Vision of the future

CHAPTER

11

"So that's it, huh?" Wedge asked, leaning nonchalantly against one of the old-style Bothan lampposts that lined the park and gazing across the open expanse at the gleaming white dome in the center.

"That's it," Corran confirmed, frowning at his datapad. "At least, according to this it is." Wedge shifted his gaze to the periphery of the park, to the encircling street and the shops with their colorful trade flags that lined it. It was apparently market day, and hundreds of Bothan and alien pedestrians were milling through the area. "They must be nuts," he told Corran. "Putting a target like that—"

He broke off as a couple of Duros brushed past him and headed off at an angle across the park.

"In a public area," he continued in a lower tone, "is just begging for trouble."

"On the other hand, having a pole of your planetary shield array inside your capital city pretty much guarantees the safety of that city," Corran pointed out. "That's going to be comforting to all the offworlders who do business here."

"The Bothans always have been big on image," Wedge conceded sourly. Even so, he had to admit the place wasn't nearly as vulnerable as it looked. According to the data Bel Iblis had pulled for them, the dome was constructed of a special permasteel alloy, had no windows and only one door, and was filled with armed guards and automated defenses. The shield generator equipment itself was two floors underground, with a self-contained backup power supply, a room full of spare parts, and a cadre of on-duty techs who could allegedly take the entire system apart and put it back together again in two hours flat.

"True; but image apart, they've also never been slouches at guarding their own rear ends," Corran pointed out. "They'll have safeguards seven ways from—"

He stopped as a group of Bothans, chattering animatedly to each other, pushed their way between the two humans. A pair of stragglers following the main group were even more self-absorbed; one of them ran straight into Wedge, nearly knocking him over.

"My entire clan's apologies, sir," he gasped, his fur rippling with shame and embarrassment as he backed rapidly away directly toward Corran. Corran tried to sidestep, but the Bothan was already moving too fast and slammed into him, too.

"You clumsy fool," the second Bothan berated him, grabbing Corran's arm to help him regain his balance. "You will indebt our entire clan to the sun-death of Bothawui. Our greatest apologies, kind sirs. Are either of you injured?"

"No, we're fine," Wedge assured him. He glanced at Corran for confirmation, caught just the hint of a frown creasing the other's forehead. "On second thought—"

"Excellent, excellent," the Bothan continued, clearly not really interested in the answer to his question as he took his companion's arm and steered them both toward the shops. "A fine and friendsome day to you, then, fine sirs."

Wedge moved close to Corran's side, watching as the two Bothans nearly ran down an old human woman at the edge of the crowd and then vanished into the general pedestrian flow. "What's the matter?" he murmured. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Corran said slowly, his frown deepening. "There was just something that felt wrong about—"

Abruptly, he slapped at his tunic, his frown exploding into a look of utter consternation. "Droyk!

He took my wallet!"

"What?" Wedge snapped, grabbing for his own pocket.

And finding it empty. "Oh, sh—"

"Come on," Corran bit out, diving into the crowd.

"I don't believe this," Wedge snarled, diving in after him. "How in space did they pull that off?"

"I don't know," Corran called over his shoulder, shoving one pedestrian after another aside. "I would have sworn I knew all the tricks. I don't suppose you happened to notice the clan sigil they were wearing?"

"I saw it, but I didn't recognize it," Wedge told him, feeling like a complete and blithering fool. Everything they had—money, credit chits, and both their civilian and military IDs—were in those wallets. "The general's going to kill us if we don't get them back."

"Yeah—one at a time and very slowly," Corran agreed darkly. He shouldered his way through one last clump of pedestrians into a temporarily open spot on the walkway and stopped. "Anything?" he asked, craning his neck to look over the crowds.

"Nothing," Wedge said, looking around and wondering what in the name of Ackbar's aunt they were going to do now. The Bothan government didn't know they were here, and would probably be furious if they found out. Ditto for any New Republic officials. "I don't suppose you might be able to, ah—?"

"If I couldn't pick up anything when they were right next to me, I'm not likely to be able to do it at this distance," Corran said, sounding thoroughly disgusted with himself. "I hope you've got a backup plan ready."

"I thought you brought it," Wedge countered glumly. Unfortunately, about all they could do now was get back on their shuttle and rejoin the Peregrine at Ord Trasi. General Bel Iblis, it was rumored, had an awesome repertoire of Corellian invective that only came to the surface when he was absolutely furious. Wedge himself had never personally been able to confirm the rumor. It seemed likely he would soon have the chance to do so. "You're never going to live this one down with Mirax," he warned with a sigh.

"Right—like you're going to be able to live it down with Iella," Corran growled back.

"Hey, there, my fine young boys. Join me for a drink?"

Wedge turned, to find an old woman with bright eyes standing beside him. "What?"

"I asked you to join me for a drink," she repeated. "It's such a warm day, and all that bright sunlight is hard on old eyes like mine."

"Sorry, but we're a little busy right now," Corran said brusquely, standing on tiptoe to peer again over the crowd.

"You young people," the woman said reproachfully. "Always too busy to sit down and enjoy life. Too busy to listen to the wisdom of the aged."

Wedge grimaced, turning his attention back to the crowd and hoping the old fool would take the hint. What she was doing ore-digging on the streets of Drev'starn in the first place he couldn't imagine.

"Look, ma'am, I'm sorry—"

"But too busy to share a drink with a lonely old lady?" she went on, her voice turning sorrowful.

"That's just plain scandalous. Especially when the lonely old lady is buying." Wedge looked back, searching for a firm yet polite way to get her off his back. "Look, ma'am—" And paused. Her hand had come up now and was holding two items up for his inspection. Two small, black folders.

Their wallets.

Wedge felt his mouth drop open a few millimeters, focusing for the first time on her face. It was the same woman the two pickpockets had bumped into during their hasty getaway. "Ah, Corran?" he said, reaching out and taking the wallets from the woman's hand. "Never mind."

"Wha—?" Corran demanded, the word strangling off midway as Wedge held out his wallet to him. Warily, he took it, his eyes leaving the woman just long enough to confirm that everything was still there. "May I ask how you came into possession of these?" The woman chuckled, shaking her head. "You CorSec people are a stitch. Do they program you for sound, or just feed you the manuals?"

Corran glanced at Wedge. "We like to be precise," he said, his voice cautiously offended. "And it's former CorSec."

"Whatever," she said with a shrug. "Either way, you boys ought to be more careful—those are nice family holos you've got in there, and I'd hate to see you lose them. Now, Wedge, how about that drink? We really do have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, why not?" Wedge agreed cautiously, a whole list of unpleasant possibilities running through his mind. If she fingered them to the local criminal groups—or worse, to the Vengeance organization—or even if she merely demanded a hefty reward—"You obviously already know our names. And you are...?"

"Moranda Savich," she said. "Sort of a second-string employee of your old friend Talon Karrde.

"And on second thought, you two are buying."

* * *

The waiter droid delivered their drinks, spilling the obligatory few drops onto the carved stone table, accepted Wedge's coin, and departed. "Chakta sai kae," Moranda said, lifting her glass. "Did I get it right, Corran? I've never been sure of the proper Corellian pronunciation for that toast."

"Close enough," Corran growled, lifting his gaze with obvious reluctance from the datapad and looking at Wedge. "Well?"

Wedge shrugged. "It looked okay to me."

" 'Okay' isn't good enough," Corran said darkly. "I also notice that the only way to confirm that this letter of introduction is really from Karrde would be to run the ID codes through Coruscant."

"So get your tails over to the New Republic liaison office and have them do that," Moranda said, taking a long drink of the pale blue-green liqueur she'd ordered. "We aren't exactly fat on time here, you know."

"Yes," Wedge murmured, trying to read that so totally unconcerned face. "Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately, you can't do that?" she suggested, peering at Wedge over her glass. "Yes, I thought so. Awkward."

"Why do you say that?" Corran demanded.

"Why do I say what?" Moranda countered. "That you're on your own, or that that's awkward?"

"The first," Corran said. "You sound like you almost expected that."

"Oh, come on," she said scornfully. "I did get a long look into your wallets, remember. What other conclusion is there when you've got your military IDs buried back behind the civilian ones?"

"Exactly," Corran said, fixing her with the kind of glare that Wedge decided was probably standard Corellian Security issue. "Which means you already knew we couldn't check up on this story before you spun it for us."

"And what, created that on the fly?" she asked, pointing toward the datacard still in his datapad.

"Or had it sitting in with your collection of a dozen other forgeries," Corran shot back. "How are we supposed to know?"

Lifting her glass, Moranda drained it. "Never mind," she said, getting to her feet. "I assumed we were on the same side here, and thought we might be able to help each other. Apparently we can't. Try to hold on to your wallets a little better next time."

Wedge looked at Corran, caught the other's fractional nod. "Please; sit down, Moranda," he said, half rising from his own chair and catching her arm. It felt painfully thin beneath her sleeve. "Please." She paused, throwing a speculative look at each of them. Then, smiling tightly at Wedge, she resumed her seat. "A test, I presume. Did I pass?"

"Well enough for us to at least listen some more," Wedge told her. "Let's start with exactly why you're here."

"Presumably the same reason you are," she said. "Karrde sees an explosion coming, with the Bothans in the middle of it, and wants to see if there are outside forces planning to squeeze the detonators."

"And you're all he could spare?" Corran suggested.

"Hardly," Moranda said. "He's got people all over the New Republic tracking personnel and equipment movements. Other people are sifting through every report and hint and speculation that crops up. I just happen to be the one on the ground here."

"With what instructions?" Wedge asked.

Moranda nodded in the direction of the tapcafe door. "There's a lot of firepower in orbit up there," she said. "They could start shooting at each other anytime. But if anyone wants to take a poke at Bothawui itself, they'll have to get rid of the planetary shields first. Karrde asked me to keep an eye on them."

"Is that why you were hanging around the Drev'starn generator?" Wedge asked. "Trying to see how someone might get inside?"

"I'd already done that," she said. "Actually, I was out there today seeing if I could spot anyone else casing the place." She smiled maliciously. "Which is why I latched on to you two. No offense, but you stand out in a crowd like a Wookiee at a Noghri family reunion." Wedge nodded as understanding struck. "Is that why you had our pockets picked? So you could find out who we were?"

Moranda's thin lips twitched. "As a matter of fact, no, I didn't. I just happened to be watching when those Bothans lifted your stuff and made sure I'd be in position to lift it back from them." Wedge looked at Corran. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That someone may have noticed us," Corran said, running a careful glance around the tapcafe.

"Could be. I don't suppose you might have any idea where those two pickpockets might have gone to ground, do you?"

"Sorry," Moranda said, shaking her head. "I only got here a couple of days ago and haven't had a chance to link up with the local fringe."

"But you could link up with them if you wanted to?" Wedge asked, still trying to get a feel for this woman. Karrde he more or less trusted; but Karrde had a huge organization, and he couldn't possibly know everyone in it personally. Moranda Savich could easily be playing both ends against the middle, or bleeding Karrde's organization for her own purposes, or even just using him for free room and board whenever she was between more unsavory jobs. If someone from Vengeance, say, were to offer her a big enough pot of money to betray him and Corran, would she do it?

Moranda sighed. "Look, Wedge," she said quietly. "I used to do a fair amount of con work, and in con work you learn how to read people's faces. I can tell you don't trust me. And I really don't blame you—we have just met, after all. But I've got that letter from Karrde, and I did get your wallets back. Offhand, I don't know what else I can do to persuade you."

"But you do want to persuade us," Corran said.

She smiled, a tight, brittle thing. "I was given an assignment," she said simply. Wedge suppressed a grimace. He still felt odd about this, but her arguments did seem to make sense. If anything turned up later, Corran's Jedi senses would hopefully pick it up. "All right," he said.

"For the moment, at least, let's pool resources. Any suggestions?"

"Well, obviously, the first thing we need to do is find out if anyone suspicious has arrived since that orbiting research station was destroyed a week ago," Moranda said, her tone all business now.

"That's what started this whole military buildup, after all. If Vengeance decided to take advantage of that, they may have needed to move more of their people here."

"Vengeance or anyone else," Corran murmured. "The Empire, for example."

"Seems reasonable," Wedge agreed. "There's only one problem. That information is locked up over in the Bothawui Customs computers, and we haven't got access to it."

"Oh, that's no problem," Moranda assured him with an airy wave of her hand. "Come on, finish up, and we'll go to your place and talk about it."

"Sure," Wedge said, taking a long sip from his as yet untouched drink and getting to his feet. Whatever happened here, he decided, this was going to be most interesting. Not that that was necessarily a good thing.

* * *

"Really?" Navett said into his comlink, looking up as Klif came into the Exoticalia Pet Emporium and closed the door behind him. "Hey, that's great. When can I come by and pick 'em up?"

"Anytime you wish," the Bothan Customs official's voice came from the comlink. From the background came the faint sound of a sneeze. "Preferably soon," he added.

"You bet we will," Navett said cheerfully. "Got customers coming in already wantin' to see what we got, and we have to tell 'em we haven't got anything yet. We can come over now, right?"

"I believe I've already answered that question," the Bothan replied as another sneeze sounded in the background.

"Oh—right," Navett said as Klif came over. "Great. Thanks a lot."

"A day of peace and profit to you."

"Yeah, same to you."

He shut the comlink off. "We're in," he told Klif, putting the instrument away. "And from the sneezing, I'd say at least some of the Bothans are allergic to our little polpians."

"Should make them eager to get rid of them," Klif said.

"I think it already did," Navett agreed. "You see Horvic?" Klif nodded. "He and Pensin are in as maintenance staff for that Ho'Din dive two blocks back from the shield generator. Post-closing shift."

"Perfect," Navett said. If their schematics were right, that tapcafe was directly over one of the underground conduits carrying power cables into the place.

"Yeah." Klif's face soured. "Now for the bad news. The two Bothan lifters we hired muffed the job."

Navett swore. He should have known better than to trust local talent. "They get caught?"

"According to them, the actual lift went smooth as lake ice." Klif grimaced. "It's just that when they got back to me, they didn't have the wallets anymore."

Navett felt his eyes narrow. "What do you mean, they didn't have them?"

"Just what I said: they lost them. Best guess is that someone in the crowd saw them lift the wallets and returned the favor."

"You're sure they didn't just pocket the cash themselves?"

Klif shrugged. "Not absolutely sure, no. But it's hard to believe a pair of New Rep agents would be carrying more cash than I was offering." He pursed his lips. "Unless, of course, they aren't New Rep agents."

Navett pulled over a chair and settled thoughtfully into it. Could he have been mistaken about them?

"No," he answered his own question. "No, they're New Rep, all right. Probably military, too, from the look of them. The question is, who is this new skifter who's joined the party?"

"You don't think it was just another lifter taking advantage of the situation?" Klif asked. Navett cocked an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"No, not really," Klif said heavily. "Too much danger of getting caught with the goods when the marks woke up."

"My point exactly," Navett said. "No, they've picked up a fringe ally. A very good fringe ally, too, from the sound of it."

Klif hissed softly between his teeth. "We don't have anyone to spare for a proper surveillance," he reminded Navett. "Maybe we ought to get rid of them."

Navett scratched his cheek. It was a tempting suggestion. A tricky job on a tight timetable was bad enough without New Rep military agents snooping around. If they could be quietly eliminated...

"No," he said. "Not yet. They can't possibly be on to us. We'll keep an eye out, and if they seem to be taking too much interest in us we may have to do something about it. But for right now, we'll let them be."

Klif's lip twitched. "You're the boss," he said. "I hope you're not making a mistake."

"If I am, it's a mistake that's easily corrected," Navett said, standing up. "Come on. Let's put on our earnest-but-stupid faces and go get our animals."

CHAPTER

12

From somewhere in the far distance came the warbling call of Noghri combat code. "The ship is approaching," Barkhimkh translated. "Sakhisakh can see it."

"I'll take his word for it," Leia said. Hemmed in by the closely spaced trees that clustered on this small hill overlooking Pakrik Minor's North Barris Spaceport, she could see precious little but greenery around her, a minuscule patch of blue sky directly above her, and the landspeeder they'd borrowed from Sabmin beneath her.

A slightly awkward situation, in her opinion, and probably unnecessary, besides. Given that that transmission had carried Bel Iblis's personal signature code and bridgebreak confirmation, it could be no one but the general on that incoming ship. But her Noghri guards hadn't wanted her to show herself until the ship's occupant was positively identified, and for the sake of their concerns she had agreed to do this their way.

She could hear the approaching ship now. "Sounds pretty small," she said, running through her Jedi sensory enhancement exercises to boost the distant whine into something clearer.

"It does indeed," Barkhimkh's quiet agreement boomed uncomfortably loudly in her sensitized hearing. "I will observe."

There was the crash of a body moving through foliage, the thunderous noise fading to whispers as Leia reduced her hearing back to its normal level. In the distance she heard the whine blip up, then drop off sharply as the ship settled onto its pad and powered down.

The sound faded away completely, and for a long minute there was nothing but the rustling of leaves around her. Leia waited, wondering what was going on out there. The grandly named spaceport was actually little more than a large open field with a handful of permacrete landing pads scattered around; it shouldn't take this long for Sakhisakh to get over to the ship and check it out. Unless there was some kind of trouble. She stretched out to the Force, seeking guidance... And then, drifting in on the breeze, came a second Noghri battle call. "There is no danger, and we may come," Barkhimkh said from her side, his voice slightly puzzled. "But he warns that all is not as expected."

Leia frowned. Not as expected? "What does that mean? Isn't Garm there?"

"I do not know," Barkhimkh said, climbing into the landspeeder and keying its repulsorlifts. "I could see only that the ship was indeed small, as you had already ascertained, and that it bore no markings."

"No markings?" Leia asked carefully. "None?"

"None that I could see," Barkhimkh said again, easing the landspeeder through the trees. "Perhaps at a closer distance they will be visible."

Aside from a dilapidated grain freighter at the far end of the field, the newcomer was the only ship in sight. It was indeed a small vessel, probably a two-person craft, with the lines of a diplomatic shuttle but of a design Leia couldn't remember ever having seen before. At the bow, where a diplomatic ship would have carried governmental markings, there was nothing. Midway along the side, the hatchway stood open, with a short ramp leading down from it to the permacrete. "Has Sakhisakh gone inside?" she asked.

"Yes," Barkhimkh answered. "He is waiting with the pilot and passenger." Pilot and passenger? Leia nodded mechanically, her eyes on the ship's bow. Now, as they neared the craft, she could see for the first time that there were indeed faint markings on the hull where some sort of insignia had once been.

And even with just the outlines visible, there was something vaguely familiar about the design. Something that was triggering an equally vague but nevertheless disturbing memory... The landspeeder came to a stop at the ramp. "Councilor Organa Solo," Sakhisakh called down gravely from the open hatchway. "Your visitor humbly requests the honor of your presence."

"Of course," Leia said, matching the Noghri's formal tone. Sakhisakh knew Bel Iblis quite well; who could be in there that would make him go all formal this way? "Would my visitor like to present his request in person?"

"He would," Sakhisakh said, bowing slightly and stepping back out of the hatchway. And as he did so, a new figure stepped into view. A tall humanoid, covered with soft golden down, with subtle purple markings around his eyes and shoulders. "Peace to you, High Councilor Leia Organa Solo," he said, his voice smooth and rich, yet with an undertone of deep and ancient sadness to it. "I am Elegos A'kla, Trustant for the Caamasi Remnant. Will you join me aboard my ship?" Leia swallowed hard as the memories came flooding back. Her visit as a child to the secret Caamasi refugee camps on Alderaan, and the hundreds of colorful flags flying Caamasi family crests that she'd seen there.

Crests like the one that had been removed from the bow of Elegos's ship. "Yes, Trustant A'kla," she said. "I would be honored."

"Please forgive my intrusion upon your privacy," the Caamasi said, backing away as she started up the ramp. "I am told you and your bondmate came here for rest, and I would not normally have violated your aloneness. But I greatly wished to speak with you; and the one whom I brought with me said his errand was important to the point of terrible urgency."

"And that person is?" Leia asked as she stepped into the ship, stretching out with the Force. There was definitely someone else here. Someone familiar...

"I believe you are acquainted with him," Elegos said, stepping out of the way to the side. And there in a chair in the back of the room, squirming nervously under Sakhisakh's watchful eye—

"Ghent!" Leia exclaimed. "What in the name of the Force are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you right away," Ghent said, his voice sounding even more nervous than he looked as he bounded out of the chair. "I wanted General Bel Iblis, but he's missing and I can't get hold of him. And you're President of the New Republic and all, so—"

"I'm not actually President at the moment, Ghent," Leia interrupted him gently. "I'm on a leave of absence. Ponc Gavrisom is in charge of the government."

Ghent blinked in surprise, and in spite of the seriousness in his manner Leia had to fight to keep from smiling. Ghent had once been Talon Karrde's top slicer, with such an awesome talent for breaking into and otherwise manipulating computer systems that Bel Iblis had made it his personal goal to lure the kid away from Karrde's organization. In the years since the general had succeeded in doing so, Ghent had proved himself over and over, rising steadily through the ranks until he now held the post of Crypt Chief.

But away from his beloved computers, the young man was about as naive and innocent and lost as it was humanly possible to be. The fact that, living in the heart of Coruscant, he'd still managed to miss Leia's leave of absence entirely was just about normal for him.

"Perhaps she can still be of assistance," Elegos suggested, stepping into Ghent's embarrassed consternation with typical Caamasi aplomb. "Why don't you tell her why you're here?"

"Yeah, sure," Ghent said, recovering his voice and digging a datapad out of an old and worn holder on his belt. "You see, General Bel Iblis gave me a datacard—"

"One moment," Sakhisakh's harsh voice cut him off. "Was it you who sent Councilor Organa Solo a message over Bel Iblis's name?"

"Well, uh... yeah," Ghent admitted, eyeing the Noghri warily. "I wanted the general, you see, but I couldn't get to him. And I found out Leia was here—"

"What do you mean you couldn't get to him?" Leia interrupted. "Where is he? Has something happened?"

"No, no, he's off in Kothlis system," Ghent assured her quickly, his eyes reluctantly shifting away from the Noghri to her. "Some kind of ship buildup—I don't know what for. But I couldn't get a message through to him, not even with top clearance codes. So when I found out you were here—"

"How did you find out she was here?" Sakhisakh demanded.

Ghent squirmed again. "Well... it was in Gavrisom's files. I mean, I wouldn't usually slice into High Council stuff, but it was really important. And then I met him—" He waved helplessly at Elegos.

"I was waiting at your office for you," the Caamasi spoke up, his voice sending a wave of welcome calmness through the room. "As my two colleagues made clear when you spoke with them, we are deeply concerned about the direction this matter has taken. Now, with overt threats toward the Bothan people, that concern has been greatly magnified."

He shrugged, the gesture rippling through his entire back up to his shoulders. "I had of course planned to wait until you returned to speak further with you. But Crypt Chief Ghent was so insistent that he see you immediately that I offered him transport, provided he was able to locate you."

"And provided he could use Garm's private signature code to make sure I'd come to the spaceport?" Leia asked, lifting her eyebrows at Ghent.

The young slicer winced. "I didn't think you'd come if it was just me," he muttered. Leia suppressed a sigh. Yes, that was indeed classic Ghent. In actual fact, his name and expertise carried enormous weight among the upper levels of the New Republic government. Another fact he'd undoubtedly missed completely.

And as for bringing Elegos along, Ghent probably didn't have the faintest idea of how to fly a starship himself. Frustrating and annoying, but it all fit. "All right, relax," she said. "The interrogation is over, and all is at least temporarily forgiven. Now. What is this errand that was worth breaking half a dozen laws for?"

Wincing again, Ghent handed her the datapad in his hand. "It's really a message for Bel Iblis," he said. "But—look, just read it, okay?"

Leia took the datapad and keyed it on. On the other hand, she couldn't help wondering, if she'd known that it was only Ghent and not Bel Iblis who wanted to see her, would she have pushed harder for Han to take her along on his trip into the heart of the Empire? Even without Ghent's message the reasons had seemed right and proper at the time. But still...

And then the words popped onto the datapad display... and an icy chill ran through her. "Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice sounding unreal through the sudden pounding in her ears.

"General Bel Iblis brought it back from Morishim," Ghent said, his voice trembling now, too.

"There was a Corellian Corvette that came into the system, only a Star Destroyer caught up with it and took it away."

"I remember reading Garm's private report on that," Leia said. "He wanted the incident kept quiet while he tried to find out what it was all about."

"Well, this was a transmission from the Corvette," Ghent said. "It was all mangled up, but I was able to sort through the jamming and untangle it." He took a noisy breath. "You see why I had to get it to someone right away?"

Leia nodded silently, staring down at the message.

— is Colonel Meizh Vermel, special envoy from Admiral Pellaeon, sent here to contact General Bel Iblis concerning the negotiation of a peace treaty between the Empire and New Republic. My ship is under attack by traitorous elements of the Empire, and I do not expect to survive. If the New Republic agrees to hold such discussions, Admiral Pellaeon will be at the abandoned gas mining center on Pesitiin in one month to meet with you. Repeating: This is Colonel Meizh Vermel...

"Councilor?" Sakhisakh murmured quietly from across the room. "Is there trouble?" Leia looked up at the Noghri, almost startled to find him there as thoughts swirled through her mind. A peace treaty. Not a temporary truce, but an actual, genuine peace. Something she'd been looking for and longing for since the days of Emperor Palpatine and her own youthful decision to oppose him and all he stood for.

And here it was, being offered to them by the Supreme Commander of the entire Imperial Fleet. Or was it? Pellaeon was only offering to negotiate, after all. Were there preconditions that would be brought up at such a meeting, conditions that would turn the whole exercise into little more than a waste of time or, worse, a propaganda coup for the Empire?

Or was it worse even than that? Was it some sort of trap?

"Councilor?" Sakhisakh repeated, stepping to her side, his large black eyes gazing with concern up at her. "What disturbs you?"

Wordlessly, she handed the datapad to him. Because Pellaeon probably wasn't in charge of the Empire anymore. If Lando was to be believed—and if that wasn't some sort of trick itself—Grand Admiral Thrawn had returned.

And with Thrawn, nothing was ever what it seemed. Ever.

Sakhisakh spat something vicious-sounding in the Noghri language. "You cannot believe this," he growled, thrusting the datapad back at Ghent as if it were something unclean he was disgusted to even touch. "The Empire is the embodiment of lies and treachery. It will never be otherwise."

"It's often been that way, yes," Leia agreed soberly. "On the other hand—"

"There is no other hand!" Sakhisakh snarled. "They betrayed and murdered my people. They betrayed and murdered your people."

"I know," Leia murmured, the old ache rising again like acid in her throat.

"And if Thrawn has indeed cheated death," the Noghri went on, his voice turning to something deadly, "then there is even more reason to reject anything the Empire might say."

"Probably," Leia said. And yet...

"May I see it?" Elegos asked.

Leia hesitated. Technically, this was highly confidential New Republic business... "Yes, of course," she said, handing the datapad to him, her Force-sensitized instincts overruling the strict legalities of the situation. Before the destruction of their world, the Caamasi had been among the greatest mediators and negotiators the Old Republic had ever known, their skills in such matters rivaling even those of the Jedi. Elegos might well have some insight that would help her sort it all out. For a long minute, the Caamasi studied the datapad in silence. Then, his blue-on-green eyes glittering with emotion, he lifted his gaze to her again. "I see no alternative," he said. "Yes, it may be a trap, but that is not certain. And if there is even a small chance that Admiral Pellaeon is sincere, that chance must be explored."

Sakhisakh regarded the other suspiciously. "I have long admired the Caamasi, Trustant A'kla," he said, his voice on the edge of challenging. "But in this, you speak the words of an unweaned child. Do you truly suggest Bel Iblis walk openly into the Empire's hands?"

"You misunderstand, my friend," Elegos said calmly. "I offer no such course for General Bel Iblis. Indeed, as you have already pointed out, it would be impossible even to suggest it to him."

"Why?" Leia asked.

"Because as Ghent has discovered, we have no means of communicating quickly with him," Elegos said. "And speed is vital, because this opportunity may even now be closing." He touched the datapad. "I do not know when the Morishim incident took place, but it is clear that forces opposing Admiral Pellaeon have already begun to gather against him. Even if all overt attacks have failed, he cannot wait forever for Coruscant's response."

Sakhisakh threw a wary glance at Leia. "Who then do you suggest be asked to walk into the Empire's hands?"

Elegos shook his head. "There is no need to ask anyone," he told the Noghri. "The choice is apparent and obvious. I will go."

Sakhisakh seemed taken aback. "You?"

"Of course," Elegos said. "Councilor Organa Solo, I have an obligation to return Ghent to Coruscant. If you will accept that obligation upon yourself, I can leave for Pesitiin immediately." Leia sighed. Now, at last, she understood why it had seemed right for her to let Han go to Bastion alone while she waited here. "There's no need, Elegos," she said. "You can take him back yourself. I'll be the one going to Pesitiin."

Sakhisakh made a noise in his throat. "I cannot allow you to do that, Councilor Organa Solo," he rumbled. "To step into such danger—"

"I'm sorry, Sakhisakh," Leia said gently. "But as Elegos said, there's only one choice possible. I'm the only one here who has the authority to negotiate on behalf of the New Republic."

"Then bring someone else in from Coruscant," the Noghri demanded.

"As Elegos has also said, we don't have time," Leia said. "If Pellaeon is on schedule, he's been at Pesitiin for eleven days already. I have to go, and I have to go now." She took a deep breath. "If you can't handle dealing with Imperials, I'll certainly understand. I can take the Falcon and go alone."

"Please do not insult me," Sakhisakh said darkly. "Barkhimkh and I will of course accompany you. Even to death, if that is what awaits us."

"Thank you," Leia said. "Thank you, too, Ghent, for bringing this to me. You did the right thing, flagrant illegalities and all. Trustant A'kla, I thank you too for your assistance here."

"Wait a minute," Ghent said, his eyes looking confused again. "You're going out there? Alone?"

"Not alone," Sakhisakh growled. "We will be with her."

"Yeah, sure," Ghent said, looking back and forth between Leia and Elegos. "I meant... Elegos?

Can't you—you know?"

"Travel alongside her?" the Caamasi said. "Certainly, I would be more than willing to do so. Though I have no official standing with the New Republic, my people have some small skills at negotiation." He regarded Ghent thoughtfully. "But as I have already explained, I have the prior obligation of returning you to Coruscant."

"Unless you're willing to take a shuttle over to Pakrik Major and find a liner to take you back," Leia suggested.

"But I didn't mean for you to—" Ghent's face twisted into something almost painful-looking. "I mean, I only brought you the message because—"

He sighed, a great exhaling of air that seemed to shrink him down like a collapsing balloon.

"Okay," he said in resignation. "Yeah, okay. Sure, I'll go with you, too. Why not?" Leia blinked. It was not the decision she'd been expecting from him. "I appreciate the offer, Ghent," she said. "But it's really not necessary."

"No, no—don't try to talk me out of it," Ghent said. "I got you into this—might as well stick through to the end. Everybody says I need to get out more, anyway." Leia glanced at Elegos, caught the other's microscopic nod. Apparently, three days alone in a two-man ship with a Caamasi had done Ghent a world of good.

Or else the young slicer was finally beginning to grow up.

"All right," she said. "Thank you. Thank you all." She glanced around the room. "We'll have to take the Falcon, I'm afraid—this ship is too small for all of us. It's about a twenty-minute landspeeder ride away."

"Then let us go," Elegos said, gently prodding. "There is little time to spare." Five minutes later they were racing across the Pakrik Minor landscape, the whistling of the wind the only sound as the five occupants sat wrapped in the silence of their own thoughts. What the others were thinking during that trip Leia never learned. But for herself, a new and disturbing thought had suddenly occurred to her. A Jedi, she knew, could often see or sense into the future and, as she herself had often done, could similarly gain a sense of the Tightness of the path being taken or the Jedi's own position along that path. She was seeing that rightness for herself now. But could any Jedi, she wondered, see ahead to his or her own death? Or would the path leading to that moment always remain in darkness? Feeling right and proper, perhaps, all the way up to the point of passage?

She didn't know. Perhaps this would be the path where she would find out.

CHAPTER

13

From the far aft cabin, the warbling of the Wild Karrde's bridge battle alert was a quiet, almost subtle thing. But Shada had been trained to notice subtle things, and she was awake and out of bed before the distant trilling had finished its down scale and shut off. Throwing on her robe, stuffing her blaster into a side pocket, she headed for the bridge.

The corridors were deserted. Shada picked up her pace, ears cocked for the noise of battle or the straining engines that would indicate escape or evasion. But the ship was eerily quiet, with the steady drone of the drive and her own softly slapping footsteps the only sounds she could hear. Ahead, the bridge door slid open at her approach; slipping her hand into her robe pocket and getting a grip on her blaster, she charged through the doorway.

And skidded to a slightly confused halt. The bridge crew were seated in their normal positions, some of them looking questioningly back at her abrupt entrance. Ahead, out the viewport, the mottled sky of hyperspace was rolling past.

"Hello, Shada," Karrde said, looking up from the engineering monitor where he and Pormfil had apparently been consulting on something. "I thought you were still sleeping. What brings you here at this hour?"

"Your battle alert—what did you think?" Shada countered, looking around again. "What's going on, a drill?"

"Not quite," Karrde said, stepping over to her. "My apologies; I didn't think you'd be able to hear the alert where you were."

"Listening for trouble is part of my job," she said tartly. "What is this 'not quite' drill of yours?"

"We're coming up on the Episol system and the world Dayark," Karrde explained. "There's a fair chance we'll run into some trouble when we come out of hyperspace." Shada looked out the viewport. "That rogue pirate gang Bombaasa told us about?"

"Possibly," Karrde said. "Word of our voyage has undoubtedly preceded us."

"Not to mention word of your identity," Shada said.

Karrde's lip twitched. "Regardless, after that ship we spotted hanging around our Jangelle course change point, I thought it best if we hit the Episol system prepared."

"Sounds reasonable," Shada said. "Except for the part about you not thinking I needed to be informed."

"I didn't think there would be anything you could do," Karrde said mildly. "Unless they board us—which I guarantee they will not do—there won't be any hand-to-hand combat."

"Hand-to-hand is hardly my sole area of expertise," Shada said stiffly. "Or didn't I mention I'm fully qualified to handle those turbolasers of yours?"

The whole bridge had taken on an air of watchful silence. "You hadn't mentioned that, no," Karrde said. "But at this point it's largely irrelevant. The turbolaser bays are by necessity somewhat exposed, and if there's trouble I'd rather have you here where it's—well—"

"Where it's safe?" Shada finished for him. "Why, because it might not be pirates waiting for us out there?"

Dankin turned half around from the helm to look at Karrde. He opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it, and turned back around again.

"It's not Car'das," Karrde said, his voice carefully controlled. "Not here. If he was going to hit us at a distance, he'd have done so already. That means he's decided to wait until we reach Exocron."

"It's always nice to have something to look forward to," Shada growled. "In that case, let me take one of the turbolasers. I'm at least as good as Balig—probably better than Chal."

"We could put Chal at the spotting station," Dankin murmured. Karrde's lip twitched, but he nodded. "All right, we'll see what you can do. Dankin, tell Chal to come back and take over spotting. H'sishi, how are we for timing?"

[We are four minutes one-half from arrival,] the Togorian at the sensor station said, her yellow eyes studying Shada with unblinking intensity.

"You'd best get up there," Karrde said to Shada, nodding toward the bridge door. "It's turbolaser two."

"I know," Shada said. "I'll check in when I'm ready." Three minutes later she was strapped into the control console facing the big transparisteel bubble, running a prefire checklist and fighting back twenty years' worth of ghosts of other such battles, first with the Mistryl and then with Mazzic's smugglers. With most of those battles she'd been lucky enough to be on the winning side. With the others...

"Shada, this is Chal," the young man's voice came through her comm headset. "You ready?"

"Almost," Shada said, watching as the last of the self-check lights went green. "Yes, ready."

"Okay." If Chal was annoyed at having been summarily kicked out of his post, it didn't show in his voice. "Stay sharp; we're counting down now. Starting at ten... mark." She listened with half an ear to the countdown, her hands resting on the controls, her eyes already starting the combat scan pattern her Mistryl instructors had taught her so long ago. The count reached zero, the mottled sky flared to starlines and shrank to stars—

And with a terrific jolt a laser bolt slammed hard into the Wild Karrde's side.

[Seven targets waiting,] H'sishi snarled, the tone of her voice giving Shada the mental picture of all that gray-white fur standing on end. [Small attack vessels— Corsair-class.]

"Confirmed on number and class," Chal added. "Bearings—" The targeting recitation was drowned out in the hissing roar of her turbolaser as Shada swung the weapon around and fired. One of the Corsairs, trying to sneak in under the freighter's docking bay, caught the burst squarely on its left flank and flashed into dust. His wingman, dodging most of the debris, scrambled wildly for distance but succeeded only in flying straight into a burst from Griv's turbolaser. What remained of the craft continued outward on an inertial trajectory, blazing like a flying funeral pyre.

"Two down!" Chal crowed. "Make that three."

"Everyone stay sharp," Karrde's calmer voice said. "We caught them by surprise this time. They know what to expect now."

Shada nodded silent agreement, taking a quick look at her tactical display. The four remaining Corsairs had pulled back, pacing the Wild Karrde but clearly not overly anxious to engage it again. Karrde, meanwhile, had the freighter burning hard through space toward the distant gas giant around which the Kathol Republic's capital world of Dayark revolved. "My guess is that they'll try their ion cannon next," she said. "Can we handle that?"

"Easily," Karrde assured her. "Certainly ion cannon that small. Here they come." Breaking into pairs, the four Corsairs shot over and under the Wild Karrde, blasting away at full power with their ion cannon. Shada fired off a quick burst, catching one of them glancingly across the top quarter before both ships disappeared behind the Wild Karrde's bulk. "Spotter?" she called.

"You took out his ion cannon," Chal confirmed. "Balig, you've knocked out his rear deflector—"

[They attack again,] H'sishi's snarl cut him off. Shada glanced at the tactical and swung her turbolaser around toward where the nearest Corsair should appear...

The attacker swung around the Wild Karrde's hull, its lasers blazing uselessly away at the freighter's thick armor. Shada and Balig fired back, the twin turbolaser blasts catching him squarely across the bow and shattering him in a brilliant flash of light—

And with a deafening thunderclap something slammed straight through Shada's transparisteel bubble.

"I'm hit!" Shada gasped, fighting against the sudden tearing pain in her right chest and shoulder. All around her a cold wind whistled as the air rushed through the shattered bubble. Her right hand was useless; with her left hand she dug at her restraints, wondering distantly if she would be able to get loose and out of the bay before the vacuum took her. Perhaps now, at last, it was all finally over... The wind was starting to diminish by the time she got the top restraint off. A bad sign. She shifted her hand to the lower strap, her vision starting to waver...

And with a second thud, more felt than really heard, the bubble and stars vanished into a plate of gray metal.

She blinked; but even as her oxygen-starved brain tried to figure it out, there was an ear-popping rush of air into the bay, and suddenly strange hands were snapping off the last of her restraints.

"We've got her!" a voice shouted uncomfortably loud in her ear. "But she's been hit. Get Annowiskri down here, fast."

"Already here," a second voice came in from Shada's other side. There was a tingle of something in her arm...

She came to slowly, or at least slowly for a Mistryl. For a moment she remained lying quietly, her eyes closed, as she assessed the situation and her own physical condition. Her right chest and arm felt vaguely numb, and her scalp itched like it always did after a session in a bacta tank, but aside from that she felt reasonably fine. From the soft sound of breathing she could tell she wasn't alone; from the lack of background engine or machinery sounds it seemed the Wild Karrde had made it through to Dayark.

So it wasn't the end yet, and life remained before her. A pity. Taking a deep but quiet breath, she opened her eyes.

She was lying on one of the three beds in the Wild Karrde's medical bay. Seated across the room, staring meditatively off into space, was Karrde. "I take it we won?" Shada asked. Karrde jerked slightly, his gaze coming back to her. "Yes, we won quite handily," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," she said, moving her right arm experimentally. Aside from some stiffness and the numbness she'd already noted, it didn't seem too bad, at least as long as she didn't try to move it too far in any direction. "Arm needs a little more work."

"Yes, Annowiskri tells me you'll need at least one more session in the bacta tank," Karrde said. "I had you pulled out so that you could accompany me on a short walk outside the ship. If you're interested, that is."

"Of course I'm interested," Shada said. "Where on Dayark are we?"

"The main spaceport of the capital city Rytal Prime," Karrde said. "We put down about two hours ago."

Shada frowned. "And you're just going out now? I thought we were in a hurry."

"We are," Karrde said. "But we had to play host first to a small group of inspectors. They spent over an hour going through the ship with the proverbial flat-edge sifter. Ostensibly searching for contraband."

"I hope you watched them closely."

"Very closely," Karrde assured her. "At any rate, they've gone now, and Pormfil and Odonnl are making arrangements to get the ship repaired. In the meantime, the Kathol Republic military commander would like to have a word with us."

"About our attackers, no doubt."

"No doubt," Karrde agreed. "Perhaps focusing on how we managed to fight them off with so little damage."

Shada lifted her eyebrows. " 'So little damage' being a relative term, of course." Karrde grimaced. "I'm sorry about what happened, Shada—"

"Forget it," Shada cut him off. Apologies always made her uncomfortable, even when they were sincere. Especially when they were sincere. "It was my idea, remember. So what's the plan?"

"I'm supposed to meet with a General Jutka at a tapcafe just outside the spaceport," Karrde told her. "They mostly speak Basic here, but there's a fair-sized contingent of Ithorian colonists, too, so I thought we'd take Threepio along in case we run into translation problems."

"Odd place for an official meeting," Shada commented. "Sounds like they don't know whether they want to be associated with us or not."

"I would say that reading is dead on target," Karrde agreed, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Your grasp of politics is quite good, especially for a simple bodyguard."

"I've never claimed to be simple," Shada countered, swinging her legs over the side of the medic bed. "Give me five minutes to get changed and we'll go see this general."

* * *

Ten minutes later the three of them were walking down the bustling street that bordered the spaceport, Karrde and Shada walking side by side with the gold-colored protocol droid shuffling along nervously behind them. "The natives seem curious," Shada commented in a quiet voice. Karrde nodded. He'd already noticed the surreptitious glances of the Ithorian passersby and the out-and-out stares of some of the human ones. "Mara reported they were a wary but not particularly unfriendly people."

"Nice to know," Shada said. "Of course, that report is six years old now. Interesting outfits they're wearing—those shimmery coats with all the random tufts of fur still on them?"

"It's crosh-hide," Karrde identified it. "Native animal to one of the worlds in the Kathol Republic. Comfortable and durable, and those bits of fur can be left on either randomly or in any of a variety of patterns. Mara told me crosh-hide coats were just coming into style when she and Calrissian were here; I see it's bloomed into a full-blown fashion since then."

"Probably because it makes for instant identification of strangers," Shada said, catching hold of a pinch of her shipboard jumpsuit material. "Not much chance of us blending into any crowd with these on."

"Definitely a grain of truth in that," Karrde agreed. "This part of the galaxy has been largely left alone by outsiders, but they had some clashes with the Empire and there have been a few attempts by the New Republic to bring it into line with current political thought."

"A goal the natives aren't interested in?"

"Not really," Karrde said, looking around at the faded commercial signs flapping restlessly in the breeze. A few of them were in Basic, but most were laid out with Ithorian glyptographs or a flow-and-dot script he didn't recognize at all. "Threepio, we're looking for a place called the Ithor Loman," he said, motioning the droid to his side. "Do you see it anywhere?"

"Yes, Captain Karrde, it's right over there," Threepio said, lifting an arm to point at a blue sign labeled in Ithorian.

"Reminds me of Bombaasa's place on Pembric," Shada growled. "You know, Karrde, you might want to consider occasionally adding a few more people to these probe parties of yours."

"You wouldn't consider that a slight on your combat skills?"

"I think I've adequately proved my combat skills," Shada countered. "The point is that if you field enough people you can sometimes keep a fight from starting in the first place." Karrde nodded, suppressing a smile. "I'll remember that. After you." Considering the early morning hour, the tapcafe seemed unusually well populated, with both Ithorian and human locals in their crosh-hide jackets plus one or two obvious offworlders like themselves. "Any idea which one General Jutka is?" Shada murmured.

"I presume he'll be watching for us," Karrde said. "If not—" He broke off as a short, slender man with short hair and a dapper crosh-hide jacket rose from a nearby table and stepped up to them. "Ah—visitors," he said cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with interest or bubbling good humor as he looked each of them up and down. "You must be the parties here to see General Jutka."

"Yes, we are," Karrde said. "And you?"

"Entoo Needaan E-elz, at your service," he said, giving a short bow. "Call me Entoo Nee."

"Interesting name," Karrde said, eyeing him. "That Entoo part sounds rather like a droid designation."

"Oddly enough, people do sometimes mistake me for a droid," Entoo Nee said, his eyes sparkling all the more. "I can't imagine why. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to the general's table." He bounded off between the tables without waiting for an answer, his step as lively as his speech had been. "Curious little man," Threepio commented as they followed. "He does appear harmless, however."

"Never trust appearances," Shada warned him. "Personally, I don't think he fits in with this place at all."

"We'll keep an eye on him," Karrde told her. "That must be Jutka." Entoo Nee had stopped beside a table in the back where a single, heavyset man was seated with his back to the wall, nursing a single drink. Wearing the by now familiar crosh-hide jacket, he nevertheless seemed to Karrde to be vaguely uncomfortable in it.

"That's a military man, all right," Shada said, echoing Karrde's own thought as Entoo Nee spoke briefly to the other. "You can tell he feels awkward being out of uniform." Entoo Nee stepped aside as the others came up, gesturing brightly to the bulky man. "General Jutka, may I present our visitors," he said, suddenly looking a bit crestfallen. "I'm sorry—I didn't get your names."

"We didn't give them," Karrde said. "You can call me Captain. This is my friend Shada and my translation droid, See-Threepio."

The general muttered something in an unfamiliar language. "He says he wasn't expecting a full theatrical parade," Threepio translated helpfully. "In fact—"

"Enough!" Jutka spat. "Keep your droid shut up or I'll shut him up for you."

"Oh, my," Threepio gasped, taking a hasty step backward. "My apologies, General Jutka—"

"I said keep him shut up," Jutka cut him off. "I don't want to have to say that again. Now sit down."

"Certainly," Karrde said, sliding into a chair at the general's side and glancing back at Threepio. Entoo Nee had stepped to the droid's side and was talking soothingly to him in a low voice. "My mistake, General. I thought I was here for a conversation, not a series of threats."

"I apologize if you got that impression," Jutka said darkly, looking balefully up at Shada. She had ignored his invitation to sit down, moving instead around the other side of the table so that she was effectively standing over him, and for a moment Karrde thought he was going to issue a flat-out order for her to sit. He apparently thought better of it and turned his glare back to Karrde. "The fact is that you're a troublemaker," he said. "Troublemakers aren't welcome on my world."

"I see," Karrde said. "So in the Kathol Republic coming under pirate attack is the mark of a troublemaker?"

Jutka's eyes narrowed. "Don't push me," he warned. "I know who you're flying for—your ship's ID makes that perfectly clear. The last thing I want is to end up in the middle of some stupid war between Bombaasa and Rei'Kas."

"Rei'Kas?" Shada repeated, her tone that of someone who's just made a connection. "The Rodian?"

"Yes," Jutka said, frowning up at her. "You mean you didn't—?"

"No, we didn't know who our friends were out there," Karrde confirmed. "Many thanks. You know this Rei'Kas, Shada?"

"Only by reputation," Shada told him. "He used to be a strike team leader with the Karazak Slavers Cooperative. Quite a good one, apparently. He was also rough, violent, and vicious, and he irritated practically everyone he worked with."

Karrde nodded, feeling his mouth go a little dry. A vicious slaver, now in Car'das's territory. How many other criminals, he wondered, had also just happened to drift to this corner of the galaxy?

"Interesting."

"Also interesting that the general knew his name when even Bombaasa didn't," Shada added.

"You good friends with him, General?"

"My job is to protect the Kathol Republic," Jutka said, his tone vibrant with soft menace. "I have no such responsibility toward outsiders who come in unasked and meddle with matters that are none of their business."

Out of the corner of his eye, Karrde saw Shada's head turn fractionally as she gave the main part of the tapcafe a quick survey. "Are you threatening me, General?" he asked mildly.

"I'm delivering a warning," Jutka said bluntly. "You've hurt Rei'Kas, and he doesn't take kindly to that. He's got your ship marked, and as long as you're in his territory he's going to keep after you."

"We have every intention of leaving his territory," Karrde assured him. "After my errand is finished, of course."

"Do as you wish," Jutka said, grunting as he heaved his bulk out of his chair. "But I've given you fair warning. Don't forget that."

"I won't," Karrde said. "Thank you for your time."

Jutka scowled once and marched across the tapcafe. Pushing open the door, he strode out without a backward glance.

"And this is where Car'das picked to retire to, huh?" Shada said, sitting down in the chair Jutka had just vacated. "Lovely."

"Keep your voice down," Karrde admonished, looking around the tapcafe. No one seemed to be taking any particular interest in this corner of the room, but appearances meant nothing. "And I doubt retirement was ever in his plans."

Shada sent him a probing look. "You think Rei'Kas is working for him?" Karrde nodded soberly. "I would say that's entirely possible." He caught her eye movement and looked up as Entoo Nee pulled up a chair to their table and sat down. "Did you have a nice chat with the general?" he asked brightly. "That's good. That's very good."

He hunched himself closer to the table. "I've been talking with your droid," he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "He says you're looking for the fabled lost world of Exocron." Karrde looked at Threepio. "Threepio?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the droid said, sounding miserable. "I didn't mean to give anything away. He asked if we were searching for Exocron, and I confirmed it without thinking."

"Please don't blame the droid," Entoo Nee said. "Your goal isn't a secret. At least, not to me. You're looking for Jorj Car'das, aren't you?"

Shada shot Karrde a look across the table. "Threepio, why don't you go over to the bar and get us a couple glasses of the local brew," she suggested. "On your way, listen and see if you hear anyone talking in Rodian."

"Yes, Mistress Shada," the droid said, sounding relieved at the chance to get away. "Right away." He shuffled off. "Very clever," Entoo Nee said, grinning at Shada. "You think any spotters Rei'Kas may have planted in the crowd will talk Rodian to each other, eh? Very clever, indeed."

"Thank you," Shada said, fixing him with a look that was just short of a glare. "You were telling us about Jorj Car'das."

"Yes." Entoo Nee shuffled himself even closer to the table. "You're right to look for him on Exocron. That's where he is." He lifted a finger warningly. "But Exocron isn't easy to find. Most people in the Kathol Republic have never even heard of it. Most of those who have believe it to be a myth."

"So I've heard," Karrde said, fighting against a sudden sense of dread. How could Entoo Nee know why he was here? Unless, of course, he was working for Car'das? "Tell me why it's so hard to find."

Entoo Nee smiled even more broadly. "You don't need me to tell you that. Ah, but perhaps your friend doesn't know," he added, shifting his grin to Shada. "It's all the mini-nebulae and gas offshoots, you see, coming off the Kathol Rift. All of that reflected light and radiation scrambles sensors and communications—makes it terribly difficult to find anything at all. Searching the whole region could take you decades."

"And you can save us all that trouble, I suppose?" Shada asked.

"I can indeed," he said. "I can take you to Exocron. Right to Car'das himself, if you like." He looked back at Karrde. "But only if Captain Karrde wishes." With a strong effort, Karrde kept his expression steady. So the little man knew his name, too.

"And what would this guidance cost us?"

"No cost," Entoo Nee said. "But no 'us,' either. It would just be you and me."

"Excuse me?" Shada said, lifting a finger. "Just you and him? What about the rest of us?"

"You'd have to wait for us here," Entoo Nee told her. "No other way, I'm afraid—my ship can only carry two people."

"How about if you ride with us and guide our ship in?" Karrde asked.

"Oh, no," Entoo Nee said, looking shocked. "I couldn't possibly do that."

"Why not?" Shada demanded. "Because Car'das doesn't want to see all of us?" Entoo Nee blinked. "Did I ever say Car'das wanted to see any of you? I said no such thing." Which wasn't the same as saying Car'das hadn't asked him to make the offer. "If I accept," Karrde said slowly, "when would we need to leave?"

"Wait a second," Shada put in before Entoo Nee could answer. "What do you mean, if you accept? You don't want to go off alone with him."

Karrde grimaced. No, he most certainly didn't. But at some point he was going to have to face Car'das. And if this was the best way to protect his people while he did that...

"Let me put it another way," Shada said, glaring at Entoo Nee. "I'm his bodyguard, and I'm not letting him go off alone. Not with you or anyone else. Clear?"

Entoo Nee held out his hands, palm upward. "But—"

He broke off as Threepio reappeared and set two heavy mugs of dark liquid onto the table.

"Thank the Maker," he said breathlessly. "The clientele of this place are most unpleasant—"

"Never mind the local color," Shada cut him off. "Did you hear any Rodian?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," the droid said, half turning and pointing toward one of the tables across near the bar. "Three human males at that table—yes; the ones now standing up—"

"Uh-oh," Shada muttered, darting a glance at Entoo Nee. "Come on—time to get out of here."

"Don't bother," a softly vicious voice said from behind Karrde. Slowly, he turned around. Two tables away, three men were sitting facing them. And all three had their blasters drawn.

CHAPTER

14

"Oh, my," Threepio gasped, just audibly. "We're doomed." Karrde looked back around. Behind Shada, the three thugs Threepio had just identified were striding between the tables toward them, blasters now in their hands as well. Across the rest of the tapcafe, the casual drinkers and loungers were either staring in surprise or morbid anticipation or else trying to beat a surreptitious retreat before the shooting started. "I suppose it would be a waste of breath to say you have the wrong people," he said, turning back to face the men behind him.

"No, go right ahead," the thugs' spokesman said sarcastically as the three of them got to their feet and fanned out slightly to cover their targets. "I always enjoy a good laugh in the morning. Hands on the table, please. So—did I catch the name right? Talon Karrde?"

"Yes, indeed," Entoo Nee spoke up brightly before Karrde could answer. "And this is Shada, and their protocol droid See-Threepio."

The spokesman impaled the little man with a glare. "You with them?" Entoo Nee's eyes widened innocently. "Me? Not really, sir—"

"Then get out of here."

Entoo Nee blinked, threw a quick look around at Shada and Karrde, and scrambled up from his seat. "Do let me know, Captain Karrde, if you change your mind," he said. He shot a quick smile at Karrde, another at the spokesman, then bounced his way toward the door. The spokesman watched him go, frowning; and as the little man pulled open the door, he turned back to face Karrde. "Change your mind about what?" he demanded as the thud of the closing door echoed across the tapcafe.

"He'd just made me an interesting offer," Karrde said, lifting his arms with conspicuous slowness and folding them across his chest. The thugs, their full attention on him and Shada, had completely missed the fact that someone had come into the tapcafe at the same moment Entoo Nee left. If he could manage to keep all of their attention on him for just a few more seconds... And then someone across the room swore in astonishment. One of the thugs glanced around—"Shri—Xern!" he barked.

The spokesman spun around... and froze, his mouth dropping open with shock. Silently, determinedly, H'sishi was striding toward them.

It took Xern another second to find his voice. "What in the name of the Rift is that?" he breathed.

"She's a Togorian," Karrde supplied, throwing a surreptitious glance at Shada. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the suddenly inattentive thugs, clearly measuring distances and assessing possibilities. That could be trouble. "Oh, and she's with me," he added. H'sishi was still coming toward the semicircle of thugs, her mouth open far enough to show her fangs. "Tell it to stop," Xern snapped, his voice hitting a higher pitch as his blaster jerked around to point at the Togorian. "You hear me? Tell it to stop or we'll shoot."

"I wouldn't advise shooting a Togorian," Karrde admonished him mildly. "It only makes them angry."

Xern shot a look of disbelief toward him—

And in that instant Shada moved.

Her left hand, resting casually near her mug, snatched it up and with a quick flick of her forearm she hurled the contents across the table squarely into Xern's face. He bellowed, throwing up his forearm, too late, to try to block the wave of liquid. A convulsive jerk the other direction, and Shada had hurled the mug itself with crushing force into the throat of one of the other thugs. She started to leap up, yelping under her breath as Karrde grabbed her arm and held her firmly in her seat. There was the sputter of blaster fire and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor—

"Lower your weapon, Xern," Karrde said quietly. Even to his own ears his voice seemed a startling intrusion into the sudden taut silence filling the tapcafe. "Very slowly; very carefully." Xern gave his eyes one last swipe with his sleeve and blinked them open... and for the second time in half a minute he appeared to be struck speechless as he stared at the scene around him in stunned disbelief. Disbelief at Karrde and Shada sitting unhurt at the table; disbelief at the crumpled bodies of his men lying around him on the floor, wisps of noxious smoke rising from the blaster wounds riddling their bodies.

And disbelief at the four crosh-hide-clad men at various tables scattered around the tapcafe pointing blasters at him.

"Your blaster, Xern," Karrde prompted again as the thug continued to gape, drops of Shada's drink dripping rhythmically off his chin. Shada stirred; but before she could move H'sishi had stepped to Xern's side and engulfed the barrel of his blaster in one massive hand. He started, almost as if seeing the Togorian for the first time, as she twisted the weapon to point harmlessly at the ceiling. She raised her other hand and dug a claw delicately into the back of his wrist, and this time he finally let go.

"Well done, everyone," Karrde said, getting to his feet as H'sishi stepped back, the blaster now reversed ready in her hand. "Dankin?"

"Here," the familiar voice came from a distinctly unfamiliar face as the other stood up at his table.

"Go give the bartender something to compensate for the mess," Karrde instructed him. "It's somewhat traditional in these cases," he added to Xern as Dankin crossed toward the bar, digging into his pocket. "Griv, stand by the door; Chal, Balig, go frontguard the way back to the ship."

"Right."

The other three headed for the door. "You're cute," Xern spat viciously. "Real cute. But if you think this is gonna get you out from under Rei'Kas's hammer, you're crazy."

"If I were you, I'd worry more about what Rei'Kas will do to you for losing your mob this way," Karrde countered. "I'd also worry about getting out of here before H'sishi decides you're too dangerous to leave alive."

"Oh, I'll leave," Xern said darkly. "But you'll see me again, Karrde. Just before you die." With one final glare, he turned and stomped out of the tapcafe.

"Well," Karrde said, turning back to Shada and holding out a hand to her. She didn't move. "So you had backups in place all along," she said, looking up at him. There was something distinctly discomfiting in her voice and face. "I thought you said you wouldn't take that as an insult," Karrde reminded her carefully.

"They're in disguise," she said.

Slowly, Karrde lowered his hand to his side. "They were all seen by the local inspectors who searched the ship earlier," he explained. "I had to assume some of the group were spies for the pirates, and would be able to recognize them."

"And the crosh-hide outfits?"

"Mara brought them back from her trip here," Karrde said, starting to feel sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Shada rose to her feet. "And you didn't think," she said quietly, "that I could be trusted with it." For a second Karrde couldn't find his voice. The deep ache that had been in Shada's voice was so completely unexpected. "No, that's not it," he said. "I didn't—" But it was too late. She had already turned her back on him, and was striding toward the door where Griv stood guard. "Are the repairs finished yet?" she asked. Griv shot a quick look over her shoulder at Karrde. "Close enough," he said cautiously.

"Good," she said, stepping past him and pulling the door open. "Looks clear," she announced.

"Let's get back to the ship."

Griv looked questioningly at Karrde again. "Yes," he murmured, heading toward the door. The walk back to the Wild Karrde was very quiet.

* * *

Shada had stripped off her jumpsuit and had just gotten into her robe when the cabin door call chimed. "Who is it?" she called.

"It's Karrde," the other's voice came distantly through the panel. "May I come in?" Shada sighed, wrapping her robe securely around her and knotting the waist sash. She had no particular desire to see him, especially right now. But she had committed herself to this trip, and she couldn't very well avoid the captain and still fulfill that commitment.

Besides, the pain of his casual betrayal of her trust had mostly subsided. Enough, anyway. "Come in," she called, tapping the release.

The door slid open, and Karrde stepped inside. "We've just made the jump to lightspeed," he told her, taking in her state of dress and dismissing it in a single glance. "Odonnl estimates seven days to Exocron."

"Good," Shada said briskly. "I should be back to full combat capability by then. Speaking of which, if you'll excuse me, I'm on my way to the bacta tank."

"The bacta can wait," Karrde said politely but firmly, gesturing her to a chair. "I'd like to talk to you."

She thought about refusing. But she was still committed to him and to this trip. "About what?" she said, sitting down, wondering if he was really insensitive enough to try concocting some feeble excuse about that tapcafe thing at this late date.

But he surprised her. "Jorj Car'das, of course," he said, pulling another chair over to face her and sitting down. "It's time you heard the whole story."

"Really," she said, keeping her voice neutral. He'd only promised to tell her this story on the way into the Exocron system; which, according to him, was still a week away. Was this his way of trying to make amends for his earlier thoughtlessness?

Not that it mattered. Too little, too late; but at least she'd get some useful information out of it.

"Go on," she said.

His gaze drifted outward, as if to a time or place far away. "The story of Jorj Car'das goes back about sixty years," he said. "To the Clone Wars era and the chaos that it brought on the galaxy. There was a great need for smuggling during the conflict and afterward, of necessities as well as contraband, and a large number of organizations were hastily and rather haphazardly thrown together."

"That was when the Hutts really hit their stride, wasn't it?" Shada asked, interest stirring in spite of herself. There was very little she knew about that period, and she'd always wanted to know more.

"Many of them did, yes," Karrde said. "Car'das was one of those who jumped into the business, and whether through skill or simple blind luck wound up with one of the better organizations. Not one of the larger ones, but definitely one of the better ones.

"They'd been operating for about fifteen years when he was accidentally caught up in the middle of a big battle between some Bpfasshi Dark Jedi and—well, basically everyone else in that sector. According to Car'das's later story, one of the Dark Jedi commandeered his private ship and forced them to take off."

Shada shivered. That one she did know something about; a group of Mistryl had been involved on the defensive side of that conflict. Some of the stories she'd heard as a child from the survivors had given her nightmares. "I'm surprised he came back able to tell any stories at all," she said.

"So was everyone else," Karrde said. "The other four members of his crew never did return, in fact. But Car'das did. He suddenly reappeared two months later, settled back into control of his organization, and to all appearances life went back to normal."

"But the appearances were wrong?"

"Very wrong," Karrde agreed soberly. "It was quickly apparent to his inner circle that something serious had happened to him during those two months. He still had one of the best smuggling groups around, but suddenly he began pushing to make it one of the biggest, as well. He would move systematically into the territories of smaller groups and either buy them, absorb them, or destroy them, taking over their routes and clientele. Unlike the Hutts and other groups, he went for overall coverage rather than concentrated brute-force control, spreading himself thinly out all over rather than trying to dominate any specific systems or sectors. In a few years, he was already on his way to having something that could someday rival even Jabba's organization."

"Didn't anyone try to stop him?" Shada asked. "I can't see the Hutts sitting by and letting him outflank them that way."

"My dear Shada, everyone tried to stop him," Karrde said darkly. "But he was almost literally unstoppable. Somewhere, somehow, he had developed a knack for guessing precisely what his opponents were planning against him, and he was often able to counter their attacks almost literally before they were launched."

Shada thought back to the dozens of missions she'd gone on for the Mistryl, and the hours of painstaking research she'd had to put into learning her opponents' strengths and weaknesses, weapons and strategies, allies and opponents. "A handy talent," she murmured.

"Extremely handy," Karrde agreed. "But even as his organization grew, Car'das himself began to change. He became—I don't know. Moody, perhaps, inclined to flashes of screaming rage over little things that shouldn't have bothered him at all, or brooding alone for hours on end over charts of the Empire. More significantly, perhaps, after years of vigorous youth, he seemed to be aging rapidly. Much faster than one would have thought normal or likely.

"And then, one day, he got into his private ship, took off... and vanished." Shada frowned. "Vanished. You mean... vanished?"

"I mean disappeared from the known galaxy," Karrde said. "He didn't go near any of his people; didn't contact any of his chief lieutenants; and if he was ever seen again by any of his enemies, they never announced the fact."

"When was this?" Shada asked.

"Twenty years ago," Karrde said. "At first there wasn't too much concern—he'd gone off on occasional secret trips before. But after three months had gone by and he still hadn't surfaced, his lieutenants began to talk about what they should do if he didn't come back."

"Let me guess," Shada said. "They wanted to hold a vote and see which of them would take over."

"I don't think voting was the procedure any of them had in mind," Karrde said ruefully. "In fact, the threat of violence was so thick that the suggestion was made that we simply split up the organization and each take a chunk."

"The trick being how you divide it to everyone's satisfaction," Shada said, noting the telltale word with interest. It was the first time in his recitation that Karrde had used the word "we." "So you wound up with a power struggle anyway."

Karrde's lips pressed briefly together. "Not exactly. I saw what would happen in that kind of struggle, and I wasn't totally convinced that Car'das wouldn't be coming back. So I... took over." Shada lifted her eyebrows slightly. "Just like that?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "More or less. It took planning and timing, of course, and a fair amount of luck, though I don't think I realized quite how much until I looked back on it from a distance of a few years. But yes, basically, just like that. I neutralized the other lieutenants and moved them out, and announced to the rest of the organization that it was henceforth to be business as usual."

"I bet that made you very popular," Shada said. "But I seem to be missing the problem here, at least as far as Car'das is concerned. He left and never came back, right?"

"The problem," Karrde said heavily, "is that I'm not sure he didn't." Shada felt her eyes narrow. "Oh?"

"I took over the organization in a single night," Karrde said. "But that doesn't mean there weren't attempts by the ousted lieutenants and their cadres afterward to drive me out and take over themselves. There were eight different attempts, in fact, ranging from two immediate and abortive tries to an intricate scheme three years later that had probably taken the conspirators that entire time to plan."

"All of which failed, obviously."

Karrde nodded. "The point is that the leaders of four of those plots claimed during their interrogations that Car'das had been secretly behind them."

Shada snorted under her breath. "Smokecovers," she said scornfully, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. "Just trying to rattle you into cutting a deal."

"That was my conclusion at the time," Karrde said. "But of course there was no way for me to be sure. Still isn't, for that matter."

"I suppose not." Shada studied his face. "So what happened six years ago that made you send Jade and Calrissian out here to look for him?"

"It started further back than that," Karrde said. "Ten years ago, actually, just after Grand Admiral Thrawn died." His lip twitched. "Or perhaps merely faked his death. I was on Coruscant helping set up the Smugglers Alliance and Calrissian happened to show me something Luke Skywalker had found buried on a planet called Dagobah."

Shada searched her memory. "I don't think I've ever heard of the place."

"No reason why you should have," Karrde said. "There's absolutely nothing there—no cities, no technology, no colonies. What Skywalker wanted with the swamps I don't know, but it was obvious that stray electronic devices were out of place, which is probably why he brought it back. At any rate, from the markings I recognized it as the beckon call from Car'das's personal ship."

"Really," Shada said, frowning. A beckon call was the control for a fully slave-rigged ship, one that could operate on complete remote control whenever its owner signaled for it. The Mistryl never used full-rigged ships themselves, but she'd occasionally ridden on one with a client. Overall, they gave her the creeps. "Car'das had a full-rigged ship, did he?"

"Of pre-Clone Wars vintage, yes," Karrde said. "He bought it soon after he returned from that bout with the Dark Jedi. Said he wanted a decently sized ship that he could fly alone, without the need for a crew."

"And Skywalker just happened to find his beckon call lying in the mud on some deserted planet. How convenient."

"That was my thought, too," Karrde said. "But I checked with Skywalker, and the discovery seemed entirely fortuitous."

"Though whether that word can be applied to Jedi has always been arguable," Shada put in.

"True," Karrde conceded. "Still, it was the first clue we'd had in a decade; and even if it was some kind of plant, I thought it was worth the risk of seeing where it led."

"So you sent Jade to hunt him down," Shada said, remembering the conversation she'd overheard back in the Solos' Orowood Tower apartment. "And Calrissian insisted on tagging along."

"Basically," Karrde said. "They started at Dagobah and worked their way outward, searching through old spaceport records for where he might have stopped off for repairs or refueling. They also dug up hints about him here and there—some from the Coruscant library, some from various fringe characters, some from Corellian Security, of all places—and started putting the pieces together."

"Talk about your lifetime jobs," Shada murmured.

"It wasn't quite that bad, but it did definitely take some years," Karrde said. "Especially as they both kept getting dragged off on other business or pulled in to help fix whatever Coruscant's crisis of the month was. Still, the trail was already so cold that a month or two here or there didn't make much of a difference. They kept at it until they wound up in Kathol sector and Exocron.

"And there, as far as we can tell, the trail ends."

For a moment the room was silent as Shada digested it all. "I take it they never actually saw Car'das himself?"

With a visible effort, Karrde seemed to draw himself back from whatever ghosts of the past he was gazing at. "They had explicit instructions not to," he said. "They were to find out where he was—and with a world as well hidden as Exocron they also needed to find a route into the place—and then they were to come home. I would take it from there."

"And this was how long ago?"

Karrde shrugged uncomfortably. "A few years."

"So what happened?"

"To be honest, I lost my nerve," he admitted. "After what I'd done, I wasn't at all sure how I was going to face him. Had no idea what I was going to say, how I was going to even try to make amends. So I kept finding excuses to put it off."

He took a deep breath. "And now it looks like I'm too late."

Shada grimaced. "You think Rei'Kas is working for him."

"Rei'Kas, possibly Bombaasa, probably a dozen others we haven't heard about," Karrde said heavily. "But he's definitely on the move. Only this time he seems to be concentrating on piracy and slaving instead of smuggling and information brokering. The more violent edge of the fringe... and I can only see one reason why he would do that.

"To come after me. Personally."

For a moment the word seemed to hang in the air like a death mark. "I don't think that necessarily follows," Shada said into the silence, moved by some obscure desire to argue the point. "Why can't he just be building up a force to carve himself a little empire here in the backwater? Take over Exocron, maybe, or even this little so-called Kathol Republic?"

"He's been here for nearly two decades, Shada," Karrde reminded her. "If he was into empire-carving, don't you think he would have done it before now?"

"If he was into taking you out, don't you think he would have done that before now, too?" Shada countered.

"He may have already tried."

"And then, what, given up after the first three years?"

Karrde shook his head. "It doesn't make sense to me, either," he conceded. "But I knew Car'das; and he wasn't the sort of person who could just sit around doing nothing. He was a ruthless man, hard and calculating, who never forgave a wrong against him and never let anyone or anything stand in the way of what he wanted. And he lived for challenges—the bigger, the better.

"And he knows I'm here, and that I'm looking for him. That little man—Entoo Nee—is all the proof we need of that."

An involuntary shiver ran through Shada. The Wild Karrde, which had felt so safe and secure up till now, suddenly felt small and very vulnerable. "And so here we are. Walking straight into his hands."

"You, at least, should have nothing to fear from him," Karrde assured her. "You're not connected in any way with me or my organization." He hesitated. "As a matter of fact, that's why I agreed to let you come along."

Shada stared at him as understanding suddenly slapped her like an ice-soaked rag. "You're expecting him to kill you, aren't you?" she breathed. "And you think...?"

"You're not associated with me, Shada," Karrde said quietly. "Everyone else aboard the ship is. I would have come alone, but I knew I couldn't survive the trip to Exocron in anything smaller or less well armed than the Wild Karrde. Car'das is a vengeful man; but like Bombaasa, he likes to consider himself cultured. I hope to talk him out of killing me, of course; I hope even more that he won't harm my crew. But if he's adamant on settling old scores... I hope at least I can persuade him to let you go back to the New Republic with a copy of the Caamas Document."

Shada shook her head. "Karrde, this is insane—"

"At any rate, that's the whole story," he cut her off easily, standing up and swinging his chair back to where it had been. "Oh, except for the fact that the huge data library Car'das had built up over the years vanished along with him, which is why we think he may have a copy of the Caamas Document. And now, you do need to get to that bacta tank. I'll see you later." With a nod, he left. "Karrde, this is insane," Shada repeated again, quietly, to the empty room. It was only later, floating in the bacta tank, that the other part of it occurred to her. Karrde was hoping, he had said, that Car'das would allow her to leave.

But he wasn't guaranteeing it.

CHAPTER

15

Splitter Of Stones said something in that irritating Qom Jha almost-voice and fluttered to his usual upside-down perch on a stunted stalactite. "Great," Luke announced. "We seem to be here." Mara raised her glow rod beam from the ground in front of her and scanned the walls of the passageway, hardly daring to believe the grueling four-day trip was finally over. Cities or starships or even a quiet encampment under the open sky—those were her milieus of choice. This business of grubbing around dark, dusty tunnels with grime and dripping water and dank air all around was emphatically not her cup of elba.

But she'd survived it, and she hadn't wanted to kill any of the Qom Jha more than twice a day, and the astromech droid hadn't caused too many problems, and Skywalker had been unexpectedly congenial company. And now, they were finally here.

Of course, from now on they would be facing the High Tower, with all its unknown dangers. But that was all right. Danger was also one of her milieus of choice.

One of Luke's, too, come to think of it.

"There it is," Luke said, his own searching glow rod beam settling on a patch of rock along the wall a few meters ahead down the passageway. "Just this side of that archway."

"Archway?" Mara repeated, frowning as she turned her glow rod that direction. Surely someone hadn't actually built an archway down here in the middle of nowhere, had they?

No. It looked rather like an archway, certainly, with its more or less vertical side pillars creating a two-meter-wide bottleneck in the cavern passageway and its mostly circular upper arch butting up against the ceiling three meters above. But anything more than a cursory glance showed instantly that it was a natural formation, created by some trick of erosion or rock intrusion or long-gone water flow.

"It was a figure of speech," Luke said, shifting his light to the formation, too. "Sort of brings to mind that archway in Hyllyard City on Myrkr, doesn't it?"

"You mean the big mushroom-shaped thing you did your best to drop on us?" she countered.

"The one we had to grind our way through three days' worth of forest to get to? The one where half the stormtroopers in the Empire were sitting around waiting for us to show up?"

"That's the place," he said, and she could sense his amusement at her recitation. "You left out where you wanted to kill me more than anything else in the galaxy."

"I was young then," Mara said briefly, shifting her light away. "So where's this opening?"

"Right there," Luke said, returning his glow rod beam to a crumpled-looking section of wall just below the ceiling. In the center of the light was a small open area that seemed to vanish into the darkness beyond.

"I see it," Mara said. There didn't seem to be any air coming from it; there must be some other blockage farther down the line. "Looks cozy."

"Not for long," Luke said, handing her his glow rod and igniting his lightsaber. "Everyone stay back—this'll probably throw rock chips around." He swung the blade into the wall, slicing into the stone—

And with a sputter of green light, the blade vanished.

Artoo screeched, and Mara caught the flash of astonishment from Luke as he stumbled briefly before catching his balance. "What happened?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he said, holding the weapon up close and looking obliquely into the end. "I thought I had it locked on... let me try it again."

He touched the switch, and with its usual snap-hiss the blade blazed into existence again. Luke watched it for a moment, then settled into a stable combat stance and again swung the tip of the blade into the rock wall.

And once again, the blade cut only a little ways into the rock before sputtering away. One of the Qom Jha fluttered his wings and said something. "Yes," Luke said, and Mara could feel the sudden ugly suspicion in his mind as distant memories drifted up.

"Yes what?" she demanded.

"There must be cortosis ore in this rock," he told her. He held his glow rod up to the rock face, the light dancing off tiny sparkles.

Mara shook her head. "Never heard of it."

"It's apparently fairly rare," Luke said. "All I really know about it is that it shuts down lightsabers. Corran and I ran into some Force-users once who'd made sets of body armor out of woven cortosis fibers. It was quite a surprise."

"I'll bet," Mara said, a memory of her own drifting up. "So that's what the slab of rock was Palpatine had between the double walls of his private residence."

Luke lifted an eyebrow. "He had cortosis ore around his residence?"

"And around some of his other offices and throne rooms, too, I think," Mara said. "I never knew the proper name for the stuff. From what he told me, I gather that if your lightsaber has dimetris circuits anywhere in the activation loop, hitting the rock starts a feedback crash running through the system that takes only a fraction of a second to shut the whole thing down. A little something extra to slow down any stray Jedi who might come after him."

"The things you learn as Emperor's Hand," Luke murmured. "Do you know if there's any way to cut it?"

"Oh, sure—hundreds of them," Mara assured him, slipping her pack onto the ground. "Aside from the lightsaber thing, the stuff's basically useless. It's too weak and crumbly to build with—a good blaster carbine bolt will shatter it. Let me see—ah."

She pulled out one of the grenades Karrde had sent and shined her glow rod on the yield number.

"Yes, this ought to work if you want to try it."

One of the Qom Jha put in another comment. "Keeper Of Promises thinks grenades would be a bad idea," Luke translated. "He says we're not that far from the High Tower itself, and that sound carries pretty far underground."

"He's probably right," Mara conceded, putting the grenade away and studying the rock where Luke had been cutting. "On the other hand, you're only getting a few centimeters at a time this way. Extra noise or extra delay. Your pick."

Luke ran a hand thoughtfully across the rock, and Mara could sense his concentration as he stretched out to the Force. "Let's try it with the lightsabers for a while," he suggested slowly. "At least a couple of hours. That should give us a better estimate of how long it's actually going to take."

"Fine," Mara said. "We can always switch to the grenades if we decide it's going too slow." She played her glow rod over the rock. "So along with caverns full of predators, we now have a wall that blocks lightsabers. How convenient for someone."

"It could be just coincidence," Luke said. But he didn't sound like he believed it. "Well, there's nothing for it but to get started." He frowned suddenly. "Unless you think this might damage the lightsabers."

Mara shrugged. "I can't see how it would, but I really don't know. Hopefully, we'll be able to pick up any trouble before it gets too bad."

"True," Luke agreed, looking down at his astromech droid. "Artoo: full sensors, and keep an eye on the lightsabers. Let us know if they seem to be overheating or anything." The droid beeped acknowledgment and extended his little sensor unit. "We probably should start this as a triangle," Mara suggested, crossing the passageway and wedging her glow rod into a crevice where it would illuminate the area beneath the Qom Jha sneak hole. "Carving down at an angle on opposite sides. That should keep our blades out of each other's way, and angled cuts are usually better at weakening the underlying rock."

"Sounds good." Luke looked up at the three Qom Jha, grouped close together on the ceiling.

"Splitter Of Stones, why don't you head back to Eater Of Fire Creepers. Tell him we're almost ready for the extra scouts he promised to send into the High Tower with us." The Qom Jha said something. "No, but we will be soon," Luke said. "And you'd better take one of the others with you."

Sitting on a lump of stone beneath the archway, Child Of Winds flapped his wings and said something that sounded eager. "No, not you," Luke told the young Qom Qae firmly. "Keeper Of Promises, you go with him."

There was a brief comment from the Qom Jha that sounded vaguely condescending, and then Splitter Of Stones and Keeper Of Promises dropped off their perches and flapped off back into the darkness toward the cave entrance. Child Of Winds fired off a sarcastic-sounding shot as they left, then settled huffily back onto his rock. "I'll bet I'm missing some really witty repartee here," Mara said sourly, pulling her lightsaber from her belt and taking up position to the left of the cut Luke had started.

"Not really," Luke said, igniting his lightsaber and moving to the opposite side. "You ready?" Mara ignited her lightsaber. "Let's do it."

* * *

They'd been at it for nearly an hour, and had completed the outline for their opening, when Artoo suddenly squealed.

"Hold it, Mara," Luke called, closing down his lightsaber and wondering briefly what was wrong. He'd been concentrating closely on the weapon and hadn't felt even a hint of any problem with it. He glanced over at Artoo—

And paused for a closer look. The droid's sensor unit was extended, but it wasn't aimed at the lightsabers. It was, instead, pointed down the passageway ahead.

"Mara?" he called, shifting the weapon to his left hand and pulling out his glow rod. He played it down the tunnel as, behind him, Mara shut down her lightsaber.

And in the sudden silence, he heard a noise. A rustling sound, like thousands of distant, throaty voices whispering wordlessly to each other. A mindless rumbling that was echoed in his mind as he stretched out toward it with the Force.

And it was getting closer.

"I don't like the sound of that," Mara murmured, stepping to his side.

"Me, neither," Luke said, keying his glow rod to its brightest setting and sweeping it around again. Nothing was visible, but the way the tunnel twisted and bent in both directions that didn't mean much. He ran through his Jedi sense-enhancement techniques...

Fire creepers! Builder With Vines said excitedly from the ceiling behind him. They are coming!

"What?" Mara demanded.

"He said fire creepers are coming," Luke relayed.

"Uh-oh," Mara said. "Their Bargainer's name—'Eater Of Fire Creepers.' "

"Yes," Luke said, looking up at the Qom Jha. His wings were fluttering with some kind of anticipation. "I've been assuming a fire creeper was some sort of plant. Builder With Vines, what are these things?"

They are small but dangerous creatures, the Qom Jha said. They will eat and destroy all things in their path, and can kill anything they find.

"He says small but dangerous," Luke told Mara, sweeping the glow rod down the tunnel again.

"In which case, that much noise implies there must be one blazing lot of them on the way," Mara concluded grimly, looking around. "I get the very bad feeling we're about to meet a new species of roverines."

Luke shivered. He'd seen holovids of those infamous insect predators on their annual march across the Davirien jungles. Roverines traveled in swarms of hundreds of thousands, sometimes even millions, literally stripping the landscape of every bit of plant life as they passed over it. Plant life, and any animals that were too slow or too sick to get out of their way, eating such stragglers down to polished bone. "Builder With Vines, how fast do they travel?" he called.

"Too fast," Mara snapped before the Qom Jha could answer. "Look—here they come." Luke caught his breath. Ahead, just at the farthest spot the glow rod beam could reach, the front edge of a pulsating sheet of black had appeared, filling the entire floor and spilling perhaps a meter up the walls as well. Even as he watched, the edge flowed like some viscous liquid into a slight dip in the floor, reappearing as it flowed up again over the lip.

And Mara was right. They were coming far too fast.

"I'd say we've got maybe a minute before they get here," Mara said. "If you've got any clever tricks up your sleeve, this is the time to trot them out."

Luke bit at his lip, his mind racing. There was a way, he knew, to use the Force to create a low-level personal shield. But to maintain the shield long enough, especially against so many individual adversaries, would be practically impossible. Besides, it was doubtful he could also shield Mara that way, and she almost certainly didn't know the technique herself. Using the Force to move each individual fire creeper out of the way as they passed would be an equally impossible task, even with Mara working alongside of him.

And if these insects were anything like Davirien roverines, it would only take one of them getting through and sinking a poisoned stinger to shake their control and alert the rest of the swarm to the presence of food. No, their only hope was to stay out of the fire creepers' way entirely. Either somewhere farther down the tunnel, or else—

"The archway," Mara said suddenly. "We'll need footrests about two meters up—"

"Right," Luke said, igniting his lightsaber and stepping into the opening as he measured the distance with his eyes. Yes, it would just work.

Assuming they had enough time to make the necessary preparations. "Artoo, close down all your openings," he called as he swung the tip of the brilliant green blade horizontally into the inner edge of the archway's side pillar half a meter above his head. If the cortosis ore extended this far out from the passageway wall...

Fortunately, it didn't. His lightsaber blade sliced cleanly inward a few centimeters into the rock, without a hint of trouble. "Child Of Winds, get to that opening up there," he called as he got a Force grip on the lightsaber and lifted it up to the rock over the cut he'd just made. "Find a place to hang on and stay there."

What about you, Jedi Sky Walker? the young Qom Qae asked anxiously, the fluttering of his wings nearly drowned out by the hum of the two lightsabers. How will you protect yourselves?

"You'll see," Luke assured him. He brought the lightsaber blade down at a not-quite-vertical angle, slicing out a rough wedge of stone and leaving behind a shallow horizontal ledge in the inner edge of the archway. The rustling of the approaching fire creepers was growing steadily louder.

"Mara?"

"I'm finished," Mara called over the noise, the blue-white glow reflected from behind him vanishing as she shut down her lightsaber. "We've got maybe twenty seconds." Luke looked down the tunnel as he pulled his lightsaber back to his hand. The leading edge of the swarm was barely five meters away, the entire passageway behind them absolutely black with the insects. "I'm ready," he told her, shutting down the weapon and returning it to his belt. "On three?"

"On three," Mara said.

Luke took half a step backward, and for a moment his back pressed against Mara's as they each gauged the distances and stretched out in their own ways to the Force. "On three," Luke repeated, trying to ignore the sound that seemed to fill the entire passageway. Across by one wall, Artoo moaned with fear. "One, two, three."

He jumped upward toward his footrest, turning his body halfway around as he did so and hoping belatedly that the arc of his leap wouldn't be high enough to crack his head against the curved rock above him. As he came around to face the center of the archway he caught sight of Mara, also in midair with her back to the rock, starting to come down toward her own newly carved footrest. Her arms were stretched toward him, palms outward, as if she were reaching out to push him away. Luke got his own arms up, palms similarly outward, as their heels came thunking solidly down onto their footrests. Their palms met, their fingers intertwined—

Mara took a deep breath, exhaling it in a rush just audible above the noise of the fire creepers now swarming through the passageway beneath their feet. "I'll be Kesseled," she said. "It worked." Luke nodded, taking a deep breath of his own. With their feet resting on the cutouts they'd made, their arms stretched rigidly out and their hands clasped to brace and support one another, they had in effect become a living archway within the stone one. And as long as they stayed that way, they would remain safe above the flow of insects.

But if either of them fell...

"Cozy, isn't it?" Mara commented, looking around. "Very symbolic, too. The great and powerful Jedi Master forced to rely on someone else for his survival."

"I wish you'd drop that," Luke growled. "I've already admitted I can't do everything."

"Which isn't quite the same as relying on other people," Mara said. "But okay; consider it dropped. Looks like we're just high enough."

Luke looked down. The river of fire creepers, as he'd already seen, sloshed a fair distance up the walls of the passageway as too many insects tried to travel through too small a space. Here at the archway, where the tunnel was still narrower, they roved even higher, with some of the insects passing barely centimeters beneath their footrests. "You think they can eat through our boots?" he asked.

"If enough of them climb aboard and start chewing, they can probably eat through anything," Mara said. "And all it'll take will be one of them noticing us to wave whatever chemical flags they use to whistle up the rest of the swarm."

Luke nodded grimly. "So in other words, if any of them look like they're getting close, grab them with the Force and get rid of them fast."

"Better still, throw them across the cave into a wall," Mara said. "What I'd like to know is what they're doing down here. There can't possibly be enough food in this entire cavern complex for a swarm this size."

"Maybe it's a shortcut from one part of the surface to another," Luke suggested. "There's that underground river we passed a ways back—maybe they come here for the water."

"Could be," Mara said, peering to the side. "I wish we'd had time to move our packs up off—what in space?"

Luke followed her gaze, just in time to see Builder With Vines swoop down in a shallow dive over the scurrying fire creepers and curve up again with what appeared to be some of the insects in his mouth. "He's eating them," he said, not quite believing it.

"Of course he is," Mara said. " 'Eater Of Fire Creepers,' remember?"

"But then—?" Luke floundered, thoroughly confused now. "Are they really not that dangerous?"

"Of course they're dangerous," Mara snorted. "You ever hear of the topshot in any clan who picked a name that made him sound calm and reasonable? This has to be the Qom Jha version of kick-the-rancor."

"Kick-the-rancor?"

"A slang term in Palpatine's court," Mara said. "Any stupid stunt where the risks were way out of proportion to the gain."

Luke worked moisture into a suddenly dry mouth as he watched Builder With Vines finish his snack and swoop down for another pass. Why in the name of the Force was he taking such a terrible risk?

And it was a terrible risk. Luke could feel the danger involved, his Jedi senses tingling almost as strongly as if the threat had been aimed directly at him. Surely Builder With Vines couldn't be that hungry. Could he?

"Offhand, I'd say he's showing off," Mara muttered, answering his silent question.

"For who? Us?"

"Hardly." Mara nodded toward the wall behind Luke. "For the kid." Luke craned his neck to look. Balanced precariously on a stone near the Qom Jha opening, Child Of Winds was watching in utter fascination as Builder With Vines swooped over the mass of insects, his wings quivering with excitement or nervousness or envy. "Uh-oh," Luke said. "You don't think—?"

"I would hope he's not that stupid," Mara said. "But the Qom Jha have been riding him ever since we headed out on this little trip. He just might."

Luke grimaced. "Child Of Winds, you stay where you are," he ordered, putting Jedi firmness into his voice. "You're not to try to do what Builder With Vines is—" And suddenly, a terrified shriek screamed through his mind. "What—?" he gasped, his body twitching violently with the shock of the sound.

"It's Builder With Vines," Mara bit out, her fingers tightening around Luke's to help maintain their balance. Luke looked down—

To a horrifying sight. Builder With Vines, his wings flapping frantically but uselessly, was struggling half-submerged in the living river flowing through the passageway. Dozens of fire creepers were already crawling across his head and wings, biting and stinging. Even as Child of Winds's terrified cry joined Builder With Vines's scream in Luke's mind a hundred more of the insects crawled onto the Qom Jha, their weight forcing him still deeper beneath the flow.

There was no time to waste. Stretching out with the Force, Luke hauled Builder With Vines up and out of the flow, holding him suspended in midair. He shifted his focus to the insects, grabbing them through the Force and throwing them off him.

"Don't bother," Mara said quietly. "There's nothing you can do." Luke bit back the reflexive impulse to deny it. He was a Jedi—there had to be something he could do.

But no. She was right... and as Builder With Vines's mental scream died into the silence of death he let the body sink gently back into the mindless flow.

"Easy on the fingers," Mara said softly.

With an effort, Luke turned his gaze back to her, focusing on their joined hands. His fingers were all but white where he was squeezing hers tightly in frustration. "Sorry," he muttered, forcing himself to relax his grip.

"That's all right," she said. "You know, you've got a pretty good grip there. I thought you Jedi usually concentrated more on the mental aspects of the Force than you did in keeping in shape." She was trying to deflect his attention, he knew, trying to turn his thoughts away from the horror he'd just witnessed. Sympathy from Mara was a new experience all by itself; but neither words nor sympathy had a puddle's chance of smoothing over the guilt and anger rising in his throat like a twisting sand-devil. "It's not all right," he snapped back at her. "I knew it was dangerous—I could have stopped him. I should have stopped him."

"How?" Mara countered. "I mean, sure, you could have used the Force to pin him to the ceiling. But what right would you have had to do something like that?"

"What do you mean, what right?" Luke bit out. "I was the one in charge here. Their safety was my responsibility."

"Oh, come on," Mara said, the sympathy still there but with a tinge of scorn around the edges now. "Builder With Vines was an intelligent, responsible adult being. He knew what he was doing. He made his choice, and he suffered the consequences. If you want to start feeling guilty about mistakes, start with ones that were actually your fault."

"Such as?" Luke growled.

For a long moment Mara gazed coolly at him, and Luke felt a sudden wave of misgiving ripple through his anger. "Such as?" Mara repeated. "Well, let's see. Such as not moving your Jedi academy off Yavin when you first found out a really nasty dark side power was infesting the place. Such as not slapping down a tipped turbolaser like Kyp Durron the minute he started showing dark side tendencies of his own. Such as not providing adequate protection for your sister's children against kidnapping, despite the fact it had already been tried a couple of times. Such as unilaterally declaring yourself a Jedi Master after less than ten years on the job. How long a list do you want?" Luke tried to glare at her. But there was no strength behind the glare, and with a grimace of embarrassment he dropped his gaze from her face. "You're right," he sighed. "You're absolutely right. I don't know, Mara. It's been... I don't know."

"Let me guess," she said, the sarcasm gone from her voice again. "Life as a Jedi has been a lot foggier than you ever expected it to be. You've had trouble understanding what you're supposed to do, or how you're supposed to behave. You've been gaining tremendous power in the Force, but more often than not you've been paralyzed with fear that you're going to use it the wrong way. Am I getting warm?"

Luke stared at her. "Yes," he said, not quite believing it. How had she known? "That's it exactly."

"And yet," she continued, "sometime in the past couple of months, things have suddenly become clearer. Not that you've had any great lightning-bolt insights, but a lot of the hesitation has disappeared and you've found it easier to stay on what seems in hindsight to have been the right path."

"Right again," Luke said. "Though there have also been one or two pretty impressive revelations," he added, thinking back. "The vision on Tierfon that got me in touch with Karrde just in time to hear about you being trapped here, for one." He eyed her closely. "You know what's been going on?"

"Yes, it's been only slightly more visible than blindingly obvious," she said dryly. "Certainly to me. Probably to Leia and Corran and some of your other Jedi students, too. Possibly to everyone else in the New Republic."

"Oh, thank you," Luke said, trying to match her tone and not entirely succeeding. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Good. It was supposed to." Mara took a deep breath, and Luke could sense her reluctance.

"Look, you're the one in the middle of this. You're the one who has to make the final call on what's going on. But if you want my reading, it all started with that little jaunt you took out to Byss about nine years ago. Where you faced—whatever it was you faced out there."

Luke shivered. "The reborn Emperor."

"Or whatever," Mara said with an odd touch of impatience. "Personally, I'm not convinced it was really him. But that's beside the point. The point was that you decided—stupidly and rather arrogantly, in my opinion—that the best way to stop him would be for you to pretend to join up and let him teach you some of his dark side techniques."

"But I didn't really go over to the dark side," Luke protested, trying to remember those dark days.

"I mean, I don't think I did."

Mara shook her head. "Debatable; but it almost doesn't matter. One way or the other, you still willingly dabbled in it. And from that point on, it colored everything you did." One of Master Yoda's pronouncements floated up from his memory. If once you start down the dark path, his old teacher had warned, forever will it dominate your destiny. "It did, too, didn't it?" he murmured, half to himself, as all the errors and mistakes and, yes, the arrogance of the past nine years rose accusingly before his eyes. "What was I thinking?"

"You weren't thinking," Mara said, an odd mixture of impatience and compassion swirling together in her voice and emotions. "You were reacting, trying to save everyone and do everything. And in the process you came within a split blaster bolt of destroying yourself."

"So what changed?" he asked. "What happened?"

Mara's eyes narrowed fractionally. "You telling me you don't know?" Luke grimaced, wondering that he hadn't seen it earlier. That critical moment off Iphigin, as he and Han had prepared for combat against the pirate gang Han had deduced was on its way. The moment when he'd seen the vision of Emperor Palpatine and Exar Kun laughing at him... "No, I know," he conceded. "I made a decision to stop using the power of the Force so much." And suddenly, through that mixture of compassion and impatience came a wave of something completely unexpected. An overpowering flood of relief. "You got it," Mara said quietly. "Finally." Luke shook his head. "But why?" he demanded. "The power's obviously there, available for a Jedi to use. Is it just because I touched the dark side that using it is so bad for me?"

"That's probably part of it," Mara said. "But even if you'd never done that you'd still have run into trouble. You ever been in a hullplate-shaping plant?"

"Ah—no," Luke said, blinking at the sudden change of topic.

"How about an ore-crushing facility?" she suggested. "Lando's had a couple of them at one time or another—you must have visited at least one of them."

"I've seen the one on Varn, yes," Luke said, the mention of Lando's name throwing a sudden damper on the cautiously growing feeling of excitement at these new revelations. Mara's relationship with Lando...

"Fine," Mara said, either missing the change in Luke's emotions or else ignoring it. "Sometimes small songbirds set up their nests in the upper supports of those buildings. Did you hear any of them singing when you were there?"

Luke smiled tightly. Again, it was so obvious. "Of course not," he said. "It was way too noisy in there to hear anything that quiet."

Mara smiled back. "Pretty obvious, isn't it, once you see it. The Force isn't just about power, like most non-Jedi think. It's also about guidance: everything from those impressive future visions to the more subtle realtime warnings I sometimes think of as a danger sense. Trouble is, the more you tap into it for raw power, the less you're able to hear its guidance over the noise of your own activity."

"Yes," Luke murmured, so many puzzles suddenly coming clear. He had often wondered how it was he could rebuild Darth Vader's personal fortress while Master Yoda had become winded doing something as relatively simple as lifting an X-wing from the Dagobah swamp. Clearly, Yoda had understood the choices far better than his upstart pupil.

And even in the short time since Luke had decided to try that same choice he'd already seen glimpses of why Yoda had chosen that path. Subtle bits of guidance, sometimes occurring as little more than vague and almost subconscious feelings, had been showing up more and more: protecting him from a quick capture back at the Cavrilhu Pirates' asteroid base, or quietly prompting him to accept Child Of Winds's assistance, which had led directly to this cavern and the pride-motivated aid of the Qom Jha. "I was on Iphigin a couple of months ago helping Han with some negotiations," he said. "The Diamala at the talks told Han that Jedi who used as much power as I did always ended up slipping over to the dark side."

"They may be right," Mara agreed. "Not all Dark Jedi come from botched training, you know. Some of them slip into it all by themselves."

"Not a very pleasant thought," Luke said soberly, thinking about his Yavin academy. Of his successes at Jedi instruction there, and his failures. "Especially given that I started teaching under dark side influence."

"Yes, I noticed that, too," Mara agreed. "Possibly one of the major reasons you didn't do very well with that first batch of students."

Luke made a face. "Is that why you didn't stay?"

"That, and the changes I saw in you," she said. "You didn't seem interested in listening to any warnings about what you were doing, and I decided that when it collapsed around you it wouldn't do either of us any good if I got caught in the rubble, too." She shrugged. "Anyway, Corran was there, and he seemed to have his head bolted on straight."

"He wasn't there very long, though," Luke murmured.

"Yes, I found that out afterward. Pity."

For a moment neither of them said anything. Luke craned his neck to peer to the side, wondering if the end of the fire creeper swarm was visible yet. This introspection was both embarrassing and painful; and besides, they had urgent work to do.

But the black carpet still stretched as far as the passageway's turns and irregularities permitted him to see. "What about you?" he asked, turning back to Mara again. "You were the Emperor's Hand. Why hasn't your life been dominated by the dark side?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Maybe it has. It certainly was from the time Palpatine took me from my home till I got rid of that last command he'd jammed into my mind." Her gaze clouded over oddly, as if she were looking into some private place within herself.

"Though it's funny, somehow. Palpatine never really tried to turn me to the dark side, at least not the way he turned Vader and tried to turn you. Actually, I don't think I was ever really in the dark side at all."

"But everything you were doing was the Emperor's work," Luke said. "If he was on the dark side, shouldn't you have been, too?"

Mara shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I wasn't." Her gaze came back, and Luke could sense the protective barrier going up again, as if she'd suddenly realized her private feelings had been a little too visible. "You're the Jedi Master. You figure it out."

"I'll work on it," Luke promised. Yes, the barriers were back up. But not as high as they'd once been. Not nearly as high.

"In the meantime," she said, "do those sustained control techniques you taught me work on arm muscles as well as lightsabers?"

Luke focused on her arms, noticing for the first time that they were trembling slightly with muscle fatigue. "They do okay," he said. "But for muscles there's a better technique. Let me show you..."

* * *

It was another hour before the swarm of fire creepers finally finished its migration beneath them and disappeared down the cavern passageway. In their wake they left Artoo and everything metal or otherwise indigestible from their packs, though the packs themselves had vanished. And, of course, Builder With Vines's remains.

Mara glanced once at the scattered bones, then firmly turned her eyes away. Yes, it was the Qom Jha's own fault that he'd gotten himself killed; and yes, on one level it was merely the balance of nature at work; and yes, she'd tried her best to keep Luke from taking any of the blame on himself. But none of that meant she had to like what had happened, or wanted to look at the results. "Good thing the food bars were in metal boxes," she commented, massaging her fingers as she prodded what was left of their equipment with the tip of her boot. "The water bottles didn't hold up nearly as well, though."

"There's plenty of water down here," Luke reminded her. He was standing near their cut, looking up at Child Of Winds. "We just won't be able to carry extra supplies with us. It's all safe now, Child Of Winds. You can come down."

The young Qom Qae didn't budge, that almost-voice going again. "I understand," Luke said gently. "But you have to come down. You're in the way up there, and we don't want to hit you with our lightsabers."

For a moment Mara thought Child Of Winds would decide he preferred to stay high up off the floor and take his chances with the lightsabers. Then, with clear reluctance, he spread his wings and fluttered down to a slightly awkward perch on top of the droid's dome.

"What now?" Mara asked, crossing to Luke's side. "Back to hack and slash?" Luke shrugged. "The wall's not going to fall apart on its own," he said. "Unless you think we ought to risk using the grenades."

Mara peered down the passageway. Nothing was visible, but after that fire creeper swarm she was feeling a little spooked herself. "Let's stick with the lightsabers for now," she suggested. "If Splitter Of Stones gets back with the reinforcements before we're finished we'll consider it."

"Sounds good," Luke agreed, pulling his lightsaber from his belt and igniting it. "Artoo, keep an eye out for any more trouble."

The droid warbled a slightly nervous acknowledgment and extended his sensor unit again, nearly knocking Child Of Winds off his perch as he did so. "Okay," Luke said, taking his position to the side of their cut again. "Let's get started."

"Right," Mara said, igniting her own lightsaber. Luke's lightsaber slashed and died; Mara's followed similarly—

And that, she realized, was that. They'd had the conversation she'd known was coming, and had been dreading, since he first arrived here. And while he'd obviously not exactly been thrilled by the realization of how badly he'd wrecked the past few years, he'd taken the news better than she'd expected him to.

The question now was what he would do with this newfound knowledge. Whether he would take it solidly to heart and commit to what he now knew was right, or whether the lure of power and quick solutions would eventually drag him back to the easy path. The dark path. She would just have to wait and see.

CHAPTER

16

From behind him came the sound of an opening door, and Han turned his head to see Lando step into the Lady Luck's bridge. "Okay, it's done," the other announced, his tone tense and decidedly grumpy. "Everything's been shut down to standby. Engines, sensors, computer system—the works." He crossed the bridge and dropped into the pilot's seat beside Han. "And I'd like to go on record right now as saying I hate this."

"I'm not exactly happy about it myself," Han had to admit. "But this is the way it has to be." Lando snorted. "Says a self-admitted Imperial clone TIE pilot," he added accusingly. "You know, Han, I've done some crazy things in my time, but this one takes the prize." Han grimaced, gazing out at the stars. It was crazy, all right. Somewhere out there, a hyperspace microjump away, was an Imperial Ubiqtorate contact station, with all the security and firepower and just plain nastiness that that implied.

And here they were, probably well within its defensive perimeter, sitting around like a belly-up gornt with their systems cranked way back to keep from being too visible to any auto-rovers the station might have out wandering the area. Waiting for an Imperial clone to come back and tell them where in the shrunken Empire the capital of Bastion was located. "Leia said he was all right," he told Lando.

"She said he was sincere and not planning to betray you," Lando corrected darkly. "She didn't say he was a competent enough liar to pull this whole thing off. Especially not in front of some congenitally suspicious Ubiqtorate agent."

Han eyed him. "You don't like clones, do you?"

Lando snorted again. "No, I don't," he said flatly. "Palpatine may have talked about alien species as being subhuman, but clones are really down there."

For a minute the bridge was silent. Han gazed out at the stars some more, rubbing his fingertips over his blaster grip and trying not to let Lando's nervousness get to him. Leia had agreed to let him come out here, after all, and Leia was a Jedi. Surely she'd have seen or felt or guessed if something bad was going to happen. Wouldn't she?

"Tell me about this Baron Fel," Lando said suddenly. "I mean the original one. What was he like?" Han shrugged. "Typical Corellian, I suppose. Well, no, actually he wasn't. He was a farm boy, for one thing, who got bribed with an academy appointment to stop him testifying in a legal action against some big agro-combine official's son. We were at Carida together for a while, though I didn't hang around with him much. He was an honorable sort, I suppose—even a little stiff-necked about it sometimes—and a pretty fair pilot."

"As good as you?" Lando asked.

Han smiled tightly. "Better," he said, a little surprised he was actually admitting that out loud. "At least, with something the size of a TIE fighter."

"So how did he wind up getting cloned?" Lando asked. "As I remember the history, he quit the Empire, joined Rogue Squadron, then got recaptured. So the question is, why would anyone clone a guy who'd already turned once? I don't care how good a pilot he was."

"Leia and I asked Carib the same question on Pakrik Minor," Han said. "He told us he didn't know, that it wasn't part of the flash-learning they'd been given in the cloning tanks." Lando grunted. "Look. They would have had to hold him for three or four years, minimum, before Thrawn got his cloning tanks up and running. Right?"

"They didn't need all of him," Han murmured. "C'baoth cloned Luke from the hand he lost at Bespin, remember?"

"Yes, but Luke's hand was one of Palpatine's trophies," Lando pointed out. "Why would anyone bother keeping parts of Fel in storage? No one even knew Palpatine had all those cloning tanks hidden away, let alone that Thrawn would show up and get them running again."

"Point," Han conceded. "So they probably kept him alive somewhere."

"Right," Lando said. "The question is where?"

"I don't know," Han said. "No one ever found records about him at any of the Imperial prisons or penal colonies we liberated. With his connections to Rogue Squadron, we would have heard if they had."

He hesitated. "The other thing you might not know is that a month or two after his recapture, his wife pulled the same sort of vanishing act."

Lando frowned. "I remember Wedge talking about that once. But you say 'vanishing'—I thought it was the Empire who snatched her."

"That's what everyone thought at the time," Han agreed. "But once they started sifting through the evidence, it was a lot less clear what had happened. Anyway, no one ever found a trace of her, either."

Lando shook his head. "If any of this is supposed to reassure me, it's not. The only way Isard could have gotten Fel back on the Empire's side would have been to braintwist him. You want to tell me what kind of clone is going to come from that?"

Han sighed. "I don't know. All I know is that Leia cleared him." Lando nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

Again, silence descended on the bridge. This time, it was Han who broke it. "What are Lobot and Moegid doing back there?" he asked.

"They were practicing their slicing techniques before you had me shut the computer down," Lando said, still sounding grumpy. "They're probably checking over Moegid's equipment now."

"Did you tell them where we were going?"

Lando's lips compressed briefly. "I told them we were going into the Empire. I didn't tell them exactly where. Or why."

"Maybe you'd better go do that," Han suggested. "Moegid may need to brush up on Imperial computer systems or something."

"I don't think Verpine ever have to brush up on anything," Lando said. But he nevertheless levered himself out of his seat. "Sure, why not? We might as well all be worried together. It's better than sitting around waiting for the hammer to drop, anyway."

"Don't worry," Han called after him as he left the bridge. "It'll work out. Trust me." There was no response but the metallic thud of the door as it slid shut behind him. Sighing again, Han turned his attention back to watching for Carib's freighter to return. Trying hard not to worry.

* * *

The Ubiqtorate agent seated at his console gazed up at his visitor from under bushy eyebrows.

"All right," he said in a voice that somehow reminded Carib of a thousand prasher worms scratching their wings against tallgrain leaves. "Your ID checks out."

"Glad to hear it," Carib said, trying to put some righteous indignation into his tone. To his ears, though, he sounded merely plaintive. "Does that mean you're finally ready to listen?" The agent leaned back in his seat, regarding Carib coolly. "Sure," he said. "Provided you're ready to hear a list of charges against you if this big news of yours isn't as flacking urgent as you seem to think it is."

He slammed his stylus down on the desk in front of him. "Blast it, Devist, you know you're never supposed to come here yourself. All you people are supposed to know that. Everything you have to report goes through channels. Everything."

Carib remained standing at attention, listening to the reprimand with half an ear and waiting with all the patience he could muster for the other to run out of words. The self-generated tirade, he knew, was one of the Ubiqtorate's classic tactics for rattling someone they wanted to be vulnerable. But no. That wasn't something he knew. It was something Baron Soontir Fel had known. Something that had been artificially transferred along with his piloting skill to Carib and his brothers. Memories that were not his own, from a person who was not him.

And yet, on some level, was indeed him.

It was a mind-numbing thought, a painful and depressing blurring of identity that had cost Carib many a sleepless night back on Pakrik Minor before he'd finally made the conscious decision to bury it as far back at the edge of his mind as he could.

And he'd done a fair job of keeping it there... until the long-awaited, long-feared orders had come in from the remnants of the Empire—could it really have been only two weeks ago?—reactivating his TIE combat unit. Then, all the old uncertainties and questions and self-doubts had surged back to the front of his mind. He was a clone. A clone. A clone...

Stop it, he snarled at the word. I am Carib Devist. Husband of Lacy, father of Daberin and Keena, tallgrain farmer of the Dorchess Valley of Pakrik Minor. Where I came from and how I came to be don't matter. I am who I am.

He took a careful breath... and as he did so, the doubts once again returned to their uneasy sleep in the deep crevices of his mind. He was Carib Devist; and despite what anyone might say or believe, he was indeed a unique individual.

The Ubiqtorate agent was starting to wind down now, and with a flicker of private amusement Carib realized that for once the old intimidation tactic had backfired. Far from unnerving its intended victim, the tirade had instead given him the time he needed to collect his thoughts and his nerve and to prepare for verbal combat.

"So let's hear it," the agent snarled. "Let's hear this vitally important news of yours."

"Yes, sir," Carib said. "There was an Imperial attack on New Republic High Councilor Leia Organa Solo over Pakrik Minor five days ago. It failed."

"Yes, thank you, we know that," the agent said sarcastically. "Are you telling me you broke security—?"

"The reason it failed," Carib continued, "was because—"

"I'm talking here, Devist," the agent snapped. "You broke security for a story we could have pulled off Coruscant Hourly—?"

"—was because," Carib went on doggedly, "they were assisted—"

"Will you shut up? I'll have your skin pickled in—"

"—by an unknown alien ship," Carib finished.

"—a Hutt's slimy—" He broke off. "What do you mean, an unknown alien ship?" he demanded.

"I mean a ship with a completely unknown design," Carib said. "It had four outboard panels like the two on a TIE fighter, but the rest was definitely non-Imperial." For a long moment the agent measured Carib with his eyes. "I don't suppose you happened to pull any records of the battle," he said at last, his tone challenging.

"Not of the battle itself," Carib said, pulling a datacard from his side pouch. "But we did get something of the ship afterward."

The agent held out his hand. Carib dropped the datacard into it, mentally crossing his fingers. Solo had cobbled this thing together during the trip here from a pair of records he and Organa Solo had had with them in their ship. Where they'd gotten the originals Carib didn't know. And really didn't care, either. Combat, intrigue, galactic security—none of those were matters he and his brothers wanted anything to do with anymore. All they wanted was to be left alone to raise their families and tend their farms and live their lives.

And all he cared about at this immediate moment was that Solo's gimmicked record be good enough to fool this glowering bit-pusher into believing it. If it was... The agent whistled under his breath, peering at his reader. "Tarkin's teeth," he muttered, shaking his head. "Are these energy readings correct?"

"That's what was there." Carib hesitated, but he couldn't resist. "So was it worth breaking security for?"

The agent looked up, but it was clear he wasn't really seeing Carib anymore. "I'd say so, yes," he said absently, keying his board furiously. "Sure. Just watch it when you head home, and keep with the zigzag. Dismissed."

And that was it. No thank-yous, no well-dones, no nothing. Just a petty little Ubiqtorate agent on dead-end duty at the edge of nowhere with visions of promotion dancing through his head. But that was okay, Carib knew as he headed down the corridor. His part was done now, or almost done, and Solo would take it from here. He could go back to Lacy and his brothers and sink back into the quiet anonymity that was all any of them desired.

Unless...

He grimaced as a thought belatedly struck him. Yes, the Ubiqtorate' agent back there had swallowed the bait in a single eager gulp. But that was no guarantee the military analysts on Bastion who would take the record apart would do the same.

And it was no guarantee at all that Grand Admiral Thrawn wouldn't see instantly through the scam. If he did, and if Solo was still in Imperial space at the time...

He shook his head once to clear it. No. He'd done what they wanted, and had risked his own neck to do it. What happened now was in their hands, not his. His part was done. Period. Quickening his pace, he headed toward the docking tunnel where his freighter was berthed. The faster he got out of here and back to his farm, the better.

* * *

From off to the side, the speaker suddenly crackled. "Solo?"

Hastily, Han dropped his feet off the edge of the control board where they'd been propped and keyed the comm. "Yeah, I'm here, Carib," he said. "You got it?"

"Yes," Carib said. "He sent the droid probe off on vector forty-three by fifteen." Behind Han, the bridge door opened. "Is that Devist?" Lando asked.

"Yeah," Han said as he punched up a chart. "You sure this is the vector to Bastion?"

"It's the direction the probe went," Carib said. "I'm sending you a copy of the recording."

"What I meant was are you sure he was sending it to Bastion," Han said as a beep from the board acknowledged receipt of the transmission.

"He didn't say anything one way or the other," Carib said. "But from the shining vision of promotion in his eyes, I can't see where else he would have sent it."

"How about to the main Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor?" Lando countered. "Isn't that his proper chain of command?"

"Usually, yes," Carib said. "But matters of immediate military importance go directly to the high command. Your unknown alien ship should come under that heading."

"We hope," Lando muttered.

"Besides which, there are military politics involved," Carib added. "Anyone stuck out on a contact station like this is here because the upper echelons have basically written him off. The only way to get out is to impress someone higher up in the military. Again, that means sending it straight to Bastion." Han lifted his eyebrows at Lando. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"I suppose," Lando said suspiciously, peering with narrowed eyes at the freighter hanging in space outside the Lady Luck's viewport. "So Baron Fel was pretty good with military politics, was he?" Han winced. Whatever Lando's feelings about clones might be, there was no reason to go out of his way to antagonize Carib. Especially when the man was trying to help them. Even more especially when they were sitting at the edge of Imperial space within spitting distance of a Ubiqtorate station. "Carib—"

"It's all right, Solo," Carib said, his voice studiously neutral. "Maybe you'll agree now I was right when I talked about this back on Pakrik Minor."

Han winced again. Carib's contention that there was still heavy prejudice against clones in the New Republic... "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's all right," Carib repeated. "My part's done; I'm heading home. Good luck to you." The freighter curved away over the Lady Luck and flickered with pseudomotion as it made the jump to lightspeed. "He's sure in a hurry to get away," Lando growled.

"He's heading home," Han reminded him, turning his attention back to the chart. A course of forty-three by fifteen from the Ubiqtorate station would put it...

"Looks like the Sartinaynian system," Lando said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, it does," Han agreed, nodding.

"Funny place to put an Imperial capital," Lando said, an edge of suspicion still coloring his tone.

"Oh, I don't know," Han said, skimming down the data the Lady Luck's computer had on the place. "It was a sector capital once, so they're probably used to having a bureaucracy underfoot."

"Still a long way from the glittering towers of Coruscant, though," Lando said.

"Isn't everything?" Han countered. "Come on, we're wasting time." Shaking his head, Lando dropped into the pilot's seat. "Sure. Let's just walk into the middle of the Imperial capital. Why not?"

"Lando, look—"

"No, it's all right, Han," Lando said with a tired sigh. "I said I'd do it, and I will. I just wish I didn't have to." He reached over and keyed the nav computer. "But wishes don't bring you the cards you want. Give Lobot and Moegid a call, will you, and tell them to strap in."

"Sure," Han said, reaching for his own restraints with one hand and going for the comm switch with the other. "Hey, don't worry. It's going to work out fine."

"Yeah," Lando said. "Sure."

* * *

"No!" Ishori Senator Ghic Dx'ono snarled, slamming a horny-tipped fist down on the table for emphasis. "It is completely out of the question. The Ishori will not accept anything less than full and complete justice for the Caamasi and the people of the New Republic."

"Justice is what we all seek," Diamalan Senator Porolo Miatamia countered, his voice the glacial calm of his species. "But—"

"You lie!" Dx'ono all but screamed, his ears flattened against his head. "The Diamala demand the impossible, and refuse to settle for anything else!"

"Senators, please," President Ponc Gavrisom cut in, his wings sweeping briefly between the other two as if trying to separate a pair of enraged shockball players. "I'm not asking for a resolution of the Caamas situation here and now. All I'm asking—"

"I know what you're asking," Dx'ono snarled. "But justice postponed is too often justice ignored." He jabbed a finger accusingly toward Miatamia. "And that is precisely the situation the Diamala are trying to engineer."

"The Diamala have every intention of seeing justice served," Miatamia said coldly. "But we understand that more urgent matters should take priority."

"Thrawn is dead!" Dx'ono snarled, leaping to his feet as if to physically attack the other. "He is dead! All Imperial records agree!"

Miatamia remained unmoved. "I saw him, Senator. I saw him, and heard him—"

"Lies!" Dx'ono cut him off. "All lies, created to distract us from the search for justice." Seated in the small room behind the false wall, Booster Terrik shook his head. "Idiots," he muttered. "Both of them."

"Now, now, Father," his daughter Mirax Terrik Horn said, squeezing his arm. "Both of them are probably sincere, from their own different points of view."

"And we all know what road is lined with sincere people," Terrik said sourly, glancing back over his shoulder. "Where is that blasted Bel Iblis, anyway? I've got work to do."

"You've got nothing but overhaul and maintenance work on the Errant Venture scheduled for the next three weeks," Mirax admonished him firmly. "And you're not needed for a single bit of it." Booster sent a glare at her, a glare that worked about as well as such looks had ever worked on her. Which was to say, not very. "I thought daughters were supposed to be a source of pride and comfort to their fathers in their old age," he grumbled.

She smiled. "When you get there, I'll see what I can do," she promised. The smile faded as she turned back to the false wall. "This whole thing is starting to get out of hand. Have you heard that a hundred systems have already petitioned to rejoin the Empire?"

"My sources say it's only been twenty systems," Booster said. "Everything else is just rumors."

"Whatever the numbers, it's still something to worry about," Mirax said, a note of quiet dread in her voice. "If Thrawn is really still alive, and if all this turmoil persuades people they want or need his protection, then the Empire could regain its territory without firing a single shot."

"I doubt they're going to talk that many systems into coming back," Booster argued. But he didn't feel nearly as confident as he was trying to sound. "Anyway, there's not a lot we can do about it." Behind him, the door slid open. "Ah—Captain Terrik," General Bel Iblis said, striding in and offering his hand. "Thank you for coming. I trust you've been well entertained?"

"If you mean the dance show, I've seen better," Booster said, jerking a thumb toward the loud drama in the next room as he reluctantly and briefly gripped Bel Iblis's hand. He and authority had never gotten along very well. "Speaking of dance shows, I've got a bone to pick with you over that nonsense in the Sif'kric system three weeks ago. The bureaucrats there still haven't released the Hoopster's Prank back to me."

"I didn't know that," Bel Iblis said, shutting off the speaker that was bringing the argument in from the next room and pulling over the room's remaining chair. "I'll give orders to have it sprung as soon as we finish here."

Booster eyed him warily. "The word 'finish' implies a start."

"Indeed it does," Bel Iblis agreed, positioning the chair to face the two of them and sitting down.

"I didn't ask you here just for a private showing of Gavrisom's mediation skill. Incidentally, I presume I don't have to tell you that anything you heard here is to be considered confidential."

"Really." Booster frowned thoughtfully at his daughter. "Let's see. The Ishori scream when they debate and want a square meter of skin off every Bothan to give to what's left of the Caamasi. The Diamala want the same square meter, but only from the Bothans who helped destroy Caamas—exhuming them if necessary—as soon as anyone figures out who they were. Who do you think we should sell these big secrets to first, Mirax?"

She gave her father a patient look and shifted her attention to Bel Iblis. "We understand, General," she said. "What is it you want?"

"I let you see a bit of this private conversation because I thought it would help drive home the seriousness of the situation we're in," Bel Iblis said, nodding back toward the discussion still going on now inaudibly behind him. "The buildup of warships over Bothawui is being repeated all over the New Republic as worlds and species line up behind the Ishori and Diamala over this issue. The only way we're going to defuse the situation is to find out who exactly the Bothans were who sabotaged the Caamas planetary shields."

"As a dancer, General, you're no better than they are," Booster said. "Get to the point." Bel Iblis locked eyes with him. "I want to borrow the Errant Venture." Booster stared at him, too stunned even to laugh in the general's face. "You must be joking," he got out at last. "Certainly not."

"What do you need it for?" Mirax asked.

Bel Iblis shifted his gaze to her. "We think there may be a complete copy of the Caamas Document in the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor," he told her. "Gavrisom has decided to launch an information raid to try to get hold of it."

"A data raid on a Ubiqtorate base?" Booster echoed. "What poor sucker pulled that assignment?"

Bel Iblis regarded him coolly. "I did," he said.

For a moment the room was silent. Booster studied Bel Iblis's face, wishing the general had glazed over the false wall behind him when he'd turned off the sound. The argument back there, particularly the Ishori Senator's wide-armed flailing, was highly distracting. As Bel Iblis probably intended it to be. "Okay," he said at last. "I get the picture—you need a Star Destroyer to sneak in through their outer defenses. Last I heard, the New Republic still has some captured ones. Why not use one of those?"

"Two reasons," Bel Iblis said. "First, they're all too well known. Disguising their markings and engine ID signatures would take too long."

"And probably not fool anyone for long," Mirax murmured.

Booster glared at her. Whose side was she on here, anyway?

"Right." Bel Iblis nodded. "Second, and more importantly, we can't pull any of them away from their assigned patrol duties without everyone in the sector instantly missing them. You know what an information raid is like: if the target gets even a whiff of your plans, you're sunk." Booster crossed his arms across his chest. "Sorry, General. I sympathize with your problem and all, but no deal. I went through too much for that ship to risk it in some crazy scheme that's none of my business anyway."

Bel Iblis cocked his head slightly to the side. "You sure about it being none of your business?" Booster uncrossed his arms far enough to tap at his upper chest. "You see a New Republic military insignia here?"

"You see the Diamalan Senator back there?" Bel Iblis countered. "They're allies with the Mon Cals on this Bothan situation; and you know how much the Mon Cals hate smugglers. If all-out war breaks out, one of the first things they're likely to do is move against all smuggling groups they can find, if for no other reason than to drain the potential pool of privateers the other side can use." He lifted an eyebrow. "And with an Imperial Star Destroyer in your possession, where do you think you'll end up on their list of things to do?"

Booster grimaced. "Somewhere near the top?"

"That's where I'd put you," Bel Iblis agreed. "So helping me is very much in your own best interests."

He had a case, Booster had to admit. And he could feel the accusation behind Mirax's eyes as she gazed at him, reminding him of his glib comment not five minutes ago about how there was nothing they could do.

And it occurred to him—as it might not yet have to his daughter—that if Bel Iblis was going to Yaga Minor, Mirax's husband, Corran, and the rest of Rogue Squadron would probably be going in with him.

But to be asked to risk his beloved Errant Venture this way was just too much. Yes, it was falling apart, with half its systems questionable or totally dead, and with an operating cost that would make an Imperial baron blanch. But it was his. All his...

He paused. What in the worlds was he thinking of?

He uncrossed his arms and resettled himself in his seat, eyeing Bel Iblis speculatively.

"Unfortunately, even if I said yes, you'd never get away with it," he pointed out. "You turn a halfway decent sensor array on the Errant Venture and a blind wampa could tell we're not up to Imperial standards anymore. We'd need turbolaser and tractor-emplacement upgrades, shield rebuilds, whole system replacements—you name it, we need it."

Bel Iblis's gaze had hardened noticeably during the recitation. "I see," he said dryly. "Airen Cracken warned me about you."

"Glad to hear he remembers me." Booster shrugged. "It's up to you, General. I'll lend you the ship; but in exchange, you have to upgrade the systems. And win or lose, those upgrades stay put when it's all over."

"The Mon Cals will love that."

"If war breaks out, the Mon Cals will be the least of my worries," Booster said bluntly. "Every two-bit pirate and smuggling group in the galaxy will be trying to get their hands on the Venture. That's my offer; take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," Bel Iblis said, standing up. "Where's the ship now?"

"Parked over in the outer Mrisst system," Booster told him, standing up as well and trying not to show his surprise. His admittedly spotty experience with New Republic officials was that they needed more cajoling and a lot more bargaining before they finally gave in. And New Republic military officials were even worse. "Where do you want it delivered?"

"I'll tell you once we're aboard," Bel Iblis said.

Booster frowned. "You're coming with us?"

"Along with two hundred of my crewers," the general said. "We'll assist you in flying the ship until we pick up a proper crew at the rendezvous point."

"I have a proper crew," Booster retorted. He should have known Bel Iblis wouldn't give in this easily.

"For running a mobile smugglers depot, perhaps," Bel Iblis said. "Not for impersonating an Imperial warship. I'll be bringing a full skeleton complement aboard before we leave the rendezvous point."

Booster drew himself up to his full height. "Let's get one thing straight right now, General," he said stiffly. "The Errant Venture is my ship. If I don't captain her, she doesn't go anywhere." Once again, Bel Iblis surprised him. "Certainly," he said calmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I have a shuttle waiting; we'll leave at once."

"Whatever you say," Booster said, fighting against the bad feeling that, despite appearances, Bel Iblis had still not given in quite the way it sounded. "Mirax, you might as well take my shuttle and head back home."

Bel Iblis cleared his throat. "What?" Booster demanded suspiciously.

"I'm afraid Mirax will have to come with us," Bel Iblis said apologetically. "It's absolutely vital that we have complete security on this, and that means no one who knows about it can be allowed to wander around loose."

Booster drew himself up again. "If you think I'm going to let my daughter come on a raid against a Ubiqtorate base—"

"Oh, no, not at all," Bel Iblis hastened to assure him. "She and her son will stay behind at the rendezvous point with the prep crew."

Once again, Booster had the distinct feeling of having had the blocks knocked out from under him. "Fine," he muttered. "Well, let's get going. If you're determined to go marching into an Imperial base, we might as well get to it."

"Yes," Bel Iblis said. "And let me thank you once again for your help. Don't worry; it'll all work out fine."

"Yeah," Booster grumbled as he took Mirax's arm. "Sure."