Encounter at Ord Trasi

Luke glanced around the tree. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see several other ysalamiri wrapped around and across various of the limbs and branches. “What makes you think it’s the ysalamiri and not something else that’s responsible for this bubbling in the Force?”

“Partly local legend,” Karrde said. “Mainly, the fact that you’re standing here talking to me. How else could a man with a stun weapon and an extremely nervous mind have walked right up behind a Jedi without being noticed?”

Luke looked at him sharply, the last piece falling into place. “You had ysalamiri aboard the Wild Karrde.” —Heir to the Empire

---------------------------------------------------

“Karrde?” Lachton’s voice came from the comm. “We’re coming up on Ord Trasi. ETA: three minutes.”

“Thank you, Lachton,” Karrde said, leaning forward. “We’ll be up shortly.”

From beneath his desk came a low purr. “No, not you, Sturm” Karrde chided as he switched off the comm. “You and Drang are going to stay right here with Chin. Isn’t that right, Chin?”

“Whatever you say, Capt,” Chin responded from the other side of the communications desk. “We’ll just sit here nice and tight, hee?”

Karrde reached down and gave the vornskr a pat on the head. “You see, Sturm?” he said. “Don’t worry; Aves and I will be back soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Aves said, seated in the chair beside Chin. “I still say this is a bad idea, Karrde.”

“We’ve gone over this, Aves” Karrde said patiently. “As long as the Empire’s got a bounty on our heads, we have to do our best to lay low.”

“You call this laying low?” Aves said, sharing an incredulous look with Chin. “Flying into the middle of an Imperial shipyard?”

“Yes, I do,” Karrde said simply. “The Imperial shipyards at Ord Trasi are the exact last place Grand Admiral Thawn will expect us to show up. Logically, it is also the place we’ll be safest.”

“You’re assuming Thrawn hasn’t already thought of that,” Aves argued. “He’s done a pretty good job outsmarting everyone so far.”

Karrde shook his head. “Correction: he’s done a good job outsmarting the New Republic. You’ll notice we are still very much in business. And whatever your reservations, I need you to express them now,” Karrde added. “I can’t have you contradicting me on the bridge.”

There was an awkward silence. “I’m done,” Aves said, avoiding Karrde’s look.

“Good,” Karrde said, getting up. “Then speaking of which, we better head up there. You’ll be okay here, Chin?”

“Oh, sure, Capt,” Chin said cheerfully. “Isn’t that right, littles?” Behind him in the corner, Drang gave a light cackle.

“Good,” Karrde said, standing up from his seat. “Aves, shall we go?”

Together the two of them exited the office and headed for the Wild Karrde’s bridge. “I’m sorry, Karrde,” Aves said once they’d gone twenty feet. “I know you don’t like it when I disagree with you in front of Chin or the others.”

“Quite the contrary,” Karrde said mildly. “I believe any good organization thrives on open discussion. I’m only concerned that your recent reticence has less to do with our actual mission than something else.”

“I’m tired,” Aves admitted wearily. “I mean, we all are. We’re smugglers; we’re used to being on the run. But this stretch is taking its toll.”

“And this new offensive by Grand Admiral Thrawn suggests we won’t be stopping anytime soon,” Karrde finished for him. “I understand. Out of curiosity, has anyone else mentioned these concerns?”

Aves shrugged. “A couple people,” he admitted. “Mostly the crew is wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to hand Skywalker over from the beginning.”

“Sometimes I wonder that myself,” Karrde admitted. “Then I remember that in the end, the New Republic is much more likely to win out in this little galactic conflict.”

“Yeah, but what about these rumors that Thrawn’s got some new cloning facility?” Aves challenged. “Seems to me the balance of power has done a major shift in the Empire’s favor.”

“It’s true the situation has changed over the past month,” Karrde conceded. “What would you have me do, land at the nearest Imperial base and hand myself over?”

“Hey, no one is disagreeing with any of your decisions, Karrde. We’re just tired, is all.”

By now they had reached the door to the bridge. At their approach the door slid open, and Karrde and Aves stepped inside. “Status?” Karrde asked, sliding into the comm station.

“We’re down to an ETA of thirty seconds,” Lachton said from where he was sitting at the pilot’s station. Behind him, the mottled blue of hyperspace rolled past.

“Very well,” Karrde said, checking his display. “I take it Ghent’s rigged ID is ready to go?”

“You got that right,” Lachton said. “The Starlight Express, out of Rishi. Carrying shield modulators for Platform Nineteen. Assuming they don’t decide to look too closely, of course.”

“Of course,” Karrde agreed. “Aves, you take the helm. Hyperspace breakout in ten seconds.”

The clock counted down to zero. Aves pushed the hyperdrive levers forward, and outside the view transformed from mottled sky into starlines, and from starlines into the Imperial shipyards at Ord Trasi. “Wow,” Lachton said as the Wild Karrde exited hyperspace. “There must be at least fifty ships out there right now.”

“At least,” Karrde agreed, surveying the scene before them. Mostly Star Destroyers, he realized, though he also spied a fair number of smaller support ships—including what must be more than a dozen of the Katana fleet Dreadnaughts. “It appears Thrawn really is getting ready for a final offensive.”

“No kidding,” Aves said, indicating to their left. “What do you think is going on over there?”

Karrde followed where he pointed. Separated from the rest of the ships were four more Katana Dreadnaughts, surrounded by a multitude of maintenance craft. “Some special retrofitting?” he suggested. “Perhaps Thrawn realized he needed more—”

But he was interrupted by a sudden hiss from the comm. “Incoming ship, this is Ord Trasi Control,” the usually harsh-sounding voice said. “Identify yourself and your cargo.”

Karrde flipped on the comm. “Good morning,” he said with an assumed air of false friendliness. “This is the freighter Starlight Express, out of Rishi. We’ve got those shield modulators scheduled for Platform Nineteen. You going to let us through, or what?”

“Copy, Starlight Express,” the official-sounding voice at the other end answered, not returning the friendliness. “Transmit your ship identification code.”

“Copy that, Control,” Karrde said, flipping the switch that would transmit Ghent’s fake ID. “Stand by.”

The comm went silent. “Now what?” Lachton asked.

“Now we wait,” Karrde said, his attention moving back to the four Dreadnaughts. “Aves?”

“I’m still not sure,” the other responded. “Wait a minute—”

His voice broke off. “Lachton,” he said, his tone grim. “That Star Destroyer hovering twenty degrees portside—can you get an ID on it?”

“No problem,” Lachton said, keying up his console. “It‘ll just take me a second…here it is. Broadcasting as…” His voice, too, broke off. “I don’t believe it. It’s the Chimaera.”

“The Chimaera?” Karrde repeated, a little too dumbly for his own taste as he leaned toward the viewport to get a better look. “You’re certain of that?”

“That’s what it’s broadcasting as,” Lachton said, taking a closer look at his screen. “It’s the Chimaera, all right.”

“What in blazes is Thrawn doing here?” Aves demanded.

“Probably just overseeing whatever retrofitting they’ve got going on,” Karrde said. “Relax, Aves. If this had anything to do with us, we’d already be in a tractor beam.”

“I feel so much better,” Aves bit out. “So what are we going to do about it?”

Karrde shrugged. “What would you suggest?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Aves said sarcastically. “How about getting the hell out of here?”

“We could do that,” Karrde agreed. “Of course, we’d only end up drawing more attention to ourselves.”

“Better than spending the rest of our lives in an Imperial detention center.”

“Relax, Aves,” Lachton interjected. “Karrde is right. Thrawn has no way of knowing that we’re here.”

“Sure,” Aves gritted, turning back to his console. But he didn’t sound convinced.

* * *

“General Harkin,” Thrawn greeted the hazy three-quarters holo flickering before him. “Report.”

“Yes, sir,” Harkin said, offering a salute. “Within the past seven days we have brought an additional thirteen Katana Dreadnaughts online, and hope to have another five ready in time for the Ukio operation.”

“Excellent,” Thrawn said, and even in the Admiral’s normally cool demeanor Pellaeon could detect a hint of satisfaction. “And what of my special request?”

Harkin hesitated. “We have encountered a small complication there,” he confessed. “This is our first time installing a cloaking shield on a ship this large. The process has been more difficult than initially expected.”

“I understand,” Thrawn said patiently. “How much more time do you require?”

“We should have the cloaking shield functioning on the first Dreadnaught by the end of the week. They’ll be ready by the Ukio operation, I assure you.”

“I hope so,” Thrawn said, and now a hard tone replaced the earlier one of satisfaction. “The Ukio operation is the centerpiece of our final campaign against the Rebels, and these Dreadnaughts are the lynchpin of that operation. I would find myself extremely displeased if they were not ready on time. Extremely displeased.”

“They will be ready, Admiral,” Harkin assured him quickly. “You have my word.”

Thrawn held his gaze for another moment. “Then I won’t delay you further,” he said. “Return to your duties, General. Chimaera out.”

Harkin offered another quick salute, and his image disappeared from the holopad. “Well, Captain,“ Thrawn said, turning toward Pellaeon, “all and all I’d say everything is proceeding smoothly. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Pellaeon shrugged. “I suppose, sir. Except for that issue with the cloaking shield, of course.”

“Of course,” Thrawn agreed. “Still, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. Delays are inevitable when dealing with something as complicated as a cloaking shield, particularly—as Harkin points out—on something the size of a Dreadnaught.” His gaze moved past Pellaeon, out toward the Ord Trasi shipyards framed in one of the Chimaera’s viewports . “Harkin is competent enough. He just needs a little extra prodding. If he can keep to his timetable, we’ll still have several days to conduct our tests with Master C’baoth.”

Pellaeon nodded, glancing over his shoulder down the side catwalk. C’baoth was standing silently at one of the bridge viewports, staring distantly out at the sprawling facility with his robed hands behind his back. To all appearances he wasn’t even paying them any mind.

But something in his face drew Pellaeon’s attention. His lips were tight and compressed beneath his beard, his expression looked almost strained in either concentration or confusion. “Master C’baoth?” Pellaeon asked, involuntarily taking a step towards the Jedi Master. He remembered a similar expression on C’baoth before: during the mole miner raid above Nkllon, when—C’baoth claimed—he’d had his private conversation with Luke Skywalker. “Is everything all right? You don‘t look well.”

But if C’baoth’s face looked strained, there was nothing wrong with his voice. “Captain Pellaeon,” C’baoth answered easily. He pointed a finger out the viewport at a distant drive glow. “Tell me: what is that ship there?”

Pellaeon squinted. “It looks like an independent freighter,” he identified it. “A Corellian Action VI, if I’m not mistaken. Why?”

“An independent freighter, you say?” C’baoth repeated, ignoring the question. “It is not an Imperial ship?”

“We sometimes use independent shippers for cargo and transportation,” Thrawn explained, coming up behind Pellaeon. His red eyes were focused intently on C’baoth. “Why do you ask, Master C’baoth?”

C’baoth glanced away from the viewport. “Because,” he said, meeting Thrawn’s gaze, “it is carrying ysalamiri aboard.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as C’baoth’s words sunk in. “Ysalamiri?” Pellaeon exclaimed dumbly. “That’s impossible. Surely you‘re mistaken—”

“I am a Jedi Master,” C’baoth interrupted angrily. “I do not make mistakes when it comes to matters of the Force.”

“But ysalamiri—”

“Captain,” Thrawn interjected smoothly, “if you please?”

Pellaeon sighed. “Yes, sir,” he said, reaching over for his display and bringing the freighter up on his screen. “It’s an Action VI, all right,” he confirmed. “Reads as the Starlight Express, out of Rishi. Carrying a shipment of shield modulators for Platform Nineteen.”

Thrawn let out a light laugh. “I sincerely doubt that ship is only carrying shield modulators, Captain, “ he said. “You see, what we have there is not the Starlight Express at all. It’s the Wild Karrde.”

“The Wild Karrde? You mean Talon Karrde’s ship?” It didn't seem possible.

“Unless you can name another Action VI that would have a ysalamir aboard,” Thrawn nodded thoughtfully. “Ironic, isn’t it, that we’ve gone to so much effort over the past month to capture Karrde, and yet here he is on our very own doorstep?”

Assuming it really is ysalamiri, Pellaeon thought bitterly. But he kept that retort to himself. “If it is Karrde, we have to move to an intercept position before he can jump to lightspeed…” he started.

“Patience, Captain,” Thrawn chided. “Karrde’s made no indication he even intends to escape. Observe.”

For a moment the three of them stood there, watching the lazy path of the distant freighter as it moved slowly towards the bustling hubbub of Platform Nineteen. “I don’t believe it,” Pellaeon said after a moment. “What is he doing?”

“What he came here to do,” Thrawn said. “Making a delivery. Talon Karrde is not the sort of man to sit idly in hiding while the rest of the galaxy moves around him. He is a man of action, and needs to act.”

“By smuggling contraband into an Imperial shipyard?”

“Where better, for someone with a bone to pick with the Empire?” Thrawn asked. “I’m sure he believes in his ability to slip through undetected. A belief he would apparently be entirely justified in having…if not for the particular talents of our Jedi Master.”

On the other side of Pellaeon C’baoth blinked, apparently taken aback by the compliment. “Thank you, Grand Admiral,” he said, almost grudgingly. “And what are you going to do with this smuggler who flouts Imperial law?”

“I myself will do nothing,” Thrawn said. “While Karrde may have managed to pass by without our notice, undoubtedly he has already noticed us. The Chimaera, therefore, will stay exactly where it is. The Stormhawk and Nemesis shall move into enclosure positions along his most likely escape vectors. Slowly, of course… we don’t want to draw attention to them. Captain?”

“Yes, Admiral,” Pellaeon said, moving to his display screen to relay the order.

“And instruct General Harkin to have a stormtrooper squad waiting for our guest at Platform Nineteen,” Thrawn called after him. His voice took on the same edge he’d used earlier with Harkin. “It’s time we gave Karrde a hard lesson in the consequences of defying Imperial law.”

* * *

“Identification acknowledged and confirmed, Starlight Express,” the voice of Ord Trasi Control finally crackled on the comm. “You have been cleared for Platform Nineteen.”

“Thank you, Control,” Karrde said, even as the guidance buoy started flashing on his display. “Lachton?”

“I’ve got it,” Lachton confirmed. “Taking us in now.”

“I still think this is a bad idea, Karrde,” Aves spoke up as Lachton started steering the Wild Karrde toward Platform Nineteen. “What if we run into Thrawn in the facility?”

“You expect to see the Grand Admiral hanging around in the docking areas?” Karrde asked mildly.

“Not really,” Aves admitted. “But I don’t see why it’s worth taking the risk. We can always try the delivery again in a day or two—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the bridge door opening behind them. Karrde half-turned in his seat, just in time to see Chin come practically barging through. “I thought I told you to stay with Sturm and Drang,” Karrde started, until he saw the two vornskrs in front of Chin, practically dragging him by their leashes. “What are you two doing up here?”

“Sorry, Capt,” Chin apologized, a sheepish look stuck on his face as the vornskrs pulled him a little further onto the bridge. “They started acting real funny a couple minutes ago. Getting antsy, you know? I thought you might know what to do, hee?”

“Not really,” Karrde said, studying the two. They were cackling nervously to each other, straining at their leashes as they scurried about the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this,” he continued.

And stopped. No, he realized. That wasn’t true. He could name one other time he’d seen them acting this way: on this very bridge, with Mara and Aves as the Wild Karrde quietly monitored the Chimaera’s attack on their Myrkr base.

Right before an Imperial Interdictor had hopped out of hyperspace.

Karrde took another look out the viewport, at the distant arrowhead shape of the Chimaera. Just sitting there… “We’re going,” he decided, swiveling back towards his display. “Lachton, get ready to execute evasive maneuvers on my mark.”

“What?” Aves said in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Karrde confirmed. “Do you have a problem?”

“Well, yeah,” Aves said, sharing a look with Lachton. “Five seconds ago you were saying we’re perfectly safe here.”

“And now I’m saying we’re not. Now turn around and get to work on a lightspeed calculation. Chin, you better get them out of here,” he added as Drang started sniffing beneath his console. “Take them back down to my office, will you?”

“You got it, Capt,” Chin said, already yanking at the leashes. “Come on, vittles.”

“And then grab Balig and Corvis and head up to the turbolasers,” Karrde called after him. “Something tells me we may need them.”

The door slid shut behind Chin. “Aves?” Karrde raised an eyebrow.

“Still need about two minutes,” the other said, leaning over the nav computer.

“We just need enough for a microjump,” Karrde reminded him. “We can do a proper calculation once we’re safely out of here…”

“Uh, Karrde?” Lachton interrupted. “Take a look at those two Star Destroyers off the port side.”

Karrde glanced at the sensor scope. He could see what Lachton was talking about. On their left two more Star Destroyers were drifting in an all-too-casual manner into positions beside and behind the Wild Karrde, blocking their escape. “I think you‘ve got less than two minutes,” Karrde told Aves. “Lachton, it’s time we were getting out of here. Punch it.”

Lachton kicked the engines up to full, then flipped the Wild Karrde around in as tight a one-eighty as Karrde had ever seen before blasting off away from the Imperial platforms. There was a sudden burst of static from the comm as whoever was at the other end of Ord Trasi Control barked his indignation. “We got their attention, at least,” Lachton observed.

“We do, indeed,” Karrde nodded, taking another look at his display. Those two Star Destroyers weren’t quite in position yet, fortunately. But on Karrde’s screen now a new series of blips appeared as a full squadron of TIE fighters issued forth from the nearest Star Destroyer’s hangar bay. “It appears we have more company, too. Aves, how is that lightspeed calculation coming along?”

“I told you it’d be two minutes,” Aves gritted out, still bent over the nav computer.

Karrde pursed his lips, watching as the flashing blips of the TIE fighters closed in on the Wild Karrde. While not the most intimidating starfighter the Empire had to offer, a squadron of TIEs could still make quick work of a typical Action VI freighter.

Luckily, the Wild Karrde wasn’t your typical Action VI. “Then it’s time we opened the welcome mat for our guests,” Karrde said, flipping on the ship’s intercom. “Chin, Balig, Corvis: open fire.”

He felt the deck shudder beneath him as the Wild Karrde’s three turbolasers started flashing red bolts into the middle of the cluster of incoming fighters. The TIEs scattered, even as one of them disintegrated in a blaze of multiple explosions. “Got one!” Balig whooped over the intercom.

“The rest are regrouping,” Lachton said tightly, and Karrde could see he was right: a glance at the sensor scope showed the remaining blips sweeping around along a new attack vector. But not in the same formation as before. They were abandoning their earlier tight-cluster pattern for a more spread-out approach, forcing the Wild Karrde’s turbolasers to track individual targets. “Time’s up,” Karrde told Aves. “We need that lightspeed calculation now.”

Even at that moment, Aves’s board pinged. “Got it,” he said, wrapping his hands around the hyperdrive levers. “Ready when you are.”

“Let’s go,” Karrde said, and Aves pulled the levers forward. Outside the stars stretched into starlines, and the Wild Karrde rocketed into hyperspace.

They’d made it.

Lachton wiped away a layer of sweat that had formed on his brow. “Let’s do that again sometime, okay?” he suggested, slumping back into his seat.

“You got it,” Aves said, his eyes on Karrde. “Any idea what happened back there?”

“It seems the Empire was able to see through our little transponder subterfuge after all,“ Karrde said. “Apparently Grand Admiral Thrawn deserves more credit than I initially gave him.”

“I’ll remind you of that next time you suggest a stunt like this,” Aves promised. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

No, Karrde reflected, it probably wasn’t. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you remember that escape from Myrkr a month back?”

“How could I forget?” Aves said dryly. “What does that have to do with this?”

“I assume you remember how Sturm and Drang started acting up right before that Interdictor made its appearance,” Karrde explained. “Personally I find it unlikely there isn’t some correlation here.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Aves pressed.

But Karrde didn’t answer. Ever since the vornskrs’ unexpected reaction to Skywalker during his detour on Myrkr, a theory had started forming in Karrde’s mind. Sturm and Drang clearly had bizarre responses to Force-sensitive individuals: they had all but attacked Skywalker that first time around, and had treated Mara in an only slightly-less-hostile fashion a couple weeks later. And if Mara’s accounting of her and Skywalker’s trek through the Myrkr forest was any indication, this response wasn’t limited to just Karrde’s own vornskrs.

He suddenly realized the others were looking at him. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “But for the time being we have more pressing matters. Lachton, get to work on that nav computer with a new lightspeed calculation: I want to make sure we throw off any potential pursuers. Aves,” he continued, rising up from the comm station, “you’re with me.”

“Where are we going?” Aves asked as he got up.

“Where else?” Karrde countered with a sardonic smile. “We’re going to make sure Drang and Sturm are alright.”

* * *

For a long moment Thrawn didn’t say anything, his glowing red eyes staring out the bridge viewport at the now-empty horizon of the shipyards. Pellaeon stood stiffly behind him, memories of Karrde’s last escape over Myrkr running through his mind. The Admiral had only so much tolerance for failure, Pellaeon knew; the unfortunate demise of crewman Pieterson after Skywalker’s escape near Jomark was evidence enough of that. Was this the last straw?

Not surprisingly, it was C’baoth who broke the silence. “So,” he said, any appreciation at Thrawn’s earlier compliment now completely replaced with his usual smugness, “once again your men have failed you. It is nice to see such failure is not limited to those matters where my own interests are concerned, at least.”

Thrawn ignored him. “Interesting, wouldn’t you say, Captain?” he said. “I take it you noticed the sequence of events. It appeared Karrde had already decided to abandon his delivery even before our ships had moved into position.”

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon agreed. “Just as he did the last time over Myrkr.”

“Exactly,” Thrawn nodded. “Which means we can begin eliminating some of our theories from his previous escape. It is far beyond mere coincidence that on both occasions Karrde would just happen to leave moments before we launch our attack. Likewise that he suddenly panicked. It seems more and more likely he was somehow tipped off.”

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said, finding this last theory pretty unlikely himself. “By whom?”

“Or by what?” Thrawn posed. He shook his head. “I don’t know. But we must keep our minds open to all possibilities, until a viable answer presents itself.”

“So that’s it?” C’baoth interjected, clearly annoyed at being ignored.

Thrawn finally turned his attention towards C’baoth. “I had no idea you cared so passionately about such mundane matters of Imperial business, Master C’baoth,” he said.

Beneath his bushy eyebrows C‘baoth’s eyes flashed. “I do not,” he answered. “I only wish to make sure you are properly administrating my Empire. And to ensure that next time it is not Luke Skywalker or Leia Organa Solo who escapes from you so easily.”

“You may worry about such things when the time comes,” Thrawn said dryly. “For now the proper administration of your Empire requires that your attention be on the Ukio tests.” His gaze drifted out the viewport at the distant black silhouettes of the Katana Dreadnaughts. “General Harkin says the cloaking shield will be ready by the end of the week. So we’ll return at the end of the week.”

The slightest smile appeared on his lips. “After that, we’ll have bigger concerns than one lone smuggler.”