Vision of the future

side. Ahead of the wrecked ships, the confident battle line collapsed as the remaining attackers swung around to face this new threat that had appeared so unexpectedly behind them. But to no avail. The Aing-Tii ships shrugged off the frantic turbolaser fire with ease as they systematically drove through the attackers' ranks, cutting up the larger ships and crushing the smaller ones against their own hulls.

'I'm afraid it's not quite that simple, Admiral,' Karrde said to David. 'According to Bombaasa, Rei'Kas has been setting up in this area for the past year. Why did your Aing-Tii wait this long to move against them?'

'As I said, they prefer to stay near the Rift,' David said. 'It takes something special to make them come out even as far as Exocron.'

'In other words,' Karrde said quietly, 'you needed someone to lure Rei'Kas into their territory. And that someone was us.'

David didn't move, but Shada could see a subtle new tension now in his face and posture. Perhaps wondering what would happen to him if a bridge full of hardened smugglers decided to be offended at having been used as bait. 'It was your actions we used, Captain Karrde,' he said. 'Your decision to come to Exocron, and your inability to keep Rei'Kas's people from tracking you. It wasn't you personally we were using.'

His eyes flicked around the bridge. 'Not any of you.'

For a long moment the bridge was silent. Shada looked back at the viewport, to find the destruction of the pirates nearly complete. Only three of the Aing-Tii were visible now, and as she watched another of them winked out, leaving as mysteriously as it had arrived. The last two alien ships stayed just long enough to finish their task before they too vanished into the darkness.

'You say we' Karrde said. 'Is that just you and the rest of the Exocron military?'

'That's an odd question,' David said obliquely. 'Who else could be involved?'

'Who, indeed?' Karrde murmured. 'Chin, open a transmission frequency to the surface. Threepio, I want a message translated into Old Tarmidian for me.'

Shada looked up at him. Karrde's face was carved from stone, his expression unreadable. 'Old Tarmidian?' she asked, frowning. 'Car'das's language?'

He nodded. 'Here's the message, Threepio: 'This is Karrde. I'd like permission to come down and see you again.' '

'Of course, Captain Karrde,' Threepio said, moving uncertainly over toward the comm station. Chin nodded, and the droid leaned over his shoulder. 'Merirao Karrde tuliak,' he said. 'Mu parril'an se'tuffriad moa sug po'porai?'

He looked back at Karrde. 'You understand, of course, that there may not be an answer for some time—'

'Se'po brus tai,' a voice boomed from the speaker, making the droid jump. A strong, vibrant voice, with no hint of weakness or illness. Shada looked up at Karrde again, to find his stonelike expression had hardened even further. 'Translation?' he asked. Threepio seemed to brace himself. 'He said, sir... come ahead.'

* * *

Entoo Nee was waiting for them as the Wild Karrde put down again in Circle 15 of the Rintatta City landing field. His casual manner, his cheerful chatter, and the landspeeder ride along with Shada and Threepio toward the pale blue house against the mountain were like a ghostly repetition of Karrde's last trip through the area a few hours earlier.

But there was one big difference. Then, the driving emotions behind his mood had been fear and dread and the morbid contemplation of his own looming death. Now...

Now, he wasn't sure what his mood was. Puzzlement and uncertainty, perhaps, tinged with a hint of resentment at having been twitched along like a puppet.

And overlaying it all a renewed haze of dread. Car'das, he couldn't help remembering, had always spoken fondly of predators who played with their prey before finally killing them. The blue house itself was unchanged, just as old and sagging and dusty as it had been before. But as Entoo Nee led the way to the bedroom door, Karrde noted that the odor of age and sickness had vanished.

And this time the door opened by itself as they approached. Steeling himself, only vaguely aware that Shada had deftly inserted a shoulder in front of him, the two of them together stepped through the door.

The built-in shelves, with all their useless knickknacks and exotic medical supplies, were gone. The sickbed and its stacks of blankets were gone.

And standing where the bed had been, still just as old but now as vitally alive as he had been feeble then, was Jorj Car'das.