by Timothy Zahn
"You were directly responsible for the deaths of four stormtroopers and thirty-two Imperial army troops," Thrawn continued. "Also for the destruction of two Chariot command speeders and their crews. I am not the Lord Darth Vader, Ferrier—I do not spend my men recklessly. Nor do I take their deaths lightly."
The color was starting to leave Ferrier's face. "Sir—Admiral—I know that you've put a bounty on Karrde's whole group of almost—"
"But all that pales in comparison to the utter disaster you've created," Thrawn cut him off again. "Intelligence informed me of this meeting of smuggler chiefs almost four days ago. I knew the location, the timing, and the probable guest list . . . and I had already given the Trogan garrison precise instructions—precise instructions, Ferrier—to leave it strictly alone."
Pellaeon hadn't thought Ferrier's face could get any paler. He was wrong. "You—? But—sir—but . . . I don't get it."
"I'm sure you don't," Thrawn said, his voice deadly quiet. He gestured; and from his position beside Thrawn's chair the Noghri bodyguard Rukh took a step forward. "But it's really quite simple. I know these smugglers, Ferrier. I've studied their operations, and I've made it a point to deal personally with each of them at least once over the past year. None of them wants to become entangled in this war, and without your staged attack I'm quite certain they would have left Trogan convinced that they could sit things out in traditional smuggler neutrality."
He gestured again to Rukh, and suddenly the Noghri's slender assassin's knife was in his hand. "The result of your interference," he continued quietly, "has been to unite them against the Empire—precisely the turn of events I'd gone to great lengths to avoid." His glowing eyes bored into Ferrier's face. "And I do not appreciate having my efforts wasted."
Ferrier's eyes flicked back and forth between Thrawn and the blade in Rukh's hand, his face now gone from pasty white to gray. "I'm sorry, Admiral," he said, the words coming out with obvious difficulty. "I didn't mean—I mean, just give me another chance, huh? Just one more chance? I can deliver Karrde—I swear to you. Well, hey—I mean, never mind even Karrde. I'll deliver all of them to you."
He ran out of words and just stood there looking sick. Thrawn let him hang for another few heartbeats. "You are a small-minded fool, Ferrier," he said at last. "But even fools occasionally have their uses. You will have one more chance. One last chance. I trust I make myself clear."
"Yes, Admiral, real clear," Ferrier said, his head jerking up and down in something closer to a twitch than a nod.
"Good." Thrawn gestured, and Rukh's knife vanished. "You can start by telling me exactly what they have planned."
"Sure." Ferrier took a shuddering breath. "Karrde, Par'tah, and Clyngunn are going to meet in—I guess three days now—at Chazwa. Oh—they know you're running your new clones through Orus sector."
"Do they," Thrawn said evenly. "And they intend to stop it?"
"No—just find out where it's coming from. Then they're going to tell the New Republic. Brasck isn't going along, but he said he wouldn't stop them, either. Dravis is going to check with Billey and get back to them. And Mazzic and Ellor have something else planned—they didn't say what."
He ran out of words, or air, and stopped. "All right," Thrawn said after a moment. "This is what you're going to do. You and your people will meet Karrde and the others at Chazwa on schedule. You'll take Karrde a gift: an assault shuttle you stole from the Hishyim patrol station."
"Rigged, right?" Ferrier nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that was my idea, too—give 'em some rigged ships that—"
"Karrde will of course examine this gift thoroughly," Thrawn interrupted him, his patience clearly becoming strained. "The ship will therefore be in perfect condition. Its purpose is merely to establish your credibility. Assuming you still have any."
Ferrier's lip twisted. "Yes, sir. And then?"
"You will continue to report on Karrde's activities," Thrawn told him. "And from time to time I'll be sending you further instructions. Instructions which you will carry out instantly and without question. Is that clear?"
"Sure," Ferrier said. "Don't worry, Admiral, you can count on me."
"I certainly hope so." Deliberately, Thrawn looked at Rukh. "Because I would hate to have to send Rukh to pay you a visit. I trust I make myself understood?"
Ferrier looked at Rukh, too, and swallowed hard. "Yeah, I get it."
"Good." He swiveled his chair to face away from Ferrier again. "Commander, escort our guest back to his ship and see that his people are checked out on the assault shuttle I've had prepared for them."
"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper commander said. He gave Ferrier a nudge, and the group turned and headed aft.
"Go with them, Rukh," Thrawn said. "Ferrier has a small mind, and I want it to leave here filled with the knowledge of what will happen if he trips over my plans again."
"Yes, my lord," the Noghri said, and slipped silently away after the departing ship thief.
Thrawn turned to Pellaeon. "Your analysis, Captain?"
"Not a good situation, sir," Pellaeon said, "but not as bad as it might have been. We have a potential line on Karrde's group, if you can believe Ferrier. And in the meantime, he and his new allies won't be doing anything but following the decoy trail we've already prepared for the Rebellion."
"And eventually they'll tire of that and again go their separate ways," Thrawn agreed, his glowing eyes narrowed in thought. "Particularly as the financial burden of lost Imperial business begins to take its toll. Still, that will take time."
"What are the options?" Pellaeon asked. "Take Ferrier up on his offer to give them booby-trapped ships?"
Thrawn smiled. "I have something more useful and satisfying in mind, Captain. Eventually, I'm sure some of the other smugglers will realize how unconvincing the Trogan attack really was. With a little judiciously planted evidence, perhaps we can persuade them that it was Karrde who was behind it."
Pellaeon blinked. "Karrde?" he repeated.
"Why hot?" Thrawn asked. "A deceitful and heavy-handed attempt, shall we say, to persuade the others that his fears about the Empire were justified. It would certainly lose Karrde any influence he might have over them, as well as possibly saving us the trouble of hunting him down ourselves."
"It's something to think about, sir," Pellaeon agreed diplomatically. The middle of a major offensive, in his opinion, was not the right time to be worrying about exacting vengeance on the dregs of the galaxy's underfringes. There would be plenty of time for that after the Rebellion had been pounded into dust. "May I suggest, Admiral, that the stalled campaign off Ketaris requires your attention?"
Thrawn smiled again. "Your devotion to duty is commendable, Captain." He turned his head to gaze out the side viewport. "No word yet from Coruscant?"
"Not yet, sir," Pellaeon said, checking the comm log update just to be sure. "But you remember what Himron said about first creating a data trail. He might have run into some delays."
"Perhaps." Thrawn turned back, and Pellaeon could see the slight tightness in his face. "Perhaps not. Still, even if we fail to obtain the twins for our beloved Jedi Master, Major Himron's fingering of Mara Jade should succeed in neutralizing her as a threat to us. For the moment, that's what's important."
He straightened in his chair. "Set course for the Ketaris battle plane, Captain. We'll leave as soon as Ferrier is clear."
Chapter 11
The bulky man was turning into the Grand Corridor when Han finally caught up with him, his expression that of a man in a hurry and in a rotten mood besides. But that was okay; Han wasn't in all that great a mood, either. "Colonel Bremen," he said, falling in step beside the man just as he passed the first of the slender purple-and-green ch'hala trees that lined both sides of the Grand Corridor. "I want to talk to you a minute."
Bremen threw him an irritated glance. "If it's about Mara Jade, Solo, I don't want to hear it."
"She's still under house arrest," Han said anyway. "I want to know why."
"Gee, well, maybe it has something to do with that Imperial attack two nights ago," Bremen said sarcastically. "You suppose?"
"Could be," Han agreed, batting at one of the ch'hala branches that was stretching a little too far from the trunk. The subtle turmoil of color taking place beneath the tree's transparent outer bark exploded into an angry red at the spot where the branch connected to it, the color shooting around the trunk in ripples as it slowly faded. "I guess it all depends on how much we're listening to Imperial rumor these days."
Bremen stopped short and spun to face him. "Look, Solo, what do you want from me?" he snapped. A new flush of pale red rippled across the ch'hala tree Han had touched, and across the corridor a group of diplomats sitting around a conversation ring looked up questioningly. "Look at the facts a minute, huh? Jade knew about the secret back door and the passages—she admits that outright. She was there on the scene before any alert was sounded—she admits that, too."
"Well, so were Lando and General Bel Iblis," Han said, feeling that thin plating of diplomacy that Leia had worked so hard to build starting to fail. "You haven't got them locked up."
"The situations are hardly similar, are they?" Bremen shot back. "Calrissian and Bel Iblis have histories with the New Republic, and people here who vouch for them. Jade has neither."
"Leia and I vouch for her," Han told him, trying hard to ignore that whole thing about her wanting to kill Luke. "Isn't that good enough? Or are you just mad at her for doing your job for you?"
It was the wrong thing to say. Bremen turned nearly as red as the ch'hala tree had, his face hardening to something you could use for hull metal. "So she helped shoot some alleged Imperial agents," he said frostily. "That proves absolutely nothing. With a Grand Admiral pulling the strings out there, the entire raid could have been nothing more than an elaborate scheme to convince us she's on our side. Well, I'm sorry, but we're not buying today. She gets the full treatment: records search, background search, acquaintance correlation, and a couple of question/answer sessions with our interrogators."
"Terrific," Han snorted. "If she's not on our side now, that'll put her there for sure."
Bremen drew himself up to his full height. "We're not doing this to be popular, Solo. We're doing this to protect New Republic lives—yours and your children's among them, if you recall. I presume Councilor Organa Solo will be at Mon Mothma's briefing; if she has any complaints or suggestions, she can present them there. Until then, I don't want to hear anything about Jade from anyone. Especially you. Is that clear, Captain Solo."
Han sighed. "Yeah. Sure."
"Good." Spinning around again, Bremen continued on his way down the corridor. Han watched him go, glowering at his back.
"You do have a way with people, don't you?" a familiar voice said wryly from beside him.
Han turned in mild surprise. "Luke! When did you get back?"
"About ten minutes ago," Luke told him, nodding down the corridor. "I called your room, and Winter told me you two had headed down here for a special meeting. I was hoping to catch you before you went in."
"I'm not invited, actually," Han said, throwing one last glare at Bremen's retreating back. "And Leia stopped by Mara's room first."
"Ah. Mara."
Han looked back at his friend. "She was here when we needed her," he reminded the younger man.
Luke grimaced. "And I wasn't."
"That wasn't what I meant," Han protested.
"I know," Luke assured him. "But I still should have been here."
"Well . . ." Han shrugged, not really sure what to say. "You can't always be here to protect her. That's what she's got me for."
Luke threw him a wry smile. "Right. I must have forgotten."
Han looked over his shoulder. Other diplomats and Council aides were starting to show up, but no Leia yet. "Come on—she must have gotten hung up somewhere. We can meet her halfway."
"I'm surprised you're letting her walk around the Palace alone," Luke commented as they headed back along the row of ch'hala trees.
"She's not exactly alone," Han said dryly. "Chewie hasn't let her out of his sight since the attack. The big fuzzball even sleeps outside our door at night."
"Must give you a safe feeling."
"Yeah. The kids'll probably grow up allergic to Wookiee hair." He glanced over at Luke. "Where were you, anyway? Your last message said you'd be back three days ago."
"That was before I got stuck on—" Luke broke off, eyeing the people beginning to wander through the corridor. "I'll tell you later," he amended. "Winter said that Mara was under house arrest?"
"Yeah, and it looks like she's going to stay there," Han growled. "At least till we can convince the bit-pushers down in Security that she's clear."
"Yes," Luke said hesitantly. "Well, that might not be as easy as it sounds."
Han frowned. "Why not?"
Luke seemed to brace himself. "Because she spent most of the war years as a personal assistant to the Emperor."
Han stared at him. "I hope you're kidding."
"I'm not," Luke said, shaking his head. "He had her going all over the Empire doing jobs for him. They called her the Emperor's Hand."
Which was what that Imperial major down in the medical wing had called her. "That's great," he told Luke, turning to face forward again. "Just great. You could have told us."
"I didn't think it was important," Luke said. "She's not with the Empire now, that's for sure." He threw Han a significant glance. "And I suppose most of us have things in our background we wouldn't want people talking about."
"Somehow, I don't think Bremen and his Security hotshots are going to see it that way," Han said grimly.
"Well, we'll just have to convince them—"
He broke off. "What is it?" Han asked.
"I don't know," Luke said slowly. "I just felt a disturbance in the Force."
Something cold settled into the pit of Han's stomach. "What kind of disturbance?" he asked. "You mean like danger?"
"No," Luke said, his forehead wrinkled with concentration. "More like surprise. Or shock." He looked at Han. "And I'm not sure . . . but I think it was coming from Leia."
Han's hand dropped to the grip of his blaster, his eyes flicking around the corridor. Leia was up there with a former Imperial agent . . . and she was surprised enough for Luke to pick up on it. "You think we should run?" he said quietly.
"No," Luke said. His hand, Han noted, was fingering his lightsaber. "But we can walk fast."
From outside the door came the muffled voice of the G-2RD guard droid, and with a tired sigh Mara shut down her data pad and tossed it on the desk in front of her. Eventually, she assumed, Security would get tired of these polite little sweetness-coated interrogation sessions. But if they were, it wasn't showing yet. Reaching out with the Force, she tried to identify her visitor, hoping at least that it wasn't that Bremen character again.
It wasn't; and she had just enough time to get over her surprise before the door opened and Leia Organa Solo walked in.
"Hello, Mara," Organa Solo nodded in greeting. Behind her, the guard droid closed the door, giving Mara a brief glimpse of an obviously unhappy Wookiee. "I just stopped in to see how you were doing."
"I'm just terrific," Mara growled, still not sure whether getting Organa Solo instead of Bremen was a step up or a step down. "What was all that about outside?"
Leia shook her head, and Mara caught a flicker of the other woman's annoyance. "Somebody in Security apparently decided you shouldn't have more than one guest at a time unless it was one of them. Chewie had to stay outside, and he wasn't very happy about it."