The Irizi snorted. “Speculation.”
“Not at all,” Wevary put in. “That’s exactly what happened in the simulation, and the reason why it happened. Continue, Senior Cadet.”
Ziara nodded. “At the same time Thrawn fired at Two’s aft thrusters, damaging them in a precisely specific pattern that not only temporarily knocked them out but also gave the ship a predictable wobble. All he had to do then was duplicate the effect with his own thrusters as he came alongside, matching the pattern and hiding behind the ship. He then waited just long enough for One and Three to turn their attention elsewhere in an attempt to locate him, then came out and fired before they could respond.”
The Irizi seemed to ponder that. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “But what of Two’s own sensors? The simulation shows no images from that ship while the cadet is hiding.”
“The crew would have been using the flank thrusters to dampen the wobble,” Ziara said, feeling a sense of relief. The other still wasn’t happy, but he clearly realized there was no point in pushing this any further. She and her family would not, it seemed, be caught in scandal after all. “All that firing would have obscured the sensors.”
“So,” Ba’kif said. “I trust, Colonel, that this will bring an end to your inquiry?”
“It will indeed, General,” Wevary said. “Thank you for your assistance. This has been most enlightening.”
“Indeed it has,” Ba’kif said. “Helm: Return us to dock, if you please.”
And as the launch turned and headed toward the platform, Ba’kif gave Ziara a sideways look. “And a lesson for you, Senior Cadet,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “You have good instincts. Continue to trust them.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ziara said. “I shall strive to do so.”
The corridor leading to the Aristocra hearing room was long, a little dark, and more than a little echoey. Ar’alani listened to her footsteps as she walked, hearing a sort of mocking doom, doom, doom in the dull thuds. Dramatics, designed to put approaching witnesses and speakers at a psychological disadvantage before they even entered the chamber.
The one they really wanted to rake over the firepit was Thrawn, of course. But he was off on some top-secret mission for Supreme General Ba’kif and out of reach. In his absence, someone had apparently decided that his commander during the battle should be called in front of an official tribunal, presumably in the hope that she would say something derogatory they could use against him at a later date.
A complete waste of time, really. Ar’alani had already said all she was going to say to the Defense Hierarchy Council, and she doubted anyone here truly expected her to change that testimony. And no matter how mad they might get at her, in theory the Aristocra and Nine Families could do nothing to a flag officer of her rank.
In theory.
“This,” Senior Captain Kiwu’tro’owmis huffed as she and her shorter legs labored to keep up with Ar’alani’s longer stride, “is bogus. Totally bogus. Bogus to the ninth, factorial.”
“That’s a lot of boguses,” Ar’alani said, smiling to herself. Not only was Wutroow an excellent first officer, but she was gifted with a knack for breaking tension and calling out absurdity.
“And I stand by every one of them,” Wutroow said. “We blasted the Paataatus into small bits of metal and got as groveling a peace settlement from them as I’ve ever seen. And the Aristocra still aren’t happy?”
“No,” Ar’alani agreed. “But we’re not the ones they’re unhappy at. We just happen to be the most convenient targets right now for their annoyance.”
Wutroow huffed. “Thrawn.”
Ar’alani nodded. “Thrawn.”
“In that case, it’s bogus to the tenth factorial,” Wutroow said firmly. “There was a good reason why he disobeyed your order. Plus his plan worked.”
Which was precisely why the Council hadn’t brought any charges or reprimands down on him, of course. Especially since neither Ar’alani nor any of the other ship commanders had been willing to file a charge.
But Thrawn had enemies among the Aristocra. And Council vindication or not, those enemies were smelling blood.
“So what do we do, ma’am?”
“We answer their questions,” Ar’alani told her. “Honestly, of course. Most Aristocra know not to ask a question they don’t already know the answer to.”
“I assume that doesn’t mean we can’t spiral our answers a little?”
“That’s certainly going to be my strategy,” Ar’alani said. “Just be careful you don’t spiral too far and end up staring into your own laser. Some of the Aristocra have honed that tactic into a fine art, and very much know it when they see it.”
Wutroow chuckled. “A fine art. Thrawn should like that.”
“Not the kind of art he excels at, unfortunately,” Ar’alani said. “Just watch yourself. If they can’t have his blood, they may try to get some of ours.”
“I don’t think we have to worry too much, Admiral,” Wutroow said. “Remember the old saying: The sky is always darkest—”
“—just before it goes completely black,” Ar’alani finished for her. “Yes, I had that same instructor at the academy.”
And then they were there. The door wards pulled on the rings, swinging the heavy panels open—more psychological dramatics—revealing the witness table and two chairs facing the darkened semicircle where the group of syndics silently sat awaiting them. Putting a note of confidence into her step, Ar’alani walked to the table and stood behind one of the chairs, Wutroow taking up position beside her. “Syndics of the Chiss Ascendancy, I greet you,” Ar’alani called, making sure her voice held the same confidence as her step. “I am Admiral Ar’alani, currently in command of the Vigilant and Picket Force Six of the Expansionary Defense Fleet. This is my first officer, Senior Captain Kiwu’tro’owmis.”
“Greetings, Admiral; Senior Captain,” a voice said from the ring.
And suddenly the darkness blazed with light.
Ar’alani blinked a couple of times as her eyes adjusted, a back corner of her mind appreciating this final gambit. The syndics had no need to cower in darkness; they could face anyone in the Ascendancy without fear.
“Please be seated,” another voice said. “We have just a few questions for you.”
“We stand ready to answer,” Ar’alani said, pulling out her chair and sitting down, her eyes flicking across the table. None of the faces were familiar to her, but the family nameplates at the front edge of the table told her everything she needed to know. Six families had been chosen for this particular tribunal, as usual comprising a mix of the Nine and the Great: the Irizi, Ar’alani’s old family; the Kiwu, Wutroow’s current family; plus the Clarr, Plikh, Ufsa, and Droc.