Star Wars: Dark Force Rising

by Timothy Zahn

  “Freighter Etherway,” a cold voice boomed over her comm speaker. “This is the Star Destroyer Adamant. You are ordered to shut down your engines and prepare to be brought aboard.”

  So that was that. They had indeed been looking for her. In a very few minutes now she would be their prisoner.

  Unless …

  Reaching over, she keyed her mike. “Star Destroyer Adamant, this is the Etherway,” she said briskly. “I congratulate you on your vigilance; I was afraid I was going to have to search the next five systems to find an Imperial ship.”

  “You will shut down all deflector systems—” The voice faltered halfway through the standard speech as the fact belatedly penetrated that this was not the normal response of the normal Imperial prisoner.

  “I’ll want to speak to your captain the minute I’m aboard,” Mara said into the conversational gap. “I’ll need him to set up a meeting with Grand Admiral Thrawn and provide me transport to wherever he and the Chimaera are at the moment. And get a tractor beam ready—I don’t want to have to land this monster in your hangar bay myself.”

  The surprises were coming too fast for the poor man. “Ah—freighter Etherway—” he tried again.

  “On second thought, put the captain on now,” Mara cut him off. She had the initiative now, and was determined to keep it as long as possible. “There’s no one around who can tap into this communication.”

  There was a moment of silence. Mara continued on her intercept course, a trickle of doubt beginning to worm its way through her resolve. It’s the only way, she told herself sternly.

  “This is the captain,” a new voice came on the speaker. “Who are you?”

  “Someone with important information for Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Mara told him, shifting from brisk to just slightly haughty. “For the moment, that’s all you need to know.”

  But the captain wasn’t as easily bullied as his junior officers. “Really,” he said dryly. “According to our sources, you’re a member of Talon Karrde’s smuggling gang.”

  “And you don’t believe such a person could tell the Grand Admiral anything useful?” she countered, letting her tone frost over a bit.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can,” the captain said. “I simply don’t see any reason why I should bother him with what will be, after all, a routine interrogation.”

  Mara squeezed her left hand into a fist. At all costs she had to avoid the kind of complete mind-sifting the captain was obviously hinting at. “I wouldn’t advise that,” she told him, throwing every bit of the half-remembered dignity and power of the old Imperial court into her voice. “The Grand Admiral would be extremely displeased with you. Extremely displeased.”

  There was a short pause. Clearly, the captain was starting to recognize that he had more here than he’d bargained for. Just as clearly, he wasn’t ready yet to back down. “I have my orders,” he said flatly. “I’ll need more than vague hints before I can make you an exception to them.”

  Mara braced herself. This was it. After all these years of hiding from the Empire, as well as from everyone else, this was finally it. “Then send a message to the Grand Admiral,” she said. “Tell him the recognition code is Hapspir, Barrini, Corbolan, Triaxis.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Mara realized she’d finally gotten through to the other. “And your name?” the captain asked, his voice suddenly respectful.

  Beneath her, the Etherway jolted slightly as the Adamant’s tractor beam locked on. She was committed now. The only way out was to see it all through. “Tell him,” she said, “that he knew me as the Emperor’s Hand.”

  They brought her and the Etherway aboard, settled her with uncertain deference into one of the senior officers’ quarters … and then headed away from Abregado like a mynock with its tail on fire.

  She was left alone in the cabin for the rest of the day and into the night, seeing no one, speaking with no one. Meals were delivered by an SE4 servant droid; at all other times the door was kept locked. Whether the enforced privacy was on the captain’s orders or whether it came from above was impossible to tell, but at least it gave her time to do such limited planning as she could.

  There was similarly no way of knowing where they were going, but from the labored sound of the engines, she could guess they were pushing uncomfortably far past a Victory Star Destroyer’s normal flank speed of Point Four Five. Possibly even as high as Point Five, which would mean they were covering a hundred twenty-seven light-years per hour. For a while she kept her mind occupied by trying to guess which system they might be making for; but as the hours ticked by and the number of possibilities grew too unwieldy to keep track of, she abandoned the game.

  Twenty-two hours after leaving Abregado, they arrived at the rendezvous. At the last place Mara would have expected. At the very last place in the galaxy she would have wanted to go. The place where her universe had died a sudden and violent death.

  Endor.

  “The Grand Admiral will see you now,” the stormtrooper squad leader said, stepping back from the opening door and motioning her ahead. Mara threw a glance at the silent Noghri bodyguard standing on the other side of the doorway and stepped through.

  “Ah,” a well-remembered voice called quietly from the command center in the middle of the room. Grand Admiral Thrawn sat in the double display ring, his red eyes glowing at her above the glistening white uniform. “Come in.”

  Mara stayed where she was. “Why did you bring me to Endor?” she demanded.

  The glowing eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me,” she said. “Endor. Where the Emperor died. Why did you choose this place for the rendezvous?”

  The other seemed to consider that. “Come closer, Mara Jade.”

  The voice was rich with the overtones of command, and Mara found herself walking toward him before she realized what she was doing. “If it’s supposed to be a joke, it’s in poor taste,” she bit out. “If it’s supposed to be a test, then get it over with.”

  “It is neither,” Thrawn said as she came to the edge of the outer display ring and stopped. “The choice was forced upon us by other, unconnected business.” One blue-black eyebrow raised slightly. “Or perhaps not entirely unconnected. That still remains to be seen. Tell me, can you really sense the Emperor’s presence here?”

  Mara took a deep breath, feeling the air shuddering through her lungs with an ache as real as it was intangible. Could Thrawn see how much this place hurt her? she wondered. How thick with memories and sensations the whole Endor system still remained? Or would he even care about any of that if he did?

  He saw, all right. She could tell that much from the way he was looking at her. What he thought of it she didn’t much care. “I can feel the evidence of his death,” she told him. “It’s not pleasant. Let’s get this over with so I can get out of here.”

  His lip quirked, perhaps at her assumption that she would in fact be leaving the Chimaera. “Very well. Let’s begin with some proof of who you were.”

  “I gave the Adamant’s captain a high-level recognition code,” she reminded him.

  “Which is why you’re here instead of in a detention cell,” Thrawn said. “The code isn’t proof in itself.”

  “All right, then,” Mara said. “We met once, during the public dedication of the new Assemblage wing of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. At that ceremony the Emperor introduced me to you as Lianna, one of his favorite dancers. Later, during the more private ceremony that followed, he revealed to you my true identity.”

  “And what was that private ceremony?”

  “Your secret promotion to the rank of Grand Admiral.”

  Thrawn pursed his lips, his eyes never leaving her face. “You wore a white dress to both ceremonies,” he said. “Aside from the sash, the dress had only one decoration. Do you recall what that decoration was?”

  Mara had to think back. “It was a small shoulder-sculp,” she said slowly. “Left shoulder. A Xyquine design, as I remember.
”

  “It was indeed.” Thrawn reached to his control board, touched a switch; and abruptly, the room was filled with holos of shouldersculps on ornate pillars. “The one you wore is somewhere in this room. Find it.”

  Mara swallowed, turning slowly as she looked around. She’d had literally hundreds of fancy dresses for her cover role as a member of the Emperor’s entourage. To remember one particular shouldersculp out of all that …

  She shook her head, trying to clear away the unpleasant buzzing sensation that hovered deep in her mind. She’d had an excellent memory once, one which the Emperor’s training had made even better. Focusing her thoughts, fighting upstream against the disquieting aura of this place, she concentrated … “That’s it,” she said, pointing to a delicate filigree of gold and blue.

  Thrawn’s expression didn’t change, but he seemed to relax a little in his seat. “Welcome back, Emperor’s Hand.” He touched the switch a second time, and the art gallery vanished. “You’ve been a long time in returning.”

  The glowing eyes bored into her face, the question unspoken but obvious. “What was here for me before?” she countered. “Who but a Grand Admiral would have accepted me as legitimate?”

  “Was that the only reason?”

  Mara hesitated, recognizing the trip wire. Thrawn had been in command of the Empire for over a year now, and yet she hadn’t approached him until now. “There were other reasons,” she said. “None of which I wish to discuss at this time.”

  His face hardened. “As, I presume, you don’t wish to discuss why you helped Skywalker escape from Talon Karrde?”

  YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER.

  Mara jerked, unsure for that first frozen heartbeat whether the voice had been real or just in her mind. The strange buzzing intensified, and for a moment she could almost see the Emperor’s wizened face glaring at her. The image grew clearer, the rest of the room beginning to swim before her eyes …

  She took a deep breath, forcing calmness. She would not fall apart. Not here; not in front of the Grand Admiral. “It wasn’t my idea to let Skywalker escape,” she said.

  “And you were unable to alter that decision?” Thrawn asked, the eyebrow lifting again. “You, the Emperor’s Hand?”

  “We were on Myrkr,” Mara reminded him stiffly. “Under the influence of a planetful of ysalamiri.” She glanced over his shoulder at the ysalamir hanging from the nutrient frame behind his chair. “I doubt you’ve forgotten their effect on the Force.”

  “Oh, I remember it quite well,” Thrawn nodded. “It’s their dampening of the Force, in fact, that proves Skywalker had help in his escape. All I need to know from you is whether it was Karrde himself who gave the order, or others of his group acting independently.”

  So that he would know where to focus his revenge. Mara looked into those glowing eyes, beginning to remember now why the Emperor had made this man a Grand Admiral. “It doesn’t matter who’s responsible,” she said. “I’m here to offer a deal that’ll clear the debt.”

  “I’m listening,” Thrawn said, his face neutral.

  “I want you to stop your harassment of Karrde and his organization. To cancel the cash bounty on all of us, and clear us with all Imperial forces and worlds that you control.” She hesitated; but this was no time to go all bashful. “I also want a monetary credit of three million to be deposited under Karrde’s name toward the purchase of Imperial goods and services.”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said, his lip twitching in an amused smile. “I’m afraid Skywalker isn’t worth nearly that much to me. Or do you propose to deliver Coruscant, as well?”

  “I’m not offering Skywalker or Coruscant,” Mara said. “I’m offering the Katana fleet.”

  The amused smile vanished. “The Katana fleet?” Thrawn repeated quietly, his eyes glittering.

  “Yes, the Katana fleet,” Mara said. “The Dark Force, if you prefer the more dramatic title. I presume you’ve heard of it?”

  “I have indeed. Where is it?”

  The tone of command again; but this time Mara was ready for it. Not that it would have done him any good anyway. “I don’t know,” she told him. “But Karrde does.”

  For a long moment Thrawn gazed at her in silence. “How?” he asked at last.

  “He was on a smuggling mission that went sour,” she told him. “They escaped past some Imperial watchdogs, but didn’t have time to do a proper jump calculation. They ran into the fleet, thought it was a trap, and jumped again, nearly destroying the ship in the process. Karrde was on nav duty; later, he figured out what they’d hit.”

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “When exactly was this?”

  “That’s all I’ll give you until we have a deal,” Mara told him. She caught the expression on his face— “And if you’re thinking of running me through one of Intelligence’s sifters, don’t bother. I really don’t know where the fleet is.”

  Thrawn studied her. “And you would have blocks set up around it even if you did,” he agreed. “All right. Tell me where Karrde is, then.”

  “So Intelligence can sift him instead?” Mara shook her head. “No. Let me go back to him, and I’ll get you the location. Then we’ll trade. Assuming the deal is to your liking.”

  A dark shadow had settled across Thrawn’s face. “Do not presume to dictate to me, Mara Jade,” he said quietly. “Not even in private.”

  A small shiver ran up Mara’s back. Yes; she was remembering indeed why Thrawn had been made a Grand Admiral. “I was the Emperor’s Hand,” she reminded him, matching the steel in his tone as best she could. Even to her own ears it came out a poor second. “I spoke for him … and even Grand Admirals were obliged to listen.”

  Thrawn smiled sardonically. “Really. Your memory serves you poorly, Emperor’s Hand. When all is said and done, you were little more than a highly specialized courier.”

  Mara glared at him. “Perhaps it is your memory that needs refreshing, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” she retorted. “I traveled throughout the Empire in his name, making policy decisions that changed lives at the highest levels of government—”

  “You carried out his will,” Thrawn cut her off sharply. “No more. Whether you heard his commands more clearly than the rest of his Hands is irrelevant. It was still his decisions that you implemented.”

  “What do you mean, the rest of his Hands?” Mara sniffed. “I was the only—”

  She broke off. The look on Thrawn’s face … and abruptly, all her rising anger drained away. “No,” she breathed. “No. You’re wrong.”

  He shrugged. “Believe what you wish. But don’t attempt to blind others with exaggerated memories of your own importance.” Reaching to his control board, he tapped a key. “Captain? What report from the boarding party?”

  The reply wasn’t audible; but Mara wasn’t interested in what Thrawn’s men were doing, anyway. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Hadn’t the Emperor himself given her the title of Emperor’s Hand? Hadn’t he himself brought her to Coruscant from her home and trained her, teaching her how to use her rare sensitivity to the Force to serve him?

  He wouldn’t have lied to her. He wouldn’t have.

  “No, there’s no point to that,” Thrawn said. He looked up at Mara. “You don’t happen to have any idea why Leia Organa Solo might have come to Endor, do you?”

  With an effort, Mara brought her thoughts back from the past. “Organa Solo is here?”

  “The Millennium Falcon is, at any rate,” he said grimly. “Left in orbit, which unfortunately leaves us no way of knowing where she might be. If she’s there at all.” He turned back to his board. “Very well, Captain. Have the ship brought aboard. Perhaps a closer examination will tell us something.”

  He got an acknowledgment and keyed off the circuit. “Very well, Emperor’s Hand,” he said, looking up at Mara again. “We have an agreement. The Dark Force for the lifting of our death mark against Karrde. How long will it take you to return to Karrde’s current base?”

  Mara hesitated; bu
t that information wouldn’t do the Grand Admiral much good. “On the Etherway, about three days. Two and a half if I push it.”

  “I suggest you do so,” Thrawn said. “Since you have exactly eight days to obtain the location and bring it back here to me.”

  Mara stared at him. “Eight days? But that—”

  “Eight days. Or I find him and get the location my way.”

  A dozen possible retorts rushed through Mara’s mind. Another look at those glowing red eyes silenced all of them. “I’ll do what I can,” she managed. Turning, she headed back across the room.

  “I’m sure you will,” he said after her. “And afterward, we’ll sit down and have a long talk together. About your years away from Imperial service … and why you’ve been so long in returning.”

  Pellaeon stared rigidly at his commander, heart thudding audibly in his chest. “The Katana fleet?” he repeated carefully.

  “So our young Emperor’s Hand told me,” Thrawn said. His gaze was fixed solidly on one of the displays in front of him. “She may be lying, of course.”

  Pellaeon nodded mechanically, the possibilities sweeping out like a spread cloak before him. “The Dark Force,” he murmured the old nickname, listening to the words echo through his mind. “You know, I once had hopes of finding the fleet myself.”

  “Most everyone your age did,” Thrawn returned dryly. “Is the homing device properly installed aboard her ship?”

  “Yes, sir.” Pellaeon let his gaze drift around the room, his eyes focusing without real interest on the sculptures and flats that Thrawn had on display today. The Dark Force. Lost for nearly fifty-five years. Now within their grasp …