by Timothy Zahn
“I mean it,” Qilori said, trying one final time. “If they suspect you’re hunting pirates—”
“You think they only suspect?” Thrawn echoed. He cocked his head. “Yes; point taken. Let’s remove any lingering doubts.” He keyed the comm—
And suddenly it was as if he’d lost his senses. “Alert!” Thrawn called. “I’ve found the pirates. Repeat: I’ve found them. Get out of here and report back!”
Qilori gasped. What in—? “Thrawn—?”
Thrawn keyed off the comm. “There,” he said, his voice and expression back to their usual coolness. “Now they know for certain.”
“What in the Depths did you do?” Qilori said in a strangled voice. “You’ve just painted a death mark on us. They’ll be coming after us—”
“There they go,” Thrawn said, pointing at a spot on the main display.
Qilori looked at the display in time to see a ship flicker and disappear into hyperspace. “My second ship,” Thrawn identified. “One of my colleagues is aboard, with one of yours navigating it back to the Ascendancy.” He turned the helm yoke over, and the freighter curved smoothly away from the planet. “And now, as you suggest, it’s time to leave.”
“Yes, let’s,” Qilori muttered, slumping in his chair as Thrawn ran the thrusters to full power. The patrol ships were starting to move, and as Qilori looked up at the high-orbit docking bays he saw three corsairs emerge, their own thrusters blazing as they angled toward him and Thrawn, hoping to intercept them before they could escape into hyperspace.
Either Thrawn also saw them or else he’d anticipated the response. He was already on it, shifting the freighter’s course onto a vector that would slip it past the potential trap.
But it would do him no good. The corsairs were on the move, and if there were Pathfinders aboard there was nothing Thrawn could do to prevent them from following him back to Chiss space. They would get him, and the oh-so-clever backup ship that had already left, and the Lioaoin ships would continue to attack and plunder everyone in the region.
Maybe the corsairs would try to rescue Qilori and the other Pathfinder before they destroyed the Chiss ships. Probably they wouldn’t.
But at this point, all he could do was hope. “Where are we going?” he asked as they approached the edge of the gravity well.
“Kinoss,” Thrawn said. “It’s the closest system, and there should be fast couriers there who can take our message to Csilla and Naporar.”
“Fine,” Qilori said, setting his hands on the controls. Maybe one of the two Chiss freighters would at least be able to send a message before the corsairs jammed their transmissions and then destroyed them.
Probably they wouldn’t.
* * *
—
The trance this time was one of the hardest Qilori had ever experienced. On top of the usual course intricacies was an overlaid mesh of dark and distracting images, visions of pursuing ships guided by fellow Pathfinders. He nearly lost the path more times than he cared to remember, and twice he was forced to return to space-normal to regain his connection to the Great Presence.
Thrawn said nothing during those retrenchments. Probably dreaming of glory for ending the pirate menace, or assuming the course stutters would throw off any pursuit.
The other Chiss freighter had already arrived when they finally reached the Kinoss system. Qilori could see its thrusters in the distance ahead, driving the vessel toward the planet. Even as Qilori finished rising from his trance Thrawn had taken the controls and turned to follow.
Futility. Even before the thrusters were up to full power, four Lioaoin corsairs winked into view on the aft display.
“Ah,” Thrawn said, still with that maddening calm. “Our guests have arrived.”
“I’m so surprised,” Qilori muttered.
“I doubt that,” Thrawn said. “I did some study on the Pathfinders after our first encounter. Your colleagues can track you through hyperspace, can they not?”
Qilori shot him a startled look. That was supposed to be a deep, dark secret. “That—no. Not true.”
“I think it is.” Thrawn gestured to the aft display. “The Pathfinder style was evident in the last pirate attack. I hoped you and I would arrive at the Lioaoin heartworld before those navigators were returned to their bases.”
“You wanted them to follow us?”
“Of course,” Thrawn said, as if it was obvious. “With any other navigators there would be uncertainty as to their emergence point, if indeed they were able to follow us at all. With Pathfinders aboard, I could be sure the pirates would arrive precisely where I wanted them.”
“You mean right on top of us?” Qilori retorted. He looked again at the aft display.
And felt his winglets go rigid. Where there had been four ships behind them, there were now five. The four Lioaoin corsairs he’d already seen…and a Chiss warship.
“Mid Captain Ziara, this is Junior Commander Thrawn,” Thrawn called toward the comm. “I believe your targets await you.”
“Indeed they do, Commander,” a soft female voice came back. “I suggest you continue on your present course.
“It should give you the best view of their destruction.”
“Interesting,” Supreme General Ba’kif commented as he set his questis aside. He’d read the report twice, Ar’alani had noted as she watched his eyes move back and forth across the text, the first time she’d ever seen him do that. Either he’d been trying to glean as much information as he could, or else he was stalling while he tried to figure out what to say and do about it. “You realize, of course, that stealing someone else’s ship, under any circumstance, is a serious breach of regulations.”
“The Nikardun ships attacked us, sir,” Thrawn said. “I understood that regulations permit self-defense.”
“Absolutely,” Ba’kif said. “And if you’d blown the damn thing to dust, no one would have given it a second thought. But capturing it?” He shook his head. “And you, Admiral. I know you and Thrawn have a long history, but I’m a little surprised that you agreed to be a part of this.”
“Actually, General, I made a point of refreshing my memory on the regulations before I accepted Captain Thrawn’s proposal,” Ar’alani said, mentally crossing her fingers. “There’s nothing that specifically says capturing an attacker’s ship is a violation.”
“I think you’ll find it falls under the general heading of preemptive strikes,” Ba’kif said. “Which is definitely how certain of the Aristocra will interpret it once they hear about this. Some of them might even demand the ship be returned.”
“Without its crew?” Thrawn said. “That might be a bit awkward.”
Ar’alani felt her throat tighten. More than just a bit awkward, given that the Nikardun crew was gone because they’d committed mass suicide minutes before the Chiss boarding parties breached the hatches. For a while she’d rather hoped it had at least been a combination of murder and suicide, with perhaps the officers under orders to slaughter their warriors before taking their own lives. That would have indicated that it was only a few of the Nikardun that were that fanatical. But the medic team had concluded that all the deaths had been self-inflicted.
What kind of compulsion and dominance did this Yiv the Benevolent hold over them that they would willingly go to such violent extremes?
“True enough,” Ba’kif conceded. “Well. Until the syndics decide to write specifics into the law, I suppose we can treat it as a gray area.” He tapped the questis. “In the meantime, what kind of hellish nighthunter nest have you just kicked over?”
“A nighthunter nest that I believe will soon be hunting us,” Thrawn said grimly. “They clearly know about the Ascendancy. They also feel confident enough in their own strength to slaughter a refugee ship right on our threshold. And”—he gestured to the questis—“they’re already moving into our outer neighbor
hood.”
Ba’kif huffed out a breath, looking back at the questis as if the data on it might suddenly change to something less disquieting. “You’re sure they’ve had contact with the Lioaoin Regime?” he asked. “I looked at all the indicators you marked, and I confess I can’t see whatever it is you think you’ve found.”
“It’s there, sir,” Thrawn said. “It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
“What we don’t know,” Ar’alani put in, “is whether this is evidence that they’ve been to the Lioaoin heartworld itself or whether they’ve just picked up some Lioaoi art and artistic influences along the way from someone else.”
“That’s why we need to go to the heartworld in person,” Thrawn said. “I need to examine the local situation, and I can’t do that from transmission analysis or even third-person investigator reports.”
“You know what the Syndicure will say about anyone going to the Lioaoin Regime,” Ba’kif warned. “Especially you two.”
“That’s why we wanted to keep it quiet,” Ar’alani said. “And the Expansionary Fleet does have a fair degree of flexibility in its duties.”
“Which I’m no longer in direct command of,” Ba’kif reminded her, glancing with an odd sort of wistfulness around his new Csilla office.
Ar’alani could sympathize. This office was bigger than his old Expansionary Defense Fleet office on Naporar, as befit his newly exalted position as the Ascendancy’s top general.
But the office was on Csilla, which meant that it was not only under the planet’s frozen surface, but also within downwind spitting distance of the Syndicure and the rest of the Ascendancy’s governmental centers.
And just because the Aristocra weren’t supposed to interfere with military matters didn’t mean they were pleasant to be around.
“But you are in overall command of personnel in the fleet,” Thrawn pointed out. “A directive from you would surely be acknowledged and carried out.”
“The Springhawk is undergoing hull repairs, but we could take the Vigilant,” Ar’alani said. “Thrawn could come aboard as an officer or even just as a passenger and take a quick, unobtrusive look.”
Ba’kif snorted. “You know what certain syndics think of your definition of unobtrusive.” He glanced at his desk monitor and gave a small snort. “And by sheer coincidence—or perhaps not—two of those syndics have just arrived in my inner office.”
Ar’alani’s first impulse was to urge the general not to let them in. But it would be a useless gesture. Clearly, someone had spotted her and Thrawn coming here; just as clearly, the two syndics weren’t going to go away just because the Defense Force’s supreme general told them to.
Official policies of separation of duties or not, non-interference or not, the confrontation the syndics were obviously here for was going to happen. Might was well have it out now.
Ba’kif had apparently come to the same conclusion. He tapped a key, and the door slid open. “Welcome, Syndics,” he said briskly as the three officers rose to their feet. “How may I serve you?”
Ar’alani turned to face the newcomers. Mitth’urf’ianico, one of the syndics of Thrawn’s family, led the way. That was standard procedure whenever the family wanted to deliver a message to the military regarding one of their own without tugging on any of the tangled web of interfamily politics.
Striding along close behind him was Irizi’stal’mustro, one of the syndics of Ar’alani’s former family.
She felt her eyes narrow. That was not standard procedure. Thurfian might be here to talk about Thrawn on behalf of the Mitth, but she was no longer part of the Irizi family, which meant Zistalmu had no reason to talk about her to Ba’kif.
But there was an even more interesting subtext about this whole thing. Given the intense rivalry between the Irizi and Mitth, two syndics from those families who wanted to see Ba’kif on general military matters would normally have arranged to come one at a time, not together.
Or was that the point? Could Thurfian and Zistalmu have worked up this joint meeting to underscore a high-level opposition to Thrawn’s recent activities, a resistance that superseded family politics?
“Good day, General,” Zistalmu said, inclining his head to Ba’kif. “Admiral; Senior Captain,” he added, making the same gestures to Ar’alani and Thrawn. “Are we interrupting anything important?”
“I was discussing an upcoming mission with two of the Expansionary Fleet’s finest officers,” Ba’kif said.
“Really,” Thurfian said with a feigned enthusiasm that wouldn’t fool a child. “Given the presence of Captain Thrawn, may we assume this mission is connected to the report the fleet submitted to the Syndicure three days ago?”
Ar’alani stifled a curse. Normally, reports from the fleet could sit on the syndics’ questises for days or weeks without being read by anyone except their aides and the lower-ranking Aristocra. At the moment, that was especially true of any report that didn’t connect to the Csilla attack investigation.
Apparently, at least for these two, Thrawn’s name garnered the same level of notice.
“We submitted several reports that day,” Ba’kif said. “Which one specifically are you referring to?”
“You know perfectly well which one,” Zistalmu said, his eyes shifting to Thrawn. “The unauthorized intrusion into an alien system, and the subsequent attack on alien ships in that system.”
“First of all, the Springhawk’s mission to the Rapacc system was not unauthorized,” Ba’kif said. “As you know, there was an attack on the edge of the Dioya system—”
“An attack against aliens,” Zistalmu cut in. “Meanwhile, the question of the attack on Csilla—an attack launched against actual Chiss citizens—has yet to be resolved.”
“I trust you’re not suggesting the fleet is incapable of handling more than one investigation at a time,” Ba’kif said, putting some stone into his voice.
“Not at all,” Zistalmu said. “But if investigation was the goal, I would submit that Captain Thrawn’s attack at Rapacc went far beyond his orders and mandate. Yet I see no indication that a tribunal has been seated or even scheduled.”
“The Springhawk was attacked,” Ba’kif said. “Standing orders allow him the right of defense.”
“Within very narrow and sharply delineated limits,” Thurfian put in. “But that’s the past, and a matter for a tribunal. Our major concern is for the future. So I ask again: Does this proposed mission relate to the Rapacc attack?” He threw an accusing look at Thrawn. “Time is not so long, nor memory so short, that we’ve forgotten his old Lioaoin fiasco.”
“I’m hardly likely to forget it, either,” Thrawn said quietly.
Quietly, but Ar’alani could hear the hidden embarrassment and ache in his voice. “I trust you aren’t here just to scrub at old wounds,” she put in, hoping to draw some of Zistalmu’s attack in her direction.
It was a waste of effort. Thurfian merely shot her a brief, unreadable look, then returned his attention to his primary target. “As I already stated, we’re looking to the future, not the past,” he said. “We understand you claim to have found Lioaoin paintings or sculptures or some such on that illegally seized ship. I trust, Supreme General, you’re not seriously thinking of letting Captain Thrawn anywhere near the Lioaoin Regime.”
“Why not?” Ba’kif asked. “The Lioaoi certainly hold their share of blame for what happened back then.”
“So you are sending him to the heartworld,” Zistalmu said, pouncing on the words like a groundlion. “Are you mad?”
“I believe the Nikardun have moved into the Lioaoin Regime,” Thrawn said. “We need to know whether the Lioaoi have been completely subjugated, or whether they still stand against their would-be conquerors.”
“We need to know nothing of the kind,” Thurfian retorted. “What happens outside our borders is none of our business. As I thought
was made clear to you the first time you meddled in that region’s affairs.”
“And when the Nikardun arrive in the Ascendancy?” Thrawn asked.
“If the Nikardun arrive in the Ascendancy,” Thurfian shot back.
“Exactly,” Zistalmu seconded. “Really, Captain Thrawn. Someone of your vaunted tactical expertise can surely see that if we were such an enticing target, they would have moved against us already. It seems obvious to me that the stories told about us out in the Chaos have warned them away.”
“Unless they’re waiting until they have enough strength to defeat us,” Ba’kif said.
“Fine,” Zistalmu said. “Let’s look at that possibility, shall we? You claim the Nikardun are subjugating other species and creating an empire. Correct?”
“We’ve seen evidence of such activity, yes,” Ba’kif said.
“And controlling a conquered species requires force and the presence of arms, does it not?”
Ar’alani felt a sour taste in her mouth. She could see where Zistalmu was going with this.
As, too, could Ba’kif. “It may require less than you imagine,” the general said. “If the planet is sufficiently subjugated, a few monitoring ships and a small ground contingent could easily suffice.”
“Especially if they utilize a system of hostages or extortion,” Ar’alani added.
“The point remains that as they move toward us, they continue to bleed ships and troops,” Zistalmu said. “So the longer they wait, the less likely they are to be a threat.”
Ba’kif shook his head. “It doesn’t always work that way.”
But it was a losing argument, Ar’alani could see from the expressions on the syndics’ faces. It might be a true argument, but it was also a losing one.
“Yet that, too, is a conversation for another day,” Thurfian said. “Since Captain Thrawn’s ship is still undergoing repairs, and Admiral Ar’alani’s is about to leave on a diplomatic mission, it would seem that nobody will be traveling to the Lioaoin Regime.”
