There was a moment of silence, and Mara realized she’d finally gotten through to the other. “And your name?” the captain asked, his voice suddenly respectful.
Beneath her, the Etherway jolted slightly as the Adamant’s tractor beam locked on. She was committed now. The only way out was to see it all through. “Tell him,” she said, “that he knew me as the Emperor’s Hand.”
They brought her and the Etherway aboard, settled her with uncertain deference into one of the senior officers’ quarters … and then headed away from Abregado like a mynock with its tail on fire.
She was left alone in the cabin for the rest of the day and into the night, seeing no one, speaking with no one. Meals were delivered by an SE4 servant droid; at all other times the door was kept locked. Whether the enforced privacy was on the captain’s orders or whether it came from above was impossible to tell, but at least it gave her time to do such limited planning as she could.
There was similarly no way of knowing where they were going, but from the labored sound of the engines, she could guess they were pushing uncomfortably far past a Victory Star Destroyer’s normal flank speed of Point Four Five. Possibly even as high as Point Five, which would mean they were covering a hundred twenty-seven light-years per hour. For a while she kept her mind occupied by trying to guess which system they might be making for; but as the hours ticked by and the number of possibilities grew too unwieldy to keep track of, she abandoned the game.
Twenty-two hours after leaving Abregado, they arrived at the rendezvous. At the last place Mara would have expected. At the very last place in the galaxy she would have wanted to go. The place where her universe had died a sudden and violent death.
Endor.
“The Grand Admiral will see you now,” the stormtrooper squad leader said, stepping back from the opening door and motioning her ahead. Mara threw a glance at the silent Noghri bodyguard standing on the other side of the doorway and stepped through.
“Ah,” a well-remembered voice called quietly from the command center in the middle of the room. Grand Admiral Thrawn sat in the double display ring, his red eyes glowing at her above the glistening white uniform. “Come in.”
Mara stayed where she was. “Why did you bring me to Endor?” she demanded.
The glowing eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” she said. “Endor. Where the Emperor died. Why did you choose this place for the rendezvous?”
The other seemed to consider that. “Come closer, Mara Jade.”
The voice was rich with the overtones of command, and Mara found herself walking toward him before she realized what she was doing. “If it’s supposed to be a joke, it’s in poor taste,” she bit out. “If it’s supposed to be a test, then get it over with.”
“It is neither,” Thrawn said as she came to the edge of the outer display ring and stopped. “The choice was forced upon us by other, unconnected business.” One blue-black eyebrow raised slightly. “Or perhaps not entirely unconnected. That still remains to be seen. Tell me, can you really sense the Emperor’s presence here?”
Mara took a deep breath, feeling the air shuddering through her lungs with an ache as real as it was intangible. Could Thrawn see how much this place hurt her? she wondered. How thick with memories and sensations the whole Endor system still remained? Or would he even care about any of that if he did?
He saw, all right. She could tell that much from the way he was looking at her. What he thought of it she didn’t much care. “I can feel the evidence of his death,” she told him. “It’s not pleasant. Let’s get this over with so I can get out of here.”
His lip quirked, perhaps at her assumption that she would in fact be leaving the Chimaera. “Very well. Let’s begin with some proof of who you were.”
“I gave the Adamant’s captain a high-level recognition code,” she reminded him.
“Which is why you’re here instead of in a detention cell,” Thrawn said. “The code isn’t proof in itself.”
“All right, then,” Mara said. “We met once, during the public dedication of the new Assemblage wing of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. At that ceremony the Emperor introduced me to you as Lianna, one of his favorite dancers. Later, during the more private ceremony that followed, he revealed to you my true identity.”
“And what was that private ceremony?”
“Your secret promotion to the rank of Grand Admiral.”
Thrawn pursed his lips, his eyes never leaving her face. “You wore a white dress to both ceremonies,” he said. “Aside from the sash, the dress had only one decoration. Do you recall what that decoration was?”
Mara had to think back. “It was a small shouldersculp,” she said slowly. “Left shoulder. A Xyquine design, as I remember.”
“It was indeed.” Thrawn reached to his control board, touched a switch; and abruptly, the room was filled with holos of shouldersculps on ornate pillars. “The one you wore is somewhere in this room. Find it.”
Mara swallowed, turning slowly as she looked around. She’d had literally hundreds of fancy dresses for her cover role as a member of the Emperor’s entourage. To remember one particular shouldersculp out of all that …
She shook her head, trying to clear away the unpleasant buzzing sensation that hovered deep in her mind. She’d had an excellent memory once, one which the Emperor’s training had made even better. Focusing her thoughts, fighting upstream against the disquieting aura of this place, she concentrated … “That’s it,” she said, pointing to a delicate filigree of gold and blue.
Thrawn’s expression didn’t change, but he seemed to relax a little in his seat. “Welcome back, Emperor’s Hand.” He touched the switch a second time, and the art gallery vanished. “You’ve been a long time in returning.”
The glowing eyes bored into her face, the question unspoken but obvious. “What was here for me before?” she countered. “Who but a Grand Admiral would have accepted me as legitimate?”
“Was that the only reason?”
Mara hesitated, recognizing the trip wire. Thrawn had been in command of the Empire for over a year now, and yet she hadn’t approached him until now. “There were other reasons,” she said. “None of which I wish to discuss at this time.”
His face hardened. “As, I presume, you don’t wish to discuss why you helped Skywalker escape from Talon Karrde?”
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER.
Mara jerked, unsure for that first frozen heartbeat whether the voice had been real or just in her mind. The strange buzzing intensified, and for a moment she could almost see the Emperor’s wizened face glaring at her. The image grew clearer, the rest of the room beginning to swim before her eyes …
She took a deep breath, forcing calmness. She would not fall apart. Not here; not in front of the Grand Admiral. “It wasn’t my idea to let Skywalker escape,” she said.
“And you were unable to alter that decision?” Thrawn asked, the eyebrow lifting again. “You, the Emperor’s Hand?”
“We were on Myrkr,” Mara reminded him stiffly. “Under the influence of a planetful of ysalamiri.” She glanced over his shoulder at the ysalamir hanging from the nutrient frame behind his chair. “I doubt you’ve forgotten their effect on the Force.”
“Oh, I remember it quite well,” Thrawn nodded. “It’s their dampening of the Force, in fact, that proves Skywalker had help in his escape. All I need to know from you is whether it was Karrde himself who gave the order, or others of his group acting independently.”
So that he would know where to focus his revenge. Mara looked into those glowing eyes, beginning to remember now why the Emperor had made this man a Grand Admiral. “It doesn’t matter who’s responsible,” she said. “I’m here to offer a deal that’ll clear the debt.”
“I’m listening,” Thrawn said, his face neutral.
“I want you to stop your harassment of Karrde and his organization. To cancel the cash bounty on all of us, and clear us with all Imperial forces and worlds that you control.” She hesitated; but this was no time to go all bashful. “I also want a monetary credit of three million to be deposited under Karrde’s name toward the purchase of Imperial goods and services.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn said, his lip twitching in an amused smile. “I’m afraid Skywalker isn’t worth nearly that much to me. Or do you propose to deliver Coruscant, as well?”
“I’m not offering Skywalker or Coruscant,” Mara said. “I’m offering the Katana fleet.”
The amused smile vanished. “The Katana fleet?” Thrawn repeated quietly, his eyes glittering.
“Yes, the Katana fleet,” Mara said. “The Dark Force, if you prefer the more dramatic title. I presume you’ve heard of it?”
“I have indeed. Where is it?”
The tone of command again; but this time Mara was ready for it. Not that it would have done him any good anyway. “I don’t know,” she told him. “But Karrde does.”