by Timothy Zahn
She crossed over to where he was standing beside the droid and ran him a quick summary. “Sounds worth checking out, anyway,” he agreed. “How far away is this lake?”
It will not take long, Child Of Winds assured him. By flight it is very near.
“We can’t take the ship,” Luke told him. “The Threateners would spot us quickly.”
I do not refer to the flying machine. Abruptly the Qom Qae seemed to straighten himself up. I and my friends will carry you there. And we will not be seen.
Mara and Luke exchanged glances. “Are you sure?” Luke asked, glancing around the group. “There aren’t very many of you, and we’re not as light as we look. And we’ll need to take Artoo, too.”
I and my friends will carry you there, Child Of Winds repeated. Not for hope of gain, he added hastily, but because you have risked much already for the Qom Qae, and we have given nothing in return. It is only right for us to do this.
Luke looked at Mara. “Going underground again will mean another long climb up the hidden stairway, you know,” he warned. “You sure you’re up to that?”
Mara felt her lip twitch. “Actually, I don’t think we’ll need to go into the High Tower at all.”
Luke’s forehead creased. “Oh?”
“I was just thinking a minute ago about that big power source Artoo spotted when we first got into the underground room,” she told him. “The one off in the direction Keeper Of Promises said was always fatal to Qom Jha who wandered off that way.”
She looked toward the High Tower. “And then,” she added quietly, “I started wondering about what Parck said Thrawn had told them. That if he was ever reported dead they should watch for his return ten years later.”
She felt Luke’s moment of puzzlement, then the tightening of his emotions as he suddenly understood. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low and dark. “It would be just like him, wouldn’t it? Just exactly like him.”
“I think it’s worth checking out, anyway,” Mara said.
“Definitely,” Luke agreed, his voice and mind suddenly filled with new urgency. “All right, Child Of Winds, you’re on. Get your friends organized and let’s get moving.”
The major sitting glowering on the Chimaera’s aft bridge comm display was middle-aged, overweight, and almost painfully uncultured. And, if his answers were any indication, unimaginative and not particularly intelligent along with it.
But he was also completely and unwaveringly loyal to his superior. The exact type of man, Pellaeon thought sourly, that Moff Disra would naturally choose to run interference for him.
“I’m sorry, Admiral Pellaeon,” the major said again, “but His Excellency left no instructions on how he could be reached. If you’d care to talk with his chief of staff, I can see if he’s available—”
“My business is with Moff Disra personally,” Pellaeon cut him off, already well tired of this game. “And I strongly suggest you remember who it is you’re speaking to. The Supreme Commander of Imperial forces is, by law, to have reasonable access at all times to all high-ranking civilian leaders.”
The major gathered himself into a sort of halfhearted attention. “Yes, sir, I know that,” he said, his tone on the edge of insubordination. “It’s my understanding, though, that His Excellency is in fact with the Supreme Commander.”
Pellaeon felt his face darken. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “I’m the Supreme Commander.”
“Maybe you need to ask Moff Disra about that,” the major said, clearly unfazed by the threat in Pellaeon’s voice and face. “Or Gran—”
He broke off, the stolid features twitching as if he’d belatedly realized he’d started to say something he shouldn’t. “But I personally have no official information on that,” he finished, a bit lamely. “I expect His Excellency back within a few days. You can call back then.”
“Of course,” Pellaeon said softly. “Thank you, Major, for your time.”
He keyed off the comm and straightened up; and only then did he allow the infinite tiredness within him to flow visibly out onto his face.
To his left, standing in the archway leading to the Chimaera’s main bridge, Colonel Vermel stirred. “It’s bad, sir, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Bad enough,” Pellaeon admitted, waving at the empty display. “Blatant insubordination from Disra himself I would have expected. But to get the same thing from a relatively minor lackey implies an exuberant confidence in Disra’s palace far beyond anything he should have.”
He stepped into the archway beside Vermel. “And I can think of only one possible reason for that degree of confidence.”
Vermel made a sound in his throat. “Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
Pellaeon nodded. “The major nearly said as much—I’m sure you caught that. And if Thrawn is back, and is siding with Disra …”
He trailed off, the long years seeming to weigh even more heavily on his shoulders. After all this time, after all his tireless work and sacrifice for the Empire, to be waved so casually aside. Especially for someone like Disra. “If he’s siding with Disra,” he continued quietly, “then that is what is best for the Empire. And we will accept it.”
For a minute they stood together in silence, the muted background of the Chimaera’s bridge activity the only sound. Pellaeon let his gaze sweep slowly across the bridge of his ship, wishing he knew what he should do next. If Thrawn was back, of course, he need do nothing—the Grand Admiral would make his wishes and orders known in his own good time.
But if Thrawn wasn’t back …
He stepped forward and gestured to the Intelligence duty officer at his portside crew pit station. “We’ve intercepted several rumors of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s return in the past two weeks,” he said. “Have any of the reports mentioned him being associated with any Star Destroyer other than the Relentless?”
“Let me check, Admiral,” the officer reported, keying his board. “No, sir, they haven’t. All the rumors specify either the Relentless or Captain Dorja or both.”
“Good,” Pellaeon said. “I want an immediate priority records search through Bastion Military Control. Find out where the Relentless has gone.”
“Yes, sir.”
The officer busied himself at his board. “You don’t really think Dorja would file a destination plan against Thrawn’s orders, do you?” Vermel murmured.
“No,” Pellaeon said. “But I’m not convinced any of this heavy secrecy came from Thrawn in the first place. And if it was Disra’s idea, he may not have thought to even mention to Dorja that he was hiding from me.”
“Yes, but—”
“Here it is, sir,” the Intelligence officer spoke up. “The Relentless, Captain Dorja commanding, left Bastion twenty hours ago en route for Yaga Minor. Transit time estimated at twelve hours. Passengers listed as Moff Disra—” He looked up, and Pellaeon could see him swallow. “And Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
Pellaeon nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Captain Ardiff?”
“Sir?” Ardiff said, looking up from his conversation with the systems monitor officer.
“Set course for Yaga Minor,” Pellaeon ordered. “We’ll leave as soon as the ship is ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Ardiff said, turning around and lifting his hand toward the nav station. “Navigator?”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, sir,” Vermel said uneasily. “If Thrawn and Disra are working together, forcing a confrontation with Disra in his presence may not exactly be a wise career move.”
Pellaeon smiled mirthlessly. “Any considerations of career moves are far in my distant past,” he said. “More to the point, there’s always the slim chance that Thrawn is somehow unaware of the worst of Disra’s offenses against the Empire. If so, it’s my sworn duty as an Imperial officer to bring them to his attention—”
“Admiral!” a voice snapped from the sensor station. “Ship incoming—fifty-five degrees by forty. Unknown configuration, sir.”
“Stand by defenses,” Pellae
on replied calmly, eyes searching along the specified vector as he strode down the command walkway toward the viewport. Unknown ships, in his experience, were nearly always false alarms: an unfamiliar angle or modification, or else some obscure design that that particular sensor officer had never run into before. He caught a glimpse of the craft out the side viewport—
And stopped in midstride, staring out at it in disbelief. What in the name of the Empire—?
“Admiral?” the comm officer called tentatively, his voice unnaturally high-pitched. “Sir, they’re hailing us. Rather, they’re hailing you.”
Pellaeon frowned. “Me personally?”
“Yes, sir. He asked specifically for Admiral Pellaeon—”
“Then you’d better put it on for the Admiral, hadn’t you?” Ardiff interrupted brusquely.
“Yes, sir,” the boy gulped. “Transmission on, sir.”
“Hello, Admiral Pellaeon,” a voice boomed from the bridge speakers. A male voice, speaking Basic, with none of the more obvious accents or inflections usually associated with nonhuman vocal equipment.
And a voice that seemed oddly familiar, Pellaeon realized with a sudden shiver. In fact, disturbingly familiar. Like an echo out of the distant past …
“You won’t remember me, I’m sure,” the voice continued, “but I believe we did meet once or twice.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Pellaeon replied, keeping his voice steady. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I’m here to make you an offer,” the voice said. “To give you something you very much want.”
“Really.” Pellaeon looked at Ardiff, now standing in taut readiness behind the starboard turbolaser command station. “I was unaware I was weighed down by any such unfulfilled desires.”
“Oh, you don’t know yet that you want this,” the voice assured him. “But you do. Trust me.”
“I’ll admit to being intrigued,” Pellaeon said. “How do you suggest we proceed?”
“I’d like to come aboard and meet with you. Once you see what I have to offer, I think you’ll understand the need for a certain degree of secrecy.”
“I don’t like it,” Vermel murmured from beside him. “It could be some kind of trick.”
Pellaeon shook his head. “With an unknown alien ship as bait?” he countered, gesturing at the vessel hanging motionlessly against the starry background off their starboard bow. “If it’s a trick, Colonel, it’s an extremely good one.”
He cleared his throat. “Captain Ardiff?” he called. “Make preparations to bring our guest aboard.”
CHAPTER
35
There had been no attacks against the Lady Luck along the last leg of their trip, as Han had half expected there to be. Nor did any of the nearly two hundred warships eyeing each other warily over Bothawui seem all that interested in the yacht as it picked its way carefully across to where the three New Republic Corvettes orbited, huddled together as if terrified of the awesome firepower stretched out across the sky around them.
Which, Han decided sourly, they probably were. Gavrisom, and Calibops in general, were a lot bigger on words than they were on action.
The duty officer on Gavrisom’s ship had initially been disinclined to honor their docking request, but a few minutes of arguing—and probably a back-scene discussion or two—had finally changed his attitude.
And as he and Lando ducked aboard through the Lady Luck’s docking hatch, and the waiting Leia melted into his arms, the whole annoying hassle suddenly seemed worth it.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Leia murmured, her voice muffled by his chest as she clung to him. “I was so worried about you.”
“Hey, hon, you know me,” Han said, trying for a casual tone but hanging on to her as tightly as she was to him. Suddenly, now that it was all over, it was as if he was finally able to admit to himself what their reckless jaunt to Bastion might have cost. What he might have lost …
“Yes, I know you,” Leia said, looking up at him and trying a smile that didn’t fool him for a second. Maybe she was seeing what they’d almost lost, too. “And I know you’ve never been able to stay out of trouble in your life. I’m just so glad you got through this one.”
“Me, too,” Han said honestly, giving her a closer look. “You look tired.”
“I’m just up a little early,” she explained. “Gavrisom has us on Drev’starn time, and it’s just after dawn down there.”
“Oh,” Han said. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask the duty officer what ship’s time was. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” she said. “Believe me, this was well worth getting up early for.” She hesitated, just noticeably. “Did you bring it with you?”
Han glanced over her head at Lando. “Sort of,” he said. “Is there somewhere we can go and talk?”
He felt her muscles tighten beneath his hands. “Of course,” she said, her voice not betraying any of her sudden concern. “There’s a meeting room just down the corridor.”
A few minutes later they were seated in deeply comfortable chairs behind a sealed door. “The room’s not monitored,” Leia said. “I’ve already checked. What’s wrong?”
Han braced himself. “We got the Caamas Document, like I told you,” he said. “What I didn’t know at the time was that—well, look, let me give you the whole story.”
With occasional side comments from Lando, he ran a summary of their trip to Bastion, ending with Moegid’s discovery that the document had been altered. “I guess I should have figured he had some con going,” he growled, glaring at the datacard on the low central table. Going through the events again had rekindled his embarrassed anger at himself for falling for the whole stupid trick in the first place. “I should have waited until Lando and Moegid had completely cleared the thing before I even said anything to you.”
Leia squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It’s all right,” she said, the set of her mouth making it clear that it wasn’t all right at all. “It’s as much my fault as yours. I knew Thrawn was back on the scene, too. I should have realized this had been too easy.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t know he was the one who’d given us the datacard,” Han argued, obscurely determined not to let her take any of the blame for this. “All you knew was—”
Across the table, Lando cleared his throat. “Whenever you two have finished figuring out whose fault it is,” he said, just a bit dryly, “maybe we can move on to what we’re going to do about it.”
Han looked at Leia, saw her mouth relax slightly into a wry smile. “Point taken,” she said, matching his tone. “And it may not be as bad as it looks. There’s still a chance we’ll be able to get hold of a copy of the document from somewhere else.”
“You mean Karrde?” Han asked.
“No, there’s another possibility.” Leia hesitated. “I really shouldn’t say anything more about it right now, except that if it works it’ll probably take a few more days.”
“The point is still that we’ve got to stall everyone off for a while,” Lando said briskly. “Now, Han and I had a couple of days to deal all this around the table, and we think we may have a way to at least buy us a little time.”
“Right.” Han nodded, glad to change subjects. “First off, I’m going to tell Gavrisom he can’t have the Caamas Document yet.”
Leia’s eyes widened. “How in the worlds are you going to justify that?”
“On the grounds that the situation over Bothawui is too tense for my taste,” Han said loftily. “I’m going to demand that everyone break it up and go home before I turn the document over to anyone.”
Leia’s face was a study in stunned astonishment. “Han, you can’t possibly get away with that.”
“Why not?” Han countered, shrugging. “This is me, remember? Everyone expects me to do crazy things.”
“Yes, but—” With clear effort, Leia strangled down her objections. “All right, let’s assume Gavrisom lets you get away with that one. What then?”
Han glanced at Lando. “Actually, we hadn’t gotten much past that part,” he conceded. “Moegid says there’s an outside chance he can reconstruct the data—depends on how expert the guy was who changed it. And now that we’ve actually got the document, we might be able to bluff the Bothans into telling us what they know.”
“Assuming they actually do know something,” Leia pointed out. “If they don’t, we’re no better off than we were. Worse, really, because someone’s bound to accuse the New Republic of making a deal with them to withhold the names.”
“I know,” Han said, trying to hide his sudden surge of frustration. “But if we just go out and tell them we haven’t got anything, they’re going to say the same thing, aren’t they?”
Leia squeezed his hand again. “Probably,” she said, her eyes taking on that faraway look that meant she was thinking furiously. “All right,” she said. “The two biggest instigators out there are the Diamala and Ishori. If we can get them to back down, even temporarily, a lot of the others should follow along. That’s why Gavrisom came out here, in fact, to try talking to them.”
Han grimaced, remembering his own less than successful try at getting the two species to agree. And that had just been shipping details. “Just keep them out of the same room,” he warned.
“Exactly,” Leia said, looking over at Lando. “Lando, are you and Senator Miatamia still on good terms?”
Lando eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t know if we were ever on good terms, exactly,” he said cautiously. “Especially not after that ride I gave him ended with an invitation for High Day drinks with Thrawn aboard his personal Star Destroyer. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Miatamia arrived here yesterday evening to look the situation over,” Leia said. “He’s staying over on one of the big Diamalan warships, the Industrious Thoughts. I’d like you to go over there and talk to him.”
Lando’s jaw sagged. “Me? Leia—”
“You have to do it,” Leia said firmly. “Diamala have a strong sense of personal pride, and Miatamia still owes you for that ride. You can use that.”
