[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(127)

“You seem convinced that the New Republic is facing a serious crisis,” Miatamia said. “We have weathered other such crises in the past.”

“Your confidence is admirable,” Thrawn said, leaning back slightly in his seat. “But I’d advise that you relay my offer to the Rebellion leadership before rashly and unilaterally rejecting it.”

“I never stated that I rejected your offer, Grand Admiral,” Miatamia said.

Thrawn smiled. “No, of course you didn’t,” he said, his tone far more knowing than Lando found comfortable. “I would like nothing more than to continue this discussion, Senator-it’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of debating a trained Diamalan mind. But I have other matters to attend to, and you have a message to deliver. Commander, escort them back to their ship. Good-bye, Senator, Captain.”

“A question, Admiral, if I may,” Lando said quickly as the stormtroopers came up behind him. His mind was finally starting to unfreeze; and if this was a trick, this might be the only chance they’d have to unmask it. “I saw you once, from a distance, while you were in the company of the smuggler Talon Karrde. Can you tell me where that was and why you were there?”

Thrawn’s face hardened. “If this is a test, Captain, you’ve chosen your topic unwisely. I’ve spent a great deal of time during my recovery considering the proper payment to be exacted from Talon Karrde for his many betrayals. I do not like to be reminded of him, except to consider how short his remaining life is going to be. That message you may deliver.”

“I see,” Lando murmured, closing his mouth firmly. His reckless and odds-playing youth was far behind him, and the expression on Thrawn’s face was definitely the kind that discouraged further questions.

Once again, though, Miatamia was not so easily put off. “Yet you do not answer his question,” he pointed out.

The glowing red eyes shifted to the Diamal, and for a single awful moment Lando thought the Admiral was going to have the three of them gunned down right there and then. But to his relief, Thrawn merely smiled. “The Diamalan mind,” he said, his voice utterly calm again. “My apologies, Senator.”

He looked back at Lando. “You’re referring to my meeting with Karrde at his base on the planet Myrkr when I was searching for Luke Skywalker. You and someone else-General Solo, I assume-watched our landing from within the forest.”

Lando felt a cold chill run up his back. “You knew we were there?”

“I knew someone was there,” Thrawn said. “As I’m sure you know, select stormtroopers have extra sensor equipment built into their helmets. One of them caught a reflective glint from the macrobinoculars you were using.”

“Yet you did nothing?” Miatamia asked. Thrawn shrugged slightly. “At the time I assumed it was merely some of Karrde’s people, set there to make sure my stormtroopers didn’t become, shall we say, overzealous. Given the density of foliage, even a heavy blaster would have been harmless against us from that position, so I ordered that the observers be left alone.”

His mouth hardened, just a bit. “Subsequent events, of course, showed the situation to have been otherwise. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Captain?”

Lando managed a nod. “Yes, Admiral. It does.”

“Good,” Thrawn said coolly. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen, and again my apologies for the unscheduled stop. Commander, see them to their ship.”

Thirty minutes later, seated at the Lady Luck’s helm, Lando watched as the Interdictor Cruiser and Star Destroyer made their synchronized jump to lightspeed. “As you said, Senator,” he murmured. “Sometimes the unanticipated will happen. I’m glad that those who are prepared will always find their way through.”

Miatamia said nothing. Perhaps, for once, he had nothing to say.

Grimacing, Lando keyed the board and swung the Lady Luck’s nose back on course for Coruscant. President Gavrisom wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit.

Neither would anyone else.

***

There hadn’t been any communications planned for this point in the plan. And yet, there was Major Tierce’s quarter-sized holographic image, flickering slightly above Moff Disra’s private hologram pod. “The transmission’s been secured,” Disra said, a cold blade-edge of dread grinding into his stomach as he watched the encryption display. If something bad gone wrong … “What is it?”

“No problems, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Tierce said. “The whole operation went textdoc smooth.”