Pellaeon stared at him. “Are you sure, Admiral? I haven’t seen anything from Intelligence to that effect.”
“The information wasn’t from Intelligence,” Thrawn said. “It came from Delta Source.”
“Ah,” Pellaeon said, feeling his own expression go a little sour. The Chimaera’s Intelligence section had been nagging him for months now to find out what exactly this Delta Source was that seemed to feed such clear and precise information to the Grand Admiral from the very heart of the Imperial Palace. So far all Thrawn would say was that Delta Source was firmly established and that the information gained through it should be treated as absolutely reliable.
Intelligence hadn’t even been able to figure out whether Delta Source was a person, a droid, or some exotic recording system that was somehow able to elude the Rebellion’s hourly counterintelligence sweeps of the Palace. It irritated them no end; and Pellaeon had to admit he didn’t much like being kept in the dark about it, either. But Thrawn had personally activated Delta Source, and long years of unwritten protocol in such matters gave him the right to keep the contact confidential if he chose. “I’m sure C’baoth will be pleased to hear it,” he said. “I presume you’ll want to give him the news yourself.”
He thought he’d hidden his irritation with C’baoth reasonably well. Apparently, he’d thought wrong. “You’re still upset about Taanab,” Thrawn said, turning to gaze out at the battle. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir, I am,” Pellaeon said stiffly. “I’ve been over the records again, and there’s only one possible conclusion. C’baoth deliberately went beyond the battle plan Captain Aban had laid out—went beyond it to the point of disobeying a direct order. I don’t care who C’baoth is or whether he felt justified or not. What he did constitutes mutiny.”.
“It did indeed,” Thrawn agreed calmly. “Shall I throw him out of the Imperial service altogether, or simply demote him in rank?”
Pellaeon glared at the other. “I’m serious, Admiral.”
“So am I, Captain,” Thrawn countered, his voice abruptly cold. “You know full well what’s at stake here. We need to utilize every weapon at our disposal if we’re to defeat the Rebellion. C’baoth’s ability to enhance coordination and battle efficiency between our forces is one of those weapons; and if he can’t handle proper military discipline and protocol, then we bend the rules for him.”
“And what happens when we’ve bent the rules so far that they come around and stab us in the back?” Pellaeon demanded. “He ignored a direct order at Taanab—maybe next time it’ll be two orders. Then three, then four, until finally he’s doing what he damn well pleases and to blazes with the Empire. What’s to stop him?”
“Initially, the ysalamiri,” Thrawn said, gesturing at the odd-looking tubular frameworks scattered around the bridge, each with an elongated furry creature wrapped around it. Each of them creating a bubble in the Force where none of C’baoth’s Jedi tricks would work. “That’s what they’re here for, after all.”
“That’s all well and good,” Pellaeon said. “But in the long run—”
“In the long run, I will stop him,” Thrawn cut him off, touching his board. “Squadron C-3, watch your port-zenith flank. There’s a blister on that Frigate that could be a cluster trap.”
The commander acknowledged, the TIE interceptors veering away in response. A second later, half a heartbeat too late, the blister abruptly exploded, sending a withering hail of concussion grenades outward in all directions. The rearmost of the TIE interceptors was caught by the edge of the fiery flower, shattering in a brilliant secondary explosion. The rest, out of range, escaped the booby trap unharmed.
Thrawn turned his glowing eyes on Pellaeon. “I understand your concerns, Captain,” he said quietly. “What you fail to grasp—what you’ve always failed to grasp—is that a man with C’baoth’s mental and emotional instabilities can never be a threat to us. Yes, he has a great deal of power, and at any given moment he could certainly do considerable damage to our people and equipment. But by his very nature he’s unable to use that power for any length of time. Concentration, focus, long-term thinking—those are the qualities that separate a warrior from a mere flailing fighter. And they’re qualities C’baoth will never possess.”
Pellaeon nodded heavily. He still wasn’t convinced, but there was clearly no use in arguing the point further. Not now, anyway. “Yes, sir.” He hesitated. “C’baoth will also want to know about Organa Solo.”
Thrawn’s eyes glittered; but the annoyance, Pellaeon knew, wasn’t directed at him. “You will tell Master C’baoth that I’ve decided to allow the Noghri one last chance to find and capture her. When we’ve finished here, I’ll be taking that message to them. Personally.”
Pellaeon glanced back at the entrance to the bridge, where the Noghri bodyguard Rukh stood his usual silent vigil. “You’re calling a convocate of the Noghri commandos?” he asked, suppressing a shiver. He’d been to one such mass meeting once, and facing a whole roomful of those quiet gray-skinned killers was not an experience he was anxious to repeat.
“I think matters have gone beyond simply calling a convocate,” Thrawn said coldly. “You’ll instruct Navigation to prepare a course from the rendezvous point to the Honoghr system. The entire Noghri populace, I think, needs to be reminded of who it is they serve.”
He shifted his glare out the viewport at the battle and tapped his board. “TIE command: recall all fighters to the ship,” he ordered. “Navigation: begin calculations for a return to the rendezvous point.”
Pellaeon frowned out the viewport. The modified Bulk Cruiser and backup Frigate were pretty much dead where they lay, but the convoy itself was largely undamaged. “We’re letting them go?”
“There’s no need to destroy them,” Thrawn said. “Stripping them of their defense is an adequate object lesson for the moment.”
He tapped a key, and a tactical holo of this section of the galaxy appeared between their two stations. Blue lines marked the Rebellion’s main trade routes; those sheathed in red marked ones the Imperial forces had hit in the past month. “There’s more to these attacks than simple harassment, Captain. Once this group has told their story, all future convoys from Sarka will demand upgraded protection. Enough such attacks, and the Rebellion will face the choice of either tying up large numbers of its ships with escort duty or effectively abandoning cargo shipment through these border sectors. Either way, it will put them at a serious disadvantage when we launch the Mount Tantiss campaign.” He smiled grimly. “Economics and psychology, Captain. For now, the more civilian survivors there are to spread the tale of Imperial power, the better. There’ll be time enough for destruction later.” He glanced at his board, looked back out the viewport. “Speaking of Imperial power, any news on our ship hunt?”
“We’ve had five more capital ships turned in to various Imperial bases in the past ten hours,” Pellaeon told him. “Nothing larger than an old Star Galleon, but it’s a start.”
“We’re going to need more than just a start, Captain,” Thrawn said, craning his neck slightly to watch the returning TIE interceptors. “Any word on Talon Karrde?”
“Nothing since that tip from Rishi,” Pellaeon told him, tapping the proper log for an update. “The bounty hunter who sent it was killed shortly afterward.”
“Keep up the pressure,” Thrawn ordered. “Karrde knows a great deal about what happens in this galaxy. If there are any capital ships lying unused out there, he’ll know where they are.”
Personally, Pellaeon thought it pretty unlikely that a mere smuggler, even one with Karrde’s connections, would have better information sources than the vast Imperial Intelligence network. But he’d also dismissed the possibility that Karrde might be hiding Luke Skywalker out at that base on Myrkr. Karrde was turning out to be full of surprises. “There are a lot of people out there hunting for him,” he told the Grand Admiral. “Sooner or later, one of them will find him.”
“Good.” Thrawn glanced around the bridge. “In the meantime, all units will continue their assigned harassment of the Rebellion.” His glowing red eyes bored into Pellaeon’s face. “And they will continue, too, to maintain a watch for the Millennium Falcon and the Lady Luck. After the Noghri have been properly primed for their task, I want their prey to be ready for them.”