Vision of the future

'One of the Ishori warships decided to push at the Diamala,' Oissan said. 'He came within half a blink of pushing them into open combat.'

Nalgol swore under his breath, glancing over the report. If those hotheaded alien fools started their hostilities before the strike team was ready— 'What stopped them?' he asked. 'Never mind; there it is,' he added, skimming the section. 'Interesting. Did anyone get an ID on that freighter?'

'None of the probe ships were close enough for a positive ID,' Oissan said. 'But the follow-up comm traffic through the fleet said it was High Councilor Organa Solo. That's unconfirmed, though.'

'But highly likely,' Nalgol grunted. 'Here to help Gavrisom calm everyone down, no doubt.'

'No doubt.' Oissan lifted his eyebrows. 'The rumors also say she brought a Caamasi Trustant with her.'

'Do they, now,' Nalgol said, feeling a slow smile starting to tug at the corners of his mouth. 'Do they really.'

'We should know for sure in a day or two,' Oissan pointed out. 'If Gavrisom has a real Caamasi there with his peace envoy, he's sure to parade him out in front of everybody as soon as he can.'

'Indeed,' Nalgol murmured. 'And if he can keep him here talking peace for four more days, we'll be able to say there was a Caamasi present at the destruction of Bothawui. Present and, by implication, fully approving.' He shook his head wonderingly. 'Amazing. I wonder how Thrawn pulled that one off?'

'It's amazing, all right,' Oissan agreed, not sounding nearly so enthusiastic. 'I just hope he hasn't miscalculated somewhere along the line. A hundred ninety-one warships would be a little much for three Star Destroyers to take on all by ourselves.'

'You worry too much,' Nalgol chided, handing back the datapad. 'I've seen Thrawn at work; and he never miscalculates anything. The strike team will do their job; and then those warships of yours will commence tearing each other apart. All we'll have to do is eliminate the survivors and demolish whatever's left of the planet.'

'Or so goes the theory, anyway,' Oissan said sourly. 'May I recommend, Captain, that you at least put the Tyrannic and the others on standby alert for the remainder of our time out here? That way we'll be able to move quickly if things break sooner than expected.'

'It'll also mean four extra days' worth of worn-off combat edges,' Nalgol reminded him. 'I hardly think that will be useful.'

'But if things break too soon—'

'They won't,' Nalgol cut him off brusquely. 'If Thrawn says four days, it'll be four days. Period.' Oissan took a deep breath. 'Yes, sir,' he muttered.

Nalgol eyed the other, a mixture of contempt and pity flickering through him. Oissan, after all, had never met Thrawn; had never heard the confidence and authority in the Grand Admiral's voice. How could he possibly understand? 'All right, we'll compromise,' he said. 'I'll order preliminary battle prep to begin this afternoon; and one day before the projected flash point, we'll go to standby alert. Will that make you feel better?'

'Yes, sir.' Oissan's mouth twitched. 'Thank you, sir.'

'And your preliminary battle prep will begin right now,' Nalgol continued, gesturing at the datapad. 'I want you to make up a priority/threat list for every one of those ships out there. Put in everything you have about their capabilities, defenses, and weaknesses, and include details of captain and crew species where possible.'

He smiled tightly. 'When we finally come from under this cursed cloaking shield, I want to be able to slice straight through whatever's left without losing so much as a single turbolaser or Preybird. Understood?'

'Understood, Captain,' Oissan said. 'I'll have it ready for you by tomorrow.'

'Very good,' Nalgol nodded. 'Dismissed.'

Turning smartly, Oissan headed aft at a quick walk along the command walkway. Nalgol watched him for a moment, then turned back to the empty view through the viewport. Four days. Four days, and they would finally have their chance to slaughter Rebel scum. He smiled into the darkness. Yes, he was indeed feeling very traditional today.

CHAPTER

34

With a start, Luke woke up.

For a moment he stayed where he was, fighting against the usual floundering of trance-induced disorientation as he made a quick assessment of his situation. He was seated in a slightly uncomfortable seat, he recognized, with an unfamiliar control board in front of him and a curved canopy in front of that. From somewhere behind him, a handful