Thrawn Ascendancy Book I: Chaos Rising

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Interesting,” Supreme General Ba’kif commented as he set his questis aside. He’d read the report twice, Ar’alani had noted as she watched his eyes move back and forth across the text, the first time she’d ever seen him do that. Either he’d been trying to glean as much information as he could, or else he was stalling while he tried to figure out what to say and do about it. “You realize, of course, that stealing someone else’s ship, under any circumstance, is a serious breach of regulations.”

“The Nikardun ships attacked us, sir,” Thrawn said. “I understood that regulations permit self-defense.”

“Absolutely,” Ba’kif said. “And if you’d blown the damn thing to dust, no one would have given it a second thought. But capturing it?” He shook his head. “And you, Admiral. I know you and Thrawn have a long history, but I’m a little surprised that you agreed to be a part of this.”

“Actually, General, I made a point of refreshing my memory on the regulations before I accepted Captain Thrawn’s proposal,” Ar’alani said, mentally crossing her fingers. “There’s nothing that specifically says capturing an attacker’s ship is a violation.”

“I think you’ll find it falls under the general heading of preemptive strikes,” Ba’kif said. “Which is definitely how certain of the Aristocra will interpret it once they hear about this. Some of them might even demand the ship be returned.”

“Without its crew?” Thrawn said. “That might be a bit awkward.”

Ar’alani felt her throat tighten. More than just a bit awkward, given that the Nikardun crew was gone because they’d committed mass suicide minutes before the Chiss boarding parties breached the hatches. For a while she’d rather hoped it had at least been a combination of murder and suicide, with perhaps the officers under orders to slaughter their warriors before taking their own lives. That would have indicated that it was only a few of the Nikardun that were that fanatical. But the medic team had concluded that all the deaths had been self-inflicted.

What kind of compulsion and dominance did this Yiv the Benevolent hold over them that they would willingly go to such violent extremes?

“True enough,” Ba’kif conceded. “Well. Until the syndics decide to write specifics into the law, I suppose we can treat it as a gray area.” He tapped the questis. “In the meantime, what kind of hellish nighthunter nest have you just kicked over?”

“A nighthunter nest that I believe will soon be hunting us,” Thrawn said grimly. “They clearly know about the Ascendancy. They also feel confident enough in their own strength to slaughter a refugee ship right on our threshold. And”—he gestured to the questis—“they’re already moving into our outer neighborhood.”

Ba’kif huffed out a breath, looking back at the questis as if the data on it might suddenly change to something less disquieting. “You’re sure they’ve had contact with the Lioaoin Regime?” he asked. “I looked at all the indicators you marked, and I confess I can’t see whatever it is you think you’ve found.”

“It’s there, sir,” Thrawn said. “It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

“What we don’t know,” Ar’alani put in, “is whether this is evidence that they’ve been to the Lioaoin heartworld itself or whether they’ve just picked up some Lioaoi art and artistic influences along the way from someone else.”

“That’s why we need to go to the heartworld in person,” Thrawn said. “I need to examine the local situation, and I can’t do that from transmission analysis or even third-person investigator reports.”

“You know what the Syndicure will say about anyone going to the Lioaoin Regime,” Ba’kif warned. “Especially you two.”

“That’s why we wanted to keep it quiet,” Ar’alani said. “And the Expansionary Fleet does have a fair degree of flexibility in its duties.”

“Which I’m no longer in direct command of,” Ba’kif reminded her, glancing with an odd sort of wistfulness around his new Csilla office.

Ar’alani could sympathize. This office was bigger than his old Expansionary Defense Fleet office on Naporar, as befit his newly exalted position as the Ascendancy’s top general.

But the office was on Csilla, which meant that it was not only under the planet’s frozen surface, but also within downwind spitting distance of the Syndicure and the rest of the Ascendancy’s governmental centers.

And just because the Aristocra weren’t supposed to interfere with military matters didn’t mean they were pleasant to be around.

“But you are in overall command of personnel in the fleet,” Thrawn pointed out. “A directive from you would surely be acknowledged and carried out.”

“The Springhawk is undergoing hull repairs, but we could take the Vigilant,” Ar’alani said. “Thrawn could come aboard as an officer or even just as a passenger and take a quick, unobtrusive look.”

Ba’kif snorted. “You know what certain syndics think of your definition of unobtrusive.” He glanced at his desk monitor and gave a small snort. “And by sheer coincidence—or perhaps not—two of those syndics have just arrived in my inner office.”

Ar’alani’s first impulse was to urge the general not to let them in. But it would be a useless gesture. Clearly, someone had spotted her and Thrawn coming here; just as clearly, the two syndics weren’t going to go away just because the Defense Force’s supreme general told them to.

Official policies of separation of duties or not, non-interference or not, the confrontation the syndics were obviously here for was going to happen. Might was well have it out now.

Ba’kif had apparently come to the same conclusion. He tapped a key, and the door slid open. “Welcome, Syndics,” he said briskly as the three officers rose to their feet. “How may I serve you?”

Ar’alani turned to face the newcomers. Mitth’urf’ianico, one of the syndics of Thrawn’s family, led the way. That was standard procedure whenever the family wanted to deliver a message to the military regarding one of their own without tugging on any of the tangled web of interfamily politics.

Striding along close behind him was Irizi’stal’mustro, one of the syndics of Ar’alani’s former family.

She felt her eyes narrow. That was not standard procedure. Thurfian might be here to talk about Thrawn on behalf of the Mitth, but she was no longer part of the Irizi family, which meant Zistalmu had no reason to talk about her to Ba’kif.

But there was an even more interesting subtext about this whole thing. Given the intense rivalry between the Irizi and Mitth, two syndics from those families who wanted to see Ba’kif on general military matters would normally have arranged to come one at a time, not together.

Or was that the point? Could Thurfian and Zistalmu have worked up this joint meeting to underscore a high-level opposition to Thrawn’s recent activities, a resistance that superseded family politics?

“Good day, General,” Zistalmu said, inclining his head to Ba’kif. “Admiral; Senior Captain,” he added, making the same gestures to Ar’alani and Thrawn. “Are we interrupting anything important?”

“I was discussing an upcoming mission with two of the Expansionary Fleet’s finest officers,” Ba’kif said.

“Really,” Thurfian said with a feigned enthusiasm that wouldn’t fool a child. “Given the presence of Captain Thrawn, may we assume this mission is connected to the report the fleet submitted to the Syndicure three days ago?”

Ar’alani stifled a curse. Normally, reports from the fleet could sit on the syndics’ questises for days or weeks without being read by anyone except their aides and the lower-ranking Aristocra. At the moment, that was especially true of any report that didn’t connect to the Csilla attack investigation.

Apparently, at least for these two, Thrawn’s name garnered the same level of notice.

“We submitted several reports that day,” Ba’kif said. “Which one specifically are you referring to?”

“You know perfectly well which one,” Zistalmu said, his eyes shifting to Thrawn. “The unauthorized intrusion into an alien system, and the subsequent attack on alien ships in that system.”

“First of all, the Springhawk’s mission to the Rapacc system was not unauthorized,” Ba’kif said. “As you know, there was an attack on the edge of the Dioya system—”

“An attack against aliens,” Zistalmu cut in. “Meanwhile, the question of the attack on Csilla—an attack launched against actual Chiss citizens—has yet to be resolved.”

“I trust you’re not suggesting the fleet is incapable of handling more than one investigation at a time,” Ba’kif said, putting some stone into his voice.

“Not at all,” Zistalmu said. “But if investigation was the goal, I would submit that Captain Thrawn’s attack at Rapacc went far beyond his orders and mandate. Yet I see no indication that a tribunal has been seated or even scheduled.”

“The Springhawk was attacked,” Ba’kif said. “Standing orders allow him the right of defense.”

“Within very narrow and sharply delineated limits,” Thurfian put in. “But that’s the past, and a matter for a tribunal. Our major concern is for the future. So I ask again: Does this proposed mission relate to the Rapacc attack?” He threw an accusing look at Thrawn. “Time is not so long, nor memory so short, that we’ve forgotten his old Lioaoin fiasco.”

“I’m hardly likely to forget it, either,” Thrawn said quietly.

Quietly, but Ar’alani could hear the hidden embarrassment and ache in his voice. “I trust you aren’t here just to scrub at old wounds,” she put in, hoping to draw some of Zistalmu’s attack in her direction.

It was a waste of effort. Thurfian merely shot her a brief, unreadable look, then returned his attention to his primary target. “As I already stated, we’re looking to the future, not the past,” he said. “We understand you claim to have found Lioaoin paintings or sculptures or some such on that illegally seized ship. I trust, Supreme General, you’re not seriously thinking of letting Captain Thrawn anywhere near the Lioaoin Regime.”

“Why not?” Ba’kif asked. “The Lioaoi certainly hold their share of blame for what happened back then.”

“So you are sending him to the heartworld,” Zistalmu said, pouncing on the words like a groundlion. “Are you mad?”

“I believe the Nikardun have moved into the Lioaoin Regime,” Thrawn said. “We need to know whether the Lioaoi have been completely subjugated, or whether they still stand against their would-be conquerors.”

“We need to know nothing of the kind,” Thurfian retorted. “What happens outside our borders is none of our business. As I thought was made clear to you the first time you meddled in that region’s affairs.”

“And when the Nikardun arrive in the Ascendancy?” Thrawn asked.

“If the Nikardun arrive in the Ascendancy,” Thurfian shot back.

“Exactly,” Zistalmu seconded. “Really, Captain Thrawn. Someone of your vaunted tactical expertise can surely see that if we were such an enticing target, they would have moved against us already. It seems obvious to me that the stories told about us out in the Chaos have warned them away.”

“Unless they’re waiting until they have enough strength to defeat us,” Ba’kif said.

“Fine,” Zistalmu said. “Let’s look at that possibility, shall we? You claim the Nikardun are subjugating other species and creating an empire. Correct?”

“We’ve seen evidence of such activity, yes,” Ba’kif said.

“And controlling a conquered species requires force and the presence of arms, does it not?”

Ar’alani felt a sour taste in her mouth. She could see where Zistalmu was going with this.

As, too, could Ba’kif. “It may require less than you imagine,” the general said. “If the planet is sufficiently subjugated, a few monitoring ships and a small ground contingent could easily suffice.”

“Especially if they utilize a system of hostages or extortion,” Ar’alani added.

“The point remains that as they move toward us, they continue to bleed ships and troops,” Zistalmu said. “So the longer they wait, the less likely they are to be a threat.”

Ba’kif shook his head. “It doesn’t always work that way.”

But it was a losing argument, Ar’alani could see from the expressions on the syndics’ faces. It might be a true argument, but it was also a losing one.

“Yet that, too, is a conversation for another day,” Thurfian said. “Since Captain Thrawn’s ship is still undergoing repairs, and Admiral Ar’alani’s is about to leave on a diplomatic mission, it would seem that nobody will be traveling to the Lioaoin Regime.”

“Excuse me?” Ba’kif said, shooting a look at Ar’alani. “What diplomatic mission is this?”

“The Ascendancy is sending a new ambassador to Urch, the capital of the Urchiv-ki,” Thurfian said. “As the Vigilant is one of the finest warships in the Expansionary Fleet, and as its commander is one of the fleet’s finest officers”—he inclined his head to Ar’alani—“it was decided that ship and commander would play host to Ambassador Boadil’par’gasoi.”

“I see,” Ba’kif said, his tone going frosty. “And when were we to be informed of this decision?”

“You’re being informed now, General,” Zistalmu said evenly. “The Vigilant will leave in three days.”

Ba’kif looked at Ar’alani. “Can you be ready that quickly?”

“We can,” Ar’alani said, trying to keep her own irritation out of her voice. The Syndicure was not supposed to pull stunts like this.

On the other hand, maybe they’d missed an angle. The Springhawk’s repairs were supposed to take another two weeks, and Zistalmu was clearly expecting Thrawn to be out of commission that long. But much of the ship’s damage was cosmetic, and as the Springhawk’s captain Thrawn could declare the ship ready to fly without those particular repairs being completed. If he did, by the time the Vigilant left for Urch he could be nearly ready to pull the Springhawk out of bluedock and slip away for a surreptitious visit to the Lioaoin Regime.

“Sadly, though, Sky-walker Ab’begh has been reassigned,” Zistalmu continued. “However, as the Springhawk won’t be going anywhere for at least a couple of weeks, Sky-walker Che’ri and Caregiver Thalias have been transferred to your command.”

“As has Captain Thrawn,” Thurfian said. “He served under you once, and I’m sure his contributions will be equally welcome this time.”

“I imagine he’ll welcome the chance to visit Urch,” Zistalmu said with a condescending little smile. “I understand their art galleries are the pride of the Urchiv-ki people.”

Ar’alani suppressed a sigh. So they hadn’t missed a bet after all. “I’m sure he will,” she said. “I’ll be honored to have him aboard.”

With a sudden intake of breath, Che’ri’s hands twitched one final time against the controls; and as Thalias looked out the viewport she saw the star-flares disappear into the starry background and the blue-and-white half circle directly ahead.

They’d arrived at Urch.

Thalias scowled at the planet. Big deal.

She stole a look at Thrawn, standing with Ambassador Ilparg behind Ar’alani’s command chair. Thrawn himself was unmoving and calm; Ilparg, in contrast, was opening and closing his hands and rocking slightly back and forth on his heels. Clearly anxious to get to his new diplomatic post, and not very patient about the extra time it had taken the Vigilant to get here.

Thalias stepped behind Che’ri, rubbing gently against the tenseness of the girl’s shoulder muscles and sending a mental glower in the direction of the grouchy ambassador. Che’ri had had to make a small additional curve through the final section of the Chaos leading into the Urch system, and the unexpected detour had made the Vigilant several hours late. In Thalias’s experience that sort of thing happened quite frequently, and neither Ar’alani nor Thrawn had blamed Che’ri in the slightest for the delay. Nor would any other reasonable person.

Ilparg, unfortunately, didn’t fall into that category. He was clearly used to the more well-defined travel parameters within the Ascendancy and apparently had never understood that the term the Chaos wasn’t simply someone’s random idea of a good name.

That made him an idiot. What made him a contemptible fool was that he hadn’t been shy about voicing his opinions and criticisms within Che’ri’s hearing. Last night it had taken Thalias two hours of soothing, a good dinner and a hot bath, and every single one of her limited repertoire of lullabies to get Che’ri to sleep.

“And what exactly is the delay now?” Ilparg grumbled.

“We’re waiting on the Urchiv-ki controller to give us permission to launch your shuttle,” Ar’alani explained.

“Yes, I understand that,” Ilparg said testily. “Wouldn’t it be best if I was actually in the shuttle when that permission comes?”

“Patience, Ambassador,” Thrawn said.

Thalias winced. Of all the soothements Thrawn could have offered, patience was the one least likely to get him anywhere.

“I have all the patience I need, Senior Captain,” Ilparg said acidly, glaring at Thrawn. “What’s needed here is results. Action and results. Since they don’t seem to have noticed us, a second call would seem to be indicated—”

“There,” Thrawn said, pointing at a spot on the aft visual display. “You see it?”

“Yes,” Ar’alani said. “You’re sure it’s Lioaoin?”

Thalias felt her breath catch in her throat. Something was going on out there. She could tell by the expressions on Ar’alani’s and Thrawn’s faces, and by the matching tautness in their tones. Something was going on, and it wasn’t good.

“Not one hundred percent, no,” Thrawn said. “Their ship design has changed since we saw it last. But there are enough similarities that I think it probable.”

“What are you talking about?” Ilparg demanded. “What do the Lioaoi have to do with anything? This is Urch”—he shot a look at Che’ri—“unless our navigator has gotten us lost again.”

Thalias took a deep breath. Enough was enough. “Excuse me, Ambassador—”

“This is Urch Planetary and Space Control,” an alien voice erupted from the bridge speaker, its Taarja mangled almost beyond recognition. “Chiss ship is not permitted to release shuttle. Repeat: Chiss ship will not release shuttle. Ambassador of Chiss not welcome to Urchiv-ki, nor to her planets or space.”

“That’s impossible,” Ilparg sputtered. “A treaty was endorsed—the Syndicure approved it.” He drew himself up to his full height. “Admiral Ar’alani, call him back,” he ordered. “Tell him you wish to speak with a senior member of the Tower Dimension—”

“Quiet,” Ar’alani said, her face turned to the tactical display.

“Kindly do not address me in that—”

“I said quiet,” Ar’alani repeated. She hadn’t raised her voice, but suddenly an icy chill ran down Thalias’s back.

Ilparg clearly felt the threat in her voice, too. He opened his mouth to speak, seemed to think better of it, and fell silent.

“What do you think?” Thrawn asked.

“I count eight ships visible,” Ar’alani said. “The Lioaoin, six probable Urchiv…and that one.”

“The Nikardun frigate,” Thrawn said.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Ar’alani agreed, her voice going a shade darker. “That ridiculously large bridge viewport is a dead giveaway. The question is whether the Urchiv-ki have been completely conquered or if they’re still in the same interdiction phase as the Paccosh.”

“I’d guess the latter,” Thrawn said. “But on a practical level, as long as they’re willing to do General Yiv’s bidding, their precise status is irrelevant.”

“True,” Ar’alani said. “Still, if they’re planning to destroy us, they’re certainly taking their time about it.”

“Destroy us?” Ilparg gasped.

“There’s no real hurry,” Thrawn said, ignoring the ambassador’s outburst. “We’re already too deep in the gravity well for a quick escape, and their net pattern is coming together nicely behind us.”

“Personally, I think they’re going for a mirror payback,” Senior Captain Wutroow put in.

“Interesting thought,” Ar’alani said. “Rather ambitious of them.”

“What’s a mirror payback?” Che’ri whispered, looking up at Thalias.

Thalias shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a counterthrust by one side that exactly corresponds to an earlier stroke by the other,” Thrawn said, looking over at them. “In this case, Captain Wutroow is suggesting the Nikardun hope to capture the Vigilant in the same way that we captured one of their patrol ships.”

Che’ri’s shoulder muscles went rock-hard beneath Thalias’s fingers. “No,” she breathed. “They…no.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t,” Ar’alani said. She hesitated a moment, then rose from the command chair and walked over to Che’ri’s navigation station. “You had trouble getting into this system, Sky-walker Che’ri,” she said in a low voice.

“I’m sorry,” Che’ri breathed. “It was just—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Ar’alani said, a distracted sort of soothing drifting across the tightness of her voice. “I’m not blaming you—this part of the Chaos is particularly nasty to navigate. My question is, just how solidly are we blocked in?”

“In other words,” Thrawn added, coming up beside Ar’alani, “are there particular exit vectors that would get us out faster and easier than any of the other routes?”

“Just take your time and think, Che’ri,” Thalias said. “Being right is better than being fast.”

She felt Che’ri take a deep breath, watched the girl’s hands move hesitantly across the controls and small displays of her board. “This way,” she said, moving her finger to a line about thirty degrees from the Vigilant’s current heading.

“That’s not the way we came in,” Ar’alani said.

“Because we would have had to circle around even more,” Che’ri said, some pleading in her voice. “And there were some big asteroids in the way. Ambassador Ilparg was already mad at me for how long it was taking—”

“It’s all right, Che’ri, it’s all right,” Ar’alani said. This time the soothing sounded more genuine. “We just need to get out of here, preferably faster and farther than they can easily follow us. Doesn’t matter if it takes us out of the way to get back to the Ascendancy. Helm, do you have the vector?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot confirmed.

“Problem,” Wutroow said. “We’re going to have to angle outward to get to it. If we do that, we’ll be moving right into their net.”

Ar’alani pursed her lips. “Not necessarily.”

“We won’t necessarily move into their net?” Wutroow asked, frowning.

“We don’t necessarily have to angle outward,” Ar’alani corrected. Pulling out her questis, she scribbled briefly on it. “Thrawn?” she asked, handing it to him.

Thrawn peered at the questis. “The Vigilant wasn’t really designed for this kind of maneuver,” he warned as he handed the device to Wutroow. “But I think it can handle the strain.”

“What strain?” Ilparg croaked, a layer of suspicion coating the fear in his voice. “What are you proposing?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wutroow advised, tapping the questis. Out of the corner of her eye, Thalias saw the image and data appear on one of the helm displays. “Mid Commander Octrimo?”

“I see it, ma’am,” the pilot said hesitantly. “Are you sure about this?”

“They want to take the Vigilant intact,” Ar’alani reminded him. “One way or the other, this guarantees that doesn’t happen. Execute.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Visibly bracing himself, Octrimo keyed his board.

And with a sudden muted roar as the thrusters ran to full power, the Vigilant leapt forward.

Aiming straight for the planet in front of them.

Ilparg gave a strange sort of squeal. “Admiral!” he bleated. “What are you doing?”

“Course change one,” Ar’alani said over the rumble. “Three, two, one.”

Outside the viewport Urch moved off to the left as the Vigilant shifted its vector. At least, Thalias thought dimly through the agonized pounding of blood in her head, they were now headed for the edge of the planet instead of straight toward its center. This way, the resounding crash would take a little longer to happen.

“Urchiv ships moving in pursuit,” Wutroow called from the sensor station. “Lioaoin hanging back. Nikardun…ramping up power; looks like he’s going to try to cut us off.”

“Increase speed five percent,” Ar’alani ordered. “Course change two: Three, two, one.”

The planet moved a little more to the side, and now it looked like they were only going to cut through the edge of the atmosphere. Thalias tried to remember if she’d ever heard of a Chiss Nightdragon running at high speed through a planet’s atmosphere, but she couldn’t.

“Urchiv ships picking up speed,” Wutroow announced. “But unless they’ve got a lot more in reserve, there’s no way they can catch us. Ah—they’ve figured that out. Dropping back.”

“Any sign of intercept craft from the surface or behind the disk?” Ar’alani asked.

“Nothing detectable,” Wutroow said. “At this point—”

She broke off as the Vigilant gave a sudden lurch. “Entering atmosphere, Admiral,” Octrimo said. “Cutting deeper; hull temperature starting to rise. No danger yet.”

But there would be, Thalias knew. Her physics classes were only a vague memory, but she remembered enough to know there were good reasons why ships didn’t move through planetary atmospheres at this speed.

“What about the Nikardun?” Ar’alani asked.

“A little unclear—the turbulence is interfering with the sensors,” Wutroow said. “But I think he’s falling behind, too.”

The buffeting was growing stronger. Thalias knew she should find a seat and strap in, but she could sense Che’ri’s fear and didn’t want to abandon the girl. She could almost hear the Vigilant groaning under the unfamiliar stresses and heat and pressure.

Imagination, of course. But still she could hear the ship’s agony…

“Last course change,” Ar’alani said abruptly into the muted cacophony. “Sky-walker, get ready.”

“I am,” Che’ri said, her voice trembling.

“Course change: Three, two, one.”

Octrimo keyed his board, and the Vigilant angled away from the planet one final time. The battering began to lessen.

And suddenly the haziness around the stars cleared, and the groaning faded away. They were again in the welcome vacuum of space, driving hard along the vector Che’ri had pointed them to. The seconds ticked by, the Vigilant driving ever harder toward the distant stars.

“Clear for hyperspace,” Octrimo announced.

“Sky-walker?” Ar’alani called.

“Ready,” Che’ri called back. “How far do you want to go?”

“As far as you can take us without stressing yourself,” Ar’alani said. “Ready…go.”

The stars flared and then faded into the hyperspace swirl, and they were once again safe.

“You can let go now,” Thrawn said.

Thalias blinked, only then realizing that somewhere along the line her grip on Che’ri’s shoulders had transferred into a grip on the back of the girl’s chair. With an effort, she unlocked her fingers and took a step back. “We did it,” she said.

“We did,” Thrawn agreed. “We of the fleet like to think of ourselves as heroes. Often, though, the true heroes are those who design and build the warships we take into battle.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be any battle,” Ilparg growled. With the danger passed, he was rapidly returning to his normal pomposity. “What was the meaning of all that?”

“The Nikardun are attacking other worlds—” Thrawn began.

“The meaning?” Ar’alani interrupted him. “The meaning, Ambassador, is that this was a trap. Someone wanted to capture a Chiss ship, and they invited you to Urch to make it happen.” She smiled, just slightly. “You were the bait.”

“I am not bait,” Ilparg insisted. “Not for anyone. Not for the Urchiv-ki, not for these—what did you call them?”

“Nikardun,” Thrawn supplied.

“And not for the Nikardun,” Ilparg bit out.

“And the Lioaoi?” Ar’alani asked.

Ilparg frowned at her. “What do the Lioaoi have to do with it?”

“One of their ships was here,” Ar’alani said. “And they certainly didn’t do or say anything to keep the Urchiv-ki back from us.”

“In fact, it looked to me like they were part of the net the Urchiv-ki were setting up behind us,” Wutroow added.

“Oh, they were, were they?” Ilparg said, glaring at the rolling hyperspace swirl outside the viewport.

“It certainly looked that way to me,” Wutroow said.

“Perhaps we should swing by the Lioaoin heartworld before we return to the Ascendancy,” Ar’alani suggested. “Talk to them, maybe ask for an explanation.”

Ilparg turned cold eyes to her. “You think we should do that, do you?”

Ar’alani lifted a hand. “I merely offer the suggestion.”

“And an excellent suggestion it is,” Ilparg said. “Except that I don’t intend to ask for an explanation. I intend to demand one.”

He pointed dramatically toward the hyperspace swirl. “The Lioaoin heartworld, Admiral Ar’alani. At your best possible speed.” He held the pose another moment, then gave an equally dramatic turn and stalked off the bridge.

“Interesting,” Thrawn murmured. “I assume that was on purpose?”

“You wanted to see the heartworld,” Ar’alani said. “Now we’re going to.”

“Make a note, Senior Captain,” Wutroow added. “You can ask and suggest and show why your ideas make sense. But when politicians are involved”—she waved toward the viewport in an imitation of Ilparg’s earlier posture—“that is how it’s done.”