Thick as Thieves, Part 1

“Yes, I see,” Thrawn said. “Interesting. I was right, Captain—our old Corellian adversary is indeed in command below. But he’s allowed us to lead him by the nose only so far.”

Pellaeon nodded as understanding suddenly came. “He’s trying to knock out the asteroid’s cloaking shield.”

“Hoping to take it intact.” Thrawn touched his control board. “Forward turbolaser batteries: track and target asteroid number one. Fire on my command only.” —The Last Command

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

“Administrator Calrissian?” the voice from the comm pinged. “I‘m sorry to bother you, sir, but we’ve got a message from the shieldship depot that requires you attention.”

Seated in the private command room he used as an office, Lando looked up from the data pad he’d been reading. “What is it?” he asked, flicking on the intercom at his desk.

“They’ve got a visitor who is requesting permission to come through,” the voice at the other end said. “He won’t identify himself, but he’s flying around in what looks like a pre-Clone Wars Dreadnaught, broadcasting as the Peregrine. Are you familiar with it, sir?”

Lando was familiar, all right. “And what does this unidentified individual have to say for himself?” he asked.

“He wanted us to tell you that an old friend is here, and that he thought you might, quote, play a hand of sabacc for his choice of stock, unquote.” There was a pause. “Should I tell the depot to kick his butt out of our system, sir?”

“On the contrary, instruct them to let him through,” Lando said. He thought for a moment. “Is a Dreadnaught even small enough to fit behind a shieldship umbrella?”

“It should be,” the other said. “If he’s got a slave circuit rigged, they should be able to link him up without any problem.”

“Oh, he’s got a slave circuit, all right,” Lando promised.

“Sir?”

“That’s one of the Katana fleet Dreadnaughts out there,” Lando explained, setting aside the data pad. “And our mysterious friend is none other than General Garm Bel Iblis himself.”

* * *

Lando had watched from his window as the shieldship came out of hyperspace, a tiny flicker of pseudomotion above the Nkllon skyline. He’d watched as the Peregrine emerged from behind the curved safety of the shieldship’s umbrella and headed across the planet’s scarred surface toward Nomad City; and he’d watched as the small shuttle exited the Peregrine’s hangar and soared towards the city's landing platform.

So Lando was waiting as the pressurization coupling sealed shut and the door to the docking tube slid open. “General Bel Iblis,” Lando greeted the figure that appeared at the other end of the tube. “It’s good to see you again. Welcome to Nomad City.”

“Thank you,” Bel Iblis said, casting an admiring look around. “It’s an impressive operation. Another Rendili Dreadnaught, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Mostly,” Lando confirmed. “We also have forty of those Imperial AT-AT walkers attached underneath to provide mobility. Nkllon is so close to its sun that a couple minutes of direct sunlight is enough to melt through most starship hulls, so we have to keep moving to stay on the planetary night side.”

“Yes, they explained that at the shieldship depot. As I said, an impressive operation.”

“Thank you, General.” His eyes drifted past Bel Iblis’s shoulder. “Hello, Irenez,” he nodded at the gray-haired woman standing behind Bel Iblis. “I’m surprised Sena isn’t with you, too.”

“Sena, unfortunately, couldn’t make it,” Bel Iblis said. “She’s overseeing the integration of our intelligence networks with the New Republic's.” He waved down the tube. “But I did bring along another familiar face.”

Lando looked further past Bel Iblis, just as Wedge Antilles emerged out of the blackness. “Wedge!” he exclaimed, giving the other a quick embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“Rogue Squadron’s been assigned to the Peregrine task force for the next two weeks,” Wedge explained. But there was something not quite right; an oddly embarrassed look on his face… “And the General asked me to come along as back-up.”

“Back-up?” Lando repeated, glancing at Bel Iblis.

“I’m afraid this isn’t just a social call,” the other admitted, taking another, more careful look around the docking bay. “Is there someplace we can talk? ”

“Sure,” Lando said carefully. “We can speak in my private office.” But he felt a lump starting to grow in his throat. The last time someone had come here asking for his help, he’d almost been killed a couple of times.

Hopefully, this time would be different.

* * *

“So,” Bel Iblis said once they were alone, settling into one of the couches in the office lounge. “How’s business these days?”

“You mean ever since Grand Admiral Thrawn unveiled his new clones?” Lando asked bitterly. “Not good. The market price for hfredium was already dropping before the Katana skirmish. The events since then haven’t done anything to restore consumer confidence.”

“Hfredium is Nomad City’s main product?”

“One of them,” Lando confirmed. “We also mine for kammris and dolovite. But yes, hfredium is our biggest seller.” He glanced past Bel Iblis, where Irenez was pulling guard duty by the door. “But I take it you didn’t come here to discuss the mining business.”

Bel Iblis sighed. “No,” he admitted, waving at the other side of the couch. “Antilles?”

Wedge leaned over the table between them and handed Lando a data pad. “What is this?” Lando asked.

“The flight recorder data from one of our Y-wings,” Bel Iblis identified it. “Anything look familiar?”

“It looks like the Imperial shipyards at Ord Trasi,” Lando said, studying it. “I recognize the setup from my days as a general.”

“That’s exactly right,” Bel Iblis said. “Notice anything out of the ordinary?”

Lando frowned as he gave the data pad a closer look. Now that Bel Iblis mentioned it, he did see something. “Those four Dreadnaughts off the far platforms,” he said. “It looks like they’re getting some kind of special retrofitting.”

On the other couch, Wedge nodded. “Good catch. At first we didn’t know what to make of them, so we cross-checked our information with Bothan intelligence. Turns out the Empire has chosen those four Dreadnaughts as the newest recipients of its cloaking shield.”

“What does Thrawn want with a cloaked Dreadnaught?”

“We don’t know,” Bel Iblis said. “But for the purposes of this conversation, we don’t care. The Peregrine is going to try and steal one.”

For a moment Lando didn’t say anything, digesting the full impact of Bel Iblis’s words. “Really,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Steal one. From right out of the Imperial shipyard.”

“Can you think of a better place?” Irenez spoke up. “They won’t have a full crew complement during retrofitting, so it’ll be that much easier to sneak a team aboard.”

“And we need to get our hands on a working cloaking shield, if we’re ever going to figure out how they work,” Wedge added.

“And how exactly do you intend to accomplish this little sleight of hand?” Lando asked.

“We have a plan,” Bel Iblis assured him. “A small covert operations team will slip into the shipyards and hijack one of the Dreadnaughts, while the main bulk of the Peregrine’s task force launches a diversionary attack. We should be able to cause enough chaos to cover their escape.”

“Worked at Endor,” Wedge pointed out.

“At Endor we had the Tydirium, too,” Lando likewise pointed out. “The Imperials aren’t going to just let you fly up and dock in any old transport. How do you plan to get past their security?”

Wedge and Bel Iblis shared a look. “That’s where you come in, actually” the former said. “We need someone who has experience getting into and out of Imperial bases undetected. Possibly someone who works in the fringe community?”

“I don’t think Talon Karrde is keen to do us any favors at the moment,” Lando said.

There was that look again. “We agree,” Bel Iblis said. “That’s why we had someone other than Karrde in mind.”

“Luke mentioned you ran into an old acquaintance after the attack on Sluis Van,” Wedge added. “Someone with experience in this kind of thing?”

Lando stared at them for a long moment, only slightly aware that his mouth had fallen open in the meantime. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. You can’t be serious.”

“Can you name someone better for a mission like this?”

“No,” Lando repeated, stronger this time. “Not Niles Ferrier.”

“Ferrier has a long resume when it comes to spaceship theft,” Bel Iblis reminded him. “Just recently he swiped three Sienar patrol ships from the Cavrilhu pirates’ base in Amorris system. And he has people on his crew who can slice into the Imperial network.”

“He also recently helped Grand Admiral Thrawn find the Katana fleet,” Lando growled. “And almost got me killed, for what it’s worth.”

“Which makes it that much more likely he’ll be willing to make a deal.” Wedge grinned. “What, you’re not holding a grudge, are you?”

Lando sent a glare across the table. “You’ll need to make a deal, all right, if you want him to play along. Ferrier’s not going to do it just because I ask him to. Our last couple meetings haven’t exactly been friendly.”

“We know how to deal with Ferrier,” Bel Iblis said. “We just need you to make contact with him. You can do that, can’t you?”

Lando gritted his teeth. “Even if I wanted to,” he said finally, “I wouldn’t know where to find him. Or how. After his handiwork with the Katana fleet, my guess is Ferrier ’ll be hiding under a rock for the next month.”

“Actually, we already found him” Wedge said. “You ever heard of a ship called the Princess of Corellia?”

Lando had heard of it, all right. “It’s a luxury liner,” he identified it. “Does ten-day runs through the Trogan system. Used to be a popular vacation spot for Imperial officials, and a pretty high ticket, too—until Endor, obviously.” He leaned back, thinking. “It also had one of the best casinos in the Empire. Still does, as far as I know. Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Any self-respecting gambler has. What’s it got to do with Ferrier? He hasn’t stolen it, has he?”

Bel Iblis smiled. “Not yet. New Republic Intelligence picked up Ferrier boarding the Princess seven days ago. We think it’s a perfect spot for a fellow gambler to make contact.”

“I see,” Lando said neutrally. They had it all figured out, didn’t they? “And what’s in it for me if I go along with this little charade?”

“You mean other the chance to stick it back to Ferrier?” Wedge smiled.

“You mentioned before you were having trouble selling your hfredium stockpiles,” Bel Iblis observed. “What if I could guarantee the Republic would be interested in purchasing some at last month’s prices?”

“Make it two months, and you have a deal,” Lando said, but he was still studying the data pad. “How do we know this isn’t one of Thrawn’s setups?”

“The short answer? We don’t.” Bel Iblis shrugged. “The long answer is Admiral Ackbar and I have decided it’s worth the risk, even if it is. Like Antilles said, we’re going to need to get our hands on a cloaking shield eventually. This is as good a chance as we’re likely to see in some time.”

“Inspiring logic,” Lando said dryly, “but that’s not quite what I meant. This information leak coming from the Imperial Palace…”

“You mean Delta Source.”

“That’s the one. From what I’ve heard, Thrawn’s been getting intelligence practically out of the Inner Council. How can we be sure he won’t get wind of this, too?”

Bel Iblis smiled. “That’s sort of the reason I was selected for this little assignment, actually. You see, Delta Source started before my group even joined the Republic—”

“So we can be sure no one on the Peregrine is involved,” Lando finished for him. “Makes sense.”

“Just more inspiring logic for you. So what do you say?”

Lando sighed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, General,” he said, holding out his hand. Bel Iblis took it. “All right. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Thank you, Calrissian,” Bel Iblis said. “Glad to have you aboard. You won‘t regret it.”

But Lando was thinking back again to the last time someone had come here asking for help. And wondered if Bel Iblis was right.

Thick as Thieves, Part 2

“New Cov?” Han frowned down at the cloud-speckled planet turning beneath them. “Why?”

“The message didn’t say. Just that he’d meet you at the, quote, money-changing center, unquote.”

“The—?” Han shifted his frown to Lando. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s talking about the Mishra tapcafe in Ilic where he and I met while you were following Breil’lya,” Lando said. “Private joke—I'll fill you in later.” —Dark Force Rising

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The Princess of Corellia had once been hailed as the most extravagant starliner in the galaxy, the destination of choice for Moffs, Grand Moffs, and other high-ranking officials among the catered ranks of the Empire. Sporting the most extensive collection of liquors outside Coruscant and more sabacc tables than the Coral Vanda, the Princess billed itself as the premier luxury liner of the Imperial elite. It was even said that Emperor Palpatine himself had once requisitioned the liner for his own personal cruise, though Lando had always been a little suspicious of that claim.

Of course, after Endor all that had changed. Like Calius saj Leeloo after the Clone Wars, the Empire’s demise and collapse had been a particularly heavy blow to the once-prosperous clientele of the Princess. And while the Princess was still an impressive liner in its own right, it had become a pale shadow of its former glory, mostly catering these days to mid-ranking Outer Rim officials and high-rolling fringe-types.

Like Niles Ferrier, Lando reflected bitterly, casting a look around the Princess’s main casino room. Fifteen sabacc tables scattered over three decks; holo-chess and lugjack units against the back wall; a fully-stocked bar and two restaurants; yes, it was still an impressive casino in its own right. And if the furniture looked a little worn these days or the chandeliers a little tarnished…well, what was that compared with the pride of being able to say you’d taken a trip about the Princess of Corellia?

Beside Lando at the main bar, Wedge at least seemed to be getting a thrill out of this. “You think he’s still here, General?” he asked, taking an almost too-casual sip from his drink. Wedge had always gotten a kick out of this cloak-and-blade stuff.

“He’s here,” Lando said, taking in the air and thinking back to that last encounter aboard the Coral Vanda. Yes, Ferrier was still here. Even through all the other smells and aromas, Lando could detect that lingering hint of the carababba tabac Ferrier so favored in his cigarras. Ferrier was here, or had been recently; at this very spot, possibly. Lando gave the room another scan, checking each table’s occupants before moving on to the next. If he knew Ferrier, the thief always liked to try his hand at sabacc after hitting up the bar…

“Calrissian,” the comlink nestled against Lando’s collar hissed—a little trick he’d picked up from Han. “We have a possible ID on Ferrier. Table Thirteen. Take a look.”

Lando did just that, turning his gaze casually across the main floor towards one of the tables in the center. 

“That’s him, Irenez,” Lando confirmed. He’d recognize that dark beard and trademark cigarra anywhere.
“He must have just sat down.”

“Looks that way to me, too,” Irenez agreed. “You want to approach now, or wait till he’s done?”

Lando considered. “Let’s do it now,” he said. “Ferrier’s slipperier than you might think, and there’s a good chance we could lose him in this crowd.”

“Whatever you say,” Irenez said with an audible shrug. “It’s your call.”

Lando reached a hand up and switched off the comm. “I take it we’re up?” Wedge asked.

“We’re up,” Lando nodded, giving Wedge a final once-over. With his military-style haircut and general bearing, Wedge didn’t look much like your usual sabacc player.

But then, that was sort of the point. “We’re up,” Lando repeated, “or rather, you are. Table Thirteen. You remember the script?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wedge said with a dismissive wave. The guy really was getting a kick out of this cloak-and-blade stuff! “Don’t worry, I’ve got it down.”

“All right,” Lando said, getting up from his seat. “Then good luck. I’ll meet you back at the ship.”

* * *

There were three of them already seated at Table Thirteen as Wedge approached: the bulky human who was apparently Niles Ferrier, plus one more human and a shaggy-maned ZeHethbra. At the head of the table stood a polished SE4 servant droid, apparently pulling dealer duty. “Deal me in,” Wedge told it as he slumped down into one of the empty seats.

They all turned to look at him. “We have already commenced betting…” the ZeHethbra started.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the dealer explained, “but new players are not allowed to join once the betting has begun.”

“Oh,” Wedge said, feeling a little nonplussed. “Well, I’ll just wait till the next hand, then.”

He watched in silence for a while as the players quietly weighed their cards and began placing their bets. “So where’s everybody from?” he tried.

They all turned to look at him again, this time with more annoyed expressions. “I’ll start,” Wedge offered.  “I’m from Abregado. Shipping magnate.” He turned towards the ZeHethbra. “What about you?”

“Do you mind?” the ZeHethbra asked, his shaggy mane rippling irritably. “I’m trying to place a bet here.”

“Sorry,” Wedge said sheepishly, turning towards the human sitting next to him. “What about you?”

The human glared at Wedge for a long moment. “Palanhi,” he muttered at last.

“Palanhi!” Wedge smiled. “How about that? Palanhi’s pretty close to New Cov, isn’t it? You ever been there?”

“Not really,” the human said.

“You should check it out,” Wedge urged, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Ferrier now. “I hear they’ve got a really good money-changing center.”

There was no mistaking it; he definitely saw Ferrier twitch. “What did you say?” Ferrier asked.

Wedge turned to look at him. “I said a friend of mine told me to check out the money-changing center on New Cov.”

“New Cov only deals in Republic credits,” the other human interrupted impatiently. “They don’t have a money-changing center.”

“Oh,” Wedge said, once again nonplussed. “Well, that’s what my friend told me, anyway.”

The human snorted and turned his attention back to his hand. “Where did you say you were from again?” Ferrier asked Wedge.

“Abregado,” Wedge repeated. “Abregado-rae, to be more specific. Shipping magnate.”

“And what is it exactly you ship?”

“Oh, all sorts of stuff,” Wedge said airily. “Transparisteel, hfredium; you name it, we ship it. Even do a little in biomolecules when the price is good.” He saw a sudden opening. “Why, we must have shipped seventeen crates of the stuff in the last month alone.”

There was that twitch again. “Seventeen, huh?” Ferrier repeated. “Lot of money in that?”

Wedge smiled. “Sure, if you get the right customer.”

“Twenty-three!” the ZeHethbra interrupted suddenly, throwing his cards down on the table. Wedge took a look. It was a pure sabacc, all right: the six of Staves and the four of Coins, plus the Ace of Sabres and the Queen of Air and Darkness. “Congratulations, sir,” the droid said, even as the rest of the table groaned. With a toothy grin the ZeHethbra pulled the sabacc pot toward him.

“Well, this is getting too expensive for my tastes,” Wedge decided, getting up from the table. “Maybe I’ll try my hand at something safer. You all take care, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” the ZeHethbra said, not even looking up. Ferrier gave Wedge one last parting nod before returning his attention to the sabacc table.

And that, Wedge figured as he started heading back to the bar, was that. The rest was up to Calrissian now.
Hopefully he had it down, too.

* * *

Lando was sitting patiently in one of the passenger cabins of the Lady Luck when the call finally came in. “Calrissian? Ferrier’s on his way.”

“Copy that,” Lando said, glancing up from the data pad he’d been reading and taking a look at the monitor to his right. At first it showed nothing except a darkened view of Docking Bay Seventeen, the rows of starships and pleasure yachts looking abandoned and empty. But a moment later Lando spied the silhouette of a bulky man moving stealthily among the ships towards the Lady Luck. “Got him,” he told Wedge, setting aside the data pad. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

A couple seconds later Lando heard the sound of heavy bootsteps coming from the Lady Luck’s entry ramp. “In here, Ferrier,” Lando called.

There was a brief hesitation; and then Niles Ferrier, spaceship thief, stepped around the corner. “Well, well,” Ferrier said, grinning behind the cigarra gripped between his teeth. “Hello there, Calrissian. Coincidence running into you here.”

“Not such a coincidence,” Lando said. “You seem surprised to see me, Ferrier. Didn’t you get my message?”

“Oh, I got it, all right,” Ferrier confirmed. “‘Money-changing center on New Cov,’ right? Cute, real cute. I just as soon figured it was Solo. Last I recall, you and me didn’t finish on such friendly terms. Speaking of which,” he added, dipping his hand into his waist sash. When he pulled it back out, it was with a blaster in it. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping your hands where I can see them.”

“Put that away, Ferrier,” Lando chided at the blaster pointed at him. “I came here to talk. I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“Maybe not,” Ferrier conceded, glancing around the cabin. “But who said I didn’t come here to kill you? Just keep your hands where I can see them and tell me where your little friend ran off to.”

“He had other business to take care of,” Lando said evenly, gesturing one of the other chairs in the room.  “Now sit down.”

For a moment Ferrier just glared at him over the blaster. Then, reluctantly, he dropped down into one of the chairs facing Lando. “All right,” he growled, putting the blaster back in his sash. “You wanna talk? Then talk.”

But Lando shook his head. “There’s one more thing,” he said. “Would you mind asking your friend outside to join us?”

There was a flicker of surprise behind that bushy beard, followed by a longer look of annoyance. Then, with a sigh, Ferrier glanced over his shoulder. “Wraith,” he called back into the corridor. “Get in here. Now.”

Lando looked up at the doorway, just in time to see a shadow remove itself from the corridor wall and slide into the room. “That’s better,” Lando said with a smile as Ferrier‘s wraith—or Defel, as they were more properly known—took a seat in the other chair. “You know, Ferrier, you’ve been causing the Republic quite a lot of trouble lately. First there was that little stunt on Sluis Van. Then you almost got me killed on the Coral Vanda and helped Grand Admiral Thrawn track down our contact for the Katana fleet. Seems to me one call to the nearest outpost and you and your friend here will be spending the rest of your lives in a Republic prison.”

Ferrier took a long puff on his cigarra. “I thought you wanted to talk,” he pointed out.

“We are talking,” Lando said. “I’m here to offer you a deal that will wipe that record clean. Give you a fresh start.”

Beside Ferrier, Lando heard his wraith snort. “What makes you think we want a fresh start?” Ferrier asked.

Lando shrugged. “Partly because it’s good business. Mostly because you’ve spent the past week holed up here on the Princess of Corellia instead of making runs. What, you think your little handiwork for the Grand Admiral has bumped you to the top of the Republic’s locate-and-detain list?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Ferrier admitted.

“Ferrier, most people in the Republic don’t even know your name. Of course, I can change that. One word from me, and you won’t be able to fly within ten light-years of a Republic planet.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made your point,” Ferrier growled. “What’s the deal you‘re offering?”

Lando smiled again, even wider this time. “You ever been the shipyards at Ord Trasi?”

It took Ferrier a minute to get it. “Sure, lots of times,” he started. “We did a delivery there a couple weeks back—” His voice broke off as it suddenly clicked. “Wait a minute. No. No. You can’t be serious. You can’t be planning to palm a ship from an Imperial shipyard?”

“Can it be done?” Lando asked.

“Oh, sure, if you don’t mind spending ten years in a penal colony,” Ferrier snapped. “No way, Calrissian, forget it. I’m not interested.”

“Why not?” Lando pressed. “I hear you just swiped three Sienar patrol ships from the Cavrilhu pirates a couple weeks ago, and I saw your work at Sluis Van. What’s so different about the Imperial side?”

“You clearly aren’t a spaceship thief,” Ferrier said with the air of professional pride. He started ticking off items on his fingers. “Security protocols, base patrols. Plus most ships are too big for one team to grab. A Carrack cruiser alone requires a crew of, what, a thousand?”

“We’ll be grabbing something a lot bigger than a Carrack cruiser,” Lando told him. “Don't worry, the way this thing is slave-rigged, it won't take more than a handful of people to get it out of the docks and into hyperspace.”

Ferrier looked at him like he’d just turned into an Ewok. “Space slugs!” he cursed, the last piece falling into place. “You’re going to grab one of Thrawn’s Katana Dreadnaughts, aren’t you? I don‘t believe it!”

Lando shrugged. There wasn’t any point in denying it. “And what if we are? Would that be any harder than grabbing a patrol ship?”

Ferrier scoffed and sat there silently.

Lando took a breath. “Look,” he tried one last time. “I’ll be honest. I don’t want you along. Frankly, I don’t trust you. But some people in the High Command think you’re the best person for the job. And they think you owe them. That guy you grabbed on the Coral Vanda? That guy worked with Garm Bel Iblis. And Bel Iblis wasn’t too happy about that. You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” Ferrier growled.

“Good,” Lando said, leaning back. “Then you can say hello.”

He flicked a switch on his chair, and the full lights to the cabin came up. “Hello, Captain Ferrier,” Bel Iblis said from where he’d been standing in the doorway. “I’m General Bel Iblis. No, don’t get up,” he urged as Ferrier started to rise. He indicated to Irenez, standing just behind him with a hand resting on her trademark DL-18 blaster. “I’m afraid my associate sometimes gets a little overprotective, if you know what I mean.”

“Certainly, General,” Ferrier swallowed, dropping slowly back into his seat.

“That’s better,” Be Iblis said, coming around to face them. “So,” he continued, glancing at the wraith before focusing back on Ferrier, “you’ve heard what Calrissian’s offering. What do you say?”

“Well, you see, General…” Ferrier started, a line of perspiration beginning to form on his forehead. “What I mean to say is…you have to understand, with that whole Katana thing, Thrawn was threatening to blow up my ship if we didn’t deliver—”

“I’m not concerned about the past, Captain,” Bel Iblis interrupted. “What I want to know is, how are you going to make it up to us?”

Ferrier sputtered one last time; then let out a great sigh and slumped his shoulders. “All right,” he said, talking down to the floor. “All right. What is it you’re offering, exactly?”

“A full pardon,” Bel Iblis said. “All outstanding charges against you will be dropped. And against your crew, as well,” he added, looking at the wraith again. “Of course, any new crimes committed after the operation will be excluded from this pardon.”

“Of course,” Ferrier agreed neutrally. “And in exchange?”

“You deliver us one of the Katana Dreadnaughts,” Lando said. “I don’t think that’ll be too difficult for a thief of your reputation.”

Ferrier sighed again. “I should have shot you when I had the chance, Calrissian,” he said; but there wasn’t any menace behind it. “Okay, you have a deal.”

“Very good,” Bel Iblis smiled. “Oh, one more thing. My associate Irenez will be going with you. Just in case you get cold feet during the operation.”

“The more, the merrier,” Ferrier grumbled.

“I’m going, too,” Lando spoke up. Bel Iblis glanced back at him. “I told you, General, I don’t trust him. I don’t like leaving Irenez alone with him.”

“Oh, I don‘t think we need to worry about anything like that,” Irenez said, laying a hand on Ferrier’s shoulder. “The Captain here is going to be fully cooperative. Isn’t that right, Captain Ferrier?”

“Who wouldn’t be, with a blaster pointed at his head?” Ferrier asked, dropping his gaze down to Irenez’s hip. He turned back to Bel Iblis. “So when do we get started?”

“Right now,” Bel Iblis said. “We’ll round up the rest of your crew and then grab a flight to my ship. We’ll make more detailed plans once we’re there.”

“Fantastic,” Ferrier smiled thinly. “Before we go any further, Calrissian,” he added softly, “I want you to know I won’t forget this.”

“You’re welcome,” Lando said, standing up and waving a hand towards the doorway. “Shall we get to it?”

Thick as Thieves, Part 3

“Surely we don’t need their assistance and services that badly,” Pellaeon said. “Not now.”

“Our need for such vermin has certainly been reduced,” Thrawn said. “That doesn’t mean we’re yet in a position to abandon them entirely. Bu that’s not really the point. The problem is the dangerous fact that those in the fringe are highly experienced at operating within official circles without any official permission to do so.” —The Last Command

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“Welcome to Ord Trasi,” Ferrier declared as the modified Corellian Gunship he used as his personal transport settled to the deck of the shipyard docking bay. He half-turned in his seat. “Last chance to back out, Calrissian.”

Nestled in a chair in the back of the bridge, Lando glared back at Ferrier. “Let’s stay with the plan for now,” he suggested.

“It’s your funeral,” Ferrier smiled nastily behind his beard. He took a look out the viewport. “Wonderful,” he growled, “the deck officer’s already on his way. Abric, head down and see if you can take care of him, okay?”

Seated next to Ferrier, Abric unstrapped himself and headed toward the aft door. “You got it, boss.”

“What does that mean, ‘take care of him?’” Irenez asked from the seat beside Lando.

“It’s just a bribe,” Ferrier assured her as he switched off the repulsorlifts. “Relax, sweetheart. We know what we’re doing.”

From where Lando was sitting, it looked like referring to Irenez as “sweetheart” was about the last thing that would make her relax. But she kept further comments to herself. “How long before we can get moving?” Lando asked.

Ferrier shrugged. “Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Abric’s got to sweet-talk the deck officer and at least make it look like we’re doing a typical smuggling delivery. And we won’t be able to move until they get the droids in here and start unloading.”

“So, what, we just sit here until then?”

“Sorry if this is boring you, Calrissian,” Ferrier said. “If you’ll recall, nobody wanted you along in the first place. How we coming on slicing those encrypts, Zrrk?” he asked the Verpine seated at the comm station.

“It is almost complete,” Zrrk crackled through his mandibles.

“Well, hurry up,” Ferrier said anyway, getting up from his chair. “And call me when you’re done. The rest of you, come with me. That includes you, Calrissian.”

The remaining crew members unstrapped themselves from their chairs, and with Lando and Irenez in tow they followed Ferrier through the aft bridge door and down into the Gunship’s cargo hold. Abric was waiting for them by the time they got there. “It’s done,” he assured Ferrier as they approached.

“Good,” Ferrier said, stepping over to one of the crates and starting to push it to the side. “Hey, someone help me with this, will you?”

Two more of Ferrier’s crew came over and pushed the crate out of the way. Underneath was nothing but smooth deck plate, but Lando knew a smuggling compartment when he saw one. “What’s in there?” he asked.

“Our ticket into the facility,” Ferrier said, reaching a hand down. There was a click as the deck plates unlocked, and then he swung open the compartment. “Voila.”

Lando peered inside. Even in the darkness of the cargo bay, it was easy to see the rows of whitened plate armor lying inside. “Stormtrooper armor?” he identified it dubiously.

“That’s right,” Ferrier confirmed. “Palmed these off a lieutenant who didn’t feel like paying his bill. Don’t worry, I think we have it in lady’s,” he assured Irenez.

With the help of Abric he started reaching down and pulling pieces out. When all was said and done eight complete sets sat there expectantly on the cargo deck. Lando did a quick head count. “There‘s only seven of us here,” he pointed out. “Who’s the last one for?”

“Who else?” Ferrier asked. “My wraith.”

It was only then that Lando realized Ferrier’s Defel was standing there beside them, all but hidden in the shadows of the cargo hold. “That is not a problem, is it?” the wraith hissed.

“The more the merrier,” Lando shrugged, starting to slip the armor over his clothes.

By the time they were all suited up Ferrier got a ping from his comm. “The encrypts have been sliced,” Zrrk reported from the bridge. “I am in.”

“Finally,” Ferrier said, his usual snarky voice sounding odd and alien through his helmet’s voice modulator. “Why don’t you start by getting us access to the main tram system?”

“It is already done,” Zrrk assured him.

“Then let’s get going,” Ferrier decided, slipping his blaster rifle into the holster hanging off his side. “Abric?”

“Looks clear,” Abric reported from where he was stationed at the entry ramp.

Ferrier gave the rest of his crew a once-over. “I’ll take lead,” he said. “The rest of you follow behind. Calrissian, you bring up the rear.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Lando said, taking a step toward Ferrier. “How about I take lead with you, and Irenez brings up the rear?”

“Still don’t trust me, eh?” the other said dryly. “Have it your way. Irenez, you bring up the rear. Calrissian, you’re with me.”

Together they jogged down the ramp with the rest of Ferrier’s crew in tow. Abric had been right, Lando was glad to see: other than a few labor droids minding their own business, the docking bay was empty. Of the deck officer there was no sign. “Come on,” Ferrier said. “Tram’s this way.”

The Ord Trasi facility was one of the largest still active in Imperial space; so large, in fact, that the facility administrators had been forced to implement a tram system in order to traverse one side of the shipyards to the other. It was here Ferrier led them, following the schematic Zrrk had pulled for them earlier. They passed a fair number of maintenance personnel and service techs as they went, and even an occasional officer or two, but nobody paid them much mind. Lando was reminded of all the stories Han and Luke had told him about their insane rescue attempt aboard the Death Star; and he hoped the group of them didn’t look too far out of place. To the casual eye they were just a couple of stormtroopers; but Lando knew a closer inspection would reveal their out-of-step marching, their remarkably un-stormtrooper-like behavior.

Fortunately they made it as far as the tram station without any trouble. “How are we doing?” Lando muttered to Irenez while they waited for the next tram to arrive.

He could see Irenez squirming uncomfortably in her armor. “I don’t think they had women in mind when they designed this stuff,” she admitted.

“I know what you mean,” Lando said, bumping his hand against the helmet as he tried to wipe away a bead of sweat that had formed on his brow. “I can barely see in this thing.”

But there was at least one benefit to this armor, he realized as he took a look at the rest of the group: Ferrier’s wraith was perfectly concealed beneath the white plastoid. Dimly Lando wondered what the original designers would have to say if they knew how a nonhuman was using their armor.

Finally with a ping the tram arrived. “Everybody on,” Ferrier instructed as the doors slid open, waving them forward with an armored glove. Hurriedly they all scurried in. The car was relatively empty, with only a pair of black-suited TIE pilots at the far end for occupants.

The doors slid shut, and then they were off. “How long before we reach the other side of the facility?” Lando asked Ferrier over the whirr of the tram‘s engines.

“Another twenty minutes or so,” Ferrier said, checking his schematics. “We’ll need to switch to a shuttle to get to the Dreadnaughts themselves.”

“And has Zrrk started the shift changes yet?”

Ferrier started at him blankly through the helmet. “Relax, Calrissian,” he urged. “We know what we’re doing.”

“And I know you do,” Lando assured him, sliding a little bit closer and pressing his blaster against Ferrier’s side. “But I’m warning you, Ferrier. You think—even think—about double-crossing us, and I don’t care what happens to me; but you won’t make it out alive.”

He felt Ferrier stiffen. “Hey, Calrissian, I get it. You really think Grand Admiral Thrawn’s gonna be pleased when I tell him I helped a Republic team sneak onto his base? I’m in it with you, remember?”

Lando studied him another moment, then slowly removed his blaster from Ferrier’s side. “And don’t forget it.”

* * *

They had to transfer cars twice before they reached the far side of the facility where the Katana Dreadnaughts were being worked on. Ferrier had been right: a special shuttle was required to ferry from the main shipyards to the Dreadnaughts themselves. Fortunately Zrrk had rigged them a couple of fake IDs for just such a purpose.

What wasn’t so fortunate was the pair of stormtroopers standing guard at the shuttle port’s main entrance. “Hold it,” one of them instructed as the group approached. “Identify yourselves.”

“TK-722,” Ferrier said, waving a data card in front of him. “Command received reports about Rebel saboteurs in this sector. We’ve been instructed to inspect one of the Dreadnaughts to sweep the area.”

The stormtroopers traded looks. “I haven’t heard anything about that,” the first one started.

“It just came in,” Ferrier tried, waving his data card again. “Here, swipe it if you don’t believe me.”

For a long moment the stormtrooper just stared at him. Then, almost reluctantly, he took the data card and swiped it through his station. “They’re clear,” he told his partner as he handed the data card back to Ferrier. “Let them through.”

The other stormtrooper stepped aside. “Thank you,” Ferrier said, replacing the data card in his belt and marching past the stormtroopers down the gangway towards the shuttle’s entry port. The rest of his crew followed mutely behind. “That was close,” someone finally commented as they all ducked beneath the port overhang and stepped onto the shuttle.

“Nothing a little improvisation couldn’t handle,” Ferrier said. “And, of course, a little slicing,” he added, patting the data card in his belt. “Abric, let’s get this bucket moving.”

Abric dropped into the shuttle’s pilot seat and started warming up the engines. Meanwhile the rest of Ferrier’s crew got the shuttle shut and sealed; and by the time they were finished Abric was ready to go. “Sit tight,” he suggested as he flipped a switch, and with a metallic clang they were released from the port’s magnetic moorings. “Set course one-two-seven mark oh-six-three,” Ferrier instructed, glancing at his monitor.

Carefully Abric steered them away from the shipyard and started following the path Ferrier had laid out. “There it is,” Ferrier pointed.

Lando came up behind him and took a look out the cockpit canopy. At first it was hard to make out anything besides the scattered stars. But as his eyes adjusted he was able to differentiate the glaring starlight from the softer glow of running lights, and the dark gray of hull metal from the blackness of deep space. “There it is,” he agreed, studying the clamshell shape of the Dreadnaught that materialized in front of him. Even from this distance Lando could see at least a half-dozen support and maintenance craft hovering around it.

“There they all are,” Irenez corrected, indicating a little further to their right. Just visible at the edge of the cockpit canopy could be seen three more Dreadnaughts, looking just as ghostly as the first.

“We’re going for the one closest on the left,” Ferrier said. “Abric, take us in.”

It was an easy enough task to locate the main docking bay: a brightly-lit rectangle along the Dreadnaught‘s elongated midsection. Lando sat back as Abric guided them in, reminded of that last operation aboard the Katana a few weeks ago, or his first trip with Han and the Peregrine over New Cov. The latter made him cast a quick glance at Irenez; but she was staring out the canopy at the flashing lights, lost in her own thoughts.

They passed through the atmospheric barrier, and Abric set them down just as smoothly as he had with the Corellian Gunship. There were two other shuttles already parked in the docking bay, although they could see a line of maintenance techs being directed into each one by a man in a supervisor’s uniform. “Looks like the shift-change is starting,” Irenez observed, glancing down at the deck below.

“So far,” Lando agreed, getting up and casting a look of his own out the canopy. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Most of the techs had already boarded the shuttles by the time Lando and the others made it down the access ramp. The supervisor, however, was still waiting outside, and he looked at the group of them with some surprise. “Hey,” he called, waving them over. “What are you all doing here?”

“Identify yourself,” Lando said in his best stormtrooper imitation.

“I’m the shift supervisor,” the other said. “We just got orders to do the shift-change early. Any of you know what’s going on?”

“We’ve received reports of a Rebel sabotage group that may be operating in this sector,” Ferrier stepped in. “Command wants us to check out every inch of this ship.”

The other whistled. “Sounds serious,” he said. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Just get your men onto those shuttles as soon as possible. We’ve got some scanning equipment we need to run and we don’t want other life-forms throwing off the readings.”

“You got it,” the supervisor said, turning back to his techs. “Let‘s go!” he called out to a couple of stragglers, gesturing them towards the nearest shuttle.

Ferrier and his crew let him be, doing a turn themselves and heading towards the docking bay’s main hatchway. “How long before they’re out of here, do you think?” one of Ferrier’s men asked.

“Twenty minutes at most,” another guessed. “They should be gone by the time we get to the bridge. Maybe someone should check the engineering levels for any stragglers?”

“That’s a good idea, actually,” Ferrier said, pointing at two of his crew. “Corsar, Devine: check it out. The rest of you, follow me.”

Corsar and Devine scurried toward one of the side corridors that led to engineering, while the remaining six of them continued down the main path that connected the docking bay with the bridge. Lando remembered how long the walk had been from the bridge to the docking bay on the Katana, and this time wasn't any different: it took them at least ten minutes to complete the corridor and arrive at the blast door to the bridge anteroom. As they went Ferrier and Irenez occasionally slid open a side door and took a quick peek inside before moving on. But they didn’t stumble upon anyone else as they went; it looked like most of the maintenance personnel had been working in the lower decks.

Finally they reached the anteroom door. As they jogged past, Lando glanced at the rows of monitors that lined either wall, feeling a slight shiver as memories of the Katana battle flashed through his head. “The bridge should be on the other side,” he said.

He was right. Ferrier pressed the switch to open the main blast door, and the doors slid wide to reveal the Dreadnaught bridge. Engineering monitors, turbolaser controls, sensor displays; everything looked to be in place. Most importantly, the room was unoccupied. “Everything looks good to go,” Abric noted after examining the helm console.

“Same here,” another one of Ferrier's crew called from the far side of the bridge. “Sublight drive looks brand new. They must have done a real overhaul.”

“Then let’s get this thing ready to fly,” Lando suggested, reaching up and popping his helmet. It felt good to have air on his face again. “Bel Iblis should be arriving in about five minutes.”

But Ferrier didn’t respond. “Ferrier?” Lando said, turning around.

“One second,” Ferrier said impatiently. He already had his helmet off too, dropped casually on a nearby console. But his attention was on a station to his right. “Abric, take a look at this, will you?”

Abric got up from the helm console and walked over. “Ferrier, we really need to get going—” Lando tried again.

“Settle down, Calrissian,” Ferrier snapped over his shoulder. He leaned back towards Abric. “You recognize this?”

“Not really,” the other admitted, tapping a few keys experimentally. “It’s not part of the original design. The Imperials must have installed it themselves. It almost looks like…”

His face went suddenly pale as his voice trailed off. “No,” he stammered, trying another key. “No.”

“What, you know what this thing is?” Ferrier demanded.

"You bet I do." Abric looked past Ferrier‘s shoulder, directly at Lando and Irenez. “It looks a whole lot like the controls to a cloaking shield.”

* * *

“A cloaking shield?” Ferrier repeated, his tone alternating between menace and disbelief. “You’re sure?”

“Definitely,” Abric said, pointing at the main cable. “This line here connects with the sensor station, while this other one goes down to engineering to mask the drive emissions. It’s a cloaking shield, all right.”

Ferrier looked over his shoulder too, settling a hard gaze on Lando. “Well?” he asked, and Lando noticed his right hand was fingering the blaster rifle slung there. “Care to explain?”

“What do you want me to say, Ferrier?” Lando countered. “You didn’t think we’d really go to all this trouble just over a Dreadnaught, did you?”

“And how did you even figure out that—no, I don’t want to know,” Ferrier decided. His hand was still fingering that blaster. “You’ve put us in a real bind here, Calrissian. That cloaking shield is one of Thrawn’s little treasures. He’s not gonna just look the other way on this. In fact, he‘ll probably put a bounty on my head so large it‘ll make your pardon not much more than a death sentence.”

“We had a deal, Ferrier,” Lando reminded him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Irenez, her gray hair looking matted and wet from the stormtrooper helmet, drifting casually to a better firing position. “You’re not welching on a deal, are you?”

“The deal was for a Dreadnaught,” Ferrier’s man at the engineering monitor spoke up.

“We really don’t have time for this,” Irenez said, indicating her chronometer. “The fleet’ll be here any minute.”

“Not my problem,” Ferrier said, and there was nothing subtle about the way he laid his hand on the blaster this time. “Your pardon’s not worth a mug full of vacuum. The deal’s off.”

For a long moment no one spoke. Ferrier continued to glare at Lando and Irenez, waiting for one of them to respond. For her part Irenez glared right back, her hand still resting nicely on her own blaster rifle. Lando admired her bravado, but he knew the odds were against them here. It was just the two of them against Ferrier and his crew—that made at least four, plus Corsar and Devine if they ever got back from the engineering levels.

And even if Lando and Irenez somehow managed to come out on top, it would take more than the two of them to fly this. “All right,” Lando said at last, dimly wishing he’d never been dragged into this operation. “All right. What if we sweeten the pot a little? We’ll pay you twenty thousand for the cloaking shield. That’s on top of the original pardon. Is that worth a little more to you?”

Lando saw Ferrier’s hand on his blaster slacken; and the ship thief’s face softened, considering. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But Thrawn’s bounty will be at least twenty-five, plus an additional five for each one of my crew. That’s sixty-thousand.”

“Don’t push it,” Irenez warned. But at least her hand had relaxed on her blaster, too. “We’ll pay you thirty for the shield, plus the pardon.”

Ferrier’s expression got hard again. “Look, sweetheart, if you think I’m gonna go along with this for less than sixty-thousand—”

He was cut off as the bridge klaxons started going off. “What in blazes is that?” he demanded.

“It’s the proximity alarm,” Abric said, looking around. “The sensors picked up an enemy ship coming out of hyperspace.”

“Ship?” Ferrier repeated. “What ship?”

“What do you think?” Irenez asked, casting a look out the nearest viewport. Outside, a trio of Dreadnaughts appeared with a sudden flicker of pseudomotion. “It’s the Peregrine.”

* * *

“Here we go,” Wedge said to himself as he pulled back the hyperdrive levers. Outside the X-wing canopy the mottled sky of hyperspace turned into starlines and then faded into stars; and then the jumbled platforms of the Ord Trasi shipyards came rushing to meet him, finally settling about five klicks out. To his right Wedge watched as the three Dreadnaughts that comprised the Peregrine’s main task force also dropped out of hyperspace, already formed up in their classic triangle-vee pattern. A moment later another pair of Dreadnaughts flashed into life, appearing on the other side of the shipyards.

“This is Rogue Leader,” Wedge said into his helmet comm, taking a quick look at the sensor display. “All units, report in.”

He listened with only half-an-ear as the rest of Rogue Squadron checked in. Centered on his sensor display sat the main blip of the Ord Trasi shipyards, of course, but that wasn’t his biggest concern. There were at least a dozen capital-sized ships currently sitting in the docks, including an Interdictor Cruiser and the half-completed superstructure of what would eventually be an Imperial Star Destroyer. That was in addition to the three Golan II battle stations sitting in orbit around the shipyard platforms, and whatever the Imperials would be able to muster for backup. All in all, it looked like they had their work cut out for them.

“All ships,” the comm crackled once all the Rogues had checked in. “This is Bel Iblis. You are free to engage. Commence the attack.”

“Copy that, General,” Wedge said, angling his X-wing towards the edge of the shipyards. In the distance he could already make out the hexagon-paneled silhouettes of a TIE fighter patrol. “You heard the General, Rogue Squadron. Form up and follow my lead.”

He kicked the X-wing’s throttle into high gear, trailed closely by the rest of his squadron. On his targeting computer the TIEs started growing larger. Just a few more meters… “Rogue Squadron: engage.”

The X-wings opened fire, sending a barrage of laser blasts lancing out at the incoming TIE fighters. The TIEs scattered, but not before a couple exploded into space dust. “Got one!” Rogue Six whooped over the comm.

“Settle down, Rogue Six,” Wedge suggested, tracking one of the remaining fighters as it dove into an evasive maneuver. The two of them circled in a loop for maybe a dozen seconds; but Wedge had the advantage, and the other pilot knew it. He tried a hard cut port to break Wedge’s tail; Wedge squeezed down gently on his trigger, and with a brilliant explosion the TIE pilot went to join his companions as space dust. “First group clear.”

“Copy that, Rogue Leader,” Rogue Two’s response came back promptly. “Wedge, take a look at the nearest Golan, would you?”

Wedge did just that, and he didn’t like what he saw. Even from this distance he could spy the angled wings of a new group of TIE interceptors departing the Golan II’s hangar bay. With four laser cannons each and speeds that could match an A-wing, the TIE interceptor was the Empire’s main space superiority fighter. And a squad of them was headed Rogue Squadron’s way. “Looks like we’ve picked up some new friends,” Wedge noted.

“It does look that way, doesn’t it?” Rogue Two agreed. “Any suggestions on how to roll out the welcome mat?”

But Wedge was still looking out at the shipyard, and his gaze drifted towards the shadow of that half-completed Star Destroyer. “I do, actually,” he said, pulling his flight stick to starboard and steering towards it. “Rogue Squadron, follow me.”

He watched on his sensor as the group of TIEs altered their flight plan in an attempt to intercept. Even with the TIEs’ superior speed, it soon became clear it was a race, and one the Rogues were going to win. “We’ll lose them in the superstructure,” Wedge told the rest of his squadron. “Pick a fighter and go.”

The Rogues started calling out their targets. For himself Wedge chose one of the TIE interceptors at the front of the group, and what looked to be their leader. He brought the X-wing around and centered his aiming reticle on the incoming TIE. But the interceptor’s computer must have warned him, because the pilot suddenly dove left, throwing his ship into a tight spin. Wedge tried to follow, but the interceptor was both faster and more maneuverable; and he roared past with the typical scream of twin ion engines.

“Blast!” Wedge cursed, flipping his X-wing over. He took a look at this scope. “R2, can you see him anywhere?”

His astromech whistled a negative. “Careful, Rogue Leader,” Rogue Eight warned over the comm. “You’ve picked up a tail.”

“I see him,” Wedge said, even as the TIE interceptor reappeared on his rear display. He flipped the X-wing a second time and tried a hard cut to port. Behind him came the sputter of cannon fire, and green laser blasts started flashing across his cockpit. “Sounds like he’s still with us,” Wedge agreed as his R2 unit let out a panicked shriek. “Hang on, R2.”

Wedge threw the X-wing to port again, diving down into the heart of the unfinished superstructure. He could still see the interceptor moving to follow behind them, but so far the gambit had worked: in the close confines the interceptor was forced to back off, and his speed advantage was largely nullified. “Careful,” Wedge muttered to himself as he cut dangerously close beneath an overhanging girder. This reminded him a little too much of that breakneck run through the second Death Star; but at least this time there wasn‘t a huge fireball coming up behind.

But there was still that TIE interceptor, and it didn’t look like Wedge was going to lose him anytime soon. Pulling the X-wing now into a hard climb and switching to proton torpedoes, Wedge took aim at another one of those overhanging girders and fired. There was a blue flash as his torpedo streaked away, followed by the more brilliant flash of multiple detonations and disintegrating metal as it made contact. Wedge roared through the explosion, blinded for a moment as it filled his canopy.

But if he was blind, so was that TIE pilot. Wedge barely made it through the other side before pulling a tight one-eighty, switching back to laser cannons just as the TIE interceptor came roaring through after him. Wedge squeezed down on the trigger, and the TIE was caught flat-footed; a single point-blank shot blew him out of the sky.

“Nice flying, Rogue Leader,” Rogue Eight complimented as Wedge moved to join his squadron.

“Thanks, Eight,” Wedge said, doing a quick visual scan. It looked like the rest of the TIEs had been taken care of, too. “How we doing?”

“Done with this group,” Rogue Nine confirmed as he blasted the last interceptor. “But there’s already another squadron on its way.”

Wedge took a glance at his sensor display. Rogue Nine was right: a new blip of TIE interceptors was departing the Golan hangar bay. “Terrific,” he said. “Same plan as before. Pick a fighter and switch to one-on-one engagements—”

He was interrupted by a sudden trill from his R2 unit. “What, R2?” Wedge demanded. “What is it?”

“Take a look,” Rogue Two said grimly. “The Imperials’ backup just got here.”

Wedge’s astromech brought it up on his main screen. At the edge of the shipyards a new ship had indeed just emerged out of hyperspace, coming up behind the Peregrine. Wedge felt a sudden pit in his stomach. “That’s the Star Destroyer Chimaera,” he realized.

Grand Admiral Thrawn had arrived.

Thick as Thieves, Part 4

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow. “One other thing, Captain Ferrier. On the off chance that you might feel yourself tempted to abandon the assignment and make a run for it, the freighter you’ll be given will be equipped with an impressive and totally unbreakable doomsday mechanism. With exactly three standard months set on its clock. I trust you understand.” —Dark Force Rising

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

For a long moment nobody on the Dreadnaught’s bridge spoke, just staring dumbly out the viewport at the arrowhead shape that had appeared in the distance. “The Chimaera,” Ferrier sighed, his face looking pale and deflated. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“That’s what?” Lando demanded, turning on Ferrier.

Ferrier returned his gaze evenly. “That’s it,” Ferrier repeated. “I’m not going up against Grand Admiral Thrawn, Calrissian. I’m grabbing the rest of my crew, and we’re getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave,” Lando protested, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. Right now Ferrier could do pretty much whatever he wanted.

And he knew it, too. “I’m not going up against Thrawn,” Ferrier said again. “Abric, Laxus, come on. We’re getting out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Irenez said, stepping in front of them. “We had a deal.”

“To blazes with your deal, lady!” Abric spat. “You can’t win against a Grand Admiral. You just can’t.”

“Thrawn’s only here because of the shipyard’s distress call,” Lando pointed out, sliding a little closer to Irenez and uncomfortably aware of how outnumbered they were. “He has no way of knowing what our real target is.”

“And you don’t think he’ll figure it out?” Ferrier challenged. “You were at Sluis Van, Calrissian. You know what this guy can do.”

“He’s not infallible,” Lando tried again, doing a quick calculation. Ferrier and Abric were still standing by the cloak controls, but Laxus was all the way on the other side of the bridge. If Irenez could take out those two, Lando might be able to get his blaster out in time to before Laxus got off a shot. As for Ferrier’s wraith—

The wraith. Lando cast a surreptitious look around the bridge, but it was nowhere to be seen. “What is it?” Irenez asked softly.

“Ferrier’s wraith,” Lando told her, doing another look. Now that he thought about it, he couldn‘t remember the last time he‘d seen it. “He’s missing.” His eye fell on a nearby corner, where the wraith’s stormtrooper armor had been neatly stacked and set aside. “You don’t think—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the anteroom door opening behind them. “There they are,” someone said, and Lando turned to see the supervisor from the docking bay step through the doorway, flanked by a pair of wide-helmeted naval troopers. “I told you they looked suspicious.”

“Who are you people?” the trooper to the right demanded, studying them distastefully. His eyes eventually settled on Irenez in her half-compete stormtrooper armor. “What are you doing here?”

“TK-722,” Ferrier tried weakly. “We’re investigating reports of a Rebel sabotage group…”

“There isn’t any TK-722 operating in this facility,” the supervisor said. “We checked. Want to try again?”

Ferrier swallowed, looking at Lando for help. “All right,” the first trooper said, raising his blaster rifle. “I’ve heard enough. Hands up, all of you. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re coming with us.”

“Oh, come on,” Ferrier said, even as he started to raise his hands. “This is some kind of mistake.”

“Then you’ll be happy to sort it out back at Command,” the second trooper said, reaching for the binders on his belt.

“Be careful,” the supervisor warned, looking around. “There should be a couple more of them around here somewhere…”

He was looking right at it when the strange shadow suddenly removed itself from the wall and sprang forward. “What in space—” he gasped, right before Ferrier’s wraith grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground.

The troopers reacted instantly, dropping to their knees and bringing their blasters to bear. But it took a couple seconds for their brains to make sense of just what exactly they were seeing. Those were seconds they didn’t have. Ferrier and Lando each reached for their blasters, just as a pair of shots fired off from their right. The troopers took one each to the chest before collapsing to the deck, dead.

“Nice shooting,” Ferrier commented to Irenez with begrudging admiration.

“Thanks,” Irenez, said, even as she moved her blaster to cover Ferrier and his gang. “Now where were we?”

For a long moment Ferrier stared at her blankly, his face emotionless behind his bushy beard. Then, almost reluctantly, he smiled. “You do have spunk,” he admitted, almost to himself. Or perhaps he was just now realizing he was already in too deep to walk away. “All right, you got yourself a deal. For thirty-thousand.”

“Thirty-thousand,” Irenez agreed, slowly lowering the blaster rifle. “Then let’s get moving. We’ve already wasted more time than we should have. You,” she pointed at Abric, “get back on that helm station and get the engines fired up. Where are Corsar and Devine?”

“Good question,” Ferrier said, pulling out his comlink. “Corsar? Devine? Come on, answer up.”

“Right here, boss,” Corsar’s voice came back. “How are things looking up there?”

“Oh, great,” Ferrier said, glancing at the trio of bodies on the floor. “Good job on sweeping for stragglers, by the way. You find anything down there?”

“Just a couple of busy-bodies who didn’t know when to stop asking questions,” Corsar said. “I take it from all the noise coming from the sublights that we’re on the move. You want us up there with you?”

Ferrier shook his head. “Stay where you are. We’ve got enough bodies up here as it is. Sit tight and make sure that new sublight drive stays working.”

He switched off the comm and replaced it at his belt. “How we coming?” he asked Abric, stepping over to his station.

“It’ll be another ten minutes before the engines are running at full capacity,” Abric said.

Ferrier cast another look at the supervisor lying on the bridge deck. “What about those other shuttles? Did they leave yet?”

“According to the automated computer logs they left ten minutes ago,” the other confirmed.

“Good,” Ferrier said, reaching a hand into his belt. When he pulled it out it was with a long cigarra that smelled gently of armudu and carababba tabac. “We’ve got ten minutes before we can get this bucket moving,” he said, sticking the cigarra between his teeth and lighting it. “I want the hyperspace jump ready and entered by then. Wraith, you remember the coordinates to the rendezvous point?”

The wraith nodded wordlessly. “Then get on that navicomputer and start entering them. The rest of you, sit tight. It’s gonna be a close one.”

* * *

Pellaeon stood at the Chimaera bridge viewport, staring out at the scene before him. The chaotic scene. He could make out at least five Rebel Dreadnaughts pummeling away at the shipyards, plus more starfighters than he could count. Not nearly enough firepower to cause serious harm to the facility, of course; but enough to wreck a platform or two before the Rebels fled back into hyperspace. “It looks like a real scrap out there, Admiral.”

“It does indeed,” Thrawn agreed from where he stood beside Pellaeon. “Fortunately, they’re not here to cause any actual damage. Have any other ships responded to the distress call?”

“Uh…not yet. The Bellicose says they should be here in fifteen minutes.” The Chimaera itself had been on a tour of the Outer Rim garrisons, and it was mere luck they’d been so close when the call came in. But Pellaeon was more interested in returning to the previous topic. “What do you mean, they’re not here to cause any actual damage?”

“With five Dreadnaughts and a couple starfigher squadrons?” Thrawn scoffed. “That hardly seems Bel Iblis’s style. No, I’ve seen the kind of art the man collects, and he’s not nearly so rash a commander as that.” His voice got a little distant. “This is merely a diversionary tactic. The question is, diversion from what?”

“Yes, sir,“ Pellaeon said, knowing better than to ask how Thrawn even knew it was Bel Iblis out there. He looked out at the docks lining the shipyard. “That new Star Destroyer we’re working on,” he suggested. “Do you think it could have something to do with that?”

“Possibly,” Thrawn said doubtfully, casting a look of his own across the shipyard. His gaze drifted past it towards the Katana Dreadnaughts on the far side… “The Ukio Dreadnaughts,” he said suddenly. “Have the sensors picked up any Rebel ships near them? No, of course they wouldn‘t,” Thrawn corrected himself almost as soon as he’d spoken. “It wouldn’t be a diversion then, would it? What about reports of suspicious activity?”

Pellaeon stepped over to his screen. “Actually, there was something,” he said. “A maintenance supervisor reported several stormtroopers who the supervisor says were acting strangely. They claimed to be investigating rumors of a Rebel sabotage team. A couple of naval troopers were sent to check it out.”

“‘Rebel sabotage team?’” Thrawn repeated, shaking his head. “That must have been an improvisation. No, I suspect sabotage is the last thing on their minds right now.”

“You do?” Pellaeon asked, trying to hide the confusion from his voice. “But then why…” his voice trailed off as it suddenly clicked. “The cloaking shield. Those are the Dreadnaughts with the cloaking shields installed.”

That classic smile appeared on Thrawn‘s lips. “Precisely. They’re not here to destroy the Dreadnaughts, Captain; they’re here to steal one. Getting their hands on a cloaking shield would be a nice boon to the Rebel war effort, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon agreed, standing a little stiffer at his station. “Orders?”

“Inform the shipyard commander that the Ukio Dreadnaughts are the main target,” Thrawn said, “and move all nearby ships to intercept. Has that Interdictor launched yet?”

“They’re moving out of the docks now.”

“Put them on a course between the Dreadnaught’s two most likely escape vectors,” Thrawn said, stepping over to his own displays. “Its gravity generators should be able to project a well large enough to prevent a jump along either vector.”

“Right away, Admiral,” Pellaeon said, starting to relay the order. “They should be in position within five minutes.”

“Good,” Thrawn said, tapping a few keys on his own screen. “In the meantime, let’s give Bel Iblis something else to worry about. Bring us up to flank speed and commence the attack.”

* * *

“Uh, Ferrier?” Laxus called from where he was seated at the sensor display. “We may have a problem here.”

“What is it?” Ferrier asked, coming up behind Laxus with Lando in tow.

“An Interdictor just launched from the shipyard,” Laxis said, showing them his display. “Take a look.”

Lando did just that, and he wasn’t happy with what he saw. The display showed maybe half-a-dozen ships detaching from the platforms and shifting in their direction. But the worst by far was an Interdictor Cruiser, moving along a vector that would block the Dreadnaught’s main escape route. “That’s a problem,” he agreed. With four projectors that could simulate the gravity wells produced by a medium-sized planetoid, the Interdictor would make it impossible to jump to lightspeed once it was within range. “How soon before it gets here?”

“The computer says five minutes,” Laxus said. “How much longer on the engines?”

“We’re down to three,” Abric said. “But we still need to move far enough away from the platforms to make the jump to hyperspace.”

Ferrier looked at Lando. “If you’ve got any bright ideas, Calrissian, now would be a good time to share them.”

Lando thought back to that skirmish with those drop ships aboard the Katana. “What about the turbolasers?” he suggested, pointing at the weapons panel. “Can we fight it off?”

“What, the eight of us?” Ferrier snorted. “Even with computer-assisted targeting, these things are supposed to have two-thousand people crewing them. We don‘t have the manpower to fight them off.”

“Well there has to be something we can do,” Lando said, casting a desparate look around the bridge. But everything he saw was something they’d already tried: helm station, weapons station, navigation station…

“I told you before this thing was too big to grab,” Ferrier grumbled. “I told you.”

But Lando wasn’t listening. His eyes came to rest on the last station at the end of the row. “What about the cloaking shield?” he asked. “Could that buy us enough time to make the jump?”

Ferrier just stared at him like he was crazy. “Abric?” Lando tried instead.

“Possibly,” Abric admitted, thinking. “With the cloaking shield we could probably slip past the Interdictor’s gravity well without being seen.”

“Yeah, or run right into it,” Ferrier protested. “Cloaking shields are double-blind, remember—the cloaking field’ll be blocking our sensors, too.”

“We don’t need sensors to jump into hyperspace,” Lando argued. “We just need to get far enough away from the Interdictor to stay out of its gravity cone.”

“Oh, is that all?” Ferrier looked around the room. “Am I the only one who realizes how crazy this is?”

“If you have a better idea, now would be the time to share it,” Irenez pointed out, smiling.

Ferrier glared at her. “Do we know if this cloaking gadget even works yet?” he asked Abric.

“It should,” the other responded. “It looks like the Imperials have already tested it, from what I could see.”

Ferrier stood silent in thought, gritting his teeth down on his cigarra. “All right,” he decided at last, waving Abric out of his seat. “I’ll take the helm. Abric, you get to work on that cloaking shield. And be quick about it.” He looked out the viewport at the rapidly growing shape of the Interdictor Cruiser. “You’ve got about two minutes to get it running.”

“It may be a little less than that,” Irenez warned. “Take a closer look.”

It took Lando a second to see what she was getting at. And then he saw it too, emerging out of the belly of the Interdictor’s hangar bay: the faint glow of ion drives. “They’re launching fighters,” he realized.

Over by the sensor station, Laxus swore. “You’re right,” he said. “Looks like a squadron of assault bombers, moving into attack positions. I’d say we’ve got closer to a minute until they’re within missile range.”

“Things just keep getting better, don’t they?” Ferrier gritted, gripping the helm controls. “How’s that lightspeed calculation coming?”

“It is still running,” the wraith said.

“I guess they didn’t take the time to upgrade their navicomputers, too,” Lando observed dryly. He took another look at Laxus’s sensor screen. “What kind of fighters are those?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen that profile before.”

“Scimitar assault craft,” the other said. “Some new kind of Imperial bomber, I think. The Empire’s been using them on-and-off for the past six months.”

“You ever tangle with one?”

Laxus shrugged. “Not really. But we did palm a couple from a Ubiqtorate base once.” There was a beep from his console. “Bombers in missile range,” he called out. “They’re getting a lock now.”

“Shields up,” Ferrier said. “They’ll go for our engines first,” he told Lando, “try and cripple us so we can’t make it out of the shipyards.”

Lando nodded, watching the blips on Laxus’s screen. There was a flash as they fired in sequential bursts; and then the missiles streaked away on a course towards the Dreadnaught’s stern. They were coming up on them fast— “Hang on!” Laxus called.

There was the sound of distant explosions from somewhere behind them, and the deck beneath rocked violently; and then the bombers went roaring past. “What’s the damage?” Ferrier asked, his focus still on the helm controls.

“Nothing too bad,” Laxus said, studying the diagnostic reports that flashed on his screen. Only a couple were in red. “We won’t last another hit, though.”

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” a voice demanded from the intercom. “That sounded a lot like missile fire.”

“Just shut up and sit tight, Corsar,” Ferrier gritted. “Laxus, where did those bombers go?”

“They’re coming about,” Irenez told him, pointing. In the distance they could indeed see the bombers beginning to make their turn, starting on a new attack vector. “I’m open to any suggestions!” Ferrier said pleadingly.

“Hold on a sec,” Laxus said, leaning over his console. “I’m picking up a new signal coming in. It looks like—”

He was interrupted as a new ship blasted past the viewport, and it took Lando only a moment to recognize the drive tails and classic shape of the modified Corellian Gunship Ferrier and his crew used. The Gunship cut across the bombers’ path, its laser cannons firing away. But that wasn’t all it fired. Lando caught a flash of metal eject from its aft section, and then with a bang the sky exploded with a rapidly expanding mesh of metallic netting. The bombers swerved frantically to avoid it; but apparently these new fighters were built more for firepower than for speed. There was a crackle of electric discharge as the netting wrapped itself around them, encasing the bombers in its metal grasp.

“Conner net,” Ferrier muttered approvingly. “Someone remind me to give Zrrk an extra ration of bruallki next time we’re on Phraetiss.”

They watched as the Gunship dove past the netted bombers and drove for deep space. “There’s out exit,” Ferrier said, steering the ship to follow. “Abric, your two minutes are up.”

“Almost ready,” Abric said, his voice tight with concentration.

But there was still that Interdictor, and it hadn’t spent the past couple minutes fooling around. Laxus’s screen was flashing again: and Lando could see a phantom cone begin to expand as the Interdictor started powering up its gravity generators. Just a couple more seconds and they would be caught in its edge. “The Interdictor’s almost on us,” Lando said. “It’s now or never, Ferrier.”

“Ready,” Abric breathed, looking over his shoulder at Ferrier.

Ferrier nodded grimly. “Do it.”

* * *

Wedge happened to be staring right at the Dreadnaught when it suddenly and unexpectedly vanished. “Whoa,” someone on the comm channel gasped. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it,” Wedge confirmed, taking a closer look out his canopy. There could be no doubt. Where before there had been the running lights and gray-hulled shape of a Katana Dreadnaught, there was now only the emptiness of space. It was exactly like that Corellian freighter back at Sluis Van, only in reverse. “They must have activated the cloaking shield,” Rogue Six guessed.

“I think that’s right,” Wedge agreed. Even his X-wing’s sensors no longer picked up the Dreadnaught: not the drive tails or anything else. It was as if it had never been there.

That Interdictor was apparently having the same problem. Outside he could see it begin firing its turbolaser batteries along the Dreadnaught’s last vector. Tracing fire, Wedge identified it. Not content to permit its prey to escape that easily, the Interdictor was aiming for a stray hit that would allow it to track the Dreadnaught’s route and keep it within the gravity cone. But so far it didn’t seem to be working. After a couple moments the Interdictor changed its firing into a wide-spread scatter pattern, hoping again to hit anything that might be within range. “So what does that mean for us?” Rogue Eight asked, bringing Wedge back to the matter at hand.

“I think that means we’re out of the fight,” Wedge said. “There’s not much we can do for General Calrissian’s team now. They’re on their own.”

As if on cue the comm suddenly crackled. “All ships, this is General Bel Iblis,” the general’s voice cut in. “The mission is complete. Prepare to withdraw.”

“Copy, General,” Wedge said, glancing back at the trio of Republic Dreadnaughts lined up behind him. It looked like the withdrawal order hadn’t come a moment too soon. The Chimaera had been hammering away at the Peregrine’s flanks for the past five minutes, and at least two other capital ships had launched from the shipyard docks to join the Imperial side. Swinging the X-wing around, Wedge turned his attention back to his comm. “Rogue Squadron: Porkins’ Formation. Let’s cut a way out of here.”

* * *

Pellaeon watched helplessly as Bel Iblis’s Dreadnaught began to withdraw from its engagement with the Chimaera. “They’re beginning to pull out,” he noted unnecessarily.

“They are indeed,” Thrawn agreed anyway. It was easy to see why. With their Katana Dreadnaught gone—or at least somewhere out there hiding—there was no longer any reason to keep up the ruse. Already Pellaeon could see one of the Rebel ships making the jump to lightspeed.

Almost reluctantly, Pellaeon looked to his right, where the Interdictor was still attempting its wide-scatter firing. “Isn’t there something we can do to track it?” he asked Thrawn, wishing for perhaps the first time in his life that C‘baoth were here. He would be perfect for this kind of thing. But he‘d been transferred to the Death‘s Head two days ago for the Xyquine operation. “Drive emissions, heat signatures, something?”

“The only method I’m aware of that can reliably track a cloaked ship is with a crystal gravfield trap,” Thrawn said, his own gaze drifting towards the Interdictor as well. “Unfortunately, the closest one is at the Tangrene Ubiqtorate base, far too distant to do us any good here. Communications,” he called down the portside crew pit, “please instruct the Interdictor to stop firing. That Dreadnaught is long gone by now.”

The comm officer acknowledged, and a moment later the Interdictor’s turbolasers fell silent. “This is an unfortunate setback, I’ll admit,” Thrawn continued as another one of Bel Iblis’s ships leapt into hyperspace. “Luckily the Ukio operation is still far enough away that it shouldn’t take too long to equip another Dreadnaught with a cloaking shield.”

“I think this extends a little further beyond Ukio,” Pellaeon argued. “With their hands on a working cloaking shield it’s only a matter of time before the Rebels find a weakness and exploit it. Or worse, start using them against us.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will come to that.” There it was; that classic smile again. “Another twenty minutes, and the Rebels won’t even have possession of it.”

“Sir, I don’t—” Pellaeon suddenly recalled seeing Thrawn entering something on his console, right before they began their attack on Bel Iblis‘s ship. “Admiral? What did you do?”

But Thrawn merely smiled.

* * *

They’d managed to make it out of the Interdictor’s gravity well and into hyperspace without trouble; and they must have gone half a light-year at least when they all heard it—the distant echo of an explosion, coming from somewhere beneath them. “What in space was that?” Abric asked.

“Sounded like we might have blown the hyperdrive motivator,” Lando guessed. “We better check it out. Ferrier, bring us out of lightspeed.”

Ferrier did something on his console, and the deep rumble of the hyperdrive quieted as the ship exited hyperspace. Outside the viewport they could see nothing but stars for light-years around. “Corsar,” Ferrier called into the intercom, “we heard an explosion a few seconds ago. What the hell’s going on down there?”

“One of the motivators crapped out,” Corsar said, his voice sounding tight. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.“

Lando sighed. “Can you fix it?” he asked.

“I dunno. Maybe, if we can find a spare somewhere,” Corsar said dismissively. “Look, we’ve got bigger problems on our hands. You better get down, and I mean fast.”

Ferrier glanced up, shared a look with Lando. “We’re on our way.”

They half-jogged, half-ran the 500 meters that connected the bridge to the engineering areas. The hyperdrive was actually kept on a separate level one deck below, in a secluded section off the starboard corridor. Corsar was waiting for them when they got there, the hyperdrive motivator looking burned and already half-dismantled beside him. “What the hell did you do?” Ferrier demanded.

“Hey, I told you it didn’t look good,” Corsar said, getting up from where he’d been examining one of the parts. “But to space with the hyperdrive, anyway. We’ve got a bigger problem. Come here.”

He led them further down the catwalk towards the row of alluvial dampers. “Take a look,” he said, indicating a non-descript box wired in the corner. “Recognize it?”

Lando leaned in closer. “Not really,” he admitted. “Ferrier, do you…”

But his voice broke off at the pale expression on Ferrier’s face. He recognized it, all right. “How much time?” Ferrier managed.

“About fifteen minutes,” Corsar said grimly. “It was looped through the hyperdrive; that’s what made the motivator blow. Must have been activated right before we made the jump. I’ve got Devine getting one of the escape pods ready now.”

“Escape pods!” Lando interjected, standing between them. “Hang on a second. What is this thing?”

“One last upgrade from the Grand Admiral,” Ferrier explained. “It’s a bomb, Calrissian; a doomsday device. Thrawn put one on that flying bucket he had us riding around in a couple weeks ago.”

Lando swallowed. “Okay,” he said, taking a breath. “So how did you dismantle it?”

Ferrier snorted. “We didn’t. Zrrk and Laxus must have spent three days with the thing, but it had some kind of rig they couldn‘t figure out. Corsar’s right, we’ve got to get out of here before this whole place blows.”

No, Lando thought, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. It can’t end like this. Not when we’re so close. “There’s got to be some way to disarm it,” he protested aloud. “Think, Ferrier!”

“I‘m telling you, we tried for days and couldn‘t do it,” Ferrier said. “And the more time we spend arguing, the less time we have to get to an escape pod and get clear. So you’re welcome to stick around and play with it all you want, but me and my crew are getting out of here.”

From the comlink at his belt came a beep. Ferrier switched it on and held it to his ear. “It’s for you,” he said, tossing it at Lando.

“Calrissian?” Irenez’s voice came back. “What’s going on down there? How does the hyperdrive look?”

“Not good,” Lando told her. He caught Ferrier’s eye… “Irenez, I think you better send out a distress signal to the Peregrine,” he said. “And then get the rest of Ferrier’s crew to the bridge escape pod. We have about thirteen minutes before this whole ship blows.”

There was a pause at the other end. “Ah, you’re sure about that?”

“I’m staring at what Ferrier claims is some kind of doomsday mechanism,” Lando said. “Ferrier also says it’s completely tamper-proof.”

“I’m not just saying it,” Ferrier growled. “It is. Trust me.”

“I suppose we don’t have a choice, with only thirteen minutes on the clock,” Irenez conceded, and Lando could hear the bitter sound of defeat in her voice, too. “All right, I’m sending the signal now.”

“Be quick,” Lando urged before switching off the intercom and tossing it back to Ferrier. “Okay, Ferrier, you win.”

“Hey, I didn’t want this, Calrissian,” Ferrier said evenly. He turned to Corsar. “Which way to the escape pod?”

“It’s back this way,” Corsar said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

They scurried down the narrow corridor after him. Lando had no idea how much time it took them, but Devine was gesturing frantically the moment they came in sight. “Hurry up!” he called from the pod’s open doorway. “We’re down to four minutes!”

“What's the rush?” Ferrier grumbled sarcastically, waving Corsar and Lando in. “You first, Calrissian.”

Lando ducked down and in, settling into one of the acceleration chairs and securing the straps. Ferrier dropped into the one beside him and did the same. “That’s it,” he said to Devine, seated at the controls. “Hit it.”

* * *

There were still sixty seconds on the clock by the time they got the escape pod far enough from the Dreadnaught’s engines to be safe from the blast radius. Together they all clustered around the aft viewport, looking out. “One minute,” Devine reported the countdown.

For maybe thirty seconds nobody spoke, just staring out at the abandoned and lonely image of the doomed Dreadnaught. To their left they could barely see the tiny bell shape of the other escape pod, several hundred meters away. “Look, this doesn’t change our arrangement,” Ferrier warned softly in Lando’s ear. “The deal was for a Dreadnaught, and I got you a Dreadnaught. I still get my pardon.”

Lando didn’t look at him. “Don’t worry, Ferrier,” he said, not even trying to sound pleasant. “I’ll put in a good word with Bel Iblis. You’ll get your pardon.”

He could sense Ferrier’s glare on him. “Good,” the other said, his voice softening. There was a long pause. “Look, Calrissian, this isn’t the end. The Republic’ll get another shot at a cloaking shield. You‘ll see.”

Outside there came a distant flash near the Dreadnaught’s stern; the doomsday clock had reached zero. The flash was followed by a cacophony of multiple explosions as the detonation engulfed the entire midsection, splitting the ship in two. “Sure,” Lando said, watching the two halves of the former Dreadnaught slowly drift apart. “Right.”

It wasn’t until several hours later, when the distant fires of the Dreadnaught‘s remains had long burned out, that the similarly-shaped silhouette of the Peregrine finally arrived to pick them up.