by Timothy Zahn
“Ready!” Luke shouted over the screaming of the bolts … and even as Han wondered what he was supposed to be ready for, the kid took a step back and threw his lightsaber to the side. It spiraled across the anteroom, spun into the wall—
And with a crack like thunder, sliced the anteroom open to space.
Luke leaped backwards, barely making it into the bridge before the blast doors slammed shut against the explosive decompression. Alarms whistled for a moment until Chewbacca shut them off, and for another minute Han could hear the thudding of laser fire as the doomed Imperials fired uselessly at the blast doors.
And then the firing trailed off into silence … and it was all over.
Luke was already at the main viewport, gazing out at the battle taking place outside. “Take it easy, Luke,” Han advised, holstering his blaster and coming up behind him. “We’re out of the fight.”
“We can’t be,” Luke insisted, his artificial right hand opening and closing restlessly. Maybe remembering Myrkr, and that long trek with Mara across the forest. “We’ve got to do something to help. The Imperials will kill everyone if we don’t.”
“We can’t fire, and we can’t maneuver,” Han growled, fighting back his own feeling of helplessness. Leia was on that Escort Frigate out there … “What’s left?”
Luke waved a hand helplessly. “I don’t know,” he conceded. “You’re supposed to be the clever one. You think of something.”
“Yeah,” Han muttered, looking around the bridge. “Sure. I’m supposed to just wave my hands and—”
He stopped short … and felt a slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. “Chewie, Lando—get over there to those sensor displays,” he ordered, looking down at the console in front of him. Not the right one. “Luke, help me find—never mind; here it is.”
“Here what is?” Lando asked, stepping in front of the display Han had indicated.
“Think about it a minute,” Han said, glancing over the controls. Good; everything still seemed to be engaged. He just hoped it all still worked. “Where are we, anyway?” he added, stepping over to the helm console and activating it.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Lando said with strained patience. “And fiddling with that helm isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
“You’re right,” Han agreed, smiling tightly. “It’s not going to get us anywhere.”
Lando stared at him … and slowly, a smile of his own appeared. “Right,” he said slyly. “Right. This is the Katana fleet. And we’re aboard the Katana.”
“You got it,” Han told him. Taking a deep breath, mentally crossing his fingers, he eased power to the drive.
The Katana didn’t move, of course. But the whole reason the entire Katana fleet had disappeared together in the first place—
“Got one,” Lando called out, hunching over his sensor display. “Bearing forty-three mark twenty.”
“Just one?” Han asked.
“Just one,” Lando confirmed. “Count your blessings—after this much time we’re lucky to have even one ship whose engines still work.”
“Let’s hope they stay working,” Han grunted. “Give me an intercept course for that second Star Destroyer.”
“Uh …” Lando frowned. “Come around fifteen degrees portside and down a hair.”
“Right.” Carefully, Han made the necessary course change. It was a strange feeling to be flying another ship by slave-rig remote control. “How’s that?” he asked Lando.
“Looks good,” Lando confirmed. “Give it a little more power.”
“The fire control monitors aren’t working,” Luke warned, stepping to Han’s side. “I don’t know if you’re going to be able to fire accurately without them.”
“I’m not even going to try,” Han told him grimly. “Lando?”
“Shift a little more to portside,” Lando directed. “A little more … that’s it.” He looked up at Han. “You’re lined up perfectly.”
“Here goes,” Han said; and threw the throttle control wide open. There was no way the Star Destroyer could have missed seeing the Dreadnaught bearing down on it, of course. But with its electronic and control systems still being scrambled by Bel Iblis’s ion attack, there was also no way for it to move out of the way in time.
Even from the Katana’s distance, the impact and explosion were pretty spectacular. Han watched the expanding fireball fade slowly, and then turned to Luke. “Okay,” he said. “Now we’re out of the fight.”
* * *
Through the Judicator’s side viewport Captain Brandei watched in stunned disbelief as the Peremptory died its fiery death. No—it couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. Not an Imperial Star Destroyer. Not the mightiest ship in the Empire’s fleet.
The crack of a shot against the bridge deflector screen snapped him out of it. “Report,” he snapped.
“One of the enemy Dreadnaughts seems to have been damaged in the Peremptory’s explosion,” the sensor officer reported. “The other two are on their way back here.”
To reinforce the three still blasting away with their ion cannon. Brandei gave the tactical display a quick check; but it was a meaningless exercise. He knew full well what their only course was. “Recall all remaining fighters,” he ordered. “We’ll make the jump to lightspeed as soon as they’re aboard.”
“Yes, sir.”
And as the bridge crew moved to comply, Brandei permitted himself a tight smile. Yes, they’d lost this one. But it was just a battle, not the war. They’d be back soon enough … and when they did, it would be with the Dark Force and Grand Admiral Thrawn to command it.
So he would leave the Rebels to enjoy their victory here. It might well be their last.
CHAPTER
29
The repair party from the Quenfis got the anteroom hull breach patched in what was probably record time. The ship Luke had requested was waiting for him in the docking bay, and he was out in space again barely an hour after the destruction of the second Star Destroyer and the retreat of the first.
Locating a single inert ejection seat among all the debris of battle had been a nearly hopeless task for Karrde’s people. For a Jedi, it was no trick at all.
Mara was unconscious when they found her, both from a dangerously depleted air supply and from what was probably a mild concussion. Aves got her aboard the Wild Karrde and set off at near-reckless speed toward the medical facilities of the Star Cruiser which had finally arrived. Luke saw them safely aboard, then headed back toward the Katana and the transport he and the rest of his team would be returning to Coruscant by.
Wondering why it had been so important for him to rescue Mara in the first place.
He didn’t know. There were lots of rationalizations he could come up with, from simple gratitude for her assistance in the battle all the way up to the saving of lives being a natural part of a Jedi’s duty. But none of them was more than simply a rationalization. All he knew for certain was that he had had to do it.
Maybe it was the guidance of the Force. Maybe it was just one last gasp of youthful idealism and naïveté.
From the board in front of him, the comm pinged. “Luke?”
“Yes, Han, what is it?”
“Get back here to the Katana. Right away.”
Luke looked out his canopy at the dark ship ahead, a shiver running through him. Han’s voice had been that of someone walking through a graveyard … “What is it?”
“Trouble,” the other said. “I know what the Empire’s up to now. And it’s not good.”
Luke swallowed. “I’ll be right there.”
“So,” Thrawn said, his glowing eyes blazing with cold fire as he looked up from the Judicator’s report. “Thanks to your insistence on delaying me, we’ve lost the Peremptory. I trust you’re satisfied.”
C’baoth met the gaze evenly. “Don’t blame the incompetence of your would-be conquerors on me,” he said, his voice as icy as Thrawn’s. “Or perhaps it wasn’t incompetence, but the skill of the Rebellion. P
erhaps it would be you lying dead now if the Chimaera had gone instead.”
Thrawn’s face darkened. Pellaeon eased a half step closer to the Grand Admiral, moving a little farther into the protective sphere of the ysalamir beside the command chair, and braced himself for the explosion.
But Thrawn had better control than that. “Why are you here?” he asked instead.
C’baoth smiled and turned deliberately away. “You’ve made many promises to me since you first arrived on Wayland, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” he said, pausing to peer at one of the hologram sculptures scattered around the room. “I’m here to make sure those promises are kept.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“By making certain that I’m too important to be, shall we say, conveniently forgotten,” C’baoth said. “I’m hereby informing you, therefore, that I will be returning to Wayland … and will be assuming command of your Mount Tantiss project.”
Pellaeon felt his throat tighten. “The Mount Tantiss project?” Thrawn asked evenly.
“Yes,” C’baoth said, smiling again as his eyes flicked to Pellaeon. “Oh, I know about it, Captain. Despite your petty efforts to conceal the truth from me.”
“We wished to spare you unnecessary discomfort,” Thrawn assured him. “Unpleasant memories, for example, that the project might bring to mind.”
C’baoth studied him. “Perhaps you did,” he conceded with only a touch of sarcasm. “If that was truly your motive, I thank you. But the time for such things has passed. I have grown in power and ability since I left Wayland, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I no longer need you to care for my sensitivities.”
He drew himself up to his full height; and when he spoke again, his voice boomed and echoed throughout the room. “I am C’baoth; Jedi Master. The Force which binds the galaxy together is my servant.”
Slowly, Thrawn rose to his feet. “And you are my servant,” he said.
C’baoth shook his head. “Not anymore, Grand Admiral Thrawn. The circle has closed. The Jedi will rule again.”
“Take care, C’baoth,” Thrawn warned. “Posture all you wish. But never forget that even you are not indispensable to the Empire.”
C’baoth’s bushy eyebrows lifted … and the smile which creased his face sent an icy shiver through Pellaeon’s chest. It was the same smile he remembered from Wayland.
The smile that had first convinced him that C’baoth was indeed insane.
“On the contrary,” the Jedi Master said softly. “As of now, I am all that is not indispensable to the Empire.”
He lifted his gaze to the stars displayed on the room’s walls. “Come,” he said. “Let us discuss the new arrangement of our Empire.”
Luke looked down at the bodies of the Imperial troops who had died in his sudden decompression of the Katana’s bridge anteroom. Understanding at last why they’d felt strange to his mind. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a mistake,” he heard himself say.
Beside him, Han shrugged. “Leia’s got them doing a genetic check. But I don’t think so.”
Luke nodded, staring down at the faces laid out before him. Or rather, at the single face that was shared by all of the bodies.
Clones.
“So that’s it,” he said quietly. “Somewhere, the Empire’s found a set of Spaarti cloning cylinders. And has gotten them working.”
“Which means it’s not going to take them years to find and train crews for their new Dreadnaughts,” Han said, his voice grim. “Maybe only a few months. Maybe not even that long.”
Luke took a deep breath. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this, Han.”
“Yeah. Join the club.”
To Be Concluded …
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Since 1978 Timothy Zahn has written nearly seventy short stories and novelettes, numerous novels, and three short fiction collections, and won the Hugo Award for best novella. Timothy Zahn is best known for his Star Wars novels: Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor’s Quest, Outbound Flight, and Allegiance, and has more than four million copies in print. His most recent publications have been the science fiction Cobra series and the six-part young adult series Dragonback. He has a B.S. in physics from Michigan State University, and an M.S. in physics from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast.
BY TIMOTHY ZAHN
STAR WARS
STAR WARS: Choices of One
STAR WARS: Allegiance
STAR WARS: Outbound Flight
STAR WARS: Survivor’s Quest
STAR WARS: Vision of the Future
STAR WARS: Specter of the Past
STAR WARS: The Last Command
STAR WARS: Dark Force Rising
STAR WARS: Heir to the Empire
ALSO
Cobra Alliance
The Judas Solution
Conquerors’ Legacy
Conquerors’ Heritage
Conquerors’ Pride
Cobra Bargain
Cobra Strike
The Backlash Mission
Cobra
The Blackcollar
STAR WARS—The Expanded Universe
You saw the movies. You watched the cartoon series, or maybe played some of the video games. But did you know …
In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia Organa said to Han Solo, “I love you.” Han said, “I know.” But did you know that they actually got married? And had three Jedi children: the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and a younger son, Anakin?
Luke Skywalker was trained as a Jedi by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. But did you know that, years later, he went on to revive the Jedi Order and its commitment to defending the galaxy from evil and injustice?
Obi-Wan said to Luke, “For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.” Did you know that over those millennia, legendary Jedi and infamous Sith Lords were adding their names to the annals of Republic history?
Yoda explained that the dreaded Sith tend to come in twos: “Always two, there are. No more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice.” But did you know that the Sith didn’t always exist in pairs? That at one time in the ancient Republic there were as many Sith as Jedi, until a Sith Lord named Darth Bane was the lone survivor of a great Sith war and created the “Rule of Two”?
All this and much, much more is brought to life in the many novels and comics of the Star Wars expanded universe. You’ve seen the movies and watched the cartoon. Now venture out into the wider worlds of Star Wars!
Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars novels to learn more.
CHAPTER
1
Gliding through the blackness of deep space, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera pointed its mighty arrowhead shape toward the dim star of its target system, three thousandths of a light-year away. And prepared itself for war.
“All systems show battle ready, Admiral,” the comm officer reported from the portside crew pit. “The task force is beginning to check in.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” Grand Admiral Thrawn nodded. “Inform me when all have done so. Captain Pellaeon?”
“Sir?” Pellaeon said, searching his superior’s face for the stress the Grand Admiral must be feeling. The stress he himself was certainly feeling. This was not just another tactical strike against the Rebellion, after all—not a minor shipping raid or even a complex but straightforward hit-and-fade against some insignificant planetary base. After nearly a month of frenzied preparations, Thrawn’s master campaign for the Empire’s final victory was about to be launched.
But if the Grand Admiral was feeling any tension, he was keeping it to himself. “Begin the countdown,” he told Pellaeon, his voice as calm as if he were ordering dinner.
“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said, turning back to the group of one-quarter-size holographic figures standing before him in the Chimaera’s aft bridge holog
ram pod. “Gentlemen: launch marks. Bellicose: three minutes.”
“Acknowledged, Chimaera,” Captain Aban nodded, his proper military demeanor not quite masking his eagerness to take this war back to the Rebellion. “Good hunting.”
The holo image sputtered and vanished as the Bellicose raised its deflector shields, cutting off long-range communications. Pellaeon shifted his attention to the next image in line. “Relentless: four point five minutes.”
“Acknowledged,” Captain Dorja said, cupping his right fist in his left in an ancient Mirshaf gesture of victory as he, too, vanished from the hologram pod.
Pellaeon glanced at his data pad. “Judicator: six minutes.”
“We’re ready, Chimaera,” Captain Brandei said, his voice soft. Soft, and just a little bit wrong.…
Pellaeon frowned at him. Quarter-sized holos didn’t show a lot of detail, but even so the expression on Brandei’s face was easy to read. It was the expression of a man out for blood.
“This is war, Captain Brandei,” Thrawn said, coming up silently to Pellaeon’s side. “Not an opportunity for personal revenge.”
“I understand my duty, Admiral,” Brandei said stiffly.
Thrawn’s blue-black eyebrows lifted slightly. “Do you, Captain? Do you indeed?”
Slowly, reluctantly, some of the fire faded from Brandei’s face. “Yes, sir,” he muttered. “My duty is to the Empire, and to you, and to the ships and crews under my command.”
“Very good,” Thrawn said. “To the living, in other words. Not to the dead.”
Brandei was still glowering, but he gave a dutiful nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Never forget that, Captain,” Thrawn warned him. “The fortunes of war rise and fall, and you may be assured that the Rebellion will be repaid in full for their destruction of the Peremptory at the Katana fleet skirmish. But that repayment will occur in the context of our overall strategy. Not as an act of private vengeance.” His glowing red eyes narrowed slightly. “Certainly not by any Fleet captain under my command. I trust I make myself clear.”
