It was an impressive sight. From all four sides of the open area, in nearly perfect parade-ground unison, the other three AT-ATs appeared from the forest cover in the predawn gloom, the AT-STs and hoverscouts clustered around their feet quickly fanning out on all sides to encircle the darkened buildings.
Covell gave the sensors a quick but thorough check. Two energy sources were still functioning, one in the central building, the other in one of the outer barracks-style structures. There was no evidence of operating sensors, or of weapons or energy fields. The life-form analyzer ran through its complicated algorithms and concluded that the outer buildings were devoid of life.
The large main building, on the other hand …
“I’m getting approximately twenty life-form readings from the main building, General,” the number four AT-AT commander reported. “All in the central section.”
“They don’t register as human, though,” Covell’s driver murmured.
“Maybe they’re being shielded,” Covell grunted, looking out the viewport. Still no movement from the encampment. “Let’s find out. Assault squads: go.”
The hoverscouts popped their aft hatchways, and from each came a squad of eight soldiers, laser rifles held tautly across battle-armored chests as they dropped to the ground. Half of each squad took up backstop position, their rifles trained on the encampment from the partial cover of their hoverscout, while the other half sprinted across the open ground to the outer line of buildings and sheds. There, they assumed covering positions, allowing their comrades in the rear to similarly advance. It was a centuries-old military tactic, executed with the kind of squeamish determination that Covell would have expected of green troops. Still, the raw material was definitely there.
The soldiers continued their leap-frog approach to the main building, with small groups breaking off the main encirclement to check out each of the outer structures as they passed. The point men reached the central building—a brilliant flash lit up the forest as they blasted down the door—a slightly confused scramble as the rest of the troops piled through.
And then, silence.
For a handful of minutes the silence continued, punctuated only by occasional short commands from the troop commanders. Covell listened, watching the sensors … and finally the report came through. “General Covell, this is Lieutenant Barse. We’ve secured the target zone, sir. There’s no one here.”
Covell nodded. “Very good, Lieutenant. How does it look?”
“Like they pulled out in a hurry, sir,” the other said. “They left a fair amount of stuff behind, but it all looks pretty much like junk.”
“That’ll be for the scanning crew to decide,” Covell told him. “Any indication of booby traps or other unpleasant surprises?”
“None at all, sir. Oh—and those life-forms we picked up are nothing but these long furry animals living on the tree growing up through the center of the roof.”
Covell nodded again. Ysalamiri, he believed they were called. Thrawn had been making a big deal about the stupid creatures for a couple of months now, though what use they could possibly be to the war effort he couldn’t guess. Eventually, he supposed, the Fleet people would get around to letting him in on the big secret. “Set up a defensive honeycomb,” he ordered the lieutenant. “Signal the scanning crew when you’re ready. And get comfortable. The Grand Admiral wants this place taken apart, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“Very good, General,” the voice said, almost too faint to hear despite the heavy amplification and computer scrubbing. “Proceed with the dismantling.”
Seated at the Wild Karrde’s helm, Mara Jade half turned to face the man standing behind her. “I suppose that’s it, then,” she said.
For a moment Talon Karrde didn’t seem to hear her. He just stood there, gazing through the viewport at the distant planet, a tiny bluish-white crescent shape visible around the jagged edge of the sun-skimmer asteroid the Wild Karrde was snuggled up against. Mara was just about to repeat the comment when he stirred. “Yes,” he said, that calm voice showing no hint of the emotion he was obviously feeling. “I suppose it is.”
Mara exchanged glances with Aves, at the copilot station, then looked back up at Karrde. “Shouldn’t we be going, then?” she prompted.
Karrde took a deep breath … and as she watched him, Mara caught in his expression a glimmer of what the Myrkr base had meant to him. More than just a base, it had been his home.
With an effort, she suppressed the thought. So Karrde had lost his home. Big deal. She’d lost far more than that in her lifetime and had survived just fine. He’d get over it. “I asked if we should get going.”
“I heard you,” Karrde said, the flicker of emotion vanishing again into that slightly sardonic facade of his. “I think perhaps we ought to wait a little longer. See if we left anything behind that might point in the direction of our Rishi base.”
Mara looked at Aves again. “We were pretty thorough,” Aves said. “I don’t think there was any mention of Rishi anywhere except the main computer, and that left with the first group out.”
“I agree,” Karrde said. “Are you willing to stake your life on that assessment?”
Aves’s lip twitched. “Not really.”
“Nor am I. So we wait.”
“What if they spot us?” Mara persisted. “Skulking behind asteroids is the oldest trick on the list.”
“They won’t spot us.” Karrde was quietly positive. “Actually, I doubt the possibility will even occur to them. The average man running from the likes of Grand Admiral Thrawn is unlikely to stop running until he’s a good deal farther away than this.”
Are you willing to stake your life on that assessment? Mara thought sourly. But she kept the retort to herself. He was probably right; and anyway, if the Chimaera or any of its TIE fighters started toward Wild Karrde, they would have no trouble punching the engines up to power and going to lightspeed well ahead of the attack.
The logic and tactics seemed clean. But still, Mara could feel something nagging at the back of her mind. Something that didn’t feel good about all this.
Gritting her teeth, she adjusted the ship’s sensors to their highest sensitivity and checked once more that the engine prestart sequence was keyed in and ready. And then settled in to wait.
The scanning crew was fast, efficient, and thorough; and it took them just over thirty minutes to come up completely dry.
“Well, so much for that.” Pellaeon grimaced as he watched the negative reports scroll up his display. A good practice session for the ground forces, perhaps, but otherwise the whole exercise seemed to have been pretty useless. “Unless your observers have picked up any reactions in Hyllyard City,” he added, turning to face Thrawn.
The Grand Admiral’s glowing red eyes were on his displays. “There was a small twitch, as a matter of fact,” he said. “Cut off almost before it began, but I think the implications are clear.”
Well, that was something, anyway. “Yes, sir. Shall I have Surveillance begin equipping a long-term ground team?”
“Patience, Captain,” Thrawn said. “It may not be necessary, after all. Key for a midrange scan, and tell me what you see.”
Pellaeon swiveled back to his command board and tapped for the appropriate readout. There was Myrkr itself, of course, and the standard TIE fighter defense cloud ranged around the Chimaera. The only other object anywhere within midrange distance— “You mean that little asteroid out there?”
“That’s the one,” Thrawn nodded. “Nothing remarkable about it, is there? No, don’t do a sensor focus,” he added, almost before the thought of doing one had even occurred to Pellaeon. “We wouldn’t want to prematurely flush our quarry, would we?”
“Our quarry?” Pellaeon repeated, frowning at the sensor data again. The routine sensor scans that had been done of the asteroid three hours earlier had come up negative, and nothing could have sneaked up on it since then without being detected. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t see any indication that anything’s out there.”
“I don’t either,” Thrawn agreed. “But it’s the only sizable cover available for nearly ten million kilometers around Myrkr. There’s really no other place for Karrde to watch our operation from.”
Pellaeon pursed his lips. “Your permission, Admiral, but I doubt Karrde is foolish enough to just sit around waiting for us to arrive.”
The glowing red eyes narrowed, just a bit. “You forget, Captain,” he said softly, “that I’ve met the man. More important, I’ve seen the sort of artwork he collects.” He turned back to his displays. “No; he’s out there. I’m sure of it. Talon Karrde is not merely a smuggler, you see. Perhaps not even primarily a smuggler. His real love is not goods or money but information. More than anything else in the galaxy, he craves knowledge … and the knowledge of what we have or have not found here is too valuable a gem for him to pass up.”