Star Wars: Outbound Flight

11

One minute to breakout,“ the helmsman called.

“Acknowledged,” Thrawn replied. “Warriors, stand ready.”

Standing behind the commander’s chair, Car’das stole a look at Maris. Her face looked a little pale above the wide collar of her vac suit, but her eyes were clear and her jaw firmly set.

Probably looking forward to Thrawn being all noble and honorable, he thought sourly. Waiting for him to bolster her already stratospheric opinion of him. Women.

So what in blazes was he doing here?

“If the reports are accurate, we’ll arrive in a safe area a short way beyond the outer edge of the battle zone,” Thrawn said, his eyes dropping to the helmets gripped in their hands.

“Still, it would be wise for you to have your helmets already in place.”

“We can get them on fast enough if we need to,” Maris assured him.

Thrawn hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Then stand ready.”

He swiveled back to face forward. Car’das watched the countdown timer, his mouth feeling uncomfortably dry; and as it hit zero the starlines appeared out of the hyperspace sky and collapsed into stars.

And through the canopy he found himself staring at the most horrific sight he’d ever witnessed.

It wasn’t the simple pirate attack he’d expected, with three or four Vagaari marauders preying on a freighter or starliner. Stretched out before them, writhing against the backdrop of a cloud-flecked blue-green world, were at least two hundred ships of various sizes locked in battle, linked together in twos or threes or groups by savage exchanges of laser- and missile fire. In the distance, on the far side of the planet, he could see the glittering points of a hundred more ships, silently waiting their turn.

And through the swirling combat drifted the debris and bodies and dead hulks of perhaps twenty more ships.

This wasn’t a pirate attack. This was a war.

“Interesting,” Thrawn murmured. “I seem to have miscalculated.”

“No kidding,” Car’das said, the words coming out like an amphibian’s croak. He wanted to tear his eyes away from the carnage but found himself unable to do so. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Thrawn said. “I knew the battle would be of this scale. What I hadn’t realized was the Vagaari’s true nature.” He pointed through the canopy at the distant cluster of ships. “You see those other vessels?”

“The ones waiting their turn to fight?”

“They’re not here to fight,” Thrawn corrected him.

“Those are the civilians.”

“Civilians?” Car’das peered out at the distant points oflight. “How can you tell?”

“By the way they’re grouped in defensive posture, with true war vessels set in screening positions around them,” Thrawn said. “The error I spoke of was that the Vagaari aren’t simply a strong, well-organized pirate force. They’re a completely nomadic species.”

“Is that a problem?” Maris asked. She was gazing calmly at the panorama, Car’das noted with a touch of resentment, almost as calmly as she’d faced the piles of bodies aboard the Vagaari treasure ship.

“Very much so,” Thrawn told her, his voice grim.

“Because it implies in turn that all their construction, support, and maintenance facilities are completely mobile.”

“So?” Car’das asked.

“So it will do us no good to capture one of the attackers and use its navigational system to locate their homeworld,”

Thrawn said patiently. “There is no homeworld.” He gestured out at the battle. “Unless we can destroy all of their war vessels at once, they will simply melt away into the vastness of interstellar space and regroup.”

Car’das looked at Maris, feeling a fresh wave of tension ripple through him. A bare handful of ships at his disposal, and he was talking about destroying an entire alien war machine?

“Uh, Commander…”

“Calm yourself, Car’das,” Thrawn said soothingly. “I don’t propose to destroy them here and now. Interesting.” He pointed out into the melee. “Those two damaged defenders, the ones trying to escape. You see them?”

“No,” Car’das said, looking around. As far as he could tell, no part of the battle area looked any different from any other part.

“Over there,” Maris said. Pulling him close to her, she stretched out her arm for him to sight along. “Those two shipsheading to starboard with a triangle of fighters behind them.”

“Okay, right,” Car’das said as he finally spotted them.

“What about them?”

“Why haven’t they jumped to hyperspace?” Thrawn asked. “Their engines and hyperdrives appear intact.”

“Maybe they feel it would be dishonorable to abandon their world,” Maris suggested.

“Then why run at all?” Car’das said, frowning at the scenario. The fighters were rapidly closing, and the escapers were already far enough outside the planet’s gravitational field to make the jump to lightspeed. There was no reason he could see how further delay would gain them anything.

“Car’das is correct,” Thrawn said. “I wonder… there!”

Abruptly, with a flicker of pseudomotion, the lead ship had made the jump to safety. A moment later, the second also flickered and vanished.

“I don’t get it,” Car’das said, frowning as the pursuing fighters broke off and curved back toward the main part of the battle. “What were they waiting for? Clearance?”

“In a sense, yes,” Thrawn said. “Clearance from the laws of physics.”

“But they were already clear of the planet’s gravity field.”

“From the planet’s field, yes,” Thrawn said. “But not from the Vagaari’s.”

He looked up at them again, a glitter in his glowing eyes. “It appears the Vagaari have learned how to create a pseudogravfield.”

Car’das felt his jaw drop. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“The theory’s been around for years,” Maris said, her voice suddenly thoughtful. “We used to talk about it at school.

But it’s always required too much energy and too big a generator configuration to be practical.”

“It would seem the Vagaari have solved both problems,” Thrawn said.

Car’das gave him a sideways look. There was something in the commander’s voice and expression that he didn’t care for at all. “And this means what to us?” he asked cautiously.

Thrawn gestured at the canopy. “The Vagaari are obviously using it to keep their prey from escaping until they can be obliterated. I think perhaps I could find more interesting uses for such a device.”

Car’das felt his stomach tighten. “No. Oh, no. You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Thrawn countered, his eves sweeping methodically across the battle scene. “Their main attention is clearly elsewhere, and whatever defenses they have around their gravity projectors will be arrayed against a possible sortie from their victims.”

“You assume.”

“I saw how they defended their treasure ship,” Thrawn reminded him. “I believe I have a good sense for their tactics.”

Which, translated, meant that Car’das had zero chance of talking him out of this lunatic scheme. “Maris?”

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “Besides, he’s right. If we want to grab a projector, this is the time to do it.”

Something cold settled into the pit of Car’das’s stomach. We? Was Maris starting to actually identify herself with these aliens?

“There,” Thrawn said abruptly, pointing. “That large spherical gridwork.”

“I see it,” Car’das said with a sigh of resignation. The sphere was near the Chiss edge of the battle, where they could get to it without haying to charge halfway through the fighting.

There were three large warships hovering protectively between it and the main combat area, but only a handful of Vagaari fighters actually within combat range of it.

A tempting, practically undefended target. Of course Thrawn was going to go for it. “I’d just like to remind everyone that all we have is the Springhawk and six heavy fighters,” he pointed out.

“And Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Maris murmured.

Thrawn inclined his head to her, then swiveled around toward the port side of the bridge. “Tactical analysis?”

“We’ve located five more of the projectors, Commander,” the Chiss at the sensor station reported. “All are at the edges of the battle area, all more or less equally well defended.”

“Analysis of the projector layout and the jump pattern of the escaped vessels indicates the gravity shadow is roughly cone-shaped,” another added.

“Are the three defending war vessels within the cone?”

Thrawn asked.

“Yes, sir.” The Chiss touched a key and an overlay appeared on the canopy, showing a wide, pale blue cone stretching outward from the gridwork sphere into the battle zone.

“As you see, the three main defenders are inside the cone, which limits their options,” Thrawn pointed out to Car’das and Maris. “And all three vessels are positioned with their main drives pointing toward the projector. Years of success with thistechnique has apparently made them overconfident.”

“Though those close-in fighters are dipping in and out of the cone,” Car’das pointed out.

“They won’t be a problem,” Thrawn said. “Does the projector itself appear collapsible?”

“Unable to obtain design details at this distance without using active sensors,” the Chiss at the sensor station reported.

“Then we’ll need a closer look,” Thrawn concluded.

“Signal the fighters to prepare for combat; hyperspace course setting of zero-zero-four by zero-five-seven.”

“Hyperspace setting?” Car’das echoed, frowning. Back at their first tangle with the Vagaari, Thrawn had successfully pulled off a fractional-minute microjump. But their target sphere was way too close for that trick to work now.

And then, beside him, he heard Maris’s sudden chuckle. “Brilliant,” she murmured.

“What’s brilliant?” Car’das demanded.

“The course setting,” she said, pointing. “He’s sending them to the edge of the gravity cone, the edge right by the projector.”

“Ah,” Car’das said, grimacing. Of course there was no need for an impossibly short microjump here. The fighters could head into hyperspace as if they intended to make it their permanent home, relying on the field itself to snap them out again at precisely the spot where Thrawn wanted them.

“Once in place, they’re to clear out the enemy fighters and create a defensive perimeter between the projector and the war vessels,” Thrawn continued. “The Springhawk will follow and attempt to retrieve the sphere.”

Car’das squeezed his hands into fists. Verystraightforward… unless they missed the edge of the cone they were aiming for and got pulled out somewhere in the middle of the battle instead. Or unless such a short jump fried all their hyperdrives, which would lead to the same result.

“Assault Teams One and Two are to prepare for out-hull operation,” Thrawn said. “There will most likely be an operational crew aboard the projector; they’re to locate and neutralize with minimal damage to the projector itself. They’ll be joined by Chief Engineer Yal’avi’kema and three of his crew, who will either find a way to collapse the projector to a size we can take aboard or else attach it as is to our hull for transport. All groups are to signal when ready.”

The minutes crept by. Car’das watched the battle, wincing at each defender that flared and died under the merciless assault and wondering how long Thrawn’s own luck would hold out. Certainly the Chiss ships had proved their exceptional stealth capabilities back when they’d sneaked up on both the Bargain Hunter and Progga’s ship. But even so, sooner or later someone on the Vagaari side was bound to notice them sitting quietly out here.

Fortunately, Thrawn’s crew also recognized the need for haste. Three minutes later, the fighters and assault teams had all signaled their readiness.

“Stand by, fighters,” Thrawn said, his eyes on the battle. “Fighters attack… now.” In the distance there was a flicker of pseudomotion, and the six Chiss fighters appeared in a loose line just off the projector’s starboard side. “Helm: prepare to follow.”

Thrawn had called the enemy’s defense setup overconfident, but there was nothing sloppy about their response to this unexpected threat. Even as the Chiss fighters swung into their attack the Vagaari ships began to spread out, trying to deprive the intruders of clustered targets as they returned fire with lasers and missiles.

Unfortunately for them, their attackers’ commander had already seen Vagaari fighter tactics in action. The enemyships got off perhaps two shots each before the Chiss settled into their own counterattack and the Vagaari fighters began exploding. Less than a minute after their sudden arrival, the Chiss held the field alone.

Alone, but not unnoticed. In the near distance, the three larger warships were beginning to respond, their aft batteries opening fire as they began ponderously turning around.

“Fighters: take defensive positions,” Thrawn ordered.

“Helm: go.”

Car’das set his teeth. The stars began their usual stretch into starlines; then with a horrible-sounding thud from somewhere aft, the stars were back.

“Assault One to projector’s starboard side,” Thrawn called. “Assault Two to port. Chief Yal’avi’kema, you have five minutes.”

“Question is, do we have five minutes?” Car’das muttered, eyeing the shots starting to sizzle past the Springhawk‘s canopy.

“I think so,” Thrawn said. “They’ll need to be much closer before they can attack in earnest. Otherwise, they risk overshooting us and destroying their own projector.”

“So?” Car’das countered. “Isn’t that what they probably think we’re trying to do to it?”

“Actually, I suspect they’re rather confused about our intentions at the moment,” Thrawn said. “An attacker whose sole purpose was destruction would hardly have had to move in this close.” He gestured toward the battle. “But whatever they perceive our plan to be, they still must allow the projector to remain functional as long as possible. Once the gravity shadow vanishes, the defenders inside its cone will be free to escape and possibly regroup. They thus cannot risk overshooting us and must come in closer.”

Car’das grimaced. Certainly the logic made sense. Butthat was no guarantee the Vagaari wouldn’t do something stupid or panicky instead.

The enemy warships had made it halfway around now, allowing them to bring their flank laser batteries into play. Still, so far they did seem to be concentrating most of their fire on the Chiss fighters arrayed against them.

And then, as the light of the distant sun played across the warships’ sides, Car’das spotted something he hadn’t noticed before. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing. “They have the same bubbles all over their hulls that we saw on the treasure ship.”

“Get me a close-up,” Thrawn ordered, his eyes narrowing. On the main monitor display the running series of tactical data vanished and was replaced by a hazy telescopic view of the bubble pattern.

Car’das felt his throat suddenly tighten as, beside him, he heard Maris’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

The bubbles weren’t observation ports, as Qennto had once speculated. Nor were they navigational sensors.

They were prisons. Each one contained a living alien being, all of them of the same species as the mangled bodies Car’das could see floating among the battle debris. Some of the hostages were cowering against the walls of their cells, while others had curled up with their backs to the plastic, while still others gazed out at the battle with the dull resignation of those who have already given up hope.

Even as they watched, a stray missile exploded a glancing blow at the edge of the telescope display’s view. When the flash and debris cleared away, Car’das saw that three of the bubbles had been shattered, their inhabitants blown into space or turned into unrecognizable shreds of torn flesh. The metal behind the broken bubbles, clearly the main hull, was dented in places but appeared to be intact.

“Living shields,” Thrawn murmured, his voice as cold and as deadly as Car’das had ever heard it.

“Can your fighters use their Connor nets?” Car’das asked urgently. “You know—those things you used on us?”

“They’re still too far away,” Thrawn said. “At any rate, shock nets would be of little use against the electronic compartmentalization of war vessels that size.”

“Can’t they shoot between the bubbles?” Maris asked, her voice starting to shake. “There’s room there. Can’t they blast the hull without hitting the prisoners?”

“Again, not at their distance,” Thrawn said. “I’m sorry.”

“Then you have to call them back,” Maris insisted. “If they keep firing, they’ll be killing innocent people.”

“Those people are already dead,” Thrawn replied, his voice suddenly harsh.

Maris flinched back from his unexpected anger.

“But—”

“Please,” Thrawn said, holding up a hand. His voice was calm again, but there was still an undercurrent of anger simmering beneath it. “Understand the reality of the situation.

The Vagaari have killed them, all of them, if not in this battle then in battles to come. There’s nothing we can do to help them.

All we can do is focus our resources toward the Vagaari’s ultimate destruction, so that others may live.”

Car’das took a deep breath. “He’s right, Maris,” he told her, taking her arm.

Angrily, she shook it off and turned away. Car’das looked at Thrawn, but the other’s attention was already back on the approaching warships and the six Chiss fighters standing in their path.

“Assault One reports Vagaari crew has been eliminated,” one of the crewers called. “Chief Yal’avi’kema reports that they’ve located the projector’s collapse points andare folding it for transport. Assault Two is assisting.”

“Order Assault One to assist, as well,” Thrawn said. “I thought there would be some sort of quick-set arrangement,” he added to Car’das. “The Vagaari wouldn’t want to hold position for hours as they assembled their gravity projectors in full view of their intended victims.” He looked back at the Vagaari warships, their turns now nearly completed, and his mouth briefly tightened. “Stand ready to fire on the war vessels.”

Car’das looked at Maris, but her back was to him, her shoulders hunched rigidly beneath her vac suit.

“Weapons ready.”

“Fire full missile bursts on my command,” Thrawn said. His eyes flicked to Maris— “And instruct the fighters to fire shock nets at the war vessels’ bridge and command sections at the moment of minimum visibility.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Fire missiles,” Thrawn ordered. “Chief Yal’avi’kema, you now have two minutes.”

“Chief Iral’avi’kema acknowledges, and estimates the projector will be collapsed on schedule.” Across by the distant warships, there were multiple flashes of light as the Chiss missiles struck.

“Helmets!” someone barked.

Car’das reacted instantly, snatching up his helmet and throwing it over his head, peripherally aware that everyone on the bridge was doing the same. He had locked the helmet onto its collar and was looking for the source of the threat when there was a sudden burst of light and fire and the portside section of the canopy disintegrated.

Through the deck he felt the thud of airtight doors slamming shut, and for a fraction of a second he heard the wail of warning alarms before the sudden decompression robbedthem of any conducting medium. Blinking against the dark purple afterimage of the flash, he peered through the still swirling debris at the impact point.

It was as bad as he’d feared. The three Chiss who’d been closest to the blast were lying twisted and crumpled on the deck. Other Chiss had also been thrown from their chairs, though most of them appeared to still be alive. Here and there he could see crewers struggling with torn suits or cracked helmets as they or fellow crewers fastened emergency patches in place.

The control boards in the area of the blast had been turned into mangled, sharp-edged twistings of metal and tangled wiring, while elsewhere the rest of the panels appeared dead.

He was still assessing the damage when Maris suddenly shoved past him, nearly knocking him off his feet, and dropped to her knees beside the command chair.

It was only then that he saw that Thrawn, too, was lying on the deck, his glowing eyes closed, a violently fluttering tear in the chest of his vac suit leaking away his air.

“Commander!” he snapped, dropping to the deck beside Maris and fumbling in his suit pocket for a sealant patch.

“Medic!”

“I’ve got one,” Maris said, a patch already in hand.

Ripping off the protective backing, she slapped it against the torn fabric. For a moment it bulged with the remaining air pressure from inside the suit; and then, to Car’das’s horror, one edge began to come loose. “It won’t bond to this material,” Maris bit out, glancing around her. “Help me find something to hold it.”

Frantically, Car’das looked around. But there was nothing. He looked up at the walls, knowing the Chiss must surely have medpacs scattered around their warships. But he couldn’t focus enough of his mind on the Cheunh lettering to read the markings.

“Never mind,” Maris gritted. She pushed down the edges of the patch again; and then, with just a second ofhesitation, she leaned over to lie chest-to-chest across his torso, pressing her stomach against the wound. “Go get help,” she ordered, wrapping her arms tightly around Thrawn’s back to hold herself in place. “Come on—this can’t be doing his injuries any good.”

Breaking free of his paralysis, Car’das turned toward the door.

And once again was nearly bowled over as two Chiss pushed past him, dropping to their knees on either side of their unconscious commander and the human lying across him.

“Prepare to move,” one of them snapped, a large patch gripped between his hands. “… move.”

Maris rolled away. Almost before she had cleared the wound area the Chiss had his patch in place, completely covering the one Maris had tried to use. She pushed herself completely away, and Car’das saw thin tendrils of smoke drift up from the edges of the new patch. “Seal good,” the Chiss confirmed.

The second crewer was ready, jabbing the hose of a hand-sized air tank into a valve built into the helmet collar.

“Pressure stabilizing,” he reported, peering at a row of indicator lights beside the valve.

“Can we help?” Maris asked.

“You’ve already done so,” the first Chiss said. “We’ll handle it from here.”

They had lifted Thrawn between them and were heading for the airtight door when the stars outside the canopy abruptly flashed into starlines.

For the first two hours the medics worked behind sealed doors, with no news coming out and only fresh supplies and more injured going in. Car’das hung around the medbay area, trying to stay out of the way, occasionally being pressed into service to run errands for the staff. He didn’t know at first what had happened to Maris, but from bits of overheard conversation he eventually learned she was helping clear debrisfrom the bridge.

They were still four hours from home when the two of them were finally summoned into medbay.

They found Thrawn half lying, half sitting on a narrow bed inside a set of biosensor rings that wrapped around him from neck to knees like the ribs of a giant snake. “Car’das; Ferasi,” he greeted them. His face was drawn, but his voice was clear and calm. “I’m told I owe you my life. Thank you.”

“It was mostly Maris, actually,” Car’das said, not wanting to accept credit he didn’t deserve. “She’s faster in emergency situations than I am.”

“Comes of spending time with Rak on the Bargain Hunter;” Maris said, trying a smile that didn’t reach all the way to her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Not well, but apparently out of danger,” Thrawn said, studying her face. “I’m also told you’ve been assisting with the task of clearing the bridge.”

She shrugged self-consciously. “I wanted to help.”

“Even after I launched missiles against the Vagaari’s living shields?”

She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry I…well, that I complained about that,” she said. “I realize you didn’t have any choice.”

“Which doesn’t necessarily make it easier to accept,”

Thrawn said. “It is, unfortunately, the sort of decision all warriors must make.”

“Did we get the gravity projector, by the way?” Car’das asked. “I never heard one way or the other.”

Thrawn nodded. “It was collapsed and spark-welded to the outside of the hull just before we made our jump. All six of the fighters escaped, as well.”

Car’das shook his head. “We were lucky.”

“We had a good leader,” Maris corrected. “The Vagaari are going to be very unhappy about this.”

“Good,” Thrawn said evenly. “Perhaps they’ll be angry enough to make an overt move against the Chiss Ascendancy.”

Car’das frowned. “Are you saving you were trying to goad them into an attack?”

“I was trying to obtain a gravity projector,” Thrawn said. “Other consequences will be dealt with if and when they occur.”

Car’das looked sideways at the medics and assistants working on the other casualties. “Of course,” he murmured.

“Meanwhile, our focus must be to return to Crustai with all possible speed,” Thrawn continued. “We need more complete medical assistance for our wounded, and to begin repairs to our vessels.”

“And in the meantime, you probably need some more rest,” Maris added, touching Car’das’s arm and nodding toward the door. “We’ll see you later, Commander.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said, his eyes turning to glowing red slits behind sagging eyelids. “And I’m sure you were right, Car’das. I imagine Qennto will be sorry he missed all the excitement.”

They arrived at the base to discover that Qennto had far more pressing matters on his mind than missed adventures.

“I’ll kill her,” the big man promised blackly as he glared at Maris and Car’das through the slotted plastic door of his cell. “I ever get her alone, I swear I’ll kill her.”

“Just calm down,” Maris soothed, her tone a mixture of patience and understanding. It was a combination she seemed to use a lot with Qennto. “Tell us what happened.”

“She tried to rob me—that’s what happened,” Qennto bit out. “You were both there. Thrawn specifically told us we could pick some of the loot from the pirate ship in payment for language lessons. Right?”

“More or less,” Maris agreed cautiously.

“Unfortunately, Admiral Ar’alani outranks him.”

“I don’t care if she’s the local deity,” Qennto shot back.

“That stuff I picked out was ours. She had no business trying to take it away.”

“And of course, you told her so,” Car’das murmured.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you, kid,” Qennto warned, glaring at him. “You may be teacher’s pet here, but it’s a long way back to civilization.”

“So what happened to your collection?” Maris asked.

“She was going to take all of it with her,” Qennto said, letting his glare linger on Car’das a couple of seconds longer before turning back to Maris. “Luckily for me, that other Chiss—that Syndic Mitth-whatever—”

“Thrawn’s brother,” Maris interjected.

Qennto’s eyes widened. “No kidding? Anyway, he decided he needed to hear Thrawn’s version first, so he made her leave it behind. But then she insisted it be put under prescribed seal, whatever the fizz that means.”

“So bottom line is… ?” Car’das asked.

“Bottom line is that it’s locked away somewhere,”

Qennto growled. “And according to Syndic Mitth-whatever, even Thrawn can’t get it out.”

“We’ll check with him,” Maris promised. “Incidentally, it’s not Syndic Mitth-whatever. It’s Syndic Mitthrassafis.”

“Yeah, sure,” Qennto said. “So go talk to Thrawn,already. While you’re at it, see if you can get me out of here.”

“Sure,” Maris said. “Come on, Jorj. Let’s see if the commander’s accepting company.”

At first the guard outside Thrawn’s quarters was reluctant to even inquire as to whether the commander would see them. But Maris eventually persuaded him to ask, and a minute later they were standing at his bedside.

“Yes, I saw Thrass’s report,” he said when Maris had outlined the situation. He still looked weak, but definitely stronger than he had back aboard the Springhawk. “Captain Qennto needs to learn how to control his temper.”

“Captain Qennto needs to learn how to control more that that,” Maris said ruefully. “But being locked up has never done him any good before, and it’s not likely to do anything now.

Can you get him released?”

“Yes, if you’ll warn him about disrespecting Chiss command officers,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps we should simply lock him up whenever one is on the base.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Maris agreed. “Thank you.”

“What about the items your brother had sealed away?”

Car’das asked. “Qennto will be impossible to live with until he gets them back.”

“Then it’s time he began developing patience,” Thrawn said. “A syndic of the Eighth Ruling Family has declared it sealed against a command officer’s claim of possession. It cannot be unsealed until Admiral Ar’alani returns to present her arguments.”

“When will that be?” Car’das asked.

“Whenever she so chooses, but probably not until the Vagaari treasure ship has been examined and its systems and equipment analyzed. She’ll want to be present for that.”

“But that could take months,” Car’das protested. “We can’t stay here that long.”

“And we can’t go back without the extra goods to placate our clients,” Maris added.

“I understand,” Thrawn said. “But it truly is out of my hands.”

Behind Car’das, the door slid open. He turned, expecting to see one of the medics.

“So warriors’ fortune has finally failed you,” Syndic Mitth’ras’safis said as he strode into the room.

“Welcome,” Thrawn said, beckoning him in. “Please; come in.”

“We need to speak, Thrawn,” Mitth’ras’safis said, eyeing Car’das and Maris as he stepped to the other side of his brother’s bed. “Alone.”

“You need not fear their presence,” Thrawn assured him. “Nothing said will be repeated outside this room.”

“That’s not the point,” Mitth’ras’safis said. “We have Chiss business to discuss, which is none of their concern.”

“Perhaps not now,” Thrawn said. “But in the future, who knows?”

Mitth’ras’safis eyes narrowed. “Meaning… ?”

Thrawn shook his head. “You’re gifted in many ways, my brother,” he said. “But you have yet to develop the farsightedness you will need to survive the intrigues and conflicts of political life.” He gestured toward Car’das and Maris. “We have been granted a rare opportunity: the chance to meet and interact with members of a vast but hitherto unknown political entity, people with insights and thoughts different from our own.”

“Is that why you insist on bringing them along even when giving an admiral an official tour?” Mitth’ras’safis asked, eyeing Car’das doubtfully. “You think their thoughts will be of value?”

“All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not,” Thrawn said. “But equally important are the social and intellectual bonds we are building between us. Someday, our Ascendancy and their Republic will make contact, and the friends and potential allies we create now may well define what direction that contact will take.”

He looked at Car’das and Maris in turn. “I imagine both of them have already come to that same conclusion, though of course from their own point of view.”

Car’das looked at Maris. Her slightly twisted lip was all the answer he needed. “Yes, actually, we have,” he admitted.

“You see?” Thrawn said. “Already we understand each other, at least to a small extent.”

“Maybe,” Mitth’ras’safis said doubtfully.

“But you came here with specific business to discuss,”

Thrawn reminded him. “May my guests call you Thrass, by the way?”

“Absolutely not,” Mitth’ras’safis said stiffly. He looked at Maris, and his expression softened a little. “Though I understand you saved my brother’s life,” he added reluctantly.

“I was glad I could help, Syndic Mitthrassafis,” Maris said in Cheunh.

Mitth’ras’safis snorted and looked at Thrawn, and the hint of a wry smile finally touched his lips. “They really aren’t very good at it, are they?”

“You could try Minnisiat,” Thrawn offered. “They speak that better than they do Cheunh. Or you could use Sy Bisti, which I believe you also know.”

“Yes,” Mitth’ras’safis said, switching to an oddly accented Sy Bisti. “If that would be easier.”

“Actually, we’d prefer you stick with Cheunh, if you don’t mind,” Car’das said in that language. “We could use the practice.”

“That you could,” Mitth’ras’safis said. He hesitated, then inclined his head. “And since you were both instrumental in saving my brother’s life… I suppose it would be all right for you to call me Thrass.”

Maris bowed her head. “Thank you. We’re honored by your acceptance.”

“I just don’t want to keep hearing my name mispronounced.” Thrass turned back to Thrawn. “Now,” he said, his tone hardening again. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“The job for which I was commissioned,” Thrawn replied. “I’m protecting the Ascendancy from its enemies.”

“Its enemies,” Thrass said, leaning on the word. “Not potential enemies. Do you hear the difference?”

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “And no.”

Thrass lifted a hand, let it slap against his thigh. “Let me be honest, Thrawn,” he said. “The Eighth Ruling Family is not happy with you.”

“They sent you all the way here to tell me that?”

“This isn’t a joking matter,” Thrass bit out. “That pirate treasure ship was bad enough. But this last escapade was far and away over all the lines. And right under an admiral’s nose, too.”

“The Vagaari aren’t pirates, Thrass,” Thrawn said, his voice low and earnest. “They’re a completely nomadic species—hundreds of thousands of them, perhaps millions. Andsooner or later, they will reach the Ascendancy’s borders.”

“Fine,” Thrass said. “When they do, we’ll destroy them.”

“But why wait until then?” Thrawn pressed. “Why leave our backs turned while millions of other beings are forced to suffer?”

“The philosophical answer is that we don’t force anyone to suffer,” Thrass countered. “The practical answer is that we can’t defend the entire galaxy.”

“I’m not asking to defend the entire galaxy.”

“Really? And where would you have us stop?” Thrass gestured toward the wall. “Ten light-years beyond our borders? A

hundred? A thousand?”

“I agree we can’t protect the entire galaxy,” Thrawn said. “But it’s foolhardy to always permit our enemies to choose the time and place of battle.”

Thrass sighed. “Thrawn, you can’t continue to push the lines this way,” he said. “Peaceful watchfulness is the Chiss way, and the Nine Ruling Families won’t stand by forever while you ignore basic military doctrine. More to the point, the Eighth Family has made it clear that they’ll release you before they permit your actions to damage their standing.”

“We were both born as commoners,” Thrawn reminded him. “I can live that way again if I have to.” His lips tightened briefly. “But I’ll do what I can to assure that the Eighth Family doesn’t release or rematch you on my account.”

“I’m not worried about my own position,” Thrass said stiffly.

“I’m trying to keep my brother from throwing away a fine and honorable career for nothing.”

Thrawn’s eyes took on a distant look. “If I do throw itaway,” he said quietly, “I guarantee that it won’t be for nothing.”

For a long moment the two brothers gazed at each other in silence. Then Thrass sighed. “I don’t understand you, Thrawn,” he said. “I’m not sure I ever have.”

“Then just trust me,” Thrawn suggested.

Thrass shook his head. “I can trust you only as far as the Nine Ruling Families do,” he said. “And that trust is strained to the breaking point. This latest incident…” He shook his head again.

“Do you have to tell them?” Maris spoke up.

“With four warriors dead?” Thrass countered, turning his glowing eyes on her. “How do I keep that a secret?”

“It was a reconnaissance mission that got out of hand,”

Maris said. “Commander Thrawn didn’t go there with any intention of fighting.”

“Any mission to that region would have been pushing the lines,” Thrass told her heavily. “Still, I can try to frame it in those terms.” He looked back at Thrawn. “But it may be that nothing I say will make any difference. Action was taken, and deaths ensued. That may be all the Ruling Families will care about.”

“I know you’ll do what you can,” Thrawn said.

“But is what I can do the same as what I should do?”

Thrass asked. “It would seem that protecting you from the consequences of self-destructive decisions merely gives you freedom to make more of them. Is that really the best way to serve my brother and my family?”

“I know what my answer would be,” Thrawn said. “But you must find the answer for yourself.”

“Perhaps someday,” Thrass said. “In the meantime, I have a report to prepare.” He gave Thrawn a resigned look. “Anda brother to protect.”

“You must do what you feel right,” Thrawn said. “But you don’t know these Vagaari. I do. And I will defeat them, no matter what the cost.”

Thrass shook his head and went back to the door.

There he stopped, his hand over the control “Has it ever occurred to you,” he said, not turning around, “that attacks like yours might actually provoke beings like the Vagaari to move against us? That if we simply left them alone, they might never become any threat to the Ascendancy at all?”

“No, I’ve never had any such thoughts,” Thrawn replied evenly.

Thrass sighed. “I didn’t think so. Good night, Thrawn.”

Tapping the control to open the door, he left the room.