Informationen zum Autor Timothy Zahn is the author of more than sixty novels, nearly ninety short stories and novelettes, and four short-fiction collections. In 1984, he won the Hugo Award for Best Novella. Zahn is best known for his Star Wars novels ( Thrawn, Thrawn: Alliances, Thrawn: Treason, Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising, Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor's Quest, Outbound Flight, Allegiance, Choices of One, and Scoundrels ), with more than eight million copies of his books in print. Other books include StarCraft: Evolution, the Cobra series, the Quadrail series, and the young adult Dragonback series. Zahn has a BS in physics from Michigan State University and an MS from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast. Klappentext The adventures of Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, and Han Solo continue as the last of the Emperor's warlords discovers secrets that could destroy the New Republic. Leseprobe CHAPTER 1 Captain Pellaeon? a voice called down the portside crew pit through the hum of background conversation. Message from the sentry line: the scoutships have just come out of lightspeed. Pellaeon, leaning over the shoulder of the man at the Chimaera's bridge engineering monitor, ignored the shout. Trace this line for me, he ordered, tapping a light pen at the schematic on the display. The engineer threw a questioning glance up at him. Sir . . . ? I heard him, Pellaeon said. You have an order, Lieutenant. Yes, sir, the other said carefully, and keyed for the trace. Captain Pellaeon? the voice repeated, closer this time. Keeping his eyes on the engineering display, Pellaeon waited until he could hear the sound of the approaching footsteps. Then, with all the regal weight that fifty years spent in the Imperial Fleet gave to a man, he straightened up and turned. The young duty officer's brisk walk faltered; came to an abrupt halt. Uh, sir He looked into Pellaeon's eyes and his voice faded away. Pellaeon let the silence hang in the air for a handful of heartbeats, long enough for those nearest to notice. This is not a cattle market in Shaum Hii, Lieutenant Tschel, he said at last, keeping his voice calm but icy cold. This is the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Routine information is notrepeat, notsimply shouted in the general direction of its intended recipient. Is that clear? Tschel swallowed. Yes, sir. Pellaeon held his eyes a few seconds longer, then lowered his head in a slight nod. Now. Report. Yes, sir. Tschel swallowed again. We've just received word from the sentry ships, sir: the scouts have returned from their scan raid on the Obroa-skai system. Very good, Pellaeon nodded. Did they have any trouble? Only a little, sirthe natives apparently took exception to them pulling a dump of their central library system. The wing commander said there was some attempt at pursuit, but that he lost them. I hope so, Pellaeon said grimly. Obroa-skai held a strategic position in the borderland regions, and intelligence reports indicated that the New Republic was making a strong bid for its membership and support. If they'd had armed emissary ships there at the time of the raid. . . . Well, he'd know soon enough. Have the wing commander report to the bridge ready room with his report as soon as the ships are aboard, he told Tschel. And have the sentry line go to yellow alert. Dismissed. Yes, sir. Spinning around with a reasonably good imitation of a proper military turn, the lieutenant headed back toward the communications console. The young lieutenant . . . which was, Pellaeon thought with a trace of old bitterness, where the problem really lay. In the old daysat the height of the Em...

Autorentext

Timothy Zahn

Klappentext

The adventures of Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, and Han Solo continue as the last of the Emperor's warlords discovers secrets that could destroy the New Republic.

Leseprobe
CHAPTER 1

“Captain Pellaeon?” a voice called down the portside crew pit through the hum of background conversation. “Message from the sentry line: the scoutships have just come out of lightspeed.”

Pellaeon, leaning over the shoulder of the man at the Chimaera’s bridge engineering monitor, ignored the shout. “Trace this line for me,” he ordered, tapping a light pen at the schematic on the display.

The engineer threw a questioning glance up at him. “Sir . . . ?”

“I heard him,” Pellaeon said. “You have an order, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” the other said carefully, and keyed for the trace.

“Captain Pellaeon?” the voice repeated, closer this time. Keeping his eyes on the engineering display, Pellaeon waited until he could hear the sound of the approaching footsteps. Then, with all the regal weight that fifty years spent in the Imperial Fleet gave to a man, he straightened up and turned.

The young duty officer’s brisk walk faltered; came to an abrupt halt. “Uh, sir—” He looked into Pellaeon’s eyes and his voice faded away.

Pellaeon let the silence hang in the air for a handful of heartbeats, long enough for those nearest to notice. “This is not a cattle market in Shaum Hii, Lieutenant Tschel,” he said at last, keeping his voice calm but icy cold. “This is the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Routine information is not—repeat, not—simply shouted in the general direction of its intended recipient. Is that clear?”

Tschel swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Pellaeon held his eyes a few seconds longer, then lowered his head in a slight nod. “Now. Report.”

“Yes, sir.” Tschel swallowed again. “We’ve just received word from the sentry ships, sir: the scouts have returned from their scan raid on the Obroa-skai system.”

“Very good,” Pellaeon nodded. “Did they have any trouble?”

“Only a little, sir—the natives apparently took exception to them pulling a dump of their central library system. The wing commander said there was some attempt at pursuit, but that he lost them.”

“I hope so,” Pellaeon said grimly. Obroa-skai held a strategic position in the borderland regions, and intelligence reports indicated that the New Republic was making a strong bid for its membership and support. If they’d had armed emissary ships there at the time of the raid. . . .

Well, he’d know soon enough. “Have the wing commander report to the bridge ready room with his report as soon as the ships are aboard,” he told Tschel. “And have the sentry line go to yellow alert. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Spinning around with a reasonably good imitation of a proper military turn, the lieutenant headed back toward the communications console.

The young lieutenant . . . which was, Pellaeon thought with a trace of old bitterness, where the problem really lay. In the old days—at the height of the Empire’s power—it would have been inconceivable for a man as young as Tschel to serve as a bridge officer aboard a ship like the Chimaera. Now—

He looked down at the equally young man at the engineering monitor. Now, in contrast, the Chimaera had virtually no one aboard except young men and women.

Slowly, Pellaeon let his eyes sweep across the bridge, feeling the echoes of old anger and hatred twist through his stomach. There had been many commanders in the Fleet, he knew, who had seen the Emperor’s original Death Star as a blatant attempt to bring the Empire’s vast military power more tightly under his direct control, just as he’d already done with the Empire’s political power. The fact that he’d ignored the battle station&rsquo…