by Timothy Zahn
"Anyone in it?" Grinner asked.
"Not at the moment," Control said. "But whoever was living there liked having his own personal Star Destroyer captain's chair."
"His own what?" Grinner growled. "What in Vader's face would anyone want with something like that?"
"Very good," Control said archly. "You've got the question. Now if we had the answer, we'd have a complete set."
"I don't like this," Zothip rumbled. "I don't like any of it. He's playing something real close to the chest, and I don't like it."
"Whatever it is, we'll find out soon enough," Control assured him. "We might want to go in a little quieter than you'd planned, though."
"Oh, we'll go in quiet, all right," Zothip promised darkly. "Don't worry about that. He'll never hear a thing."
CHAPTER
21
They had made it five blockswhich was four blocks farther than Han had thought they would getwhen the whole thing started to unravel.
"Han?" Lando murmured as the three of them hurried across a busy street with a crowd of other pedestrians. "That security landspeeder there to the left just slowed down."
"I know," Han said grimly, peering around the edge of his scholar's hood. Near as he could tell through the curved windows, there were two men in the vehicle. Alert young men, by the looks of them, undoubtedly armed to the teeth. "That's, what, the third one that's taken an interest in us?"
"About that," Lando sighed. "Where's Luke and his Jedi tricks when you need them?"
"Luke or Leia," Han added, wishing mightily now that he hadn't argued so successfully against her coming on this trip. They might well have been spotted a lot sooner; but at least when they were they would have had a Jedi here on their side. "He's turning back aroundthey're on us, all right."
"Well, don't give up just yet," Lando said, glancing around. "You still have official standing with the New Republicwe may be able to talk our way out of it. Especially if they know how Leia reacts when one of her family gets in trouble."
"You mean like when one of the kids gets kidnapped or her husband gets beaten to a pulp or something?" Han growled, feeling his face warm.
"I didn't mean it that way," Lando protested.
"Thanks anyway," Han said, looking around for inspiration. His gaze fell on a tapcafe across the street with a large sign reading SABACC TOURNAMENT TODAY prominently displayed in the privacy-glazed window... "Over there." He nudged Lando in the tapcafe's direction. "You have your slugthrower, right?"
"Uh... yes," Lando said cautiously. "What exactly have you got in mind?"
"What's the one thing security types can't ever resist?" Han asked. "Especially young, cocky ones?"
"I don't know," Lando said humorlessly. "Working prisoners over?"
Han shook his head. "A good commotion," he said, nodding toward the tapcafe. "You take Lobot into the middle of the place and clear it out. I'll handle the rest."
"Right. Good luck."
They made it across the traffic in one piece and went into the tapcafe. Inside, it was just as Han had hoped large, well lit, and crowded to the gills with sabacc players hunched over tables and kibitzers standing behind them gazing over their shoulders. Breaking to the right just inside the door, he sidled around behind a wall of observers as Lando and Lobot worked their way in toward the curved bar bulging out into the room from the center of the left-hand wall. By the time they reached it Han had managed to work his way out of his scholar's robe. Kicking it back out of the way against the wall, he rubbed the sweat off his palms and waited for Lando to make his move.
He didn't have to wait very long. "All right, that's it!" Lando abruptly bellowed, his voice cutting through the low murmur of background conversation like a lightsaber through a block of ice. All heads turned toward the bar
And jerked back in shock and fright as the slugthrower blew a gaping hole in the ceiling.
"We'll settle this right here and now, you mangy kowk brain," Lando shouted over the echoing thundercrack and a handful of gasping shrieks. "Everybody else out!"
It was as unclear to Han as it was to everyone else just who the mangy kowk brain was that Lando was referring to. But if the sudden panicked exodus from the room was any indication, no one seemed eager to accept the title. Drinks, cards, and dignity completely forgotten, the whole crowd made a concerted dash for the door.
Han let about half of them get past him. Then, shoving his way into the stream, he squeezed through the door and out into the street.
He'd been right about the two security men. Their quiet surveillance totally abandoned, they were pushing their way upstream against the crowd toward the sound of the slugthrower shots, their blasters drawn and ready. Elbowing his way crosswise against the flow, Han angled toward them.
Concentrating on the tapcafe, the first one shoved past Han without a single glance. Han waited until the second was just passing him; then, grabbing the kid's gun hand, he swiveled on one heel and drove his elbow hard into the other's stomach. The air went out of him in a loud, agonized whoosh that clearly announced he was out of the fight.
Unfortunately, the sound also clearly announced trouble to his partner. Even as Han wrenched the blaster from his victim's limp hand the other security man, still enmeshed by the crowd, turned to see what had happened.
The kid was certainly young and agile enough. But he had turned around to his left, which left his blaster out of line for a quick shot behind him. Han, on the other hand, already had his appropriated weapon aimed. With a silent plea for the complete trappings of civilization to be in place here in the Imperial capital, he fired.
His plea was answered. Instead of the killing flash of full-power blaster fire, the weapon in his hand spat the brilliant blue rings of a stun jolt.
The security man dropped like a rock beneath the flow of the crowd, already scattering away from this new threat to their peace and quiet. Brandishing the blaster high, Han leaped over the prone body and dashed back to the tapcafe.
Inside, the place was deserted. Even the bartender had found somewhere to disappear to. "Not like the old days in the Outer Rim," Lando commented almost wistfully, stripping off his own scholar's robe with one hand as he kept his slugthrower ready.
"Lucky for you it isn't," Han reminded him. "On Tatooine or Bengely there'd have been fifteen blasters on you before you got your second shot off. Come onback door's that way."
Nevertheless, he felt a twinge of regret of his own as the three of them headed for the back of the tapcafe. Those had indeed been fine days...
* * * Bracing himself, Disra lifted his eyes from the datapad. "I don't know what to say, Admiral," he said, careful not to overdo the hurt indignation in his voice and expression. "I categorically deny all of this, of course."
"Of course," Pellaeon echoed, his eyes cool and measuring. "I'm sure it's nothing more than a carefully orchestrated smear campaign against you by your political enemies."
Disra bit down on his tongue in annoyance. That had indeed been the line he'd been planning to run with. Vader take the man, anyway. "I wouldn't go quite that far," he said instead. "I have no doubt that at least some of your sources have been sincere. Whatever their motivations or sincerity, though, their information is wrong."
Pellaeon exchanged glances with Commander Dreyf, seated beside him. Patient, knowing glances on both sides. "Really," Pellaeon said, looking back at Disra. "And what do you suggest is the motivation an sincerity of the official trading data Commander Dreyf uncovered on Muunilinst?"
"That's section fifteen on the file," Dreyf offered helpfully. "In case you missed it."
Disra ground his teeth, looking back at the datapad. Vader take Pellaeon and Dreyf. "All I can suggest is that someone deliberately planted those numbers," he said.
It was an unbelievably weak defense, and everyone in the office undoubtedly knew it. But even as Pellaeon opened his mouth to most likely point that out, there was a diffident tap from across the room and one of the double doors swung ponderous
ly open. Disra looked up, ready to scorch the person who'd had the temerity to intrude on a private conversation
"Your Excellency?" Tierce said, blinking with nicely underplayed surprise at the sight of the two armed troopers flanking the doorway, guards Pellaeon had had the effrontery to bring in here with him. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir"
"No, that's all right, Major," Disra said. "What is it?"
"I have an urgent message for you, Your Excellency," Tierce said, hesitantly crossing toward the desk, his eyes on Pellaeon. "From the palace situation room."
"Well, let me see it," Disra growled, waving the other impatiently forward and trying to cover his sudden misgivings. Tierce could just as easily have called down on the comm with news of their spy search; the speaker focus was set so that no one but Disra could hear. To have come down personally implied that something had gone seriously wrong...
Tierce reached the desk and handed Disra his datapad. And something had indeed gone seriously wrong.
Enemy spies identified as former New Republic generals Han Solo and Lando Calrissian plus an unidentified man with cyborg head implant. Subjects were spotted and identified at the corner of Regisine and Corlioon, but have broken surveillance and escaped. Capital Security is currently attempting to reestablish contact.
Disra looked up at Tierce, saw the hard edge to the Royal Guardsman's eyes. "I don't like getting reports like this," he said darkly. "What exactly is the lieutenant doing about it?"
"They're all working on it," Tierce said. "They seem to be doing their best."
"Is there a problem?" Pellaeon spoke up. His question was addressed to Disra, but his eyesand his attentionwere clearly on Tierce. "Perhaps you'd like to see to it personally."
Disra ground his teeth again. Yes, he very much wanted to see what was going on up there. But Pellaeon wouldn't have offered to let him squirm off the hook, even temporarily, unless he had some devious plan of his own in mind.
He suppressed a smile as it struck him. Of coursePellaeon wanted the chance to pull a quick private interrogation on Tierce, and was trying to get the Moff out of the way.
And it was now equally clear that the hope of dangling that precise bait in front of him was precisely Tierce's reason for delivering the message personally. "Thank you, Admiral," Disra said, getting to his feet. "I believe I will. Major Tierce, perhaps you'll keep the Admiral and his party company until I return."
"Me, sir?" Tierce asked, giving the visitors a simpleminded, wide-eyed expression. "Why, certainly, sir. If the Admiral doesn't mind."
"Not at all," Pellaeon said softly. "I'd be delighted."
"I'll be back soon," Disra promised. "Enjoy yourselves. Both of you."
Thirty seconds later he was back in the situation room. "What in the name of Vader's teeth happened?" he demanded.
"Calm yourself, Your Excellency," Thrawn said, his eyes flashing warningly at Disra. "We've only lost them temporarily."
Disra glared at the other, biting back a blistering retort. If this mess was the con man's fault, he was going to nail him to the wall. "May I inquire how something like this could happen?"
"Solo and Calrissian are combat veterans, highly experienced at survival," Thrawn said calmly. "The security men they came up against were neither." He shrugged, a subtle movement of shoulders beneath the white uniform. "Actually, it was rather instructive, pointing up as it did some obvious deficiencies in Capital Security's training procedures. We'll have to remedy that."
"I'm sure they'll be delighted to have your input," Disra said, looking over at the status board. An overview of the city was currently displayed, along with the locations of all the Capital Security forces scattered around it. "Wouldn't it make more sense to concentrate our surveillance on the spaceport? They're probably trying to get back to their ship."
"I'm sure they are," Thrawn agreed. "However, if they arrive to find a ring of stormtroopers blocking their path, they'll simply find an alternative way off Bastion."
"I suppose you're right," Disra said reluctantly. Tierce's argument, undoubtedly. Most likely his exact words, too; Disra could practically hear the Guardsman's characteristic inflections in the con man's voice. "May I ask what you suggest we do, then?"
Thrawn turned his glowing red eyes toward the status board. "The first step in catching a sentient prey is to think as he does," he said. Again, words that sounded straight out of Tierce's mouth. "What was their mission here, and how did they intend to accomplish it?"
"How about sabotage?" Disra gritted. "That sound like a likely mission?"
"No," Thrawn said firmly. "They wouldn't send men like Solo and Calrissian in as saboteurs. Spies, perhaps, but not saboteurs."
"Admiral Thrawn?" one of the troopers spoke up from his station. "I've got a partial backcheck on the targets now. We've got a droid download that shows they've spent the past three days in the Imperial Library."
"Very good," Thrawn said, looking back at Disra. His head tilted fractionally toward an unoccupied corner of the room
"I'd like to speak with you a moment, Admiral," Disra said, picking up on the cue. "Privately, if I may."
"Certainly, Your Excellency," Thrawn said, gesturing toward the corner. "Let's step over here."
They crossed to the corner. "Don't tell melet me guess," Disra muttered, keeping his voice low. "They're here after the Caamas Document."
"What an amazing revelation, Your Excellency," Flim said, not quite sarcastically, his tone changing subtly out of his Thrawn character. "The interesting part is that I've never heard of either Solo or Calrissian having anywhere near the slicing training for a job like that."
Disra frowned. Getting past the con man's impertinence, he had a good point. A very good point. Disra himself had worked his way into the Emperor's Special Files, but he'd had years to do it and any number of experts to call on for advice along the way. "Then the slicer must be the head-implant who's with them," he suggested.
Flim's mouth puckered slightly. "No, I don't think so," he said. "They didn't get a good enough look at him for a positive ID, but my guess is that that's Lobot, Calrissian's old administrator from his pre-Endor days on Bespin. As far as I know Lobot hasn't got any slicing expertise, either..."
He trailed off, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "What is it?" Disra demanded.
"There's a trick I heard about once," Flim said slowly. "A slicing trick someone in the fringe came up with a few years ago. Now, how did that work? No, be quiet a minutelet me think."
For a dozen heartbeats the only sound in the room was the murmur of background conversation as the men working their boards reported to each other new information as it came in. All of it negative. Disra took deep breaths, concentrating on keeping a firm leash on his impatience. There were enemy spies loose in his city...
And abruptly, Flim's eyes focused on him again. "Verpines," he said with a note of triumph in his tone. "That was it. Verpines."
He took a half step past Disra. "Lieutenant, start a wide-spectrum comm frequency scan," he ordered, his voice suddenly that of Thrawn again. "Concentrate on Verpine biocomm frequencies."
The lieutenant's eyebrows didn't even lift. "Yes, sir," he said briskly, setting to work.
"Wait a second," Disra said, almost grabbing at Flim's sleeve and remembering just in time that that would be out of character. "Verpine biocomm frequencies?"
"It's really an impressively cute trick," Flim said, dropping his voice again to a level where only Disra could hear. "You have a Verpine slicer sitting off in a hole somewhere while a runner with an implant tuned to his personal biocomm frequency goes to the system you want to slice. With the data flow the implant can handle, the whole thing acts almost like a telepathic link. The Verpine sees through the implant's eyes and works the slicing on his own computer board, and the runner's fingers mimic his on the real system."
"He turns him into a puppet, in other words," Disra bit out, his stomach twisting with distaste. For an alien to play a human being that way, even an implant who
was no longer really human, was a vileness that bordered on the obscene.
"Basically," Flim agreed casually. "Like I said, a real cute trick."
"I'll take your word for it," Disra growled. Naturally, to a con man mired in the fringe himself, such obscenities were probably just a commonplace way of life. "So what if they've shut the link down?"
Flim shrugged, the same Thrawn-like gesture he'd used earlier. Out of earshot of the other troopers, he was still cagey enough to stay visually within his role. "Then we crump out, and we'll have to try something else."
Disra looked over at the status board. "What if we try broadcasting on those biocomm frequencies?" he asked. "Maybe tell the Verpine to start up their repulsorlifts or something? That would at least smoke out their ship for us."
"We'd have to know how to encode a message into Verpine," Flim said doubtfully. "I doubt we could find someone who can do it fast enough."
"Couldn't a protocol droid handle the translation?"
"Not without a special module," Flim told him. "Off-the-floor models don't usually come equipped to translate Verpine. Not enough call for it."
He stroked his lower lip thoughtfully. "On the other hand, if Lobot's still got the link open from his end, we might be able to pick up a resonance echo if we hit the right frequency. That was something we used to have to worry about with our comlinks when we were running against some of the more sophisticated planetary patrol groups. If we can get a receiver close enough, and if we're lucky, we might be able to locate them."
Disra felt his lip twist. "An awful lot of ifs in there."
"I know," Flim conceded. "But we've got to try something, and that's the best I can do right now." He nodded toward the door. "Maybe you'd better get Tierce back up here. This is tactics, and he is our tactics expert."
And Pellaeon had had enough time alone with the man, anyway. "I'll send him up," he said, heading toward the door. "Keep me informed, Admiral."
* * * With one final lurch, the turbolift car came to a halt. "This it?" Zothip's voice growled.
