by Timothy Zahn
“Yes,” Thalias said. But just because something couldn’t be changed didn’t mean a person shouldn’t hammer away at it anyway. Secrets could sometimes be brought to light, and even Thrawn could be wrong.
“In the meantime, we have time to rest and think out our future strategy,” Thrawn continued, pulling a pack of cards from his pocket. “You can choose the first game.”
“Are you certain,” Zistalmu said, “that you know exactly what you’re supposed to do?”
Ar’alani drew in a deep breath, pulling with it every bit of patience her mind and body could muster. “Yes, Syndic,” she said. “I think we’ve been over it enough times.”
“Because I’m serious,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. Or more likely didn’t believe her. “If either the Garwians or the Vaks refuse to give him up, or deny knowing anything about him, we turn the ship around and go home.”
“I understand,” Ar’alani said.
Which wasn’t to say that she agreed with him. Or that she had any intention of following such a ridiculous order.
Defying an Aristocra syndic could mean the end of her career, of course. But she’d put her career on the line so many times before that it was almost becoming routine.
What wasn’t routine was why Zistalmu and Thurfian both seemed so single-mindedly determined to destroy Thrawn. She’d been mulling over that question since their departure from the Ascendancy, and she was no closer to figuring it out now than she had been then.
Maybe it was time she did something about that.
She looked over at the navigator’s station. Che’ri was sitting there, her breathing slow and steady, deep in Third Sight as she guided them toward Primea. Standing beside her was Zistalmu’s wife, who’d never offered Ar’alani her proper name but had instead insisted that everyone aboard call her Nana. A rather annoying affectation, in Ar’alani’s opinion. Possibly why the woman had only lasted two years as a caregiver.
But right now all that mattered was that for the next minute neither she nor anyone else was in position to listen in.
“A question, Syndic,” Ar’alani said as Zistalmu started to turn away. “For my own curiosity.”
“Yes?”
She turned her full gaze on him. “Why do you and Syndic Thurfian hate Thrawn so much?”
She’d expected some kind of reaction from him. To her surprise, his expression didn’t even twitch. “About time,” he said calmly. “I’ve been expecting you to bring up that topic since we left Csilla.”
“Sorry, I’ve had other things on my mind,” Ar’alani said. “May I have an answer?”
“First ask the correct question,” Zistalmu said. “We don’t hate Thrawn. Actually, we both admire his military skill. We resist him because he’s a threat to the Ascendancy.”
“To the Ascendancy?” Ar’alani countered. “Or to the Irizi family?”
Zistalmu shook his head. “You really don’t see it, do you? In that case, there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”
“Excuse me, Syndic, but there’s every reason to continue,” Ar’alani said. “You’re aboard the Vigilant, under my authority, and you’re obligated to answer any reasonable question and obey any reasonable order. Unless you plan to invoke official Syndicure secrets—and I will follow through on that if you try it—you’ll tell me how Thrawn is a threat to the Ascendancy.”
Octrimo called a warning from the helm. “Breakout in thirty seconds, Admiral.”
“Acknowledged.” Ar’alani raised her eyebrows toward Zistalmu. “Talk fast.”
“There’s no time for a proper explanation,” the syndic said. “But really, you don’t need one. You’ve seen enough of Thrawn and his career to understand. If you don’t, it’s because you choose not to.”
Ar’alani shook her head. “Not good enough.”
“It’s all you’re going to get.” Zistalmu nodded toward the viewport. “And we’re here.”
Ar’alani turned to see the hyperspace swirl collapse into star-flares and then into stars. Looming directly ahead was a half-lit planet with dozens of ships of all sizes moving in or out or simply drifting steadily along in their orbits.
“Primea, Admiral,” Octrimo announced.
“I read forty-seven visible ships,” Senior Commander Biclian added from the sensor station. “Checking configurations for anything that looks Garwian.”
“Acknowledged,” Ar’alani said. “Senior Captain Wutroow, a signal to the planetary diplomatic office. Identify us, and tell them we’re trying to reach Artistic Master Svorno.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Wutroow said. She leaned over the comm officer’s shoulder and began speaking quietly.
“I’m not picking up anything that looks like a Garwian,” Biclian reported. “Maybe it’s on the other side of the planet.”
“Admiral, Primea Central Command acknowledges,” Wutroow relayed. “They claim the Garwian diplomatic ship left three days ago with all personnel aboard.”
“There you go,” Zistalmu said briskly. “Looks like Thrawn managed to extricate himself without any fuss or drama. Now, if we can say our farewells and head back to the Ascendancy—”
“Captain, please ask for clarification,” Ar’alani ordered. “I want a list of all the personnel on that ship. I also want copies of all transmissions to and from the Garwian before it left.”
“What makes you think they’ll have all that available?” Zistalmu demanded. “Or will give it to you if they do?”
“Captain?” Ar’alani prompted.
“Message delivered,” Wutroow confirmed. “Waiting for a reply.”
“We’ve got movement,” Biclian cut in. “Five small ships breaking orbit toward us, and another eight patrol ships rising from the surface. Make that nine from the surface.”
“Patrol ships?” Zistalmu asked, clearly confused. “What are they doing?”
“You should read the Defense Force’s after-action reports more closely, Syndic,” Ar’alani said, eyeing the small ships assembling between the Vigilant and the planet below. “Small fighters are a line in the dirt, a warning that the defenders are serious.”
“Yes, I understand that part,” Zistalmu growled. “I’m wondering why they think fourteen fighters constitutes any kind of threat. Do they expect them to scare us away?”
“Of course not,” Ar’alani said. “But a couple of wings of fighters isn’t as provocative as a group of full-class warships would be. That makes it easier for both sides to back down if neither really wants a fight. And if the intruder does want one, it’s not so much of a loss to the defenders if the fighters get blown out of the sky.”
“But we’re not going to do that, are we?” Zistalmu asked, his voice dark and ominous.
“Not unless we’re attacked first,” Ar’alani said. “Captain? Any word on my request?”
“Central Command says they don’t have that information,” Wutroow reported. “They say they have to refer me to the diplomatic service.”
“I trust they’re doing so?”
“So they say.” Wutroow pointed at the tactical. “Looks like they’re working into a lens formation.”
Ar’alani nodded. Or at least, thirteen of the patrol ships were. The fourteenth was moving forward, ignoring his companions’ more cautious stance. “Octrimo, that fighter on the extreme starboard seems to be spoiling for a fight,” she said. “Start drifting us toward him. Nice and easy—don’t make it obvious.”
“You think that’s him?” Wutroow asked.
“We’ll know in a minute,” Ar’alani said, checking the distance. The patrol ship was almost in range now. Another few seconds…
Abruptly, a double flare of laserfire blasted from the fighter squarely at the Vigilant.
“Hit on starboard ventral weapons cluster,” Biclian reported tersely. “Low-power blast, no dama
ge.”
“Acknowledged,” Ar’alani said.
Zistalmu inhaled sharply. “What are they doing? I thought you said they weren’t trying to be provocative.”
“Targeting sensors have kicked into rapid record mode,” Wutroow called.
“Modulated laserfire coming in—” Biclian began.
“Thank you, Senior Commander,” Ar’alani cut him off. She’d known what Thrawn was planning as soon as he opened fire on the sensor cluster and had hoped she could slide it past Zistalmu without him noticing.
No such luck. “Modulated how?” the syndic asked. “Admiral? The laser is modulated how?”
“I’m not sure yet, Syndic,” Ar’alani hedged. “We’ll have to see what the computer makes of it.”
“Let me guess,” Zistalmu said, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “That’s Thrawn, isn’t it? And he’s somehow adapted the fighter’s laser to transmit a message. Is that it?”
Ar’alani mouthed a silent curse. So much for keeping the syndic in the dark long enough to bring Thrawn aboard.
So much, too, for keeping Thrawn’s favored method for surreptitious communication secret. Up to now, only she and Thrawn had known how he’d managed his communication with the Garwians during the Lioaoin pirate attack on Stivic all those years ago. He’d obviously planned in advance to pull the same trick here, knowing that Ar’alani would recognize it and be able to extract the message.
What he couldn’t have anticipated was Zistalmu inviting himself onto the mission.
The question of Thrawn’s possible interference in that particular incident had long since been forgotten. But all it would take was Zistalmu putting the pieces together to drag it back into the light. And with Zistalmu and Thurfian both out for Thrawn’s blood, that could be a serious problem.
Right now, Ar’alani had more pressing matters to deal with. Two of the Vak patrol ships had broken out of their lens formation and were pursuing Thrawn’s ship. So far they hadn’t fired, but someone had clearly figured out that the rogue fighter had been commandeered and was hoping to stop it. Meanwhile, off to portside, two much larger Vak warships had come into view around the planetary rim, moving steadily toward the Vigilant.
And then, around the planetary rim to starboard, a much larger ship had appeared.
A Nikardun warship.
“Vak warships moving toward portside flank,” Wutroow called. “Close-combat distance in two point three minutes. Patrol ships moving up in defensive lens; combat distance ninety seconds.”
“Picture coming through,” Biclian reported. “On Sensor Two.”
Ar’alani looked at the specified display. The data Thrawn was sending seemed to be a schematic of one of the Vak patrol ships.
She smiled tightly. A schematic, moreover, with all the weapons and targeting sensor systems marked. Everything she would need to take all the fight out of them without loss of life or serious damage to the ships themselves.
“Prepare lasers,” she ordered. “Target patrol ships’ weapons sensors. Target very carefully—I don’t want any additional damage.”
“Just a moment,” Zistalmu cut in. “Are you mad? You can’t launch an unprovoked attack.”
“It’s not unprovoked,” Wutroow said. “One of them fired on us, remember?”
“That was Thrawn.”
“So you’ve suggested,” Ar’alani said evenly. “Until that’s been confirmed, we operate on the assumption that the Vaks have attacked us. Captain Wutroow, pick three of the patrol ships and fire—”
“Belay that order,” Zistalmu snapped. “I forbid any action. You will prepare to withdraw—”
“Incoming!” Biclian snapped. “Four heavy cruisers, coming in from hyperspace behind us.”
“Acknowledged,” Ar’alani said, feeling a sudden sense of unreality as she gazed at the display. They were heavy cruisers, all right, arrayed in a diamond combat formation.
Only they weren’t Vak ships, or even Nikardun.
They were Lioaoin.
“Yaw turn—one eighty,” she ordered. “Stand by lasers and spheres on new targets.”
“Lioaoin flagship is signaling, Admiral,” the comm officer called. She touched a switch—
“—to intruder,” a Lioaoin voice came over the speaker, its Minnisiat clear and precise. “You are threatening the peace and safety of the Vak Combine. Leave immediately, or be fired upon.”
“Admiral—” Zistalmu began.
“Quiet.” Ar’alani cut him off as she tapped her comm switch. “This is Admiral Ar’alani aboard the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet ship Vigilant,” she said. “We mean no harm to Primea or the Combine. One of our people has gone missing, and we’re here to inquire about his whereabouts.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when all four Lioaoi ships opened fire.
“Barriers up!” Wutroow barked. “Target enemy lasers.”
“Prepare spheres,” Ar’alani added, her brain spinning as she tried to figure out what in hell was going on. What were Lioaoi even doing here at Primea, let alone attacking a Chiss warship on sight?
And then, suddenly, she got it.
Damn the Nikardun, anyway.
“Spheres: Fire when ready,” she bit out. “Target all Lioaoin ships; concentrate on weapons clusters.”
“Enemy lasers impacting on the hull,” Wutroow reported, her voice tight but controlled. “Barriers diffusing about eighty percent. Spheres on their way.”
Ar’alani nodded. Enough plasma sphere impacts, enough ion bursts eating into the electronics, and the attackers’ ability to continue fighting would be neutralized.
But it would take half a dozen shots to sufficiently disable any one of the ships, and there were four of them for her to deal with. And the Vigilant had only a limited number of spheres available.
Unless…
“Continue targeting weapons,” she ordered, searching the displays. Thrawn’s patrol ship…there it was, coming up fast. The two Vak fighters that had been in pursuit, she noted, were falling back. Apparently, they didn’t want him badly enough to charge into a combat zone.
Perfect.
“Octrimo, what’s our best course out of here?” she called.
“Wait,” Zistalmu protested. “Now, when we’re actually attacked—now you want to run?”
“Shut it,” Ar’alani said. “Octrimo?”
“Best exit route is portside,” Octrimo reported. “But that vector will take us into close-combat range with both Three and Four.”
The Lioaoin ship designated as Four, Ar’alani noted, being the one farthest to portside. Time to gamble. “Concentrate sphere fire on Three,” she said. “Octrimo, take us out on your vector.”
“On Three?” Zistalmu put in. “But Four’s closer—”
“If I have to tell you again to be quiet, I’ll have you removed from the bridge,” Ar’alani warned.
Zistalmu sputtered something but fell silent.
The laserfire from the four Lioaoin ships was increasing as the Vigilant headed toward the open space to the Lioaoin formation’s left. Attackers Three and Four began moving sideways to block the Chiss escape, though Three’s efforts were now being slowed by the cascade of plasma spheres hammering into its hull.
But with the flanking fire from One and Two continuing to blast away at the Vigilant’s starboard hull, even just a single Lioaoin in front of the Vigilant would make escape problematic. Presumably, the Lioaoi and their Nikardun masters knew that and were counting on it.
Unfortunately for them, they’d all forgotten about Thrawn.
The Vak patrol ship shot past the Vigilant on full power, ducking through the scattered laserfire from the Lioaoin ships, charging straight toward Attacker Four with lasers blazing. Ar’alani held her breath, waiting for the Lioaoin to respond, wondering if she and Thrawn had read the
situation correctly.
They had. For those first crucial seconds the Lioaoin didn’t return fire, having apparently been ordered to shoot at the Chiss warship but avoid combat with Nikardun and the local Vak forces. She could envision the frantic calls from the Lioaoi to Primea, the questions running up the chain of command, transferring over to the Nikardun warship, the furious corrections coming from the general in charge, possibly heading directly to the Lioaoi, possibly having to go the reverse path so as not to give the Chiss confirmation that the Nikardun were even involved—
And as the farce finally played itself out, the Lioaoin ships belatedly opened fire.
But it was too late. Thrawn’s surgical attack had already destroyed Four’s combat ability, tearing into the ship’s heavy laser sites and blinding their missile fire-control sensors. For a moment the other three Lioaoi continued to fire, but as the Vigilant drove through Four’s shadow their weapons went silent lest they hit their comrade. Thrawn’s fighter finished its run and turned toward the Vigilant—
And jerked suddenly as a final laser shot sliced across its aft thrusters.
“Hit on patrol ship!” Wutroow snapped.
“Tractor beam!” Ar’alani snapped back. “Bring him in.”
“On it,” Wutroow confirmed. “Tractor engaged…locked…bringing him in.”
“Starboard spheres: One final volley,” Ar’alani ordered. “Keep them back.”
“Vak warships moving up,” Biclian warned.
But it was a waste of effort, and everyone knew it. The Vigilant would be far enough out of Primea’s gravity well in twenty seconds, and would have Thrawn aboard in thirty. The only ships close enough to stop them were the Lioaoin cruisers, and thanks to her and Thrawn’s combined attack they, too, were out of luck. “Sky-walker Che’ri, get ready,” she called.
