“Nothing you can codify for us?”
Thrawn turned to him, and through his faceplate Ba’kif saw the other’s wry smile. “Really, General,” he said. “If I could write all this down, I certainly would.”
“I know,” Ba’kif said. “It would be a lot easier for all of us if you could.”
“Agreed,” Thrawn said. “But rest assured I’ll be able to recognize these beings when I see them again. I presume your plan is to search for the ship’s point of origin?”
“Under normal circumstances, I would definitely do so,” Ba’kif said. “But with the Syndicure in its current state of uproar and outrage, it might be difficult to detach a task force from Ascendancy defense.”
“I’m prepared to go alone if necessary.”
Ba’kif nodded. He’d expected Thrawn to volunteer, of course. If there was one thing the man enjoyed, it was chasing down enigmas and working through puzzles. Add in his unique ability to see connections others couldn’t—and the fact that a large percentage of the Aristocra would be happy to have him out of their sight for a while—and he was the perfect person for the job.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy.
“I’ll need something reasonably well equipped for a mission of this sort,” Thrawn continued, looking around at the wreckage. “The Springhawk would do quite well.”
“I thought that would be next,” Ba’kif said sourly. “You do know it was taken away from you for a reason, right?”
“Of course,” Thrawn said. “Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk and the Council were displeased by my actions against the Vagaari pirates. But surely that anger has dissipated by now.”
“Perhaps,” Ba’kif said evasively. “However…well. Let’s just say that your reputation among the other Council members continues to be tenuous.” Certainly the Defense Hierarchy Council’s annoyance at Thrawn’s actions had been the official reason for him being removed as the Springhawk’s commander. Not just his unauthorized action against the pirates, but also the subsequent death of Syndic Mitth’ras’safis and the loss of valuable alien technology.
But behind the scenes, there’d been other factors in play. Thrawn’s successful campaign, whether the Aristocra approved of it or not, had elevated the Springhawk’s name and prestige, and the Ufsa family had decided they wanted the ship to be commanded by one of their own. A quiet petition to the Council, probably an even quieter exchange of favors or future owings, and Thrawn was out.
All strictly against protocol, of course. The Aristocra weren’t supposed to have any influence over military assignments. But that didn’t mean it never happened.
The point was that, as usual, Thrawn had seen only the surface situation and completely missed the political subtleties.
Still, this might be a good opportunity to remind the Ascendancy’s civilian leaders that the Council, not the Syndicure, was in charge of the military. The syndics had taken away the Springhawk; it was time for the Council to take it back. “Let me see what I can do,” he said. “The Springhawk’s scheduled to join Admiral Ar’alani’s punitive attack on the Paataasus in a few days, but we should be able to get you back in command after that.”
“Do you really think the Paataasus are responsible for the Csilla attack?”
“I don’t, no,” Ba’kif admitted. “Nor does most of the Council. But one of the syndics trotted out that theory, and the rest are warming to it. Regardless, the Paataasus have been poking at the edge of the Ascendancy again, so a quick punitive slap was in order anyway.”
“I suppose that’s reasonable,” Thrawn said. “Instead of waiting until after the operation, though, I’d like to join the ship before the attack. Not necessarily as commander, but to observe and evaluate the officers and warriors.”
“That might be possible,” Ba’kif said. “On the other hand, why not as commander? I’ll run it past Ar’alani and see if she approves.”
“I’m sure she will,” Thrawn said. “I assume I’ll also be assigned a sky-walker for my investigation?”
“Most likely,” Ba’kif said. The sky-walker corps was stretched thin these days, but without knowing how far Thrawn’s investigation would take him it would be inefficient to make him travel at the much slower jump-by-jump speed. “I’ll see who’s available when we get back to Naporar.”
“Thank you.” Thrawn gestured aft. “I presume the attackers here left little to find in the engine compartment or the supply rooms?”
“Little to nothing,” Ba’kif said grimly. “Mostly just a few more exploded bodies.”
“Regardless, I’d like to see those areas.”
“Of course,” Ba’kif said. “This way.”
For a long moment, Mid Captain Ufsa’mak’ro gazed at the fresh orders on the questis his first officer had handed him.
No. Not his officer. Senior Commander Plikh’ar’illmorf was now Senior Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s officer. And no longer first, but second.
Samakro himself had become Thrawn’s first officer.
He looked up from the questis at the man standing stiffly in front of him. Kharill was seething, though he probably thought he was hiding it. “You have a question, Senior Commander?” Samakro asked mildly.
Kharill’s eyebrows twitched, just a bit. Apparently, he’d expected the Springhawk’s captain to be as angry at the unexpected orders as he was. “Not so much a question, sir, as a comment,” he said, his voice tight.
“Let me guess,” Samakro said, lifting the questis slightly. “You’re outraged that my ship’s been taken away from me and given to Senior Captain Thrawn. You’re wondering if we should lodge our complaints individually or jointly, and if jointly which of our families should be contacted first. You think we should also protest to Admiral Ar’alani, Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk, and the Defense Hierarchy Council, probably in that order, arguing that changing a ship’s command structure on the eve of battle is both foolish and dangerous. And you absolutely think we should show our displeasure by obeying Thrawn’s orders as unenthusiastically as possible. Does that about cover it?”
Kharill’s mouth had started dropping open somewhere around Samakro’s second sentence, and was now as far open as Samakro had ever seen it. “Ah…yes, sir, it does,” Kharill managed.
“Well, then,” Samakro said, handing him back the questis. “Since I’ve now said all of it, there’s no reason for you to do so. Return to your duties, and prepare for the change in command.”
Kharill’s throat worked, but he gave a brief nod. “Yes, sir,” he said, and turned to go.
“One more thing,” Samakro called after him.
“Sir?”
Samakro let his eyes narrow. “If I ever catch you disobeying an order—anyone’s order—or obeying a legal order slowly or improperly, I’ll personally have you brought up on charges. Clear?”
“Very clear, sir,” Kharill said between stiff lips.
“Good,” Samakro said. “Carry on.”
He watched Kharill’s rigid back as the other strode down the corridor toward the Springhawk’s bridge. Hopefully, Samakro had convinced the younger man to at least pretend enthusiasm for the ship’s new commander, even if he didn’t actually feel any.
Which was a façade that Samakro himself had better make sure was nailed up in front of his own feelings.
Because he was furious. Furious, outraged, betrayed—all of it. How dare the Council and Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk do this to him and the Springhawk? Supreme General Ba’kif’s starry-eyed attitude toward everything Thrawn touched was well known, but surely Ja’fosk had more sense.