Heir To The Empire (18 page)

Han looked at Leia, saw her face turn to stone as she looked back at him. “They’ve found us,” she whispered.

“I see it, Artoo, I see it,” Luke soothed. “Let me worry about the Star Destroyer; you just keep trying to find a way through that jamming.”

The little droid warbled a nervous-sounding acknowledgment and got back to work. Ahead, the Millennium Falcon had pulled out of its landing approach and was swinging back on what looked like an intercept course for the approaching ship. Hoping Han knew what he was doing, Luke keyed the X-wing for attack status and followed. Leia? he called silently.

Her response contained no words; but the anger and frustration and quiet fear came through all too clearly. Hang on, I’m with you, he told her, putting as much reassurance and confidence into the thought as he could.

A confidence which, he had to admit, he didn’t particularly feel. The Star Destroyer itself didn’t worry him-if Lando’s descriptions of the sunlight’s intensity were right, the big ship itself was probably helpless by now, its sensors and maybe even a fair amount of its armament vaporized right off its hull.

But the
TIE
fighters protected in its hangars weren’t so handicapped . . . and as soon as the ship reached Nkllon’s shadow, those fighters would be free to launch.

Abruptly, the static cleared. “Luke?”

“I’m here,” Luke confirmed. “What’s the plan?”

“I was hoping you’d have one,” the other said dryly. “Looks like we’re a little outnumbered here.”

“Does Lando have any fighters?”

“He’s scrambling what he’s got, but he’s going to keep them close in to protect the complex. I get the feeling the crews aren’t all that experienced.”

“Looks like we’re the attack front, then,” Luke said. A stray memory flicked through his mind: walking into Jabba’s palace on Tatooine five years ago, using the Force to befuddle the Gamorrean guards. “Let’s try this,” he told Han. “I’ll run ahead of you, try to confuse or slow down their reflexes as much as I can. You follow right behind me and take them out.”

“Sounds as good as we’re going to get,” Han grunted. “Stay close to the ground; with luck, we’ll be able to run some of them into those low ridges.”

“But don’t get too low,” Leia warned. “Remember that you’re not going to be able to concentrate very much on your flying.”

“I can handle both,” Luke assured her, giving the instruments one last scan. His first space combat as a full Jedi. Distantly, he wondered if this was how the Jedi of the Old Republic had handled such battles. Or even if they’d fought like this at all.

“Here they come,” Han announced. “Out of the hangar and on their way. Looks like . . . probably only one squadron. Overconfident.”

“Maybe.” Luke frowned at his tactical scope. “What are those other ships with them?”

“I don’t know,” Han said slowly. “They’re pretty big, though. Could be troop carriers.”

“Let’s hope not.” If this was a full-scale invasion, and not just another hit-and-fade like at Bpfassh . . . “You’d better warn Lando.”

“Leia’s on it. You ready?”

Luke took a deep breath. The
TIE
fighters had formed into three four-ship groups now, sweeping directly toward them. “I’m ready,” he said.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

The first group was coming in fast. Half closing his eyes, flying entirely on reflex, Luke reached out with the Force.

It was a strange sensation. Strange, and more than a little unpleasant. To touch another mind with the intent of communication was one thing; to touch that same mind with the intent of deliberately distorting its perception was something else entirely.

He’d had a similar feeling at Jabba’s, with those guards, but had put it down then to nervousness about his mission to rescue Han. Now, he realized that there was more to it than that. Perhaps this sort of action-even done purely in self-defense-was dangerously close to the edge of the dark areas where Jedi were forbidden to go.

He wondered why neither Yoda nor Ben had ever told him about this. Wondered what else there was about being a Jedi that he was going to have to discover on his own.

Luke?

Dimly, he felt himself being jammed into his straps as he twitched the X-wing to one side. The voice whispering into his mind . . . “Ben?” he called aloud. It didn’t sound like Ben Kenobi; but if it wasn’t him, then who-?

You will come to me, Luke, the voice said again. You must come to me. I will await you.

Who are you? Luke asked, focusing as much of his strength on the contact as he could without risking a crash. But the other mind was too elusive to track, skittering away like a bubble in a hurricane. Where are you?

You will find me. Even as Luke strained, he could feel the contact slipping away. You will find me . . . and the Jedi shall rise again. Until then, farewell.

Wait! But the call was fading into nothingness. Clenching his teeth, Luke strained . . . and gradually began to realize that another, more familiar voice was calling his name. “Leia?” he croaked back through a mouth that was inexplicably dry.

“Luke, are you all right?” Leia asked anxiously.

“Sure,” he said. His voice sounded better this time. “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

“You’re what’s wrong,” Han cut in. “You planning to chase them all the way home?”

Luke blinked, looking around in surprise. The buzzing
TIE
fighters were gone, leaving nothing but bits of wreckage strewn across the landscape. On his scope, he could see that the Star Destroyer had left Nkllon’s shadow again, driving hard away from the planet toward a point far enough out of the gravity well for a lightspeed jump. Beyond it, a pair of miniature suns were approaching: two of Lando’s shieldships, belatedly arriving-now that it was too late-to assist in the fight. “It’s all over?” he asked stupidly.

“It’s all over,” Leia assured him. “We got two of the
TIE
fighters before the rest disengaged and retreated.”

“What about the troop carriers?”

“They went back with the fighters,” Han said. “We still don’t know what they were doing here-we sort of lost track of them during the fight. Didn’t look like they ever went very close to the city itself, though.”

Luke took a deep breath, glanced at the X-wing’s chrono. In and among all of that, he’d somehow lost over half an hour. Half an hour that his internal time sense had no recollection of whatsoever. Could that strange Jedi contact really have lasted that long?

It was something he would have to look into. Very carefully.

On the main bridge screen, showing as little more than a bright spot against Nkllon’s dark backdrop, the Judicator made its jump to lightspeed. “They’re clear, Admiral,” Pellaeon announced, looking over at Thrawn.

“Good.” The Grand Admiral gave the other displays an almost lazy examination, though there was little to worry about this far out in the Athega system. “So,” he said, swiveling his chair around. “Master C’baoth?”

“They fulfilled their mission,” C’baoth said, that strangely taut expression on his face again. “They obtained fifty-one of the mole miner machines you sent them for.”

“Fifty-one,” Thrawn repeated with obvious satisfaction. “Excellent. You had no problem guiding them in and out?”

C’baoth focused his eyes on Thrawn. “They fulfilled their mission,” he repeated. “How many times do you intend to ask me the same question?”

“Until I’m sure I have the correct answer,” Thrawn replied coolly. “For a while there your face looked as if you were having trouble.”

“I had no trouble, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth said loftily. “What I had was conversation.” He paused, a slight smile on his face. “With Luke Skywalker.”

“What are you talking about?” Pellaeon snorted. “Current intelligence reports indicate that Skywalker is-”

He broke off at a gesture from Thrawn. “Explain,” the Grand Admiral said.

C’baoth nodded toward the display. “He’s there right now, Grand Admiral Thrawn. He arrived on Nkllon just ahead of the Judicator.”

Thrawn’s glowing red eyes narrowed. “Skywalker is on Nkllon?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“In the very center of the battle,” C’baoth told him, very clearly enjoying the Grand Admiral’s discomfiture.

“And you said nothing to me?” Thrawn demanded in that same deadly voice.

C’baoth’s smile vanished. “I told you before, Grand Admiral Thrawn: you will leave Skywalker alone. I will deal with him-in my own time, in my own way. All I require of you is the fulfillment of your promise to take me to Jomark.”

For a long moment Thrawn gazed at the Jedi Master, his eyes glowing red slits, his face hard and totally unreadable. Pellaeon held his breath . . . “It’s too soon,” the Grand Admiral said at last.

C’baoth snorted. “Why? Because you find my talents too useful to give up?”

“Not at all,” Thrawn said, his voice icy. “It’s a simple matter of efficiency. The rumors of your presence haven’t had enough time to spread. Until we can be sure Skywalker will respond, you’ll just be wasting your time there.”

A strangely dreamy look seeped onto C’baoth’s face. “Oh, he’ll respond,” he said softly. “Trust me, Grand Admiral Thrawn. He will respond.”

“I always trust you,” Thrawn said sardonically. He reached a hand up to stroke the ysalamir draped over his command chair, as if to remind the Jedi Master just how far he trusted him. “At any rate, I suppose it’s your own time to waste. Captain Pellaeon, how long will it take to repair the damage to the Judicator?”

“Several days at the least, Admiral,” Pellaeon told him. “Depending on the damage, it could take as long as three or four weeks.”

“All right. We’ll go to the rendezvous point, stay with them long enough to make sure repairs are properly underway, and then take Master C’baoth to Jomark. I trust that will be satisfactory?” he added, looking back at C’baoth.

“Yes.” Carefully, C’baoth unfolded himself from his chair and stood up. “I will rest now, Grand Admiral Thrawn. Alert me if you need my assistance.”

“Certainly.”

Thrawn watched the other wend his way back across the bridge; and as the doors slid solidly shut behind him, the Grand Admiral turned to Pellaeon. Pellaeon braced himself, trying not to wince. “I want a course projection, Captain,” Thrawn said, his voice cold but steady. “The most direct line from Nkllon to Jomark, at the best speed a hyperdrive-equipped X-wing could take it.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Pellaeon signaled to the navigator, who nodded and got busy. “You think he’s right about Skywalker going there?”

Thrawn shrugged fractionally. “The Jedi had ways of influencing people, Captain, even over considerable distances. It’s possible that even out here he was close enough to Skywalker to plant a suggestion or compulsion. Whether those techniques will work on another Jedi-” He shrugged again. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, sir.” The numbers were starting to track across Pellaeon’s display now. “Well, even if Skywalker leaves Nkllon immediately, there won’t be any problem getting C’baoth to Jomark ahead of him.”

“I knew that much already, Captain,” Thrawn said. “What I need is a bit more challenging. We’re going to drop C’baoth off on Jomark, then backtrack to a point on Skywalker’s projected course. A point at least twenty light-years away, I think.”

Pellaeon frowned at him. The expression on Thrawn’s face made the back of his neck tingle . . . “I don’t understand, sir,” he said carefully.

The glowing eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “It’s quite simple, Captain. I mean to disabuse our great and glorious Jedi Master of his growing belief that he’s indispensable to us.”

Pellaeon got it then. “So we wait along Skywalker’s projected approach to Jomark and ambush him?”

“Precisely,” Thrawn nodded. “At which point we decide whether to capture him for C’baoth-” his eyes hardened “-or simply kill him.”

Pellaeon stared at him, feeling his jaw drop. “You promised C’baoth he could have him.”

“I’m reconsidering the deal,” Thrawn told him coolly. “Skywalker has proved himself to be highly dangerous, and by all accounts has already withstood at least one attempt to turn him. C’baoth should have more success bending Skywalker’s sister and her twins to his will.”

Pellaeon glanced behind him at the closed doors, reminding himself firmly that there was no way for C’baoth to eavesdrop on their conversation with all the ysalamiri scattered around the Chimera’s bridge. “Perhaps he’s looking forward to the challenge, sir,” he suggested cautiously.

“There will be many challenges for him to face before the Empire is reestablished. Let him save his talents and cunning for those.” Thrawn turned back to his monitors. “At any rate, he’ll likely forget all about Skywalker once he has the sister. I expect our Jedi Master’s wants and desires will prove to be as erratic as his moods.”

Pellaeon thought back. On the matter of Skywalker, at least, C’baoth’s desire seemed to have remained remarkably steady. “I respectfully suggest, Admiral, that we still make every possible effort to take Skywalker alive.” He had a flash of inspiration- “Particularly since his death might induce C’baoth to leave Jomark and return to Wayland.”

Thrawn looked back at him, glowing eyes narrowed. “Interesting point, Captain,” he murmured softly. “Interesting point, indeed. You’re right, of course. By all means, we must keep him off Wayland. At least until the work on the Spaarti cylinders is finished and we have all the ysalamiri there we’re going to need.” He smiled tightly. “His reaction to what we’re doing there might not be at all pleasant.”

“Agreed, sir,” Pellaeon said.

Thrawn’s lip twitched. “Very well, Captain: I accede to your suggestion.” He straightened himself in his seat. “It’s time to be going. Prepare the Chimaera for lightspeed.”

Pellaeon turned back to his displays. “Yes, sir. Direct route to the rendezvous point?”

“We’ll be making a short detour first. I want you to swing us around the system to the commercial out-vector near the shieldship depot and drop some probes to watch for Skywalker’s departure. Near-system and farther out.” He looked out the viewport in Nkllon’s direction. “And who knows? Where Skywalker goes, the Millennium Falcon often goes, as well.”