Allegiance

by Timothy Zahn

  LaRone watched as Quiller drove the truck onto the platform. “I don’t see how we can,” he admitted at last. “We swore an oath to defend the people of the Empire. There are a lot of other dangers out there they need defending against.”

  “Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” Brightwater said, resting his hand briefly on LaRone’s shoulder. “For all the bumps and bruises, this hero stuff definitely helps you sleep better at night.”

  “Agreed,” LaRone said. “Let’s get our passengers back to the Falcon and get on with our lives.” He looked back in the direction of the palace. “And our duty.”

  The Emperor leaned back in his throne, his yellow eyes glittering beneath his hood as he coolly regarded the two figures standing before him. “So it would seem Organa has slipped through your fingers,” he said, his gravelly voice unreadable.

  “So it would seem, my Master,” Vader admitted, lowering his head toward his Emperor in contrition. “The search found no one.” His helmet turned slightly toward Mara. “But one vehicle was permitted to leave before that search was completed.”

  “My child?” the Emperor invited.

  “The freighter was carrying the stormtrooper unit I’d commandeered,” Mara said. “There’s absolutely no chance Organa could have stowed away without them finding her. Besides, the Executor’s scanners detected only five life-forms aboard.” She looked at Vader. “Actually, I’m not convinced Organa was ever on Shelkonwa in the first place,” she added. “I strongly suspect this was a story Chief Administrator Disra cooked up to make sure Lord Vader would come personally to Makrin City.”

  “To what end?”

  “According to Disra, he’d been collecting evidence of Choard’s conspiracy for quite some time,” Mara said. “The problem with turning on your superior that way is how to make sure you give the evidence to someone who isn’t one of his friends or fellow conspirators.” She gestured to Vader. “Who would be safer than Lord Vader?”

  “And who better placed to help Disra in his own ambitions?” the Emperor suggested.

  “The man does indeed wish to become governor in Choard’s place,” Vader confirmed.

  “I’m certain he does,” the Emperor said, and Mara could sense his earlier annoyance fading. “Not now. Perhaps later.” He gestured. “At any rate, the war continues. Return to your duties, Lord Vader.” He smiled at Mara. “As for you, my child, your next assignment awaits you in your quarters.”

  They had left the throne room and were walking down the long corridor before Vader finally spoke. “What is your assessment of Disra?”

  “He’s a con artist and conniver,” Mara said flatly. “I wouldn’t trust him any farther than I could see him.”

  “Agreed,” Vader said. “I don’t intend to.”

  “Good.” Mara hesitated. “I have a favor to ask, Lord Vader.”

  There was a short pause. “Continue.”

  “It’s about Captain Ozzel,” Mara said. “He claims his attack on the Gepparin pirate base had nothing to do with me but was based on intelligence supplied by Colonel Somoril.”

  “And Somoril supports him in this?” Vader asked contemptuously.

  “Of course he does,” Mara said in the same tone. For all their differences, she reflected, she and Vader at least had the same opinion of the ISB. “And with their stories welded shut that way, there’s no grounds for any kind of real interrogation.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Mara confessed. “Keep an eye on Ozzel, I suppose. I don’t know if the man’s disloyal, easily manipulated, or just plain stupid. But I think he bears watching.”

  Vader was silent another few steps. “Leave him to me,” he said at last. “I believe I can arrange something.”

  “Countess?” a voice called from the cross corridor they were passing. “Countess Claria?”

  Mara looked in that direction and saw a familiar person hurrying toward them. “Why, hello, General Deerian,” she called back, stopping to wait for him. Vader didn’t even break stride, but continued down the hallway. “What are you doing here?” she asked as Deerian came up to her.

  “I have a new position,” Deerian said with a touch of pride. “I’ve been assigned to the team in charge of upgrading Imperial Center’s planetary defenses.”

  “Congratulations,” Mara said. “I imagine you’re sorry to leave the glitter of Moff Glovstoak’s palace.”

  “Hardly,” Deerian said, his expression going grim. “I don’t know if you heard, but just after I was transferred, Glovstoak was hauled up on charges of embezzlement and treason.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard that,” Mara said honestly.

  “It was a shock to us all,” Deerian said, shaking his head. “Imagine a man like that abusing his position and authority.”

  “Imagine,” Mara agreed.

  “Well, I’m on my way to a meeting,” Deerian said, the gloom fading from his face. “But I saw you and wanted to say hello.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Mara said. “Good luck to you, General.”

  “And to you, Countess.” Bowing to her, Deerian headed off again down the corridor.

  Mara watched him go, a warm glow spreading through her. LaRone could talk all he wanted about these scattered abuses of power, and certainly those abuses needed to be dealt with. But as long as the Empire could still produce men like General Deerian, it would be worth defending. Worth her energy, and her life.

  And her allegiance.

  Turning again toward Vader’s cloak billowing in the distance, she headed for her quarters, where her next assignment was waiting.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Since 1978 Timothy Zahn has written nearly seventy short stories and novelettes, numerous novels, and three short fiction collections, and won the Hugo Award for best novella. Timothy Zahn is best known for his Star Wars novels: Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor’s Quest, Outbound Flight, and Allegiance, and has more than four million copies in print. His most recent publications have been the science fiction Cobra series and the six-part young adult series Dragonback. He has a B.S. in physics from Michigan State University, and an M.S. in physics from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast.

  BY TIMOTHY ZAHN

  STAR WARS

  STAR WARS: Choices of One

  STAR WARS: Allegiance

  STAR WARS: Outbound Flight

  STAR WARS: Survivor’s Quest

  STAR WARS: Vision of the Future

  STAR WARS: Specter of the Past

  STAR WARS: The Last Command

  STAR WARS: Dark Force Rising

  STAR WARS: Heir to the Empire

  ALSO

  Cobra Alliance

  The Judas Solution

  Conquerors’ Legacy

  Conquerors’ Heritage

  Conquerors’ Pride

  Cobra Bargain

  Cobra Strike

  The Backlash Mission

  Cobra

  The Blackcollar

  STAR WARS—The Expanded Universe

  You saw the movies. You watched the cartoon series, or maybe played some of the video games. But did you know …

  In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia Organa said to Han Solo, “I love you.” Han said, “I know.” But did you know that they actually got married? And had three Jedi children: the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and a younger son, Anakin?

  Luke Skywalker was trained as a Jedi by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. But did you know that, years later, he went on to revive the Jedi Order and its commitment to defending the galaxy from evil and injustice?

  Obi-Wan said to Luke, “For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.” Did you know that over those millennia, legendary Jedi and infamous Sith Lords were adding their names to the annals of Republic history?


  Yoda explained that the dreaded Sith tend to come in twos: “Always two, there are. No more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice.” But did you know that the Sith didn’t always exist in pairs? That at one time in the ancient Republic there were as many Sith as Jedi, until a Sith Lord named Darth Bane was the lone survivor of a great Sith war and created the “Rule of Two”?

  All this and much, much more is brought to life in the many novels and comics of the Star Wars expanded universe. You’ve seen the movies and watched the cartoon. Now venture out into the wider worlds of Star Wars!

  Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars novels to learn more.

  THE LAST HYPERSPACE JUMP HAD BEEN A TRICKY ONE, STARTING AS IT did in one minor star system barely on the charts and ending in another even more obscure one. But the ISD Chimaera’s officers and crew were the finest in the galaxy, and as Commander Gilad Pellaeon looked over the repeater display he confirmed that they’d made the jump precisely.

  He strode down the command walkway, gazing at the Chimaera’s long prow, wondering what in space they were doing here. The Chimaera was an Imperial Star Destroyer, a kilometer and a half of heavy armor and awesome weaponry, the very symbol and expression of Imperial power and authority. Even the arrogant anarchists of the Rebellion hesitated before going up against ships like this.

  So with that same Rebellion boiling ever more loudly and violently across the Empire, with Lord Vader himself tasked with tracking down and destroying their leadership, what in the name of Imperial Center was the Chimaera doing on passenger transport duty?

  “This is insane,” Captain Calo Drusan muttered as he came up beside Pellaeon. “What in the galaxy is Command thinking of?”

  “It does seem a bit odd,” Pellaeon said diplomatically. “But I’m sure they have their reasons.”

  Drusan snorted. “If you believe that, you’re a fool. Imperial Center has gone top-heavy with politicians, professional flatterers, and incompetents. Reason and intelligence went down the garbage chutes a long time ago.” He gestured at the starlit sky in front of them. “My guess is that someone’s just trying to impress everyone with his ability to move fleet units around.”

  “Could be, sir,” Pellaeon said, a small shiver running up his back. In general, Drusan was right about the way the Imperial court was going, though even a ship’s captain shouldn’t be discussing such things out loud.

  In this case, however, Drusan was wrong … because this particular order hadn’t come from some flunky at Imperial Center. That was how it had looked, and how it was clearly intended to look.

  Unlike the captain, though, Pellaeon hadn’t taken the order at face value, but had taken the time to run a backtrack. While it had indeed come through proper channels from Imperial Center, it hadn’t originated there. It had, in fact, come from an undisclosed location in the Outer Rim.

  According to the top-secret dispatches Drusan had shared with his senior officers, that was where Grand Admiral Zaarin was right now, quietly touring the edge of Imperial space aboard the ISD Predominant.

  Which strongly implied that the Chimaera’s orders had come from the Grand Admiral himself.

  “Incoming ship, Captain,” the sensor officer called from the starboard crew pit. “Just jumped into the system. Sensors read it as a Kazellis-class light freighter.”

  Drusan whistled softly. “A Kazellis,” he commented. “That’s a rare bird—they stopped making those years ago. We have an ID yet?”

  “Yes, sir,” the comm officer called from the portside crew pit. “Code response confirms it’s the Salaban’s Hope.”

  Pellaeon cocked an eyebrow. Not only had their mysterious passenger arrived, but he’d arrived within minutes of the Chimaera’s own appearance. Either he had a highly developed sense of timing, or he was remarkably lucky.

  “Vector?” Drusan asked.

  “Directly starboard,” the sensor officer called. “Range, eighty kilometers.”

  Not only practically on top of the Chimaera in time, but in position, as well. Pellaeon’s estimation of the freighter’s pilot went up another couple of notches.

  Of course, not everyone saw it that way. “Kriffing fool,” Drusan grunted. “What’s he trying to do, run us down?”

  Pellaeon took a few steps forward and peered out the starboard viewport. Sure enough, the glow of a sublight drive was just barely visible out there against the background stars.

  Except that the glow shouldn’t have been visible. Not at that distance. Not unless the pilot was hauling his sublights for all they were worth, and then some.

  And the only reason someone would do that …

  “Captain, I recommend we go to full alert,” Pellaeon said urgently, turning back to Drusan. “That ship’s running from something.”

  For a moment Drusan didn’t reply, his eyes flicking past Pellaeon’s shoulder to the approaching freighter. With an effort, Pellaeon forced himself to remain silent, letting his captain work through the logic in his own unhurried, methodical way.

  Finally, to his relief, Drusan stirred. “Full alert,” the captain called. “And reconfirm that identity code. Just in case he’s not running from anyone, but is thinking of ramming us.”

  Pellaeon turned back to the viewport, hoping he’d been able to keep his bewilderment from showing before the captain could see it. Did Drusan honestly believe anyone would be stupid enough and suicidal enough to try such an insane stunt? Even the lunatics of the Rebellion knew better than that. Still, as long as Drusan’s paranoid assumption got the shields up and the turbolasers charging—

  “Incoming!” the sensor officer snapped. “Six unidentified ships jumping in, bearing in sweep-cluster pattern behind the Salaban’s Hope.”

  “Come about,” Drusan said, his voice taking on an edge of eagerness. The captain loved it when he had a chance to fire the Chimaera’s turbolasers at something. “All turbolasers to full power.”

  Pellaeon grimaced. As usual, Drusan was following standard combat procedure.

  Only in this case, standard procedure wasn’t going to work. By the time the Chimaera was ready to fire, the attackers would have caught up with the Salaban’s Hope and be swarming it.

  But if the Chimaera threw power to its sublight engines and headed straight toward the freighter, they might scare off the attackers, or at least give them a moment of pause. Closing the distance would also mean getting to the turbolasers’ effective range a little sooner. “Captain, if I may suggest—”

  “No, you may not, Commander,” Drusan cut him off calmly. “This is no time for your fancy theories of combat.”

  “Captain, the Salaban’s Hope is hailing us,” the comm officer called. “Lord Odo requests your immediate attention.”

  Pellaeon frowned. Lord Odo was the sort of name that belonged in the Imperial court, not way out here in the Outer Rim. What would a member of the court be doing this far from Imperial Center?

  “Put him through,” Drusan ordered.

  “Yes, sir.” There was a click—

  “Captain Drusan, this is Lord Odo,” a melodious voice said from the bridge speaker. “As you may have noted, I’ve come under attack.”

  “I have indeed, Lord Odo,” Drusan said. “We’re charging the turbolaser batteries now.”

  “Excellent,” Odo said. “In the meantime, may I request you shunt all other available power to the tractor beams and pull—”

  “Not a good idea, my lord,” Drusan warned. “At this range, a full-power tractor beam could severely damage your hull.”

  “That you shunt all power to the tractor beams,” Odo repeated, a sudden edge to his voice, “and pull the two endmost attackers toward you.”

  “And if we breach—” Belatedly, Drusan broke off. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I understand. Ensign Caln, tractors on the two endmost raiders—lock up, and reel in.”

  Pellaeon turned back to the viewport, a lump in his throat. The engine flares of the attacking ships were visible now, blazing against the stars as they drove har
d on the Salaban’s Hope’s stern. Drusan had been right about the dangers of full-power tractor beams at this range. Clearly, that was what Odo was hoping for, that the Chimaera’s tractors would be strong enough to crack or even shatter the raiders’ hulls.

  But if the attackers’ ships were stronger than Odo thought, all the maneuver would accomplish would be to pull two of the raiders forward into close-fire range faster and easier than they could manage on their own.

  At which point the Salaban’s Hope would have enemy lasers behind it and on both flanks, and it was unlikely that it would have enough shield capacity to handle all three. Hissing softly between his teeth, Pellaeon watched.

  Abruptly, the two pursuing ships on the ends began corkscrewing violently, their drive trails spinning like children’s windsparklers. “Tractors engaged,” the tractor officer called. “Attackers locked and coming toward us.”

  “Any signs of hull fractures?” Drusan asked.

  “Nothing registering, sir,” the sensor officer reported.

  “Acknowledged,” Drusan said. “So much for that,” he added to Pellaeon.

  “Well, at least they can’t fire on the Salaban’s Hope,” Pellaeon pointed out. “Not with that helix yaw.”

  “Difficult to get a stable targeting lock that way,” Drusan agreed reluctantly. “But not impossible.”

  And then, suddenly, Pellaeon got it. Odo wasn’t just hoping the Chimaera’s tractors would tear the attacking ships apart. He was letting the Imperials pull the raiders up alongside him, banking on the helix yaw to interfere with their own firing long enough—

  He was still working through the logic when the Salaban’s Hope’s lasers flashed to either side, blasting the two tractored raiders to scrap.

  And as the expanding clouds of debris twisted free of the tractors’ grip, they naturally and inevitably fell backward past the still-accelerating Salaban’s Hope, and directly into the paths of the four raiders still chasing it.