“So that’s why we’re taking this one instead of ours?” Eli asked as he began strapping in.
“An unexpected bonus,” Thrawn said. “My primary goal was data that might have carelessly been left uncleared on this ship’s computer. Navigational records in particular that might point us to bases and supply lines.” He sent a quick sideways look at Eli. “You were taken to their leader, I assume. Was it Nightswan?”
“Yes,” Eli said, frowning in sudden understanding. “You knew it would be him?”
“I didn’t know for certain. But I suspected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eli demanded. Thrawn always played his cards close to his plaque, but this was pushing it too far. “Knowing who I was up against could have been extremely useful.”
“On the contrary,” Thrawn said. “You would hardly have been able to produce a convincing performance had you not been genuinely surprised.”
“So you just walked us into his trap?”
“He needed to believe we’d been caught unawares,” Thrawn said. “Otherwise, he would have been on his guard.”
“He and his crew,” Eli said, the anger fading. As usual, once Thrawn explained things, he could see the tactical logic. “I presume you were never in the engine compartment?”
“Correct,” Thrawn said. “I hid in the escape pod cowling until the boarders had moved aft, then left and found the abandon-ship control.”
“After setting up a bomb,” Eli said. “Let me guess. The same gimmicked blaster power pack trick you used to get off your exile planet?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. The status board went green. “Time to return to Batonn.”
He keyed the drive, and they shot out of the bay. Eli tensed, but no one opened fire on them. “And see how much of Admiral Durril’s task force survived?”
“Hopefully, more than you fear,” Thrawn said. “But we shall see.”
—
“I told Nightswan that Star Destroyers were tough ships,” Vanto said, shaking his head in amazement as he gazed out the viewport at the regrouped 103rd. “But this is borderline unbelievable.”
“They weren’t under bombardment for long,” Thrawn said. “Captain Brento had instructions to move in as soon as we were gone, coordinate the remaining functional ships as best she could, and use their combined tractor beams on the Judicator.”
“You had a handful of light cruisers tractor a Star Destroyer? And it worked?”
“They didn’t need to move it very far,” Thrawn said. “Just far enough downward to reach an orbit that would take it out of the ion cannons’ range. Once the attack was halted, the Judicator’s power systems came up quickly enough for it to move away from Batonn and out of danger.”
“Ah,” Vanto said. “I wonder if Durril will acknowledge the Shyrack’s assistance.”
“It would be difficult for him to ignore it.”
“True. But I’ll bet he’ll try.”
—
“…and after that we were able to make running repairs on the engines and get out of range,” Durril concluded his report. His flickering holographic image is difficult to read, but his voice holds anger and embarrassment. “I apologize for my failure, Fleet Admiral Donassius. But now that I know what we’re up against, my next assault will succeed.”
“Perhaps,” Donassius said. His holographic image turns to the third hologram floating over the Chimaera’s projector. “Admiral Kinshara. Your report?”
“The insurgents at Denash have been dealt with, Fleet Admiral,” Kinshara said. His voice holds satisfaction at his success, and a more subtle satisfaction at Durril’s failure. “There was little there, as it turned out. However, our preliminary prisoner interrogation suggests that a large portion of their ships and matériel may have already been transferred to Batonn.”
“Excellent,” Durril said. His voice holds brisk confidence. “All the barks in a single hound. That much easier to roll up the lot of them.”
“Admiral Thrawn?” Donassius invited.
“Sammun is likewise pacified,” Thrawn said. “Two enemy ships were destroyed, four ships captured. A considerable array of small-arms ordnance was also captured.”
“Without your actual presence, I’m told?”
Commander Faro shifts her feet. Her usual confidence is muted; her body stance holds discomfort. “The action was carried out under my direction, Admiral.”
“I see.” For a moment, Donassius continues to gaze at Thrawn. “Admiral Durril, when will the One Oh Third be able to travel?”
“We can reengage in thirty hours, sir,” Durril said. His embarrassment is gone, his voice now holding anticipation.
“I didn’t ask when you could fight, Admiral,” Donassius said. “I asked when you could travel.”
“Ah…five hours, perhaps,” Durril said. His voice holds sudden caution. “Sir, with all due respect—”
“In five hours you are to bring your task force to the Marleyvane shipyards for repair,” Donassius said. “Admiral Thrawn?”
“Yes, Fleet Admiral?”
“You said you needed to gather intelligence on the Scrim Island insurgents. How much time will you need?”
“Sir, I must protest,” Durril said. His stunned disbelief transforms into outrage and wounded pride. “This operation was given to me. I’m perfectly capable of seeing it through.”
“Admiral Thrawn?” Donassius repeated.
“Actually, Fleet Admiral, the gathering is complete,” Thrawn said. “I can take back the island whenever you wish.”
“Good.” Donassius’s image looks at Durril, then back to Thrawn. His voice holds satisfaction. “At your convenience, Admiral.”
At one time or another, every warrior wishes to have an unconquerable fortress. Such a fortress is perceived as a refuge, a place of defiance, or a rock upon which enemies can be goaded into smashing themselves to their own destruction.
Politicians, too, yearn for such fortresses, though they envision them in terms of power and authority instead of stone and weapons and shields. Industrialists wish to be similarly protected against competitors and marauders, while pirates hope for defense against system authorities. In one way or another, all people wish for ultimate safety.
But ultimate safety does not exist. Those who trust in such will find that hope dashed upon the very rock behind which they seek to hide.
—
The captains had their orders. The ships of the 96th Task Force were in position.
It was time.
“All ships, report in,” Thrawn called from the center of the command walkway. Making a final check, as he always did.
Eli smiled to himself. For all of Thrawn’s interest in observing and establishing his opponents’ patterns, the admiral had plenty of his own.
“Interesting plan,” Faro murmured from Eli’s side. “At the very least it holds the prospect of taking them by surprise.”
“Admiral Thrawn’s plans usually do that,” Eli murmured back.
“So I’ve noticed,” Faro said. “You’ve been with him a long time, haven’t you?”
Eli shrugged. “All my career.”
“Must have been nice,” Faro mused. “Minds like his are few and far between. Too often the men and women in senior command positions are there because of who they know rather than what they know.”
“Yes, I’ve served under my share of those.”
“As did Thrawn, I assume,” Faro said. “It must have driven him crazy at times. Good thing you were there to keep him sane.”
“There’s nothing special about me, ma’am,” Eli said. “In fact, I was on track to be a supply officer before he showed up.”
Faro shook her head. “That would have been a waste. You belong on the bridge, not the conveyer.”
“Not sure I agree, ma’am,” Eli said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “I certainly don’t have the admiral’s genius for tactics.”
“Maybe not,” Faro said. “But once the plans are explained, you understand them.”
Eli had to smile. “Once they’re explained, ma’am, anyone can understand them.”
“You think so?” Faro countered. “You really think all the captains and their senior officers out there in the Ninety-Sixth understand how this is going to work?”
“Of course,” Eli said, frowning. “It’s obvious.”