by Timothy Zahn
“What do you mean?” Han asked, frowning as he searched the sky. Preoccupied with his own part of the fight, he’d completely lost track of the Action II.
“I mean they aren’t struggling against the tractor beam,” Elegos explained, pointing out the viewport.
He was right. There was Carib’s freighter, a little to starboard and considerably closer to the dark hull than the Falcon was. Making no attempt at all to escape.
But that didn’t make sense. Surely Carib knew even better than he did that there was going to be no such thing as surrender here. Had he and the others already been killed?
Or had their newly professed allegiance to Leia and the New Republic never been anything more than a trick?
“Solo?” a voice crackled out from the speaker. “This is Carib. Get ready.”
“Get ready for what?”
“What do you think?” Carib retorted. “And look; if we don’t make it, I want you to see to it that our families are taken care of. Deal?”
Han threw a frown at Elegos. What in space—?
“We have a deal,” Elegos called toward the comm, looking as puzzled as Han felt but apparently willing to play along. “Don’t worry.”
“All right. It’s been nice knowing you.”
The comm clicked off. Han stared out at the freighter, a sudden premonition sending a chill up his back—
And then, all at once, the Action II exploded.
Beside him, he heard Elegos gasp. “What—?”
“Just watch,” Han cut him off, gripping the helm yoke. “And like the man said, get ready.” The flare and dust of the explosion cleared, blown away by the expanding air from inside or snatched away by the tractor beam—
And suddenly, from the cloud of debris, a dozen TIE Interceptors burst out.
It took the Imperials no more than five seconds to react to this new and completely unexpected threat. But in this case, five seconds was far too long. The TIEs swarmed close in across the hull, dodging through the frantic turbolaser fire with casual ease, systematically blasting the tractor beam emplacements.
Han watched in fascination, memories of Baron Fel’s legendary flying skill flooding back. Only this time, it was a dozen Baron Fels running interference for him.
And with a jolt that cracked his teeth together, the Falcon was free.
“Hang on!” he snapped, cutting the ship around in a tight circle and pouring power to the sublight drive. The Star Destroyer’s turbolasers were starting to open up behind him now as they saw their quarry escaping, and he threw the Falcon into a corkscrewing evasive maneuver as he drove hard toward the invisible edge of the cloaking shield. “You still have the comm ready to transmit to those idiots over Bothawui?” he added, watching the rear deflector indicator warily. If the shields collapsed before they made it out, the Imperials could still win.
“I’m ready,” Elegos said. “As soon as—”
He broke off with a gasp. Han twisted his head to the side as the familiar shape of a TIE Interceptor suddenly appeared alongside. Reflexively, he grabbed for the weapons board—
And relaxed just in time. Emblazoned on the TIE’s solar panels was the New Republic insignia. Beyond the TIE the rest of Carib’s unit was forming up on his flank—
And suddenly the darkness around them vanished, and they were surrounded by stars again. “That’s it,” he said. “Get busy with the comm.”
Elegos cleared his throat. “I don’t believe,” he said, “that that will be necessary.”
Puzzled, Han turned to look.
And caught his breath. Driving resolutely toward them from the direction of Bothawui were a group of over a dozen heavy warships.
The comm crackled. “Han?” Lando’s voice came.
“Yeah, Lando,” Han called back. “Watch yourselves—there’s an Imperial Star Destroyer under that cloaking shield.”
“Understood,” Lando said. “Are those TIE interceptors with you?”
Han smiled grimly. “You bet they are. Can you whistle up some more help?”
“Captain Solo, this is Senator Miatamia,” a new voice spoke up. “We are transmitting your warning to all ships allied to the Diamala and requesting their assistance.”
“Great,” Han said. “I suggest you invite the Ishori in on this party, too. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Han?” Leia’s voice cut in, sounding breathless and relieved and tense all at the same time. “Han, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, hon,” he assured her. “You still with the Ishori?”
“Yes,” she said. “The captain’s still not sure—”
She broke off abruptly. “Leia?” Han barked.
“Never mind,” she said, a sudden grim tone in her voice. “I don’t think he has any doubts anymore.”
Han frowned, swinging the Falcon around in a tight circle and looking back. The Star Destroyer, its ambush now thwarted, had dropped its cloaking shield.
Only it wasn’t just a single Star Destroyer pulling away from the comet toward the incoming fleet. It was three of them.
He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Now it’s a fight.”
CHAPTER
41
“Report from Base Command, Admiral,” the comm officer called from the portside crew pit. “Enemy Star Destroyer has disabled two more of the tractor beam emplacements.”
“Have repairs begun immediately on those emplacements, Lieutenant,” Thrawn said coolly. “And order Base Command to lock three more beams onto the target.”
Standing a little way off to Disra’s left, just aft of the command walkway, Paloma D’asima muttered something under her breath to Karoly D’ulin. “A question?” Disra asked, taking a step toward the two Mistryl.
The older woman nodded toward Thrawn. “I was telling Karoly I don’t like any of this,” she said, her tone disgusted. “He’s playing with them. Why not just blast them and be done with it?”
“Grand Admiral Thrawn is a very subtle man,” Disra said, hoping the loftiness of his tone would discourage her from asking questions he couldn’t answer. As a matter of fact, he didn’t understand what Tierce had in mind with this one, either. But the major was standing straight and tall at Thrawn’s side, exactly as a good aide should, so presumably everything was still going according to plan.
Thrawn must have overheard the comment. He murmured something to Tierce, got a nod of agreement, and the major turned and walked back to where Disra and the two Mistryl stood. “Admiral Thrawn heard your question and asked me to come explain his reasoning to you,” he said, stepping to D’asima’s side where he could talk to her while still keeping an eye on Bel Iblis’s attempts to break free of the trap. “He isn’t interested in destroying General Bel Iblis, you see. On the contrary, he wants the general to surrender his ship and crew intact.”
He gestured toward the multiple turbolaser blasts. “But as you can also see, Bel Iblis is a proud and stubborn man. He has to be convinced first that he has no chance against the resources of this base. Admiral Thrawn is therefore giving him a chance to do his best against us.”
“Showing him the futility of resistance,” D’asima said. She still didn’t sound exactly pleased, but at least the disgust was no longer evident in her tone. “And adding salt to the sore by increasing the number of tractor beams each time Bel Iblis knocks one out.”
“Exactly,” Tierce said, beaming. “Admiral Thrawn has always been one to treat even his enemies with respect.”
“Though naturally he treats his allies far better,” Disra put in. It wouldn’t hurt to remind D’asima why she was here in the first place.
“Admiral?” the comm officer called again. “We’re getting a direct transmission from the perimeter defense coordinator. He urgently requests your assistance in dealing with the X-wings that have broken through his line.”
Disra threw a startled look at Tierce behind D’asima’s head. “X-wings?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,�
� Tierce replied, his voice taut. He made as if to hurry back to Thrawn’s side, checked himself just in time at a quick warning glare from Disra. It wouldn’t do, the Moff had already warned them both, for Tierce to look too vital to the operation. The con man up there knew how to get him back if he needed him.
But for the moment, at least, their Grand Admiral seemed to have it under control. “What X-wings are those, Lieutenant?” he asked, his voice calm but with an edge to it.
“He says he reported the penetration to General Hestiv over ten minutes ago,” the comm officer said, sounding confused. “They apparently sneaked in behind one of our freighters.”
“One of our freighters?” Thrawn asked.
“An Imperial freighter, sir,” the officer corrected himself hastily. “Supply run, probably. The coordinator reports it was running all the proper access codes.”
“I’m sure it was,” Thrawn said, his glowing eyes flashing. “And General Hestiv just happened to forget to pass this information on to us, did he?”
His gaze shifted around, fell on Tierce. “Major Tierce?”
“Yes, sir,” Tierce said, stepping briskly forward at the cue. “Shall I locate that freighter for you?”
“Please,” Thrawn said gravely, picking up on the cue in turn.
And then, still looking back in their direction, the glowing eyes suddenly widened. Disra frowned—
“Don’t trouble yourself, Major,” a familiar voice called from behind Disra. “The freighter in question is currently docked in your number seven hangar bay.”
Slowly, disbelievingly, Disra turned around. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
But it was. There he stood, in the center of the archway leading to the aft bridge.
Admiral Pellaeon.
The element of surprise was gone, the fratricidal battle over Bothawui cut short sooner than the Imperials had most likely hoped. Even now, Leia saw, the last lingering shots of that conflict were dwindling away as the various combatants woke up to the greater danger on their flank.
But even in its brevity the fight had taken a heavy toll, she realized as she studied the Predominance’s tactical display. Out of the nearly two hundred ships that had been fighting, fewer than a hundred ten were arraying themselves for battle against the three Star Destroyers now moving toward them.
“We’re outgunned, aren’t we?” Gavrisom said quietly from her side.
“I’m afraid we are,” Leia conceded. “And even the ships that can still fight have all taken damage. Those Star Destroyers are fresh and rested.”
“And not all of our ships may actually stay with us once they compute the odds for themselves,” Gavrisom said, twitching his wings. “Even with my general summons under Section 45-2, the fact is, we are still asking them to fight in defense of Bothawui and the Bothan people.”
Leia nodded grimly. “Something which at least half of them aren’t really interested in doing.”
“Leia?”
She lifted her comlink. “I’m here, Han,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, sure,” he said, dismissing the danger casually. “They gave up shooting at us a long time ago. Look, Elegos has been counting the ships you’ve got there, and neither of us is very happy with the numbers he’s coming up with.”
“Neither are any of the rest of us,” Leia said. “Gavrisom has a call in to any New Republic forces nearby, but so far there’s been no response.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I can come up with something,” Han said, his tone studiously casual. “You know if Fey’lya’s on Bothawui at the moment?”
Leia frowned. “Actually, I believe he is. Why?”
“You know how to reach him?”
“His private comlink frequency’s in the Falcon’s computer, listed under his name,” Leia said. “Why?”
“I’m going to try a little diplomacy,” he told her. “See if you can stall off those Star Destroyers a little.”
He clicked off. “Right,” Leia murmured to herself. “Stall them off.”
Beside her, Gavrisom shook his mane. “There is one other matter of immediate concern, Leia,” he said. “This fleet is made up of beings who, by and large, do not trust each other. We need someone in command who all will trust, or at least tolerate.”
“That one I may be able to solve,” Leia said, rekeying her comlink. “Lando?”
“Yes, Leia?”
“Lando, at the request of President Gavrisom, I’d like you to accept immediate reinstatement into the New Republic military,” she said. “We need you to take command of this defense force.”
There was a short pause. “You are kidding,” he said.
“Not at all, General,” Gavrisom assured him. “As a hero of Taanab and Endor, you are precisely the one we need.”
There was a faintly audible sigh. “I’d argue if I thought it would do any good,” Lando said reluctantly. “All right, I’ll do it. It would have been nice if you could have given me a bigger fleet to work with, though.”
“Hey, no problem, buddy,” Han’s voice broke in. “It’s all taken care of. Take a look behind you.”
Leia stared at the bridge’s aft-view display, feeling her mouth falling open. Rising rapidly from the surface of Bothawui were over a hundred ships, everything from Z-95 Headhunters to Skipray Blastboats to even a few small capital warships. And more were still rising through the atmosphere. “Han!” she gasped. “What in the worlds did you do?”
“Like I said, a little diplomacy,” Han said. “I got to remembering that Thrawn suggested to Lando and me that Fey’lya had a little private army stashed away. Made sense to me, so I called the little furball and pointed out that any Bothan who helped save Bothawui could really cash in on that when this was all over.”
“And Fey’lya came up with all of that?” Leia asked, still not believing it.
“Not exactly,” Han said smugly. “Turns out there was a lot of signal leakage in my transmission. Battle damage, probably. I figure half the planet must have heard what I said to him.”
And finally, Leia understood. “And of course none of them wanted Fey’lya to grab all the glory for himself,” she said, smiling tightly. “Have I told you lately that you’re brilliant?”
“No,” he said. “But that’s okay—you’ve been busy. Are we ready?”
“We’re ready,” Leia said, nodding. “General Calrissian: your fleet awaits your orders.”
For a long minute the bridge seemed to have become suspended in time and space. Moff Disra stood stiffly where he was, a couple of steps away from the two female civilians, his face contorted with disbelief and hatred and perhaps even a touch of fear. Major Tierce had stopped, too, halfway along the command walkway, looking back at Pellaeon with an unreadable expression on his face. Captain Dorja and the officers at the side consoles were staring back at him, and even the men down in the crew pits had somehow sensed something was wrong and had dropped their voices to whispers.
“Admiral Pellaeon,” Thrawn’s smoothly modulated voice broke the silence. Pellaeon had rather expected him to be the first to speak. “Welcome aboard the Relentless. I’m afraid we somehow missed the news of your arrival.”
“As I somehow missed the news of your return,” Pellaeon countered. Like Tierce, the expression behind those glowing red eyes was unreadable. “An unintentional oversight, I’m sure.”
“Are you questioning the Grand Admiral’s decisions?” Disra snarled.
“On the contrary,” Pellaeon assured him. “I’ve always had the highest respect for Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
“Then why sneak aboard this, way?” Tierce demanded, coming back along the walkway and stopping next to the younger of the two women. “Do you have something to hide? Or some dark errand of treason to carry out?”
Deliberately, Pellaeon shifted his gaze from the major to the women beside him. “I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced,” he said, bowing his head in greeting. “I’m Admiral Pellaeon, Supreme Commander of Imperial force
s.”
“Not anymore you’re not,” Disra growled. “Grand Admiral Thrawn is in command now.”
“Really,” Pellaeon said, eyeing him coolly. “I wasn’t informed of any change of command. Another unintentional oversight?”
“Take care, Admiral,” Tierce warned softly. “You’re treading on very slippery ground here.”
Pellaeon shook his head. “You’re mistaken, Major,” he said. “Whatever slippery ground exists here is beneath your feet.” He looked at Disra. “And yours, Your Excellency.”
He shifted his gaze to the man in the white Grand Admiral’s uniform. “And yours … Flim.”
Disra’s head jerked as if he’d touched a live power cable. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. But there was a new tremor in the Moff’s voice, and his eyes were those of a man seeing sudden destruction coming inexorably toward him.
“I’m talking about an accomplished con artist,” Pellaeon said, raising his voice so that the entire bridge could hear. “I have his rather colorful life history right here,” he added, pulling a datacard from his tunic and holding it up. “Including detailed holos and a complete genetic profile.”
He looked across at Flim. “Would you care to accompany me to the nearest medical station for an examination?”
“But we checked his genetic profile, sir,” Captain Dorja objected, stepping away from the side console where he’d been standing. “Captain Nalgol took a skin sample and compared it to Thrawn’s official records.”
“Records can be altered, Captain,” Pellaeon reminded him. “Even official records, if the access codes have been sliced. When we return to Bastion, you can compare the genetic records with those on this datacard.”
“Lies can even more easily be created on datacards,” Tierce said. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of something vicious beneath it. “This is nothing but a last, pitiful attempt to undermine Grand Admiral Thrawn’s authority, driven by Pellaeon’s jealous fear of losing his position and prestige.”
He half turned. “You see it, Captain Dorja, don’t you?” he called. “Thrawn came to you instead of Pellaeon—that’s what he can’t stomach. He came to you and Nalgol and the others and not to him.”
