What made it more disturbing was the fact that Ar’alani and Thrawn had a long history together, going all the way back to the Taharim Academy.
It was unthinkable that a flag officer would show favoritism toward any one family or group of families. That was the whole idea behind stripping the higher ranks of their family connections. But the undeniable fact remained that Thrawn seemed to get all the assignments that were heavy with potential honor.
Unfortunately, there was no way to prove anything improper was going on. At least, not yet.
She checked the chrono. The Grayshrike wouldn’t need to go all the way to Rapacc, of course, but only within range of the ship-to-ship comm. At their current speed, that would be another twenty to twenty-six hours.
She looked across at the navigational station, where the small hands and delicate fingers of their sky-walker, Bet’nih, were visible around the edge of the chair. A few years ago, on one of Lakinda’s previous ships, the captain had been able to nudge a little more speed out of their sky-walker by giving her extra helpings of the treats that particular girl had loved. Maybe, at Bet’nih’s next break, Lakinda would see if she was similarly open to such bribery.
Bet’nih, it turned out, was extremely partial to a particular type of dark cheese, a blend that Lakinda herself rather enjoyed. Unfortunately, Lakinda’s promises of an extra bar from her private stockpile, while enthusiastically accepted, made no difference in the seven-year-old’s navigational proficiency. Twenty-nine hours after leaving the Vigilant, twenty-three after the idea of a bribe had first occurred to Lakinda, the Grayshrike came out of hyperspace into the center of a magnificent array of cold-edged stars.
Like the hyperspace spectacle itself, Lakinda had long since ceased to notice any of that splendor.
“Signaling the Springhawk now, Captain,” Apros called, peering over the comm officer’s shoulder. “Strength at full; directionals two degrees off optimum.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said, resisting the impulse to order them to clear those last two degrees. The comm’s primary focal cone covered a solid 20 percent of the sky in that direction, putting Rapacc well within the tolerances.
Behind her, the hatch opened, and she turned to see Bet’nih’s caregiver step onto the bridge. “Caregiver Soomret,” she greeted the other woman. “I was about to call you. I believe Bet’nih’s due for a meal and a sleep period.”
“Yes, I was just coming to tell you that,” Soomret said. “I do hate it when you military types forget about the needs of our sky-walkers.”
“We appreciate that you’re here to remind us,” Lakinda said, making sure to filter the sarcasm out of her voice.
Which wasn’t easy, given that Bet’nih’s official schedule actually marked her break time as having started nearly half an hour ago. Granted, the girl had still been navigating the ship in Third Sight at that time; but if Soomret was really on top of things she should have arrived on the bridge then. That close to the end of a cycle she couldn’t have ordered Lakinda to stop the ship, but she could at least have stood there giving everyone on the bridge the stink eye until they released Bet’nih into her care.
To Lakinda, that delay strongly suggested that Soomret was being just as casual about her duties as some previous caregivers aboard the Grayshrike had been over the years, and that her current vocal indignation was largely for Bet’nih’s benefit. Probably designed to give the girl the comfortable impression that her caregiver was looking out for her more than Soomret’s behavior actually indicated.
Which was also, unfortunately, the way Lakinda herself now had to play it. She’d been on ships where the sky-walker was anxious or overstressed or could see conflict between her caregiver and the ship’s officers, and that never ended well. “Bet’nih?” she called, turning back toward the nav station.
The girl peeked anxiously around the back of the chair. Her eyes flicked to Soomret, then back to Lakinda. “Yes, Senior Captain?”
“Your caregiver’s here,” Lakinda told her. “Time for a meal and some rest.”
“Okay,” Bet’nih said. She unfastened her restraints and climbed out of the chair. For a moment she staggered, but the pilot, Wikivv, was ready and caught her arm in a steadying grip. “Sorry,” the girl murmured, sounding embarrassed.
“It’s all right,” Wikivv soothed. Still holding the girl’s arm, she popped her own restraints and stood up, and together they made their way over to Lakinda and Soomret. “Caregiver,” Wikivv said. Her voice was steady, Lakinda noted, and as carefully nonjudgmental as Lakinda had herself tried to sound a moment ago.
“Thank you,” Soomret said perfunctorily. Gesturing Wikivv back, she stepped forward and took Bet’nih’s arm in her own grip. “Come along, Bet’nih.”
“Are we going any farther today, Senior Captain?” Bet’nih asked as Soomret steered her toward the hatchway.
“No, we’re done for now,” Lakinda said. “Go get some food and relax.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bet’nih said. She gave Lakinda a tentative smile, and then she and Soomret walked off the bridge together.
“I really don’t think she cares much for her,” Wikivv said, gazing back at the closed hatch.
“Soomret doesn’t care for Bet’nih?” Lakinda asked. “Or the other way around?”
Wikivv gave a little snort. “In my experience, if it goes one way it usually goes both.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Lakinda conceded. “Nice catch, by the way. Does that happen often?”
“Temporary loss of balance?” Wikivv shrugged. “It’s not uncommon. Particularly with the younger sky-walkers, those under the age of ten or eleven. They tend to get woozy if they spend more than five or six hours in a row in Third Sight.” Her lip twitched. “That’s not a criticism of you, Senior Captain,” she added quickly. “That was also the case on my last two ships. I’ve often felt there’s a serious disconnect between reality and the Council’s manual.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,” Lakinda said. So five or six hours, a number that presumably included all the mandated breaks, left younger sky-walkers unsteady … yet official regulations permitted a sky-walker to run a full nine hours at a stretch under normal circumstances, and up to twelve in emergencies.
Six hours versus nine. A serious disconnect, indeed. Something Lakinda should take up with someone in Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk’s office the next time she was on Csilla. “Keep an eye on her,” she told Wikivv. “Make sure she doesn’t get overloaded.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a nod, Wikivv headed back to her seat.
Lakinda shifted her attention to the comm station. “Commander Shrent?” she prompted.
“No response, Captain,” Shrent reported. “Multiple attempts, all standard frequencies and encryptions.”
Lakinda gazed out at the stars, weighing the options. She’d assumed that Thrawn would still be at Rapacc when the Grayshrike got within comm range, but maybe that wasn’t the case. If he’d finished up his errand faster than Ar’alani had assumed, he might already be on his way back to the Ascendancy or possibly heading to regroup with the Vigilant.
If he was going either place, then Lakinda’s job was basically over. While the Springhawk was in hyperspace all communications were cut off, but once it was back in space-normal he would presumably get the Syndicure’s message, either directly or from Ar’alani.
But that assumed he’d had clear directives for what to do after Rapacc and, more critically, that he’d actually followed those directives. If he’d gone off on some tangent instead, he could be anywhere. Without knowing when he’d left or where he was going, aiming a transmission and coordinating it with the Springhawk’s sky-walker’s break schedule would be tricky.