Part 7 (1/2)

It was an Intelligence report, purchased from a Devaronian freelancer named Lak Jit, concerning the discovery in the Mount Tantiss ruins of a partial record of the destruction of Caamas. ”This is perfect,” he told Tierce as he skimmed through it. ”Exactly what we need.”

Tierce shook his head. ”Certainly it's useful. But it's not enough.”

”Ah, but it is,” Disra said, feeling a tight smile tugging at his lips as he reread the crucial parts of the report. ”I don't think you fully understand the political situation the New Republic finds itself in these days. A flash point like Caamas-especially with Bothan involvement-will bring the whole thing to a boil. Particularly if we can give it the proper nudge.”

”The situation among the Rebels is not the issue,” Tierce countered coldly. ”It's the state of the Empire you don't seem to understand. Simply tearing the Rebellion apart is not going to rebuild the Emperor's New Order. We need a focal point, a leader around whom the Imperial forces can rally. Admiral Pellaeon is the closest thing we have to such an authority figure, and he's obviously lost the will to fight.”

”Forget Pellaeon,” Disra said. ”Suppose I could provide such a leader. Would you be willing to join us?”

Tierce eyed him. ”Who is this us' you refer to?”

”If you join, there would be three of us,” Disra said. ”Three who would share the secret I'm prepared to offer you. A secret that will bring the entire Fleet onto our side.”

Tierce smiled cynically. ”You'll forgive me, Your Excellency, if I suggest you couldn't inspire blind loyalty in a drugged bantha.”

Disra felt a flash of anger. How dare this common soldier-? ”No,” he agreed, practically choking out the word from between clenched teeth. Tierce was hardly a common soldier, after all. More importantly, Disra desperately needed a man of his skills and training. ”I would merely be the political power behind the throne. Plus the supplier of military men and materiel, of course.”

”From the Braxant Sector Fleet?”

”And other sources,” Disra said. ”You, should you choose to join us, would serve as the architect of our overall strategy.”

”I see.” If Tierce was bothered by the word serve,' he didn't show it. ”And the third person?”

”Are you with us?”

Tierce studied him. ”First tell me more.”

”I'll do better than tell you.” Disra pushed his chair back and stood up. ”I'll show you.”

Judging from Tierce's lack of reaction, the supposedly secret corridor between the private office and Disra's quarters came as no surprise to the former Guardsman. The camouflaged doorway halfway along it, however, did. ”Installed by the palace's previous owner,” Disra explained as they walked down a narrow pa.s.sageway to an equally narrow turbolift car. ”It goes down fifty meters. From there you can then go either to the torture chamber beneath the dungeon level or to a secret exit tunnel in the hills to the north. I've sometimes wondered which direction he used the most”

Which are we using today?” Tierce asked as the turbolift car started down.

”The one to the torture chamber,” Disra said. ”It's the most private and secure place in the palace. Or anywhere on Bastion, for that matter. The third person of our group is waiting there.”

The car stopped and the door slid open. Two narrow, rough-carved tunnels branched off the open s.p.a.ce in front of the turbolift; brus.h.i.+ng aside a stray strand of cobweb, Disra led the way down the rightmost corridor. It ended in a dusty metal door with a wheel set into its center. Gripping the edges of the wheel, Disra turned; and with a creak that echoed eerily in the confined s.p.a.ce the door swung open.

The previous owner would hardly have recognized his onetime torture chamber. The instruments of pain and terror had been taken out, the walls and floor cleaned and carpet-insulated, and the furnis.h.i.+ngs of a fully functional modern apartment installed.

But for the moment Disra had no interest in the chamber itself. All his attention was on Tierce as the former Guardsman stepped into the room.

Stepped into the room . . . and caught sight of the room's single occupant, seated in the center in a duplicate of a Star Destroyer's captain's chair.

Tierce froze, his eyes widening with shock, his entire body stiffening as if a power current had jolted through him. His eyes darted to Disra, back to the captain's chair, flicked around the room as if seeking evidence of a trap or hallucination or perhaps his own insanity, back again to the chair. Disra held his breath And then, abruptly, Tierce straightened to parade-ground attention. ”Grand Admiral Thrawn, sir,” he said with laser-sharp military formality. ”Stormtrooper TR-889, reporting for duty.”

Disra s.h.i.+fted his attention to the room's occupant as he rose slowly to his feet. To the blue skin, the blue-black hair, the glowing red eyes, the white Grand Admiral's uniform.

The glowing eyes met Disra's; then he turned back to Tierce. Welcome back to duty, stormtrooper,” he said gravely. ”However, I'm afraid I must tell you”-he glanced again at Disra-”that I'm not who you think I am.”

The first hint of a frown crept across Tierce's face. ”Sir?”

”Allow me,” Disra said. Stepping across the room, he took hold of the white uniform sleeve and pulled the man a step closer to Tierce. ”Major Tierce: allow me to present my a.s.sociate Flim.

”A highly talented con artist.”

For a long minute the room was filled with a brittle silence. Tierce stared at the white-uniformed impostor, disbelief and disappointment mixing with anger and betrayal in his face. Disra watched the play of emotions, his pulse pounding unpleasantly in his neck.

If Tierce let his pride take charge here-if he chose to take offense at the deception they'd just played on him-then neither Disra nor Flim would be leaving this room alive.

Tierce turned his gaze onto Disra, the emotional turmoil retreating behind a mask of stone. ”Explain,” he said darkly.

”You said yourself the Empire needed a leader,” Disra reminded him. ”What better leader could we have than Grand Admiral. Thrawn?”

Slowly, reluctantly, Tierce looked back at the false Grand Admiral. ”Who are you?” he demanded.

”As His Excellency told you, my name is Flim.” the other said. His voice was subtly changed, his manner no longer the powerful, almost regal air of a Grand Admiral. Precisely the same transformation, Disra realized suddenly, as the one Tierce himself had gone through a few minutes ago up in the private office, except in reverse.

Perhaps Tierce recognized that, too. ”Interesting,” he said, taking a step forward and peering closely at Flim's face. ”It's uncanny. You look exactly like him.”

”He should,” Disra said. ”It took me nearly eight years of searching to find someone who could pull off such a masquerade. I've been planning this a long time.”

”So I see.” Tierce gestured. ”How do you do the eyes?”

”Surface inserts,” Disra said. ”Self-powered to provide the red glow. The rest is just skin and hair coloring, plus a remarkable voice control and natural acting ability.”

”I've done many such impersonations,” Flim said. ”This is just one more.” He smiled.

”Though with considerably greater potential for reward.”

”It's remarkable,” Tierce said, looking back at Disra. ”There's only one problem. Thrawn is dead, and everyone knows it.”

Disra lifted his eyebrows. ”Ah, but do they? He was reported dead, certainly, but that may or may not mean anything at all. Perhaps he was merely comatose from Rukh's knife wound.

Perhaps he was taken to some secret place where he has spent the long years in recovery.”

He nodded toward Flim. ”Or perhaps it was actually an impostor like Flim who died on the Chimaera's bridge. You said you were expecting an attack on him at Bilbringi; perhaps Thrawn was, too, and made private arrangements of his own.”

Tierce snorted. ”Farfetched.”

”Of course,” Disra agreed. ”But that doesn't matter. All we need to do is present Thrawn, and wishful thinking will do the rest. The entire Empire will rush to believe in him, from Admiral Pellaeon on down.”

”Is that your plan, then?” Tierce asked. ”To present the Grand Admiral to Pellaeon, reinstate him aboard the Chimaera, and use him as a rallying point for the Empire?”

”Basically,” Disra said, frowning. ”Why?”

For a moment Tierce was silent ”You said you had other resources besides the Braxant Sector Fleet,” he said. ”What are they?”