by Timothy Zahn
She might have taken Shada there—certainly surprise would have been on her side. But the Solos were rumored to have a cadre of Noghri warriors around them at all times, and even given that Noghri combat skills were probably overrated, it would still be risky for a single Mistryl to go up against them alone.
So she had called for backup. But before they could arrive Shada had left the building in the company of Talon Karrde. There again might have been her chance; but before she could do more than infiltrate into the inner landing bay Organa Solo and her protocol droid had arrived with a pair of Noghri in tow. She and the droid had gone inside, the Noghri taking up positions at the outer hatchway; and when Organa Solo had left a few minutes later it was without the droid. She’d collected her guards and left the landing bay.
And then, to Karoly’s chagrin, the Wild Karrde had immediately sealed up and taken off, leaving her too far from her own ship to have any hope of giving chase.
The Eleven had been furious. So had the Mistryl hunter team who had dropped everything to rush to Coruscant at her call. Nothing had been said; but then, nothing had to be. Their expressions had been enough, and the sideways glances and muttered comments to each other as they’d headed back to their ships. They’d heard the story about Karoly letting Shada escape back at the Resinem Entertainment Complex, and it wasn’t hard to guess that many of them were thinking she’d done the same thing here.
Which had made it that much more important that she prove them wrong. And so she’d played a long-shot hunch, keying back on a vague connection between Karrde and Calrissian that Mazzic had gotten whiff of a few years back.
A hunch that had now paid off. Solo had been careful in that transmission, but that single oblique reference to Karrde had been all she’d needed. Shada was off with Karrde, and Calrissian was being asked to join in.
And wherever he went, Karoly would be there, too. Calrissian had once been a smuggler, and every smuggler—former or otherwise—had a hidey-hole or two hidden aboard his personal ship. If Karoly could reach the Lady Luck even a couple of minutes ahead of Calrissian, odds were she could be snugged away out of sight by the time he started up the entry ramp.
And if it turned out he was planning to use her hidey-hole for something else … well, she would mark that target when she came to it.
In the meantime, there was her carrypack to throw together and a place on the next surface shuttle to reserve. Preferably with a seat closer to the exit than Calrissian’s.
Waiting until the corridor outside was silent, she slipped out of the utility closet and headed at a fast walk back toward her room.
“Admiral?” Captain Dorja’s voice came from the comm speaker in the secondary command room’s inner circle of repeater displays. “The Ruurian ambassador’s shuttle has just cleared the ship and is heading back to the surface.”
Handing his drink to Tierce, Flim flashed Disra a smug smile and stepped over to the repeater displays. “Thank you, Captain,” he said in that calmly measured Thrawn voice be did so well. “Prepare a course for Bastion, and inform me when the ship is ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
The comm unit clicked off. “About time,” Disra growled, throwing a glare at Tierce. “If you ask me, we’ve pushed our luck too hard here already.”
“We’re familiar with your opinions on the topic, thank you,” Tierce said, not quite insubordinately, as he handed Flim’s drink back to him. “I’d remind you that three brand-new treaties is a very good return for a week’s work.”
“Only if Coruscant doesn’t come down on us like a wounded rancor,” Disra countered sourly. “You push them hard enough and long enough and they will.”
“This hardly qualifies as pushing, Your Excellency,” Flim said. His voice, too, was a little too close to insubordination for Disra’s taste. “We haven’t opened or provoked any hostilities, and we’ve gone only where we’ve been invited. On what possible grounds could Coruscant attack us?”
“How about the grounds that a state of war still exists between us?” Disra snapped. “Either of you ever think of that?”
“Political suicide,” Flim sniffed. “We’ve been invited by these systems, remember? If Coruscant tries to stick its collective nose in—”
He broke off as a shrill whistle sounded from the repeater displays. “What’s that?” he demanded.
“Emergency battle alert,” Tierce said tightly, nearly splashing the rest of Flim’s drink onto his pristine white uniform as he shouldered past the con man and dropped into the command chair. “Admiral, get over here,” he added, his hands darting over the controls.
The tactical display came up, turning the room into a giant holographic combat display; and as it did so, the comm unit twittered. “Admiral, I believe we’re about to come under attack,” Dorja’s voice said calmly. “Eight Marauder-class Corvettes have just jumped into the system, heading our direction.”
Disra consciously unclenched his teeth as he looked around the room for the flashing symbols that would mark the incoming Marauders. Of course Dorja was calm—he thought he had the great Grand Admiral Thrawn aboard his ship, with matters undoubtedly under control.
But he didn’t, and they weren’t. And unless Disra did something fast, this whole tenuous soap bubble was going to blow up right in their faces.
Flim was at Tierce’s side now, and the major was reaching for the comm switch. “Tell Dorja he’s to take over,” Disra hissed toward them. “Tell him this is too small or too trivial for you to bother with—”
“Shh!” Tierce hissed, cutting him off with a glare and a chopping motion of his hand. “Admiral?”
“Ready,” Flim said, and Tierce tapped the key. “Thank you, Captain,” the con man said smoothly; and once again, it was suddenly Grand Admiral Thrawn standing in the room. “Have you identified them?”
“No, sir, not yet,” Dorja said. “They have random-noise generators blanketing their engine IDs. Highly illegal, of course.”
“Of course,” Thrawn agreed. “Launch a half squadron of Preybirds to intercept.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tierce flipped off the comm unit “Are you crazy?” Disra snarled. “A half squadron of starfighters against—?”
“Calm down, Your Excellency,” Flim said, throwing Disra a coolly calculating look. “This was one of Thrawn’s standard techniques to sniff out an unknown opponent’s identity.”
“More to the immediate point, it buys us time,” Tierce added, his fingers skating madly across the computer console. “Marauder Corvettes, Marauder Corvettes … here we go. Mostly used by the Corporate Sector these days, with a few in assorted Outer Rim system defense fleets.”
“Interesting,” Flim commented, leaning forward to read over his shoulder. “What would the Corporate Sector want with us?”
“I don’t know,” Tierce said. “Disra? Any ideas on that one?”
“No,” Disra said, pulling out his datapad. No, he didn’t know why anyone in the Corporate Sector might want to attack them this way … but on the other hand, the mention of Marauders had triggered a vague memory at the back of his mind.
“Do you have a list of the other systems who use them?” Flim asked.
“Running it now,” Tierce said. “Nothing really jumping out at me … there go the Preybirds.”
Disra glanced up to see the marks indicating the starfighters speeding outward toward the distant intruders, then lowered his eyes to his datapad again. It had had something to do with Captain Zothip and the Cavrilhu Pirates, he remembered. There, that was the section …
“I need some suggestions here,” Flim said urgently.
“Thrawn’s standard pattern would be to let the Preybirds begin to engage, then pull them back,” Tierce said. “How the enemy responded to the probe was usually enough to let him figure out who they were.”
“That’s fine for Thrawn,” Flim bit out apprehensively. “Unfortunately, we’re a little short of his brand of genius at the moment.”
&n
bsp; “Unless Major Tierce took classes in the technique with the Royal Guard,” Disra added, snapping the datapad closed with a grand sense of triumph.
“Helpful as always, Your Excellency,” Tierce said absently, still sifting through the computer records.
“Glad you appreciate me,” Disra said. “They’re Diamala.”
He had the satisfaction of watching both of them turn to look at him, a look of stunned surprise on Flim’s face, the same surprise tinged with suspicion on Tierce’s. “What?” Flim asked.
“They’re Diamala,” Disra repeated, enjoying the moment to the fullest. “About three months ago the Diamalan Commerce Ministry bought twelve Marauder Corvettes to use in transport escort. And possibly for some rather shadier operations.”
“You sure?” Flim asked, peering at the display. “It doesn’t show here.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Disra said. “Captain Zothip was trying to buy them and was outbidden. As I said, they may be reserving them for shady operations.”
“And how do you get from there to the assumption these are those ships?” Flim demanded.
“No, he’s right,” Tierce put in before Disra could answer. “That Diamalan Senator we dragged aboard the Relentless with Calrissian—remember? I never did think he was wholly convinced you were Thrawn.”
“And if our Intelligence reports are right, he was the one who helped drive the governmental split on Coruscant over the whole issue,” Disra reminded them.
“Yes, he was,” Tierce said, turning back to the computer keyboard. “It appears he’s decided to give us another test.”
“The question being what we do about it,” Flim said, looking across the room. “And the Preybirds are almost there.”
“I know,” Tierce said, gazing at the computer display. “Call them back.”
“Already?” Disra frowned at the tactical. “I thought you needed them to—”
“I don’t need anything,” Tierce cut him off. “Call them back, and have Dorja set up for a Tron Boral maneuver.”
“A what?” Disra asked, frowning harder.
“A somewhat esoteric battle technique,” Flim explained, leaning over Tierce’s shoulder and tapping the comm unit back on. “That will do nicely, Captain,” he said smoothly. “Recall the Preybirds, and prepare the Relentless for a Tron Boral maneuver.”
“Acknowledged, Admiral,” Dorja said briskly. “Will you be joining me on the bridge?”
Tierce looked up at Flim and tapped a spot on the computer display. “You won’t need my assistance,” Thrawn assured the captain, nodding acknowledgment to Tierce and leaning closer to read the indicated section. “A Tron Boral maneuver, followed by a full-closure Marg Sabl sweep by the Preybirds, and I think our unknown assailants will reconsider their plans. Assuming they’re still alive to do so, of course.”
“Yes, sir,” the captain said, and Disra could almost see the other rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Tron Boral maneuver ready.”
“Execute, Captain.”
Flim keyed off the comm unit again. “And that should be that,” he said, leaning casually on the back of the command chair and gazing with interest at the tactical display.
“You see, we already have a battle plan to use against Diamala,” Tierce explained, looking over at Disra. “Thrawn tangled with them a few times during his sweep through the Rebellion ten years ago.” He gestured toward the computer. “All I had to do was pull up the record of one of those battles—”
“There they go,” Flim interrupted him. “Running like hopskips.”
Disra followed his pointing finger. Flim was right; the Marauders were indeed turning tail and heading for hyperspace. “But we haven’t done anything yet,” he protested, feeling slightly bewildered.
“Sure we have,” Tierce said, his voice grimly satisfied. “Don’t forget, they’ve got records of Thrawn’s victories, too. The Relentless moved into a Tron Boral maneuver … and that was all they needed to know.”
“Yes,” Flim murmured as, across the room, the Marauders’ marks winked out as they jumped to hyperspace. “With ships that weren’t even registered to them, we responded with exactly the right move.”
He tapped the comm again. “Secure from battle configuration, Captain,” he instructed Dorja. “And inform the Ruurian governments that the threatened attack on their world has been frightened away.”
“At once, Admiral,” Dorja’s voice came. “I’m sure they’ll be pleased. Shall we continue course preparation for Bastion?”
“Yes,” the con man said. “You may leave the system when ready. I shall be meditating if you require me.”
“Yes, sir. Have a good rest, Admiral.”
Flim keyed off. “And that,” he added to Disra and Tierce, “is indeed that. If the Diamala weren’t convinced before, five gets the sabacc pot they are now.”
“Good for them,” Disra said sourly. “You realize, of course, that all this little exercise accomplished was to bring us one step closer to scaring Coruscant into coming down on us.”
“Patience, Your Excellency,” Tierce said, keying off the tactical and getting up from the command chair. “I’m sure it also helped convince the Ruurians they’ve chosen the winning side.”
“Yes,” Disra said. “And perhaps brought us one step closer to the Hand of Thrawn.”
Flim frowned. “The Hand of Thrawn?” he asked cautiously. “What’s a Hand of Thrawn?”
Tierce pursed his lips, clearly annoyed. “Your Excellency …”
“What’s a Hand of Thrawn?” Flim repeated.
“No, no, go ahead,” Disra said to Tierce, waving a languid hand and preparing to enjoy this moment, too, to its fullest. Tierce and Flim got along together far too well for his liking. It was about time they both got a taste of some of the misgivings and suspicions about this arrangement that Disra himself had been feeling since it started. “It’s your story. You tell him.”
“I’m listening,” Flim said, his voice suddenly dark. “What is this you haven’t bothered to tell me?”
Tierce cleared his throat. “Calm down, Admiral,” he said. “It’s like this …”
It was, Disra reflected later, a good thing that the secondary command room was totally soundproofed. As it was, with all the shouting, he completely missed the characteristic deck vibration that marked the Star Destroyer’s return to hyperspace.
CHAPTER
10
The first hundred meters were reasonably easy, even with Artoo’s usual problems with uneven terrain. Mara had explored some of this section of the cave, and had studied most of the rest with glow rod and macrobinoculars, and she was able to pick out the best route.
But at that point the floor dropped off abruptly for perhaps ten meters; and when they reached the chamber at the bottom of the passageway, they were in new territory.
“How’s it look?” Luke called to Mara as he used the Force to ease Artoo over one last boulder at the foot of their descent path.
“About like you’d expect,” Mara called back. She had her glow rod out in front of her, her body silhouetted as the light was scattered into a hazy nimbus by the dust in the air. “You know, just once it would be nice to go on one of these little jaunts where we didn’t wind up having to drag that astromech droid through rocks and bushes and sand and all.”
Artoo beeped indignantly. “Artoo’s usually done a good job of earning his keep,” Luke reminded her, brushing the grit off his hands as he stepped to her side. “Anyway, when did we have to pull him through sand?”
“I’m sure we’ll hit some sooner or later.” Mara gestured ahead. “What do you think?”
Luke peered out through the haze. The chamber was short, no more than fifteen meters from where they stood to the far end, but it was indeed a mess. A maze of rocks and boulders littered the area, with the jagged blades of stalactites and stalagmites jutting randomly from ceiling and floor blocking their way. At the far end, the chamber closed down again to a narrow crack tha
t looked barely wide enough to squeeze through. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he told her. “We can handle the stalactites with our lightsabers. The big question’s whether that crack’s too narrow to get Artoo through.”
There was a rustling in the air and Keeper Of Promises fluttered to an upside-down perch on one of the stalactites. Are you troubled, Master Walker Of Sky? the thought formed in Luke’s mind. Is the path ahead too difficult for you?
No path is too difficult for Jedi Sky Walker, Child Of Winds jumped indignantly to Luke’s defense, flapping his way to a rock beside Mara. I have seen him do great deeds in the outside air.
Perhaps they were great in the easily dazzled eyes of a Qom Qae, Splitter Of Stones put in dryly from another stalactite a few meters into the chamber. Those who have earned their names are more difficult to impress.
“They’re talking again, aren’t they?” Mara muttered.
“The Qom Jha are wondering if this chamber is going to be a problem for us,” Luke told her. “Child Of Winds is defending us.”
“Decent of him,” Mara said, unhooking her lightsaber and hefting it in her hand. “Shall we give them a little demonstration?”
Luke frowned at her. “Are you sure you can—I mean—”
“You mean can I do it?” Mara cut him off. “Yes, I can do it. Just because I haven’t graduated from your precious Jedi academy doesn’t mean I can’t use the Force as well as anyone else. You want high or low?”
“I’ll take high,” Luke said, a little taken aback by the heat of her retort. He got his own lightsaber in hand and gave a quick look around the chamber, fixing the position of each stalactite firmly in his mind. “You ready?”
In answer Mara ignited her lightsaber, the light from its blade adding a blue tinge to the neutral white of her glow rod. “Anytime you are.”
“Right,” Luke said, trying to hide his misgivings as he added the green of his lightsaber to the mix. “Go.”
