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"I think I may have miscalculated."
The sentence seemed to hang suspended in the air between them. Then Thrawn was up and moving and Parck realized that the sounds had lasted only seconds, now they existed only in his mind.
The Grand Admiral was at
command chair, calling up holograms of the Unknown Regions and the sectors of space the Empire controlled. He displayed the current positions of all their ships and bases and the hyperspace routes connecting them, then highlighted a base near the edge of their territory and more than thirty Star Destroyers, all those that could reach the marked planet quickly.
Parck turned away from the inert villip and took a hesitant step toward the seated Chiss. It seemed to him he should say something, either to ask what the Admiral was doing or if he should excuse himself, only he couldn't think of the right words.
There was no need. Thrawn finished his strategizing, copied the information onto a datacard and slipped it into a datapad, then got up and walked toward Parck.
"Contact Moff Niriz and have him order these Star Destroyers to rendezvous at the outpost in the Cavexil system." He handed Parck the datapad. "Then report to the hanger bay with General Beyin. I'll join you there soon." He turned back the chair. "We'll take a shuttle to the Annihilator," he named the only undamaged Star Destroyer from their strike at Orune Prime, it had entered the system only after most of the fighting was over, carrying the exiled nobility and their chosen Monarch back to Orune Prime, "have Commander Veenir take the Imperitor to Orrsa for repairs, we'll be heading for the Cavexil system in the Annihilator."
"That's where the Vong will strike?" Parck asked. "You know what Sang Anor intends to do?"
"No, there wont be an attack on Cavexil and yes, I know what the Executor is planning, I knew it immediately." He said impatiently. "He wants to strike at me, personally, Captain. What is the best way he can do that?" He gestured to the hologram.
Parck studied the star chart for a moment, first in bafflement and then with dawning comprehension. The Cavexil outpost was where most of the young Chiss recruits passed through on their way to join Unity Fleet, the base sat on a hyperspace route leading directly to...
"The Chiss homeworld!" Parck exclaimed.
"By the Families I pray we can stop him in time." Thrawn was punching coordinates into his holopad.
"But that can't be his target! Sir, striking at Chiss space is insanity!"
"And Sang Anor is insane." Thrawn said grimly. "If he wasn't before, he is now. That is what I failed to consider." He finished setting the transceivers. "I have a transmition of my own to make. We'll be leaving immediately afterwards."
"But sir, if this is all just based on a hunch-"
"What you call a 'hunch,' Captain, is the result of the subconscious putting together clues and signs the conscious mind has failed to notice," Thrawn said in a distracted manner, "now carry out your orders."
"Yes sir." Parck saluted and hurried toward the door.
"One thing more, Captain." Thrawn turned his glowing eyes to the villip. "Take that with you, we may need it."
***
The signal shot through hyperspace in an instant and located its targets. Thrawn stood on his holopad, nervous but of course not showing it, and waited for a response.
A minute passed, then two, then ten. Finally two holograms appeared before him, fuzzy at first, then solidified. Two Chiss males, each wearing the ornate but practical uniform of a Syndic, but otherwise as different in appearance as dawn was to dusk.
The one on the left was thin and aged, though he stood straight and unbent. His hair and beard were tinged blue by the hologram but in person would be white as snow. His seamed, craggy face was as ready to laugh as to adopt a stern demeanor, though it leaned toward the latter for the moment as he regarded Thrawn with a guarded expression.
While he was significantly older than Thrawn, the other Syndic was somewhat younger than the Grand Admiral, clean shaven, with his black hair as neatly trimmed as the older one's white. While a human observer might have said the young Chiss was calm and reserved, in Thrawn's eye he radiated unconcealed fury.
"Syndic Taesk," he inclined his head to the elder Chiss, then turned to the younger. He paused a moment before repeated the gesture. "Syndic Vraet." He met the other's glowing gaze, not at all softened by light years of distance. "Greetings."
"It has been a long time, Mith'raw'nuruodo." Taesk's voice was as strong and clear as ever, a voice that could inspire as well as command.
"I know, and regrettably circumstances will not let our reunion be a pleasant one. I'm contacting you to send a warning to the Chiss. I believe Homeworld will come under attack, soon."
"And you surmised that we were the only Syndic's who would deign to speak with you." Taesk concluded reluctantly.
"Yours was the only voice raised in my defense during the trial." Thrawn reminded him. He turned his attention to Vraet. "I doubted you would answer me at all." He said carefully.
"So the great Mith'raw'nuruodo made a mistake." The young Syndic said shortly. "What a surprise. My views haven't changed. I only answered your call because I feared you would try to contact my House in some other way if I ignored you."
Thrawn felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, but he quashed it and made himself speak casually. "Is Kethria well?" He asked as though it were a trivial matter.
"She is none of your concern!" Vraet barked, composure forgotten momentarily. "And I will not disturb her by delivering a message from you, so don 't ask."
For a moment Thrawn was unable to form a response. "Your mother is more resilient than you may think." He said at last.
"Let's make one thing clear from the start. I am the Syndic of my House," Vraet's eyes burned, "I decide what is in the best interest of all those under my protection. You have no place here. No bonds. No family. No voice in how this House functions. Not any longer." His eyes were glittering slits. "Say whatever you have to say."
"Yes. Who would dare attack us?" Taesk raised his head.
"An alien race from beyond the known galaxy." Thrawn said. "They call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong. They utilize an exotic, organic technology that is equal to our most advanced machinery and they employ this technology on a mission of conquest. They were responsible for the plagues that ravaged the worlds under my protection a short while ago, and that the least of what they are capable of." Thrawn shifted his stance. "I recently frustrated their plans and I believe their commander will strike at Homeworld in retaliation.
"I advise you to deploy your ships defensively throughout Home system and reset your scanners to detect organic matter. Their ships do not have ion engines, but use creatures called dovin basals which warp gravity in order to propel the vessels, so watch for gravitational anomalies. These dovin basals can also strip a vessel of its energy shield, but simulation strategy suggests this can be negated by expanding the ship's gravitational compensator.
The enemy leader has been known to strike quickly and unexpectedly, so the attack could be imminent. You may need my aid. I can muster thirty Star Destroyers now, with more later. I can have them in your space before the day is out."
"And we are to convince the Syndics of the other Great Families to allow an alien fleet into our space?" Taesk's tone was more admonishing than angry, as though telling Thrawn he should know better. Vraet's response wasn't nearly as calm.
"I knew you would try to cow the Chiss into putting themselves under your 'protection' sooner or later, as you have with the barbarian races of this region, but I overestimated your intelligence. Or perhaps you think our isolationist policies have made us gullible to the trickery of outsiders." Vraet spoke with tightly-controlled rage.
"You offer up a ludicrous and completely unheard-of threat and blame it for the plagues you have brought from your barbarian Empire, plagues which have cost many of the young and foolish Chiss you duped into serving you their lives, then you use this tradgety as an opportunity to annex us." He narrowed his eyes. "I'm insulted. It's clear you have nothing of worth to say." He reached out, probably to a control panel outside the hologram's range to cut off the transmition.
"Wait." Taesk didn't raise his voice, but Vraet's hand froze as though the young Syndic had been flash-frozen in carbonite. "While allowing an Imperial fleet into our space is indeed out of the question, I believe we should hear him out."
"Surely you don't believe this nonsense?" Vraet turned slightly to the left, where Taesk's image was doubtless being projected for him.
"It's because it sound like nonsense that I'm inclined to listen." The elder Chiss answered. "If Mith'raw'nuruodo's aim was deceit he would have chosen a more convincing story."
"You were always quick to rush to his defense," Vraet's eyes glowed with soft menace, "and yet it is I who the other Syndics so often turn their suspicions on." He turned back to Thrawn. "If there is a threat to Chiss space, the Expansionary Defense Fleet with meet it. But it is you and your rabble of aliens and traitors who are highest on our list of enemies."
Thrawn's eyes flashed with anger. "The Empire has never moved against Chiss space, not since I engaged and defeated Kinman Doriana's strike force, and they never will. I have the Emperor's personal guarantee that your borders and sovereignty will be respected." Thrawn felt a nervous fluttering in the pit of his stomach when he said that: the Sith didn't exactly have a stellar reputation when it came to keeping their word. True, Palpatine had mostly left the Hapes Consortium alone and the Chiss were in a similar position: both were strong and ancient cultures, but tucked in out-of-the way spots and generally unconcerned with events in the greater galaxy.
On the other hand, with the power of a Death Star at his disposal would the Emperor tolerate even one world that didn't swear fealty to him?
The Grand Admiral let none of his doubts show, of course, either in tone or expression.
"Besides, the Emperor's vision is the way of the future," Thrawn continued, "I knew it the first time I spoke with Doriana. Palpatine is bringing peace, order and prosperity to the galaxy."
"It's as the Families have said," Vraet sneered, "you've become infected by the barbarian cultures." He looked at Thrawn's hard-won Grand Admiral's uniform and command bars as though he were wearing the skins and feathers of a savage. In Vraet's eyes he probably was. "On Homeworld we still keep the old precepts."
"You mean the practice of pretending the universe ends outside your borders?" Thrawn shot back. "The customs that tell us never to innovate or adapt our methods and then call this complacency 'being honorable'?" Thrawn said with icy contempt. "I saw where following those customs has lead us: the fleets are commanded by inexperienced fools who've never seen combat, and beyond our boarders entire sectors are in a storm of chaos. It was only a matter of time before that maelstrom spilled over into our space, and we weren't prepared. I attempted to take an active role in defending our people and was branded on outcast." Bitterness tinged his voice.
"Once the Chiss could have been the one great power in this galaxy, but we let the chance slip through our fingers. Instead we settled for simply protecting what we have. Well, Palpatine is the guiding force in the galaxy now, so why should the Syndics be angered at my actions? Our goals are the same: that the Chiss be left alone."
"You've abandoned your heritage. Those customs you speak so disparagingly of have served us well ever since they were handed down to us a thousand years ago by Emperor Bruen'ris'telokru himself." Vraet named the Chiss leader who united his race and conquered the area of the Unknown Regions known as Chiss Space. After his death, his rule was taken up jointly by his male relatives, who founded the First Families
"It was Enrist who concluded that we have all we had all the space we needed, and that ruling a galaxy-spanning empire was not only a pointless vanity but dangerous as well, as we would risk polluting our culture with barbarian influences." The young Chiss twisted his mouth in disgust. "I suppose you still practice the perversion of studying alien art, as if those inferior minds could ever produce anything useful."
"I'm impressed, Vraet," Thrawn clenched his teeth to keep from shouting at the young Chiss, "you can replay the official version of history as well as any recording." He glanced at Taesk. "I'm surprised you never encouraged him to dig deeper into his heritage as you did with me."
"What are you talking about?" Vraet asked.
"Enrist was an old man when he made that proclamation. Tired of fighting, he wanted to settle down, consolidate and build a future for the Chiss. There was nothing wrong with that, but his isolationist policy wasn't intended to keep us pure, but to maintain his image as the greatest war-leader in Chiss history. By making our borders static, he guaranteed that no later Chiss could ever achieve victories that would exceed his.
"There was another motive for his decision, though," Thrawn went on, apparently oblivious to Vraet's mounting fury, "Enrist had sent out scouting missions to unknown sections of the galaxy, those scouts brought him news of the Old Republic. He knew that if the Chiss conquered a vast empire in the Unknown Regions then sooner or later they would encounter the Old Republic and come into conflict with them, a conflict he doubted we would win. Enrist feared the strength of the Republic and the power of the Jedi Knights, and so he made his laws and got what he wanted: to be emperor of a pocket of space that no one more than a few sectors away will ever hear of and to have his name and memory worshiped for a thousand years. All the while his kingdom was and remains in decline."
"I have better things to do than waste my time debating history with an outcast!" Vraet shouted. "If a barbarian power threatens Chiss space it will be met and crushed, the traditions that you flouted are a better guarantee of victory than the promises of an alien Emperor." He reached for the disconnect button. "As for you, you're welcome to play with your fleet and squander your time trying to hold a rabble of inferior species together, but so much as cast a shadow in our space and I will personally lead the Defense Fleet in crushing you!" The hologram dissolved, leaving Thrawn and Taesk. For a few moments neither spoke.
"I didn't handle that well." Thrawn finally said. "I really didn't think he'd answer me, and having all those old, ignorant arguments used against me..." he shook his head, "how could Kethria turn him against me like that?"
"Don't judge them too harshly, Thrawn." Taesk put in. "They never understood why you defied the traditions, and things were very hard for them after your exile. There were even some doubts about whether or not Vraet was suitable to succeed you. He had to prove himself to the other Syndics." The elder Chiss folded his hands. "He isn't you, but he's still a good and just Syndic. Your House is lucky to have him."
"I know, my friend." Thrawn grimaced. "It was a difficult decision, but at least they had you to help them."
Taesk nodded. "I take it Beyin is still with you?"
"Yes. He's doing his people a great service, even if they refuse to acknowledge him."
"Thrawn, there are times I envy you and Beyin. You were my two best pupils, and your courage shames me."
"No, without your influence I would have become as blind and complacent as the others."
Taesk chuckled. "True, I saw the flaws in our culture and encouraged you to open your eyes and your mind, but you went further than I ever dreamed of. You defied the Families and the traditions." His face took on a stern cast. "Half the time I'm proud of you, the other half I wish I'd never set eyes on you. I don't yet know if your actions have saved the Chiss or will prove the ruin of our people."
"I feel the same way sometimes." Thrawn confided. "But I've thrown my lot in with Palpatine and I will rise or fall with the Empire." He shrugged. "But these are old arguments, and the new threat we face is real."
"You truly believe these barbarians will move against us?" Taesk's tone was frankly disbelieving.
"I do. There may be Yuuzhan Vong already on Homeworld: they have creatures called ooglith masquers that behave as a second skin, allowing the wearers to assume the form of humanoid species. They can also counterfeit the red eyes of our people."
"Savages can pass for Chiss?" Taesk was shocked.
"And they may know enough about our culture and language to navigate Chiss society: not too long ago one of my TIE Advanced fighters disappeared near space I now know to be controlled by the Yuuzhan Vong. The pilot, a Chiss named Kirdw'ras'sinugo, could have been made to tell them much if the aliens took him prisoner."
"I'll keep watch," Taesk promised, "it was good to speak to you again, but remember, Vraet was right: Imperial ships are not welcome in Chiss space. Pass our borders and you put yourself at risk." Now it was the older Syndic's turn to reach for his control panel. His hologram disappeared, leaving Thrawn alone in his chamber.
"I'll have to take that chance." The Grand Admiral said to himself as he made for the shuttle bay.
***
"Blast him." Vraet muttered as he turned away from the holopad, his glowing eyes looked inward, not seeing the rooms surrounding him. Testament to how one could get used to even the most amazing sights. The Syndic's personal rooms, like the rest of the palace, was a masterpiece combining elegance with practicality and the importance of the military to the Chiss mind. The spacious chambers opened into one another to provide a greater sense of space, but could be quickly sealed off into separate areas for the sake of privacy, or for defensive purposes in case the palace was attacked.
Three of the walls were decorated with soothing, mosaic patterns, the other outdid them: it was a curving, floor-to-ceiling window that provided a view of the city beyond. The window was so clear a bird might be fooled into trying to fly through it, but the substance could withstand anything short of a turbo charric barrage.
Not that there was any real danger of fighting on the Chiss Homeworld itself, but the palace had been built nearly a millennia ago, when Syndics were more than a little suspicious of one another's motives and strengths in their new newly-united society.
As far as one could see, even with a Chiss' exceptional vision, were the buildings and structures of the city, all smooth lines and elegant architecture built to coexist with the planet's natural beauty rather than replacing it. Even the poorest Chiss had the means to incorporate some aesthetic value into their homes and selves, but all following a practical purpose.
And every Chiss in the city and the region beyond was under Vraet's protection.
It was a Syndic's duty to care for his people. Widows, orphans and the elderly had to be provided for, along with basic education for the young and higher education for those with skill but without means. Vraet was also responsible for building and maintaining public structures and passing judgement over disputes or crimes. All this in addition to a Syndic's main duty, to defending his people from enemies of the Chiss.
"So that was Mith'raw'nuruodo," the Chiss female crossed the room to stand beside him. "He doesn't look like the madman the High Families have painted him to be, despite the savage's clothing he wore." She said dryly.
"Yes, he's a living legend." He said bitterly, turning his head to meet her crimson gaze. Raine had commanded Vraet's House phalanx for the past seven years, an unheard-of position for a female Chiss, but by now no soldier of in the entire Expansionary Defense Fleet could question her ability. "And his name is never to be spoken. By order the High Families he no longer exists."
"A difficult prospect, considering his exploits are all the commoners talk about."
The Syndic grimaced. "You're right. Do you believe his gall?" He ground his teeth. "To think he can frighten us into giving in to the Empire." He paced to the window and back to her. "He's a menace and a traitor to his people." And to his House, he thought. "A pity the High Families didn't execute him when they had the oppurtunity. I would have."
Raine looked at him sharply. "Your own father?"
"I would have done so with my own hands if I'd been old enough to use a charric." His voice seemed to freeze the air. His father, the great Traitor. The name of Mith'raw'nuruodo had followed Vraet all his life, polluting him, infecting him in the eyes of the other Syndics.
And sometimes in Vraet's own eyes as well.
Thrawn had violated the sacred traditions that governed the Chiss. Well, if he had left it at that then Vraet would have been able to live down the dishonor, but Thrawn didn't have the decency to disappear into his exile. No, he had returned, and he had committed the one unforgivable sin for a Chiss: he pledged fealty to a foreign power.
The Traitor served in a foreign fleet, and worse, he encouraged young Chiss to join him in his dishonorable pursuits, thus weakening the Expansionary Defense Fleet. Whenever word of his latest exploit spread where did the eyes of the High Families turn to? Vraet.
He knew the other Syndics despised him, it was not merely that they were suspicious of a House that had already birthed one betrayer, but because he was a constant reminder of someone they preferred to pretend never existed.
And of course, they all watched everything he did. All his actions were suspected of having hidden motivations and duplicity, considering his parentage. Vraet grimaced. Like all the Syndics he'd been trained in warfare since childhood. He was an able enough commander, he knew it: he had done well against the few pirates and warlords who had tried to raid Chiss space. But he was no Thrawn. At most he was only a poor copy of his father.
Vraet longed to be seen as more than that, but Mith'raw'nuruodo cast a long, deep shadow and his heir had been lost in that darkness all his life.
"What measures should we take?" Raine broke into his thoughts. He turned and found her watching him calmly. His mind snapped back to present concerns.
"Increase the phalanx patrols and monitor the House frequencies for transmitions from Imperial territory. If the Traitor makes a move in our direction, we'll be ready."
"And what about the threat he warned you about?" Raine asked.
Vraet shook his head, chuckling a little. "Aliens are all alike: savages. Not one of them can challenge the Chiss. Thrawn was once one of us, and he has thousands of our own people supporting him. That makes him by far the greatest threat to the Chiss."
"If that's so then why hasn't the Expansionary Defense Fleet organized an attack to drive him and his fleet out of the Unknown Regions?" The commander tilted her head and asked with seemingly genuine curiosity.
"Because that would be a pre-emptive strike, a sin by any civilized being's reckoning." Vraet spun on her. "The Traitor might have abandoned his people's beliefs, but he will not drag us down into savagery with him."
"Perhaps," Raine didn't bat an eyelash at his flash of anger, "or perhaps the High Families see how his actions benefit them."
"What?"
"The Traitor's campaigns against the savages beyond our borders have reduced alien incursions into Chiss space. Their raids are almost unheard-of these days." She crossed her arms. "The result? The Families have peace without breaking the traditions, they let the Traitor do their dirty work for them."
"Are you defending him?" Vraet's eyes flared like crimson beacons, but his voice was soft and dangerous. He took a step forward and there was less than a meter of space separating them.
"Of course not." Raine answered. "By its very nature the Empire is a threat to Chiss sovereignty. I am only pointing out that the main enemies of the Chiss might be closer than you think. A few of them may even sit on the Council of Syndics."
"This is nonsense." Vraet responded. "The Syndics despise Thrawn and what he stands for."
"And yet the High Families have made no move to curtail its expansion into the Unknown Regions. Why?" She proceeded to answer her own question. "Because by conquering the savages the Empire has stopped the attacks that once plagued us and validated the standing policies of the Syndics: they can continue to claim they were right all along to follow the traditions to the letter.
"The Traitor provides another service as well: he recruits dissatisfied commoners into the Empire, thus ridding the Chiss of malcontents and troublemakers. The Syndics then find themselves in a stronger position politically." She narrowed her eyes. "I have reason to believe they continue to ignore Thrawn because of this, but the stronger they allow him to become, the greater the enemy we will eventually face. Syndics like you must be all the more vigilant to make up for the failing of those who care more about increasing their own power and prestige than for the safety of the Chiss."
Vraet seemed about to say something, but then closed his mouth and thought it over. He nodded. "Your analysis of the situation is more thorough than mine." He said at last.
By now, Vraet knew better than to dismiss Raine's observations out of hand. Raine wasn't a member of the noble classes and he had gone against tradition in promoting her, but nowhere was it explicitly said that a phalanx commander couldn't be a commoner, not when the position. Officially commanders simply carried out a Syndic's orders and so their state of birth didn't matter, but in practice a phalanx commander often made important decisions affecting a Syndic's House.
"I apologize if I spoke out of turn, Syndic." Raine said, "but I couldn't serve you to the best of my abilities if I didn't-"
"No," he shook his head, "there's no need to apologize, I welcome your input." Vraet relaxed a little and smiled. "If all I wanted in a commander was unquestioning obedience and agreement with whatever I said I would have selected a protocol droid to lead my phalanx."
"Vraet, do you realize you've just made a joke?" Raine returned his smile with a playful one of her own.
"I hadn't noticed." The Syndic stepped away and paced back to the window. "Well Commander, what course of action do you recommend?"
"Urge the other Syndics to declare war on the Traitor." Raine said firmly. "The Expansionary Defense Fleet and the so- call Unity Fleet are bound to clash eventually. The best thing we can do is to be the one who choose the battleground." She stood beside him at the window.
"That wont be easy. The High Families wont even publicly acknowledge he even exists." He chuckled. "We Syndics are a proud and stubborn lot, with a great capacity to ignore what is inconvenient."
"You're not that bad." Raine leaned against him and curled her arm around his shoulders. "You just need a good, swift kick now and again, just to wake you up."
Vraet was surprised when a wide smile broke through his carefully controlled visage. He shrugged and allowed himself to relax against Raine. This was why he loved her: when they were together he could be himself, without the fear of being judged he always experienced around his peer and subordinates. She was the only one who accepted him for who and what he was. She looked at Vraet and saw only him, she didn't automatically measure him against Thrawn and find his son wanting.
He would begin working on the other Syndics immediately. The Chiss had tried to purge themselves of the sickness Thrawn represented once before. They had failed and so that sickness had spread throughout their society. This time they would do it right. Vraet looked out across the cityscape, at all the people under his protection, and vowed that they would never see a stormtrooper marching down the streets of Homeworld, or feel the presence of a Star Destroyer high overhead. The Empire would never touch Homeworld!
Vraet's oath proved as accurate as a Jedi 's prophecy, and like such prophecies it came to pass in a way he could never have expected.
Or wished for.
***
The Chiss shuttle limped into the Home system and was picked up by Vraet's phalanx the next day. The small ship had been badly damaged and began sending out distress signals on exiting hyperspace. Syndic Vraet ordered the pilot, the shuttle's sole occupant, brought directly to his flagship, the Guardian.
"Syndic," the thin, frightened-looking Chiss seemed ready to cast himself on the deck at Vraet's feet, "thank the First Families, I doubted my shuttle would make it through hyperspace and I had to warn you, I-" he visibly pulled himself together and donned the trademark Chiss composure. "Controller Sorl'ekr'usufre of Yehal base reporting, Syndic." He snapped a salute.
Vraet nodded. "Continue."
"Roughly two hours ago my base came under attack. Imperial Star Destroyers. The sensors counted five of them before they set up a jamming field."
The Syndic would've stood up straighter if it were possible. Thrawn was making a bid to take the Chiss territory, and the base in the Yehal system was the perfect jump-off point for a strike at Homeworld itself!
"They ignored our communications and opened fire immediately, half our defense ships were hit before they could get off a shot, the others were flanked and surrounded. They brought Interdictors to prevent anyone from running, then struck at the base itself." Lekrus shuddered. "None were spared, not civilian laborers, not the garrison's families, no one."
"How did you escape?" Raine asked.
"Partly through luck, Commander, partly through the courage and skill of our fighter pilots. When they blocked our transmitters Base Commander Holet realized the importance of getting word to Homeworld. He ordered myself and a fighter group to run the blockade using our most heavily-shielded shuttle. My fighter escort was destroyed before they reached the edge of the interdiction field, and me nearly with them."
He turned his gaze from the commander to the Syndic. The survivor must be in shock: his eyes had a strange, dull quality. They didn't brighten or dim with his emotions as those of the average Chiss did. "The Traitor is massing his fleet for a strike at Homeworld, if he's not stopped-"
"He will be." Vraet gripped Lekrus' shoulder. "You've done well, and you may have saved your people." He looked at the other Chiss' disheveled condition. "Are you injured?"
"No Syndic." He set his face into a grim expression. "I'm ready to fight for my people."
"You'll get the chance." Vraet promised. He turned to the nearby medic. "But take him to the infirmary and check him." The doctor nodded as Vraet turned toward the door and walked out, Raine matched his steps.
"How many of my ships can move out immediately?" He asked.
"Most of the phalanx." She answered. "We're going to counterattack?"
"Yes, immediately after I alert the other Syndics."
"Should we wait for them to send out ships of their own?"
"And waste time while they debated who should be in command? No, my phalanx is easily strong enough to defeat five Star Destroyers." They reached the turbolift and boarded. The doors slid shut behind them and he pressed a button. Raine blinked her crimson eyes, the only sign of surprise she showed: the turbolift was moving down to the fighter and shuttle launch bay, not up to the bridge.
"And it's not 'we,' you'll remain behind and take command of the remaining ships and defenses." The commander narrowed her eyes, but not before he caught the sudden flash of red brilliance.
"May I ask why?" Her voice was deceptively level.
"Because I have ordered it so." He said coldly. "If I strike now I can catch Thrawn by surprise and turn him back, perhaps even kill him. If there are more Star Destroyers than the phalanx can handle I will turn back and seek reinforcements from the other Syndics." The turbolift reached its destination, but before the doors could slide open Raine hit the DOOR-CLOSE button on the panel, so fast he didn't perceive the movement of her arm from her side to the controls.
"You should be the one remaining while I lead the attack." She said bluntly. Vraet narrowed his eyes.
"You have your orders, Commander." He reached for DOOR-OPEN button, but Raine knocked his hand away and positioned herself between him and the controls. "What is this?" He glared at her. "Who do you think you are?"
"I think I'm your phalanx commander," she shot back, "and I think you owe me an explanation. It's my place to lead your fleet, and if you think I am unfit for my duties then relieve me of command." Their eyes locked for a few seconds, but this time Vraet dropped his gaze.
"Commander," he paused, "Raine, this is important to me. It's my chance to prove to the Syndics that I am not my father's son, worthy of a place beside them." His eyes blazed up. "If I lead an attack to protect our space then no one can doubt that I am a loyal Chiss." He thought about not saying any more, but here, in private, he felt he could be honest with Raine, and suddenly found he needed to share his reasons with someone. "Besides," his voice turned deadly, "I want to meet Thrawn in combat. I want to prove, to him and to myself, that I'm the better man."
Vraet felt a little foolish after saying that. Raine wasn't of the nobility, after all, she couldn't understand the ceaseless rules of honor and pride that were drilled into every Syndic-to-be from birth, the need to prove oneself worthy in the eyes of one's peers and ancestors. He watched his commander closely, looked away for a few seconds, then back at Vraet.
"I can see why you have to do this, Vraet, but..." for the first time in years he saw her looking unsure of herself, "I've never had any faith in hunches, intuition or nonsense like that, but when I heard that man's report I felt," she hesitated a second, "afraid," she rushed on, "and I had that same feeling just now, when you said you intended to lead the counterattack."
"Raine," he took her by the shoulders, "I can lay down my life in defense of the Chiss at any time, I accepted that a long time ago. I am a Syndic: my life doesn't belong to me, but to the people I protect, and if they are endangered my life or death will not matter so long as the threat is turned back."
Raine grimaced. "I just don't like the idea of staying behind while you go into battle, it makes me feel helpless." She glared into his eyes. "I hate feeling helpless."
Vraet actually laughed. "Helpless? You're the strongest person I know." He drew her close and kissed her. After an eternity they parted. "You don't need to worry about anything." He whispered. "Knowing you're waiting for me is a guarantee I'll return safe."
Raine smiled a little. "Ever the optimist."
***
The Chiss warships and fighters fell into realspace midway into the system, with a second wave set to follow in minutes. The large and midsize capital ships of Vraet's Household phalanx flew in classic formation while fighters and strike cruisers guarded the outer perimeter or preceded the main fleet altogether. Standing on the bridge of the Guardian, Vraet shifted his glowing eyes from the view to the bridge crew's instrument readings. The Guardian was in the forefront of the fleet, so Vraet was one of the first to see the destination of the hastily-assembled battle group.
"I want readings." He said to his captain. "Get an analysis of what happened here."
"Sir," the Chiss saluted and relayed the orders to the stunned bridge crew. There was good reason for their astonishment: they had entered the system expecting to find Imperial warships massing for an attack on the Homeworld, or possibly the last parts of a battle being waged against the star- spangled black background of space, not the complete devastation that lay before them.
One thing was painfully clear: the fleet had arrived too late to be of any help. The ruins of the base were as silent and peaceful as a graveyard, and any enemies were long gone. Scorched and twisted metal, the remains of defense stations, capital ships and fighters, drifted slowly in the vacuum. Most of the debris had been caught by the planet Yehal's gravity and was in orbit around the world, being pulled gradually into the atmosphere.
But the planet itself...
Yehal wasn't exactly a world that had seemed made for the Chiss: an unbreathable atmosphere, uncomfortable gravity, and though the rate of rotation and distance from sun were such to create conditions for life form to develope and thrive, Chiss would never survive there. Not a good place for a colony or a resort spot, in other words, but strategically it was a perfect place to set up a base and outpost.
The initial survey teams had also found quite a few mineral deposits and other natural resources a few centuries back and the Families had decided to exploit that material wealth despite the hardships that went with obtaining it. The mining communities on the surface were situated underground or inside domed enclosures, and the colonial miners had to don encounter suits to venture outside. There was no talk of moving them out and setting up mines on Homeworld, however.
A popular movement centered around the idea that Homeworld's natural beauty should not be defiled had sprung up centuries ago and had continued into recent years. According to these activists the Chiss Homeworld itself should not be subjected to mining and manufacturing industries. The Families had agreed with this notion and had made it policy to rely on the natural resources of those planets under Chiss control rather than use those of Homeworld.
The sentient natives of Yehal hadn't caused any problems for the colonists, not after the first few months anyway. The natives were a primitive race: only just beginning to realize the potential for fossil fuels and industrialization. They resented the Chiss for claiming the natural resources that they needed for a real industrial revolution, but since cannons and stone fortresses could do little good against charrics and energy shields they had learned to accept their place as subordinates on their own planet.
The Chiss themselves couldn't understand the natives ' attitude. So what if their control over Yehal's resources kept the natives from moving beyond a medieval level of technology? They were savages: given the opportunity they would ruin their own world with pollution to invent better ways of killing one another. Besides, they were left alone to govern their own affairs so long as they avoided those parts of the planet the Chiss were making use of. In exchange for this small service they now had the benefit of living under the protection of the Chiss, who kept them safe from both outsiders and their own barbaric impulses. By all rights they should be grateful.
Unfortunately for the Chiss case their protection didn't count for much, as it turned out, seeing as they were all dead.
Yehal's atmosphere had been transformed into thick, swirling mass the color of red clay. Vraet couldn't see past the cloud-cover to the surface, but judging by the unquiet movements of the atmosphere, massive storms were raging across the world. The comm channels received nothing from the colony, not from the colonists themselves or even the primitive radio transmitions that natives had recently invented. The system had been wiped clean of life.
"I want fighter groups out and scouting," Vraet heard himself say as old training took over, "whoever did this might still be in-system." On the far side of the planet, for instance, or under the cloud cover. A clever commander could hide an entire fleet in a solar system. "And get me an analysis of the planet. I want to know what happened here."
"Sir." The Captain relayed his orders to the obviously stunned bridge crew, and Vraet saw sleek Chiss fighters streak away from the battle group while the other ships took up a defensive formation. Vraet struggled to assimilate the detestation while mentally composing the address he would give before the High Families. This was monstrous, an unheard-of violation of the Chiss, so he thought as the Guardian moved closer to the planet and a chunk of space station tumbled slowly past.
Someone would pay for this.
"Fighter reports are in," a bridge officer reported, "no sign of enemy activity."
"Scan the wreckage." The Captain turned to the sensors section.
"A preliminary scan shows ion trails and energy signatures corresponding with Chiss propulsion systems and charrics," the officer at the station said, glowing eyes never leaving the readouts, "but no sign of alien weaponry." He peered closer as more information scrolled down the screen. "Something odd, though. There are traces of some odd substance."
"What kind of substance?" Vraet resisted the urge to go over to the screen and take a look himself.
"It looks like some kind of plasma." The officer spoke at last. "And there are minor gravitational anomalies all around the planet."
"Like the disturbances made by an Interdictor?" The Captain asked.
"No sir, but similar." More readings poured in from the other ships. "And small chunks of some material I can't identify are drifting out there as well. The fighter pilots say the debris looks charred, as though by energy blasts from charric fire."
"And the planet?"
"Sensors can't penetrate the cloud cover, but from what we can tell it looks like the air has been superheated. She might as well be orbiting around the outermost edge of the sun."
Vraet maintained a calm appearance and clasped his hands behind his back to keep from wringing them nervously. How could Thrawn do this? Had he been so corrupted by the barbarians that he no longer had any notion of honor? "See if some of the fighters can get under that cloud cover," he said to the Captain, ?I want a look at the surface. Have the fighters and gunships expand their search of the system for signs of enemy activity and prepare the medical bays. There may be survivors." He glanced out the main viewport. "And contact Homeworld, the other Syndics must know about this."
"Sir," the Captain began to relay the orders.
"Captain, Syndic," the officer at the sensors station turned from the screens, "I'm getting some odd readings from the debris."
"What kind of readings?" Vraet looked at him.
"Some of the chunks aren't drifting anymore, they're moving toward the Guardian."
"Escape pods?" The Captain asked.
"No, not the metal debris, sir." The officer clarified. "The other kind."
Vraet moved to stand over the station. "Visual." A small hologram of the Guardian appeared at the sensor chief's command, a sleek, powerful capital ship as astheticly pleasing as she was practical. Around the flagship, more than a dozen tiny meteorites were converging.
"What in space are those?" The Captain murmured. They were roughly the size of starfighters and, the Syndic noted as he squinted red eyes at the hologram, they had the vague shape of fighters as well.
"Get an enlarged image of one." Vraet said quickly. The officer adjusted his controls for a few moments and a second hologram appeared beside that of the Guardian. Vraet felt a sense of relief when he saw the meteorite was clearly that: a meteorite, though by some strange coincidence they did resemble fighters. There was even a kind of crystalline growth on the top that looked like a cockpit, and if Vraet looked closely enough he could see how some of the pits and ridges could appear to be weapon emplacements.
Still, just to be safe...
"Are the shields raised?" The Captain indicated an affirmative. "Lock a tractor beam on one of those rocks and bring it onboard." The Syndic said. "I want a closer look at it." The launching bay doors opened and the meteorite was slowly drawn toward the Guardian's maw.
"Sir, the Council of Syndics is responding to the transmition." The comm officer reported.
"I'll take it in the conference room." Vraet turned to the Captain, "notify me if anything-"
"Sir, I can't get a lock on the meteorite." The crewman at the tractor beam's controls spoke up."
"Why not?" Vraet stopped and frowned in annoyance, he needed to appraise the other Syndics.
"I can't explain it sir, the tractor beam keeps encountering mini gravitational anomalies before it can take hold." He might have said more, but the whistle of alarms from several stations interrupted him.
"We've got multiple breaches in the energy shield!" A crewman shouted. The main diagnostics display showed blinking red areas in the energy shield around the Guardian's computer- model. There were more than a dozen holes in the defensive field.
Vraet turned his crimson eyes to the hologram at the sensor station. Small meteorites, so similar to starfighters, slowly closing around the capital ship...
Something clicked.
"Extend the gravitational compensation field!" He shouted. "And close the hanger!"
Too late.
The meteorite targeted by the tractor beam accelerated, streaked up into the hanger like a spear into a whale's underbelly, and the bridge floor heaved under Vraet, throwing the Syndic off his feet.
***
When their comrade commenced his suicide-dive into the infidel ship the other fifteen coralskippers fired into the holes they'd made in the machine's energy shield. Rock-like projectiles that were in reality spheres of chitin impacted the durasteel hull and adhered to the metal while their porous surfaces released highly corrosive solvents. The missiles sank into the melting hull.
The coralskipper pilots knew the Chiss fighters were even now beginning to swarm them, but that didn't matter: the mission was complete. True, the projectiles had made mere pinpricks in the Guardian, but they would burst the instant they were inside, and no barrier the infidels could erect would stop the many creatures within, creatures bred to seek out a spacecraft's reactor core, and when they got close enough to the core the chemicals in their bodies would react in a most spectacular manner.
***
Vraet pulled himself up with the railway that surrounded the upper bridge. Blood from a cut on his scalp trickled down his face, he wiped it with a sleeve and spun around to face the bridge stations. The power was out in half the monitors, the other half showed only jumbles of meaningless symbols.
"Hull breaches on levels three and five!" One officer shouted.
"Seal off the damaged sections," the Captain ordered, "and lock the turbo charrics on those enemy vessels!"
The glowpanels and lights on the control stations winked out, to be replaced a second later the much dimmer glow of auxiliary power. The Captain forgot himself and cursed, creatively, before recovering his composure. "The crash must have taken out the main power."
"Confirmed sir, we're drifting."
"Captain, Syndic," a voice blared from the comm, terror almost breaking through the trademark calmness of the Chiss, "the alien projectiles have released some sort of creatures, insectoids, into the ship."
"You were told to seal off the damaged areas!" Vraet barked at the officer.
"I did, Lord."
"I can see them on the monitor," the voice from the comm was talking, "they're eating through the blast doors, Families help me they-Ahh-" the cry was cut short in a whoosh of air, then nothing but the silence of vacuum.
"We need security in encounter suits down there!" Vraet turned to another station. "Where are they?"
"Internal sensors indicate the things are making their way to the reactor core." Vraet felt as though he'd been dipped in icewater on hearing that. "I don't think we have time to stop them."
Vraet and the Captain exchanged looks, the Syndic nodded reluctantly. "Send out a Level Five alarm." The Captain said. "All hands abandon ship."
"Sir..." a crewman from the helm.
What now? Vraet felt like groaning. He turned to the helm, but didn't need to ask what the problem was.
The irregular shape of an alien fighter hovered into view just beyond the main forward viewport. Vraet glimpsed a humanoid shape behind the crystalline cockpit. A glance at the diagnostics displays showed that a hole had been opened in the forward shield.
The Captain saw this as well, and reacted instantly: he struck the OPEN button beside the turbolift door with one fist, then seized Vraet by the shoulders, pulled him back and threw him into the open lift. As the door slid shut, Vraet saw bolts of plasma streak from the corralskipper and shatter the transparisteel protecting his bridge crew from the vacuum beyond.
***
Vraet braced himself against a corridor wall as the ship was rocked by a miniature explosion. He turned a corner and found his way blocked by blast doors: the Guardian's automated countermeasures must still be in effect, the ship was sealing off the damaged portions of itself to prevent the remaining crew from being sucked into the vacuum. Unfortunately it also blocked off the quickest route to the secondary shuttle bay.
Vraet uttered a string of curses he'd learned from Raine. He had to admit it was very satisfying, even if it didn't do anything to help his position. Once again his commander's knowledge of the middle and lower levels of society proved useful.
He retraced his steps. He would have to take the longer route to the shuttle bay. And he would have to hurry: the insectoids would reach the reactor core soon, and Vraet didn't want to be onboard when they did.
Despite the urgency the Syndic couldn't help but feel reluctance to leave the Guardian to her fate. His flagship had served him well over the years.
"Syndic!" An exclamation from behind him. He turned and saw another Chiss hurrying down the corridor. "Thank the Families your safe," he began to bow but Vraet stopped him.
"There's little time for pleasantries," he said quickly, "we need to reach the shuttle bay, quickly."
"I've tried, blast doors are blocking the way." The crewman's eyes were dull with shock.
"Only the quickest route." Vraet corrected. "This way." He was about to turn and lead the way down the corridor when something tugged at the back of his mind. He dismissed the feeling. Hopefully there was a shuttle or escape pod remaining-
Vraet's companion flicked his wrist and a coufee slid from his sleeve. He clapped a hand on Vraet's shoulder, spun him around, stepped in close and buried the blade in the Syndic's stomach.
Fire spiked through Vraet's midsection and into his extremities. He gasped for air, eyes bulging. The pain seemed to sharpen his senses though, facing the crewman, Vraet suddenly remembered where he had seen the skinny Chiss with the lackluster eyes before: it was Lekrus, the supposed survivor of the 'Imperial' attack, the one whose warning had brought Vraet here in the first place.
His attacker grinned, showing white fangs, and drew his blade up Vraet's abdomen in a single, sharp move before shoving the disemboweled Chiss against the corridor wall. Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering droplets on the attacker's uniform.
Vraet clutched at his rent midsection with one hand while the other grabbed for the charric at his side. 'Lekrus' didn't move to stop him. The false Chiss looked at his coufee, which was already absorbing Vraet's blood into itself, and ran his tongue across the blade before it could finish its meal.
He smacked his lips. "A little thin for my taste," he mused, "but an interesting flavor."
Vraet had drawn his sidearm, only to see it slip from his fingers as his muscles refused to clench. Strength leaked out of his legs as well, and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
It was hard to focus his thoughts. Knife, must have been... his mind struggled for the word, poisoned. The hand clutching his stomach was covered in thick, hot liquid, and something slippery and rope-like coiled around his fingers. He had no desire to look down at the damage, even if his paralyzed body was capable of movement.
The Yuuzhan Vong touched the side of his nose and the blue ooglith masquer withdrew, revealing his scarred and tattoo- covered face. He watched Vraet with red-dyed eyes and smiled. "The gods will dine well this day."
Damn you, Father, was Vraet's last thought before the world exploded, you were right again. Always right. Damn you!
***
Raine paced across the bridge of the Sentinel, apparently observing the capital ship's crew at their stations. In reality she was moving around to try and rid herself of nervous energy. The gnawing fear hadn't left her since Vraet and the majority of his phalanx had jumped into hyperspace. In fact, the unease had only grown in that time. This was unlike any kind of pre-battle nerves she'd ever experienced.
She allowed none of her worries to show, of course. No member of the Chiss military, and certainly not an officer, would ever appear less than completely in control. Besides, she had always despised the widespread belief that females were unable to handle themselves in times of crisis. That had been one of her chief obstacles in joining the Defense Fleet, one that she had surmounted with great difficulty.
Among the Chiss, tradition said that a female's place was raising children and performing the domestic chores in her husband's or father's household, and among the Chiss tradition was as strong as law. In a way, she had Thrawn to thank for her present circumstances: with so many young males leaving the favoritism and generally unfair treatment of Homeworld to join the Empire (numbers the High Families were still doing their best to hide), the Families had no choice but to bend tradition and allow females into the work force.
Some Chiss females, Raine included, had dared to try and enlist in the Expansionary Defense Fleet. The training was difficult, and they were unwanted by soldiers and officers alike. Only the most dedicated had succeeded, out of those a mere handful had actually seen combat, and only Raine had reached a command position.
But be honest, would you be here at all if you weren't Vraet's lover? A nagging, spiteful voice whispered from the back of her mind. The red glow of her eyes increased by several shades. Yes, she had to admit her relationship with Vraet was a factor, but that only convinced him to treat her fairly and acknowledge her ability. Vraet was no fool, and he wouldn't promote someone to the rank of phalanx commander just because he was sleeping with her. Skill, intelligence and courage were the only qualities a Syndic looked for in choosing his officers.
But as much as she loved Vraet, it still hurt to think that she hadn't done it all on her own.
Raine had always been most comfortable aboard a ship. She loved the sense of freedom, knowing the hyperdrive could take her across Chiss space with just a few jumps. She turned her gaze outward, past the forward viewport, but even the sight of Homeworld, slowly rotating with white clouds dancing gently across her atmosphere, failed to soothe the commander.
Advancement would have probably come easier if she had joined the Unity Fleet under Mith'raw'nuruodo, and she could see the whole of the galaxy in the service of the Empire, but the thought of deserting had never even crossed her mind. She was Chiss: she loved her Homeworld and her people, even if she hated the blind, backward old men who ruled them.
In spite of everything, Raine had to admit she was happy: she had authority, the respect of her peers, superiors and subordinates, the power to defend her people, and of course, she had Vraet.
The Syndic was the only one who understood her, who didn't try to define her by the standards of behavior the rest of society adhered to: as either a female, docile and obedient, or an officer, remote and unapproachable. He accepted her for who she was.
She knew that last case wouldn't last. The Syndic was still young, but eventually he would have to marry and produce an heir. He would be expected to wed a female of the noble classes, which Raine wasn't, and once that happened all they shared would stop, leaving nothing but the professional relationship between a Syndic and his phalanx commander. Apart from the need to avoid scandal, Vraet would never break his marriage vows: he was too honorable for that, one of the reason she'd fallen for him in the first place.
She was thankful, though, that at least she hadn't been born into the noble classes. As a child she had watched the elegant, bejeweled noblewomen with envy on the rare occasions when one had appeared in a public place, but Raine had grown into a very practical adult and knew that, whatever the circumstances, the Chiss rulers would never allow their female counterparts to be anything more than ornaments.
Protected and cared for at all times, Chiss noblewomen never permitted to exert themselves, physically or mentally: they weren't to leave their family's estates except in cases of extreme necessity, and all the household duties and decisions were made by servants. They weren't even allowed to raise their own children. A staff of nannies, governesses, tutors and, for the boy-children, retired officers to teach them proper standards of behavior, handled that. A Chiss lady could go for weeks at a time without even seeing her progeny.
Perhaps that was the real reason for her unease. There was something she had to tell Vraet, and she was afraid to. She was afraid of what his reaction would be.
"Commander, we are receiving a signal from the Guardian," the comm officer said. "It's a transmition of the First Priority to the Syndics of every House."
Raine went into the adjoining conference room and waited with holograms of all the Syndics on Homeworld for Vraet's appearance.
They were still waiting a few minutes later when The Long Reach of Death appeared in the system.
***
A few Chiss ships and fighters were sent out to investigate the massive object intruding on their space and moving slowly towards Homeworld, unwilling to believe something so vast and utterly devoid of metal or electrical signatures could be a vessel crafted by alien hands. When the scouts were crushed in much the way a being would swat an insect that annoyed him, the portion of the Expansionary Defense Fleet assigned to protect Homeworld quickly mustered for an attack.
Aptly named, the worldship was shaped on the scale of a small planetoid, its ridges and craters concealing thousands of powerful dovin basals, oceans of plasma and projectiles with the speed, accuracy and explosive power of missiles. It's vulnerable internal organs were hidden away, deep beneath layers of yorrik coral hardened to match the strength of durasteel.
Worst of all, it had a yammosk.
***
The war coordinator was squirming with pleasure now that it finally had the chance to do what it was shaped for. At its orders, the worldship stopped moving and waited for the Chiss fleet to begin its assault, thus freeing up all the dovin basals for defensive purposes. The yammosk ordered half the dovin basals to concentrate on defense while the other half stripped the Chiss vessels of their shields and worked to interfere with their maneuvers.
When the infidel ships were in range the yammosk sent an order to the corralskipper pilots in the caves and canyons of the worldship 's surface, telling them to launch and engage the enemy fighters while the Long Reach dealt with the larger vessels.
His mind joined to the vast consciousness of the yammosk, Sang Anor was aware of its decisions and gave his approval. In the yammosk's vast, rounded chamber at the very center of the worldship, the Executor stood beside the yammosk on a pillar of coral that stretched halfway to the ceiling, positioning the great, bulbus shape of the war coordinator at the exact center of the room.
A ring of villips encircled the room, connected directly to the outermost sensory organs. Using a tiny part of its mental energy, the yammosk had combined the visual information to eate a real-time representation of the battle below them.
Across the room floated the green-blue world of the Chiss, its diameter about the length of both Sang Anor 's arms, turning slowly, unaware that the judgement of the gods was upon her and all that lived and breathed on her surface. The Long Reach of Death was near the foot of the pedestal. About a quarter of the planet's size, and streaking toward the worldship was the Chiss fleet, capital ships smaller than a finger-joint and fighters the size of dustmites.
Sang Anor stepped away from the yammosk and walked slowly down the spiral stairway that ringed its pedestal. He stepped onto the floor and into the midst of the space battle. Titanic but unseen, like one of the gods themselves, he walked among the images that chased one another, shooting brief, bright blue darts of energy and yellow threads of plasma.
He turned his eyes to one of the infidel vessels. "Expand this image, I want a closer look." He didn't need to raise his voice or indicate which part of the battle he meant. His bond with the yammosk communicated all that with the instinctive speed of thought.
A bubble surrounded the capital ship. The bubble and the image within swelled to give Sang Anor a more detailed view. The yammosk directed its dovin basals to strip the battleship of its shields. The dovin basals seized the Chiss vessel and immobilized it while the yammosk guided three missiles to strike key points on the ship. The missiles, about the size of coralskippers, were controlled by small, very limited brains, but the yammosk guided the living projectiles with pinpoint accuracy. The capital ship vanished in a plume of fire, quickly extinguished by the cold of space.
A sensible person would say it was sheer insanity to attack the Chiss Homeworld, the heart of what was probably the greatest power in the Unknown Regions. After considering what he'd learned from Wras, their Chiss convert, and from the disguised agents he'd sent to the target planet, he had concluded that the Chiss reputation for invincible strength was largely illusionary.
While their soldiers were well-trained and their equipment was advanced, the Chiss officers and commanders were inexperienced, chosen more for breeding than ability. The Chiss hadn't fought a war in close to a thousand years and the Expansionary Defense Fleet was a hodgepodge of ships from every phalanx, with each division answering to their own commanders and Syndics rather than to any centralized command. Communication and coordination between the phalanxes was slow and sloppy.
This arrangement worked well when it came to defending their boarders, but it couldn't compare to the power of the Yuuzhan Vong. Sang Anor's conclusion: the Chiss were in decline, vulnerable to attack.
The worldship's dovin basals absorbed the volleys of blue energy bolts sent by the tiny Chiss vessels, then leisurely targeted ten at a time for destruction while the coralskippers, coordinated by the yammosk and piloted by beings who were literally one with their ships, tore through the Chiss fighters.
Quite a show, but for Sang Anor it was only a side performance. The main event was still to come.
He looked across the room at the Chiss planet, now almost undefended, and as if on cue the eight desk hai which had dropped out of hyperspace on the opposite side of the system closed in on the planet.
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