Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

“We’re on our way,” Samakro said, motioning the order to Azmordi. “How many of your old subordinates were you able to contact before you left the Ascendancy?”

“More than I expected, frankly,” Ar’alani said. “I talked to the patrol cruisers Parala and Bokrea and the light cruisers Whisperbird and Stingfly.”

“How did they sound?” Samakro asked.

“Receptive,” Ar’alani said. “I’m guessing the Syndicure’s order kicking us off planetary defense duty was part of it. None of us joined the Expansionary Defense Fleet to sit on our hands in orbit while some Aristocra explains what ungimbaled lasers we all are.”

“And Senior Captain Thrawn does have something of a reputation,” Samakro pointed out.

“As a commander or an ungimbaled laser?” Ar’alani said. “Never mind—he probably has both. Speaking of reputations, we also have a surprise guest: Captain Raamas and the Clarr family warship Orisson caught up with us just as we were getting ready to leave Schesa and asked to come along.”

“Really,” Samakro said, frowning. Orisson—why did that name sound familiar? “Unnaturally generous of the Clarr family, I must say.”

“I don’t think family kindness had anything to do with it,” Ar’alani said. “That’s the ship that nearly got taken out by the asteroid missile at Ornfra.”

“Oh—right,” Samakro said as the name finally clicked. He’d read that report, but his attention had been focused on the weapon itself, plus the part the Grayshrike had played in neutralizing it. “I thought the captain’s name was Roscu.”

“It was,” Ar’alani said. “Raamas isn’t saying much about it, but it sounds like their Patriarch kicked Roscu out of the command chair when she questioned his role in the current situation.”

“What role would that be?”

“That’s another topic Raamas isn’t talking much about. But I get the feeling that with the Clarr Patriarch comfortably out of sight and earshot he’s unofficially returned command to Roscu. Her stint in the Expansionary Defense Fleet gave her a lot more combat experience than he has, and Raamas is smart enough to know that.”

“Right,” Samakro said, making a face. Once again, family politics running into military realities. “Well, I’m sure we’re happy to have them aboard.”

“Ziinda seems to think so,” Ar’alani said. “I need to go out to the asteroid cluster for a quick consultation with Thrawn, but I’ve told Ziinda that you’re on your way. She’ll give you all the current thinking for our preliminary setup.”

“Sounds good,” Samakro said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Will do. Ar’alani out.”

The comm went silent, and Samakro shifted his attention to the nav display. Azmordi had put the Springhawk on a vector that would skim them across the upper atmosphere behind the Vigilant and bring them around to where they could rendezvous with the Grayshrike and the other assembled ships. The estimated ETA, he noted, was twenty minutes. “Lieutenant Commander Azmordi, any way you can speed us up a bit?”

“I can dig us a little lower into the atmosphere if you’d like,” the pilot offered. “That would shave off a couple of minutes.”

“Do it,” Samakro said. “I’ve always hated being late to parties.”

“Yes, sir,” Azmordi said, throwing a quick grin over his shoulder at Samakro as he worked his board. “Eighteen minutes to rendezvous.”

Samakro nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Thalias, you and Che’ri might as well head back to the suite. Excellent job, Che’ri, on getting us here.”

“Thank you,” Che’ri said.

Samakro frowned. There’d been something odd in her voice. “You all right?” he asked, standing up and crossing the bridge toward her.

He was halfway there when the girl let out a scream.

Samakro covered the rest of the distance in three long strides. “Che’ri?” he demanded, braking to a halt. Thalias had crouched down beside the chair and was staring up at the girl’s face, her expression rigid, her hands stiff where she gripped Che’ri’s arms. Taking another half step forward, Samakro leaned past her for a closer look of his own.

One glance was all it took. Che’ri’s face was twisted almost beyond recognition, her neck strained, her eyes wide and bulging as she stared at something light-years beyond the Springhawk’s viewport. “Medic to the bridge,” he snapped.

“No,” Che’ri said, her voice as unrecognizable as her face. “Don’t take her away.”

Samakro felt his blood turn to ice. He looked down at Thalias, saw the tension in the caregiver’s face turn to horror. “Che’ri?” he asked. “Che’ri!”