4.08

"You are making a mistake," the would-be Great Admiral Thrawn told me from within the force-cage. Under the pale blue radiance and occasional ion sparks of the holding field, the Chiss Commander looked even bluer than was normal for his azure-skinned, crimson-eyed species. The imposing figure the striking, athletic young man normally cut in his expertly pressed black naval uniform was slightly marred by his being immobile and floating two feet off the ground, but that was hardly an impediment at his attempts at diplomacy. "There is much to be gained if we put aside this misunderstanding." His voice on the other hand was more than a little hoarse, a side-effect of his light cruiser being hit by ion cannons meant for much larger targets.

"That is certainly true," I distractedly replied, more focused on the force-cage itself than its occupant. It was a recent addition to the Doughnut's brig for it was meant to temporarily detain rather than permanently deal with prisoners. Considering Father's hatred for pirates and the Kuati betrayers that were the vast majority of hostile individuals we handled, his preference ran more towards carbonite suspension or use of an airlock without the benefit of a vacuum suit. After all, a force-cage could only hold one prisoner whereas a carbonite freezer could put thousands into cheap, indefinite stasis every day - and airlock use was near-free and final.

But that was neither here nor there, for now; better treatment of prisoners was not why I'd convinced Father to buy a force-cage. Reaching with one hand into the field felt like trying to press a strong magnet into the same pole of another. There was no physical barrier, but the tangible pressure against my hand was very real. Deeper within it would feel like being encased in solid rubber with very little give - rubber studded with tiny needles at random intervals. Even just touching it, sparks of energy discharged into my fingers at random intervals. Not that painful, but annoying and unpredictable; a prisoner would not be able to sleep in the field, which could be the torture of itself if it went on too long. More to the point, concentrating on anything would be hard, unless the victim had prior experience with extremely distracting sensations.

"...Chiss Ascendancy will send a reclamation force soon. Cooperation will be in your best interests." Thrawn's voice broke through my mild trance. That it did so at all showed how disruptive the field could be... then again, I'd always found conversation more awkward than most things. More to the point, while I wouldn't recommend months of agony in a Bacta tank to even my enemies, it had made most other distractions insignificant in comparison. As for Thrawn, he had his back to me so he could not see what I was doing, and from the hint of frustration in his voice, the past hour of my ignoring him was serving its secondary purpose. So I ignored him some more until I could enter a full trance with both hands in the force-field. The next step would be to access the Force with me in the field rather than Thrawn. Unlike the complacent Jedi of today, I'd rather my first attempts at escaping such containment measures didn't happen after being captured by enemies.

"OK, I'm done," I announced as I pulled back from the field and walked around it to meet Thrawn face-to-face once more. "What were you saying before? I was too busy studying the device to pay attention."

"I suppose that for all the differences between sapient species, teenagers are the same everywhere," the Chiss said with a mild glower directed at yours truly.

"Arrogant tinpot warlords too, I reckon," I cheerfully retorted with a wide grin. "You do realize the cage has a built-in torture setting, right? Father would be exploring all its features right about now."

"Ah, but you're not your father." One of the best officers in the future Empire's navy took in my six-and-a-half-foot frame in at one calculating glance. "Given our previous conversation, I'd expect you're very different from all the ranking officers in this fleet."

"Obviously. You've yet to murder me, for one thing." He hardly blinked at that, but the shift in his emotions and train of thought was far more pronounced. "Or to capture me and hold me as a 'guest', like the three Republic citizens we found in your ship. Piracy is already a major crime; compounding it with slavery is a capital offense in most interstellar polities."

"I am a ranking officer of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force. Taking action in the interests of the Chiss Ascendancy is my duty."

"That is true. But is attacking the ships of a foreign polity in the interests of the Ascendancy?" I shrugged. "I suppose I can see the technological gains, especially when raiding across entirely different tech bases. But the political ramifications? The flagship of our fleet carried a direct representative of the Senate on a mission of some importance - a representative which you killed."

"After the deliberate racist provocation," Thrawn countered. "The Ascendancy itself was insulted -"

"The Ascendancy itself has laws against military aggression, Commander, as well as set borders to its territorial claims. Both facts you conveniently ignored. Did you believe there would be no consequences to your actions?"

"Exile is a consequence I've long since accepted if my actions would serve the Ascendancy." His face hardened into an uncompromising, emotionless mask. "Keeping me, my crew, and our ships under your control though? That is not something the Ascendancy will accept, regardless of your justifications."

"You are laboring under a misconception, Commander," I retorted. "My father hates pirates. He's rather famous for it in the Outer Rim. Keeping you, after the level of harm you caused the Republic, never crossed his mind. As for your ships, we don't have the crew to handle even our own derelicts, let alone yours. You and your crew have a more sun-ward fate than remaining our prisoners."

xxxx xxxx xxxx

​

True to my words, Father had the Chiss put into carbonite suspension to prevent a last-minute escape, then loaded into their own cruisers. Repaired just enough to be barely functional, the Chiss cruisers and their cargo were set on a course to the system's sun. All the remaining living organics in the fleet - mostly the Doughnut's crew and less than a dozen survivors from all the other fourteen ships combined - gathered on the bridge to watch. When the Chiss vessels vanished from the sensors in the glare of the nearby star's corona, the Trade Federation survivors cheered. Of course, they didn't know that the Chiss cruisers had been rigged to make a short jump into interstellar space as soon as the star's emissions could mask their departure.

Then it was time to deal with the crippled Federation ships. The Hardcell armed transports had suffered considerable damage during the fight, and their missile stores had been depleted. The Darkvenge and the Keeper, the other two Lucrehulks, were still irradiated and inhospitable to organic crews. Even if they hadn't been, with their organic crews killed to the last gunner, the survivors weren't enough to man the critical positions in a fight. The ships could still technically fight under droid control, but with some systems damaged and the Federation droids' limited combat experience they'd be big, fat, toothless targets at best.

Father and the other Federation officers had agreed to send the crippled ships back to the Republic after hours of discussion. There they'd be safe, and the survivors could inform the higher-ups of what happened. Unfortunately, by the time reinforcements could arrive the Outbound Flight would have come and gone, so the Doughnut would have to remain behind and finish the mission. So far into Wild Space - we were between the Geroon and Crustai systems beyond the Utegetu Nebula - there was no Holonet service to call the Senate with. I knew for a fact that the late and unlamented Kinman Doriana had a powerful communicator to reach his good friend the Lord of the Sith with, but nobody else among the survivors knew about it... or if they did, they did not volunteer the information.

Which was why nearly a million maintenance and worker droids were busy moving vast quantities of materiel around the other two Lucrehulks at the moment. There were just enough survivors to navigate the Darkvenge and the Keeper through the multiple jumps it'd take to reach Republic space. Thus to salvage the Hardcell transports, the cargo space of the Darkvenge was emptied of the ground combat elements the Federations' "battleships" usually carried so that the Hardcells would fit. The Keeper would be tightly packed with two Lucrehulks' worth of ground forces; with both ships' fighter complements destroyed, there was just enough space for that.

After twelve hours of preparation, Father, the Doughnut's limited organic crew, and yours truly saw the two overloaded vessels cumbersomely jumping into hyperspace. If all went well, the five organics running the Keeper in their radiation-resistant space suits would be ambushed by Aurra Sing and a small contingent of assassin droids immediately after the jump...