“Right,” Ziara said. “Your next question is probably why this is all such a big secret.”

“Not at all,” Thrawn assured her. “I understand the strategic advantages of maneuvering a potential enemy into wasting a massive amount of force on what’s essentially an empty shell.” He looked her squarely in the eye. “My question is why you’ve told me all this. Surely I’m not senior enough for that kind of classified information. Especially not after today.”

“I told you because you thrive on information,” Ziara said. Her anger-driven defiance was starting to fade, leaving a bit of discomfort behind. The law was clear: Officers of Thrawn’s current rank weren’t supposed to know any of this. “The more you know about a situation, the better you are at coming up with the strategy and tactics necessary to handle it. Anyway, you’ll be called in for the top-level briefing soon enough.” She felt her lips pucker. “When that happens, try to act surprised.”

“I will,” he promised. “Speaking of surprises, does your family know you’re bringing a guest?”

Ziara shook her head. “No, but it won’t be a problem.”

Thrawn raised his eyebrows slightly. “You assume.”

“Yes,” Ziara conceded. “I assume.”

Chapter Fifteen

The law was clear.

The Vigilant had been attacked by forces of the Lioaoin Regime. The attackers had identified themselves as such, removing any question as to whether they might be pirates or privateers or some other unofficial and unauthorized group. The Defense Hierarchy Council had certain required responses to such a situation, as did the Aristocra and the Syndicure. The law was clear.

Which wasn’t to say that any of those groups was at all enthusiastic about carrying out their duties.

“This,” Second Officer Kharill said, “is madness.”

Samakro gazed out the viewport at the roiling hyperspace sky. Personally, he couldn’t agree more with his subordinate’s assessment.

But Kharill was his subordinate, and Samakro was the Springhawk’s first officer, and part of his duty was to quash talk like that aboard his ship. “The ancient philosophers would agree with you,” he said. “On the other hand, most of those same philosophers would say that all war is madness. Take that to its logical extreme, and we’re all out of a job.”

“Maybe,” Kharill said. “I can’t say I’d be opposed to a few years of peace.”

“That might depend on the underlying cause of that peace,” Thrawn said from behind them. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

“Good morning, Senior Captain,” Samakro said, hastily standing up from the command chair and turning as Thrawn stepped through the hatchway onto the bridge.

To his mild surprise, Thrawn waved him back down. “I’m not taking over your watch, Mid Captain,” he said. “I only stopped by to check on our progress.”