Vision of the future

'It wasn't difficult,' the holo said as Lando reluctantly followed suit with his slugthrower. 'I knew none of you had the slicing expertise needed to invade the Special Files. I suspected you were using a Verpine for that, and so instructed my men to run a scan on those comm frequencies.'

'Looking for an echo,' Han said, nodding. 'I would have sworn we cut that off before you could get a fix.'

'You misunderstand, Captain. I wasn't looking for an echo.' Abruptly, the holo vanished—

And from around a stack of storage crates to their right Thrawn himself appeared, his white uniform dazzlingly bright in the afternoon sunlight.

But no more dazzling than the gleaming armor of the six stormtroopers flanking him in guard position. On second thought, Han decided, a mad dash for the Lady Luck wouldn't have been such a clever plan after all.

'I was merely seeking confirmation that your slicer was a Verpine,' Thrawn continued as he walked up to them. 'Once you supplied that confirmation by blanketing those biocomm frequencies, all I had to do was search the spaceport records for a ship that had supposedly landed here eight, twelve, or seventeen days before the drone probe you followed in from the Parshoone Ubiqtorate contact station.'

'Wait a minute, you've lost me,' Han said, frowning. 'Eight, twelve, or seventeen days?' Thrawn smiled. 'Those are important numbers to the Verpines,' he said. 'Not consciously, perhaps, but nevertheless anchored deeply within them. It was obvious that your Verpine was the master slicer of your group; therefore, he would have been the one to make any alterations in the spaceport records to hide your ship's location. Need I go on?'

'No,' Han said, a cold chill running through him. Back at his and Leia's Orowood Tower retreat Lando had claimed to have seen Thrawn; had claimed it, had argued it, had maintained it despite all the evidence and arguments to the contrary. Han had wondered then how his friend could have been so easily spooked.

Now, finally, he understood.

'Good,' Thrawn said, peering at him with a depth of understanding Han didn't care for at all.

'Then let us get down to business.' He raised his voice slightly. 'Major?' From behind another stack of boxes to the left a youngish man wearing major's insignia appeared, his eyes wary on the prisoners. In his right hand he held a blaster; in his left, a datacard.

'As you may recall our last conversation, Captain Calrissian,' Thrawn went on as the major walked toward them, 'you suggested that if I wanted to save the New Republic from its current crisis I should simply give you a complete copy of the Caamas Document.'

'Yes, I remember,' Lando said as the major came to a stop a meter in front of him. 'You told me that would take too much time.'

'Less time than I thought, as it turned out,' Thrawn agreed. 'There it is.' The major held out the datacard. 'What do you mean, there it is?' Lando asked, looking at the datacard like he expected it to explode in his face.

'The Caamas Document,' Thrawn said simply. 'It's yours. Take it.' Slowly, hesitantly, Lando took the card. 'What's the catch?' he asked as the major took a step back.

'There's no catch,' Thrawn assured him. 'As I told you before, I merely wish to help.'

'Sure you do,' Han put in, his words sounding harsh in his ears after the Grand Admiral's more urbane tones. 'Like you helped wreck the Combined Clans Building on Bothawui?' The glowing red eyes focused on him. 'Explain.'

'There was an Imperial team behind that riot,' Han said stiffly. Beside him, Lando was making shushing noises, and he had to admit that accusing Thrawn to his face like this was probably not the most politic thing he could have done. But it had been his neck on the line there, his and Leia's, and he was not going to just stand here and let Thrawn get away with making conciliatory noises. Not after all the death and destruction that riot had caused. 'We found the redirection crystal they used with their Xerrol Nightstinger sniper blaster.'

He had hoped for a flicker of guilt, or at least a twinge of recognition. But instead Thrawn merely gave him a brittle smile. 'Yes, a Xerrol Nightstinger,' he said, his voice tinged with bitterness.

'Apparently still a favored tool of assassins and saboteurs. But in this case, you're looking the wrong direction. The Empire's last five Xerrols were stolen six months ago from a Ubiqtorate cache on Marquarra.'

His eyes glittered. 'If you want to find them, I suggest you search the private estate of High Councilor Borsk Fey'lya.'

Han exchanged startled glances with Lando. 'Fey'lya?'

'Yes,' Thrawn said. 'It was his private army who stole them.'

'No,' Han said, the word coming automatically. 'That's ridiculous.' And yet...