The Hand Of Thrawn Duology_ Specter Of The Past Part 22

"Sounds like they're either already involved with the Empire or else want to be," Mara said.

"Or maybe it's something else entirely," Faughn put in, her voice suddenly tight. "I've just run a phoneme a.n.a.lysis on that transmission; and I think I've found the name Thrawn'

in there."

Karrde frowned. "Let's hear it."

There was a brief pause; and then over the comlink came a sputter of alien language.

Squarely in the middle of the gibberish&mdash "I heard it," Booster said. "It was kind of broken up, like he was stuttering or something."

"That's because you were getting his full name there," Mara said, her voice suddenly grim.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Thrawn was what he called his core name."

Out of the corner of his eye, Karrde saw something flash across Corran's expression. "So you were on a full-name basis with the guy?" Booster asked with forced casualness.

"Hardly," Mara said. "But I did know his full name. And there weren't a lot of people in the Empire who did."

Karrde chewed his lower lip. "You know anything about his history? His early history with the Empire, I mean?"

"Not really," she said. "Some Imperial commander ran into him on a deserted world just inside the Unknown Regions while chasing smugglers. He was impressed by his tactical ability, and brought him back to Coruscant. Rumor was his own people had exiled him there, incidentally."

"Why?" Booster asked.

"I don't know," Mara said. "But it could be that ship was someone who's finally figured out where he went and has come looking for him."

Booster snorted. "They're going to be real disappointed when they find out they're ten years too late."

"Maybe not," Corran muttered. "It could be it's not Thrawn they're looking for."

Karrde studied the other's face. There was something there, all right. "I take it that's not an idle guess," he said mildly. "Would you care to share it with the rest of us ?"

Corran's lip twitched. "I wasn't supposed to say anything about this to anyone but Booster," he said reluctantly. "But under the circ.u.mstances . . . That Devaronian you got the Caamas Doc.u.ment from, Karrde? He found some other datacards in the same batch. One of them was labeled The Hand of Thrawn.'"

Karrde nodded slowly. So that was the secret Leia had been holding out on him at Wayland.

And the reason she'd been giving Mara such a strange look.

"The datacard was so badly scrambled that they couldn't get anything from it," Corran continued. "Councilor Organa Solo thought it might be Thrawn's version of an Emperor's Hand. General Bel Iblis wanted me to ask Booster if he'd run across the term before."

"Never," Booster said, shaking his head. "Karrde? Mara?"

"No," Karrde said.

"Me, neither," Mara said. "And personally, I find it hard to picture Thrawn having that kind of shadow agent. He wasn't into the same kind of political manipulation that the Emperor was. Besides, he had the Noghri if he needed something special done."

"Yet there was a datacard with that t.i.tle in the Emperor's private files," Karrde pointed out. "It must mean something."

"How do you know it was from his private files?" Booster asked.

"Because if it was something Bel Iblis could have looked up in the Kamparas archives, he wouldn't have sent Corran to ask you about it," Karrde pointed out "Point," Booster rumbled. "So you figure these ships are looking for either Thrawn or this Hand of Thrawn?"

"Or else the person in the ship is the Hand of Thrawn," Mara said. Whichever, it's starting to look more important than ever that we try to track these ships down."

"Agreed," Karrde said. "How do you suggest we start?"

"We've got the vector from their jump a few minutes ago," Mara said. "We' also got the vector from the Kauron ship. Faughn's plotting an intercept point."

"Got it," Faughn said. "It's an unexplored system in Gradilis sector, right on the boundary between Wild s.p.a.ce and the Unknown Regions. It's listed as the Nirauan system, so someone must have visited the place, but there's no other data."

"Sounds too easy," Booster rumbled. "They wouldn't really be stupid enough to jump directly to their base like that, would they? Especially not with us watching."

"Depends on how they make their jumps," Karrde pointed out. "They may not have the computing power aboard to handle complicated hypers.p.a.ce' calculations. Or it could be that their return home is preprogrammed to make sure none of their ships go astray."

"They also may not realize we can still pull their vector for a few microseconds after they jump," Mara added. "Both times now they've made sure they were out of our line of sight before kicking in their hyperdrive. They might think that's all they need to do."

"At any rate, it's a place to start," Karrde said, an odd reluctance seeping into him.

A reluctance Mara evidently could hear in his voice. "Would we rather not go?" she asked.

"We could just turn all this over to the New Republic and let them handle it."

"Corran?" Booster prompted.

The X-wing pilot was still staring out the viewport at the stars. "I can take it back to Bel Iblis, no problem," he said, sounding vaguely distracted. "But I doubt he'll be able to do anything about it, at least not now. This whole Caamas thing has everybody in a knot-tie twist."

Karrde nodded, his instinctive reluctance turning still darker. Booster was right: this was too easy. A trap, perhaps, or at the very least a wild tresher hunt and a waste of time.

But if it wasn't . . .

"No, you'd better check it out," he sighed. "Have Faughn transmit her schedule to Chin before you jump; we'll sort her a.s.signments out among the other ships."

"Right," Mara said. "Anyplace in particular you want us to rendezvous when we get back?"

"Just get in touch with the network-they'll find me," Karrde told her. "And be careful."

"Don't worry," Mara a.s.sured him grimly. "If they're trying some game, they'll be sorry they tried it on us. See you later."

Karrde thumbed off the comlink. "Good luck," he said softly.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine," Booster said, plucking the comlink from Karrde's hand and replacing it in his own belt. "Mara and Faughn are both pretty sharp, and the Starry Ice is a good ship. Better than this one, anyway," he added, glowering as he brushed past Karrde and stomped back down the command walkway. "All right, Bodwae, what the blinking mradhe muck is going on with those shields?"

He squatted down to hear the Laerdocian's excuses; and as he did so, Karrde stepped over to Corran's side. "You were right here when that alien ship went past," he said quietly.

"Did you happen to sense anything unusual about it?"

Corran threw him a sideways look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean whatever it is that Skywalker picks up when he gets near a group of clones,"

Karrde told him. "Whatever this disturbance is that it creates in the Force."

For a long moment the only sound on the bridge was the argument going on behind them, now become three-way as Shish joined in on Bodwae's side. "I don't know what Luke senses when there are clones nearby," Corran said at last, his voice barely audible. "All I felt here was the presence of something alien."

Karrde nodded. "I see."

Corran turned to face him. "My . . . talent . . . is not exactly public knowledge, Karrde," he said, his tone somewhere between challenge and threat.

"Yes, I know," Karrde replied evenly. "Wise of you to keep it that way."

"I think so," Corran countered. "Problem is, you're in the business of selling information."

"Ah, but I'm also in the business of survival," Karrde said. "And in this big, dangerous galaxy one occasionally needs a helping hand." He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "I always think it's nice when there are cards in that hand which the opposition doesn't know about."

Corran's forehead furrowed slightly. "So that's how it works, huh? You keep quiet, and I owe you one?"

Karrde looked back along the command walkway. From around the corner of the aft bridge Mirax and Valin had reappeared, Mirax looking cautious, the boy tugging impatiently at his mother's hand with the obvious wish to run to Daddy. "Yes, you owe me one," he told Corran. "But be a.s.sured that when I collect, it'll be something safe. I owe Mirax that much." He considered. "Either that, or something vital that absolutely has to be done."

Corran snorted gently. "That covers a lot of ground."

Karrde shrugged. "As I said. It's a big, dangerous galaxy."

CHAPTER 12.

The west wall of the Resinem Entertainment Complex was dirty and salt-encrusted, discolored with age and pitted by the debris from the explosion fifteen years earlier that had leveled the rival gambling hall down the street. From the far side of the fifty-meter depression that marked the explosion's center the Resinem's west wall was said to be rather attractive, the random bits of damage weaving themselves into intriguing visual patterns, particularly in the shifting glow of a Borcorash sunset.

But sunset was long past, and Shada wasn't on the far side of the pit, anyway. She was three-quarters of the way up the west wall, digging her climbing hooks carefully into the various cracks and cavities; and from this perspective, all she could tell was that the wall was dirty and not much fun. Join a smuggling group, she thought darkly for about the fifth time since beginning her climb. Visit a side of the galaxy the tourists never see.

It wasn't fun, but it was necessary. Very soon now Mazzic and Griv would be escorted onto the Resinem's ultra-private top floor for a meeting with a smooth-talking Kubaz who represented a shadowy Hutt crime cartel. Griv was carrying a small case full of ryll, the Kubaz would be carrying a similarly sized case full of Sormahil fire gems, and in theory the gathering would break up with a simple and mutually profitable exchange.

In theory.

Somewhere in the distance off to her right an airspeeder swung around in preparation for landing; and as its landing lights sent a brief splash of pale illumination across the wall in front of her, Shada felt a fresh surge of depression sweep through her. She hadn't been home to Emberlene for over twelve years now, not since Mazzic had hired her on as his bodyguard, but the grime and deterioration of this wall had brought all those memories back as if it had been yesterday. Memories of growing up amid the ruins of what had once been great cities. Memories of the death that had struck so often around hen death by disease, by malnutrition, by violence, by hopelessness. Memories of pervasive hunger, of eking out an existence by the vermin she was able to catch and kill, and on her share of the meager foodstuffs that came in from what was left of the countryside's arable land.

And on the outworld supplies that finally began coming in. Supplies not donated by caring offworlders or a generous Republic, but earned by the blood and sweat and lives of the Mistryl shadow guards.

They were the elite of what remained of Emberlene society, commissioned personally in their crusade by the Eleven Elders of the People; and from her earliest childhood Shada had wanted with all her heart to be one of them. The Mistryl roamed the starlanes, a sisterhood of exquisitely trained warrior women, hiring out their services and combat skills to the oppressed and powerless of the galaxy and receiving in exchange the money vital for keeping the remnants of their devastated world alive.

A world whose people no one had ever even noticed, let alone cared about. Unlike, say, Caamas.

With an effort, she choked down the ripple of resentment at all the attention Caamas had been getting the past couple of weeks. The destruction of Emberlene was too far in the past to get emotional about anymore, even for her. No one in the galaxy had cared back when it was attacked; they certainly couldn't be expected to care now. Yes, it was unfair, but no one had ever claimed the universe was fair.

From just above and to her left came a soft, questioning burp. Shada paused, looking up into the darkness, and spotted the reflection from a faint pair of close-set eyes looking down at her from deep shadow. "It's okay," she murmured toward the eyes, cautiously pulling herself up for a closer look. On this part of Borcorash it was probably a harmless blufferavian, but it never hurt to be careful.

The caution turned out to be unnecessary. It was indeed a blufferavian, resting on a nest built into a particularly deep niche in the wall. From beneath its wing she caught a glimpse of a couple of speckled eggs.

"Don't worry, I'm not hungry," she soothed the creature. Once upon a time, she remembered darkly, she'd been quite good at catching avians that size. They'd tasted much better than the city's scavenger insects .

Shaking away the thoughts, she shifted her weight to free up one hand and pulled a safety anchor off her climbing harness. Her Mistryl instructors would probably have criticized her use of a safety line, pointing out that it took time to fasten the anchors and that a true Mistryl would never slip in the first place. But her climb training was many years in her past, and all the speed in the galaxy would gain her nothing if she fell before reaching the rooftop.

On the other band, if there was anything to Mazzic's suspicions about this meeting, getting up there too late would be just as futile as not getting there at all. About two meters of wall left, she estimated as she glanced upward, with maybe twice that number of minutes left before Mazzic and Griv arrived upstairs. Locking the slender, nearly invisible safety line into the anchor, not waiting until the faint hiss of the molecular welding between anchor and wall had faded away, she pa.s.sed the blufferavian's nest and continued her climb.

She had made it to the top, and was just reaching a hand up toward the edge, when she heard a faint sound.

She froze, listening, but the sound wasn't repeated. Easing her hand down, she pulled another safety anchor from her harness and set it against the wall as far to her left as she could reach. Hoping the hissing sound was too quiet to be heard by whoever was up there, she locked her safety line into the anchor and also locked the feed at her harness.

Now, if she was shot at when she poked her head up over the edge, dropping down would swing her around that point in a tight arc to pop up a meter and a half to the side. It wasn't much, but in a gunfight the ability to throw off an opponent's aim even that much could make all the difference. Easing her blaster from its holster, she flicked off the safety&mdash "h.e.l.lo, Shada," a soft voice said from directly above her.

She looked up. A cloaked figure was standing at the edge looking down at her. But even in the gloom Shada could see enough of the other's face .. . "Karoly?" she murmured.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Karoly D'ulin said. "Just put your blaster up here on the roof, would you? Then come on up."

Shada reached up and set the weapon beside Karoly's feet. Then, remembering to unlock the line feed from her harness, she pulled herself the rest of the way.

Straightening up, she took a quick look around. Here at the edge the roof was flat, but a few meters inward it rose at a sharp angle another meter or so before flattening out again. Beyond the rise Shada could see the top of the long skylight enclosure that crowned the upper room.

The room where Mazzic was about to get down to business.

"You're probably the last person I would have expected to see up here," she commented, looking back at Karoly.

"I imagine so," Karoly agreed. She'd picked up the blaster while Shada was finishing her climb, and now tucked it away somewhere inside her cloak. "You can take off those climbing hooks, too-we'll be going back down by one of the interior stairways. Just set them down on the roof, if you would."

"Of course," Shada said, unstrapping the hooks from her forearms and setting them down on the roof beside her. They weren't all that useful as weapons, but Karoly obviously wasn't interested in taking chances. Kneeling down, she undid the foot hooks as well, then straightened up again. "Happy?"

Karoly pursed her lips. "You act as if we're enemies, Shada. We're not."

"I'm glad to hear that," Shada said, studying the younger woman's face. It had indeed been a long time since they'd worked together-almost twenty years, in fact, since Tatooine and that near fiasco with the Imperials' Hammertong project. The memory Shada had brought away from that incident was one of Karoly as young and inexperienced and a bit p.r.o.ne to becoming fl.u.s.tered.

But the memory wasn't the woman who now stood before her. Sometime in those twenty years Karoly had developed grace and poise, and an air of considerable competence. "How did you know I'd be coming up this side?"

"We didn't," Karoly said, shrugging. "The rest of the approaches to the rooftop are also being watched. But I thought I spotted you slipping around the side of the building in that layered blue dress of yours, and I guessed you might try this way." She gestured to Shada's elaborately coiled and plaited hair, then at her tight-fitting combat jumpsuit and climbing harness. "I must say, the dress suited that hairstyle better than the fighting gear. What are those things holding it together?"

"They're lacquered zenji needles," Shada told her. "Mazzic likes me to look decorative."

"Useful camouflage for a bodyguard," Karoly said. "Speaking of camouflage, I'd guess one of the needles must be a disguised signaler or comlink. Just drop it on the roof, all right?"

Shada grimaced. "You don't miss a trick, do you?" she said, pulling the signaler out from its place behind her right ear and adding it to the pile of climbing hooks. "I'm so glad we're not enemies. Who is this we' you mentioned?"

"I have a client with me." Karoly nodded toward the higher section of roof. "He's over there."

Crouched beside the skylight with a sniper's blaster rifle? "Doing what?"