Dark Force Rising (Star Wars)

CHAPTER

1

Directly ahead, the star was a marble-sized yellow orange ball, its intensity moderated by its distance and by the viewports' automatic sunscreens. Surrounding it and the ship itself were the stars, a spattering of blazing white pinpricks in the deep blackness of space. Directly beneath the ship, in the western part of the Great Northern Forest of the planet Myrkr, dawn was approaching.

The last dawn that some in that forest would ever see. Standing at one of the side bridge viewports of the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera, Captain Pellaeon watched as the fuzzy terminator line crept toward the target zone on the planet below. Ten minutes ago, the ground forces surrounding the target had reported themselves ready; the Chimaera itself had been holding blockade position for nearly an hour. All that was missing now was the order to attack.

Slowly, feeling almost furtive about it, Pellaeon turned his head a couple of centimeters to the side. Behind him and to his right, Grand Admiral Thrawn was seated at his command station, his blue-skinned face expressionless, his glowing red eyes focused on the bank of status readouts wrapped around his chair. He hadn't spoken or moved from that position since the last of the ground forces had reported in, and Pellaeon could tell the bridge crew was beginning to get restless.

For his own part, Pellaeon had long since stopped trying to second-guess Thrawn's actions. The fact that the late Emperor had seen fit to make Thrawn one of his twelve Grand Admirals was evidence of his own confidence in the man-all the more so given Thrawn's not entirely-human heritage and the Emperor's well-known prejudices in sub matters. Moreover, in the year since Thrawn had taken command of the Chimaera and had begun the task of rebuilding the Imperial Fleet, Pellaeon had seen the Grand Admiral's military genius demonstrated time and again. Whatever his reason for holding off the attack, Pellaeon knew it was a good one.

As slowly as he'd turned away, he turned back to the viewport. But his movements had apparently not gone unnoticed. "A question, Captain?" Thrawn's smoothly modulated voice cut through the low hum of bridge conversation.

"No, sir," Pellaeon assured him, turning again to face his superior. For a moment those glowing eyes studied him, and Pellaeon unconsciously braced himself for a reprimand, or worse. But Thrawn, as Pellaeon still had a tendency to forget, did not have the legendary and lethal temper that had been the hallmark of the Lord Darth Vader.

"You're perhaps wondering why we haven't yet attacked?" the Grand Admiral suggested in that same courteous tone.

"Yes, sir, I was," Pellaeon admitted. "All our forces appear to be in position.

"Our military forces are, yes," Thrawn agreed. "But not the observers I sent into Hyllyard City."

Pellaeon blinked. "Hyllyard City?"

"Yes. I find it unlikely that a man of Talon Karrde's cunning would set up a base in the middle of a forest without also setting up security contacts with others outside the immediate area. Hyllyard City is too far from Karrde's base for anyone there to directly witness our attack; hence, any sudden flurries of activity in the city will imply the existence of a more subtle line of communication. From that we'll be able to identify Karrde's contacts and put them under long-term surveillance. Eventually, they'll lead us to him."

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, feeling a frown crease his forehead. "Then you're not expecting to take any of Karrde's own people alive. The Grand Admiral's smile turned brittle. "On the contrary. I fully expect our forces to find an empty and abandoned base." Pellaeon threw a glance out the viewport at the partly lit planet below. "In that case, sir ... why are we attacking it?"

"Three reasons, Captain. First, even men like Talon Karrde occasionally make mistakes. It could well be that in the rush to evacuate his base he left some crucial bit of information behind. Second, as I've already mentioned, an attack on the base may lead us to his contacts in Hyllyard City. And third, it provides our ground forces with some badly needed field experience."

The glowing eyes bored into Pellaeon's face. "Never forget, Captain, that our goal is no longer merely the pitiful rear-guard harassment of the past five years. With Mount Tantiss and our late Emperor's collection of Spaarti Cylinders in our hands, the initiative is once again ours. Very soon now we'll begin the process of taking planets back from the Rebellion; and for that we'll need an army every bit as well trained as the officers and crew of the Fleet."

"Understood, Admiral," Pellaeon said.

"Good." Thrawn lowered his gaze to his displays. "It's time. Signal General Covell that he may begin."

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, leaving the viewport and returning to his station. He gave the readouts a quick check and tapped his comm switch, peripherally aware as he did so that Thrawn had likewise activated his own comm. Some private message to his spies in Hyllyard City? "This is the Chimaera," Pellaeon said. "Launch the attack."

"Acknowledged, Chimaera," General Covell said into his helmet comlink, careful to keep the quiet scorn in his gut from getting through to his voice. It was typical-and disgustingly predictable. You scrambled around like mad hellions, got your troops and vehicles on the ground and set up and then you stood around waiting for those strutting Fleet people in their spotless uniforms and nice clean ships to finish sipping their tea and finally get around to letting you loose.

Well, get yourselves on the table, he thought sardonically in the direction of the Star Destroyer overhead. Because whether Grand Admiral Thrawn was interested in real results or just a good rousing show, he was going to get his money's worth. Reaching to the board in front of him, he keyed for local command frequency. "General Covell to all units: we've got the light. Let's go."

The acknowledgments came in; and with a shiver from the steel deck beneath him, the huge AT-AT walker was off lumbering its deceptively awkward-looking way through the forest toward the encampment a kilometer away. Ahead of the AT-AT, occasionally visible through the armored transparisteel viewport, a pair of AT-ST scout walkers ran in twin-point formation, tracking along the AT-AT's path and watching for enemy positions or booby traps. Not that such futile gestures would do Karrde any good. Covell had directed literally hundreds of assault campaigns in his years of Imperial service, and he knew full well the awesome capabilities of the fighting machines under his command.

Beneath the viewport, the holographic tactical display was lit up like a decorative disk, the winking red, white, and green lights showing the positions of Covell's circle of AT-ATs, AT-STs, and hoverscout attack vehicles, all closing on Karrde's encampment in good order. Good, but not perfect. The north-flank AT-AT and its support vehicles were lagging noticeably behind the rest of the armored noose. "Unit Two, bring it up," he said into his comlink.

"Trying, sir," the voice came back, tinny and distant through the strange dampening effects of Myrkr's metalrich flora. "We're encountering some thick vine clusters that are slowing down our scout walkers."

"Is it bothering your AT-AT any?"

"No, sir, but I wanted to keep the flank together-"

"Pattern coherence is a fine goal during academy maneuvers, Major," Covell cut him off. "But not at the expense of an overall battle plan. If the AT-STs can't keep up, leave them behind."

"Yes, sir."

Covell broke the connection with a snort. The Grand Admiral was right about one thing, at least: his troops were going to need a lot more battle seasoning before they would be up to real Imperial standards. Still, the raw material was there. Even as he watched, the north flank reformed itself, with the hoverscouts spreading forward to take up the AT-STs' former point positions while the lagging AT-STs themselves fell back into rear-guard deployment.

The energy sensor beeped a proximity warning: they were coming up on the encampment. "Status?" he asked his crew.

"All weapons charged and ready," the gunner reported, his eyes on the targeting displays.

"No indications of resistance, active or passive," the driver added.

"Stay alert," Covell ordered keying for command frequency again. "All units: move in."

And with a final crash of mangled vegetation, the AT-AT broke through into the clearing.

It was an impressive sight. From all four sides of the open area, in nearly perfect parade-ground unison, the other three AT-ATs appeared from the forest cover in the predawn gloom, the AT-STs and hoverscouts clustered around their feet quickly fanning out on all sides to encircle the darkened buildings.

Covell gave the sensors a quick but complete check. Two energy sources were still functioning, one in the central building, the other in one of the outer barracks-style structures. There was no evidence of operating sensors, or of weapons or energy fields. The life-form analyzer ran through its complicated algorithms and concluded that the outer buildings were devoid of life.

The large main building, on the other hand "I'm getting approximately twenty life-form readings from the main building, General," the number four AT-AT commander reported. "All in the central section."

"They don't register as human, though," Covell's driver murmured.

"Maybe they're being shielded," Covell grunted, looking out the viewport. Still no movement from the encampment. "Let's find out. Assault squads: go."

The hoverscouts popped their aft hatchways, and from each came a squad of eight soldiers, laser rifles held tautly across battle-armored chests as they dropped to the ground. Half of each squad took up backstop position, their rifles trained on the encampment from the partial cover of their hoverscout, while the other half sprinted across the open ground to the outer line of buildings and sheds. There, they assumed covering positions, allowing their comrades in the rear to similarly advance. It was a centuries-old military tactic, executed with the kind of squeamish determination that Covell would have expected of green troops. Still, the raw material was definitely there.

The soldiers continued their leap-frog approach to the main building, with small groups breaking off the main encirclement to check out each of the outer structures as they passed. The point men reached the central building-a brilliant flash lit up the forest as they blasted down the door-a slightly confused scramble as the rest of the troops piled through. And then, silence.

For a handful of minutes the silence continued, punctuated only by occasional short commands from the troop commanders. Covell listened, watching the sensors ... and finally the report came through. "General Covell, this is Lieutenant Barse. We've secured the target zone, sir. There's no one here." Covell nodded. "Very good, Lieutenant. How does it look?"

"Like they pulled out in a hurry, sir," the other said. "They left a fair amount of stuff behind, but it all looks pretty much like junk."

"That'll be for the scanning crew to decide," Covell told him.

"Any indication of booby traps or other unpleasant surprises?"

"None at all, sir. Oh-and those life-forms we picked up are nothing but these long furry animals living on the tree growing up through the center of the roof."

Covell nodded again. Ysalamiri, he believed they were called. Thrawn had been making a big deal about the stupid creatures for a couple of months now, though what use they could possibly be to the war effort he couldn't guess. Eventually, he supposed, the Fleet people would get around to letting him in on the big secret. "Set up a defensive honeycomb," he ordered the lieutenant. "Signal the scanning crew when you're ready. And get comfortable. The Grand Admiral wants this place taken apart, and that's exactly what we're going to do."

"Very good, General," the voice said, almost too faint to hear despite the heavy amplification and computer scrubbing. "Proceed with the dismantling."

Seated at the Wild Karrde's helm, Mara Jade half turned to face the man standing behind her. "I suppose that's it, then," she said. For a moment Talon Karrde didn't seem to hear her. He just stood there, gazing through the viewport at the distant planet, a tiny bluish-white crescent shape visible around the jagged edge of the sun-skimmer asteroid the Wild Karr was snuggled up against. Mara was just about to repeat the comment when he stirred. "Yes," he said, that calm voice showing no hint of the emotion he was obviously feeling. "I suppose it is." Mara exchanged glances with Aves, at the copilot station, then looked back up at Karrde. "Shouldn't we be going, then?" she prompted. Karrde took a deep breath ... and as she watched him, Mara caught in his expression a glimmer of what the Myrkr base had meant to him. More than just a base, it had been his home.

With an effort, she suppressed the thought. So Karrde had lost his home. Big deal. She'd lost far more than that in her lifetime and had survived Just fine. He'd get over it.

"I asked if we should get going."

"I heard you," Karrde said, the flicker of emotion vanishing again into that slightly sardonic facade of his. "I think perhaps we ought to wait a little longer. See if we left anything behind that might point in the direction of our Rishi base."

Mara looked at Aves again. "We were pretty thorough," Aves said. "I don't think there was any mention of Rishi anywhere except the main computer, and that left with the first group out."

"I agree," Karrde said. "Are you willing to stake your life on that assessment?"

Aves's lip twitched. "Not really."

"Nor am I. So we wait."

"What if they spot us?" Mara persisted. "Skulking behind asteroids is the oldest trick on the list."

"They won't spot us." Karrde was quietly positive. "Actually, I doubt the possibility will even occur to them. The average man running from the likes of Grand Admiral Thrawn is unlikely to stop running until he's a good deal farther away than this."

Are you willing to stake your life on that assessment? Mara thought sourly. But she kept the retort to herself. He was probably right; and anyway, if the Chimaera or any of its TIE fighters started toward Wild Karrde, they would have no trouble punching the engines up to power and going to lightspeed well ahead of the attack.

The logic and tactics seemed clean. But still, Mara could feel something nagging at the back of her mind. Something that didn't feel good about all this.

Gritting her teeth, she adjusted the ship's sensors to their highest sensitivity and checked once more that the engine prestart sequence was keyed in and ready. And then settled in to wait.

The scanning crew was fast, efficient, and thorough; and it took them just over thirty minutes to come up completely dry.

"Well, so much for that." Pellaeon grimaced as he watched the negative reports scroll up his display. A good practice session for the ground forces, perhaps, but otherwise the whole exercise seemed to have been pretty useless. "Unless your observers have picked up any reactions in Hyllyard City," he added, turning to face Thrawn.

The Grand Admiral's glowing red eyes were on his displays. "There was a small twitch, as a matter of fact," he said. "Cut off almost before it began, but I think the implications are clear."

Well, that was something, anyway. "Yes, sir. Shall I have Surveillance begin equipping a long-term ground team?"

"Patience, Captain," Thrawn said. "It may not be necessary, after all. Key for a midrange scan, and tell me what you see.

Pellaeon swiveled back to his command board and tapped for the appropriate readout. There was Myrkr itself of course, and the standard TIE

fighter defense cloud ranged around the Chimaera. The only other object anywhere within midrange distance-"You mean that little asteroid out there?"

"That's the one," Thrawn nodded. "Nothing remarkable about it, is there? No, don't do a sensor focus," he added, almost before the thought of doing one had even occurred to Pellaeon. "We wouldn't want to prematurely flush our quarry, would we?"

"Our quarry?" Pellaeon repeated, frowning at the sensor data again. The routine sensor scans that had been done of the asteroid three hours earlier had come up negative, and nothing could have sneaked up on it since then without being detected. "With all due respect, sir, I don't see any indication that anything's out there.

"I don't either," Thrawn agreed. "But it's the only sizable cover available for nearly ten million kilometers around Myrkr. There's really no other place for Karrde to watch our operation from." Pellaeon pursed his lips. "Your permission, Admiral, but I doubt Karrde is foolish enough to just sit around waiting for us to arive. The glowing red eyes narrowed, just a bit. "You forget, Captain," he said softly, "that I've met the man. More important, I've seen the sort of artwork he collects." He turned back to his displays. "No; he's out there. I'm sure of it. Talon Karrde is not merely a smuggler, you see. Perhaps not even primarily a smuggler. His real love is not goods or money but information. More than anything else in the galaxy, he craves knowledge...and the knowledge of what we have or have not found here is too valuable a gem for him to pass up."

Pellaeon studied the Grand Admiral's profile. It was, in his opinion, a pritty tenuous leap of logic. But on the other hand, he'd seen too many similar leaps borne out not to take this one seriously. "Shall I order a TIE

fighter squad to investigate, sir?"

"As I said, Captain, patience," Thrawn said. "Even in sensor stealth mode with all engines shut down, he'll have made sure he can power up and escape before any attack force could reach him." He smiled at Pellaeon. "Or rather, any attack force from the Chimaera."

A stray memory clicked: Thrawn, reaching for his comm just as Pellaeon was giving the ground forces the order to attack. "You sent a message to the rest of the fleet," he said. "Timing it against my attack order to mask the transmission.

Thrawn's blue-black eyebrows lifted a fraction. "Very good, Captain. Very good, indeed."

Pellaeon felt a touch of warmth on his cheeks. The Grand Admiral's compliments were few and far between. "Thank you, sir." Thrawn nodded. "More precisely, my message was to a single ship, the Constrainer. It will arrive in approximately ten minutes. At which point"-his eyes glittered-"we'll see just how accurate my reading of Karrde has been." Over the Wild Karrde's bridge speakers, the reports from the scanning crew were beginning to taper off. "Doesn't sound like they've found anything," Aves commented.

"Like you said, we were thorough," Mara reminded him, hardly hearing her own words. The nameless thing nagging at the back of her mind seemed to be getting stronger. "Can we get out of here now?" she asked, turning to look at Karrde.

He frowned down at her. "Try to relax, Mara. They can't possibly know we're here. There's been no sensorfocus probe of the asteroid, and without one there's no way for them to detect this ship."

"Unless a Star Destroyer's sensors are better than you think," Mara retorted.

"We know all about their sensors," Aves soothed. "Ease up, Mara, Karrde knows what he's doing. The Wild Karrde has probably the tightest sensor stealth mode this side of-"

He broke off as the bridge door opened behind them; and Mara turned just as Karrde's two pet vornskrs bounded into the room.

Dragging, very literally, their handler behind them.

"What are you doing here, Chin?" Karrde asked.

"Sorry, Capt'," Chin puffed, digging his heels into the deck and leaning back against the taut leashes. The effort was only partially successful; the predators were still pulling him slowly forward. "I couldn't stop them. I thought maybe, they wanted to see you, hee?"

"What's the matter with you two, anyway?" Karrde chided the animals, squatting down in front of them. "Don't you know we're busy?" The vornskrs didn't look at him. Didn't even seem to notice his presence, for that matter. They continued staring straight ahead as if he wasn't even there.

Staring directly at Mara.

"Hey," Karrde said, reaching over to slap one of the animals lightly across the muzzle. "I'm talking to you, Sturm. What's gotten into you, anyway?" He glanced along their unblinking line of sight Paused for a second and longer look. "Are you doing something, Mara?" Mara shook her head, a cold shiver tingling up her back. She'd seen that look before, on many of the wild vornskrs she'd run into during that long three-day trek through the Myrkr's forest with Luke Skywalker. Except that those vornskr stares hadn't been directed at her. They'd been reserved instead for Skywalker. Usually just before they attacked him.

"That's Mara, Sturm," Karrde told the animal, speaking to it as he might a child. "Mara. Come on, now-you saw her all the time back home." Slowly, almost reluctantly, Sturm stopped his forward pull and turned his attention to his master. "Mara," Karrde repeated, looking th'e vornskr firmly in the eye. "A friend. You hear that, Drang?" he added, reaching over to grip the other vornskr's muzzle. "She's a friend. Understand?" Drang seemed to consider that. Then, as reluctantly as Sturm had, he lowered his head and stopped pulling. "That's better," Karrde said, scratching both voruslo's briefly behind their ears and standing up again. "Better take them back down, Chin. Maybe walk them around the main hold-give them some exercise.

"If I can find a clear track through all the stuff in there, hee?" Chin grunted, twitching back on the leashes. "Come on, littles - we go now." With only a slight hesitation the two vornskrs allowed him to take them off the bridge. Karrde watched as the door shut behind them. "I wonder what that was all about," he said, giving Mara a thoughtful look.

"I don't know," she told him, hearing the tightness in her voice. With the temporary distraction now gone, the strange dread she'd been feeling was back again in full force. She swiveled back to her board, half expecting to see a squadron of TIE fighters bearing down on them. But there was nothing. Only the Chimaera, still sitting harmlessly out there in orbit around Myrkr. No threat any of the Wild Karrde's instruments could detect. But the tingling was getting stronger and stronger...

And suddenly she could sit still no longer. Reaching out to the control board, she keyed for engine prestart.

"Mara!" Aves yelped, jumping in his seat as if he'd been stung. "What in-?"

"They're coming," Mara snarled back, hearing the strain of a half dozen tangled emotions in her voice. The die was irrevocably cast-her activation of the Wild Karrde's engines would have set sensors screaming all over the Chimaera. Now there was nowhere to go but out.

She looked up at Karrde, suddenly afraid of what his expression might be saying. But he was just standing there looking down at her, a slightly quizzical frown on his face. "They don't appear to be coming," he pointed out mildly.

She shook her head, feeling the pleading in her eyes. "You have to believe me," she said, uncomfortably aware that she didn't really believe it herself. "They're getting ready to attack."

"I believe you," he said soothingly. Or perhaps he, too, recognized that there weren't any other choices left. "Aves: lightspeed calculation. Take the easiest course setting that's not anywhere toward Rishi; we'll stop and reset later."

"Karrde-"

"Mara is second in command," Karrde cut him off. "As such, she has the right and the duty to make important decisions.

"Yeah, but-" Aves stopped, the last word coming out pinched as he strangled it off. "Yeah," he said between clenched teeth. Throwing a glower at Mara, he turned to the nav computer and got to work.

"You might as well get us moving, Mara," Karrde continued, stepping over to the vacant communications chair and sitting down. "Keep the asteroid between us and the Chimaera as long as you can.

"Yes, sir," Mara said. Her tangle of emotions was starting to dissolve now, leaving a mixture of anger and profound embarrassment in its wake. She'd done it again. Listened to her inner feelings-tried to do things she knew full well she couldn't do-and in the process had once again wound up clutching the sharp end of the bayonet.

And it was probably the last she'd hear of being Karrde's second in command, too. Command unity in front of Aves was one thing, but once they were out of here and he could get her alone there was going to be hell to pay. She'd be lucky if he didn't bounce her out of his organization altogether. Jabbing viciously at her board, she swung the Wild Karrde around, turning its nose away from the asteroid and starting to drive toward deep space And with a flicker of pseudomotion, something big shot in from lightspeed, dropping neatly into normal space not twenty kilometers away. An Imperial Interdictor Cruiser.

Aves yelped a startled-sounding curse. "We got company," he barked.

"I see it," Karrde said. As cool as ever ... but Mara could hear the tinge of surprise in his voice, too. "What's our time to lightspeed?"

"It'll be another minute," Aves said tautly. "There's a lot of junk in the outer system for the computer to work through."

"We have a race, then," Karrde said. "Mara?"

"Up to point seven three," she said, nursing as much power as she could out of the still-sluggish engines. He was right; it was indeed going to be a race. With their four huge gravity-wave generators capable of simulating planet-sized masses, Interdictor Cruisers were the Empire's weapon of choice for trapping an enemy ship in normal space while TIE fighters pounded it to rubble. But coming in fresh out of lightspeed itself, the Interdictor would need another minute before it could power up those generators. If she could get the Wild Karrde out of range by then...

"More visitors," Aves announced. "A couple, squadrons of TIE fighters coming from the Chimaera.

"We're up to point eight six power," Mara reported. "We'll be ready for lightspeed as soon as the nav computer gives me a course.

"Interdictor status?"

"Grav generators are powering up," Aves said. On Mara's tactical display a ghostly cone appeared, showing the area where the lightspeed-dampening field would soon exist She changed course slightly, aiming for the nearest edge, and risked a glance at the nav computer display. Almost ready. The hazy grav cone was rapidly becoming more substantial... The computer scope pinged. Mara wrapped her hand around the three hyperspace control levers at the front of the control board and gently pulled them toward her. The Wild Karrde shuddered slightly, and for a second it seemed that the Interdictor had won their deadly race. Then, abruptly, the stars outside burst into starlines.

They'd made it.

Aves heaved a sigh of relief as the starlines faded into the mottled sky of hyperspace. "Talk about slicing the mynock close to the hull. How do you suppose they tumbled that we were out there, anyway?"

"No idea," Karrde said, his voice cool. "Mara?"

"I don't know, either." Mara kept her eyes on her displays, not daring to look at either of them. "Thrawn may have just been playing a hunch. He does that sometimes."

"Lucky for us he's not the only one who gets hunches," Aves offered, his voice sounding a little strange. "Nice going, Mara. Sorry I jumped on you."

"Yes," Karrde seconded. "A very good job indeed."

"Thanks," Mara muttered, keeping her eyes on her control board and blinking back the tears that had suddenly come to her eyes. So it was back. She'd hoped fervently that her locating of Skywalker's X-wing out in deep space had been an isolated event. A fluke, more his doing than hers. But no. It was all coming back, as it had so many times before in the past five years. The hunches and sensory flickers, the urges and the compulsions.

Which meant that, very soon now, the dreams would probably be starting again, too.

Angrily, she swiped at her eyes, and with an effort unclenched her jaw. It was a familiar enough pattern ... but this time things were going to be different. Always before there'd been nothing she could do about the voices and urges except to suffer through the cycle. To suffer, and to be ready to break out of whatever niche she'd managed to carve for herself when she finally betrayed herself to those around her.

But she wasn't a serving girl in a Phorliss cantina this time, or a come-up deflector for a swoop gang on Caprioril, or even a hyperdrive mechanic stuck in the backwater of the Ison Corridor. She was second in command to the most powerful smuggler in the galaxy, with the kind of resources and mobility she hadn't had since the death of the Emperor.

The kind of resources that would let her find Luke Skywalker again. And kill him.

Maybe then the voices would stop.

For a long minute Thrawn stood at the bridge viewport, looking out at the distant asteroid and the now superfluous Interdictor Cruiser near it. It was, Pellaeon thought uneasily, almost the identical posture the Grand Admiral had assumed when Luke Skywalker had so recently escaped a similar trap. Holding his breath, Pellaeon stared at Thrawn's back, wondering if another of the Chimaera's crewers was about to be executed for this failure. Thrawn turned around. "Interesting," he said, his voice conversational. "Did you note the sequence of events, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said cautiously. "The target was already powering up before the Constrainer arrived."

"Yes," Thrawn nodded. "And it implies one of three things. Either Karrde was about to leave anyway, or else he panicked for some reason-" The red eyes glittered. "Or else he was somehow warned off." Pellaeon felt his back stiffen. "I hope you're not suggesting, sir, that one of our people tipped him."

"No, of course not." Thrawn's lip twitched slightly. "Loyalties of your crewers aside, no one on the Chimaera knew the Constrainer was on its way; and no one on the Constrainer could have sent any messages here without our detecting them." He stepped over to his command station and sat down, a thoughtful look on his face. "An interesting puzzle, Captain. One I'll have to give some thought to. In the meantime, we have more pressing matters. The task of acquiring new warships, for one. Have there been any recent responses to our invitation?"

"Nothing particularly interesting, Admiral," Pellaeon said, pulling up the comm log and giving it a quick scan to refresh his memory. "Eight of the fifteen groups I contacted have expressed interest, though none were willing to commit themselves to anything specific. We're still waiting on the others."

Thrawn nodded. "We'll give them a few weeks. If there've been no results after that time, we'll make the invitation a bit more compulsory."

"Yes, sir." Pellaeon hesitated. "There's also been another communication from Jomark."

Thrawn turned his glowing eyes on Pellaeon. "I would very much appreciate it, Captain," he said, biting off each word, "if you would try to make it clear to our exalted Jedi Master C'baoth that if he persists in these communications he's going to subvert the whole purpose of putting him on Jomark in the first place. If the Rebels get even a hint of any connection between us, he can forget about Skywalker ever showing up there."

"I have explained it to him, sir," Pellaeon grimaced. "Numerous times. His reply is always that Skywalker is going to show up. And then he demands to know when you're going to get around to delivering Skywalker's sister to him."

For a long moment Thrawn said nothing. "I suppose there'll be no shutting him up until he gets what he wants," he said at last. "Nor of getting any uncomplaining work out of him, either."

"Yes, he was grumbling about the attack coordination you've been having him do," Pellaeon nodded. "He's warned me several times that he can't predict exactly when Skywalker will arrive on Jomark."

"And implied that a horrible retribution would fall upon us if he's not there when that happens," Thrawn growled. "Yes, I know the routine well. And I'm getting rather tired of it." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"Very well, Captain. The next time C'baoth calls, you may inform him that the Taanab operation will be his last for the immediate future. Skywalker isn't likely to make it to Jomark for at least two more weeks-the little pot of political confusion we've stirred up in the Rebellion high command should occupy him at least that long. As to Organa Solo and her unborn Jedi...you may also inform him that from now on I'll be taking a personal hand in that matter."

Pellaeon threw a quick glance over his shoulder, to where the Grand Admiral's bodyguard, Rukh, stood silently near the aft bridge door. "Does that mean you'll be taking the Noghri off the job, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Do you have a problem with that, Captain?"

"No, sir. May I respectfully remind the Grand Admiral, though, that the Noghri have never liked leaving a mission uncompleted."

"The Noghri are servants of the Empire," Thrawn countered coldly.

"More to the point, they're loyal to me personally. They will do as they're told." He paused. "However, I'll take your concerns under advisement. At any rate, our task here at Myrkr is completed. Order General Covell to bring his force back up."

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, signalling the communications officer to relay the message.

"I'll want the general's report on file in three hours," Thrawn continued. "Twelve hours after that I want his recommendations as to the three best infantry troopers and two best mechanized operators in the assault. Those five men will be transferred to the Mount Tantiss operation and given immediate transport to Wayland."

"Understood," Pellaeon nodded, dutifully logging the orders in Covell's file. Such recommendations had been part of standard Imperial procedure for several weeks now, ever since the Mount Tantiss operation had begun in earnest. But Thrawn nevertheless still periodically went out of his way to mention it to his officers. Perhaps as a not-so-subtle reminder of how vitally important those recommendations were to the Grand Admiral's sweeping plan to crush the Rebellion.

Thrawn looked out the viewport again at the planet beneath them.

"And while we await the general's return, you'll contact Surveillance regarding that long-term team for Hyllyard City." He smiled. "It's a very large galaxy, Captain, but even a man like Talon Karrde can run only so long. Eventually, he'll have to come to rest."

It wasn't really deserving of its name, the High Castle of Jomark. Not in Jonius C'baoth's estimation, anyway. Short and dirty, its stonework ill-fitting in places and as alien as the long-gone race that had built it, it squatted uneasily between two of the larger crags on what was left of an ancient volcanic cone. Still, with the rest of the rim circling around in the distance, and the brilliant blue waters of Ring Lake four hundred meters almost straight down beneath him, C'baoth could allow that the natives had at least found some good scenery to build their castle on. Their castle, or temple, or whatever. It had been a good place for a Jedi Master to move into, if only because the colonists seemed to hold the place in awe. Then too, the dark island that filled the center of the crater and gave the lake its ring shape provided a suitably hidden landing site for Thrawn's annoyingly endless stream of shuttles.

But it was neither the scenery, nor the power, nor even the Empire that held C'baoth's thoughts as he stood on the castle terrace and gazed down into Ring Lake. It was, instead, the strange flicker he'd just felt in the Force.

He'd felt it before, this flicker. Or at least he thought he had. Threads to the past were always so hard to follow, so easily lost in the mists and the hurryings of the present. Even of his own past he had only glimpses of memory, scenes as if from a history record. He rather thought he remembered someone trying to explain the reasons to him once, but the explanation was long gone in the darkness of the past.

It didn't matter anyway. Memory wasn't important; concentration wasn't important; his own past wasn't important. He could call upon the Force when he wanted to, and that was what was important. As long as he could do that, no one could ever hurt him or take away what he had. Except that Grand Admiral Thrawn had already taken it away. Hadn't he?

C'baoth looked around the terrace. Yes. Yes; this wasn't the home and city and world he'd chosen to mold and command as his own. This wasn't Wayland, which he'd wrested from the Dark Jedi whom the Emperor had set to guard his Mount Tantiss storehouse. This was Jomark, where he was waiting for

... someone.

He stroked his fingers through his long white beard, forcing himself to concentrate. He was waiting for Luke Skywalker-that was it. Luke Skywalker was going to come to him, and Luke Skywalker's sister and her as-yet unborn twins, and he would turn all of them into his followers. Grand Admiral Thrawn had promised them to him, in return for his help to the Empire. He winced at the thought. It was hard, this help that Grand Admiral Thrawn wanted. He had to concentrate hard to do what they wanted; to hold his thoughts and feelings closely in line, and for long periods at a time. On Wayland he hadn't had to do anything like that, not since he'd fought against the Emperor's Guardian.

He smiled. It had been a grand battle, that fight against the Guardian. But even as he tried to remember it, the details skittered away like straws in the wind. It had been too long ago.

Long ago ... like these flickers in the Force had been. C'baoth's fingers slipped away from his beard, to the medallion nestled against the skin of his chest. Squeezing the warm metal against his palm, he fought against the mists of the past, trying to see beyond them. Yes. Yes, he was not mistaken. These same flickers had come three times before in the past few seasons. Had come, had stayed for a time, and then once again had gone dormant. Like someone who had learned how to utilize the Force for a time, but then somehow forgotten.

He didn't understand it. But it was of no threat to him, and so wasn't important.

Above him, he could sense now the Imperial Star Destroyer entering high orbit, far above the clouds where none of the others on Jomark would see it. When night fell, the shuttle would come, and they would take him off somewhere-Taanab, he thought-to help coordinate yet another of these multiple Imperial attacks.

He wasn't looking forward to the effort and pain. But it would all be worth it when he had his Jedi. He would remake them in his own image, and they would be his servants and his followers all the days of their lives. And then even Grand Admiral Thrawn would have to admit that he, Joruus C'baoth, had found the true meaning of power.

CHAPTER

2

"I'm sorry, Luke," Wedge Antilles' voice said over the comm, the words punctuated by occasional spittings of static. "I've tried every handle I can think of, including pulling all the rank I've got and some I haven't. It's still no go. Some data pusher up the riser somewhere has issued orders that the Sluissi's own defense ships have absolute top priority for repair work. Until we can find this guy and talk him into a special dispensation, we're not going to get anyone to touch your X-wing."

Luke Skywalker grimaced, feeling four hours' worth of frustration welling up in his throat. Four precious hours wasted, with the end still not in sight, while on Coruscant the future of the entire New Republic was even now teetering on the edge. "Did you get this data pusher's name?" he asked.

"I couldn't even get that," Wedge said. "Every line I've tried has disappeared about three layers up from the mechanics themselves. I'm still trying, but this whole place has gone kind of batty."

"A major Imperial attack will do that to you," Luke conceded with a sigh. He could understand why the Sluissi had set their priorities the way they had; but it wasn't like he was just going off on a joyride, either. It was a good six-day flight from here to Coruscant as it was, and every hour that he was delayed was one more hour the political forces trying to oust Admiral Ackbar would have to consolidate their position. "Keep trying, okay?

I've got to get out of here."

"Sure," Wedge said. "Look, I know you're worried about what's happening on Coruscant. But any one person can only do so much. Even a Jedi."

"I know," Luke agreed reluctantly. And Han was on his way back, and Leia was already there ... "I just hate sitting around being out of it."

"Me, too." Wedge lowered his voice a bit. "You've still got one other option. Don't forget that."

"I won't," Luke promised. It was certainly an option he'd been tempted to take his friend up on. But Luke wasn't officially a member of the New Republic military anymore; and with the New Republic forces here at the shipyards still at full alert, Wedge could face an immediate court martial for handing his X-wing over to a civilian. Councilor Borsk Fey'lia and his anti-Ackbar faction might not want to bother making an example out of someone as relatively low in rank as a starfighter wing commander. But then again, they might.

Wedge, of course, knew all that better than Luke did. Which made the offer that much more generous. "I appreciate it," Luke told him. "But unless things get really desperate, it'll probably be better all around if I just wait for mine to get fixed."

"Okay. How's General Calrissian doing?"

"He's in roughly the same boat as my X-wing," Luke said dryly. "Every doctor and medical droid in the place is tied up treating battle injuries. Digging minor bits of metal and glass out of someone who's not currently bleeding is kind of low on their priority list at the moment."

"I'll bet he's really pleased with that."

"I've seen him happier," Luke admitted. "I'd better go give the medics another push. Why don't you get back to prodding the Sluissi bureaucracy from your end-if we both push hard enough, maybe we can meet in the middle."

Wedge chuckled. "Right. Talk to you later." With one final crackle of static, the comm cut off. "And good luck," Luke added softly as he got up from the public-use comm desk and headed off across the Sluis Van Central reception area toward the medical corridor. If the rest of the Sluissi equipment had been damaged as much as their in-system communications, it could be a long time indeed before anyone had enough spare time to put a couple of new hyperdrive motivators into a civilian's X-wing.

Still, things weren't quite as dark as they could have been, he decided as he maneuvered his way carefully through the hurrying crowds that seemed to be going in all directions at once. There were several New Republic ships here, whose work crews might be more willing than the Sluissi themselves to bend the rules for a former officer like Luke. And if worse came to worst, he could try calling Coruscant to see if Mon Mothma could expedite matters any.

The drawback to that approach was that calling for help would probably give the appearance of weakness ... and to show weakness in front of Councilor Fey'lya was not the right signal to be sending now. Or so it seemed to him. On the other hand, showing that he could get the head of the New Republic to give him personal attention could as easily be seen instead as a sign of strength and solidarity.

Luke shook his head in mild frustration. It was, he supposed, a generally useful trait for a Jedi to be able to see both sides of an argument. It did, however, make the machinations of politics seem even murkier than they already were. Another good reason why he'd always tried to leave politics to Leia.

He could only hope that she'd be equal to this particular challenge. The medical wing was as crowded as the rest of the huge Sluis Van Central space station, but here at least a large percentage of the inhabitants were sitting or lying quietly off to the side instead of running around. Threading his way between the, chairs and parked float gurneys, Luke reached the large ward room that had been turned into a waiting area for low-priority patients. Lando Calrissian, his expression and sense hovering somewhere between impatience and boredom, was sitting off in the far corner, holding a medpack desensitizer against his chest with one hand while balancing a borrowed data pad with the other. He was scowling at the latter as Luke came up. "Bad news?" Luke asked.

"No worse than everything else that's happened to me lately," Lando said, dropping the data pad onto the empty chair beside him. "The price of hfredium has dropped again on the general market. If it doesn't come up a little in the next month or two, I'm going to be out a few hundred thousand."

"Ouch," Luke agreed. "That's the main product of your Nomad City complex, isn't it?"

"One of several main products, yes," Lando said with a grimace.

"We're diversified enough that normally it wouldn't hurt us much. The problem is that lately I've been stockpiling the stuff expecting the price to go up. Now it's done just the opposite."

Luke suppressed a smile. That was Lando, all right. Respectable and legitimate though he might have become, he was still not above dabbling in a little manipulative gambling on the side. "Well, if it helps any, I've got some good news for you. Since all the ships that the Imperials tried to steal belonged directly to the New Republic, we won't have to go through the local Sluissi bureaucracy to get your mole miners back. It'll just be a matter of submitting a proper claim to the Republic military commander and hauling them out of here."

The lines in Lando's face eased a little. "That's great, Luke," he said. "I really appreciate it-you have no idea what I had to go through to get hold of those mole miners in the first place. Finding replacements would be a major headache."

Luke waved the thanks away. "Under the circumstances, it was the least we could do. Let me go over to the routing station, see if I can hurry things up a little for you. Are you finished with the data pad?"

"Sure, take it back. Anything new on your X-wing?"

"Not really," Luke said, reaching past him to pick up the data pad.

"They're still saying it'll take another few hours at least to-" He caught the abrupt change in Lando's sense a second before the other's hand suddenly snaked up to grip his arm. "What is it?" Luke asked. Lando was staring at nothing, his forehead furrowed with concentration as be sniffed the air. "Where were you just now?" he demanded.

"I went through the reception area to one of the public comm desks," Luke said. Lando wasn't just sniffing the air, he realized suddenly: he was sniffing at Luke's sleeve. "Why?"

Lando let Luke's arm drop. "It's carababba tabac," he said slowly.

"With some armudu spice mixed in. I haven't smelled that since..." He looked up at Luke, his sense abruptly tightening even further. "It's Niles Ferrier. Has to be."

"Who's Niles Ferrier?" Luke asked, feeling his heartbeat start to pick up speed. Lando's uneasiness was contagious.

"Human-big and built sort of thick," Lando said. "Dark hair, probably a beard, though that comes and goes. Probably smoking a long thin cigarra. No, of course he was smoking-you got some of the smoke on you. Do you remember seeing him?"

"Hang on." Luke closed his eyes, reaching inward with the Force. Short-term memory enhancement was one of the Jedi skills he'd learned from Yoda. The pictures flowed swiftly backward in time: his walk to the medical wing, his conversation with Wedge, his hunt for a public comm desk And there he was. Exactly as Lando had described him, passing no more than three meters away. "Got him," he told Lando, freezing the picture in his memory.

"Where's he going?"

"Uh ..." Luke replayed the memory forward again. The man wandered in and out of his field of vision for a minute, eventually disappearing entirely as Luke found the comm desks he'd been hunting for. "Looks like he and a couple of other's were heading for Corridor Six."

Lando had punched up a station schematic on the data pad.

"Corridor Six...blast." He stood up, dropping both the data pad and the desensitizer onto his chair. "Come on, we'd better go check this out."

"Check what out?" Luke asked, taking a long step to catch up as Lando hurried off through the maze of waiting patients to the door. "Who is this Niles Ferrier, anyway?"

"He's one of the best spaceship thieves in the galaxy," Lando threw over his shoulder. "And Corridor Six leads to one of the staging areas for the repair teams. We'd better get out there before he palms a Corellian gunship or something and flies off with it."

They made their way through the reception area and under the archway labeled "Corridor Six" in both delicate Sluissi carioglyphs and the blockier Basic letters. Here, to Luke's surprise, the crowds of people that seemed to be everywhere else had dropped off to barely a trickle. By the time they'd gone a hundred meters along the corridor, he and Lando were alone.

"You did say this was one of the repair staging areas, didn't you?" he asked, reaching' out with Jedi senses as they walked. The lights and equipment in the offices and workrooms around them seemed to be functioning properly, and he could sense a handful of droids moving busily about their business. But apart from that the place seemed to be deserted.

"Yes, I did," Lando said grimly. "The schematic said Corridors Five and Three are also being used, but there ought to be enough traffic to keep this one busy, too. I don't suppose you have a spare blaster on you?" Luke shook his head. "I don't carry a blaster anymore. Do you think we should call station security?"

"Not if we want to find out what Ferrier's up to. He'll be all through the station computer and comm system by now-call security and he'll just pull out and disappear back under a rock somewhere." He peered into one of the open office doorways as they passed it. "This is vintage Ferrier, all right. One of his favorite tricks is to fiddle work orders to route everyone out of the area he wants to-"

"Hold it," Luke cut him off. At the edge of his mind... "I think I've got them. Six humans and two aliens, the nearest about two hundred meters straight ahead."

"What kind of aliens?"

"I don't know. I've never run into either species before."

"Well, watch them. Aliens in Ferrier's gang are usually hired for their muscle. Let's go.

"Maybe you should stay here," Luke suggested, unhooking his lightsaber from his belt. "I'm not sure how well I'll be able to protect you if they decide to make a fight of it."

"I'll take my chances," Lando told him. "Ferrier knows me; maybe I can keep it from coming down to a fight. Besides, I've got an idea I want to try."

They were just under twenty meters from the first human when Luke caught the change in sense from the group ahead. "They've spotted us," he murmured to Lando, shifting his grip slightly on his lightsaber.

"You want to try talking to them?"

"I don't know," Lando murmured back, craning his neck to look down the seemingly deserted corridor ahead. "We might need to get a little closer-" It came as a flicker of movement from one of the doorways, and an abrupt ripple in the Force. "Duck!" Luke barked, igniting his lightsaber. With a snap-hiss the brilliant green-white blade appeared And moved almost of its own accord to neatly block the blaster bolt that shot toward them.

"Get behind me!" Luke ordered Lando as a second bolt sizzled the air toward them. Guided by the Force, his hands again shifted the lightsaber blade into the path of the attack. A third bolt spattered from the blade, followed by a fourth. From a doorway farther down the corridor a second blaster opened up, adding its voice to the first.

Luke held his ground, feeling the Force flowing into him and out through his arms, evoking an odd sort of tunnel vision effect that turned mental spotlights on the attack itself and relative darkness on everything else. Lando, half crouched directly behind him, was only a hazy sense in the back of his mind; the rest of Ferrier's people were even dimmer. Setting his teeth firmly together, letting the Force control his defense, he kept his eyes moving around the corridor, alert for new threats.

He was looking directly at the odd shadow when it detached itself from the wall and started forward.

For a long minute he didn't believe what he was seeing. There was no texture or detail to the shadow; nothing but a slightly fluid shape and nearly absolute blackness. But it was real...and it was moving toward him. "Lando!" he shouted over the scream of blaster shots. "Five meters away-forty degrees left. Any ideas?"

He heard the hissing intake of air from behind him. "Never seen anything like it. Retreat?"

With an effort, Luke pulled as much of his concentration as he dared away from their defense and turned it toward the approaching shadow. There was indeed something there one of the alien intelligences, in fact, that he'd sensed earlier. Which implied it was one of Ferrier's people...

"Stay with me," he told Lando. This was going to be risky, but turning tail and running wouldn't accomplish anything. Moving slowly, keeping his stance balanced and yet fluid, he headed directly toward the shadow. The alien halted, its sense clearly surprised that a potential prey would be advancing instead of backing away from it. Luke took advantage of the momentary hesitation to move farther toward the corridor wall to his left. The first blaster, its shots starting to come close to the mobile shadow as it tracked Luke's movement, abruptly ceased fire. The shadow's form shifted slightly, giving Luke the impression of something looking over its shoulder. He continued moving to his left, drawing the second blaster's fire toward the shadow as he did so; and a second later it, too, fell reluctantly silent.

"Good job," Lando murmured approvingly in his' ear. "Allow me." He took a step back from Luke. "Ferrier?" he called. "This is Lando Calrissian. Listen, if you want to keep your pal here in one piece, you'd better call him off. This is Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight. The guy who took down Darth Vader."

Which wasn't strictly true, of course. But it was close enough. Luke had, after all, defeated Vader in their last lightsaber duel, even if he hadn't actually gone on to kill him.

Regardless, the implications weren't lost on the unseen men down the corridor. He could sense the doubt and consternation among them; and even as he lifted his lightsaber a little higher, the shadow stopped its approach.

"What was your name?" someone called.

"Lando Calrissian," Lando repeated. "Think back to that botched Phraetiss operation about ten years ago.

"Oh, I remember," the voice said grimly. "What do you want?"

"I want to offer you a deal," Lando said. "Come on out and we'll talk."

There was a moment of hesitation. Then, the big man from Luke's memory track stepped out from behind a group of crates that had been stacked against the corridor wall, the simmering cigarra still clenched between his teeth. "All of you," Lando insisted. "Come on, Ferrier, bring them out. Unless you seriously think you can hide them from a Jedi."

Ferrier's eyes flicked to Luke. "The mystic Jedi powers have always been exaggerated," he sneered. But his lips moved inaudibly; and, even as he approached them, five humans and a tall, thin, green-scaled insectoid alien emerged one by one from concealment.

"That's better," Lando said approvingly, stepping out from behind Luke. "A Verpine, huh?" he added, waving toward the insectoid alien. "Got to hand it to you, Ferrier-you're fast. Maybe thirty hours since the Imperials pulled out, and already you're on board. And with a tame Verpine, yet. You ever heard of Verpine, Luke?"

Luke nodded. The alien's appearance wasn't familiar, but the name was. "They're supposed to be geniuses at fixing and reassembling high-tech devices."

"And it's a well-deserved reputation," Lando said. "Rumor has it they're the ones who helped Admiral Ackbar design the B-wing starfighter. You shifted specialties to palming damaged ships, Ferrier? Or did your Verpine come aboard just for the occasion?"

"You mentioned a deal," Ferrier said coldly. "So deal."

"I want to know first if you were in on the Sluis Van attack from the beginning," Lando said, matching Ferrier's tone. "If you're working for the Empire, we can't deal."

One of the gang, blaster in hand, took a quiet preparatory breath. Luke shifted his lightsaber toward him slightly in warning, and the brief thought of heroics faded quickly away. Ferrier looked at the man, back at Lando. "The Empire's sent out a call for ships," he said grudgingly. "Warships in particular. They're paying a bounty of twenty percent above market value for anything over a hundred thousand tons that can fight." Luke and Lando exchanged a quick glance. "Odd request," Lando said.

"They lose one of their shipyard facilities or something?"

"They didn't say, and I didn't ask," Ferrier said acidly. "I'm a businessman; I give the customer what he wants. You here to deal, or just talk?"

"I'm here to deal," Lando assured him. "You know, Ferrier, it seems to me that you're in sort of a jam here. We've nailed you red-handed in the process of trying to steal New Republic warships. We've also pretty well proved that Luke can take all of you without any trouble. All I have to do is whistle up Security and the whole bunch of you will be off to a penal colony for the next few years."

The shadow, which had been standing still, took a step forward. "The Jedi might survive," Ferrier said darkly. "But you wouldn't."

"Maybe; maybe not," lando said easily. "Regardless, it's not the sort of situation a businessman like yourself wants to be in. So here's the deal: you leave now, and we'll let you get out of the Sluis Van system before we drop the hammer with the authorities."

"How very generous of you," Ferrier said, heavily sarcastic. "So what do you really want? A cut of the operation? Or just a wad of money?" Lando shook his head. "I don't want your money. I just want you out of here."

"I don't take well to threats."

"Then take it as a friendly warning for past associations' sake," Lando said, his voice hard. "But take it seriously." For a long minute the only sound in the corridor was the quiet background hum of distant machinery. Luke held himself in combat stance, trying to read the shifting emotions in Ferrier's sense. "Your 'deal' would cost us a lot of money," Ferrier said, shifting the cigarra to the other side of his mouth.

"I realize that," Lando conceded. "And believe it or not, I am sorry. But the New Republic can't afford to lose any ships at the moment. However, you might try over at the Amorris system. Last I heard, the Cavrilhu pirate gang was using that as a base, and they're always in need of expert maintenance people." He looked appraisingly at the shadow. "And extra muscle, too."

Ferrier followed his gaze. "Ah, you like my wraith, do you?"

"Wraith?" Luke frowned.

"They call themselves Defel," Ferrier said. "But I think 'wraith'

suits them so much better. Their bodies absorb all visible light7some sort of evolved survival mechanism." He eyed Luke. "And what do you think of this deal, Jedi? Enforcer of law and justice that you are?" Luke had expected the question. "Have you stolen anything here?" he countered. "Or done anything illegal other than breaking into the station's assignment computer?"

Ferrier's lip twisted. "We also shot at a couple of bizits who were poking their noses in where they shouldn't have," he said sarcastically. "That count?"

"Not when you didn't hit them," Luke countered evenly. "As far as I'm concerned, you can leave."

"You're too kind," Ferrier growled. "So is that it?"

"That's it," Lando nodded. "Oh, and I want your slicer access code, too."

Ferrier glared at him, but gestured to the Verpine standing behind him. Silently, the tall green alien lurched forward and handed Lando a pair of data cards. "Thank you," Lando said. "All right. I'll give you one hour to get your ship up and out of the system before we drop the hammer. Have a good trip."

"Yeah, we'll do that," Ferrier bit out. "So good to see you, Calrissian. Maybe next time I can do you a favor."

"Give Amorris a try," Lando urged him. "I'd bet they've got at least a couple of old Sienar patrol ships you could relieve them of." Ferrier didn't reply. In silence, the group passed Lando and Luke and headed back down the empty corridor toward the reception area. "You sure telling him about Amorris was a good idea?" Luke murmured as he watched them go. "The Empire's likely to get a patrol ship or two out of the deal."

"Would you rather they have gotten hold of a Calamarian Star Cruiser?" Lando countered. "Ferrier's probably good enough to have palmed one. Certainly with things as confused out there as they are." He shook his head thoughtfully. "I wonder what's going on over in the Empire. It doesn't make sense to pay premium prices for used ships when you've got the facilities to make your own."

"Maybe they're having some trouble," Luke suggested, closing down the lightsaber and returning it to his belt. "Or maybe they've lost one of their Star Destroyers but managed to save the crew and need ships to put them on."

"I suppose that's possible," Lando conceded doubtfully. "Hard to imagine an accident that would destroy any ship beyond repair but leave the crew alive. Well, we can get the word back to Coruscant. Let the Intelligence hotshots figure out what it means."

"If they're not all too busy playing politics," Luke said. Because if Councilor Fey'lya's group was also trying to take over Military Intelligence

... He shook the thought away. Worrying about the situation wasn't productive.

"So what now? We give Ferrier his hour and then hand those slicer codes over to the Sluissi?"

"Oh, we'll give Ferrier his hour, all right," Lando said, frowning thoughtfully at the departing group. `But the slicer codes are another matter. It occurred to me on the way in that if Ferrier was using them to divert workers from this end of the station, there's no particular reason why we can't also use them to bump your X-wing to the top of the priority stack."

"Ah," Luke said. It was, he knew, not exactly the sort of marginally legal activity a Jedi should participate in. But under the circumstances-and given the urgency of the situation back on Coruscant-bending some rules in this case was probably justified. "When do we get started?"

"Right now," Lando said, and Luke couldn't help wincing at the quiet relief in the other's voice and sense. Clearly, he'd been half afraid that Luke would raise those same awkward ethical questions about the suggestion.

"With any luck, you'll be up and ready to fly before I have to give these things to the Sluissi. Come on, let's go find a terminal."

CHAPTER

3

"Landing request acknowledged and confirmed, Millennium Falcon," the voice of the Imperial Palace air control director came over the comm. "You're cleared for pad eight. Councilor Organa Solo will meet you."

"Thanks, Control," Han Solo said, easing the ship down toward the Imperial City and eyeing with distaste the dark cloud cover that hung over the whole region like some brooding menace. He'd never put much stock in omens, but those clouds sure didn't help his mood any.

And speaking of bad moods ... Reaching over, he tapped the ship's intercom switch. "Get ready for landing," he called. "We're coming into our approach."

"Thank yo, Captain Solo," C-3PO's stiffly precise voice came back. A little stiffer than usual, actually; the droid must still be nursing a wounded ego. Or whatever it was that passed for ego in droids.

Han shut off the intercom, lip twisting with some annoyance of his own as he did so. He'd never really liked droids much. He'd used them occasionally, but never more than he'd absolutely had to. Threepio wasn't as bad as some of those he'd known ... but then, he'd never spent six days alone in hyperspace with any of the others, either.

He'd tried. He really had, if for no other reason than that Leia rather liked Threepio and would have wanted them to get along. The first day out from Sluis Van he'd let Threepio sit up front in the cockpit with him, enduring the droid's prissy voice and trying valiantly to hold something resembling a real conversation with him. The second day, he'd let Threepio do most of the talking, and had spent a lot of his time working in maintenance crawlways where there wasn't room for two. Threepio had accepted the limitation with typical mechanical cheerfulness, and had chattered at him from outside the crawlway access hatches.

By the afternoon of the third day, he'd banned the droid from his presence entirely.

Leia wouldn't like it when she found out. But she'd have liked it even less if he'd given in to his original temptation and converted the droid into a set of backup alluvial dampers.

The Falcon was through the cloud layer now and in sight of the monstrosity that was the Emperor's old palace. Banking slightly, Han confirmed that pad eight was clear and brought them down.

Leia must have been waiting just inside the canopy that shrouded the pad's accessway, because she was already beside the ship as Han lowered the Falcon's ramp. "Han," she said, her voice laced with tension. "Thank the Force you're back."

"Hi, sweetheart," he said, being careful not to press too hard against the increasingly prominent bulge of her belly as he hugged her. The muscles in her shoulders and back felt tight beneath his arms. "I'm glad to see you, too.

She clutched him to her for a moment, then gently disengaged. "Come on-we've got to go.

Chewbacca was waiting for them just inside the accessway, his bowcaster slung over his shoulder in ready position. "Hey, Chewie," Han nodded, getting a growled Wookiee greeting in return. "Thanks for taking care of Leia."

The other rumbled something strangely noncommittal in reply. Han eyed him, decided this wasn't the time to press for details of their stay on Kashyyyk. "What've I missed?" he asked Leia instead.

"Not much," she said as she led the way down the ramp corridor and into the Palace proper. "After that first big flurry of accusations, Fey'lya's apparently decided to cool things down. He's talked the Council into letting him take over some of Ackbar's internal security duties, but he's been behaving more like a caretaker than a new administrator. He's also hinted broadly that he'd be available to take charge of the Supreme Command, but he hasn't done any real pushing in that direction."

"Doesn't want anyone to panic," Han suggested. "Accusing someone like Ackbar of treason is a big enough bite for people to chew on as it is. Anything more and they might start choking on it."

"That's my feeling, too," Leia agreed. "Which should give us at least a little breathing space to try and figure out this bank thing."

"Yeah, what's the lowdown on that, anyway?" Han asked. "All you told me was that some routine bank check had found a big chunk of money in one of Ackbar's accounts.

"It turns out it wasn't just a routine check," Leia said. "There was a sophisticated electronic break-in at the central clearing bank on Coruscant the morning of the Sluis Van attack, with several big accounts being hit. The investigators ran a check on all the accounts the bank served and discovered that there'd been a large transfer into Ackbar's account that same morning from the central bank on Palanhi. You familiar with Palanhi?"

"Everybody knows Palanhi," Han said sourly. "Little crossroads planet with an overblown idea of their own importance."

"And the firm belief that if they can stay neutral enough they can play both sides of the war to their own profit," Leia said. "Anyway, the central bank there claims that the money didn't come from Palanhi itself and must have just been transferred through them. So far our people haven't been able to backtrack it any further."

Han nodded. "I'll bet Fey'lya's got some ideas where it came from."

"The ideas aren't unique to him," Leia sighed. "He was just the first one to voice them, that's all."

"And to make himself a few points at Ackbar's expense," Han growled.

"Where've they put Ackbar, anyway? The old prison section?" Leia shook her head. "He's under a sort of loose house arrest in his quarters while the investigation is under way. More evidence that Fey'lya's trying not to ruffle any more feathers than he has to."

"Or else that he knows full well there isn't enough here to hang a stunted Jawa from," Han countered. "Has he got anything on Ackbar besides the bank thing?"

Leia smiled wanly. "Just the near-fiasco at Sluis Van. And the fact that it was Ackbar who sent all those warships out there in the first place."

"Point," Han conceded, trying to recall the old Rebel Alliance regulations on military prisoners. If he remembered correctly, an officer under house arrest could receive visitors without those visitors first having to go through more than minor amounts of bureaucratic datawork. Though he could easily be wrong about that. They'd made him learn all that stuff back when he'd first let them slap an officer's rank on him after the Battle of Yavin. But regulations were never something he'd taken seriously. "How much of the Council does Fey'lya have on his side?" he asked Leia.

"If you mean solidly on his side, only a couple," she said. "If you mean leaning in his direction ... well, you'll be able to judge for yourself in a minute."

Han blinked. Lost in his own mulling of the mess, he hadn't really paid attention to where Leia was taking him. Now, with a start, he suddenly realized they were walking down the Grand Corridor that linked the Council chamber with the much larger Assemblage auditorium. "Wait a minute," he protested. "Now?"

"I'm sorry, Han," she sighed. "Mon Mothma insisted. You're the first person back who was actually at the Sluis Van attack, and there are a million questions they want to ask you about it."

Han looked around the corridor: at the high, convoluted vaulting of the ceiling; the ornate carvings and cutglass windows alternating on the walls; the rows of short, greenish-purple saplings lining each side. The Emperor had supposedly designed the Grand Corridor personally, which probably explained why Han had always disliked the place. "I knew I should have sent Threepio out first," he growled.

Leia took his arm. "Come on, soldier. Take a deep breath and let's get it over with. Chewie, you'd better wait out here." The usual Council chamber arrangement was a scaled-up version of the smaller Inner Council room: an oval table in the center for the Councilors themselves, with rows of seats along the walls for their aides and assistants. Today, to Han's surprise, the room had been reconfigured more along the lines of the huge Assemblage Commons. The seats were in neat, slightly tiered rows, with each counscilor surrounded by his or her assistants. In the front of the room, on the lowest level, Mon Mothma sat alone at a simple lectern, looking like a lecturer in a classroom. "Whose idea was this?" Han murmured as he and Leia started down the side aisle toward what was obviously a witness chair next to Mon Mothma's desk.

"Mon Mothma set it up," she murmured. "I'd be willing to bet it was Fey'lya's idea, though."

Han frowned. He'd have thought that underlining Mon Mothma's preeminent role in the Council like this would be the last thing Fey'lya would want. "I don't get it."

She nodded toward the lectern. "Giving Mon Mothma the whole spotlight helps calm any fears that he plans to make a bid for her position. At the same time, putting the Councilors and their aides together in little groups tends to isolate the Councilors from each other."

"I get it," Han nodded back. "Slippery little fuzzball, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," Leia said. "And he's going to milk this Sluis Van thing for all it's worth. Watch yourself."

They reached the front and separated, Leia going to the first row and sitting down next to her aide, Winter, Han continuing on to Mon Mothma and the witness chair waiting for him. "You want me sworn in or anything?" he asked without preamble.

Mon Mothma shook her head. "That won't be necessary, Captain Solo," she said, her voice formal and a little strained. "Please sit down. There are some questions the Council would like to ask you about the recent events at the Sluis Van shipyards."

Han took his seat. Fey'lya and his fellow Bothans, he saw, were in the group of front-row seats next to Leia's group. There were no empty seats anywhere that might have signified Admiral Ackbar's absence, at least not in the front where they should have been. The Councilors, seated according to rank, had apparently shuffled positions so as to each be closer to the front. Another reason for Fey'lya to have pushed this configuration, Han decided: at the usual oval table, Abkbar's seat might have been left vacant.

"First of all, Captain Solo," Mon Mothma began, "we would like you to describe your role in the Sluis Van attack. When you arrived, what happened subsequently-that sort of thing."

"We got there pretty much as the battle was starting," Han said.

"Came in just ahead of the Star Destroyers. We picked up a call from Wedge-that's Wing Commander Wedge Antilles of Rogue Squadron-saying,g that there were TIE fighters loose in the shipyards-"

"Excuse me?" Fey'lya interrupted smoothly. "Just who is the 'we'

here?"

Han focused on the Bothan. On those violet eyes, that soft, cream-colored fur, that totally bland expression. "My, crew consisted of Luke Skywalker and Lando Calrissian." As Fey'lya no doubt knew perfectly well already. Just a cheap trick to throw Han off stride. "Oh, and two droids. You want their serial numbers?"

A slight rustle of not-quite humor ran through the room, and Han had the minor satisfaction of seeing that cream-colored fur flatten a little.

"Thank you, no," Fey'lya said.

"Rogue Squadron was engaged with a group of approximately forty TIE

fighters and fifty stolen mole miners that had somehow been smuggled into the shipyards," Han continued. "We gave them some assistance with the fighters, figured out that the Imperials were using the mole miners to try and steal some of the capital ships that had been pressed into cargo duty, and were able to stop them. That's about it."

"You're too modest, Captain Solo," Fey'lya spoke up again. "According to the reports we've received here, it was you and Calrissian who managed singlehandedly to thwart the Empire's scheme."

Han braced himself. Here it came. He and Lando had stopped the Imperials, all right ... only they'd had to fry the nerve centers of over forty capital ships to do it. "I'm sorry about wrecking the ships," he said, looking Fey'lya straight in the eye. "Would you rather the Imperials have taken them intact?"

A ripple ran through the Bothan's fur. "Really, Captain Solo," he said soothingly. "I have no particular quarrel with your method of stopping the Empire's attempt at grand larceny, costly though it might have been. You had only what you could work with. Within your constraints, you and the others succeeded brilliantly."

Han frowned, feeling suddenly a little off balance. He had expected Fey'lya to try to make him the man under the hammer on this one. For once, the Bothan seemed to have missed a bet. "Thank you, Councilor," he said, for lack of anything better to say.

"Which is not to say that the Empire's attempt and near-victory are not important, Fey'lya said, his fur rippling the opposite direction this time as he looked around the room. "On the contrary. At the best, they speak of serious misjudgments on the part of our military commanders. At the worst ... they may speak of treason."

Han felt his lip twist. So that was it. Fey'lya hadn't changed his stripes; he'd simply decided not to waste a golden opportunity like this on a nobody like Han. "With all due respect, Councilor," he spoke up quickly, "what happened at Sluis Van wasn't Admiral Ackbar's fault. The whole operation-"

"Excuse me, Captain Solo," Fey'lya cut him off. "And with all due respect to you, let me point out that the reason those capital ships were sitting at Sluis Van in the first place, undermanned and vulnerable, was that Admiral Ackbar had ordered them there."

"There isn't anything like treason involved," Han insisted doggedly.

"We already know that the Empire's got a tap into our communications-"

"And who's responsible for such failures of security?" Fey'lya shot back. "Once again, the blame falls squarely around Admiral Ackbar's shoulders."

"Well, then, you find the leak," Han snapped. Peripherally, he could see Leia shaking her head urgently at him, but he was too mad now to care whether he was being properly respectful or not. "And while you're at it, I'd like to see how well you would do up against an Imperial Grand Admiral." The low-level buzz of conversation that had begun in the room cut off abruptly. "What was that last?" Mon Mothma asked. Silently, Han swore at himself. He hadn't meant to spring this on anyone until he'd had a chance to check it out himself at the Palace archives. But it was too late now. "The Empire's being led by a Grand Admiral," he muttered. "I saw him myself."

The silence hung thick in the air. Mon Mothma recovered first.

"That's impossible," she said, sounding more like she wanted to believe it than that she really did. "We've accounted for all the Grand Admirals."

"I saw him myself," Han repeated.

"Describe him," Fey'lya said. "What did he look like?"

"He wasn't human," Han said. "At least, not completely. He had a roughly human build, but he had light blue skin, a kind of bluish black hair, and eyes that glowed red. I don't know what species he was."

"Yet we know that the Emperor didn't like nonhumans," Mon Mothma reminded him.

Han looked at Leia. The skin of her face was tight, her eyes staring at and through him with a kind of numb horror. She understood what this meant, all right. "He was wearing a white uniform," he told Mon Mothma. "No other Imperial officers wore anything like that. And the contact I was with specifically called him a Grand Admiral."

"Obviously a self-granted promotion," Fey'lya said briskly. "Some regular admiral or perhaps a leftover Moff trying to rally the remains of the Empire around him. Anyway, that's beside the immediate point."

"Beside the point?" Han demanded. "Look, Councilor, if there's a Grand Admiral running around loose-"

"If there is," Mon Mothma interrupted firmly, "we'll soon know for certain. Until then, there seems little value in holding a debate in a vacuum. Council Research is hereby directed to look into the possibility that a Grand Admiral might still be alive. Until such an investigation has been completed, we will continue with our current inquiry into the circumstances of the Sluis Van attack." She looked at Han, then turned and nodded at Leia. "Councilor Organa Solo, you may begin the questioning."

Admiral Ackbar's high-domed, salmon-colored head bent slightly to the side, his huge round eyes swiveling in their sockets in a Calamarian gesture Leia couldn't recall ever having seen before. Surprise? Or was it perhaps dread?

"A Grand Admiral," Ackbar said at last, his voice sounding even more gravelly than usual. "An Imperial Grand Admiral. Yes. That would indeed explain a great many things."

"We don't actually know that it's a real Grand Admiral yet," Leia cautioned him, throwing a glance at the stony look on her husband's face. Han, clearly, had no doubts of his own. Neither did she, for that matter. "Mon Mothma's having Research look into it."

"They won't find anything," Ackbar said, shaking his head. A more human gesture, that, of the sort he usually tried to use when dealing with humans. Good; that meant he was getting back on balance. "I had a thorough search made of the Imperial records when we first took Coruscant back from the Empire. There's nothing in there but a list of the Grand Admirals' names and a little about their assignments."

"Erased before they pulled out," Han growled.

"Or perhaps never there to begin with," Leia suggested. "Remember that these weren't just the best and brightest military leaders the Emperor could find. They were also part of his plan to bring the Imperial military more personally under his control."

"As was the Death Star project itself," Ackbar said. "I agree, Councilor. Until the Grand Admirals were fully integrated both militarily and politically, there was no reason to publish details of their identities. And every reason to conceal them."

"So," Han said. "Dead end."

"It appears that way," Ackbar agreed. "Any information we're going to get will have to come from current sources.

Leia looked at Han. "You mentioned you were with a contact when you saw this Grand Admiral, but you didn't give us the contact's name."

"That's right," Han nodded. "I didn't. And I'm not going to. Not now, anyway."

Leia frowned at that unreadable sabacc face, stretching out with all her rudimentary Jedi skills to try to sense his purpose and feelings. It didn't get her very far. If only I had more time to practice, she thought ruefully. But if the Council had needed all her time before, it was going to need even more than that now. "Mon Mothma's going to want to know, eventually," she warned him.

"And I'm going to tell her, eventually," he came back. "Until then, it's going to be our little secret."

"As in 'leverage'?"

"You never can tell." A shadow of something crossed Han's face. "The name's not going to do the Council any good right now, anyway. The whole group's probably buried themselves away somewhere. If the Empire hasn't caught up with them."

"You don't know how to find them?" Leia asked. Han shrugged. "There's a ship I promised to get out of impoundment for them. I can try that."

"Do what you can," Ackbar said. "You said Councilor Organa Solo's brother was with you at Sluis Van?"

"Yes, sir," Han said. "His hyperdrive needed some repairs, but he should've only been a couple of hours behind me." He looked at Leia. "Oh, and we're going to have to get Lando's ship back to him at Sluis Van." Ackbar made a noise that sounded something like a choked whistle: the Calamarian equivalent of a grunt. "We'll need to hear testimony from both of them," he said. "And from Wing Commander Antilles, as well. It's vital that we learn how the Empire was able to smuggle such a large force past so many sensors.

Leia threw Han a look. "According to Wedge's preliminary report, they apparently were inside a freighter whose bold registered empty." Ackbar's eyes swiveled in their sockets. "Empty? Not merely unreadable, as if from a sensor misfire or static-damping?"

"Wedge said it was empty," Han told him. "He ought, to know the difference between that and static-damping.

"Empty." Ackbar seemed to slump a little in his seat. "Which can only mean the Empire has finally developed a workable cloaking shield."

"It's starting to look that way," Leia agreed soberly. "I suppose the only good news is that they must still have some bugs left in the system. Otherwise, they could have simply cloaked the whole Sluis Van task force and torn the place to ribbons."

"No," Ackbar said, shaking his massive head. "That's something we won't have to worry about, at least. By its very nature a cloaking shield would be more, danger to the user than it was worth. A cloaked warship's own sensor beams would be as useless as those of its enemies, leaving it to flail about totally blind. Worse, if it were under power, the enemy could locate it by simply tracking its drive emissions."

"Ah," Leia said. "I hadn't thought of that."

"There have been rumors for years that the Emperor was developing a cloaking shield," Ackbar said. "I've put a good deal of thought into the contingency." He harrumphed. "But the weaknesses are of small comfort. A cloaking shield in the hands of a Grand Admiral would still be a dangerous weapon indeed. He would find ways to use it against us.

"He already has," Han muttered.

"Apparently so." Ackbar's swiveling eyes locked onto Leia's face.

"You must get me cleared of this ridiculous charge, Councilor. As soon as possible. For all his ambition and self-confidence, Councilor Fey'lya hasn't the tactical skills we need against a threat of this magnitude."

"We'll get you released, Admiral," Leia promised, wishing she felt that confident. "We're working on it right now.

There was a diffident knock, and behind Leia the door opened. "Excuse me," the squat G-2RD droid said in a mechanically resonant voice. "Your time has expired."

"Thank you," Leia said, suppressing her frustration as she stood up. She wanted desperately to have more time with Ackbar, to explore with him both this new Imperial threat and also discuss the legal strategies they might use in his defense. But arguing with the droid would gain her nothing, and might get her visiting privileges revoked entirely. Guard droids were allowed that kind of discretion, and the 2RD series in particular was reputed to be a touchy lot. "I'll be back soon, Admiral," she told Ackbar. "Either this afternoon or tomorrow.

"Good-bye, Councilor." There was just a brief hesitation-"And to you, Captain Solo. Thank you for coming."

"Good-bye, Admiral," Han said.

They stepped from the room and started down the wide corridor, the G-2RD taking up position at the door behind them. "That must have hurt," Han commented.

"What must have?" Leia asked.

"Thanking me for coming."

She frowned up at him, but there was nothing but seriousness in his face. "Oh, come on, Han. Just because you resigned your commission-"

"He considers me one step up from a complete traitor," Han finished for her.

An obvious retort about persecution complexes flashed through Leia's mind. "Ackbar's never been what you'd call an outgoing person," she said instead.

Han shook his head. "I'm not imagining it, Leia. Ask Lando sometime-he gets the same kind of treatment. You leave the military and you might as well be tauntaun spit as far as Ackbar is concerned." Leia sighed. "You have to understand the Mon Calamari ethos, Han. They were never a warlike species at all until the Empire started enslaving them and ravaging their world. Those wonderful Star Cruisers of theirs were originally passenger liners, you know, that we helped them convert into warships. Maybe it's not so much anger at you for quitting as it is some sort of residual guilt at himself and his people for taking up warfare in the first place."

"Even if they were forced into it?"

Leia shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't think anyone ever goes into a war without the nagging feeling that there might have been,some other way. Even when every other way has already been tried and hasn't worked. I know I felt it when I first joined the Rebellion-and believe me, people like Mon Mothma and Bail Organa had tried everything. For an inherently peaceful race like the Mon Calamari, the feeling must be even worse.

"Well...maybe," Han conceded grudgingly. "I just wish they'd work it through for themselves and leave the rest of us out of it.

"They are," Leia assured him. "We've just got to give them time." He looked down at her. "You haven't told me yet why you and Chewie left Kashyyyk and came back here."

Leia squeezed thumb and forefinger together. Eventually, she knew, she would have to tell Han about the deal she'd made with the Noghri commando Khabarakh. But walking down a public corridor of the Imperial Palace wasn't the place for that kind of discussion. "There didn't seem any point in staying," she told him. "There was another attack-"

"There what?"

"Relax, we fought it off" she soothed him. "And I've made arrangements that should keep me safe, at least for the next couple of weeks. I'll tell you about it later, when we're someplace more secure. She could feel his eyes boring into her; could sense the suspicion in his mind that there was something she wasn't telling him. But he recognized as well as she did the danger of speaking secrets out in the open. "All right," he muttered. "I just hope you know what you're doing." Leia shivered, focusing on the sense of the twins she carried within her. So potentially strong in the ... Force and yet so utterly helpless. "So do I," she whispered.

CHAPTER

4

JORUS C'BAOTH. HUMAN. BORN IN REITECAS, ON BORTRAS, ON 4\3\112. PRE-EMPIRE DATE.

Luke made a face as he watched the words scroll up the Old Senate Library computer screen. What was it about new regimes, he wondered, that one of their first official acts always seemed to be the creation of a new dating system, which they then went and applied to all existing historical records?

The Galactic Empire had done that, as had the Old Republic before it. He could only hope that the New Republic wouldn't follow suit. History was hard enough to keep track of as it was.

ATTENDED MIRNIC UNIVERSITY 6\4\95 TO 4\32\90 PE. ATTENDED JEDI TRAINING CENTER ON KAMPARAS 2\15\90 TO 8\33\8 PE. PRIVATE JEDI TRAINING BEGUN

9\88 PE; INSTRUCTOR UNKNOWN. GRANTED TITLE OF JEDI KNIGHT 3\6\86 PE. OFFICIALLY ASSUMED TITLE OF JEDI MASTER 4\3\74 PE. SUMMARY ENDS FURTHER

DETAILS OF SCHOOLING AND TRAINING?

"No," Luke said, frowning. C'baoth had assumed the title of Jedi Master? He'd always been under the impression that that title, like the rank of Jedi Knight itself, was something that was granted by the rest of the Jedi community and not simply self-proclaimed. "Give me the highlights of his record as a Jedi."

MEMBER OF ANDO DEMILITARIZATION OBSERVATION GROUP 8\82 TO 7\81 PE. MEMBER OF SENATE INTERSPECIES ADVISORY COMMITTEE 9\81 TO 6\79 PE. PERSONAL

JEDI ADVISER TO SENATOR PALPATINE 6\79 TO's\77 "Stop," Luke ordered, a sudden shiver running up his back. Jedi adviser to Senator Palpatine? "Detail C'baoth's service to Senator Palpatine." The computer seemed to consider the request. UNAVAILABLE, the answer came at last.

"Unavailable, or just classified?" Luke countered. UNAVAILABLE, the computer repeated.

Luke grimaced. But there was little he could do about it for the moment. "Continue."

MEMBER OF JEDI FORCE ASSEMBLED TO OPPOSE THE DARK JEDI INSURRECTION

ON BPFASSH 7\77 TO 1\74 PE. ASSISTED IN RESOLVING ALDERAAN ASCENDANCY

CONTENTION 11\7O PE. ASSISTED JEDI MASTER TRA'S M'INS IN MEDIATION OF

DUINUOGWUIN-GOTAL CONFLICT l\68 TO 4\66 PE. NAMED AMBASSADOR AT LARGE TO

XAPPYH SECTOR 8\21\62 PE BY SENATE. HIGHLY INSTRUMENTAL IN CONVINCING SENATE

TO AUTHORIZE AND FUND OUTBOUND FLIGHT PROJECT. ONE OF SIX JEDI MASTERS

ATTACHED TO PROJECT 7\7\65 PE. NO RECORD EXISTS AFTER PROJECT DEPARTURE FROM

YAGA MINOR, 4\1\64. HIGHLIGHTS SUMMARY ENDS. FURTHER INFORMATION?

Luke leaned back in his chair, gazing at the display and chewing at the inside of his cheek. So not only had C'baoth once been an adviser to the man who would someday declare himself Emperor, but he'd also been part of the attack against those Dark Jedi from the Sluis sector that Leia had told him about. One of whom had survived long enough to face Master Yoda on Dagobah... There was a soft footstep behind him. "Commander?"

"Hello, Winter," Luke said without turning. "Looking for me?"

"Yes," Winter said, coming up to stand beside him. "Princess Leia would like to see you whenever you're finished here." She nodded at the display, running a hand through her silky white hair as she did so. "More Jedi research?"

"Sort of" Luke told her, sliding a data card into the terminal's slot. "computer: copy complete record of Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth."

"Jorus C'baoth," Winter repeated thoughtfully.

"Wasn't he involved in the big ascendancy flap on Alderaan?"

"That's what the record says," Luke nodded. "You know anything about that?"

"No more than any other Alderaanian," Winter said. Even with her rigid control some of the pain leaked through to her voice, and Luke found himself wincing in sympathy with it. For Leia, he knew, the destruction of Alderaan and the loss of her family was a heartrending but slowly fading ache in the back corners of her mind. For winter, with her perfect and indelible memory, the pain would probably go on forever. "The question was whether the line of ascent to Viceroy should go to Bail Organa's father or one of the other family lines," Winter continued. "After the third voting deadlock they appealed to the Senate to mediate the issue. C'baoth was one of the delegation they sent, which took less than a month to decide that the Organas had the proper claim."

"Did you ever see any pictures of C'baoth?" Luke asked. Winter considered. "There was a group holo in the archives that showed the entire mediation team," she said after a moment. "C'baoth was-oh, about average height and build, I suppose. Fairly muscular, too, which I remember thinking seemed rather odd for a Jedi." She looked at Luke, coloring slightly. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean that to sound derogatory."

"No problem," Luke assured her. It was a common misconception, he'd discovered: with mastery over the Force, people just assumed there was no reason for a Jedi to cultivate physical strength. It had taken Luke himself several years to truly appreciate the subtle ways in which control of the body was linked to control of the mind. "What else?

"He had graying hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard," Winter said.

"He was wearing the same brown robe and white undertunic that a lot of Jedi seemed to favor. Other than that, there wasn't anything particularly notable about him."

Luke rubbed his chin. "How old did he look?"

"Oh ... I'd say somewhere around forty," Winter said. "Plus or minus five years, perhaps. Age is always hard to ascertain from a picture."

"That would fit with the record here," Luke agreed, retrieving the data card from the slot. But if the record was right ... "You said Leia wanted to see me?" he asked, standing up."

"If it's convenient," Winter nodded. "She's in her office."

"Okay. Let's go."

They left the library and started down the cross corridor linking the research areas with the Council and Assemblage chambers. "You know anything about the planet Bortras?" he asked Winter as they walked. "Specifically, anything about how long its people live?"

She thought a moment. "I've never read anything that mentioned it one way or another. Why?"

Luke hesitated; but however the Imperials were getting information out of the New Republic's inner sanctum, Winter was certainly far above suspicion. "The problem is that if this alleged Jedi out on Jomark really is Jorus C'baoth, he has to be over a hundred by now. I know there are some species that live longer than that, but he's supposed to be human." Winter shrugged. "There are always exceptions to a race's normal life span," she pointed out. "And a Jedi, in particular might have techniques that would help extend that span."

Luke thought about that. It was possible, he knew. Yoda had certainly had a long life-a good nine hundred years-and as a general rule, smaller species usually had shorter life spans than larger ones. But usually didn't mean always; and after many hours of records searches, Luke still hadn't figured out just what species Yoda had belonged to. Perhaps a better approach might be to try to find out how long the Emperor had lived.

"So you think Jorus C'baoth is alive?" Winter asked into his thoughts.

Luke glanced around. They'd reached the Grand Corridor now, which because of its location was usually fairly brimming with beings of all sorts. But today it was nearly empty, with only a few humans and others standing around in little conversation groups of their own, all of them too far away to eavesdrop. "I had a brief mental contact with another Jedi while I was on Nidlon," he said, lowering his voice. "Afterward, Leia told me that there were rumors C'baoth had been seen on Jomark. I don't know what other conclusion to come to."

Winter was silent. "Any comments?" Luke prompted her. She shrugged. "Anything having to do with Jedi and the Force are out of my personal experience, Commander," she said. "I really can't comment one way or another on that. But I'd have to say that the impression I got of C'baoth from Alderaanian history makes me skeptical."

"Why?"

"It's just an impression, you understand," Winter emphasized.

"Nothing I would even have mentioned if you hadn't asked. C'baoth struck me as the sort of person who loved being in the middle of things. The sort who, if he couldn't lead, control, or help in a particular situation, would still be there just so he'd be visible."

They were passing by one of the purple-and-green ch'hala trees lining the Grand Corridor now, close enough for Luke to see the subtle moire like turmoil of color taking place beneath the thin transparent outer bark. "I suppose that fits with what I read," he conceded, reaching out to slide a fingertip across the slender tree trunk as they walked. The subtle turmoil exploded at his touch into a flash of angry red across the quiet purple, the color shooting out around the trunk like ripples in a cylindrical pond, circling it again and again as it flowed up and down the trunk before finally fading to burgundy and then back to purple again. "I don't know if you knew it, but he apparently promoted himself from Jedi Knight to Jedi Master. Seems like kind of a conceited thing to do."

"Yes, it does," Winter agreed. "Though at least by the time he came to Alderaan there didn't seem to be any dispute about it. My point is that someone who likes the spotlight that much wouldn't have stayed so completely out of the war against the Empire."

"And a good point it is, too," Luke admitted, half trying to watch the last bit of red fade away on the ch'hala tree he'd touched. The Nkllon contact with the mysterious Jedi had been like that: there for a short time, and then gone without a trace. Was C'baoth perhaps no longer fully in control of his powers? "New subject, then. What do you know about this Outbound Flight project the Old Republic put together?"

"Not much," she said, frowning with concentration. "It was supposedly an attempt to search for life outside the galaxy proper, but the whole thing was so buried in secrecy they never released any details. I'm not even sure whether or not it was ever launched."

"The records say it was," Luke said, touching the next ch'hala tree in line as they passed by, eliciting another flash of red. "They also say that C'baoth was attached to the project. Does that mean he would have been aboard?"

"I don't know," Winter said. "There were rumors that several Jedi Masters would be going along, but again there was no official confirmation of that." She looked sideways at him. "Are you thinking that might be why he wasn't around during the Rebellion?"

"It's possible," Luke said. "Of course, that would just raise another whole set of questions. Like what happened to them and how he got back." Winter shrugged. "I suppose there's one way to find out."

"Yeah." Luke touched the last tree in line. "Go to Jomark and ask him. I guess I'll have to."

Leia's office was grouped with the other Inner Council suites just off the cross hallway that linked the Grand Corridor with the more intimate Inner Council meeting room. Luke and Winter entered the outer reception area, to find a familiar figure waiting there. "Hello, Threepio," Luke said.

"Master Luke-how good to see you again," the gold-skinned droid gushed. "I trust you're well?"

"I'm fine," Luke told him. "Artoo said to say hello when I saw you, by the way. They've got him over at the spaceport helping with some maintenance on my X-wing, but I'll be bringing him back later this evening. You can see him then."

"Thank you, sir." Threepio tilted his head slightly, as if suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be acting as a receptionist here.

"Princess Leia and the others are expecting you," he said, touching the inner chamber release. "Please go on in."

"Thank you," Luke said, nodding gravely. No matter how ridiculous Threepio might look in any given situation, there was always a certain inherent dignity about him, a dignity that Luke usually tried to respond to in kind. "Let us know if anyone else comes."

"Of course, sir," Threepio said.

They went into the inner chamber to find Leia and Han holding a quiet conversation over a computer display on Leia's desk. Chewbacca, sitting alone near the door with his bowcaster across his knees, growled a greeting as they entered.

"Ah-Luke," Leia said, looking up. "Thanks for coming." She shifted her attention to Winter. "That'll be all for now, Winter."

"Yes, Your Highness," Winter nodded. With her usual grace, she glided from the room.

Luke looked at Han. "I hear you dropped a double size thermal detonator on the Council yesterday."

Han grimaced. "I tried. Not that anyone really believed me."

"One of those instances where politics drifts off into the realm of wishful thinking," Leia said. "The last thing anyone wants to believe is that in our sweep we somehow missed one of the Emperor's Grand Admirals."

"Sounds more like willful denial than wishful thinking to me," Luke said. "Or do they have another theory as to how we got edged so neatly into that Sluis Van trap?"

Leia grimaced. "Some of them say that's where Ackbar's collusion comes in.

"Ah," Luke murmured. So that was the thrust of Fey'lya's scheme." "I hadn't heard any of the details yet."

"So far, Fey'lya's been playing the sabacc cards close to the fur," Han growled. "He claims he's trying to be fair; I think he's just trying not to rock all the stabilizers at once.

Luke frowned at him. There was something else in his friend's face and sense ... "And maybe something more?" he prompted. Han and Leia exchanged glances. "Maybe," Han said. "You notice how quickly after the Sluis Van attack Fey'lya dropped the hammer on Ackbar. Either he's one of the great opportunists of all time-"

"Which we already know he is," Leia put in.

"-or else," Han continued grimly, "he knew in advance what was going to happen."

Luke looked at Leia. At the strain in her face and sense ... "You realize what you're saying," he said quietly. "You're accusing a member of the Council of being an Imperial agent."

Leia's sense seemed to flinch. Han's didn't even flicker. "Yeah, I know," Han said. "Isn't that what he's accusing Ackbar of?"

"The problem is timing, Han," Leia said, her tone one of strained patience. "As I've already tried to explain. If we accuse Fey'lya of anything now, it'll just look like we're trying to take the pressure off Ackbar by turning Fey'lya's charges back against him. Even if it were true-and I don't think it is-it would still come across as a cheap and rather mindless trick."

"Maybe that's why he was so quick to finger Ackbar in the first place," Han countered. "So that we couldn't turn it back on him. That ever occur to you?"

"Yes, it has," Leia said. "Unfortunately, it doesn't change the situation. Until we've cleared Ackbar, we can't go making accusations against Fey'lya."

Han snorted. "Come on, Leia. Political waddlefooting is fine in its place, but we're talking about the survival of the New Republic here."

"Which could fall completely apart over this without anyone ever firing a shot," Leia retorted hotly. "Face it, Han-this whole thing is still being held together with hope and crating tape. You get a few wild accusations flying around, and half the races in the old Rebel Alliance might decide to pull out and go their separate ways."

Luke cleared his throat. "If I can say something ...?" They looked at him, the tension in the room fading a little. "Sure, kid, what is it?" Han said.

"I think we all agree that, whatever his agenda or possible sponsors Fey'lya up to something," Luke said. "Maybe it would help to find out what that something is. Leia, what do we know about Fey'lya?" She shrugged. "He's a Bothan, obviously, though he grew up on the Bothan colony world of Kothlis instead of on Bothawni proper. He joined the real Alliance right after the Battle of Yavin, bringing a good-sized group of his followers Bothans in with him. His people served mainly in support and reconnaissance, though they saw some occasional action, too. He was involved in a number of wideranging interstellar business activities before joining the Alliance-shipping, merchandising, some mining, assorted other ventures. I'm pretty sure he's kept up with some of them since then, but I don't know which ones."

"Are they on file?" Luke asked.

She shook her head. "I've been through his file five times, and I've checked every other reference to him I could find. Nothing."

"That's where we want to start our backtrack, then," Han decided.

"Quiet business stuff is always good for digging up dirt." Leia threw him a patient look. "It's a big galaxy, Han. We don't even know where to start looking."

"I think we can figure it out," Han assured her. "You said the Bothans saw some action after Yavin. Where?"

"Any number of places," Leia said, frowning. She swiveled the computer around to face her, tapped in a command. "Let's see ..."

"You can skip any battle they were ordered into," Han told her. "Also any time there were only a few of them there as part of a big multispecies force. I just want the places where a bunch of Fey'lya's people really threw themselves into it."

It was clear from Leia's face that she didn't see where Han was going with this, a sentiment Luke could readily identify with. But she fed in the parameters without comment. "Well...I suppose the only one that really qualifies would be a short but violent battle off New Cov in the Churba sector. Four Bothan ships took on a Victory-class Star Destroyer that was snooping around, keeping it busy until a Star Cruiser could come to their assistance."

"New Cov, huh?" Han repeated thoughtfully. "That system get mentioned anywhere in Fey'lya's business stuff?"

"Uh ... no, it doesn't."

"Fine," Han nodded. "Then that's where we start." Leia threw Luke a blank look. "Did I miss something?"

"Oh, come on, Leia," Han said. "You said yourself that the Bothans pretty much sat out the real war everywhere they could. They didn't take on a Victory Star Destroyer at New Cov just for the fun of it. They were protecting something."

Leia frowned. "I think you're reaching.

"Maybe," Han agreed. "Maybe not. Suppose it was Fey'lya and not the Imperials that sneaked that money into Ackbar's account? Transferring a block fund through Palanhi from the Churba sector would be easier than sending it in from any of the Imperial systems."

"That takes us back to accusing Fey'lya of being an Imperial agent," Luke warned.

"Maybe not," Han argued. "Could be the timing of the transfer was coincidence. Or maybe one of the Bothans got a whiff of the Empire's intentions and Fey'lya figured he could use it to take down Ackbar." Leia shook her head. "It's still nothing we can take to the Council," she said.

"I'm not going to take it to the Council," Han told her. "I'm going to take Luke, and we're going to go to New Cov and check it out ourselves. Quiet like."

Leia looked at Luke, an unspoken question forming in her mind.

"There's nothing I can do here to help," he said. "It's worth a look, anyway."

"All right," Leia sighed. "But keep it quiet." Han gave her a tight grin. "Trust me." He raised an eyebrow at Luke.

"You ready?"

Luke blinked. "You mean right now?"

"Sure, why not? Leia's got the political end covered here okay." There was a flicker of sense from Leia, and Luke looked over just in time to see her wince. Her eyes met Luke's, her sense pleading with him to keep quiet. What is it? he asked her silently.

Whether she would have answered him or not he never found out. From over at the door Chewbacca growled out the whole story.

Han turned to stare at his wife, his mouth falling open. "You promised what?" he breathed.

She swallowed visibly. "Han, I had no choice."

"No choice? No choice? I'll give you a choice-no, you're not going."

"Han"Excuse me," Luke interrupted, standing up. "I have to go check out my X-wing. I'll see you both later."

"Sure, kid," Han growled, not looking at him. Luke stepped to the door, catching Chewbacca's eye as he passed and nodding toward the outer office. Clearly, the Wookiee had already come to the same conclusion. Heaving his massive bulk to his feet, he followed Luke from the room.

The door slid shut behind them, and for a long moment they just stared at each other. Leia broke the silence first. "I have to go, Han," she said softly. "I promised Khabarakh I'd meet him. Don't you understand?"

"No, I don't understand," Han retorted, trying hard to hold on to his temper. The gut-wrending fear he'd felt after that near-miss on Bpfassh was back, churning hard at his stomach. Fear for Leia's safety, and the safety of the twins she carried. His son and daughter ... "These whatever-they-ares-"

"Noghri," she supplied the word.

"-these Nogti have been taking potshots at you every chance they've had for a couple of months now. You remember Bpfassh and that mock-up of the Falcon they tried to sucker us into getting aboard? And the attack on Bimmisaari before that-they came within a hair of snatching us right out of the middle of a marketplace. If it hadn't been for Luke and Chewie they'd have done it, too. These guys are serious, Leia. And now you tell me you want to fly out alone and visit their planet? You might as well turn yourself over to the Empire and save some time."

"I wouldn't be going if I thought that," she insisted. "Khabarakh knows I'm Darth Vader's daughter, and for whatever reason, that seems to be very important to them. Maybe I can use that leverage to turn them away from the Empire and onto our side. Anyway, I have to try." Han snorted. "What is this, some kind of crazy Jedi thing? Luke was always getting all noble and charging off into trouble, too." Leia reached over to lay her hand on his arm. "Han I know it's a risk," she said quietly. "But it may be the only chance we ever have of resolving this. The Noghri need help-Khabarakh admitted that. If I can give them that hell if I can convince them to come over to our side-that'll mean one less enemy for us to have to deal with." She hesitated. "And I can't keep running forever."

"What about the twins?"

He had the guilty satisfaction of seeing her wince. "I know," she said, a shiver running through her as she reached her other hand up to hold her belly. "But what's the alternative? To lock them away in a tower of the Palace somewhere with a ring of Wookiee guards around them? They'll never have any chance of a normal life as long as the Noghri are trying to take them from us."

Han gritted his teeth. So she knew. He hadn't been sure before, but he was now. Leia knew that what the Empire had been after this whole time was her unborn children.

And knowing that, she still wanted to meet with the Empire's agents. For a long minute he gazed at her, his eyes searching the features of that face he'd grown to love so deeply over the years, his memory bringing up images of the past as he did so. The young determination in her face as, in the middle of a blazing firelight, she'd grabbed Luke's blaster rifle away from him and shot them an escape route into the Death Star's detention-level garbage chute. The sound of her voice in the middle of deadly danger at Jabba's, helping him through the blindness and tremor and disorientation of hibernation sickness. The wiser, more mature determination visible through the pain in her eyes as, lying wounded outside the Endor bunker, she had nevertheless summoned the skill and control to coolly shoot two stormtroopers off Han's back.

And he remembered, too, the wrenching realization he'd had at that same time: that no matter how much he tried, he would never be able to totally protect her from the dangers and risks of the universe. Because no matter how much he might love her-no matter how much he might give of himself to her-she could never be content with that alone. Her vision extended beyond him, just as it extended beyond herself, to all the beings of the galaxy. And to take that away from her, whether by force or even by persuasion, would be to diminish her soul. And to take away part of what he'd fallen in love with in the first place.

"Can I at least go with you?" he asked quietly. She reached up to caress his cheek, smiling her thanks through the sudden moisture in her eyes. "I promised I'd go alone," she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "Don't worry, I'll be all right."

"Sure." Abruptly, Han got to his feet. "Well, if you're going, you're going. Come on-I'll help you get the Falcon prepped."

"The Falcon?" she repeated. "But I thought you were going to New Cov."

"I'll take Lando's ship," he called over his shoulder as he strode to the door. "I've got to get it back to him, anyway.

"But-"

"No argument," he cut her off. "If this Noghri of yours has something besides talking in mind, you'll stand a better chance in the Falcon than you will in the Lady Luck." He opened the door and stepped into the reception area.

And stopped short. Standing directly between him and the door, looking for all the world like a giant hairy thundercloud, Chewbacca was glowering at him. "What?" Han demanded.

The Wookiee's comment was short, sharp, and very much to the point.

"Well, I don't much like it, either," Han told him bluntly. "What do you want me to do, lock her up somewhere?"

He felt Leia come up behind him. "I'll be all right, Chewie," she assured him. "Really I will."

Chewbacca growled again, making it abundantly clear what he thought of her assessment. "You got any suggestions, let's hear 'em," Han said. Not surprisingly, he did. "Chewie, I'm sorry," Leia said. "I promised Khabarakh I'd come alone."

Chewbacca shook his head violently, showing his teeth as he growled his opinion of that idea. "He doesn't like it," Han translated diplomatically.

"I got the gist, thank you," Leia retorted. "Listen, you two; for the last time-"

Chewbacca cut her off with a bellow that made her jump half a meter backward. "You know, sweetheart," Han said, "I really think you ought to let him go with you. At least as far as the rendezvous point," he added quickly as she threw him a glare. "Come on-you know how seriously Wookiees take this life debt thing. You need a pilot, anyway.

For just a second he could see the obvious counter argument in her eyes: that she was perfectly capable of flying the Falcon herself. But only for a second. "All right," she sighed. "I guess Khabarakh won't object to that. But once we reach the rendezvous, Chewie, you do as I tell you, whether you like it or not. Agreed?"

The Wookiee thought about it, rumbled agreement. "Okay," Leia said, sounding relieved. "Let's get going, then. Threepio?"

"Yes, Your Highness?" the droid said hesitantly. For once, he'd had the brains to sit quietly at the reception desk and keep his loose change out of the discussion. It was a marked improvement over his usual behavior, Han decided. Maybe he ought to let Chewbacca get angry more often.

"I want you to come with me, too," Leia told the droid. "Khabarakh spoke Basic well enough, but the other Noghri may not, and I don't want to have to depend on their translators to make myself understood."

"Of course, Your Highness," Threepio said, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Good." Leia turned to look up at Han, licked her lips. "I guess we'd better get going."

There were a million things he could have said to her. A million things he wanted to say. "I guess," he said instead, "you'd better."