Lieutenant Rory Mikam was stretched out on his bunk, trying somewhat listlessly to make sense of an astrogation problem, when, beyond the edge of the backlit datapad, his eye caught the movement of the dorm room door opening. The freak. Mikam had been curious enough, some months back, to follow Thrawn one evening, and had only been half-surprised to find out the alien junior lieutenant liked exercising alone, late in the evening. Figures, with the shape he's in. Thrawn was constantly scoring the best marks in training, and Mikam had once or twice even wondered if he wasn't holding himself back just a little, in order not to come too obviously first every time. He'd mentioned his feeling to Per Theel, who'd blown him off nastily, but Per's obsession with the freak blinded him altogether to too many things. Good thing Per was on duty right now, Mikam thought – he wouldn't have liked the uncharacteristic little smile on Thrawn's thin lips. Would've taken it personal. The fourth bunk was empty – their last roommate had been transferred to another ship, and hadn't yet been replaced.
" 'lo," Mikam mumbled as the other passed his bunk and started unbuttoning his uniform tunic.
"Hello," Thrawn replied after an infinitesimal silence.
Mikam glanced back at the datapad. "I, er, didn't thank you the other day—"
The red eyes fractionally turned to him. "Whatever for?"
You're gonna make me sweat it, is that it? "For not letting me fall on my face during review."
Thrawn paused briefly in the act of folding his uniform trousers. "Oh, that?" The thin blue lips stretched an additional centimeter. "Do you expect Captain Corlag would have made the difference among us three if we'd somehow messed up his bridge parade?"
Smug sonovanek. Not that he hasn't got a point. We'd all three have ended up in the brig for a week. "Ah," Mikam said weakly.
Thrawn took his time hanging his trousers into his locker long enough that Mikam had turned back to his datapad when he heard the smooth voice again. "On the other hand, I don't think I might have minded so much being disciplined if I could have seen Theel splattered into the starboard crew pit."
Mikam gaped up swiftly. Thrawn had spoken softly, almost dreamily.
"You've got a funny way of saying 'you're welcome'."
"Have I? But it's quite sincere."
This time Rory burst out laughing. He was still catching his breath when Per Theel strode in, and stopped in the middle of the dorm, glaring at his two roommates.
"What's so prakking funny?"
Rory Mikam's brain went blank for a sickening beat. He could clearly predict the nasty tantrum Theel would throw if he didn't manage to dig himself out of that hole fast, but his mind refused to function. He was still racking it when Thrawn's voice cut through, on a very different, angry tone.
"All right, that's enough. Give me back my datapad!"
A blue hand snatched his datapad from his still-uncomprehending grasp, and the alien hissed "You play another of these games on me and you'll regret it."
"This freak giving you trouble, Rory?" Theel started, menacing.
Understanding flooded through Mikam. He's making Per believe I was laughing at him, not with him. It was beautifully simple, and it had worked. Now I better return the favor and deflect the heat from red-eyes here.
"Nah, give it up, Per. I'm bushed, all I want is my bed."
"Wouldn't be no trouble. I've been saying for some time some people get too uppity for their own good."
"Lay it off already. I don't give a blast."
Theel's glare swiveled from his bunkmate to the freak. It was obvious he weighed the difference between jumping Thrawn with Mikam, and trying it alone. Thrawn stood his ground coolly, one hand idly tapping a few keys on the datapad. An instant later, Theel threw himself on his bunk with a scowl.
"You're a bloody wuss, Mikam."
"Whatever. Can you turn down the prakking light?"
Theel grumbled a bit more, but soon enough, the dorm was dark and quiet. Mikam was, in fact, close to slumber himself when he felt the touch of a hand on his arm. He nearly jumped before he glimpsed the two glinting red slits a meter or so from him and realized Thrawn, from the neighboring bunk, was silently handing him his datapad back. With the movement, the sleeping screen came alive. Quickly flipping it his way to hide the soft glare from Theel, Mikam reflexively cast a look at the display.
His astrogation problem was solved.
***
The blare of what sounded like a thousand sirens woke them in the middle of the night.
"What the frell—"
"Not another drill—"
As he was scrambling into his uniform, Mikam felt the dorm floor move slightly – not even a lurch, still unusual on a ship that size.
"No drill," he heard Thrawn say dryly while pulling on his boots. On his other side, Per Theel swore under his breath while burrowing under a pile of ballistics manuals for a clean shirt.
"Who'd be stupid enough to attack an Imperial Star Destroyer?"
"Someone either desperate, or who think they have a good chance against us," the alien replied calmly, clipping shut his uniform belt buckle, and in a departure from normal bridge dress regs, fastening a side-arm holster to it.
"How's a blaster gonna help you in a space battle, nerf-herder?" Theel guffawed. Without waiting to see how his taunt was received, he hurried out. Almost ready himself, Mikam glanced quickly at Thrawn. The thin blue lips stretched in the hint of a smile. "You never know what may happen in battle," the alien lieutenant said quietly.
And you look like you've learned this the hard way. Making up his mind in a flash, Mikam threw his locker open, grabbed his own blaster and pocketed it. Thrawn raised an approving blue-black eyebrow. "Shall we?"
***
The bridge looked normal, with nothing but an empty starfield beyond the far end viewports – but there was no mistaking the tension in the air. Mikam and Thrawn ran up the steps from the turbolift, taking in the state of readiness of the various teams at battle stations. In the starboard crew pit, the main turbolasers were already being prepped under the barked orders of Lieutenant-Commander Janred; but next to their bank of consoles, the shield modulators were still only attended by a harried-looking single lieutenant, probably the night duty officer. The port crew pit was similarly unequally manned. In theory, capital ships operated 24 standard hours a day. In practice, "daytime" was determined by the captain's own schedule – whoever pulled "night" duty, because they had less contact with the commanding officers, stood more remote from any influence they could hope to have with the chain of command. Some captains made a point of rotating everyone's schedules, starting with their own. Corlag wasn't one of those – in fact, Mikam noted with some surprise, it didn't even look as if he was on the bridge yet. So who—
But Thrawn had already spotted Commander Piett leaning over the shoulder of the tactical holo officer, tensely studying the repeater displays. He and Mikam hurried to the "Empire's Revenge's first officer, standing at attention two respectful meters from the tac station. Piett didn't move an inch for a couple of minutes. Finally he straightened up, turning a tired face to the two junior lieutenants. Mikam saw that it took him half a second to place him. Thrawn of course he knew at once. Figures.
"Mikam, Thrawn. As you can see, there's an unknown fleet out there half a light-second from us. One...thing the size of a Dreadnaught, two frigates, possibly fighters, all shields up, so they're obviously hostile. I want you to check on the readiness of our ion and missile crews. If they're undermanned, take command until the proper team leaders have shown up, and have them power up at once. Then report to me."
"Aye, sir." Mikam saluted smartly and made to turn, but Thrawn didn't move. "If I may, sir?" he said in that smooth, cultured voice.
Piett threw him a less than friendly glance. "Yes, lieutenant? Is this really the time?"
"I believe so, sir," the other replied, with a fractional movement of the chin at the tactical holo displays. "The enemy's configuration doesn't look complete. I wonder if they appeared on our sensors long ago? And much further than where they are now?"
Piett's eyes narrowed, but to Mikam's astonishment, he did answer. "No, in fact. They dropped out of hyperspace perhaps two minutes before the alarm was rung. Janred was the bridge officer and he raised me on the comm at once."
"In that case, sir, it's very possible that the rest of them is waiting to see how we engage these ships, and revert to realspace behind us to crush us in a pincer."
Piett snorted. "And assuming – assuming! – that you read the holos right, lieutenant Thrawn, what makes you think that the commander of this group would take the risk to confront an Imperial Star destroyer heads on with less than his full contingent? Without any possible coordination with his – hypothetical – remaining force as long as they stay in hyperspace?"
"Sir, they can revert to realspace at short intervals just to check on their timing. It doesn't need to be within range of our sensors."
Piett frowned. "It may not have occurred to you, lieutenant, that this is hardly the time for this kind of speculation. Yes, in theory your microjumps idea is possible, but it would be frelling costly just for a comm call. And we don't know who this fleet belongs to. Or if we're the ones they wanted so badly in the first place."
And that's as much of a brushoff you'll get this side of being grounded, buddy, Mikam thought almost out loud. Couldn't Thrawn see he was asking for trouble? But—
"Sir, with all due respect – does this really matter?" red-eyes went on, as coolly as you please. "The question is rather whether they'll back off when they see we're Imperials. And" – another carefully controlled chin movement – "they don't act as if they will."
Piett's eyes swiveled from Thrawn to the holo display then back to where the two young men rigidly stood. "All right. I'm not saying I believe it yet, but show me what makes you think this. Fast, if possible."
"Aye, sir." The alien lieutenant stepped to the tac console and picked up the light pointer. "The two frigates – here – are staying aft and portside of the Dreadnaught, as if they kept to a diamond formation which should include a parallel flanking fore and starboard of the capital ship. But that side is empty – completely unprotected." The pointer's thin red beam of coherent light quickly jabbed at the empty space ahead and to the right of the Dreadnaught's round shape. "They haven't moved in the past five minutes, so we have to assume they're waiting in place. As you said, sir, they've powered up shields. They know we're here – no Duros would hold still otherw—"
"Hold it!" Piett snapped. "What did you say? A Duros?"
"I believe that's a Duros captain in the Dreadnaught, sir", the freak went on smoothly. "From the holo shadow, it looks closest to one of those Kuat capital ships that were decommissioned by the Republic fifteen years ago, and extensively reconditioned by the Duros government for a while—"
"Blast it!"
"Sir?"
Snapping his fingers for the two lieutenants to follow him, Piett ran to Captain Corlag's still-empty command chair, sat in, and flicked on the command displays. "Comm? What other Imperial ships can you locate within five parsecs? Mikam, give me a general weapons readiness status. Use this station. Thrawn? What do you know of this Duros Navy reconditioning? What armaments do they have?"
"Standard, sir? In most cases, they replaced the ion cannons by sublight torpedoes. Added heavy turbolasers. Sorosuub long-range hyperdrive docking rings for half a squadron of fighters, but Sorosuub doesn't maintain these any longer, so I don't expect they're all operational."
"Fightercraft?"
"Preybird-class mostly, but—"
"But we can't be sure they've not replaced that clunky old junk in the past 15 years, can we?"
The alien nodded. "Exactly, sir."
Jaws tensed, Piett was hitting keys rapidly on the captain's controls. "You see, lieutenant," he said without looking up, "we've known for some time of a Duros pirate working the Chandrilan Trade Spine with his own little fleet. If that's indeed him, your pincer theory is likely correct."