Soldier for the Empire Read Free

his outbuildings, and saw the ship return from the north and squat in front of his house. There was something about the raiders that bothered Morgan. It eluded him at first, but then he had it. The so-called Rebels carried identical weapons! Not to mention that every single one of them was human. They looked like Rebels, but they weren't Rebels, so what did that leave? The simple answer, the obvious answer, was Imperial troops. Sent to kill and/or capture Reb leaders. That would explain the attack.
    Morgan dropped to the ground as the ship fired repulsors and rose into the air. Fires, the last ones no larger than sparks, marked the ship's passage to the west. Morgan shook his head sadly. If the Imperials thought such raids would suppress the Rebellion, the' were wrong. Many would suffer this night - and their hatred would grow. The challenge was to focus their emotion, to transmute negative energy into positive.
    Morgan watched the fires in acid around leis house disappear. Activated by the household computer, and fed by the tap tree, his sprinkler system had cut in. He frowned and bit his lip. Possessions could be replaced, but what of Wee Gee? And more importantly, the map which Rahn had entrusted to him. Was it intact? Did the Imperials understand how valuable it was? Morgan ached to return, to check on his home, but knew a trap could be waiting.
    Morgan turned, low-crawled off the skyline, and trudged toward the east. Opportunity dwells within disaster. That's what his friend Rahn liked to say - and he hoped it was true.
    Thrawn received the unenviable task of telling Jerec that while the raid had been successful, the commandos had been unable to find and capture Morgan Katarn. Never one to delay an unpleasant task, Thrawn marched down a gleaming corridor, nodded to the stormtroopers who stood guard outside Jerec's suite, and requested entrance. It came without delay. Having no eyes and no sight, not in the ordinary sense, anyway, Jerec sat in almost total darkness. Only the soft glow provided by the bridge repeaters and light switches lit the room. The lack of illumination was intended to be intimidating, and would have been for anyone but Thrawn, who came from a species that boasted exceedingly good night vision. He waited for Jerec to speak.
    "You bring bad news."
    Thrawn took note of the fact that the comment came in the form of a statement rather than a question. How did Jerec know? There was no way to tell. "Yes, sir."
    "You may continue."
    The naval officer delivered his report the same way he delivered all reports - without excuse or elaboration. Once Thrawn was finished, thirty seconds elapsed before Jerec spoke. "Was Katarn warned?"
    "There's no evidence to support that theory, sir. Lieutenant Brazack believes the subject left the farm on some sort of errand."
    "Or felt a need to go elsewhere," Jerec mused out loud. "He feels the Force, and even uses it on occasion, but is afraid to reach out and seize his inheritance. `What if I make a mistake?' he wonders. 'What if I abuse the power?' 'Can I be trusted?' Such silliness is beyond all reckoning! I can feel his presence from orbit. Working, fussing, scheming. All for naught."
    Thrawn allowed one eyebrow to rise. In spite of the fact that Jerec went to considerable lengths to hide certain abilities from those above him, chosen subordinates were allowed the occasional glimpse. "Sir . . . yes, sir."
    "Of course this holds no interest for you," Jerec sneered. "For you're a being of the physical world, a doer of deeds, a manipulator of objects. Well, O doer of deeds, I will provide you and Lieutenant Brazack an opportunity to redeem yourselves and collect yet another of the commendations you thrive on. Listen carefully, for there is much to do."
    The room was circular and packed with people. With the exception of an Alliance news team, dispatched to record the proceedings as part of the communications effort required to unite hundreds of sentient species under a single