But as she herself had said, they didn’t have time for this.
“This isn’t the end of this matter,” she warned, stepping out of the office.
“Indeed it isn’t,” Second agreed. He moved out of her path and gestured to the two warriors. “Warriors?”
The first warrior turned and headed for the hatch. The second waited until Lakinda had followed, then fell in behind her.
And with that, the entire plan was suddenly balanced on a wobbling edge. Thrawn had counted on her being in command of the Xodlak ships through the whole battle, ready to make any last-minute moves or adjustments that might be needed. Now that advantage was gone.
Only Thrawn didn’t know it. And he never would. Not until it was too late.
For a long moment no one in the freighter command room spoke. Not because everyone was too busy—only seven of the gunboats were still in action—but because everyone understood the repercussions of Senior Captain Lakinda’s suggestion.
Disconnecting the Watith freighter would be easy enough, Samakro knew. It would also be possible to set it on a course that would crash it into the bogus mining area. Thrawn had already planned to cut the freighter loose and destroy it once all the gunboats had been eliminated anyway.
But that destruction was supposed to happen quick and close, before any of the distant family ships could tell that the freighter wasn’t operational. Sending it instead to a crash-landing on the planet would give the observers way too much time to analyze its course and realize it wasn’t under power or command. Especially since at that point they would no longer be distracted by the confusion of a battle.
The obvious plan would be to evacuate the controllers back to the Springhawk right now and send the freighter on its way while the battle was still in progress. Only that wouldn’t work. As soon as the controllers left their posts the remaining gunboats would go inactive, drifting along the way they’d done back at the ambush system when Thrawn had disabled the freighter. At that point, no one could fail to realize something peculiar was going on, and all it would take would be a quick tractoring and examination of one of the gunboats to rip the scheme wide open.
They couldn’t send the freighter now. They couldn’t send it after the battle.
Or rather, as Lakinda had already hinted, they couldn’t send it alone.
Laknym was the first to speak. “Sir?” he said, his eyes still on his displays as he continued his attack on the Xodlak warships. “Senior Captain Lakinda was right. You’re going to need someone to pilot the freighter to the surface. I volunteer for the job.”
“I appreciate that, Lieutenant Commander,” Samakro said, looking around at the control consoles and the other men and women. If they could disassemble one of the gunboat consoles and take it aboard the Springhawk … but they’d already looked at that possibility during the voyage here and concluded the equipment was too complicated and too integrated into the freighter’s own systems. If they could rig up a remote control for the freighter itself … but there was nothing in the Springhawk’s stores they could use for something like that, and they didn’t have time to create one on the fly.
“Sir?” Laknym prompted.
“I heard you,” Samakro growled. “If and when the job comes open, I’ll let you know.”
Could they turn one of the gunboats around now and send it at the planet? A gunboat would survive the trip through the atmosphere as well as the freighter would and destroy the mining area as well.
But after so many of the other fighters had been destroyed in battle, would that look to the family commanders like uncharacteristic and suspicious cowardice? How much suspicion would it take to bring this whole thing down and precipitate the vicious infighting Lakinda had warned them about?
“Mid Captain Samakro?” Thrawn’s voice came from the speaker.
“Yes, sir,” Samakro said with a heavy sigh. “Sir, I think Senior Captain Lakinda is right. The only way to make this work is for someone to stay behind and control the freighter on its last flight. Lieutenant Commander Laknym has volunteered.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn said. “You’re right, Mid Captain, that the freighter needs to be seen as being under command.”
Samakro looked down at Laknym. The other’s throat was tight as he continued to operate his gunboat, but there was no regret in his eyes or his face. “Understood, sir.”
“I don’t think you do, Mid Captain,” Thrawn said calmly. “I said it needed to be seen as being under command. I never said it needed to be piloted.”
Samakro frowned. “Sir?”
“Continue your attack,” Thrawn said. “But make sure you hold one gunboat in reserve for my use.”
“Yes, sir.” Still frowning, Samakro touched Laknym’s shoulder. “That was for you, Lieutenant Commander. Senior Captain Thrawn wants you to keep your gunboat alive.”
He didn’t know what Thrawn was planning. He could only hope that Laknym, too, could be kept alive.
Thalias and Che’ri were playing a game in the sky-walker suite when they got the urgent summons.
Thrawn was standing behind the comm station as the warriors escorted the woman and girl onto the bridge. “Apologies for my silence,” he was saying. “But we were temporarily disabled and briefly boarded, and have only now regained full control of the ship. I understand Senior Captain Lakinda attempted a transmission, but we were unable to properly receive it. Can she take a moment to repeat her message?”
“Captain Lakinda is no longer in command of Task Force Xodlak,” an unfamiliar male voice ground out.
“Has she been injured?”
“She is no longer in command,” the other repeated, “and I have no time to discuss it further. As you can see, we’re engaged in combat.”
“Yes, with the same group of warships that attacked us,” Thrawn said. “May warrior’s fortune smile on your efforts.”
He gestured to the comm officer, who touched a key. “Transmission ended, sir,” he confirmed.
Thrawn nodded and turned back. He spotted Thalias and Che’ri and motioned them toward his command chair.
“Thank you for coming,” he said as the three of them gathered around the chair. “One moment.” He touched the chair’s mike key. “Mid Captain Samakro, are you ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Samakro’s voice came from the chair’s speaker. “The thrusters are primed and the acceleration vector and profile have been triple-checked. Most of my people are already back in the Springhawk, and the rest can be out of here in thirty seconds.”
“Good. Stand by.” Thrawn looked over his shoulder at the comm officer. “Brisch, signal to the Grayshrike. Message: Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Brisch said. “Message sent.”
Thrawn turned back to Thalias and Che’ri. “We have a problem that I’m hoping you can help us fix.”
“We’ll do whatever we can, sir,” Thalias said, taking a step toward the navigator’s station. “Come on, Che’ri.”
“Not there,” Thrawn said, putting out a hand to stop them. “I need you at the weapons station.”
“The weapons station?” Thalias asked, looking down at Che’ri. “Sir, we don’t know anything about weapons or defenses.”
“Actually, Che’ri does have some experience with decoys and decoy deployment,” Thrawn said. “But don’t worry, this isn’t anything like that.”