The Last Command (48 page)

“On a planet called Wayland,” Organa Solo said. “Along with Luke and Han and some others.”

Wayland?
Karrde couldn’t recall ever hearing of that world before. “And what’s on Wayland that they find so interesting?” he asked.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn’s cloning facility.”

Karrde stared at her. “You found it?”

“We didn’t,” Organa Solo said. “Mara did.”

Karrde nodded mechanically. So they’d found the cloning facility on their own. All that work he’d put in organizing the other smuggler groups: gone like dumped Kessel spice. The work, the risk, not to mention the money he’d planned to pay them with. “You’re certain the cloning facility is there?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Organa Solo said, gesturing to the ship behind him. “I need you to take me there. Right away.”

“Why?”

“Because the expeditions in danger,” Organa Solo said. “They may not know it yet, but they are. And if they’re still on the timetable we were sent, we have a chance of getting to them before it’s too late.”

“She told me all about it on the way up here,” Ghent added hesitantly. “I think we ought to…”

He trailed off as Karrde sent a look his way. “I sympathize with your people, Councilor,” he said. “But there are other matters that also need my attention.”

“Then you abandon Mara,” Organa Solo reminded him.

“I have no particular feelings for Mara,” Karrde countered. “She’s a member of my organization; nothing more.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

For a moment Karrde gazed at her. She held his gaze evenly, calling his bluff… and in her eyes, he could see that she knew perfectly well that it
was
a bluff. He couldn’t simply walk away and abandon Mara to her death, any more than he could abandon Aves or Dankin or Chin. Not if there was anything he could do to prevent it. “It’s not that easy,” he said quietly “I have responsibilities to the rest of my people, as well. At the moment they’re preparing to launch a raid with the hope of obtaining a crystal gravfield trap to sell you.”

A flicker of surprise flashed across Organa Solo’s face. “A crystal gravfield trap—?”

“It’s not the one you’re trying for,” Karrde assured her. “But we’ve scheduled it for the same time, hoping your attack will distract the enemy. I need to be there.”

“I see,” Organa Solo murmured, apparently deciding to pass over the question of how Karrde could have known about the Tangrene raid. “Will the
Wild Karrde
make all that much difference in that raid?”

Karrde looked at Ghent. It wouldn’t make any difference at all, not with Mazzic and Ellor and the others reinforcing the impressive group Aves had already pulled together. The problem was that if they left now—and the way Organa Solo was talking, she meant for him to turn around and head straight back into space—there wouldn’t be any chance of turning Ghent loose on the New Republic’s computer system and rerouting the funds he needed to pay the other groups.

Unless he could get the money another way. “It can’t be done,” he told Organa Solo firmly. “I can’t simply walk out on my people. At least, not without—”

Abruptly, the Jawa-robed alien snapped his fingers. Karrde paused in midsentence, watching in fascination as the creature slipped noiselessly back into the accessway tunnel, a slender knife appearing somehow in his hand. He disappeared through the door, and for a moment there was silence. Karrde raised his eyebrows at Organa Solo, got a slight shrug in return—

There was a sudden squeal from inside the accessway door, followed by a sudden flurry of half-visible commotion. Karrde found his blaster in his hand; and he was bringing it to bear on the figures when all the activity abruptly stopped. A moment later, the alien reappeared, forcing a half-crouched figure before him.

An all-too-familiar figure. “Well, well,” Karrde said, lowering his blaster but not holstering it. “Councilor Fey’lya, I believe. Reduced to eavesdropping at doorways?”

“He is unarmed,” the robed alien said in his gravelly voice.

“Release him, then,” Organa Solo said.

The alien complied. Fey’lya straightened up, his fur rippling madly across his head and torso as he tried to salvage what he could of his composure. “I protest this improper treatment,” he said, his voice somewhat less melodious than the Bothan norm. “And I was not eavesdropping. General Bel Iblis informed me of Councilor Organa Solo’s revelation concerning the cloning facility on Wayland. I came here, Captain Karrde, to urge you to assist Councilor Organa Solo in her wish to go to Wayland.”

Karrde smiled tightly. “Where she would be conveniently out of your way? Thank you, but I believe we’ve already been through this together.”

The Bothan drew himself up. “This is not about politics. Without her warning, the team on Wayland may not survive. And without their survival, the Emperor’s storehouse may not be destroyed before the Grand Admiral can remove some of its contents to a safe place.”

His violet eyes locked with Karrde’s. “And that would be a disaster. To both the Bothan people and to the galaxy.”

For a moment Karrde studied him, wondering what was there that Fey’lya was so worried about. Some weapon or technology that Thrawn hadn’t found yet? Or was it more personal than that? Unpleasant or embarrassing information, perhaps, either about Fey’lya or the Bothan people generally?

He didn’t know, and he suspected Fey’lya wouldn’t tell. But the particulars didn’t really matter. “Potential disasters to the Bothan people don’t worry me,” he told Fey’lya. “How much do they worry you?”

There was an uncertain ripple of the fur across Fey’lya’s shoulders. “It would be a disaster for the galaxy as well,” he said.

“So you said,” Karrde agreed. “I repeat: How much does it worry you?”

And this time Fey’lya got it. His eyes narrowed, his fur rippling with obvious contempt. “How much worry will it take?” he demanded.

“Nothing unreasonable,” Karrde assured him. “Merely a credit of, say, seventy thousand?”

“Seventy
thousand?
” Fey’lya echoed, aghast. “What exactly do you think—”

“That’s my price, Councilor,” Karrde cut him off. “Take it or leave it. And if Councilor Organa Solo is correct, we don’t have time for any long discussions.”

Fey’lya hissed like an angry predator. “You’re no better than a foul mercenary,” he snarled, his voice about as vicious as Karrde had ever heard a Bothan get. “You drain out the lifeblood of the Bothan people—”

“Spare me the lecture, Councilor,” Karrde said. “Yes or no?”

Fey’lya hissed again. “Yes.”

“Good,” Karrde nodded, looking at Organa Solo. “Is the credit line your brother set up for me still there?”

“Yes,” she said. “General Bel Iblis knows how to access it.”

“You can deposit the seventy thousand there,” Karrde told Fey’lya. “And bear in mind that we’ll be stopping to check on it before we reach Wayland. In case you had any thoughts about backing out.”

“
I
am honorable, smuggler,” Fey’lya snarled. “Unlike others present.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Karrde said. “Honorable beings are so difficult to find. Councilor Organa Solo?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m ready,” she said.

They were off Coruscant and nearly ready for the jump to lightspeed before Leia finally asked the question she’d worried about since coming aboard. “Are we really going to stop to check on Fey’lya’s funds?”

“With time as critical as you suggest?” Karrde countered. “Don’t be silly. But Fey’lya doesn’t know that.”

Leia watched him for a moment as he handled the
Wild Karrde
‘s helm. “The money’s not really important to you, is it?”

“Don’t believe that, either,” he advised her coolly. “I have certain obligations to meet. If Fey’lya hadn’t been willing to cooperate, your New Republic would have had to do so.”

“I see,” Leia murmured.

He must have heard something in her voice. “I mean that,” he insisted, throwing a brief and entirely unconvincing scowl at her. “I’m here because it suits my purposes. Not for the sake of your war.”

“I said I understood,” Leia agreed, smiling privately to herself. The words were different; but the look on Karrde’s face was almost identical.
Look, I ain’t in this for your revolution, and I’m not in it for you, Princess. I expect to be well paid. I’m in it for the money.
Han had said that to her after that stormy escape from the first Death Star. At the time, she’d believed it.

Her smile faded. He and Luke had saved her life then. She wondered if she’d be in time now to save theirs.

The entrance to Mount Tantiss was a glint of metal nestled cozily beneath an overhang of rock and vegetation. Between them and it, just visible from their hilltop vantage point, was a clearing with a small city lying in it. “What do you think?” Luke asked.

“I think we find another way in,” Han told him, bracing his elbows a little harder into the dead leaves and trying to hold the macrobinoculars steady. He’d been right; there was a stormtrooper guard station just off the metal doors. “You never want the front door, anyway.”

Luke tapped his shoulder twice: the signal that he’d picked up someone coming. Han froze, listening. Sure enough, there was a faint sound of clumping feet in the underbrush. A minute later, four Imperial troops in full field gear came out of the trees a few meters further down the hill. They walked straight past Han and Luke without so much as looking up, disappearing back into the trees a few steps later. “Starting to get pretty thick,” Han muttered.

“I think it’s just the proximity to the mountain,” Luke said. “I still don’t get any indication that they know we’re out here.”

Han grunted and shifted his view to the village poking out of the clearing down below them. Most of the buildings were squat, alien-looking things, with one really good-sized one facing into an open square. His angle wasn’t all that good, but it looked like there were a bunch of Psadans hanging around near the front of the big one. A town meeting, maybe? “I don’t see any sign of a garrison down there,” he said, sweeping the macrobinoculars slowly across the village. “Must be working directly out of the mountain.”

“That should make it easier to get around it.”

“Yeah,” Han said, frowning as he swung the macrobinoculars back to the town square. That crowd of Psadans he’d noticed a minute ago had shifted into a sort of semicircle now, facing a couple more of the walking rock piles standing with their backs to the big building. And it was definitely getting bigger.

“Trouble?” Luke murmured.

“I don’t know,” Han said slowly, wedging his elbows a little tighter and kicking the magnification up a notch. “There’s a big meeting going on down there. Two Psadans… but they don’t seem to be talking. Just holding something.”

“Let me try,” Luke offered. “There are Jedi techniques for enhancing vision. Maybe they’ll work on a macrobinocular image.”

“Go ahead,” Han said, handing over the macrobinoculars and squinting at the sky. There were a few wispy clouds visible up there, but nothing that looked like it was going to become a general overcast anytime soon. Figure two hours till sundown; another half hour of light after that—

“Hmm,” Luke said.

“What is it?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Luke said, lowering the macrobinoculars. “But it looks to me like what they’re holding is a data pad.”

Han looked out toward the city. “I didn’t know they used data pads.”

“Neither did I,” Luke said, his voice suddenly going all strange.

Han frowned at him. The kid was just staring at the mountain, a funny look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the mountain,” he said, staring hard at it. “It’s dark. All of it.”

Dark?
Han frowned at the mountain. It looked fine to him. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s dark,” Luke repeated slowly. “Like Myrkr was.”

Han looked at the mountain. Looked back at Luke. “You mean, like in a bunch of ysalamiri cutting off the Force?”

Luke nodded. “That’s what it feels like. I won’t know for sure until we’re closer.”

Han looked back at the mountain, feeling his stomach curling up inside him. “Great,” he muttered. “Just great. Now what?”

Luke shrugged. “We go on. What else is there?”

“Getting back to the
Falcon
and getting out of here, that’s what,” Han retorted. “Unless you’re really hot to walk into an Imperial trap.”

“I don’t think it’s a trap,” Luke said, shaking his head thoughtfully. “Or at least, not a trap for us. Remember how that contact I told you about with C’baoth was suddenly cut off?”

Han rubbed his cheek. He could see what Luke was getting at, all right: the ysalamiri were here for C’baoth, not him. “I’m still not sure I buy that,” he said. “I thought C’baoth and Thrawn were on the same side. Mara said that herself.”

“Maybe they had a falling out,” Luke suggested. “Or maybe Thrawn was using him from the start and now doesn’t need him anymore. If the Imperials don’t know we’re here, the ysalamiri must have been meant for him.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter much who they were meant for,” Han pointed out. “They’ll block you just as well as they will C’baoth. It’ll be like Myrkr all over again.”

“Mara and I did okay on Myrkr,” Luke reminded him. “We can handle it here. Anyway, we’ve come too far to back out now.”

Han grimaced. But the lad was right. Once the Empire gave up on this deserted-planet routine, chances were the next New Republic team wouldn’t even make it into the atmosphere. “You going to tell Mara before we get there?”

“Of course.” Luke looked up at the sky. “But I’ll tell her on the way. We’d better get moving while we still have daylight.”

“Right,” Han said, giving the area one last look before he got to his feet. Force or no Force, it was up to them. “Let’s go.”

The others were waiting just around the other side of the hill. “How’s it look?” Lando asked as Han and Luke rejoined them.

“They still don’t know we’re here,” Han told him, looking around for Mara. She was sitting on the ground near Threepio and Artoo, concentrating on a set of five stones she’d gotten to hover in the air in front of her. Luke had been teaching her this kind of stuff for days, and Han had finally given up trying to talk the kid out of it. It looked like the lessons were going to be a waste of time now, anyway. “You ready to take us to this back door of yours?”