by Timothy Zahn
“Acknowledged,” Ar’alani said, suppressing a smile at that last, definitely non-standard comment. The entire bridge crew had quietly seethed at Ilparg’s disparaging comments about Che’ri’s navigation back at Urch—fleet officers and warriors held their sky-walkers dear—but most of them had kept their feelings to themselves. Octrimo, who as helm officer had naturally worked the closest with the girl, had apparently decided to risk a reprimand in order to throw a small dig at the ambassador.
His protective attitude probably wasn’t hurt by the fact that his Droc family were strong rivals to Ilparg’s own Boadil family.
Not that Ilparg probably noticed the comment. He was standing beside Ar’alani’s command chair, his eyes on the distant planet, his mind clearly elsewhere than the Vigilant’s bridge.
Ar’alani looked back at the planet and the ships clustered around it, the brief moment of amusement disappearing. Most of the vessels out there were undoubtedly Lioaoin: freighters, patrol ships, two low-orbit bluedock repair stations, possibly a warship or two. The old records suggested there was at least one blackdock in much higher orbit, raising the possibility of another warship in the area, though if it was undergoing repairs it could probably be ignored.
The question was whether there were any Nikardun ships in the mix, there to keep an eye on the locals.
“Sweep complete,” Senior Commander Obbic’lia’nuf called from the sensor station. “No matches to the Nikardun ship we saw at Urch.”
Which didn’t prove anything, Ar’alani knew. Aside from the oversized viewports and the particular placement of the main weapons clusters, none of the Nikardun ships she and Thrawn had run into looked exactly like any of the others. Certainly Yiv didn’t seem to go with any kind of standard silhouette.
“Traffic Control is hailing us, Admiral,” Wutroow said.
“Never mind them,” Ilparg said before Ar’alani could reply. “Get me someone in the Regime Diplomatic Office. If they had anything to do with that Urch business, I want to have it out here and now.”
“A moment, Ambassador,” Ar’alani said, looking over her shoulder at the bridge hatch. Thrawn was apparently running late. “We’re waiting for Senior Captain Thrawn to arrive.”
“What do we need him for?”
Because he’s the one who can tell us if there are Nikardun ships out there—the obvious reply ran through Ar’alani’s mind. Because he has a feel for tactics that will be crucial if this thing blows up. Because he’s got a track record in combat situations that most Chiss commodores and admirals would give their blood firstborn for.
But she had more tact than Commander Octrimo. She also had none of his family rivalries to deal with. “Because I want him here, and I’m the admiral,” she said instead.
Ilparg made a little huffing noise. “Fine,” he said. “But he’d better not be long.”
The hatch slid open and Thrawn stepped onto the bridge. “My apologies, Admiral,” he said as he crossed to Ar’alani and Ilparg. “Apologies, Ambassador. My studies took longer than expected.”
“What studies were those, Senior Captain?” Ilparg asked suspiciously.
“Tactical data,” Ar’alani put in.
“Tactical data?” Ilparg repeated scornfully. “Is that what the Expansionary Fleet calls art these days?”
Ar’alani clenched her teeth. “The first rule of strategy is to know your enemy, Ambassador,” she said. “That includes their battle tactics; but also their history, their philosophy, and, yes, sometimes even their art.”
“I accept the first two,” Ilparg said, the disdain still in his voice. “The third is of little to no value. However, now that Senior Captain Thrawn has graced us with his presence, perhaps you’d be good enough to contact the diplomatic office as I requested?”
“Certainly, Ambassador,” Wutroow said, stepping to Ilparg’s side and deftly easing him away from Ar’alani and Thrawn. “We can hail them better from the comm station. This way, please.”
“Thank you for trying,” Thrawn said softly as he came up beside Ar’alani.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ar’alani advised. “Sometimes it’s good to have your talents underestimated.” Though not when your career is being evaluated, she added silently to herself. “What did you find?”
“Our Lioaoi art files are extremely limited,” Thrawn said. “But they should be adequate to our needs.”
“Glad to hear it.” Ar’alani waved toward the viewport. “There’s your canvas. Paint me something.”
For a moment, Thrawn stood silently, his eyes tracking across the scene in front of them. Ar’alani shifted her attention between him and the tactical display, wondering when the Lioaoi were going to make their move. If the Nikardun were here, this group must have heard about the Urch incident by now.
Could the Urchiv-ki have somehow failed to identify the Vigilant before it escaped from their encirclement? Impossible. Could they perhaps not have at least one communications triad on the entire Urchiv-ki capital planet capable of transmitting a message this far? Even more unlikely.
So what were the Nikardun waiting for?
Unless the whole thing was just a product of paranoia and imagination. The alien nations out here were always fighting among themselves—Ar’alani knew that all too well. If the Nikardun were just some small-time species the Chiss hadn’t run across, and their battles were purely local ones—
“Those nine fighters,” Thrawn said, pointing to a group of small ships just coming around the planetary disk. “The craft themselves are a variant of Lioaoin design, but their formation and flight pattern aren’t typical.”
“Maybe they’ve updated their tactics since the last time you saw them,” Ar’alani suggested.
“No,” Thrawn said slowly. “Lioaoi like vertical formations. Their artwork clearly shows that. They would normally put nine ships like that in a three-stack wedge. This formation is planar and far more spread out.”
Ar’alani nodded. That was definitely not a stacked-wedge formation. “Looks like it’s designed for a pincer maneuver, too.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “Attack, not defense. Again, contrary to the usual Lioaoin predisposition. But it’s not just the formation. The pilots seem…hesitant, somehow. As if this formation is new to them.”
“Maybe they’re fresh recruits.”
“All nine of them?” Thrawn shook his head. “No. Those are one-person gunboats. The Lioaoi would never put that many untried pilots alone without a more experienced ship and crew nearby in case of trouble. Certainly not that deep in the gravity well.”
“I agree that’s how they did things before,” Ar’alani said. “But fleets change doctrine all the time. Maybe not this drastically, but they do adjust and adapt to new tech or situations.”
“This is Lioaoin Orbital Command,” a voice came over the speaker.
Ar’alani blinked. She’d been so focused on the distant ships and Thrawn’s analysis that she’d almost forgotten their ostensible purpose for being here.
“This is Ambassador Boadil’par’gasoi of the Chiss Ascendancy,” Ilparg replied with all the dignity and arrogance Ar’alani had come to expect from the diplomatic corps in general and Ilparg in particular. “I wish to speak to someone in the diplomatic office concerning the aggressive treatment we received a few days ago at the Urchiv-ki capital of Urch.”
“What makes you think the Lioaoin Regime has anything to do with the Urchiv-ki?” the voice came back.
“There was a Lioaoin ship present when the Urchiv-ki attempted to capture our ship,” Ilparg said.
Ar’alani hissed out a breath. What the hell did Ilparg think he was doing? Handing over information like that, especially without getting anything in return, was the height of foolishness. “Ambassador—”
“No, let him go,” Thrawn said, closing a warning hand over her arm. “Let’s s
ee their reaction to who we are.”
Ar’alani scowled. Yes, that would be Thrawn’s plan, giving the Lioaoi a nudge and seeing how they reacted. All well and good, provided the reaction wasn’t to throw everything they had at the intruders.
Still, the Vigilant was a fully armed Nightdragon, and they weren’t yet too deep into the heartworld’s gravity well. No matter what the Lioaoi had, Ar’alani had no doubt she could get them out with only minimal damage to her ship. Around the side of one of the bluedocks she saw something move into view…
And felt her eyes widen.
“Uh-oh,” someone across the bridge breathed.
Ar’alani’s hands closed involuntarily into tight fists. It was a warship.
A huge warship—Battle Dreadnought class at least, half again the Vigilant’s size. Its flanks bristled with weapons clusters, angular lines marked sections of heavy armor, tight-spaced patterns of nodes proclaimed the existence of a strong electrostatic barrier.
And the overly large bridge viewport—the arrogantly, invitingly, overly large viewport—marked it as Nikardun.
“Admiral?” Wutroow asked, a hint of urgency in her voice.
Ar’alani eyed the Nikardun warship, noting particularly the vectors and positions of the ships around it, then gave the tactical display a long, careful look. “Hold course,” she ordered Octrimo. “They’re not making any threatening moves.”
“That could change at any minute,” Wutroow warned.
“No,” Thrawn said. “They could move to attack mode, but it would take more than simply a minute.”
“Agreed,” Ar’alani said. “At their distance and orientation, any move would be well telegraphed.”
Wutroow seemed to brace herself. “Yes, ma’am.”
“The diplomatic office has no understanding of that which you speak,” a different Lioaoin voice came over the speaker. “But we welcome the friendship and mutual respect of the Chiss Ascendancy. Will you approach, Ambassador, that we may have a conversation? Or shall we send transport for you?”
Ilparg looked back at Ar’alani. “Admiral?” he prompted.
“Well, we’re definitely not moving any closer,” Ar’alani said. “And under the circumstances, we’re not letting you go in, either.”
“So we’re just leaving?”
“Why not?” Ar’alani said. “We’ve gotten what we came for.”
Ilparg frowned. “What exactly did we get?”
“The presence of a Nikardun ship,” Thrawn said.
“Which took no action against us,” Ilparg countered.
“And the fact that the Lioaoi don’t want to talk about Urch,” Ar’alani added.
Ilparg snorted. “I believe that’s what’s known as negative information.”
“It’s still information,” Ar’alani said. “Regardless, it’s all we’re going to get. So offer your apologies, say your farewells—feel free to translate that into diplomatic-speak—and we’ll be on our way.”
“A moment, Admiral,” Thrawn said thoughtfully. “With your permission, I’d like to run one additional experiment. Those nine gunboats seem unusually interested in us.”
Ar’alani turned her attention back to the group of small fighters they’d noted earlier. Their pincer formation had opened up a little, but otherwise nothing seemed to have changed.
She felt her eyes narrow as she saw what Thrawn was referring to. The formation had opened up because the gunboats had suspended the maneuver they’d been in the middle of and were now drifting, their thrusters quiet, the tidal effects of the planetary gravitational field slowly moving them apart. “At the very least they’re interested in being able to swing into action at a moment’s notice,” she said. “And in any direction.”
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “And I see no reason other than the Vigilant why they should suddenly be so watchful.”
Ar’alani scratched at her cheek. The Nikardun Battle Dreadnought was making no move, but the fighters were in ready position. Someone hedging their bets?
Or was it something more interesting? Was it an indication that there were two different chains of command operating?
Either way, it was worth exploring further. “I trust whatever you have in mind won’t involve the discharge of weapons?”
“Not at all,” Thrawn assured her. “I’d simply like to tell them I’m here.”
“What do you expect that to accomplish?”
“I don’t know. That’s why it’s an experiment.”
She gave him her best strained-patience look. But Thrawn’s hunches were usually worth chasing down. “Very well. Helm, be ready to turn and get us out of here.”
“How quickly?” Octrimo asked.
“Hopefully, not very,” Ar’alani said. “It looks like they’re trying to play innocent, and it would be nice to leave them thinking we’d bought their act. But I want speed and power in reserve if we need it. Sky-walker Che’ri?”
“I’m ready,” Che’ri said. Her voice was shaking a bit, but the words were firm enough.
Ar’alani gestured to Thrawn. “Ready?”
“Yes,” he said, taking a step closer to her command chair. “Watch the gunboats.”
She nodded and tapped the comm switch. “Go.”
“This is Senior Captain Thrawn, Ambassador Ilparg’s supervisor,” Thrawn said. “Thank you for your interest, but the ambassador does not feel prepared at this time for a full diplomatic conversation. The Chiss Ascendancy will be in future communication with you regarding this matter.”
The Lioaoin gave some kind of wordy but mostly meaningless reply. But Ar’alani wasn’t really listening. Seven of the nine gunboats Thrawn had told her to watch had activated their thrusters at the mention of his name, moving out of formation with their bows swinging toward the Vigilant.
But they’d barely begun their maneuver when they abruptly throttled back, holding their new positions for another moment before dropping back into place with the two gunboats that hadn’t left their orbits. The whole thing took barely five seconds, with all nine ships back in formation before Thrawn even finished his statement.
The half of her brain that was monitoring the conversation recognized that it was over. She tapped the comm switch again and nodded to Octrimo. “Take us out, helm,” she ordered. “Nice and easy and calm. Sky-walker, stand ready.”
She turned her attention to the Battle Dreadnought, wondering if its captain would now decide to drop his own innocent act. But the Nikardun continued its leisurely orbit as the Vigilant turned and drove back out of the gravity well. Che’ri leaned over her control board, and with a burst of star-flares they were back in the safety of hyperspace.
Wutroow crossed the bridge to Ar’alani’s side. “So what exactly did we learn?” she asked.
“You weren’t watching the gunboats?” Ar’alani asked.
“You and Thrawn were watching them. I figured someone ought to keep an eye on the Dreadnought.”
“Yes. Good thinking.” Ar’alani looked up at Thrawn. “Your idea, Senior Captain. Go ahead and lay it out.”
“Seven of the nine gunboats reacted to my name by starting to move toward us,” Thrawn told Wutroow. “That suggests both that I’m known to the Nikardun, and that there’s some kind of standing order regarding me. But a moment later all seven returned to their formation.”
“So whoever was commanding the fighters was all set to come charging over and avenge the horrible insult you delivered at Rapacc,” Wutroow said slowly. “Only someone higher in the command chain countermanded the order.”
“That’s how I read it,” Ar’alani confirmed. “Which immediately implies in turn what I said earlier. Even under provocation, even with standing orders, they’re trying very hard to pretend they’re not a threat to us.”
“One problem,” Wutroow said, lifting a finger. “I t
hought we decided the gunboats were Lioaoin. Why would they care about Thrawn? I mean, aside from the obvious?”
“Not so obvious anymore,” Ar’alani said. “Certainly after all these years, there can’t be any standing orders concerning him. At least, not from the Lioaoi.”
“I suppose not,” Wutroow said. “So…?”
“So we were wrong earlier,” Ar’alani said, feeling a sense of looming dread. “We thought the Lioaoi might just be learning new battle tactics. They are, but they’re learning them under Nikardun supervision.”
“The Lioaoi in the gunboats knew the Nikardun orders concerning me,” Thrawn said. “The seven pilots who reacted did so far too quickly for it to be otherwise. Detailed standing orders of that sort aren’t typically shared with subjugated peoples. Furthermore, the gunships were armed—their forward swivel lasers were visible, as were their missile ports. We know from the Paccosh that the Nikardun remove the weapons from their conquered peoples.”
“Which strongly suggests the Lioaoi aren’t Nikardun subjects,” Ar’alani said quietly, gazing out at the roiling hyperspace swirl. “They’re allies.”
For a moment none of them spoke. Then Wutroow huffed out a breath. “Great,” she said. “So now what?”
“We need more information,” Thrawn said. “Admiral, can you divert the Vigilant to Solitair before returning to the Ascendancy?”
“Absolutely not,” Ilparg said firmly, striding up to them. “First the Lioaoin Regime; now you want to go to the Garwian Unity? How many ways are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” He turned his glare onto Thrawn. “Never mind you. How many ways are you trying to get me into trouble? I’m already far removed from my mandate.”
“Your position and mandate aren’t the issues here, Ambassador,” Ar’alani said, studying Thrawn’s face. “The Vigilant is my ship, and it goes where I order it. If I decide there’s data to be gathered, I’m obligated to follow through on it.”
“Not if the Syndicure declares your decisions improper,” Ilparg warned.
“If that happens, so be it,” Ar’alani said. “But even the syndics have only limited authority over a senior fleet officer.”