Authors: Timothy Zahn
“Good, because it’s going to have to take a little more fire,” the woman said. “Here’s the new plan …”
“LaRone wants you to do
what
?” Han demanded into his comlink, watching as the Suwantek made a wide curve toward the west as if starting to head back toward Greencliff. “That’s crazy.”
Chewbacca rumbled an answer.
“Yeah, and
he
’s crazy, too,” Han growled.
“What’s he doing?” Luke asked.
“Who’s LaRone?” Leia added.
“We don’t exactly know who LaRone is,” Han said grimly, “and he wants Chewie to be some kind of bait.”
“For an
AT-ST
?” Leia asked, sounding stunned.
“Don’t worry—that ship’s tougher than it looks,” Han said. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that now that the jamming’s gone, this place is going to be crawling with Imperials pretty soon.”
“Then shouldn’t we go?” Luke prompted.
“Go where?” Han retorted. “Back to the spaceport and pretend we’re just shopping? That’s our ride up there, remember?”
“
That
’s our ride?” Leia put in. “What happened to the
Falcon
?”
“There he goes,” Luke said before Han could answer.
The Suwantek was on the move, all right, turning back over the street behind the stormtroopers. Dropping its nose, it threw power to its drive and charged straight for the oncoming AT-ST.
Mara was crouched on the back of the speeder bike, gazing down the narrow alley at the street half a block
away, when she heard the scout trooper’s muffled comlink acknowledgment. Silently, she counted down the seconds, getting a solid grip on his shoulders as she hunched down behind him—
And as her mental count reached zero, he revved the speeder and they were off.
Mara squinted against the sudden wind rushing across her face, holding tightly to the edges of the trooper’s chest plate. Somewhere ahead and to the right the AT-ST was still coming, but with her view blocked by the building beside her she couldn’t see either it or the freighter that was supposedly now flying straight toward it. The squad commander out there was calling the numbers, and Mara could only trust that he knew what he was doing.
The speeder was coming up to the end of the alley. Directly in front of her she caught a blurred glimpse of the freighter as it shot past, climbing for altitude. Over the roar of its drive she heard the AT-ST open fire; saw one of its thick-pad feet hit the permacrete directly in front of them. The speeder shot out of the alley.
And Mara saw that the gamble had worked. Caaldra had pulled out all the stops as the intruder shot past overhead, his chin blasters elevated as high as they could go, the light blaster turret on his left side swiveled up, all the weapons firing at full power. It was the logical response to a large and unclassified attacker. More to the point, it was exactly the same response Caaldra had shown the first time the freighter had overflown him.
Only what he seemed to have forgotten was that with all its weapons pointed upward, the ground at his feet was now unprotected. With exquisite skill the scout trooper sent his speeder bike straight across the AT-ST’s path, bare centimeters in front of its next step.
As they passed in front of the walker, Mara jumped.
Her outstretched hands caught the base of the chin
blasters just in front of their housing, her momentum swinging her completely around the weapons and landing her in another crouch on the precarious footing of the housing itself. Pushing off, she jumped again, this time to the top of the command module.
With one hand gripping the entry hatch handrail for balance, she drew and ignited her lightsaber with her other hand and slashed sideways through the heavy armor, cutting directly through the cockpit’s twin seats.
Nothing happened.
For a moment she continued to kneel on top of the hatch, her mind frozen as the walker continued striding down the street. It was impossible—an AT-ST’s cockpit was nearly as tight as that of a TIE fighter. There was no way she could have missed the pilot.
Unless there wasn’t one.
And then it all fell into place. Swearing under her breath, she stepped back onto the grating of the cockpit cooling system and jabbed her lightsaber blade through the entry hatch’s locking mechanism. Closing down the weapon, she pulled the hatch open.
The cockpit was empty.
She slid feetfirst through the narrow opening and maneuvered her way through the cramped space into the pilot’s seat. The autoguide and sentry-mode sections of the control board glowed a cheerful green; scowling, Mara shut them both down. The ponderous rolling motion stopped as the AT-ST finally came to a halt, the blaster cannons depressing to their off positions.
For another moment Mara sat where she was, glowering at the controls, feeling like a complete fool. An AT-ST’s computer could easily handle the uncomplicated terrain of a city street, while its sentry mode could—and would—track and fire at anything that came too close without a properly coded transponder. All Caaldra had had to do was get the machine pointed in the right direction,
make sure it was traveling slowly enough that Mara would decide she had a chance of stopping it, and then disappear into the night.
The Emperor would be furious. Vader would never let her hear the end of it.
She took a deep breath, forcing away the images. Neither of them needed to hear about her failure, because she hadn’t yet failed. The AT-ST’s computer might be competent enough to handle a nice simple city street, but it wasn’t nearly sophisticated enough to maneuver itself out of the hole Caaldra had blown in the
Happer’s Way
’s cargo bay. That meant Caaldra
had
been with it once, and therefore had been at the Greencliff Spaceport, which meant he couldn’t be that far ahead of her. More to the point, she knew where he was going.
She would just have to get there first.
The stream of orders and reports suddenly coming over the general comm frequency had been LaRone’s first indication that the Imperial searchers in the area were finally responding. But even he wasn’t prepared at how quickly the street began to fill up with stormtroopers. Most of them went for the now quiescent AT-ST while a few headed toward the Suwantek, which had settled down on the street a block north with its nose pointed toward the AT-ST and its left side pressed against the row of buildings.
And some of them—far too many—were coming straight for LaRone and his companions.
A group commander strode ahead of the latter bunch, his faceplate turning to each of the five in turn before settling on LaRone. “You,” he said briskly. “Identify and report.”
“The AT-ST was stolen and on a rampage,” LaRone said, gesturing toward it. “My squad was commandeered to help bring it down.”
“Commandeered by whom?” the group commander demanded.
“Commandeered by me,” a voice called from above them.
LaRone looked up to see the Emperor’s Hand climbing nimbly down the side of the AT-ST, her lightsaber now tucked discreetly away in her belt. “And you are?” the group commander challenged.
“An Imperial agent,” the young woman said as she dropped the last three meters to the permacrete. “Recognition code Hapspir Barrini.”
The group commander seemed to straighten a little. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice suddenly parade-ground formal. “Lord Vader informed us of your presence in Makrin City.” He gestured to LaRone. “Are these men with you?”
“For the moment,” she said. “Why?”
“I need their unit designation for my report.”
“I don’t know their designation,” the Hand said. “I also don’t care.” She gestured to LaRone. “Give the freighter pilot my thanks, and tell him he can return to the spaceport. You—scout—is that thing still functional?”
“Yes, ma’am, as long as you don’t need anything tricky,” Brightwater assured her.
“Then get ready to travel,” she said. “The rest of you, back into your speeder truck.”
“Just a moment, ma’am,” the group commander said, starting to sound a little flustered. Vader was rumored to be a stickler for proper procedure, and this wasn’t even coming close. “That freighter needs to be searched before it can leave.”
“You can search it at the spaceport,” the Emperor’s Hand told him. “I don’t want it sitting here blocking the street.”
“Ma’am—”
“You have your orders, group commander,” she cut off the protest, her eyes on LaRone. “Commander?”
“Yes, ma’am,” LaRone said, a cold feeling settling into him as he keyed his comm for their private frequency. The Hand hadn’t noticed it—she’d been in the AT-ST cockpit at the time—but just as Chewbacca had settled the Suwantek onto the permacrete, its portside ramp had lowered into the mouth of the alley the ship was currently pressed up against. From his angle and distance LaRone hadn’t been able to see if anyone had gone aboard, but the Wookiee’s carefully casual positioning was way too precise to be an accident. Solo and Luke were almost certainly back aboard, probably with their missing friend in tow.
And if the 501st searchers found them …
But there was nothing he could do but obey his orders. “Pilot, you’re cleared to return to the Greencliff Spaceport,” he called, trying to sound authoritatively casual. “Thanks for your assistance.”
He tensed, wondering if the Wookiee’s growled response would be loud enough for the others to hear through his helmet. But—“Got it,” Solo’s voice came instead. “Call us anytime—always glad to help out.”
With a slight wobble, the Suwantek lifted from the permacrete, rotated 180 degrees, and headed back toward the spaceport. “He acknowledges and says they were glad to help,” LaRone relayed.
“Good,” the Emperor’s Hand said. “Now get in that truck.”
“
After
you identify your unit,” the group commander put in, taking a step to put himself between LaRone and the speeder truck. His arms shifted position, bringing his E-11 from its cross-chest rest position to hip aim, pointed at LaRone.
LaRone grimaced.
So this is how it ends
, flickered
through his mind.
Not in glorious battle against some enemy of the Empire, but in quiet shame
.
All because he’d seen an air vehicle going down and made the decision to try to help.
Then, to his astonishment, the Emperor’s Hand stepped between him and the leveled blaster. “They’re with me,” she said, her voice calm but edged with permafrost. “Their assignment is to be with me, their unit designation is as assistants to me, their authorization comes from
me
. Are there any other questions?”
“Ma’am—”
“I said, are there any other questions?”
The group commander’s chest plate shifted as he took a deep breath. “No, ma’am,” he said, bringing his blaster back to rest position.
“Good,” the woman said. “Lord Vader told me not to interfere with your search. You’d best get on with it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a final look at LaRone, the commander turned and strode off.
The young woman watched him the first few steps, then turned back to LaRone. “In the truck,” she said tartly. “First stop’s the spaceport.”
A minute later they were heading north, LaRone at the controls. “Where exactly in the spaceport, ma’am?” he asked.
“A freighter called the
Happer’s Way
,” she said. “It’s where the rogue AT-ST came from.”
“You think the thief went back there?”
“It’s possible, but I doubt it,” she said. “Mostly I want to lock it down to make sure he
can’t
get out that way. I also need to collect some items I left aboard.”
LaRone frowned.
She’d
left items aboard the thief’s ship? “I see,” he said, wishing he actually did.
“And after that,” the woman added, “we’re heading for the governor’s palace.”
LaRone felt his muscles tighten. “The palace?” he asked carefully.
“Yes,” she said. “You have a problem with that?”
LaRone threw a sideways look at Marcross, seated beside him. Even through the armor he could sense the other’s unnatural stiffness. “No, ma’am,” LaRone said. “My unit’s at your complete disposal.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know.”
C
AALDRA HAD NOT, AS IT TURNED OUT, RETURNED TO
the
Happer’s Way
in Mara’s absence. Still, there was no way to know that going in, and there was also no point in taking unnecessary chances. Mara took four of the stormtroopers in with her, sending them out in pairs to search the freighter, leaving the scout trooper outside on guard duty.
Her satchel was exactly where she’d left it, seemingly untouched. But only seemingly. Caaldra had left most of her equipment alone but had apparently spent a pleasant hour on the way back from Gepparin gimmicking her grenades and the tiny hold-out sleeve blaster. Leaving those items untouched, Mara changed once again into her black combat suit, this time adding the cloak and sleeves for extra protection against prying eyes, targeting sensors, and the dropping air temperatures outside. She fastened her hip-riding K-14 blaster in place, tucked her lightsaber into her belt, and headed back outside.
Ten minutes after arriving at the freighter they were on the road again, heading west along a deserted tree-lined street toward the palace.
“You know where we’re going?” Mara called from the rear seat. She’d made a subtle point of creating this seating arrangement when they’d reassembled for the
trip: Mara in the back alone, the other stormtroopers seated two by two in the rows in front of her. As usual, the scout trooper ran point on his speeder bike.
“We have a map already loaded,” the squad commander confirmed from the driver’s seat, pointing to the display. “It has the best route marked.”
“Excellent,” Mara said. Drawing her lightsaber, she rested the hilt on the seat back in front of her, pointing the weapon forward. “As long as we have a few minutes anyway, let’s hear your story.”
One of the stormtroopers in the seat in front of her half turned his head. “Excuse me?” he asked. His right shoulder shifted subtly, indicating a movement of his hand toward his holstered E-11.
With a sigh, Mara ignited her lightsaber.