""Captain Sansevi of the Judicator on the comm for you, sir."
Surprised by Thrawn's cultured, controlled voice on the holo link, Piett spared only a few seconds to remember he'd assigned the alien lieutenant to Casrah's post as well as to tactical. He had to compose himself enough that whatever he'd say wouldn't sound like a reproach, or worse, an accusation, to the Judicator's commanding officers, every single one of whom was his superior in rank. "Where the frell were you while we were being hammered?" definitely wouldn't cut it.
"Piett, commanding the Empire's Revenge. Sir, we're being attacked by two new pirate ships, provenance unknown. We've sustained extensive damage and casualties. If the battle plan has been changed, we'll need assistance to fulfill our end."
On the comm holo, the other's strong-jawed face remained stiffly unmoving for a few seconds. "Your situation is perfectly clear to me, Commander," Sansevi said in a carefully restrained tone. "The battle plan was unchanged until now. However, part of the pirate fleet microjumped ahead of us this last time, and launched several wings of fighters. Lord Vader has decided to join the space battle in his own TIE Interceptor, and Admiral Mordon will not allow the Judicator to leave this vicinity until he's back on board. What's your current status?"
Piett felt his jaw drop, and clenched his teeth with an audible click. Things were moving too fast for his taste.
"I've lost starboard weapons capacity almost entirely, and half my gunning crews, sir. We're working on restoring 30% of firepower within the hour. We had hull breaches, had to seal off the secondary bridge. Apparently we can still maintain integrity, but I'd be wary of attempting to jump considering the unknowns. Casualties in the hundreds."
"Bogeys still shooting at you?"
"Not this instant, sir, but I don't know what's keeping them," he said bitterly. "One may be partly out of commission—we hammered at it as long as we could with our portside batteries—but I'm blind with nominal shields on the other side. I need a better sensor report—I lost my main sensor officer, and we're breaking in his replacement." Piett cast a sideways look at Dorja, who was working Theel's unfamiliar console frantically.
"We can probably help you with that, at least," Sansevi said without commenting on Piett's report. His head turned half-way out of the holo viewspace, and he was heard ordering one of the Judicator's bridge officers to train his sensors on space between them and the Empire's Revenge. "Transmitting now. We'll keep one comm feeder link open and live to you, how's that?"
Unable to hide his astonishment, Piett rubbed his tired eyes with his left fist. "Thank you very much, sir" he said feelingly. Preempting completely one of the Judicator's few holocomm channels was unexpectedly generous.
"We should be blasting the scum that attacked you out of space, commander, not playing nanny for His Majesty's favorite sorcerer," Sansevi snorted. "It's a starfighter battle here, their capital ships are in retreat and badly damaged. They microjumped after us this time, but it broke their formation all the same. Weird tactics you had us try out, but interesting." The holo wavered for an instant in noisy static, and Sansevi's figure seemed to stumble. "They've got some teeth left, as you can see, but nothing we can't handle."
***
The med bay, when Wynssa finally limped across its doors, was a roiling emergency scene barely policed by med droids doing summary triage among the press of injured soldiers and techs. She could see burns, crushed and perforated limbs, lacerated and gory uniforms, and suddenly felt very silly, and a little ashamed, with her throbbing ankle. I got off unbelievably lightly. I'd better go sit in a corner and wait my turn.
She was still looking for the best place to keep out of everyone's way, when a Too-OneBee addressed her in a warm baritone. "Miss Starflare? Have you come to visit Captain Corlag?"
Oh my stars, is that where they put him? And they remember me from that stupid visit!
"I—er, I just wanted to know if he was all right—"
"Please follow me, miss Starflare. It's a great honor."
"I don't want to distract—"
"You're an Imperial Guest, Miss Starflare. That gives you precedence."
"No, please, I'd really rather not, now. If you could just let me sit somewhere—"
By that time of course the droid had noticed her limp. "Are you injured, Miss Starflare?"
"A little, but I don't really think it—"
"Your rank is equal to the Captain's according to our programming, Miss Starflare. Please come this way, and we'll examine your leg."
"But there are far worse cases here! Shouldn't you be tending them first? What does your programming say to that?"
By that time they'd entered an inner office, and the Too-OneBee pointed her to the examination table. "Miss Starflare, why do you want to cause me a programming conflict when we can be done in no time?" it said in a chiding tone, sounding so uncannily like one of her aunts, that she subsided, shrugging off her carryall's strap, and meekly climbing onto the daybed. She couldn't repress a whimper when the droid's light metallic fingers sliced through her laces, and pulled the boot delicately off her foot. Her entire leg felt aflame. "You shouldn't have walked on that ankle," the droid said reproachingly. "Can you move your toes?"
"It was that or not getting here at all," she protested. "Is it broken?"
But her toes did painfully obey her, and a scan confirmed she just had a bad sprain. After a painkiller hypo which magically dispelled the excruciating hurt, the Too-OneBee wrapped her ankle in a bacta pack. "If you don't move, you should be all right in a couple of hours. We'll get you installed in a restbay."
Try as she did, she couldn't make it budge from its decision, and she soon found herself lying down on a clean cot in a tiny cubicle, her bacta-wrapped foot comfortably elevated and a painkilling solution drip hooked to her arm. She was a little light-headed from the drugs, and had to admit to herself it felt wonderful. The temptation of sleep beckoned: she'd been on her feet for almost 48 hours. I really shouldn't be here, but I might as well—
The click of a door opening was so close that she thought for an instant it was her own. She lifted her head from the pillow, looked around. No-one. Must be next door. Soundproofing isn't rated necessary in military med bays. Never mind—she was sure she could sleep through another attack.
"Captain! Sir! Are you awake? Captain Corlag?"
Wynssa sat up straight in her bed. She'd only heard it twice, but she easily recognized Lieutenant Per Theel's voice.
***
"Sir?"
Commander Piett turned from his study of the Judicator's beamed sensor input to see Lieutenant Thrawn standing a couple of paces from the main comm station, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "Yes? What is it, lieutenant?"
"Sir, I—believe Captain Sansevi may be in a more difficult situation than he thinks."
Piett waited for further explanations, but none seemed to come. "Well?"
"Sir—logically, these pirates shouldn't have thought of microjumps. But they have—and I—can't assume any longer that they'll have the blind spots I was counting on."
Such an admission of failure seemed to come hard. Well, all his freakish theories about art have just blown up in his face—and ours. The first officer's eyes narrowed. "Yes?" he said uncompromisingly. "Speak up, man!"
Thrawn nodded. "They've split us, sir. They could put us out of commission right now. If they don't, it's because we're more use to them tying up some of the Judicator's resources from a distance. Add to this that the starfighter attacks have leveled the playing ground out there—it's their wings of Uglies against our TIEs, not a motley fleet against the full armament of a Victory-class Star Destroyer. We're getting hamstrung."
Piett considered the alien lieutenant with something approaching respect. He was very obviously swallowing his pride and sticking his neck out to offer what he felt was necessary advice. It was not an attitude he'd come across often in junior officers. "Yes," he said again, in a less hostile tone. "So far, you're making sense. What do you suggest?"
"Sir, we have to join forces with the Judicator. Or convince Captain Sansevi to jump back here."
"Captain Sansevi doesn't need convincing," Piett said curtly. "Admiral Mordon does, which is a different proposition."
"If—I understand correctly, Lord Vader does," Thrawn said in a diffident enough tone to rob his remark of any suspicion of impertinence. "Sir, am I right in thinking Lord Vader's experimental TIE has a hyperdrive?"
Piett froze. "You are. You're also simply not going there, lieutenant, d'you hear me? I want nothing to do with that damn sorcerer."