The Last Command Read online

  From the way the stormtroopers were facing the door, it was clear they’d heard the short fight outside. It was also clear that they hadn’t expected anyone to be coming through this soon. Han shot one of them as he tried to bring his blaster rifle to bear; Luke lunged half over the bottom part of the door, lightsaber swinging, and took out the other.

  The group of Imperials manning their sensor consoles weren’t expecting company, either. They were fumbling for sidearms and scrambling for cover as Han and Chewbacca took them out. A dozen shots after that, the room had been reduced to a smoldering collection of junk.

  “That ought to do it,” Han decided. “Better get lost before the reinforcements get here.”

  But between the riot down at the main entrance and the wandering band of Myneyrshi, Imperial response time was down. The three intruders made it back along the corridor to the emergency stairway and three levels down to the pump room where they’d left the others.

  Two of the Noghri were standing silent guard just inside the door as Han keyed it open. “Any trouble?” Lando called from somewhere in the tangle of pipes that seemed to fill two thirds of the room.

  “Not really,” Han said as Chewbacca closed and locked the door behind them. “Wouldn’t want to try it again, though.”

  Lando grunted. “I don’t think you’ll have to. They should be adequately convinced that there’s a major aerial attack on the way.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Han said, stepping around to where Lando was fiddling with an archaic-looking control board. Artoo was plugged into a computer socket on the side of the board, while Threepio hovered off to the side like a nervous mother bird. “Vintage stuff, huh?”

  “You’ve got that,” Lando agreed. “I think the Emperor must have just picked up the cloning complex and dropped it in here whole.”

  Artoo gibbered indignantly. “Right—including the programming,” Lando said dryly. “I know a little about this stuff, Han, but not enough to do any permanent damage. I think we’re going to have to use the explosives.”

  “Fine with me,” Han said. He would have hated lugging them all the way across Wayland for nothing, anyway. “Where’s Mara?”

  “Out there,” Lando said, nodding toward another door half hidden by the pipes. “In the main room.”

  “Let’s check it out, Luke,” Han said. He didn’t like the idea of Mara wandering around alone in this place. “Chewie, stay here with Lando. See if there’s anything worth blowing up.”

  Crossing to the door, he keyed it open. Beyond was a wide circular walkway running around the inside of what seemed to be a huge natural cavern. Directly ahead, framed against a massive equipment column that extended downward from the ceiling through the center of the cavern, Mara was standing at the walkway’s railing. “This the place?” he asked her, glancing around as he started toward her. About twenty other doors opened up onto the walkway at more or less regular intervals, and there were four retractable bridges extending out to a work platform encircling the central equipment column. Aside from a couple of their Noghri skulking around doing guard duty there was no one else in sight.

  But there were sounds. A muted hum of machinery and voices was coming from somewhere, punctuated by the faint clicks of relays and a strange rhythmic pulsing or whooshing sound. Like the whole cavern was breathing …

  “It’s the place,” Mara confirmed, her voice sounding strange. Maybe she thought it sounded like breathing, too. “Come and see.”

  Han threw a glance at Luke, and together they stepped to Mara’s side and looked down over the railing.

  And it was, indeed, the place.

  The cavern was huge, extending downward at least ten stories below their walkway. It was laid out like a sport arena, with each level being a kind of circular balcony running around the inside of the cavern. Each balcony was a little wider than the one above it, extending further into the center of the cavern and making for a smaller hole around the big equipment column. There were pipes everywhere: huge ones coming off the ducts of the central column, smaller ones running around the edges of each of the balconies, and little ones feeding off them into the neatly arranged metal circles that filled the balconies and main floor.

  Thousands of little circles. Each one the top cover plate of a Spaarti cloning cylinder.

  Beside Han, Luke made a strange sound in the back of his throat. “It’s hard to believe,” he said, sounding about halfway between awestruck and dumbfounded.

  “Believe it,” Han advised him grimly, pulling out his macrobinoculars and focusing them on the main floor below. The ductwork blocked a lot of the view, but he could catch glimpses of men in medtech and guard uniforms scurrying around. They were on some of the balconies, too. “They’re stirred up like a rats’ nest down there,” he said. “Stormtroopers on the main floor and everything.”

  He threw a sideways look at Mara. Her expression was tight as she stared down at the cloning tanks, with the haunted look of someone gazing back into the past. “Bring back memories?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said mechanically. She stood there a moment longer, then slowly straightened up. “But we can’t allow it to stand.”

  “Glad you agree,” Han said, studying her face. She looked and sounded okay now, but there was a lot of stuff going on under the surface. Hold it together, kid, he told her silently. Just a little longer, okay? “That column in the middle looks like our best shot. You know anything about it?”

  She looked across the cavern. “Not really.” She hesitated. “But there might be another way. The Emperor wasn’t one for leaving things behind for other people to use. Not if he could help it.”

  Han threw a glance at Luke. “You mean this whole place might have a self-destruct?”

  “It’s possible,” she said, that haunted look back in her eyes again. “If so, the control will be up in the throne room. I could go and take a look.”

  “I don’t know,” Han said, looking down into the cloning cavern. It was an awfully big place for them to take on with a single sack of explosives—he’d give her that much. A destruct switch would simplify things a lot. But the idea of Mara and her memories up there in the Emperor’s throne room didn’t sound so good, either. “Thanks, but I don’t think any of us ought to go wandering around this place alone.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Luke volunteered. “She’s right—it’s worth checking out.”

  “It’ll be safe enough,” Mara added. “There’s a service-droid turbolift along the walkway that’ll get us most of the way there. Most of the Imperials’ attention should be focused on the riot at the entrance, anyway.”

  Han grimaced. “All right, get going,” he growled. “Don’t forget to let us know before you pull the switch, okay?”

  “We won’t,” Luke assured him with a tight grin. “Come on, Mara.”

  They headed down the walkway. “Where are they going?” Lando asked from behind Han.

  “Emperor’s throne room,” Han said. “She thinks he might have put a self-destruct switch up there. You find anything?”

  “Artoo’s finally got a connection into the main computer,” Lando told him. “He’s looking for schematics of that thing.” He gestured toward the central column.

  “We can’t wait,” Han decided, turning back as Chewbacca emerged from the pump room with their bag of explosives over one shoulder. “Chewie, you and Lando take one of those bridges across and get busy.”

  “Right,” Lando said, taking a cautious look over the railing. “What about you?”

  “I’m going to go lock us in,” Han told him, pointing to the other doors opening out onto the walkway. “You—Noghri—come here.”

  The two Noghri who’d been standing guard moved silently to him as Lando and Chewbacca headed toward the nearest bridge. “Your command, Han clan Solo?” one of them asked.

  “You—stay here,” he told the nearest one. “Watch for trouble. You—” He pointed to the other. “Help me seal off those doors. One good blaster shot
into each control box ought to do it. I’ll go this way; you go the other.”

  He was about two thirds of the way around his side of the walkway when he heard something over the eerie mechanical breathing sounds of the cavern below him. Looking back, he saw Threepio calling and beckoning to him from the pump room door. “Great,” he muttered. Leave it to Threepio, and sooner or later he’d make a mess of it. Finishing the door he was on, he turned and hurried back.

  “Captain Solo!” Threepio gushed in relief as Han came up to him. “Thank the Maker. Artoo says—”

  “What are you trying to do?” Han snapped. “Bring the whole garrison down on us?”

  “Of course not, sir. But Artoo says—”

  “You want to talk to me, you come out and find me. Right?”

  “Yes, sir. But Artoo says—”

  “If you don’t know where to look, you use your comlink,” Han said, jabbing a finger at the little cylinder the droid was clutching. “That’s why you’ve got one. You don’t just shout around. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Threepio said, his mechanical patience sounding more than a little strained. “May I continue?”

  Han sighed. So much for the lecture. He’d do better talking to a bantha. “Yeah, what is it?”

  “It’s about Master Luke,” Threepio said. “I overheard one of the Noghri say that he and Mara Jade were on their way to the Emperor’s throne room.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Well, sir, in the course of his inquiries Artoo has just learned that the Jedi Master Joruus C’baoth is imprisoned in that area.”

  Han stared at him. “What do you mean, that area? Isn’t he in the detention center?”

  “No, sir,” Threepio said. “As I said—”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Han demanded, yanking out his comlink and thumbing it on.

  And just as fast thumbing it off. “The comlinks appear to be inoperable,” Threepio said primly. “I discovered that when I attempted to contact you.”

  “Great,” Han snarled, the burst of jamming static still echoing in his ears as he looked around. Luke and Mara, walking right into C’baoth’s arms. And no way to warn them.

  No way except one. “Keep Artoo busy looking for those schematics,” he told Threepio, shoving the comlink back into his belt. “While he’s at it, tell him to see if he can find out where the jamming is coming from. If he can, send a couple of the Noghri to try and get rid of it. Then get out to that work platform and tell Chewie and Lando where I’ve gone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Threepio said, sounding a little surprised by the flurry of orders and command authority. “Pardon me, sir, but where will you have gone?”

  “Where do you think?” Han retorted over his shoulder as he started down the walkway. It never failed, he thought sourly. One way or the other, no matter where they were or what they were doing, somehow he always wound up chasing off after Luke.

  And it was starting to look more and more like a good thing he’d come along.

  “All right, Garret’s Gold, hatchways here are sealed,” the controller’s voice said. “Stand by to receive outbound course data.”

  “Acknowledged, Control,” Aves said, easing the Etherway back from the docking arm and starting a leisurely turn. They were ready here; and from the looks of things, so was everyone else.

  “There he is,” Gillespee muttered, pointing out the viewport. “Right on schedule.”

  “You sure that’s Mazzic?” Aves asked, peering out at the ship.

  “Pretty sure,” Gillespee said. “Want me to try giving him a call?”

  Aves shrugged, looking around the shipyards. They’d set up the rest of the group with a good encrypt code, but it wouldn’t be a smart idea to tempt trouble by using it before they had to. “Let’s hold off a minute,” he told Gillespee. “Wait until we’ve got something to talk about.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when the whole thing went straight to hell.

  “Star Destroyers!” Faughn barked from the comm console. “Coming in from lightspeed.”

  “Vectors?” Gillespee snapped.

  “Don’t bother,” Aves told him, a cold knife twisting in his gut. He could see the Star Destroyers ahead, all right, appearing out of hyperspace at the edge of the shipyards. And the Dreadnaughts, and the Lancer Frigates, and the Strike Cruisers, and the TIE squadrons. A complete assault fleet, and then some.

  And practically every fighting ship of Karrde’s smuggler confederation was here. Right in the middle of it.

  “So it was a trap,” Gillespee said, his voice icy calm.

  “I guess so,” Aves said, staring out at the armada still moving into formation. A formation that seemed wrong, somehow.

  “Aves, Gillespee, this is Mazzic,” the other smuggler’s voice came over the comm. “Looks like we’ve been sold out after all. I’m not going to surrender. How about you?”

  “I think they deserve to lose at least a couple of Star Destroyers for this,” Gillespee agreed.

  “That was my idea,” Mazzic said. “Too bad Karrde isn’t here to see us go out in a blaze of glory.”

  He paused, and Aves could feel Gillespee’s and Faughn’s eyes on him. They would, he knew, go to their deaths believing Karrde had betrayed them. All of them would. “I’m with you, too,” he told the others quietly. “If you want, Mazzic, you can have command.”

  “Thanks,” Mazzic said. “I was going to take it anyway. Stand by: we might as well deliver our first punch together.”

  Aves took one last look at the armada … and suddenly he had it. “Hold it,” he snapped. “Mazzic—everyone—hold it. That assault force isn’t here for us.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gillespee demanded.

  “Those Interdictor Cruisers out there,” Aves said. “Out past that Star Destroyer group—see them? Look at their positioning.”

  There was a moment of silence. Mazzic got it first. “That’s not an enclosure configuration,” he said.

  “You’re right, it’s not,” Gillespee agreed. “Look—you can see a second group of them farther back.”

  “It’s an entrapment configuration,” Mazzic said, sounding like he didn’t believe his own words. “They’re setting up to pull someone out of hyperspace. And then keep him here long enough to pound him.”

  Aves looked at Gillespee, found him looking back. “No,” Gillespee breathed. “You don’t suppose …? I thought they were supposed to be hitting Tangrene.”

  “So did I,” Aves told him grimly, the twisting knife back in his gut. “I guess we were wrong.”

  “Or else Thrawn is.” Gillespee looked out at the armada and shook his head. “No. Probably not.”

  “All right, let’s not panic,” Mazzic said. “If the New Republic comes, it just means that much more to occupy the Imperials’ attention. Let’s stay on schedule and see what happens.”

  “Right,” Aves sighed. Square in the middle of an Imperial base during a New Republic attack. Terrific.

  “Tell you something, Aves,” Gillespee commented. “If we get out of this, I’m going to go have some words with your boss.”

  “No argument.” Aves looked out at Thrawn’s armada. “Matter of fact, I think maybe I’ll go with you.”

  Carefully, Mara eased her head out of the emergency stairway and took a look into the corridor beyond. The caution was wasted; this level was as deserted as the three below it had been. “All clear,” she murmured, stepping out into the corridor.

  “No guards here, either?” Skywalker asked, looking around as he joined her.

  “No point to it,” she told him. “Except for the throne room and the royal chambers, there was never much of anything on these top levels.”

  “I guess there still isn’t. Where’s this private turbo-lift?”

  “To the right and around that corner,” she said, pointing with her blaster.

  More from habit than any real need, she tried to keep her footsteps quiet as she led the way down the corridor.
She reached the cross corridor and turned into it.

  There, ten meters dead ahead, two stormtroopers stood flanking the turbolift door, their blaster rifles already lifting to track toward her.

  Half a step into the corridor, all her momentum going the wrong direction, there was nowhere for Mara to go but down. She dived for the deck, firing toward them as she fell. One of the stormtroopers toppled back as a burst of flame erupted in his chest armor. The second rifle swung toward her face—

  And jerked reflexively away as Skywalker’s lightsaber came spinning down the corridor toward him.

  It didn’t do any real damage, of course—at that distance, and without the Force, Skywalker wasn’t that good a shot. But it did a fine job of distracting the stormtrooper, and that was all Mara needed. Even as the Imperial ducked away from the whirling blade, she caught him with two clean shots. He hit the deck and stayed there.

  “I guess they don’t want anyone going in there,” Skywalker said, coming up beside her.

  “I guess not,” Mara agreed, ignoring the hand he offered and getting up on her own. “Come on.”

  The turbolift car had been locked at this level, but it took Mara only a minute to release it. There were only four stops listed: the one they were on, the emergency shuttle hangar, the royal chambers, and the throne room itself. She keyed for the last, and the door slid shut behind them. The trip upward was a short one, and a few seconds later the door on the opposite side of the car slid open. Bracing herself, Mara stepped out.

  Into the Emperor’s throne room … and into a flood of memories.

  It was all here, just as she remembered it. The muted sidelights and brooding darkness the Emperor had found so conducive to meditation and thought. The raised section of floor at the far end of the chamber, allowing him to look down from his throne as visitors climbed the staircase into his presence. Viewscreens on the walls on either side of the throne, darkened now, which had enabled him to keep track of the details of his domain.