Star Wars: The Hand of Thrawn II: Vision of the Future Read online

  Praise for Timothy Zahn’s STAR WARS® novels

  SPECTER OF THE PAST

  “Zahn returns splendidly to the ranks of Star Wars authors.… Label this one ‘Not just for Star Wars fans’—for sure.”

  —Booklist

  “Zahn turns in his usual high-caliber performance.”

  —Library Journal

  Longtime fans should get considerable pleasure from this addition to the saga.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  HEIR TO THE EMPIRE

  “Moves with a speed-of-light pace that captures the spirit of the movie trilogy so well, you can almost hear John Williams’s soundtrack.”

  —The Providence Sunday Journal

  “A splendidly exciting novel … read and enjoy. The magic is back.”

  —Nashville Banner

  “Chock full of all the good stuff you’ve come to expect from a battle of good against evil.”

  —Daily News, New York

  DARK FORCE RISING

  “Continues [Zahn’s] remarkable extrapolation from George Lucas’s trilogy.”

  —Chicago Sun-Times

  “Zahn has perfectly captured the pace and flavor of the Star Wars movies. This is space opera at its best.”

  —The Sunday Oklahoman

  THE LAST COMMAND

  “Filled with characteristic Star Wars technology and cosmic battles … The detail and plot development far exceed what are possible in a two-hour movie.”

  —The Indianapolis Star

  VISION OF THE FUTURE

  A Bantam Spectra Book

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Bantam Spectra hardcover edition published September 1998

  Bantam Spectra mass market edition / September 1999

  SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

  © 1998 by Lucasfilm Ltd. and TM

  All rights reserved. Used under authorization.

  Cover art copyright © 1998 by Lucasfilm Ltd.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-79644-8

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1745 Broadway, New York, New York 10019.

  v3.1

  TO THE STAR LADIES, THE WILD KARRDES,

  THE CLUB JADERS, AND MY BOTHAN SPIES

  AND ESPECIALLY TO

  TISH PAHL

  MINISTER OF FORMATION:

  BOTH IN- AND DISIN-

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  About the Author

  Also by this Author

  Introduction to the Star Wars Expanded Universe

  Excerpt from Star Wars: Choices of One

  Introduction to the Old Republic Era

  Introduction to the Rise of the Empire Era

  Introduction to the Rebellion Era

  Introduction to the New Republic Era

  Introduction to the New Jedi Order Era

  Introduction to the Legacy Era

  Star Wars Novels Timeline

  CHAPTER

  1

  The Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera slid through the black of space, its only companion the silent gas giant world of Pesitiin far below.

  Admiral Pellaeon was standing at the forward viewport, gazing out at the dead planet, when Captain Ardiff arrived on the bridge. “Report from Major Harch, Admiral,” he said briskly. “All damage from that pirate attack has been repaired. Your ship is back to full fighting readiness.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Pellaeon said, carefully hiding a smile. In the thirty hours since the failed attack on the Chimaera, Ardiff had gone from believing it to be a raid by New Republic General Garm Bel Iblis, to suspicions that it had been engineered by dissident Imperial elements, to similar suspicions involving similarly dissident Rebels, and was now apparently convinced that a pirate gang was responsible.

  Of course, in all fairness, Ardiff had had the past thirty hours to cogitate on his theories. The techs’ preliminary report on the debris from that destroyed Kaloth battlecruiser had certainly influenced his thinking, too. “Anything new from the patrols?” Pellaeon asked.

  “Just more negatives, sir,” Ardiff said. “Still no indications of activity anywhere in the system. Oh, and the sensor-stealthed assault shuttle you sent on the attackers’ escape vector also just checked in. Still no trace.”

  Pellaeon nodded. As expected, really—anyone who could afford to buy and fly a battlecruiser usually knew a few tricks about hiding it. “It was worth a try,” he told Ardiff. “Have them try one more system; we can transmit that far without relays. If they haven’t picked up the trail by then, order them back.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ardiff murmured.

  Even without looking, Pellaeon could sense Ardiff’s hesitation. “A question, Captain?” he prompted.

  “It’s this communications blackout, sir,” Ardiff said. “I don’t like being so completely out of contact this way. It’s like being blind and deaf; and frankly, it makes me nervous.”

  “I don’t much like it myself,” Pellaeon conceded. “But the only ways to make contact with the outside universe are to either transmit to an Imperial relay station or punch our way onto the HoloNet; and the minute we do either, everyone from Coruscant to Bastion will know we’re here. If that happens, we’ll have more than the occasional pirate gang lining up to take potshots at us.”

  And, he added silently, it would be the end of any chance for a quiet meeting between him and Bel Iblis. Assuming the general was indeed willing to talk.

  “I understand all that, Admiral,” Ardiff said. “But has it occurred to you that yesterday’s attack might not have been an isolated incident against an isolated Imperial ship?”

  Pellaeon cocked an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting it might have been part of a coordinated attack against the Empire?”

  “Why not?” Ardiff said. “I’m willing to concede at this point that it probably wasn’t the New Republic who hired them. But why
couldn’t the pirates have set it up on their own? The Empire has always come down hard on pirate gangs. Maybe a group of them got together and decided the time was right for revenge.”

  Pellaeon stroked his lip thoughtfully. On the surface, it was a ridiculous suggestion—even on its deathbed the Empire was far stronger than any possible aggregate of pirate gangs could hope to defeat. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be foolish enough to try. “That still leaves the question of how they knew we were here,” he pointed out.

  “We still don’t know what happened to Colonel Vermel,” Ardiff reminded him. “Maybe it was this pirate coalition who snatched him. He could have told them about Pesitiin.”

  “Not willingly,” Pellaeon said darkly. “If they did what it would take to make him talk, I’ll decorate Bastion’s moon with their hides.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ardiff said. “But that brings us back to the question of how long we’re going to stay here.”

  Pellaeon looked out the viewport at the stars. Yes, that was indeed the question. How long should they wait here in the middle of nowhere in the hope that this slow attrition of the Empire could be stopped? That they could end this war with the New Republic with a shred of territory and dignity still intact?

  That they could finally have peace?

  “Two weeks,” he said. “We’ll give Bel Iblis another two weeks to respond to our offer.”

  “Even though the message may not have reached him?”

  “The message reached him,” Pellaeon said firmly. “Vermel is a highly resourceful, highly competent officer. Whatever happened to him, I have no doubt he completed his mission first.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ardiff said, his tone making it clear that he didn’t share Pellaeon’s confidence. “And if Bel Iblis doesn’t come within that time frame?”

  Pellaeon pursed his lips. “We’ll decide then.”

  Ardiff hesitated, then took half a step closer to his superior. “You really believe this is our best hope, sir, don’t you,” he said quietly.

  Pellaeon shook his head. “No, Captain,” he murmured. “I believe it’s our only hope.”

  · · ·

  The wedge of approaching Sienar IPV/4 patrol ships broke in perfect formation to both sides, and the Imperial Star Destroyer Relentless glided smoothly between the re-forming clusters toward its designated orbital position. “Very impressive,” Moff Disra growled to the slim man beside him, hearing his heart pounding in his ears as he gazed across the bridge at the green-blue world framed in the forward viewport “I trust you didn’t haul me all the way out here just to watch the Kroctarian home defense force’s maneuvers.”

  “Patience, Your Excellency,” Major Grodin Tierce said quietly at his side. “I told you we had a surprise for you.”

  Disra felt his lip twist. Yes, that’s what Tierce had said. And that was all Tierce had said. And as for Flim—

  Disra shifted his gaze to the Admiral’s chair, feeling his lip twist a little more. Their tame con man was sitting there, bold as bricbrass in his blue-skin makeup and glowing red eye surface inserts and his white Grand Admiral’s uniform. The absolute laser-trimmed image of Grand Admiral Thrawn, a masquerade solidly believed by every Imperial aboard the Relentless from Captain Dorja on down.

  Trouble was, there weren’t any Imperials on the planet below them. Far from it. Kroctar, merchant center and capital of Shataum sector, was deep in New Republic territory, with every bit as much military firepower as one would expect such a world to have. There was no guarantee that any of them would be impressed by Flim’s eyes and uniform and acting ability.

  And if they weren’t, this cozy little triumvirate Disra had formed was about to blow up in their faces. Flim might look like Thrawn, but he had all the tactical genius of a garbage-pit parasite. Tierce, a former stormtrooper and Royal Guardsman under Emperor Palpatine, was the military brains of their little group; and if Captain Dorja saw an allegedly lowly major rush over to the allegedly brilliant Grand Admiral to give him advice, this whole illusion would explode into soap scum. Whatever bluff Tierce was running here, it had better work.

  “Transmission from the surface, Admiral,” the comm officer called from the portside crew pit. “It’s Lord Superior Bosmihi, chief of the Unified Factions.”

  “On speaker, Lieutenant,” Thrawn said. “Lord Superior Bosmihi, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn. I received your message. What may I do for you?”

  Disra frowned at Tierce. “They called us?” he muttered.

  Tierce nodded, a small but satisfied smile playing around his lips. “Shh,” he said. “Listen.”

  “We offer you greeting, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” a nasally alien voice boomed over the comm, “and we congratulate you most heartily on your triumphal return.”

  “Thank you,” Thrawn said smoothly. “As I recall, you were somewhat less enthusiastic at our last meeting.”

  Disra threw Tierce a sharp look. “During his sweep through this sector ten years ago,” Tierce murmured. “Don’t worry, he knows all about it.”

  The alien gave a blubbering laugh. “Ah, yes—you remember most clearly,” he admitted cheerfully. “At that time the fear of Imperial power and the lure of promised freedoms still held sway over us.”

  “Such lies held sway over many,” Thrawn agreed. “Does your choice of words imply the Kroctari have come to a new understanding?”

  There was a disgusting, wheezy-sounding noise from the comm. “We have seen the crumbling of the promise,” the Lord Superior said regretfully. “There is no longer any order emanating from Coruscant; no focused goals, no clear structures, no discipline. A thousand different alien species tug the galaxy in a thousand different directions.”

  “Inevitably,” Thrawn said. “That was why Emperor Palpatine first inaugurated the New Order. It was an attempt to reverse the collapse you now see coming.”

  “Yet we were also warned not to trust Imperial promises,” Bosmihi hedged. “The history of the Empire is one of brutal subjugation of nonhuman species.”

  “You speak of the rule of Palpatine,” Thrawn said. “The Empire has freed itself from his self-destructive anti-alien bias.”

  “Your presence in a place of command is some evidence of that,” Bosmihi said cautiously. “Still, others still say the bias exists.”

  “Others still lie about the Empire in many ways,” Thrawn countered. “But there’s no need for you to take my word for it. Speak to any of the fifteen alien species currently living under Imperial rule, beings who cherish the protection and stability we offer.”

  “Yes—protection.” The Lord Superior seemed to pounce on the word. “The Empire is said to be weak; yet I perceive that you still have great strength. What guarantee of safety do you offer your member systems?”

  “The best guarantee in the galaxy,” Thrawn said; and even Disra felt a shiver run through him at the veiled power and menace that was suddenly in the con man’s voice. “My personal promise of vengeance should anyone dare attack you.”

  There was a noise that sounded midway between a swallow and a burp. “I see,” Bosmihi said soberly. “I understand that this is rather sudden, and for this I apologize; but on behalf of the Unified Factions of the Kroctari people, I would like to petition you for readmission into the Empire.”

  Disra looked at Tierce, feeling his jaw drop a few millimeters. “Readmission?” he hissed.

  Tierce smiled back. “Surprise, Your Excellency.”

  “On behalf of the Empire, I accept your petition,” Thrawn said. “You no doubt have a delegation standing ready to discuss the details?”

  “You understand my people well, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” the Lord Superior said wryly. “Yes, my delegation does indeed await your pleasure.”

  “Then you may signal them to approach,” Thrawn told him. “As it happens, Imperial Moff Disra is currently aboard the Relentless. As he is a specialist in political matters, he will handle the negotiations.”

  “We will be honored to meet with him,” Bosmih
i said. “Though I doubt his presence there is in any way the coincidence you imply. Thank you, Grand Admiral Thrawn; and until the meeting.”

  “Until the meeting, Lord Superior Bosmihi,” Thrawn said.

  He gestured to the crew pit “Transmission ended, Admiral,” the comm officer confirmed.

  “Thank you,” Thrawn said, rising almost leisurely from his command chair. “Signal TIE interceptors to stand ready for escort duty. They’re to meet the Lord Superior’s shuttle as soon as it clears atmosphere, flying in full honor formation. Captain Dorja, I’d like you to meet the shuttle personally and escort the delegation to Conference Room 68. Moff Disra will await you there.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” Dorja said. He strode from the bridge, throwing Disra a tightly satisfied smile as he passed, and stepped into a waiting turbolift in the aft bridge. “You might have said something,” Disra muttered to Tierce as the turbolift door closed behind the captain.

  The Guardsman shrugged, a microscopic movement of the shoulders. “I wasn’t absolutely sure this was what they wanted when they called,” he said, gesturing Disra through the aft doors toward another turbolift “But it seemed like a good guess. Kroctar has several potentially dangerous neighbors, and Intelligence reports the Unified Factions have become extremely disillusioned by Coruscant’s inability to decide how tight a restraining bolt they want to keep on inter-system fighting.”

  They reached the turbolift and stepped into a waiting car. “Kroctar’s the first,” Tierce continued as the doors closed and they began to move. “But it won’t be the last. We already have transmissions from twenty other systems whose governments would like Grand Admiral Thrawn to drop in for a chat.”

  Disra snorted. “All they’re trying to do is shake up their enemies.”

  “Probably,” Tierce agreed. “But what do we care why they want to rejoin? The point is that they do, and it’s going to send shock waves from here to Coruscant.”

  “Until Coruscant decides to take action.”

  “What action can they take?” Tierce countered. “Their own charter specifically allows member systems to withdraw anytime they choose.”