Thalias puckered her lips. Another of his little teaching moments.
Sometimes she enjoyed these challenges. But with mental images of enemy warships blazing at them out of hyperspace, this didn’t seem like the time and place for such games.
She took a deep breath, trying to think it through. “He wouldn’t be worried about the Vagaari if they were that far away?” she suggested. “Or maybe he wouldn’t even know about them?”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “And?”
“There probably wouldn’t be stragglers coming here from a base that far out?”
“Perhaps. And?”
Thalias scowled at him. What else could there be?
And then she had it. “There’s something in the system they need for the battle,” she said. “An orbiting weapons platform, or maybe a warship that can still fight but can’t leave for some reason. Maybe with a damaged hyperdrive?”
“Or perhaps the warship is simply too undercrewed for some reason,” Thrawn said. “Ironically enough, the Ascendancy itself has a precedent for such things: The warships of former Ruling Families can be used for local system defense but cannot be sent elsewhere except under special circumstances. Whatever the reason, though, I think you’re right. Fsir intends to lure us into range of something large and powerful, and must wait until we’re ready to oblige him.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Thalias said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see it through,” Thrawn said, his voice dark. “If this was orchestrated by the Vagaari, we need to find them and deal a final, killing blow. If it was set up by a hitherto unknown threat, we need to assess their danger to the Ascendancy.”
“Even if it’s a trap?”
Thrawn smiled. “Especially if it’s a trap,” he said. “An enemy bold enough to stage a deliberate attack on a Chiss warship needs to be identified.” He gave a small shrug. “That’s the primary mission of the Expansionary Defense Fleet, after all.”
“Yes,” Thalias agreed reluctantly. “When?”
“Within the next two hours,” Thrawn said, standing up. “We’ve gleaned as much information from our analysis as we’re likely to get, and other conditions are also right. Time to move on to the next stage.” He paused, eyeing her. “You will, of course, keep this conversation to yourself.”
“Certainly,” Thalias promised. “What other conditions are also right?”
“I mean entirely to yourself,” Thrawn said, ignoring her question. “I don’t want Che’ri worrying about what we may be heading into.”
“I understand,” Thalias said. She remembered all too well the effect that excessive worrying could have on Third Sight. A panicked sky-walker was the last thing the Springhawk needed. “I’ll keep it private. What other conditions?”
“We’ll be doing a jump-by-jump to match Fsir’s route, but I’ll want you and Che’ri on station in case we need to move quickly,” Thrawn said. “Mid Captain Samakro will come get you when we’re ready.” With a final nod, he started across the dayroom.
“What about the body parts?” Thalias called after him as a belated thought occurred to her. “You said the analysis was complete. Was there Vagaari genetic material in the body parts?”
“Interesting you should ask,” Thrawn said, pausing beside the hatch. “We found no body parts at all amid the wreckage.”
Thalias frowned. “None?”
“None,” Thrawn said. “That may mean nothing, of course. Explosions as violent as those that destroyed the gunboats scatter debris throughout a large volume of space. It could be that the bodies were thrown too far to be detected before we began our collection. We did find some genetic material, but the results were inconclusive.”
“I see,” Thalias said. “I just … I remember hearing stories that the Vagaari sometimes put captives in special pods on their warships’ hulls to discourage counterattacks.”
“Those weren’t merely stories,” Thrawn said grimly. “Are you thinking they may have done something similar here, with enslaved pilots’ bodies wired with explosives in case of defeat so that their species couldn’t be identified?”
“Something like that,” Thalias said. A horrific idea, with an equally horrific mental image accompanying it.
“From what I saw of the Vagaari, that’s certainly possible,” Thrawn said. “All the more reason to let Fsir take us to the source of the perpetrators.”
“So that we can destroy them?”
“So that we can,” Thrawn said, “and so that we will.”
“As you leave Celwis on your path to making Xodlak family history,” Councilor Lakuviv’s voice came over the Midsummer’s bridge speaker, “I wish to offer one final note of encouragement and admonition. For reasons of security, only your commanders know your true task, which they’ll share with you when the time is right. But know with confidence that the end goal will be well worth all your efforts. From this moment forward your performance will either bring honor and glory to the family, or send it reeling into disaster.”
Seated in her command chair, Lakinda felt anticipation tugging at her. She’d had a few doubts along the way, but Lakuviv’s sheer enthusiasm, like Senior Aide Lakjiip’s, was infectious. A Xodlak-owned nyix mine that could provide warship hulls to the fleet for years to come would certainly bring glory to the family.
And if there was any justice in the Syndicure, there would once again be Ten Ruling Families.
Taking possession of the mines should be easy enough, provided Lakuviv had been right about no other aliens knowing about the mines. If that assumption was wrong—if the Xodlak warships arrived to find other forces waiting for them—they would have to earn back their family’s position the hard way.
But they would do it. They were Xodlak warriors, and their family was counting on them. They would win through.
“You’ll be traveling jump-by-jump for the next few days, which I know can be wearying,” Lakuviv continued. “But be assured that expert pilots and navigators have mapped out your route, and the path you’ve been given is the best and most efficient one available.”
Lakinda nodded to herself. She’d received the route a few hours ago, and had run it past the Midsummer’s pilot, who’d most recently been third pilot on a destroyer. He’d confirmed that it seemed reasonable, and further promised to check it against local conditions at each of the task force’s recalibration and repositioning stops. If he found a better route midway along their journey, they could always switch to that one.
She winced a little. The pilot. The first officer, the second officer, the other bridge officers. She’d been so busy getting the ship ready that she hadn’t had a chance to memorize anyone’s name or even their rank. With all the work yet to do in fine-tuning the ship’s equipment, it was unlikely she could change that social deficiency before they reached their goal, either. Certainly not with her chronic bad memory for names.
Officially, that wasn’t a problem. First, Second, Helm, Weapons, Comm—all such titles and descriptives were legitimate usage for a captain when requesting information or giving orders. But Admiral Ar’alani made it a point to know and use her officers’ names, and ever since the Grayshrike was first attached to Ar’alani’s task force Lakinda had made a point of emulating her superior’s style.
“I emphasize one more time the vital secrecy required,” Lakuviv continued. “There are those who may try to learn details of your mission, and others who may attempt to subvert it. I’ve therefore instructed your comm officers to ignore any and all transmissions except those originating from this office and carrying this protocol.”