“It’s all right,” Thrawn said. “The passengers and crew are all gathered in the central cylinder behind adequate shielding.”

Ziara hissed between her teeth. That wasn’t at all what she’d meant. “Did you get through to anyone else?” she asked, her eyes running down the numbers. Another hour, and even a full Nightdragon wouldn’t be able to tow the liner free.

“No one else is coming,” Thrawn said. “Please hurry. Time is short.”

“Short?” someone muttered. “More like nonexistent.”

“Just pull us parallel to him,” Ziara said, wondering what Thrawn had in mind.

“In position, Captain,” the pilot called.

“Tractors on,” the weapons officer added. “Status…no good. Liner’s still drag—”

An instant later she broke off with a startled gasp as the Parala jerked violently. “Boco’s dropped its tractors!”

“Increase thrust,” Ziara ordered, staring at the display. Not only had the Boco disengaged its tractors, but it had veered away from the Parala and was making a tight curve back toward the liner.

And as the Boco settled into position alongside the liner, its spectrum lasers flashed, blasting into the junction points where the portside luxury wing connected to the central cylinder. “Captain, he’s attacking them!” the sensor officer yelped.

“Stand fast,” Ziara said. “Ready emergency power to the thrusters.”

“But Captain—”

“I said stand fast,” Ziara snapped. “Don’t you see? He’s lightening the ship.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the portside wing broke away, the sudden change in the liner’s mass again sending a jolt along the tractor beam line and into the Parala. The Boco was already moving to the liner’s other side, blasting away at the connectors of the starboard wing. Ziara watched, bracing herself…

The wing snapped away and disappeared into the atmosphere below. “Emergency power!” Ziara ordered. “Get us out of here.”

And as the Parala vibrated and creaked with the additional stress, the liner finally began to move away from the planet. A moment later there was another, smaller jolt as the Boca returned to Ziara’s side and added its own tractors and thrusters to the effort. Slowly but steadily, they eased the liner out of the atmosphere and the gravity well.

Fifteen minutes later, the crisis was over.

“Thank you for your assistance, Senior Captain Ziara,” Thrawn’s voice came as the two ships finally cut back on their thrusters and disengaged their tractors. “Without you, the liner would indeed have been lost.”

“Thank you in turn for your quick thinking,” Ziara said, eyeing the liner. The ship’s beautiful external wings, gone, with their fancy suites and, no doubt, the inhabitants’ fancy possessions gone with them. “A word of warning, though. If I were you, I wouldn’t expect a lot of thanks from anyone else.”

“You’ve never been to Csilla, have you?” Ziara asked as the shuttle headed down toward the shimmery blue-white surface of the Chiss homeworld.