“We won’t, sir,” Ayer repeated. The apology was gone from his voice, his new tone making it clear that the subject was closed. “I can’t say any more.”
“I’m sure we will be informed at the appropriate time,” Thrawn said. “Until then, our task is to reach the Sempre before it is completely overwhelmed. Commander Faro, you will run a complete check on the weapons and weapons crews. We are to be ready for combat the moment we reach the scene of the attack. Lieutenant Commander Vanto, contact engineering. If there is a way to increase the Chimaera’s speed, you will implement it.”
—
One hour and forty-nine minutes later, the Chimaera arrived.
To find that all their orders were now irrelevant.
The Sempre drifted dead in space. Its crew lay scattered across the ship, all dead. The troop compartments were empty.
The attacking ships, of course, were long gone.
“Odd,” Vanto said as he and Thrawn picked their way through one of the clusters of bodies. With the need for secrecy gone—whatever that secrecy had been about—Ayer had reluctantly permitted the two of them to join his stormtroopers as they finished sweeping the ship. “Blaster burns on some of the bodies, but not all of them.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” Thrawn said. “Several of the latter also have injuries to their heads and torsos.”
“As if they were physically hit,” Vanto said. He pointed at the blood marks on a nearby section of bulkhead. “And then we have those. Looks like most of the beating victims had their heads or bodies slammed against the walls and bulkheads.”
“Note, too, that some of the marks are higher than the victims are tall,” Thrawn said. “That mark in particular. Do you see a pattern in it?”
Vanto stepped to the wall and looked up at the indicated mark. His forehead wrinkles with thought. His fingers hover over the mark as if he is mentally tracing it. “More blood than most of them. Those smears look like they could be finger marks. Somebody writing in the blood?”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. The mark was blurred and seemed incomplete, as if the writer had been interrupted. Or perhaps it wasn’t writing at all. Certainly it didn’t look like any letter or combination of letters he was familiar with. Though if the writer had been injured, that might account for the distortion.
But why would an injured person choose to write so high? And if it wasn’t a word or the beginning of a word, perhaps it was a symbol or a glyph.
He surveyed the crumpled bodies. As Vanto had noted, two had been killed by blasters, the rest beaten to death. None was tall enough to have easily made the mark.
Vanto had come to the same conclusion. “I’d say this was made by either one of the attackers or one of the passengers.”
“Perhaps an examination of the troop quarters will tell us which,” Thrawn said. “Come.”
A stormtrooper was standing guard at the hatchway leading to the troop quarters. “Sorry, sir,” the stormtrooper said. His filtered voice is stiff and imperious. “No one is allowed inside.”
“I am Commodore Thrawn,” Thrawn said. “I wish to enter.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have my orders.”
“I am giving you new orders, stormtrooper,” Thrawn said. “The passengers are gone. The secrecy you were ordered to maintain concerning the Sempre is no longer an issue. Imperial officers and crew are dead, some of your own colleagues among them. Justice and retribution for the attack depend upon information. Some of that information lies behind you through that hatchway.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have my orders,” the stormtrooper said again. His voice holds no recognition of the situation’s urgency.
“I am your commander, stormtrooper,” Thrawn said. “You will step aside!”
Vanto twitches at the sudden volume and vehemence. The stormtrooper likewise reacts with surprise. He hastily steps away from the hatchway. “Thank you,” Thrawn said.
He and Vanto stepped inside. “You disapprove of my words and tone?”
“I don’t disapprove of either, sir,” Vanto said. “I was just startled. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you shout in anger before.”
“I was not angry,” Thrawn said. “Some people will not respond to reason. Others refuse to consider alternatives to their normal pattern of behavior. In such cases, an unexpected breaking of one’s own patterns can be an effective tool. What do you see?”
Vanto stepped to the center of the sleeping area. He turned his head slowly, his eyes lingering on the rows of three-tiered bunks. “Those aren’t standard-sized racks. They’re at least half a meter too long. And aren’t standard troop carrier racks four-tiered instead of three?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “These quarters are clearly designed for large passengers.”
“Doesn’t look temporary, either,” Vanto said. “The racks are permanently bonded to the walls, deck, and ceiling. So what kind of passengers was the Sempre designed to…” His words stop. His eyes focus on the connection rings set into the walls beside two sets of racks. His fingers squeeze together with sudden tension. “They weren’t passengers,” he said quietly. “They were prisoners.”
“Not just prisoners,” Thrawn said. “Slaves.”
—
Faro was waiting when Thrawn and Eli returned to the bridge. “Report, Commander,” Thrawn ordered.
“I have the analysis of the attack, Commodore,” Faro said, pulling up a schematic on the sensor display. “Looks like the most damaging fire came from the V-19s—they took out the shield generators, hyperdrive, and sublights—with the frigate mostly serving as a distraction.”
“Not unexpected,” Thrawn said. “Established military doctrine—” He looked at Eli. “Nikhi.”
Mentally, Eli shook his head. All these years speaking Basic, and there were still occasional words that escaped him. “Notwithstanding,” he supplied.
Thrawn nodded his thanks. “Established doctrine notwithstanding, if a well-trained starfighter squadron can penetrate point defenses, it is often more effective in striking power than capital ships. Note that the deliberate destruction of the hyperdrive indicates that their goal was never to capture the ship for their own use.”
“They were here to free the slaves,” Eli murmured.
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “Was there anything to indicate the attackers’ species of origin or training methods?”
“Ah, nothing we spotted, sir,” Faro said, frowning. “I’m not even sure how we’d go about determining that.”
“There are ways,” Thrawn said. “We will discuss them later.” He turned to Lomar. “Senior Lieutenant?”
“We’ve finished scrubbing the Sempre’s audio,” Lomar said. “There are half a dozen species that could have made the sounds we pulled up, but only Wookiees match up to the size you described for the slaves.”
“Good.” Thrawn pulled out his datapad. “In that case, this blood mark can be interpreted as an emblem instead of writing. Very well. Commander Vanto, to the computer.”
“Yes, sir.” Eli sat down at the nearest terminal. “Ready.”
“The slaves will have come from Kashyyyk,” Thrawn said, his eyes narrowed as he scrolled through pages on his datapad. “But there will have been an offworld processing center to test for health and other qualifications before they were sent on to their final destination. Using Kashyyyk and our current position as end points, search for that center’s likely location.”
“Unless they were in a hurry, there’s no reason they had to come direct,” Faro pointed out. “They could have been processed anywhere from here to Alderaan.”
“Haste is not so much an issue as efficiency, Commander,” Thrawn said. “If there has been a steady stream of such transports…” He paused, then continued scrolling. “At any rate, the Sempre was permanently altered to carry Wookiees or creatures of their same size. It seems reasonable that the processing center is equally permanent. Commander Vanto?”