Allegiance (42 page)

The magenta blade
snap-hissed
into existence, running down the center of the truck between the two sets of white helmets. “Just leave your weapons where they are,” she advised, in case having a lightsaber blade thirty centimeters from their necks wasn’t enough of a hint. “We’ll start with your operating numbers, your unit designation, and your current assignment. All the things you tried so hard to avoid telling the group commander back there.”

Four helmets tilted as the stormtroopers exchanged glances across the glowing blade. “Shy, are we?” Mara went on conversationally. “Let me get the ball rolling. You and your freighter—
your
freighter, not something belonging to some vague friend or associate—were on Gepparin in the aftermath of the
Reprisal’
s attack on the BloodScars’ base. I saw you sitting on the last intact pad when I took off from the Commodore’s emergency bolt-hole. All of this sounding familiar?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” the squad commander said, his voice tight. “But we weren’t part of the attack.”

“I know that,” Mara said. “If you were, you’d have
attacked or at least challenged me as I headed out. So why
were
you there?”

“We were tracking the BloodScars,” the commander said. “We had evidence that they’d been gathering other criminal organizations in the sector into a single massive pirate group. We went to Gepparin hoping to find out who, if anyone, was funding this operation.”

“And did you?”

His helmet shifted as he gave his seat partner a sideways glance. “We think so, yes.”

“Good,” Mara said. “Because so did I. Whose authority are you operating under?”

“We don’t actually …” His voice trailed away.

“If you’re worried about my clearance, don’t be,” Mara assured him. “I’m about as high in the ranks as you can get, even if I’m not on anyone’s official list.” She raised her eyebrows. “I take it
you’re
not on any official lists, either?”

“No, we’re not,” the commander confirmed.

“So what’s your unit designation?”

He hesitated again. “Mostly, we’re known as the Hand of Judgment.”

Mara cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds a little too poetic for Stormtrooper Command,” she commented. “And
way
too poetic for ISB.”

“We chose it ourselves, actually,” one of the others put in.

“And we’re not allowed to reveal anything more,” the commander continued. “I’m sorry.”

Mara pursed her lips. She could force the issue, of course. But with Governor Choard presumably alerted to her presence, it would be difficult and dangerous to try to break into his compound alone. This Hand of Judgment hadn’t attacked her as she departed Gepparin; more significantly, they’d come to her aid after Caaldra’s gimmicked AT-ST had shot her down.

And with Vader and the 501st completely preoccupied with their search for Leia Organa, this was the most trustworthy help she was likely to find in Makrin City. Reason enough for her to have fended off that nosy group commander. “As you wish,” she said. “But whatever your usual chain of command or lack of one, for the next two hours you’re working for me. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the commander said.

“Good,” Mara said. Closing down the lightsaber, she returned it to her belt. “What are your operating numbers?”

“We usually just use names,” the commander said. “It’s … shorter. Quicker in combat.”

Privately, Mara had always thought that, too. But Stormtrooper Command had always loved their fancy number system. “Names, then.”

“I’m LaRone.” The commander gestured to his right. “This is Marcross. Behind him is Grave; behind me is Quiller. Our scout trooper is Brightwater.”

“Call me Jade,” Mara told them, stretching out with the Force. She’d never heard of a stormtrooper unit roaming the Empire without a firm chain of command attached. But it could be something the Emperor had set up personally. If he had, they might recognize her name.

There was no reaction that she could sense, however. Apparently the Emperor had chosen to keep her secret from them, as well as vice versa.

“Ma’am?” Grave asked.

“Jade.”

“Jade,” the other corrected. “May I ask what the plan is once we reach the palace?”

“The plan is for me to break in, and for you to help me do it,” Mara said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Grave said.

“And be ready for some opposition,” Mara added. “I expect we’re going to find some.”

In the front seat Marcross glanced sideways at LaRone. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice grim. “We’re ready.”

Governor Choard’s hastily organized party in the ballroom downstairs had taken up far too much of Disra’s precious time this evening. But the guests were finally starting to filter out, and Disra was at last able to slip away to his office. Turning on the lights, he sealed the door behind him and headed for his desk.

He got three steps before his eyes abruptly registered the fact that he had a visitor.

“Why aren’t you answering your comlink?” Caaldra demanded as he looked up from Disra’s computer.

Disra felt his heart seize up. What in blazes was Caaldra doing with his computer? “The governor threw together a quick reception this evening,” he managed. “I had to put in an appearance.”

“A reception?” Caaldra repeated. “A
party? Now
?”

“When your city’s crawling with stormtroopers, that’s exactly what you need to soothe all the top-tier people,” Disra said. Unlocking his knees, he started casually toward the desk. There was a hold-out blaster hidden under the chair if he could get to it. “What are
you
doing here?”

Caaldra’s face twisted in an almost-smile, and for the first time Disra noticed the rigidly controlled pain lurking behind the other’s eyes. “I brought you your AT-STs, of course.”

“I meant what are you doing here in this office?” Disra clarified, stepping up to the desk. From his new vantage point he could see Caaldra’s torn left sleeve and the rough field bandage wrapped around his forearm. “What happened?”

“Small accident,” Caaldra said, lifting the arm slightly. “I had to blow the freighter’s hold.” His lips twisted. “I suppose you didn’t hear anything about
that
, either.”

“I haven’t heard any news since you hauled me out of the reception earlier to get you your palace landing clearance,” Disra gritted. At the time he’d thought it more important to be present and visible at Choard’s stupid party than to monitor Caaldra’s unexpected arrival. In retrospect it looked like he’d been wrong. “Fill me in.”

“First of all, our Imperial agent’s somehow managed to get herself unstranded,” Caaldra said. “She’s here in Makrin City.”

An icy shiver ran up Disra’s back. “You said you’d gimmicked the last functional ship left on Gepparin.”

“Apparently not well enough,” Caaldra said. “Ten minutes after I landed at Greencliff she put down not three slots over.”

“You mean she
followed
you here?”

Caaldra cocked his head. “If we’re lucky.”

Disra snorted. “You have a strange definition of luck.”

“No, I just have a few new facts,” Caaldra said. “On the trip from Gepparin, I was finally able to get through to one of the crewers I know aboard the
Reprisal
. It now seems likely that Ozzel’s attack on the BloodScars’ base had nothing to do with us.”

“I thought the Imperials didn’t go after pirates these days.”

“They do when the attack can serve as a convenient cover for something else,” Caaldra said grimly. “A lot of this is still at the unfiltered rumor level, but it appears that our Imperial agent may have seen something in the
Reprisal’
s files that she wasn’t supposed to know about,
and that Ozzel followed her to Gepparin to shut her up.”

“You’re joking,” Disra said, staring at him. “What did she
see
?”

“Officially, it was something about a secret ISB operation that some of the
Reprisal
’s stormtroopers were co-opted for.” Caaldra cocked an eyebrow. “Unofficially, rumor has it those stormtroopers aren’t on any mission, but that they murdered an ISB officer and deserted.”

Disra goggled. “Impossible,” he insisted. “Storm-troopers don’t desert. Ever.”

“They didn’t used to,” Caaldra agreed. “But who knows? Rot spreads from the top, and Imperial Center these days is about as fetid as you can get.” He waved a hand around him. “Hence this whole bid for independence, remember?”

“Yes, thank you, I
do
recall something about that,” Disra said acidly, his mind racing. But if the agent wasn’t after them … “Wait a minute. How many stormtroopers were supposed to have deserted?”

“Very good,” Caaldra said, inclining his head. “There were five of them. The same number that the follow-up reports from Ranklinge indicate were on hand when Cav’Saran went down.”

Considerably fewer than the three squads the Bargleg swoop gang claimed attacked them on Drunost, Disra recalled. But since when could a bunch of swoopers be trusted for accuracy? “So
they’re
the rogue stormtrooper unit running around Shelsha?”

“Our so-called Hand of Judgment,” Caaldra agreed. “All rather ironic, really. We’ve been all worried about an Imperial agent and her private stormtrooper squad, when, in fact, if she ever actually came across them, she’d probably execute all five of them on the spot.”

“Comforting to know,” Disra growled. “Or it might be, if she wasn’t nosing around our doorstep.”

Caaldra shook his head. “You’re missing the point. It’s the
stormtroopers
who’ve been backtracking the BloodScars, not her. There’s no longer any reason to assume she’s made any connection at all between us and the BloodScars.”

Disra thought about that. It did indeed sound reasonable. “But you said she’d followed you here.”

“All she knows is that I was with the Commodore at Gepparin,” Caaldra said. “I guess it’s just as well that idiot controller on the
Executor
wouldn’t let me land here at the palace.”

Disra exhaled in relief. So the agent wasn’t gunning for them at all. The whole thing had been a gigantic coincidence that he and Caaldra had simply misread. “Then we’re off the hook,” he said.

“Probably,” Caaldra said. “But it’s always possible she found something in the Gepparin rubble that points in this direction. We need to be ready, just in case.”

Disra shivered. Yes, indeed. Because if the agent made an appearance before Disra was able to get those records to Vader, he would be going down in flames. “Any idea how soon we might expect her?” he asked.

Caaldra shrugged. “I left her a diversion, but there’s no way of knowing how long that’ll keep her busy.” He waved at the computer. “I’ve raised the security level on your external intruder defenses, but I can’t restructure your guard configuration without authority.”

“I can do that,” Disra said, gesturing for him to move aside. “Will that be enough to stop her?”

“Not if she’s on the hunt,” Caaldra said, climbing out of the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Which means we need to make our move.” He raised his eyebrows. “And we need to make it
now.
”

Disra stared at him. “Are you
insane
? Declare independence with Vader and the Five-oh-first right here in the city?”

“If we do it right, they’ll have more immediate matters to worry about than you or me,” Caaldra said. “I’ve already ordered the pirate and raider groups into their positions. All you have to do is send out the orders.”

And within minutes or hours Shelsha sector would be engulfed in fire and war and death. The pirates would attack and destroy the Imperial garrisons, the raiders would seize and hold critical military equipment plants, and the swoop gangs and carefully placed moles would take major cities and major Imperial officials hostage. The declaration of independence would be made, and Imperial Center would be dared to do something about it.

And there would be no going back. “I can make the calls,” Disra said carefully as he activated the comm panel. “But it’s going to take time. You’ll need to make sure the agent doesn’t get in here until I’m done.”

“I can do that,” Caaldra confirmed grimly. “You just worry about your end.” Turning his back, he headed for the secret door.

Disra watched him go, his hand itching to draw the hidden blaster and shoot Caaldra down. But he didn’t dare. He still had to collect those records and get them to Vader, and he had no illusions about the palace guards’ ability to keep the approaching Imperial agent away that long. Only Caaldra could do that.

Besides, if he shot at the man now, he might miss.

“By the way,” he called. “Does anyone know where this Hand of Judgment is now?”

Caaldra shook his head. “Out somewhere being white knights for hope and glory, no doubt,” he said. “Don’t worry. When Gepparin went, so did their last hope of pinning us to the BloodScars.” He opened the door and disappeared into the maze of secret passages beyond.

“Let’s hope so,” Disra muttered under his breath as he turned back to his desk and switched off his comm.
panel. No messages were going out to any pirates tonight. Not from
this
palace. Not if he could help it.

Keying the computer, he got back to his records compilation. Ironic, Caaldra had called it. Little did he know. For nearly two years now Disra had been manipulating the man, jumping him through hoops only Disra could see. Now, suddenly, events had effectively pushed Disra to the sidelines, with his life and future resting completely on Caaldra’s ability to intercept and destroy an Imperial agent.

Disra could only hope the man was as good as he claimed.

They were still five blocks from the palace grounds when LaRone began to notice the disguised sentries.

“Actually, I think there was one even farther back,” Grave said when LaRone commented. “A couple of blocks ago. It was a little hard to tell—he was rigged out to look like a low-class slythmonger.”

“Yes, he was a sentry,” Jade confirmed from the backseat. “I could see it in his eyes.”

“Do Imperial governors typically set this wide a picket screen?” Quiller asked.

“Not usually,” Jade said. “Looks like someone in the palace has a guilty conscience.”