Star Wars: The Hand of Thrawn II: Vision of the Future

by Timothy Zahn

  Without waiting for an answer he turned and headed for the exit, half of his stormtrooper guard falling into formation around him. The remaining three stormtroopers and the major waited until he was out of sight before turning and following. As they too vanished through the doorway the row of stormtroopers above them turned and headed away across the roof.

  And a moment later Han, Lando, and Lobot were alone.

  Han turned to Lando, found the other staring at him from under hooded eyelids. “Well, Lando,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. It wasn’t one of his better efforts. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “Never mind the apologies,” Lando said, stooping to retrieve their weapons as he ran a quick glance around the empty rooftop. “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Han said, taking Lobot’s arm and turning him toward the Lady Luck’s ramp. “Let’s.”

  “You should have seen their faces,” Flim said, swirling his drink around in his glass, his moody voice in odd contrast with what should have been gloating words. “They were so petrified, and trying so hard not to show it. It was really rather funny.”

  “I’m sure you could hardly keep from breaking out laughing,” Disra said sourly. “The question is, did they buy it?”

  “They bought it,” Tierce assured him, sliding a datacard out of his datapad and picking up the next one from his stack. Alone among the three of them, he seemed to have no doubts about Flim’s performance. “Our Grand Admiral was as smooth as polished transparisteel. He didn’t even flinch when Solo threw the Bothawui commando team in his face.”

  “The Bothawui team?” Disra demanded sharply. “Our Bothawui team? Navett’s group?”

  “Relax—he was talking about them in conjunction with the Combined Clans Building riot,” Tierce said. “There was no indication they know Navett’s back there now.”

  “I hope not,” Disra growled. On the other hand, that whole scheme was listed on the datacards that Pellaeon had stolen from him. Still, it was unlikely Pellaeon would run straight to Coruscant to warn them, even if he stopped sifting through the financial data long enough to notice it was even there. “How did they find out we staged the riot?”

  Tierce shrugged. “Who knows? It doesn’t matter, though—the Admiral deflected them nicely.” He looked over at Flim. “What was all that about a weapons cache being stolen from Marquarra? I don’t remember hearing about that.”

  Flim sipped at his drink. “You don’t remember,” he said, “because I made the whole thing up. I figured it would—”

  “You made it up?” Disra cut him off. “What kind of fool stunt was that?”

  “One that got Solo off my back,” Flim said stiffly. “Why? You disapprove?”

  “Yes, I disapprove,” Disra bit out. “It’s out of character. Thrawn didn’t go around making things up—if he didn’t know something, he said so.”

  “Calm down, Your Excellency,” Tierce said. But he didn’t look all that happy, either, as he gazed at Flim. “He had to say something—we can’t be offering Coruscant the Caamas Document with one hand and helping foment riots with the other. At least he’s bought us the time it’ll take them to check up on it.”

  Disra snorted. “However little that is.”

  “However little it is will be enough,” Tierce said firmly. “In seven days the New Republic’s civil war is set to begin. At that point, no one’s going to care about a few riots and a handful of Xerrol Nightstingers.”

  He nodded back toward the secret door. “And speaking of buying things, how did your talk go with our guest? Are we going to be able to buy their services?”

  “I don’t know,” Disra said, his mouth tightening briefly. “Mistryl don’t work for Imperials—she must have told me that fifteen times. On the other hand, she did agree to call one of their leaders to come talk to us. And there is something they very much want, but I wasn’t quite able to get her to tell me what that is.”

  “What they want is revenge,” Flim said soberly. “Like everyone else these days.”

  “Revenge against whom?” Disra asked.

  Flim shrugged. “The story around the fringe is that their world was devastated in a war with person or persons unknown some number of decades ago. The money the Mistryl earn hiring out their services still supposedly goes to support the survivors.”

  “What’s the name of the world?” Disra asked.

  “I don’t know,” Flim said. “They keep it very quiet. Probably afraid whoever did it will come back and finish the job.”

  “She said something about revenge for Lorardian,” Tierce mused. “Could that be the system?”

  “I have no idea.” Flim shrugged. “I don’t even know who or what Lorardian is.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Disra said, frowning. “You sounded like you knew all about it back there.”

  “I also sounded like I knew she was hiding behind the door the whole time,” Flim countered patiently. “The whole trick behind being a good con man is convincing the target you know more than you really do.”

  Disra grimaced. Con men. “Of course. I forgot.”

  “Don’t go all high and nobly indignant on me, Disra,” Flim warned, his face darkening. “Your Cavrilhu Pirate raids on New Republic shipping were as much a con as this is. So is your precious little Vengeance movement, for that matter,” he added, shifting his glare to Tierce. “A few Imperial agitators pretending to be a huge group of civilian malcontents. Not to mention this whole Thrawn charade. You don’t like cons? Well, too bad. You’re up to your necks in them, both of you. Not that you’ve got any choice. Not with the shape the Empire’s in.”

  He dropped his feet back onto the floor with a muffled thud and stood up. “And I’ll tell you something else,” he added. “If and when you ever get to the point where you’ve got all the military strength you want, you’re still going to need me.”

  He slapped at his chest, “I’m the only one of this group who knows the fringe. Who the pirates and mercs are, where to find a good bounty hunter on short notice—you want to hire more privateers, you’ll have to come to me. I’m the one who could finger D’ulin as a Mistryl just by the way she fought.”

  “We’re not arguing,” Disra said, a little taken aback by the fire of the con man’s tirade. “So what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that if and when this Hand of Thrawn of yours shows up, you might not need my Thrawn masquerade anymore,” Flim shot back. “But you’ll still need me.”

  For a long moment the room was silent. Flim glared back and forth between the two of them, breathing a little heavily.

  Tierce broke the silence first. “You finished?” he asked mildly.

  Flim studied his face, and some of the stiffness seemed to leave his back. “Yes,” he muttered. “I just … this is going to stir the pot, Tierce, from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. Unless the Hand of Thrawn is living under a rock, there’s no way he’s going to miss this.”

  “I told you before that we could protect you from him,” Tierce said. “And we will. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Yeah.” Flim took a long drink from his glass. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Lando pulled back the hyperdrive lever, and in front of them the stars of Bastion’s sky stretched into starlines. “Well,” he said. He’d meant the word to come out sounding casual, but all it sounded was hoarse. “I guess he really meant it. About letting us go.”

  Beside him, Han didn’t answer. For that matter, he probably hadn’t said ten words since Thrawn had walked out of the docking bay. Lando looked sideways at his friend, wondering if it was time he started worrying about him.

  Han must have felt the other’s gaze. “It was really him, wasn’t it?” he said quietly, his own gaze still on the swirling patterns of hyperspace.

  Lando nodded, his throat feeling tight. “Perfectly calm, perfectly in control, three steps ahead of us the whole way,” he said. “No one else but Thrawn.”

  “I wouldn’
t have believed it.” Han looked at Lando, his mouth twitching. “I guess I didn’t believe it,” he amended. “Whatever I said to you back at the Orowood Tower—”

  “Forget it,” Lando said, waving the apology away. “I was right there that first time, and I didn’t even believe it. At least, I didn’t want to.”

  Han shook his head. “We’re in trouble, Lando,” he said. “From now on, we can’t trust anything we see. Anything we see, anything we hear, anything we think we ought to do. Not with Thrawn back on the scene.”

  “I don’t know,” Lando said doubtfully. “Thrawn or no Thrawn, the Empire is still down to eight sectors. Maybe this is really all he’s going for, hoping to confuse Coruscant so badly it just freezes up.”

  “Who knows?” Han growled, some heat starting to seep into his voice. At least he didn’t sound dazed and demoralized anymore. About time, Lando thought. “That’s what drives you so crazy about him. You try to do something, and odds are it’s exactly what he wanted you to do. You stand still and don’t do anything, and he runs a smartrope around you.”

  “So what do you suppose he expects us to do with this?” Lando asked, holding up the datacard.

  “I don’t know what he expects,” Han said, reaching over and taking it. “But I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. First, we’re going to read it and see if it gives those names everyone’s so hot to get hold of. Second, we’re going to call Leia as soon as we’re in range of the HoloNet and let her know we’ve got it. And third—”

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re going to turn Moegid loose on the thing and have him check it sixteen ways from center. See if he can find whatever surprises Thrawn has tucked away.”

  Lando eyed the datacard warily. “You think there are surprises?”

  “It’s Thrawn,” Han said simply.

  Lando nodded. “Right.”

  Getting out of his seat, Han gave the instruments one final check. “Come on—I don’t trust this thing anywhere near the ship’s computer,” he said, heading for the cockpit door. “Let’s get a datapad and find out what it says.”

  CHAPTER

  24

  The first navigational stop the Wild Karrde had made after leaving Dayark had showed nothing ahead. Nothing but the twisting glow of the Kathol Rift and the fiery frozen wisps of ionized gas streamers and miniature nebulae that looked as if they’d been torn from it by violence. So had the second stop, and the third, until Shada had begun to wonder if the legendary lost world of Exocron was truly nothing but a myth.

  On the fifth stop, they found it.

  “It looks quite pleasant,” Threepio commented somewhat doubtfully from Shada’s side as they gazed out the Wild Karrde’s bridge viewport at the small planet rapidly approaching. “I do hope they will be friendly.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Shada warned him, feeling an unfamiliar and unpleasant dryness in her mouth. Down there somewhere, if Jade and Calrissian were right, Jorj Car’das would be waiting for them.

  At the helm, Odonnl half turned in his seat. “Shouldn’t we have the turbolasers ready?” he asked Karrde. “Just in case they’re not happy at having their privacy infringed on?”

  Shada looked at Karrde. He was hiding his nervousness well, but she herself had no trouble seeing it. “We’re here to talk, not fight,” he reminded Odonnl, his voice steady. “I don’t want anyone down there getting the wrong impression.”

  “Yes, but after Dayark—”

  “We’re here to talk,” Karrde repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “H’sishi, are we picking up any sensor probes? Or transmissions, Chin?”

  [No probes yet, Chieftain,] the Togorian said. Her fur, Shada noted, had fluffed out just noticeably. Apparently, she’d picked up on Karrde’s mood, too.

  “Nothing of transmissions either, Cap’t,” Chin added. “Perhaps they not see us come in.”

  “Oh, they see us, all right,” Karrde said, a hint of grimness creeping into his tone. “The only question—”

  He broke off at a beep from the comm. “Incoming star-ship, this is Admiral Trey David, second-in-command to Supreme Admiral Horzao Darr of the Exocron Combined Air-Space Fleet,” a courteous but firm voice said. “Please identify yourselves.”

  Chin reached for his board—“No, I’ll do it,” Karrde told him, visibly bracing himself as he touched his comm switch. “This is Talon Karrde aboard the freighter Wild Karrde, Admiral David. Our intentions are totally peaceful. We’d like permission to land.”

  There was a long pause. A very long pause, in fact. Shada rubbed her knuckles gently, visualizing a heated argument going on in the Exocron Combined Fleet office …

  “Wild Karrde, this is Admiral David,” the voice came back. “I’m told you’re here to see Jorj Car’das. Can you confirm that?”

  Shada watched Karrde closely. But aside from a brief twitch at the corner of his mouth there was no reaction. “Yes, I can,” he said, his voice a little hollow but under control. “There’s a vital matter I urgently need to discuss with him.”

  “I see.” There was another pause, shorter this time. “Is he expecting you?”

  Another twitch of the lip. “I don’t know if expecting is the proper word. I do believe he knows I’m coming.”

  “Do you,” David said, his voice suddenly sounding a little odd. “Very well, Wild Karrde, you’re cleared for Circle 15 at the Rintatta City military landing field. Coordinates are being sent to you now.”

  “Thank you,” Karrde said.

  “Got it,” Odonnl muttered, studying his nav display. “Looks pretty straightforward.”

  “We have an escort on the way,” David continued. “I trust I don’t have to tell you to cooperate with them.”

  “I understand completely,” Karrde said. “Will I be seeing you there?”

  “I doubt it,” David said; and this time there was definitely a darkness in his voice. “But perhaps we’ll all be lucky. You never know. David out.”

  For a moment the bridge was quiet. Shada looked around at the others, at their tight faces and tense shoulders and grim expressions. If they hadn’t known before what they were getting into, she decided, they knew now.

  And yet, she saw no indication that any of them were even thinking of trying to back out. A truly loyal, close-knit crew, completely dedicated to their chief.

  Much as Shada herself had once been dedicated to the ideals of the Mistryl. Even when the Mistryl themselves had all but forgotten those ideals.

  Even in the face of the looming danger ahead, the memory of that loss still hurt.

  “Instructions, Captain?” Odonnl asked quietly.

  Karrde didn’t hesitate. “Take us down,” he said.

  Rintatta City was a middling-sized cluster of military-style buildings interspersed with about fifty landing pads of varying sizes, many with ships already settled down onto them. The military areas were in turn surrounded by a wide ring of civilian-style homes and businesses and community buildings. The whole thing was nestled up against the base of a short but rough-sided ridge of mountains, the city giving way to a grassy plain on its other sides.

  There was no shakedown like there had been at Pembric 2. Nor was there any sort of customs or entrance inquiry at all as the Wild Karrde headed in to the surface. The two aging system patrol ships that Admiral David had sent escorted the freighter to its assigned landing circle, watched as it set down, then headed off again into the sky without comment. Around the other ships, hundreds of men and women and dozens of small vehicles were hurrying about various tasks of their own, completely ignoring the offworld ship that had set down in their midst. From all appearances, Karrde thought as he and the others started down the ramp, all of Exocron might be trying to pretend the visitors didn’t exist.

  With one notable exception.

  “Good day, Captain Karrde,” Entoo Nee beamed from the foot of the Wild Karrde’s landing ramp. “Welcome to Exocron. I see that even without my help you were able to find us. Hello
, Shada; hello, Threepio.”

  “Hello, Master Entoo Nee,” Threepio replied, sounding distinctly relieved to see a familiar face. “I confess I had not expected to find you here.”

  “There was some question about you, as well,” Entoo Nee said cheerfully. “When I last saw you on Dayark, you seemed to be having pirate trouble.” He took a step closer to the ramp and peered up into the ship. “Will your charming Togorian be joining us?”

  “No, H’sishi will be staying with the ship,” Karrde told him, eyeing the little man with some bemusement. H’sishi was an increasingly valued member of his crew, but charming was not a descriptive term that would have automatically sprung to mind.

  “Too bad,” Entoo Nee said, looking at Shada and Threepio again. “Is this it, then? You don’t want to bring any others along?”

  Karrde felt his muscles tense up again, despite all his efforts to relax them. Certainly he wanted to bring more people along. The Wild Karrde’s entire crew, for starters, plus the crews of the Starry Ice and the Etherway, General Bel Iblis’s complete New Republic task force, Rogue Squadron, and about four clans’ worth of Noghri warriors.

  But even if he had had such resources, it would be a futile gesture. Car’das was waiting for him, and bringing more people would only mean putting more people at risk. That wasn’t why he was here. “Yes,” he told Entoo Nee. “This is it. Do I assume you’re here to take us to Jorj Car’das?”

  “If you wish to see him,” the little man said, his eyes thoughtful on Karrde’s face. Once again, as on Dayark, glimpses of the true Entoo Nee were peeking through the carefully crafted facade of harmlessness. “Well. Shall we go?”

  He led the way to an open-topped landspeeder at the edge of the landing circle—a landspeeder, Karrde noted, that despite Entoo Nee’s apparent surprise at the small size of the party was only a four-seater. Weaving his way expertly in and out of the rest of the traffic, the little man headed off toward the mountains. “What’s going on here?” Shada asked, gesturing around them as Entoo Nee dodged around a particularly slow-moving fuel truck.