Star Wars_Thrawn Read online

  They reached the cage. Angel took a chained key from around his neck and unfastened the deadlock securing the cage door. The lock was a mechanical style, impervious to electronic lock breaking. The key itself was an elaborate, wavy shape with multiple nubs and indentations, likely difficult or impossible to duplicate.

  Three of the pirates leveled their blasters at the prisoners in the cage as Angel disengaged the lock. He swung the door open and gestured. “Go,” he ordered.

  Angel waited until the five Imperials were inside, then closed the door behind them and resealed the lock. “Satisfied?” he asked Cygni. Angel handed the key to one of the other pirates, who hung the chain around his own neck and pushed the key deep under his shirt.

  “For now,” Cygni said. “Remember: They all get dropped off as agreed. Unharmed.” He raises his eyebrows in silent challenge. “No accidents. Remind your men.”

  “Don’t worry,” Angel growled. “You lubs—back to your stations. I want you at the Trapo in six days.” He looks again at Cygni. His eyes narrow. “And be sure you don’t bruise any of them when you drop ’em off. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He left the cargo bay and headed forward, followed by his men. Cygni gives the prisoners a final look, his lips pressed tightly together, then follows.

  “I gather you’re our rescue squad?” one of the other humans in the cage asked. Her lip is twisted, perhaps with contempt or sarcasm.

  “Something like that,” Vanto said. “This is Lieutenant Thrawn; I’m Ensign Vanto. Are you Captain Fitz?”

  “Yeah,” the woman said. “So he snoggered you, too?”

  “Who, Cygni?”

  “Yeah,” Fitz said. “Got aboard the Dromedar with a fake authorization and then managed to get the drop on everyone.”

  “He didn’t get everyone,” Layneo corrected. “He said you locked down the hyperdrive.”

  “Yeah,” Fitz said again. “For all the good it did us. So he talked you into starting it up for him?”

  “More or less,” Vanto said.

  Fitz swore. “So that’s it. The ship’s gone, the tibanna’s gone, and we’re done. They might as well kill us.”

  “I wouldn’t give up hope quite yet,” Vanto said. “Lieutenant?”

  “Not yet, Ensign,” Thrawn said. “Patience.”

  “Not yet what?” Fitz asked. “Hey, bright-eyes—I’m talking to you.”

  “Probably figuring out what he’s going to say in his report,” one of the other prisoners said. “Got to make this mess look good somehow.”

  “Watch your mouths,” Vanto warned. “That’s an officer of the Imperial Navy you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, I’m real impressed—”

  “I said watch your mouths.” Vanto does not raise his voice. But the effect on the prisoners is immediate. Fitz gives him a covert look and lowers her eyes. Her facial glow grows brighter. “Sorry,” she said in a low voice.

  “Thank you,” Vanto said. “And if you think Lieutenant Thrawn is wasting time with excuses, you’re badly mistaken. Lieutenant?”

  “Another moment,” Thrawn said.

  “Look, Lieutenant—” Fitz began.

  “He said wait,” Vanto said.

  “For what?” Fitz clenches her teeth, then forces them to relax. “What are we waiting for?”

  “For Cygni and the others to reboard the Dromedar and jump to lightspeed,” Thrawn said. “I am counting out the estimated time now.”

  “You want him to get away with our ship?”

  “Be quiet, Captain,” Vanto said.

  “But—”

  “I said quiet,” Vanto repeated. Again, his voice remains steady and controlled. But the purpose and confidence again quiet Fitz’s protest. “I won’t ask again.”

  The cage fell silent. Thrawn continued to count.

  And then, it was time.

  “Tech Layneo, are you familiar with the control electronics for a ship of this sort?” he asked.

  “Not this type specifically, sir,” Layneo said. She peers through the metal bars at the entrance to the cargo bay. “But I looked at the engine-control layout on our way through, and it seemed pretty standard. What do you need me to do?”

  “If we isolate the bridge, can we fly the ship from here?”

  A murmur passes among the prisoners. “Probably,” Layneo said. “Ensign Barlin?”

  “I think we can do it, Lieutenant,” Barlin agreed. “It’ll take some quick rewiring, though. If the pirates are fast enough, they may be able to disable some of the circuits before we can override them.”

  “I think we can keep them occupied,” Thrawn said.

  “Sounds great,” Captain Fitz said. “Except that the circuits are out there, and we’re in here.”

  “I’m guessing not much longer, Captain,” Vanto said. “Lieutenant, do you need us to give you room?”

  “Not at all, Ensign.” Thrawn removed his insignia plaque. “You asked me once what I would do with the spare plaque Commandant Deenlark gave me at the Academy.”

  Vanto leans closer, frowning. He studies the insignia plaque and the electronic components and micro switches partially visible from the back. His frown clears. “That’s a beckon call, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Thrawn said.

  “Wait a second,” Fitz said. “Are you saying that your ship is close enough to call—? No, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Our ship is long gone,” Vanto said. He smiles. “But that’s not what he’s calling.”

  “Then what?” Fitz demanded.

  Five seconds later, she received her answer.

  Clone Wars–era holos showing buzz droid attacks on Republic starfighters were impressive enough. But such combat had taken place in the vacuum of space, with only faint sounds recorded via metal conduction. The droid now cutting and grinding its way through the cargo bay bulkhead toward them was far louder than Thrawn had expected. “Move back!” he called over the noise as the edges of the blades, the points of the drill, and the brilliant blade of the plasma torch appeared through the bulkhead metal. Once the droid made it through, the only thing between it and the beckon call would be the cage itself. The timing would be critical to allow it to cut through the bars but not continue toward the remote and the one who held it.

  The droid emerged through the bulkhead, throwing off a few final shards of metal. It continued its interrupted vector across the bay, closing into its sphere shape as it flew. It struck the cage and popped open again, its hook appendages gripping one bar as the circular saw and torch attacked two of the others. A meter-long section of one of the bars, sliced through, clattered to the deck, and the blade moved on to the next bar.

  “This is going to take too long,” Vanto warned.

  Thrawn had already estimated the droid’s progress. Vanto was correct. “Agreed,” Thrawn said. He took two steps to his right, moving the beckon call to the far side of the cage door. The droid shifted toward him. Thrawn repositioned the beckon call, bringing the droid directly onto the door. One final adjustment, and the droid’s saw began eating into the lock mechanism.

  Thrawn looked at the entrance to the bay. Within a few more seconds, the pirates in this section of the ship would surely come to investigate.

  He looked back at the cage door, again gauging the droid’s progress. The timing would be close.

  “Look out!” one of the prisoners shouted.

  Three pirates appeared abruptly through the hatchway. Their pace falters, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open as they see the buzz droid eating through the cage. A second later they recovered from their surprise and reached for their blasters, their hands fumbling slightly with the last remnants of their shock. Their expressions change from surprise to anger.

  Thrawn reached through the bars of the cage and flipped the beckon call over their heads to land on the engine room deck behind them. Instantly the buzz droid closed down its cutting instruments, unhooked itself from the cage, and shot across the b
ay toward the pirates.

  The pirates’ eyes again widen. Their blasters had been lining up on the prisoners. Now they turned the weapons instead toward the approaching droid and fired.

  Even with a doonium inner shell, the buzz droid’s inner mechanism was vulnerable to blasterfire. But the outer spherical shell was much stronger. All three of the pirates’ shots struck, but none made it through. The pirates fired again, all three shots missing. Two of the men hurled themselves to the deck, attempting to evade the droid’s approach. The third was too slow and was struck a glancing blow that sent him spinning.

  Beside Thrawn, Jakeeb stepped forward, grabbed the top bars of the cage, and slammed the soles of both feet against the door. The remaining undamaged part of the lock mechanism snapped with the impact. Jakeeb dropped back to the floor and ducked out of the cage. Barlin, Layneo, and the rest of the prisoners were right behind them.

  There was a brief melee of combat. When it ended, all three pirates had been reduced to unconsciousness.

  “Well done,” Thrawn said. “Ensign Vanto, Tech Jakeeb, Captain Fitz: Take their blasters and guard the access to this section. Ensign Barlin and Tech Layneo: the control system.”

  “Yes, sir,” Barlin said. She hurried toward the control boards, Layneo and three of the Dromedar’s crew behind him.

  “We’ll need more weapons if we’re going to make a stand,” Captain Fitz said.

  “That will most likely be unnecessary,” Thrawn said. “The pirates still forward of the entrance hatch will not be joining us.”

  “What’s going to stop them?” Fitz asked.

  “The internal hatch safety interlocks,” Thrawn said. He pointed forward, toward the flashing red lights in the distance. “Even now, the entrance chamber and amidships section of the ship have been opened to vacuum.”

  “What?” Fitz asked. Her muscles tense with surprise and puzzlement. “How in the world—?”

  “Relax, Captain,” Vanto said. He smiles with satisfaction and grim humor. “Lieutenant Thrawn is always prepared. And as it happens, he also owns a second buzz droid.”

  Fitz is silent two seconds. Then a slow smile spreads across her face. “How very unfortunate for our pirates,” she said. “Lieutenant Thrawn, I believe the ship is yours. What course shall we set?”

  A great tactician creates plans. A good tactician recognizes the soundness of a plan presented to him. A fair tactician must see the plan succeed before offering approval.

  Those with no tactical ability at all may never understand or accept it.

  Nor will such people understand or accept the tactician. To those without that ability, those who possess it are a mystery.

  And when a mind is too deficient in understanding, the resulting gap is often filled with resentment.

  —

  “Let me get this straight,” Captain Rossi growled, peering up at Thrawn and Eli. “You’re saying you let yourself be captured?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Thrawn said. “It seemed the simplest way to find and rescue the Dromedar’s crew.”

  “Damn stupid risk,” Rossi said flatly. “Especially when you didn’t even know if they were still alive.”

  “I thought the chances were good that they were, ma’am,” Thrawn said. “Cygni is not a malicious or casual killer. If he were, he would have simply shot the three of us once Ensign Barlin unlocked the hyperdrive. Our backs were to him, and he had a clear shot.”

  “Which makes two stupid risks,” Rossi said. “And not just of your own life, but also those of my crew.”

  “It was not a serious risk,” Thrawn said. “I was watching his reflection in the tibanna cylinders. If he had prepared to shoot, I would have noted the change in his stance in time to stop him.”

  Rossi gave a snort. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “Part of my job is to anticipate the actions of our enemies.”

  Rossi threw a look at Eli, as if daring him to say something. But Eli knew better. He’d seen the captain in this mood, and knew she was itching to find something she could throw back in Thrawn’s face.

  Only in this case, she was out of luck. Thrawn had outmaneuvered Cygni, he’d outmaneuvered the pirates, and he would outmaneuver Rossi, too.

  “Sounds more like dumb luck than sound planning,” the captain said, shifting her glare back to Thrawn and turning up the intensity a couple of notches. “There’s no way you could have known Cygni wasn’t exactly who he claimed until he pulled that blaster.”

  “On the contrary, ma’am, I knew he was a plant from the very beginning,” Thrawn said calmly. “His clothing was covered with dust, indicating he had been in the area of the tibanna cylinders and the engine room. A member of the crew would have warned us about the supposed reactor leak as soon as he realized we weren’t pirates. Yet he didn’t.”

  Eli winced. He’d missed that one completely. “Big mistake on his part.”

  “More of a calculated risk,” Thrawn said. “He knew there was a danger that someone would notice the lapse. But he also knew that if he drew our attention to the leak we might wonder why he had mentioned that one specific danger. That might cause us to examine the reactor compartment more closely, which he could not afford.”

  “Because if we had, we’d have walked in on the rest of the pirates,” Eli said, nodding.

  “That would still have led to our capture, as they outnumbered us significantly,” Thrawn said. “But Cygni would then have lost the chance to restart the hyperdrive and take the tibanna, which was his primary objective.”

  “Unless he forced Barlin and Layneo to do it at blasterpoint,” Eli said, a shiver running up his back. Cygni might have some moral limits, but Eli wouldn’t put a bent credit on finding any such ethical standards in Angel or the rest of the pirates.

  “He would not have succeeded.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Rossi said. “Which brings us to your sense of priorities.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “You had a decision to make, Lieutenant,” Rossi said. “The Dromedar and its cargo, or the pirate frigate and the Dromedar’s crew. You chose the latter.” She shook her head. “Wrong choice.”

  Thrawn’s eyes flicked to Eli. “We saved the crew, ma’am,” he said, sounding as confused as Eli had ever seen him. “And captured several pirates and their ship.”

  “None of which stacks up against even one tank of tibanna gas, let alone twenty,” Rossi said bluntly. “I’m waiting for a ruling from Coruscant, but until they send one I have no choice but to suspend you from duty.”

  Eli caught his breath. “Ma’am, you’re—”

  He broke off as Rossi shifted her glare to him. “You have something to say, Ensign?”

  “He does not,” Thrawn said, throwing a warning look at Eli. “I presume I will be left behind on Ansion while you continue your patrol?”

  “Yes,” Rossi said, looking extra annoyed at the fact she hadn’t gotten to deliver that bit of the message herself. “Whether you’re confined to quarters will be up to Admiral Wiskovis. Dismissed.”

  Eli clenched his teeth. This was completely unfair. He opened his mouth to say so—

  Rossi got there first. “One word out of you, Ensign,” she warned, “and you’ll stay here with him.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Captain,” Thrawn said. “I am certain Ensign Vanto will be of great value to you on the remainder of the patrol.”

  “Are you, now,” Rossi said. “On second thought, I can hardly deprive my special-duty lieutenant of his aide, now, can I? Congratulations, Vanto: You’ve just been assigned shore leave. Extended shore leave.”

  Eli felt his stomach knot. What the hell?

  “Barlin will fly you down to the base,” Rossi said. Her eyes were still on Eli, as if she still expected some comment or protest. Again, Eli knew better. “I’ll tell Wiskovis to expect you. Dismissed.”

  They left the office, Thrawn silent, Eli silently seething. What had that been all about?

  Beca
use it had been deliberate. Rossi might not realize it, but then she hadn’t spent as much time with Thrawn as Eli had. To Eli the signs had been clear as day: The Chiss had deliberately maneuvered the captain into kicking Eli off the Blood Crow along with him.

  But why? Why would he do that? Had he manipulated Rossi just for the fun or challenge of it?

  Or was there something else going on behind Thrawn’s glowing red eyes? Could it be that he was so afraid of losing his aide that he didn’t dare let Rossi—or anyone else aboard the Blood Crow—see what Eli could actually do?

  To be honest, Eli had only a vague idea himself what that could be. He was good with numbers and supply figures—hell, he was extremely good with them. But whether he could show any of that talent during the presumably brief time he would be out from under Thrawn’s shadow was questionable at best.

  “My apologies, Ensign Vanto,” Thrawn said quietly into Eli’s tangled thoughts. “I realize you wished to return to the Blood Crow. Under normal circumstances, I would have been pleased to allow you to show Captain Rossi and the others the depth and range of your abilities. But conditions here are not normal.”

  “Are conditions ever normal in the Imperial Navy, sir?” Eli growled. Still, he could feel curiosity stirring through his resentment. There was an intensity in Thrawn’s tone that was oddly contagious. “What’s particularly abnormal about this one?”

  “Captain Rossi is correct: The tibanna gas is of great value, and therefore of great interest,” Thrawn said. “If we are to find the Dromedar before the cylinders are removed, we must move quickly.”

  “I heard the ISB is sending an interrogator,” Eli said, his stomach tightening in distaste. The Imperial Security Bureau was a necessary part of keeping order, but it sometimes seemed to go out of its way to be disliked, mistrusted, and feared. “I doubt the pirates will have many secrets left after he’s done with them.”