Crisis of Faith Read Online Free PDF Page B

Admiral, that I wasn’t exaggerating about the size of that gap. You come in at the wrong angle and graze one of those shields, and it’ll blow off that section of  wing and give you enough spin to send you spiraling straight into the ground.”
     
    “I have full confidence that you and your pilots will make it work, Commander.” Thrawn turned to Balkin. “As I also have confidence that you and your stormtroopers will do their part.”
     
    “We will, Admiral,” Balkin said quietly.
     
    “So the plan’s still on?” Parck asked.
     
    “It is,” Thrawn confirmed.
     
    Parck felt his lip twitch. “I /have/ spoken to some of the other Stromma who understand Quesoth Soldier Speak,” he said. “They say that even if we’re able to record enough of the Queen’s orders during the battle, it’ll be impossible to pick-and-stitch the words together to create  counter-orders of our own.”
     
    “My Stromma trainees say the same thing,” Balkin confirmed. “There’s some kind of pitch rhythm in the subharmonics that a set of randomly stitched words won’t be able to match.”
     
    “We shall see,” Thrawn said. “Are there any other thoughts or concerns?”
     
    Parck looked around the table. No one seemed inclined to say anything more. “Then you’re dismissed,” Thrawn said formally. “Make your final preparations, then get your forces fed and to sleep.”  His eyes glittered. “Tomorrow, at midmorning, we attack.”
     
    It was not in the nature of Imperial stormtroopers to hide themselves from view. Their entire attitude and training, not to mention their gleaming white armor, tended in exactly the opposite direction.
     
    Nevertheless, stormtrooper Lhagva of the Stromma contingent was trying to stay out of everyone’s sight.
     
    For the first hour he succeeded, running a quiet path between the /Admonitor/’s main trooper kitchen area and the equipment storage facility, choosing a route senior officers seldom traveled unless they had a reason to be there. He kept an ear cocked as he strode silently along, listening for loud voices and stern, determined footsteps.
     
    He was ten minutes into the second hour when his luck ran out. Rounding a stack of safety-webbed crates, he ran smack into Line Lieutenant Dramos Sanjin, perched casually on the saddle of a Mobquet reconnaissance swoop.
     
    “Stormtrooper Lhagva,” Sanjin said with an air of clearly artificial casualness. “You seem to have missed the order that all Stromma aboard the /Admonitor/ were to report to the Number Three hangar deck for disembarkation.”
     
    “My apologies, Lieutenant,” Lhagva said, striving for the right mix of surprise and chagrin. “I’ve been having trouble with my hearing lately.”
     
    “Really,” Sanjin said. “You didn’t seem to have any trouble with Commander Balkin’s order to report to the practice range earlier this afternoon.”
     
    Lhagva grimaced. Sanjin had him, and there really was no point in carrying on the charade any longer. “I heard a rumor that all the Stromma were being taken off in advance of the attack,” he said. “I wanted to stay.”
     
    “You feel entitled to ignore orders you don’t feel like obeying?”
     
    “You need me, Lieutenant,” Lhagva said, painfully aware that he was walking on extremely thin stone here. “Puriv and I are the only ones in the assault force who understand Quesoth Soldier Speak. We’re the only ones who can give you any advance warning of what the Queen of the Red is ordering her forces to do.”
     
    “Yet Puriv left the /Admonitor/ as ordered,” Sanjin said. “Are you saying he doesn’t have the same loyalty to the unit that you do?”
     
    “Puriv has a family, and a strong family honor that he must uphold,” Lhagva said. “Disobeying his orders would shame them all.”
     
    “Whereas you’re an orphan who has no one to shame?”
     
    “I’m an orphan who will dishonor no one but myself,” Lhagva corrected. “I’m