“I’m—” He turned the comm around and offered it to her. “This. It just came in.”
Lakinda peered at the note on the display.
From: Xodlak’oo’nifis, Patriel of Celwis
To: all Xodlak Expansionary Defense Fleet officers and warriors
A Xodlak family emergency has been declared for Celwis. All officers and warriors not currently engaged in combat operations or imminent threat situations are to take immediate leave and assemble at Celwis for vital military operations.
“It came in under the family encryption,” Lakwurn said. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to do.”
“The summons seems clear enough,” Lakinda said, handing him back his comm and pulling out her own. If Lakwurn had gotten a summons, why hadn’t she?
She had. She’d just been too busy to notice it.
She’d read about family emergency protocol at the academy, she remembered now. But even then it had seemed like something ancient, even quaint, a procedure that harked back to the Ascendancy’s early days. Apparently, it was still active.
And Lakwurn’s question was a damn good one.
The Grayshrike wasn’t engaged in combat or in an imminent threat situation. True, it was on its way to assist the Springhawk, and at some point her ship might end up in one or both of those categories. But the protocol didn’t consider vague future possibilities.
Where did her loyalties lie? She’d sworn an oath to the fleet and the Ascendancy, but she was also a member of the Xodlak family. A case could also be made that a crisis in the Xodlak also contained within it a crisis in the Ascendancy as a whole. Without knowing any of the emergency’s specifics, there was no way to judge where her skills and rank were most needed and could be used most effectively.
Her family needed her. So did Thrawn and the fleet.
Which imperative did she obey?
She felt her stomach tighten. No. Thrawn needed the Grayshrike. He didn’t necessarily need Lakinda herself.
And if the fleet didn’t expect its officers and warriors to respond to family emergencies like this, this protocol shouldn’t still be in force.
“Your leave is hereby granted,” she told Lakwurn. “Get your kit and report to the weapons hatch.”
“Yes, Senior Captain,” Lakwurn said, sounding uncertain. “Will I need to—how do I arrange transport to Celwis?”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Lakinda said. “Meet me there in ten.”
His eyes widened. “Meet you? I—” He stiffened again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And give me that,” she added, plucking the box from his hand. “I’ll instruct Mid Captain Apros to give it to Thrawn. Go on—move.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lakwurn slipped past her to the hatch and hurried out into the passageway. Lakinda followed more slowly, her mind running through everything that would need to be done before she left. First on that list would be to inform Mid Captain Apros that he was now in command of her ship.
“I tell you, Syndic Thurfian, the UAG is a menace,” the Obbic emissary insisted in a voice that was equal parts passion, fear, and persuasion.
“More than just a menace,” the Clarr sitting beside her added. His tone, Thurfian noted, wasn’t nearly as nuanced as the Obbic’s. “I’ve told you what it’s done to the lake fish. What do you think it’s doing to the people of Sposia?”
Thurfian sighed to himself. The two delegates from Sposia—he’d already forgotten their names in the roiling turmoil of their presentation—had talked for nearly an hour straight, their accusations and unsupported innuendo abating only when one of them paused to send yet another chart or list to his questis. Amid the flurry of words, he still hadn’t heard a single hard fact to support their contention that the Universal Analysis Group was a threat to them, to Sposia, or the Ascendancy as a whole. Or even to the fish.
He had to hear them out, of course. The Obbic were allies of the Mitth, which guaranteed them a fair hearing. The Clarr weren’t allies of any of the other Ruling Families in particular, but they’d always shown a leaning toward the Irizi. Thurfian’s attentiveness to their concerns might help prevent them from moving any closer.
But he’d listened, and he’d studied their charts, and none of the alliances and non-alliances in the Ascendancy required him to sacrifice any more of his day to this nonsense.
“I understand your concerns,” he said in his most conciliatory tone when the recitation finally tapered off. “But I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. The Universal Analysis Group has operated under the auspices of the Stybla for decades without any mishaps.”
“Then why are they so secretive about their operation?” the Obbic demanded. “Sposia is our world. Why can’t we get in to see what they’re doing?”
“And what about the fish?” the Clarr added.
“First of all, Sposia is not your world,” Thurfian said. “Your four families may dominate, but there are thousands of other families and millions of other Chiss living there.”
The Obbic gave a snort. “Lesser families,” she muttered.
“The Ascendancy is home to all,” Thurfian reminded her firmly, trying not to let his irritation show. The Obbic had always tended to look down on everyone who wasn’t of the Nine or the Forty; and while Thurfian may have had some of that same attitude when he was a midager, at least he’d grown out of it. “Furthermore, just because the Stybla oversee the facility doesn’t mean there aren’t personnel from the other Ruling Families involved. There are.”
“What about the fish?” the Clarr pressed.
“The fish aren’t disappearing because of runoff or anything else from the facility,” Thurfian said. “They’re disappearing because the people are overfishing the lake.”
“Impossible,” the Clarr insisted. “We have strict guidelines in place.”
“Best guess is that you also have poachers in place.”
The Clarr drew himself up. “Syndic Thurfian—”
“However, just because there haven’t been any incidents in the past doesn’t mean there might not be some in the future,” Thurfian continued. “I’ll make some inquiries as to the current safety protocols and see if they need to be modified or enhanced. If such is needed, I’ll make sure the changes are implemented.”
The Obbic and Clarr exchanged looks, and Thurfian braced himself. But apparently they’d run out of words, or perhaps merely out of expectations. “Thank you for your time, Syndic,” the Clarr said, rising from his chair and motioning his companion to do likewise. “We’ll look forward to your report on those protocols.”
“You’ll have it within three months,” Thurfian promised. “Good day.”
“Good day.”
They’d been gone for ten minutes, and Thurfian was finalizing the wording of a memo to send to the Universal Analysis Group, when his door opened.
And to his surprise, Speaker Thyklo walked in.
“Speaker,” Thurfian greeted her, scrambling to his feet. For Thyklo to come to the Syndic Prime’s office instead of summoning Thurfian to hers was nearly unheard of. “What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to congratulate you on your handling of the Sposia complaint commission,” Thyklo said, waving Thurfian back down as she carefully eased herself into the seat the Obbic had just vacated. She’d been a vigorous and effective fighter for family interests for many years, but Thurfian had noted that age was finally starting to catch up with her. “I spoke to them briefly on their way out.”