Only now it was no longer just the two cruisers in the calculation. Now there were also the fourteen remote-controlled gunboats salvaged from the Watith attack.
Samakro didn’t especially like Thrawn’s plan. Neither did Apros, and Senior Captain Lakinda hadn’t sounded very enthusiastic about it, either. But Samakro had thought long and hard over the past couple of days, and he’d been unable to come up with anything better.
And so now here he was, pacing slowly up and down the narrow aisle between the twenty remote-control consoles in the Watith freighter, putting the fourteen men and women through yet another hour of practice, drills, and simulated combat. Making sure they were as prepared for what was to come as they could possibly be.
“Mid Captain Samakro?”
Samakro paused. Laknym, seated halfway down the aisle, was looking toward him. The plasma sphere specialist’s hand was half raised, and his expression was troubled. “A question, Lieutenant Commander?” Samakro asked as he walked over to him.
“Yes, sir,” Laknym said. He paused, waiting until Samakro was standing over him. “I understand the reasons for this, sir,” he said, lowering his voice. “I understand that I’m under orders—”
“You volunteered for this job, did you not?” Samakro asked.
“Yes, sir, I did,” Laknym said. “But Senior Captain Thrawn is my commander. I consider a request from him, even if it’s for volunteers, to be the same thing as an order.”
“I see,” Samakro said. That was exactly the kind of attitude of loyalty, commitment, and obedience the fleet liked to see in their officers and warriors. “What’s your question?”
He saw Laknym’s throat work. “Sir … I’m being asked to fire on my own family’s ships.”
“Yes, you are,” Samakro agreed. “And you know the reason for that. You and the other Xodlak on this team are the ones most familiar with your ships’ weaponry and defenses.”
“Yes, sir, and I understand that.” He hesitated again. “Here’s my problem, sir. The Xodlak are allies of the Irizi. Senior Captain Thrawn is of the Mitth, rivals of the Irizi. I’m wondering … do you think there might be … could there be a political aspect to this?”
“An excellent question,” Samakro agreed. “Let me give you a simple answer: no.”
Laknym frowned. “No, sir?”
“No,” Samakro repeated. “I understand your concern, especially under the circumstances. But the truth is …”
He paused, looking down the aisle at the other men and women working busily on their drills. “The truth, Laknym, is that I’ve been Thrawn’s first officer since he came aboard. I’ve watched him in battles, in preparation for battles, in the aftermath of battles, and dealing with Aristocra and senior officers.”
He looked back at Laknym. “And I have never—never—seen anyone as utterly incompetent at politics as he is.”
For a moment Laknym just frowned up at him. Then slowly, the frown relaxed. “You’re saying, sir, that Senior Captain Thrawn isn’t playing politics here because he never plays politics?”
“I’m saying,” Samakro corrected, “that Senior Captain Thrawn never plays politics because he doesn’t know how to play politics.” He took a deep breath, huffed it out. “Bottom line. When Thrawn comes up with a plan, it’s strictly military. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yes, sir,” Laknym said. “I understand.”
“And this is a good plan,” Samakro added. “It’ll work, and it’ll work well.” He inclined his head. “And now I believe you have some drills to run?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Laknym said. “Thank you, sir.” He gave Samakro a brisk nod and turned back to his console.
For another moment Samakro watched over Laknym’s shoulder as he jumped back into his part of the simulation.
And realized to his mild surprise that his pep talk had worked better than he’d expected. Not only had he convinced Laknym that Thrawn’s plan would succeed, he’d actually convinced himself.
But only if these fourteen men and women did their job.
Stepping away from Laknym’s console, he resumed his slow walk down the aisle, watching each of them in turn, ready to offer advice or correction or encouragement.
Because, really, a plan was only as good as the people executing it. And Samakro had no intention of letting these fourteen fail because of him.
The star-flares faded into stars, and the Midsummer had arrived.
“Sensors, full scan,” Lakinda ordered, doing a quick visual through the viewport. Time to see if shaving a few hours off their journey had paid off.
“Combat range clear, Senior Captain,” the sensor officer reported. “Mid-range clear. Far range … clear.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said, breathing a little easier. The extra work had indeed paid off. Just as she’d hoped, the Xodlak ships had beaten the other two families here. “Continue scan. Helm, take us in.”
From his position beside Lakinda’s command chair, the first officer cleared his throat. “I believe, Senior Captain, that Councilor Lakuviv said you were to announce our mission at this point.”
“Yes, First, he did,” Lakinda said, looking casually at the tactical display. It was still filling in as the sensors continued to collect data, but so far there was nothing out there. “It was reported to Councilor Lakuviv that this planet may be home to one or more mines and rare ore deposits. Our mission is to locate those mines and assess their value.”
“To assess a mining operation?” First asked, staring at her. “Forgive me, Senior Captain, but that strikes me as not only flimsy but also ludicrous.”
“I’m just telling you what Senior Aide Lakjiip told me,” Lakinda said, meeting and holding his gaze.
“I don’t believe it,” First said flatly. “No Patriel would haul in family members from all over the Ascendancy for something that trivial.”
“Or activate a frigate and cruiser to bring us all here,” the second officer added, his face just as suspicious as First’s. “There has to be more to it than that, Senior Captain.”
“And we want to know what it is, ma’am,” First said. “All of it.”
“Or?” Lakinda asked, layering some ice beneath her calmness. Thrawn had said the Springhawk would be waiting for them. Where was he?
First didn’t even twitch. “You’re the commander, Senior Captain,” he said with the same icy calmness. “You can refuse to tell us. But if you do, there will be consequences down the line.”
“Are you threatening me, First?” Lakinda asked, still keeping her tone calm. If Thrawn didn’t get in here fast—
“Not at all, ma’am.” He drew himself up. “But bear in mind that while I may be only a junior captain, I am Xodlak blood.”
“So noted,” Lakinda said, her heart sinking a little. In the fleet, such distinctions in family rank were meaningless.
But at this time and place they weren’t Ascendancy officers. This was a Xodlak operation, and First’s status meant he would have receptive ears in the Patriarch’s office that would be closed to Lakinda. If this whole thing turned belly-up—
“Contact!” Sensors spoke up sharply. “Multiple contacts. Five … no, six. Six incoming ships. Two groups, each with three ships.”
“Acknowledged,” Lakinda said, looking at the tactical. The Erighal and Pommrio, undoubtedly. Fortunately, they hadn’t jumped in right on top of each other. Or on top of the Midsummer and Apogee, either.