But then, C’baoth wasn’t really interested in an honest debate on the subject. For the past month, ever since declaring himself to be the true heir to the Emperor, C’baoth had been pressing this quiet war against Thrawn’s credibility, implying that true insight came only through the Force. And, therefore, only through him.
Pellaeon himself didn’t buy that argument. The Emperor had been deep into this Force thing, too, and he hadn’t even been able to predict his own death at Endor. But the seeds of uncertainty C’baoth was trying to sow were nevertheless starting to take hold, particularly among the less experienced of Thrawn’s officers.
Which was, for Pellaeon, just one more reason why this attack had to succeed. The outcome hinged as much on Thrawn’s reading of the Ukian cultural ethos as it did on straight military tactics. On Thrawn’s conviction that, at a basic psychological level, the Ukians were terrified of the impossible.
“He will not always be right,” C’baoth said into Pellaeon’s musings.
Pellaeon bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the skin of his back crawling at having had his thoughts so casually invaded. “You don’t have any concept of privacy, do you?” he growled.
“I am the Empire, Captain Pellaeon,” C’baoth said, his eyes glowing with a dark, fanatical fire. “Your thoughts are a part of your service to me.”
“My service is to Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Pellaeon said stiffly.
C’baoth smiled. “You may believe that if you wish. But to business—true Imperial business. When the battle here is over, Captain Pellaeon, I want a message sent to Wayland.”
“Announcing your imminent return, no doubt,” Pellaeon said sourly. C’baoth had been insisting for nearly a month now that he would soon be going back to his former home on Wayland, where he would take command of the cloning facility in the Emperor’s old storehouse inside Mount Tantiss. So far, he’d been too busy trying to subvert Thrawn’s position to do anything more than talk about it.
“Do not worry, Captain Pellaeon,” C’baoth said, all amused again. “When the time is right, I will indeed return to Wayland. Which is why you will contact Wayland after this battle is over and order them to create a clone for me. A very special clone.”
Grand Admiral Thrawn will have to authorize that, were the words that came to mind. “What kind do you want?” were the ones that inexplicably came out. Pellaeon blinked, running the memory over in his mind again. Yes, that was what he’d said, all right.
C’baoth smiled again at his silent confusion. “I merely wish a servant,” he said. “Someone who will be waiting there for me when I return. Formed from one of the Emperor’s prize souvenirs—sample B-2332-54, I believe it was. You will, of course, impress upon the garrison commander there that this must be done in total secrecy.”
I will do nothing of the sort. “Yes,” Pellaeon heard himself say instead. The sound of the word shocked him; but certainly he didn’t mean it. On the contrary, as soon as the battle was over he’d be reporting this little incident directly to Thrawn.
“You will also keep this conversation a private matter between ourselves,” C’baoth said lazily. “Once you have obeyed, you will forget it even happened.”
“Of course,” Pellaeon nodded, just to shut him up. Yes, he’d report this to Thrawn, all right. The Grand Admiral would know what to do.
The countdown reached zero, and on the main wall display the planet Ukio appeared. “We should put up a tactical display, Master C’baoth,” he said.
C’baoth waved a hand. “As you wish.”
Pellaeon reached over the double display ring and touched the proper key, and in the center of the room the holographic tactical display appeared. The Chimaera was driving toward high orbit above the sunside equator; the ten Katana fleet Dreadnaughts of its task force were splitting up into outer and inner defense positions; and the Stormhawk was coming in as backstop from the night side. Other ships, mostly freighters and other commercial types, could be seen dropping through the brief gaps Ground Control was opening for them in Ukio’s energy shield, a hazy blue shell surrounding the planet about fifty kilometers above the surface. Two of the blips flashed red: the guide freighters from the Stormhawk, looking as innocent as all the rest of the ships scurrying madly for cover. The freighters, and the four invisible companions they towed.
“Invisible only to those without eyes to see them,” C’baoth murmured.
“So now you can see the ships themselves, can you?” Pellaeon growled. “How Jedi skills grow.”
He’d been hoping to irritate C’baoth a little—not much, just a little. But it was a futile effort. “I can see the men inside your precious cloaking shields,” the Jedi Master said placidly. “I can see their thoughts and guide their wills. What does the metal itself matter?”
Pellaeon felt his lip twist. “I suppose there’s a lot that doesn’t matter to you,” he said.
From the corner of his eye he saw C’baoth smile. “What doesn’t matter to a Jedi Master does not matter to the universe.”
The freighters and cloaked cruisers were nearly to the shield now. “They’ll be dropping the tow cables as soon as they’re inside the shield,” Pellaeon reminded C’baoth. “Are you ready?”
The Jedi Master straightened up in his seat and closed his eyes to slits. “I await the Grand Admiral’s command,” he said sardonically.
For another second Pellaeon looked at the other’s composed expression, a shiver running up through him. He could remember vividly the first time C’baoth had tried this kind of direct long-distance control. Could remember the pain that had been on C’baoth’s face; the pinched look of concentration and agony as he struggled to hold the mental contacts.
Barely two months ago, Thrawn had confidently said that C’baoth would never be a threat to the Empire because he lacked the ability to focus and concentrate his Jedi power on a long-term basis. Somehow, between that time and now, C’baoth had obviously succeeded in learning the necessary control.
Which left C’baoth as a threat to the Empire. A very dangerous threat indeed.
The intercom beeped. “Captain Pellaeon?”
Pellaeon reached over the display ring and touched the key, pushing away his fears about C’baoth as best he could. For the moment, at least, the Fleet needed C’baoth. Fortunately, perhaps, C’baoth also needed the Fleet. “We’re ready, Admiral,” he said.
“Stand by,” Thrawn said. “Tow cables detaching now.”
“They are free,” C’baoth said. “They are under power … moving now to their appointed positions.”
“Confirm that they’re beneath the planetary shield,” Thrawn ordered.
For the first time a hint of the old strain crossed C’baoth’s face. Hardly surprising; with the cloaking shield preventing the Chimaera from seeing the cruisers and at the same time blinding the cruisers’ own sensors, the only way to know exactly where they were was for C’baoth to do a precise location check on the minds he was touching. “All four ships are beneath the shield,” he said.
“Be absolutely certain, Jedi Master. If you’re wrong—”
“I am not wrong, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth cut him off harshly. “I will do my part in this battle. Concern yourself with yours.”
For a moment the intercom was silent. Pellaeon winced, visualizing the Grand Admiral’s expression. “Very well, Jedi Master,” Thrawn said calmly. “Prepare to do your part.”
There was the double click of an opening comm channel. “This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera, calling the Overliege of Ukio,” Thrawn said. “In the name of the Empire, I declare the Ukian system to be once again under the mandate of Imperial law and the protection of Imperial forces. You will lower your shields, recall all military units to their bases, and prepare for an orderly transfer of command.”
There was no response. “I know you’re receiving this message,” Thrawn continued. “If you fail to respond, I will have to assume that you mean to resist the Empire’s offer. In that event, I would have no choice but to open hostilities.”
Again, silence. “They’re sending another transmission,” Pellaeon heard the comm officer say. “Sounds a little more panicked than the first one was.”
“I’m certain their third will be even more so,” Thrawn told him. “Prepare for firing sequence one. Master C’baoth?”
“The cruisers are ready, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth said. “As am I.”
“Be sure that you are,” Thrawn said, quietly threatening. “Unless the timing is absolutely perfect, this entire show will be worse than useless. Turbolaser battery three: stand by firing sequence one on my mark. Three … two … one … fire.”
On the tactical hologram a double lance of green fire angled out from the Chimaera’s turbolaser batteries toward the planet below. The blasts struck the hazy blue of the planetary shield, splashed slightly as their energy was defocused and reflected back into space—