by Timothy Zahn
“As I said, they prefer to stay near the Rift,” David said. “It takes something special to make them come out even as far as Exocron.”
“In other words,” Karrde said quietly, “you needed someone to lure Rei’Kas into their territory. And that someone was us.”
David didn’t move, but Shada could see a subtle new tension now in his face and posture. Perhaps wondering what would happen to him if a bridge full of hardened smugglers decided to be offended at having been used as bait. “It was your actions we used, Captain Karrde,” he said. “Your decision to come to Exocron, and your inability to keep Rei’Kas’s people from tracking you. It wasn’t you personally we were using.”
His eyes flicked around the bridge. “Not any of you.”
For a long moment the bridge was silent. Shada looked back at the viewport, to find the destruction of the pirates nearly complete. Only three of the Aing-Tii were visible now, and as she watched another of them winked out, leaving as mysteriously as it had arrived. The last two alien ships stayed just long enough to finish their task before they too vanished into the darkness.
“You say we,” Karrde said. “Is that just you and the rest of the Exocron military?”
“That’s an odd question,” David said obliquely. “Who else could be involved?”
“Who, indeed?” Karrde murmured. “Chin, open a transmission frequency to the surface. Threepio, I want a message translated into Old Tarmidian for me.”
Shada looked up at him. Karrde’s face was carved from stone, his expression unreadable. “Old Tarmidian?” she asked, frowning. “Car’das’s language?”
He nodded. “Here’s the message, Threepio: ‘This is Karrde. I’d like permission to come down and see you again.’ ”
“Of course, Captain Karrde,” Threepio said, moving uncertainly over toward the comm station. Chin nodded, and the droid leaned over his shoulder. “Merirao Karrde tuliak,” he said. “Mu parril’an se’tuffriad moa sug po’porai?”
He looked back at Karrde. “You understand, of course, that there may not be an answer for some time—”
“Se’po brus tai,” a voice boomed from the speaker, making the droid jump.
A strong, vibrant voice, with no hint of weakness or illness. Shada looked up at Karrde again, to find his stonelike expression had hardened even further. “Translation?” he asked.
Threepio seemed to brace himself. “He said, sir … come ahead.”
Entoo Nee was waiting for them as the Wild Karrde put down again in Circle 15 of the Rintatta City landing field. His casual manner, his cheerful chatter, and the landspeeder ride along with Shada and Threepio toward the pale blue house against the mountain were like a ghostly repetition of Karrde’s last trip through the area a few hours earlier.
But there was one big difference. Then, the driving emotions behind his mood had been fear and dread and the morbid contemplation of his own looming death. Now …
Now, he wasn’t sure what his mood was. Puzzlement and uncertainty, perhaps, tinged with a hint of resentment at having been twitched along like a puppet.
And overlaying it all a renewed haze of dread. Car’das, he couldn’t help remembering, had always spoken fondly of predators who played with their prey before finally killing them.
The blue house itself was unchanged, just as old and sagging and dusty as it had been before. But as Entoo Nee led the way to the bedroom door, Karrde noted that the odor of age and sickness had vanished.
And this time the door opened by itself as they approached. Steeling himself, only vaguely aware that Shada had deftly inserted a shoulder in front of him, the two of them together stepped through the door.
The built-in shelves, with all their useless knickknacks and exotic medical supplies, were gone. The sickbed and its stacks of blankets were gone.
And standing where the bed had been, still just as old but now as vitally alive as he had been feeble then, was Jorj Car’das.
“Hello, Karrde,” Car’das said, the vast network of facial wrinkles shifting as he smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Not that it’s been all that long,” Karrde said stiffly. “I congratulate you on your amazing recovery.”
The smile didn’t even falter. “You’re angry with me, of course,” Car’das said calmly. “I understand that. But it’ll all become clear soon. In the meantime—”
He half turned and waved at the back wall; and abruptly the wall was no longer there. In its place was a long tunnel equipped with four guiderails that faded off into the distance. Just beyond where the wall had been, an enclosed quadrail car was waiting. “Let me take you across to my real home,” Car’das continued. “It’s much more comfortable than this place.”
He waved a hand toward the car, and a side door swung invitingly open in response. “Please; after you.”
Karrde looked at the open door, an odd tightness squeezing his heart. Predators playing with their prey … “Why don’t just you and I go?” he offered instead. “Shada and Threepio can return to the Wild Karrde—”
“No,” Shada cut him off firmly. “You want to show someone around, Car’das, you take me. Then if—if—I decide it’s safe, I’ll consider letting Karrde join us.”
“Really,” Car’das said, regarding her with such obvious amusement that Karrde found himself cringing. Being amused at someone like Shada wasn’t an especially healthy thing to do. “Such quick and short-tempered loyalty you inspire in your people, Karrde.”
“She’s not one of my people,” Karrde told him quickly. “She was asked to come along by High Councilor Leia Organa Solo of the New Republic. She has absolutely nothing to do with me, or with anything I might have done in the past—”
“Please,” Car’das interrupted, holding up a hand. “I admit this is highly entertaining to watch. But in all seriousness, you’re both worrying about nothing.”
He looked Karrde straight in the eye. “I’m not the man you once knew, Talon,” he said quietly. “Please give me the chance to prove that.”
Karrde let his eyes drift away from that unblinking gaze. Predators playing with their prey …
But if Car’das truly wanted them dead, it didn’t really matter whether they played along or not. “All right,” he said. “Come on, Shada.”
“Excuse me, sir?” Threepio spoke up hesitantly. “I presume you won’t be needing me any further?”
“No, no, please,” Car’das said, waving the droid forward. “I’d love to sit down later and have a chat with you—it’s been such a long time since I’ve had anyone I could speak Old Tarmidian with.” He smiled over at Entoo Nee. “Entoo Nee tries, but it’s not the same.”
“Not really, no,” Entoo Nee conceded regretfully.
“So please join us,” Car’das added to Threepio. “By the way, you don’t also happen to know the Cincher dialectory, do you?”
Threepio seemed to brighten. “Of course I do, sir,” he said, pride temporarily superseding nervousness. “I am fluent in over six million—”
“Excellent,” Car’das said. “Let’s be going, then.”
A minute later they were all in the quadrail car, speeding smoothly down the tunnel. “I mostly keep to myself these days,” Car’das commented, “but occasionally I still need to deal with Exocron officialdom. I use that house back there for such meetings. It’s convenient and keeps them from being overawed by my real home.”
“They know who you are?” Shada asked, her tone just short of a demand. “I mean, who you really are?”
Car’das shrugged. “They have bits and pieces of my past,” he said. “But as you’ll soon see, much of that history is now irrelevant.”
“Well, before we get to history, let’s try some current events,” Shada said. “Starting with these Aing-Tii monks of yours. David can spin his anti-slaver slant all he wants, but we all know there’s more to it than that. You called them in, didn’t you?”
“The Aing-Tii and I have had some dealings together,” Car’das agree
d soberly, his wrinkled face thoughtful. Abruptly he smiled. “But that’s history again, isn’t it? All in its proper time.”
“Fine,” Shada said. “Let’s try again. David says you didn’t use us to lure Rei’Kas in. I say you did.”
Car’das looked at Karrde. “I like her, Talon,” he declared. “She has a fine spirit.” He shifted his eyes to Shada. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a new job, would you?”
“I wasted a dozen years with a smuggling gang, Car’das,” Shada growled. “I’m not interested in joining another.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Forgive me. Here we are.”
The tunnel had come to an end in a small, well-lighted room. Car’das popped the door and bounded out as the quadrail slid smoothly to a stop. “Come, come,” he urged the others. “You’re going to love this place, Talon, you really are. All ready? Let’s go.”
Almost bouncing with childlike anticipation, he led the way to an archway-topped door. He waved his hand as he approached; and as the wall at the blue house had done, the door simply vanished.
And stretched out beyond the doorway was a dream world.
Karrde stepped through, his first impression being that they had stepped out into the open air into a meticulously tended garden. Directly in front of them was a wide expanse of flowers and small plants and shrubs, all carefully and artistically arranged, stretching for perhaps a hundred meters ahead of them. A winding path led through the garden, with stone benches set at various points along it. At its side edges the garden gave way to a forest of tall trees of dozens of different species, with leaves whose colors varied from dark blue to brilliant red. From somewhere within the forest came the bubbling sound of water running over a rock-bottomed creek, but from their position he couldn’t see where it was.
It wasn’t until he followed the tallest trees up to their tops that he spotted the sky-blue dome above them. A dome that flowed down into unobtrusive walls behind the stands of trees …
“Yes, it’s all inside,” Car’das confirmed. “Very much inside, in fact—we’re under one of the mountains to the east of Rintatta City. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You tend it yourself?” Karrde asked.
“I do most of the work,” Car’das said, starting forward toward the path. “But there are a few others, as well. This way.”
He led them through the garden to a concealed door between two red-trunked trees on the far side. “Must have been some job putting all this together,” Shada commented as the door again vanished at a wave of Car’das’s hand. “Your Aing-Tii friends help?”
“In an indirect way, yes,” Car’das said. “This is my conversation room. As beautiful as the garden, in its own way.”
“Yes,” Karrde agreed, looking around. The conversation room was laid out in more or less classic High Alderaanian style, done up in dark wood and intertwined plants, with the same feeling of expansiveness as the garden outside. “What did you mean by indirect help?”
“It’s rather ironic, really,” Car’das said, angling off through the conversation room toward a door to their right. “When I arrived on Exocron I started building my home under these mountains purely for defensive reasons. Now that defense is no longer an issue, I find I enjoy the place for its solitude.”
Karrde glanced at Shada. Defense no longer an issue? “Was Rei’Kas that much of a threat?”
Car’das frowned. “Rei’Kas? Oh, no, Talon, you misunderstand. Rei’Kas was a threat, certainly, but only to the rest of Exocron. I helped get rid of him in order to protect my neighbors, but I myself was in no danger at all. Come; you’ll particularly want to see this.”
He waved the door away, and gestured them forward. Karrde stepped inside—
And stopped in amazement. He was standing at the outer rim of a circular room that appeared to be even bigger across than the garden they’d just left. The floor of the room dipped, amphitheater fashion, toward the center, where he could see the edge of what looked like a work station or computer desk. Arrayed in concentric circles around the desk, with only narrow walkways separating them, were circle after circle of two-meter-high data cases.
And filling each of the shelves on each of the data cases were datacards. Thousands and thousands of datacards.
“Knowledge, Talon,” Car’das said quietly from beside him. “Information. My passion, once; my weapon and my defense and my comfort.” He shook his head. “Amazing, isn’t it, what we sometimes persuade ourselves are the most important things in life.”
“Yes,” Karrde murmured. Car’das’s library … and the Caamas Document.
“So Entoo Nee lied to us,” Shada spoke up, the edge in her voice cutting into Karrde’s sense of wonder. “He said he didn’t know what happened to your library.”
“Entoo Nee?” Car’das called. “Did you lie to them?”
“Not at all, Jorj,” Entoo Nee’s distant voice protested from behind them. Karrde turned, to see the little man still on the far side of the conversation room, busying himself with drinks. “I merely said that whatever you had done with it had been done before I came to be in your service.”
“Which is perfectly true,” Car’das agreed, gesturing them back out of the library. “But come sit down. I know you have so many questions.”
“Let me start with the most important one,” Karrde said, not moving. “The reason we came here was to look for a vitally important historical document It involves—”
“Yes, I know,” Car’das said with a sigh. “The Caamas Document.”
“You know about that?” Shada asked.
“I’m not the frail bedridden old man you met a few hours ago,” Car’das reminded her mildly. “I still have a few sources of information, and I try to keep in touch with what’s happening back home.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you. As soon as the Caamas matter first broke I checked through all my files to see if I had a copy. But I’m afraid I don’t.”
Karrde felt his heart sink. “You’re absolutely sure?”
Car’das nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
Karrde nodded back. After all the work and danger in getting here, there it was. The end of the road; and at its finish, an empty hand.
Shada wasn’t ready to let it go quite that easily. “And what if you had found a copy?” she demanded. “You can talk all you want about keeping in touch, but the fact is that for the past twenty years you’ve been taking it easy out here and letting everyone else do all the work.”
Car’das lifted his eyebrows. “Suspicious and unforgiving both,” he commented. “That’s rather sad. Isn’t there anyone or anything you trust?”
“I’m a professional bodyguard,” Shada bit out. “Trust isn’t part of the job. And don’t try to change the subject. You sat out the whole Rebellion, not to mention Thrawn’s first bid for power. Why?”
Something unreadable flicked across Car’das’s face. “Thrawn,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping slowly around his library. “A most interesting person, indeed. I have most of his history with the Empire on file here—pulled it all out recently, reading through it. There’s more to his story than meets the eye—I’m convinced of it. Far more.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Shada said.
Car’das lifted his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you’d asked one,” he said. “All I heard were accusations that I’d been letting others do all the work. But if that was intended as a question …” He smiled. “I suppose it’s true, in a way. But only in a way. I’ve merely let others do their work, while I’ve been doing mine. But come—Entoo Nee’s rusc’te will be getting cold.”
He led the way across the conversation room to the sunken circle. Entoo Nee was waiting patiently there, his now loaded tray set on a pillar table. “What have you told the lady about me, Talon?” Car’das asked as he gestured the two of them to seats on one side of the circle. “Just to avoid repeating things.”
“I’ve told her the basics,” Karrde said, ging
erly sitting down. Despite all of the geniality and surface friendliness, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on beneath the surface. “How you started the organization, then abruptly left twenty years ago.”
“And did you tell her about my kidnapping by the Bpfasshi Dark Jedi?” Car’das asked, his tone suddenly odd. “That’s where it all really began.”
Karrde threw a glance at Shada. “I mentioned it, yes.”
Car’das sighed, not looking up at Entoo Nee as the latter put a steaming cup into his hands. “It was a terrible experience,” he said quietly, gazing into the cup. “Possibly the first time in my life I’d felt truly and genuinely terrified. He was half mad with rage—maybe more than half mad—with all of Darth Vader’s power and none of his self-control. One of my crewmen he physically ripped to shreds, literally tearing his body apart. The other three he took over mentally, twisting and searing their minds and turning them into little more than living extensions of himself. Me—”
He took a careful sip of his drink. “Me, he left mostly alone,” he continued. “I’m still not sure why, unless he thought he might need my knowledge of ports and spacelanes to make his escape. Or perhaps he simply wanted an intact mind left aboard who could recognize his power and greatness and be properly frightened by it.”
He sipped again. “We headed across the spacelanes, dodging or avoiding the forces gathering against him. I thought up scheme after scheme to defeat him as we traveled, none of which ever made it past the planning stage for the simple reason that he knew about each of them almost before I did. I got the feeling that my pitiful efforts greatly amused him.
“Finally, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, we made for a little backwater system not even important enough to make it onto most of the charts. A planet with nothing but swamps and dank forests and frozen slush.
“A planet named Dagobah.”
There was a whiff of some exotic spice from Karrde’s side, and he looked up to see Entoo Nee hand him his cup. The little man’s usual cheerful expression had vanished, replaced by a profound seriousness Karrde had never seen in him before.