“Do you think he was right about the Mitth wanting to rematch me?”
Ar’alani shook her head. “Impossible to say. I don’t have a feel for Mitth politics and structure the way I do with the Irizi. I’d guess that if you can avoid doing anything…controversial…in the future, you should be all right. Merit adoptives are always on probation until they’ve proved themselves. But once they do, and once they’ve passed the Trials, they’ll hold a much more secure status. And of course, if and when you’re elevated to ranking distant, you’ll be largely untouchable.”
“I see,” Thrawn said. “Yet if the Irizi are more military-minded, would they perhaps not be a better family for me?”
Ar’alani hesitated. No family. No family. “In all honesty, I’ve never been comfortable with the way the Irizi dominate Defense Force personnel. I know we’re supposed to ignore family identity as we serve, but we’ve all seen rivalries bleed over into conversation and even duty assignments.”
“So you’d recommend I stay with the Mitth?”
“That’s a decision you have to make for yourself,” Ar’alani said. “Being blood of the Irizi was very good for my career, and the family’s done the same for many others. But what was good for me may not be good for you.”
“I understand,” Thrawn said. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”
“You’re welcome.” Ar’alani dared a smile. “And not just one, you know. I like to think I contributed my small bit to keeping you in the academy over that cheating charge.”
“Your contribution was far larger than you perhaps remember,” Thrawn assured her. “And your assistance has hardly been limited to the distant past. I never properly thanked you for your support in the aftermath of the Stivic incident.”
“My support was completely unnecessary,” Ar’alani said, looking him squarely in the eye. “The Garwians have stated on the record that it was Security Officer Frangelic who spotted the weakness of the pirates’ tactics and found a way to exploit it. From the way they were raving about him, he’s probably been promoted by now.”
“And he richly deserves whatever accolades he’s received.”
“Agreed.” Ar’alani cocked her head. “Just out of curiosity, I looked into it afterward, and I couldn’t find an obvious way to tie a comm into a ranging laser.”
“There isn’t,” Thrawn said. “But there’s a spot where a questis can be linked for data downloading and analysis.”
“And connectors like that can usually run either direction,” Ar’alani said, nodding. “So you tied your questis into the laser’s frequency-modulation option and used voice-to-script?”
“Just script,” Thrawn said. “If there was an inquiry afterward, having a voice recording would narrow the search a bit too much.”
Ar’alani nodded again. “The Garwians owe you. I hope they realize that.”
“I didn’t do it for their gratitude,” Thrawn said, sounding a bit surprised that Ar’alani would even think of it in those terms. “I did it for the good of their people, and for all who would otherwise have faced those same attackers.”
“A high-minded goal,” Ar’alani said. “I wish the Ascendancy appreciated it more.”
Thrawn smiled. “Nor did I do it for our gratitude.”
“Indeed.” Again, Ar’alani looked over his shoulder. Still six people lingering, but they were engrossed in conversation with one another and would never miss her. “Tell you what. Let’s go someplace a little quieter, and you can buy me a celebratory drink.”
She touched his arm. “And while we drink,” she said, “you can tell me all the other goals you have that the Ascendancy will pretend not to be grateful for.”
The bluedock foreman shook his head as he ran to the end of the listing. “I don’t know what it is with you folk,” he said. “This is the second time in two months. Do you deliberately run into the middle of your battles?”
“Of course not,” Samakro said stiffly. “It’s hardly the Springhawk’s fault if the Council and Aristocra keep sending us out into the Chaos to fight people.”
“It’s hardly their fault if you don’t win the battles faster, either,” the foreman countered, half turning to peer out the viewport at the Springhawk floating nearby, silhouetted against the blue-white disk of the frozen Csilla surface filling half the sky.
“We won it fast enough,” Samakro assured him. “And let’s not get overly dramatic, shall we? There’s not that much damage.”
“You don’t think so?” the foreman said sourly. “Well, I suppose that’s why you’re out there running into missile salvos and I’m in here putting your ship back together.” He lifted a finger. “Sensor nodes needing replacement: seven. Hull plates needing replacement: eighty-two. Spectrum lasers needing repair or refurbishment: five. And what’s this nonsense about adding an extra tank of plasma sphere fluid?”
“We use a lot of plasma spheres.”
“And where exactly does Senior Captain Thrawn suggest I put it?” the foreman retorted. “His quarters? Your quarters?”
“I have no idea,” Samakro said. “That’s why you’re in here performing maintenance miracles and we’re out there making people regret tangling with the Chiss Ascendancy.”
“This would take a miracle,” the foreman grumbled, looking at the questis again. Still, he seemed pleased by Samakro’s small compliment. “The least he could do is come ask for these miracles in person.”
“He’s in consultation with General Ba’kif right now.”
The foreman sniffed. “No doubt planning his next foray into trouble. Fine. I’ll get started on the rest of this, and see if I can find enough space somewhere for this impossible plasma tank he wants.”
“If anyone can do it, you can,” Samakro assured him. “What kind of time frame are we looking at?”
“At least six weeks, maybe seven,” the foreman said. “If I get a rush order from Ba’kif or Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk, I can maybe slice a week off that.”
“Well, go ahead and get started, and I’ll see about getting you that rush order,” Samakro said. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by not wrecking your ship next time.”
“What, and make the Council wonder if they still need people like you?” Samakro asked blandly.