Showing posts with label Noghri. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Noghri. Show all posts

Sunday, October 10, 2010

A Diplomatic Mission, Part 3

The order was unnecessary. The shadowy figure had already come to a halt, standing unprotected in the open, its hooded face shaded from the faint light of Luke’s lightsaber.

Luke took a step toward it. “I’m Luke Skywalker,” he said formally. “Brother of Leia Organa Solo, son of the Lord Darth Vader. Who are you?”

“I am Ekhrikor clan Bakh’tor,” the gravelly Noghri voice replied. “I greet you, son of Vader.” —The Last Command

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

The Obroan Law House was an elaborate affair: a quick fifteen-minute trip by airspeeder from the Royal Palace, in the heart of the capital. And if the Palace reminded Leia an awful lot of its equivalent on Coruscant, the Law House likewise seemed a miniature version of the old Senate Chamber and Assemblage Commons. Vaulted ceilings, ornate columns, all done in a stonework that echoed more of the Old Republic than the new one.

It was late morning as Wedge set them down in the spot that had been assigned to them outside the main entrance. “Well, here we are,” he declared. He’d discarded his flight suit in favor of a more appropriate military uniform, but he still looked out-of-place to Leia. “Nervous, Councilor?” he asked, turning around.

Leia gave him a weak smile. She did indeed feel nervous, she realized—more nervous, in fact, than she had any right feeling. Calm down, she instructed herself, you’ve done this hundreds of times. She went through some of the Force-relaxing exercises Luke had taught her, and tried to ignore the distinct impression that none of them were working.

Threepio, at least, seemed chipper. “I for one am looking forward to today’s events,” he said eagerly. He was a protocol droid, after all, and over the years his talents hadn’t been put to use nearly as often as he’d liked; and he always enjoyed the opportunity to return to his roots. “If my programming is correct, Obroan culture places a great emphasis on ceremony and decorum in their legal proceedings. This will be an excellent opportunity to see that ceremony firsthand.” He glanced around the compartment, and seemed to realize no one was listening to him. “Wouldn’t you agree, Chewbacca?” he tried.

But Chewbacca was looking at Leia, his blue eyes studying her thoughtfully. “I’m fine, Chewie” Leia assured him, trying to smile a little more forcefully. A movement outside caught her eye. “Look, Legate M’eung and his delegation just arrived. We better get going.”

Leia needed only a little help from Chewbacca getting out of the airspeeder and making it up the stairs to the main entrance. The two men standing guard gave her a quick cursory glance before letting them all through—though Leia guessed they were there more for decoration than security anyway, judging by the antique armor and colorful livery. Inside they were greeted by a mass of purple-clad Legates and their legislative aides, all drifting down the long, tree-lined corridor that led to the main Assembly chamber at the far end. Leia cast a look up at the high-vaulted ceilings, marveling again at the similarities with the Republic’s own Grand Corridor in the Imperial Palace.

“Exquisite, is it not?” a voice behind her asked.

Leia turned, to find Premier K’cheng standing beside her. “I’ve always enjoyed coming here,” he continued, his own gaze floating up to the angled vaults. “There‘s something calming, almost peaceful about it. Don‘t you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” Leia agreed.

K’cheng brought his gaze back down to look at Leia. “If you appreciate architecture, you must see the Central Library before you leave.” He glanced at Chewbacca and the others before guiding her a little bit away. “Forgive me if I am perhaps too blunt, Councilor,” he said softly, “but I must ask: what is it exactly you intend to accomplish today?”

Leia blinked in surprise. “To convince your government that we’re your best chance for living in peace and prosperity. To convince you to join the New Republic.”

“Ah,” K’cheng said. “But we have heard all these overtures already. What makes your words any different from the Republic emissaries that have come before?”

“Maybe nothing,” Leia admitted. “But you and I both know the galaxy isn’t the same place it was two years ago. Those words may be more persuasive in light of current events. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” K’cheng conceded with a sigh, “but I am not the one that you must convince. The Legates hold the real power on Obroa-skai. You will need their support if any petition is to be approved.”

“I know,” Leia said, taking K‘cheng by the arm. “Will you help me?”

The Premier was silent for a moment. “I will do what I can,” he said finally, just as a gong went off in the corridor. “Come. That is the warning that the conference is about to begin. It will do your cause well if we arrive together.”

So together the two of them headed down the corridor toward the pair of double-doors that connected to the Assembly; Chewbacca followed close behind, with Wedge and Threepio in tow. Leia was relieved to discover the Assembly Chamber, at least, was a slight departure from its New Republic equivalent: while the Assemblage Commons on Coruscant was comprised of slightly-tiered rows that faced a witness chair, here the Obroans had opted for a circular approach, with a space in the center for petitioners to present their case. “You and your delegation may take your positions there,” K’cheng told her, pointing at one side of the center space where a group of chairs had been set up. On the opposing side, Leia could already see Harbid and his stormtroopers, along with a junior officer consulting a data pad. “Good luck, Councilor,” K’cheng added one last time, before moving off towards the seat designated for the Premier.

“Looks like M’eung is already settled in,” Wedge murmured as they moved down one of the side aisles that connected with the center. In a position maybe one-quarter of the way around the main circle Leia could indeed see Legate M’eung, deep in conversation with a group of aides behind him. “He’s only one vote,” Leia reminded them.

Chewbacca let out a low growl. “Yeah, but he’s a loud one,” Wedge agreed, steering Leia towards their assigned seats. “Right here, Councilor.”

Leia took a seat in one of the chairs that lined the circle. It reminded her a little too much of the chair back in her suite: high-backed, and uncomfortable. Dimly she pushed the thought out of her mind. She was going to be spending the next several hours in this thing. “How is this going to work, Threepio?” she asked as the droid took a seat beside her.

Threepio titled his head thoughtfully. “Well, if my understanding of Obroan culture is correct, every petitioner is allocated a certain amount of time to present his or her case to the Premier and the Assembly. There may also be an opportunity for rebuttal by any opponents to the proposal, as well as a question-and-answer session from the Legates themselves. Of course, depending on the length and number of questions, these sessions can span several days.”

“Of course,” Leia agreed, diplomatically, looking across the way at Harbid and his delegation. But the other didn’t seem to notice her. “I take it the Imperials will be allocated the same amount of time as us?”

“Oh, I should think so,” Threepio confirmed cheerfully. “As I said, the Obroans place a great emphasis on fairness and propriety.”

He was interrupted by the echo of a second gong ringing through the chamber. “Attention,” Premier K’cheung said, rising up from his chair. “The conference is now begun. Will the petitioners rise?”

Chewbacca offered Leia another hand as she gingerly pushed herself up. On the other side, Harbid did the same. “Petitioners, identify yourselves,” one of K’cheng’s aides instructed.

Harbid glanced at Leia. “Councilor Leia Organa Solo, on behalf of the New Republic,” she said.

“Captain Harbid of the Star Destroyer Death’s Head, for the Empire,” Harbid added.

“Your names have been noted,” K’cheng said after a nod from his aide. “Councilor Organa Solo, you may go first. Why have you come before the Obroan Assembly?”

“I seek to petition Obroa-skai for membership in the New Republic,” Leia declared.

“This too has been noted. And you, Captain Harbid?”

“The same, your honor, but in the name of the Empire.”

K’cheng waited until the aide had finished writing. “Very well,” he said. “We will consider both petitions in turn. Each side will have one hour to present an opening argument. This will be followed by an inquisition from the Assembly into the merits of the proposal. Are all in agreement?”

Silently the Legates nodded. “Very well,” the Premier said again, resuming his seat. “Councilor Organa Solo, you will speak first. Proceed.”

* * *

In accordance with Obroan custom, they had allocated Leia sixty minutes to present her opening arguments. She only needed thirty to tell she didn’t have them.

“Well-spoken, Councilor,” Legate M’eung began as Leia finished her presentation. “Eloquent, even. But still I must protest. Your arguments are based as much upon dreams and half-truths as they are upon reality.”

Leia turned to look at him, thankful for perhaps the first time in her life for all the practice she had gotten with Councilor Fey’lya in dealing with arrogant bureaucrats. “And how is that, Legate?” she inquired.

M’eung snorted. “You forget this body has seen Republic politics firsthand, when we visited your Coruscant as part of your first petition two years ago. We saw only dysfunction and chaos, not harmony.”

“I agree the Republic’s not perfect,” Leia conceded. “But surely you don’t mean to suggest the Empire’s model was any better?”

“Objection,” the legate to M’eung’s left interjected. “The merits of the Imperial proposal are not being considered at this time. We kindly ask the Premier to remind the petitioner to stick to the matter at hand.”

“So reminded,” K’cheng said, giving Leia a sympathetic look.

“I apologize,” Leia said to the objecting legate. She turned back to M’eung. “Do you have specific concerns, Legate, or just these general accusations?”

“These accusations are considerably more than general,” M’eung pointed out. “But if it is specifics you seek, I am happy to provide them. Is it not true that just recently a high-ranking member of your Inner Council falsely accused the admiral Ackbar of treason and collusion, all for his own political gain?”

“That itself might be called half-true,” Leia clarified for the Assembly. “Councilor Fey’lya accused Admiral Ackbar only after a large, unexplained sum of money was discovered in his bank account.” A sum that was the purely result of an Imperial plant, Leia wanted to add, with a glance at Harbid.

“And what of Senator Bel Iblis, then?” M’eung continued, his voice getting louder. “Why is he not here, as we requested? I have heard rumors that Mon Mothma has not forgiven him for the events of nine years ago, and uses her position to shame him even now. Is that not the reason?”

“That’s not true!” Leia blurted, and regretted it the moment she did.

“Ah,” M’eung smiled, seeing his opening. “Then perhaps the Senator is not here simply because he has more important things to do. Is that why you have been sent in his stead?”

Leia took a breath. “I would ask the Premier to remind the Legate,” she said to K‘cheng, “that I am a Councilor and one of the highest-ranking members of the New Republic government. I am not a consolation prize.”

“Noted,” the Premier confirmed with a small smile.

She took a beat before staring down M’eung. “The reason I am here and Garm is not,” she explained, “is because his expertise is needed on the war front, and mine is not. A distinction you will appreciate the next time you call on a Republic task force for assistance.”

M’eung’s forehead wrinkled irritably. “Ah, but that is the real point, isn’t it?” another legate spoke up. “The war. Tell me, why should we join the Republic at a time when it seems you are losing your very momentum to defeat the Empire?”

Behind Leia, Threepio gave the droid equivalent of a polite cough. “I beg your pardon, Legate,” he said from his chair, “but I believe that point concerns Captain Harbid’s petition, and is not appropriate at this time.”

“It most certainly is appropriate,” the legate challenged. “The future viability of the Republic is at the very heart of the matter here.”

“We still have over half of the galaxy under our control,” Leia said, not wanting to get caught up in an argument over procedure. “Grand Admiral Thrawn has a long way to go.”

“In your opinion,” M’eung started up again. “They say he now has in his control a complete collection of Spaarti cloning cylinders. How will the Republic repel a weapon of that magnitude?”

There came a polite tap from the Premier’s seat. “Councilor Organa Solo’s protocol droid is correct,” he interrupted. “This discussion falls under the ambit of Captain Harbid’s petition. Do any of the legates have any further questions about the merits of the Republic’s petition?”

No one answered. “Very well,” K’cheng said, glancing at the chronometer. “Then we will take a break at this time. The negotiations will resume in one hour.”

* * *

It was almost evening by the time Wedge dropped them back off at the Royal Palace‘s rooftop pad, and the early onset of twilight filled the horizon with a violet light. “I’ll send someone by to check on you in a couple hours,” Wedge promised, before rising up into the sky and heading off toward the landing field where he and the rest of the Rogues were lodging. For her part, Leia felt even more exhausted than yesterday, if that was possible; deflated and defeated. The first day’s session had not gone nearly as she‘d hoped it would.

“Well, I thought that went rather well,” Threepio commented as he followed Leia and Chewbacca off the landing pad and down the stairs.

“Really?” Leia asked wearily, turning down the hallway that connected to their suite. “How do you figure that, Threepio?”

“We had the opportunity to make several astute points, Your Highness,” Threepio explained, apparently not noticing her weariness. “I thought you deflected Legate M’eung’s questioning rather deftly. It will be interesting to see how Captain Harbid’s petition proceeds tomorrow.”

Interesting was not exactly the word Leia would have used. “I’m just looking forward to a shower and a good night’s rest,” she said as they came upon the door to their suite. Chewbacca typed in the entry code, and the door clicked open.

But the room wasn’t exactly as they‘d expected. “Forgive me, Councilor Organa Solo,” a younger-looking man said as he rose up from the couch, and Leia recognized him as the same aide that had assisted her on the landing field yesterday. “I tried to explain that you were at the Assembly, but he insisted on waiting.”

It soon became clear what he was talking about. Standing in the corner, half-hidden by the dim lighting of the living area as much as by the cowl draped over its head, was a short figure dressed in the brown robes of a Jawa. “He said he was a friend of yours?” the aide added hopefully.

“Yes,” Leia said, examining the figure. The robes notwithstanding, it most definitely was not a Jawa underneath. “Yes, thank you,” she added, dismissing the aide with a nod. “You may go now. You, too, Chewie.”

Chewbacca hesitated for a moment; but a look from Leia sent him trailing after the aide, steering Threepio out the door with him. “Really, Chewbacca, this is not necessary!” Threepio complained. “Princess Leia said nothing about me—”

The rest of his complaint was drowned out as Chewbacca closed the door shut. “Lady Vader…” the figure started once they were alone, taking a step towards her.

“I am the Lady Vader,” Leia confirmed. She studied the face hidden beneath the hood. “What is your name and clan?”

The figure dropped to the floor and spread its arms wide in a gesture of supplication—and as it did so, the cowl finally fell away from its head. “I am called Ekhrikor,” the Noghri meowed, his voice gravelly. “Warrior of the clan Bakh’tor. I greet you, Lady Vader.”

Leia knew the drill. Slowly she held out her hand, the same way she had done with Khabarakh on Kashyyyk. Ekhrikor accepted it gingerly, and then placing it to his nostrils he took a long and deep whiff. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Vader,” he said, still smelling her hand. “Truly it is an honor to be in the presence of the Mal’ary’ush.”

“You may rise, Ekhrikor clan Bakh’tor,” Leia said, fighting the instinct to help him up. That would not be behavior fitting the Mal’ary’ush and daughter of the Lord Darth Vader. “I am glad to meet you as well, though I must confess surprise at your presence. How did you find me?”

“The Noghri people are always keeping watch for the Lady Vader,” Ekhrikor said, “even if she does not know it. When we became informed of your mission here, the dynasts instructed me to aid you.”

“I see,” Leia said, choosing to overlook the implication they were essentially stalking her. “Am I correct then that you are one of the commando teams ‘searching’ the galaxy for Khabarakh clan Kihm’bar?”

“That is correct,” Ekhrikor nodded. “He wished me to send you his greetings, as well.”

Leia smiled. Good old Khabarakh. The last she’d seen him, he’d been hurrying back to Honoghr in his little patrol ship, his hold full of supplies that might help cleanse his world. “And I thank you for bringing them,” Leia said. “Yet I fear you may have risked much by coming here.”

“For the Lady Vader, the risk is nothing,” Ekhrikor assured her. “The Noghri people would gladly die for the Mal’ary’ush.”

And he meant it, Leia knew. She’d seen the Noghri honor code firsthand, and offhand couldn’t think of a species—other than maybe the Wookiees—that took a life debt so seriously. “The Noghri people will always be honored in my family for their commitment,” she said. “But it is not only yourself you put at risk. If you are seen with me, you may compromise myself and my friends. There is a Star Destroyer captain about the Palace, and Grand Admiral Thrawn may have other spies elsewhere in the city.”

“I understand,” Ekhrikor assured her. “Believe me, it pains me putting you and your companions at such risk. But the risk was necessary. I had to warn you. You are in danger here, Lady Vader.”

“Danger?” Leia repeated dumbly before catching herself. “What sort of danger?” she tried again, more regally this time.

Ekhrikor let out a low purr; the Noghri equivalent of a growl. “The negotiations you participate in are a charade. The Obroan government will never vote to join the Republic.”

“Premier K’cheng assured me he would provide whatever support he could,” Leia said. “Surely you aren’t suggesting…”

“I do not refer to the Premier,” Ekhrikor explained. “The Grand Admiral has placed an Imperial agent among the Legates. As long as he remains upon the Assembly he will not permit a vote to pass in the Republic’s favor.”

Leia nodded, suddenly understanding. “M’eung.”

Ekhrikor gasped. “Then you knew already? Truly the wisdom of the Mal’ary’ush is well-praised!”

Leia gave a mental shrug. It was pretty obvious, in hindsight. “You can prove M’eung’s involvement with the Empire?”

There was a slight hesitation. “Yes,” Ekhrikor admitted. “But I still urge you to reconsider your mission. Even with his agent exposed, the Grand Admiral will not easily concede Obroa-skai. He has many tools in play. You must flee, before it becomes too late.”

“I’m sorry, Ekhrikor,” Leia shook her head, “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t walk away. My mission here is too important to give up to Thrawn without a fight. Surely the Noghri of all people would understand that.”

Another hesitation. “I understand,” Ekhrikor said at last. “The Noghri people value courage. You are worthy of your reputation, Lady Vader.” He glanced out the window. “I regret I cannot be seen more with you,” he told her, “but such would put both our lives at unnecessary risk. Nevertheless, my team will provide what help we can. We will watch over and protect you, Lady Vader. Do not fear.”

“Thank you, Ekhrikor clan Bahk’tor,” Leia said. “And thank you for your message tonight. You may have helped my cause more than you know.”

“Then it was worth whatever danger it may have been to come here,” Ekhrikor replied. He lifted up his hood and replaced it over his head. “Farewell, Lady Vader. Until we speak again.”

He gave her one last bow before unlocking the door and slipping out. A moment later Chewbacca slipped back in, trailed closely by Threepio. “What a peculiar fellow,” Threepio commented, looking over his shoulder. “I never could abide those Jawas. What did he want, Your Highness?”

“Chewie?” Leia asked softly.

Chewbacca nodded; he at least recognized a Noghri when he saw one. “Nothing important, Threepio,” she told the droid. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed. It’s going to be another long day tomorrow.”

But for the first time since arriving here, she felt energized. Already plans were forming in her head. So M’eung is on Thrawn’s payroll. It seemed the Force had been with her all this time after all.

Now if it would just stay with her until tomorrow.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

A Diplomatic Mission, Part 5

The ready room door slid shut behind the wing commander, and Pellaeon gazed back at the map still on display. “Sounds like Obroa-skai is a dead end,” he said regretfully. “There’s no way we’ll be able to spare the manpower that much pacification would cost.”

“For now, perhaps,” Thrawn agreed. “But only for now.” —Heir to the Empire

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

Leia awoke with a start, and immediately wondered what had woken her. Her room lay dark and quiet: gazing up she could see the city lights dancing off her ceiling, but no sound came through the window outside. Dimly she could feel one of the twins stirring slightly in her belly, and she placed a calming hand on her stomach to soothe it. For a moment she was reminded of her room back on Rwookrrorro, high among the wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk; and immediately wondered what had made her think of that, too.

It turned out the memory was more fitting than she’d realized. “Lady Vader,” a voice meowed softly. “Are you awake?”

With a start Leia sat up in her bed, reaching a hand under her pillow for the blaster she kept there. “Ekhrikor,” she breathed at the sight of the Noghri, forcing her heartbeat to relax. Her relief gave way to anger. “How did you get in here?” she demanded. “And what do you want?”

“Forgive me, Lady Vader,” Ekhrikor bowed from where he was standing near the door. He was still clad in his dark cowl and cloak; but this time the hood was already pushed back, and his face looked even more nightmarish in the shadows of the city lights. “But you are in grave danger here. We must leave at once.”

“It’s all right, Ekhrikor,” Leia tried to assure him. “I’ve taken care of Legate M’eung. Thanks to you.”

“It was nothing, for the pride of serving the Mal’ary’ush,” Ekhrikor assured her in turn. “But you do not understand. You are in even greater danger now. You must come with me. I have an airship waiting.”

“What do you mean?” Leia asked, but she was already sliding out of bed and putting on her clothes. The Noghri had earned at least some of her trust at this point. “What danger?”

Ekhrikor pointed at the ceiling. “The ship in the sky above,” he explained. “The Grand Admiral has commanded his captain to attack the planet. It will commence any minute now.”

“What?” Leia blurted. “With all due respect, Ekhrikor, you must be mistaken. Even Thrawn wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“You do not know the Grand Admiral as we do. Already the ship is arming its weapons.”

“Then we have to warn the Obroans,” Leia said, getting up from the bed…but even as she said it she knew how fruitless it would be. The Obroans were a people of knowledge, not battle, and she’d seen Ackbar’s estimate of their ground/space defenses.

“Then we will do that, if that is what you wish,” Ekhrikor said. “But first we must get you safely away from here.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed, suddenly remembering how desperately Thrawn seemed to want to get his hands on her. “You said you had a ship waiting?” she asked, scooping her lightsaber off her nightstand.

“On the roof,” Ekhrikor confirmed, indicating towards the door. “Come. We will retrieve your Wookiee companion and your droid machine, and then take you to your vessel.”

Leia nodded, clipping the lightsaber to her belt and then following him out the door. The main living area of their suite was as dark and quiet as her room had been, and Leia could tell from the lack of light under the door that Chewbacca was still asleep in his room. Asking Ekhrikor to wait, she started across to fetch Chewbacca.

She’d made it halfway when the deafening thunderclap suddenly rocked the room.

“I’m all right!” she shouted up to Ekhrikor, not even remembering him grabbing her and pulling her to the floor. At first she thought a bomb had gone off somewhere in the Palace. But as a second thunderclap echoed across the city, she belatedly realized what they were.

Turbolaser blasts.

A third blast shook the room, more distant this time. “Chewie!” she yelled over the sound.

Chewbacca was already up, appearing at the door with an alert if slightly disoriented look on his face. He glanced down at Leia and the Noghri on top of her… “It’s okay,” she assured him, even as Ekhrikor helped her back up. Out the window they could begin to see green flashes as the turbolaser fire lit up the night sky. “Chewie, the city’s under attack. Thrawn’s ordered Harbid to destroy the Obroan defenses and take the planet.”

Chewbacca’s eyes focused on Ekhrikor for a second. “Sorry,” Leia said, introducing him. “This is Ekhrikor. He’s the one who warned me about M’eung and Harbid.”

Chewbacca urfed a question. “Exactly,” Leia said. “Go grab your bowcaster and Threepio and then follow us. Ekhrikor has an airspeeder on the roof that can take us to the Falcon.”

Chewbacca nodded, his long legs taking him quickly across the room towards the closet where they were keeping Threepio. She noticed Ekhrikor had pulled out a comlink and was speaking to someone at the other end in hushed tones. “How long before they start launching drop ships, do you think?” she asked him, glancing out the window.

But Ekhrikor shook his head. “They have already begun.”

* * *

Wedge was in the middle of a very nice dream when the first thunderclap hit. Instinctively he rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a loud umph. The pain knocked the wind out of him for a second, and grimacing Wedge opened his eyes. It took him a couple more seconds to realize where he was: the makeshift bedroom they’d set up in one of the hangars off the landing field.

He didn’t have long to enjoy that realization before another thunderclap hit, followed by a third and a fourth. “Sounds like turbolaser blasts,” he said to himself, and wanted to dismiss the thought as soon as he’d had it. Not even the Empire would be that crazy.

This thought too was quickly dismissed as an alarm started sounding in the hangar. “Attention,” an Obroan voice boomed from the hangar speakers, occasionally lost among the sounds of the distant booms, “attention, all ships. Obroa-skai is under attack. Report to your battle stations.”

“Right,” Wedge muttered, pulling himself up and starting to get into his flight suit. He’d gotten it halfway on before a new thought suddenly hit him. Scrambling to his nightstand, he started searching for the comlink he’d left there.

But he could see Councilor Organa Solo was one step ahead of him. “Wedge?” her voice came dimly from the comlink, barely audible over the attack and the alarm. “Wedge, are you there?”

“I’m here, Councilor!” he called into it, practically shouting. “I think the Imperials are attacking the planet!”

“They are,” the other confirmed. “My source tells me Harbid is launching an all-out assault. The first of the drop ships should be landing any minute.”

Her source? But whatever it was, it would have to wait. “Copy that,” Wedge said. “I’m scrambling now. Do you want us to try and pick you up?”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve already got a ride to the landing field. Just get your fighters in the air and provide the Obroans with whatever support you can. I’ll ring you when we’re airborne. And try to leave your comm on this time.”

“Will do,” Wedge said, dropping the comlink into one of his chest pockets. He’d just finished zipping up the flight suit when there came a panicked knock at his door. “Wedge, open up!” Hobbie’s voice came from the other side.

Wedge was already at the door, sliding it open. “What’s the rush?” he asked dryly, even as another turbolaser blast shook the hangar. He slipped past Hobbie and hurried down the corridor that led to their X-wings. “How bad is it out there?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad,’” Hobbie reported, jogging behind him. “That Star Destroyer hasn‘t called for any help yet, but it has launched almost twenty drop ships so far.”

Wedge whistled. “Twenty? That’s an awful lot of manpower.”

“I’ll say,” Hobbie agreed. “I don’t think this is just another raid, Wedge. I think we’re looking at a full-blown invasion.”

Wedge nodded. He’d reached the same conclusion, too. “What about TIE fighters?”

“Janson’s checking on that. Gotta be a couple squadrons, at least.”

And the nearest Republic base was light-years away. “Then it sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Wedge said, thinking back to what he could remember of the Obroans’ ground/space weaponry. If memory served, it wasn’t much. “Get everyone to their fighters and airborne. We’re in it now.”

“I’m already on it,” Hobbie told him. He paused. “What about Councilor Organa Solo?”

They‘d come to the end of the corridor; and before them now sat the waiting shapes of twelve X-wing fighters. “She’s on her own for the time being,” Wedge said, grabbing his helmet off a nearby shelf and jogging to his X-wing. “We’ll just have to hope she can take care of herself.”

* * *

There were three more Noghri waiting for them in the hallway as Leia and Chewbacca followed Ekhrikor out the door. Threepio scuttled quickly behind. The rest of the hall was empty, though Leia knew that couldn’t last: already she could hear alarms hooting in the distance. “Come,” Ekhrikor beckoned. “This way.”

They’d made it halfway to the lift when the building was rocked by another explosion. “Uh-oh,” Leia said, looking up at the ceiling. “That didn’t sound like a turbolaser blast.” Chewbacca growled his agreement.

“It was not,” Ekhrikor confirmed, still listening to his comlink. “It appears two of the Imperial drop ships have landed upon the Palace roof.”

“Just two? What about the others?”

“They have moved on to the Central Library building,” Ekhrikor said. Then we’re not their primary target, Leia realized. That was something, at least.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” Threepio spoke up. He’d been quiet as a womprat so far. “But with those drop ships, you don’t still intend for us to go to the roof, do you?”

A good question, actually. “Ekhrikor?”

Ekhrikor shook his head. “I will have our pilot meet us at a lower level. Back this way, Lady Vader.”

They turned around and started back towards the way they had come. And not a moment too soon: already Leia thought she could sense a cluster of distant presences above them, moving slowly but methodically down from level to level. She tried some quick calculations in her head. The average drop ship carried somewhere between thirty-five and forty troops, though some could carry as many as fifty. Between the two of them, that came out to almost a hundred stormtroopers on top of them—

“Wait,” she said suddenly, grabbing Chewbacca’s arm. “Stop.”

In front of her, the Noghri halted. “Lady Vader,” one of them started, “we must not delay…”

“I said wait,” she repeated. “Ekhrikor, how many drop ships did you say had landed on the roof?”

“Two, Lady Vader,” Ekhrikor said, his dark face creasing in what Leia assumed was a Noghri version of a frown. “Why?”

“No,” Leia shook her head, doing a rough count of the minds above her. “That doesn‘t add up.” At most she could sense maybe three dozen troops above them. “Below,” she realized. “One of the drop ships landed below us.”

Ekhrikor shared a glance with one of his commandos. “You are certain?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, stretching out further with her Jedi senses. “In fact, I can sense a group of them coming up toward us now. They’re close,” she added.

One of the Noghri hissed. “What do you wish to do?” he asked Ekhrikor.

Ekhrikor glanced over his shoulder toward the lifts. “How close would you say they are, Lady Vader?”

“Maybe two floors,” Leia said, concentrating. “No, make that one,” she corrected. She pointed. “They’re coming up the south stairwell.”

“We’re trapped!” Threepio moaned pitifully.

Ekhrikor considered for another moment. “If we head to one of the service stairwells, we may be able to slip past them—”

“Look out!” one of the Noghri called, pushing Ekhrikor aside. Leia had sensed it too, and she let Chewbacca pull her behind a nearby column just as the lift at the far end of the hall slid open and a squad of stormtroopers came running out. It took them only a moment to spot the seven of them standing in the middle of the hall. “Blast them!” someone shouted, and there was a clash as both sides opened fire.

Leia felt Chewbacca pull her a little further back, even as his bowcaster sang with the sound of a returning salvo. On the other side of the hallway, the four Noghri had pulled out blasters from somewhere and were methodically laying down suppressing shots in conjunction with Chewbacca. “Any ideas, Chewie?” Leia shouted over the firefight.

The Wookiee roared a negative, moving to get a better grip on his bowcaster. Leia grimaced, knowing they had to do something soon. Their current cover left a lot to be desired, and it was only a matter of time before that other group of stormtroopers came up from behind them. She glanced over her shoulder, down the long corridor with the rows of unexceptional suite doors on either side… “Come on, Chewie,” she decided, slapping the control panel to the door nearest them. Whether it was luck or the Force, the suite was unlocked; the door slid open. “Ekhrikor, in here!”

The Noghri fired a final shot before leaping across the hallway and ducking inside. “The rest of you,” she added, “come on, get in!”

One by one they all jumped across the far side of the hall and slipped in. “You, too, Chewie,” she said, pulling on his bandolier. “Let’s go.”

With one last Wookiee roar, Chewbacca pulled up his bowcaster and rolled through the door. Leia slapped the controls again, and the door went sliding back into place. “Are we all in?” Leia asked, doing a quick headcount before locking the door. “Where’s Threepio?”

“I am here, Your Highness,” Threepio said, raising a hand. There was a dark mark on his shoulder where one of the blaster shots had bounced off, but other than that he looked unharmed.

But behind him Leia suddenly noticed one the Noghri was gripping his side, and appeared to be breathing heavily. She took a step towards him. “Are you all right?”

“I am not mortally wounded,” he waved her off. “What do we do now, Lady Vader?”

“We get your pilot here fast,” Leia said, giving him one last look before searching around the room. But fortunately this suite appeared to be unoccupied at the moment. “Ekhrikor, call him up and tell him to meet us at Suite 712.”

A loud clanging started on the other side of the door. “Come on, move it,” Leia said as Ekhrikor got to work, indicating one of the bedrooms. “All of you, in here.”

It took them only a minute to get settled in. “He is on his way,” Ekhrikor reported, returning the comlink to his belt.

“Good,” Leia said. Chewbacca and another one of the Noghri had started piling the bedroom furniture against the door, but she knew that wouldn’t buy them more than a couple extra seconds. It was a race now between Ekhrikor’s pilot and the troopers outside. “How far out is he?”

“Not far,” Ekhrikor told her; but she could see he’d reached the same conclusion.

From the living area came a sudden crash. “They have breached the first door,” one of the Noghri observed.

“Let us hope this second lasts us longer,” the Noghri helping Chewbacca said, casting a look around the room for more furniture. He noticed Leia standing near the bedroom window. “Lady Vader, I think it would be best if you found for yourself some cover.”

But Leia wasn’t listening. She’d just noticed a pair of flickering headlights outside, coming up toward them from the planet surface. “Ekhrikor—”

“I see it also,” Ekhrikor confirmed, gazing out the window himself. “Our air craft has arrived.”

Leia breathed a sigh of relief. The last time she’d seen a Noghri airspeeder had been on Kashyyyk: strapped to Chewbacca’s chest and dangling beneath Rwookrrorro as their Noghri pursuers trailed close behind, it had been the last thing she’d wanted to see. This time around, it was a far more welcome sight.

The sound of renewed clanging on the door outside brought her back to the matter at hand. “We need to remove this window,” she said, grabbing the lightsaber from her belt. She moved to switch it on—

“Please, Lady Vader,” Ekhrikor said, pulling her away. “Our pilot will take care of it. Stand back at a safe distance, if you would.”

“Are you sure?” Leia said doubtfully. “I don’t think he’ll be able to shoot through without hitting us—”

“Trust me, Ilkhaim is most precise. Now come.”

She let him lead her into the corner, where Chewbacca was already huddled behind the bed. “Ilkhaim,” Ekhrikor hissed into his comlink. “Now.”

There came a flash of laser fire from the airspeeder’s front cannons, and then an explosion and a whoosh of air as the window shattered into a million pieces. “Let us go,” Ekhrikor said, getting up from behind the bed and tossing something onto the floor with a metallic thunk. “Lady Vader, you shall go first.”

Leia moved towards the opening and leaned out. Beneath them she could see the bright lights of the city, several stories below. “Come, Lady Vader!” the Noghri pilot called from the airspeeder’s open door.

Leia measured the distance from the opening to the airspeeder and tried not to think too much about it. Taking a deep breath, letting the Force flow into her muscles, she took a running start and jumped.

She made it easily, landing into the airspeeder and sliding into one of the back seats. Ekhrikor was right behind her, followed a second later by the wounded Noghri. Leia glanced back towards the opening, saw the nervous figure of Threepio looking rather lost standing there. “What about Threepio?” she realized suddenly.

“The Wookiee will see to your droid,” Ekhrikor said, even as Chewbacca came suddenly behind Threepio and picked him up with the same strength and ease he had Legate M’eung. With an effortless leap he crossed the distance to the airspeeder, dropping the protesting droid in the seat beside Leia.

“That is all of us,” Ekhrikor told his pilot as the remaining two Noghri jumped inside. “Let us be gone.”

Even at that moment there came flash from the building, and the bedroom door suddenly burst open. “Look out!” Threepio exclaimed as a line of stormtroopers came running through.

Ekhrikor pressed a button on his comlink, and another explosion lit up the room as the charges he had dropped detonated. “Ilkhaim,” he tapped the pilot on the shoulder, “now we go.”

* * *

Harbid stood on the Death’s Head bridge, staring down at the green-and-white orb below him. Even from this distance he could see a few fires had broken out in Obroa-skai’s capital city from the ship’s turbolaser blasts, but Harbid didn’t care. “You have something to report, Lieutenant?” he asked as the comm officer approached.

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant nodded. “We just got word from the drop ship commander: we have secured the Central Library building.”

Harbid let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Excellent,” he said. “Well done. What about Drop Ships Seven and Eight?”

“Nothing to report yet,” the other informed him. “They’re still searching the Royal Palace. The last message indicated they may have located Organa Solo on Level Seven. Would you like me to get an update?”

“Just reiterate that they are to use nonlethal force only,” Harbid said, “and that includes stun weapons.” The things were notorious for sparking miscarriages, and Grand Admiral Thrawn wanted Organa Solo’s two children as well.

“I’ll remind them of that, sir,” the lieutenant promised, giving a salute before walking off. Harbid let him go, studying the scene out the viewport more closely. The battle was proceeding well—surprisingly well, in fact. They’d taken out the Obroans’ main ion emplacements within their first ten salvos, followed quickly by a strafe of the landing field itself. Other than a handful of Obroan fighters and that X-wing squadron Organa Solo had brought along, the Death’s Head hadn’t encountered much yet in the way of resistance.

The X-wing squadron. Harbid shifted his gaze towards the tiny silhouettes zipping above the city, feeling a flicker of irritation. They’d done nothing but cause problems since the battle had begun, taking out his first wave of fighters and currently putting a serious dent in the second. It was time to put at end to it. “Starfighter Control,” he called toward the starboard crew pit, “prepare Squadron Three for launch. Instruct them to concentrate on that group of X-wings.”

He waited for an acknowledgment before moving away from the viewport. The X-wing was a resilient little starfighter, and those pilots seemed particularly skilled; but Squadron Three was comprised of the Death’s Head's TIE interceptors, and would make quick work of them.

He heard the sound of bootsteps as the comm officer approached again. “Yes, Lieutenant?” he asked. “Did you relay my instructions?”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, looking a little nervous. “The stormtroopers have been reminded to use nonlethal force only.”

“Excellent,” Harbid said, even as the man just stood there. “Well?” Harbid demanded. “What is it, then?”

The other took a breath, no doubt reflecting on how often in the Imperial fleet the messenger could be shot. Sometimes literally. “Sir, we just received an update from Team Seven. It appears Organa Solo was able to escape.”

Escape, Harbid repeated, feeling a sudden rush of frustration rise up in him. No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have escaped. Not that easily. “What do you mean, she escaped?”

“Not without help,” the lieutenant added quickly. “Our troops had cornered her in a suite on the seventh floor, but an unidentified airspeeder arrived and took her away before they could stop it.”

“Were they able to track—no, it doesn’t matter,” Harbid corrected himself. There was only one logical place the airspeeder would take her: the landing field.

“Unfortunately, no,” the lieutenant answered anyway. “But the commander also reports that a group of aliens was seen helping her.”

That piqued Harbid’s interest. Aliens. And Organa Solo had mentioned something about a mysterious visitor the night before. “Did anyone recognize these aliens?” he asked. But the lieutenant shook his head.

No matter, Harbid told himself. They would find out soon enough. “Instruct the stormtroopers to return to their drop ships,” he said. “We’ll simply have to take Organa Solo with the Death’s Head. Starfighter Control!”

“Yes, Captain?” the officer manning the station said.

“Has Squadron Three been launched yet?”

“We’re about to launch them now, sir,” the officer told him. “Do you have any additional orders?”

Harbid smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. Belay my last instruction. Tell the wing commander to concentrate on the Millennium Falcon. We‘ll move to provide support.”

And as the officer relayed Harbid’s newest order, Harbid felt his smile widen. Yes, they’d find out who these mysterious aliens were soon enough. Thrawn may want Organa Solo brought to him alive, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t interrogate her first.

* * *

Ekhrikor’s pilot set them down across from where the Falcon was parked on the landing field, coming to a halt a couple feet above the ground. “Here is your craft,” Ekhrikor said as one of his commandos popped open the airspeeder door, and Leia was surprised at how good it felt to see the familiar sight of the ship again. “We can do no more to assist you. This is where we must part.”

“Chewie, take Threepio and get the ship ready,” Leia instructed, her eyes on Ekhikor. “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Chewbacca barked an affirmative. “Really, Your Highness, I don’t think—” Threepio started, just as a hairy arm wrapped around his torso. His words turned into a wail as Chewbacca dropped them both to the ground, releasing the droid before sprinting across the landing field and scrambling up the gangway.

“You have been a great help to us, Ekhrikor,” Leia said once they were gone. “What will you do now?”

“We will resume our original mission,” Ekhrikor told her. “Traveling the galaxy and warning other commandos of the Empire’s treachery.”

“That may be difficult, if one of those stormtroopers back there got a good look at you,” Leia pointed out. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“To continue serving the Lady Vader would be a great honor,” Ekhrikor admitted, “yet we must continue the mission given to us, and warn our people of the great deceit perpetrated upon them. To fail in this task may cause more Noghri to come to harm. Do not worry, Lady Vader; perhaps one day we shall be given the opportunity to aid you again.”

Outside came a rising whine as Chewbacca started up the Falcon’s repulsorlifts, and looking across the way Leia could spy him moving about the cockpit canopy. “You have done the Noghri proud, Ekhrikor clan Bahk’tor,” she said over the noise. “All of you have. May the Force be with you.”

Five Noghri heads bowed. “Thank you, Lady Vader,” Ekrhikor said for all of them. “It has been our pleasure to protect and serve the Mal’ary’ush. This is a day that shall be long celebrated among our clan.”

Leia caught Chewbacca gesturing at her impatiently. “Take care of yourselves,” she said, and then taking a breath she hopped out of the airspeeder and landed gently onto the ground. She looked up as the airspeeder began rising back into the sky, switching direction and then rocketing off toward the mountains. “And good luck,” she added softly; then with a turn she hurried up the Falcon’s gangway after Chewbacca and Threepio.

* * *

“Wedge?” a long-awaited voice finally crackled in his ear. “It’s Leia. We’re back at the ship and on our way to meet you.”

“Finally,” Wedge muttered, switching on the comm. “Copy that, Falcon,” he said, glancing out his cockpit canopy. There they were: he could see the oval shape of the Millennium Falcon rising up from the landing field now. “Rogues Eleven and Twelve, move to escort position. The rest of you, form up.”

The X-wings moved into position around the Falcon. “Ah, Wedge,” Rogue Five spoke up, “I’m picking up a new group of signals from the Death‘s Head. Looks like more fighters.”

Wedge checked his own scope and felt his heart drop a little in his chest. Those weren’t just fighters, he realized, they were TIE interceptors; and if his screen was even close to being accurate, they would be on them in a matter of seconds. “They’re heading for the Falcon,” he said, studying his display more closely. “Councilor?”

“We see them,” came the quick response. “I don’t suppose running for it is an option at this point?”

“We can try,” Wedge said. But the TIE interceptor was one of the fastest ships in the Imperial fleet, and Wedge doubted the Falcon would even make it out of the higher atmosphere before they were on top of it. “All right. Rogue Squadron, switch deflectors to double-front and move into attack formation.”

The Rogues confirmed, and Wedge kicked his throttle up to full. On his screen he could see those interceptors getting closer now as they angled in on the left. Getting much closer. Just a couple more seconds and they would be in range of his laser cannons. “Here we go—”

A blinding burst of green light flashed across his cockpit. “Evasive maneuvers!” he barked, even as he threw his stick hard right. Another one of the Death’s Head’s turbolaser blasts flickered past, and Wedge felt his entire fighter shudder as this one made contact… and then he was out and through. “R2,” he called back, “damage report.”

A list started running across his display, a couple of the items in red; but Wedge knew how lucky he’d been. Most fighters would be space dust after taking a direct hit from a turbolaser, but his double deflectors had been able to absorb most of the blast. “Rogue Squadron, report. Anybody hit?”

“We’re all okay, Wedge,” Rogue Nine assured him. “But it looks like we lost our targets.”

Wedge swore. Nine was right. Distracted by the Death’s Head’s fire, the Rogues had indeed allowed the TIE interceptors to slip past. Already he could see them closing in on the Falcon, coming into position directly above it. “Falcon…”

“We see them, Wedge.” He watched as Chewbacca threw the Millennium Falcon into a tight spin in an attempt to lose their pursuers. It didn’t even slow them down. “We could use some help here!”

Even as she said it, the sky started flashing as the interceptors opened fire. “Let’s go, Rogues,” Wedge ordered, swinging his X-wing back around. By now they were too far away for lasers, but maybe… “Switch to proton torpedoes. Fire on my command—”

“We’re hit!” came a sudden cry, and Wedge watched helplessly as one of the interceptors’ laser blasts sputtered against the Falcon‘s hull, sending it spinning out of control. The interceptor moved in for another shot…

There was a sudden spattering of red laser fire, and the interceptor was swallowed by a fiery explosion. “Good shooting, Rogue Eleven!” Nine exclaimed, just as Rogue Eleven zoomed past.

“Consider it a make-up for the Skiprays,” Wedge said, returning his attention to the Falcon. “Councilor, are you okay? Falcon, do you copy?”

“We’re okay,” the other replied; and even as he watched the Falcon seemed to get back under control, swinging back along its previous vector. Wedge took a deep breath. So far they’d been real lucky. By rights that interceptor’s shot should have put a hole in their hull. “We’re coming in to cover you,” Wedge said, banking his X-wing into a position behind the Falcon. “Move to vector one-six-eight…”

“Hold on,” Leia said, her voice taught with concentration; and a moment later she came back sounding grim. “Wedge, we’ve got a new problem. Chewie says that blast knocked out our hyperdrive regulator. We can’t make the jump to lightspeed.”

Wedge swore even harder this time, the last piece falling into place. They hadn’t been lucky, after all. That interceptor hadn’t been trying to destroy the Falcon; he’d been trying to disable it. “What do you want to do, Wedge?” Rogue Three asked softly.

Wedge glanced out his canopy at the beleaguered planet below. “We’ll have to head back to Obroa-skai,” he decided. Without a hyperdrive regulator, the Falcon wasn’t going anywhere for a while. “Find someplace to hole up, see if we can get their regulator repaired.”

“No,” Leia corrected. “We’ll head back to Obroa-skai. You and the rest of Rogue Squadron will get out of here.”

Wedge bit his lip. “Sorry, Councilor, but that’s not the way it works. I have orders to escort you safely to and from Obroa-skai, and that’s what I intend to do. We should be able to find someplace in the mountains to hide until—”

He was interrupted by a flicker of pseudomotion above the planet; and a Dreadnaught suddenly emerged out of lightspeed directly behind the Death’s Head. “What in space?” Rogue Seven blurted. “Wedge, looks like we’ve got another ship inbound…”

“Attention, Obroan forces,” a new voice announced over the comm channel. “This is General Bel Iblis aboard the warship Peregrine. Do you require assistance?”

* * *

Leia stared at the comm, her emotions a mixture between relief and surprise: relief to see Bel Iblis, and the Peregrine along with him; and surprise that he was here in the first place. She leaned forward for a better view of the Dreadnaught, coming in a couple kilometers behind the Star Destroyer. She felt a sense of déjà vu as she thought back to Bel Iblis’s similarly fortuitous arrival during the Katana battle. “Garm,” she breathed into the comm, “I can’t begin to tell you how glad I am to see you.”

“Likewise, Leia,” Bel Iblis said…but his voice was starting to sound strange. Probably something to do with the battle taking place in front of him. “What’s going on here, exactly?”

“The Imperials are attacking the planet,” Leia explained, somewhat unnecessarily . “I don’t have much in the way of intel, but from what I can gather they’ve already taken out most of the Obroans’ ground-to-space weaponry.”

“So it would seem. I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic negotiation.”

“It was,” Leia confirmed grimly. “Things took a bit of a bad turn. We’ll just be glad to have your help.” Even as she said it, the Star Destroyer began turning its superstructure toward the incoming Dreadnaught. “Incidentally, what are you doing out here?”

“You asked me to come,” he reminded her, and she could hear if not imagine the frown on his face. “That ‘personal appearance’ that would go a long way towards convincing the Obroans to join the Republic. Remember?”

Ah, yes; she had asked him to come. It seemed Mon Mothma hadn’t informed him of her settlement earlier. It was just as well. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now. Think you can lend the Obroans a hand?”

There was a pause at the other end. “I only brought the Peregrine, Leia. The rest of my task force is still at Elom.”

Leia swallowed, feeling her relief turning back into despair. Yes, she could indeed see the lone silhouette of the Dreadnaught moving toward them. And there wasn’t a whole lot a single Dreadnaught could do against the coordinated firepower of an Imperial Star Destroyer—Bel Iblis’s legendary reputation notwithstanding.

But not everyone seemed to share her doubts. “Senator Bel Iblis!” a new voice chimed in over the comm. “Welcome to Obroa-skai.”

Premier K’cheng. Leia had almost forgotten about him. “Thank you,” Bel Iblis said. “Can I assume I am speaking with Premier K’cheng?”

“Yes, Senator,” K’cheng’s voice came back, “I am most honored to speak with you. And not a moment too soon. As you can see, we have come under attack from an Imperial Star Destroyer.”

“I see that,” Bel Iblis agreed. “Have you begun evacuating the planet?”

“Evacuate?” K’cheng repeated, as if it were a word he’d encountered only for the first time. “I don’t understand.”

“Premier, this is Councilor Organa Solo,” Leia interjected. “You have to get to one of your ships immediately.”

“Councilor,” K‘cheng greeted, but Leia could hear more confusion in his voice. “I am relieved to hear you are well. When we heard about the attack on your suite…”

“Don’t worry about that, Premier,” Leia interrupted quickly. “Can you get yourself to the landing field?”

“I am afraid that will be impossible. The Imperials have already cordoned it off.”

Leia bit back a curse, taking another look at the planet below. Chewbacca wasn‘t going to like this. “Then give us your current location,” she said. They were still in the upper atmosphere, and if she squinted closely Leia thought she could still make out the rising tops of the Royal Palace. “We’ll pick you up in the Falcon.”

Chewbacca didn’t like it, all right, and he was very vocal about it. “We can’t just leave him to the Imperials, Chewie,” she pointed out. “We have to go back.”

But K’cheng didn’t appear to have any interest in being rescued. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” he said. “Now that Senator Bel Iblis is here, surely they will be chased away?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Premier,” Bel Iblis said. “My ship doesn’t have nearly the firepower to take out that Star Destroyer without assistance.”

There was a long silence on the other end. “I see,” K’cheng said, and his voice was filled with a new determination Leia couldn’t recall hearing before. “Then I will stay with my people.”

“Premier…” Leia started

“I thank you for your concern, Councilor,” K’cheng cut her off, politely but firmly. “For everything. But I will remain with my people, and accept what comes.”

Leia sighed. “I understand,” she said. “I promise your sacrifice won’t be vain. As soon as I return to Coruscant I’ll get the Council to send a task force to assist you.”

“I’m sure you will do your best,” K’cheng said, the defeat palpable in his voice; and even as she’d said it Leia had wondered how willing the Council would be to divert a sufficient number of ships to Obroa-skai. “It was a pleasure meeting you. And you as well, Senator Bel Iblis. Farewell.” There came a click from the speaker as he switched off his comm.

Leia closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and doing another run through her Force exercises. When she opened them again, Chewbacca was tapping at the sensor display pointedly. “Garm, we better get going,” she said, straightening in her seat. “We’ve got more TIE fighters on the way.”

“I agree,” Bel Iblis said, even as the Star Destroyer finally completed its turn. “We’ll hold them off long enough for you and your team to make the jump to lightspeed.”

Beside her, Chewbacca growled a reminder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Bel Iblis said.

“Chewie says we can’t make the jump to lightspeed,” Leia told him. “Our hyperdrive regulator’s been damaged. Can you give us a ride?”

“I think so,” Bel Iblis said. “We’ll clear you a path.”

The sky was lit up anew as the Peregrine began firing its ion cannons across their current escape vector. “Looks like that’s our exit,” Leia told Chewbacca, even as the Wookiee started driving hard toward the Dreadnaught and the hangar bay located along its midsection. “You get all that, Wedge?”

“Copy that, Falcon,” Wedge said, drifting into position on their right. “I’ll just be glad to finally get out of here. Rogue Squadron, let’s lend a hand.”

The X-wings suddenly swooped away, diving after the nearest batch of TIE fighters. And as Chewbacca brought them alongside the Peregrine and up toward its hangar Leia cast a final look at her sensor display, and the diminishing planet in their rear. How generous, she wondered, would Grand Admiral Thrawn be with Premier K’cheng and the Obroans? If her experience with the Empire was any indication, not very.

In front of them the flashing lights and bright rectangle of the Dreadnaught’s hangar bay beckoned welcomingly. Meanwhile, on the far side of the TIE fighters came the first flashes of pseudomotion as Wedge’s X-wings began entering hyperspace. “Come on, Chewie,” Leia said, leaning back. There was nothing more she could do for K’cheng at this point, anyway. He had chosen his own destiny. “Let’s go home.”

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Imperial Interlude: Dynasts of Honoghr

Pellaeon thought back to that awkward scene a month ago, when that painfully apologetic envoy from the Noghri dynasts had come aboard with the news that the suspected traitor Khabarakh had escaped from their custody. So far, despite their best efforts, they’d been unable to recapture him. “Perhaps they’re still fidgeting over that Khabarakh thing,” he suggested.

“And well they should be,” Thrawn said coldly. “But it’s more than that. And until I find out how much more, the Noghri will remain under suspicion.” The Last Command

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

The Lambda-class shuttle settled to the deck of the Chimaera’s hangar bay, landing with only a slight bump. From where he stood beside Thrawn Pellaeon watched as the twin rows of stormtroopers moved into position on either side of the shuttle’s entry ramp, their blaster rifles held high against their chests. It was an impressive little piece of parade-ground exercise…and entirely pointless, in Pellaeon’s opinion. This kind of thing was totally wasted on Noghri.

He looked past the shuttle, where the brown and rather dull-looking horizon of Honoghr could be seen rotating beneath the Chimaera. Appearing every bit as dead as it actually was. Dimly Pellaeon considered what would happen if the Noghri ever managed to figure out the Empire‘s little role in the real fate of their world…or if somebody ever told them.

Without thinking he cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder. Less than five meters away, Rukh was in his usual position behind Thrawn, his narrow eyes attentive and darting everywhere. But Pellaeon wasn’t looking at him. Ten meters behind Rukh C’baoth stood watching the whole affair, a look of mild amusement plastered on his face. C’baoth, who had even less respect for the Noghri than Pellaeon did.

Apparently Pellaeon’s glance hadn’t been surreptitious enough. “Ignore him, Captain,” Thrawn murmured, and Pellaeon realized the Admiral was giving him a surreptitious look of his own. With an effort Pellaeon turned his attention back to the shuttle.

Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn’t as if Thawn hadn’t taken precautions. Standing beside Rukh, his blaster rifle held high against his chest, was a stormtrooper with a ysalamir nutrient frame on his back.

The hissing of the shuttle’s released steam brought Pellaeon back to the matter at hand. The shuttle’s ramp was already lowering, and Pellaeon could see dark figures moving around inside. Thrawn gestured, and with Pellaeon on one side, a silent Rukh on the other, and the stormtrooper following behind they walked down the line.

But to Pellaeon’s surprise it wasn’t the commando Khabarakh who emerged first, or his guards. Pellaeon watched as a long line of older, darker-skinned Noghri filed down the ramp, dressed in the elaborate tunics of clan leaders. The dynasts, if he recognized them correctly from that ridiculous ceremony at the Grand Dukha a month ago.

Pellaeon studied them more closely as the last reached the bottom of the ramp. There was something off about them, he realized. Something he couldn’t quite place…

“Lord Grand Admiral,” the dynast in the front said, bowing so low his head almost touched the deck. “It is a pleasure to see you returned to Honoghr once again.”

“You may rise, Dynast Vor’corkh,” Thrawn said, waiving a hand. If he was surprised to see them, it didn’t show in his voice. “I have come only to claim the traitor Khabarakh. There was no need for the dynasts to bring him themselves.”

“We wished to pay you the respect and homage our lord deserves,” Vor’corkh said awkwardly.

“Of course you did,” Thrawn said, a touch dryly. His eyes scanned the crowd of dynasts for a second before moving to the shuttle‘s entry, and now Pellaeon thought he head a touch of suspicion in his voice. “Tell me: where is Khabarakh?”

There was a ripple of embarrassment among the dynasts, and Pellaeon could see Vor’corkh was visibly disturbed. “I confess we do not know, my lord. Ten days ago he escaped our custody and fled Nystao. We have come to tell you, and to seek your forgiveness.”

“Escaped!” C’baoth snorted from where he was standing. “Your precious Noghri find new ways in which to fail you, Grand Admiral.” Vor’corkh’s eyes flashed angrily towards him—

“Peace, Master C’baoth,” Thrawn said, raising a hand. He studied Vor’corkh and the other dynasts carefully, and Pellaeon joined him. Their embarrassment seemed obvious, even to someone as unfamiliar with the Noghri as Pellaeon was. But there was still something about them that was bothering him… “You say Khabarakh escaped,” Thrawn continued. “How?”

“Not without assistance,” Vor’corkh assured him quickly. “He was aided by family members of the clan Kihm’bar.”

“I see,” Thrawn said. He cast another look over the dynasts… “Is that then why Dynast Irk’haim has declined to join you?”

That was it, Pellaeon realized. When they‘d last been to Nystao there had been thirteen dynasts to greet Thrawn. But only twelve had filed out of the shuttle. The dynast for Khabarakh‘s clan was missing. “The entire clan Kihm’bar has been held in disgrace,” one of the other dynasts spoke up, “until the names of the perpetrators are revealed.”

“A just punishment,” Thrawn agreed—but Pellaeon thought he heard something else in his voice. “I trust a pursuit has been organized?”

“We have already dispatched three commando squads to capture him,” Vor’corkh offered in what Pellaeon assumed was supposed to be a helpful manner. “They will report to us as soon as they have acquired him. He will not escape for long.”

“Good,” Thrawn said, “but I think maybe something else besides more commandos is needed. I will have one of my Strike Cruisers reassigned, to join them in the pursuit.”

“That will not be necessary, my lord,” another dynast interjected before Vor’corkh could silence him. “Our commandos will find him.”

“I’m sure that they will,” Thrawn said, and now the clear tone of displeasure was evident in his voice. “I will nevertheless have one of our own cruisers join them, just the same. To provide logistical support," he suggested, "and whatever other assistance they might need.”

Vor’corkh bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”

Thrawn was silent for another moment. “Very well,” he said at last. “Then you may now return to Honoghr.”

The dynasts bowed again. Then, one-by-one, they turned and headed back toward the shuttle. “A Strike Cruiser?” Pellaeon murmured. “Is that really necessary, Admiral?”

“You think perhaps it’s a tad overkill, Captain?” Thrawn suggested politely.

Pellaeon hesitated. “I‘ll admit this Khabarakh has been something of a wild card,” he said, watching the dynasts file back up the ramp. “But three commando squads and a cruiser strike me as a bit much to hunt down a single Noghri.”

Thrawn watched them, too, his eyes studious. “There’s something about this that doesn’t seem right,” he said softly. “There’s already Khabarakh’s strange history regarding that missing month on Kashyyyk. Now days before an interrogation of our own he magically escapes his Noghri guards? It’s too intriguing to dismiss.”

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said. “Will you be conducting any inquiries into the clan Kihm’bar while we’re here? Perhaps we can discover the identities of whomever helped Khabarakh escape.”

“Interrogate an entire clan?” Thrawn shook his head. “No. That would gain us nothing. The perpetrators themselves obviously won’t speak, and family ties are far too strong among the Noghri for them to betray one of their own. Fortunately we have another option available to us.”

“You mean the decon droid we left in Khabarakh’s village?”

“Precisely. It’s very possible the droid recorded something that may be of use to us. Have Surveillance wait till nightfall, then send a shuttle down to retrieve it.”

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said, giving the dynasts’ own shuttle another quick look. The last of them had made it inside, and it was already rising up off the deck and turning back toward the hangar port. “Where do you think he’ll go?”

“Khabarakh? That’s difficult to say. Any of the usual commando safehouses will of course be closed to him. Depending on the true nature of his relationship with the Wookiees, it’s possible he may return to Kashyyyk. Don’t worry, Captain. Wherever he’s gone, our forces will find him.”

The shuttle had finally cleared the Chimaera’s atmospheric barrier and was heading back down toward the planet’s surface. Thrawn and Pellaeon turned around—

To find C’baoth standing directly in front of them, a wide and condescending smile behind his beard. “Master C’baoth?” Thrawn raised an eyebrow. “You wish to add something to our conversation?”

That smile got a little wider. “I do, Grand Admiral,” he said. “It seems the Noghri find new ways to fail you. And you, in turn, find new ways to fail me.”

“That remains to be seen,” Thrawn said. “But that was not what you wished to add.”

C’baoth studied him from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “No,” he conceded. “Tell me: what hope do the Noghri have of capturing Organa Solo, when they cannot even capture one of their own?”

“The Noghri have been uncharacteristically ineffective when it’s come to this particular assignment, I‘ll admit,” Thrawn said. “And I have communicated my displeasure accordingly. What else would you have me do?”

“Accept that a different strategy is needed.” C’baoth’s eyes moved past Thrawn’s shoulder, where the diminutive figure of Rukh stood silently. “The Noghri had their chance, and failed. The time for a new approach has come.”

“The Noghri are some of the best soldiers the Empire has,” Thrawn insisted. “In forty years they’ve never once failed.” He paused. “But I will take your suggestion under advisement, Master C‘baoth.”

“See that you do,” C’baoth urged, his tone deep with warning. “Because the time may come when I will not be content to simply ignore your failures. The time may come when I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

He spun around in a swirl of robes and started toward the aft lift. “I think we may have just had a dressing down, Admiral,” Pellaeon noted once C’baoth was out of earshot.

“Yes,” Thrawn agreed dryly, “apparently our esteemed Jedi Master no longer has faith in our abilities to bring him his Jedi.” His eyes glowed a little more fiercely. “And yet, Master C’baoth may be right. The Noghri have failed far too much when it’s come to Skywalker and Organa Solo.”

Pellaeon glanced behind them at Rukh, hoping they were too far away for the Noghri to hear. “They’ve never had to go up against Jedi,” Pellaeon reminded him.

“A fair point,” Thrawn allowed. “Still, the Noghri are only one tool. We have many available to us.”

Like Delta Source? But Pellaeon didn’t ask, and Thrawn didn’t say. “For the time being, however, we have other matters to attend to,” the Admiral continued. “Return to the bridge, Captain. We’ll remain in orbit long enough for Surveillance to retrieve the decon droid, but then I‘m afraid we have more important concerns than Skywalker and Organa Solo. Our war against the Rebels awaits.”

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Prelude: Heir to the Emperor

“Where do you suppose C’baoth found that Lancer?” Pellaeon murmured as the guards helped the nav officer out of his seat and carried him aft.

“He most likely hijacked it,” Thrawn said, his voice tight. “He’s been sending messages for us over distances of several light-years, and he certainly knows how to take control of people. Apparently, he’s learned how to meld the two abilities.”

Pellaeon looked down into the crew pit, a shiver running up his back. “I’m not sure I like that, sir.” Dark Force Rising

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

In an isolated region of deep space known only as the Depot, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera glided silently.

Silently, but not alone. Visible off the Chimaera’s starboard side trailed the elongated and elegant shape of a Lancer-class Frigate. Beyond the Lancer there were only the tiny pinpricks of a million stars shining light-years in the distance. And beyond that, the blackness of deep space.

Captain Pellaeon made his way quickly down the corridor that connected the Chimaera’s bridge with the room Grand Admiral Thrawn had transformed into his personal command center. The hall was long and empty, and Pellaeon had only the echo of his own bootsteps for company. His left hand was clenched nervously; in his right he held tightly to a slim data pad. And on that data pad…

Pellaeon finally stopped outside an unmarked door, taking a deep breath. “Captain Pellaeon to see Grand Admiral Thrawn,” he announced.

The door slid open, revealing a dimly lit entry room, and Pellaeon took a cautious look inside. Somewhere in here, he knew, was Thrawn’s bodyguard Rukh, waiting to spring his usual game of cat-and-mouse.

But for once, thankfully, Rukh didn’t seem eager to play. “Captain Pellaeon,” the Noghri hissed, his nightmarish face emerging from where he had been half-hidden in the shadows. “The Grand Admiral is waiting. You may enter.”

“Thank you,” Pellaeon grumbled as he slipped past Rukh into the command room. Usually Thrawn kept the room decorated with holographic images of strange alien sculptures and other artwork, and this time was no exception: Pellaeon could see at least a dozen pieces scattered throughout the room, of a type he didn‘t recognize. What was somewhat unusual was the display of stars that filled the walls and ceiling, wrapping around the room like a planetarium.

As always, sitting silently in the middle of the double-display ring that took up most of the room, a single ysalamir wrapped around the back of his chair, was Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Thrawn’s typically glowing red eyes had been closed in meditation, but as Pellaeon entered the room they suddenly popped opened. “Ah—Captain Pellaeon,” he said. His eyes focused on Pellaeon’s face for a moment, then dropped to the data pad he was still clutching in his hand. “The Judicator’s report?”

Pellaeon swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Let me see it,” Thrawn said, holding out an expectant hand.

Wordlessly Pellaeon handed it to him. Thrawn’s eyes skimmed the report… “Is this all of it?” he asked, his voice suddenly hard.

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon repeated. “And we’ve received word from the hangar bay,” he added. “C’baoth’s shuttle landed ten minutes ago. The deck officer is bringing him here now.”

Thrawn nodded, reading the report again. It wasn’t good, Pellaeon knew: most of the Judicator’s starfighter complement destroyed, along with its entire contingent of drop ships. As for the Peremptory

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of some commotion coming from the other side of the anteroom door. Pellaeon turned just as the door behind him slid open again; and in marched the striding figure of Joruus C’baoth, his long white hair and old-fashioned robes streaming behind him. Pellaeon managed to catch a quick glimpse of Rukh, his alien face looking clearly unhappy, before the door slid shut again.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn!” C’baoth bellowed, his voice echoing unnaturally in the room. “I must speak with you.”

Thrawn, however, gave no indication he had even noticed C’baoth, let alone heard him. The Jedi Master glanced briefly at Pellaeon, and Pellaeon saw the confusion and uncertainty in the old man’s eyes before he moved them back to Thrawn. “Grand Admiral—”

“I have here,” Thrawn interrupted, indicating the data pad, “the report from the Judicator on the Katana battle. Would you care for me to read it to you?”

“Such matters are your concern,” C’baoth reminded him, waving a hand dismissively. “What care should I have for them?”

“It says,” Thrawn continued, as if he hadn’t heard C’baoth answer, “that the Star Destroyer Peremptory was completely destroyed in the skirmish with the Rebels, along with most of the ship’s fighter complement. So,” he said, his glowing eyes blazing with cold fire as he looked up from the Judicator’s report. “Thanks to your insistence on delaying me, we’ve lost the Peremptory. I trust you’re satisfied.”

C’baoth met the gaze evenly. “Don’t blame the incompetence of your would-be conquerors on me,” he said, his voice as icy as Thrawn’s. “Or perhaps it wasn’t incompetence, but the skill of the Rebellion. Perhaps it would be you lying dead now if the Chimaera had gone instead.”

Thrawn’s face darkened. Pellaeon eased a half step closer to the Grand Admiral, moving a little farther into the protective sphere of the ysalamiri beside the command chair, and braced himself for the explosion.

But Thrawn had better control than that. “Why are you here?” he asked instead.

C’baoth smiled and turned deliberately away. “You’ve made many promises to me since you first arrived on Wayland, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” he said, pausing to peer at one of the hologram sculptures scattered around the room. “I’m here to make sure those promises are kept.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“By making certain that I’m too important to be, shall we say, conveniently forgotten,” C’baoth said. “I’m hereby informing you, therefore, that I will be returning to Wayland…and will be assuming command of your Mount Tantiss project.”

Pellaeon felt his throat tighten. “The Mount Tantiss project?” Thrawn asked evenly.

“Yes, C’baoth said, smiling again as his eyes flicked to Pellaeon. “Oh, I know about it, Captain. Despite your petty efforts to conceal the truth from me.”

“We wished to spare you unnecessary discomfort,” Thrawn assured him. “Unpleasant memories, for example, that the project might bring to mind.”

C’baoth studied him. “Perhaps you did,” he conceded with only a touch of sarcasm. “If that was truly your motive, I thank you. But the time for such things has passed. I have grown in power and ability since I left Wayland, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I no longer need you to care for my sensitivities.”

He drew himself up to his full height; and when he spoke again, his voice boomed and echoed throughout the room. “I am C’baoth; Jedi Master. The Force which binds the galaxy together is my servant.”

Slowly, Thrawn rose to his feet. “And you are my servant,” he said.

C’baoth shook his head. “Not anymore, Grand Admiral Thrawn. The circle has closed. The Jedi will rule again.”

“Take care, C’baoth,” Thrawn warned. “Posture all you wish. But never forget that even you are not indispensable to the Empire.”

C’baoth’s bushy eyebrows lifted…and the smile which creased his face sent an icy shiver through Pellaeon’s chest. It was the same smile he remembered from Wayland.

The smile that had first convinced him that C’baoth was indeed insane.

“On the contrary,” the Jedi Master said softly. “As of now, I am all that is not indispensable to the Empire.”

He lifted his gaze to the stars displayed on the room’s walls. “Come,” he said. “Let us discuss the new arrangement of our Empire.”

Thrawn’s own gaze drifted to the stars as well. “And what arrangement would that be?” he asked carefully.

“Our final victory against the Rebellion,” C’baoth said, as if the answer were obvious. “The establishment of the new Empire.”

“With you at its head, I presume?”

“I am a Jedi,” C’baoth reminded him. “Who better to take the Emperor’s place as ruler of the galaxy?”

“Who indeed?” Thrawn asked dryly, sharing a look with Pellaeon. “You surprise me, Master C’baoth. When I first came to you on Wayland, you told me you had no interest in galactic conquest or ruling distant worlds. Perhaps your recent taste of power has changed your sensibilities?”

“Have a care, Grand Admiral,” C’baoth said, some of the menace returning to his voice. “Do not presume to question my motives. Or is it that you seek to place yourself as ruler of the Empire, once you have defeated the Rebellion?”

Thrawn shook his head. “My interest has never been in ruling worlds. I have always been concerned with one thing only: the reestablishment of the Emperor’s New Order.”

“How very noble,” C’baoth sneered. “Yet perhaps when the moment comes you too shall find yourself unwilling to relinquish the power to which you have become accustomed.”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn allowed politely. “But you haven’t yet answered my question. Why are you here?”

Pellaeon caught a flicker of irritation flash across C’baoth’s face. “I have already told you,” the Jedi Master said. “To return to Wayland, and oversee the Mount Tantiss project.”

“So you‘ve said,” Thrawn nodded. “But you misunderstand. Why are you here, Master C'baoth? I thought we had agreed you would remain on Jomark, to await the arrival of Luke Skywalker. Did he not come to you, as you had claimed?”

The flicker of irritation vanished, replaced by a long smile that played on C’baoth’s lips. “He came, Grand Admiral,” C’baoth assured him. “He came, and he learned at my feet.”

“Did he?” Thrawn raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you could explain what he was doing here on my ship two weeks ago.”

“He came aboard the Chimaera, then?” C’baoth asked airily. “I thought he might. And yet,” his smile widened, “even on your own ship you were unable to detain him…not even with all your precious ysalamiri. You continue to disappoint me, Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

“And you me, Master C’baoth” Thrawn answered evenly. “I had assumed once Skywalker was in your hands you would have the power to keep him there. Clearly that assumption was mistaken.”

Pellaeon expected this comment to anger C’baoth, or at least irritate him. But instead the Jedi Master continued to smile. “It was not by his own choice that Skywalker left,” C’baoth said. “He was taken from me, by another also skilled in the Force. And she will suffer, for challenging the Jedi Master Joruus C’baoth. She will suffer greatly…and then she too will serve at my feet.”

For a moment the anger Pellaeon had been expecting appeared again in C’baoth’s eyes, and Pellaeon felt a shiver run down his back. What manner of punishment, he wondered, would someone like C’baoth come up with? “But that is for the future,” C’baoth said. “For now I am returning to Wayland. You will therefore instruct your men to prepare a ship to take me there.”

But Thrawn shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”

“I am a Jedi Master, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth said, drawing himself up once again. “Do not presume to tell me where I may or may not go.”

“I presume nothing,” Thrawn countered.

“Then prepare the ship I ask.” C’baoth raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Or must I take another one for myself?”

“You may do whatever you like,” Thrawn said with a shrug. “But the Empire—your Empire—needs your talents here. Not on Wayland.”

“The Mount Tantiss project is the centerpiece of our campaign against the Rebels,” C’baoth reminded him…but Pellaeon could see confusion appearing in the hard lines of his face again. “What better place for me than there?”

“Mount Tantiss is the centerpiece,” Thrawn agreed, settling back down in his command chair. Clearly he’d noticed the confusion, too. “But it is only a piece. Now that we have the Katana fleet in our hands, the time has come to begin our true offensive. By now the Rebels will have discovered the truth behind the clone troopers in the Katana skirmish. Unveiling the strength of our most important weapon should have the appropriate psychological effect on our enemies, until I am ready to launch my final campaign.”

“And when will that be?”

“When the time is right,” Thrawn said evasively, a small smile touching his lips. For all C’baoth’s vaunted Jedi power, he still needed Thrawn’s tactical genius. And Thrawn knew it. “Patience, Master C’baoth. As you said before, such matters are my concern, not yours. In the meanwhile, I have already chosen a suitable planet from which to launch the campaign.”

He flicked a switch on his command chair and the sculptures scattered around the room vanished. They were replaced by a three-dimensional hologram of a small planet, rotating slowly over the main display. C’baoth eyed it suspiciously. “What is this?” he asked.

“The planet Ukio,” Thrawn identified it. “One of the top five producers of foodstuffs in Rebel territory. This is to be our next target.”

C’baoth snorted. “A world of farmers? This will be the launching point for your glorious campaign against the Rebellion?”

“The Empire’s victory is dependent on the thousands of new clones at its command,” Thrawn explained. “With most of the Katana fleet in our control, we now have the ships to crew them; once we take Ukio, we will also have the means to feed them.

“Nor should you underestimate the Ukian defenses. Ukio has invested in considerable ground/space weaponry, and is within a few light-years of the Rebel starfighter bases at Ord Pardron and Filve.” He flicked another switch, and on the display a hazy red shell suddenly wrapped itself around the planet. “But the greatest concern by far is the defensive shield that surrounds the planet. The shield is virtually impenetrable, protecting Ukio from any space bombardment. That, Master C’baoth, is where you come in.”

“More attack coordination for your troops, then?” C’baoth sighed. “I am a Jedi Master. I grow weary of simple parlor tricks.”

Thrawn smiled again, more openly this time. “As it happens, I have a more impressive demonstration in mind this time—one that makes rather better use of your particular talents.”

C’baoth frowned, but before he could ask for clarification Thrawn flicked his armchair switch again and the planet vanished. “However, to ensure the success of the Ukio operation we will first need to conduct a series of tests. That is the reason I need you here, with the Chimaera instead of on Wayland. After the operation, of course, you will be free to go where you like.”

C’baoth said nothing, his almost maniacal eyes staring into Thrawn’s red ones, and Pellaeon wondered if he was trying to read Thrawn’s thoughts. But with the other safely seated within the protection of the ysalamir, there would be very little point. At least, Pellaeon hoped. “Very well,” C’baoth said at last, breaking his silence. “I will remain on the ship. For now. I trust that will be acceptable?”

“Most acceptable, Master C’baoth,” Thrawn replied.

C’baoth studied him for another moment. “Then I shall go see to it that my chambers are properly prepared.” He gave Thrawn a rather stiff bow before slipping back through the anteroom door.

Pellaeon didn’t dare speak first in the silence that followed. “Has the Chimaera’s caretaker crew finished transferring to the Lancer yet?” Thrawn asked, his eyes still on the door through which C‘baoth had departed.

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said stiffly. “I’ve instructed them to take the Lancer to Ord Trasi and wait for us there.”

“Good,” Thrawn said, and then turned his chair towards Pellaeon. “You have something you wish to share, no doubt,” he said, his eyes boring now into Pellaeon.

Pellaeon swallowed. “I’d rather not say, Admiral.”

“Surely we’re past the point where you need censure your comments, Captain,” Thrawn chided. He let out a long sigh. “At any rate I suppose I can guess your concern. You’ve never trusted Master C‘baoth.”

“He’s becoming too dangerous,” Pellaeon said anyway, pointing urgently at the data pad still held in Thrawn‘s hand. “Did you see sick bay’s report? Nausea, delirium—it’ll be at least a week before anyone in that Lancer crew is ready for combat duty. No, sir, C‘baoth is becoming too dangerous, and too difficult to control…maybe even for you.”

“I don’t disagree,” Thrawn said mildly.

“Then with all due respect: why are we still catering to him?”

“In the short run? Because we have to. Master C’baoth is the lynchpin to the Ukio operation, and the Ukio operation is the lynchpin to our new campaign against the Rebellion. We’ll simply have to find a way to tolerate his eccentricities a little bit longer.”

“And in the long run?” Pellaeon pushed.

“Ah. Yes, well, that’s a different matter entirely,” A thin smile appeared on Thrawn’s lips. “In the long run there are contingencies, of course, many of which do not feature Master C’baoth at all. Despite his proclamations just now, he is hardly indispensable to the Empire—or at least, not the Empire I shall lead. If his eccentricities start to outweigh his value…well, there are contingencies for that, too.”