“Sleeping,” Thalias said, stopping beside his chair and gazing out at the alien ship. The blocky shape made it look more like a freighter than a warship, she decided. “Where’s Senior Captain Thrawn?”
“He went aboard with a survey team.” Samakro shook his head. “Damnedest thing.”
“The ship?”
“The captain,” Samakro said. “How did he know it would be here?”
Thalias started to remind him of Thrawn’s earlier analysis, remembered in time that Samakro hadn’t been there for that. “He has his methods,” she said instead. “Where was it?”
“Orbiting on the other side of the planet,” Samakro said. “It wasn’t until just after you left that it came into sight.”
Thalias winced. A dead ship, probably with dead people aboard. Had Thrawn known or suspected when it would come out of hiding? Was that why he’d suddenly wanted her to take Che’ri out of there and get her back to their suite?
Because the helm officer was right. There were definitely some things that should be kept hidden from the sky-walkers.
“So what’s your story?” Samakro asked.
“Excuse me?” Thalias asked, frowning at him.
“Please,” Samakro said scornfully. “A former sky-walker, now working as a caregiver? Doesn’t happen anymore. From what I’ve heard, once sky-walkers are done they want to get as far away from that life as they can.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Thalias said, only lying a little.
“Right,” Samakro said. “And Mitth family, and aboard Thrawn’s ship? If you’re really who you claim to be, that’s a pretty heaping pile of coincidence.”
The memory of her brief conversation with Syndic Thurfian flashed back to mind. Samakro had no idea. A flicker of movement caught her eye: one of the Springhawk’s shuttles, detaching from the ship and heading back. “If you have a point, please make it,” she said. “The captain’s on his way back.”
“The Mitth sent you to observe us,” Samakro said. “Don’t bother denying it—the officer who put you on the Springhawk told me that’s how you first tried to get aboard, and also that a Mitth syndic showed up at the last minute to give you a push.”
Thalias kept her expression wooden. “And?”
“And I’ve seen the flaming mess observers can make aboard a warship,” Samakro said. “They get in the way, they never know where to stand or which way to jump, and they introduce way more family politics than is healthy.”
“I’m not here to make trouble.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Samakro said. “You just will.” He pointed at the ship floating in front of them. “Everyone over there is dead. Everyone on the ship that was attacked at Dioya is dead. Someone made them that way, someone who may be brand new to us. And somewhere along the line, we may have to fight them.”
His pointing finger shifted to Thalias. “I don’t want to die because people were ignoring their boards and instead looking over their shoulders to see if the Mitth observer was watching them.”
“I think that’s a sentiment we can all get behind,” Thalias said stiffly. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll do everything I can to not make a mess. You’ll do everything you can to let me know when I’m making one anyway.”
“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” Samakro warned. “We do have a brig, you know.”
“Don’t threaten something you can’t follow through on, Mid Captain,” Thalias said. “Don’t forget I’m the only one who can take care of your sky-walker.”
“Since when?” Samakro scoffed. “You mix up soup when she gets sick, you cuddle her when she’s crying, and you make sure none of us dangerous warrior types scare her.”
“Trust me, there’s a lot more to it than that,” Thalias said, pushing away her reflexive annoyance. If Samakro was trying to goad her into making enough trouble that he had an excuse to lock her up, he would have to try harder than that. “So what do we know about that ship? You said everyone was dead? How?”
Samakro took a deep breath. “All we know so far is that the hyperdrive failed, which is what stranded them here. At least this batch wasn’t murdered like the last group—looks like they ran out of air.” His lips compressed briefly. “Not the worst way to die, for what it’s worth.”
“It also means an intact ship and intact bodies,” Thalias said.
“Right,” Samakro said. “Hopefully, that’ll give us what we need to backtrack them the rest of the way to their system.”
“Mid Captain Samakro, this is the captain.” Thrawn’s voice came over the bridge speaker. “Is the examination room prepared?”
Samakro keyed the mic at his chair. “Yes, sir,” he confirmed. “We have four tables set up in Ready Room Two, and the medics and equipment are standing by.”
“Excellent,” Thrawn said. “Join me there, if you would.”
“On my way, sir.”
He got three steps toward the bridge hatch before Thalias caught up with him. “Where do you think you’re going?” Samakro asked, frowning at her.
“Ready Room Two,” Thalias said. “Whatever the captain’s found, it may impact on where we’re going and how Che’ri does her job. I need to know everything so that I can prepare her when the time comes.”
“Of course you do,” Samakro said sourly. “Fine. Lead the way.”
“Right,” Thalias said hesitantly. “Ah…”
“You don’t know where it is, do you?”
Thalias huffed out a breath. “No.”
“Didn’t think so,” Samakro said. “Follow me. And when we get there, stay out of the way. And don’t make a mess.”
* * *
—
The ready room was smaller than Thalias had expected, and with four tables plus the medical team crammed in the place was already crowded when she and Samakro arrived.
The medics, naturally, quickly moved out of the way to give the Springhawk’s first officer some space. Thalias, also naturally, had to work her way through them, avoiding elbows and glowers, until she reached a corner that wasn’t being used.
She was still fine-tuning her position when Thrawn and the bodies arrived.
There were four of them, as Thrawn had implied. Three were of the same species: medium height, with pronounced chest and hip bulges, their skin a light pink but with purple splotches around the eyes, all topped by feathery head crests. Their arms and legs were spindly but looked well muscled. They were dressed in clothing that was alien, but nevertheless with a style and detail that gave Thalias the impression of being someone’s finery.