“Fortunately, they won’t have to start with anything nearly this big,” Thrawn said, handing Pellaeon a data card. “Here are the specs for what we’ll need at Sluis Van.”
“The shipyards?” Pellaeon frowned, taking the data card. The Grand Admiral had so far been very secretive about both his goals and the strategy for that attack.
“Yes. Oh, and we’re also going to need some advanced mining machines—mole miners, I believe they’re informally called. Have Intelligence start a records search; we’ll need a minimum of forty.”
“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon made a note on his data pad. “One other thing, sir.” He threw a quick glance at C’baoth. “The engineers also report that nearly eighty percent of the Spaarti cylinders we’ll need are functional or can be restored to working order with relative ease.”
“Spaarti cylinders?” C’baoth frowned. “What are those?”
“Just that other little bit of technology I was hoping to find in the mountain,” Thrawn soothed him, throwing a quick warning look in Pellaeon’s direction. An unnecessary precaution; Pellaeon had already decided that discussing Spaarti cylinders with C’baoth would not be a smart thing to do. “So. Eighty percent. That’s excellent, Captain. Excellent.” A gleam came into those glowing eyes. “How very thoughtful of the Emperor to have left such fine equipment for us to rebuild his Empire with. What about the mountain’s power and defense systems?”
“Also operational, for the most part,” Pellaeon said. “Three of the four reactors have already been brought on line. Some of the more esoteric defenses seem to have decayed, but what’s left should defend the storehouse more than adequately.”
“Again, excellent.” Thrawn nodded. The brief flicker of emotion was gone, and he was all cool business again. “Instruct them to begin bringing the cylinders to full operational status. The Death’s Head should arrive within two or three days with the extra specialists and two hundred ysalamiri they’ll need to get things started. At that point”—he smiled faintly—“we’ll be ready to begin the operation in earnest. Beginning with the Sluis Van shipyards.”
“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon glanced at C’baoth again. “And about Skywalker and his sister?”
“We’ll use Team Four next,” the Grand Admiral said. “Transmit a message telling them to withdraw from their current assignment and stand ready for further orders.”
“You want me to transmit the message, sir?” Pellaeon asked. “Not that I’m questioning the order,” he added hastily. “But in the past you’ve usually preferred to contact them yourself.”
Thrawn’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Team Eight failed me,” he said softly. “Sending the message through you will let the others know how displeased I am.”
“And when Team Four also fails you?” C’baoth put in. “They will, you know. Will you be merely displeased with them, too? Or will you admit your professional killing machines simply can’t handle a Jedi?”
“They’ve never yet met any foe they can’t handle, Master C’baoth,” Thrawn said coolly. “One group or another will succeed. Until then—” He shrugged. “A few Noghri, more or less, won’t seriously drain our resources.”
Pellaeon winced, throwing a reflexive glance at the chamber door. Rukh, he suspected, wouldn’t be nearly that phlegmatic about the casually proposed deaths of some of his people. “On the other hand, Admiral, this attempt will have put them on their guard,” he pointed out.
“He’s right,” C’baoth said, jabbing a finger in Pellaeon’s direction. “You can’t fool a Jedi twice with the same trick.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said, the word polite but his tone not conceding anything. “What alternative do you suggest? That we concentrate on his sister and leave him alone?”
“That you concentrate on his sister, yes,” C’baoth agreed loftily. “I think it best that I deal with the young Jedi myself.”
Again, the eyebrows went up. “And how would you propose to do that?”
C’baoth smiled. “He is a Jedi; I am a Jedi. If I call, he will come to me.”
For a long moment Thrawn looked up at him. “I need you with my fleet,” he said at last. “Preparations for the assault on the Rebellion’s Sluis Van space dock facilities have already begun. Some of the preliminaries to that assault will require a Jedi Master’s coordination.”
C’baoth drew himself up to his full height. “My assistance was promised only upon your promise to deliver my Jedi to me. I will have them, Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
Thrawn’s glowing eyes bored into C’baoth’s. “Does a Jedi Master go back on his word, then? You knew that obtaining Skywalker for you might take some time.”
“All the more reason for me to begin now,” C’baoth shot back.
“Why can’t we do both?” Pellaeon cut in.
Both looked at him. “Explain, Captain,” Thrawn ordered, a hint of threat audible in his tone.
Pellaeon gritted his teeth, but it was too late to back out now. “We could begin by starting rumors of your presence somewhere, Master C’baoth,” he said. “Some sparsely populated world where you might have lived for years without anyone really noticing. Rumors of that sort would be certain to make their way back to the New Rep—to the Rebellion,” he corrected, glancing at Thrawn. “Particularly with the name Joruus C’baoth attached to them.”
C’baoth snorted. “And you think that on the strength of an idle rumor he’ll rush foolishly to find me?”
“Let him be as cautious as he likes,” Thrawn said thoughtfully, the threat gone from his voice. “Let him bring half the Rebellion’s forces with him, if he chooses. There will be nothing there to connect you to us.”
Pellaeon nodded. “And while we find a suitable planet and start the rumors into motion, you can remain here to assist with the Sluis Van preliminaries. Hopefully, their response to our activities will keep Skywalker too busy to check out the stories until after the Sluis Van part is over.”
“And if not,” Thrawn added, “we’ll know when he makes his move, and in plenty of time to get you there ahead of him.”
“Hmm,” C’baoth murmured, stroking his long beard, his gaze drifting off to infinity. Pellaeon held his breath … and after a minute the other abruptly nodded. “Very well,” he said. “The plan is sound. I will go to my chambers now, Grand Admiral Thrawn, and choose a world from which to make my appearance.” With an almost regal nod to each of them, he strode out.
“Congratulations, Captain,” Thrawn said, eyeing Pellaeon coolly. “Your idea seems to have caught Master C’baoth’s fancy.”
Pellaeon forced himself to meet that gaze. “I apologize, Admiral, if I spoke out of turn.”
Thrawn smiled faintly. “You served too long under Lord Vader, Captain,” he said. “I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn’t my own. My position and ego are not at stake here.”2
Except, perhaps, when dealing with C’baoth … “Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said aloud. “With your permission, Admiral, I’ll go prepare those transmissions to the Wayland and Noghri teams.”
“At your convenience, Captain. And continue to monitor the preparations for the Sluis Van operation.” Thrawn’s glowing eyes seemed to bore into his. “Monitor them closely, Captain. With Mount Tantiss and Sluis Van both, the long path to victory over the Rebellion will have begun. With, or even without, our Jedi Master.”