Part 35 (1/2)

”Good,” Mara said. ”Because so did I. Whose authority are you operating under?”

”We don't actually...” His voice trailed away.

”If you're worried about my clearance, don't be,” Mara a.s.sured him. ”I'm about as high in the ranks as you can get, even if I'm not on anyone's official list.” She raised her eyebrows. ”I take it you're not on any official lists, either?”

”No, we're not,” the commander confirmed.

”So what's your unit designation?”

He hesitated again. ”Mostly, we're known as the Hand of Judgment.”

Mara c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. ”Sounds a little too poetic for Stormtrooper Command,” she commented. ”And way too poetic for ISB.”

”We chose it ourselves, actually,” one of the others put in.

”And we're not allowed to reveal anything more,” the commander continued.

”I'm sorry.”

Mara pursed her lips. She could force the issue, of course. But with Governor Ch.o.a.rd presumably alerted to her presence, it would be difficult and dangerous to try to break into his compound alone. This Hand of Judgment hadn't attacked her as she departed Gepparin; more significantly, they'd come to her aid after Caaldra's gimmicked AT-ST had shot her down.

And with Vader and the 501st completely preoccupied with their search for Leia Organa, this was the most trustworthy help she was likely to find in Makrin City. Reason enough for her to have fended off that nosy group commander. ”As you wish,” she said. ”But whatever your usual chain of command or lack of one, for the next two hours you're working for me.

Understood?” ”Yes, ma'am,” the commander said. ”Good,” Mara said. Closing down the lightsaber, she returned it to her belt. ”What are your operating numbers?”

”We usually just use names,” the commander said. ”It's ... shorter.

Quicker in combat.”

Privately, Mara had always thought that, too. But Stormtrooper Command had always loved their fancy number system. ”Names, then.”

”I'm LaRone.” The commander gestured to his right. ”This is Marcross.

Behind him is Grave; behind me is Quiller. Our scout trooper is Bright.w.a.ter.”

”Call me Jade,” Mara told them, stretching out with the Force. She'd never heard of a stormtrooper unit roaming the Empire without a firm chain of command attached. But it could be something the Emperor had set up personally. If he had, they might recognize her name.

There was no reaction that she could sense, however. Apparently the Emperor had chosen to keep her secret from them, as well as vice versa.

”Ma'am?” Grave asked.

”Jade.”

”Jade,” the other corrected. ”May I ask what the plan is once we reach the palace?”

”The plan is for me to break in, and for you to help me do it,” Mara said. ”That's all you need to know.” ”Yes, ma'am,” Grave said.

”And be ready for some opposition,” Mara added. ”I expect we're going to find some.”

In the front seat Marcross glanced sideways at LaRone. ”Don't worry,” he said, his voice grim. ”We're ready.”

Governor Ch.o.a.rd's hastily organized party in the ballroom downstairs had taken up far too much of Disra's precious time this evening. But the guests were finally starting to filter out, and Disra was at last able to slip away to his office. Turning on the lights, he sealed the door behind him and headed for his desk.

He got three steps before his eyes abruptly registered the fact that he had a visitor.

”Why aren't you answering your comlink?” Caaldra demanded as he looked up from Disra's computer.

Disra felt his heart seize up. What in blazes was Caaldra doing with his computer? ”The governor threw together a quick reception this evening,”

he managed. ”I had to put in an appearance.”

”A reception?” Caaldra repeated. ”A party} Now?* ”When your city's crawling with stormtroopers, that's exactly what you need to soothe all the top-tier people,” Disra said. Unlocking his knees, he started casually toward the desk. There was a hold-out blaster hidden under the chair if he could get to it. ”What are you doing here?”

Caaldra's face twisted in an almost-smile, and for the first time Disra noticed the rigidly controlled pain lurking behind the other's eyes. ”I brought you your AT-STs, of course.”

”I meant what are you doing here in this office?” Disra clarified, stepping up to the desk. From his new vantage point he could see Caaldra's torn left sleeve and the rough field bandage wrapped around his forearm. ”What happened?”

”Small accident,” Caaldra said, lifting the arm slightly. ”I had to blow the freighter's hold.” His lips twisted. ”I suppose you didn't hear anything about that, either.”

”I haven't heard any news since you hauled me out of the reception earlier to get you your palace landing clearance,” Disra gritted. At the time he'd thought it more important to be present and visible at Ch.o.a.rd's stupid party than to monitor Caaldra's unexpected arrival. In retrospect it looked like he'd been wrong. ”Fill me in.”

”First of all, our Imperial agent's somehow managed to get herself unstranded,” Caaldra said. ”She's here in Makrin City.”

An icy s.h.i.+ver ran up Disra's back. ”You said you'd gimmicked the last functional s.h.i.+p left on Gepparin.”

”Apparently not well enough,” Caaldra said. ”Ten minutes after I landed at Greencliff she put down not three slots over.”

”You mean she followed you here?”

Caaldra c.o.c.ked his head. ”If we're lucky.”

Disra snorted. ”You have a strange definition of luck.”

”No, I just have a few new facts,” Caaldra said. ”On the trip from Gepparin, I was finally able to get through to one of the crewers I know aboard the Reprisal. It now seems likely that Ozzel's attack on the BloodScars' base had nothing to do with us.”

”I thought the Imperials didn't go after pirates these days.”

”They do when the attack can serve as a convenient cover for something else,” Caaldra said grimly. ”A lot of this is still at the unfiltered rumor level, but it appears that our Imperial agent may have seen something in the Reprisal's files that she wasn't supposed to know about, and that Ozzel followed her to Gepparin to shut her up.”

”You're joking,” Disra said, staring at him. ”What did she see?”

”Officially, it was something about a secret ISB operation that some of the Reprisal's stormtroopers were co-opted for.” Caaldra c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. ”Unofficially, rumor has it those stormtroopers aren't on any mission, but that they murdered an ISB officer and deserted.”

Disra goggled. ”Impossible,” he insisted. ”Storm-troopers don't desert.

Ever.”

”They didn't used to,” Caaldra agreed. ”But who knows? Rot spreads from the top, and Imperial Center these days is about as fetid as you can get.” He waved a hand around him. ”Hence this whole bid for independence, remember?”

”Yes, thank you, I do recall something about that,” Disra said acidly, his mind racing. But if the agent wasn't after them . . . ”Wait a minute.