by Timothy Zahn
"I don't doubt the legend is true," Leia said, gesturing to the seat she'd just vacated. "Sakhisakh, if you'd take control here, I'll be in the cargo hold. I have some serious thinking and meditating to do."
CHAPTER
20
"Good day, citizen-scholars of the M'challa Order of the Empire," the ancient SE2 service droid behind the reception desk wheezed its usual greeting. "How may I and the Imperial Library serve you this morning?"
"Just assign us a computer station," Han said, putting a firm restraining bolt on his already grouchy mood. Already it was shaping up to be a hot, muggy day, and he felt both uncomfortable and stupid parading around the city streets in the traditional M'challa scholar's robe he and the others had been wearing ever since landing here on Bastion. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time trading banter with an SE2 droid. "We can handle our own data search, thanks."
"Certainly." The droid peered at him, then at Lando, then at Lobot. His gaze lingered on the latter, as if wondering why he was wearing his hood so close about his head on such a warm day. "You citizens have been in here before," he said. "Each of the past three days, if my memory has not degraded."
"We're doing a long-term study," Lando stepped in smoothly. "It takes a great deal of time."
"Would you like assistance?" the droid asked helpfully. "We have several research droids and interface counterparts available for hire at a purely nominal fee."
"We're doing fine," Han told him, striving mightily to keep from shouting in the droid's metal face. "Just assign us a station, all right?"
"Certainly, citizen-scholar," the droid said affably. "Station 47A. Go through the double doors to your left"
"We know where it is," Han said, turning on his heel and stalking toward the indicated doors.
"And thank you," Lando added.
He and Lobot caught up with Han just inside the double doors. "You think you can draw a little more attention to us?" Lando growled as Han headed off through the maze of individual and group booths that filled the huge room, only a handful of which were currently occupied. "Maybe you should try kicking the droid back and forth across the desk a few timesthat ought to do it."
"A lot of Imperials don't like droids," Han growled back. "Even scholars. Let's just get on with it, okay?"
Lando didn't answer, and Han felt a twinge of guilt for snapping at his friend that way. After all, Lando was doing him a big favor by even being here in the first place.
But his mood was already too sour for the guilt to make much headway against it. Three days of softfooting around the Imperial capital city having to put up with smarmy Imperials, overcharging tapcafe owners, and idiot SE2 droids was starting to get to him.
Especially considering how much progress they'd made so far in getting into the Special Files section. Namely, none.
They reached Station 47A and Han snagged a third chair from an unused booth to supplement the two already there. "All right," Lando said, activating the booth's privacy field as he sat Lobot down in front of the keyboard and then took the chair beside him. "You have a good contact with Moegid?"
Lobot's answer was to place his fingers on the keyboard. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he began tapping the keys.
Hitching his chair up behind Lando, stifling a sarcastic remark that wouldn't have done anyone any good and was probably uncalled for anyway, Han sat down and tried to settle in. Maybe this time, they'd get lucky.
* * * The ship had been quiet for nearly an hour before Karoly decided that, once again, she had guessed wrong.
It was aggravating. No, actually, it was infuriating. To have come all this way with Solo and Calrissianto have spent days buried alive in this cramped smuggling compartment beneath the elegant living section of Calrissian's yachtand then to not even find Karrde and Shada waiting at the end of the ride was maddening.
She took a deep breath in the darkness, ordering herself sternly to settle down. Maybe Karrde and Shada had simply been delayed, and were still on their way. She would just have to be patient and wait them out.
In the meantime, there was clearly nothing to be gained by hanging around in this hole feeling sorry for herself. Reaching above her, she worked the catch that popped the hidden access panel and eased it carefully to one side.
For a moment she remained motionless in a half crouch, listening for any indication that she might have been heard. Then she eased up and out into the corridor, breathing deeply as she flushed the stale air of the compartment out of her lungs.
No one was visible. Not that that was surprising, really. Solo, Calrissian, and that biocomp-wired cyborg they called Lobot had all gone off together that morning, leaving the Verpine presumably in his usual place in the aft control room. That had been the procedure every day since they'd landed here, and there'd been nothing in the snatches of conversation she'd overheard that might indicate the routine had been changed. Briefly, she considered sneaking aft to again try to figure out what the Verpine was doing, but decided against it. Her last two efforts in that direction had failed to discover anything useful, and she couldn't see wasting any more time on it.
Which left her with the question of what exactly she should be wasting her time doing.
There weren't all that many options, actually. For the past three days, she'd followed Solo and the others to what the SE2 on desk duty had identified as an Imperial Library. The first two days she'd sneaked in behind them to watch; yesterday, tired of staring through a privacy field watching them punch computer keys all day, she'd left them inside and scouted around the building and neighborhood.
Now, having sneaked back aboard the ship last night, she had tested the theory that Shada might actually be meeting with the Verpine while Solo and the others were out. But that one had fallen through, too... and as far as Karoly could see, she was out of options. For all the evidence to date, Shada might not be coming here at all.
And that was an immensely irritating thought. It would mean she had completely misinterpreted that conversation she'd eavesdropped between Solo and Calrissian, and had come out here on a total wild tresher hunt.
Wherever "here" actually was. It was Imperial spacethat much had been obvious from the all-human populace even before she'd spotted her first Imperial Security uniform. But where in the Empire it actually was, she didn't know.
Not that it mattered all that much, except for the fact that if Solo and Calrissian managed to give her the slip it might mean trouble getting back home. Unlikely, thoughfrom the way they'd been talking this morning, whatever their objective was they were still a long way from achieving it.
Still, Karrde had been mentioned in that conversation, so maybe he was just being cagey. Another quick scout around the library's neighborhood, she decided, then tag Solo again when they took their usual early-afternoon meal break.
And maybe this time they would actually say something worth listening to. Easing down the corridor, alert for any sounds, she headed for the hatchway.
* * * "Another report from your new Empire, Your Excellency," Tierce said, laying a pair of datacards on Disra's desk. "The Ruurian governments have forwarded a copy of the fully executed treaty between their systems and the Empire."
"Systems?" Disra asked, picking up the datacard and frowning at it. "I thought our treaty was only with their home system."
"It was," Tierce said smugly. "Apparently, our little demonstration against those Diamalan Marauders convinced three of their independent colonies that they wanted to be on the winning side, too."
"Did it, now," Disra said, looking at the datacard with new interest. The Ruurian independent colonies were joint efforts with a half-dozen other species. "Did the other co-owners of those worlds agree?"
"Apparently so," Tierce said. "The treaties speak of the colony systems in their entireties, with no mention of specific regions or districts." He smiled. "Of course, the Ruurians are quite good at persuasion."
"They're not the only ones," Disra said, looki
ng across the room to where Flim was hunched over in a chair, staring moodily out a window. "Congratulations, Admiral. You've picked up three more systems."
Flim didn't answer, and Disra felt his lip twist with contempt. Apparently, the con man was still sulking.
"Don't worry," Tierce said, following Disra's glare. "He'll get over it soon enough."
"Or else he'll soon find himself impaled on a sharp pole somewhere out in Unknown Space," Flim growled without turning around. "Right next to the two of you."
Disra looked up at Tierce. "What's his problem?"
"Nothing serious," Tierce said, dismissing the con man with a wave of his hand. "He's worried about that alien ship, that's all."
"Ah," Disra said, smiling tightly. Yesthe mysterious alien ship which that sleeper cell pilot had spotted and made a recording of off Pakrik Minor. "What's the status on that, anyway?"
"The analysts should be finished anytime," Tierce assured him. "I have a feeling this may be it, Your Excellency."
Disra felt a shiver ripple up his back. "You really think that was the Hand of Thrawn in that ship?"
"You saw the design," Tierce pointed out. "Part TIE fighter, part something else. Yes, I think that's the Hand, or else his agent, or else someone from Captain Parck. Whichever, I think we may finally have lured our target into the open."
Flim made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat. "Like you might lure out a Death Star," he muttered.
"You're overdoing the melodrama just a bit, Admiral," Tierce said, his patience starting to sound a little strained. "Whoever they are, there are a dozen ways we can keep them from getting close enough to figure out you're a fraud."
"And what if they want to say hello?" Flim countered. "What are you going to say then? That I've got laryngitis? That I just stepped out for a week?"
"Hold it, both of you," Disra cut them off as the comm light on his desk began to blink. "This may be it."
He keyed the comm. "Moff Disra," he said.
The man on the display was middle-aged, with the slightly nearsighted look of someone who has spent long years staring at a computer display. "Colonel Uday, Your Excellency Imperial Intelligence Analysis. I have the final report on that record you sent me."
"Excellent," Disra said. "Send it immediately."
"Yes, sir," Uday said, glancing down and working keys off-camera. Another light on Disra's display winked on and then off again, marking the transfer. "I'm afraid there wasn't much we could get on the ship itself," Uday continued. "But what there was is in there."
"Thank you," Disra said, trying not to sound too impatient. The sooner he could cut off this garrulous fool, the sooner he and Tierce could start going over the report line by line. "You'll be receiving a commendation for your quick work."
"Two points, first, if I may, Your Excellency," Uday said, holding up two fingers.
"I'm sure it's all in your report," Disra said, reaching for the off switch. "Thank you"
"According to the note that accompanied the file, the sighting was made by a TIE fighter off Pakrik Minor," Uday said. "That turns out not to be the case."
Disra froze, finger poised over the switch. "Explain."
"The file is actually a compilation of two separate sightings," Uday said. "One was made in the Kauron system, we think, the other either in the Nosken or Drompani systems. Neither was made by a TIE fighter, either."
Disra threw a hard look at Tierce. The Royal Guardsman's face had turned to stone. "How do you know?" he demanded.
"That they didn't come from TIE fighters?" Uday asked. "The sensor profiles are all wrong. I'd guess an X-wing or A-wing for the first one, some kind of well-equipped warship for the second. Not a New Republic shipthe verification signature is wrong for that." The colonel shrugged. "As to where they were made, that's easily pulled from the background star patterns."
Disra took a careful breath. "Thank you, Colonel," he said. "You've been most helpful. As I said, a commendation will be forthcoming."
"Thank you, Your Excellency," Uday said.
Disra stabbed the comm switch, and the colonel's face vanished. "Well," the Moff said, looking at Tierce again. "It seems we've been lied to."
"It does indeed," Tierce said, his voice soft, his expression gone suddenly deadly. "I think, Your Excellency, that we have been betrayed."
Disra swore viciously. "That kriffing clone. That kriffing clone. We should never have trusted them. Thrawn should never have started this kriffing project in the first place."
"Calm down," Tierce said, his tone suddenly sharp. "Thrawn knew what he was doing. And don't forget that a good many of those clones died fighting for the Empire."
"They're still an abomination," Disra snarled. He'd spoken with clones; had ordered them into battle; had even sold them to the Cavrilhu Pirates in exchange for Zothip's precious Preybird starfighters. They still made his skin crawl. "And you can't trust any of them."
"Can we get off Carib Devist and clone treachery for a minute?" Flim put in tautly. "Seems to me the question ought to be why he sent us a faked record in the first place. What did he have to gain?"
Tierce took a deep breath, clearly forcing calmness into himself. "That is indeed the question. Disra, how did the record come in?"
"Aboard a drone probe from the Ubiqtorate contact station at Parshoone," Disra told him. "Sent by the agent in charge"
"Sent directly here?" Tierce cut him off. "No handoffs or course changes?"
"No," Disra said, one hand curling into a fist as it suddenly and belatedly struck him. "They wanted Bastion's location."
"And they got it," Tierce said darkly, his comlink already in his hand. "Major Tierce to Capital Security full background alert. Possible spies in the city; locate and put under surveillance. Do notrepeat, do notdetain at present. Confirmation from Moff Disra will be forthcoming."
He got an acknowledgment and keyed off. "You need to send them a confirmation, Your Excellency," he said.
"I know," Disra said, frowning at him. "Excuse me if I seem unusually dense today; but you don't want them detained? Spies or saboteurs in my city, and you don't want them detained?"
"I don't think they're saboteurs," Tierce said. "After all, they've been here at least a couple of days and nothing has blown up."
"Oh, that's comforting," Disra said icily. "Why don't you want them detained?"
"As Thrawn often said, within every problem lies an opportunity." Tierce shifted his gaze to the side. "It occurs to me we have an extremely interesting opportunity here."
Frowning, Disra followed his gaze...
"You'd better not be thinking what I think you're thinking," Flim warned, his eyes flicking uneasily back and forth between Tierce and Disra.
"Of course we are," Tierce assured him. "A Rebel spy team, being confronted personally by Grand Admiral Thrawn? It would be the perfect cap to your performance."
"The perfect slab under my funeral pyre, you mean," Flim shot back. "Are you crazy, Tierce? They get one glimpse of me, and you're going to have a martyred Grand Admiral on your hands."
"Which might not be such a bad idea," Disra growled, keying confirmation of Tierce's security alert into his board. "Tierce is rightthis is a perfect chance to demonstrate your omniscience."
"I can hardly wait," Flim said sourly, crossing his arms.
"Calm down, Admiral," Tierce said, nudging Disra aside and keying the display for a search grid overview. "We'll have them spotted in fifteen minutes, and the whole thing will be over in thirty."
There was a beep from the display. "Your Excellency?"
Muttering a curse, Disra keyed the comm switch. "Yes, what is it?"
A young, earnest-looking man appeared on the display. "Major Kerf, Your Excellency spaceport control," he identified himself. "I thought you'd like to know that his shuttle has just landed."
Disra shot a look over the display at Tierce, got a shrug in response. "Whose shuttle has just landed?"
"I thought you knew, sir," Kerf said
, looking a little bewildered. "He said he was on his way to the palace to see you, and I just assumed"
"Never mind your assumptions, Major," Disra snapped. "Who is it?"
"Why, the admiral, sir," Kerf stammered. "You knowAdmiral Pellaeon."
* * * The waiter at the open-air tapcafe set the plate of mesh-cooked trimpian slices down on the table, accepted payment with a not-quite sneer, and strolled his way back toward the overhang where the bar was located. "He's a real gem, isn't he," Lando grumbled, glaring after him.
"Probably figures M'challa scholars wouldn't know good service if it fell over them, so why bother," Han said, picking up one of the slices and dipping it into the yellow-swirled miasra sauce, being careful not to let the sleeve of his robe drag into it. Despite the fact they again had no progress to show for their morning's work, he was actually feeling better than he had earlier.
Lando, on the other hand, seemed to have caught his bad mood. "So what, that means our money's no good?" he growled. "I tell you, Han, they're getting cocky again."
"Yeah, I know," Han said, taking a bite as he looked out at the people hurrying along the streets bordering the tapcafe. Hurrying about their business, with a light step and an optimism they probably hadn't had in years. And it didn't take a genius to figure out why.
Grand Admiral Thrawn had returned.
"They have to realize they're still completely overmatched," he pointed out around his mouthful. "They've got, what, a thousand systems left?"
"It's not a lot," Lando agreed, snagging a piece of the trimpian for himself and dabbing it delicately into the miasra sauce. Lobot, Han noted, without the distraction of conversation or moodiness to slow him down, was already on his second slice. "But you sure wouldn't know it by looking at them."
"Yeah," Han said, looking around some more. Happy people, cheerful people, confident that the universe was about to open up and rain wonders down on them again. It was enough to turn a bad mood really rotten...