Rory Mikam couldn't believe how close to boiling point he felt.
While hurriedly feeding weapons stats updates to the command systems, he kept glancing in uneasy wonder at Thrawn's tall frame standing at the tac console, calmly inputting calculations under Casrah's and Piett's instructions. I would've punched Corlag in the face, instead of standing there like a statue letting that drunk call me an animal. The moron's reeking of brandy, and he's gonna get us killed.
The "Empire's Revenge" hull shuddered noticeably when its shields absorbed the first hits from the closest Dreadnaught's turbolasers. Corlag, who still hadn't sat in the command chair vacated by Piett, stumbled, grabbing the side of Mikam's console to catch himself at the last minute, and barked "Helm: all ahead full! Turbolasers: on my mark!"
Janred's readiness signal lit up on Mikam's displays. "Turbolasers ready, sir," Rory called.
"Target the Dreadnaught's superstructure and fire, full power!"
Relaying the order with the appropriate targeting computations, Mikam punched the keys, then looked up, catching Lieutenant-Commander Janred's eye just on the other side of the command walkway as the weapons officer directed the salvo from the port crewpit. Janred looks as disgusted as me, he thought fleetingly, somewhat surprised at sharing so clearly a superior officer's feelings. The "Revenge" took another hit, and Corlag repeated his order, mechanically relayed by Mikam. Does this lumbering bantha think we can just punch our way in? We are so dead.
This time the "Empire's Revenge" took a sideways hit, and Mikam felt the deckplates lurch under him with a sick feeling in his stomach. "Starboard shields down to 27%!" someone shouted from the starboard crewpit, and neither Piett not the pit's ranking officer bothered to call the man on it – Piett usually tore a major strip off anyone bawling information across the bridge. Instead, the first officer's voice rang, only a shade tighter than usual.
"Recommend evasive maneuvers, sir."
"Evasive? Against this scum? You've lost your nerve, man! TIE control: order first two squadrons launched immediately, and two more prepped to launch at my command!"
TIEs against a fleet of capital ships? They're gonna get murdered. Rory stared across at Casrah relaying the order on the comm in a flat voice, then caught Thrawn's glittering red eyes: the alien lieutenant had half-turned from the tac console when hearing the command. His pale-blue features were composed, as usual, but the thin line of the lips told the story. He knows this is about the worst way to fight our way out of this. But there's no way anyone will listen to him now.
"Turbolasers: on my mark!"
Corlag looked willing to keep ordering strikes with most of the Star Destroyer's weapons, like the furious swats of a cornered reek. "Turbolasers ready!" Rory called between clenched teeth.
The "Empire's Revenge" took a direct hit at that very moment, and the huge ship's entire structure shook with a tortured screech. Sparks flew, hardware crashed to the deck, crewers stumbled; and in the reigning pandemonium and shouts, Captain Corlag toppled and fell heavily, head hitting the edge of Mikam's console and massive body missing the junior lieutenant's legs by inches. Numbly, Mikam gaped at the captain sprawled at his feet, uniform cap lying a couple of feet away. A dazed look on his ruddy face, Corlag was already trying to hoist himself back up. Oh no you don't, Rory thought in a flash. Two quick glances left and right reassured him that no-one was paying him much attention – yet. Wrenching from his jacket pocket the blaster Thrawn had encouraged him to carry, he grabbed the gun by its barrel and swung it hard against Corlag's cranium. The durasteel connected with a satisfying thud, and Corlag fell back to the deck bonelessly, mouth agape. Good job. Mikam swiftly pocketed the blaster, and scrambled to his feet, yelling "Captain down! The captain is injured!"
"So it would seem," Commander Piett's deadpan voice drawled just behind him, causing him to jump. Mikam spun to face the ship's first officer. "You'd better call a med droid," Piett said calmly, a faint smile hovering on his lips. "Hit his head on your console, did he?"
"Y-es, sir," Mikam stammered.
"Have him taken to sickbay at once." Piett looked down for an instant at Corlag's motionless, massive bulk. "Oh, and, lieutenant Mikam—you'd better make sure the Too-OneBee runs the proper tests before they medicate him. Some treatments are contra-indicated when too much alcohol's found in the blood. Wouldn't want to risk that. Better have it all on record."
"Er— yes, sir, just so," Mikam said, eyes widening a little. He turned to hit the comm key on his console, and as he called Medical, noticed Thrawn watching him from the tac station, a rare look of surprise on his aristocratic features. Looks very human that way, Rory thought, and grinned. The other slowly smiled back, and nodded an appreciative salute. Now I've cleared the way for you, pal, you'd better find a way to get us out of this jam.
***
As the gym floor lurched again under her feet, Wynssa Starflare started feeling rather queasy. You've always been a good spacer. You're nervous, that's all. Wasn't much comfort. To have something to do, she'd started exercising on one the upper-body machines, seated on a bench while pulling down a weighted bar behind her shoulder blades. It was a good workout and stretched her back gratifyingly, but it never brought her the release from tension she'd come to expect from exertion as a due. Another tremor shook the ship. Someone's slugging us out there. She wondered how they could take it, the young men she'd dutifully shaken hands with day after day, and who spent years in this metal hull waiting to be targeted and shot at. Perhaps they mostly think they'll be shooting at others. What fun.
The comlink rang. She'd left it lying on another machine and searched for it frantically for a few seconds. Stupid! There! She pounced on it. "Yes, yes!"
"Feeling the strain, Miss Starflare?" lieutenant Thrawn's cool voice asked, and she immediately felt at the same time reassured and a bit foolish.
"No – I mean, yes, but I'm not—"
"We should be all right, but it will take a little more effort than I thought."
Punctuating his words, the "Empire's Revenge" took a hit that made Wynssa sit rather abruptly on the machine's bench.
"Tell me," she shot back, "do you work at this incredibly detached attitude, or does it come naturally?"
Oh stars, tell me I didn't say this just now. He'll think I'm the galaxy's worst shrew.
"It's just like your smart one-liners, Wynssa," the cultured voice said. "I have found it serves me best. But I really called to ask for your help."
My what? "Anything you want, but how could I possibly—"
"Captain Corlag has met with a little accident. It would be quite useful if you could send a wide-range message on all frequencies, asking for help as convincingly as you know how."
She stared at the comlink in her hand. What in stars was he up to now? "You want this message to be intercepted," she said slowly.
She couldn't see him, but she could have sworn he was smiling slightly now, the well-defined lips she remembered well ironic, the strange red eyes glittering. "Again—you understand me so well, Miss Starflare. I apologize that I won't be able to come for you at the gym, but I'll send someone to show you the way to the bridge. Thrawn out."