Thrawn_Alliances_Star Wars

by Timothy Zahn

  “Faro, Admiral.” Her voice holds anticipation.

  “Bring the Chimaera to our location,” Thrawn said. “We have seventeen more Grysk prisoners, whom you will secure in the starboard ready block.”

  “Not the brig, sir?”

  “No,” Thrawn said. “I do not wish them communicating with the other Grysks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will also prepare to bring the Grysk frigate aboard for further examination,” Thrawn said. “I have no doubt that its secrets will soon be ours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thrawn keyed off. “And now, my lord,” he said to Vader, “I will tell you all that I can.”

  The TIE pilots from the starboard ready block were not happy at being ousted from their ready room and quarters so that Commodore Faro could put a bunch of Grysk prisoners there. Luckily for the pilots, they got to share their frustration with the First Legion by ousting them from their own hangar-side quarters.

  Hangar Master Xoxtin was upset on both counts, though mainly because her routine and private little fiefdom had been disrupted. Rumor had it that she hadn’t been shy about expressing that annoyance to Commodore Faro, either.

  “This is ridiculous,” Sergeant Aksind fumed to Kimmund as he slapped his bedroll down on the Darkhawk’s common room deck. “What does Thrawn think he’s doing, putting them in personnel quarters instead of the Chimaera’s brig?”

  “He said he doesn’t want them taken through the ship to the brig,” Kimmund said. He wasn’t exactly happy with this, either. But part of his job as the First Legion’s commander was to smooth over superiors’ orders with his stormtroopers as best he could.

  Under Vader’s leadership, that often meant a lot of smoothing. It hadn’t always made him popular, but it had kept him alive.

  Still, that was pretty much the way things were in the modern Imperial fleet. So many commanders were busy playing politics, or were trying to one-up each other, or were simply petty tyrants in their own right. Everyone else aboard those ships had little choice but to keep their heads down and try to make it through without becoming someone’s pawn or fall guy.

  Except, apparently, aboard the Chimaera.

  There was only so much a visitor to a ship the size of a Star Destroyer could learn in the limited time Kimmund and his stormtroopers had been aboard. But even from the beginning, the attitude of the officers and crew had struck him as unique. The ship had its share of midlevel tyrants, certainly—Xoxtin was an obvious example. But at the same time, none of the senior officers had the self-centeredness of men and women looking out solely for themselves, or the deadly inertia of people simply going through the motions. Everyone from Faro on down seemed intent on working together to do their jobs and complete their assigned tasks to the best of their ability.

  The reason, of course, was obvious: Thrawn.

  The grand admiral was smart and subtle, but never used his brilliance to show up or humiliate anyone. He demanded results, but never perfection, and had amazing stores of patience for those who were truly working to their fullest ability. He cared about his people, to the point of standing up for them even against the disapproval of powerful men like Lord Vader.

  Which wasn’t to say he tolerated those who were lazy, or who wasted his time, or who were simply uninterested in giving their very best for the Empire. Kimmund had heard stories from the Chimaera’s crew about how such deadweights were sent packing in short order, usually to commanders who also weren’t interested in giving their best. On some occasions, they ended up back on Coruscant to stand for court-martials, much to the relief of those who’d had to put up with them.

  The result was telling: a degree of loyalty Kimmund had seldom seen except within the ranks of his own First Legion.

  It was a pity Thrawn’s style of leadership hadn’t spread through the rest of the navy. Still, he was certainly having an influence on the younger officers. If he lasted long enough, maybe those lessons would someday become the military standard.

  If that happened, he suspected, the Empire would stand forever.

  “And the brig is, what, three whole decks farther away?” Aksind scoffed.

  “The prisoners from the freighter are in there,” Kimmund reminded him. “Maybe he doesn’t want the two groups talking to each other.”

  “He should try just locking them in different sections,” Aksind grumbled.

  “You’re welcome to rack with the others in the pilots’ mess,” Kimmund offered. “Has to be more comfortable than here.”

  “Which begs the obvious question,” Aksind said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Because I don’t like leaving the Darkhawk unwatched with alien prisoners just down the corridor,” Kimmund said sourly. “Like I said, you don’t have to stay.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Aksind said. “Following my commanding officer into hell, death, and sore backs. Inspiration for the troops, and all that.”

  “I’m honored,” Kimmund said. “So why in here instead of aft in your rack?”

  “Because I never get enough air in there,” Aksind said. “Out here, more space. Plus, if I can’t sleep the game table’s right there.”

  “Which Tephan will probably have already taken over.”

  “That’s okay,” Aksind said. “Heckling Tephan’s games is almost as fun as playing myself. Speaking of whom…” He cupped his hands. “Tephan?” he called.

  “What?” the pilot’s voice came drifting from farther aft.

  “You got any food going back there?”

  “At this hour?” Tephan demanded. “Where do you think you are, Coruscant? You want a night bite, come fix it yourself.”

  Aksind sniffed the air. “Yeah, she’s cooking something,” he said. “You want a third of whatever it is?”

  “I’ll take a spoonful,” Kimmund said drily. “Tephan’s cooking isn’t exactly—” He broke off, frowning, as another sound came faintly from the other direction. “You hear that?”

  “A kind of soft thud?” Aksind asked, frowning back. He leaned the side of his head against the common room bulkhead. “Don’t hear…wait a second. Sounds like someone’s moving out there.”

  Kimmund pulled out his comlink and keyed for Tephan. “Tephan, drop what you’re doing and get up here,” he murmured. “Bring a couple of E-11s.”

  “Someone probably just forgot something,” Aksind said quietly. But he was already moving forward, angling toward the side of the hatchway where he’d have some cover. Another thud came, a shade louder this time…

  Kimmund caught his breath as a faint breeze washed past him.

  Someone had opened one of the Darkhawk’s hatches.

  There was another breath of air, and he turned to see Tephan coming up behind them, three E-11 blaster carbines cradled in her arms. “What is it?” she murmured as she handed one each to Kimmund and Aksind.

  “Company,” Kimmund murmured back, settling the carbine into combat position and flicking off the safety. “Don’t know who yet. I’ll take point, Tephan at rear.”

  They headed forward, moving as silently as they could. They crossed the rest of the common room and stepped through the hatchway into the midship storage compartment, a narrow passageway lined on both sides with lockers and cabinets. A bad place to be caught if there was trouble, and Kimmund hurried them forward through the hatchway at the other end and into the staging area.

  The staging area, converted from the Darkhawk’s old cargo bay, was wider than the storage compartment, but in some ways was more cluttered. There were restraint harnesses hanging from the ceiling for troopers about to charge to the attack, a pair of long back-to-back bench seats down the center facing to the sides, and narrow equipment lockers beneath the seats. More important at the moment were the large hatches on both sides of the ship that the stormtroopers utilized for rapid deployment. If whoever their
visitors were had come through there…

  They hadn’t. Both hatches were still sealed, with no sign of having been opened. “Farther forward?” Aksind murmured.

  Kimmund nodded, giving the hatches one last look. There were slit viewports on both of them, and for a moment he wondered if they should pause and take a look. But the viewports’ angle wouldn’t let them see to the Darkhawk’s bow, which was where the intrusion was clearly taking place.

  Of course, popping one of the hatches would let them out into the hangar, offering the option of coming up behind whoever had moved into the forward part of the ship. But with only the three of them available, flanking maneuvers were pretty much out of the question.

  Leading the way around the starboard bench seat, he continued forward. Just beyond that final hatch was the short corridor that led past the forward air lock into the cockpit.

  He was halfway there when the hatch slid open, and a Grysk holding an E-11 stepped through.

  Kimmund had already guessed the intruders were the enemy warriors. The Grysk, on the other hand, seemed completely surprised to find himself facing an opponent.

  That split second of hesitation cost him his life as Kimmund sent a pair of blaster bolts into his torso.

  The small victory was short-lived. Even as the alien collapsed to the deck Kimmund could see more of them milling around behind him.

  And with the flash and soprano scream of the blaster shots, the whole crowd had been alerted.

  “Back!” Kimmund snapped, firing into the shadowy mass now surging toward the hatchway. He’d taken only a couple of steps backward when the shadows disappeared as the Grysks dived for cover on both sides. The stormtroopers had gotten maybe three steps more when a barrage of blasterfire erupted from both sides of the hatchway.

  “Back!” Kimmund shouted again, backing up as fast as he could while still firing, forcing himself not to flinch as Aksind’s and Tephan’s own return fire burned past a shade too close. So far the Grysks’ shots weren’t all that accurate, but he had little doubt they would pick up the necessary technique with the stolen Imperial weaponry quickly enough.

  Fortunately, the three stormtroopers made it back into the storage compartment by the time the Grysks’ aim started to solidify. Kimmund continued to retreat, throwing open some of the cabinet doors as he passed, using them as a partial blockage against the enemy’s attack and giving him and the others a few extra seconds of breathing space.

  But it was a temporary ploy at best. The storage compartment was a ten-meter-long choke point, and he and the others needed to get back to the common room where they’d at least have the partial protection of the hatchway sides.

  For the last few seconds it was touch and go as the Grysks found the range. But the three stormtroopers reached the common room without picking up more than a few minor burns. A second after that they were crouched by the open hatch, Kimmund and Aksind standing on opposite sides, Tephan crouching beneath Aksind. “Tephan?” Kimmund prompted as the Grysks crossed the staging area and gathered at the sides of the storage compartment’s forward hatchway.

  “Already tried,” Tephan bit out. “They’ve jammed our comms.”

  Kimmund hissed out a curse. And now that they’d gotten through whatever security Thrawn had set up outside their makeshift cells, the only one watching over the hangar bay itself would be the duty officer. If he hadn’t called in an alert by now, it meant he hadn’t noticed the aliens slipping across the deck through his territory.

  Which meant Kimmund and his troopers were on their own. “Okay,” he said. “There should be a couple of suits in the maintenance bay. Go armor up—Aksind and I will hold them here.”

  “Right.” Scrambling back to her feet, Tephan sprinted aft across the common room and disappeared through the hatchway.

  “Whole bunch more E-11s up there,” Aksind warned. “If they find them we’re in trouble, armor or no armor.”

  “Yeah, thanks, got it,” Kimmund said, trying to think. As Aksind had pointed out, the bulk of their weapons and armor were in the storage compartment and staging area, sectors either disputed or already under enemy control. All Tephan would find in the maintenance bay was a couple of suits of armor in for refurbishing, some extra power packs that were being recharged, and—if they were extremely lucky—maybe an E-Web heavy blaster that Elebe or Dorstren had sent back to be sighted in.

  But in the Darkhawk’s close confines, numbers were likely to be more of a deciding factor than heavy weaponry. Even if the Grysks were willing to let things sit at a stalemate—

  With a teeth-jarring sound of metal on metal two of the under-seat equipment boxes from the staging area were shoved into view across the hatchway.

  Kimmund’s first thought was that the Grysks were trying to block the stormtroopers in, to keep them neutralized at the back of the ship. But a second later the boxes began to move as the two Grysks behind them started pushing them down the corridor.

  Kimmund grimaced. Not a barrier. A moving shield.

  So much for the Grysks settling for a stalemate.

  Still, the boxes didn’t quite fill the corridor, and there were other Grysks behind the vanguard. Kimmund shifted from barrage to sniper fire, shooting carefully and deliberately between and above the boxes, trying to hit anything back there that was unwary enough to present a target. The Grysks countered with return fire of their own around the boxes’ edges. Aksind continued his own volley fire, focusing his attack on the rightmost box in an attempt to shatter it or otherwise end its usefulness as a shield.

  Which would, Kimmund knew, only delay the final confrontation. Opening up one side of the corridor might allow them to nail an additional Grysk or two before the others could retreat, but there were another six under-seat boxes the enemy could move in as replacement shields.

  And then, midway between the stormtroopers and the Grysks, one of the storage cabinet doors opened a crack, then closed.

  Kimmund’s first thought was that he’d imagined it. His second thought was that the blasterfire had somehow popped the catch.

  But that wouldn’t explain how the door had closed again.

  Then, even as he tried to get his mind back on focus, it happened again: The door swung open just enough for him to see the crack, then closed again.

  He caught his breath. That cabinet, if he was visualizing the Darkhawk correctly, was back-to-back with one of the ship’s outside weapons lockers. One of the large weapons lockers…

  The Grysks were still on the move, pushing their way slowly down the corridor behind their shields. A little too slowly, Kimmund decided.

  Well, he could fix that. “Fall back,” he ordered Aksind. “Regroup at the galley hatch.”

  “What?” Aksind asked, sounding confused.

  “You heard me,” Kimmund said. “Go—I’ll cover you.”

  “Right.” Pushing away from the bulkhead, Aksind backed his way across the common room, continuing to fire. Kimmund gave him a five-count, then fell back as well, also still firing.

  The Grysks weren’t fooled. Despite the continuing blasterfire, they could see that the stormtroopers were retreating. Their suppression fire around the box edges intensified, and the metal-on-metal screeching grew louder as they picked up their pace, pushing rapidly forward in the hope of catching the stormtroopers in the open before they could reach the next defensive point.

  There was a good chance they would make it, too. The moving shield had passed the self-opening cabinet now, with maybe three meters to go before the Grysks behind it reached the end of the corridor. Behind him, Kimmund heard Aksind gasp and swear as one of the Grysk shots got him—

  Abruptly, the Grysk advance stopped. There were two more wild shots, and then their blasters fell silent. Kimmund stopped firing. There was a single muffled scream, followed by a pair of thuds.

  And then, nothing.
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  “Damn it,” a filtered voice came from behind him. He looked back at Tephan, now fully armored, as she crouched down beside Aksind’s body.

  “Dead?” Kimmund asked.

  “Yeah,” Tephan said, straightening up. “You get the rest of them?”

  “I didn’t, no,” Kimmund said. “You remember that secret back door to the ship, the one we were never able to find?”

  “What?” Tephan said, sounding a little bewildered.

  “Well, I think we just did,” Kimmund said.

  And right on cue, one of the Grysks’ shields toppled forward onto the deck.

  Standing behind it, a fighting stick swinging casually in each hand as he stood among the dead or unconscious Grysks, was Rukh.

  “What the hell?” Tephan growled. “I thought you kicked him off the ship.”

  “Special occasion,” Kimmund said. Lowering his E-11, he hurried toward the Noghri. “Welcome aboard. How did you know?”

  “I saw blasterfire through the hatch viewports,” Rukh said. His eyes flicked to Aksind’s body, and Kimmund thought the Noghri’s expression hardened a little. “I thought you might need help.”

  “Certainly aren’t going to turn it down,” Kimmund agreed, peering over Rukh’s shoulder. There were six Grysks laid out along the storage compartment deck, a combination of Rukh’s sneak attack on their rear plus the stormtroopers’ earlier fire between the shields. The ends of the Noghri’s fighting sticks had a bit of a glow to them—probably they were the halves of his usual electrostaff weapon—but even without that boost Kimmund had no doubt Thrawn’s bodyguard would have handled his opponents just fine.

  So: six here, add in the three or four he and the other stormtroopers had taken out in that first exchange…“I figure there are seven or eight left up front,” he said. “Maybe as many as eleven if they brought the freighter prisoners with them.”

  “I didn’t count numbers,” Rukh said. “But I saw some in the cockpit, standing over the control boards.”

  “Trying to figure out how to fly it,” Kimmund said grimly.