The Last Command (Star Wars: The Thrawn Trilogy, #3)

by Timothy Zahn

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.

Leia took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Within her, she could still sense the twins’ anxiety, and for a moment she turned her mind to the job of calming them down. It was a strange sensation, she’d often thought, touching minds that dealt in emotion and pure sensation instead of pictures and words. So different from the minds of Han and Luke and her other friends.

“Leia’s been wanting me to go visit them, anyway. This way we kill two dune lizards with one throw.”

Out in the open, all that greenery would have stood out against the background kholm-grass like a bantha at a Jawa family gathering.

“You were directly responsible for the deaths of four stormtroopers and thirty-two Imperial army troops,” Thrawn continued. “Also for the destruction of two Chariot command speeders and their crews. I am not the Lord Darth Vader, Ferrier—I do not spend my men recklessly. Nor do I take their deaths lightly.”

Solo shrugged. “You can get a lot of distance out of not doing what the other side expects you to,” he said. “Remind me sometime to tell you how we got away from Hoth.”

Another rumble, and the Wookiee got to work. “Before I forget, Luke,” Solo added, “you’re in charge of those droids back there. I don’t want to see Threepio fiddling with anything unless Chewie or Lando is with him. Got that?” “Got it,” Skywalker said. He caught Mara’s eye and threw her an amused grin. “Threepio sometimes has extra time on his hands,” he explained. “He’s taken an interest in mechanical work.” “And he’s pretty bad at it,” Solo put in sourly. “Okay, Chewie, get ready. Here we go …”

“Nice landing,” Lando commented dryly, rubbing his shoulder beneath the restraint strap as Han shut down the repulsorlifts. “At least the sensor dish is still there,” Han said pointedly. Lando winced. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”