disgusted. 'By the time we located the shop and shut off the transmissions, they'd made it out of range of our echo detectors. Is Grand Admiral Thrawn there with you?'
'Yes,' Thrawn said, stepping to Disra's side. 'I'll be there shortly. In the meantime, disperse your echo detectors into a grid pattern to both sides of their last location and see if you can pick them up again.'
'Yes, sir,' the lieutenant said.
Disra blanked the display, throwing a quick glare at Tierce. He should never, ever have let himself be talked into this confrontation with Zothip while Solo and Calrissian were still on the loose. 'We'd better get back,' he said, looking at Thrawn.
'So what, you're just going to leave us here?' Control asked. He had backed away another step from Zothip, his arms still folded across his chest.
'Don't be absurd,' Disra snapped, suddenly very tired of Zothip and his pirates. 'You don't want to be on the winning side? Fine—there are plenty who do. Major Tierce, call for an escort to show our visitors out.'
'You hold it right there,' Zothip rumbled, heaving his bulk out of the chair and dropping his hand to his blaster. 'We'll leave when I've got my twenty million. Now fork it over or else.'
'Or else what?' Disra demanded. 'You ungrateful, slimy—'
'That's it,' Zothip snarled. Lifting a finger to his mouth, he blew a piercing whistle. The two pirates on either side of him grabbed for their blasters—
And Tierce moved.
The pirate nearest to the Guardsman never even got his blaster clear of its holster before Tierce was on him. A short jab—a blurred movement of hands—a muffled snap of bone—and the pirate crumpled to the carpet like an empty sack. There was a startled curse from his compatriot across at Zothip's right; but even as Disra turned his head to look, there was a whisper of movement from Tierce's direction and the hilt of a knife sprouted suddenly in the man's chest. A knife that joined the one already sticking out of his neck.
Disra caught his breath, his eyes darting away from the pirate to the tall, slender woman who had suddenly appeared in the room by the hidden doorway. Her hand twitched, there was a flicker of reflected light—
And Zothip gasped with pain, lurching forward directly into the devastating kick Tierce had thrown at his stomach. Another agonized gasp as the kick connected, and the pirate chief sprawled with a thud over the computer desk, his blaster flying out of a suddenly limp hand to land on the floor. And Disra found himself staring at the knife hilt that had appeared in the center of Zothip's back. A gift, obviously, from the woman.
He looked up at her as she walked quietly to the desk, ignoring the three Imperials. Gripping Zothip's beard, she turned his dulled eyes up to face her. 'That was for Lorardian,' she said, her voice quiet but bitter.
Zothip's mouth moved once, but no sound came out. The dull eyes became duller, and closed, and as the woman let go of his beard he sagged once more and lay still.
Again a silence descended on the room. And once again, Thrawn was the one who broke it.
'Nicely done,' he said. 'Thank you for your assistance.'
'Not that I needed it,' Tierce put in tautly. Disra glanced at him, noting with some surprise that the Guardsman had produced a small blaster from somewhere and had it trained on the woman. 'Who are you?'
She looked up from Zothip's body, her eyes dark and slightly contemptuous as she looked Tierce up and down. 'Apparently, not all your people are as appreciative as you are, Admiral Thrawn,' she said, ignoring the Guardsman's question.
'You'll have to forgive Major Tierce,' Thrawn said soothingly. 'My safety is one of his primary concerns, a responsibility he takes very seriously. But he doesn't understand you the way I do.' He waved toward Tierce's blaster. 'You may put the weapon away, Major. The Mistryl shadow guards do not kill casually or without cause.'
Disra suddenly felt cold. A Mistryl shadow guard? Here in his palace?
The woman blinked, obviously taken aback by Thrawn's revelation of her identity. 'How did you know who I was?' she demanded, her eyes narrowing.
'Come now,' Thrawn said, mildly reproving as he waved a languid hand around at the carnage.
'After that demonstration of your combat skills, who else could you be but a Mistryl? And of course, there was your reference to Lorardian,' he added, his voice softening. 'My condolences on that.'
'Thank you,' she said, almost reluctantly tilting her head in acknowledgment. 'I didn't think anyone else knew or
