“Your sculptures show your fondness for wide-spaced combinations,” Thrawn said, lowering his own sticks to his sides. “Particularly three- and four-coil patterns. Your favorite subjects—groundlions, dragonelles, and predator birds—indicate the short attacks, hesitation feints, and aggression. The particular shape of open areas shows how you compose your feints, and the angular style suggests a spinning attack would be unexpected and disconcerting enough to slow your response.”
Which, she remembered, had been his first successful attack. “Interesting,” Ziara said.
“But what followed was equally instructive,” Thrawn continued. He raised his eyebrows slightly in obvious invitation.
Ziara felt a flush of irritation. She was the upperclassman here, not him. If there was anyone who should be reciting lessons and offering analysis, it should be him, not her.
Which was, she instantly realized, about the stupidest thought she’d ever had in her life. Only a fool passed up an opportunity to learn. “I realized you’d figured out my pattern and changed tactics,” she said. “And it worked, at least for a couple of attacks. Then you attacked, and after that I was never able to get through again.”
“Do you know why?”
Ziara frowned, thinking back over the fight…“I went back to my old tactics,” she said with a wry smile. “The ones you’d already figured out how to beat.”
“Exactly,” Thrawn said, smiling back. “A lesson for all of us. In moments of stress or uncertainty, we tend to fall back on the familiar and comfortable.”
“Yes,” Ziara murmured, suddenly noticing where she was relative to him. Well within attack range…and she’d never explicitly stated the bout was over.
The moment of temptation passed. Just because she hadn’t officially stopped it didn’t mean it would be fair to unilaterally start it up again. Thrawn had behaved honorably. She could do no less.
“And the care you put into the sculptures shows you have too much honor to play shoddy tricks against a sparring partner,” Thrawn added.
Ziara felt her face warm. “You sure of that?”
“Yes.”
For a long moment she was again tempted. Then, spinning on her heel, she stalked across the mat and returned her sticks to the weapons rack. “Okay,” she said over her shoulder as she started pulling off her sparring armor. “I’m impressed. You really think you can do the same thing with alien cultures and tactics?”
“I do,” Thrawn said. “Someday, I hope I’ll have the chance to prove it.”
CHAPTER SIX
Five hours after the Springhawk went into hiding, Thrawn and Thalias strapped themselves into one of the cruiser’s shuttles and headed across the asteroid cluster toward the dark space station floating in the distance.
“The journey may be a bit tedious,” Thrawn warned as they moved between the floating rocks and dust. “We’ll be using the maneuvering jets exclusively in order to avoid any thruster plumes that our adversaries might detect. That makes for a slower trip.”
“I understand,” Thalias said.
“Still, it gives us a chance to talk in private,” Thrawn continued. “How are you finding your job as caregiver?”
“It’s challenging,” Thalias admitted, a quiet warning bell going off in the back of her mind. Thrawn could have called her into his office at any point since leaving the Ascendancy if he just wanted to talk in private.
Did he know about that last-minute conversation with Thurfian, and the deal the syndic had forced on her? “Che’ri’s pretty easy to live with, but there are some things every sky-walker deals with that can be difficult.”
“Nightmares?”
“And headaches and occasional mood swings,” Thalias said. “Along with just being a nine-year-old.”
“Especially one who’s vital to the functioning of the ship and knows it?”
“Right—the horror stories of sky-walker arrogance and demands,” Thalias said scornfully. “Pure ice-cap legend. I’ve never met anyone who’s actually seen that happen. Every sky-walker I’ve known has gone the opposite direction.”
“Feelings of inadequacy,” Thrawn said. “The fear that she won’t measure up to what her captain and ship require of her.”
Thalias nodded. Like the nightmares, those were feelings she remembered all too well. “Sky-walkers are always worried that they’ll get the ship lost or do something else wrong.”
“Though the record indicates very few such incidents,” Thrawn said. “And most of the affected ships eventually returned safely via jump-by-jump.” He paused. “I presume Che’ri isn’t facing any challenges that you yourself didn’t also have to overcome?”
“No,” Thalias said with a quiet sigh. She really hadn’t expected Thrawn to let her aboard without checking up on her, but she’d still sort of hoped he’d somehow miss the fact that she’d once been a sky-walker. “Aside from the whole flying-into-possible-danger part.”
“Danger is an implicit part of what we do.”
“Except that you all volunteered for this life,” Thalias said. “We sky-walkers weren’t given that choice.”
Thrawn was silent a moment. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “The greater good of the Ascendancy is the rationale. Also the truth, of course. But the fact remains.”
“It does,” Thalias said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think any of us begrudges our service. I mean, aside from the fears and nightmares and all. And the Ascendancy does need us.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said.
She frowned at him. “Just perhaps?”
“A conversation for another day,” Thrawn said. “Display Four. Do you see it?”
She turned her attention to the control panel in front of them. Display Four…that one.
Centered in the display was a small heat source. A heat source coming from an orbital position near the system’s inhabited planet.
A heat source the computer calculated was coming directly toward them.
“They’ve spotted us,” she breathed, her heart suddenly thudding in her throat.
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said, still sounding thoughtful. “The timing certainly suggests that, as it was only thirty seconds ago that the ship ran its thrusters to this level of power.”
“It’s coming straight toward us,” she said, feeling a sudden surge of claustrophobia in the cockpit’s tight grasp. They were in a shuttle, not a combat ship, with no weapons, no defenses, and all the maneuverability of a fen slug. “What do we do?”
“That may depend on who they are, and where they’re going,” Thrawn said.
Thalias frowned at the display. “What do you mean? They’re coming toward us, aren’t they?”
“They could also be heading toward the Springhawk,” Thrawn said. “Or possibly it’s merely a scheduled run to the mining station and the timing is purely coincidental. At their distance, and at this point in their path, it’s impossible to more precisely define their ultimate endpoint.”
“So what do we do?” Thalias asked. “Can we get back to the Springhawk in time?”
“Possibly,” Thrawn said. “The more immediate question is whether we want to.”
“Whether we want to?” Thalias repeated, staring at him.
“We came here to find out if this is the origin point of the doomed refugees,” Thrawn reminded her. “My intent was to study the mining station, but a direct conversation would be quicker and more informative.”
“Only if they don’t shoot us on sight.”
“They might try,” Thrawn said. “Tell me, have you ever fired a charric?”