“I had the impression they weren’t exactly pleased by my response,” Thurfian said.
“No, but they weren’t nearly as displeased as they might have been,” Thyklo said. “In fact, they said you’d been more helpful than any of the other syndics they’d spoken to.”
“I’m not surprised,” Thurfian said. “They sound like crazed yubals.”
“A common reaction to anything kept out of the public eye, sadly,” Thyklo said. “But you handled it well.” She cocked her head slightly. “If I may say so, you remind me a little of Syndic Thrass. He was also good at appearing to give people what they wanted while simultaneously doing what needed to be done.”
“Really,” Thurfian said, feeling a stirring inside him. “I assume that’s a compliment.”
“Very much so,” Thyklo said with a smile. “Thrass wasn’t as skilled at it as you are, but he definitely had the talent. A terrible shame that we lost him.”
“Yes. To Thrawn.”
“Or to circumstances,” Thyklo said. “It’s easy to place blame, but it’s not always productive. Or always accurate.” She stood up, keeping one hand on the armrest for balance as she did so. “I’ll let you get back to work now. I just wanted to stop by and express my appreciation.” She smiled lopsidedly. “Along with everything else, you saved me having to sit for an hour and listen to them.” With a friendly nod, she turned and left the office.
For a moment Thurfian stared at the closed door, his mind spinning. Thyklo coming to his office; Thyklo complimenting him on his negotiation skill; Thyklo even comparing him to Thrass, whose memory was still achingly fresh for many of the Aristocra.
And then, there were the rumors. Rumors that Thyklo was growing weary of the stress of being Speaker. Rumors that she was looking to retire, or to be named as Patriel on one of the quieter Ascendancy worlds. Rumors that at least two Patriels were also looking to retire. If all those rumors happened to come together …
Firmly, Thurfian put the thought out of his mind. Right now, his only goal was to prove that he would be a good and competent Speaker. The timing of that opening, whenever it happened, would take care of itself.
Picking up his questis, he got back to work.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Breakout in thirty seconds,” Samakro called from his position behind the Springhawk’s weapons station.
Standing behind Che’ri, Thalias stifled a yawn. Most of their search pattern had been short flights, but this particular one had been long enough that Thrawn had opted to use their sky-walker instead of the slower jump-by-jump method.
Which was all to the good as far as Thalias was concerned. Ever since they’d left the Paataatus behind and started their pirate search, Che’ri had mostly been sitting around the suite with nothing to do but eat, sleep, do her lessons, play, and slowly go stir-crazy.
On most of the Springhawk’s trips, Thalias’s largest problem was coping with their sky-walker’s fatigue and stress. Dealing with a ten-year-old’s boredom was an entirely different challenge.
What made it worse was that there was no defined end in sight. The Chaos was a huge place, and even with information from the Paataatus narrowing it down there were hundreds of star systems where a pirate gang could lurk. Thrawn’s decision to confine their search to systems containing planets the Vagaari could live on narrowed things down enormously, but even Thalias knew that choice was largely arbitrary. She could understand the advantage of having someplace available nearby to retreat to if something suddenly went sour, but there was no guarantee the Vagaari thought that same way.
Eventually, of course, Thrawn would have to give up and return to the Ascendancy. The question was whether he would admit defeat before Che’ri got hold of a tool kit and started taking apart all their furniture.
Che’ri inhaled sharply in her Third Sight trance, her hands moving seemingly of their own volition across the controls. Thalias looked down as the girl shut down the hyperdrive and pulled them back into space-normal. Resting her hands reassuringly on Che’ri’s shoulders, Thalias looked up at the starscape that once again surrounded the ship—
“Laserfire!” Afpriuh snapped from the weapons console.
—and the space battle blazing in the near distance almost directly ahead of them.
“Stand by weapons,” Thrawn said calmly from his command chair. “Dalvu?”
“I make it four ships,” Dalvu called, hunching over her displays. “Three fighter-class attackers, probably gunships; one medium-sized defender, probably a freighter. All configurations unknown, but they don’t look Paataatus to me.”
“I agree,” Thrawn said. “Though they do bear some resemblance to ancient artifacts we’ve uncovered from the region northeast-zenith of here.”
“Captain, we’re being hailed,” Brisch spoke up. “The freighter captain is requesting assistance.”
Thrawn didn’t answer. Thalias looked over her shoulder, to see that he was leaning forward as he gazed out the viewport at the battle, his eyes narrowed, his forehead creased in thought. Thalias looked at Samakro, found he was also watching Thrawn. The first officer’s expression, in contrast with his commander’s, was not so much thoughtful as slightly puzzled.
“Sir?” Brisch prompted hesitantly.
“I heard you,” Thrawn said. For another moment he continued to watch the battle. Then, with a microscopic nod, he leaned back in his chair and touched the comm key.
“—urgently needed,” a wheezing voice rattled off in the Minnisiat trade language. “Repeat: Unknown warship, this is Captain Fsir aboard the freighter Saltbarrel. We have come under attack by violent and evil marauders. Please, your aid is urgently needed.”
“Sir,” Samakro said, a hint of warning in his voice.
Thrawn inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Thalias thought she spotted a hint of a smile as he keyed the mike. “This is Senior Captain Thrawn of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet warship Springhawk,” he said in Minnisiat. “My apologies, but we are engaged in a vital mission that forbids us to stop and assist others.”
Thalias frowned. Engaged in a vital mission? She’d never heard that rule before.
From the look on Samakro’s face, neither had he. “Senior Captain?” he murmured.
Thrawn muted the mike. “I have a suspicion, Mid Captain,” he said, nodding toward the distant battle. “Let’s see what they do.”
The wait wasn’t long. Even as Samakro also turned to the viewport, one of the gunboats broke off its attack on the freighter and headed for the Springhawk. “As I expected,” Thrawn said. “Afpriuh, prepare spectrum lasers for return fire.”
“Yes, sir,” Afpriuh said. “Should I prep spheres and breachers?”
“I think not,” Thrawn said. “The lasers should be sufficient.”
Che’ri muttered something, and Thalias felt the shoulder muscles under her hands tense up. The girl hadn’t seen a lot of combat, but she’d seen enough to know that the standard Chiss three-layer response was usually necessary to take out even a warship as small as a gunboat.
But Thrawn wasn’t going to do that. What did he know, Thalias wondered, that she didn’t?
The gunboat reached combat range and opened fire, raking the Springhawk with a pair of heavy lasers as it simultaneously made a hard turn to evade return fire. “Sir?” Afpriuh asked, his hands poised on the firing controls.
“A moment, Senior Commander,” Thrawn said. The gunboat curved around and again fired, its lasers again skittering across the Springhawk’s hull. It started to turn again as it had before—