Star Wars: Adventure Journal 11: Command Decision

by Timothy Zahn

  Niriz frowned, the sudden change in subject throwing him momentarily off track. “Lieutenant Klar's very good,” he said. “Excellent pilot, very cool.”

  “Have him and two other TIE pilots report to my command room in an hour,” Thrawn said. “And have General Haverel detail six of his troopers to meet with me at that same time. Same criteria.”

  Six men especially good under fire. Thrawn’s mythical Council of Colonists, undoubtedly. “Yes, sir,” Niriz said stiffly. “May I again suggest, Admiral, that this might instead be the time for a show of strength. An assault shuttle with a squad or two of stormtroopers aboard, perhaps, plus a full wing of TIEs to escort them.”

  “Recommendation noted, Captain,” Thrawn nodded. “Carry out your orders.”

  Niriz clenched his teeth briefly. “Yes, sir.” Nodding again, Thrawn turned and headed at a brisk walk toward the archway leading from the hangar bay proper to the cavernous service and maintenance area behind it. The bustling activity seemed to part before him, service techs and engineers stepping respectfully out of his way and, more often than not, staring furtively after him as he passed.

  Muttering a curse under his breath, Niriz turned and stalked toward the turbolifts. He didn't like any of this, but service in the Imperial Fleet wasn't something you did if you happened to be in the mood that day. He and the Admonitor had been given an assignment; and if it meant putting up with a capricious alien commander, then they'd just have to put up with him.

  At least, for now.

  “Three of the alien fighters have appeared from the far side of the moon,” the sensor officer called. “Swinging around the shuttle and TIE fighter escort and dropping into an outer escort formation.”

  “Acknowledged,” Thrawn said. “Watch for more of them.”

  “If they haven't all fallen asleep from boredom,” Niriz muttered to General Haverel standing beside him. He and Haverel had supplied the personnel Thrawn had requested well within the admiral's specified one-hour time limit. But then, for some unexplained reason, Thrawn had taken another three hours to get this whole charade moving and out into space.

  But now they were finally off. And with the alien fighters forming escort around them, the gamble had begun. With six troopers, a Zeta-class long-range shuttle, and three irreplaceable TIE fighters set out on the betting line.

  And along with them, Commander Parck. Niriz gazed out at the distant drive trails of the Imperial ships and the fainter drives of the alien fighters flying beside them, still not believing Thrawn had given such a risky assignment to a man who was supposed to be his friend or at least his ally. But then, perhaps Thrawn didn't see it that way. Alien minds - who really knew how they worked?

  “Creysis's command ship has made its appearance,” the officer continued. “Also coming from behind the moon. Looks like a hangar bay's opened just behind and beneath the nose.”

  Pressed tightly against the side of his leg, Niriz's fingertips rubbed restlessly back and forth across the material as he watched Parck's shuttle maneuver into the dark opening. In the past three hours the Admonitor's drift had taken it a considerable distance from Creysis's headquarters moon. If the alien was planning treachery, it would be precious minutes before either the Star Destroyer or its TIE fighters could get there to help.

  He'd pointed that out to Thrawn an hour ago, suggesting they at least partially close the gap. The admiral had responded with some nonsense about not spooking them, and had ignored the recommendation.

  Just as he'd ignored every other suggestion Niriz had made about this whole operation. Could he really be so reckless or incompetent?

  Or could it be that he had some private agenda?

  The glow of the Zeta shuttle's drive vanished into the alien hangar bay. “Recall the escort,” Thrawn ordered. The officer acknowledged, and a moment later the three TIEs began curving away from , the command ship -

  And in that moment, the alien fighters abruptly struck. Abandoning their outer escort formation, they dropped in behind and around the three TIEs, lasers spitting brilliant bolts of red fire.

  “Evasive!” Niriz snapped. “Helm: all ahead full. Move to intercept.”

  “Countermand that,” Thrawn said. His voice was still calm, but it had taken on a cryogen-whip edge. “All ahead point one.”

  “Point one?” Niriz echoed, spinning to glare at the other. “Admiral -”

  “We're supposed to be a colony ship, Captain,” Thrawn said. “Colony ships are not designed for rapid acceleration.”

  “To blazes with that!” Niriz snarled, twisting back to look at the beleaguered TIEs. Two of them were ahead of their pursuers, slowly but steadily outdistancing them. But the third had been slower on the uptake and was lagging dangerously behind. “Look behind you,” Niriz muttered under his breath toward the other TIE pilots. Surely the other two pilots realized their comrade was in trouble. “Why don't they fire back?”

  “Because I gave them orders not to,” Thrawn told him coolly. “Helm, all ahead point two.”

  “You what? Admiral -”

  “He's hit!” the sensor officer shouted. Niriz spun back to the viewport. The lagging TIE's starboard solar panel had disintegrated in a ball of savage fire, the fighter twisting madly as its pilot fought to bring it under control. He succeeded; but the effort cost him too much speed, and the rest of his inadequate lead. Even as Niriz watched helplessly, three of the pursuing fighters swarmed around him like a flight of quamilla swooping onto a crippled redjik. There was a multiple flicker of grappling lines, and then the whole group swung around in unison into a tight curve back toward Creysis's command ship.

  Niriz swore under his breath, measuring the distance with his eyes. Now that they had their prize, the rest of the alien fighters had broken off their pursuit of the other two TIEs and were also heading back home.

  The command ship was also turning to flee; but if Thrawn threw full power to the Admonitor's drive right now, they might still be able to catch the fighters and the crippled TIE before they made it inside...

  “Helm, all ahead point two five,” Thrawn ordered.

  Niriz turned back to face the admiral, raw fury at Thrawn's indifferent bungling battling against the military etiquette instilled in him by four generations of family service to the Fleet. The etiquette won, but just barely. “Admiral Thrawn,” he said, his voice almost steady. “I understand your reluctance to reveal our true nature to these aliens. But enough is enough.”

  Thrawn's glowing eyes might have sparked a little brighter at the word aliens. But when he spoke, his voice was as calm as ever. “Actually, Captain, I don't think you do understand,” he said. “The other two TIEs will be returning shortly; please go to the aft bridge comm station and check on their status.”

  “Admiral, the command ship is moving away,” the sensor officer reported. “Thirty-eight fighters have joined it, all of the ships we saw earlier. They're forming into a screened-flight configuration around the command ship.”

  “What's their speed?”

  “One-six-five.”

  “Helm, bring our speed to one-six-three,” Thrawn instructed.

  Niriz took a step closer to Thrawn. “What if they jump to lightspeed?” he growled.

  “We're watching them,” Thrawn assured him. “If they jump, we'll have their vector. But I don't think they will.” He raised a blue-black eyebrow. “I believe you were to check on the TIE fighters.”

  In other words, he was dismissed. “Acknowledged, Admiral,” he bit out.

  Turning, he stalked down the command walkway and through the archway into the aft bridge. He turned toward the comm station -

  “A word with you, Captain?”

  Niriz turned. General Haverel was standing on the other side of the aft bridge, between the turbolift and the hologram pod. His face was tense with smoldering anger. “What is it, General?” Niriz asked, stepping over to him.

  “I think you know as well as I do, sir,” Haverel said, nodding his head sharply toward
the main bridge. “I've got six troopers aboard that shuttle. Six good troopers. Did you know Thrawn insisted that they go there unarmed? No hold-out blasters; not even any knives.”

  “I didn't know that,” Niriz said heavily. “But I can't say I'm surprised. He's trying to maintain the illusion that we're a harmless colony ship.”

  “Is he?” Haverel demanded. “Or this all something else entirely?”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as maybe he's made a private deal with this Creysis pirate,” Haverel said bluntly.

  Niriz felt his eyes narrow. “You must be joking.”

  “Am I?” Haverel countered. “Look at the facts. Thrawn agrees to send a contingent to talk to Creysis; but instead of sending it right away, he holds off for three hours. Meanwhile, he has the Zeta shuttle and one of the TIE fighters locked away in the Number Six maintenance area with about fifty techs swarming all over them.”

  Niriz eyed him, a cold feeling settling into his stomach. He hadn't heard anything about any work being done on the shuttle. “Which TIE was it?”

  “Do you have to ask?” Haverel said darkly. “The one the aliens grabbed.”

  Niriz looked forward, at the admiral standing alone on the command walkway with his back to them. The man who had indeed personally arranged all this.

  And who was now deliberately allowing the enemy ships to pull ahead of them. “I don't believe he'd betray us,” he said, looking back at Haverel. But even to himself the words sounded hollow.

  As they obviously did to Haverel, too. “What other option is there?” the general demanded scornfully. “He's given them a Zeta shuttle, a TIE fighter - both of them probably loaded to the gills with extra technology - and is now letting them get away. And with eight of our men as prisoners, just as an extra bonus.”

  Niriz stared at Thrawn's back, the weight of four generations of service denying that such blatant treason was possible from a senior flag officer.

  But against that was the weight of the actual evidence. “Why would he do it?”

  “Who knows?” Haverel rumbled, waving a hand in curt dismissal. “He's an alien. Worse, he's an alien from right here in the Unknown Regions. Maybe he's known this Creysis for years - could be he even set this charade up in advance. That doesn't matter. What matters is what we're going to do about it.”

  The cold feeling in Niriz's stomach turned to sharp-edged ice. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

  “You know what I mean, Captain,” Haverel said. “I'm saying that the only chance those men out there have is for us to relieve Thrawn of command.”

  “Or in other words,” Niriz said quietly,” you're suggesting mutiny.”

  A muscle in Haverel's cheek twitched. “I'm suggesting that the Empire and our oaths have been betrayed,” he said. “And I'm suggesting that it's our duty to set things right.”

  “By sedition?”

  “The crime has already been committed,” Haverel insisted. “And not by us. All we'll be doing is taking the Admonitor back for the Empire.”

  Niriz looked back at Thrawn again. The weight of four generations of service... “Let's give him a little more time,” he said at last. “Maybe he'll - I don't know. Come to his senses.”

  “It's almost too late for that,” Haverel said bitterly. “It's certainly too late for the good men he sent out there to die.”

  Niriz took a deep breath. “We're warriors of the Imperial Fleet,” he reminded Haverel. And reminded himself. “It's our duty to die when the situation requires it.”

  For a moment the two men gazed at each other. “All right, Captain,” Haverel said at last. “You do what you have to. So will I.”

  Turning, he stalked into the turbolift. He turned around as the door closed, giving Niriz a glimpse of his implacable expression, and then he was gone.

  With a tired sigh, Niriz crossed to the comm station. The two TIEs had made it back safely, hangar bay control informed him, and the pilots would be available to talk to him in a few minutes. He waited until they had extricated themselves from their fighters, confirmed that neither was hurt and that neither fighter was damaged, and ordered them to report to debriefing.

  He signed off, and for a few minutes more he stayed where he was, thinking about what Haverel had said and fighting a silent battle within himself. But there was really only one decision possible. Turning to the main bridge, he headed back down the command walkway.

  It seemed a longer walk than usual before he reached Thrawn's side. “Captain,” the admiral said, his voice its usual smoothness. “Report.”

  “Both TIEs have returned safely,” Niriz said, gazing out at the fleeing alien ships. Even in the short time he'd been gone, they'd moved noticeably farther away. “What's the status on Creysis?”

  “Unchanged,” Thrawn said. “The aliens have increased their speed to one-seven-two. We're maintaining pursuit at one-six-three.”

  Less than a quarter of what the Admonitor could actually do. “Creysis is probably taking both the shuttle and the TIE fighter apart right now,” he said. “I presume you know that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Possibly taking Commander Parck and his delegation apart, too.”

  Thrawn shook his head, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. “No, he won't have harmed them yet. Simple caution dictates that. He won't have taken them far from the shuttle, either.”

  Niriz frowned. He'd have thought an immediate trip to Creysis's detention center would be in order. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because one or more of them could be carrying transmission cameras,” Thrawn said. “Until he has a better idea of our technology level, he won't risk letting them see more of his command ship than necessary.”

  “Perhaps,” Niriz said. “On the other hand, between the shuttle and TIE fighter, he can presumably learn all he needs to about us and our technology.”

  Thrawn nodded. “Presumably.”

  Niriz stared at that alien face, frustration simmering within him. Here he was, trying desperately to give the admiral every last benefit of the doubt. And yet here was the admiral, admitting with unashamed candor how badly he'd handled this whole operation.

  Did he want to be relieved of command?

  “What it ultimately comes down to is a simple matter of trust,” Thrawn said quietly. “Whether you trust me personally; whether you trust the officers who approved my promotion to the rank of admiral; whether you trust the Emperor and his decision to place me in command here.”

  Niriz grimaced. “It would have been easier if you hadn't mentioned that last one.”

  Thrawn turned to face him; and to Niriz's surprise the admiral smiled. A faint, enigmatic smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Never assume things are necessarily the way they seem, Captain,” he said. “Particularly when dealing with the Emperor.” The glowing eyes glittered. “Or with me.”

  Niriz dropped his eyes from that unblinking gaze. Haverel's doubts about Thrawn's loyalty flashed through his mind, along with his own questions about a private agenda. Or perhaps the problem was something more innocent but no less dangerous: that Thrawn had managed to convince himself that the Admonitor's mission was more than just an elaborate and wasteful form of exile.

  Or perhaps the Emperor and all those approving officers really had known what they were doing.

  But it almost didn't matter. With those four generations of service behind him, there still was only one decision possible.

  He looked up again into Thrawn's face. “Admiral, I recommend you call a stormtrooper squad to the bridge,” he said. “There could be trouble.”

  “Yes, I know.” Thrawn glanced back over his shoulder. “I believe the trouble has already arrived.”

  Niriz turned. General Haverel had returned and was marching stolidly toward them, a formation of six black-clad troopers following in his wake.

  Halfway down the command walkway the general waved the troopers to a halt and continued on to them alone. “Admiral Thrawn,” he said witho
ut preamble. “In the name of the Empire, I ask that you relinquish command of the Admonitor to Captain Niriz, and that you allow these troopers to escort you to your quarters.”

  Niriz looked over Haverel's shoulder at the troopers. Their faces were set in the expressions of men who'd been given orders they agreed with but at the same time found highly unpleasant. Behind them, the officers and crewers in the crew pits were going about their duties, apparently oblivious to what was happening here.

  “I see,” Thrawn said calmly. “I trust, General, that you've thought this through.”

  “There are men out there,” Haverel said harshly. “My men. I'm not just going to abandon them.”

  “Your loyalty is admirable,” Thrawn said. “How would you propose we rescue them?”

  “Perhaps we should try attacking,” Haverel said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “An Imperial Star Destroyer is supposed to be pretty good at that.”

  “That's enough, General,” Niriz said.

  “No, let him continue,” Thrawn said. “All right, general, we go to full power and attack. How long do you think it would take Creysis to kill all of them when he saw us bearing down on him? Or, alternatively, how long would it take him to compute a jump to lightspeed and leave us behind?”

  Haverel's cheek twitched again. “Granted, it would be a risk,” he said doggedly. “But sitting here doing nothing guarantees their deaths.”

  “That assumes I am in fact doing nothing,” Thrawn said. “But leave that aside a moment. Do you propose to take command of the Admonitor with yourself and six troopers? Or have you polled all 47,000 of the crew to see where they stand?”

  “They don't like what's happening any more than I do,” Haverel bit out. “Enough of them would fall into line.”

  “Really.” Thrawn shifted his gaze to Niriz. “Would you agree, Captain?”

  Niriz braced himself. “No, Admiral,” he said. “I don't believe my officers will go along with mutiny.” He forced himself to look at Haverel. “Nor will I.”