When a shuttle-sized craft reverted to realspace and promptly exploded less than a hundred clicks from the Judicator, Captain Sansevi's immediate reaction was to train his fore turbolaser batteries at the reversion point. The next flicker of pseudomotion produced a larger vessel than any he'd faced so far in this engagement: only his split-second reflexes prevented him from blasting the limping Empire's Revenge's characteristic triangular superstructure.
"What the kreth—Get me the cretin in charge of the Revenge on the comm!"
"Commander Piett just hailed us, sir. Shall I patch him through?"
"Yes, prak it—You! Piett! D'you realize how close you just came to getting your people killed? Why the frell didn't you warn us you were jumping?"
"Sir—my apologies. I was about to comm you when they started pounding us with sublight torpedoes again. We had to attempt our jump sooner than—"
"What was that thing that blew up just ahead of you? Ours or theirs?"
"Ours, sir, but—"
"Who hit it? Sensor officer! Do we have bogeys incoming?"
The lieutenant at the Judicator's main sensor station scrutinized his unblinking array with a puzzled look. Glancing down again, Sansevi considered the younger commander's tense face in his chair's viewspace. Piett drew a controlled breath. "Sir, nobody shot down that shuttle. It blew up on reversion. It was dragging us in. We couldn't jump on our own power."
Does he mean what I think he means? "You seem fond of unorthodox tactics, commander Piett."
"Our chief-engineer devised that one, but—yes, sir. Considering it got us out, sir."
"Out of a mess you jumped into in the first place," Admiral Mordon's sneering voice broke in over Sansevi's shoulder. "What were you thinking, having your popsy broadcast this pathetic call for help? For that matter, what's she doing on your ship? Is this the Imperial Navy or a Twi'lek cruise boat? If that's what you've been doing instead of drills, no wonder the first bunch of sub-human pirates can knock you out of space. Captain Sansevi!"
Sansevi straightened to full attention. Officers who offended Mordon's rigid sense of decorum had a way of drawing year-long assignments in Hutt space—or beyond. "Sir?"
"Prepare to take over command of the Empire's Revenge and oversee her repairs. Her present captain"—a sneer at Piett's quarter-sized figure in the holo—"is relieved and will present a full report by tomorrow. I want proper explanations for this entire fiasco. Meanwhile, I'll assume direct command of the Judicator. Is that understood?"
***
Well. That didn't take long. Commander Piett kept his attention stiffly on Captain Sansevi's holoimage until the connection was cut off, then, letting a long breath escape, turned away from the tac console and took a moment to survey the Empire's Revenge's bridge. The medics had wheeled all the casualties away, and the debris had been swept; but the missing or unfamiliar faces at their stations told the story, even without the torn and blackened panels and the sealed-off far starboard viewport, its cracks hidden by the plasteel plates hastily soldered in place by colonel Tyfas's spacetroopers. I certainly made a fine mess of things. Corlag helped. And young Thrawn, although I don't suppose we would have done any better without his advice, and he certainly thought up a creative solution to our jumping problem. Or was it Bron? He would have to think of a way to shield Bron and Thrawn from the worse fallout in this fiasco. Or Mikam. In spite of his bleak prospects, Piett allowed himself a smile. Goes to show anyone can surprise you. At the very moment when he'd thought the Revenge and all her crew lost for good, he'd glimpsed Mikam's arrested expression, and surmised something—interesting—was about to happen. I can still hear the thud against Corlag's skull. It had to have something to do with Thrawn's newly-won influence—now there was an unusual friendship—but Thrawn would never have pulled something so beautifully straightforward. Piett's eyes sought the junior lieutenant at the comm station, and nodded fractionally. "Commander Janred, lieutenant Mikam, you're with me. We'll meet Captain Sansevi at his shuttle."
***
To Wynssa's distress, Captain Corlag was slowly emerging from his stupor. He had managed to sit up with Theel's help, grunting and holding his head. His bulk occupied almost the entire cubicle. Theel's clucking about like a distressed nuna. Of course, it's harder work sucking up to someone who's barely conscious.
"Sir—we need you on the bridge! Commander Piett can't hold his own in this battle—"
"Piett'shh 'n old woman," Corlag growled. "Duzhh—doeshn't—know—a Shtar Deshtruyer'sh meant to deshtroy—My headsh—"
"Can't you see the Captain's seriously unwell?" Wynssa urged in an undertone. "What if his concussion is worse than it looks? We'd never forgive ourselves if—"
"TshMissh Starflare. Shouldn'tsh worry your purrty headsh. I'll protectsh yoush. Got a hard headsh—"
He made the mistake to shake it, and groaned awfully. "You should be in bed!" Wynssa exclaimed. "Really, Lieutenant Theel—"
"Miss Starflare, I know you mean well, but you've no idea what we soldiers are used to withstand," Per Theel snapped.
"Perhaps I don't, but I do have some first aid training, lieutenant, and I can tell you Captain Corlag should remain under medical care. Concuss—"
Theel's hand grabbed her arm. "Come this way a minute, miss Starflare," he interrupted, leading her firmly outside the cubicle. She was so surprised she didn't resist. "Now, miss Starflare," he said in an urgent undertone, "there's something you can't possibly know. The Captain had—indulged in perhaps more brandy than was reasonable. He didn't expect a space battle, after all. It's not concussion he's got here, it's a hangover."
Oh, I couldn't possibly know this, could I? She had to grudgingly admire Theel's resourcefulness, though. He's a nasty piece of work, but he's not entirely stupid. "But—but wasn't he injured in the battle?"
"He tripped and fell. Why not believe him when he says he's hard-headed?"
Thick-skulled, more like. She paused as if she vacillated, staring wide-eyed straight into Theel's green eyes. "I'd feel safer if we asked a med droid's opinion. Promise me you'll wait until I've brought one here? I'll go find one immediately!"
Possibly because he didn't expect her to relent so soon, possibly because he was not impervious to her large blue eyes, Theel nodded. "Of course, miss Starflare. But please hurry. We need a proper Imperial captain at the helm if we're to get out of this free and alive. I wouldn't put a surrender deal with this pirate scum past the alien-lovers in our command staff."
He was free to read her start of disgust as fear of the picture he painted, she thought, and he probably would. "I'll get the chief Too-OneBee at once," she said with a nod, watching Theel slip into Corlag's cubicle again.
So my rank equals the Captain's in the med droids' programming? Time to make it work for me. She stepped into the Too-OneBee's office with visions of its unrelentingly cheerful officiousness being unleashed onto Theel and Corlag. What she did not expect was the sight of a rather pale Thrawn on the examination table, his uniform jacket and shirt off, having his right arm being set in a bacta cast.
***
Piett had hastily assembled a mini honor guard of six stormtroopers and their noncom in the hangar bay, but Sansevi, after a quick salute, dismissed them. "Save that sort of thing for the Admiral. Let's see what we can do to fix things here, if at all possible."
"Yes, sir. May I introduce Lieutenant-Commander Janred, our weapons officer, and lieutenant Mikam?"
Sansevi nodded and let Piett lead the way back to the bridge. Formalities would be respected, then, although Sansevi started peppering the three of them with questions even before they entered the turbolift.
"Explain that trick with the shuttle to pull you in and out of hyperspace. Bloody expensive, but I can see where it could come in handy."
"Briefly, sir: I didn't trust in the Revenge's structural integrity, so we rigged a spare shuttle to drag us in the cone of its hyperspace shadow. Our chief engineer will give you all the calculations."
"Call him to the bridge. Had you tried something like it before?"
"I can't speak for the chief, sir, but not in my experience on the Empire's Revenge."
"You gambled, in fact?"
Piett nodded. There goes my career down the sewage tube.
"And what in the name of all five Sith hells was this audio call by your girlfriend?"
"Miss Starflare isn't my or anyone's girlfriend, sir," he said stiffly. "She's the holo actress. She was finished shooting a holodrama on Chandrila, and Captain Corlag invited her for the voyage back to Coruscant."
"Sir," Mikam piped up unexpectedly, "perhaps you don't remember, but the idea was to hide her identity from the pirates, otherwise they might have tried to hold her for ransom."
Eyes narrowed, Sansevi stared from Piett's suddenly frozen face to Mikam's, but all he said was "D'you mean you've got Wynssa Starflare on board? Where is she now?"
"I sent her back to her stateroom before the attack, sir—"
Oh Maker. The VIP cabins were—
"Sir, permission to send lieutenant Mikam to check on Miss Starflare at once. Her quarters were on our starboard side."
Piett could see the dismay registering on Mikam's face. "Yes, yes," Sansevi said. "I'd have wanted to meet her at any rate. Bring her back up here." As the turbolift halted at bridge level, they left Mikam inside, his hand already poised above the call panel. If I've killed this nice girl trying to make things look better...