by Timothy Zahn
“I understand,” she nodded, wishing she did. “But now you know who I am?”
The alien’s face dropped a couple of centimeters closer to the floor. “You are the Mal’ary’ush,” he said. “The daughter and heir of the Lord Darth Vader.”
“He who was our master.”
Leia stared down at him, feeling her mouth fall open as she struggled to regain her mental balance. The right-angle turns were all coming too quickly. “Your master?” she repeated carefully.
“He who came to us in our desperate need,” the alien said, his voice almost reverent. “Who lifted us from our despair, and gave us hope.”
“I see,” she managed. This whole thing was rapidly becoming unreal . . . but one fact already stood out. The alien prostrating himself before her was prepared to treat her as royalty.
And she knew how to behave like royalty.
“You may rise,” she told him, feeling her voice and posture and manner settling into the almost-forgotten patterns of the Alderaanian court. “What is your name?”
“I am called Khabarakh by our lord,” the alien said, getting to his feet. “In the language of the Noghri—” He made a long, convoluted roiling noise that Leia’s vocal cords didn’t have a hope of imitating.
“I’ll call you Khabarakh,” she said. “Your people are called the Noghri?”
“Yes.” The first hint of uncertainty seemed to cross the dark eyes. “But you are the Mal’ary’ush,” he added, with obvious question.
“My father had many secrets,” she told him grimly. “You, obviously, were one of them. You said he brought you hope. Tell me how.”
“He came to us,” the Noghri said. “After the mighty battle. After the destruction.”
“What battle?”
Khabarakh’s eyes seemed to drift into memory. “Two great starships met in the space over our world,” he said, his gravelly voice low. “Perhaps more than two; we never knew for certain. They fought all the day and much of the night . . . and when the battle was over, our land was devastated.”
Leia winced, a pang of sympathetic ache running through her. Of ache, and of guilt. “We never hurt non-Imperial forces or worlds on purpose,” she said softly. “Whatever happened, it was an accident.”
The dark eyes fixed again on her. “The Lord Vader did not think so. He believed it was done on purpose, to drive fear and terror into the souls of the Emperor’s enemies.”
“Then the Lord Vader was mistaken,” Leia said, meeting that gaze firmly. “Our battle was with the Emperor, not his subjugated servants.”
Khabarakh drew himself up stiffly. “We were not the Emperor’s servants,” he grated. “We were a simple people, content to live our lives without concern for the dealings of others.”
“You serve the Empire now,” Leia pointed out.
“In return for the Emperors help,” Khabarakh said, a hint of pride showing through his deference. “Only he came to our aid when we so desperately needed it. In his memory, we serve his designated heir—the man to whom the Lord Vader long ago entrusted us.”
“I find it difficult to believe the Emperor ever really cared about you,” Leia told him bluntly. “That’s not the sort of man he was. All he cared about was obtaining your service against us.”
“Only he came to our aid,” Khabarakh repeated.
“Because we were unaware of your plight,” Leia told him.
“So you say.”
Leia raised her eyebrows. “Then give me a chance to prove it. Tell me where your world is.”
Khabarakh jerked back. “That is impossible. You would seek us out and complete the destruction—”
“Khabarakh,” Leia cut him off. “Who am I?”
The folds around the Noghri’s nostrils seemed to flatten. “You are the Lady Vader. The Mal’ary’ush.”
“Did the Lord Vader ever lie to you?”
“You said he did.”
“I said he was mistaken,” Leia reminded him, perspiration starting to collect beneath her collar as she recognized the knife edge she was now walking along here. Her newfound status with Khabarakh rested solely on the Noghri’s reverence for Darth Vader. Somehow, she had to attack Vader’s words without simultaneously damaging that respect. “Even the Lord Vader could be deceived . . . and the Emperor was a master of deception.”
“The Lord Vader served the Emperor,” Khabarakh insisted. “The Emperor would not have lied to him.”
Leia gritted her teeth. Stalemate. “Is your new lord equally honest with you?”
Khabarakh hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do—you said yourself he didn’t tell you who it was you’d been sent to capture.”
A strange sort of low moan rumbled in Khabarakh’s throat. “I am only a soldier, my lady. These matters are far beyond my authority and ability. My duty is to obey my orders. All of my orders.”
Leia frowned. Something about the way he’d said that . . . and abruptly, she knew what it was. For a captured commando facing interrogation, there could be only one order left to follow. “Yet you now know something none of your people are aware of,” she said quickly. “You must live, to bring this information to them.”
Khabarakh had brought his palms to face each other, as if preparing to clap them together. Now he froze, staring at her. “The Lord Vader could read the souls of the Noghri,” he said softly. “You are indeed his Mal’ary’ush.”
“Your people need you, Khabarakh,” she told him. “As do I. Your death now would only hurt those you seek to help.”
Slowly, he lowered his hands. “How is it you need me?”
“Because I need your help if I’m to do anything for your people,” she said. “You must tell me the location of your world.”
“I cannot,” he said firmly. “To do so could bring ultimate destruction upon my world. And upon me, if it were learned I had given you such information.”
Leia pursed her lips. “Then take me there.”
“I cannot!”
“Why not?”
“I . . . cannot.”
She fixed him with her best regal stare. “I am the daughter—the Mal’ary’ush—of the Lord Darth Vader,” she said firmly. “By your own admission, he was the hope of your world. Have matters improved since he delivered you to your new leader?”
He hesitated. “No. He has told us there is little more that he or anyone else can do.”
“I would prefer to judge that for myself,” she told him loftily. “Or would your people consider a single human to be such a threat?”
Khabarakh twitched. “You would come alone? To a people seeking your capture?”
Leia swallowed hard, a shiver running down her back. No, she hadn’t meant to imply that. But then, she hadn’t been sure of why she’d wanted to talk to Khabarakh in the first place. She could only hope that the Force was guiding her intuition in all this. “I trust your people to be honorable,” she said quietly. “I trust them to grant me a hearing.”
She turned and stepped to the door. “Consider my offer,” she told him. “Discuss it with those whose counsel you value. Then, if you choose, meet me in orbit above the world of Endor in one month’s time.”
“You will come alone?” Khabarakh asked, apparently still not believing it.
She turned and looked him straight in that nightmare face. “I will come alone. Will you?”
He faced her stare without flinching. “If I come,” he said, “I will come alone.”
She held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “I hope to see you there. Farewell.”
“Farewell . . . Lady Vader.”
He was still staring at her as the door opened and she left.
The tiny ship shot upward through the clouds, vanishing quickly from the Rwookrrorro air-control visual monitor. Beside Leia, Chewbacca growled angrily. “I can’t say I’m really happy with it, either,” she confessed. “But we can’t dodge them forever. If we have even a chance of getting them out from under Imperial control .
. .” She shook her head.
Chewbacca growled again. “I know,” she said softly, some of his pain finding its way into her own heart. “I wasn’t as close to Salporin as you were, but he was still my friend.”
The Wookiee turned away from the monitors and stomped across the room. Leia watched him, wishing there was something she could do to help. But there wasn’t. Caught between conflicting demands of honor, he would have to work this out in the privacy of his own mind.
Behind her, someone stirred. [It is time,] Ralrra said. [The memorial period has begun. We must join the otherrs.]
Chewbacca growled an acknowledgment and went over to join him. Leia looked at Ralrra—[This period is forr Wookiees only,] he rumbled. [Laterr, you will be permitted to join us.]
“I understand,” Leia said. “If you need me, I’ll be on the landing platform, getting the Lady Luck ready to fly.”
[If you truly feel it is safe to leave,] Ralrra said, still sounding doubtful.
“It is,” Leia told him. And even if it wasn’t, she added silently to herself, she would still have no choice. She had a species name now—Noghri—and it was vital that she return to Coruscant and get another records search underway.
[Very well. The mourning period will begin in two hourrs.]
Leia nodded, blinking back tears. “I’ll be there,” she promised.
And wondered if this war would ever truly be over.
CHAPTER
26
The mass of vines hung twisted around and between half a dozen trees, looking like the web of a giant spider gone berserk. Fingering Skywalker’s lightsaber, Mara studied the tangle, trying to figure out the fastest way to clear the path.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Skywalker fidgeting. “Just keep your shirt on,” she told him. “This’ll only take a minute.”
“You really don’t have to go for finesse, you know,” he offered. “It’s not like the lightsaber’s running low on power.”
“Yes, but we’re running low on forest,” she retorted. “You have any idea how far the hum of a lightsaber can carry in woods like this?”
“Not really.”
“Me, neither. I’d like to keep it that way.” She shifted her blaster to her left hand, ignited the lightsaber with her right, and made three quick cuts. The tangle of vines dropped to the ground as she closed the weapon down. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” she said, turning to face Skywalker and hooking the lightsaber back onto her belt. She started to turn away—
The droid’s warning squeal came a fraction of a second before the sudden rustle of leaves. She whirled back, flipping her blaster into her right hand as the vornskr leaped toward Skywalker from a branch three trees away.
Even after two long days of travel, Skywalker’s reflexes were still adequate to the task. He let go the handles of the travois and dropped to the ground just ahead of the vornskr’s trajectory. Four sets of claws and a whip tail took a concerted swipe at him as the predator shot by overhead. Mara waited until it had landed, and as it spun back around toward its intended prey, she shot it.
Cautiously, Skywalker got back to his feet and looked warily around. “I wish you’d change your mind about giving me back my lightsaber,” he commented as he bent down to pick up the travois handles again. “You must be getting tired of shooting vornskrs off me.”
“What, you afraid I’m going to miss?” she retorted, stepping over to prod the vornskr with her foot. It was dead, all right.
“You’re an excellent shot,” he conceded, dragging the travois toward the tangle of vines she’d just cleared out. “But you’ve also gone two nights without any sleep. That’s going to catch up with you eventually.”
“You just worry about yourself,” she snapped. “Come on, get moving—we need to find someplace clear enough to send up the sonde balloon.”
Skywalker headed off, the droid strapped to the travois behind him beeping softly to itself. Mara brought up the rear, watching to make sure the travois wasn’t leaving too clear a trail and scowling hard at the back of Skywalker’s head.
The really irritating part was that he was right. That pass from left to right hand a minute ago—a technique she’d done a thousand times before—she’d come within a hair of missing the catch completely. Her heart thudded constantly now, not quieting down even during rest. And there were long periods during their march where her mind simply drifted, instead of focusing on the task at hand.
Once, long ago, she’d gone six days without sleep. Now, after only two, she was already starting to fall apart.
She clenched her teeth and scowled a little harder. If he was hoping to see the collapse, he was going to be sorely disappointed. If for no other reason than professional pride, she was going to see this through.
Ahead, Skywalker stumbled slightly as he crossed a patch of rough ground. The right travois handle slipped out of his grip, nearly dumping the droid off the travois and eliciting a squeal of protest from the machine. “So who’s getting tired now?” Mara growled as he stooped to pick up the stick again. “That’s the third time in the past hour.”
“It’s just my hand,” he replied calmly. “It seems to be permanently numb this afternoon.”
“Sure,” she said. Ahead, a small patch of blue sky winked down through the tree branches. “There’s our hole,” she said, nodding to it. “Put the droid in the middle.”
Skywalker did as he was instructed, then went and sat down against one of the trees edging the tiny clearing. Mara got the small sonde balloon filled and sent it aloft on its antenna wire, running a line from the receiver into the socket where the droid’s retrieval jack had once been. “All set,” she said, glancing over at Skywalker.
Leaning back against his tree, he was sound asleep.
Mara snorted with contempt. Jedi! she threw the epithet at him as she turned back to the droid. “Come on, let’s get going,” she told it, sitting down carefully on the ground. Her twisted ankle seemed to be largely healed, but she knew better than to push it.
The droid beeped questioningly, its dome swiveling around to look briefly at Skywalker. “I said let’s get going,” she repeated harshly.
The droid beeped again, a resigned sort of sound. The communicator’s pulse indicator flashed once as the droid requested a message dump from the distant X-wing’s computer; flashed again as the dump came back.
Abruptly the droid squealed in obvious excitement. “What?” Mara demanded, snatching out her blaster and giving the area a quick scan. Nothing seemed out of place. “What, there’s finally a message?”
The droid beeped affirmatively, its dome again turning toward Skywalker. “Well, let’s have it,” Mara growled. “Come on—if there’s anything in it he needs to hear, you can play it for him later.”
Assuming—she didn’t add—there wasn’t anything in the message that suggested she needed to come out of the forest alone. If there was . . .
The droid bent forward slightly, and a holographic image appeared on the matted leaves.
But not an image of Karrde, as she’d expected. It was, instead, an image of a golden-skinned protocol droid. “Good day, Master Luke,” the protocol droid said in a remarkably prissy voice. “I bring greetings to you from Captain Karrde—and, of course, to you as well, Mistress Mara,” it added, almost as an afterthought. “He and Captain Solo are most pleased to hear you are both alive and well after your accident.”
Captain Solo? Mara stared at the holograph, feeling totally stunned. What in the Empire did Karrde think he was doing?—he’d actually told Solo and Calrissian about Skywalker?
“I trust you’ll be able to decrypt this message, Artoo,” the protocol prissy continued. “Captain Karrde suggested that I be used to add a bit more confusion to the counterpart encrypt. According to him, there are Imperial stormtroopers waiting in Hyllyard City for you to make your appearance.”
Mara clenched her teeth, throwing a look at her sleeping prisoner. So Thrawn hadn’t been fooled. He knew Sk
ywalker was here, and was waiting to take them both.
With a vicious effort, she stifled the fatigue-fed panic rising in her throat. No. Thrawn didn’t know—at least, not for sure. He only suspected. If he’d known for sure, there wouldn’t have been anyone left back at the camp to send her this message.
“The story Captain Karrde told the Imperials was that a former employee stole valuable merchandise and tried to escape, with a current employee named Jade in pursuit. He suggests that, since he never specified Jade as being a woman, that perhaps you and Mistress Mara could switch roles when you leave the forest.”
“Right,” Mara muttered under her breath. If Karrde thought she was going to cheerfully hand her blaster over for Skywalker to stick in her back, he’d better try thinking again.
“At any rate,” the protocol droid continued, “he says he and Captain Solo are working out a plan to try to intercept you before the stormtroopers do. If not, they will do their best to rescue you from them. I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can say at the moment—Captain Karrde has put a one-minute real-time limit on this message, to prevent anyone from locating the transmission point. He wishes you good luck. Take good care of Master Luke, Artoo . . . and yourself, too.”
The image vanished and the droid’s projector winked out. Mara shut down the communicator, setting the antenna spool to begin winding the balloon back down.
“It’s a good idea,” Skywalker murmured.
She looked sharply at him. His eyes were still closed. “I thought you were faking,” she spat, not really truthfully.
“Not faking,” he corrected her sleepily. “Drifting in and out. It’s still a good idea.”
She snorted. “Forget it. We’ll try going a couple of kilometers north instead, circling out and back to Hyllyard from the plains.” She glanced at her chrono, then up through the trees. Dark clouds had moved in over the past few minutes, covering the blue sky that had been there. Not rain clouds, she decided, but they would still cut rather strongly into what was left of the available daylight. “We might as well save that for tomorrow,” she said, favoring her ankle again as she got back to her feet. “You want to get—oh, never mind,” she interrupted herself. If his breathing was anything to go by, he’d drifted off again.