“One problem,” Wutroow said, lifting a finger. “I thought we decided the gunboats were Lioaoin. Why would they care about Thrawn? I mean, aside from the obvious?”
“Not so obvious anymore,” Ar’alani said. “Certainly after all these years, there can’t be any standing orders concerning him. At least, not from the Lioaoi.”
“I suppose not,” Wutroow said. “So…?”
“So we were wrong earlier,” Ar’alani said, feeling a sense of looming dread. “We thought the Lioaoi might just be learning new battle tactics. They are, but they’re learning them under Nikardun supervision.”
“The Lioaoi in the gunboats knew the Nikardun orders concerning me,” Thrawn said. “The seven pilots who reacted did so far too quickly for it to be otherwise. Detailed standing orders of that sort aren’t typically shared with subjugated peoples. Furthermore, the gunships were armed—their forward swivel lasers were visible, as were their missile ports. We know from the Paccosh that the Nikardun remove the weapons from their conquered peoples.”
“Which strongly suggests the Lioaoi aren’t Nikardun subjects,” Ar’alani said quietly, gazing out at the roiling hyperspace swirl. “They’re allies.”
For a moment none of them spoke. Then Wutroow huffed out a breath. “Great,” she said. “So now what?”
“We need more information,” Thrawn said. “Admiral, can you divert the Vigilant to Solitair before returning to the Ascendancy?”
“Absolutely not,” Ilparg said firmly, striding up to them. “First the Lioaoin Regime; now you want to go to the Garwian Unity? How many ways are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” He turned his glare onto Thrawn. “Never mind you. How many ways are you trying to get me into trouble? I’m already far removed from my mandate.”
“Your position and mandate aren’t the issues here, Ambassador,” Ar’alani said, studying Thrawn’s face. “The Vigilant is my ship, and it goes where I order it. If I decide there’s data to be gathered, I’m obligated to follow through on it.”
“Not if the Syndicure declares your decisions improper,” Ilparg warned.
“If that happens, so be it,” Ar’alani said. “But even the syndics have only limited authority over a senior fleet officer.”
“There should be only minimal trouble for either of you,” Thrawn said. “I can take a shuttle in while the Vigilant returns to the Ascendancy. That should add only a few hours to your travel time.”
“You don’t want us to wait?” Ar’alani asked, frowning. “What if the Garwians don’t want to talk to you?”
“I believe they will,” Thrawn said. “If I may ask a favor, Admiral, I’d like to borrow your office for the next hour or two.”
“Of course,” Ar’alani said. “Take all the time you need. Caregiver Thalias, bring Sky-walker Che’ri out of Third Sight as soon as it’s convenient and safe. She’s to then reroute us to the Garwian capital planet of Solitair.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Thalias said. She hadn’t missed a word of the discussion, Ar’alani could see, but she showed no inclination to question the decision. “It’ll be a few more minutes before Che’ri can be disturbed.”
“At your own timing and judgment, Caregiver,” Ar’alani assured her. “Captain Thrawn, my office is yours.”
Thrawn shook his head. “Unacceptable,” he declared. “Completely unacceptable.”
Ziara’s years in the Expansionary Defense Fleet had honed her ability to cringe on the inside without letting the accompanying emotion show in her face or stance. Nonetheless, this time it was a very near thing. A junior commander, even one who’d just received impressive accolades, never talked to a senior officer that way. It would serve him right if Ba’kif slammed him right down to the floor.
Fortunately for Thrawn, Ba’kif had an above-average patience level. “Do I need to detail for you the protocols on preemptive strikes?” he asked, his voice calm.
“No, sir,” Thrawn said. At least, Ziara thought, he got in a sir this time. “I simply don’t see how it applies in this case. The ships were of Lioaoin design, they were using Lioaoin docking facilities, and they pursued us from the regime heartworld. It seems indisputable that the pirates are, in fact, under direct Lioaoin control and supervision.”
“Of course it’s disputable,” Ba’kif said. “The regime has categorically disputed it.”
“They’re lying.”
“Perhaps,” Ba’kif said. “But we have only what we have: circumstantial evidence and an official denial.”
“So we allow them to go on their way unscathed?” Thrawn persisted.
“What would you have us do?” Ba’kif asked. “Launch a full-scale war fleet to descend upon the heartworld and destroy every governmental and military installation we can find?”
Thrawn’s lips compressed briefly. “It would hardly take an entire fleet,” he hedged.
“You’re evading the point,” Ba’kif said. “Let me make it clearer. Would you destroy property and condemn people to death for the possible actions—the possible actions—of their government?”
“And what of our people?” Thrawn countered. “We’ve also suffered losses of property and life.”
“Those who inflicted those losses have been killed or punished.”
“Those who did the actual deeds, perhaps. Not those who sent them.”
“Again, you have no proof.”
Thrawn’s eyes flicked to Ziara. “Then let me obtain it,” he offered. “Let me go to the regime as a merchant or diplomat and find a way into their archives. Official orders, or perhaps a clear line of plunder distribution—”
“Enough,” Ba’kif snapped, his patience finally breaking. “Understand this, Commander, and understand it clearly. The Ascendancy does not attack other systems unless we have clear evidence that they attacked us first. We don’t attack militarily, diplomatically, subversively, clandestinely, or psychologically. Those who do not attack us will not be attacked by us. Is that clear?”
“Very clear, General,” Thrawn said, his voice as stiff as his posture.
“Good,” Ba’kif said. He took a deep breath. “Now, the other item I wanted to discuss with the two of you.” He glanced at Ziara, then turned back to Thrawn. “For your sterling performance in planning and executing the mission, Junior Commander Thrawn, you are hereby promoted to senior commander.”