Chapter Three

The corridor leading to the Aristocra hearing room was long, a little dark, and more than a little echoey. Ar’alani listened to her footsteps as she walked, hearing a sort of mocking doom, doom, doom in the dull thuds. Dramatics, designed to put approaching witnesses and speakers at a psychological disadvantage before they even entered the chamber.

The one they really wanted to rake over the firepit was Thrawn, of course. But he was off on some top-secret mission for Supreme General Ba’kif and out of reach. In his absence, someone had apparently decided that his commander during the battle should be called in front of an official tribunal, presumably in the hope that she would say something derogatory they could use against him at a later date.

A complete waste of time, really. Ar’alani had already said all she was going to say to the Defense Hierarchy Council, and she doubted anyone here truly expected her to change that testimony. And no matter how mad they might get at her, in theory the Aristocra and Nine Families could do nothing to a flag officer of her rank.

In theory.

“This,” Senior Captain Kiwu’tro’owmis huffed as she and her shorter legs labored to keep up with Ar’alani’s longer stride, “is bogus. Totally bogus. Bogus to the ninth, factorial.”

“That’s a lot of boguses,” Ar’alani said, smiling to herself. Not only was Wutroow an excellent first officer, but she was gifted with a knack for breaking tension and calling out absurdity.

“And I stand by every one of them,” Wutroow said. “We blasted the Paataatus into small bits of metal and got as groveling a peace settlement from them as I’ve ever seen. And the Aristocra still aren’t happy?”

“No,” Ar’alani agreed. “But we’re not the ones they’re unhappy at. We just happen to be the most convenient targets right now for their annoyance.”

Wutroow huffed. “Thrawn.”

Ar’alani nodded. “Thrawn.”

“In that case, it’s bogus to the tenth factorial,” Wutroow said firmly. “There was a good reason why he disobeyed your order. Plus his plan worked.”

Which was precisely why the Council hadn’t brought any charges or reprimands down on him, of course. Especially since neither Ar’alani nor any of the other ship commanders had been willing to file a charge.

But Thrawn had enemies among the Aristocra. And Council vindication or not, those enemies were smelling blood.

“So what do we do, ma’am?”

“We answer their questions,” Ar’alani told her. “Honestly, of course. Most Aristocra know not to ask a question they don’t already know the answer to.”

“I assume that doesn’t mean we can’t spiral our answers a little?”