Isard's Revenge (41 page)

Corran arched an eyebrow at him. “Great, now I’ll never get my deposit back for locker rental in the recreation area.”

“Don’t worry about it, Corran. If the New Republic ever comes through with our pay, I’ll cover it.”

“Works for me.” The younger man looked around, then shifted his shoulders uneasily. “Kapp says our fleet
took Krennel down and, without their leader, the others surrendered. Everything turned out very nicely.”

“It did, so why the shiver there?”

“We did better than expected, muddling through without Isard’s help.” Corran’s green eyes narrowed. “So, where is she, and just how good a day is she having?”

37

The daggerish hull of the
Lusankya
hung in the middle of the Bilbringi shipyard like a vibroblade waiting to be plucked up and used to kill an enemy. The eight kilometers of its length had been restored fully, with running lights burning around its edges, the prow returned to needle-sharpness, the armor restored, and the ship painted an even gray tone. Two bloody Rebel crests graced the ship toward the aft, both on top and bottom—marred it really—and destroyed any chance of the gray hull vanishing against the backdrop of space.

But then
, she thought,
hiding a Super Star Destroyer has always been impossible
. Isard laughed lightly. The New Republic had tried to hide
Lusankya
from her. They had circulated rumors that it had been taken apart for scrap or cannibalized to repair countless smaller ships, but she had known from the start that all such stories were deceptions. The
Lusankya
was a prize they had sought to deny her. Such a ship could lay waste to fleets and project political power to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.

She pressed her right hand against the transparisteel viewport on the incoming freighter
Swift
. Behind her she
heard the communications officer play out the watch code that allowed their freighter to approach the larger ship. Her spies in the New Republic had managed to produce it, as well as a copy of the program used to determine watch codes. Nothing the New Republic could do would deny her a return to her ship.

“This is Bilbringi Control.
Swift
, you are approved for docking on the command tower. Proceed on vector three-three-two mark three-four-five, steady as she goes.”

“
Swift
acknowledges three-three-two mark three-four-five, Control.
Swift
out.”

Isard stared at the reflection of the bridge behind her. “Sensors, data please.”

“Only thirty percent of the ship has gravity and atmosphere, all along the central spine and up into the command tower. Only essential systems are engaged, with no power to weapons. Engines are in station-keeping mode only.” The sensor officer’s reflection ducked its head toward the screen he was studying. “I have nearly five hundred mixed lifeform readings on board, human and other. They are largely confined near the bow, working on the restoration of areas that were severely damaged at Thyferra.”

“Very good. Captain, take us in.”

Isard watched, her eyes widening hungrily as the
Lusankya
loomed larger. She had not lied when she told Corran Horn that his escape from
Lusankya
had soiled the ship, disgraced it and tainted it. She really didn’t want anything more to do with it and had been pleased when the New Republic had pounded it mercilessly. In fact, her command to Captain Drysso, telling him to flee before the New Republic killed him and
Lusankya
, had been calculated to have just the opposite effect. As she intended, Drysso had remained at Thyferra and had been killed in the battle.

Now, with years of hindsight, Isard realized how Horn’s escape and her forced evacuation of Imperial Center had affected her. It had worn her down. She had not been thinking clearly during her time as ruler of Thyferra. She made mistakes
that now she could see were clearly preventable. The loss of Imperial Center through her narrow escape from Thyferra had been a crucible in which her desperation and insanity had been burned from her. During the time of Thrawn’s campaign she had pulled herself together, tapped into still existing sources of information, and had taken over one of the many hidden Imperial installations, from which she plotted her renewed rise to power.

Crucial to that rise had been the repossession of
Lusankya
. At Thyferra
Lusankya
had likewise been in a crucible. Its defects, the taint Horn had left on it, had been burned out of it. The New Republic had taken it away from Thyferra; first to a hidden Rebel installation where the basic refits had been done, then to Bilbringi where the final work could be completed. The New Republic had fully restored
Lusankya
.

And now I shall use
Lusankya
to restore me to power
. With the Super Star Destroyer under her command, bringing the various warlords to heel would be simple. As powerful as they were, she would threaten them with destruction unless they allied themselves with her. Teradoc and Harssk might pose a problem at first, but people like Tavira, with her
Invidious
, would flock to Isard’s banner. With a new Imperial force she would be able to negotiate with whoever succeeded Thrawn and even unite the disparate worlds that still claimed allegiance to the Empire. In a very short time she would forge a new Empire and press in on the New Republic, shattering them.
I will have a realm which will make the Emperor proud
.

The
Swift
slowed as the command tower loomed up over it. The freighter rotated ninety degrees to orient its docking collar with the docking point at the base of the tower. Below her, booted feet clanked along grating as Major Telik’s commandos positioned themselves to move forward and take possession of the ship. They would make immediately for the bridge along with a hand-picked crew of Naval officers who had been training for months on how to run a Super Star Destroyer.

Her ears popped as a small pressure wave pulsed through
Swift
. Isard turned from the viewport and descended a ladder to the lower deck. Commandos in dark gray armor poured through the docking collar and into
Lusankya
. The black-clad sailors jogged after them and soon were lost in the bowels of the larger ship.

Isard started toward the docking collar, but the
Swift
’s Captain stopped her. “Colonel Vessery’s squadrons have made the jump in-system and have taken up patrolling in case garrison troops from Bilbringi come up. I’ve told him you’ll issue a recall for his fighters to dock with
Lusankya
or that Helm will send him coordinates for a jump when we leave the system.”

“Very good.” Isard eyed the man up and down. “Perhaps it is time for you to move up and command something larger than this freighter.”

The man smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Report to the bridge and let me know when you get there.”

The Captain straightened up to his full height. “It would be my honor to escort you to the bridge, Madam Director.”

“I’m certain, but I am headed elsewhere.”

“We only have fifty commandos on the ship. Not all areas are secure.”

Isard drew back her left sleeve to reveal a holdout blaster concealed there. “I am not without resources to defend myself, Captain Wintle. Contact me when you reach the bridge.”

“As you command.” Wintle took off running into
Lusankya
, as eager as a little boy being given his first airspeeder.

Isard allowed herself to smile at that, less taking joy in his display of enthusiasm than in her realization that allowing someone to attain a dream, or think a dream is within grasping distance, creates a vulnerable period during which striking at and destroying them is easy.
In their joy they let their guard down, and that is when they die
.

The solitary echo of her footfalls as she entered
Lusankya
reminded her of the first time she set foot on the ship. The Emperor had brought her to one of his hidden sanctums, one of the various satellite palace complexes he maintained on Imperial Center. He let her enter
Lusankya
all alone, being the first person to touch it, the first person to see it. If it was true that the very act of observing and experiencing something changed the thing being observed, then Isard had been the agent of change in
Lusankya
, and it had changed her as well. It became her source of power, hidden, lurking, much as she hid and lurked and worked to preserve the Emperor’s power.

She entered a turbolift and ascended to a midway point in the command tower. She exited the lift and paced down a half-lit hallway. A couple of twists and turns later she stood before a pair of red doors. She pressed her hand to the center of them and they opened at her touch. She smiled. The ship’s ability to recognize her had been hard-coded into the basic systems and clearly the New Republic had not found all of them.

She entered a room that was small by planetary standards, but huge when compared to the cabins on a ship—even a ship the size of a small city. The Emperor had ordered it finished in fine exotic woods—something he knew would please her—and the New Republic had not stripped away his handiwork. The dimmed lights glowed golden off the strips of paneling, imparting a warmth to the room that made her realize that for the longest time she had felt terribly cold and disconnected from the world.

Stepping deeper into the room, she did notice one change. There, on the back wall, between the hatchways to the rest of her suite and a small storage closet, the wood-workers had once used ebony to create the Imperial crest. The whole of that inlay had been pulled out and, in its place, natural reddish woods had been employed to display the Rebel crest.

She hated the Rebel crest’s soft curves and languid angles. To her it had no strength, no ability to stir the spirit. The Imperial crest, all hard and angular, sharp and dark, radiated strength and commanded fealty.
The Rebels, they never could appreciate that fact. I will give them another chance to learn that lesson
.

Isard strode to the high-backed chair set in the middle of the forward part of the room. She sank into the thick nerf-hide cushions, letting the raw, wild scent of them take her back to more pleasant times. She unclipped her comlink from her belt and snapped it into the circular jack on one of the blocky chair’s arms. “Captain Wintle, report, if you please.”

A holoprojector mounted in the floor conveyed a three-quarters tall image of a winded Wintle to her, placing it at her feet. “Forgive me, Madam Director, but I only just got here. The atmosphere here is a bit lighter than expected—the equivalent of a mountaintop. We are working with environmental controls to change that now. The atmosphere would be appropriate for Verpine technicians, and there is some indication the creatures have been working here.”

“I see.” Isard’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem adjusting the atmosphere? That should be a simple matter.”

“It should, yes, but environmental and helm controls seem to be locked out up here. They are routed into the auxiliary bridge. We’re preparing a team to go down there and shift control back up here.”

Isard’s frown deepened. “Dispatch your team, and send commandos with them. Do it at once. I will meet them at the auxiliary bridge.”

“As ordered, Madam Director.”

“Be quick about it, Captain Wintle. Isard out.”

She plucked her comlink from the chair slot and stood, for the first time noticing the open door to the rest of the suite and the woman standing there with a drawn blaster. Isard thought for a second, then nodded slowly. “Yes, you are the Wessiri woman. You work for Cracken. You were married to one of my people.”

Iella Wessiri’s brown eyes hardened. “Diric was never one of your people. Even at the end he defied you.”

“Ah, then the reports I read of his killing Kirtan Loor and your killing him were incorrect?” Isard allowed herself
a smile. “I can tell you about your Diric. He broke almost immediately. We’d barely gotten him strapped into the interrogation unit when he started babbling on about all manner of things. I know more about you and the intimate details of your life with him than anyone should have been forced to listen to. Why …”

“Shut up.”

What surprised Isard was not what Iella said, but how she said it. Isard expected a shrill, snapped answer, uttered as censure and meant to inflict pain. Instead it came as a matter-of-fact comment, devoid of emotion. Isard couldn’t believe Iella could be so calm in the face of what she had been saying.
And she will not remain so forever
.

Iella shook her head. “You’re not in control here, Isard. I have three people in the auxiliary bridge. Your people left on the bridge will suddenly find themselves with too little oxygen to function and they’ll drop into a deep sleep. Those heading down to the auxiliary bridge will find themselves trapped in a section of corridor in which the atmosphere will be pumped up to five times normal pressure. Even if they have their own sources of oxygen, the pressure will prevent them from being able to breathe. They’ll go out, too.

Isard twisted the bottom of her comlink, then raised it to her lips. Her words burst out over the ship’s internal communications system. “Now hear this, I am Ysanne Isard. To the three people in the auxiliary bridge, I offer twenty-five million Imperial credits each to turn the ship over to my representatives. If your compatriots object, kill them and the whole amount is yours.”

The holoprojector burned to life again, showing a tall, white-haired man with a mechanical left eye standing between a dark-haired woman and a black Bothan with splashes of white over her fur. “This is Booster Terrik, Acting-Captain of the
Lusankya
. My loyal bridge crew and I agree there are not enough credits in the galaxy for you to buy control of this ship from us. Iella, kill her and be done with it.”

As the holograph faded, Isard looked over at Iella. “So, I forced you to murder your husband, and now you will shoot me in cold blood? Is that the plan?”