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

by Timothy Zahn

  “Look, I don’t know what you think my hospitality is worth on the open market,” Lando protested. “But—” He took another look at her face and sighed. “All right. I’ll try.”

  “Thank you,” Leia said. “Gavrisom and I are already scheduled to go meet with the Ishori leaders over on the Predominance later this morning. Maybe together we can come up with something.”

  There was a beep from the table comm. “Councilor Organa Solo?” the duty officer’s voice called.

  Leia reached over and touched the switch. “Yes?”

  “There’s a diplomatic envoy here to see you, Councilor. Are you available?”

  Han felt a flash of irritation. Couldn’t they ever leave her alone? “This is Solo,” he called toward the comm. “The Councilor is otherwise engaged—”

  He cut off at Leia’s sudden squeeze on his arm. There was something in her face … “Yes, I’ll see him,” she said. “Send him here.”

  She switched off the comm. “Leia—” Han began.

  “No, it’s all right,” she said, that odd look still on her face. “I have a strange feeling—”

  She broke off as the room door slid open. Han stood up, automatically dropping his hand to his blaster.

  “Councilor Organa Solo,” Carib Devist said gravely, stepping into the room. His eyes shifted to Han—“And Solo, too,” he added, stepping toward him and extending his hand. “I’m glad to see you made it through Bastion safely.”

  “We didn’t,” Han said shortly, making no move to take the other’s hand. “We got caught.”

  Carib froze, his hand still outstretched. His eyes flicked to the still seated Lando, as if noticing him for the first time; then, slowly, he lowered his hand. “What happened?” he asked, his face taut.

  “Like I said, we got caught,” Han told him. “They chased us around the city for a while, then were sitting there waiting when we hit the ship.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Apparently, we rate pretty high over there. Thrawn himself came out to meet us.”

  He’d thought Carib’s face was as tight as it got. He’d been wrong. “Thrawn was there?” the other repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was really him?”

  “It sure wasn’t a quarter-size holo,” Han bit out. “Of course it was him. We had a nice little chat, and then he gave us the Caamas Document.” He jabbed a finger at the datacard on the table. “There it is.”

  Carib looked down at the datacard. “And?” he asked warily.

  “It’s been altered,” Leia said, her voice almost gentle.

  Han threw an irritated look at her. What was she doing being nice to this man? “I don’t suppose you’d know how they caught on to us or anything?” he growled, turning his glare back on Carib.

  The other took it without flinching. “No, I don’t,” he said. “But given that you weren’t picked up the second you stepped off your ship, I’d guess you simply got spotted. And may I also point out,” he added with a new edge to his voice, “that tumbling to you means they’ve also tumbled to me, which means our families on Pakrik Minor are now in danger of Imperial reprisal. For whatever little that means to you.”

  Han grimaced. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m … well, I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it,” Carib said, the anger still lingering. “We knew what we were getting into.”

  Deliberately, he turned back to Leia. “Which is why we’re here, in fact. We’ve decided—”

  “Just a minute,” Lando put in. “The duty officer said you were a diplomatic envoy. How’d you con your way through that one?”

  “No con involved,” Carib said. “The Directorate wanted someone to come offer our support to President Gavrisom and the New Republic over the Caamas situation. We volunteered. Simple as that.”

  “And you got all the way up to Gavrisom on your first try?”

  Carib shrugged. “We pulled a few strings. But not too many were needed.” He smiled sadly. “I get the impression that there aren’t a lot of people around these days flocking to offer Gavrisom their unconditional support. We’ll probably make for a welcome change.”

  He looked back at Leia. “The point is, we’ve discussed it among ourselves, and we’ve decided that we can’t just sit back and watch this play itself out.” He straightened into a probably unconscious attention. “So we’ve come to offer you our help.”

  Han glanced across at Lando. A bunch of Imperial clones, volunteering to get involved in the Caamas dispute. Just exactly what they needed. “And how do you propose to do that?” he asked.

  “Any way we can,” Carib said. “And maybe in ways you wouldn’t even think of. For instance, are you aware that your mass of ships out there includes at least three Imperials?”

  Han felt his eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about three Imperial ships,” Carib repeated. “Small ones, barely starfighter class, probably with no more than three or four men aboard each. But they’re Imperials, all right.”

  “You’re sure of that?” Leia asked.

  Han frowned down at her. There was a strange look behind her eyes, an unexpected tension in her throat.

  “Absolutely,” Carib said. “We picked up the edge of a transmission on our way in that was using the latest in encrypts from Bastion.”

  Leia’s lip twitched. “I see.”

  “I presume you got IDs on them,” Lando said.

  “On the ones we spotted, yes,” Carib said, digging out a datacard and offering it to Han. “Of course, there might be more of them out there keeping quiet.”

  “Of course,” Lando said.

  Carib shot him a look, then turned back to Han. For a moment he held Han’s gaze, studying his face … “Look, Solo,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t exactly trust me. I suppose in your boots, under the circumstances, I wouldn’t particularly trust us, either. But whether you believe it or not, we’re on your side.”

  “It’s not a matter of mistrust, Carib,” Leia spoke up. “It’s the whole question of what’s real about this and what isn’t. With Thrawn pulling the strings, we’re not sure even whether we can trust our own eyes anymore, let alone our judgment.”

  “Which may well be his most powerful weapon,” Carib countered impatiently. “The fact that no one’s willing to trust their allies or their circumstances or even themselves. You can’t live that way, Councilor. You certainly can’t fight that way.”

  Leia shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting we capitulate to uncertainty, but only explaining our hesitation. On the contrary, we have a plan and will be attempting to carry it out.”

  “Good,” Carib said, and Han thought he could detect a faint note of relief in his voice. “What do you want us to do?”

  “I’d like you to go back to your ship and start wandering leisurely around the area,” Leia told him, slipping a datacard into her datapad and doing some keying. “Try to find and identify every Imperial ship that’s out there.”

  “What if they don’t transmit anymore?” Lando asked.

  “Won’t matter,” Carib assured him. “There are certain ways Imperial pilots tend to do things that makes them stand out of a crowd. If there are any more out there, we’ll find them.”

  “Good,” Leia said, sliding the datacard out of her datapad and handing it to Carib. “Be sure to stay in touch with Han or Lando or me—here are our personal comlink and ship’s comm frequencies. Other than that, just stand ready.”

  “We will,” Carib promised, fingering the datacard. “Thank you, Councilor. We won’t let you down.”

  “I know,” Leia said gravely. “We’ll speak more later.”

  With a short nod, Carib turned and strode from the room. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Leia,” Han muttered, gazing darkly at the closed door. “I’m still not sure I trust him.”

  “Only history will be able to judge his actions today,” Leia said tiredly. “Or those of any of the rest of us.” She took a deep breath and seemed to s
hake off her weariness. “But we can only do what we can. I need to go talk with Gavrisom about our meeting with the Ishori; and you, Lando, need to call Senator Miatamia and try to get in to see him.”

  “Right,” Lando said, hauling himself with clear reluctance out of the comfort of his chair. “See you later.”

  He left. “What about me?” Han asked. “What do I do?”

  “You give me another hug,” Leia said, standing up and moving close to him. “No, seriously, you’d better stay completely out of it,” she added soberly. “You’re the one holding the Caamas Document, the one standing on the high moral ground. You can’t be seen dealing directly with either side.”

  “Yeah,” Han said, grimacing. “I always like standing on the high ground—you make such a good target up there. Come on, Leia—I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

  Pressed against him, he felt her body stiffen a little. “Well, actually … the Falcon does need a little work,” she said carefully. “We lost the starboard power converters and ion flux stabilizer on the way into the system.”

  “That’s okay, I’ve got spares for both,” Han said. “Any idea what happened to them?”

  He could almost feel her wince. “They ran into a lightsaber.”

  He twisted his neck to look down at the top of her head. “Oh,” he said. “Really.”

  “It was for a good cause,” she hastened to add. “Really it was.”

  Han smiled, stroking her hair. “I believe you, sweetheart,” he assured her. “Okay, I’ll get right on it. You’re docked over on the other side, right?”

  “Yes.” Leia drew partway away from him. “One other thing. There’s a passenger aboard, who we’re also sort of keeping out of local politics for the moment. Elegos A’kla, a Trustant of the Caamasi Remnant.”

  Han lifted his eyebrows, then shook his head. “I can’t leave you for a minute, can I?” he said. “I take off from Pakrik Minor on a simple little trip; and the next thing you know you’re consorting with high-level Caamasi.”

  Leia smiled up at him. But the smile had a disturbing brittleness to it. “You don’t know the half of it,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

  “So tell me.”

  Reluctantly, Leia shook her head. “We don’t have time right now. Maybe after Gavrisom and I get back from the Predominance, I can tell you the whole story.”

  “Okay,” Han said. “Sure. I’ll just get to work on the Falcon, then, okay?”

  “Okay.” Leia hugged him again and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah,” Han said, frowning. Something had just occurred to him—“Leia?”

  She paused at the door. “Yes?”

  “You said a minute ago that history would judge Carib’s activities today,” he reminded her. “Why today?”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” Leia murmured, her eyes focused on nothing. “I don’t know.”

  Han felt something cold creeping up his back. “One of those Jedi things?”

  Leia took a careful breath. “It could be,” she said quietly. “It could very well be.”

  For a few heartbeats they gazed at each other in silence. “Okay,” Han said, forcing a casual nonchalance into his voice. “Whatever. I’ll see you later, right?”

  “Yes,” Leia murmured, still looking troubled. “Later.”

  She turned and left the room. For a moment Han stayed where he was, running the implications of what had just happened through his mind. There were a whole bunch of them, all of them as muddy as swamp water, none of them anything he really much liked.

  But there was one thing clear here, as clear as the fact that his wife was a Jedi. One way or another, this looked like it was going to be one very busy day.

  Scooping up the Caamas Document datacard, he stuffed it securely into a pocket. And if this was going to be a busy day, he added sternly to himself, there was no way he was going to be left out of it. No way at all.

  Heading out into the corridor, he turned toward the docking bay where the Falcon was moored. Whatever the speed record was for replacing an ion flux stabilizer, he was going to break it.

  The Errant Venture’s briefing room was comfortably crowded by the time Wedge and Corran arrived. Bel Iblis was standing behind the holo table, his eyes flicking to each ship captain or squadron commander as they arrived, measuring him or her with that single glance. To everyone else, Wedge supposed, he probably looked perfectly calm.

  With his and Rogue Squadron’s longer history with the man, though, Wedge knew better.

  Predictably, Booster Terrik was the last to arrive. Ignoring the few remaining seats, he took up a standing position alongside the first row directly in front of Bel Iblis and crossed his arms expectantly.

  “This will be the final briefing before we arrive at our destination,” Bel Iblis began without preamble. “Our target, for any of you who haven’t already guessed, is the Imperial Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor.”

  From the ripple of surprise that ran around the room, Wedge decided, a whole lot of them had not, in fact, guessed correctly. “Before you start counting our ships and matching them against Yaga’s defenses,” Bel Iblis went on, “let me reassure you just a bit. We’re not trying to take out the base, or even soften it up particularly. In fact, aside from the Errant Venture itself, the rest of you will be mostly staying on the outside as a diversion.”

  He pressed a key, and an image of the Ubiqtorate base appeared over the holo table. “The Errant Venture will drop out of hyperspace, alone, at this point.” A flashing blue light appeared just beyond the ring of outer defenses. “We’ll be transmitting a distress signal indicating that we’re running from a large New Republic attack force—that’s you—and need shelter. With luck—and assuming the false ID fools them—we’ll be allowed to penetrate the outer defenses at this point.”

  Booster snorted loudly enough for the whole room to hear. “You must be joking,” he rumbled. “An Imperial Star Destroyer, running from a motley collection of scrap like this? They’ll never believe that.”

  “Why not?” Bel Iblis asked mildly.

  “Why not?” Booster waved an all-encompassing hand around the room. “Just look at us. You’ve got us running full weapons and defenses, a practically full crew complement, spit and polish that hasn’t been seen since Palpatine was a prip. Who’s going to believe we’re in serious trouble?”

  Bel Iblis cleared his throat. “I gather you haven’t taken a look at the outer hull recently.”

  Booster’s arm froze in the middle of another wave. “What?” he demanded, his voice low and deadly.

  “You’re absolutely right about our needing to look the part of a ship in distress.” Bel Iblis nodded. “I believe you’ll find we do.”

  For a painfully long moment the two men stared at each other, the expression on Booster’s face reminding Wedge of an approaching thunderstorm. “You’re going to pay for this, Bel Iblis,” Booster said at last in a low voice. “You, personally, are going to pay for this.”

  “We’ll add it to the ledger,” Bel Iblis promised. “Don’t worry, we’ll put everything back together afterward.”

  “You’d better,” Booster threatened. “Everything fixed. And a new coat of paint, too.” He considered. “Something besides Star Destroyer White.”

  Bel Iblis smiled faintly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He looked around the room again, then keyed his control. On the holo display, the blue light passed the outer ring; and as it did so, a group of yellow lights appeared farther out. “At that same time, the rest of you will drop in and form up into an attack line,” he continued. “You will not seriously engage the defense perimeter, but merely prod at it enough to keep their attention turned outward. You’ll also be firing a full barrage of proton torpedoes, with an eye toward getting some of them through the ring into the base itself.”

  The blue light came to a halt beside a slender spar sticking out from the main base. “The Errant Venture w
ill meanwhile come to a halt here, where we’ll launch an assault boat against the computer access extension and attempt to get a slicer team inside. If the Force is with us, we may be able to locate and download a copy of the Caamas Document.”

  “And then how do you get out again?” one of the other ship’s captains asked. “I presume you’re not assuming they won’t notice you at some point.”

  Bel Iblis shrugged slightly. “We are an Imperial Star Destroyer,” he reminded him. “I think we’ll be able to rancor-roll our way out without too much trouble.”

  Wedge looked at Corran, saw the set to the other’s mouth. No, Bel Iblis was dead wrong on that one. Casual confidence or not, Star Destroyer or not, once the Imperials tumbled to what was going on the old general was going to be in for the fight of his life.

  Or else …

  Wedge looked back at Bel Iblis, a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. Or else he knew perfectly well there was no way he would ever get out. Knew that all he could hope for was to find a copy of the Caamas Document in time and transmit it out to the rest of the fleet.

  Knew that Yaga Minor was, in fact, where he was going to die.

  And if he knew it …

  Wedge focused on Booster, standing with his arms crossed again. Booster’s ship, going to its destruction.

  With Booster still aboard? Probably. Almost certainly.

  Beside him, he heard Corran’s sigh. “He’s not going all noble and self-sacrificing on us, Wedge,” the other murmured. “He’s thinking about Mirax and Valin.”

  “Sure,” Wedge murmured back. Booster’s daughter—Corran’s wife—and Booster’s six-year-old grandson. Yes, of course it made sense. The big, noisy, self-centered old pirate Booster Terrik cared deeply about his family, whether he would admit it or not.

  And if it cost him his life to try to prevent his grandson from growing up in the middle of a civil war …

  “I guess we’ll just have to make it Rogue Squadron’s business to make sure they get out again,” Corran went on.

  Wedge nodded. “You got it,” he promised.