Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [36]
Pellaeon frowned even more deeply as he faced the image of the fat warlord. Teradoc was correct, from a certain point of view. Pellaeon had spent many decades of his life in service to the Imperial Navy. He had commanded Star Destroyers. After the battle of Endor, he had taken over the Chimaera when its own commander had been killed in the hostilities. He had spent the following years trying to regain the status of the Empire through a succession of weak rulers, debilitating surrenders, and losses of territory. Pellaeon had watched his once-magnificent Empire dwindle to a mere island in what had been considered the backwater territories and formerly uninhabitable systems near the core of the galaxy.
It wasn’t until Grand Admiral Thrawn had come back from the Unknown Territories that Pellaeon had finally found a true leader he could follow with a genuine chance of recapturing lost glory. When Thrawn had fallen, Pellaeon had lost his hope again, merely serving any Imperial commander he happened to find and marching in place.
Now, though, Admiral Daala’s conviction and enthusiasm, and her willingness to risk all for the appropriate cause, made something stir within him again, something powerful.
Pellaeon took a deep breath and spoke to the bloated image of Teradoc. “I believe I know what he would think of me,” he said bitterly, “and you, sir, are no Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
He switched off the comm, then turned to his crew. “Prepare a shuttle and inform Admiral Daala that I am coming aboard. Time is short, and I wish to confer with her in person.”
YAVIN 4
CHAPTER 11
As Artoo-Detoo trundled along in front of him, Luke Skywalker hurried out of the Great Temple to see the new visitor. Wind currents had torn the clouds to tatters in the sky above, and he blinked in the hazy sunlight of the jungle afternoon.
Most of the Jedi trainees were working inside their cool chambers or wandering out in the forest depths. Callista sat alone studying the histories that Tionne compiled for her, although over the past several days she had found nothing that would help her regain her powers.
Now Luke saw a slender woman descend from a custom-designed craft that bore the cross-hatched insignia of the Smugglers’ Alliance. “Mara Jade!” he called. “What did I do to deserve the honor of your presence?”
Mara flashed a fast, sharp-edged smile at him. “You don’t deserve it, Skywalker,” she said, “but I came anyway.”
He strode forward and clasped her hand. She withdrew quickly, glancing at the close-cropped weeds on the landing grid and then staring up at the dizzying height of the ancient Massassi pyramid.
“Want to come inside?” he asked.
“No, let’s go for a ride in my ship,” she answered. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Luke nodded slowly. “I thought you might. You don’t usually come here just because you’re bored.”
Mara shook her head, and her mane of auburn hair thrashed about like waves of exotic spice. “I’m never bored, Skywalker.” She gestured to the cockpit of her ship, where the passenger seat sat empty. “It’s my outlook on life.”
Artoo whistled and warbled, rocking back and forth on his footpads. “You stay here, Artoo,” Luke said. “If anybody asks, tell them where I’ve gone. We’ll be back,” he glanced sidelong at Mara, “before too long.”
As he slid into the empty seat, finding the armrests and the protective restraints, Mara punched a button on the cockpit controls. The flip-up side door slammed down and hissed into an airtight seal. Before Luke could buckle his crash webbing, she hit the accelerators. With a blast of repulsorlifts her sleek ship rose into the air and shot off above the treetops.
Luke thought he heard the scraping of witches’ fingernails as the bottom hull brushed gently