Slowly, reluctantly, Pellaeon reached to his board. A few weeks back he’d made up a statistical composite of the Chimera’s battle profiles for the past year. He called it up, superimposed it over the current analysis.
There was no mistake. In every single category and subcategory of speed, coordination, efficiency, and accuracy, the Chimaera and its crew were running no less than 40 percent more effective than usual.
He turned to look at C’baoth’s strained face, an icy shiver running up his back. He’d never really bought into Thrawn’s theory as to how and why the Fleet had lost the Battle of Endor. Certainly he’d never wanted to believe it. But now, suddenly, the issue was no longer open to argument.
And with the bulk of his attention and power on the task of mentally communicating with two other task forces nearly four light-years away, C’baoth still had enough left to do all this.
Pellaeon had wondered, with a certain private contempt, just what had given the old man the right to add the word Master to his title. Now, he knew.
“Getting another set of transmissions,” the communications officer reported. “A new group of midrange planetary cruisers launching.”
“Have the Stormhawk move to intercept,” Thrawn ordered.
“Yes, sir. We’ve now also pinpointed the location of their distress transmissions, Admiral.”
Shaking away his musings, Pellaeon glanced across the holo. The newly flashing circle was on the farthest of the system’s moons. “Order Squadron Four to move in and destroy it,” he ordered.
“Belay that,” Thrawn said. “We’ll be long gone before any reinforcements can arrive. We might as well let the Rebellion waste its resources rushing useless forces to the rescue. In fact-” the Grand Admiral consulted his watch “-I believe it’s time for us to take our leave. Order fighters back to their ships; all ships to lightspeed as soon as their fighters are aboard.”
Pellaeon tapped keys at his station, giving the Chimera’s status a quick prelightspeed check. Another bit of conventional military wisdom was that Star Destroyers should play the role of mobile siege stations in this kind of full-planet engagement; that to employ them in hit-and-fade operations was both wasteful and potentially dangerous.
But then, proponents of such theories had obviously never watched someone like Grand Admiral Thrawn in action.
“Order the other two forces to break off their attacks, as well,” Thrawn told C’baoth. “I presume you are in close enough contact to do that?”
“You question me too much, Grand Admiral Thrawn,” C’baoth said, his voice even huskier than it had been earlier. “Far too much.”
“I question all that is not yet familiar to me,” Thrawn countered, swiveling back around again. “Call them back to the rendezvous point.”
“As you command,” the other hissed.
Pellaeon glanced back at C’baoth. Testing the other’s abilities under combat conditions was all good and proper. But there was such a thing as pushing too far.
“He must learn who’s in command here,” Thrawn said quietly, as if reading Pellaeon’s thoughts.
“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon nodded, forcing his voice to remain steady. Thrawn had proved time and again that he knew what he was doing. Still, Pellaeon couldn’t help but wonder uneasily if the Grand Admiral recognized the extent of the power he’d awakened from its sleep on Wayland.
Thrawn nodded. “Good. Have there been any further leads on those mole miners I asked for?”
“Ah-no, sir.” A year ago, too, he would have found a strange unreality in conversing about less than urgent matters while in the middle of a combat situation. “At least not in anything like the numbers you want. I think the Athega system’s still our best bet. Or it will be if we can find a way around the problems of the sunlight intensity there.”
“The problems will be minimal,” Thrawn said with easy confidence. “If the jump is done with sufficient accuracy, the judicator will be in direct sunlight for only a few minutes each way. Its hull can certainly handle that much. We’ll simply need to take a few days first to shield the viewports and remove external sensors and communications equipment.”
Pellaeon nodded, swallowing his next question. There would, of course, be none of the difficulties that would normally arise from blinding and deafening a Star Destroyer in that way. Not as long as C’baoth was with them.
“Grand Admiral Thrawn?”
Thrawn turned around. “Yes, Master C’baoth?”
“Where are my Jedi, Grand Admiral Thrawn? You promised me that your tame Noghri would bring me my Jedi.”