by Timothy Zahn
“You worried about when to start?”
He shook his head. “I’m worried about being able to do it at all.”
She shrugged. “What’s to do? You teach them how to hear minds and move objects and use lightsabers. You did that with your sister, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But that was when I thought that was all there was to it. It’s really just the beginning. They’re going to be strong in the Force, and with that strength comes responsibility. How do I teach them that? How do I teach them wisdom and compassion and how not to abuse their power?”
Mara studied his profile as he gazed out into the forest. This wasn’t just word games; he was really serious about it. Definitely a side of the heroic, noble, infallible Jedi she hadn’t seen before. “How does anyone teach anyone else that stuff?” she said. “Mostly by example, I suppose.”
He thought about it, nodded reluctantly. “I suppose so. How much Jedi training did the Emperor give you?”
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER. “Enough,” she said shortly, shaking the sound of the words from her mind and trying to stifle the flash of reflexive hatred that came with them. “All the basics. Why?—you checking for wisdom and compassion?”
“No.” He hesitated. “But as long as we’ve got a few more days until we reach Mount Tantiss, it might be a good idea to go over it again. You know—a refresher course sort of thing.”
She looked at him, an icy chill running through her. He was just a little bit too casual about this.… “Have you seen something about what’s ahead of us?” she asked suspiciously.
“Not really,” he said. But there was that brief hesitation again. “A few images and pictures that didn’t make any sense. I just think it would be a good idea for you to be as strong in the Force as possible before we go in.”
She looked away from him. YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER. “You’ll be there,” she reminded him. “What do I need to be strong in the Force for?”
“For whatever purpose your destiny calls you to,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “We have an hour or so left before sundown. Let’s get started.”
Wedge Antilles slid into his place on the long semicircular bench beside the other starfighter squadron commanders, glancing around the Star Cruiser war room as he did so. A good crowd already, and more were still filing in. Whatever Ackbar had planned, it was going to be big.
“ ’Lo, Wedge,” someone grunted in greeting as he sat down beside Wedge. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Wedge looked at him in mild surprise. Pash Cracken, son of the legendary General Airen Cracken, and one of the best starfighter commanders in the business. “I could say the same about you, Pash,” he said. “I thought you were out in Atrivis sector, baby-sitting the Outer Rim comm center.”
“You’re behind the times,” Pash said grimly. “Generis fell three days ago.”
Wedge stared at him. “I hadn’t heard,” he apologized. “How bad was it?”
“Bad enough,” Pash said. “We lost the whole comm center, more or less intact, and most of the sector fleet supply depots. On the plus side, we didn’t leave them any ships they could use. And we were able to make enough trouble on our way out to let General Kryll sneak Travia Chan and her people out from under the Imperials’ collective snout.”
“That’s something, I guess,” Wedge said. “What was it got you, numbers or tactics?”
“Both,” Pash said with a grimace. “I don’t think Thrawn was there personally, but he sure planned out the assault. I’ve got to tell you, Wedge, that those clones of his are the creepiest things I’ve ever tangled with. It’s like going up against stormtroopers: same rabid dedication, same cold-blooded machine-precision fighting. The only difference is that they’re everywhere now instead of just handling shock-troop duty.”
“Tell me about it,” Wedge agreed soberly. “We had to fight off two TIE fighter squadrons of the things in the first Qat Chrystac assault. They were pulling stunts I didn’t think TIEs were capable of.”
Pash nodded. “General Kryll figures Thrawn must be picking his best people for his cloning templets.”
“He’d be stupid to do anything else. What about Varth? Did he make it out?”
“I don’t know,” Pash said. “We lost contact with him during the retreat. I’m still hoping he was able to punch through the other side of the pincer and hook up with one of the units at Fedje or Ketaris.”
Wedge thought about the handful of times he’d gone nose-to-nose with Wing Commander Varth over something, usually involving spare parts or maintenance time. The man was a bitter, caustic-mouthed tyrant, with the single redeeming talent of being able to throw his starfighters against ridiculous odds and then get them back out again. “He’ll make it,” Wedge said. “He’s too contrary to roll over and die just for the Empire’s convenience.”
“Maybe.” Pash nodded toward the center of the room. “Looks like we’re ready to start.”
Wedge turned back as the buzz of conversation around them faded away. Admiral Ackbar was standing by the central holo table, flanked by General Crix Madine and Colonel Bren Derlin. “Officers of the New Republic,” Ackbar greeted them gravely, his large Mon Calamari eyes rotating to take in the entire war room. “None of you needs to be reminded that in the past few weeks our war against the remnants of the Empire has changed from what was once called a mopping-up exercise to a battle for our very survival. For the moment, the advantage of resources and personnel is still ours; but even as we speak that advantage is in danger of slipping away. Less tangible but no less serious are the ways in which Grand Admiral Thrawn is seeking to undermine our resolve and morale. It is time for us to throw both aspects of this attack back into the Empire’s face.” He looked at Madine. “General Madine.”
“I assume that you’ve all been briefed on the innovative form of siege the Imperials have created around Coruscant,” Madine said, tapping his light-pointer gently against his left palm. “They’ve been making some progress in clearing out the cloaked asteroids; but what they really need to get the job done is a crystal gravfield trap. We’ve been assigned to get them one.”
“Sounds like fun,” Pash muttered.
“Quiet,” Wedge muttered back.
“Intelligence has located three of them,” Madine continued. “All in Imperial-held space, naturally. The simplest one to go after is at Tangrene, helping to guard the new Ubiqtorate base they’re putting together there. Lots of cargo and construction ships moving around, but relatively few combat ships. We’ve managed to insert some of our people into the cargo crews, and they report the place is ripe for the taking.”
“Sounds a lot like Endor,” someone commented from the bench across from Wedge. “How can we be sure it isn’t a trap?”
“Actually, we’re pretty sure it is,” Madine said with a tight smile. “That’s why we’re going here instead.”
He touched a switch. The holo projector rose from the center of the table, and a schematic appeared in the air above it. “The Imperial shipyards at Bilbringi,” he identified it. “And I know what you’re all saying to yourselves: it’s big, it’s well defended, and what in the galaxy is the high command thinking about? The answer is simple: it’s big, it’s well defended, and it’s the last place the Imperials will expect us to hit.”
“Moreover, if we succeed, we will have severely damaged their shipbuilding capability,” Ackbar added. “As well as putting to rest the growing belief in Grand Admiral Thrawn’s infallibility.”
Which assumed, of course, that Thrawn was fallible. Wedge thought about pointing that out, decided against it. Everyone here was probably already thinking it, anyway.
“The operation will consist of two parts,” Madine went on. “We certainly don’t want to disappoint the Imperials planning the trap for us at Tangrene, so Colonel Derlin will be in charge of creating the illusion that that system is indeed our target. While he does that, Admiral Ackbar and I will be organizing the actual attack on Bilbringi. Any ques
tions?”
There was a moment of silence. Then, Pash raised his hand. “What happens if the Imperials pick up on the Bilbringi attack and miss the Tangrene preparations entirely?”
Madine smiled thinly. “We’d be most disappointed in them. All right, gentlemen, we have an assault force to organize. Let’s get started.”
The bedroom was dark and warm and quiet, murmuring with the faint nighttime noises of the Imperial City outside the windows and the more subtle sounds of the sleeping infants across the room. Listening to the sounds, inhaling the familiar aromas of home, Leia stared at the ceiling and wondered what had awakened her.
“Do you require anything, Lady Vader?” a soft Noghri voice came from the shadows beside the door.
“No, Mobvekhar, thank you,” Leia said. She hadn’t made any noise—he must have picked up on the change in her breathing pattern. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You did not,” the Noghri assured her. “Are you troubled?”
“I don’t know,” she said. It was starting to come back now. “I had—not a dream, exactly. More like a subconscious flash of insight. A piece of a puzzle trying to fit into place.”
“Do you know which piece?”
Leia shook her head. “I don’t even know which puzzle.”
“Did it relate to the siege of stones in the sky above?” Mobvekhar asked. “Or with the mission of your consort and the son of Vader?”
“I’m not sure,” Leia said, frowning with concentration into the darkness and running through the short-term memory enhancement techniques Luke had taught her. Slowly, the half-remembered dream images started to sharpen.… “It was something Luke said. No. It was something Mara said. Something Luke did. They fit together somehow. I don’t know how … but I know it’s important.”
“Then you will find the answer,” Mobvekhar said firmly. “You are the Lady Vader. The Mal’ary’ush of the Lord Vader. You will succeed at whatever goal you set for yourself.”
Leia smiled in the darkness. It wasn’t just words. Mobvekhar and the other Noghri truly believed that. “Thank you,” she said, taking a deep breath and feeling a renewing of her own spirit. Yes, she would succeed. If for no other reason than to justify the trust that the Noghri people had placed in her.
Across the room, she could sense the restlessness and growing hunger that meant the twins would be waking up soon. Reaching past the lightsaber half hidden beneath her pillow, she pulled her robe over to her. Whatever this important puzzle piece was she’d stumbled on, it would wait until morning.
CHAPTER
20
The last surviving Rebel ship flickered with pseudomotion and vanished into hyperspace … and after a thirty-hour battle, the heart of Kanchen sector was finally theirs. “Secure the fleet from full battle status, Captain,” Thrawn ordered, his voice grimly satisfied as he stood at the side viewport. “Deploy for planetary bombardment, and have Captain Harbid transmit our terms of surrender to the Xa Fel government.”
“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said, keying in the order.
Thrawn half turned to face him. “And send a further message to all ships,” he added. “Well done.”
Pellaeon smiled. Yes; the Grand Admiral did indeed know how to lead his men. “Yes, sir,” he said, and transmitted the message. On his board, a light went on: a preflagged message had just come through decrypt. He pulled it up, skimmed through it—
“A report from Tangrene?” Thrawn asked, still gazing out at the helpless world lying below them.
“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon nodded. “The Rebels have sent two more freighters into the system. Long-range scans suggest that they off-loaded something in the outer system on the way in, but Intelligence has so far been unable to locate or identify the drops.”
“Instruct them not to try,” Thrawn said. “We don’t want our prey frightened off.”
Pellaeon nodded, marveling once again at the Grand Admiral’s ability to read his opponents. Up until twenty hours ago he would have sworn the Rebels wouldn’t be audacious enough to commit this many forces to a battle just to get hold of a CGT array. Apparently, they were. “We’re also getting reports of Rebel ships drifting quietly into the Tangrene area,” he added, skimming down the report again. “Warships, starfighters, support craft—the whole range.”
“Good,” Thrawn said. But there was something preoccupied and troubled about the way he clasped his hands behind his back.
A message appeared on Pellaeon’s board: the Xa Fel government had accepted Harbid’s terms. “Word from the Death’s Head, Admiral,” he said. “Xa Fel has surrendered.”
“Not unexpectedly,” Thrawn said. “Inform Captain Harbid that he will handle the landings and troop deployments. You, Captain, will reconfigure the fleet into defensive formation until planetary defenses have been secured.”
“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon frowned at the Grand Admiral’s back. “Is anything wrong, Admiral?”
“I don’t know,” Thrawn said slowly. “I’ll be in my private command room, Captain. Join me there in one hour.”
He turned and favored Pellaeon with a tight smile. “Perhaps by then I’ll have an answer to that question.”
Gillespee finished reading and handed the data pad across the table to Mazzic. “You never cease to amaze me, Karrde,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the tapcafe’s background noise. “Where in space do you dig this stuff up from, anyway?”
“Around,” Karrde said, waving his hand vaguely. “Just around.”
“That doesn’t tell me mynock spit,” Gillespee complained.
“I don’t think it was meant to,” Mazzic said dryly, handing the data pad back to Karrde. “I agree; it’s very interesting. The question is whether we can believe it.”
“The information itself is reliable,” Karrde said. “My interpretation of it, of course, is certainly open to question.”
Mazzic shook his head. “I don’t know. It seems like a pretty desperate move to me.”
“I wouldn’t say desperate,” Karrde disagreed. “Call it instead a return to the bold tactics the Rebel Alliance used to be known for. Personally, I think a move like this is long overdue—they’ve allowed themselves to be put on the defensive far longer than they should have.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that if this doesn’t work they’re going to lose a lot of ships,” Mazzic pointed out. “Up to two entire sector fleets, if you can believe these numbers.”
“True,” Karrde agreed. “But if it does work, they get a major victory against Thrawn and an equally major lift in morale. Not to mention a CGT array.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing,” Gillespee put in. “What do they need a CGT for, anyway?”
“It supposedly has something to do with the reason Coruscant has been closed to civilian traffic for the past few days,” Karrde said. “That’s all I know.”
Mazzic leaned back in his seat and fixed Karrde with a speculative look. “Forget what they need it for. What are you proposing we do about it?”
Karrde shrugged. “It looks to me like the New Republic is fairly desperate to get their hands on a CGT. If they’re willing to fight for one, I assume they’d be even more willing to pay for one.”
“Seems reasonable,” Mazzic agreed. “So what do you want us to do, sneak into Tangrene before they get there?”
“Not really,” Karrde shook his head. “I thought that while everyone was busy fighting at Tangrene, we’d pick up the CGT at Bilbringi.”
Mazzic’s smile vanished. “You’re joking.”
“Not a bad idea, really,” Gillespee put in, slowly swirling the remains of the drink in his cup. “We slip in before the attack starts, then grab the CGT and run.”
“Through half the Imperial fleet?” Mazzic countered. “Come on—I’ve seen the kind of firepower they keep there.”
“I doubt they’ll have more than a skeleton defense there.” Karrde raised an eyebrow. “Unless you seriously think Thrawn won’t antici
pate and prepare for the New Republic’s move on Tangrene.”
“Point,” Mazzic conceded. “They can’t afford to let the New Republic have a victory there, can they?”
“Particularly not at Tangrene,” Karrde nodded. “That’s where General Bel Iblis successfully hit them once before.”
Mazzic grunted and pulled the data pad over in front of him again. Karrde let him reread the information and analysis, giving the tapcafe a leisurely scan as he waited. Near the main entrance, Aves and Gillespee’s lieutenant Faughn were sitting together at one of the tables, doing a good job of looking inconspicuous. Across the way at the rear entrance, Mazzic’s bodyguard Shada was playing the flirtatious hostess role for Dankin and Torve, the whole routine being convincingly leered at by Rappapor and Oshay, two more of Gillespee’s people. Three more tables of backup forces were scattered elsewhere throughout the tapcafe, primed and ready. This time, none of them were taking any chances with Imperial interference.
“It won’t be easy,” Mazzic warned at last. “Thrawn was furious about that raid we pulled. They’ve probably redone their whole security setup by now.”
“All the better,” Karrde said. “They won’t have found the holes in it yet. Are you in or out?”
Mazzic looked down at the data pad. “I might be in,” he growled. “But only if you can get a confirmation on the time of this Tangrene thing. I don’t want Thrawn anywhere within a hundred light-years of Bilbringi when we hit the place.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Karrde said. “We know the systems where the New Republic is assembling their forces. I’ll send some of my people to poke around and see what they can turn up.”
“What if they can’t get anything?”
Karrde smiled. “I need to have Ghent write us onto their payroll anyway,” he pointed out. “As long as he’s in the system, he might as well check on their battle plans, too.”
For a moment Mazzic just stared at him. Then, suddenly, the frown vanished and he actually chuckled. “You know, Karrde, I’ve never seen anyone play both ends against the middle the way you do. Okay. I’m in.”