“Colonel Zenoc?”
“We’ve pulled back,” Zenoc said. His voice still holds confusion, and now also wariness and distrust. “But this isn’t a tenable position, sir. If we get pushed back any more, we’re going to be in trouble.”
“You will not be pushed back,” Thrawn assured him. “Your battle is over. Turbolasers: Fire.”
On the schematic, the seven marked points flashed as hull plates disintegrated. Behind them, the sensors painted four of the internal sections bright red as the air within them boiled into space.
“What the hell?” Zenoc barked. “Chimaera, did you just fire on us?”
“Yes,” Thrawn confirmed. “I believe you will now find your intruders trapped in their current positions.”
Another pause. “I’ll be roasted,” Zenoc said. The earlier wariness and confusion are gone. His voice now holds surprised understanding. “And B-five?”
“Is intact, though it is now also isolated from the rest of the station,” Thrawn said. “We will continue the battle against the frigate and V-19s. I suggest you call on the intruders to surrender before you begin emergency access operations.”
“Yes, of course.” Zenoc’s voice holds relief and even a small degree of humor. “Thank you, Commodore. Excellent work.”
“You are welcome, Colonel,” Thrawn said. “We will continue operations until the Baklek reinforcements arrive. After that, we will leave you to deal with the prisoners while we retrieve the Sempre and return it here. I presume you have orders that cover such contingencies?”
“We do,” Zenoc said. His voice sobers as the immediacy of the battle fades and he remembers the loss of the transport’s crew. “We’ll be ready when you return. And again, Commodore, thank you.”
“Commander Faro?” Thrawn said.
“Enemy forces are down to the crippled frigate and three functioning V-19s,” Faro reported. “I assume you’d like us to corral and capture the remaining fighters intact if possible?”
“If possible,” Thrawn said. “If not, the Empire will have sufficient prisoners for interrogation among the rest of the survivors.”
“Yes, sir.”
Vanto came up beside him. “Commodore?” he asked, his voice quiet and disturbed. “What are we going to do about the Wookiees?”
“We will leave them here.”
Vanto is silent a moment. “I’m not completely comfortable with the idea that the Empire is using slaves, sir.”
“Terms are not always as they seem, Commander,” Thrawn said. “They are called slaves, but they may in fact be indentured servants. They may be prisoners working off their sentence. They may have sold themselves into slavery as a means of repaying debts to others on their world. I have seen all those situations at times.”
“You really think any of those are likely?”
“No,” Thrawn said, his tone hardening. “But it does not matter. However these beings were pressed into service, they are now Imperial assets. They will be treated as such.”
“Understood, Commodore.”
Each culture is different. Each species is unique. That presents challenges to the warrior, who often must ascertain from limited clues the strategy, goals, and tactics of an opponent.
But the danger of misreading an opponent is sometimes even greater in politics. There, one seldom has the clearness of weapons activation or troop movement to warn of impending danger. Often, the only indication of conflict is when the battle has already begun.
—
The shuttle hatch opened, letting in the warm afternoon air.
After all these years, Arihnda had come home.
She paused at the top of the ramp, taking a moment to let her gaze drift across the buildings of Capital City before turning to the more rustic Lothal landscape surrounding it. After the massive cityscape of Coruscant, the sight of wild vegetation was almost a shock.
“Welcome home, Governor,” a voice called from the bottom of the ramp.
Arihnda looked down. Maketh Tua stood there, dressed in the blue and gray of an Imperial minister, a hint of her blond hair glinting from beneath her close-fitting conical helmet. Her hand held a datapad; her smile held a hint of nervousness.
“Thank you,” Arihnda said, walking down the ramp and stopping in front of her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, Governor,” the woman confirmed. “Over a year since you succeeded to the governorship, in fact.”
Arihnda felt her lip twitch. And in that year she’d spent less than a week here, usually only a few hours at a time, ruling by proxy the world she’d worked so hard to get. Most of her time had been spent on Coruscant, making friends, bolstering Lothal’s standing among the Empire’s thousands of worlds, and chasing down incriminating bits of information for Grand Moff Tarkin.
But finally, finally, she was here to stay.
After the glittering lights of Coruscant, she still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that.
“Which also makes it over a year since you were appointed overseer of industrial production,” she said. “So tell me: How is Lothal’s industrial production getting along?”
“Quite well, Your Excellency, quite well,” Tua said. “I have all the relevant data whenever you’re settled in and ready to examine it.”
Silently, Arihnda held out her hand. Tua’s cheerful expression slipped, just a bit, and she hastily handed Arihnda the datapad. “It’s the file on top, Your Excellency.”
“Thank you.” Arihnda keyed to the file, watching Tua out of the corner of her eye. The woman had been an assistant minister during the last couple of months of Governor Azadi’s administration. Azadi’s sudden removal and arrest on charges of treason had been a traumatic event for the entire governmental staff, and even after all this time it was clear that Tua wasn’t completely over it.
Hopefully the others were feeling likewise. Nervous subordinates worked extra hard, and kept their noses very clean. Until they had a better feel for their newly returned boss, they would be polite, energetic, and easy to control or intimidate.
Which was just as well, because the intimidation was about to start in earnest. “What’s this decline in refinery output?” she asked, turning the datapad around. “Twenty percent in the past four months?”
“It’s the mines, Your Excellency,” Tua said. “They’ve been worked so hard over the past few years that they’re running out of quality ore.”
“Really,” Arihnda said, letting her voice cool a bit.
Tua’s throat tightened. “They’ve been worked very hard,” she repeated. “It’s also more and more difficult to find qualified miners. A lot of young people go into the Academy—Commandant Aresko has set up a whole string of incentives for them. They just don’t want to work the mines anymore like they used to. With the Empire running them instead of the old mining families—”
“Then you bring in miners from offworld,” Arihnda cut in. She’d already noted that the Imperial-run mines had logged the quickest decline in workers. “My parents—” She broke off as a number on the list caught her attention. “That doonium vein is tapped out already? That’s impossible.”
“I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but it’s true,” Tua said. “I’ve been down the mine myself. All the doonium has been extracted.”
“I see,” Arihnda said, pulling up the full data spread on Pryce Mining. The fact that Renking had blatantly kept the name was just one additional irritation. “In that case, Pryce Mining isn’t worth the effort being put into it. Shut it down.”
Tua’s eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me, Your Excellency?”
“Was the order unclear?”
“No, Your Excellency,” Tua said hastily. “Do you want it…is it to be closed right now?”
“Right now,” Arihnda confirmed. “At the end of the current shift. See to it personally, Minister.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” She turned and started to go—
“Minister?”