The Springhawk and Grayshrike were in position. Their crews and personnel were as prepared as Thrawn and Samakro and Apros could make them.
And in the end, Samakro thought with a vague sense of gathering doom, it was all going to come down to the actions of fourteen of those officers and warriors.
Fourteen.
All of them were from the Springhawk, not from any partiality or seniority, but by simple necessity. As the two warships raced to reach the Agbui planet ahead of the three incoming family task forces, and as a result spent as much time in hyperspace as their sky-walkers could handle, the Springhawk’s officers and warriors were the only ones who could easily access the Watith freighter strapped to the cruiser’s underside.
Fourteen.
Lakinda had told them the Xodlak force consisted of a frigate and light cruiser. Even if she could pull her punches without her senior officers noticing and calling her on it, it was still questionable whether the Springhawk and Grayshrike could stand up to them. The fact that two more family forces were also on the way tilted the odds even further.
Only now it was no longer just the two cruisers in the calculation. Now there were also the fourteen remote-controlled gunboats salvaged from the Watith attack.
Samakro didn’t especially like Thrawn’s plan. Neither did Apros, and Senior Captain Lakinda hadn’t sounded very enthusiastic about it, either. But Samakro had thought long and hard over the past couple of days, and he’d been unable to come up with anything better.
And so now here he was, pacing slowly up and down the narrow aisle between the twenty remote-control consoles in the Watith freighter, putting the fourteen men and women through yet another hour of practice, drills, and simulated combat. Making sure they were as prepared for what was to come as they could possibly be.
“Mid Captain Samakro?”
Samakro paused. Laknym, seated halfway down the aisle, was looking toward him. The plasma sphere specialist’s hand was half raised, and his expression was troubled. “A question, Lieutenant Commander?” Samakro asked as he walked over to him.
“Yes, sir,” Laknym said. He paused, waiting until Samakro was standing over him. “I understand the reasons for this, sir,” he said, lowering his voice. “I understand that I’m under orders—”
“You volunteered for this job, did you not?” Samakro asked.
“Yes, sir, I did,” Laknym said. “But Senior Captain Thrawn is my commander. I consider a request from him, even if it’s for volunteers, to be the same thing as an order.”
“I see,” Samakro said. That was exactly the kind of attitude of loyalty, commitment, and obedience the fleet liked to see in their officers and warriors. “What’s your question?”
He saw Laknym’s throat work. “Sir…I’m being asked to fire on my own family’s ships.”
“Yes, you are,” Samakro agreed. “And you know the reason for that. You and the other Xodlak on this team are the ones most familiar with your ships’ weaponry and defenses.”
“Yes, sir, and I understand that.” He hesitated again. “Here’s my problem, sir. The Xodlak are allies of the Irizi. Senior Captain Thrawn is of the Mitth, rivals of the Irizi. I’m wondering…do you think there might be…could there be a political aspect to this?”
“An excellent question,” Samakro agreed. “Let me give you a simple answer: no.”
Laknym frowned. “No, sir?”
“No,” Samakro repeated. “I understand your concern, especially under the circumstances. But the truth is…”
He paused, looking down the aisle at the other men and women working busily on their drills. “The truth, Laknym, is that I’ve been Thrawn’s first officer since he came aboard. I’ve watched him in battles, in preparation for battles, in the aftermath of battles, and dealing with Aristocra and senior officers.”
He looked back at Laknym. “And I have never—never—seen anyone as utterly incompetent at politics as he is.”
For a moment Laknym just frowned up at him. Then slowly, the frown relaxed. “You’re saying, sir, that Senior Captain Thrawn isn’t playing politics here because he never plays politics?”
“I’m saying,” Samakro corrected, “that Senior Captain Thrawn never plays politics because he doesn’t know how to play politics.” He took a deep breath, huffed it out. “Bottom line. When Thrawn comes up with a plan, it’s strictly military. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yes, sir,” Laknym said. “I understand.”
“And this is a good plan,” Samakro added. “It’ll work, and it’ll work well.” He inclined his head. “And now I believe you have some drills to run?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Laknym said. “Thank you, sir.” He gave Samakro a brisk nod and turned back to his console.
For another moment Samakro watched over Laknym’s shoulder as he jumped back into his part of the simulation.
And realized to his mild surprise that his pep talk had worked better than he’d expected. Not only had he convinced Laknym that Thrawn’s plan would succeed, he’d actually convinced himself.
But only if these fourteen men and women did their job.
Stepping away from Laknym’s console, he resumed his slow walk down the aisle, watching each of them in turn, ready to offer advice or correction or encouragement.
Because, really, a plan was only as good as the people executing it. And Samakro had no intention of letting these fourteen fail because of him.
The star-flares faded into stars, and the Midsummer had arrived.
“Sensors, full scan,” Lakinda ordered, doing a quick visual through the viewport. Time to see if shaving a few hours off their journey had paid off.
“Combat range clear, Senior Captain,” the sensor officer reported. “Mid-range clear. Far range…clear.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said, breathing a little easier. The extra work had indeed paid off. Just as she’d hoped, the Xodlak ships had beaten the other two families here. “Continue scan. Helm, take us in.”
From his position beside Lakinda’s command chair, the first officer cleared his throat. “I believe, Senior Captain, that Councilor Lakuviv said you were to announce our mission at this point.”
“Yes, First, he did,” Lakinda said, looking casually at the tactical display. It was still filling in as the sensors continued to collect data, but so far there was nothing out there. “It was reported to Councilor Lakuviv that this planet may be home to one or more mines and rare ore deposits. Our mission is to locate those mines and assess their value.”
“To assess a mining operation?” First asked, staring at her. “Forgive me, Senior Captain, but that strikes me as not only flimsy but also ludicrous.”
“I’m just telling you what Senior Aide Lakjiip told me,” Lakinda said, meeting and holding his gaze.
“I don’t believe it,” First said flatly. “No Patriel would haul in family members from all over the Ascendancy for something that trivial.”
“Or activate a frigate and cruiser to bring us all here,” the second officer added, his face just as suspicious as First’s. “There has to be more to it than that, Senior Captain.”
“And we want to know what it is, ma’am,” First said. “All of it.”
“Or?” Lakinda asked, layering some ice beneath her calmness. Thrawn had said the Springhawk would be waiting for them. Where was he?
First didn’t even twitch. “You’re the commander, Senior Captain,” he said with the same icy calmness. “You can refuse to tell us. But if you do, there will be consequences down the line.”
“Are you threatening me, First?” Lakinda asked, still keeping her tone calm. If Thrawn didn’t get in here fast—
“Not at all, ma’am.” He drew himself up. “But bear in mind that while I may be only a junior captain, I am Xodlak blood.”
“So noted,” Lakinda said, her heart sinking a little. In the fleet, such distinctions in family rank were meaningless.
But at this time and place they weren’t Ascendancy officers. This was a Xodlak operation, and First’s status meant he would have receptive ears in the Patriarch’s office that would be closed to Lakinda. If this whole thing turned belly-up—
“Contact!” Sensors spoke up sharply. “Multiple contacts. Five…no, six. Six incoming ships. Two groups, each with three ships.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said, looking at the tactical. The Erighal and Pommrio, undoubtedly. Fortunately, they hadn’t jumped in right on top of each other. Or on top of the Midsummer and Apogee, either.
Possibly by design. Along with providing the planetary coordinates, the Agbui on Celwis had presumably assisted Lakuviv’s people in mapping out the jump-by-jump pattern that the Xodlak ships had followed, which had partially defined which part of space they’d arrived in. Maybe Haplif’s accomplices in this con game had done the same for the other two families’ ships, making sure they arrived slightly separated from each other. Not only would that avoid potential snarls, but it would give everyone time to realize they weren’t the only ones going for the prize and, perhaps, decide just how hard they were going to fight for it.
“Do we have IDs on them?” First asked.
“Configuration marks them as Chiss,” Sensors said, frowning at his displays. “But—”
“Senior Captain, I’m getting transmissions,” Comm cut in. “The ships…” She touched a key.
“—is Expeditionary Force Alpha,” a haughty voice came over the bridge speaker. “I’m serving formal notice that we are claiming this world and all its resources for the Erighal family of the Chiss Ascendancy.”
“Unacceptable, Erighal task force,” a new voice came, just as haughty as the first, and this one carrying an edge of anger. “Kindly identify yourself and your ships.”
“I am Force Alpha, operating under the auspices of the Erighal family,” the Alpha commander said in an even, precise voice. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Is it, now,” the second voice bit out. “Fine. Be aware that I am also a military task force, traveling under the auspices of the Pommrio family, and I formally challenge your claim.”
“What is this?” First growled. “Senior Captain? What’s going on here?”
“I already told you,” Lakinda said. She tapped her comm key. “This is Task Force Xodlak,” she called, “since we all seem reluctant to give our actual names.”
“Names are irrelevant,” the Erighal said. “All that matters is that the Erighal now own this world.”
“The Pommrio challenge that claim,” the Pommrio commander repeated.
Lakinda looked at her first officer. He was staring out the viewport, his face rigid, his eyes blazing. He still didn’t know what was down there, but he now knew that two other families badly wanted it.
And that was suddenly all that mattered. He was Xodlak blood, and he would be damned if he would let the Erighal or Pommrio take something he already considered to be his. Whatever it took—whether threats or demands, combat or death—the planet and its mines were going to belong to the Xodlak.
And with a sinking heart, Lakinda realized Apros and Thrawn had been right. There was going to be a battle today, and when the dust settled the Ascendancy could very well be balanced on the edge of civil war. Only she and Thrawn stood in the way of that disaster.
In the meantime, she had a role to play out. “The Xodlak challenge both your claims,” she said. “I’ll also point out that we were here before either of you.”
“Who was here first is irrelevant,” the Erighal said. “All that matters is who is here last.”
Beside Lakinda, the first officer made a rumbling sound in his throat. “Senior Captain, I recommend we go to full combat stations.”
“Agreed,” Lakinda said, keying the ship-wide alert. “How are you at a weapons console?”
“I spent over a year at one.”
“Excellent,” Lakinda said. “Take that station and ready your weapons.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He headed briskly across the bridge.
“New contact, Senior Captain,” Sensors called. “Just coming around the curve of the planet.”
“Wonderful,” First growled over his shoulder. “Which family is it now?”
“No family, sir,” Sensors said. “It’s the Springhawk.” He half turned to look at Lakinda. “And they’re in trouble.”
“There they are,” Dalvu’s voice came over the speaker in the Watith freighter’s control room. “Got the Xodlak ships…there are the Erighal…and there on the far starboard are the Pommrio. Looks like everyone’s here, Senior Captain.”
“Very good, Mid Commander,” Thrawn’s voice came. “Mid Captain Samakro, are you ready?”
“We’re ready, sir,” Samakro said. “Officers and warriors: Go.”
There were nods and muttered acknowledgments up and down the aisle as the fourteen men and women activated their gunboats.
“Make it look good,” Thrawn reminded them. “Remember, the Springhawk is in serious trouble.”
Samakro looked over at the repeater displays that had been set up above the forward hatch. Thrawn was putting on an amazingly realistic show, he saw, with the Springhawk squirming back and forth as it tried to shake away the gunboats swarming around it and throw off the freighter attached to its underside. The repeaters didn’t show it, but Samakro knew the cruiser’s lights and power levels were also flickering, its thrusters firing only intermittently, and its electrostatic barrier completely gone. As far as any of the family ships out there could tell, the Springhawk was going down fast.
Only now, with their sudden arrival, it had been given a reprieve. Shifting his gaze to the tactical, Samakro saw the fourteen gunboats that had supposedly been harassing the cruiser abandon their formation and accelerate toward the newcomers.
And family commanders who’d been ramping up for a squabble among themselves were suddenly facing an unexpected challenge.
A very serious challenge, too. Dalvu had the profiles up now, and adding in the two Xodlak ships the total count came to one frigate, two light cruisers, and five patrol ships. With fourteen gunboats bearing down on them, the smart move would be for them to escape back into hyperspace and come back when they had more firepower.
But they wouldn’t. The lure of the imaginary nyix mine was too strong, the risk to family honor and prestige too great. Maybe the last remaining ship would run, if it was still able to do so. But until then, they would all stand and fight.
Which was, after all, exactly what Thrawn was counting on.
“Incoming, Senior Captain,” Sensors announced, his voice tight. “I make it fourteen fighter-class warships, probably gunboats.”
“Acknowledged, Sensors,” Lakinda said. “Erighal and Pommrio ships, I strongly recommend you get out while you still can. If these gunboats were able to bring a Chiss heavy cruiser to the edge, they’re way more than either of you can handle.”
“Negative on that, Xodlak,” the Erighal commander growled. “We’re not leaving.”
“Not with an Expansionary Defense Fleet ship and crew in danger,” the Pommrio added. “If we leave now, they’ll just go back and finish off the Springhawk.”
Lakinda breathed a silent sigh of relief. She’d been pretty sure they wouldn’t run, but there’d always been that chance. More important, their oaths to the Ascendancy were starting to push against their loyalties to their families. “As you will,” she said. “In that case, we need to put together a joint battle front, anchored by my frigate and our two cruisers. Erighal, you’re currently in the middle, so the Pommrio ships and I will move in and form up on you.” She gestured to the pilot. “Helm, get us over there. Apogee, stay on our flank until we reach the Erighal.”
“Just a moment, Xodlak,” the Erighal said. “I agree on a joint battle front. I don’t necessarily agree that you should be in command.”
“I have the frigate,” Lakinda reminded him. “More important, I’m a senior captain. Your rank?”
There was a pause. “Mid captain,” he said reluctantly.
“Pommrio?” Lakinda prompted.
“Also mid captain,” the other replied. “Very well, Xodlak. The Pommrio cede command to you. But be warned: If I see you slanting this operation to favor your family over ours, I reserve the right to withdraw my support and my ships.”
“As do I,” the Erighal said.
“So noted,” Lakinda said. “Let’s focus on rescuing the Springhawk and keeping ourselves alive, shall we? All right. We’ll start with a modified double-wing formation: frigate in the center, Xodlak cruiser to starboard, Pommrio cruiser to portside. Patrol ships fill in the wings, staying far enough back to be partially shielded, far enough forward to deliver laserfire. Once the gunboats split their attack formation, you’ll all be largely on your own, but I suggest the patrol ships stay close to one of the larger warships. Questions?”
“No, Senior Captain,” the Pommrio said.
“Repositioning my ships and awaiting your arrival,” the Erighal added. “And don’t dawdle—those gunboats are moving up fast.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said. “Helm, boost our speed fifteen percent. First?”
“Weapons crews running pre-combat checks,” First reported from the weapons console. “We’ll be ready once they open fire.”
Lakinda felt her lip twist. Once they open fire. Even here, facing a clear and present threat, the rules against preemptive strikes persisted. “Good,” she said. “Midsummer officers and warriors: Prepare for battle.”
“This is it,” Samakro said, gazing at the Springhawk’s tactical repeater as he strode down the control room aisle. The eight family ships had finished gathering into a modified double-wing, and their formation was poised to meet the incoming gunboats.
Fortunately, from the transmissions the Springhawk had been able to eavesdrop on, it looked like Lakinda was in overall command. The plan would probably still work if one of the other commanders had claimed that position, but it might have made things trickier.
“Remember your orders,” he added, pausing behind Laknym’s station. “And watch yourselves—we don’t want this ending too quickly.”
He leaned over Laknym’s shoulder. “You ready, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked softly.
“Yes, sir,” Laknym said.
“Good,” Samakro said. Whatever the young man’s uncertainties had been about firing on his own family’s ships, he’d apparently been able to put them aside. “First shot coming up. Make it count.”
Laknym nodded. The gunboats reached firing distance…
Ahead, in nearly perfect unison, the wall of gunboats erupted with laserfire.
“Three hits!” Sensors snapped. “Ventral bow, dorsal port side, ventral port side.”
“Weapons, open fire,” Lakinda ordered. “Target the ones that shot at us. Damage?”
“Barrier down twenty percent,” Sensors reported as the Midsummer’s lasers opened fire, raking across the gunboats. “Targeting Sensors One and Five down twenty percent; switching to manual targeting to compensate. No nodes hit, weapons clusters undamaged.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said, feeling some of her tension draining away. Samakro had done it. He and his team of gunboat controllers were actually making this look real. “Weapons?”
“Two hits,” First reported. “One on dorsal bow—no clear damage indicated—second a possible kill shot on portside laser.”
The starscape ahead of them had become a blaze of laserfire as the gunboats and Chiss warships dueled. The gunboats delivered one final salvo and then broke off, their intertwined attack formation suddenly blossoming outward. “Watch it—they’re shifting to single combat,” Lakinda warned. “Patrol ships, stay sheltered as best you can.”
“Belay that, Force Alpha,” the Erighal commander cut in. “The Erighal do not hide like children. Engage at will, and engage fully.”
“Nor do the Pommrio abandon others to fight in their stead,” the Pommrio commander added. “Patrol ships, form up on my flanks.”
Lakinda grimaced. But she should have expected that. Capturing the nyix mines might not be as important as it was an hour ago, but maintaining family honor was always a priority.
And practically speaking, once a battle devolved into one-on-one, it really was every ship for itself. She should be happy the tentative alliance had lasted this long.
“As you wish,” she said to the other commanders. “But stay together, guard one another’s backs, and set up kill shots wherever you can.”
“Set up shots among our own ships, or with the others?” First asked pointedly.
Family first: The words whispered through Lakinda’s mind. Words that had been with her since childhood. Words that had colored every thought and been a background to every decision. Words that had become even more important after she was raised from her obscure origins and made a part of the Xodlak.
And right now, words that could do nothing but get in her way. “With whichever damn ship is in position,” Lakinda said tartly. “Just remember that we’re all Chiss. Xodlak, Erighal, Pommrio—we’re all Chiss.”
“So we are,” the Pommrio said with quiet menace. “Let us make these aliens very sorry they ever crossed our path.”
“Multiple hits on family ships,” Dalvu reported. “Minor hull damage on two of the Erighal patrol ships, minor hull damage and one laser inoperative on Pommrio cruiser, targeting sensors inoperative on Xodlak and Pommrio cruisers and all three Erighal patrol ships. Reduction in barrier strength on all vessels. No other damage detected.”
Samakro exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Well done,” he called to the fourteen men and women at their control consoles. “Open up your formation. Time to go to one-on-one.”
He touched Laknym on the shoulder. “And that,” he reminded the other, “is why you’re all shooting at your own family’s ships.”
“Yes, sir,” Laknym said, sounding marginally calmer.
Samakro focused on Laknym’s displays, watching the starscape twist violently as he maneuvered his gunboat around and between the answering laser blasts. This aspect had been just one more point of genius in Thrawn’s plan.
Because each family’s warships had their own set of unique differences, specifications, and peculiarities, and each family made a point of training its fleet warriors in those details. That meant that those warriors, and only those warriors, knew how and where to attack their family’s ships with a maximum of ferocity and a minimum of actual damage.
The battle raged on. The gunboats continued to swarm the Chiss warships, firing madly and as ineffectively as possible, focusing on targeting sensors and empty sections of hull. Their opponents, with no such restrictions to slow them down, fired back with lasers and occasional breachers, steadily grinding away at their attackers’ numbers.
As each gunboat was destroyed, its control panel went dark, and its operator was finished. They all reacted differently to that endpoint, Samakro noted: some clenching their fists in frustration, others just slumping back in their seats in relief, others making tension-relieving small talk with neighbors who had similarly been idled. The number of gunboats dropped to eleven, then nine, then eight—
“Senior Captain, we have a tight-beam transmission from the Midsummer,” Brisch suddenly said over the speaker. “Senior Captain Lakinda says we have a problem.”