“Fire missiles,” Thrawn ordered. “Chief Yal’avi’kema, you now have two minutes.”
“Chief Iral’avi’kema acknowledges, and estimates the projector will be collapsed on schedule.” Across by the distant warships, there were multiple flashes of light as the Chiss missiles struck.
“Helmets!” someone barked.
Car’das reacted instantly, snatching up his helmet and throwing it over his head, peripherally aware that everyone on the bridge was doing the same. He had locked the helmet onto its collar and was looking for the source of the threat when there was a sudden burst of light and fire and the portside section of the canopy disintegrated.
Through the deck he felt the thud of airtight doors slamming shut, and for a fraction of a second he heard the wail of warning alarms before the sudden decompression robbedthem of any conducting medium. Blinking against the dark purple afterimage of the flash, he peered through the still swirling debris at the impact point.
It was as bad as he’d feared. The three Chiss who’d been closest to the blast were lying twisted and crumpled on the deck. Other Chiss had also been thrown from their chairs, though most of them appeared to still be alive. Here and there he could see crewers struggling with torn suits or cracked helmets as they or fellow crewers fastened emergency patches in place.
The control boards in the area of the blast had been turned into mangled, sharp-edged twistings of metal and tangled wiring, while elsewhere the rest of the panels appeared dead.
He was still assessing the damage when Maris suddenly shoved past him, nearly knocking him off his feet, and dropped to her knees beside the command chair.
It was only then that he saw that Thrawn, too, was lying on the deck, his glowing eyes closed, a violently fluttering tear in the chest of his vac suit leaking away his air.
“Commander!” he snapped, dropping to the deck beside Maris and fumbling in his suit pocket for a sealant patch.
“Medic!”
“I’ve got one,” Maris said, a patch already in hand.
Ripping off the protective backing, she slapped it against the torn fabric. For a moment it bulged with the remaining air pressure from inside the suit; and then, to Car’das’s horror, one edge began to come loose. “It won’t bond to this material,” Maris bit out, glancing around her. “Help me find something to hold it.”
Frantically, Car’das looked around. But there was nothing. He looked up at the walls, knowing the Chiss must surely have medpacs scattered around their warships. But he couldn’t focus enough of his mind on the Cheunh lettering to read the markings.
“Never mind,” Maris gritted. She pushed down the edges of the patch again; and then, with just a second ofhesitation, she leaned over to lie chest-to-chest across his torso, pressing her stomach against the wound. “Go get help,” she ordered, wrapping her arms tightly around Thrawn’s back to hold herself in place. “Come on—this can’t be doing his injuries any good.”
Breaking free of his paralysis, Car’das turned toward the door.
And once again was nearly bowled over as two Chiss pushed past him, dropping to their knees on either side of their unconscious commander and the human lying across him.
“Prepare to move,” one of them snapped, a large patch gripped between his hands. “… move.”
Maris rolled away. Almost before she had cleared the wound area the Chiss had his patch in place, completely covering the one Maris had tried to use. She pushed herself completely away, and Car’das saw thin tendrils of smoke drift up from the edges of the new patch. “Seal good,” the Chiss confirmed.
The second crewer was ready, jabbing the hose of a hand-sized air tank into a valve built into the helmet collar.
“Pressure stabilizing,” he reported, peering at a row of indicator lights beside the valve.
“Can we help?” Maris asked.
“You’ve already done so,” the first Chiss said. “We’ll handle it from here.”
They had lifted Thrawn between them and were heading for the airtight door when the stars outside the canopy abruptly flashed into starlines.
For the first two hours the medics worked behind sealed doors, with no news coming out and only fresh supplies and more injured going in. Car’das hung around the medbay area, trying to stay out of the way, occasionally being pressed into service to run errands for the staff. He didn’t know at first what had happened to Maris, but from bits of overheard conversation he eventually learned she was helping clear debrisfrom the bridge.
They were still four hours from home when the two of them were finally summoned into medbay.
They found Thrawn half lying, half sitting on a narrow bed inside a set of biosensor rings that wrapped around him from neck to knees like the ribs of a giant snake. “Car’das; Ferasi,” he greeted them. His face was drawn, but his voice was clear and calm. “I’m told I owe you my life. Thank you.”
“It was mostly Maris, actually,” Car’das said, not wanting to accept credit he didn’t deserve. “She’s faster in emergency situations than I am.”
“Comes of spending time with Rak on the Bargain Hunter;” Maris said, trying a smile that didn’t reach all the way to her eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Not well, but apparently out of danger,” Thrawn said, studying her face. “I’m also told you’ve been assisting with the task of clearing the bridge.”
She shrugged self-consciously. “I wanted to help.”
“Even after I launched missiles against the Vagaari’s living shields?”
She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry I…well, that I complained about that,” she said. “I realize you didn’t have any choice.”
“Which doesn’t necessarily make it easier to accept,”
Thrawn said. “It is, unfortunately, the sort of decision all warriors must make.”
“Did we get the gravity projector, by the way?” Car’das asked. “I never heard one way or the other.”
Thrawn nodded. “It was collapsed and spark-welded to the outside of the hull just before we made our jump. All six of the fighters escaped, as well.”
Car’das shook his head. “We were lucky.”
“We had a good leader,” Maris corrected. “The Vagaari are going to be very unhappy about this.”
“Good,” Thrawn said evenly. “Perhaps they’ll be angry enough to make an overt move against the Chiss Ascendancy.”
Car’das frowned. “Are you saving you were trying to goad them into an attack?”
“I was trying to obtain a gravity projector,” Thrawn said. “Other consequences will be dealt with if and when they occur.”
Car’das looked sideways at the medics and assistants working on the other casualties. “Of course,” he murmured.
“Meanwhile, our focus must be to return to Crustai with all possible speed,” Thrawn continued. “We need more complete medical assistance for our wounded, and to begin repairs to our vessels.”
“And in the meantime, you probably need some more rest,” Maris added, touching Car’das’s arm and nodding toward the door. “We’ll see you later, Commander.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said, his eyes turning to glowing red slits behind sagging eyelids. “And I’m sure you were right, Car’das. I imagine Qennto will be sorry he missed all the excitement.”
They arrived at the base to discover that Qennto had far more pressing matters on his mind than missed adventures.
“I’ll kill her,” the big man promised blackly as he glared at Maris and Car’das through the slotted plastic door of his cell. “I ever get her alone, I swear I’ll kill her.”
“Just calm down,” Maris soothed, her tone a mixture of patience and understanding. It was a combination she seemed to use a lot with Qennto. “Tell us what happened.”
“She tried to rob me—that’s what happened,” Qennto bit out. “You were both there. Thrawn specifically told us we could pick some of the loot from the pirate ship in payment for language lessons. Right?”
“More or less,” Maris agreed cautiously.
“Unfortunately, Admiral Ar’alani outranks him.”
“I don’t care if she’s the local deity,” Qennto shot back.
“That stuff I picked out was ours. She had no business trying to take it away.”
“And of course, you told her so,” Car’das murmured.