The Last Command (58 page)

Pellaeon’s board pinged. He looked at it— “Sir, we have a priority message coming in from Wayland,” he told Thrawn, his stomach twisting with a sudden horrible premonition. Wayland—the cloning facility—

“Read it, Captain,” Thrawn said, his voice deadly quiet.

“Decrypt is coming in now, sir,” Pellaeon said, tapping the board impatiently as the message slowly began to come up. It was exactly as he’d feared. “The mountain is under attack, sir,” he told Thrawn. “Two different forces of natives, plus some Rebel saboteurs—” He broke off, frowning in disbelief. “And a group of Noghri—”

He never got to read any more of the report. Abruptly, a gray-skinned hand slashed out of nowhere, catching him across the throat.

He gagged, falling limply in his chair, his whole body instantly paralyzed. “For the treachery of the Empire against the Noghri people,” Rukh’s voice said quietly from beside him as he gasped for breath. “We were betrayed. We have been revenged.”

There was a whisper of movement, and he was gone. Still gasping, struggling against the inertia of his stunned muscles, Pellaeon fought to get a hand up to his command board. With one final effort he made it, trying twice before he was able to hit the emergency alert.

And as the wailing of the alarm cut through the noise of a Star Destroyer at battle, he finally managed to turn his head.

Thrawn was sitting upright in his chair, his face strangely calm. In the middle of his chest, a dark red stain was spreading across the spotless white of his Grand Admiral’s uniform. Glittering in the center of the stain was the tip of Rukh’s assassin’s knife.

Thrawn caught his eye; and to Pellaeon’s astonishment, the Grand Admiral smiled. “But,” he whispered, “it was so artistically done.”

The smile faded. The glow in his eyes did likewise… and Thrawn, the last Grand Admiral, was gone.

“Captain Pellaeon?” the comm officer called urgently as the medic team arrived—too late—to the Grand Admiral’s chair. “The
Nemesis
and
Stormhawk
are requesting orders. What shall I tell them?”

Pellaeon looked up at the viewports. At the chaos that had erupted behind the defenses of the supposedly secure shipyards; at the unexpected need to split his forces to its defense; at the Rebel fleet taking full advantage of the diversion. In the blink of an eye, the universe had suddenly turned against them.

Thrawn could still have pulled an Imperial victory out of it. But he, Pellaeon, was not Thrawn.

“Signal to all ships,” he rasped. The words ached in his throat, in a way that had nothing to do with the throbbing pain of Rukh’s treacherous attack. “Prepare to retreat.”

The sun had set beneath a thin layer of western clouds, and the colors of the evening sky were beginning to fade into the encroaching darkness of Coruscant night. Leaning on the chest-high wrought-stone railing at the edge of the Palace roof, listening to the breezes whispering by her ears, Mara gazed out at the lights and vehicles of the Imperial City below. Buzzing with activity, there was still something strangely peaceful about it.

Or maybe the peace was in her. Either way, it made for a nice change.

Twenty meters behind her, the door out onto the roof opened. She stretched out with the Force; but she knew who it had to be. And she was right. “Mara?” Luke called softly.

“Over here,” she called back, grimacing out at the city below. From his sense she could tell he was here for her answer.

So much for inner peace.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Luke commented, coming up beside her and gazing out over the city. “Must bring back memories for you.”

She threw him a patient look. “Translation: How am I feeling about the homecoming this time. You know, Skywalker—just between us—you’re pretty pathetic when you try to be devious. If I were you, I’d give it up and just stick with that straight-out farm boy honesty.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Too much time spent around Han, I guess.”

“And Karrde and me, I suppose?”

“You want a straight-out farm boy honest answer to that?”

She threw him a crooked smile. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

Luke smiled back, then turned serious again. “So how
are
you feeling?”

Mara looked back out at the lights. “Strange,” she told him. “It’s sort of like coming home… only it isn’t. I’ve never really stood here and just
looked
at the city like this. The only times I was ever up here were to watch for a certain airspeeder to arrive or to keep an eye on some particular building or something like that. Business for the Emperor. I don’t think he ever saw the Imperial City as people and lights—to him it was just power and opportunities.”

“Probably how he saw everything,” Luke agreed. “And speaking about opportunities…?”

Mara grimaced. She’d been right: he was here for her answer. “The whole thing’s ridiculous,” she said. “You know it, and I know it.”

“Karrde doesn’t think so.”

“Karrde’s even a worse idealist than you are sometimes,” she shot back. “In the first place, he’s never going to be able to hold this smuggler coalition of his together.”

“Maybe not,” Luke said. “But think of the possibilities if he can. There are a lot of contacts and information sources out there in the fringe that the New Republic doesn’t have any access to at all.”

“So what do you need information sources for?” Mara countered. “Thrawn’s dead, his cloning center is a shambles, and the Empire’s in retreat again. You’ve won.”

“We won at Endor, too,” Luke pointed out. “That didn’t stop us from years of so-called mopping-up action. There’s still a lot of work yet to be done.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense to put me in the middle of it,” Mara argued. “If you want a liaison between you and the smugglers, why don’t you get Karrde to do it?”

“Because Karrde’s a smuggler. You were just a smuggler’s assistant.”

She snorted. “Big difference.”

“To some people, it is,” Luke said. “This whole negotiation process is running as much on appearance and image as it is on reality. Anyway, Karrde’s already said he won’t do it. Now that those vornskrs of his have recovered, he wants to get back out to his people.”

Mara shook her head. “I’m not a politician,” she insisted. “Not a diplomat, either.”

“But you’re someone both sides are willing to trust,” Luke said. “That’s what’s important here.”

Mara made a face. “You don’t know these people, Skywalker. Trust me—Chewbacca and the guys you’re sending out to transplant the Noghri to their new world are going to have a lot more fun.”

He touched her hand. “You can do it, Mara. I know you can.”

She sighed. “I have to think about it.”

“That’s all right,” he said. “Just come on downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

“Sure.” She threw a sideways look at him. “Was there something else?”

He smiled. “You’re getting good at that.”

“Your fault for teaching me too well. Come on, what is it?”

“Just this.” Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a lightsaber.

“What’s this?” Mara asked, frowning.

“It’s my old lightsaber,” Luke told her quietly. “The one I lost at CloudCity, and nearly got killed with at Wayland.” He held it out. “I’d like you to have it.”

She looked up at him, startled. “Me? Why?”

He shrugged self-consciously. “Lots of reasons. Because you earned it. Because you’re on your way to becoming a Jedi and you’ll need it. Mostly, though, because I want you to have it.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she took the weapon. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He touched her hand again. “I’ll be in the conference room with the others. Come on down when you’ve decided.”

He turned and walked away across the Palace roof. Mara turned to gaze out at the lights of the city again, the cool metal of the lightsaber pressed against her hand. Luke’s lightsaber. Probably one of his last links to the past… and he was giving it away.

Was there a message in that for her? Probably. Like she’d said, subtlety wasn’t one of Luke’s strong points. But if that was why he’d done it, he’d been wasting his time. Her last link with the past had been broken in the MountTantiss throne room.

Her past was over. It was time to get on with the future. And the NewRepublic was that future. Whether she liked it or not.

Behind her, she heard Luke open the roof door. “Hang on a minute,” she called after him. “I’ll come with you.”