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.