Afpriuh nodded. “Ready and targeted.”
“Open communications,” Thrawn said, keying his control. “Prince Militaire of the Paataatus, this is Senior Captain Thrawn. Your actions have been noted, and your intent toward us is clear. Are you prepared to witness the might of the Chiss Ascendancy?”
“Your actions are likewise noted,” Prince Militaire said. “We are prepared. Do your worst.” The comm keyed off.
“A challenge?” Samakro suggested.
“A request,” Thrawn corrected him grimly. “Afpriuh: Launch breachers.”
On the tactical the breacher missiles appeared, arrowing from their tubes. A moment later they became visible out the viewport as they burned through space toward the planet below. Samakro checked the data list, confirmed that Afpriuh had correctly taken the warship cluster’s own orbital velocity into account with the attack trajectory. The group of Paataatus fighters fell back before the missiles, heading toward the cluster but holding station between the missiles and the warships. The countdown mark on the plasma spheres edged toward zero …
“Launch spheres,” Thrawn ordered.
There was a subtle jolt as the four plasma spheres shot away from the Springhawk and chased after the missiles. The Paataatus fighters were still falling back, Samakro saw, but they weren’t nearly as fast as the missiles and were rapidly losing ground. For a bad moment, he thought the prince had misunderstood what Thrawn was doing and would let the fighters take the impacts—
“Fighter maneuvering thrusters activated,” Dalvu called. “Veering aside … fighters clear. Missiles clear to target.”
“Should you warn him?” Samakro asked.
“The Nikardun may hear,” Thrawn said. His voice was steady, but Samakro could hear his commander’s tension. If the prince wasn’t as smart and alert as Thrawn was banking on, the Springhawk was about to abandon this shadowboxing and open real hostilities. “Afpriuh, cease laserfire.”
The sky went back to starlit darkness as the Springhawk and then the Paataatus fighters ceased their sham battle. The breachers were nearly to the warships, the plasma spheres right on their tails. Samakro held his breath, feeling an odd sense that everyone else, Chiss and Paataatus alike, was doing likewise …
And on the sensor display, the top cruiser of the stack veered violently to starboard, moving clear of the incoming missiles. The frigate beneath it, its larger size and mass making that particular maneuver impossible, instead executed a portside roll, pitching up on its left side and getting clear of the missiles’ path. Samakro got a glimpse of the cruiser beneath it, flying on its back with its missile tubes pointed in clear threat at the prince’s ship as the breachers blazed past the frigate and slammed into it.
The missiles were still splashing the cruiser with acid, burning away electrostatic barrier nodes and missile control circuits, when the plasma spheres impacted. The concentrated bursts of ions added their destruction to that of the breachers, wrecking control systems and turning the cruiser into a paralyzed mass of metal and ceramic.
And as the last running light on the cruiser winked out, the frigate and the rest of the cruisers opened fire.
Not with low-power weapons, as the fighters had against the Springhawk. The whole area blazed with light as seemingly every laser on the Paataatus ships targeted the disabled cruiser, blasting away huge chunks of hull and inner structure, shattering section after section after section. Superheated liquids and gases spewed outward, secondary explosions of missiles and laser capacitors racked the remaining structure.
And then, with one final barrage, it was over.
For a long moment, the Springhawk’s bridge was silent. Samakro stared at the drifting debris that had once been a warship, feeling a little sick despite himself. He’d seen death and destruction, but seldom seen such cold and absolute fury.
Across the bridge, Brisch cleared his throat. “Senior Captain? The Prince Militaire is signaling.”
“Thank you.” Thrawn touched the switch. “This is Senior Captain Thrawn,” he said. “I trust all is in hand?”
“All is in hand, Senior Captain,” the Prince Militaire said. His voice, Samakro noted, was completely calm, in eerie contrast with the ferocity of the attack. “Our would-be Nikardun enslavers are dead.”
“They were all in the enhanced cruiser?”
“All those that mattered. The leaders, and those who directly threatened my life in trade for the cooperation of all the Hiveborn. Those who remain on the hive-home will be dealt with.” The prince paused. “Are dealt with,” he corrected, still calm. “There are tales that the Chiss Ascendancy has dealt with all other Nikardun?”
“There may yet be small pockets of resistance,” Thrawn said. “But they will not last much longer. Nor are they likely to extend their reach to Paataatus space.”
“They certainly will not,” the prince said, and Samakro could hear both promise and threat in his voice. “In past days the Hiveborn have faced you to their regret, Senior Captain Thrawn. It was a unique experience to have you as an ally.”
“The Ascendancy was glad it could be of service,” Thrawn said. “The Nikardun have been a blot upon the Chaos for too long. Then we are finished here?”
“By no means, Senior Captain Thrawn,” the prince said. “By no means.”
Samakro looked at the tactical, a tingle on the back of his neck. Those Paataatus fighters were still out there, many of them still in combat range. A quick retuning of their lasers to full power …
“You said you had a question,” the prince continued. “If the Paataatus can answer it, we will be honored to do so.”
The Grand Migration on Shihon was a confluence of a dozen or more bird species, each crossing migration paths with the others in a large area of fields, ponds, and rolling hills. Most of the birds stayed for a while, eating and resting until the next wave of incoming travelers pushed them out. The whole event took a full month, turning the place into a wonderland for serious bird-watchers.
As Haplif had predicted, they arrived a day late for the event, shortly after the first vanguard scouts from the incoming flocks arrived, but well before the flocks themselves were due to make their appearance. Hopefully, Yomie would be content with that.
The Agbui ship was assigned a spot on one of the landing fields a few kilometers from the edge of the migration assembly site. An hour later, attendance chits and maps in hand, Yoponek and Yomie joined the other bird enthusiasts on the railcar system that would take everyone within walking distance of the event.
With the two Chiss finally gone, it was time for Haplif’s meeting with Jixtus.
No one was standing guard at the freighter’s entrance when Haplif arrived. The hatch opened at a twist of the release handle, and he took a couple of steps into the air lock to get out of view from outside. There he paused and pulled back his hood. “Haplif of the Agbui, reporting as ordered,” he announced to the empty room.
In response, the inner hatch slid open, revealing a long corridor heading forward. As Haplif started walking, another hatch a few meters ahead also slid open, soft light from the room behind it spilling out into the corridor. Bracing himself, he walked to the hatchway and stepped through it.
He’d expected to find himself in an office. Instead, the room was a meditation center, with colored drift tendrils intertwining around floating light globes over thick tactile carpet and self-contouring anatomic chairs. Jixtus was nestled into one of the chairs, hidden beneath his usual robe, hood, and veil. One of his gloved hands was making small movements in time with the quiet music playing in the background. “Haplif of the Agbui,” he said in greeting, the waving hand interrupting its rhythm long enough to point to one of the other chairs. “Sit.”