“ ‘To Primea Command, this is Senior Captain Thrawn,’ ” Thrawn said. “ ‘My companion Thalias has delivered a message to your representative, a copy of which is reproduced below. If it’s the same message as you’ve already received, then all is well, and you may consider my offer at your leisure.
“ ‘However, if you did not, in fact, receive this same message from my companion’s hand, we may conclude that some of your officers and troops have conspired with General Yiv to withhold my message from you. If that is the case, I urge you to consider my offer with all necessary speed. To aid in your decision, I also include data from other systems that have had dealings with the Nikardun, as well as information about a ship full of refugees he murdered. I or my representatives will journey to Primea in the near future to discuss the matter with you.’ ”
Thrawn stopped, and for a long moment Yiv just gazed at him in silence. “Absurdity,” he said at last. “The Vaks won’t move this quickly. They can’t. They consider all thought lines. All thought lines.”
Thrawn shook his head. “No. What they consider—”
“Curse!” Yiv cut him off, his gaze snapping back and forth to unseen displays around him. “No! They can’t be. The Vaks—” He snarled something else, and suddenly the image blanked.
“What’s going on?” Qilori asked, his cheek winglets quivering. Three minutes ago, the Benevolent had had everything completely under control. What in the Depths was happening out there?
“I assume Admiral Ar’alani has finished her negotiations,” Thrawn said, his voice glacially calm, “and that the Vaks have given permission for her to fire on the Nikardun blockade ships.”
“The blockade ships? But—” Qilori strangled off the reflexive protest. Of course a mere Pathfinder hireling wouldn’t know that Yiv’s current plans for Primea didn’t include a blockade. “There’s a blockade?”
“Presumably merely to prevent anyone from blundering into our conversation,” Thrawn said, a little too drily. “But of course the Vaks don’t know that. They see only that by imposing his will on Primea’s commerce, Yiv has denied them important thought lines.”
He turned to Qilori, an odd and discomfiting intensity in those glowing red eyes. “Tell me, Pathfinder. Do you think Yiv will meekly stand by and watch his Primea fleet be destroyed?”
“I don’t know,” Qilori said helplessly. What was he supposed to say? “I suppose it depends on whether he can afford to lose the ships.”
“You offer the wrong question,” Thrawn said. “Of course he can afford to lose the ships. The true question is whether he can allow the Vaks to see him bow to Chiss will and cower before Chiss might.”
“Surely all the ships at Primea are smaller vessels,” Qilori said. “It’s no disgrace to lose small warships to large ones.”
“It is if there are larger ships available and their commander refuses to risk them.”
“Maybe the Vaks don’t know he has bigger ships.”
“Of course they do,” Thrawn chided. “He just said that they did.”
Qilori silently cursed at himself. It had been a stupid, stupid thing to say. “I just meant—”
“But these are just worksheet details,” Thrawn interrupted. “The answer is, no, he can’t afford for Primea to see his weakness.” He nodded toward the viewport. “As you see.”
“As I see?” Qilori repeated, following Thrawn’s gaze. The four Nikardun Battle Dreadnoughts arrayed against them…
Had become just one. The Deathless was still there, its awesome weaponry still turned toward Thrawn’s freighter. But the other three Battle Dreadnoughts were gone.
“That should make the battle a bit more of a challenge,” Thrawn commented, touching the comm switch. “Provided Admiral Ar’alani hasn’t made too much of a mess of the Nikardun blockade ships. General, are you still there?”
“I’m here, Thrawn.” Abruptly, the display lit up again with Yiv’s face.
Only this wasn’t the cheerful, persuasive, charming friend-of-all-peoples face the Benevolent liked to show his would-be conquests. It wasn’t even the quietly menacing face that Qilori had seen on far too many occasions, a face that never failed to send palpitations through his cheek winglets even when the threat wasn’t directed at him.
This face was something new. This face was pure hatred.
“Your people will die for this,” the Nikardun ground out. “Not just you. Not just your pitiable fleet. All the Chiss. The Ascendancy will die, shredded like grain, ground down like stone, burned like withered grass. Every last cub will die…and you will die here and now, with the certain knowledge that you and you alone were the root and cause of their destruction.”
“All because I cost you your foothold on Primea?” Thrawn asked, his voice and face as calm as Yiv’s were malevolent. “Come now, General. You merely need to step away and start over.” His face hardened. “But I suggest you choose a different part of the Chaos for your next attempt. This region will no longer accept your smiles and promises.”
“How little you know, Chiss.”
“Then enlighten me,” Thrawn invited. “Tell me who you serve, or who follows in your wake. If there’s more to know than just the Nikardun, I’m more than willing to listen.”
Yiv’s mouth opened in a smile that was just as bitterly angry as his glare had been. “Then you’ll forever wonder as I send you to your grave.” Deliberately, he looked down at the two females kneeling in front of him. “But before you leave this life, I’ll show you exactly what I have planned for your entire species.”
The Springhawk had just sent its third Nikardun patrol boat into shredded oblivion when the three Battle Dreadnoughts suddenly flashed into view.
“And the bruisers have arrived,” Kharill announced calmly. “Nice microjump, or whatever they did.”
“Looked like an in-system jump,” Azmordi said from the helm. “Shorter and easier than even a micro.”
“Also doesn’t leave enough backtrail to show where it came from,” Dalvu added grimly. “If they came from Yiv, we still don’t know where he is.”
Which meant they couldn’t go to Thrawn’s aid if he needed them, Samakro knew. Thrawn’s life was in his own hands now. If he’d miscalculated any aspect of the plan—if he stumbled on any of the steps—he would likely die out there. So would a lot of Chiss.
And the Springhawk would be in need of a new captain.
Stop it! Samakro ordered himself. Thrawn was his commander, the rightful master of this ship, and Samakro’s job was to do his duty to Ar’alani and the Ascendancy and to return the Springhawk to its master in the best shape he could.
Which was suddenly a more challenging proposition than it had been thirty seconds ago. “Orders, Admiral?” he called.
“We split them up,” Ar’alani said. “Grayshrike, Whisperbird, Stingfly: Take the one to starboard. I’ll take the one to portside. Springhawk, you move on the middle one. Don’t fully engage, just keep it occupied. Everyone else, watch your backs and continue your attrition of the patrol craft.”
“Acknowledged,” Samakro said. So the Springhawk, all alone against a Battle Dreadnought? Terrific.
“At least she’s not expecting us to destroy it outright,” Kharill said drily. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how we keep something that size occupied?”
Samakro smiled. “As a matter of fact,” he said. “I do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO