by Timothy Zahn
And in the center of the formation the pride of the entire fleet. The massive bulk of the Super Star Destroyer Executor.
It was the Death Squadron.
It was Lord Darth Vader.
“Senior Captain Thrawn,” the Dark Lord’s voice boomed over the speaker. “Are these the enemies of the Empire you spoke of?”
“They are, Lord Vader,” Thrawn confirmed.
“And you wish them destroyed?”
“I’ve offered the possibility of a treaty between us,” Thrawn said. “That offer has been repeatedly refused.”
“Then it would seem there is nothing more to be said,” Vader concluded.
“Agreed, my lord,” Thrawn said. “I am currently detached from my ship. I would consider it an honor if you would personally assume command of the Admonitor for the purposes of this battle.”
Pellaeon cleared his throat. “The Chimaera also stands ready to receive your orders, my lord,” he called.
“Then let us make an end of it,” Vader said. “All ships: engage at will.”
The distant battle was at the height of its fury when Leia finally got the word that the transports were ready to go. “Good,” she said. “All captains: you’re cleared to launch. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point. Good luck.”
She got a chorus of acknowledgments. “What about the others?” Cracken asked as their transport lurched off the ground and started to move down the wide conveyance tunnel.
“I’m on it,” Leia said as she rekeyed the comm. “Han? Luke? We’re almost clear. Wherever you are, get out of there.”
“Getting out now,” Luke said, the comm tag showing he was calling from his Z-95 Headhunter. “Listen, you’ll never believe—”
“Save it for the debriefing, Skywalker,” Cracken put in. “Solo? You there? Solo?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Han said. “We’ll be along in a minute.”
“What are you waiting for?” Leia asked, frowning.
“I thought we’d stick around the Golan and watch the battle a little longer,” Han said. “You don’t get a view like this very often.”
Leia felt her eyes narrow. Was he serious?
Of course he was serious. He was Han. “Han—”
“I also thought we should stay here until you’re completely clear, not just almost clear,” he added. “Just because we ran the Golan dry of torpedoes doesn’t mean someone won’t notice you and ask Commandant Barcelle to figure out something else to do about it.”
Leia glared at the speaker, feeling the familiar sensation of having had the ground cut out from under her. Why did he do that? “Fine,” she said between clenched teeth. “Just make sure you do get out.”
She slapped her hand across the comm control, shutting off the mike. “No doubt about it,” Cracken murmured.
“No doubt about what?” Leia demanded.
“The man’s got a future with the Rebellion,” Cracken said, carefully keeping his eyes forward. “Not sure what kind. But he’s definitely got a future.”
The fire was still burning as Mara helped Ferrouz’s wife and daughter down the stairs. She kept a close eye on the men still huddled against the far wall, but they’d finally had enough for one day. Possibly for one lifetime.
Some of them, she mused, might come out of this experience ready to make changes in their lives. The rest would die someday, probably violently.
But it would be by someone else’s hand. Right now, Mara had more important things to do.
“Are we going home?” the little girl asked uncertainly, looking up from Mara’s side.
“Yes,” Mara assured her, looking at the ore car as they passed it. There was no sign of Skywalker, alive or dead. Hopefully, LaRone had gotten him out before he picked up any serious burns or other injuries.
Skywalker.
She frowned, wondering again if the kid could possibly be the same Skywalker that Lord Vader was searching for. On the face of it, the odds of such a coincidence were vanishingly small. But in this crazy universe, with the Force subtly guiding all life, one could never be sure.
Just the same, she decided, she probably shouldn’t mention it to Vader. Just in case.
“And my daddy?” the girl asked. “Will he be okay?”
Mara felt her throat tighten. She’d been sent to Poln Major to investigate possible treason. And she’d determined beyond any doubt that Ferrouz had indeed committed that crime.
She was the Emperor’s Hand. She was investigator, judge, and executioner.
Sometimes, she reflected, it was good to be a law unto herself.
“Yes,” she told the girl. “He’ll be just fine.”
The ship Vaantaar led them to was tucked away in one of the darker, more out-of-the-way docking bays. It was a style LaRone hadn’t seen before: thirty meters long, sloping wings with long grooves running along them, crosshatched cockpit canopy, large sublight nozzles, and a tall dorsal fin that seemed to be home to vertically racked laser cannons. “Nice ship,” he commented.
“We are pleased by it,” Vaantaar said. “Come—our master awaits.”
LaRone looked behind him. Marcross and Brightwater were standing silently between a pair of Troukree, their faces giving nothing away. Behind them, two more Troukree carried Quiller, his injured leg stretched out awkwardly in front of him, while six more lugged Grave, still in his sloshing bacta tank. Even if the Troukree hadn’t been armed, there would have been no way for them to make a break for it. At least, not together. “You never told us what your master wants with us,” he said.
“You have left the Empire,” Vaantaar said.
“It was the Empire that left us,” Marcross corrected.
“Even better,” Vaantaar said, half turning to look at him. “Our master offers you the chance to even the scales.”
“How?” LaRone asked.
Vaantaar smiled, his white-rimmed eyes glistening. “Come and see.”
CAR’DAS HAD SEEN DARTH VADER ON OCCASION, BACK IN THE DAYS when his smuggling organization was supplying Palpatine’s freshly minted Empire with data. But he’d never seen the Dark Lord this close.
And he’d definitely never seen him this angry.
“That was the agreement, Senior Captain,” Vader ground out, leveling a finger at Thrawn across Governor Ferrouz’s still-battered office. “My assistance, on your schedule, in exchange for the Rebels. Yet they are gone.” He swung the accusing finger a quarter of the way around the room to where Ferrouz sat quietly at his desk. “And your forces also did nothing to stop them.”
“My forces were also engaged in the battle, my lord,” Ferrouz reminded him. “We had no way of stopping them.”
“I accept no excuses, Governor,” Vader rumbled. He turned back to Thrawn. “From anyone.”
“I make no excuses, my lord,” Thrawn assured him. “But if you’ll recall, our agreement was that I would deliver the Rebel leadership. Surely you don’t think they were gathered at Poln Minor.”
“The leadership—” Vader broke off, looking again at Ferrouz. “There are others in the Rebel Alliance besides the leadership that I also seek,” he said, his tone oddly reluctant.
“I see,” Thrawn said, he forehead wrinkling. “My apologies, my lord. You said nothing of this to me beforehand.”
“What does it matter?” Vader said, the momentary reluctance vanished back into his simmering anger. “They’re gone.”
“Information always matters,” Thrawn told him. “Bad information leads to bad tactics. Incomplete information leads to flawed strategy. Both can lead to defeat.” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “May I ask the name and identity of this person or persons of interest?”
“What you may do is fulfill your side of the agreement,” Vader said ominously. “What you may do is deliver the Rebel command.”
“Governor?” a voice asked tentatively from across the room. Car’das turned to see a young man standing in the ruined doorway, clearly wondering if he should enter the room, or perhaps whether he r
eally wanted to. “I have the data you requested.”
“Give it to Senior Captain Thrawn,” Ferrouz told him.
“Yes, sir.” Hurriedly, the assistant crossed the room, making a wide circle around Vader, and handed Thrawn a data card. Thrawn already had his datapad out, and as the assistant beat an equally hasty retreat he slid the card into place.
“What data is this?” Vader asked.
Thrawn didn’t answer, his glowing eyes narrowed in concentration as he manipulated the datapad’s controls. “It’s the listing of the material Nuso Esva had me leave in the Anyat-en and Lisath-re mining complexes for the Rebel team to find,” Ferrouz said.
Slowly, Vader turned to face him. “You gave them supplies?”
“I was so ordered, my lord,” Ferrouz said. Oddly enough, or at least oddly enough to Car’das’s mind, the governor seemed almost calm in the face of Vader’s quiet rage. Maybe he was simply the calm, imperturbable type, like Thrawn.
More likely, it was the fact that his family was the most important thing in his life. Now that they were safe, even a Sith Lord’s anger was almost inconsequential.
“Did you at least damage the equipment?” Vader countered. “Or otherwise render it useless?”
“He couldn’t,” Thrawn put in absently, his eyes still on the datapad. “Nuso Esva couldn’t anticipate when the Emperor’s Hand would arrive, nor when she would conclude her investigation and move against Governor Ferrouz. The Rebels had to be given a reason to stay long enough for that to happen.”
For another few seconds Vader’s empty faceplate remained fixed on Ferrouz. Then, with a muffled sound that might have been a curse, he turned away. His eyes lingered for a moment on the gaping hole across the office that had once been Ferrouz’s hidden escape hatch. Then, with another huff, he turned back to Thrawn. “Well?”
Thrawn lowered the datapad. “Here’s what they took, in order of loading. Cold-weather equipment and cold-weather modification kits. Critical replacement parts for a SURO-10 power generator, a KDY DSS-02 shield generator, and some Atgar P-tower laser cannon. They probably also have at least one Golan Arms DF.9 anti-infantry cannon, along with several combat-modified T-47 airspeeders and the equipment to modify more.” He paused expectantly.
For a long moment Vader just stood there, facing Thrawn, his stance giving no clue as to what was going on inside that black armor. Car’das felt himself tensing …
“A cold world,” Vader said, his voice almost shocking in its quiet calmness. Not angry, not simmering, but merely thoughtful. “Uninhabited, or nearly so. No useful resources.”
Thrawn inclined his head. “I agree, my lord,” he said.
“Wait a minute,” Ferrouz said, sounding confused. “I understand the cold part. But how do you know it’s uninhabited.”
“The SURO and DSS-02 are designed to operate in the open,” Vader said, his faceplate still turned to Thrawn. “On a cold world, with no cover available, they would quickly be spotted anywhere except on an uninhabited world. And any world with appreciable resources would hardly remain uninhabited.”
“You know now where to look for them,” Thrawn said. “And the knowledge that they’ll be using Atgars, DF.9s, and T-47s will enable you to tailor your attack for quick victory.”
“Yes.” Vader held out his hand.
Pulling out the data card, Thrawn gave it to him. “My lord,” he said, inclining his head again.
“Captain.” Vader turned and nodded to Ferrouz. “Governor.”
“Lord Vader,” Ferrouz said, nodding back.
Vader looked briefly at Car’das, apparently decided he wasn’t worth mentioning, and with a swirl of his cloak strode from the office.
Two minutes later, with Ferrouz’s fervent thanks still ringing through his mind, Car’das followed Thrawn in the same direction. “I presume you’ll be heading back to the Admonitor?” he asked as they reached the turbolifts.
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Nuso Esva’s Eastern Fleet has been shattered, but he has two more of equal strength. I have to return immediately to seize our temporary advantage.”
“Not to mention paying a visit to the Stomma and Quesoth,” Car’das murmured. “I imagine they’ll be more receptive to you now that they know the truth.”
“If not, they’ll have only themselves to blame for the consequences,” Thrawn said. “What about you?”
Car’das grimaced. What about him? “I don’t know,” he confessed. “There’s still one possibility, way out by the Kathol Rift, that I’ve been told might let me put my life back together. But I don’t know.”
“Whether it can be done?” Thrawn asked quietly. “Or whether you want to try?”
Car’das snorted. “I never could fool you, could I?”
“Not often.”
The turbolift car came, and they stepped inside. “While you’re considering whether or not your life still has purpose,” Thrawn continued as the car started down, “there’s one more job I would very much like you to do for me. Commander Pellaeon’s report said that after Nuso Esva came aboard the Chimaera he made a short visit to a planet called Wroona.”
“Plus a longer one to a place they still haven’t identified,” Car’das said, nodding. “Yes, I read the report.”
“The unknown world is of no lasting importance,” Thrawn said. “That would have been the place Nuso Esva chose to meet with his commanders and finalize his plans for the operation. But the other one, Wroona, is where I believe Nuso Esva’s agents are holding Sorro’s family hostage. Possibly his entire town, considering the legend the Salaban’s Hope was named for. My hope is that Sorro’s family may still be alive and can be freed.”
Car’das felt his stomach tighten. “By me.”
“There’s no one else who can do the job,” Thrawn said. “The Lost Reef has the weaponry, and I’m sure you have the necessary contacts to locate them.” He eyed Car’das closely. “The question is whether you have the will.”
The door opened, and they headed across the palace’s main floor. Car’das watched the other employees as they walked past, noting the wondering looks and furtive glances.
But no one stopped them. They reached the door, passed between the pair of 501st Legion stormtroopers standing guard there, and headed outside.
Car’das thought one of the stormtroopers nodded to Thrawn as they passed. But it might have been his imagination.
They were halfway to the outer wall before Car’das made up his mind. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least take a look,” he said. “There’s an arms dealer named Ba’Seet on Wroona—probably where Nuso Esva got the thermal detonators he used against the Chimaera. I could start there.”
“Thank you,” Thrawn said, inclining his head. “I’m certain Sorro would have appreciated it, too, had he lived.”
“Yes.” Car’das looked sideways at Thrawn. “By the way, I noticed you didn’t mention to Vader that you were the one who ordered the Caldorf VII missiles taken off the Sarissa and sent to Poln Minor where Nuso Esva’s people could grab them.”
Thrawn shrugged. “Merely following Nuso Esva’s own philosophy. He wanted the Rebels to be so heavily invested in their newfound material wealth that they couldn’t quickly or easily extricate themselves. I wanted Nuso Esva to have the same incentive, to assure he would bring in his entire available force.”
“Could have been awkward if those ships had gotten out intact,” Car’das pointed out.
“I was counting on the Rebels to destroy them,” Thrawn said. “I admit they did the job more inventively than expected, but the result was the same.”
“Really,” Car’das said, looking closely at him. “Sounds like you’re feeling more charitable against the Rebellion these days.”
“Not at all,” Thrawn said, his tone going grim. “Their military abilities are undeniable, but their chances for long-term stability are nonexistent. Multiple species, with multiple viewpoints and racial philosophies, simply cannot hold power together for long. The dominant
voice must certainly be wise enough to adopt ideas and methods from its allies and member peoples. But there must be a dominant voice, or there is only chaos. In this part of the galaxy, that voice is the Empire.”
“And in your part of space?” Car’das asked.
Thrawn shrugged slightly. “A work in progress,” he said. “But we will succeed.” His throat tightened. “I’ve seen the future, Jorj. We will succeed, because we have no other choice.”
Mara waited in the Suwantek for two days before she regretfully concluded that LaRone and the others weren’t coming back.
What had happened to them was still a mystery. She’d made inquires and checked all the Imperial databases, both the official and the not-so-official ones. But there was no sign of them.
Had the 501st caught them after the battle, when Vader sent them down to handle security while Ferrouz and Ularno sorted out which of their people could be trusted? But Vader was a stickler for proper procedure, at least among his subordinates, and someone should have filed a report somewhere. Major Pakrie, then, or some of Nuso Esva’s other agents? But Pakrie was in hiding, and from the tapcaf body count it seemed highly unlikely there were any of Nuso Esva’s fellow aliens left to make trouble. Even if there were, and even if they’d managed to kill the stormtroopers, there was no reason for them to hide or dispose of the bodies.
Mara had no idea how it had happened. But the fact was that they were gone.
And so it was, at the end of the second day, that she found herself sitting in the Suwantek’s pilot’s seat, gazing moodily out at the spaceport beyond.
Missing them.
It was a new sensation, she thought, to miss someone. The only true constants she’d ever had in her life had been the Emperor and a handful of people like Vader. Vader she could take or leave, his moods permitting him to be an occasional ally but little more. The others of the court or fleet were the same.
As for the Emperor, he was available anytime she needed him, just the stretch of her mind away. She could hardly miss someone who was always there.