Star Wars - [Thrawn Trilogy 03] - The Last Command (by Timothy Zahn)

Timothy Zahn

The Last Command

Book 3 of the "Thrawn" trilogy

Chapter 1

Gliding through the blackness of deep space, the Imperial Star DestroyerChimaera pointed its mighty

arrowhead shape toward the dim star of its target system, three thousandths of a light-year away. And

prepared itself for war.

"All systems show battle ready, Admiral," the comm officer reported from the portside crew pit. "The

task force is beginning to check in."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Grand Admiral Thrawn nodded. "Inform me when all have done so. Captain

Pellaeon?"

"Sir?" Pellaeon said, searching his superior's face for the stress the Grand Admiral must be feeling. The

stress he himself was certainly feeling. This was not just another tactical strike against the Rebellion, after

all—not a minor shipping raid or even a complex but straightforward hit-and-fade against some

insignificant planetary base. After nearly a month of frenzied preparations, Thrawn's master campaign for

the Empire's final victory was about to be launched.

But if the Grand Admiral was feeling any tension, he was keeping it to himself. "Begin the countdown,"

he told Pellaeon, his voice as calm as if he were ordering dinner.

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, turning back to the group of one-quarter-size holographic figures standing

before him in theChimaera 's aft bridge hologram pod. "Gentlemen: launch marks.Bellicose : three

minutes."

"Acknowledged,Chimaera ," Captain Aban nodded, his proper military demeanor not quite masking his

eagerness to take this war back to the Rebellion. "Good hunting."

The holo image sputtered and vanished as theBellicose raised its deflector shields, cutting off long-range

communications. Pellaeon shifted his attention to the next image in line. "Relentless: four point five

minutes."

"Acknowledged," Captain Dorja said, cupping his right fist in his left in an ancient Mirshaf gesture of

victory as he, too, vanished from the hologram pod.

Pellaeon glanced at his data pad. "Judicator: six minutes."

"We're ready,Chimaera ," Captain Brandei said, his voice soft. Soft, and just a little bit wrong....

Pellaeon frowned at him. Quarter-sized holos didn't show a lot of detail, but even so the expression on

Brandei's face was easy to read. It was the expression of a man out for blood.

"This is war, Captain Brandei," Thrawn said, coming up silently to Pellaeon's side. "Not an opportunity

for personal revenge."

"I understand my duty, Admiral," Brandei said stiffly.

Thrawn's blue-black eyebrows lifted slightly. "Do you, Captain? Do you indeed?"

Slowly, reluctantly, some of the fire faded from Brandei's face. "Yes, sir," he muttered. "My duty is to

the Empire, and to you, and to the ships and crews under my command."

"Very good," Thrawn said. "To the living, in other words. Not to the dead."

Brandei was still glowering, but he gave a dutiful nod. "Yes, sir."

"Never forget that, Captain," Thrawn warned him. "The fortunes of war rise and fall, and you may be

assured that the Rebellion will be repaid in full for their destruction of thePeremptory at theKatana fleet

skirmish. But that repayment will occur in the context of our overall strategy. Not as an act of private

vengeance." His glowing red eyes narrowed slightly. "Certainly not by any Fleet captain under my

command. I trust I make myself clear."

Brandei's cheek twitched. Pellaeon had never thought of the man as brilliant, but he was smart enough to

recognize a threat when he heard one. "Very clear, Admiral."

"Good." Thrawn eyed him a moment longer, then nodded. "I believe you've been given your launch

mark?"

"Yes, sir.Judicator out."

Thrawn looked at Pellaeon. "Continue, Captain," he said, and turned away.

"Yes, sir." Pellaeon looked at his data pad. "Nemesis..."

He finished the list without further incident. By the time the last holo image disappeared, the final

check-in from their own task force was complete.

"The timetable appears to be running smoothly," Thrawn said as Pellaeon returned to his command

station. "TheStormhawk reports that the guide freighters launched on time with tow cables functioning

properly. And we've just intercepted a general emergency call from the Ando system."

TheBellicose and its task force, right on schedule. "Any response, sir?" Pellaeon asked.

"The Rebel base at Ord Pardron acknowledged," Thrawn said. "It should be interesting to see how

much help they send."

Pellaeon nodded. The Rebels had seen enough of Thrawn's tactics by now to expect Ando to be a feint,

and to respond accordingly. But on the other hand, an attack force consisting of an Imperial Star

Destroyer and eightKatana fleet Dreadnaughts was hardly something they could afford to dismiss out of

hand, either.

Not that it really mattered. They would send a few ships to Ando to fight theBellicose , and a few more

to Filve to fight theJudicator , and a few more to Crondre to fight theNemesis , and so on and so on. By

the time theDeath's Head hit the base itself, Ord Pardron would be down to a skeleton defense and

screaming itself for all the reinforcements the Rebellion could scramble.

And that was where those reinforcements would go. Leaving the Empire's true target ripe for the

picking.

Pellaeon looked out the forward viewport at the star of the Ukio system dead ahead, his throat

tightening as he contemplated again the enormous conceit of this whole plan. With planetary shields able

to hold off all but the most massive turbolaser and proton torpedo bombardment, conventional wisdom

held that the only way to subdue a modern world was to put a fast-moving ground force down at the

edges and send them overland to destroy the shield generators. Between the fire laid down by the ground

force and the subsequent orbital assault, the target world was always badly damaged by the time it was

finally taken. The alternative, landing hundreds of thousands of troops in a major ground campaign that

could stretch into months or years, was no better. To capture a planet relatively undamaged but with

shield generators still intact was considered an impossibility.

That bit of military wisdom would fall today. Along with Ukio itself.

"Intercepted distress signal from Filve, Admiral," the comm officer reported. "Ord Pardron again

responding."

"Good." Thrawn consulted his chrono. "Seven minutes, I think, and we'll be able to move." His lips

compressed, just noticeably. "I suppose we'd better confirm that our exalted Jedi Master is ready to do

his part."

Pellaeon hid a grimace. Joruus C'baoth, insane clone of the long-dead Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth, who a

month ago had proclaimed himself the true heir to the Empire. He didn't like talking to the man any more

than Thrawn did; but he might as well volunteer. If he didn't, it would simply become an order. "I'll go,

sir," he said, standing up.

"Thank you, Captain," Thrawn said. As if Pellaeon would have had a choice.

He felt the mental summons the moment he stepped beyond the Force-protection of the ysalamiri

scattered about the bridge on their nutrient frames. Master C'baoth, clearly, was impatient for the

operation to begin. Preparing himself as best he could, fighting against C'baoth's casual mental pressure

to hurry, Pellaeon made his way down to Thrawn's command room.

The chamber was brightly lit, in marked contrast to the subdued lighting the Grand Admiral usually

preferred. "Captain Pellaeon," C'baoth called, beckoning to him from the double display ring in the center

of the room. "Come in. I've been waiting for you."

"The rest of the operation has taken my full attention," Pellaeon told him stiffly, trying to hide his distaste

for the man. Knowing full well how futile such attempts were.

"Of course," C'baoth smiled, a smile that showed more effectively than any words his amusement with

Pellaeon's discomfort. "No matter. I take it Grand Admiral Thrawn is finally ready?"

"Almost," Pellaeon said. "We want to clear out Ord Pardron as much as possible before we move."

C'baoth snorted. "You continue to assume theNewRepublic will dance to the Grand Admiral's tune."

"They will," Pellaeon said. "The Grand Admiral has studied the enemy thoroughly."

"He's studied their artwork," C'baoth countered with another snort. "That will be useful if the time ever

comes when theNewRepublic has nothing but artists left to throw against us."

A signal from the display ring saved Pellaeon from the need to reply. "We're moving," he told C'baoth,

starting a mental countdown of the seventy-six seconds it would take to reach the Ukio system from their

position and trying not to let C'baoth's words get under his skin. He didn't understand himself how

Thrawn could so accurately learn the innermost secrets of a species from its artwork. But he'd seen that

knowledge proved often enough to trust the Grand Admiral's instincts on such things. C'baoth hadn't.

But then, C'baoth wasn't really interested in an honest debate on the subject. For the past month, ever

since declaring himself to be the true heir to the Emperor, C'baoth had been pressing this quiet war

against Thrawn's credibility, implying that true insight came only through the Force. And, therefore, only

through him.

Pellaeon himself didn't buy that argument. The Emperor had been deep into this Force thing, too, and he

hadn't even been able to predict his own death at Endor. But the seeds of uncertainty C'baoth was trying

to sow were nevertheless starting to take hold, particularly among the less experienced of Thrawn's

officers.

Which was, for Pellaeon, just one more reason why this attack had to succeed. The outcome hinged as

much on Thrawn's reading of the Ukian cultural ethos as it did on straight military tactics. On Thrawn's

conviction that, at a basic psychological level, the Ukians were terrified of the impossible.

"He will not always be right," C'baoth said into Pellaeon's musings.

Pellaeon bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the skin of his back crawling at having had his

thoughts so casually invaded. "You don't have any concept of privacy, do you?" he growled.

"I am the Empire, Captain Pellaeon," C'baoth said, his eyes glowing with a dark, fanatical fire. "Your

thoughts are a part of your service to me."

"My service is to Grand Admiral Thrawn," Pellaeon said stiffly.

C'baoth smiled. "You may believe that if you wish. But to business—true Imperial business. When the

battle here is over, Captain Pellaeon, I want a message sent to Wayland."

"Announcing your imminent return, no doubt," Pellaeon said sourly. C'baoth had been insisting for nearly

a month now that he would soon be going back to his former home on Wayland, where he would take

command of the cloning facility in the Emperor's old storehouse insideMountTantiss . So far, he'd been

too busy trying to subvert Thrawn's position to do anything more than talk about it.

"Do not worry, Captain Pellaeon," C'baoth said, all amused again. "When the time is right, I will indeed

return to Wayland. Which is why you will contact Wayland after this battle is over and order them to

create a clone for me. A very special clone."

Grand Admiral Thrawn will have to authorize that, were the words that came to mind. "What kind

do you want?" were the ones that inexplicably came out. Pellaeon blinked, running the memory over in

his mind again. Yes, that was what he'd said, all right.

C'baoth smiled again at his silent confusion. "I merely wish a servant," he said. "Someone who will be

waiting there for me when I return. Formed from one of the Emperor's prize souvenirs—sample

B-2332-54, I believe it was. You will, of course, impress upon the garrison commander there that this

must be done in total secrecy."

I will do nothing of the sort."Yes," Pellaeon heard himself say instead. The sound of the word shocked

him; but certainly he didn't mean it. On the contrary, as soon as the battle was over he'd be reporting this

little incident directly to Thrawn.

"You will also keep this conversation a private matter between ourselves," C'baoth said lazily. "Once

you have obeyed, you will forget it even happened."

"Of course," Pellaeon nodded, just to shut him up. Yes, he'd report this to Thrawn, all right. The Grand

Admiral would know what to do.

The countdown reached zero, and on the main wall display the planet Ukio appeared. "We should put

up a tactical display, Master C'baoth," he said.

C'baoth waved a hand. "As you wish."

Pellaeon reached over the double display ring and touched the proper key, and in the center of the room

the holographic tactical display appeared. TheChimaera was driving toward high orbit above the sunside

equator; the tenKatana fleet Dreadnaughts of its task force were splitting up into outer and inner defense

positions; and theStormhawk was coming in as backstop from the night side. Other ships, mostly

freighters and other commercial types, could be seen dropping through the brief gaps Ground Control

was opening for them in Ukio's energy shield, a hazy blue shell surrounding the planet about fifty

kilometers above the surface. Two of the blips flashed red: the guide freighters from theStormhawk ,

looking as innocent as all the rest of the ships scurrying madly for cover. The freighters, and the four

invisible companions they towed.

"Invisible only to those without eyes to see them," C'baoth murmured.

"So now you can see the ships themselves, can you?" Pellaeon growled. "How Jedi skills grow."

He'd been hoping to irritate C'baoth a little—not much, just a little. But it was a futile effort. "I can see

the men inside your precious cloaking shields," the Jedi Master said placidly. "I can see their thoughts and

guide their wills. What does the metal itself matter?"

Pellaeon felt his lip twist. "I suppose there's a lot that doesn't matter to you," he said.

From the corner of his eye he saw C'baoth smile. "What doesn't matter to a Jedi Master does not matter

to the universe."

The freighters and cloaked cruisers were nearly to the shield now. "They'll be dropping the tow cables as

soon as they're inside the shield," Pellaeon reminded C'baoth. "Are you ready?"

The Jedi Master straightened up in his seat and closed his eyes to slits. "I await the Grand Admiral's

command," he said sardonically.

For another second Pellaeon looked at the other's composed expression, a shiver running up through

him. He could remember vividly the first time C'baoth had tried this kind of direct long-distance control.

Could remember the pain that had been on C'baoth's face; the pinched look of concentration and agony

as he struggled to hold the mental contacts.

Barely two months ago, Thrawn had confidently said that C'baoth would never be a threat to the Empire

because he lacked the ability to focus and concentrate his Jedi power on a long-term basis. Somehow,

between that time and now, C'baoth had obviously succeeded in learning the necessary control.

Which left C'baoth as a threat to the Empire. A very dangerous threat indeed.

The intercom beeped. "Captain Pellaeon?"

Pellaeon reached over the display ring and touched the key, pushing away his fears about C'baoth as

best he could. For the moment, at least, the Fleet needed C'baoth. Fortunately, perhaps, C'baoth also

needed the Fleet. "We're ready, Admiral," he said.

"Stand by," Thrawn said. "Tow cables detaching now."

"They are free," C'baoth said. "They are under power... moving now to their appointed positions."

"Confirm that they're beneath the planetary shield," Thrawn ordered.

For the first time a hint of the old strain crossed C'baoth's face. Hardly surprising; with the cloaking

shield preventing theChimaera from seeing the cruisers and at the same time blinding the cruisers' own

sensors, the only way to know exactly where they were was for C'baoth to do a precise location check

on the minds he was touching. "All four ships are beneath the shield," he said.

"Be absolutely certain, Jedi Master. If you're wrong—"

"I am not wrong, Grand Admiral Thrawn," C'baoth cut him off harshly. "I will do my part in this battle.

Concern yourself with yours."

For a moment the intercom was silent. Pellaeon winced, visualizing the Grand Admiral's expression.

"Very well, Jedi Master," Thrawn said calmly. "Prepare to do your part."

There was the double click of an opening comm channel. "This is the Imperial Star DestroyerChimaera

, calling the Overliege of Ukio," Thrawn said. "In the name of the Empire, I declare the Ukian system to

be once again under the mandate of Imperial law and the protection of Imperial forces. You will lower

your shields, recall all military units to their bases, and prepare for an orderly transfer of command."

There was no response. "I know you're receiving this message," Thrawn continued. "If you fail to

respond, I will have to assume that you mean to resist the Empire's offer. In that event, I would have no

choice but to open hostilities."

Again, silence. "They're sending another transmission," Pellaeon heard the comm officer say. "Sounds a

little more panicked than the first one was."

"I'm certain their third will be even more so," Thrawn told him. "Prepare for firing sequence one. Master

C'baoth?"

"The cruisers are ready, Grand Admiral Thrawn," C'baoth said. "As am I."

"Be sure that you are," Thrawn said, quietly threatening. "Unless the timing is absolutely perfect, this

entire show will be worse than useless. Turbolaser battery three: stand by firing sequence one on my

mark. Three... two... one... fire."

On the tactical hologram a double lance of green fire angled out from theChimaera 's turbolaser

batteries toward the planet below. The blasts struck the hazy blue of the planetary shield, splashed

slightly as their energy was defocused and reflected back into space—

And with the desired perfect timing the two cloaked cruisers hovering on repulsorlifts beneath the shield

at those two points fired in turn, their turbolaser blasts sizzling through the atmosphere into two of Ukio's

major air defense bases.

That was what Pellaeon saw. The Ukians, with no way of knowing about the cloaked cruisers, would

have seen theChimaera fire two devastating shots cleanly through an impenetrable planetary shield.

"Third transmission cut off right in the middle, sir," the comm officer reported with a touch of dark

humor. "I think we surprised them."

"Let's convince them it wasn't a fluke," Thrawn said. "Prepare firing sequence two. Master C'baoth?"

"The cruisers are ready."

"Turbolaser battery two: stand by firing sequence two on my mark. Three... two... one... fire."

Again the green fire lanced out, and again, with perfect timing, the cloaked cruisers created their illusion.

"Well done," Thrawn said. "Master C'baoth, move the cruisers into position for sequences three and

four."

"As you command, Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Unconsciously, Pellaeon braced himself. Sequence four had two of the Ukians' thirty overlapping shield

generators as its targets. Launching such an attack would mean that Thrawn had given up on his stated

goal of taking Ukio with its planetary defenses intact.

"Imperial Star DestroyerChimaera , this is Tol dosLla of the Ukian Overliege," a slightly quavering voice

came from the intercom speaker. "We would ask you to cease your bombardment of Ukio while we

discuss terms for surrender."

"My terms are quite simple," Thrawn said. "You will begin by lowering your planetary shield and

allowing my forces to land. They will be given control of the shield generators themselves and of all

ground-to-space weaponry. All fighting vehicles larger than command speeders will be moved to

designated military bases and turned over to Imperial control. Though you will, of course, be ultimately

answerable to the Empire, your political and social systems will remain under your control. Provided your

people behave themselves, of course."

"And once these changes have been implemented?"

"Then you will be part of the Empire, with all the rights and duties that implies."

"There will be no war-level tax levies?" dosLla asked suspiciously. "No forced conscription of our young

people?"

Pellaeon could imagine Thrawn's grim smile. No, the Empire would never need to bother with forced

conscription again. Not with the Emperor's collection of Spaarti cloning cylinders in their hands.

"No, to your second question; a qualified no to your first," Thrawn told the Ukian. "As you are obviously

aware, most Imperial worlds are currently under war-status taxation levels. However, there are

exceptions, and it is likely that your share of the war effort will come directly from your extensive food

production and processing facilities." There was a long pause from the other end. DosLla was no fool,

Pellaeon realized—the Ukian knew full well what Thrawn had in mind for his world. First it would be

direct Imperial control of the ground/space defenses, then direct control of the food distribution system,

the processing facilities, and the vast farming and livestock grazing regions themselves; and in a very short

time the entire planet would have become nothing more than a supply depot for the Imperial war

machine.

But the alternative was for him to stand silently by and watch as his world was utterly and impossibly

demolished before his eyes. And he knew that, too.

"We will lower the planetary shields,Chimaera , as a gesture of good faith," dosLla said at last, his tone

defiant but with a hint of defeat to it. "But before the generators and ground/space weaponry can be

turned over to Imperial forces we shall require certain guarantees regarding the safety of the Ukian

people and our land."

"Certainly," Thrawn said, without any trace of the gloating that most Imperial commanders would have

indulged in at this point. A small act of courtesy that, Pellaeon knew, was as precisely calculated as the

rest of the attack had been. Permitting the Ukian leaders to surrender with their dignity intact would slow

down the inevitable resistance to Imperial rule until it was too late. "A representative will be on his way

shortly to discuss the particulars with your government," Thrawn continued. "Meanwhile, I presume you

have no objection to our forces taking up preliminary defense positions?"

A sigh, more felt than really heard. "We have no objections,Chimaera ," dosLla said reluctantly. "We

are lowering the shield now."

On the tactical display, the blue haze surrounding the planet faded away. "Master C'baoth, have the

cruisers move to polar positions," Thrawn ordered. "We don't want any of the drop ships blundering into

them. General Covell, you may begin transporting your forces to the surface. Standard defensive

positions around all targets."

"Acknowledged, Admiral," Covell's voice said, a little too dryly, and Pellaeon felt a tight smile twitch at

his lip. It had only been two weeks since the top Fleet and army commanders had been let in on the

secret of theMountTantiss cloning project, and Covell was one of those who still hadn't adjusted

completely to the idea.

Though the fact that three of the companies he was about to lead down to the surface were composed

entirely of clones might have had something to do with his skepticism.

On the tactical hologram the first waves of drop ships and TIE fighter escorts had exited theChimaera

andStormhawk , fanning out toward their assigned targets. Clones in drop ships, about to carry out

Imperial orders. As the clone crews in the cloaked cruisers had already done so well.

Pellaeon frowned, an odd and uncomfortable thought suddenly striking him. Had C'baoth been able to

guide the cruisers so well because each of their thousand-man crews were composed of variants on just

twenty or so different minds? Or—even more disturbing—could part of the Jedi Master's split-second

control have been due to the fact that C'baoth was himself a clone?

And either way, did that mean that theMountTantiss project was playing directly into C'baoth's hands in

his bid for power? Perhaps. One more question he would have to bring to Thrawn's attention.

Pellaeon looked down at C'baoth, belatedly remembering that in the Jedi Master's presence such

thoughts were not his private property. But C'baoth wasn't looking at him, knowingly or otherwise. He

was staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused, the skin of his face taut. A faint smile just beginning to

crease his lips. "Master C'baoth?"

"They're there," C'baoth whispered, his voice deep and husky. "They're there," he repeated, louder this

time.

Pellaeon frowned back at the tactical hologram. "Who's where?" he asked.

"They're at Filve," C'baoth said. Abruptly, he looked up at Pellaeon, his eyes bright and insane. "My Jedi

are at Filve."

"Master C'baoth, confirm that the cruisers have moved to polar positions," Thrawn's voice came sharply.

"Then report on the feint battles—"

"My Jedi are at Filve," C'baoth cut him off. "What do I care about your battles?"

"C'baoth—"

With a wave of his hand, C'baoth shut off the intercom. "Now, Leia Organa Solo," he murmured softly,

"you are mine."

TheMillennium Falcon twisted hard to starboard as a TIE fighter shot past overhead, lasers blazing

away madly as it tried unsuccessfully to track the freighter's maneuver. Clenching her teeth firmly against

the movement, Leia Organa Solo watched as one of their escort X-wings blew the Imperial starfighter

into a cloud of flaming dust. The sky spun around theFalcon 's canopy as the ship rolled back toward its

original heading—

"Look out!" Threepio wailed from the seat behind Leia as another TIE fighter roared in toward them

from the side. The warning was unnecessary; with deceptive ungainliness theFalcon was already

corkscrewing back the other direction to bring its ventral quad laser battery to bear. Faintly audible even

through the cockpit door, Leia heard the sound of a Wookiee battle roar, and the TIE fighter went the

way of its late partner.

"Good shot, Chewie," Han Solo called into the intercom as he got theFalcon leveled again. "Wedge?"

"Still with you,Falcon ," Wedge Antilles' voice came promptly. "We're clear for now, but there's another

wave of TIE fighters on the way."

"Yeah." Han glanced at Leia. "It's your call, sweetheart. You still want to try and reach ground?"

Threepio gave a little electronic gasp. "Surely, Captain Solo, you aren't suggesting—"

"Put a choke valve on it, Goldenrod," Han cut him off. "Leia?"

Leia looked out the cockpit canopy at the Imperial Star Destroyer and eight Dreadnaughts arrayed

against the beleaguered planet ahead. Clustering around it like mynocks around an unshielded power

generator. It was to have been her last diplomatic mission before settling in to await the birth of her twins:

a quick trip to calm a nervous Filvian government and demonstrate theNewRepublic 's determination to

protect the systems in this sector.

Some demonstration.

"There's no way we can make it through all that," she told Han reluctantly. "Even if we could, I doubt the

Filvians would risk opening the shield to let us in. We'd better make a run for it."

"Sounds good to me," Han grunted. "Wedge? We're pulling out. Stay with us."

"Copy,Falcon ," Wedge said. "You'll have to give us a few minutes to calculate the jump back."

Star Wars - [Thrawn Trilogy 03] - The Last Command (by Timothy Zahn)

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