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

by Timothy Zahn

  “Well, for right now, we’re just going to sit here,” Mara said, running a critical eye over Luke’s outfit. There were a half-dozen new scorch marks where the Chiss’ charric shots had made it through his defenses, and she could sense his automatic and almost unconscious suppression of the pain. “Looks to me like you could use a few hours in a healing trance.”

  “That can wait,” Luke said, gazing through the canopy at the landscape beyond the overhang, fading into the growing darkness of evening. “My damage to their repulsorlifts won’t hold them for long. We have to get back in there before they can mount an aerial search for us.”

  “Actually, I don’t think they’ll bother,” Mara said, waving at her control board. “For one thing, the sensors on these things seem to be pretty useless for close-order ground searches. My guess is that they’ll move troops into the areas where they think we stashed our ships and leave it at that.”

  “You don’t think they’ll worry we might get back inside?”

  “And do what?”

  Luke frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Mara took a deep breath. “I mean I’m not sure we should even try to interfere with what they’re doing.”

  Child Of Winds made a noise like a choked-off comment. Luke glanced back at him, then turned again to Mara. “But they’re enemies of the New Republic,” he said. “Aren’t they?”

  Mara shook her head. “I don’t know. Just because they’re in Imperial uniforms …”

  She sighed. “Look. Baron Fel was in there. The same Baron Fel who turned his back on the Empire years ago when he finally recognized how corrupt and vicious things had become under Isard and some of Palpatine’s other successors.

  “Yet here he is, wearing an Imperial uniform again. Braintwisting is useless against a man like him—you’d ruin the fine combat edge that makes him useful to you in the first place. Something must have happened to legitimately change his mind.”

  “Thrawn?”

  “In a way,” Mara said. “Fel said Thrawn took him to the Unknown Regions and showed him around … and that that was when he agreed to rejoin.”

  She could feel Luke’s emotions darken. “There’s something out there, isn’t there?” he said quietly. “Something terrible.”

  “According to the Chiss, there are a hundred terrible somethings out there,” Mara said. “Of course, that is only the Chiss talking. Odds are that a lot of the dangers would be pretty harmless to something with the size and resources of the New Republic. Threats we could swat without any trouble if they ever ventured in past the Outer Rim.”

  She shrugged uncomfortably. “On the other hand …”

  “On the other hand, Fel knows our resources as well as we do,” Luke finished for her. “And yet he’s here.”

  Mara nodded. “He and Parck are both here. And neither of them seems to have any interest in wasting their resources in actions against the New Republic. That says a lot right there.”

  For a long minute the ship was silent. Then Luke stirred. “Unfortunately, there’s still one more point we have to consider,” he said. “Bastion and the Empire. You said Parck was going to open contact with them?”

  “Yes,” Mara confirmed, the quiet ache within her deepening. “And I don’t trust the current Imperial leadership to see things with the same long-term perspective that Fel does. You give them the Hand of Thrawn and they will move against Coruscant.”

  Luke gazed out the canopy again. “We can’t let that happen,” he said quietly. “Not with the New Republic in the state it’s in.”

  “Especially not if those resources are needed to battle some other threat,” Mara agreed, unstrapping her restraints. “Which unfortunately means we have to get back in there and pull copies of that data for ourselves. At least then we’ll have a chance of blocking whatever Bastion does to pull them in on the Imperial side.”

  She could sense Luke forcing the tiredness from his mind. “You’re right,” he said as he started unfastening his own straps. “If we can get Artoo to a computer jack so he can download everything—”

  “Hold it, hold it,” Mara said, reaching over and putting a restraining hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean right this minute. We’re not going anywhere until you get those burns healed.”

  “They’re nothing,” Luke protested, glancing down across the scorch marks. “I can handle them.”

  “Oh, bravely said,” Mara said, fatigue and her private pain adding an unintended note of scorn into her voice. “Let me rephrase that: I’m not going anywhere with you until you’re healed. You were just barely able to keep ahead of that last attack—I don’t want any of your attention wasted on old injuries you could have gotten rid of with a few hours’ rest. Understand?”

  He glared at her. But behind the glare, she could sense his grudging agreement. “All right, you win,” he said with a sigh, resettling himself into his seat. “But you wake me right away if anything happens. I’ll set up the phrase ‘welcome back’ to snap me out of it.”

  Mara nodded. “Got it.”

  “And even if nothing happens, wake me up in two hours,” he added, closing his eyes. “It won’t take them more than a few hours to get enough of the damaged ships out of the way to free up the ones in back. We’ll need to get back there before then if we’re going to stop Parck from handing all this over to Bastion.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he took another deep breath and leaned back against the headrest. His thoughts and emotions cleared and faded, and he was gone. “Don’t worry about Bastion,” Mara said softly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  For a moment she sat there in the silence, gazing at his sleeping face, a tangle of emotions twisting through the darkness of her private agony. Ten years now they’d known each other, years that could have been filled with camaraderie and friendship. Years Luke had effectively wasted with his own lonely and arrogantly stupid wanderings through completely unnecessary pain and doubt.

  She ran a fingertip gently across his forehead, brushing back a few loose strands of hair. And yet, after all that, here they were together again, and the man she’d once so highly respected and cared for was finally back on his proper path.

  Or perhaps it was the two of them together who were on their proper path.

  Perhaps.

  Behind her came a tentative questioning warble. “It’s just a healing trance,” Mara assured the droid, pushing the last of her straps away and getting out of her seat. “He’ll be all right. You watch over things in here, okay?”

  The droid twittered again, his tone suddenly suspicious. “I’m going outside,” Mara told him, making sure her sleeve blaster and lightsaber were secure. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

  She slid past him, ignoring his sudden flurry of comments and questions and popped the hatch. Child Of Winds brushed past her as the ladder unfolded, chirping rapidly for a few seconds and then flapping off into the deepening darkness.

  A darkness matched by the ache deep within her.

  For a moment she looked back at the top of Luke’s head, visible over the chair’s headrest, wondering if he had guessed her plan. But no. She’d carefully held it secret within her, behind the mental barriers Palpatine had so long ago taught her how to create.

  The old Luke, the one obsessed with solving every problem himself, might have forced his way in through those barriers to demand the truth. The new Luke, she knew, would never do such a thing.

  Later, probably, he would regret not having done so. But by then it would be too late. The simple fact was that Parck and the Chiss had to be prevented from giving the Empire the secrets of this place.

  And it was up to her to stop them. However she could. Whatever the cost.

  The droid had run out of words and was watching her, his stance somehow reminding her of that of a frightened child. “Don’t worry,” she soothed him quietly. “It’ll be all right. Watch over him, okay?”

  The droid gave a forlorn moan of agreement. Stretching out with the Force, Mara
turned and headed down the ladder.

  However she could. Whatever the cost.

  CHAPTER

  30

  Even late at night the Drev’stara spaceport was a bustling hive of activity, the pedestrians and vehicles casting long shadows in the bright light of the glow lamps as they hurried about their business. The same bright light, Navett thought as he strode along, that would make the spaceport an ideal target for the warships orbiting high above them.

  He wondered if that same thought had occurred to the rest of the hurrying crowds. Perhaps that was one of the reasons they were hurrying.

  He reached the target zone and gave a soft whistle. It was answered immediately from a stack of shipping crates to his right. Stepping around the stack, he found Klif waiting. “Report,” he murmured.

  “We’re set,” Klif murmured back. “She went in about an hour ago and shut things down. I shorted out one of the glow lamps to give us an approach.”

  Navett edged an eye around the crates for a cautious look. The old woman’s Sydon Pacifier was squatting silently in its landing circle, with nothing but parking lights showing. A long strip of shadow thrown by another stack of crates led nearly to its sealed hatchway. “Looks good,” he said. “What about the New Rep agents?”

  “Well, now, that’s an interesting question,” Klif said. “I did a quick slice into the spaceport computer; and according to its records, they’re gone.”

  Navett frowned. Gone? Now? “Where?”

  “No idea,” Klif said. “But I ran a global against both their registration and engine ID, and there’s no indication they might have circled around and landed again, not here or anywhere else on Bothawui.”

  “Interesting, indeed,” Navett murmured, stroking his chin as he gazed at the Pacifier. “Either we fooled them completely, or else they suddenly had something more urgent to do. Rogue Squadron’s attached to Bel Iblis these days, isn’t it?”

  Klif nodded. “You think Bel Iblis is up to something?”

  “That walking sack of annoyance is always up to something,” Navett growled. “However, he’s not our problem. We’ll send word to Bastion and let them figure him out. Right now”—he slid his blaster out of its concealed sheath—“we’ve got our own sack of annoyance to deal with. Come on.”

  They slipped out into the concealing shadow and headed for the Pacifier, eyes and ears alert for any sign of trouble. None came before they reached the ship, dropping into combat crouches on opposite sides of the hatchway. “Pop it,” Navett muttered, blaster held ready as he tried to watch everywhere at once. Antilles could conceivably have sent in other New Rep agents on his way out …

  There was the muffled clicking of Klif’s lockjim followed by a soft hiss, and the top of the hatchway swung smoothly down to the permacrete, its inside surface forming a ramp. Giving the area one final scan, Navett rose from his crouch and ducked up the ramp into the ship.

  Inside was darkness, with only dim walk-lights marking the corridors. He could hear Klif’s soft breathing behind him as he eased down toward the living section. Still no signs of life; the old woman must already be asleep. He eased to the first door in line, eased it open …

  And abruptly, all around them, the lights blazed on.

  Navett dropped instantly into a crouch, cursing under his breath as he blinked against the sudden glare. There was a bump against his shoulders as Klif dropped into a mirror-image crouch at his back. “No one here,” Klif hissed from behind him.

  “Not here, either,” Navett said, frowning as his eyes finished adjusting to the light and realizing that what had seemed so bright when they came on were apparently only the normal shipboard lights.

  No gunmen, no automatic weapons, not even any eye-burning flashflare defensive lights. What was going on?

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” a voice spoke up into the tense silence.

  The old woman’s voice.

  “Klif?” Navett hissed, looking around again. There was still no one visible in his direction. “Anyone?”

  “No, I’m not here,” the voice assured him smugly. “I’m a recording. You wouldn’t hurt an innocent little recording, would you?” She snorted. “Of course, considering who you are, maybe you would.”

  “There,” Klif said, pointing. Half hidden behind a cable conduit was a small datapad with a recording rod sticking out of it.

  “You must think you’re pretty hot stuff,” the woman continued. “Strutting around in plain sight, bamboozling the bumbling Bothans—hey, that’s kind of cute—and in general running rings around everyone and everything.”

  Navett stepped over to the datapad. It was jammed into the space between the conduit and the wall as if hurriedly slapped in there.

  On the other hand, it had been keyed to come on with the lights …

  “Well, I’m sorry to so rudely pop your bubble,” she said. “But you’re not as smart as you think. Not nearly as smart as you think.”

  Navett caught Klif’s eye and nodded toward the sleeping rooms. Klif nodded back and slipped down the corridor toward the farthest one. Putting his back to a wall, Navett leveled his blaster along the corridor leading to the flight deck. This could still be nothing but a distraction.

  “You see, I talked to a couple of friends this afternoon,” the recording went on. “They tell me that every time they try to get a handle on this big, loud Vengeance organization that’s been making so much noise, it just kind of evaporates into nothing. Kind of like the bubble I just mentioned—nothing but hot air. Hot air blown by—dare I say it?—a handful of Imperial agents.”

  There was a flicker of movement at the corner of Navett’s eye. He glanced over to see Klif emerge from the sleeping room area and shake his head. He nodded in the direction of the cargo hold and lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

  “So I guess that means it’s down to just you folks and me,” the old woman said. “My New Rep friends have left—which you probably already know—and the vast organization you’ve been pretending to be doesn’t exist. So. You and me. Should be fun.”

  Klif was staring at Navett, a bewildered frown on his face. “What in blazes is she talking about?” he hissed. “Is she challenging us?”

  Navett shrugged.

  “Oh, and help yourself to something in the galley if you want,” she added. “Especially whichever of you was stuck out there watching my ship today. Stakeouts can be such thirsty work. Just put everything back in the cooler when you’re done, okay? Well, see you later. Which is not to say you’ll see me, of course.”

  There was a soft click, and the recording stopped. “This woman is nuts,” Klif declared, looking around. “Does she have any idea at all who she’s dealing with?”

  “I don’t know,” Navett said, eyeing the datapad thoughtfully. “She implied she knows we’re Imperials; but she never once said anything about our covers here. Or whether she even knows she’s talked to us.”

  Klif grunted. “So she’s fishing.”

  “She’s fishing,” Navett nodded. “More to the point, she’s fishing alone. If she had any proof or official backing she’d have had more than just trick lights and a recording waiting here. Sounds like her plan now is simply to draw us out.”

  “So what do we do?” Klif demanded. “Keep after her?”

  Navett rubbed his chin. “No, I think we’ll back off,” he said slowly. “If she starts wandering in too close again, we can reconsider. But with Antilles and his partner gone, she’s not going to be all that effective.”

  He peered down the corridor toward the flight deck. “Unless she’s still in here somewhere trying to get a look at us,” he amended, hefting his blaster. “In which case, she’s automatically vaped.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Klif growled.

  “Just watch it,” Navett warned. “She might have set up some booby traps.”

  They were there another hour, running a fine mesh over the ship before they finally gave up and left. Only three or four times after the recording shut
off did they get close enough to the comlink hidden in the datapad for Moranda to pick up anything of what they were saying.

  In most of those brief snippets, they were sounding pretty irritable.

  Watching through her spy hole from inside the empty crate she’d set up on top of a stack of similar ones fifty meters from her ship, she watched the two of them slip out again into the bustle of activity. So she’d been right, she and Corran and Wedge. The Imperials were here, and they were planning something nasty.

  And they were sufficiently rattled that they were willing to risk a murder right in the middle of the spaceport. That was very interesting.

  And unless her ear had totally failed her, that careless and highly unprofessional conversation beside her rigged datapad had given her their identities: the earnest but stupid proprietors of the Exoticalia Pet Emporium.

  Of course, knowing was one thing. Proving was something else entirely. And for possibly the first time in her life, that vast legal gap was going to work against her.

  The Imperials had joined the pedestrians on one of the major walkways now, their postures and strides midway between casual and decisive. Imperial Intelligence, most likely, or even some of the folks from the Ubiqtorate underhanded tricks division. Either way, definitely experts who knew what they were doing.

  Unfortunately, the New Republic rep in Drev’starn wouldn’t be interested in any of this without proof. Neither would the Bothans.

  In fact, come to think of it, there were probably still a couple of warrants outstanding against her on Bothawui. That definitely let out the Bothans.

  The Imperials were gone now, vanished toward the western entrance and presumably out of the spaceport. Still, as Moranda had long ago learned, “presumably” never fed the sabacc pot or took the pets for a walk. Her new playmates might just have been irritated enough by her sneaking out on them to have left a spotter behind.

  Opening her pocket flask, she took a sip of the tangy blue liqueur and consulted her chrono. Another two hours, maybe three, and it should be safe to move.