What then?" Parck's lips compressed briefly. "I'm sure it won't come to that," he assured her. But his eyes didn't quite meet hers as he spoke. "We'll have it all sorted out within a few days. Certainly no more than a month at the most."
Mara snorted. "You aren't serious. You really think a couple dozen ysalamiri are going to hold Luke Skywalker and me that long?"
"She's right, Admiral," Fel agreed. "It's going to take more to keep the two of them quiet." Parck studied Mara's face. "What do you suggest?"
Fel gestured to one of the Chiss. "Brosh, your charric. Set for level two."
"Wait a second," Mara said hastily, jumping to her feet as the Chiss drew his hand weapon. A brief flood of emotion surged through her— Stall, the urgent thought leaped into her mind—"Wait just a Hoth-frost second. I'm an unarmed prisoner."
The other Chiss were drawing their weapons now, too. "I know," Fel said. He sounded genuinely regretful, for whatever that was worth. "And I'm deeply sorry about having to do this. But I've had some experience with Jedi, and the only way I can think of to keep you a proper prisoner for a few days is to force you to go into a healing trance." He looked over at Brosh—
