Vision of the future swhot-2

by Timothy Zahn

  He wondered if that same thought had occurred to the rest of the hurrying crowds. Perhaps that was one of the reasons they were hurrying.

  He reached the target zone and gave a soft whistle. It was answered immediately from a stack of shipping crates to his right. Stepping around the stack, he found Klif waiting. "Report," he murmured.

  "We're set," Klif murmured back. "She went in about an hour ago and shut things down. I shorted out one of the glow lamps to give us an approach."

  Navett edged an eye around the crates for a cautious look. The old woman's Sydon Pacifier was squatting silently in its landing circle, with nothing but parking lights showing. A long strip of shadow thrown by another stack of crates led nearly to its sealed hatchway. "Looks good," he said. "What about the New Rep agents?"

  "Well, now, that's an interesting question," Klif said. "I did a quick slice into the spaceport computer; and according to its records, they're gone."

  Navett frowned. Gone? Now? "Where?"

  "No idea," Klif said. "But I ran a global against both their registration and engine ID, and there's no indication they might have circled around and landed again, not here or anywhere else on Bothawui."

  "Interesting, indeed," Navett murmured, stroking his chin as he gazed at the Pacifier. "Either we fooled them completely, or else they suddenly had something more urgent to do. Rogue Squadron's attached to Bel Iblis these days, isn't it?"

  Klif nodded. "You think Bel Iblis is up to something?"

  "That walking sack of annoyance is always up to something," Navett growled. "However, he's not our problem. We'll send word to Bastion and let them figure him out. Right now"—he slid his blaster out of its concealed sheath—"we've got our own sack of annoyance to deal with. Come on." They slipped out into the concealing shadow and headed for the Pacifier, eyes and ears alert for any sign of trouble. None came before they reached the ship, dropping into combat crouches on opposite sides of the hatchway. "Pop it," Navett muttered, blaster held ready as he tried to watch everywhere at once. Antilles could conceivably have sent in other New Rep agents on his way out... There was the muffled clicking of Klif's lockjim followed by a soft hiss, and the top of the hatchway swung smoothly down to the permacrete, its inside surface forming a ramp. Giving the area one final scan, Navett rose from his crouch and ducked up the ramp into the ship. Inside was darkness, with only dim walk-lights marking the corridors. He could hear Klif's soft breathing behind him as he eased down toward the living section. Still no signs of life; the old woman must already be asleep. He eased to the first door in line, eased it open... And abruptly, all around them, the lights blazed on.

  Navett dropped instantly into a crouch, cursing under his breath as he blinked against the sudden glare. There was a bump against his shoulders as Klif dropped into a mirror-image crouch at his back.

  "No one here," Klif hissed from behind him.

  "Not here, either," Navett said, frowning as his eyes finished adjusting to the light and realizing that what had seemed so bright when they came on were apparently only the normal shipboard lights. No gunmen, no automatic weapons, not even any eye-burning flash-flare defensive lights. What was going on?

  "Good evening, gentlemen," a voice spoke up into the tense silence. The old woman's voice.

  "Klif?" Navett hissed, looking around again. There was still no one visible in his direction.

  "Anyone?"

  "No, I'm not here," the voice assured him smugly. "I'm a recording. You wouldn't hurt an innocent little recording, would you?" She snorted. "Of course, considering who you are, maybe you would."

  "There," Klif said, pointing. Half hidden behind a cable conduit was a small datapad with a recording rod sticking out of it.

  "You must think you're pretty hot stuff," the woman continued. "Strutting around in plain sight, bamboozling the bumbling Bothans—hey, that's kind of cute—and in general running rings around everyone and everything."

  Navett stepped over to the datapad. It was jammed into the space between the conduit and the wall as if hurriedly slapped in there.

  On the other hand, it had been keyed to come on with the lights...

  "Well, I'm sorry to so rudely pop your bubble," she said. "But you're not as smart as you think. Not nearly as smart as you think."

  Navett caught Klif's eye and nodded toward the sleeping rooms. Klif nodded back and slipped down the corridor toward the farthest one. Putting his back to a wall, Navett leveled his blaster along the corridor leading to the flight deck. This could still be nothing but a distraction.

  "You see, I talked to a couple of friends this afternoon," the recording went on. "They tell me that every time they try to get a handle on this big, loud Vengeance organization that's been making so much noise, it just kind of evaporates into nothing. Kind of like the bubble I just mentioned—nothing but hot air. Hot air blown by—dare I say it?—a handful of Imperial agents." There was a flicker of movement at the corner of Navett's eye. He glanced over to see Klif emerge from the sleeping room area and shake his head. He nodded in the direction of the cargo hold and lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

  "So I guess that means it's down to just you folks and me," the old woman said. "My New Rep friends have left—which you probably already know—and the vast organization you've been pretending to be doesn't exist. So. You and me. Should be fun."

  Klif was staring at Navett, a bewildered frown on his face. "What in blazes is she talking about?" he hissed. "Is she challenging us?"

  Navett shrugged.

  "Oh, and help yourself to something in the galley if you want," she added. "Especially whichever of you was stuck out there watching my ship today. Stakeouts can be such thirsty work. Just put everything back in the cooler when you're done, okay? Well, see you later. Which is not to say you'll see me, of course."

  There was a soft click, and the recording stopped. "This woman is nuts," Klif declared, looking around. "Does she have any idea at all who she's dealing with?"

  "I don't know," Navett said, eyeing the datapad thoughtfully. "She implied she knows we're Imperials; but she never once said anything about our covers here. Or whether she even knows she's talked to us."

  Klif grunted. "So she's fishing."

  "She's fishing," Navett nodded. "More to the point, she's fishing alone. If she had any proof or official backing she'd have had more than just trick lights and a recording waiting here. Sounds like her plan now is simply to draw us out."

  "So what do we do?" Klif demanded. "Keep after her?" Navett rubbed his chin. "No, I think we'll back off," he said slowly. "If she starts wandering in too close again, we can reconsider. But with Antilles and his partner gone, she's not going to be all that effective."

  He peered down the corridor toward the flight deck. "Unless she's still in here somewhere trying to get a look at us," he amended, hefting his blaster. "In which case, she's automatically vaped."

  "Now you're talking," Klif growled.

  "Just watch it," Navett warned. "She might have set up some booby traps."

  * * *

  They were there another hour, running a fine mesh over the ship before they finally gave up and left. Only three or four times after the recording shut off did they get close enough to the comlink hidden in the datapad for Moranda to pick up anything of what they were saying. In most of those brief snippets, they were sounding pretty irritable.

  Watching through her spy hole from inside the empty crate she'd set up on top of a stack of similar ones fifty meters from her ship, she watched the two of them slip out again into the bustle of activity. So she'd been right, she and Corran and Wedge. The Imperials were here, and they were planning something nasty.

  And they were sufficiently rattled that they were willing to risk a murder right in the middle of the spaceport. That was very interesting.

  And unless her ear had totally failed her, that careless and highly unprofessional conversation beside her rigged datapad had given her their identities: the earnest but stupid proprietors o
f the Exoticalia Pet Emporium.

  Of course, knowing was one thing. Proving was something else entirely. And for possibly the first time in her life, that vast legal gap was going to work against her.

  The Imperials had joined the pedestrians on one of the major walkways now, their postures and strides midway between casual and decisive. Imperial Intelligence, most likely, or even some of the folks from the Ubiqtorate underhanded tricks division. Either way, definitely experts who knew what they were doing.

  Unfortunately, the New Republic rep in Drev'starn wouldn't be interested in any of this without proof. Neither would the Bothans.

  In fact, come to think of it, there were probably still a couple of warrants outstanding against her on Bothawui. That definitely let out the Bothans.

  The Imperials were gone now, vanished toward the western entrance and presumably out of the spaceport. Still, as Moranda had long ago learned, "presumably" never fed the sabacc pot or took the pets for a walk. Her new playmates might just have been irritated enough by her sneaking out on them to have left a spotter behind.

  Opening her pocket flask, she took a sip of the tangy blue liqueur and consulted her chrono. Another two hours, maybe three, and it should be safe to move.

  Taking another sip, she resealed the flask and settled herself comfortably against one of the corners of the crate. It was a long time since she'd dealt with an opponent of this caliber, and as long as she was stuck in here anyway she might as well start working out her next move.

  * * *

  "It's so good to hear your voice again, Han," Leia's voice came over the Lady Luck's speaker, and there was no mistaking the relief in her tone. "I've been so worried about you."

  "Hey, hon, it was no big deal," Han assured her, only fudging the truth a little. There would be plenty of time to tell her the whole story of their little trip to Bastion when he could hold her hand while he did it.

  And besides, the last thing he wanted to put out on a HoloNet call, even an encrypted one, was the fact that Grand Admiral Thrawn was indeed still alive. "The point is that we got in and out okay and we're heading home," he went on.

  "I'm glad you're safe," she said, a cautious hope creeping into her voice. "Did you—I mean—?"

  "We got it," Han told her. "At least, I think we got it." There was a short pause. "What does that mean?"

  "It means we got what we went for," Han said. "And it all looked all right to me. But... well, there were a couple of complications. Let's leave it at that for now, okay?"

  "Okay," she said reluctantly. Clearly not happy about letting it go like that, but as aware as he was of the limitations of HoloNet security. "But don't go to Coruscant. I'm on my way to Bothawui."

  "Bothawui?"

  "Yes," she said. "I was heading for Coruscant when I found out President Gavrisom was there trying to mediate this whole war fleet thing."

  "Ah," Han said, frowning at the speaker. Considering he'd left her on Pakrik Minor ten days ago, she should have already been on Coruscant, not just on her way there. Had something happened with that meeting with Bel Iblis? "Your visitor get delayed or something?" he asked obliquely.

  "The visitor arrived right on schedule," she said. "Only it wasn't exactly who I was expecting. And I then wound up taking a little side trip."

  Han felt his hands curl into fists. "What kind of side trip?" he demanded. If someone had tried to hurt her again—"Are you all right?"

  "No, no, I'm fine," she hastened to assure him. "Things just went differently than I was expecting, that's all. It's all tied in with why I have to talk to Gavrisom right away." HoloNet security. "Yeah, all right, we'll head for Bothawui," Han said. "It'll be another couple of days before we can get there."

  "That's fine," she said. "I won't be there until tomorrow myself." Han grimaced. It would have been better if he could have gotten there ahead of her. From everything he was hearing, the sky over Bothawui was a flash point just begging to happen. "Well, you be careful, Leia, all right?"

  "I will," she promised. "I'm just glad you're safe. I'll call Gavrisom right away and give him the good news about your mission."

  "And tell him I'm not going to give it to him unless he promises you some real vacation time when this is over," Han warned.

  "Absolutely," she agreed.

  "Okay. I love you, Leia."

  He could almost hear her smile. "I know," she said in their private joke. "I'll see you soon." With a sigh, Han cut off the comm. Another two days to Bothawui, with Leia getting there a day ahead of them. Maybe Lando could get a little more speed out of this crate. He swiveled his chair around—

  "So how's Leia?" Lando said from the bridge doorway.

  "She's fine," Han assured him, studying his friend's face. There was something very unpleasant lurking there behind his eyes. "Sounds like she had more than just a straight run home from Pakrik Minor, though, and we have to change course for Bothawui to meet her. What's up?"

  "Trouble," Lando said darkly, jerking his head over his shoulder. "Come on back a minute." Lobot and Moegid were waiting in the aft control room when he and Lando arrived, sitting on opposite sides of the computer table. Lobot just looked like Lobot, but Moegid's antennae were twitching in a way Han had never seen a Verpine do before.

  And lying on the table between them was the datacard Thrawn had given them.

  "Don't tell me," he warned as Lando picked up the datacard and slid it into the computer reader.

  "You said it was clean."

  "We thought it was," Lando said, pulling up the Caamas Document on the large plotting display.

  "But then Moegid thought of something else to try." He pointed to the display. "Turns out it's been altered."

  A whole string of Corellian curses ran through Han's mind. None of them was adequate for the situation. "Altered how?" he asked, just for the record.

  "You have to ask?" Lando growled. "The list of the Bothans involved in the attack has been changed. The one thing we absolutely needed."

  Han stepped closer, peering at the display. "You're sure," he asked. Again, just for the record.

  "Moegid is," Lando said, looking down at the Verpine. "It's a masterful job, but there are some tricks the Verpines have come up with over the years." He pointed at the display. "Remember how surprised we were when we first looked it over and saw how many of the top Bothan families were implicated? Well, now we know why those names are there."

  "A little something to stir the pot a little more," Han said with a grimace. "And to make the rest of the New Republic trust the Bothan leadership even less than they already do."

  "You got it, old friend." Lando pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down. "Which means we're right back at square one."

  Han pulled out a chair for himself. "We're not even that lucky," he said glumly. "I already told Leia we've got the document."

  "You don't think she'll keep that information to herself?"

  "Normally, yes," Han said heavily. "Unfortunately... she already said she was going to give Gavrisom the good news."

  "And he won't keep it to himself?"

  Han shook his head. "He's on Bothawui, trying to keep a war from starting. And he's not the type to not use every tool he's got."

  "So in other words, we're going to show up at Bothawui with everyone expecting us to be the heroes of the day." Lando shook his head. "Where's an Imperial ambush when you need one?"

  "I wouldn't joke about that if I were you," Han warned him. "You can bet that Thrawn will be keeping the Empire off our backs on this one; but there are a lot of people on our side who won't want to see the Bothans getting the chance to slip off the hook."

  Lando winced. "I hadn't thought about that. Though come to think of it... no."

  "What?"

  "I was just thinking about what Thrawn said about Fey'lya's people stealing those Xerrol sniper blasters," he said slowly. "But if he was lying about the Caamas Document..."

  "Doesn't necessarily mean he was lying about that, too,"
Han said. "For that matter, we don't have any proof that Thrawn was even the one who changed those names."

  Lando snorted. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

  "Someone's going to bring it up," Han pointed out. "I can guarantee that one." Lando muttered something under his breath. "This just gets messier and messier. So what do we do?"

  Han shrugged. "We go to Bothawui on schedule and pretend nothing is wrong. Maybe the Bothans really do know who was involved. If they do, maybe we can bluff them into coming clean."

  "And if they don't, or we can't?"

  Han got to his feet. "We've got two days to come up with something else. Come on, let's go turn this crate toward Bothawui."

  * * *

  "That's it," Tierce said with grim satisfaction, waving at the display. "They've come."

  "I'm not convinced," Disra growled, peering at the computer-enhanced image on the display.

  "Fine, so whoever they are seem to be using TIE fighter technology. That doesn't prove a thing."

  "They flew past Bastion," Tierce pointed out. "Clearly looking us over. And we've never seen anything like this anywhere else—"

  "That doesn't even prove it was from the Unknown Regions," Disra sniffed. "Let alone that it was Parck or the Hand of Thrawn or whoever."

  "— and Bastion is where Thrawn was last reported being seen," Tierce finished with a note of finality in his voice. "Doubt all you like, Your Excellency, but I can tell you right now that the scheme has worked. Thrawn's old allies are finally nosing around the bait."

  "I hope you're right," Disra said. "With the Bothawui flash postponed, and with Pellaeon probably springing Vermel from Rimcee Station right at this moment—"

  "I told you not to worry about that," Tierce said with some asperity. "There's no way he can hurt us."

  "Who can't hurt us?" Flim's voice asked from off to the left.

  Disra turned to see Flim emerge from the secret door. The con man had been doing a lot of that lately, he'd noticed: skulking around quietly eavesdropping on his two partners. As if he didn't trust them. "Admiral Pellaeon," Tierce told him. "We were just speculating that he and Colonel Vermel will probably be coming by at some point to demand an explanation for how we've been mistreating them."