by Timothy Zahn
“That’s most generous of you, my lord,” Karrde said before she could answer. “But I’m afraid we won’t be able to stay on Pembric that long.”
Bombaasa smiled again, but this time there was a distinct glint of menace to the expression. “That remains to be seen, my friend,” he warned darkly. “And if you’re another New Republic or Kathol sector emissary seeking to annex my territory, you may find your departure considerably delayed.”
“I have no ties to any governmental group,” Karrde assured him. “I’m merely a private citizen here to ask a favor.”
“Indeed,” Bombaasa said, toying idly with the subtly glittering throat pendant around his neck. “I have the distinct impression you don’t realize what my favors cost.”
“I believe you’ll find this one has already been paid for,” Karrde countered. “And it is only a small favor, after all. We have an errand to run inside your cartel’s territory, and we’d like safe passage through your various pirate and hijacking gangs until we’ve completed it.”
Bombaasa’s eyes widened politely. “Is that all,” he said. “Come, come, my dear sir. A large, tempting target like your freighter, and you want safe passage?” He shook his head sadly. “No, you don’t understand my fee scale at all.”
Shada felt her muscles tensing, consciously relaxed them. All three bodyguards were armed and competent-looking; but if nudge came to punch, she doubted any of them had ever faced a Mistryl before.
Unfortunately, unlike the case with the swoopers, she wouldn’t have the luxury of leaving them damaged but alive. She would have to take out the one behind them first …
“My mistake,” Karrde said, his tone almost offhanded. “I assumed that when someone had saved your life you would be more grateful.”
Bombaasa had been in the process of lifting a finger toward the bodyguards standing beside him. Now, at Karrde’s words, he froze, the finger poised in midair. “What are you talking about?” he demanded cautiously.
“I’m talking about a situation that occurred here a little over six years ago,” Karrde said. “One in which a rather dapper gentleman and a young lady with red-gold hair foiled an assassination plot against you.”
For a pair of heartbeats Bombaasa continued to stare at Karrde. Shada threw a surreptitious glance at the two bodyguards, mentally plotting out her attack plan—
And with a suddenness that startled her, Bombaasa burst out laughing.
The other gamblers in the casino paused in their activities, turning to gape momentarily at what was apparently an uncommon sound in their quietly desperate little world. Bombaasa, still laughing, gave a hand signal, and the bodyguards visibly relaxed. “Ah, my friend,” he said, still chuckling. “My friend, indeed. So you’re the mysterious chieftain the young lady spoke of when she refused to accept any payment.”
“I’m the one,” Karrde said, nodding. “I believe she also suggested that a man of your obvious breeding wouldn’t mind carrying the debt until it could be properly repaid.”
“She did indeed.” Bombaasa waved a thin hand at Shada. “And now you bring this one. I would never have expected there to even exist two such beautiful yet deadly ladies, let alone loyal to the same man.”
He cocked an eye toward Shada. “Or are you committed to this man, my dear?” he added. “If you would be interested in discussing a change of career, I could make it well worth your while.”
“I’m not committed to anyone,” Shada said, the words hurting her throat as she said them. “But for the moment I’m traveling with him.”
“Ah.” Bombaasa peered closely at her, as if trying to gauge her sincerity, then shrugged. “If you should change your mind, you have merely to come see me,” he said. “My door will always be open to you.”
He returned his attention to Karrde. “You are right: I do indeed owe you,” he said. “Before you leave, I’ll provide you with a special ID overlay for your ship that will identify you as being under my protection.”
His lips compressed. “However, though it will certainly protect you from members of my cartel, it may at the same time create extra danger for you. Over the past year a vicious new pirate gang has relocated to this area, one which we have so far been unable to either eliminate or bring under our control. I suspect they would consider a freighter under my protection to be a particularly intriguing challenge.”
Karrde shrugged. “As you pointed out earlier, we would be a tempting target regardless of that. We are, of course, not nearly as vulnerable as we appear.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Bombaasa said. “However, the enemy is quite well equipped, with a sizable fleet of SoroSuub Corsair-class assault starfighters as well as a number of larger ships. If you can spare the time, perhaps you would allow my people to do some quick upgrades of your weaponry or shields.”
“I appreciate your offer,” Karrde said, “and if circumstances were otherwise I would be all too happy to accept. But I’m afraid our errand is a pressing one, and we simply can’t afford to take the time.”
“Ah,” Bombaasa said. “Very well, then. Leave when you must—the ID overlay will be ready when you are.” He smiled slyly. “And of course, for you there will be no exit visa required.”
“You are most generous, my lord,” Karrde said, bowing slightly at the waist. “Thank you; and the debt is now paid.” Taking Shada’s arm, he turned to go—
“One other thing, my friend,” Bombaasa called them back. “Neither of your associates gave me their names when they were here, nor would they tell me yours. I would appreciate it if you would satisfy my curiosity.”
Beside her, Shada sensed Karrde brace himself. “Of course, Lord Bombaasa. My name is Talon Karrde.”
The pudgy figure seemed to sit up a little straighter. “Talon Karrde,” he breathed. “Indeed. Some of my, ah, business associates have spoken of you. Often at great length.”
“I’m sure they have,” Karrde said. “Particularly those Hutt agencies with whom your cartel has ties.”
For a moment Bombaasa’s eyes narrowed. Then his expression cleared and he smiled again. “The Hutts are right: you indeed know far more than is healthy for you. Still, as long as you don’t seek to extend your organization into my territory, what have I to fear?”
“Nothing at all, my lord,” Karrde agreed. “Thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps we shall meet again someday.”
“Yes,” Bombaasa said softly. “There is always that chance.”
The Legionnaire lieutenant, Maxiti, offered to get them a ride back to their landing pad. But Karrde declined. It was only a short walk, after all, and after a taste of the Pembric climate the somewhat austere conditions aboard the Wild Karrde would seem that much more pleasant.
Besides, after the tone of that last exchange with Bombaasa, it wouldn’t do to look as if they were hurrying to get away from him.
“Who’s Rastus Khal?” Shada asked.
With an effort, Karrde brought his mind back from dark visions of vengeful crimelords having second thoughts. “Who?”
“Rastus Khal,” Shada repeated. “Bombaasa dropped the name right after we were shown in.”
“He was a fictional character from some masterpiece of Corellian literature,” Karrde said. “I forget which one. Bombaasa is quite literate, or so I’ve heard. Apparently, he likes to consider himself a cultured sort of cutthroat.”
Shada snorted. “Cultured. But he deals with Hutts.”
Karrde shrugged. “I agree. One reason the Hutts and I don’t get along, I suppose.”
For a minute they walked in silence. “You knew he was connected with the Hutt syndicates,” Shada said. “Yet you told him who you were. Why?”
“I’m not expecting Bombaasa to renege on his deal with us, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Karrde said. “Cultured beings always repay their debts, and Mara and Lando did indeed save his life.”
“The question wasn’t so much about Bombaasa as it was about you,” Shada countered. “He didn’t nee
d to know who you were, and I’ve seen your expertise at dodging questions you don’t want to answer. So why did you tell him?”
“Because I’m guessing word of this encounter will get back to Jorj Car’das,” Karrde said quietly. “This way, he’ll know it’s me who’s coming to see him.”
He sensed Shada frown. “Excuse me? I thought the idea was for us to sneak up quietly on him.”
“The idea is to see if he has a copy of the Caamas Document,” Karrde corrected her. “If we appear suddenly, without any warning, he’s liable to simply kill all of us before we have a chance to talk to him.”
“And if he does know we’re coming?” Shada retorted. “Sounds to me like all it does is give him more preparation time.”
“Exactly,” Karrde said soberly. “And if he feels ready for us, he may be more inclined to listen before he shoots.”
“You seem convinced he’ll shoot.”
Karrde hesitated. Should he tell her, he wondered, exactly why he’d allowed her to come on this trip?
No, he decided. Not yet. At best she would probably feel insulted or offended. At worst, she might refuse to go along with it at all. “I think there’s a good chance he will, yes,” he said instead.
“Knowing that it’s you.”
Karrde nodded. “Knowing that it’s me.”
“Uh-huh,” Shada said. “What did you do to this guy, anyway?”
Karrde felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “I stole something from him,” he told her. “Something he valued more than anything else in the universe. Probably more than he valued his own life.”
They walked in silence for another few steps. “Go on,” Shada prompted.
Karrde forced a smile. “I only promised you half the story today,” he reminded her, trying to put some lightness into his tone. “That was it. Your turn.”
“What, why I left Mazzic?” Shada shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I left because a bodyguard who becomes a target herself can’t do much good for anyone else.”
So Shada had become a target. That was very interesting indeed. “May I ask who’s suicidal enough to be gunning for you?”
“Sure, go ahead and ask,” Shada said. “You’re not going to get an answer, though. Not until I get the rest of the Car’das story.”
“Somehow, I was expecting you to say that,” Karrde murmured.
“So when do I get it?”
Karrde looked up through the haze at the dim glow of Pembric’s sun. “Soon,” he promised. “Very soon.”
CHAPTER
5
“The sixth sumptuous hour of the fifteenth glorious day of the yearly Kanchen Sector Conference now begins,” the herald intoned, his deep voice echoing across the bowl-shaped field where the various delegates sat, squatted, lay, or crouched, according to their species’ particular physiological design. “Let us all hail and magnify the Grandiose Elector of Pakrik Major, and bid him express his sublime and all-encompassing wisdom in his leading of this gathering.”
The assembled beings called or growled their agreement with the herald’s sentiment. All but Han; and lounging beside him on the feathery matgrass, Leia had to smile in private amusement. Coming out here had been Han’s idea, after all: a temporary respite from the bitter dissension and the gnawing suspicions that had been churning through the New Republic government ever since that partially destroyed copy of the Caamas Document had come to light.
And it had been a good idea, too. In the half day since their arrival Leia had already begun to feel the tension draining out of her. Getting away from Coruscant was exactly what she’d needed, and she’d taken great pains to mention that to her husband at least twice now and to thank him for his thoughtfulness.
At the moment, unfortunately, all her reassurances were falling on deaf ears. Once again, Han had failed to take into account what Leia privately referred to as the Solo Embarrassment Factor.
“And let us similarly hail and magnify our glorious visitors from the New Republic,” the herald continued, waving his hand in an expansive gesture toward where Han and Leia were stretched out. “May their sublime wisdom, awesome courage, and magnificent honor enlighten the sky above our gathering.”
“You forgot our uplifted eyebrows,” Han muttered under his breath as the assembly roared out their greetings.
“It’s better than Coruscant,” Leia chided him gently as she half rose and waved. “Come on, Han, be nice.”
“I’m waving, I’m waving,” Han grumbled, leaning up on one arm and waving reluctantly with the other. “I don’t know why they have to do this every hour.”
“Would you rather have people accusing us of helping cover up attempted genocide?” Leia countered.
“I’d rather they just left us alone,” Han said, giving one last wave and then dropping his hand back down. Leia lowered hers as well, and the approving roar of the delegates died away.
“Patience, dear,” Leia said as the herald bowed deeply and yielded the podium to the elaborately dressed Grandiose Elector. “It’s only for the rest of the day—you can put up with it that long. Tomorrow we’ll head over to Pakrik Minor and get all that peace and quiet you promised me.”
“It just better be real peaceful and quiet,” Han warned, looking around at the crowd of delegates.
“It will be,” Leia assured him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “They may be all pomp and pageantry here on Pakrik Major, but over there among the tallgrain farms we probably won’t find anyone who even recognizes us.”
Han snorted, but even as he did Leia could sense a lightening of his mood. “Yeah,” he said. “We’ll see.”
· · ·
“Carib?”
With a wince of tired knees Carib Devist got up from where he’d been crouching, careful not to bump into either of the two rows of tallgrain pressing close around him. “I’m over here, Sabmin,” he called, waving his coring tool as high over the stalks as he could reach.
“I see you,” Sabmin called back. There was the crackle of brittle leaves being brushed against; and then Sabmin emerged through a gap in the row. “I had to come right—” He broke off, frowning at the tool in Carib’s hand. “Uh-oh.”
“Save the uh-ohs for polite company,” Carib said sourly. “Just say shavit and mean it.”
Sabmin hissed softly between his teeth. “How many colonies?” he asked.
“So far, just the one,” Carib said, waving the corer toward the tallgrain stalk he’d been digging into. “And I did find an empress, so it’s possible I got the whole infestation. But I wouldn’t bet money on it.”
“I’ll alert the others,” Sabmin said. “Probably should get word to the tri-valley coordinator, too, in case this isn’t the only valley the bugs are moving into.”
“Yeah.” Carib eyed his brother. “And what wonderful news have you brought me?”
Sabmin’s lips compressed. “We just got confirmation from Bastion,” he said quietly. “New Republic High Councilor Leia Organa Solo is definitely over on Pakrik Major. And the attack on her is definitely on.”
Reflexively, Carib glanced up at the half-lit planet hanging in the sky overhead. “They must be crazy,” he said. “Attack a New Republic High Councilor, just like that?”
“I don’t think they really cared who they got to attack, so long as it was a New Republic official,” Sabmin said. “Apparently, the Grandiose Elector sent out a blanket invitation to Coruscant asking for a representative. My guess is that the request was prodded by some Imperial plant, with an eye to the fact that we were already in place here and could act as backup. It was just luck that Gavrisom decided to send Organa Solo.”
“Yeah,” Carib said darkly. “Luck. Did this come over Grand Admiral Thrawn’s personal authorization?”
“I don’t know,” Sabmin said. “The notice didn’t say. But it has to have come from him, doesn’t it? I mean, if he’s in command, then he’s in command.”
“I suppose so,” Carib conceded reluctantly. So there it was. The war
was about to be brought suddenly and violently to the Pakrik system. Right to their doorstep … and the long wait was over. The quiet existence of Imperial Sleeper Cell Jenth-44 was about to come to an end. “You say we’re the backup. Who’s the primary?”
“I don’t know,” Sabmin said. “Some tag team in from Bastion for the occasion, I’d guess.”
“And when is it supposed to happen?”
“Tomorrow,” Sabmin said. “Organa Solo and her husband are supposed to be coming over here to Minor once the conference breaks up.”
“And there’s no indication whether the attack is real or just supposed to look real?”
Sabmin gave him a startled look, an expression that quickly turned knowing and thoughtful. “Interesting point,” he said. “With Thrawn involved you can’t take anything for granted, can you? No, all I know is that there’s an attack coming and that we’re supposed to stand ready in case Solo’s better or luckier than expected.”
Carib grimaced. “I suppose even Solo’s luck has to run out sooner or later.”
“Yeah.” Sabmin eyed him suspiciously. “What are you thinking?”
Carib looked up at the sky again. “I’m thinking we have to play this by ear,” he said quietly. “One thing’s for sure, though: if the battle comes anywhere near our valley, no matter who’s winning, we’re definitely not going to just sit by and watch. We’ve invested too much here to let it go without a fight.”
Sabmin nodded. “Understood,” he said soberly. “I’ll pass the word to the others. Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll be ready.”
· · ·
Ahead, through the alien greenery, a stand of gnarled trees brushed past the screen to Pellaeon’s left, and the AT-AT simulator bucked to the right in response. “Watch those trees, Admiral,” Major Raines’s voice warned in his helmet headphone. “You probably won’t knock yourself over that way, but I’ve seen walkers get hung up so bad you had to send a couple of troopers down to blow the tree off at the roots. Takes time, and you’re a sitting flink until you get free.”
