by Timothy Zahn
From behind Luke came the flash of blaster fire; not targeted between the glowing eyes, as he might have expected, but above them. There was a sudden howl in his mind—
And the zone of silence around the gunman abruptly vanished.
There was a flash of blue as the alien weapon spat its fire toward Luke’s chest. But too late. With the ysalamir’s bubble collapsed, Luke blocked the shot with ease. The gunman got off two more shots, also blocked, before the collapsing blue circles of a stun blast sent him slumping out of sight to the floor of his guard alcove.
“Oh, good,” Mara said, hefting her blaster and working the select switch. “The stun setting works on them.”
“That could be handy,” Luke agreed, glancing around with eyes and mind. There were no other threats he could detect, at least not in the immediate area. “Any reason in particular why you didn’t kill him?”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants me to start acting like a Jedi,” Mara retorted, starting down the corridor again. Artoo had gotten a few meters ahead, and was twittering with nervous impatience as he swung his dome back around to look at them. “Problem is, the stun setting on this thing has about the range of a thrown bantha. If they’re smart enough to keep their distance, you’ll have to block their shots while I pick off the ysalamiri.”
“Right,” Luke said, frowning as he picked up his pace. There was something ominous growing behind the protection of Mara’s mental barrier: a dark thought, or equally dark purpose. For a moment he considered asking her about it; but the fact that she was hiding it from him strongly suggested he should leave it alone. “Any idea what their plan is?” he asked instead as they caught up with Artoo.
“Short-term, to put us in deep storage for a few days,” Mara said. “They figure making us go into healing trances is the easiest way to do that; hence, the gunfire.”
“Friendly sorts,” Luke murmured.
“Yeah,” Mara agreed. “Long-term, they’re waiting for Thrawn to return.” There was a momentary flicker in her emotions, a deepening of that hidden darkness … “And since they think he may have popped up at Bastion, Parck’s decided to head out there and talk to them.”
Luke felt suddenly cold. “And turn this place over to the Empire?”
“The place, and everything in it,” Mara said grimly. “That may not be what they think they’re going to do; but once the Empire knows they’re here, they’ll get hold of it. One way or another.”
Ahead, Artoo warbled and made a right turn into a cross corridor. “Where are we going?” Mara demanded as they followed.
“I don’t know,” Luke said, frowning. Twenty meters ahead, the corridor ended in a T-junction, and for some unknown reason his mind flashed back to the Cavrilhu Pirates’ asteroid base and the very different T-junction at the far end of the Jedi trap they’d lured him into. Somewhere directly ahead, he could sense the blank area created by a group of ysalamiri.
And then Artoo twittered uncertainly and rolled to a stop, facing the wall blocking their corridor in obvious confusion …
“Artoo, get back!” Luke snapped, bringing up his lightsaber and taking a long step to put himself in front of Mara. “It’s a trap!” Directly ahead, the wall exploded into a shower of dazzling sparks and completely disintegrated—
And standing shoulder to shoulder together in the corridor behind what was left of the false wall, a dozen ysalamiri-equipped Chiss opened fire.
Artoo squealed and swiveled around, racing back toward Luke as fast as he could, Child Of Winds scrambling frantically to hang on. Luke barely noticed them, his whole attention focused ahead on the Chiss. He forced himself to relax, letting the Force guide his hands as it had in so many such battles, swinging his lightsaber into blocking position in front of each shot.
But with the area around the Chiss closed to that subconscious prescience, a precious split second was being shaved off his normal preparation time. Behind him, Mara’s blaster was flashing steadily over his shoulder, methodically picking off ysalamiri. If he could keep up their defense long enough for her to finish the job …
Somewhere at the edge of his mind he could hear Child Of Winds screeching something, but he had no concentration to spare for a translation. Ahead, through the massed line of Chiss he could see what appeared to be movement behind them; and then, without warning, they dropped in unison to one knee—
Revealing another line of troops that had come up behind them.
And suddenly there were twice as many bolts blazing his direction. Bolts he was slowly but steadily losing the race to stay ahead of.
Behind him, Mara barked something, and through his haze of concentration Luke saw one of the standing aliens jerk back and collapse as Mara abandoned her nonkilling policy. Luke clenched his teeth and leaned into his effort, dimly realizing that if Parck sent a team in from behind them right now, he and Mara would be finished. Child Of Winds screeched again—
And then, sweeping in from both directions down the cross corridor ahead, a group of Qom Jha dove straight into the middle of the battle.
The Chiss had no chance to react. Sweeping at full speed just over the heads of the standing warriors, the Qom Jha grabbed the tops of their nutrient frames, the momentum yanking the gunmen off their feet and slamming them hard onto their backs on the floor.
“Let’s go,” Luke heard himself shout, breaking into a cautious jog toward the remaining row of kneeling Chiss. If he could get close enough to get them in range of Mara’s stun setting …
Half a corridor away, the Qom Jha braked from their mad rush, swiveled around with impossible grace, and charged back at the kneeling gunmen from behind. Again they grabbed the nutrient frames as they passed, pulling the frames and the attached Chiss sprawling onto their faces.
Luke let his lightsaber come to a stop, arm muscles starting to tremble with adrenaline and suddenly released tension. Mara had already sprinted past him, waving the Qom Jha aside as her blaster swept its rings of blue stun fire across the downed Chiss. Even as Luke reached her side, the last of the gunmen twitched and stopped moving.
“That was fun,” Mara gritted between clenched teeth, throwing a quick glance both directions down the corridor as she again worked her blaster’s select switch. “I hope they haven’t got many more of these little traps set up.”
“I don’t think we’ve got far to go,” Luke said, looking at Artoo. The little droid was already rolling down the cross corridor to their left, heading toward a large, heavy-looking door blocking off the end of the passage fifteen meters away. A door, he noted, equipped with the same locking wheel and hand-grip release system as those of the hidden stairway far behind them. “Splitter Of Stones, get your people together and follow us.”
He ran forward, closing down his lightsaber and clipping it onto his belt, reaching Artoo as the droid slowed to a stop in front of the door. Turning the wheel, Luke squeezed the grips and pulled. The door swung ponderously open, letting in a rush of cool air—
Skies of red blood, Keeper Of Promises muttered in amazement. What place is this?
“Our way out,” Luke told him, feeling a touch of the same awe as he gazed across the view in front of them. Stretching away across the black stone floor, parked close together like troops on parade, were multiple rows of small starships like the pair that had attacked him on his way to the planetary surface.
Beside him, Mara whistled softly. “The hangar didn’t look this big from the outside,” she said.
“It must stretch back farther than its roof indicated,” Luke agreed, wondering how such a closely packed group of ships could ever be properly serviced. A glance upward gave him his answer: the entire area beneath the high ceiling was crammed with service, monitor, and fueling equipment, all held together by metal frames and a network of catwalks. “There must be a hundred of them here.”
“At least,” Mara agreed … and as she spoke, Luke could sense that secret darkness deepen within her. It was about time he asked her about it—
There was a sudden flicker of sensation from behind him. “Look out!” Mara snapped, spinning around and firing a pair of quick shots past his shoulder through the open door.
Luke turned, too, snatching up his lightsaber and igniting it. A handful of Chiss were in the intersection they’d just left, scrambling reflexively out of the way of Mara’s shots. “Keep firing,” Luke told her, giving the door a quick look. There was no locking wheel on the hangar side, but there was a small hole where one had apparently been removed. Experimentally, he turned the wheel a few degrees; through the hole, the central axle of the locking mechanism could be seen turning.
Perfect. He turned the wheel back to full-open again and with a quick slash of his lightsaber sliced it off flush with the door. Ducking under Mara’s covering shots, he pushed the door closed.
But it is still unlocked, Flier Through Spikes objected. They can use the grip-rocks to open it again.
“Not for long,” Luke assured him. Crouching down, he gazed through the hole at the central axle and stretched out to the Force. Without the wheel’s leverage it was much harder to turn, but the thought of armed Chiss descending on the hangar was more than enough incentive. Ten seconds later, the door was securely locked.
“That won’t hold them for long,” Mara warned. “If nothing else, they can head over the roof on foot and come in the other end.”
“I know,” Luke said, craning his neck to peer past the parked ships. She was right: as they’d guessed from their first look at the place, the whole front of the hangar was wide open, with only a slight overhang to protect it from rain or attack. The fortress’s designers, he decided, must not have intended for their hangar to be packed this full. “But it should slow them down long enough for us to borrow a ship and get out of here.”
“Then all we’ll have to worry about is whatever they’ve got in those towers,” Mara said tartly, pushing past him and ducking between two of the ships. “We’ll have to take something from the front,” she called back over her shoulder. “I’ll try to get one started. You make sure that door is secured, then find a way to keep the rest of that front row from taking off after us.”
“Got it,” Luke said. “Artoo, take Child Of Winds and follow Mara—give her a hand figuring out the flight systems. Splitter Of Stones, you and your people had better head out while you can. Thank you for your help.”
Our part is paid, Master Walker Of Sky, the Qom Jha said, his tone just slightly ominous. It will now be your part to rid us of the Threateners as you promised.
With that, he and the others flapped away over the parked ships. “We’ll do our best,” Luke murmured.
He double-checked the door, then took another moment to stretch his thoughts back into the corridor. It was empty. Apparently, the Chiss knew better than to waste their time with the impenetrable stone.
Particularly with such an obvious alternative available. Thirty seconds later, following the sound of Artoo’s wheels across the black stone, he reached the front of the hangar.
Artoo and Child Of Winds were there, the latter again scrabbling for balance on top of the droid as the dome swiveled back and forth. Luke looked along the front line of ships, noting a gap in the neat array where one was apparently missing.
Mara, however, was nowhere to be seen. “Artoo, where’s Mara?”
The droid warbled a negative, still looking around. Luke peered out into the dim sunlight and stretched out with the Force—
“What are you waiting for?” Mara demanded as she ran up from behind him. “We need these ships disabled.”
“We were waiting for you,” Luke told her, frowning. The dark secret still loomed in her mind; but there was something new to the texture now. All tinges of uncertainty or doubt had disappeared, replaced by a heavy cloud of deep and bitter sadness. Something vitally important had just happened …
“Well, don’t,” she growled, slapping a release panel on the side of the nearest ship. Above them, a hatchway swung open and a ladder unfolded to the floor.
“One of the ships seems to be missing,” Luke pointed out.
“I know—Parck mentioned it was on its way in,” Mara said, swinging herself up onto the ladder. “Nothing we can do about that one. Go on, get busy.”
She disappeared inside. “Right,” Luke murmured, reaching out with the Force to lift Artoo up and into the hatch behind her. Then, stepping to the next ship in line, he ran a quick eye over it. The fighter was three times the size of an X-wing, with a set of four TIE-fighter solar panels melding into a disturbing flow of alien lines.
And presumably with a set of repulsorlifts on the underside …
He ducked under the bow. There they were, one pair running longitudinally along each side of the centerline: the subtle but distinctive diamond pattern of repulsorlifts. Four quick slashes with his lightsaber, and they were no longer functional. Ducking around the landing gear, he moved on to the next ship.
He had disabled seven of them, with another seven to go, when he caught the change in Mara’s emotional texture. Slowly, with the slightly awkward movements that came of a pilot unfamiliar with her craft, the ship lifted half a meter off the floor and eased forward. His comlink beeped—“We’ve got company,” Mara’s voice announced tightly; and as Luke concentrated he could sense both wary Chiss minds and ysalamiri-created blank areas approaching over the rooftop. “Snap it up—I’ll try to keep them busy.”
And she did. The interior of the hangar was flickering with reflected light from the firefight by the time Luke finished disabling the last of the fighters: soft blue flashes from the Chiss hand weapons, a sharper and brighter blue from Mara’s ship. Ready, he thought toward her, sprinting across the line of disabled ships toward the end of the hangar opening where most of the brighter flashes seemed to be coming from. He reached it, eased a careful eye around the corner—
Get ready, Mara’s acknowledgment flowed into his mind; and with a sandstorm blast of backwash, the ship dropped past the overhang and bounced to a rough landing in front of him.
Luke was ready. Even as the ship bounced up again, he was sprinting around its tail to its far side. The hatchway Mara had used earlier was standing open; throwing Jedi strength into his leg muscles, Luke leaped upward, catching the door and pulling himself inside to land in an undignified sprawl on the deck. “Go!” he shouted, stretching out with the Force to pull the hatch closed.
Mara needed no encouragement. Already the ship was jumping toward the sky, the roar of repulsorlifts not quite drowning the pinging of Chiss shots slapping into the underside and back.
Are we safe? Child Of Winds asked anxiously. He was pressed into the aft-most seat, his claws gripping the safety straps.
“I think so,” Luke soothed him, listening to the fading pings of heat-stressed metal as Mara pulled for altitude. “All they seem to have is antipersonnel weapons down there. Unless they can get their heavier stuff on line quickly—”
“Luke, get up here,” Mara’s taut voice called back from the flight deck.
Luke scrambled to his feet, his mind reaching out to Mara’s. The dark thought was still there, lurking in the back of her mind. But it had now been superseded by something else, a tangle and mixture he couldn’t decipher. He dodged past Artoo, gurgling pensively in a droid alcove, and dropped into the copilot seat beside Mara. “What is it?” he snapped.
“Look at the fortress,” Mara told him, turning the ship into a slow rotation.
“What, the weapons towers?” Luke asked, stretching out with the Force as he looked down at the structure turning lazily into view out the canopy. He couldn’t see or sense any indication they were preparing to fire. He glanced at Mara’s board, searching for the sensor displays—
“Forget the logistics and strategy for a minute,” Mara said curtly. “Look at the fortress. Just look at it.”
Luke felt his forehead wrinkling as he gazed down through the canopy again. It was a fortress. Walls; a flat, roundish, angled roof with a hangar in the midd
le; four weapons towers following the curve of the roof in back, one intact tower farther down in front—
“Look at it,” Mara said again, very softly.
And with a sudden shock, he saw it. “Stars of Alderaan,” he breathed.
“It’s almost funny, isn’t it?” Mara said, her voice sounding strange. “We automatically dismissed the whole idea that it could be some kind of superweapon. Thrawn never used superweapons, we all said.
“And yet, that’s exactly what it is. The only kind of superweapon someone like Thrawn ever used. The only kind he ever needed.”
Luke thought about that galaxy holo in the command center, and all the planets and resources Thrawn had gathered under his control. Enough to tip the balance of power in any direction its inheritors chose. “Information,” he said, a shiver running through him.
Mara nodded. “Information.”
Luke nodded back, gazing down at the fortress now receding into the surrounding hills as Mara pulled the ship away again. The flat-roofed fortress with its four towers in back and one in front stretching upward toward the sky. Looking for all the world like four fingers and a thumb reaching to pluck the stars from the sky.
The Hand of Thrawn.
Just under a kilometer away from the fortress, shielded from view by a craggy ridge, was a deep indentation in the cliff face. Mara maneuvered the ship carefully in beneath the overhang and eased it as far back against the wall as she could. “That’s it,” she said, shutting down the repulsorlifts and feeling herself slump with fatigue and released tension. For the moment, at least, they were safe.
For the moment.
From the aft seat, Child Of Winds said something. Almost intelligibly this time, but Mara was too tired to even try to decipher it. “What did he say?” she asked.
“He asked what we’re going to do now,” Luke translated. “A good question, actually.”