For a long moment Thrawn gazed at her in silence. “How?” he asked at last.
“He was on a smuggling mission that went sour,” she told him. “They escaped past some Imperial watchdogs, but didn’t have time to do a proper jump calculation. They ran into the fleet, thought it was a trap, and jumped again, nearly destroying the ship in the process. Karrde was on nav duty; later, he figured out what they’d hit.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “When exactly was this?”
“That’s all I’ll give you until we have a deal,” Mara told him. She caught the expression on his face— “And if you’re thinking of running me through one of Intelligence’s sifters, don’t bother. I really don’t know where the fleet is.”
Thrawn studied her. “And you would have blocks set up around it even if you did,” he agreed. “All right. Tell me where Karrde is, then.”
“So Intelligence can sift him instead?” Mara shook her head. “No. Let me go back to him, and I’ll get you the location. Then we’ll trade. Assuming the deal is to your liking.”
A dark shadow had settled across Thrawn’s face. “Do not presume to dictate to me, Mara Jade,” he said quietly. “Not even in private.”
A small shiver ran up Mara’s back. Yes; she was remembering indeed why Thrawn had been made a Grand Admiral. “I was the Emperor’s Hand,” she reminded him, matching the steel in his tone as best she could. Even to her own ears it came out a poor second. “I spoke for him … and even Grand Admirals were obliged to listen.”
Thrawn smiled sardonically. “Really. Your memory serves you poorly, Emperor’s Hand. When all is said and done, you were little more than a highly specialized courier.”
Mara glared at him. “Perhaps it is your memory that needs refreshing, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” she retorted. “I traveled throughout the Empire in his name, making policy decisions that changed lives at the highest levels of government—”
“You carried out his will,” Thrawn cut her off sharply. “No more. Whether you heard his commands more clearly than the rest of his Hands is irrelevant. It was still his decisions that you implemented.”
“What do you mean, the rest of his Hands?” Mara sniffed. “I was the only—”
She broke off. The look on Thrawn’s face … and abruptly, all her rising anger drained away. “No,” she breathed. “No. You’re wrong.”
He shrugged. “Believe what you wish. But don’t attempt to blind others with exaggerated memories of your own importance.” Reaching to his control board, he tapped a key. “Captain? What report from the boarding party?”
The reply wasn’t audible; but Mara wasn’t interested in what Thrawn’s men were doing, anyway. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Hadn’t the Emperor himself given her the title of Emperor’s Hand? Hadn’t he himself brought her to Coruscant from her home and trained her, teaching her how to use her rare sensitivity to the Force to serve him?
He wouldn’t have lied to her. He wouldn’t have.
“No, there’s no point to that,” Thrawn said. He looked up at Mara. “You don’t happen to have any idea why Leia Organa Solo might have come to Endor, do you?”
With an effort, Mara brought her thoughts back from the past. “Organa Solo is here?”
“The Millennium Falcon is, at any rate,” he said grimly. “Left in orbit, which unfortunately leaves us no way of knowing where she might be. If she’s there at all.” He turned back to his board. “Very well, Captain. Have the ship brought aboard. Perhaps a closer examination will tell us something.”
He got an acknowledgment and keyed off the circuit. “Very well, Emperor’s Hand,” he said, looking up at Mara again. “We have an agreement. The Dark Force for the lifting of our death mark against Karrde. How long will it take you to return to Karrde’s current base?”
Mara hesitated; but that information wouldn’t do the Grand Admiral much good. “On the Etherway, about three days. Two and a half if I push it.”
“I suggest you do so,” Thrawn said. “Since you have exactly eight days to obtain the location and bring it back here to me.”
Mara stared at him. “Eight days? But that—”
“Eight days. Or I find him and get the location my way.”
A dozen possible retorts rushed through Mara’s mind. Another look at those glowing red eyes silenced all of them. “I’ll do what I can,” she managed. Turning, she headed back across the room.
“I’m sure you will,” he said after her. “And afterward, we’ll sit down and have a long talk together. About your years away from Imperial service … and why you’ve been so long in returning.”
Pellaeon stared rigidly at his commander, heart thudding audibly in his chest. “The Katana fleet?” he repeated carefully.
“So our young Emperor’s Hand told me,” Thrawn said. His gaze was fixed solidly on one of the displays in front of him. “She may be lying, of course.”
Pellaeon nodded mechanically, the possibilities sweeping out like a spread cloak before him. “The Dark Force,” he murmured the old nickname, listening to the words echo through his mind. “You know, I once had hopes of finding the fleet myself.”
“Most everyone your age did,” Thrawn returned dryly. “Is the homing device properly installed aboard her ship?”
“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon let his gaze drift around the room, his eyes focusing without real interest on the sculptures and flats that Thrawn had on display today. The Dark Force. Lost for nearly fifty-five years. Now within their grasp …
He frowned suddenly at the sculptures. Many of them looked familiar, somehow.
“They’re the various pieces of art that graced the offices of Rendili Star Drive and the Fleet planning department at the time they were working on the basic design of the Katana,” Thrawn answered his unspoken question.
“I see,” Pellaeon said. He took a deep breath and, reluctantly, brought himself back to reality. “You realize, sir, how improbable this claim of Jade’s really is.”
“Certainly it’s improbable.” Thrawn raised glowing eyes to Pellaeon. “But it’s also true.” He tapped a switch, and part of the art gallery vanished. “Observe.”
Pellaeon turned to look. It was the same scene Thrawn had showed him a few days earlier: the three renegade Dreadnaughts providing cover fire off New Cov so that the Lady Luck and that unidentified freighter could escape—
He inhaled sharply, a sudden suspicion flooding into him. “Those ships?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said, his voice grimly satisfied. “The differences between regular and slave-rigged Dreadnaughts are subtle, but visible enough when you know to look for them.”
Pellaeon frowned at the holo, trying hard to fit all of it together. “Your permission, Admiral, but it doesn’t make sense for Karrde to be supplying this renegade Corellian with ships.”
“I agree,” Thrawn nodded. “Obviously, someone else from that ill-fated smuggling ship also realized what it was they’d stumbled across. We’re going to find that someone.”
“Do we have any leads?”
“A few. According to Jade, they escaped from an Imperial force on the way out of a botched job. All such incidents should be on file somewhere; we’ll correlate with what we know about Karrde’s checkered past and see what turns up. Jade also said that the ship was badly damaged in the process of doing its second jump. If they had to go to a major spaceport for repairs, that should be on file, as well.”
“I’ll put Intelligence on it immediately,” Pellaeon nodded.
“Good.” Thrawn’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “And I also want you to get in contact with Niles Ferrier.”
Pellaeon had to search his memory. “That ship thief you sent out to look for the Corellian’s home base?”
“That’s the one,” Thrawn said. “Tell him to forget the Corellian and concentrate instead on Solo and Calrissian.” He cocked an eyebrow. “After all, if the Corellian is indeed planning to join the Rebellion, what better dowry could he bring than the Katana fleet?”
The comm pinged. “Yes?” Thrawn asked.
“Sir, the target has made the jump to lightspeed,” a voice reported. “We’ve got a strong signal from the beacon; we’re doing a probability extrapolation now.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” Thrawn said. “Don’t bother with any extrapolations just yet—she’ll change course at least once more before settling down on her true heading.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Still, we don’t want her getting too far ahead of us,” Thrawn told Pellaeon as he keyed off the comm. “You’d best return to the bridge, Captain, and get the Chimaera moving after her.”
“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon hesitated. “I thought we were going to give her time to get the Katana’s location for us.”