2. First Iteration

The Starry Ice dropped abruptly out of hyperspace, venting coolant and atmo into silent space.

Inside it was bedlam. Alarms screamed, punctuated by the grim sound of bulkhead doors slamming shut. What should have been a pretty standard pick-up job had gone straight to hell in near-record time.

"Get everybody out of the danger zone right now. No heroics..." Aves was saying into the intercom, while beside him Nadal was reading off each potential heading their pursuers might appear from at any second. "And make sure that section stays sealed."

"Well," Nadal said, checking off the last of the approach vectors and switching to the nav computer, "that could have gone better."

"Not really the time for humor..." Aves said, looking around for the nearest person who wasn't engaged in something totally critical to their survival. There weren't many choices. "Ellie! Get on the emergency channel. Tell anyone who can hear us to get their asses out here asap."

"Just whistling past the graveyard, boss," Nadal said, moving over so Ellie could reach the long-range comm.

"Don't call me 'boss.' I am not the boss..."

"Better you than me – today, at least."

In the background, he could hear Ellie, trying not to sound scared, calling for help. "I repeat: we have experienced a hull breach and require assistance. Our position is…"

"Somebody give me some good news already..."

"We've sealed off the breach. It should hold until we get somewhere we can put down and make repairs – but only if we go now."

"I'll take it," Aves said, feeling a little bit better about their chances at any rate.

But then abruptly the alarms, which had just finally fallen silent, roared to life again.

"We have multiple contacts- They dropped out of hyperspace right behind us." Nadal lowered his voice. "Aves, even with the hull breach temporarily contained, we're not going anywhere. We have almost zero maneuverability in sub-light right now, and not enough time to finish calculating the jump before they reach us."

"Keep the calculations running, just in case. They might get called away for something bigger than us," he said, sending out a silent prayer to whoever or whatever might be looking out for a guy like him for a sudden Imperial attack in this sector. Then said, "I don't suppose there's any chance they're friendly?"

Nadal gave him a look that spoke eloquently to the chances of that, and flicked the comm to speaker, "Freighter 57213, this is the Republic Cruiser Undaunted. You will cease all activities and prepare to be boarded."

"I guess that answers that question." He turned to Silas. "Dump it, all of it – and make sure Tally wipes the drives of anything that could leave a trail back to Karrde. There shouldn't be anything but check it anyway – twice."

"This way we keep breathing?" Nadal said, apparently trying for the bright side.

"Maybe we keep breathing. Get on the comm; tell them we're in need of their assistance. Maybe they'll buy it."

"Yeah, maybe." Nadal switched the comm over to his earpiece to block out any potentially incriminating background noise. "We read you, Undaunted," he said. "We are officially requesting your assistance. We've taken damage and may require evac…"

"Give it a rest, Ellie." Aves turned and shooed her away from the long-range comm, then keyed for the ship-wide intercom. "I'm pretty sure everybody's figured it out by now, but we're about to be boarded and searched by the Repubs. Keep your heads, don't do anything stupid and we'll all walk out of this just fine..."

The ship lurched as the cruiser locked onto them, the telltale clang of metal on metal echoing against their hull. The seals on the aft emergency hatch began to pop, one by one.

"Should we go open the door for them?" Nadal asked quietly.

"Why make it easy? Besides, it seems like a real good way to get somebody shot. I say we all just sit tight and let them come to us."

After a long moment where everyone seemed to be holding their breath, a squad of troopers stormed in, blasters at the ready and lights blaring. "Easy, everybody," Aves said, and was proud to see that everyone was following orders to the letter.

The guy on point swiveled toward Aves, shining the light directly in his eyes. Really? Aves thought. It was lit up like high noon on the bridge, even without the lights. Great, we've got ourselves a bunch of hotshots.

"Identify yourself, and your vessel."

"I thought my associate already took care of that for you, but… I'm Captain Halsey," he lied easily. "This is the Alliance Pride, out of Corellia. My crew and I are happy to comply with whatever you..."

"Sit down and put your hands behind your back."

Yup, definitely a bunch of hotshots.

Aves stayed on his feet. "Are we being accused of something specific?"

"Sit your ass down, and put your hands behind your back now!"

Aves and Nadal exchanged a look, and both put their hands up in surrender. "Do like they say, everyone," Aves said. "Nice and easy. We don't want any trouble."

One of the Republic troopers was getting way too handsy with little Ellie, who was all of seventeen and posed about as much of a threat as a baby Ewok.

"Hey! Easy," he said, and got a blaster butt to the ribs for his trouble. "Maybe if you could just tell us what you're looking for...?" he said, once he'd got his breath back.

"Like you don't know. Kind of hard to play innocent when you've got a hole roughly the size of a turbolaser blast in your hull." The trooper pulled Aves's hands behind his back and slapped on a pair of binders.

"This must be some sort of mistake. We were hit by space debris and dropped out of lightspeed to make repairs."

"Yeah, you just keep sticking to that story. Maybe somebody will believe it."

The trooper forced him to a seated position, back against the wall. He looked over the crew, his crew, all bound and lined up to be processed.

"Well, shit."


Aves had seen the inside of a lot of jails in his day. He probably should have been more ashamed of that fact than he was. This particular jail wasn't all that remarkable – he'd been in better ones, and he'd definitely been in worse.

The capital city on Jeldwen wasn't all that remarkable either – a largish city on a mid-sized and relatively affluent planet. The whole planet was fairly unremarkable, except for being just this side of Imperial space, and even then the Republic presence was usually fairly low-key. There was a base in the system, keeping watch on whatever Grand Admiral Thrawn might have up his sleeve next, but the Republic forces had generally – up to this point – left local matters to the locals. That was, after all, why they'd chosen this place for the pick-up. The fact that there were a few vaguely friendly fringe groups hanging around the edges of the system was a nice bonus, too. They all occasionally helped each other out or threw extra work in the direction of someone who needed it. Karrde had called it 'co-opetition' which Aves thought sounded ridiculous, but in practice was actually pretty damned helpful.

Something, though, he thought, watching through the tiny square window in the cell door, had shifted here. The Repubs were everywhere in the city, including here at the detention center, and the local law enforcement didn't look particularly thrilled about it.

"Something's up," he said out loud, and Nadal, the cell's other occupant raised an eyebrow.

"Gee, you figure?"

"Just thinking out loud, funny man."

"Thinking?" Nadal grinned at him. "This is a banner day."

Aves ignored him. "You see where they took Ellie?" He knew he shouldn't worry about the welfare of one member of the crew above the others, but... Hell, she was just a kid and the only female, and he was kind of an old-fashioned guy that way.

"Relax. I saw a bunch of fearsome-looking female officers hauling her off somewhere. Not the company I'd personally choose, but better than the alternative."

"Okay, good," he said, feeling slightly better. He lay down on a cot shoved against the wall of the cell.

"So, any brilliant plans for getting us out of this?"

"Brilliant plans are the boss's department, not mine..."

"Yeah, well, the boss ain't here," Nadal said, sitting down on the cell's other cot and looking at him expectantly.

"I'm thinking."

"The Alliance Pride?" Nadal said finally, after a long, very empty, pause. "Really? We thought they were going to buy that?"

Aves shrugged. "All the cover IDs in Republic sectors are ass-kissy patriotic names like that. I think it's Ghent's idea of a joke. At least this time we weren't the Spirit of Alderaan." He paused, considering. "It works more often than it should, actually."

The door to their cell opened abruptly, revealing a Republic officer with a worrying amount of fruit salad on his uniform, marking him a full commander at least – though Aves had to admit he had more trouble figuring out the Repubs' ranks and uniforms than he did with the Imperials. The Imperials were, at least, nothing if not consistent. Half the time, the Republic appeared to just be making it up as they went. That said, though, a commander – or above – definitely meant trouble. The higher they got kicked up the food chain, the more likely it was someone would tumble to who they really were.

"Regs say that you get one call, Captain Halsey," the officer said, his tone making it clear he didn't believe for an instant that was Aves's real name. "Would you like to make it now?"

"What, and leave all this?" Aves said, not bothering to get up from the cot. "I'll get to it."

The officer frowned. "You'd better make it a good one, then. This offer expires in an hour."

"Aren't you going to take them up on that?" Nadal asked once the door slid shut.

"Sure. I'm just trying to figure out who to call."

"Can't you call your buddy? You know, the hotshot X-Wing jock?"

Aves shook his head. "I think this is beyond his pay grade."

Nadal frowned. "He bailed us out on Trogan..."

"That was a bar brawl. This is slightly more serious." He really didn't want to involve Wedge in this if there was any possible way around it.

Most of the other groups they had friendly relationships with in the system were too small-time to be of any help on something like this... Billey was here, though, Aves remembered suddenly. Karrde would have his ass for involving Billey, but it was likely their only way out of this without calling down all sorts of unwanted attention from the Republic brass. As soon as the Republic managed to slice through their fabricated logs and fake ids and realized who they really were – and, most importantly, who they worked for – the whole lot of them would be on their way to Coruscant and a full-scale Republic Intelligence interrogation. It would take time to crack Ghent's typically brilliant cover, but they would eventually figure it out.

Aves had a sudden flash of Ellie at the tender mercies of a squad of Intelligence officers.

"Hey!" he said abruptly, banging on the door. "Hey! I do want to make that call."

It took Billey less than two hours to bail them all out. Dravis showed up, looking pissed, with a frankly mind-blowing amount of money, filled out all the right forms and they were out – with, of course, a stern warning not to leave the city, let alone the planet.

Clearly, the Repubs had yet to break through their cover IDs and were still treating them like small-time thieves, instead of what they really were – which was just, Aves had to admit, slightly more big-time thieves. But big-time thieves with search-and-detain orders out for them in both Republic and Imperial space. The reasons the Empire wanted them were fairly obvious. He wasn't totally sure what Karrde had done to piss off the New Republic, though.

"Boss wants to see you asap," Dravis said, leading them into Billey's rather nice townhouse. It was in one of the city's more upscale and respectable neighborhoods, which was a surprise to Aves. He'd gotten used to Karrde's penchant for remote and exotic locales.

"Getting called on the carpet?" Nadal asked.

"Something like that. We owe him big for this one; he probably wants to be sure he can collect."

"While we're young, Aves," Dravis said, pointing in the direction of Billey's office.

The lights were low in the office, but Aves could just make out the shadow of Billey's lift chair and an old-style antique walking stick leaning against the far wall. The man himself was seated behind a very nice carved wood desk – a present, Aves knew, from Karrde, and an expensive one at that.

"Nice place," he said as Dravis exited and closed the door behind him.

"Crime does occasionally pay," Billey said, turning up the lights a bit in order to get a better look at him. "You don't look too much worse for wear. Have a seat."

"Thank you," he said, taking the chair that Billey indicated.

"Whiskey?"

"Water, if you don't mind. They weren't real big on keeping us comfortable in there."

"Of course," he said, pouring a glass. "Dravis will make sure the others are seen to as well."

"Thanks."

"Lucky for you that you happened to find yourselves on this particular planet..."

"I think maybe that's your luck rubbing off on us." Billey's good luck was legendary; Billey himself was a legend, not to put too fine a point on it. Even in semi-retirement, he was something of a force to be reckoned with. "I hope I did the right thing by calling on you. We're in your debt..."

Billey waved a hand as though it was no big deal. "You did the right thing. I know Karrde likes to imagine that I don't want my hands dirty anymore, but I don't mind. It keeps things interesting."

Aves relaxed a little at that. "Well, hopefully it won't be too interesting for you."

Billey poured a whiskey for himself. "Dravis tells me the ship is a total loss."

"Is it? It's academic anyway. Even if it wasn't, the Repubs aren't exactly going to hand it back to us."

"Well," Billey said, considering, "there would be other ways around that, but it's a moot point now. I trust you dumped anything that could track back to Karrde?"

"Standard ops. We're all clean, except of course for the sixty or so cartons of contraband they found on us – but that's not directly traceable to Karrde."

"You didn't dump that?"

"We tried to, but, unfortunately, there was the issue of the sucking vacuum of space between us and our upper cargo hold via a nice big turbolaser blast. They boarded us before anyone had a chance to suit up and get in there. We dumped the really incriminating stuff, though. The worst they've got us on is some minor possession, maybe intent to illegally distribute, but even that's stretching it without more proof." He sat back in the chair, actually allowing himself to relax for a moment, before saying, "Of course, that assumes that they don't figure out who we really work for..."

"Which isn't an especially safe assumption. Our Republic friends are getting much better at seeing through all the usual tricks." Billey was staring into the whiskey decanter, apparently lost in thought. When he did speak again, he said, "How is Karrde?"

Aves shrugged and made a non-committal noise.

Billey paused, considering, then said, "If you'll forgive my saying so, things don't appear to be going all that well."

Aves scrubbed his hands over his face. "You know, I think I will have that whiskey."

Billey laughed gruffly, and poured him two very generous fingers of what turned out to be a pretty damned fine Corellian blend. "Helps, doesn't it? Now, as you were saying..."

"Look, I'm grateful to you for getting us out of this jam, but I'm not going to talk out of turn about Karrde."

"I'm not asking you to, son," Billey said, suddenly seeming a bit less formidable. "Karrde's an old friend; I know the last year or two has been rough. I don't get out much anymore, so..."

"Yeah, okay." Aves took a drink, and shook his head. "There was that whole business with Skywalker, and then Mara..."

"What exactly happened there? I've heard the rumors, of course..."

"I don't really know, to be honest. I wasn't there; I was at Bilbringi nearly getting my ass shot off by the Imperials. Karrde hasn't exactly been in the mood to share, either."

"The whole thing is rather unbelievable," Billey said, more to himself than to Aves. Billey lapsed into thoughtful silence, and Aves couldn't help noticing that he had one of those fancy holographic picture cubes on his desk, filled with pictures of a little blonde girl at different ages. The pictures stopped at around age seven, though, and the kid's mother was conspicuous by her absence in all of them.

The stories about Billey and Aud Breen had already been the stuff of legend by the time Aves had joined up with Karrde's crew. He'd never met her himself, but the way Karrde talked about her she must've been a sight to see. Aud had been gone for a long time; the kid had to be at least a teenager by now. Maybe if anyone could understand where Karrde's head was at right now, it was Billey.

"We'll have to get you all off-planet tonight," Billey said, abruptly back to business. "Before our friends figure out who've they've really caught here."

"If we skip, you'll lose all the money you put up as bond..."

"An acceptable loss." He shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time. Besides, I think Karrde can find a way to reimburse me."

"He will, you have my word on that." Aves reached a hand across the desk and Billey shook it. "I'm in your debt, personally, too. If there's ever anything I can do..."

Billey smiled and it wasn't particularly nice. "Be careful what promises you make, boy. I might just take you up on it." He released Aves's hand, and said, "Dravis should have most of the arrangements made by now. We'll have to be discreet, of course..."

"Of course." Aves stood to go. "And if you do need anything, you can reach me through the normal channels..."

"That won't be necessary. I'll be seeing you again soon, at any rate."

"You will?"

"I'm going to pay your boss a visit. I've got a thing or two to say to him."


Coruscant never quite seemed to change somehow. Wedge had only been there once while it was still the Imperial capital, but he'd been struck, once the Alliance had captured it and made its own home there, by how little it changed. The city just continued on its way, governments rose and fell, people lived and died, and the city remained much as always, untouched.

After nearly fifteen months out on the edges of Republic space, it felt like something noticeable ought to have changed – especially in the aftermath of Bilbringi – that something tangible should be different, but it wasn't. Even the rumble of conversation in Central Command was much as he'd left it, only more so. It reminded him, in a way that managed to be simultaneously comforting and alarming, of his early days with the Alliance. There was a sense of focus, of recklessness, of desperation being refined into brilliance.

He moved through the Palace corridors, headed away from the politicians and toward CentCom. He'd always questioned the wisdom of having both the central seat of government and the military command in the same place, though, admittedly, never out loud. Now, though, in the wake of Thrawn's successful siege of the planet and the rumors he kept hearing about what they'd discovered on Wayland, he felt like someone should bring it up. Maybe Bel Iblis already had. He'd find out soon enough, at any rate.

"Antilles, there you are." Sena Midanyl, Bel Iblis's aide-de-camp, took him by the arm and steered him through the crowd. "The general's been waiting for you."

"We were a little delayed-"

"Totally understandable, but, as you can probably imagine, he's got a pretty full day," she said, and deposited him in the general's office.

"General," he said in greeting.

"Commander Antilles," Garm Bel Iblis said, not standing up, "about time." Then, "As you were. No need for that parade ground nonsense here." He indicated a seat in front of the desk. "Glad to be back?"

"Definitely, sir. Though it took me a bit to get used to the startling lack of people trying to kill me."

"Oh, give it a day or two," said the room's third occupant. Han Solo lounged in a chair, tipped back onto its back legs, his booted feet propped casually on Bel Iblis' desk.

"As long as I've got you backing me up, General," Wedge said pointedly, "I'm sure we can hold our own in any firefight."

"There you go with the titles again. It doesn't mean anything more now than it did at Endor." Han waved a dismissive hand and nearly overbalanced in the chair.

"It's good to have you back on active duty, though," Wedge said, meaning it. He'd always liked serving alongside Han, even if it had meant trouble more often than not.

Han's expression turned serious, though only briefly. "It seemed like the right thing to do, you know, after..."

"I never got a chance to say how sorry I was to hear-"

He waved it off. "I knew, we knew. Thanks, though."

"Well, glad to have you back, anyway, despite the circumstances."

"So, Commander," Bel Iblis said, indicating a seat on the other side of the desk. "We've asked you here today to talk about something... a little outside the box."

Wedge looked to Han, who grinned at him, back to form. "I told him you had something of a reputation for trouble."

"I wouldn't go quite that far."

"Nevertheless," Bel Iblis said, "you don't always run your squad exactly by the book, do you?"

"I'm not getting court-martialed, am I, sir?" he said, only half-joking.

Bel Iblis actually indulged a grin at that. "We're not really living in by-the-book times, are we?"

"You can say that again," Han said. "Look, kid, what we're really talking about here are contacts out on the fringe – people who won't talk to me anymore, but who seem a little more inclined to talk to you."

"We're talking about Talon Karrde's smuggling operation."

"Oh," Wedge said, truly surprised.

"Would you say that they trust you?"

"Smugglers don't trust anyone, General." He looked at Han in appeal.

He shrugged casually. "I told him. But who listens to me, anyway?"

"A few of Karrde's guys are – I don't know – drinking buddies? Since Bilbringi, they've been friendly enough."

You go up against a Star Destroyer with someone, he ought to remember you.

And be willing to pick up the occasional bar tab, and bail a guy out of the drunk tank, and, even, in one particularly desperate case, 'misplace' a carton of Republic medical supplies in a spot your buddy just happens to know about.

"We've done each other a few favors here and there," he admitted.

"Good," Bel Iblis said. "That's exactly what we were hoping you'd say." He paused. "We need a meeting."

"With who?"

"With Karrde himself, preferably, but we'll take what we can get."

Wedge shook his head. "I don't think they'll agree to that. Karrde has made his feelings about the Republic pretty clear..."

"Which is why it has to be you." Bel Iblis leaned back in his chair. "They seem to trust you." Han rolled his eyes. "Or at the very least, like you," Bel Iblis amended. "We know that at least one of Karrde's associates has contacted you in the last month."

Wedge frowned. "Should I even ask how you knew that? No, never mind." He shook his head. "Why are you looking to find Karrde anyway? When a man like that decides to hide, he usually stays hidden."

"That's why we're hoping you can get our message to him through his people."

"You still haven't answered my question." Wedge looked from Han to Bel Iblis. "What do you want with Karrde? He can't have anything to do with Thrawn. It's absurd."

After a moment's consideration, Bel Iblis leaned across the desk and said softly, "Talon Karrde has something we want."


Aves found solace in cigarettes. He lit up, shifting the cigarette from one hand to the other, flexing his fingers and looking down at his scraped knuckles. The landing pit smelled like grease and scorched metal. A handful of the usual suspects had met the ship when it landed. Karrde, though, was notable by his absence. They'd said he was on his way, though, and to stay put.

"He owes Billey a down payment on that debt..." Dravis said, sounding annoyed – though to be fair, he pretty much always sounded annoyed.

"You heard them, he's on his way. He's good for it, you know that. Karrde always honors his debts..."

"A couple years ago? Sure. But he's a loose cannon these days, and you know it."

Aves frowned. Dravis had been pissing him off since they left Jeldwen, but he'd managed to keep it in check so far. "Whatever else may have happened, he's never welched on a debt – or betrayed his friends."

"Really? You might want to ask Mazzic and Gillespee about that one..." Dravis said, getting a just a shade too loud for Aves's taste.

"Not in front of an audience, okay?"

Ghent, just for example, was hovering nearby. "Hey, uh, Aves...?" he began.

"No, you can't bum a smoke." Aves replied, anticipating the question, turning pointedly away from Dravis. "If you want one, you should buy your own..."

"What?" Ghent said, in that perpetually distracted way of his. "Oh, no thanks. I'm good." Aves rolled his eyes and lit another for himself. "Where's Ellie? I thought she came back with you?"

"She's here... somewhere."

Ghent stood up, practically on his tiptoes, scanning around for her.

"Hey," Aves said, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. "She's fine. Everyone's fine."

"I was worried."

"Since when do you even notice other people?" he said, but Ghent had already taken off, headed for where Ellie had emerged from the ship. "You know, like that."

"Can I bum a smoke?" Dravis asked, and Aves could hardly say no, especially with Karrde MIA. He sighed and handed over the package.

Dravis took two. Bastard.

"Finally," he said, and Aves looked up from glowering at his now nearly empty pack of smokes to see Karrde entering the landing pit.

He looked just about the way Aves felt. Terrific.

"Hello again, Dravis," Karrde said.

"Billey sends his regards."

"We're in his debt, of course."

"I hope you mean that literally," Dravis said, but needn't have. Karrde handed over a tiny data card. Dravis popped it into an almost impressively outmoded datapad, held together with a generous coat of hull sealant and, apparently, sheer force of will.

"It's all there," Karrde said, letting his tone cool just perceptibly.

"And by all, you mean...?" Dravis didn't bother to look up, checking the transfers, apparently to make sure they were legit.

"Twenty-thousand. I think that should be sufficient for now," Karrde said.

It must have been because Dravis socked Aves on the shoulder in farewell and hightailed it to his ship.

"I take it Dravis is in a hurry?" Karrde mused, in that irritatingly understated way he had about him.

"In a hurry not to be standing next to someone with a target on his back – or a pair of someones."

"I'm glad to see you back safely..." Karrde began.

"I lost us a ship," Aves said, dispensing with the formalities.

"No," Karrde said calmly, "we lost a ship. All part of running the business. It's happened before and will happen again."

"You'd better hope it doesn't. We can barely afford a replacement ship, even if we can find someone who'll sell to us." He tossed his cigarette to the ground.

"We'll find someone," Karrde said. "We always do."

Briefly, Aves considered telling Karrde that Billey was likely to show up here, unannounced, any day now. Billey, after all, had ships, had access to resources that could help them. He kept his mouth shut, though. Billey hadn't wanted Karrde to know, for some obscure reason of his own – probably playing some psychological advantage. The two of them were an awful lot alike that way.

"Trouble?" Karrde asked, frowning at him.

"Nothing new," Aves replied, letting Karrde put a hand on his shoulder and steer him toward their base, toward 'home' – or what passed for it these days – and the promise of a mostly hot meal and a few hours much-needed rest.


On the days when he was honest with himself (which were, admittedly, fewer and less frequent than they used to be), Karrde acknowledged that a lesser man probably would have given up by now. A lesser man probably would have just let Thrawn catch him, or gone to ground on some quiet, distant world, leaving his people to fend for themselves – or even, and he didn't really like to think about this – even in the abstract – put his own weapon in his mouth and just pulled the trigger to save Thrawn the trouble. The fact that he himself hadn't done any of those things was, he was forced to admit, to his credit.

It was the bare minimum he expected of himself, but it was to his credit.

Most of the rest of the time, he managed to find some equilibrium between honesty and the little bit of denial he needed to cultivate just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The remaining days were the ones he spent looking out at the galaxy from the bottom of a whiskey bottle. He tried to keep those to a minimum, but it was more of a struggle than he liked to admit.

Things really had, suddenly and spectacularly, gone to shit. On those honest days, he also admitted to himself exactly how much of this was Mara's fault – and how much was his own. It was like they'd put flame to tinder and burned their own house down around them.

He was thinking this, darkly, pictures of the lifeless wreck of the Starry Ice on the terminal in front of him – and considering whether maybe today was a whiskey day, after all – when there was a knock at his door.

"Hey, boss?" It was Aves, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "Someone here to see you..."

"Hello, Karrde," said just about the last person he would have expected to see there. Billey, his shadow looming large and dark behind Aves, prodded the younger man gently forward into the room, heaving himself into the first available seat. His hand shook just perceptibly on his walking stick, stubborn as always, refusing to use his lift chair unless he absolutely had to. "Well, aren't you going to say hello to me?"

Aves swallowed hard. "Uh, Billey's here to see you..."

"So I see," Karrde said, trying to read Billey's expression from across the room. "Did you know this was coming?" he asked Aves, and the long silence was all he needed to confirm it.

"Boss-"

"You might have warned me, is all," Karrde said coolly, and Aves grimaced.

"Go easy on the boy," Billey replied. "I asked him not to say anything, and I had just sprung him from a New Republic jail."

"So now you're here to collect on the debt?"

"I'm here to have a conversation with an old friend. That's still allowed in this brave, new galaxy we're faced with, isn't it?" Then, to Aves, "That'll do, son."

"You shouldn't have come all this way," Karrde said, once Aves had left, pulling his own chair over closer to Billey. He looked like death on a platter, breathing heavily from even just this little bit of exertion. "It's not worth the risk."

"Because I'm stuck in that damned chair most of the time, or because these days you're lucky to stay one step ahead of both Republic Intelligence and a very pissed off Imperial Grand Admiral?"

"Both?"

"Well, as far as the first point goes, I'm tougher to kill than that. You should know that better than anyone. As to the second..."

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd followed Mazzic and Gillespee's lead and run for the hills."

"Most of the others think they're well shut of you, it's true."

"They might be right," Karrde admitted. "I miscalculated rather badly."

"Are you admitting that you were wrong about something? Out loud, in front of witnesses?" Billey said in disbelief. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here – matters are worse than I thought."

"Is now really the time to needle me?"

"Someone needs to do something. I've never seen you like this before, and I've seen you at your best – and what I thought was your worst." He looked lost in memory. "You were the smartest kid I'd ever seen, too smart for your own damned good. I wasn't sure whether to cultivate you or kill you before you posed a threat." He smiled and it was entirely unpleasant. "So, what in hell's name has happened to you?"

Mara had happened, but Karrde wasn't about to admit that out loud. Skywalker and the damned New Republic had happened, and he'd gotten tangled up in something he couldn't control – but had still been foolish enough to try. He'd overreached, and now Mara was dead, the Republic had screwed him over when he least expected it, and it was only a matter of time before the Empire caught up with him and had him killed.

"Hmm," was all Billey said, cocking his head to one side as though that would help him better read Karrde's expression. "It wasn't all your fault, you know. Sometimes matters are just out of our control."

"I made a very successful business out of things being under control."

"And now the world is different. It's not easy, but you're going to have to adapt." There was another extended pause. "Either way, we have some business to discuss."

Karrde raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you came here? To make me an offer?"

"Why did you think I was here?"

"Well, I supposed you…" Karrde paused, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Oh, I see," Billey said. "You thought I was here to pick you up, dust you off and tell you to be a good boy from now on." He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not your father, Karrde, and as much as I like you, I'm a businessman first. It bugs the hell out of me to see valuable resources squandered like this."

"I won't sell. You know that, don't you?"

Billey tapped his walking stick on the floor, an unreadable expression on his heavily lined face. "Two years ago I would have said nothing in the galaxy could tempt you to sell. Now…" He spread his large hands helplessly. "But you misunderstand, anyway – I'm not here to take over your operation; I'm here to sell you a ship."

That was so unexpected, Karrde actually laughed. "A ship? Really? Well, all our problems are solved then."

Billey frowned at him. "One major problem is solved, at any rate – and I might be able to help you with some of the others." He paused significantly. "About Aves..."

"If you're about to make excuses for him, don't bother."

"You'd do well to go a little easier on him. You've put him in a fairly impossible position." One large hand descended, a little too roughly, on Karrde's shoulder. "There's only one reason he hasn't split on you, Karrde – and don't think he hasn't had offers. It's because he's loyal to you personally. That's pretty damned rare in this business. I'd suggest you don't throw it away over this."

"What's your stake in all this?"

"Well, it could be because you're the son I never had." Karrde looked at the older man in disbelief. Billey laughed. "Or, it could be that I see an opportunity for the pair of us to profit from this war - if you're interested in a partnership."

"Just like old times."

"In the old times, I was the boss."

"And what would you be now?"

"A partner, and a mostly silent one at that. Can you live with that?"

"You know I'm always open to working with you," Karrde said. "That's not going to change."

"Good. Remember you said that, because there are some conditions to this partnership..."

Now the other shoe would drop. "And what are those, exactly?"

"I'll want to protect my investment, of course, and you're dangerously short on seasoned personnel..."

"You want to send me a babysitter."

"Something like that. I prefer to think of it, though, as temporary strategic resources."

"You missed your calling as a bureaucrat..." Karrde muttered. "Strategic for you, or for me?"

"Both, if we do it right." He paused, considering. "So, what do you say? Two weeks from today, you pick the location? I'll have your ship and your 'strategic resources' ready and waiting."

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Billey smiled grimly. "Not really."


The Mid-Rim was a far cry from the grandeur of the old Imperial center, but over the past six years Pellaeon had gotten used to it.

He wasn't at all pleased by that development.

Accepting the Mid-Rim meant that the galaxy had really changed; that he had changed. He'd become older, resigned to a galaxy without the glory and order of the Empire. The only prospect worse than that was a galaxy in which Grand Admiral Thrawn didn't exist – because as long as they still had Thrawn, there was still hope.

Hope of what, exactly, Pellaeon had begun to wonder over the past few months – but it was hope, nonetheless. At this point, he'd take what he could get.

At the very least, he had the comfort of knowing that the enemy was as unsure as he was. They were reacting to every ghost of a threat, convinced that somehow, somewhere, Thrawn was waiting for just the right time. That every report, every unusual occurrence carried the first clue of Thrawn's next grand strategy – if only they could put the pieces together quickly enough.

Thrawn was waiting, all right, but for what, Pellaeon didn't know – and the Grand Admiral certainly wasn't of a mind to share. Instead, they harried the Rebels where they could. They still had men and supplies and ships enough to pose a formidable threat. Those resources, though, weren't inexhaustible – especially without Wayland's cloning facilities at their disposal. In the old days, they would simply have conscripted soldiers when cloning wouldn't cover their needs. Then, of course, they'd had the whole of the galaxy to draw from. Now matters were different.

Still, everyone – Rebel and Imperial alike – expected Thrawn to produce another masterstroke on the level of the last one, the one that had so very nearly worked.

He hadn't, though. He showed no sign of doing so, and Pellaeon worried about that. Was it possible that, after all this time, cultivating a reputation for invincibility, that Thrawn himself simply didn't know what to do next?

"Captain Pellaeon?" A junior officer saluted smartly. That, at least, hadn't changed in these last few directionless months. "The Grand Admiral would like to see you, sir."

Pellaeon nodded and headed down to the Grand Admiral's command room. There were no longer any bodyguards flanking the door. Thrawn had learned that lesson and lived to tell, after all.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn, sir?" he said into the voice-recognition panel on the door. "You wanted to see me?"

The door slid easily open and Pellaeon walked in. Thrawn was sitting, much as always, and beckoned him in.

"Good evening, Captain," he said, without looking away from the lone image on his display screen. "You recognize them, of course. The Manarai Mountains on Coruscant. At one time they were part of a vast range, stretching nearly the length of the continent."

"This isn't your usual-"

Thrawn smiled slowly, finally looking at Pellaeon. "I thought, perhaps, it was time for a slightly different approach. The interesting thing about something as complex as a mountain range, Captain, is that for all its seeming randomness, for all the outside factors at work, it remains – at a certain level – inherently predictable. It's simply a matter of scale." He touched a key on his terminal and the twin peaks of the Manarais multiplied themselves, rather impressively, across the ring of repeater displays. He made a satisfied sound, as though he'd seen something in the images that pleased him. Then said, "You wonder why I haven't acted?" He swiveled his chair away from the display. Pellaeon nodded, and Thrawn continued, "I've been thinking about survival, Captain. Survival and conquest. They're very different, but equally important."

"Yes, sir."

"The Emperor, for all his cunning and his ideals, wasn't particularly interested in anyone's survival – save his own, of course. I wish the Empire to survive. To achieve that end, sacrifices may be required, but I choose to make them wisely. An Empire without its vision is hardly an Empire worth having." He steepled his fingers together, looking out at the empty space surrounding them. "We may be called upon, Captain, to do things we would not otherwise do. But I have faith that we will be equal to the challenge."