Hitchhiker

Chapter 21

We're Going To Be Famous and We're Not Going To Like It One Bit

It had felt strangely natural to hurry to his side, across the examination bed from the Too-OneBee, and to hold his left hand between hers. "What happened to you?"

Thrawn smiled faintly, but it was the chief med droid who answered. "The lieutenant's arm was broken in two places. He was being just as difficult as you about treatment. What are you doing up, Miss Starflare?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she protested, at the same time that Thrawn asked, "You were injured?"

"It's nothing. I twisted my ankle, but the doctor here fixed it. Thrawn, do you realize Captain Corlag is here and Lieutenant Theel came down especially to wake him up?"

"But how-enterprising of lieutenant Theel," Thrawn said with a wince. She looked up quickly at the Too-OneBee, who was still at work on Thrawn's arm.

"You're hurting him!"

"Lieutenant Thrawn refused a general painkiller because he didn't want his awareness reduced. I'm using local anesthetics, but they may not have 100% efficiency."

The med droid sounded decidedly peeved, and Thrawn's good hand squeezed Wynssa's in return. The alien lieutenant asked in his usual cool voice: "How is the Captain?"

"He's not well, but he's awake. I'd hoped the doctor here could make him stay in bed."

The Too-OneBee's rich baritone managed to convey a nice blend of sarcasm and exasperation: "I'm amazed you thought such a thing, considering neither you nor the lieutenant here seem to want to comply with my instructions."

Thrawn was betrayed into a short burst of laughter, and Wynssa stared at him in wonder. "That's the first time I've ever seen you laugh."

The cool voice never wavered. "I apologize; it was undoubtedly inappropriate. Doctor, the difference is this: when Miss Starflare or myself fail to follow your directions, we merely experience discomfort. The Captain might actually be endangering his health."

She felt like kicking herself. I've ruined the moment. It was definitely the way to handle the med-droid, though. He was finishing Thrawn's portable cast. "That is very likely. I will go and see the Captain."

***

Mikam's white face told him the news before the junior lieutenant opened his mouth to report. "What happened?" Piett barked more harshly than he would have liked.

"The-the stateroom's gone, sir. Viewport cracked-open to space. I-I tried to open the door, but it was sealed-and the override wouldn't work-" The young man gulped, started again. "I hooked myself to the nearest safety point and entered the breached compartment override code-and there was nothing left inside, sir-there was hardly any inside."

"Have you sealed the door again?" Sansevi asked.

Good man, Piett thought. Straight to the point. If he had to surrender his so-recent command, there could be worse types to defer to.

Young Mikam nodded, the shaky "Aye sir" coming out a beat later. His young face scrunched up, and Piett braced himself for tears, when Mikam's expression changed, suddenly arrested. "S-Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What-do you think will happen-when the grids find out we've- lost Wynssa Starflare?"

There's a valid question. He could see Sansevi saw it as well. "Blast!" the captain spat. "We'll have to prepare for it. Not now; the ship's the main priority. But I'll have to let Navy Public Affairs know-and the Admiral. If I remember correctly, His Majesty attended the premiere of her latest flick. We're going to be famous-and we're not going to like it one bit."

***

She simply couldn't think of a thing to say.

The Too-OneBee had left them to go to Captain Corlag, and Wynssa, still standing at Thrawn's side next to the medbed, found herself suddenly tongue-tied. Her hand was still holding his. She pulled it back, but he caught her fingers in a light grip before they could slip away completely from his.

"I like this color. It suits you."

She glanced down at the cuff of her jumper peeping out of the silver polar jacket sleeve, so close to their intertwined fingers. The blue was barely a shade paler than his hand, she realized, and almost the same tint as his naked, hairless chest. She suddenly felt self-conscious; no longer entirely comfortable in her cozy old travel tracksuit. Raising her eyes, she met his intent, phosphorescent gaze above a slight smile.

"You're not going to lose your nerve now? It wouldn't be like you."

Was he talking about her unexpected shyness, or the presence of Corlag so near? She shook her head. "What do we do now?"

"Go to the bridge, I think,' he said. "I'm afraid I will require your assistance to get into my uniform."

"Should you be getting up so fast?"

"But for finding you here, being delayed in sickbay before the end of the battle would have been a complete waste of time. I was ordered down, but I don't intend to stay one minute longer than I have to."

She'd never heard this curt finality in his voice, and stared at him. "Your arm was broken!"

"I have another arm."

"But the pain-"

"I'd have no business being a soldier if I couldn't stand some amount of discomfort." He sat up and swung his long legs down the side of the medbed. "May I trouble you for my shirt and jacket, behind you?"

Wordlessly, she picked them up and laid them on the examination bed. The right shirtsleeve had been cut open, presumably by the Too-OneBee, but the uniform jacket was intact. "I'm surprised you managed to save your jacket and not your shirt," Wynssa said rather tartly, drawing a short laugh from him.

"I'm convinced you can guess why."

"You wouldn't let the doctor damage your clothes, but by the time he'd got the jacket off, you'd fainted."

"What a poor creature you must think me!"

"No, an exceptionally stubborn one."

He'd been shrugging himself into the shirt, but paused to look at her with such a warm smile that she felt herself blush. "I simply calculated nobody would see the shirt was torn once I had the jacket back on, and let it-him-have his way."

"I see. You had it all planned."

"Merely conserving my energies."

She should have found his unfailing self-assurance annoying, she reflected, but she didn't; it only increased her admiration for what she could guess of the years of rigorous self-discipline behind it. She helped him slide his arm-cast into the right sleeve of his uniform jacket. It was a very tight fit, but they managed to drag the olive-green gabardine down to his splinted wrist. With her help, he donned the jacket altogether and let her fasten it up for him, finding the invisible buttons under the front flap.

"You'll never be able to take it off on your own," she said.

Standing up next to the medbed, he was now tugging at the jacket's hem to restore it to its creaseless, officer-like state. "The situation will have moved on by that time, one way or another."

Meaning we'll be safely on the way to Coruscant, or dead. Or a number of unpleasant options in-between. She handed him his belt silently, helped him buckle it up. "You must think I'm making far too much of a fuss."

"I think nothing of the kind," he said in a quiet voice, taking her hand again as she let go of the belt-buckle.

She fell silent and looked up into the strange red eyes. No pupils, no white, just these almonds of glittering little prisms, somehow unmistakably expressive.

"Well!" broke in loudly a voice she knew only too well.

Jostling past an agitated Too-OneBee, lieutenant Per Theel was staring accusingly at them from the doorway.

Chapter 22

I Saw No Point In Continuing This Boring Conversation

"So what was the point of Starflare's broadcast, if she wasn't your captain's girlfriend?"

Captain Sansevi, standing next to commander Piett at the tac station while Chief Engineer Bron's techs worked on the command chair, bombarded Piett with pointed questions on the Empire's Revenge's procedures, having brushed aside his offer to step down immediately. "You know the situation and I need a first officer. Mordon's blasted report can wait. With a bit of luck, your captain will be in good enough shape to write it himself."

Privately, Piett thought with a sinking feeling that nothing could ensure his demotion faster; but there was no time to ponder the future. Sansevi had ordered a dozen gunnery noncoms transferred from the Judicator to the Empire's Revenge to assist Lieutenant-Commander Janred's depleted troops; had put Bron in charge of a team of extra techs from the larger ship after a five-minute interview conducted at machine-gun speed; and in general had taken over the running of the Revenge with the kind of energetic competence Piett had for months despaired of finding in a superior officer. This had emboldened the commander to produce his own drill and shifts rota schedules, shelved by Corlag, from the recesses of his private databank in the ship's computer. Harrumphing, Sansevi had logged them and transmitted them to the new comm officer with an "effective immediately" tag. Now the Revenge's new captain wanted the lowdown on their most daring move, and Piett felt he deserved the full answer.

"We'd lost the initiative against the pirate fleet, sir, and there were eighteen capital ships pounding us. One of my officers had devised a microjump tactic to hide us behind the red dwarf until you could join us with the Judicator, but for that we needed the pirates to let up for a moment. The idea was to make them think we were in worse shape than was the case, and ripe for boarding. So we lit up smoke flares at strategic places, and Starflare gave her little performance. It worked, too. They had to stop shooting to allow their boarding craft to get to us."

"And did they?"

"Yes, sir. Colonel Typhas's troops were ready for them. We've still got a few dozen in one of the brigs."

Sansevi looked impressed. "Bloody clever. Your idea?"

Here's an opening to introduce young Thrawn's presence with minimum negative connotations. Piett shook his head. "We've got an unusual junior officer, recommended by Imperial Intelligence, very bright. Sort of an experiment. It was his idea."

"A frelling spook?"

There was no mistaking Sansevi's disgusted scowl. Kreth. "No, no, nothing like that. Just an appointment recommendation, from II, not ISB. Fact is, he's a non-human. I don't know the species but-"

He was interrupted by a discreet cough from Bron, stepping away from the half-repaired command chair. "They're called Chiss, sir, pardon me for interrupting."

Sansevi looked from Bron's reticent, grizzled face to Piett's obviously intrigued one. "Never heard of 'em. Tell us more."

Bron wiped the engine grease from his hand on the leg of his overalls before running it through his short-cropped iron-gray hair. "I don't know much more, sir. Met some of them in the Rim in my time, and they were a rarity even there. Come from some place in the Unknown regions, keep to themselves, don't like traveling outside their systems. Cold buggers, sorta formal, but very quick on the uptake, sir. Their ship had broken down on-well, you wouldn't know the place, but they were stuck, and I helped them rig up an engine. Knew nothing of our hyperdrive theory, but they cottoned on to it real quick. This one's younger than the ones I met, and he's a sort of odd fish. Saved my gullet all the same."

So that's why Thrawn's "the kid" to Bron. "How do you mean, an odd fish?" Piett asked at the same time that Sansevi said: "Saved your gullet?"

The captain gave a short laugh. "Hadn't pegged you for someone who'd let questions go unanswered on his watch, Piett." He considered the chief engineered with an appraising eye. "Go on, man, out with it."

Bron's ice-blue eyes flickered from one superior officer to the other. The chief engineer prudently chose to answer the captain first. "Some of the pirates took hostages, me and a cadet. Lieutenant Thrawn negotiated us out. And-I'd say he's an odd sort because all the Chiss I've seen were in groups, don't seem to like taking decisions alone, defer to their elders all the time. This one's a loner."

Defer to their elders, do they? "Would that be why Lieutenant Thrawn addresses you as Ta Chuba, chief? Because you'd met older Chiss?" Piett asked.

A flicker of surprise crossed Bron's guarded features. "You speak Huttese, sir?"

"Never mind that."

"Well-yes, sir. Rather, because I'd taught elder Chiss. Teaching's pretty respected in their culture, didn't matter that it was all informal at the time."

"Well, well!" Sansevi said. "And where's your odd fish now, Piett? He sounds like an interesting addition to the staff."

That he certainly is. "Sickbay, sir. He got wounded in the last attack, but I imagine he'll be back soon enough. I had to order him there. In fact the chief here pointed out he was injured-he'd managed to hide it from me. Chief, d'you have any idea why Lieutenant Thrawn didn't want to get treatment for his arm? Afraid our Emdees wouldn't know what to do with him?"

Bron shook his head. "I wouldn't think so, sir. From what I've seen, the lieutenant would have felt responsible for what happened in the attack, and their tradition doesn't allow them to get any kind of help before they've corrected their mistakes."

And we think we're tough. Piett exchanged a look with Sansevi. He never knew whether the new captain shared that opinion. At the end of the bridge stairs, the main turbolift doors opened, revealing the bandaged head of captain Corlag.

***

"Well! Captain Corlag will hear of this!"

"Lieut-"

Dismayed at Per Theel's unwelcome appearance, Wynssa tried to snatch her hand away from Thrawn's own. With a comforting squeeze, he held onto it, cutting short what she was about to say. Amazing, really, how little it took to dissolve her apprehensions into this strangely safe feeling. She knew she shouldn't let herself get used to it-surely it would all explode in her face soon enough. This guy has his work cut out already; he doesn't need my battles to fight in addition to his. Still, it made her all buoyant and-happy. And stupid, my girl.

"Really?" Thrawn interrupted, his voice cold as space. "I fail to see how this will help your defense."

Wynssa nearly jumped-she'd never heard such icy contempt in his tone. Theel turned on Thrawn like an enraged reek. "My what? Who do you think you are, you sub-human scum-"

Thrawn's voice cut like a cryo-lash: "You deserted your station under fire, Theel. That's a court-martial offense-if Admiral Mordon feels like wasting a firing-squad's power packs on you. He may just leave your fate up to Lord Vader."

"I came here to save our ship from traitors like bloody Piett and trash like you! Your alien-loving tramp tried to stop us, but Captain Corlag is on his way to the bridge as we-"

Wynssa barely felt her fingers being released: a blue stun bolt from Thrawn's blaster, fired unerringly with his left hand, cut Theel short, and the lieutenant fell heavily to the ground, unconscious. She stared open-mouthed at the inert body, then at Thrawn.

"I saw no point in continuing this boring conversation," he said lightly. "Doctor, I suggest you keep Mr. Theel heavily sedated when he comes to. I don't have time to have him taken to the brig, and our troopers are rather busy. The battle isn't over yet."

The Too-OneBee was already clucking over Theel's prostrate form. "This is extremely irregular. The sick-bay is not a detainment center-"

"Neither is it designed to accommodate another few hundred wounded in addition to the ones you treated earlier today. The presence of this imbecile anywhere near the bridge would make it a lot likelier."

Having summoned a repulsor stretcher, the chief med-droid proceeded to slide Theel's body onto its hovering platform. "He was here earlier, and gave signs of agitation when he saw me treating a non-human prisoner, a Dug," he said somewhat prissily. "Very well, I'll keep him here, but please rid me of him as soon as possible."

Wonders'll never cease. Thrawn must have glimpsed something of Wynssa's awe at his easy management of the Too-OneBee, because he smiled. "Ah, yes, the Dug. Where is he now? Back in the lower-level brig with the others?"

"No, I kept him under observation. He wasn't in too bad a shape, but he was making himself useful here. You should find him in the second ward."

The blue-black eyebrows briefly froze. "Thank you, doctor, I believe I'll collect him now. I might have a use for him in a few moments."

Chapter 23

For Instance, He Forgot To Tell Me He Spoke Basic

One step back from the conflagration, Commander Piett watched in some awe Captains Sansevi and Corlag locked in the loudest shouting match he could remember ever witnessing on any ship in his career. He could see the techs and lower ranks in both crew pits staring up curiously, not to mention the bridge officers throwing barely covert glances. In normal circumstances, he would have called everyone sharply to order, but these were far from normal circumstances, and part of him was guiltily enjoying the scene. Corlag had the brute mass advantage, but Sansevi's was obviously the better form. "The state of unreadiness of your crew is a disgrace! No wonder you took casualties, you were too busy drinking and gallivanting with holostars to drill them properly!"

"You little freller, you have no authority on my ship!"

"If you hadn't been sleeping off your latest hangover instead of leading the battle, you'd have heard Admiral Mordon giving me authority!"

"You lousy little desk-jockey, you think you can hide behind--"

Piett tore himself regretfully away. "Lieutenant Dorja, how's that sensor report coming on? What d'you think you're looking at, gunning-sergeant Rekos? If you've got so much free time on your hands, I suggest you give Lieutenant Mikam a readiness report for your crew pit batteries, now. That goes for you too, Rotham--d'you think these pirates are just going to flip over and make nice?"

"Sir! Sir, we're getting a transmission from--it looks like it's from one of the Judicator's TIEs, but it's got a first-rank command override," Dorja's puzzled voice called back.

Why is Dorja fielding-- Of course, poor Casrah bought it, and Thrawn isn't back from sickbay. A cold shiver ran down Piett's spine. He had a good notion of who was calling them. He glanced at the two captains still at it at full throttle, inwardly sighed, and signaled to Dorja. "Patch it over here."

As he more than half expected, the tac console viewspace revealed an unmoving, grisly black mask, all death-head-like gleaming planes and grilles. "Sir... er, my lord?"

"How many TIE squadrons have you got in readiness?"

The voice was even more chilling than the mask, Piett thought. Deep, vocoder-mechanical, inhuman, punctuated by Vader's regular, oddly-amplified breathing. He was never more relieved to find his training taking over smoothly. "All six squadrons, my lord, in three wings."

"Launch them. I am sending comlink frequencies on which I want them to report to me."

"Acknowledged, my lord, and understood."

The black mask disappeared from the viewspace with no warning. "Get me TIE control," Piett ordered. Yes, new frequencies had been transmitted in an encrypted burst to the Empire's Revenge comm system. He sent them on to the TIE colonel who answered his call, already in his flightsuit and helmet under his arm, he noted. Of course they're in readiness--Corlag had sent them out and I recalled them. At least Lord Vader won't have to complain of any delays. "I need not tell you of Lord Vader's authority at his Majesty's side. Glory to the Empire and good hunting, Colonel," he concluded, hoping the Emperor's Sith lord wasn't as wasteful of his pilots' lives as he'd known Corlag to be. At least he flies with them.

But his activity had finally attracted the feuding captains' attention. "What the frell d'you think you're doing, Piett?" Corlag barked.

Piett quickly glanced from the alarmingly red-faced Corlag to a thin-lipped but calmer-looking Sansevi. "Lord Vader hailed us to order our TIE squadrons launched at once, sir. I've just done so," he answered, staring at a point at shoulder height precisely between the two commanding officers.

"You've what?" Corlag shouted at the same time that Sansevi said "Well done, Commander Piett." Enraged, Corlag turned on the other captain, but this time Sansevi's voice cut like a vibroblade. "This nonsense has lasted long enough. You are formally relieved of command. I don't especially want to have you removed from this bridge under arrest but believe me, I'm getting more reconciled to the idea by the minute. Commander, will you request Colonel Tyfas to send up a squad of troopers?"

Piett could almost find it in him to be sorry for Corlag's public loss of face. Almost. If it weren't for all those good men who died. He raised a hand at Dorja to comm Tyfas. At that precise moment, an out-of-control TIE careened so close to the port viewport that everyone on the bridge instinctively ducked. An instant later, the doomed fighter crashed into the hull bare meters from the port sensor array, exploding into a ball of fire. Lord Vader, it seemed, had brought the starfighter battle straight to them.

***

In the first seventeen years of her life on her parents' Gus Treta refueling station, Wynssa had never seen a Dug, much less a pirate one, and she couldn't help sneaking looks at the spidery creature limping at their side, wristbinders shackled by a short leash to Thrawn's belt. "Na ta chura hzeke holo porko Wynza Ssstarflare," the Dug suddenly hissed, and she jumped back.

"Ek, eika tori bazda waheta," Thrawn replied easily.

"What did you say?"

"Sebulba here thinks you look like the holo actress, Wynssa Starflare. I told him you get that a lot."

"I--" She caught his meaningful look. "Ah--is that his name? Sebulba?"

"So he tells me. He's been less than forthright about a few other things, though, so I wouldn't make too much of it, would I, my friend?"

"Ttttold you everytthhhhhing, but no longer on our sssship. Tthhhingss chhhange fassst."

She started at the sound of the Dug's sibilant, but perfectly understandable Basic. "For instance, he forgot to tell me he spoke Basic," Thrawn continued with a satisfied smirk. The Dug spat something that sounded like Yoka to bantha poodoo! and Thrawn yanked his lead once, hard, making him trip on two of his chitinous legs. "Keep it decent, and don't think I forget where you come from. If you want to stay this side of the hull, you'll have to prove us you're worth the inconvenience. Do I make myself clear?"

***

Piett and Sansevi leaned in, eyes riveted on the tactical holo beamed to the bridge main display. The TIEs' red dots cut a reckless swathe through the serrated blue wings of pirate Uglies, cutting off small groups of fighters to engage them one by one. Piett watched one starfighter angling an impossible turn from under an enemy cluster, then picking out three Uglies in rapid succession, almost like on a fighting range. Except that he's doing that at two klicks per second and five Gs gravity. That particular red dot wove under another pirate formation and started systematically demolishing it with fierce quad laser jabs, dancing all the while among the harried enemy craft. Seized with the irrepressible need to confirm a growing conviction, Piett tweaked the console's controls. Sure enough, the lethal TIE's dot alone started blinking with a distinctive golden halo, indicating the presence of a hyperdrive. Vader's.

"Oh, there's indeed a point to all the hokey stuff," Sansevi's voice said next to him. "Just this kind of flying might make it all worth it, if he didn't--"

If he didn't--?

The Judicator captain's eyes flickered left and right before he answered Piett's unformulated question in a tense undertone. "You don't want to bring Lord Vader news of failure. Or even to be slow with reports of success. I lost four bridge officers in the past six months. One at least was a good man who drew the wrong lot at the wrong time."

Piett felt a cold dead weight constricting his chest. "The wrong lot?"

"They'd draw lots to decide who would bring Lord Vader the less pleasant news when I wasn't personally on duty. Not always, you understand; but I never forbade it--it was bad enough that I was powerless to shield them."

I ought to have known there's worse than mopping up after Corlag. "How do you stand it?" he asked bluntly.

"Not much choice, is there? And--" The other captain mopped his brow despite the bridge's strictly-controlled temperature. "Lord Vader is capable. Short-tempered and unpredictable, but--more than competent, in his scary way." Sansevi's lowered his voice even more. "Look at your TIE squadrons. Notice anything?"

Piett focused his attention on the tactical holo again for a moment. "I'm not sure I can tell them apart," he said slowly. "They're--completely integrated." He turned to face Sansevi. "You know how unprepared we are, sir. I wish I could take credit for our pilots' coordination, but I don't see how I can. What's going on out there?"

to be continued... 

The fine print (how small can I make this?)... and all the usual disclaimers!  No, I'm not making any money.  It's just for fun.  George, please don't sue me.