Leia blinked. “He’s what? But I thought—”
“That this was the normal crew of the Quenfis?” Karrde shook his head. “Not at all. The captain and senior officers are all that remain, and they were mostly on his side in the first place. That’s why Fey’lya wanted a few hours before leaving Coruscant: so that he could shift duty assignments around and make sure everyone aboard was fully loyal to him.” He smiled thinly. “Not that any of them realized that, of course. They were given the impression that it was a special security arrangement.”
Leia nodded, feeling cold all over. So it wasn’t just the captain. The entire ship was on Fey’lya’s side.
Which meant it was over, and she had lost. Even if she was somehow able to take out Fey’lya himself, she had lost.
“So you can imagine,” Karrde went on offhandedly, “how reluctant Fey’lya is to risk losing any of them over anything so outmoded as loyalty to one’s comrades. Especially after having worked so hard to convince them of how much he cared for the average fighting man.”
Leia threw Karrde a sharp look, suddenly seeing where he was going with this. “Is that true, Councilor?” she asked Fey’lya, putting disbelief in her voice. “All this talk about being on the side of the military was nothing more than a play for political power?”
“Don’t be foolish, Councilor,” Fey’lya said, fur rippling with contempt. “What other use are soldiers to a politician?”
“Is that why you don’t care if the men of Rogue Squadron die?” Karrde asked. “Because they prefer to stay out of politics?”
“No one cares if their enemies die,” Fey’lya said coldly. “And all those who are not on my side are my enemies.” He gestured with his blaster. “I trust, Captain Karrde, that I need not say more.”
Karrde raised his eyes from Fey’lya to the view outside. “No, Councilor,” he said. “I believe you’ve said enough.”
Leia followed his gaze. Between the Quenfis and the Katana, in twos and threes, Fey’lya’s X-wing squadrons were heading to Wedge’s support. Deserting the politician who had just defined the limits of his consideration for their welfare. “Yes,” she murmured. “You’ve said enough.”
Fey’lya frowned at her; but even as he started to speak the door to the bridge slid open. Captain Virgilio stood there, flanked by two soldiers. “Councilor Fey’lya,” he said stiffly. “I respectfully request you return to your quarters. These men will accompany you.”
Fey’lya’s fur flattened. “I don’t understand, Captain.”
“We’re closing off this room, sir,” Virgilio said, his voice respectful but with an edge. Stepping over to the Bothan’s seat, he leaned toward the intercom. “This is the captain,” he called. “All hands to battle stations.”
The alarm promptly went off … and in Fey’lya’s eyes Leia could see the sudden shock of understanding. “Captain—”
“You see, Councilor, some of us don’t consider loyalty to be all that outmoded,” Virgilio cut him off, turning to Leia. “Councilor Organa Solo, I’d like you to join me on the bridge at your convenience. We’ve called for a Star Cruiser to back us up, but it’ll take awhile to get here.”
“We’ll just have to hold them until then,” Leia said, standing up. She looked at Karrde. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Not for you or your war,” Karrde warned her. “Mara and my people could be arriving at any time. I’d just as soon they not be facing a Star Destroyer alone.”
“They won’t,” Virgilio said. “Councilor?”
“It’s a lost cause,” Fey’lya said, trying one last time as he surrendered his blaster to one of the soldiers.
“That’s all right,” Virgilio said, smiling tightly. “The whole Rebellion was considered nothing more than a lost cause. Excuse me, Councilor; I have a battle to run.”
The Chimaera was touring the region Pellaeon had privately dubbed the Depot when the report from the Judicator came in. “Interesting,” Thrawn commented. “They’ve responded faster than I’d expected.”
“Karrde must have decided to be generous,” Pellaeon said, skimming the follow-up report. Five drop ships and three TIE fighters destroyed; one of the Dreadnaughts apparently under Rebellion control and joining battle. It looked like a major scrap was shaping up out there. “I recommend we send another Star Destroyer to assist, Admiral,” he said. “The Rebellion may have larger ships on the way.”
“We’ll go ourselves, Captain,” Thrawn said. “Navigation: set us a course back to the Katana fleet.”
The navigation officer didn’t move. He sat at his station, his back to them, unnaturally stiff. “Navigation?” Thrawn repeated.
“Admiral, message coming through from the sentry line,” the comm officer reported suddenly. “Unidentified Lancer-class Frigate has entered the system and is approaching. They insist on speaking with you, personally and immediately.”
Thrawn’s glowing eyes narrowed as he tapped the comm switch … and suddenly Pellaeon realized who it must be aboard that ship. “This is Thrawn,” the Grand Admiral said. “Master C’baoth, I presume?”
“You presume correctly,” C’baoth’s voice boomed from the speaker. “I would speak with you, Grand Admiral. Now.”
“We’re on our way to assist the Judicator,” Thrawn said, his eyes flicking to the still-motionless nav officer. “As you perhaps already know. When we return—”
“Now, Grand Admiral.”
Moving quietly in the brittle silence, Pellaeon keyed for a course projection on C’baoth’s ship. “It’ll take at least fifteen minutes to bring him aboard,” he murmured.
Thrawn hissed softly between his teeth; and Pellaeon knew what he was thinking. In the fluid situation of a spontaneous battle, a fifteen-minute delay could easily be the difference between victory and defeat. “Captain, order the Peremptory to assist the Judicator,” the Grand Admiral said at last. “We’ll remain here to consult our ally.”
“Thank you, Grand Admiral,” C’baoth said; and abruptly, the nav officer gasped and slumped in his chair. “I appreciate your generosity.”
Thrawn reached to his board, and with a vicious flick of his wrist cut off the comm. He looked down into the crew pit and motioned to two bridge guards. “Sick bay,” he told them, indicating the now-shivering nav officer.
“Where do you suppose C’baoth found that Lancer?” Pellaeon murmured as the guards helped the nav officer out of his seat and carried him aft.
“He most likely hijacked it,” Thrawn said, his voice tight. “He’s been sending messages for us over distances of several light-years, and he certainly knows how to take control of people. Apparently, he’s learned how to meld the two abilities.”
Pellaeon looked down into the crew pit, a shiver running up his back. “I’m not sure I like that, sir.”
“I don’t much like it myself, Captain,” Thrawn agreed, turning his head to look out the viewport. “It may be time,” he added thoughtfully, “to reconsider our arrangement with Master C’baoth. To reconsider it very carefully.”
CHAPTER
28
The Katana’s turbolasers flashed, disintegrating the center of the Imperials’ drop ship formation, and one of Wedge’s X-wing pilots gave a war whoop. “Will you look at that?”
“Cut the chatter, Rogue Seven,” Wedge admonished, trying to see through the cloud of flaming debris. The Imperials had gotten a bloody nose, but that was about all. “They’ve got lots more TIE fighters in reserve.”
“Wedge?”
Wedge switched channels. “I’m here, Luke.”
“We’ve decided not to leave the ship,” Luke said. “We’d run right into the Imperials, and you know how well transports fight. You might as well get your group out of here and go whistle up some help.”
The surviving drop ships, Wedge saw, were reconfiguring into an evasion pattern with the TIE fighters moving ahead to clear a path for them. “You’ll never be able to hold out,” he told Luke flatly. “There could be three hundred troops aboard those drop ships.”
“We’ll have a better chance against them than you will against a Star Destroyer,” Luke retorted. “Come on, get going.”
Wedge clenched his teeth. Luke was right, and they both knew it. But to abandon his friends here—
“Rogue Leader, this is Gold Leader,” a new voice abruptly came on the comm. “Requesting permission to join the party.” Frowning, Wedge threw a glance out the back of his canopy. They were there, all right: the Quenfis’s two X-wing squadrons, coming up behind his group for all they were worth. “Permission granted,” he said. “I didn’t think Councilor Fey’lya was going to let you come out and play.”
“Fey’lya doesn’t have any say in it anymore,” the other said grimly. “Tell you about it later. Captain’s turned things over to Organa Solo.”