by Timothy Zahn
“It already has,” Leia said, a shiver running through her. “A dozen other governments have filed notice with the Senate that they’re going to be presenting their own lists of demands against the Bothans.”
“Or else?”
Leia shrugged. “That’s the implied threat.”
Han made a rude noise in the back of his throat. “You know what high esteem I hold the Bothans in, hon, but this is getting ridiculous. I suppose Fey’lya’s screaming to Gavrisom for protection?”
“He doesn’t have to,” Leia told him. “The Diamala and Mon Calamari have announced they’re sending ships to defend Bothawui against any further aggression.”
Han whistled under his breath. “You’re kidding. What kind of ships?”
“Big ones,” Leia said. “Star Cruisers from the Mon Cals, some Nebula- and Endurance-class warships from the Diamala. They say they’re protecting the rights of the innocent. Others are saying they’re just the latest victims of Bothan manipulation.”
“That would be my vote.” Han said. “Has Bel Iblis proved yet the Bothans were behind that phony Di’tai’ni mediation request?”
“No actual proof, but he personally has no doubts the whole thing was a ruse to keep him and the task force within easy striking distance of Bothawui,” Leia said, grimacing. “Between that and the Leresai sabotage of Rogue Squadron’s lasers—”
“What, they’ve admitted it?”
“Not only admitted it, they were proud of it,” Leia said. “They consider it the height of honor to keep outsiders from getting hurt in one of their quarrels.”
Han snorted. “I’ll bet Wedge was real pleased about that.”
“He and Garm are about ready to spit blaster bolts,” Leia said. “Garm told Gavrisom flat-out that the New Republic is not going to play the lowest piece in anyone else’s political games.”
“That sounds like a direct quote,” Han said. “Here, turn around a little.” Pulling his arm from behind her neck, he started massaging her shoulders.
“It was,” Leia said, feeling her taut muscles softening reluctantly under the pressure of Han’s fingertips. “That feels good.”
“Good—it’s supposed to,” Han said with a touch of forced humor. “You know, messing with someone like Bel Iblis wasn’t a smart thing for the Bothans to do.”
“I’m sure they know that,” Leia agreed. “It shows how desperate they’re getting.”
She sensed the sideways movement as Han shook his head. “This is crazy, Leia. Don’t any of them even care that Thrawn’s back?”
“Of course not,” Leia said. “Half of them don’t believe a word of it—they think the Diamala cooked the whole thing up to scare everyone into letting the Bothans off the hook. The other half concede it may be true, but don’t see any way the Empire could possibly be a threat to them anymore.”
“Then they’re all fools,” Han growled. “Thrawn’s got something up his sleeve. I’ll bet the Falcon he does.”
“I agree,” Leia said with a sigh. “On the other hand, at this point he almost doesn’t have to do anything at all. The New Republic’s rapidly degenerating into a hundred different armed camps, all polarized around the Caamas issue.”
“Can’t the Caamasi do anything to stop it?” Han asked. “They can’t want this.”
“Of course they don’t,” Leia said. “But you have to understand that Caamas has become more an excuse than it is a genuine issue. Everyone says they have the interests of Caamas and justice at heart, but a lot of them are just using that as a battle cry while they settle old scores.”
“Yeah,” Han said sourly. “So what do we do?”
“Only one thing we can do,” Leia said. “We have to take the excuse away from them; and that means getting the names of the actual Bothans that were involved and putting them on trial.”
There was a subtle change in Han’s emotions. “Yeah,” he said. “Well … Karrde’s trying.”
Leia frowned. “Did you speak to him today? I thought he’d already left Coruscant.”
“Far as I know he has,” Han said. “No, I just put out the word with a few smuggling people I know that I want to talk to Mazzic.”
“What about?”
“I just wanted to find out whether this Shada D’ukal really worked for him,” Han told her. “And why exactly she left.”
Leia smiled. “You wouldn’t be worried about Karrde, would you?”
“No,” Han protested. “Course not. He can take care of himself.”
“It’s all right, dear,” she soothed him, patting his leg again. “I like him, too.”
“I don’t exactly like him,” Han said, still protesting. “I mean, he can be a real pain in the neck sometimes.”
“So could you, dear,” Leia reminded him. “Still can, for that matter. You know, I sometimes think Karrde is sort of what you would have been if you hadn’t joined the Rebellion.”
“Maybe,” Han said. “Except for the beard.”
“Thank the Force for small favors,” Leia said dryly. “Anyway, that’s how I spent my day. Aside from chatting with smugglers, how did you spend yours?”
“Thinking, mostly,” he said. “I was thinking it was about time we got away for a while.”
“And a lovely thought that is,” Leia murmured. “But Gavrisom would have a fit if I tried to leave right now.”
“That might make it worthwhile all by itself,” Han said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Puffers throw a fit.”
Leia smiled. “I appreciate the offer, Han, I really do. But you know we can’t.”
“You give up too easily,” he reproved her casually. “I’ll bet you I could arrange something.”
Leia pulled away from the massage, turning to frown at him. There’d been another change in his emotions just then … “And assuming I took that bet,” she asked suspiciously, “what else would you tell me you did today?”
He favored her with one of his innocent looks. “Me? Oh, nothing much. You taking the bet or not?”
“Out with it, Han,” she said, putting some intimidation into her frown. “Where did you book us a flight to?”
As always, the intimidation bounced off without noticeable effect. “Nowhere important,” he said, a smile now lurking beneath all the innocence. “I just thought we could take a little jaunt out to Kanchen sector. Pakrik Major, to be exact.”
Leia searched her memory. She’d heard of Kanchen sector, and vaguely remembered Pakrik Major being the sector capital. But that was about it. “What’s out there that we’re interested in?” she asked.
“Absolutely nothing,” Han assured her. “Well, I mean except for an annual sector conference that a New Republic official really ought to attend. You know—diplomatic courtesy and all that.”
She sighed. “And what crisis are they going through that they need me to mediate?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” he said, grinning openly now. “There isn’t one. Everything out there’s real peaceful. We’d sit through a few boring meetings, then head off into the silence and relax.”
“You assume there’s silence somewhere nearby that we can get to.”
“There is,” Han said. “Pakrik Major’s got a twin planet, Pakrik Minor, where they’ve got nothing but farms, a few resorts, and lots of undeveloped countryside.”
This was sounding better and better. “Farms, you say?”
“Fruit and tallgrain, mostly,” Han said with a nod. “And forests and mountains and all the silence you want. And no one here even has to know we’re going.”
Leia sighed. “Except Gavrisom,” she said, feeling a twinge of regret. “And he’ll never approve.”
Han’s grin turned smug. “Sure he will. Fact is, I called him this afternoon and set it all up. He loves the idea.”
She blinked. “He loves the idea?”
“Well, maybe he doesn’t love it, exactly,” Han back-pedaled. “But he’s letting us go, and that’s what’s important. Right?”
“R
ight,” Leia said, eyeing him. “You going to drop the other glove, or not?”
Han shrugged. “He didn’t exactly say it outright,” he admitted reluctantly, “but I got the feeling he wouldn’t mind if the two of us sort of disappeared for a while.”
“Even with Thrawn on the loose?”
Han made a face. “Especially with Thrawn on the loose.”
Leia sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She should have guessed that there would be something like that behind it. Between the Bothan shooting controversy still clinging to Han and her own support of Lando’s unsubstantiated claim about seeing Thrawn, the two of them had become political embarrassments. No wonder Gavrisom was jumping at the chance to get them out of the public eye for a while. “I’m sorry, Han,” she apologized. “I always ask that one question too many, don’t I?”
“It’s okay, hon,” he said, squeezing her tightly. “We don’t have to let them take the shine off this, you know. It was our idea to take a vacation, no matter what they think it is.”
Leia smiled tightly. “ ‘You can’t throw me out; I quit,’ ” she quoted the old joke.
“Something like that,” he said. “Anyway, I talked to Chewie, and there’s no problem with keeping the kids on Kashyyyk a little longer. It’ll be some time just for the two of us.”
Leia smiled tightly into his neck. “You know, that’s almost exactly what I told myself when Gavrisom sent us to Bothawui,” she said. “You saw how well that turned out.”
“Well, this time it’s going to work,” Han said positively. “No Bothans, no riots, no one shooting at us. Guaranteed.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she warned, pulling out of the hug for a quick kiss. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you’re packed,” he said, squeezing her arm. “And hurry up—I’ve been packed for hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Leia said, mock-seriously, as she stood up and headed for their bedroom. Some quiet, peaceful time away from trouble and controversy. Yes, it was exactly what she needed.
The tallgrain farms of Pakrik Minor. She could hardly wait.
CHAPTER
24
The scouts had spent the past twenty-eight hours sweeping the system; and when they returned they brought the report Admiral Pellaeon had been expecting. Except for the Chimaera itself, the Pesitiin system was about as deserted as a region of space could be.
“Offhand, sir, I’d say he turned down your offer,” Captain Ardiff said, coming up beside Pellaeon on the Star Destroyer’s command walkway.
“Perhaps,” Pellaeon said, gazing out the viewport at the stars. “It’s also possible that my suggested timetable was a little optimistic. General Bel Iblis may be having difficulty convincing the New Republic hierarchy that it would be to their benefit to talk to me.”
“Or else he’s having trouble putting together a big enough combat force to take on an Imperial Star Destroyer,” Ardiff said ominously. “It strikes me that this could be a giant rachnid’s web we’re comfortably settling ourselves into the middle of.”
“Relax, Captain,” Pellaeon soothed the younger man. For all his budding military capability, Ardiff had a tendency to ramble over his own tongue when he was feeling nervous. “Bel Iblis is a man of honor. He wouldn’t betray my invitation that way.”
“I seem to recall that he was also once a man of extreme ambition,” Ardiff countered. “And at the moment he looks to be getting lost among the swarm of other generals and admirals infesting the New Republic military. It could easily occur to an ambitious man that capturing you would dramatically increase his visibility.”
Pellaeon smiled. “I’d like to believe that after all these years I could still be such a valuable prize,” he said. “But I hardly think that to be the case.”
“You can be as modest as you want, Admiral,” Ardiff said, gazing uneasily out at the starlit sky. “But right now you’re about the only thing that’s holding the Empire together.”
Pellaeon gazed out at the stars. “Or the only chance we have of survival,” he added quietly.
“However you want to think about it, sir,” Ardiff said, a note of asperity creeping into his voice. “The point remains that Colonel Vermel went out to deliver your message and never returned. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Pellaeon had to concede. “I take it you have a theory?”
“Yes, sir, the same theory I’ve had since before we left Yaga Minor,” Ardiff said. “I think Vermel learned something, either from Bel Iblis directly or else he overheard something someone else said. That whatever he heard made it necessary for Bel Iblis to lock him up where he couldn’t communicate with you. That at best we’re wasting our time, and that at worst we’re walking into a trap.”
“It’s still a worthwhile gamble, Captain,” Pellaeon said quietly. “We’ll give Bel Iblis a few days to show up. After that—”
“Admiral Pellaeon?” the sensor officer called from the starboard crew pit. “Incoming ships, sir. Looks like eight of them, coming in on vector one-six-four by fifty-three.”
Pellaeon felt his throat tighten. “Identification?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
“Four are Corellian gunships,” another voice called. “The big one’s a Kaloth battlecruiser—looks like it’s been heavily modified. Three are Telgorn Pacifier-class assault boats. IDs … inconclusive.”
“What do you mean, inconclusive?” Ardiff demanded.
“Their IDs don’t match anything in the registry,” the officer said. “I’m running an overlay check to see if I can unravel them.”
“Disguised ships,” Ardiff said darkly.
“Smugglers use ID overlays, too,” Pellaeon reminded him. “So do pirates and some mercenary groups.”
“I know that, sir,” Ardiff said. “I also know that there’s precious little in this system any of those groups could possibly want.”
“A point,” Pellaeon admitted. “Communications officer, transmit our identification and ask for theirs.”
“Identification transmitted,” the other said. “No response.”
“Incoming ships have changed course,” the sensor officer called. “Now on intercept vector with the Chimaera.”
Ardiff hissed tensely between his teeth. “Steady, Captain,” Pellaeon advised him. “Lieutenant, get me a full sensor scan of the incoming ships. Weapons capabilities and hull markings in particular.”
“Acknowledged, sir—”
“Admiral!” another voice cut him off. “Incoming ships have reconfigured into attack formation.”
“I think, Admiral,” Ardiff said, his voice hard, “that we have Bel Iblis’s answer.”
Pellaeon closed his left hand into a fist at his side. “Any hull markings, Lieutenant?” he called.
“It’s coming up now, sir … yes, sir, there are. The gunships are carrying Corellian Defense Force insignia. The others … the same, sir.”
“Thank you,” Pellaeon murmured. He could feel Ardiff’s eyes on him, and the heat of the other’s anger and bitter vindication. “Captain, you’d best prepare the Chimaera for combat.”
“Yes, sir.” Ardiff half turned toward the portside crew pit. “All pilots to their fighters,” he ordered. “Ready to launch on my command. Deflector screens powered up; all turbolasers energized and ready.”
“And tractor beams,” Pellaeon added quietly.
Ardiff threw him a puzzled glance. “Sir?”
“We may want to bring in one or more of the ships,” Pellaeon explained. “Or some of the battle debris.”
Ardiff’s lip twitched. “Yes, sir. All tractor beams, activate.”
Pellaeon took a few steps closer to the forward viewport, moving away from the heightened buzz of activity from the crew pits and aft bridge. Could that really be Bel Iblis out there, blazing toward the Chimaera in full battle formation?
No. Ridiculous. He’d never met Bel Iblis in person, but everything he’d ever read about the man indicated a strong sense of honor and dignity. A man
like that wouldn’t pull what was essentially a cowardly sneak attack, not in response to an honest request for parley. Even in Bel Iblis’s losing battles against Grand Admiral Thrawn he’d maintained that same dignity.
His battles against Thrawn …
Pellaeon smiled tightly. Yes, there it was. A way, perhaps, to find out whether or not that was really Bel Iblis leading that motley attack force out there.
There was a movement of air at his side. “It’s possible he’s just being cautious,” Ardiff said, the words coming out with obvious reluctance. “The shield overlap that comes from an attack formation like that makes it useful for defense, as well. And he may simply not want to transmit his identity until he’s closer.”
Pellaeon eyed the young captain with mild surprise. “You impress me, Captain,” he said. “One of the most important attributes of a good commander is the ability to think beyond his own expectations.”
“I want to be fair, sir,” Ardiff said stiffly. “But not at the risk of your ship. Do you want me to launch TIEs or Preybirds?”
“Not yet,” Pellaeon said, looking back out the viewport. The incoming ships were visible now, tiny specks rapidly growing larger. “Whatever happens here, I want it clear that we did nothing to provoke hostilities.”
For a long minute they stood together in silence and waited. The incoming ships grew steadily larger …
And suddenly they were speeding low across the Chimaera, raking the Star Destroyer’s upper surface with a blaze of turbolaser fire. They pulled up, heading directly for the bridge—someone in one of the crew pits behind Pellaeon yelped with surprise or fear—
And then they were gone, branching to either side around the command superstructure and pulling for the safety of distance.
Ardiff let out a hissing breath. “I think that proves their intentions, Admiral,” he said, his earlier nervousness vanished into an icy professionalism. “Request permission to attack.”
“Permission granted,” Pellaeon said. “But with turbolasers only.”
Ardiff gave him a sharp look. “No fighters?”
