by Timothy Zahn
He clenched his teeth. If Thrawn was hoping whoever was in there would escape, he’d already lost his gamble. The two aft pursuers veered off, accelerating in turn as they chased after the shuttle. Qilori couldn’t read the markings on the velocity/intercept curves, but he had no doubt the two Nikardun would catch the craft long before it reached Rapacc or even the relative safety of one of the asteroid clusters. They would catch it, and with a barrage of laserfire or the more delicate twist of a tractor beam they would destroy or capture it.
On the tactical, he saw that the Springhawk, its errand apparently fulfilled, was now angling away from the inner system and the fleeing shuttle. Attempting, no doubt, to clear the system’s collection of orbiting debris and reach a safe hyperspace jump-off point before its remaining pursuer could get into combat range. Qilori eyed the tactical, noting that the Nikardun had put on a burst of speed of his own.
He frowned. The remaining pursuer. The last of three Nikardun ships that had been sitting at the Springhawk’s entry point, ready to give battle.
A point that Thrawn had deliberately specified out of the handful of safe vectors available. Was it simply bad luck that had brought them to a spot where three Nikardun had been waiting?
Maybe. Maybe he just didn’t know enough about the system.
But in that case, why hadn’t he come out of hyperspace much farther out and done at least a quick recon before committing himself and his ship to this vector? At least then he might have found a way or route that would have given his shuttle a better chance of getting somewhere before it was destroyed.
A cold chill ran up his back. No, Thrawn couldn’t be that short-sighted. Not the Thrawn whose battle tactics Qilori had had the misfortune to see firsthand.
Which left only one other option. Thrawn had arrived on this particular vector because he wanted the Nikardun to attack him.
Qilori looked back and forth among the banks of displays, trying to make sense of it all. Was the Springhawk just a feint, a diversion to let the actual intruder slip into the Rapacc system unhindered? Could there be someone out there aiming for the asteroid clusters, maybe, moving stealthily in the hope that with Nikardun attention focused out here they wouldn’t be spotted until it was too late?
But he couldn’t see anything like that on any of the displays. No other ships, no other vectors, no indication of anything else in the system. Surely the Chiss would have their own vessels marked, even if they were stealthed and undetectable to the Nikardun. Wouldn’t they?
The pursuing Nikardun patrol ship put on an additional burst of speed. Qilori watched nervously as it finally reached firing range—
Abruptly, as if Thrawn had just noticed the threat coming up on his starboard side, the Springhawk made a sharp turn away from its attacker. The pursuing ship opened fire with its spectrum lasers, and a large piece of debris detached itself from the Chiss ship’s flank and fell backward. The Springhawk shifted direction, just slightly, the Nikardun adjusting its own vector to match.
And suddenly Qilori realized what was going on. The object falling behind the Springhawk wasn’t battle debris from the Nikardun attack, as he’d thought. It was, in fact, another of the Chiss ship’s shuttles.
And the Nikardun, now blasting toward the Springhawk at top speed, was about to run straight into it.
Qilori’s first horrible thought was that the shuttle would crash into the oversized bridge viewport that marked all of Yiv’s combat ships. But the Nikardun captain spotted the obstacle in time to twist the ship aside.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to twist it far enough. The shuttle missed the viewport to slam instead into the portside weapons cluster, wrecking that group of lasers and missile launchers and setting the ship spinning.
A second later the starscape outside the Springhawk’s viewport spun crazily as the Chiss ship did its own yaw rotation. Qilori gripped his armrests, fighting against vertigo, as the Springhawk’s movement brought the stern of the tumbling Nikardun into view. There was a multiple flash of laserfire, and the fiery yellow glow from the Nikardun’s thruster nozzles flared once and then faded as the damaged engines behind the nozzles shut down. Qilori held his breath, waiting for the salvo that would blast the helpless ship into dust.
The salvo didn’t come. Instead, the Springhawk slowed, waiting for the Nikardun’s momentum to bring it closer. The Chiss ship moved up and over, settling itself above the Nikardun’s dorsal sensor ridge, out of line from the remaining flankside weapons clusters. On the tactical, the green lines of two tractor beams winked into existence, connecting the two ships. The hazy circle of a Crippler net spun out from the Springhawk’s hull between the tractor beam projectors and wrapped itself around the Nikardun vessel, sending a high-voltage charge through the hull and eliminating the possibility that the crew might activate a scuttling system.
And as the Springhawk turned toward hyperspace, all the pieces finally fell into their pattern.
The escaping shuttle—running on automatic, Qilori realized now—had indeed been a diversion. But not for a second Chiss ship. It was just Thrawn, and he’d brought them to that particular spot because he wanted the Nikardun to chase him. This whole thing had never been about death, destruction, infiltration, or even just delivering Yiv a message. Thrawn had simply dropped by hoping to capture a Nikardun ship.
And he’d done it.
“Pathfinder?” Thrawn’s voice came from right behind him.
Qilori jerked. “Yes, Captain?” he managed.
“We’ll be traveling to a nearby system to hand off our prize,” Thrawn said. Said it so casually, too, as if they’d just picked up an order of groceries from the corner shop. “After that, we’ll be returning to Concourse Four Forty-Seven. Will you need rest time before we leave?”
“No, not for a while,” Qilori said. Thrawn might not sound anxious to leave this neighborhood behind, but Qilori sure as the Great Presence was.
“Good,” Thrawn said. “I trust you found the exercise interesting?”
With an effort, Qilori flattened his winglets against his cheeks. “Yes, Captain,” he said. “Very interesting indeed.”
* * *
—
It wasn’t easy for even a Pathfinder to requisition a ship for his own personal use. But Qilori had been at Concourse 447 long enough to build up a collection of owed favors.
More important, he had a collection of blackmail material on several key people. Between the favors and the threats, he soon found himself speeding away from the station, bound for the Primea system, capital of the Vak Combine.
Thirty-five hours later, he was there.
Primea was in the early stage of a Nikardun conquest, which meant Yiv was still greeting and meeting with planetary leaders, talking about the benefits of joining the Nikardun Destiny, and letting his orbiting warships provide a silent warning of what would happen if they refused. Qilori gave his name and the urgency of his mission to the first gatekeeper, and the second gatekeeper, and the third. Six hours after his arrival, he was finally ushered into Yiv’s throne room aboard the Battle Dreadnought Deathless.
“Ah—Qilori!” Yiv called, his cheerful booming voice echoing in the oppressive stillness of the throne room. Draped over his shoulders like living epaulets were the fungoid strands of the strange creatures he’d taken on as symbionts. His cleft jaw was open in what passed for a smile with Nikardun, but which Qilori had always thought looked more like a predator preparing to strike.
At least he was in a good mood, Qilori thought with a tinge of relief. The talks with the Vaks must be going well. “Come. Tell me what news you bring from the lips of the Great Presence.”
Qilori grimaced as he walked the gauntlet between the two lines of watchful Nikardun soldiers. Yiv was mocking him, of course, as he mocked or dismissed all who didn’t believe solely in the godhood of Yiv himself. But right now the Benevolent�
��s famous ego wasn’t nearly as concerning as his somewhat less famous temper.
Qilori had never brought Yiv bad news before. He had no idea how such messengers were treated.
“I bring news from Rapacc, your Benevolence,” he said, stopping between the last pair of guards in the gauntlet and dropping forward to lie facedown on the cold deck at Yiv’s feet. “News, and a warning.”
“That news has been delivered,” Yiv said, his earlier jovial manner vanishing like morning dew under twin suns. “Do you presume to waste my time with a story I already know?”
“Not at all, your Benevolence,” Qilori said, his back itching with the eyes and weapons that were undoubtedly ranged on it. “I expected you would have heard one of your blockade frigates had been captured. What I came here to add to that tale is the name of the being responsible.”
“You were the navigator on his ship?”
“Yes, your Benevolence. He asked specifically for me.”
For a long moment, Yiv remained silent. Qilori held his position, trying to ignore the creeping sensation rippling through his skin. “Rise, Pathfinder,” Yiv said at last. “Rise, and tell me all.”
With a sense of relief, Qilori scrambled to his feet. Something tapped his shoulders a short but sharp blow; hastily, he dropped back to his knees. “The Chiss came and hired me—”
“His name, Qilori,” Yiv said, his voice soft and deadly. “I already know the ship was Chiss. I want his name.”
Qilori’s winglets fluttered. “Thrawn. Senior Captain Thrawn.”
“His full name.”
The winglets stiffened in panic. “I don’t know,” he breathed. “I never heard it.”
“And you didn’t bother to learn it for me?”
“I’m sorry,” Qilori said, staring at Yiv’s feet, not daring to raise his eyes to that jovial, implacable face. He was going to die today, he knew with a dark sense of his fragile mortality. The Great Presence awaited him.
Would he be absorbed and lost forever? Or would he be deemed worthy to ride the hyperspace ridges, guiding future Pathfinders through the Chaos?
For a long moment the room was silent. “You will meet him again,” Yiv said at last. “When you do, you will obtain for me his full name.”
“Of course, your Benevolence, of course,” Qilori said quickly, fearing the hope singing suddenly through him. Mercy? From Yiv the Benevolent?
No, of course not. Yiv felt no mercy. Qilori was simply a tool that was still worth keeping.
For the moment.
“Return to your station,” Yiv said. “Guide your ships. Do your job. Live your pathetic little life. And bring me his name.”
“I will,” Qilori promised. “While breath remains in me, I will never cease to serve you.”
“Exactly,” Yiv said, a hint of his usual humor finally peeking through the blackness. “While breath remains in you.”
General Ba’kif finished reading through the proposal and looked up from his questis. “You’re serious, Junior Commander,” he said flatly.
“Quite serious, General,” Junior Commander Thrawn confirmed. “I’m convinced the Lioaoin government is connected to the pirates that have hit our shipping off Schesa and Pesfavri over the past few months.”
“And you think this Pathfinder knows about it?”
“Qilori,” Thrawn said. “Yes, he knows, or at least suspects.”
“It would be hard to keep a secret like that from the Navigators’ Guild,” Ba’kif agreed, again studying the numbers. A jump-by-jump from Lioaoin space to the affected Ascendancy worlds would certainly be safer for those with criminal intent—no need to involve outside witnesses. But such a voyage would take at least three weeks of travel each way. Under the circumstances, it wasn’t unreasonable that the pirates might opt for speed and efficiency, relying on guild confidentiality to keep their secret. “You’re sure the ships are the same?”
“The designs are different enough to preclude obvious connections,” Thrawn said. “But there are notable similarities that go beyond mere functionality.”
Ba’kif nodded. He’d had a couple of conversations with Mid Captain Ziara about Thrawn’s theories of art and tactics, and they’d reluctantly concluded that neither of them had whatever spark of insight or genius—or insanity—was required to make the connections that Thrawn seemed to intuitively grasp.
But just because they couldn’t see it didn’t mean he was wrong. “Assume you’re right,” he said. “Further assume you can prove it. What then?”
A frown creased Thrawn’s forehead. “They’ve attacked ships of the Ascendancy,” he said, as if expecting a hidden trap in Ba’kif’s words. “We deal out punishment.”
“And if the Lioaoi themselves aren’t involved?” Ba’kif asked. “What if the pirates merely bought or hired Lioaoin ships?”
“I wasn’t suggesting we attack the Lioaoin Regime or worlds,” Thrawn said. “Merely the pirates.”
“If you can distinguish them from the innocents,” Ba’kif warned. “We have little data on current Lioaoin ship design. For that matter, the Lioaoi and pirates both could have bought the same style ship from a third party.”
“I understand,” Thrawn said. “But I believe I’ll be able to make it clear which ships are enemies and which are friends.”
“I’ll settle for which are enemies and which are neutrals,” Ba’kif said sourly. “The Ascendancy has barely even acknowledged the existence of others out there, let alone shown any interest in pursuing friendships with any of them.”
“Enemies and neutrals, then,” Thrawn amended. “If I can’t make a clear distinction, I’ll take no action.”
For a moment Ba’kif eyed him. The man was clever enough, and Ba’kif had seen his strategic and tactical abilities.
The question was whether he had perhaps just a little too much confidence in himself. If he did, and if that confidence made him overstep the line, some operation in the future could blow up in his face. Possibly the very operation he was now proposing.
But this particular group of pirates was becoming more than just a nuisance. They needed to be dealt with before someone out there got the idea that the Ascendancy could be attacked with impunity. If Thrawn thought he’d found the handle they needed, it was worth giving him a shot. “Very well, Junior Commander,” he said. “How many ships will you need?”
“Just two, sir.” Thrawn considered. “No. Actually, it would be best if I had three.”
* * *
—
The sense of the Great Presence faded, and Qilori removed his headset to find that they’d arrived. The heartworld of the Lioaoin Regime stretched out before them, green and blue and white, encircled by a swarm of freighters, couriers, docking and repair stations, and watchful military patrol ships.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thrawn lean forward. “Well?” Qilori asked carefully.
For a few seconds, Thrawn was silent. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “These are the ships.”
Qilori winced, his cheek winglets stiffening. “Are you certain?”
“Quite certain,” Thrawn said. “The design of the patrol craft are similar enough to those of the pirate ships to leave no doubt.”
“I see,” Qilori said. He didn’t, actually—to him, the patrol ships looked nothing like the ones the Lioaoin corsairs used.
But what he thought didn’t matter. Thrawn was convinced, and if he got word back to the Ascendancy, there was likely to be a highly lethal response. And it was just as likely that more than a few Pathfinders would be caught in the middle.
Whether Thrawn could actually get that word to anyone who mattered, of course, was the crucial question. Their freighter was already deep enough into the planet’s gravity well that the hyperdrive was useless, and their current course was taking them ever deeper. If Thrawn veered off right now a
nd headed back toward deep space, they might get clear before someone started to wonder why a Chiss freighter had suddenly decided it didn’t want to do business with the Lioaoi after all.
But Qilori didn’t hold out much hope that Thrawn would be smart enough to simply cut and run.
Again, he was right.
“I need a closer look,” Thrawn said, taking the helm controls and angling deeper into the gravity well toward a pair of patrol ships floating beside one of the repair docks. “I suspect the ship inside that station is one of those that recently attacked the Massoss system.”
“This is a bad idea,” Qilori warned, his winglets pressing tightly against his cheeks. “If the Lioaoin Regime is involved with the pirates, you risk stirring up a massive stinger nest.”
“Are you saying the regime is involved?” Thrawn asked coolly, turning those glowing red eyes onto Qilori.
Qilori gazed back, cursing himself for saying even that much. The first thing every navigational group learned when it joined the Navigators’ Guild was that it was forbidden to speak about one client to another. The most heinous criminal activity needed to be as safe from exposure as the most innocent freighter passage or military exercise.
But right now, breaches of protocol were the least of Qilori’s worries. Just before they arrived here, right when his trance was lifting, he’d sensed through the Great Presence that there were fellow Pathfinders nearby. If they were aboard some of the corsairs—and if any of those corsairs were prepped for flight—they could follow Qilori effortlessly through hyperspace no matter how many jinks or re-coursings Thrawn tried.
And none of the corsairs were likely to care if silencing a troublesome Chiss also required the death of an innocent Pathfinder.
“I don’t know if the regime is part of it,” he said. “Just trust me when I say this isn’t a safe place to be.”
Thrawn wasn’t listening. He was staring out at the ships and docks, his glowing eyes narrowed slightly.
