The Hand Of Thrawn Duology_ Specter Of The Past Part 35

"Then I'll make it short," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was too smart, and knew her too well, not to know there was more to it than just that. "I have a personal message to deliver to you, one which I'd rather not put on even an encrypted channel.

Unfortunately, one of the line directors at Coruscant s.p.a.ce Control feels that I shouldn't be permitted to land."

Leia frowned, Dx'ono's accusations echoing through her mind. But how could word have gotten out so fast? "Do you have his name?"

"Just his bureaucratic operating number: KTR-44875," Karrde said. "He wouldn't even give me that, incidentally; I had to pull it off his ID plate. He's an Ishori, if that helps any."

Leia grimaced. That explained how the word had gotten out so fast. "It does," she told Karrde. "The Ishori Senator has just finished accusing you and Lando of conspiring with the Diamala to get the Bothans off the hook on the Caamas matter. He tried to rope me in on it, too, just for good measure."

"I see," Karrde said, pursing his lips. "And so of course here I am, calling on you for help. My apologies for the bad timing."

"It's not your fault," Leia said, glaring over the top of the display at the chamber and its hundreds of human and alien faces staring down in her direction. She was not going to let them dictate who her friends and a.s.sociates could be. "You tell this Ishori line director that I'm giving you permission to land-I'll transmit the order as soon as you're off the comm. You're in the Wild Karrde?"

"Yes," Karrde said. "But I could come down in a shuttle if you think that would be more politic."

Leia snorted. "Ruffled feelings are the least of my worries at the moment. Do you know where the West Championne landing field is? It's about two hundred kilometers south of the Imperial Palace, near the Manarai Mountains."

"I have it on the map," Karrde confirmed, eyeing her closely. "Is this something new, or has the Caamas debate simply taken a more vicious turn?"

"I don't know yet," Leia said. "It could be either, depending on who you listen to. We have a place on the thirtieth floor of Orowood Tower, about twenty kilometers east of the landing field. I'll call the Noghri caretakers and have them let you in; we'll be out there as soon as I can get away tonight."

"Sounds cozy," he said, still gazing thoughtfully at her. "Not to mention secluded."

"It is," Leia agreed, wincing slightly. It wasn't hard to guess his thoughts: that despite her protestations to the contrary, she didn't want to risk being seen with him anywhere near the Imperial Palace. "You'll understand why I want to meet there when I tell you what's happened."

"Of course," be said equably. Would it be all right if I used the comm and data retrieval equipment at your retreat until you arrive? Just to keep myself amused, of course?"

Leia smiled. "And to see what you can dig out of the government archives?"

He shrugged. "I might learn something new. You never know."

"I'm sure it's harder for you to learn something you didn't already know than it is for most of us," Leia said dryly. "All right, I'll clear it with the Noghri when I call them."

"Thank you. I'll see you later. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

With a sigh, she keyed off the comm. Infighting, suspicions, divisiveness. Yes, it was Thrawn's style, all right. She could only wonder what be had planned for them next Switching the comm back on again, she keyed for Coruscant s.p.a.ce Control.

All in all, Carib Devist thought as he gazed across the colorful fields of tallgrain rippling across Dorchess Valley, it had been a good day.

It really had. The oppressive summer sun that blazed so steadily down onto Pakrik Minor during the growing season had been hiding coyly behind clouds for most of the day, giving relief from the usual heat. The clouds hadn't burned off until late afternoon, just in time for the sun to disappear for an hour and a half behind Pakrik Minor's far more densely populated sister world of Pakrik Major. By the time it had reemerged the extra heat was actually almost welcome.

There were still some problems in the fields themselves, of course, but that was all part of a farmer's life. Carib and his brothers had had to drive out yet another colony of worms that had tried to make their home among the interlocked tallgrain roots, and had had to deal with a spot of white-blight that could have wiped out the entire crop within days if it hadn't been caught. But it had been caught, and the worms had been rooted out, and none of the droids had broken down or even gone cranky, and th e crops were actually ahead of growing schedule for a change.

No, it had been a good day; and as Carib propped his feet up to point toward the magnificent sunset and sipped at a well-earned gla.s.s of R'alla mineral water he decided that it was indeed good to be alive.

A motion to his right caught his eye: his brother Sabmin coming toward the house in that battered old landspeeder of his. Lacy had probably invited Sabmin and his family over to dinner-she was always forgetting to tell him things like that.

But no. Sabmin was alone in the vehicle . . . and as the land-speeder came closer Carib could make out the expression on his brother's face .

He was waiting at the foot of the path by the time Sabmin brought the landspeeder to a dusty halt. "What's wrong?" he asked without preamble.

"It's happened," Sabmin said, his voice a husky whisper. "I was up at the cave and-well, it's happened."

Carib glanced back up the path at the house. Lacy was visible in the kitchen window, carefully pulling the dinner roast out of the focus cooker. "Walk with me," he said.

He led the way down the path toward the edge of the fields. "You confirmed the message was legitimate?" be asked.

"First thing," Sabmin said soberly. "It carried all the proper Imperial codes."

Carib winced. It had been a long time since the word "Imperial" had been used in this part of Pakrik Minor. "Then I guess it's time," he said, a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. After ten years of quiet waiting, they were once again being called to service.

"Have you said anything to the others yet?"

"No, I came straight here," Sabmin said. "But there's more."

He glanced around, as if afraid someone might be listening from among the neat rows of tallgrain. "The activation order came in over the name of Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Carib felt his jaw drop. "That's impossible," he hissed. "Thrawn is dead."

"That's what everyone said," Sabmin agreed soberly. "All I know is that his name is on the order."

They had reached the first row of stalks now. "It could be a lie," Carib said, turning sideways to ease between the rows, sniffing the familiar sour-musky aroma rising around him as his tanned leatheris vest brushed across the leaves. "Or else a trick."

"Hardly a trick they could keep up," Sabmin pointed out "Even using old holo-recordings of him in transmissions wouldn't fool anyone for long."

"True," Carib said, stopping beside a nearly ripe stalk and touching a finger to the tallgrain string peeking coyly from a gap in its sheath. Grand Admiral Thrawn, who had turned around five years of steady decline and brought the Empire to within sight of total victory. "You realize, of course, that this could change everything."

"I don't see how," Sabmin said. "The fact still remains that we were planted here for the express purpose of being ready to cause havoc if and when we were called to do so." He stroked the tallgrain string. "Well, the planting took root, the crop has ripened . . .

and now they're calling for the harvest."

"Yes," Carib said, dropping his hand back to his side. A harvest of terror and sudden death and destruction, almost certainly directed at the ripe fruit that was Pakrik Major hanging overhead. Pakrik Major, and the annual sector-wide conference that had just gotten under way in the capital. A long-delayed strike against the traitors of the Rebellion, courtesy of the Empire. "But that's not my point," he told Sabmin. "My point is that if Thrawn is really back in command, then whatever we're ordered to do won't be simply a grand but meaningless gesture of suicidal defiance. If Thrawn is back, then the Empire might just win."

Sabmin whistled softly. "You're right," he murmured. "I hadn't even thought about it that way."

"Well, you'd better start thinking about it that way," Carib warned. "And we'd better make sure the others do, too. Any idea when the last maintenance check was done on the TIEs?"

"Not more than a month ago," Sabmin said. "I think it was Dobrow who ran it. You want to talk with him tonight?"

"I want to talk with everyone tonight," Carib said, sidling out of the tallgrain rows and starting back up toward the house. "My place, in two hours."

"We can try," Sabmin said, falling into a probably unconscious military step beside him.

"Tabric and Hovarb may not be able to make it, though-three of their gornts went into labor this afternoon."

"The gornts can have their litters by themselves," Carib said shortly. "This is important."

Sabmin threw him a frown. "Oh, come on, Carib, aren't you overreacting just a little? It's an activation order, not a full-blown attack plan."

"If Thrawn is in charge, there won't be a lot of time between the two," Carib growled.

"Whatever he's up to, he'll have his timetable shaved down to the half second."

They walked the rest of the way to Sabmin's vehicle in silence. "All right, I'll tell them," Sabmin said as he climbed in. "They'll be here."

Carib sighed. "Let's make it your place instead," he suggested. "It's only three minutes by landspeeder from there to their barn. They can get back in plenty of time if anything goes wrong with the labor."

Sabmin smiled tightly. "Thanks, Carib. We'll see you there."

CHAPTER 21.

"There's Lando," Leia said, pointing out the canopy as Han set! their Incom T-81 down on the Orowood Tower's third-level air-speeder pad. "Over there, by the entryway, behind that red cloud car."

"Yeah, I see him," Han grunted, shutting down the repulsorlifts. "I still think this is a bad idea, Leia."

"I know you do," Leia said, taking a moment to look past the lighted landing area at the darkened shrubbery perimeter beyond it. There was no one visible, either to her eyes or her Jedi senses. "And I can't say I completely disagree with you. But he insisted on coming."

"You'd just better hope Dx'ono didn't get wind of it and have someone follow him here,"

Han growled, popping the canopy. "You get someone yelling secret meeting' and we'll all have bad it."

"I know," Leia said, climbing out of the airspeeder and looking around. There were some airspeeder running lights visible in the sky around them, and the various roads crisscrossing the area around the Tower were carrying their usual quota of landspeeders.

None of the vehicles seemed to be particularly heading their direction.

But there were the darkened windows of one of the Tower's five tapcafes gazing down on them from the fourth floor, not to mention all the windows of the apartments stretching up into the night sky. If one of those windows concealed someone with a set of macrobinoculars . . .

Han clearly bad already bad the same thought. "We'd better get inside," he muttered, taking her arm. "Come on, Threepio, move it."

"Yes, sir," the golden-skinned droid said hastily, levering himself awkwardly out of the back of the airspeeder and shuffling quickly behind them. That was the first time Threepio had said anything, Leia realized suddenly, since they'd left the Imperial Palace. Had be picked up on Han's mood, and was trying to make himself inconspicuous? Or had he been brooding on his own memories of Thrawn's last bid for power?

Lando emerged from his half concealment as they approached. "Han, Leia," he nodded to them. His usual smile of greeting, Leia noted, was conspicuously absent. "Where's Karrde?"

"He's already here," Leia told him as Han keyed the entryway lock. "The Noghri let him in."

"Good." Hunching his shoulders beneath his cloak, Lando threw one last look back into the darkness as be followed Leia in.

Thirty-eight stories tall, the Orowood Tower had originally been planned to be the nucleus of an elaborate and extensive colony of Alderaanians who bad been off-planet when the first Death Star destroyed their world. But though the architects had painstakingly crafted every facet of the Tower to fit the Alderaanian style, Coruscant's crowds and near-total land development were simply too alien to their life view for most of the refugees to feel comfortable living there.

Though the rest of the project had been abandoned, there had been hopes that enough Alderaanians would remain on Coruscant to keep the Tower itself occupied, particularly given its spectacular view of the Manarai Mountains. But that final dream bad been dealt its death blow by Grand Admiral Thrawn's short-lived but terrifying siege of the planet.

When the siege was finally lifted, virtually all the Alderaanians left Coruscant, going to New Alderaan or scattering out among the stars. As one of them had e xplained to Leia, they had been lucky enough to escape the destruction of one world, and had no desire to settle on an even more tempting target.

And so the grand experiment had settled into vague obscurity, joining the host of other residential centers cl.u.s.tered beneath the mountains, most of which provided secondary or vacation homes to rich industrialists and government officials. Offworlders and aliens, most of whom bad never even heard of the fabled oro woods of Alderaan, let alone ever walked among them.

Over the years, the ache of that irony had mostly faded from Leia's heart. Mostly.

The turbolift operated with the typical quiet efficiency of Alderaanian construction, depositing them into the lush garden scene that comprised the thirtieth-floor bobby. No one was visible mong the fronds and rock-pile water trickles; but then, no one was supposed to be. "Barkhimkh?" Leia called softly.

"I am here, Lady Vader," Barkhimkh's voice mewed from across the lobby. There was a rustle from the frond, and the Noghri warrior stepped into view beside the archway that opened into the corridor leading to their apartment. "All is quiet."

"Thank you," Leia said.

"Make sure you keep it that way," Han added as they crossed the lobby.

Barkhimkh bowed his bead. "I obey, Han clan Solo."

Karrde was lounging in a Plash self-molding contour chair in the apartment's conversation circle, a datapad in one band and a gla.s.s of amber liquid in the other, as Han keyed the door open. "Ah-there you are," the smuggler said, closing the datapad and levering himself out of the chair as they filed inside. "I was just thinking of asking Sakhisakh to try contacting you."

"We got a later start than I'd expected," Leia explained. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Karrde a.s.sured them. "The children aren't with you?"

"They just left this morning with Chewie to go visit his family on Kashyyyk," Leia told him. "With all that's been happening lately, I thought it would be better for them to be there."

"Between their Noghri guard and a planetful of Wookiees it's hard to imagine anyplace safer," Karrde agreed. "h.e.l.lo, Calrissian. Nice to see you again."

"Yes," Lando said. "Though you may not think so when we tell you why you're here."

Karrde's expression didn't change, but Leia could feel a tightening of his emotions.

"Really," he said easily. "Let's dispense with the formalities, then. Sit down and tell me all about it."

"I'm sorry," the screening system at the other end of the comm said in its maddeningly pleasant mechanical voice. "Communication with the residence you request is restricted. I cannot connect you without a proper authorization code."

"Tell Councilor Organa Solo that it's an emergency," Shada said, putting the most intimidating official tone into her voice that she could as she gazed out the tapcafe window at the Solos' Incom T-81, sitting there on the Orowood Tower's third-floor landing pad. "I'm calling under the authorization of Admiral Drayson of New Republic Intelligence."

The screening system remained unfazed. "I'm sorry, but I cannot connect you without a proper authorization code," it repeated.

Grimacing, Shada keyed the comm off. That had been the last verbal gambit in her repertoire, and it bad done nothing but get her the same runaround. The same thing every time she tried, and she was beginning to get very tired of it.

She'd tried the polite, official way first: calling Councilor Organa Solo's office at the Imperial Palace and-when the screeners there wouldn't let her through, either-trying to get into the ma.s.sive governmental building itself. But with no official status or business or connections to call on, she'd bit meter-thick transparisteel walls at every turn. She'd tried calling the Solos' main home outside the palace next, with the same results. And now she'd tried to get through to them at their Manarai Mount ain retreat, again with no luck And with each rebuff, her obviously idealized vision of the New Republic had crumbled a little bit more. She'd hoped they would have more to offer her than the life with the Mistryl that she'd just turned her back on. It was starting to look more and more like she'd been mistaken.

But there was nothing to do now but continue what she'd started. If for no other reason than that there was nowhere left for her to go.

So all right. She'd tried it the polite way and gotten nowhere. Now she would try it the Mistryl way.