by Timothy Zahn
Right now, he was also late.
“Approaching target system,” Kharill reported. “Breakout in thirty seconds.”
“Acknowledged,” Samakro said, looking around the bridge. All weapons systems showed green, including the balky plasma sphere targeting computer that had been giving them trouble for the past few days. All air lock doors were sealed against possible breach, the electrostatic barrier that hugged the Springhawk’s hull was at power, and all warriors were at their stations.
Impressive, but hardly really necessary. As far as Samakro could tell, this whole mission was only a small step above a wargame exercise. The Vigilant was a full-class Nightdragon man-of-war, and Admiral Ar’alani’s current force also included five other cruisers besides the Springhawk. With that much firepower, appearing without warning over the Paataatus homeworld, they weren’t likely to face any effective resistance.
None of which meant that Springhawk and its crew should be anything less than fully professional here, of course. And that professionalism included its captain. If Thrawn wasn’t here by the time they left hyperspace, Samakro would just have to take over—
“Stand ready,” Thrawn’s calm voice came from behind him.
Samakro turned, fighting back a reflexive twitch. How in hell had Thrawn sneaked onto the bridge without him hearing the hatch open? “Captain,” he greeted his superior. “I was starting to think you’d missed the alert.”
“I’ve been here for the past hour,” Thrawn said, sounding mildly surprised that Samakro hadn’t noticed. “I was overseeing the work on the sphere targeting computer.”
Samakro looked over at the plasma sphere console as two techs emerged into sight from behind it. “Ah. I see it shows green now.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “The quality of the Springhawk’s repair and maintenance crews has improved considerably since you were placed in command.”
Samakro felt his eyes narrow. A compliment? Or a subtle reminder that Thrawn was the ship’s captain now?
“Any last-minute instructions from the Vigilant?” Thrawn continued.
“Nothing since the last jump,” Samakro said. Probably a compliment, he decided. Thrawn didn’t strike him as the gloating sort. “Just Ar’alani’s usual warning to be ready for anything.”
“I believe we are,” Thrawn said. “Breakout…now.”
Through the viewport, Samakro saw the star-flares flash and shrink, bringing the Springhawk out of hyperspace.
Into a storm of laserfire.
“Enemy fighters!” Kharill snapped. “Bearing…all around us, Captain. Swarming us. Swarming everyone.”
Samakro hissed out a minor curse. Kharill was right. There were at least fifty Paataatus fighter craft out there, buzzing around the Chiss attack force like angry weltflies, their lasers creating flashes of pale green as they cut through the rarefied interplanetary dust.
And as with weltflies, even though each individual sting was too weak to damage the Springhawk’s electrostatic barrier, a sufficiently massive barrage of such fire could conceivably take down the defenses and start eating into the hull.
“Acknowledged,” Thrawn said calmly. “Sphere One: Fire at nearest attacker on my vector.”
“Sphere One firing.” The plasma sphere blazed away from the Springhawk’s portside launcher.
And missed its target completely.
“Sphere control!” Samakro snapped. “Retune and fire again.”
“Belay that,” Thrawn said. “Helm: Yaw ninety degrees to port and bring Sphere Two to bear. Fire when ready.”
“No, wait!” Samakro snapped.
Too late. The Springhawk was already turning, angling toward the enemy ships on that side.
Turning away from the Vigilant.
And before even the plasma sphere launcher was in position to fire, the enemy fighters were repositioning to take advantage of Thrawn’s mistake, sweeping in to surround the Springhawk as it pulled away from the other Chiss ships.
“Springhawk, get back in formation,” Ar’alani’s voice boomed from the bridge speaker. “Thrawn?”
“No reply,” Thrawn said. “Fire Sphere Two.”
This time the plasma sphere flew true, bursting into its target fighter and unleashing a multicolored flash of ionic energy across the enemy’s hull as it took down the fighter’s electrostatic barrier and scrambled all the electronics within its reach. “Reload and prepare to fire,” Thrawn said.
“Shouldn’t we get back to the main force?” Samakro pressed. “Admiral Ar’alani—”
“Hold course,” Thrawn said. “Sphere Two, fire when ready. Lower barrier strength twenty percent.”
Samakro mouthed another curse, a major one this time. “May I suggest we deploy decoys?” he pressed. “It would at least divert some of the focus away from us.”
“It would indeed,” Thrawn agreed. “Negative on decoys. Yaw another five degrees to portside, then three degrees starboard.”
The Springhawk turned, then turned again. The Paataatus lasers continued to beat against the weakened electrostatic barrier, and through the viewport Samakro could see the Paataatus fighters again re-forming their attack cluster to bring more of their force to bear. “Captain, if we don’t get back to the others, we’re not going to last long,” he warned quietly, wondering distantly what had happened to the Thrawn who’d once brought renown to the Springhawk.
“We’ll last long enough, Mid Captain,” Thrawn said. “Don’t you see it?”
Samakro lifted a hand in a gesture of confusion and futility.
The hand froze in midair as he suddenly understood. More ships attacking the Springhawk meant fewer attacking the other ships. Fewer attackers meant less confusion for the Chiss gunners, targeting computers, and triangulation observers, allowing for an organized, systematic destruction of the attackers who weren’t focused on the Springhawk.
And that systematic destruction meant…
From the Springhawk’s starboard side came a sudden barrage of laserfire, breaching missiles, and plasma spheres, ripping into the swarm of enemy fighters. Samakro looked at the display to see the Vigilant and the other Chiss ships charging toward them in full battle-wedge formation.
“Raise the barrier to full power; all weapons: Fire,” Thrawn ordered. “Focus on the enemies outside our other ships’ firing arcs.”
The Springhawk’s lasers and plasma sphere launchers opened up, and the number of attackers dropped precipitously as the Chiss force continued to blast the enemy ships to dust. Samakro watched until the Paataatus force was down to a few fleeing ships being pursued by two of Ar’alani’s other cruisers, then stepped close to Thrawn’s side. “So we play the wounded animal and draw the enemy to us,” he said. “Giving the rest of the force time to regroup and counterattack.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said, sounding pleased that Samakro had figured it out. Even if he’d figured it out a little late in the day. “The Paataatus have a swarm mentality. That thought pattern predisposes them to concentrate their attention on wounded opponents.”
“They start by finishing off the weakest, then work their way up,” Samakro said, nodding.
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “When I saw the size of the attacking force, I realized the best strategy would be to draw as many of them as possible away from the rest of our ships before they were able to inflict significant damage.”
“As well as drawing them into a tighter cluster that our gunners and targeting computers would have less trouble with.”
“Correct.” Thrawn smiled wryly. “That multi-targeting difficulty is our weakness. I trust the fleet’s technicians and instructors are working to resolve it.”
“Senior Captain Thrawn?” Ar’alani’s voice came over the speaker.
“Yes, Admiral?” Thrawn called.
“Well done, Captain,” Ar’alani said, an edg
e of annoyance in her tone. “Next time you have a clever plan, kindly share it with me before executing it.”
“I’ll endeavor to do so,” Thrawn promised. “Provided there’s time.”
“And provided you don’t mind tipping off the enemy if they’re eavesdropping,” Samakro added under his breath.
Apparently not under his breath enough. “If you think that’s a legitimate excuse, Mid Captain Samakro, let me suggest otherwise,” Ar’alani said. “I’m sure that in the future Captain Thrawn will find a way to communicate the necessary information without the enemy listening in.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Samakro said, wincing. There was a rumor that flag officers had a special comm setting that enabled them to hear more from their escort ships than was normally possible.
“Captain Thrawn?”
“Admiral?”
“I think we have the situation under control,” Ar’alani said. “You may continue on to your next mission whenever you’re ready.”
Samakro frowned. There hadn’t been anything about an extra mission in the Springhawk’s orders.
“Thank you, Admiral,” Thrawn said. “With your permission, I’d like to take an hour first to run a check on the ship and begin repairs on any damage we may have sustained.”
“Take all the time you want,” Ar’alani said. “We’re heading in-system to talk to the Paataatus commanders. Hopefully, they’ve learned the folly of attacking the Chiss Ascendancy.”
“They have,” Thrawn said. “A defeat of this magnitude will stifle their expansionary desires. They should stay within their own borders until the current generation has passed.”
“Except possibly for a swipe or two at Csilla?” Ar’alani suggested.
Thrawn shook his head. “I don’t believe they were responsible for that attack.”
Samakro winced. Personally, he didn’t believe it, either, but that didn’t mean it was something a senior officer should be saying out loud. Especially when a large percentage of the Syndicure did believe it.
“Perhaps,” Ar’alani said, her words and tone a much more politically acceptable neutral. “That’s for others to investigate. Get to your repairs, and let me know when you’re ready to leave. Admiral out.”
There was the sound of the comm disconnecting. “Mid Captain, please initiate a full status check,” Thrawn said. “Pay particular attention to weapons and defense systems.”
“Yes, sir,” Samakro said, feeling a trickle of relief. And with that, they were done with politics. At least for now. “All personnel: Full examination of the ship. Section chiefs report status when completed.”
There was a chorus of acknowledgments, and the bridge descended into a studious silence as the personnel began their scans. “I hope you’re right about the Paataatus,” Samakro said. “Just because the Csilla attackers used different ships doesn’t mean they hadn’t scavenged something that would hide their identity.”
“No,” Thrawn said. “You saw their tactics here—swarming with overwhelming numbers. Their tactics don’t allow for what we saw at Csilla, particularly not a halfhearted attack that costs three ships. No, the Csilla attack was launched by someone else.”
“Why couldn’t they have talked someone else into doing it for them?” Samakro suggested, perversely unwilling to let it go. He’d never been comfortable with gut-level conclusions, and as far as he could tell that was all Thrawn had here. “There are pirate gangs out there that could be hired to launch a feint.”
“The purpose of the attack was certainly to draw our attention,” Thrawn said. “But not from this part of the border.” His lips compressed briefly. “Once we’ve left the rest of the task force, I’ll be able to tell you and the other senior officers about the mission Admiral Ar’alani mentioned.”
“Yes, sir,” Samakro said, eyeing him closely. He’d never been comfortable with top-secret missions, either. “Any chance of a preview?”
Thrawn gave him a small smile. “Yes, I always hated sealed orders, too,” he said. “What I can tell you is that there may be a new threat on the other side of the Ascendancy. Our task is to locate, identify, and evaluate this threat before they turn their attention to our worlds.”
“Ah,” Samakro said. So that was why they’d suddenly had a sky-walker assigned to them. Jump-by-jump was an inefficient way to travel any real distance into the Chaos, and with this kind of investigation there was no telling how far out the search would take them. “May I ask if you’re expecting this search to end in combat?” he added, his mind flicking back to Thrawn’s specific instructions to check the Springhawk’s weapons and defenses.
“There’s always that possibility,” Thrawn said. He saw the look on Samakro’s face and smiled again. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ve had the protocols concerning preemptive attacks carefully and specifically laid out for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Samakro said. “With your permission, I’d like to personally supervise the checks on the barrier.”
“Very good, Captain,” Thrawn said. “Carry on.”
Samakro headed toward the defense station, his stomach tight. The electrostatic barrier was the Springhawk’s first line of defense against any attacker and, as such, needed to be in perfect working order.
Because he’d heard some of the stories about Thrawn. And just because the protocols had been laid out for him didn’t necessarily mean he’d listened.
In nearly four years at Taharim Academy, Senior Cadet Irizi’ar’alani had built up a spotless record. She’d distinguished herself, she was well on the way to command rank and position, and not the slightest hint of scandal had ever touched her name.
Until now.
“Senior Cadet Ziara,” Colonel Wevary intoned in the voice he saved for the most heinous of offenders against Taharim’s traditions, “a cadet under your tutelage has been accused of cheating. Have you anything to say in your or his defense?”
Under your tutelage. All Ziara had done was to proctor the damn simulation exercise Cadet Thrawn had been taking.
But her name was attached to the charge, and so here she sat.
Not that there was much chance of serious consequences. Certainly the Irizi representative seated at one end of the three-officer panel didn’t look worried. At the other end of the table—
She felt a flicker of sympathetic pain. Thrawn was the one standing on the brink here, and yet the Mitth family representative hadn’t even shown up. Either he’d forgotten about the hearing or else he just didn’t care. Either way, it didn’t bode well for Thrawn’s future.
The strangest part was that none of this made any sense. Ziara had looked up Thrawn’s records, and he was already far ahead of his classmates. The last thing he needed to do was cheat on a simulator exercise.
Still, while his normal simulator scores were consistently high, most of them were within or only slightly above the academy’s high-water marks. On this particular exercise, no one in Taharim’s history had ever gotten even close to Thrawn’s score of ninety-five. There had been only one logical explanation for such a high score, and Colonel Wevary had come to it.
Ziara shifted her attention to the accused. Thrawn was sitting stiffly in his chair, his face a rigid mask. He’d already pled not guilty to the charges, insisting that he hadn’t cheated but merely taken advantage of the parameters the exercise had set up for him.
But as one of the other panel members had already said, that was exactly what a guilty person would also say. Unfortunately, too many cadets in the past had gamed the system by secretly running practice sessions with their upcoming test parameters, a cheat the instructors had countered by making sure no simulations could ever be exactly rerun. That built-in limitation meant that Thrawn couldn’t repeat his technique and prove his innocence.
Presumably, the instructors could dig into the programming and change that. But it would take a lot of time, and ap
parently no one thought a single cadet was worth that much effort.
Mentally, Ziara shook her head. The other part of the problem was that the records of the exercise were limited to the points of view of the three attacking patrol ships. One of the records had gone blank at the wrong moment, showing nothing of the climactic encounter, while the other two simply showed Thrawn’s patrol ship vanishing for several crucial seconds.
A practical cloaking device had been a dream of Defense Force scientists for generations. It was unlikely that a cadet simulation would have made that elusive breakthrough. At least, not without an illegal tweaking of the programming.
And yet…
Ziara studied Thrawn’s face. He’d explained his tactics to the board at least twice, and they still didn’t believe him. Now, with nothing left for him to say, he’d taken refuge in silence. Ziara might have expected to find defiance or anger there, but she could see neither. He stood alone, without even his family to support him.
In the meantime, Colonel Wevary had asked Ziara a question.
“I have nothing to say,” she said. She looked at Thrawn again.
And suddenly an odd thought occurred to her. Something she’d glimpsed in Thrawn’s record, the story about how he’d risen from an obscure family to gain an appointment to Taharim…
“For the moment,” she added quickly. “If I may beg the board’s indulgence, I would like to take the luncheon break to again consider the situation and the evidence.”
“Nonsense,” one of the other board members scoffed. “You’ve seen the evidence—”
“Given the lateness of the morning,” Wevary interrupted calmly, “I see no reason why we can’t postpone a decision until after midday. We’ll meet again in one and a half hours.”
He tapped the polished stone with his fingertips and stood up. The others followed suit, and they filed silently from the room. None of them, Ziara noted, gave either her or Thrawn a second look.
Except Colonel Wevary. The last one out, he paused beside Ziara’s chair—
