Star Wars: The Hand of Thrawn II: Vision of the Future

by Timothy Zahn

  The Sif’krie skiffs were starting to waver now, clearly not eager to be at the center of a massive firefight. The Ishori, recognizing their hesitation, increased its speed toward them; in response, the two Diamala also picked up their pace, splitting formation into a flank/crossfire stance.

  “They’re going to run down those Sif’kries,” Elegos murmured. “Or else the Diamala will open fire on the Ishori to prevent it. Either way, both sides will claim the other was the instigator.”

  “And either way, the shooting starts,” Leia said tightly, running her fingers down the sensor data. New Republic ships—there had to be some New Republic ships out there somewhere. If one of them was close enough to intervene, or even get in between the Ishori and Diamala …

  But there were only three Corellian Corvettes carrying New Republic IDs, all on the far side of the pack of ships. No chance at all that they could get to the confrontation in time.

  Which meant it was up to her.

  “Everyone hang on,” she called toward the intercom. Without waiting for a reply from the two Noghri, she turned the Falcon’s nose toward the Ishori cruiser and threw full power to the sublight drive.

  The engines roared to life, the acceleration pushing Leia momentarily into her seat before the compensators could catch up. “I trust you have a plan,” Elegos said calmly over the noise. “Do bear in mind that your High Council authority will not likely be enough to stop them.”

  “I wasn’t even going to bring that up,” Leia said, glancing at the nav display and easing the helm yoke back just a bit. The Falcon was now on a collision course with the Ishori cruiser’s stern. “Take over,” she added, pulling off her restraints and snagging her lightsaber as she got up from her seat. “Keep us on this course.”

  “Understood,” Elegos’s voice came distantly back to her as she sprinted down the tunnel and skidded past the exit hatchway toward the aft cargo bay bulkhead door. She stretched out to the control switch with the Force as she approached, sending the door sliding open—

  “Councilor?” Barkhimkh’s anxious voice called from the upper quad laser.

  “Stay there,” Leia called to him as she ducked into the cargo bay and crossed to the starboard side of the ship. Through one more door, and she came at last to the access grill protecting the starboard power converters and ion flux stabilizer.

  Han was going to kill her, but it was their only chance. Igniting her lightsaber, clenching her teeth, she jabbed the glowing blade into one of the power converters and dragged it across into the stabilizer.

  And grabbed for a handhold as the Falcon bucked like a stung tauntaun. It bucked again; and suddenly the drone of the engines changed to an ominous whine.

  Twenty seconds later she was back in the cockpit. “Report?” she asked as she slid back into her seat.

  “We’ve lost starboard maneuvering,” Elegos said. “The engines appear to be trying to go into a feedback instability.” He glanced at her. “I certainly hope this is part of your plan.”

  “Trust me,” Leia assured him, trying to feel as confident as she sounded as she keyed the comm. “Ishori cruiser, this is the freighter Millennium Falcon. We’re in serious trouble and urgently request assistance.”

  There was no answer. “Ishori cruiser—”

  “This is the Ishori War Cruiser Predominance,” an angry-sounding Ishori voice snarled from the speaker. “Identify yourself.”

  “This is New Republic High Councilor Leia Organa Solo aboard the freighter Millennium Falcon,” Leia said. “We’ve lost maneuvering and power control in our starboard engines. Our current course has us passing too close to your hull. I need you to move immediately out of our path while we try to regain control.”

  There was another long pause. Leia watched the warship looming ever nearer, uncomfortably aware that if the Ishori commander chose he could easily turn this whole thing to his own advantage. He had only to use her request as an excuse to speed up his drive toward the Sif’krie skiffs …

  “I ask you to please hurry,” Leia said. A thought occurred to her, and she reached over to blur the fine-focus of her comm a bit. Just enough to let some of the other ships beyond the Ishori eavesdrop on the transmission … “My passenger, Trustant Elegos A’kla, is attempting to effect repairs, but I’m afraid the equipment aboard is not within standard Caamasi technical expertise.”

  Without a word, Elegos unstrapped and got to his feet, disappearing out through the cockpit door. “Ishori Cruiser Predominance, do you still copy?” Leia added. “Repeating—”

  “No need to repeat,” the voice snarled again. Leia felt automatic anger stirring in response to the tone, forced herself to remember that all the emotion in the Ishori voice meant there was some serious thinking going on. She shifted her eyes to the cruiser again and held her breath …

  And abruptly, the Ishori’s advance toward the skiffs slowed, its stern rotating instead out of the Falcon’s path. “We stand ready to assist you and Trustant A’kla,” the Ishori bit out, his voice already sounding calmer. The thinking was over, and it was time for action. “Lower your shields and prepare for acceleration impact,” he continued. “We will attempt to lock a tractor beam onto you to slow your rush.”

  “Thank you,” Leia said, keying off the shields. They didn’t affect tractor beams all that much, but there was no point in making a tricky high-speed grab any harder than it already was. “Once we’re in your beam, we’ll try a cold shutdown and see if we can bring this under control.”

  “We stand ready to provide any assistance you and Trustant A’kla require,” the Ishori said. “Stand ready …”

  The Falcon jerked as the tractor beam caught it, wobbled a moment, then settled down as the lock firmed. Reaching across to the engine controls, Leia threw the shutdown switches.

  The engine whine ran down the scale and faded into silence. On the control board, indicators turned red; around her, the lights flickered once as battery power took over. “We read successful shutdown,” the Ishori reported. “If you wish, we will bring you aboard our ship to assist you in your repairs.”

  For a moment Leia was tempted. Having a Caamasi aboard one of the most outspoken and confrontational species’ ships might help stretch the peace out here. But on the other hand, it could also be misinterpreted as Elegos’s tacit endorsement of the Ishori’s anti-Bothan stance. “Thank you again,” she told the alien. “But we have an urgent appointment with President Gavrisom that we can’t delay. If you could escort us over to the group of New Republic ships, we would very much appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” the Ishori said with only the barest hesitation. The Diamala had reached the Sif’krie skiffs now, the four of them standing together in quiet defiance against any further action. The chance had been missed, and the Ishori knew it.

  As did the rest of the armada. All around them, Leia saw, the other ships were starting to settle back into their taut, watchful waiting.

  The flash point was safely past. Or at least, this flash point was.

  She keyed off the comm. “You’re really taking a beating this trip, aren’t you,” she murmured, patting the Falcon’s control board sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

  The door behind her slid open. “I see it worked,” Elegos said, slipping into the copilot seat again. “You have a fine and unique gift of diplomacy, Councilor.”

  “And sometimes I’m just lucky,” Leia said.

  Elegos lifted his eyebrows. “I thought Jedi didn’t believe in luck.”

  “It comes of hanging around Han and this ship,” Leia said dryly. “Where did you go, anyway? Back to look at the stabilizer?”

  The Caamasi nodded. “I didn’t expect to be able to do anything, certainly not after you’d finished with it. But you’d indicated I was trying to repair it, and I wanted there to be some truth in what you were saying.”

  “Truth.” Leia sighed. “That’s what we need here, Elegos. What we need desperately. Truth.”

  “Captain Solo will have
that truth here within another day,” Elegos reminded her quietly. “All you and President Gavrisom need to do is hold things together that long.”

  Leia stretched out with the Force, trying to get a feel for the future. “No, I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “Something tells me it’s not going to be that easy. Not nearly, that easy.”

  Navett and Klif had cut through the floor of the Ho’Din tap-cafe’s storage subbasement floor their first night of work, a ten-minute task with the fusion cutter Pensin had scrounged from somewhere. But after that the job had switched over to something longer, harder, and considerably more tedious.

  “Four more days of this, huh?” Klif grunted, heaving another shovelful of noxious Bothawui dirt out of the chest-deep hole onto the large drop cloth they’d spread out to catch it.

  “Well, if we really put our backs into it, maybe it’ll only take three,” Navett pointed out, scooping up the dirt from the cloth in turn and dumping it into their Valkrex fusion disintegration canister. He sympathized with Klif’s frustration, but there wasn’t a lot either of them could do about it. The vibrations of their digging were iffy enough; but if they tried operating heavy equipment within range of the power conduit’s sensors, they’d bring Bothan Security down on them in double-quick time.

  “Thanks lots,” Klif said dryly, dumping another shovelful. “You know, I don’t mind dying for the Empire, but to Vader with these preliminaries.”

  “Watch your words,” Navett warned him, glancing at the door at the top of the stairway. Pensin was supposed to be keeping an eye on the door to the subbasement, but there were a handful of other staff and night guards still up in the tapcafe, and a wrong word overheard by one of them could ruin everything. He scooped up the next shovelful—

  There was a scrabbling sound at the door. Navett let the shovel down silently onto the cloth, dropping to one knee and drawing his blaster in a single smooth motion. He leveled the weapon on the door, then lifted it at the soft two-one-two knock. The door opened and Horvic stuck his head around the corner. “Pack it up,” he hissed. “The night guards think they’ve spotted an intruder, and they might come down here looking.”

  Klif was already out of the hole, manhandling the square of duracrete floor they’d cut back into place. “They get a good look?” Navett asked, holstering his blaster and giving Klif a hand.

  “I don’t know,” Horvic said grimly. “But personally, my money’s on that old woman of yours. I spotted someone with your description of her sitting off in a corner booth when Pensin and I came on duty.”

  “Terrific,” Navett snarled under his breath, leaving Klif to disguise the edges of their trapdoor as he shut off the disintegrator and carried it back to its hiding place behind a stack of vodokrene cases. “Well, don’t just stand there—go help them find her.”

  “Right,” Horvic said. “What about you?”

  “We’ll head outside,” he said. “Maybe we can tag her on her way out.”

  “Happy hunting,” Horvic said, and disappeared.

  It took thirty seconds to fold up the drop cloth and hide it, and another minute to ease their way up through the main basement to the gimmicked back door. The streets in this part of Drev’starn were mostly deserted at this hour, the high-mounted glow panels dimmed to a fairly low light. “I’ll take back here,” Navett murmured to Klif. “You circle around front. Don’t let anyone see you.”

  “Don’t worry.” Moving like a shadow, Klif headed down the side alley and disappeared around the corner of the building. Checking both directions, Navett crossed to a trash container a few meters away. Sinking into its shadow, he balanced his blaster across one knee and waited.

  And waited. Occasionally he spotted figures hurrying by in front of the lighted windows of the tapcafe, and several times the Ho’Din or one of his night guards poked their head out the back door, double-checked the lock, and went back in. But no one came out and stayed out. Not the woman or anyone else.

  It was an hour before the commotion seemed to finally die down inside. Navett waited another thirty minutes, irritably counting the number of shovelfuls behind schedule this was costing them, before finally pulling out his comlink. “Klif?”

  “Nothing,” Klif’s voice came back. He sounded irritated, too. “Sounds like they’ve given up.”

  “Must have been a false alarm,” Navett said. “Come on around and we’ll get back to work.”

  A few minutes later they were back in the subbasement. Klif retrieved the drop cloth as Navett headed around the stacked vodokrene cases for the disintegrator.

  And paused there. Lying on top of the disintegrator was a comlink. “Klif?” he called softly. “Come here.”

  A moment later the other was at his side. “I don’t believe it,” he said, sounding stunned. “How in blazes did she pull this one off?”

  “Why don’t we ask her,” Navett said, carefully picking up the comlink. It was a binary-linked type, he noted, the sort typically carried on small starships and connected only to another specific comlink. He gave it a quick once-over for booby traps, then flicked it on. “You’re very inventive,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

  “Why, thank you,” the old woman’s voice came back promptly. “That’s very flattering. Particularly coming from an Imperial dirty tricks team.”

  Navett glanced at Klif. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve accused us of being Imperials,” he reminded her. “You are just guessing, of course.”

  “Oh, hardly,” she said scornfully. “Who else would be looking to take down the Bothans’ planetary shields?”

  “You’re still just guessing,” Navett said, straining his ears for some sign of telltale sounds in the background and wishing viciously he had the equipment that would let him trace the transmission. “If you were sure, you’d have called Bothan Security instead of still skulking around yourself this way.”

  “Who says I haven’t called them?” she said. “Or maybe I like skulking around. It could be I used to do this sort of thing all the time against Hutts and other slime. Maybe I’m looking for a new challenge.”

  “Or maybe you’re looking for an early and violent death,” Navett countered. “How did you find us, anyway?”

  “Oh, come on,” she chided. “You don’t really think your cover is that good, do you? My New Rep buddies and I had you pegged first time off the rack. So what was the deal with those metalmites at the shield generator, anyway?”

  Navett smiled tightly. “Fishing now, are we? Please.”

  “You never can tell,” she said. “Incidentally, whichever of you gimmicked that back door lock needs to do a better job next time—it was so obvious you might as well have hung a sign on it. It did come in handy, though.”

  “I imagine it did,” Navett said. “You’re still in the building, aren’t you?”

  “Now who’s fishing?” she countered. “Actually, no, I left some time ago—there’s a crawlspace beneath the ceiling that leads to a handy skylight. That was a free one.”

  “Thank you,” Navett said between clenched teeth. Who did this little fringe slime think she was talking to, anyway? “Here’s some free advice in return. Go back to your ship and clear off Bothawui. If you don’t, you are going to die on this dirtball. I will personally guarantee that.”

  “With all due respect, Lieutenant—or is it Major? Colonel? Oh, well, with the Empire in shambles these days I guess rank doesn’t really matter. With all due respect, Imperial, I’ve been threatened by far more impressive folks than you. Anytime you want to come out and do a face-to-face, I’m ready.”

  “Oh, we’ll do a face-to-face, all right,” Navett promised, forcing down his anger. Anger, and the muddled thinking that accompanied it, were exactly what she was angling for. “Don’t worry about that. But when we do, it’ll be a time and place of my choosing, not yours.”

  “Whatever you want,” she said. “Nighttime would work best—that way you can use that Xerrol Nightstinger of yours to full advantage. Y
ou didn’t just throw it away after that riot a few weeks back, did you? The one where you framed Solo for shooting into the crowd?”

  Navett glared at the comlink. Aside from being a general all-around pain in the neck, this woman was far too well informed. Who in space did she work for, anyway? “You’re fishing again,” he said.

  “Not really,” she said offhandedly. “Just putting two and two together.”

  “Sometimes that kind of math doesn’t work the way you think it does,” Navett warned her. “And sometimes if the mathematician hangs around where she’s not welcome, she doesn’t live to finish her sums.”

  She clucked. “You’re starting to repeat yourself, Imperial. If I were you, I’d try to work up some fresh threats. However, it’s well past my bedtime and I know you have work to do, so I’ll let you go. Unless you’d like to go fetch your Xerrol and come out and play, that is. I’ll wait.”

  “Thanks,” Navett said. “I’ll pass for now.”

  “Entirely up to you,” she said. “Go ahead and keep the comlink—I’ve got plenty of spares. Good night and happy digging.”

  The transmission clicked off. “And restless and unpleasant dreams to you, too,” Navett murmured, dropping the comlink into the disintegrator.

  He looked back at Klif. “This,” he said darkly, “is just exactly what we needed.”

  “Oh, exactly,” Klif ground out. “So what are we going to do about her?”

  “For now, nothing,” Navett said, picking up the disintegrator and lugging it over to the drop cloth. “For all her fishing and accusations, she doesn’t really know anything.”

  “Like blazes she doesn’t,” Klif retorted. “She knows we’re digging over one of the shield building’s power conduits. What more does she need?”

  “My point exactly,” Navett said. “She’s spotted our digging, but hasn’t called Security down on us.” He squatted down and eased his shovel blade under the edge of their trapdoor. “Why not?”