"So in other words, if you're smart enough, nothing ever happens you can't antic.i.p.ate?"

"Of course the unantic.i.p.ated may happen," Miatamia said. "But those who are prepared can always find their way through."

"All by themselves?" Lando persisted. "They never need any help?"

"They may," the Diamal said, unruffled. "But antic.i.p.ating the need for a.s.sistance is merely one more part of common sense."

"Ah," Lando said, nodding. "So, in other words, the fact that I recognize my need for extra security for my ore shipments means that I have good common sense."

"It may," Miatamia agreed. "It could also mean-"

And suddenly, with a loud crack of released energy coming from the direction of the Lady Luck's hyperdrive, the mottled sky above them abruptly flowed into starlines.

Lando was at the top of the circular staircase by the time the starlines finished shrinking back into stars. "What is it?" Miatamia demanded from behind him.

"Hyperdrive failure," Lando shouted over his shoulder as he all but threw himself down the stairs. If one of the couplings had failed, he needed to get the power rerouted before it started into surge instability and took out everything else on the circuit. With visions of a major repair job out here in the middle of nowhere looming before him-a repair job that would not exactly endear him to his Diamalan guest-he sprinted across the dining area, past the cabins, and skidded to a halt in front of the eng ineering control panel.

And frowned. There were none of the glowing red lights that would have indicated major systems failures, or even the blinking red status lines pointing to minor systems failure.

In fact, according to the displays, the hypers.p.a.ce drop-out was simply the normal automatic response of close planetary approach. There was a duly logged note that course comparison with the nay computer indicated that no planets should be in range at the moment . . .

"Oh, no," Lando breathed, leaping up the short stairway and jabbing at the bridge door release. The door slid open, and he stepped through.

And there it was, floating silently in the darkness directly in front of him: the all-too-familiar shape of an Imperial Star Destroyer.

Biting back a curse, he dived for the helm, slapping the row of emergency power-boost switches on his way. He dropped into the chair, threw full power to the drive, and twisted the yacht's nose hard to starboard.

Or rather tried to twist it. Even with full emergency power, the Lady Luck wasn't moving.

Or rather she wasn't moving where Lando wanted her to go.

"We are in a tractor beam," the Senator's cool voice said from behind him.

"I noticed," Lando said shortly, shifting into a sharp up-down wiggling motion. If the tractor beam operator thought his target was trying to go vertical, be might overcorrect and allow the yacht to slip the lock.

But no such luck. "Strap down," Lando ordered Miatamia, letting the tractor damp out the yacht's residual wiggling and taking a quick look around. The Imperials had to have an Interdictor Cruiser around here somewhere . . . yes, there it was, off in the distance to portside, its nose pointed in the Lady Luck's direction.

But not all that precisely pointed. In fact, the projected cone of hyperdrive-dampening gravity waves was not even close to being centered on the tug-and-back contest taking place out here. If Lando could break free of the tractor beam, there was an even chance he could get to the edge of the cone and escape before the Star Destroyer could reestablish the lock.

If. "Call your aide on the intercom and have him strap down," he told the Senator. The Lady Luck had one last trick up her sleeve, a little something that one of Luke's exploits a few years back had inspired Lando to install. Powering up the backup proton torpedo launcher, he keyed for a Stage Three torpedo and fired.

The torpedo flashed out from under the yacht's bow, accelerating suddenly as the tractor beam yanked at it. There was a flicker from Lando's board as one of the Star Destroyer's turbolaser batteries began to track it&mdash And then, no more than twenty meters in front of the Lady Luck, the torpedo exploded.

Not into a devastating blast, but into a brilliant cloud of trac-reflective particles.

Particles that should, in theory, confuse the lock, tie up the entire tractor beam, and let him slip free.

And it was working. The yacht shuddered for a moment and then jerked hard as the invisible grip was abruptly broken. "Hang on!" Lando shouted, turning the ship's nose hard over. If Luke's experience with the covert-shroud gambit was anything to go by, he would have bare seconds to get to the edge of the Interdictor Cruiser's ma.s.s-shadow cone before the Imperials woke up and started shooting.

But even as the Lady Luck started to turn, there was a burst of light from behind the particle cloud between him and the Star Destroyer. He had just enough time to see the glittering trac-reflective particles turn a dull, nonreflective black&mdash And with another jolt the yacht was once again trapped in the tractor beam.

"What now?" Miatamia asked.

"Only one thing we can do," Lando told him, his stomach tight as he shut down the Lady Luck's sublight engines. We surrender."

Six stormtroopers led the way, clumping along in perfect unison in three ranks of two each. Behind them, their softer footsteps not even trying to stay in step, strode Miatamia and his aide. Lando walked behind the two Diamala, obscurely glad to be in the less noticeable position in the back.

Not that that spot really gained him anything. There were six more stormtroopers behind him bringing up the rear.

Apart from a brief "come with us" from the stormtrooper commander, there had been no communication between captors and prisoners. But Lando had been aboard more than one Star Destroyer in his time, and he didn't need either an invitation or a map to know that they were being herded into senior-officer country. Possibly to the Intelligence officer's nerve center, possibly even to the captain's office complex itself.

He'd been unable to read the ship's ID before the Lady Luck had been drawn into the gaping hangar bay, and had been hoping against hope that this was some monstrous practical joke being played on him with one of the New Republic's captured Star Destroyers. With each pa.s.sing step, with each Imperial officer or crewer who stepped respectfully aside to give the stormtroopers room, the hope faded a little further.

It seemed to take forever, but finally they came to a halt at a door marked simply SECONDARY COMMAND ROOM. "You are expected," the commander said from behind Lando as the leading stormtroopers formed a guard semicircle around the door. "Enter."

"Thank you," Miatamia said, his voice impossibly calm. The door slid open and, without hesitation, the two Diamala strode inside. Reluctantly, Lando followed&mdash And nearly ran into Miatamia's back as both aliens suddenly jerked to a halt. Lando caught his balance, peering between them to try to see what had startled them so much.

The room was spa.r.s.ely decorated, with little more than some tactical wall monitors and a double ring of repeater displays encircling a command chair in the middle of the room.

Standing beside the chair was a hard-faced man wearing major's insignia.

And rising calmly from the chair itself&mdash Lando felt his heart seize up in his chest. No.

No, it couldn't be.

But it was.

"Good day, gentlemen," Grand Admiral Thrawn said, gesturing to them. "My apologies as to the rather informal method by which you were brought here. please, come inside."

The horrified moment seemed to stretch itself toward eternity as Lando gazed in stunned horror at that face. It couldn't be. Grand Admiral Thrawn was dead. He was dead. He had to be.

And yet here he was. Very much alive.

No one had yet moved. "Please, come inside," the Grand Admiral repeated, this time with an edge of command in his voice.

Miatamia stirred and continued forward, his movement seemingly breaking his aide's own paralysis. Numbly, Lando followed, sensing as he did so their stormtrooper rearguard filing in behind them.

"That's far enough," the major said harshly as Miatamia came within three meters of the outer display ring. "They've been disarmed?"

"None of them were carrying any weapons," the stormtrooper commander reported. Three of them, Lando noted, had moved up to form a flanking column along their right, a glance over his shoulder confirmed that the commander and the other two had spread out along the wall behind them. A simple yet effective positioning that provided close guard while at the same time keeping the stormtroopers out of each other's crossfire.

"Yes, they are keeping a close eye on you, Captain Calrissian," Thrawn confirmed. "After that unpleasantness at Bilbringi, I've agreed to extra precautions. Not that I'm expecting trouble from any of you, of course."

"Of course," Lando said, turning back to look at him. It was a trick, of course. It had to be. Thrawn was dead. The Imperial Command itself bad said so.

And yet . . .

"You look remarkably well, Admiral," Miatamia said. "I must confess to my surprise at seeing you here."

Thrawn smiled faintly. "My reappearance has surprised many others, Senator Miatamia. And will surprise a great many more in the days to come. However, I didn't ask you aboard merely to toast my continued health. The actual reason-"

"How did you survive the Bilbringi shipyards?" Lando blurted. "The Imperial reports said you were dead."

"You will not interrupt the Grand Admiral," the major snapped, taking a step toward him.

"Peace, Major," Thrawn said quietly, halting the other's advance with an almost languid gesture. "Under the circ.u.mstances, a certain degree of shock is entirely forgivable."

"Yet you do not answer his question," Miatamia said.

It seemed to Lando that a faint flicker of distant pain touched the Grand Admiral's face for a moment. "My survival was due to a unique combination of several factors," he said.

"You'll forgive me if I withhold the details."

"But your own Imperial reports?" Lando repeated.

"The Imperial reports said what 1 allowed them to say," Thrawn said, his eyes starting to flash with annoyance. "It was necessary while I recovered that-"

He broke off. "Perhaps I've misjudged you, Captain," he said, his voice calm again. "And you, Senator. I a.s.sumed that when you encountered a being returned from the dead you'd be more interested in what he had to say than the details of the journey. My mistake." His eyes flicked over Lando's shoulder. "Commander, you may escort them back to their ship.

Major, have Intelligence confirm the current location of Ishori Senator Dx'ono."

"Our apologies, Grand Admiral," Miatamia said quickly as the stormtroopers started forward. "As you said, we were momentarily shocked. But we listen now."

Thrawn lifted a hand, and the advancing stormtroopers stopped. "Very well," he said. "My message is quite simple, Senator. You've recently become aware that a group of Bothans were involved in the attempted genocide on Caamas. I've come to offer my aid in bringing those guilty to justice."

Miatamia inclined his head to the side, as if listening to a faint and distant sound.

"Excuse me?"

"No, you heard correctly," Thrawn a.s.sured him, that faint smile once again touching his lips. "I want to help."

Miatamia twisted his head around to throw a glance back at Lando, turned back again. "How?"

"By identifying the guilty parties, of course," the Grand Admiral said. "If President Gavrisom truly wishes this crisis resolved, he need only ask for my a.s.sistance. A visit to Bothawui, a few minutes' conversation with each of the Bothan clan leaders, and I'll know the truth."

Miatamia inclined his bead to the side again. "The Bothan leaders claim they do not know which of their people were involved in the crime."

"Oh, come now, Senator," Thrawn said, his tone dark and cold. "Do you really expect they would say anything else?"

Miatamia seemed to digest that. "And you believe you could learn the truth merely by speaking with them?"

The glowing red eyes glittered. "Yes."

There was a brief silence. "Would it not be simpler for you to merely locate the proper Imperial records and give them to us?"

"Of course it would," Thrawn said. "And such a search is already under way. But the Imperial records library on Bastion is quite extensive, and the process could take weeks or even months to complete." He c.o.c.ked a blue-black eyebrow. "I don't believe you have that much time to spare."

"You seem convinced that the New Republic is facing a serious crisis," Miatamia said. "We have weathered other such crises in the past."

"Your confidence is admirable," Thrawn said, leaning back slightly in his seat. "But I'd advise that you relay my offer to the Rebellion leadership before rashly and unilaterally rejecting it."

"I never stated that I rejected your offer, Grand Admiral," Miatamia said.

Thrawn smiled. "No, of course you didn't," he said, his tone far more knowing than Lando found comfortable. "I would like nothing more than to continue this discussion, Senator-it's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of debating a trained Diamalan mind. But I have other matters to attend to, and you have a message to deliver. Commander, escort them back to their ship. Good-bye, Senator, Captain."

"A question, Admiral, if I may," Lando said quickly as the stormtroopers came up behind him. His mind was finally starting to unfreeze; and if this was a trick, this might be the only chance they'd have to unmask it. "I saw you once, from a distance, while you were in the company of the smuggler Talon Karrde. Can you tell me where that was and why you were there?"

Thrawn's face hardened. "If this is a test, Captain, you've chosen your topic unwisely.

I've spent a great deal of time during my recovery considering the proper payment to be exacted from Talon Karrde for his many betrayals. I do not like to be reminded of him, except to consider how short his remaining life is going to be. That message you may deliver."

"I see," Lando murmured, closing his mouth firmly. His reckless and odds-playing youth was far behind him, and the expression on Thrawn's face was definitely the kind that discouraged further questions.

Once again, though, Miatamia was not so easily put off. "Yet you do not answer his question," he pointed out.

The glowing red eyes shifted to the Diamal, and for a single awful moment Lando thought the Admiral was going to have the three of them gunned down right there and then. But to his relief, Thrawn merely smiled. "The Diamalan mind," he said, his voice utterly calm again. "My apologies, Senator."

He looked back at Lando. "You're referring to my meeting with Karrde at his base on the planet Myrkr when I was searching for Luke Skywalker. You and someone else-General Solo, I a.s.sume-watched our landing from within the forest."

Lando felt a cold chill run up his back. "You knew we were there?"

"I knew someone was there," Thrawn said. "As I'm sure you know, select stormtroopers have extra sensor equipment built into their helmets. One of them caught a reflective glint from the macrobinoculars you were using."

"Yet you did nothing?" Miatamia asked. Thrawn shrugged slightly. "At the time I a.s.sumed it was merely some of Karrde's people, set there to make sure my stormtroopers didn't become, shall we say, overzealous. Given the density of foliage, even a heavy blaster would have been harmless against us from that position, so I ordered that the observers be left alone."

His mouth hardened, just a bit. "Subsequent events, of course, showed the situation to have been otherwise. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Captain?"

Lando managed a nod. "Yes, Admiral. It does."

"Good," Thrawn said coolly. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen, and again my apologies for the unscheduled stop. Commander, see them to their ship."

Thirty minutes later, seated at the Lady Luck's helm, Lando watched as the Interdictor Cruiser and Star Destroyer made their synchronized jump to lightspeed. "As you said, Senator," he murmured. "Sometimes the unantic.i.p.ated will happen. I'm glad that those who are prepared will always find their way through."

Miatamia said nothing. Perhaps, for once, he had nothing to say.

Grimacing, Lando keyed the board and swung the Lady Luck's nose back on course for Coruscant. President Gavrisom wasn't going to like this. Not one bit.

Neither would anyone else.

There hadn't been any communications planned for this point in the plan. And yet, there was Major Tierce's quarter-sized holographic image, flickering slightly above Moff Disra's private hologram pod. "The transmission's been secured," Disra said, a cold blade-edge of dread grinding into his stomach as he watched the encryption display. If something bad gone wrong . . . "What is it?"

"No problems, if that's what you're wondering," Tierce said. "The whole operation went textdoc smooth."

"I'm delighted to hear it," Disra growled. "So why are you risking an open communication this way?"