It was therefore something of a shock when Thalias opened the sky-walker suite hatch late on the third day to find Thrawn standing there. “Good evening, Caregiver Thalias,” he said formally. “May I come in?”
“Certainly, Senior Captain Thrawn,” Thalias said, hastily stepping aside. “Do you need to talk to Che’ri? She’s taking a nap, but I can wake her if you want.”
“No, this isn’t about her,” Thrawn said. He stepped inside, sealing the hatch behind him. “I came to look in on your roommate.”
“But Che’ri is—oh,” Thalias said, wincing. She’d gotten so used to the hibernation chamber in her sleeping room, especially since draping a blanket over it, that she’d almost forgotten there was a living being inside. “That roommate. Are you going to—uh—”
“Wake her?” Thrawn shook his head as he walked across the dayroom and opened the hatch to her sleeping room. “No. I merely wanted to remind myself of her style of clothing.”
“Her clothing?” Thalias echoed, frowning as she followed him. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“A connection between her people and the Watith,” Thrawn said over his shoulder. Stepping up to the hibernation chamber, he pulled off the blanket Thalias had put there.
For a long minute he just gazed through the canopy at the sleeping Magys. Thalias stayed where she was, afraid to move lest she break his concentration.
Finally, he stirred. “No,” he said, as if talking to himself. He put the blanket back and turned to Thalias. “I can see no connection.”
“Did you expect one?” Thalias asked, stepping out of his way as he came back to the dayroom. “We’re a long way from their world.”
“Agreed,” Thrawn said. “It was just a thought. Thank you for your time.”
He started toward the exit. Thalias was quicker, stepping between him and the hatch. “Sorry, Senior Captain, but you can’t just leave me with strange questions like that. Can’t you at least tell me what’s going on?”
“You’re not one of my officers,” Thrawn reminded her.
“No, but I’m responsible for the care of your sky-walker,” she said. “Officer or not, that makes me one of the most important people on this ship. More than that—”
She hesitated, wondering if she should tell him. The Patriarch had told her all this in confidence, after all.
Still, he hadn’t said it was to be kept a secret, at least not from Thrawn. More important, the better she could convince him she was part of his inner circle—whether or not including her had been his idea—the likelier it was that she could get information out of him instead of continually being kept in the dark. “More than that, when I was at the Mitth family homestead on Csilla a few months ago the Patriarch asked me to look after you.”
Thrawn raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now,” he said with a smile. “I was unaware I needed looking after.”
“Everyone needs some looking after,” Thalias said. “He mostly wanted me to run interference for you as best I could against your enemies.”
“I assumed lasers, breachers, and plasma spheres were my primary tools against such people.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Your political enemies.”
His smile faded. “Yes.” He hesitated, then gestured her toward the couch. “Very well. I can tell you some of it. Not all.”
Trying not to look too eager, Thalias settled herself on the couch. Thrawn took one of the chairs facing it, eyeing her as if trying to decide exactly how much she needed to know. “Interesting that you spoke of enemies,” he said. “I believe the Springhawk is currently in the middle of a trap.”
Thalias felt her eyes go wide. “I presume Mid Captain Samakro and the others are aware of that?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay calm.
Thrawn shrugged slightly. “They accept my word for it. I don’t think all of them see it for themselves.”
“What are they missing?”
“The battle between the Watith freighter and the three gunboats was staged,” Thrawn said. “The attackers were making a great deal of noise and fury, but they were causing only superficial damage.”
“Maybe they were trying to herd the freighter deeper into the gravity well,” Thalias suggested.
“I also had that thought,” he said. “That’s why I watched the battle a few moments before answering Captain Fsir’s call. Again, all four ships were creating an impressive show, but the gunboats’ containment box wasn’t nearly solid enough to keep an experienced captain trapped if he wanted to escape.”
“I see,” Thalias said, trying to think it through. Though if Fsir wasn’t all that experienced…
“But that was only the first part,” Thrawn said. “You saw how one of the gunboats—and only one—moved to attack us, as if they knew the Syndicure’s prohibition against preemptive attacks and were offering us the necessary excuse to fight back.”
“I wondered why you used such an odd reason for not helping him,” Thalias said. “I don’t think I’d ever heard that one.”
“You hadn’t heard it because I made it up,” Thrawn said. “If the freighter had been in genuine danger, I expected Fsir to argue the point. But he didn’t even mention it.”
“Because they already had their plan, knew it would draw us in, and stuck with it,” Thalias said, nodding.
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “But there’s more. After the battle came Fsir’s curious and convoluted reason for not giving us the Vagaari base coordinates. That suggests he wants to control the time and place of our arrival there. It brought to mind how the navigator on the Paccian refugee ship also controlled their arrival at Dioya.”
“Yes,” Thalias said, shivering at the memory of that incident. The navigator whom the refugees had hired had deliberately steered the ship into an ambush that had killed them all. “But if this is a trap, what are they waiting for? We’ve been sitting here for three days. Surely Fsir could have called them by now and brought them down on us.” She frowned as a sudden thought struck her. “Unless they’re far enough away that they’re out of his comm range?”
“Unlikely.” Thrawn again raised his eyebrows. “Tell me why.”
Thalias puckered her lips. Another of his little teaching moments.
Sometimes she enjoyed these challenges. But with mental images of enemy warships blazing at them out of hyperspace, this didn’t seem like the time and place for such games.
She took a deep breath, trying to think it through. “He wouldn’t be worried about the Vagaari if they were that far away?” she suggested. “Or maybe he wouldn’t even know about them?”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “And?”
“There probably wouldn’t be stragglers coming here from a base that far out?”
“Perhaps. And?”
Thalias scowled at him. What else could there be?
And then she had it. “There’s something in the system they need for the battle,” she said. “An orbiting weapons platform, or maybe a warship that can still fight but can’t leave for some reason. Maybe with a damaged hyperdrive?”
“Or perhaps the warship is simply too undercrewed for some reason,” Thrawn said. “Ironically enough, the Ascendancy itself has a precedent for such things: The warships of former Ruling Families can be used for local system defense but cannot be sent elsewhere except under special circumstances. Whatever the reason, though, I think you’re right. Fsir intends to lure us into range of something large and powerful, and must wait until we’re ready to oblige him.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Thalias said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see it through,” Thrawn said, his voice dark. “If this was orchestrated by the Vagaari, we need to find them and deal a final, killing blow. If it was set up by a hitherto unknown threat, we need to assess their danger to the Ascendancy.”
“Even if it’s a trap?”
Thrawn smiled. “Especially if it’s a trap,” he said. “An enemy bold enough to stage a deliberate attack on a Chiss warship needs to be identified.” He gave a small shrug. “That’s the primary mission of the Expansionary Defense Fleet, after all.”
“Yes,” Thalias agreed reluctantly. “When?”
“Within the next two hours,” Thrawn said, standing up. “We’ve gleaned as much information from our analysis as we’re likely to get, and other conditions are also right. Time to move on to the next stage.” He paused, eyeing her. “You will, of course, keep this conversation to yourself.”
“Certainly,” Thalias promised. “What other conditions are also right?”
“I mean entirely to yourself,” Thrawn said, ignoring her question. “I don’t want Che’ri worrying about what we may be heading into.”
“I understand,” Thalias said. She remembered all too well the effect that excessive worrying could have on Third Sight. A panicked sky-walker was the last thing the Springhawk needed. “I’ll keep it private. What other conditions?”
“We’ll be doing a jump-by-jump to match Fsir’s route, but I’ll want you and Che’ri on station in case we need to move quickly,” Thrawn said. “Mid Captain Samakro will come get you when we’re ready.” With a final nod, he started across the dayroom.
“What about the body parts?” Thalias called after him as a belated thought occurred to her. “You said the analysis was complete. Was there Vagaari genetic material in the body parts?”
“Interesting you should ask,” Thrawn said, pausing beside the hatch. “We found no body parts at all amid the wreckage.”
Thalias frowned. “None?”
“None,” Thrawn said. “That may mean nothing, of course. Explosions as violent as those that destroyed the gunboats scatter debris throughout a large volume of space. It could be that the bodies were thrown too far to be detected before we began our collection. We did find some genetic material, but the results were inconclusive.”
“I see,” Thalias said. “I just…I remember hearing stories that the Vagaari sometimes put captives in special pods on their warships’ hulls to discourage counterattacks.”
“Those weren’t merely stories,” Thrawn said grimly. “Are you thinking they may have done something similar here, with enslaved pilots’ bodies wired with explosives in case of defeat so that their species couldn’t be identified?”
“Something like that,” Thalias said. A horrific idea, with an equally horrific mental image accompanying it.
“From what I saw of the Vagaari, that’s certainly possible,” Thrawn said. “All the more reason to let Fsir take us to the source of the perpetrators.”
“So that we can destroy them?”
“So that we can,” Thrawn said, “and so that we will.”
“As you leave Celwis on your path to making Xodlak family history,” Councilor Lakuviv’s voice came over the Midsummer’s bridge speaker, “I wish to offer one final note of encouragement and admonition. For reasons of security, only your commanders know your true task, which they’ll share with you when the time is right. But know with confidence that the end goal will be well worth all your efforts. From this moment forward your performance will either bring honor and glory to the family, or send it reeling into disaster.”
Seated in her command chair, Lakinda felt anticipation tugging at her. She’d had a few doubts along the way, but Lakuviv’s sheer enthusiasm, like Senior Aide Lakjiip’s, was infectious. A Xodlak-owned nyix mine that could provide warship hulls to the fleet for years to come would certainly bring glory to the family.
And if there was any justice in the Syndicure, there would once again be Ten Ruling Families.
Taking possession of the mines should be easy enough, provided Lakuviv had been right about no other aliens knowing about the mines. If that assumption was wrong—if the Xodlak warships arrived to find other forces waiting for them—they would have to earn back their family’s position the hard way.
But they would do it. They were Xodlak warriors, and their family was counting on them. They would win through.
“You’ll be traveling jump-by-jump for the next few days, which I know can be wearying,” Lakuviv continued. “But be assured that expert pilots and navigators have mapped out your route, and the path you’ve been given is the best and most efficient one available.”
Lakinda nodded to herself. She’d received the route a few hours ago, and had run it past the Midsummer’s pilot, who’d most recently been third pilot on a destroyer. He’d confirmed that it seemed reasonable, and further promised to check it against local conditions at each of the task force’s recalibration and repositioning stops. If he found a better route midway along their journey, they could always switch to that one.
She winced a little. The pilot. The first officer, the second officer, the other bridge officers. She’d been so busy getting the ship ready that she hadn’t had a chance to memorize anyone’s name or even their rank. With all the work yet to do in fine-tuning the ship’s equipment, it was unlikely she could change that social deficiency before they reached their goal, either. Certainly not with her chronic bad memory for names.
Officially, that wasn’t a problem. First, Second, Helm, Weapons, Comm—all such titles and descriptives were legitimate usage for a captain when requesting information or giving orders. But Admiral Ar’alani made it a point to know and use her officers’ names, and ever since the Grayshrike was first attached to Ar’alani’s task force Lakinda had made a point of emulating her superior’s style.
“I emphasize one more time the vital secrecy required,” Lakuviv continued. “There are those who may try to learn details of your mission, and others who may attempt to subvert it. I’ve therefore instructed your comm officers to ignore any and all transmissions except those originating from this office and carrying this protocol.”
Lakinda sat up a little straighter. Neither Councilor Lakuviv nor Senior Aide Lakjiip had said anything about such complete comm silence.
In fact, she wasn’t even sure such an order was legal. These might be Xodlak warships, but they were mostly crewed by Expansionary Defense Fleet officers and warriors. Standing orders specified that ships of the fleet were to be open to official communications at all times except under extraordinary situations.
Not replying to a transmission was one thing. Given the current situation, she had no problem with that. Refusing to even log incoming messages was something else entirely.
For that matter, the fact that Patriel Lakooni had never shown up to be part of the conversations or planning for this mission still lurked in the dark corners of her mind. Could something have happened to her? Illness, or some other emergency? It was strange and just a little ominous.
“Farewell, then, all of you,” Lakuviv finished. “May the honor and dignity of the Xodlak family travel before you, behind you, and at your right and left.” There was a soft tone, and the transmission ended.
“Comm sealed as ordered, Senior Captain,” the comm officer called.
“Hyperdrive ready,” the pilot added. “First vector locked in.”
“And onward to glory we go,” the first officer commented as he stepped to Lakinda’s side, his voice colored with suppressed excitement. “Your force is ready, Senior Captain Lakinda.”
“Acknowledged, First,” Lakinda said, wincing again. The bridge officers had at least taken the time to learn her name. “Comm, inform the Apogee that it may jump to hyperspace when ready.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the comm officer said. Lakinda leaned forward, peering out the bridge viewport, watching as the cruiser flickered and vanished.
“Apogee has jumped,” Sensors confirmed.
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said. “Helm, follow on my mark. Three, two, one.”
The stars became star-flares became the hyperspace swirl. “On our way, Senior Captain,” Helm said. “Vector looks good.”
“Orders, ma’am?” the first officer asked.
“Have the engineering crew continue with their work, focusing especially on the computer upgrades,” Lakinda told him. “I want reports every hour until everything is fully functional. Weapons, go down to secondary command and start running your crews through combat drills. Also hourly reports.”
“Yes, Senior Captain,” the weapons officer said. Unstrapping from his seat, he squeezed between the consoles and strode toward the hatch.
“Anything else, Senior Captain?” First asked.
Lakinda hesitated. “Yes,” she said. “Comm, you’ll alert me at once if there are any incoming transmissions.”
“You mean transmissions from Councilor Lakuviv?” Comm asked.
“I mean any transmissions,” Lakinda said. “You won’t acknowledge or reply without further orders, but you will inform me when anything comes in.”
Comm looked questioningly at First. First cleared his throat. “Those weren’t our orders, ma’am,” he said.
“I’m the commander on the scene,” Lakinda reminded him. “I can adjust or even countermand orders where I see fit.” She looked him in the eye. “Do I need to quote from the standing orders?”
First’s lip twitched. “No, Senior Captain.”
Lakinda turned back to the communications officer. “Comm?” she invited.
Comm didn’t look at all happy. But his nod was firm enough. “Understood, ma’am,” he said.
“Good.” Lakinda settled back into her seat. “Helm: time to first repositioning stop?”
“Two hours, Senior Captain,” the pilot reported. His voice sounded a little tense, but there was no hesitation in his reply. “After that, we’ll be effectively out of the Ascendancy and the jumps will be shorter.”
“Thank you.” Lakinda looked up at her first officer. “In a mission like this, First, all information is important,” she said, making sure her voice would be audible across the entire bridge. “Councilor Lakuviv said there might be efforts to subvert our mission. If there are, I want to know what they are, when they happen, and who’s behind them.”
“Understood, ma’am,” First said, sounding calmer. “That seems reasonable.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I assume that you will be following Councilor Lakuviv’s order not to reply to such transmissions?”
“I see no reason why not,” Lakinda said. “Carry on, First.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He moved away, pausing at each console along his path to check on the station’s status. Lakinda watched him for a moment, then turned back to her chair’s display and started her own run-through of the Midsummer’s flight and combat capabilities. If someone out in the Chaos wanted her mission to fail, they might well be willing to go beyond simply sending a few transmissions.
She had no intention of making it easy on them.