The Last Command (3 page)

“Don’t bother,” Han said, swiveling around in his seat to key in the nav computer. “We’ll feed you the numbers from here.”

“Copy. Rogue Squadron: screen formation.”

“You know, I’m starting to get tired of this,” Han told Leia, swiveling back to face front. “I thought you said your Noghri pals were going to leave you alone.”

“This has nothing to do with the Noghri.” Leia shook her head, an odd half-felt tension stretching at her forehead. Was it her imagination, or were the Imperial ships surrounding Filve starting to break formation? “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn playing with his new Dark Force Dreadnaughts.”

“Yeah,” Han agreed quietly, and Leia winced at the momentary flash of bitterness in his sense. Despite everyone’s best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Han still considered it his own personal fault that Thrawn had gotten to the derelict
Katana
fleet ships—the so-called Dark Force—ahead of the NewRepublic. “I wouldn’t have thought he could get them reconditioned this fast,” Han added as he twisted the
Falcon
‘s nose away from Filve and back toward deep space.

Leia swallowed. The strange tension was still there, like a distant malevolence pressing against the edges of her mind. “Maybe he has enough Spaarti cylinders to clone some engineers and techs as well as soldiers.”

“That’s sure a fun thought,” Han said; and through her tension Leia could sense his sudden change in mood as he tapped the comm switch. “Wedge, take a look back at Filve and tell me if I’m seeing things.”

Over the comm, Leia could hear Wedge’s thoughtful intake of air. “You mean like the whole Imperial force breaking off their attack and coming after us?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Looks real enough to me,” Wedge said. “Could be a good time to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Han said slowly. “Maybe.”

Leia frowned at her husband. There’d been something in his voice…. “Han?”

“The Filvians would’ve called for help before they put up their shield, right?” Han asked her, forehead furrowed with thought.

“Right,” Leia agreed cautiously.

“And the nearest NewRepublic base is Ord Pardron, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay. Rogue Squadron, we’re changing course to starboard. Stay with me.”

He keyed his board, and the Falcon started a sharp curve to the right. “Watch it,
Falcon
—this is taking us back toward that
TIE
fighter group,” Wedge warned.

“We’re not going that far,” Han assured him. “Here’s our vector.”

He straightened out the ship onto their new course heading and threw a look at the rear display. “Good— they’re still chasing us.”

Behind him, the nav computer beeped its notification that the jump coordinates were ready. “Wedge, we’ve got your coordinates,” Leia said, reaching for the data transmission key.

“Hold it,
Falcon
,” Wedge cut her off. “We’ve got company to starboard.”

Leia looked that direction, her throat tightening as she saw what Wedge meant. The approaching
TIE
fighters were coming up fast, and already were close enough to eavesdrop on any transmission the
Falcon
tried to make to its escort. Sending Wedge the jump coordinates now would be an open invitation for the Imperials to have a reception committee waiting at the other end.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance, Your Highness,” Threepio offered brightly. “As you know, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. I could transmit the coordinates to Commander Antilles in Boordist or Vaathkree trade language, for example—”

“And then you’d send them the translation?” Han put in dryly.

“Of course—” The droid broke off. “Oh, dear,” he said, sounding embarrassed.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it,” Han said. “Wedge, you were at Xyquine two years ago, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Ah. A Cracken Twist?”

“Right. On two: one, two.”

Outside the canopy, Leia caught a glimpse of the X-wings swinging into a complicated new escort formation around the
Falcon
. “What does this buy us?” she asked.

“Our way out,” Han told her, checking the rear display again. “Pull the coordinates, add a two to the second number of each one, and then send the whole package to the X-wings.”

“I see,” Leia nodded her understanding as she got to work. Altering the second digit wouldn’t change the appearance of their exit vector enough for the Imperials to catch on to the trick, but it would be more than enough to put any chase force a couple of light-years off target. “Clever. And that little flight maneuver they did just now was just window dressing?”

“Right. Makes anyone watching think that’s all there is to it. A little something Pash Cracken came up with at that fiasco off Xyquine.” Han glanced at the rear display again. “I think we’ve got enough lead to outrun them,” he said. “Let’s try.”

“We’re not jumping to lightspeed?” Leia frowned, an old and rather painful memory floating up from the back of her mind. That mad scramble away from Hoth, with Darth Vader’s whole fleet breathing down their necks and a hyperdrive that turned out to be broken…

Han threw her a sideways look. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. The hyperdrive’s working fine today.”

“Let’s hope so,” Leia murmured.

“See, as long as they’re chasing us they can’t bother Filve,” Han went on. “And the farther we draw them away, the longer the backup force’ll have to get here from Ord Pardron.”

The brilliant green flash of a near miss cut off Leia’s intended response. “I think we’ve given them all the time we can,” she told Han. Within her, she could sense the turmoil coming from her unborn twins. “Can we please get out of here?”

A second bolt spattered off the
Falcon
‘s upper deflector shield. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Han agreed. “Wedge? You ready to leave this party?”

“Whenever you are,
Falcon
,” Wedge said. “Go ahead—we’ll follow when you’re clear.”

“Right.” Reaching over, Han gripped the hyperdrive levers and pulled them gently back. Through the cockpit canopy the stars stretched themselves into starlines, and they were safe.

Leia took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Within her, she could still sense the twins’ anxiety, and for a moment she turned her mind to the job of calming them down. It was a strange sensation, she’d often thought, touching minds that dealt in emotion and pure sensation instead of pictures and words. So different from the minds of Han and Luke and her other friends.

So different, too, from the distant mind that had been orchestrating that Imperial attack force.

Behind her, the door slid open and Chewbacca came into the cockpit. “Good shooting, Chewie,” Han told the Wookiee as he heaved his massive bulk into the portside passenger seat beside Threepio. “You have any more trouble with the horizontal control arm?”

Chewbacca rumbled a negative. His dark eyes studying Leia’s face, he growled her a question. “I’m all right,” Leia assured him, blinking back sudden and inexplicable tears. “Really.”

She looked at Han, to find him frowning at her, too. “You weren’t worried, were you?” he asked. “It was just an Imperial task force. Nothing to get excited about.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t that, Han. There was something else back there. A land of…” She shook her head again. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps it was similar to your indisposition at Endor,” Threepio offered helpfully. “You remember—when you collapsed while Chewbacca and I were repairing the—?”

Chewbacca rumbled a warning, and the droid abruptly shut up. But far too late. “No—let him talk,” Han said, his sense going all protectively suspicious as he looked at Leia. “What indisposition was this?”

“There wasn’t anything to it, Han,” Leia assured him, reaching over to take his hand. “On our first orbit around Endor we passed through the spot where the Death Star blew up. For a few seconds I could feel something like the Emperor’s presence around me. That’s all.”

“Oh, that’s all,” Han said sarcastically, throwing a brief glare back at Chewbacca. “A dead Emperor tries to make a grab for you, and you don’t think it’s worth mentioning?”

“Now you’re being silly,” Leia chided. “There was nothing to worry about—it was over quickly, and there weren’t any aftereffects. Really. Anyway, what I felt back at Filve was completely different.”

“Glad to hear it,” Han said, not yet ready to let it go. “Did you have any of the med people check you over or anything after you got back?”

“Well, there really wasn’t any time before—”

“Fine. You do it as soon as we’re back.”

Leia nodded with a quiet sigh. She knew that tone; and it wasn’t something she could wholeheartedly argue against, anyway. “All right. If I can find time.”

“You’ll
make
time,” Han countered. “Or I’ll have Luke lock you in the med center when he gets back. I mean it, sweetheart.”

Leia squeezed his hand, feeling a similar squeeze on her heart as she did so. Luke, off alone in Imperial territory… but he was all right. He had to be. “All right,” she told Han. “I’ll get checked out. I promise.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes searching her face. “So what was it you felt back at Filve?”

“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “Maybe it was the same thing Luke felt on the
Katana
. You know—when the Imperials put that landing party of clones aboard.”

“Yeah,” Han agreed doubtfully. “Maybe. Those Dreadnaughts were awfully far away.”

“There were probably a lot more clones, though, too.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Han said again. “Well… I suppose Chewie and me’d better get to work on that ion flux stabilizer before it quits on us completely. Can you handle things up here okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” Leia assured him, just as glad to be leaving this line of conversation. “You two go ahead.”

Because the other possibility was one she’d just as soon not think about right now. The Emperor, it had long been rumored, had had the ability to use the Force to exercise direct control over his military forces. If the Jedi Master Luke had confronted on Jomark had that same ability…

Reaching down, she caressed her belly and focused on the pair of tiny minds within her. No, it was indeed not something she wanted to think about.

“I presume,” Thrawn said in that deadly calm voice of his, “that you have some sort of explanation.”

Slowly, deliberately, C’baoth lifted his head from the command room’s double display circle to look at the Grand Admiral. At the Grand Admiral and, with undisguised contempt, at the ysalamir on its nutrient frame slung across Thrawn’s shoulders. “Do you likewise have an explanation, Grand Admiral Thrawn?” he demanded.

“You broke off the diversionary attack on Filve,” Thrawn said, ignoring C’baoth’s question. “You then proceeded to send the entire task force on a dead-end chase.”

“And you, Grand Admiral Thrawn, have failed to bring my Jedi to me,” C’baoth countered. His voice, Pellaeon noticed uneasily, was slowly rising in both pitch and volume. “You, your tame Noghri, your entire Empire—all of you have failed.”

Thrawn’s glowing red eyes narrowed. “Indeed? And was it also our failure that you were unable to hold on to Luke Skywalker after we delivered him to you on Jomark?”

“You did not deliver him to me, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth insisted. “I summoned him there through the Force—”

“It was Imperial Intelligence who planted the rumor that Jorus C’baoth had returned and been seen on Jomark,” Thrawn cut him off coldly. “It was Imperial Transport who brought you there, Imperial Supply who arranged and provisioned that house for you, and Imperial Engineering who built the camouflaged island landing site for your use. The Empire did its part to get Skywalker into your hands. It was you who failed to keep him there.”

“No!” C’baoth snapped. “Skywalker left Jomark because Mara Jade escaped from you and twisted his mind against me. And she will pay for that. You hear me? She shall pay.”

For a long moment Thrawn was silent. “You threw the entire Filve task force against the
Millennium Falcon
,” he said at last, his voice under control again. “Did you succeed in capturing Leia Organa Solo?”

“No,” C’baoth growled. “But not because she didn’t want to come to me. She does. Just as Skywalker does.”

Thrawn threw a glance at Pellaeon. “She wants to come to you?” he asked.

C’baoth smiled. “Very much,” he said, his voice unexpectedly losing all its anger. Becoming almost dreamy… “She wants me to teach her children,” he continued, his eyes drifting around the command room. “To instruct them in the ways of the Jedi. To create them in my own image. Because I am the master. The only one there is.”

He looked back at Thrawn. “You must bring her to me, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” he said, his manner somewhere halfway between solemn and pleading. “We must free her from her entrapment among those who fear her powers. They’ll destroy her if we don’t.”

“Of course we must,” Thrawn said soothingly. “But you must leave that task to me. All I need is a little more time.”

C’baoth frowned with thought, his hand slipping up beneath his beard to finger the medallion hanging on its neck chain, and Pellaeon felt a shiver run up his back. No matter how many times he saw it happen, he would never get used to these sudden dips into the slippery twilight of clone madness. It had, he knew, been a universal problem with the early cloning experiments: a permanent mental and emotional instability, inversely scaled to the length of the duplicate’s growth cycle. Few of the scientific papers on the subject had survived the Clone Wars era, but Pellaeon had come across one that had suggested that no clone grown to maturity in less than a year would be stable enough to survive outside of a totally controlled environment.

Given the destruction they’d unleashed on the galaxy, Pellaeon had always assumed that the clonemasters had eventually found at least a partial solution to the problem. Whether they had recognized the underlying cause of the madness was another question entirely.

It could very well be that Thrawn was the first to truly understand it.

“Very well, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth said abruptly. “You may have one final chance. But I warn you: it will be your last. After that, I will take the matter into my own hands.” Beneath the bushy eyebrows his eyes flashed. “And I warn you further: if you cannot accomplish even so small a task, perhaps I will deem you unworthy to lead the military forces of my Empire.”