[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(132)

“I have it on the map,” Karrde confirmed, eyeing her closely. “Is this something new, or has the Caamas debate simply taken a more vicious turn?”

“I don’t know yet,” Leia said. “It could be either, depending on who you listen to. We have a place on the thirtieth floor of Orowood Tower, about twenty kilometers east of the landing field. I’ll call the Noghri caretakers and have them let you in; we’ll be out there as soon as I can get away tonight.”

“Sounds cozy,” he said, still gazing thoughtfully at her. “Not to mention secluded.”

“It is,” Leia agreed, wincing slightly. It wasn’t hard to guess his thoughts: that despite her protestations to the contrary, she didn’t want to risk being seen with him anywhere near the Imperial Palace. “You’ll understand why I want to meet there when I tell you what’s happened.”

“Of course,” be said equably. Would it be all right if I used the comm and data retrieval equipment at your retreat until you arrive? Just to keep myself amused, of course?”

Leia smiled. “And to see what you can dig out of the government archives?”

He shrugged. “I might learn something new. You never know.”

“I’m sure it’s harder for you to learn something you didn’t already know than it is for most of us,” Leia said dryly. “All right, I’ll clear it with the Noghri when I call them.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

With a sigh, she keyed off the comm. Infighting, suspicions, divisiveness. Yes, it was Thrawn’s style, all right. She could only wonder what be had planned for them next

Switching the comm back on again, she keyed for Coruscant Space Control.

***

All in all, Carib Devist thought as he gazed across the colorful fields of tallgrain rippling across Dorchess Valley, it had been a good day.

It really had. The oppressive summer sun that blazed so steadily down onto Pakrik Minor during the growing season had been hiding coyly behind clouds for most of the day, giving relief from the usual heat. The clouds hadn’t burned off until late afternoon, just in time for the sun to disappear for an hour and a half behind Pakrik Minor’s far more densely populated sister world of Pakrik Major. By the time it had reemerged the extra heat was actually almost welcome.

There were still some problems in the fields themselves, of course, but that was all part of a farmer’s life. Carib and his brothers had had to drive out yet another colony of worms that had tried to make their home among the interlocked tallgrain roots, and had had to deal with a spot of white-blight that could have wiped out the entire crop within days if it hadn’t been caught. But it had been caught, and the worms had been rooted out, and none of the droids had broken down or even gone cranky, and th e crops were actually ahead of growing schedule for a change.

No, it had been a good day; and as Carib propped his feet up to point toward the magnificent sunset and sipped at a well-earned glass of R’alla mineral water he decided that it was indeed good to be alive.

A motion to his right caught his eye: his brother Sabmin coming toward the house in that battered old landspeeder of his. Lacy had probably invited Sabmin and his family over to dinner-she was always forgetting to tell him things like that.

But no. Sabmin was alone in the vehicle … and as the landspeeder came closer Carib could make out the expression on his brother’s face .

He was waiting at the foot of the path by the time Sabmin brought the landspeeder to a dusty halt. “What’s wrong?” he asked without preamble.

“It’s happened,” Sabmin said, his voice a husky whisper. “I was up at the cave and-well, it’s happened.”

Carib glanced back up the path at the house. Lacy was visible in the kitchen window, carefully pulling the dinner roast out of the focus cooker. “Walk with me,” he said.

He led the way down the path toward the edge of the fields. “You confirmed the message was legitimate?” be asked.

“First thing,” Sabmin said soberly. “It carried all the proper Imperial codes.”

Carib winced. It had been a long time since the word “Imperial” had been used in this part of Pakrik Minor. “Then I guess it’s time,” he said, a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. After ten years of quiet waiting, they were once again being called to service. “Have you said anything to the others yet?”

“No, I came straight here,” Sabmin said. “But there’s more.”

He glanced around, as if afraid someone might be listening from among the neat rows of tallgrain. “The activation order came in over the name of Grand Admiral Thrawn.”