Chapter 8
By the time Captain Larson had finished his description of the brutal attack on Sullust, he was faded and wan, a mere shadow of a once-proud soldier drained by constant defeats in war.
Karrde nodded at one of the recent Noghri arrivals to the resistance; the complicity of the entire species in defecting to the New Republic was not known to Thrawn, though everyone was holding their breath for the time when he finally discovered the treachery. The Noghri were aware of the danger, yet they continued steadfastly on their path, determined to compensate for years of service as the Emperor's Death Commandos.
"Thank you, Captain Larson," he said gently. "Kashikmakh will see you to guest quarters, and I'm sure our recently arrived In'ca Din'ca friends will be eager to resupply your ships." Kenji's blossoming smile vanished for a second, and then returned, in a much thinner line.
The frigate commander nodded wearily then stood and allowed the short grey alien to pull him from the room.
"He looks like a boat cut free of its moorings," Wedge observed sadly. He knew what it felt like to lose friends and be unable to avenge them, and he felt only the greatest sympathy for the defeated officer.
"Mmm," Karrde said, tapping a few keys on his tactical board in the briefing room. "If only we knew something useful from the Sullust battle. Nothing points to any weaknesses that Thrawn might have."
"Does he have any, is my question," Wedge said tiredly. "I don't want to, but I'm starting to feel a little discouraged."
"A little?" Karrde asked dryly.
"Okay, a lot," Wedge corrected. "We haven't won anything since Sluis Van, and a lot of people think that Thrawn is infallible and invincible."
"That's the problem," Karrde said. "The minute you decide your opponent is unbeatable, you make him unbeatable. All we need to do is find some weakness in his fleet disposition or overall battle plan, and we'll have him. All it will take is one victory for us."
Wedge nodded. "If we can win a major battle, people will start to believe that we still have a chance. We might be able to use the guerilla tactics that won against the old Empire then, if we get enough new recruits. Hit-and-run warfare is extremely hard to predict."
"If only," Karrde said. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. First we need to find an upcoming battle that we can win, conceivably. Bothawui is growing increasingly unlikely, now that Sullust is taken. We have no fallback point that's safe out of that system."
"And Thrawn can bring hundreds of ships to bear on Bothawui if he needs to," Wedge said.
"Not necessarily," Karrde raised a finger. "He has to defend the Core worlds he's taken recently. Corellia, Chandrila, and Duro all are practically undefended except for Imperial battleships, and the rest aren't much better."
"So we hope he overreaches and leaves something open?" Wedge scoffed. "Not Thrawn. He knows war too well."
"Spies or insurgents?" Karrde suggested. "We know the Noghri are still stationed on many Imperial worlds and ships. If we could get a signal out to them."
"A revolt?" Wedge gasped. "You'd kill them all!"
"I'm sure they'd be willing to do as much damage as possible and at least try to get out of their positions," Karrde soothed him.
"I'm not convinced," Wedge said. "That's as bad as what the Empire was doing: simply throwing away lives because they had extraordinary combat skill."
"Antilles, do you want to win this war or not?" Karrde growled.
"I just don't want people looking at us like the Empire," Wedge said.
"Some people will do that no matter what," Karrde said.
"I know," Wedge said, sighing. He looked away for a second to collect his thoughts.
Tactically, he knew that the revolt idea held great promise. With the Noghris' impressive combat skills, a simultaneous uprising could do huge damage to the Imperial war effort. But the only way out of a situation like that was in pieces. Wedge may have been a soldier, but he never tried to throw people's lives away if there was a better way.
But was there a better way?
"All right," he said. "How do we get the signal out?"
The interior of the In'ca Din'ca capital reminded Luke a great deal of the floating cities of Mon Calamari, now a slave port for the Empire, its cities occupied and used as weapons storage dumps for Imperial warships. The loss of the shipyards had dealt a huge blow to the war effort, but Luke knew that the resistance had saved a few small orbital construction ports and were secretly rebuilding them at Kessel.
Many times, the small group of In'ca Din'ca dignitaries had to direct the three humans through the right corridor junction ducts; In'ca Din'ca seemed to rely on directional signals invisible to humans.
However, at one of the junction nexuses, one guard moved off to the right and beckoned for Luke to follow him. Puzzled, the whole group came to a halt.
"What is this all about?" Bel Iblis asked, and Luke sensed Corran's abrupt tension increase and the focusing of his undeveloped Force powers, probably an unconscious reflex.
"Oh, my apologies," said Gy'dorana, striding over. "This is a necessary parting. I guarantee your safety, and also that Jedi Skywalker will find where our guard will take him much more interesting than a political body of grouchy old councilors." His attempt at humor fell on deaf ears, and his nervous, bubbly chuckle faded off quickly.
Luke attempted to probe the mind of the In'ca Din'ca dignitary, but he detected nothing in the way of deception. Unless the whole species was resistant to telepathy like the Hutts or Toydarians, the alien wasn't lying. Unless.
"I'm sure it'll be alright," Luke assured his two companions. "Probably some Jedi artifacts or lore, or something like that."
Bel Iblis hesitated, then nodded once, stiffly. Corran still looked apprehensive. "Are you sure?"
"Perfectly," Luke said.
The hall the lone guard was leading Luke down got dimmer and more intimidating the further they got. Blast doors and other security devices began to become commonplace, and Luke began to feel an odd sort of. fuzziness in the Force, sort of like a furry ball that kept slipping out of your hands when you tried to pick it up. He sharpened his focus, but still felt nothing tangible.
He realized the guard had stopped before a turbolift door, at least that's what Luke assumed it was. He was busy typing a long password into the door's keypanel, and as Luke frowned in puzzlement at the odd feelings he was getting, the device beeped twice, and the door slid open to reveal a turbolift car.
The guard beckoned him in. "Only you may go further," he grumbled. "The car is preset; it will take you to the proper level."
Luke frowned again, and then looked at the car, back at the guard, and at the turbolift again. "Are you." he started to say, but faded off in determination. A Jedi could surely feel safe in an ally's own city, even with all they mysteries popping up everywhere. Nodding his thanks at the guard, he stepped inside the turbolift. The door closed, and whisked him up so swiftly, he couldn't tell how far he'd gone. It could have been one or one hundred levels, depending on the operating mechanism.
The door slid open, to reveal a long hallway painted green, and hung with paintings and abstract art. Several of the pieces seemed to depict Jedi in various poses or battles, and Luke's pulse quickened. Was this another treasure trove of Jedi lore like the crashed ship Ch'unthor that he'd found on Dathomir?
Suddenly, his gaze snapped to an intricately decorated door at the end of the hallway. He felt the. fuzziness in the Force again, and this time, the focus seemed to be emanating from just beyond the door. As if in a daze, he found himself moving forward to the door. He only hesitated a second before pushing the keypad at the side of the steel plate.
The door hissed open, Luke stepped inside. and stared in astonishment.
By the time Captain Larson had finished his description of the brutal attack on Sullust, he was faded and wan, a mere shadow of a once-proud soldier drained by constant defeats in war.
Karrde nodded at one of the recent Noghri arrivals to the resistance; the complicity of the entire species in defecting to the New Republic was not known to Thrawn, though everyone was holding their breath for the time when he finally discovered the treachery. The Noghri were aware of the danger, yet they continued steadfastly on their path, determined to compensate for years of service as the Emperor's Death Commandos.
"Thank you, Captain Larson," he said gently. "Kashikmakh will see you to guest quarters, and I'm sure our recently arrived In'ca Din'ca friends will be eager to resupply your ships." Kenji's blossoming smile vanished for a second, and then returned, in a much thinner line.
The frigate commander nodded wearily then stood and allowed the short grey alien to pull him from the room.
"He looks like a boat cut free of its moorings," Wedge observed sadly. He knew what it felt like to lose friends and be unable to avenge them, and he felt only the greatest sympathy for the defeated officer.
"Mmm," Karrde said, tapping a few keys on his tactical board in the briefing room. "If only we knew something useful from the Sullust battle. Nothing points to any weaknesses that Thrawn might have."
"Does he have any, is my question," Wedge said tiredly. "I don't want to, but I'm starting to feel a little discouraged."
"A little?" Karrde asked dryly.
"Okay, a lot," Wedge corrected. "We haven't won anything since Sluis Van, and a lot of people think that Thrawn is infallible and invincible."
"That's the problem," Karrde said. "The minute you decide your opponent is unbeatable, you make him unbeatable. All we need to do is find some weakness in his fleet disposition or overall battle plan, and we'll have him. All it will take is one victory for us."
Wedge nodded. "If we can win a major battle, people will start to believe that we still have a chance. We might be able to use the guerilla tactics that won against the old Empire then, if we get enough new recruits. Hit-and-run warfare is extremely hard to predict."
"If only," Karrde said. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. First we need to find an upcoming battle that we can win, conceivably. Bothawui is growing increasingly unlikely, now that Sullust is taken. We have no fallback point that's safe out of that system."
"And Thrawn can bring hundreds of ships to bear on Bothawui if he needs to," Wedge said.
"Not necessarily," Karrde raised a finger. "He has to defend the Core worlds he's taken recently. Corellia, Chandrila, and Duro all are practically undefended except for Imperial battleships, and the rest aren't much better."
"So we hope he overreaches and leaves something open?" Wedge scoffed. "Not Thrawn. He knows war too well."
"Spies or insurgents?" Karrde suggested. "We know the Noghri are still stationed on many Imperial worlds and ships. If we could get a signal out to them."
"A revolt?" Wedge gasped. "You'd kill them all!"
"I'm sure they'd be willing to do as much damage as possible and at least try to get out of their positions," Karrde soothed him.
"I'm not convinced," Wedge said. "That's as bad as what the Empire was doing: simply throwing away lives because they had extraordinary combat skill."
"Antilles, do you want to win this war or not?" Karrde growled.
"I just don't want people looking at us like the Empire," Wedge said.
"Some people will do that no matter what," Karrde said.
"I know," Wedge said, sighing. He looked away for a second to collect his thoughts.
Tactically, he knew that the revolt idea held great promise. With the Noghris' impressive combat skills, a simultaneous uprising could do huge damage to the Imperial war effort. But the only way out of a situation like that was in pieces. Wedge may have been a soldier, but he never tried to throw people's lives away if there was a better way.
But was there a better way?
"All right," he said. "How do we get the signal out?"
The interior of the In'ca Din'ca capital reminded Luke a great deal of the floating cities of Mon Calamari, now a slave port for the Empire, its cities occupied and used as weapons storage dumps for Imperial warships. The loss of the shipyards had dealt a huge blow to the war effort, but Luke knew that the resistance had saved a few small orbital construction ports and were secretly rebuilding them at Kessel.
Many times, the small group of In'ca Din'ca dignitaries had to direct the three humans through the right corridor junction ducts; In'ca Din'ca seemed to rely on directional signals invisible to humans.
However, at one of the junction nexuses, one guard moved off to the right and beckoned for Luke to follow him. Puzzled, the whole group came to a halt.
"What is this all about?" Bel Iblis asked, and Luke sensed Corran's abrupt tension increase and the focusing of his undeveloped Force powers, probably an unconscious reflex.
"Oh, my apologies," said Gy'dorana, striding over. "This is a necessary parting. I guarantee your safety, and also that Jedi Skywalker will find where our guard will take him much more interesting than a political body of grouchy old councilors." His attempt at humor fell on deaf ears, and his nervous, bubbly chuckle faded off quickly.
Luke attempted to probe the mind of the In'ca Din'ca dignitary, but he detected nothing in the way of deception. Unless the whole species was resistant to telepathy like the Hutts or Toydarians, the alien wasn't lying. Unless.
"I'm sure it'll be alright," Luke assured his two companions. "Probably some Jedi artifacts or lore, or something like that."
Bel Iblis hesitated, then nodded once, stiffly. Corran still looked apprehensive. "Are you sure?"
"Perfectly," Luke said.
The hall the lone guard was leading Luke down got dimmer and more intimidating the further they got. Blast doors and other security devices began to become commonplace, and Luke began to feel an odd sort of. fuzziness in the Force, sort of like a furry ball that kept slipping out of your hands when you tried to pick it up. He sharpened his focus, but still felt nothing tangible.
He realized the guard had stopped before a turbolift door, at least that's what Luke assumed it was. He was busy typing a long password into the door's keypanel, and as Luke frowned in puzzlement at the odd feelings he was getting, the device beeped twice, and the door slid open to reveal a turbolift car.
The guard beckoned him in. "Only you may go further," he grumbled. "The car is preset; it will take you to the proper level."
Luke frowned again, and then looked at the car, back at the guard, and at the turbolift again. "Are you." he started to say, but faded off in determination. A Jedi could surely feel safe in an ally's own city, even with all they mysteries popping up everywhere. Nodding his thanks at the guard, he stepped inside the turbolift. The door closed, and whisked him up so swiftly, he couldn't tell how far he'd gone. It could have been one or one hundred levels, depending on the operating mechanism.
The door slid open, to reveal a long hallway painted green, and hung with paintings and abstract art. Several of the pieces seemed to depict Jedi in various poses or battles, and Luke's pulse quickened. Was this another treasure trove of Jedi lore like the crashed ship Ch'unthor that he'd found on Dathomir?
Suddenly, his gaze snapped to an intricately decorated door at the end of the hallway. He felt the. fuzziness in the Force again, and this time, the focus seemed to be emanating from just beyond the door. As if in a daze, he found himself moving forward to the door. He only hesitated a second before pushing the keypad at the side of the steel plate.
The door hissed open, Luke stepped inside. and stared in astonishment.