[Thrawn Trilogy] - 01(141)

The key to this whole operation.

“Status, Captain?” Thrawn’s voice came quietly from behind him.

Pellaeon turned to face the Grand Admiral. “All ships are on line, sir,” he reported. “The freighter’s cloaking shield has been checked out and primed; all TIE fighters are prepped and manned. I think we’re ready.”

Thrawn nodded, his glowing eyes sweeping the field of running lights around them. “Excellent,” he murmured. “What word from Myrkr?”

The question threw Pellaeon off stride-he hadn’t thought about Myrkr for days. “I don’t know, Admiral,” he confessed, looking over Thrawn’s shoulder at the communications officer. “Lieutenant-the last report from the Myrkr landing force?”

The other was already calling up the record. “It was a routine report, sir,” he said. “Time log … fourteen hours ten minutes ago.”

Thrawn turned to face him. “Fourteen hours?” he repeated, his voice suddenly very quiet and very deadly. “I left orders for them to report every twelve.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the comm man said, starting to look a little nervous. “I have that order logged, right here on their file. They must have …” He trailed off, looking helplessly at Pellaeon.

They must have forgotten to report in, was Pellaeon’s first, hopeful reaction. But it died stillborn. Stormtroopers didn’t forget such things. Ever. “Perhaps they’re having trouble with their transmitter,” he suggested hesitantly.

For a handful of heartbeats Thrawn just stood there, silent. “No,” he said at last. “They’ve been taken. Skywalker was indeed there.”

Pellaeon hesitated, shook his head. “I can’t believe that, sir,” he said. “Skywalker couldn’t have taken all of them. Not with all those ysalamiri blocking his Jedi power.”

Thrawn turned those glittering eyes back on Pellaeon. “I agree,” he said coldly. “Obviously, he had help.”

Pellaeon forced himself to meet that gaze. “Karrde?”

“Who else was there?” Thrawn countered. “So much for his protestations of neutrality.”

Pellaeon glanced at the status board. “Perhaps we should send someone to investigate. We could probably spare a Strike Cruiser; maybe even the Stormhawk.”

Thrawn took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “No,” he said, his voice steady and controlled again. “The Sluis Van operation is our primary concern at the moment-and battles have been lost before on the presence or absence of a single ship. Karrde and his betrayal will keep for later.”

He turned back to the communications officer. “Signal the freighter,” he ordered. “Have them activate the cloaking shield.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pellaeon turned back to the viewport. The freighter, bathed in the Chimera’s lights, just sat there looking innocent. “Cloaking shield on, Admiral,” the comm man reported.

Thrawn nodded. “Order them to proceed.”

“Yes, sir.” Moving rather sluggishly, the freighter maneuvered past the Chimaera, oriented itself toward the distant sun of the Sluis Van system, and with a flicker of pseudovelocity jumped to lightspeed.

“Time mark,” Thrawn ordered.

“Time marked,” one of the deck officers acknowledged.

Thrawn looked at Pellaeon. “Is my flagship ready, Captain?” he asked the formal question.

“The Chimaera is fully at your command, Admiral,” Pellaeon gave the formal answer.

“Good. We follow the freighter in exactly six hours twenty minutes. I want a final check from all ships … and I want you to remind them one last time that our task is only to engage and pin down the system’s defenses. There are to be no special heroics or risks taken. Make that clearly understood, Captain. We’re here to gain ships, not lose them.”

“Yes, sir.” Pellaeon started toward his command station-

“And Captain … ?”

“Yes, Admiral?”

There was a tight smile on Thrawn’s face. “Remind them, too,” he added softly, “that our final victory over the Rebellion begins here.”





Chapter 31


Captain Afyon of the Escort Frigate Larkhess shook his head with thinly disguised contempt, glaring at Wedge from the depths of his pilot’s seat. “You X-wing hotshots,” he growled. “You’ve really got it made-you know that?”

Wedge shrugged, trying hard not to take offense. It wasn’t easy; but then, he’d had lots of practice in the past few days. Afyon had started out from Coruscant with a planetary-mass chip on his shoulder, and he’d been nursing it the whole way.