by Timothy Zahn
Smiling grimly, he headed down the corridor toward the turbolift at a carefully measured walk. This was going to be a pleasure.
A turbolaser flashed, its lethal red beam sizzling perilously close to the Falcon’s starboard side on its way toward an Escort Frigate with Prosslee markings. Han spun the ship away from a second shot, dodged the other direction barely in time to avoid a pair of Bagmim customs ships driving with laser cannon blazing toward the Prosslee.
The whole universe had gone mad. With him square in the middle of it.
“What happened over there?” he called toward the comm, weaving between a pair of Opquis gunships.
“According to the Ishori, three humans came aboard about half an hour ago,” Leia’s voice came back, the sound of an alert tone droning in the background. “They had New Republic tech IDs and a letter from the Ishori High Conflux authorizing them to examine the Predominance’s power couplings for oxidation damage.”
“All phony, of course,” Han growled, maneuvering the Falcon into a relatively clear space and looking around. It was like Endor all over again out there.
Except that this time the Empire was nowhere to be seen. It was Rebels fighting other Rebels.
“We know that now,” Leia agreed. “Once aboard, they killed their escort and took over one of the turbolaser clusters. When the Drev’starn shield went down … Han, they got eight shots off onto the surface before we were able to cut off power to their cluster. The Ishori still haven’t been able to storm the room and get to them, even with Barkhimkh and Sakhisakh helping them.”
Beside Han, Elegos murmured something in the Caamasi language. “How bad did Drev’starn get hit?” Han asked. “Never mind—that’s not important right now. What’s happening with you and the ship?”
“We’re under attack,” Leia said, her voice tense. “Three Diamalan ships have joined up against us, one of them sitting between us and the planet in case we try to fire on Drev’starn again. No serious damage yet, I don’t think, to either side. But that can’t last.”
“Didn’t you tell them what happened?” Han asked.
“I told them, the Predominance’s captain told them, Gavrisom told them,” Leia said. “They’re not listening.”
“Or else don’t care,” Han said, clenching his teeth hard enough to hurt. Leia, trapped aboard a ship under massive attack … “Look, I’m going to try to get over there,” he told her. “Maybe I can at least get you and Gavrisom off.”
“No—stay away,” Leia said sharply. “Please. You’d never make it.”
Han gazed bitterly out at the swirling battle. She was right, of course; from his new vantage point he could see the Predominance now and the storm of turbolaser fire raking across it, and he knew full well the Falcon’s shields wouldn’t stand a chance in there. But he couldn’t just sit out here and do nothing. “Look, I’ve outfought Star Destroyers before,” he said.
“You’ve outmaneuvered them,” Leia corrected him. “There’s a big difference. Please, Han, don’t try to—”
There was a squawk, and suddenly she was cut off. “Leia!” Han shouted, his chest tightening as he looked back at the Ishori war cruiser. It still seemed intact; but all it would take would be a single lucky shot into the bridge area—
“She’s all right,” Elegos said, pointing at the comm display. “They’re just being jammed again.”
Han let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “We’ve got to do something,” he said, searching the sky for inspiration. “We’ve got to get her off that ship—”
The comm crackled back to life. “Leia?” Han called, leaning hopefully toward the speaker.
“Solo?” a male voice called. “It’s Carib Devist.”
Han grimaced. “What do you want? We’re kind of busy out here.”
“No kidding,” Carib snapped. “And whose fault do you think that is?”
“We already know,” Han growled. “Some troublemakers got aboard the Predominance and started shooting. Probably Imperials.”
“Definitely Imperials,” Carib retorted. “And it was other Imperials who stirred the rest of the crowd into doing likewise. Or didn’t you hear them broadcasting recorded attack orders in a half-dozen different languages?”
Han threw a glower at Elegos, feeling a stab of chagrin at having totally missed reality on that one. So that was what those small Imperial ships Carib had identified had been hanging around Bothawui for. Obvious.
Or at least it would have been obvious if anyone out there had bothered to take a minute to think it through. But nobody had.
“But that can wait,” Carib went on. “I called to warn you that I think there’s something happening out by the head of that comet.”
“Yeah? What sort of something?” Han asked, his attention already back on the Predominance and how in space he was going to get Leia off it.
“I don’t know,” Carib said. “But there are a dozen mining ships fluttering around the area. All of them flying under Imperial pilots.”
Han frowned at the comm speaker. “What are you talking about? What would Imperials want with ore buckets?”
“I tell you they’re Imperial pilots,” Carib insisted. “Their whole flying style just screams it out.”
“Okay, fine,” Han said, not really interested in arguing the point. “So what do you want me to do about it?”
There was a hiss of exhaled breath from the speaker. “We’re going to go check it out,” he said, sounding disgusted. “Under the circumstances, I thought you might be interested in taking a look yourself. Sorry to have bothered you.”
The comm clicked off. “I’m sorry, too,” Han muttered. He glanced at Elegos—
Paused for another look. “What?” he snarled.
The Caamasi lifted his hands, palms up. “I said nothing.”
“What, you think I should just take off and head out there with him?” Han demanded. “Just leave Leia and go running off on a wild-tresher hunt?”
“Can you help her at the moment?” Elegos countered mildly. “Can you free her, or defeat the attacking ships, or halt the battle itself?”
“That’s not the point,” Han bit out. “Ten to one they’re just some miners who used to fly for the Empire. There are thousands of them around the New Republic—it doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Perhaps,” Elegos said. “You must balance that against all the rest.”
“All the rest of what?”
“The rest of all things,” Elegos said. “Your knowledge of Carib Devist and his observational abilities. Your belief—or lack of it—that he did not, in fact, betray you to the Empire while you were on Bastion. Your own experience with Imperial procedure and style, and whether you believe someone of Carib’s skills could recognize them. Your trust in your wife and her reading of this man.”
He lifted his eyebrows slightly. “And most of all, your innate sense of what is right and good. If there is indeed danger of some sort out there, whether you should leave him to face it alone.”
“He isn’t exactly alone,” Han grumbled. “He’s got a whole bunch of his other clones with him.”
Elegos didn’t reply. Han sighed and did a quick search of the sky. There was Carib’s beat-up Action II freighter, all right, driving out past the boundaries of the battle toward the blazing comet in the distance. All alone. “You know, you Caamasi could be a real pain if you worked on it a little,” Han told Elegos, turning the Falcon to follow and keying the comm to Lando’s comlink frequency. “Lando? Hey, Lando, look alive.”
“Yes, Han, what is it?” Lando’s tight voice came back.
“You back on the Lady Luck yet?”
“I wish I were,” the other said fervently. “I’m stuck on the Industrious Thoughts with Senator Miatamia.”
Han grimaced. “That’s one of the ships attacking Leia?”
“If Leia’s on the Predominance, yes,” Lando said, his voice both disgusted and more than a little bit nervous. “Han, we’ve got to get this th
ing stopped, and fast.”
“No argument from me, buddy,” Han said, steering clear of a pair of Froffli patrol ships slugging it out with a D’farian starbarque. “Gavrisom’s with Leia. If you can get Miatamia to call off their jamming, maybe he can talk this thing down.”
“I’ve already tried,” Lando sighed. “I’m the last person aboard anyone’s interested in listening to.”
“I know the feeling,” Han said. “Look, I need a quick favor. I’m heading over to that comet out there with Carib Devist. Put some macrobinoculars on me, will you, just in case we run into trouble?”
There was a brief pause. “Sure, no problem. Exactly what sort of trouble are you expecting?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Han said. “Carib seems to think there are Imperials out there flying ore buckets around. Just keep an eye on us, huh?”
“I will,” Lando promised. “Good luck.”
Han keyed off the comm and swerved around the last handful of ships between him and the comet. “Hang on,” he told Elegos as he threw full power to the sublight drive. “Here we go.”
“Easy, now,” Bel Iblis warned from Booster’s side. “Take it nice and calm and easy. We’re all friends here, with the protection of the outer defense perimeter between us and the nasty Rebel attack force. We’re safe now, and there’s no need to look like we’re hurrying.”
“No, we wouldn’t want to look like that,” Booster growled, staring uneasily at the huge mass of the Ubiqtorate base looming directly ahead of them. Suddenly, his beloved Errant Venture didn’t seem nearly so big and powerful and safe anymore as it used to.
“Steady, Terrik,” Bel Iblis said. His voice, to Booster’s thorough annoyance, was controlled and glacially calm. “The big show’s going on behind us, remember? The last thing we want to do is draw their eyes our direction.”
Booster nodded, glancing over at the aft display. There was a show going on back there, all right, with the New Republic ships taking a real beating from the Yaga Minor defense perimeter.
Or at least, that was how it was supposed to look. If they were following orders, they were actually hanging just far enough back to keep from taking any really serious damage from the massed turbolaser fire. Hopefully, in all the confusion, the Imperials wouldn’t notice that. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t like this, Bel Iblis. We got in much too easy.”
“General, we’ve got movement,” the officer at the sensor station called. “Imperial Star Destroyer, moving up from starboard.”
Booster took a few steps forward along the command walkway, peering out the viewport, a bad feeling twisting into his gut. The Star Destroyer had appeared from around the starboard side of the base and had moved across the Errant Venture’s vector.
And even as he watched, it stopped there, between them and the base. Floating in space in front of them, as if daring them to pass …
“The ship ID’s as the Relentless,” someone else called. “Captain Dorja listed as commander.”
Booster’s bad feeling turned suddenly even worse. The Relentless—wasn’t that the ship that always showed up in the rumors about Grand Admiral Thrawn?
Bel Iblis had come up on Booster’s side again. “General …?” Booster murmured.
“I know,” Bel Iblis said, the calmness bending just a bit. “But running now would only make us look guilty. All we can do is play it through.”
“Transmission from the Relentless, General,” the comm officer called. “They’re asking to speak to Captain Nalgol.”
Booster looked at Bel Iblis. “All we can do is play it through,” Bel Iblis repeated. “Go on, give it a try.”
“Sure.” Taking a deep breath, Booster caught the comm officer’s eye and nodded. The man threw a switch and nodded back—“This is Commander Raymeuz, temporarily in command of the Imperial Star Destroyer Tyrannic,” he called in his best imitation of a typical Imperial’s overly stiff speech pattern. “Captain Nalgol was seriously injured in the last attack and is undergoing emergency treatment.”
There was a low chuckle from the bridge speakers. “Really,” a calm voice said. A steady voice; a cultured voice; a voice that scared Booster clear down to his boots. “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. You disappoint me, General Bel Iblis.”
Booster looked at Bel Iblis. The general was still staring out the viewport, his face not betraying any emotion at all.
“There’s really no point in trying to maintain this charade,” Thrawn said. “But perhaps you need a more convincing demonstration.”
It was as if someone behind Booster had suddenly yanked a carpet out from under his feet Suddenly he was toppling forward, arms flailing madly as he fought to regain his balance. Around him came the sounds of consternation from the rest of the bridge crew; from somewhere beyond that came the ominous sound of creaking metal.
“A small demonstration, as I said,” Thrawn continued, his tone almost bantering. “Your Star Destroyer is now totally helpless, pinned in place by approximately fifty of our heavy-lift tractor beams.”
Booster swallowed a curse that wanted desperately to come out. What was it with this ship and tractor beams, anyway?
He started as Bel Iblis tapped him on the arm. The general was glaring at him, gesturing him impatiently toward the comm station. Booster glared back, took a deep breath. “Admiral Thrawn, sir, what are you doing?” he called, trying to mix respect and bewildered fear into his tone. The latter part took no acting whatsoever. “Sir, we have injured officers and crewers aboard—”
“That’s enough,” Thrawn cut him off coldly. The attempt at casualness had apparently been too much for the red-eyed mongrel—it was back to being overbearing again. “I respect your courage in making this attempt, but the game is over. Must I order the turbolaser batteries to commence taking the ship apart?”
Bel Iblis exhaled softly. “No need for that, Admiral,” he called. “This is General Bel Iblis.”
“Ah—General,” Thrawn said. Once again he’d changed tone, Booster noted, this time switching from cold threat to the almost cordial unspoken camaraderie between fellow professionals. The man was nothing if not versatile. “I congratulate you, sir, on your attempt, futile though it may have been.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Bel Iblis said. “However, I suggest the success or failure of the operation has yet to be determined.”
“Do you, now,” Thrawn said. “Well, then, let us make it official. I hearby call on you to suspend your diversion and surrender your ship.”
Bel Iblis glanced at Booster. “And if I refuse?”
“As I suggested earlier, General, you’re lying helpless before me,” Thrawn said, his voice heavy with menace. “At my order, your ship will be systematically destroyed.”
For a long moment the bridge was silent. Booster watched Bel Iblis; Bel Iblis, in turn, was gazing out at the Star Destroyer standing in their path. “I need to discuss this with my officers,” he said at last.
“Of course,” Thrawn said easily. “Take your time. Only I suggest you don’t take too much time. Your diversionary force is fighting valiantly, if ineffectually, but my patience toward them will not last forever. Interdictor Cruisers are already moving into position to trap them there, and the various fighter commanders are pleading to be allowed to launch their TIEs and Preybirds.”
“Understood,” Bel Iblis said. “I’ll deliver my answer as quickly as possible.”
He gestured to the comm officer to cut the transmission. “What are you going to do now?” Booster demanded. The thought of the Errant Venture ending up again in Imperial hands …
“As I promised, I’m going to deliver my answer,” Bel Iblis said coolly. “Tanneris, Bodwae, where are those tractor beams originating? From the base or the defense perimeter?”
“I’m getting thirty-eight from emplacements in the perimeter,” Bel Iblis’s sensor officer reported.
“Fjifteen more comjing from the base jitself,” Bodwae added. “JI have thejir locatjions marked.”
“Not really, sir,” the helmsman said. “We’re pinned pretty solidly in place.”
“What about rotational? Can we swivel around a vertical axis?”
“Ah … yes, sir, actually I think we can,” the other said, frowning at his displays. “Probably no more than a quarter turn, though.”
“Not nearly enough to turn us around and get the blazes out of here,” Booster muttered.
“Getting out isn’t the goal,” Bel Iblis reminded him. “Simons, bring us around ninety degrees to portside, or as near to that as you can manage. Portside turbolasers and proton torpedo tubes, prepare to fire at the defense perimeter at my command, targeting the tractor beam emplacements holding us here. Starboard weapons, same thing, only targeting the emplacements on the base.”
There was a chorus of acknowledgments. Booster gazed out at the base and the Star Destroyer standing ready in front of it; and as he watched, they started moving to the right. Slowly and ponderously, but moving.
He took a step closer to Bel Iblis. “You realize, of course, that you’re not going to fool anybody with this,” he warned. “Least of all someone like Thrawn. He’s going to see us targeting the tractor beams and start slicing the ship up beneath us.”
Bel Iblis shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. All the evidence indicates that he’s trying to rebuild the Empire, and a mass of wreckage won’t help him do that. What he really wants from us is a few high-ranking New Republic prisoners he can parade in front of potential converts to his cause.”
“Not to mention picking up an extra Star Destroyer to use against anyone who isn’t so easily converted?”
“That, too,” Bel Iblis conceded. “Bottom line: he’s not going to start shooting until we’re nearly free. Maybe not even then.”
Booster grimaced. No, Thrawn would be in no hurry. Not with the Errant Venture on the wrong side of all that firepower waiting at the perimeter. “So how are you planning to get us out?”
