The Last Command (38 page)

“That was your suggestion, not mine,” Karrde said, watching the other closely. Thinking on his feet obviously wasn’t Ferrier’s strong point, and the strains were starting to show. If he could push just a little harder… “But since we’re on the subject, where
is
your Defel?”

“He’s on my ship,” Ferrier said promptly. “Over in the western courtyard with everyone else’s. He’s been there since I landed.”

“Why?”

Ferrier frowned. “What do you mean, why? He’s there because he’s part of my crew.”

“No, I mean why isn’t he outside the
Wild Karrde
with the rest of the bodyguards?”

“Who said he was a bodyguard?”

Karrde shrugged. “I simply assumed he was. He was playing that role on Trogan, after all.”

“That’s right, he was,” Gillespee said slowly. “Standing over against the wall. Where he was all ready to hit the Imperials when they came in.”

“Almost as if he knew they were coming,” Karrde agreed.

Ferrier’s face darkened. “Karrde—”

“Enough,” Mazzic cut him off. “This isn’t evidence, Karrde, and you know it. Anyway, what would Ferrier have to gain by setting up an attack like that?”

“Perhaps so he could be conspicuous in helping us fight it off,” Karrde suggested. “Hoping it would soothe our suspicions about his relationship with the Empire.”

“Twist all the words you want,” Ferrier said, jabbing a finger at the data pad sitting on the table beside Mazzic. “But that data card doesn’t say
I
hired Kosk and his squad. It says
you
did. Personally, I think we’ve heard enough of this—”

“Just a minute,” Mazzic interrupted, turning to face him. “How do you know what the data card says?”

“You told us,” Ferrier said. “You said it was the other half of the—”

“I never mentioned the lieutenant’s name.”

The room was suddenly very quiet… and behind his beard, Ferrier’s face had gone pale. “You must have.”

“No,” Mazzic said coldly. “I didn’t.”

“No one said it,” Clyngunn rumbled.

Ferrier glared at him. “This is insane,” he spat, some of his courage starting to come back. “All the evidence points straight to Karrde—and you’re going to let him off just because I happened to hear this Kosk’s name somewhere? Maybe one of the stormtroopers on Trogan shouted it during the fight—how should I know?”

“Well, then, here’s an easier question,” Karrde said. “Tell us how you learned the time and location of this meeting. Given your lack of an invitation.”

Mazzic shot a look at him. “You didn’t invite him?”

Karrde shook his head. “I’ve never really trusted him, not since I heard about his role in Thrawn’s acquisition of the
Katana
fleet. He wouldn’t have been at Trogan at all if Gillespee hadn’t made that invitation more or less open to anyone.”

“Well, Ferrier?” Dravis prompted. “Or are you going to claim one of us told you?”

There were tight lines at the corners of Ferrier’s eyes. “I picked up the transmission to Mazzic,” he muttered. “Decrypted it; figured I ought to be here.”

“Pretty fast decrypting work,” Gillespee commented. “Those were good encrypt codes we were using. You kept a copy of the original encrypted transmission, of course?”

Ferrier stood up. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this,” he growled. “Karrde’s the one on trial here, not me.”

“Sit down, Ferrier,” Mazzic said softly. His blaster was no longer pointed at Karrde.

“But
he’s
the one,” Ferrier insisted. His right hand shot out, forefinger pointed accusingly at Karrde. “He’s the one who—”

“Watch out!” Gillespee snapped.

But it was too late. With his right hand waving out in front of him as a diversion, Ferrier’s left hand had dipped into his waist sash and was now back out in front of him.

Holding a thermal detonator.

“All right, hands on the table,” he snarled. “Drop it, Mazzic.”

Slowly, Mazzic laid his blaster on the table. “You can’t possibly get out of here, Ferrier,” he bit out. “It’ll be a toss-up between Shada and my enforcers.”

“They’ll never even get a shot at me,” Ferrier said, reaching over to pick up Mazzic’s blaster. “Wraith! Get in here!”

Behind him, the wardroom door slid open and a black shadow moved silently into the room. A black shadow with red eyes and a hint of long white fangs.

Clyngunn swore, a roiling ZeHethbra curse. “So Karrde was right about all of it. You have betrayed us to the Empire.”

Ferrier ignored him. “Watch them,” he ordered, shoving Mazzic’s blaster at the shadow and drawing his own. “Come on, Karrde—we’re going to the bridge.”

Karrde didn’t move. “If I refuse?”

“I kill you all and take the ship up myself,” Ferrier told him shortly. “Maybe I should do that anyway—Thrawn’d probably pay a good bounty on all of you.”

“I concede the point,” Karrde said, getting to his feet. “This way.”

They reached the bridge without incident. “You’re flying,” Ferrier instructed, gesturing toward the helm with his blaster as he took a quick look at the displays. “Good—I figured you’d have it ready to go.”

“Where are we going?” Karrde asked, sitting down in the helm seat. Through the viewport, he could see some of his people, oblivious to his presence up here as they maintained their uneasy standoff with Mazzic’s enforcers.

“Out, up, and over,” Ferrier told him, motioning toward the broken fortress wall ahead with his blaster. “We’ll start with that.”

“I see,” Karrde said, keying for a preflight status report with his right hand and letting his left drop casually to his knee. Just above it, built into the underside of the main console, was a knee panel with the controls for the ship’s external lights. “What happens then?”

“What do you think?” Ferrier retorted, crossing over to the comm station and giving it a quick look. “We get out of here. You got any other ships on comm standby?”

“The
Starry Ice
and
Etherway
,” Karrde said, turning the exterior running lights on and then off three times. Outside the viewport, frowning faces began turning to look up at him. “I trust you’re not going to try to go very far.”

Ferrier grinned at him. “What, you afraid I’ll steal your precious freighter?”

“You’re not going to steal it,” Karrde said, locking eyes with him. “I’ll destroy it first.”

Ferrier snorted. “Big talk from someone on the wrong end of a blaster,” he said contemptuously, hefting the weapon for emphasis.

“I’m not bluffing,” Karrde warned him, turning on the running lights again and risking a casual look out the viewport. Between the warning flicker of lights and the sight of Ferrier holding a blaster on him, the crowd out there had presumably caught on to what was happening. He hoped so, anyway. If they hadn’t, the
Wild Karrde
‘s unannounced departure would probably trigger a firefight.

“Sure you’re not,” Ferrier grunted, dropping into the copilot station beside him. “Relax—you’re not going to have to be a hero. I’d like nothing better than to take the
Wild Karrde
off your hands, but I know better than to try to run a ship like this with half a crew. No, all you’re going to do is take me back to my ship. We’ll get out of here and lay low until all this blows over.” He threw one last look at the displays and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Mentally crossing his fingers, Karrde eased in the repulsorlifts and nudged the ship forward, half expecting a barrage of blaster shots from the crowd of aides and bodyguards outside. But no one opened fire as he maneuvered carefully through the jagged stone edging the opening and out into the open air. “Yeah, they’re all gone from in there, all right,” Ferrier said casually into the silence. “Probably scrambling to get back to their ships so they can chase after us.”

“You don’t seem worried about it.”

“I’m not,” Ferrier said. “All you have to do is get me to my ship a little ahead of them. You can do that, right?”

Karrde looked over at the blaster pointed at him. “I’ll do my best.”

They made it easily. Even as the
Wild Karrde
settled to the cracked stone beside a modified Corellian Gunship the others were just beginning to appear from the archways leading into the main part of the fortress, a good couple of minutes away. “Knew you could do it,” Ferrier complimented him sarcastically, standing up and keying the intercom. “Wraith? Hit the door. We’re out of here.”

There was no response. “Wraith? You hear me?”

“He will not be hearing anything for a while,” Clyngunn’s voice rumbled back. “If you want him, you will have to carry him.”

Viciously, Ferrier slapped off the intercom. “Fool. I should have known better than to trust a stupid wraith with anything. Better yet, I should have killed all of you right at the start.”

“Perhaps,” Karrde said. He nodded across the courtyard toward the approaching bodyguards and enforcers. “I don’t think you have time to correct that oversight now.”

“I’ll just have to do it later,” Ferrier shot back. “I could still take care of you, though.”

“Only if you’re willing to die along with me,” Karrde countered, shifting slightly in his seat to show that his left hand was holding down one of the knee panel switches. “As I said, I’d rather destroy the ship than let you have it.”

For a long moment he thought Ferrier was going to try it anyway. Then, with obvious reluctance, the ship thief shifted his aim and sent two shots sizzling into the fire-control section of the control board. “Another time, Karrde,” he said. He stepped back to the bridge door, threw a quick look outside as it opened, and then slipped through.

Karrde took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. Releasing the landing light switch he’d been holding down, he stood up. Fifteen seconds later, he spotted Ferrier through the viewport as he sprinted alone toward his Gunship.

Reaching carefully past the sizzling hole in his control board, he keyed the intercom. “This is Karrde,” he said. “You can unbarricade the door now; Ferrier’s left. Do you need any medical help or assistance with your prisoner?”

“No, to both,” Gillespee assured him. “Defel might be good at sneaking around, but they’re not much good as jailers. So Ferrier just abandoned him here, huh?”

“No more or less than I would have expected from him,” Karrde said. Outside the viewport, Ferrier’s Gunship was rising on its repulsorlifts, rotating toward the west as it did so. “He’s lifting now. Warn everyone not to leave the ship—he’s bound to have something planned to discourage pursuit.”

And he did. The words were barely out of Karrde’s mouth when the hovering ship ejected a large canister into the air overhead. There was a flash of light, and suddenly the sky exploded into a violently expanding tangle of metal mesh. The net stretched itself out across the courtyard and settled to the ground, throwing off sparks where it draped itself across the parked ships.

“A Conner net,” Dravis’s voice came from behind him. “Typical ship-thief trick.”

Karrde turned. Dravis, Par’tah, and Mazzic were standing just inside the door, looking through the viewport at the departing Gunship. “We have plenty of people outside it,” he. reminded them. “It shouldn’t take long to get it burned off.”

[He must not be allowed to escape,] Par’tah insisted, making a Ho’Din gesture of contempt toward the Gunship.

“He wont,” Karrde assured her. The Gunship was streaking low across the plain, staying out of range of anything the netted ships might still be able to fire at him. “The
Etherway
and
Starry Ice
are standing ready, north and south of here.” He turned back and lifted an eyebrow toward Mazzic. “But under the circumstances, I think Mazzic should have the honor.”

Mazzic gave him a tight smile. “Thank you,” he said softly, pulling out his comlink. “Griv, Amber. Gunship on the way. Take it.”

Karrde looked back. The Gunship was nearly to the horizon now, starting its vertical climb toward space… and as he watched, Mazzic’s two fighters rose behind it from their hiding places and gave pursuit.

“I guess I owe you an apology,” Mazzic said from behind him.

Karrde shook his head. “Forget it,” he said. “Or, better, don’t forget it. Keep it as a reminder of the way Grand Admiral Thrawn does business. And what people like us ultimately mean to him.”

“Don’t worry,” Mazzic said softly. “I won’t forget.”

“Good,” Karrde said briskly. “Well, then. Let’s get our people out there busy on this net—I’m sure we’d all prefer to be off Hijarna before the Empire realizes their scheme has failed.”

In the distance, just above the horizon, there was a brief flare of light. “And while we’re waiting,” Karrde added, “I still have a proposal to present to you.”

“All right,” Han told Lando, his fingers searching along the edge of Artoo’s left leg for a better handhold. “Get ready.”

The droid twittered something. “He reminds you to be careful,” Threepio translated, standing nervously just far enough out of their way not to get yelled at. “Do remember that the last time—”

“We didn’t drop him on purpose,” Han growled. “If he’d rather wait for Luke, he’s welcome.”

Artoo twittered again. “He says that will not be necessary,” Threepio said primly. “He trusts you implicitly.”

“Glad to hear it,” Han said. There were, unfortunately, no better handholds. He’d have to talk to Industrial Automaton about that someday. “Here we go, Lando: lift.”

Together they strained; and with a jolt that wrenched Han’s back the droid came up and out of the tangle of tree roots that he’d somehow gotten entwined around his wheels. “There you go,” Lando grunted as they dropped the droid more or less gently back into the dirt and leaves of the dry creek bed. “How’s it feel?”

The explanation this time was longer. “He says there appears to have been only minimal damage,” Threepio said. “Mainly cosmetic in nature.”

“Translation: he’s rusting,” Han muttered, rubbing the small of his back as he turned around. Five meters further down the creek bed, Luke was using his lightsaber to carefully slice through a set of thick vines blocking their path. Beside him, Chewbacca and Mara were crouched with weapons drawn, ready to shoot the snakelike creatures that sometimes came boiling out when you cut into them. Like everything else on Wayland, they’d learned about that one the hard way.