Star Wars_Thrawn Read online

  “It’s okay,” Layneo said, her voice dry. “The indicators and hatch interlocks were a pretty solid hint.”

  “Oh. Right.” Cygni sighs. His torso folds over again in a slump.

  “And then tell her,” Thrawn continued to Vanto, “that I recommend bringing a full operational crew aboard while we attempt to restart the hyperdrive. If we are unable to do so, I recommend attempting to disengage the static-locks so that the tibanna cylinders can be removed and transferred to the Blood Crow.”

  Layneo’s mouth drops open a few millimeters. “Ah…yes,” Vanto said cautiously. “Sir, I suspect the captain will find your suggestions…a bit excessive.”

  “She may,” Thrawn said. Cygni’s face is still hidden in his hands. “Nevertheless, those are my recommendations.”

  “Yes, sir,” Vanto said. “I’ll submit them immediately.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” Thrawn said. “While you do that, Tech Layneo will show me to the tibanna cylinders.”

  Layneo clenches her jaw firmly. “Yes, sir,” she said. “This way.”

  Leadership and obedience are the two legs on which a warrior’s life is balanced. Without both, victory cannot be achieved.

  Leadership depends on information and comprehension. Not so obedience. Sometimes a commander may choose to share details of his plan. Often he may not. In either case, obedience must be instant and complete.

  Such automatic response relies on trust between commander and those commanded. And that trust can only be obtained through leadership.

  —

  Eli had expected Captain Rossi to take Thrawn’s recommendations badly. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “A full op crew?” Rossi echoed incredulously. “Is he out of his mind?”

  “Ma’am, the cargo is extremely valuable,” Eli pointed out, fighting back a growing annoyance. Rossi had no business simply rejecting Thrawn’s suggestions out of hand. But Thrawn likewise shouldn’t have put Eli in the middle of this in the first place. If he wanted to pitch this crazy plan he should have done it himself. “If we can move either the ship or the tibanna—”

  “And if he thinks he’s going to play around with twenty tibanna cylinders while my ship is in even the same solar system, he’s very much mistaken,” Rossi cut him off.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eli said, glowering at his comlink. Now the captain was just being overdramatic. A cascading tibanna explosion was seriously nasty, but it wasn’t that bad. “But if Lieutenant Thrawn thinks it can be done, it may be worth letting him try.”

  “It would hardly be a major loss for the navy if he blew himself to atoms,” Rossi countered sarcastically. “But I’m not risking that much of my crew on those odds. Anyway, it’s a moot point. A Ho’Din settlement on Moltok is getting shot at by the local Makurth boss, and they need some Imperial muscle to knock their little heads together before it becomes a full-fledged war. We need to go.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eli said, wishing he could just let it go and let Rossi’s decision play out, for better or worse, upon her own head.

  But Cygni needed protection and justice, too. So did the Imperial base or local planetary defense force that had ordered that tibanna shipment.

  Besides, Thrawn was counting on him.

  “What if just Lieutenant Thrawn and I stayed behind?” he suggested to Rossi. “Possibly with one of the techs along to assist? We could try to get the ship started, and maybe work on the tibanna a little. You could come back and get us after you’ve settled the Moltok situation.”

  There was a short pause, and Eli could visualize Rossi tapping her fingers on her armrest as she weighed her options.

  If Eli were a betting man—and if gambling were allowed aboard the Blood Crow—he would bet on the captain going with whatever option had the best chance of Thrawn blowing himself up. If the tibanna didn’t do the trick, a shipload of returning pirates might.

  “Very well, Ensign,” Rossi said. “Inform Lieutenant Thrawn that he can have whatever equipment he needs, and up to three crew, assuming he can find that many willing to volunteer. You’ll stay with him regardless, of course. An important officer like that can’t be without his aide.”

  Eli scowled. He’d called it, all right. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll deliver your message immediately.”

  Given the circumstances, Rossi no doubt assumed the repair party would consist only of Thrawn and Eli. It was probably a surprise to her, and not a pleasant one, when Barlin, Layneo, and Jakeeb all instantly volunteered to stay, as well.

  “I’m gratified you were all willing to help,” Cygni said as he and the others watched from the Dromedar’s bridge as the Blood Crow jumped to lightspeed. “I just hope it doesn’t end badly for you.”

  “It will not,” Thrawn assured him. “Ensign Barlin, Tech Layneo: You may begin when ready.”

  “Yes, sir,” Barlin said, seating herself at the helm station. “Layneo?”

  “On it, ma’am,” Layneo said, pulling a chair over to the main computer station. “Here we go.”

  “What are they doing?” Cygni asked, lowering his voice to a whisper as if afraid he would disturb their work.

  “They are attempting what is known as an asymmetric backdoor,” Thrawn told him. “It is a hidden code programmed into many ship computers for precisely this purpose.”

  Cygni whistled softly. “I’ve never heard of that. Nice.” He threw a sideways look toward Thrawn. “Never heard of a nonhuman as an Imperial officer, either. You’re some sort of Pantoran, right?”

  Eli took a breath, preparing to point out that Pantorans didn’t have red eyes—

  “Of a sort, yes,” Thrawn said. “What I am is a lieutenant in the Imperial Navy.”

  “Right,” Cygni said again. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to pry. I just…no offense.”

  “None taken,” Thrawn said. “Ensign Vanto, go to engineering and unpack the crate I had delivered aboard. We shall join you shortly.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eli said, frowning slightly. There was something about the way Thrawn was acting, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Was he worried about the ship? The tibanna gas? The pirates? Captain Rossi?

  Actually, when he put it that way, it wasn’t surprising at all that Thrawn might feel preoccupied.

  The crate had been left just outside the cargo bay where the line of tibanna cylinders stood against the hull. Eli glanced into the bay—Jakeeb was in there taking the readings Thrawn had ordered—then set to work on the crate. He got the end open.

  And felt his eyes widen. He’d had no idea that Thrawn was bringing—

  “What in the world?” Cygni’s stunned voice came from behind him. “Is that a buzz droid?”

  “It is,” Thrawn said calmly. “I am surprised you recognize it.”

  “They weren’t exactly a secret weapon,” Cygni said, walking up to Eli and crouching beside him to peer into the crate. “That’s a Mark One, isn’t it? Rare. Is it functional? Please tell me it isn’t functional.”

  “Of course it is functional,” Thrawn said. “It would hardly be of use otherwise.”

  Cygni looked at Thrawn, then at the buzz droid, then back at Thrawn. “Okay, you’ve lost me,” he said. “These things were designed to eat starfighters, right?”

  “They also have other uses,” Thrawn said. “Come. I will explain.”

  He turned and walked through the hatchway into the cargo bay. Cygni watched him go, then turned to Eli. “Is he serious? About using buzz droids in there, I mean?”

  “I assume so,” Eli said.

  “Really.” Cygni looked at the hatchway again, then shrugged and gestured to Eli. “After you,” he said. “This I have to see.”

  Thrawn was standing with Jakeeb, the two having a quiet discussion, when Eli and Cygni joined them. “Tech Jakeeb confirms my earlier assumptions,” Thrawn said. “The static-lock does indeed seal the tibanna cylinders, but only from this side.”

  “Excuse me?” Cygni asked, sounding even more confused. “What do
you mean, this side?”

  Thrawn gestured. “Tech Jakeeb?”

  “The lock’s only on the cargo bay side of the cylinders,” Jakeeb explained. “See, they’re fastened right against the hull with half-meter struts. That’s too short a distance for the lock to go all the way around—it would short out or power-drain itself out of existence. So the lock is just on the surfaces inside the bay.”

  “Though also around the ends of the cylinder row, I assume,” Eli said. He saw where Thrawn was going with this now.

  “Correct,” Jakeeb confirmed. “Just not on the backside. So if you want to get to them, your best bet is to go through the hull.”

  “Hence, the buzz droid,” Cygni said, sounding awed. “I’ll be damned. Why hasn’t anyone thought of that before?”

  “Oh, they have,” Jakeeb said. “Thing is, it’s not quite as simple as it sounds.”

  “Because?”

  “One, you have to get a buzz droid and probably rebuild it,” Jakeeb said, ticking off fingers. “Two, once you’ve done that, big-ship hulls are thicker and tougher than the old starfighters. Fair chance you’ll wreck your droid before you’re halfway through. Third—” He looked at Thrawn, raised his eyebrows.

  “Third is that you will necessarily drain one of the cylinders into space when you cut through,” Thrawn said. “That represents a loss that many are unwilling to accept.”

  “Though losing one out of twenty isn’t bad, percentage-wise,” Cygni mused. “Especially if the alternative is to lose all of them. So I gather once you have that cylinder drained, you can cut it into little pieces and dump it out your gap in the hull, which then gives you access to the others from the back. Then you just work your way down the line, cutting all the struts and freeing them one by one?”

  “Exactly,” Jakeeb said. “Takes a while, but once you’ve got the first one out it’s a purely mechanical operation.” He looked at Thrawn again. “There is one other slight problem, of course. Venting the tibanna outside the ship theoretically works just fine. But if you spark the vapor in just the right way…well, there could be trouble.”

  “As in blowing up the ship?” Cygni asked.

  “Not that much trouble,” Jakeeb said. “But it would be a mess.”

  “Fortunately, that will not be necessary after all,” Thrawn said. His head was cocked a little to the side, Eli saw, as if he was listening to something.

  “Why not?” Cygni asked.

  In answer, Thrawn pulled out his comlink. “Ensign Barlin? Do I hear the hyperdrive going active?”

  “Yes, sir, you do,” Barlin’s voice came faintly from the comlink. “Got through the lock, and we’re just about ready to go. Does Cygni have the destination coordinates? Or are we just going to take the ship to Ansion?”

  “Neither, I’m afraid,” Cygni said softly.

  Frowning, Eli turned to him.

  And froze. The wretched, nervous, ill-fated crewman had vanished. In his place was someone else: quiet, calm, and supremely confident.

  A small blaster held steady in his hand.

  “What the hell?” Jakeeb breathed.

  Cygni ignored the comment. Pulling out a comlink with his free hand, he flicked it on. “We’re good,” he said. “Three with the tibanna; two on the bridge.” He raised his eyebrows toward Thrawn. “I’d appreciate it if you’d order Barlin and Layneo to surrender quietly.”

  “Why should I deprive them of their right and duty to defend their lives?” Thrawn countered.

  “Because if they surrender, they won’t be harmed,” Cygni said. “I give you my word.”

  “And these?” Thrawn asked, inclining his head toward Eli and Jakeeb.

  “None of you will be harmed,” Cygni said. “All we want is the tibanna.” He wrinkled his nose. “Well, and the ship, too. I guess that goes without saying.”

  Before Thrawn could answer, a dozen large, rough-looking men appeared, swarming through the hatchway into the cargo bay. One of them, a thin man with a braided beard, raised his blaster—

  “Blasters down,” Cygni snapped. “They’ve surrendered. No shooting. Angel, I said down.”

  The man with the braided beard ignored him. “What the hell is that?” he demanded, jabbing the blaster at Thrawn.

  “That,” Cygni said, “is a lieutenant of the Imperial Navy. Now lower your weapon.” He looked at Thrawn. “Lieutenant?”

  For a moment Thrawn studied him. Then he raised his comlink again. “Ensign Barlin, a group of pirates are on their way. They’ve been ordered not to harm you if you surrender without resistance. You will do so.”

  “Sir?”

  “Surrender, Ensign. That is an order.” Thrawn put the comlink away. “Would you care to accept my surrender personally, Mr. Cygni?”

  “That’s all right, Lieutenant,” Cygni said, not moving. “I get no particular enjoyment out of defeating my opponents. Angel? Disarm them, please.”

  “Yeah.” Angel grinned evilly. “ ’Cause I do enjoy it. So don’t get clever.” He gestured three of his soldiers forward.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Eli saw Jakeeb brace himself as he prepared for action. “As you were, Jakeeb,” he murmured. “You’ve been given an order.”

  Jakeeb hissed out a sigh. “Yes, sir.”

  A moment later, the Imperials were disarmed.

  “Good,” Cygni said. To Eli’s eye he looked more relaxed now that the risk of combat was past. “Better call your ship, Angel.”

  “Already called,” Angel said. “I suppose you want me to toss this crowd in with the others?”

  “That was the deal,” Cygni said. “No deaths; no injuries. Oh, and in case I didn’t mention it, I already have people on the ground at the drop point to make sure you deliver everyone safely.”

  “Well, you know, now, things don’t always go the way you want ’em to,” Angel warned. His eyes, Eli noted, hadn’t left Thrawn for a minute. “Sometimes there are accidents. Sometimes there’s trouble. There can be—”

  “Sometimes there are consequences you really don’t want to face,” Cygni said. He hadn’t raised his voice, but something in his tone nevertheless sent a chill up Eli’s back. “Enough posturing. You have the other two Imperials? Good. Bring them down here. As soon as your ship arrives, we’ll transfer them over. I trust you’ve decided which of your men will help me bring the Dromedar to port?”

  “Oh, yeah, I got your team,” Angel said, still eyeing Thrawn. “Starting with me.”

  Cygni frowned. “There’s no need for you to come personally,” he said. “Getting the cylinders will take some time, whether we break the static-lock or use Lieutenant Thrawn’s idea of cutting them out through the hull. Plenty of time for you to drop the prisoners and rejoin us.”

  “I know,” Angel said. “I just like your company, that’s all.” He nodded toward Thrawn. “I was just saying that accidents do happen. Not saying they would or wouldn’t, just saying they could.”

  Cygni gazed at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He looked at Thrawn, back at Angel. Eli held his breath…

  “Let me sweeten the pot,” Cygni said. “Did you notice that box in the passageway on your way in?”

  “Yeah,” Angel said. “Is that a buzz droid?”

  “It is indeed,” Cygni said. “Take it as a bonus. It’s probably worth, what—?” He held up a hand toward Thrawn.

  “Two hundred credits as it is,” Thrawn said.

  Cygni snorted. “You have no idea, Lieutenant. That’s a Mark One, Angel. At current prices, it’s probably a thousand credits just for the core’s doonium shell.”

  Angel threw a startled look at the droid. “It’s got a doonium shell?”

  “Refined, case-hardened, and ready for the right buyer to pull it off and drop it on the black market,” Cygni confirmed. “A thousand credits. Two hundred each for five otherwise worthless Imperials. Just to keep them alive.”

  Angel scrunched up his nose. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “Sure. I guess so.”

&
nbsp; “If that’s not good enough, consider this,” Cygni said. “If I hadn’t persuaded them to surrender, they would have fought, and some of your men would be dead right now. Maybe even you.”

  “I said fine,” Angel said scornfully. “They keep their noses clean, I’ll dump ’em with the rest. Happy?”

  Cygni inclined his head. “You may not realize this, Angel, but it pays to build a reputation for keeping your word.”

  “Not to the folks I work with it doesn’t,” Angel said sourly. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  —

  “So just because I don’t have your plate-crystal reputation, you think I can’t be trusted to do what I said?” Angel looks back over his shoulder at his prisoners and the other pirates. His eyes are narrowed, his lips twisted with the corners downward. The muscles in his throat and back are tight.

  “Not at all,” Cygni said. His tone is calm, his words conciliatory. His movements are careful and precise. His face shows little expression, but there is a tight muscle behind his cheek. “As long as I was here, I thought I’d check up on the other prisoners. Your men were a little rough on a couple of them.”

  “Hey, you throw a punch at a Culoss, it comes back with interest,” Angel growled. “They’re lucky I didn’t shoot them dead.”

  “Yes,” Cygni murmured. “I suppose they are.”

  “What is a Culoss?” Thrawn asked.

  “What?” Angel demands. His eyes narrow, his facial heat intensifying. His tone is cautious and suddenly angry, perhaps indicating regret for speaking the word.

  “It is a word I have not heard before,” Thrawn said. “Ensign Vanto?”

  “I don’t know it, either,” Vanto said. His tone is cautious, but interested. “Some slang thing, I’d guess. Probably means ‘idiot.’ ”

  Angel takes a step toward Vanto. His expression is suddenly furious. His hands form into fists. “Listen, pretty boy—”

  “Enough,” Cygni said. “Move on, Angel. We’re on a schedule.”

  The Dromedar’s crew were locked inside a large metal-barred cage that had been built into the back third of the pirate ship’s aft-starboard cargo bay. There were ten of them: seven humans of varying ages, sizes, and skin tones; two Gran, each with the three eyes and goatlike snouts of their species; and one Togruta, her cone-horn montrals and striped head-tails making her prominent among the prisoners. The Togruta watches as the new prisoners approach, her hands rubbing slowly vertically along one of the bars of their prison. She looks briefly at each of the Imperials, then turns her attention to Angel.