by Timothy Zahn
“Actually, the ruling Chiss families never had the chance to decide one way or the other,” Parck said. “Palpatine had already decided that the Jedi represented a grave threat to the Old Republic, and had sent an assault force into the region to quietly take care of Outbound Flight when they showed up.”
“And there they were, busily setting up their ambush, when Thrawn found them.”
He shook his head. “You have to understand the situation, Mara, to truly appreciate it. On one side were handpicked units of Palpatine’s own private army, equipped with fifteen top-line combat ships. On the other side were Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense and perhaps twelve small and insignificant border patrol ships.”
“I appreciate it just fine,” Mara said, suppressing a shudder. “How badly did Thrawn slaughter them?”
“Utterly,” Parck said, the ghost of a smile creasing his face. “I believe only a single one of Palpatine’s ships remained capable of flight, and that only because Thrawn wanted some of the invaders left alive to interrogate.
“Fortunately for that remnant, and perhaps one day for the galaxy as a whole, among the survivors was the leader of the task force, one of Palpatine’s advisers. A man named Kinman Doriana.”
Mara swallowed. That name she most certainly did remember. He’d been Palpatine’s right-hand man, supposedly one of the grand architects of his rise to power. “I’ve heard it, yes,” she said.
“I thought you would have,” Parck said, nodding. “Very much a shadow adviser—few people ever even heard his name, let alone knew his true position and power. But among those who did it was sometimes speculated that his untimely death left a gap which Palpatine ultimately tried to fill with three other people: Darth Vader, Grand Admiral Thrawn—” He smiled again. “And you.”
“You’re too kind,” Mara said evenly, not even a whisper of pride rising within her at such a statement. So she had indeed had position and authority in Palpatine’s eyes, perhaps more than even she had realized.
But it didn’t matter. That part of her life had died, unmourned, a long time ago. “You’re very well informed, too.”
“This was Thrawn’s personal base,” Parck said, waving a hand around him. “And information, as you may have noticed, was one of his few obsessions. The databases in the fortress core below us are possibly the most extensive in the galaxy.”
“Magnificent, I’m sure,” Mara said. “Too bad all his knowledge couldn’t keep him from getting killed.”
She had hoped to spark some kind of reaction from them. To her surprise, though, none of them so much as blinked. Parck, in fact, actually smiled. “Never assume, Mara,” he warned. “But that’s getting ahead of the story. Where were we?”
“Doriana and Outbound Flight,” Mara said.
“Thank you,” Parck said. “At any rate, Doriana explained the entire situation to Thrawn and convinced him that Outbound Flight had to be destroyed. Two weeks later, when the ship arrived in Chiss space, Thrawn was waiting.”
“Good-bye, Outbound Flight,” Mara murmured.
“Yes,” Parck agreed. “But though that was the end of that, it was the beginning of trouble for Thrawn himself. The Chiss military philosophy, you see, did not recognize the morality of preemptive strikes. What Thrawn did was, in their minds, equivalent to murder.”
Mara snorted gently. “No offense, Admiral, but it sounds to me like it’s your perceptions that need an overhaul. How can the slaughter of a bunch of Jedi Masters minding their own business be anything but murder?”
Parck looked at her gravely. “You’ll understand, Mara,” he said, his voice almost trembling. “In time, you’ll understand.”
Mara frowned. The man was either a terrific actor or there was something buried in all of this that had him well and truly terrified. Again, she stretched out with the Force; again, she couldn’t seem to touch him at all.
With an obvious effort, Parck pulled himself together. “But again, I’m getting ahead of myself. As I said, Thrawn’s action did not sit well with the ruling Chiss families. He was able to talk his way clear and retain his position, but from that point on they watched him very carefully.
“And eventually, as he dealt with some of the Chiss’s enemies, he pushed things just a little too far. He was brought up on charges, stripped of all rank, and sent into exile on an uninhabited world at the edge of Imperial space.”
“Where who should show up but a Victory Star Destroyer,” Mara said. “Captained by a man willing to take the risk of bringing him back to Coruscant.” She raised her eyebrows. “Only it wasn’t nearly as much of a risk as everyone thought, was it?”
Parck smiled. “It most certainly wasn’t,” he said. “In fact, I learned later that Palpatine had made at least two unsuccessful attempts over the years to contact the Chiss and offer Thrawn a position with his soon-to-be Empire. No, he was most pleased with my gift, though because of the political realities of the court he had to keep that pleasure hidden.”
“So Thrawn went into private military training and eventually rose to the highest rank Palpatine could offer,” Mara said. “And then, what, arranged to have himself sent back here so he could make the Chiss ruling families pay for what they’d done to him?”
Parck looked shocked. “Certainly not. The Chiss are his people, Mara—he has no interest in hurting them. Quite the opposite, in fact. He came back here to protect them.”
“From what?”
Stent gave a contemptuous snort. “From what,” he bit out harshly. “You soft, complacent female. You think that because you lounge around your quiet worlds behind a ring of warships that the rest of the galaxy is a safe place to live? There are a hundred different threats out there that would freeze your blood if you knew about them. The ruling families can’t stop them; neither can any other power in the region. If our people are to be protected, it’s up to us.”
“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 lik
e 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.
