“Luke, are you all right?” Leia asked anxiously.
“Sure,” he said. His voice sounded better this time. “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”
“You’re what’s wrong,” Han cut in. “You planning to chase them all the way home?”
Luke blinked, looking around in surprise. The buzzing TIE fighters were gone, leaving nothing but bits of wreckage strewn across the landscape. On his scope, he could see that the Star Destroyer had left Nkllon’s shadow again, driving hard away from the planet toward a point far enough out of the gravity well for a lightspeed jump. Beyond it, a pair of miniature suns were approaching: two of Lando’s shieldships, belatedly arriving—now that it was too late—to assist in the fight. “It’s all over?” he asked stupidly.
“It’s all over,” Leia assured him. “We got two of the TIE fighters before the rest disengaged and retreated.”
“What about the troop carriers?”
“They went back with the fighters,” Han said. “We still don’t know what they were doing here—we sort of lost track of them during the fight. Didn’t look like they ever went very close to the city itself, though.”
Luke took a deep breath, glanced at the X-wing’s chrono. In and among all of that, he’d somehow lost over half an hour. Half an hour that his internal time sense had no recollection of whatsoever. Could that strange Jedi contact really have lasted that long?
It was something he would have to look into. Very carefully.
On the main bridge screen, showing as little more than a bright spot against Nkllon’s dark backdrop, the Judicator made its jump to lightspeed. “They’re clear, Admiral,” Pellaeon announced, looking over at Thrawn.
“Good.” The Grand Admiral gave the other displays an almost lazy examination, though there was little to worry about this far out in the Athega system. “So,” he said, swiveling his chair around. “Master C’baoth?”
“They fulfilled their mission,” C’baoth said, that strangely taut expression on his face again. “They obtained fifty-one of the mole miner machines you sent them for.”
“Fifty-one,” Thrawn repeated with obvious satisfaction. “Excellent. You had no problem guiding them in and out?”
C’baoth focused his eyes on Thrawn. “They fulfilled their mission,” he repeated. “How many times do you intend to ask me the same question?”
“Until I’m sure I have the correct answer,” Thrawn replied coolly. “For a while there your face looked as if you were having trouble.”
“I had no trouble, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth said loftily. “What I had was conversation.” He paused, a slight smile on his face. “With Luke Skywalker.”
“What are you talking about?” Pellaeon snorted. “Current intelligence reports indicate that Skywalker is—”
He broke off at a gesture from Thrawn. “Explain,” the Grand Admiral said.
C’baoth nodded toward the display. “He’s there right now, Grand Admiral Thrawn. He arrived on Nkllon just ahead of the Judicator.”2
Thrawn’s glowing red eyes narrowed. “Skywalker is on Nkllon?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
“In the very center of the battle,” C’baoth told him, very clearly enjoying the Grand Admiral’s discomfiture.
“And you said nothing to me?” Thrawn demanded in that same deadly voice.
C’baoth’s smile vanished. “I told you before, Grand Admiral Thrawn: you will leave Skywalker alone. I will deal with him—in my own time, in my own way. All I require of you is the fulfillment of your promise to take me to Jomark.”
For a long moment Thrawn gazed at the Jedi Master, his eyes glowing red slits, his face hard and totally unreadable. Pellaeon held his breath … “It’s too soon,” the Grand Admiral said at last.
C’baoth snorted. “Why? Because you find my talents too useful to give up?”
“Not at all,” Thrawn said, his voice icy. “It’s a simple matter of efficiency. The rumors of your presence haven’t had enough time to spread. Until we can be sure Skywalker will respond, you’ll just be wasting your time there.”
A strangely dreamy look seeped onto C’baoth’s face. “Oh, he’ll respond,” he said softly. “Trust me, Grand Admiral Thrawn. He will respond.”
“I always trust you,” Thrawn said sardonically. He reached a hand up to stroke the ysalamir draped over his command chair, as if to remind the Jedi Master just how far he trusted him. “At any rate, I suppose it’s your own time to waste. Captain Pellaeon, how long will it take to repair the damage to the Judicator?”
“Several days at the least, Admiral,” Pellaeon told him. “Depending on the damage, it could take as long as three or four weeks.”
“All right. We’ll go to the rendezvous point, stay with them long enough to make sure repairs are properly underway, and then take Master C’baoth to Jomark. I trust that will be satisfactory?” he added, looking back at C’baoth.
“Yes.” Carefully, C’baoth unfolded himself from his chair and stood up. “I will rest now, Grand Admiral Thrawn. Alert me if you need my assistance.”
“Certainly.”
Thrawn watched the other wend his way back across the bridge; and as the doors slid solidly shut behind him, the Grand Admiral turned to Pellaeon. Pellaeon braced himself, trying not to wince. “I want a course projection, Captain,” Thrawn said, his voice cold but steady. “The most direct line from Nkllon to Jomark, at the best speed a hyperdrive-equipped X-wing could take it.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Pellaeon signaled to the navigator, who nodded and got busy. “You think he’s right about Skywalker going there?”
Thrawn shrugged fractionally. “The Jedi had ways of influencing people, Captain, even over considerable distances. It’s possible that even out here he was close enough to Skywalker to plant a suggestion or compulsion. Whether those techniques will work on another Jedi—” He shrugged again. “We’ll see.”
“Yes, sir.” The numbers were starting to track across Pellaeon’s display now. “Well, even if Skywalker leaves Nkllon immediately, there won’t be any problem getting C’baoth to Jomark ahead of him.”
“I knew that much already, Captain,” Thrawn said. “What I need is a bit more challenging. We’re going to drop C’baoth off on Jomark, then backtrack to a point on Skywalker’s projected course. A point at least twenty light-years away, I think.”
Pellaeon frowned at him. The expression on Thrawn’s face made the back of his neck tingle … “I don’t understand, sir,” he said carefully.
The glowing eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “It’s quite simple, Captain. I mean to disabuse our great and glorious Jedi Master of his growing belief that he’s indispensable to us.”
Pellaeon got it then. “So we wait along Skywalker’s projected approach to Jomark and ambush him?”
“Precisely.” Thrawn nodded. “At which point we decide whether to capture him for C’baoth”—his eyes hardened—“or simply kill him.”
Pellaeon stared at him, feeling his jaw drop. “You promised C’baoth he could have him.”
“I’m reconsidering the deal,” Thrawn told him coolly. “Skywalker has proved himself to be highly dangerous, and by all accounts has already withstood at least one attempt to turn him. C’baoth should have more success bending Skywalker’s sister and her twins to his will.”
Pellaeon glanced behind him at the closed doors, reminding himself firmly that there was no way for C’baoth to eavesdrop on their conversation with all the ysalamiri scattered around the Chimaera’s bridge. “Perhaps he’s looking forward to the challenge, sir,” he suggested cautiously.
“There will be many challenges for him to face before the Empire is reestablished. Let him save his talents and cunning for those.” Thrawn turned back to his monitors. “At any rate, he’ll likely forget all about Skywalker once he has the sister. I expect our Jedi Master’s wants and desires will prove to be as erratic as his moods.”