Thrawn Ascendancy Book I: Chaos Rising

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Thalias had known from the start that Thrawn’s plan was doomed. Their blue skin was nothing like the pale-amber skin and black stub hairs of the indigenous population, to say nothing about the contrast between glowing red Chiss eyes and the Vaks’ dull brown. The hooded cloaks that many of the people wore would make things less obvious, but Thalias had no illusions as to how well that would work in the long run. How many of the locals actually used the hoods, she’d argued, instead of letting the sun and breeze wash over their faces?

The answer, it turned out, was pretty nearly all of them.

“You’re just lucky it’s raining today,” she said as she and Thrawn walked along the street, the light drizzle beating gently on the tops of their hoods and dripping off the fronts.

“Not at all,” he replied. “Up to now we’ve always traveled the city in vehicles, where the hoods are unnecessary. But during those trips I observed that most pedestrians used their hoods nearly all the time, protecting against rain but also against sunlight.”

“So really the only danger we were in was if today was just cloudy?”

He chuckled. “A point. But even then, wearing hoods would not be so rare as to attract attention.”

Thalias peered past the edge of her hood into the diner they were passing. Inside, she noted uneasily, the Vaks had all laid their hoods back. “That’s fine out here,” she said. “But eventually we’re going to have to go inside somewhere. What happens then?”

“Let’s find out,” Thrawn said. Taking her arm, he steered her toward a door with a faded sign above it. “In here.”

“What is it?” Thalias asked, peering at the sign. She’d made an effort to learn the Vak script over the past few days, but she was a long way from being able to read any of it.

“Hopefully, answers,” Thrawn said.

And then they were at the door, and Thrawn had pushed it open and ushered Thalias inside. She blinked, ducked her head forward sharply to shake some of the water from her hood onto the mat at their feet, and then looked up.

To find they were in an art gallery.

Thrawn was already walking slowly forward, the back of his hood moving rhythmically as he turned his head back and forth, studying everything around him. Thalias followed more slowly, looking surreptitiously at the handful of Vak patrons wandering among the easels and pedestals or gazing up the wall hangings and paintings. All of them had their own hoods thrown back—would they notice that she and Thrawn were still wearing theirs? More important, would they wonder why?

A harsh voice rattled off some words behind them. Apparently, they would.

“Good afternoon,” Thrawn said calmly in Minnisiat, not turning around. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your language. Do you speak this one?”

Thalias grimaced. Everyone in the place was now gazing at the visitors. So much for slipping by undetected.

“I speak it,” the voice came back. “Who are you? What do you want here?”

“I came to see Vak art, and to thereby understand the Vak people,” Thrawn said. “As to who we are—” He paused, slid off his hood, and turned around. “We are friends.”

Someone made a strangling sort of sound. Two or three others gave out with startled-sounding words, and Thalias heard a single whispered Chiss.

“The Vak have no friends,” the first speaker said. “Not now. Not ever.”

Thalias turned, also pushing back her hood. The Vak who had spoken—a female, Thalias tentatively identified her from the cut of her loose-fitting tunic-skirt—had a wide sash across her chest adorned with a double row of intricately carved wooden pins. Did such extra adornment mark her as the gallery’s curator?

“Surely that is untrue,” Thrawn said. “What about Yiv the Benevolent? He claims to be a friend.”

“People claim many things,” the curator said. “You, too, have now claimed to be friends. Yet I see no evidence of it.”

“Do you see evidence with Yiv?”

“Why do you ask?” the curator countered. “Do you seek to sow discord among the Vaks?”

Thrawn shook his head. “I seek information. The leaders of the Vak Combine seem impressed by Yiv. They see his power, and imagine the Nikardun are respected and honored. They believe that joining with them will bring the same respect to the Vaks.”

He lifted a hand. “I merely wish to know if the common people believe likewise.”

“What do you know about the common people?” the curator scoffed.

“Only a little,” Thrawn admitted. “I can see what is woven into your artwork, that the Vaks strive for unity while still determined to honor the individual. That is a good and proper philosophy. But I seek to understand how that affects the lives of the Vak people.”

“Then seek elsewhere,” the curator said. “This is a place of meditation and appreciation. I will not be drawn into discussions with strangers of things personal to the Vaks.”

“I understand, and bow to your wishes,” Thrawn said, taking Thalias’s arm. “May your future be of sunlight and peace.”

A minute later, the two Chiss were back out in the rain. “Whatever you were hoping to accomplish,” Thalias said, “I don’t think it worked.”

“As I said, I hoped to learn more about the Vaks,” Thrawn said. “And, perhaps, to make them aware that as they decide their course with the Nikardun, they should also figure the Chiss into their calculations.”

Thalias gave a small snort. “Not that the Syndicure is likely to ever lift a finger to help them. I suppose you also realize that if we keep walking around town this way, we might as well call Yiv and announce ourselves?”

“There will likely be a response,” Thrawn agreed. “That, too, may work in our favor. If the Nikardun are sufficiently heavy-handed in their search for us, the Vaks may see less friendship and more dominance in their presence on Primea.”

“Only if the leaders notice,” Thalias said. “I doubt the people who visit art galleries have much say in their nation’s affairs.”

Thrawn leaned out from under his hood to give her a puzzled look. “You don’t see it?”

“See what?”

He turned back under the hood and for a few steps was silent. “You heard me tell the gallery curator that the Vaks seek unity while still honoring the individual. That’s true enough. The problem is that their leaders have carried that philosophy too far. They spend so much time listening to all points of view—I believe they refer to them as thought lines—that they have difficulty arriving at decisions.”

“You can’t mean all thought lines,” Thalias said. “There must be billions of Vaks. All of them can’t be equally important.”

“In theory, yes, they are,” Thrawn said. “In actual practice, of course, the number must certainly be limited. But it still leaves the Vaks with a longer decision process than that of most species. That hesitation, as they gather and weigh all opinions, makes the leaders appear weak.”

“Well, they won’t have that problem if they let the Nikardun move in,” Thalias said grimly. “The only thought line that’ll matter will be Yiv’s.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn agreed. “We’ll attempt to pass that message on to a few more citizens before Yiv or Vak security track us down. After that—or sooner, if it seems prudent—we’ll retreat to the hideout I set up two days ago and wait for Admiral Ar’alani.”

“Someplace nice and quiet and away from the spaceport, I hope,” Thalias said. “The first thing Yiv will probably assume is that we’ll try to steal a ship.”

“Indeed he will,” Thrawn agreed.

“So where are we going?”

Thrawn leaned forward, giving her a smile around the edge of his dripping hood. “To the spaceport,” he said. “To steal a ship.”

Thalias had envisioned either a stealthy creep through the warehouse area that filled the ground outside the spaceport security fence, or else a mad dash across that same obstacle course. Both mental scenarios ran into a blank space as she tried to imagine how they would get past the fence itself.

In the end, it was neither the dash nor the sneak. It was, instead, a box.

Not just any box. A box—a large crate, really—sitting with a dozen others near one of the entrance gates. Thrawn took a careful look around as they reached it, then popped one of the side panels open and ushered Thalias inside.

From the size, she’d recognized that the crate would have enough room to comfortably house both of them. What she hadn’t expected was the seats, the supplies of food and water, and even the crude but serviceable, if potentially awkward, bathroom facilities.

“My apologies for the accommodations,” Thrawn said as he sealed them in. There was no lamp, but carefully concealed slits on all four walls admitted both air and light. “I wasn’t sure how quickly we could get here, or whether we would have to dodge or outwait patrols, so I specified our pickup for the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s all right,” Thalias said, looking around. “It beats being a prisoner on a Nikardun ship.”

“Or floating dead in space.”

Thalias winced. “Definitely beats that. You think that’s what Yiv was planning?”

Thrawn shrugged. “He certainly has an abundance of confidence. That would suggest he’d want to interrogate me before my death. On the other hand, we captured one of his ships, and the Nikardun may have a strict code concerning vengeance. I’d need more information before I could determine that.”

“Erring on the side of caution works for me,” Thalias said. “How did you find this crate, anyway?”

“I didn’t find it, I made it,” Thrawn said. “Rather, Defense Overlord Frangelic and I made it. You’ll recall I asked him to bring a shipping container aboard with us?”

“Ah,” Thalias said, remembering now. “You said we’d be using it on the trip back.”

“And so we are,” Thrawn said. “He and I put it together on our journey to Primea, and once we’d learned the Vaks’ shipping protocols we labeled it for transfer.”

“So you’ve done this sort of thing before?”

Thrawn smiled. “Hardly. But it seemed straightforward enough.”

If it works, Thalias thought. “So where are we being shipped to?”

“We’re just going inside the fence,” Thrawn said. “The ship we’re supposed to be delivered to isn’t here yet, but once it arrives it’ll need to make a fast turnaround. The standard Vak pattern under those conditions is to gather all the cargo containers together near the designated landing area so that the loading can go more quickly.”

“Okay,” Thalias said, frowning. “So we’re going to some alien world?”

“Not at all,” Thrawn assured her. “Once we’re through security, we’ll choose our moment and board one of the sentry fighters lined up just inside the fence. They’re designed for long-range patrols, so there should be plenty of room aboard where we can wait for the admiral.”

“And then, what, we just fly up and meet her?”

“Basically,” Thrawn said. “Though there might be a complication or two along the way.”

“Such as if someone else comes aboard and wants to fly it instead of you?”

“If that happens, we’ll invite them to leave.”

“Whether or not they want to go?”

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to hurt anyone,” he assured her. “Your restraint in such things speaks well of you.”

“I just don’t like beating up someone on their own world,” Thalias muttered. “Especially given the Ascendancy’s whole non-intervention policy.”

“That was actually what I was thinking about when I referred to your restraint,” Thrawn said. “Regardless, it won’t be a problem. I have a small aerosol of tava mist, more than enough to fill a fighter craft’s cockpit.”

Thalias frowned. “That’s the sleepwalking drug?”

It was Thrawn’s turn to frown. “Who calls it that?”

“People at my old school,” Thalias explained, rolling her eyes at the memory. “A couple of them let off the stuff in class once just to see everyone act like drooling moon-brains. Hours of harmless fun, I guess.”

“The effect hardly lasts for hours,” Thrawn said. “An hour at the very most. But it is harmless.”

“Unless you’re doing something tricky,” Thalias said. “Like, say, flying a sentry fighter?”

“We’ll ease them outside and away from the fighter long before they get that far,” Thrawn promised. “And I have nostril filters for us so that we won’t be affected.”

“Handy,” Thalias said, eyeing him closely. “Do you normally carry that stuff around with you?”

“It’s always worth taking precautions when facing uncertainties,” Thrawn said. “I knew we’d need to steal a ship, so I planned accordingly. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.”

“Okay,” Thalias said. Personally, she wasn’t feeling all that confident, but she was willing to trust him. “Can I take off this makeup now? This stuff has to weigh half a kilo.”

“It’s closer to a third, actually,” Thrawn corrected. “And no, you’d best let it be. There’s always a chance we’ll be discovered and you’ll need to continue playing your role.”

“Fine,” Thalias said reluctantly. Actually, aside from the weight, she was starting to get used to the contoured hardshell paste. What she hated most about it was the broader idea it represented, and the role of a nervous hostage she had to play while she was wearing it. “So; another day and a half. I don’t suppose you brought a pack of cards.”

“Actually, I did,” Thrawn said. “But I thought we could talk first.”

“About?”

“About why you asked to come aboard the Springhawk.”

A warning bell went off in the back of Thalias’s brain. “I came to take care of Che’ri,” she said cautiously.

“That’s why you were aboard,” Thrawn said. “But it’s not why you asked to come. One of my officers informed me that the Mitth sent you to investigate my performance as the Springhawk’s commander. Is that true?”

Thalias felt her hand squeeze itself into a fist. “I assume that would be Mid Captain Samakro?”

“Does it make a difference where the information came from?”

“It might,” Thalias said. “Did he give a reason for telling you that?”

“Not specifically,” Thrawn said. “I believe he’s concerned about cohesion in the command structure if family matters interfere.”

“That may be what he says,” Thalias said. “But I’m guessing he’s hoping for some of that family interference.”

“To what end?”

“To the end of the Mitth deciding they don’t want you commanding the Springhawk and having the Expansionary Fleet move you somewhere else,” Thalias said. “That would open the way for Samakro to take back command.”

“Your analysis holds several logical flaws,” Thrawn said. “First, the Nine Families don’t dictate military assignments. Second, Mid Captain Samakro has no reason to wish command of the Springhawk. With his experience and capabilities, he’ll surely be offered a more prestigious ship than a mere heavy cruiser.”

“The Springhawk is pretty prestigious,” Thalias told him. “Maybe more than you realize. But even if it wasn’t, the Ufsa family would still want it back. It got taken away from them, and they’re notorious for resenting anything they see as a political backslide.”

“I see,” Thrawn said.

Thalias peered closely at him in the dim light. From the slight frown around his eyes, it was clear that he didn’t see at all. “But to answer your question, no, the Mitth didn’t send me,” she said, picking her words carefully. “In fact, the family fought me the whole way. I was just lucky that I was able to join the ship as a caregiver instead of a family observer.”

“Interesting,” Thrawn said. “Did they give a reason for not wanting you as an observer?”

“They didn’t actually say anything, one way or the other,” Thalias said. “They just kept throwing barriers in my way. New forms I suddenly needed to fill out, new people I had to chase down to approve my request, new people on Csilla or Naporar who had to be brought into the loop. That sort of thing.”

“Perhaps they didn’t think you were qualified to observe,” Thrawn suggested. “Or perhaps there was interference from other families.”

“If there were other families in the mix, I never saw them,” Thalias said sourly. “As for qualifications, I’ve got the full complement of eyes, ears, and brains. What else do I need?”

“That would be a question for the family,” Thrawn said. “But it leads to yet another question. If the family didn’t initiate your arrival, it was your doing. Why?”

Thalias braced herself. She’d hoped to avoid that question completely, but down deep she’d known it would eventually rise up to slap her in the face.

She’d come up with a couple of plausible-sounding lies, and for a moment she was tempted to use one of them. But sitting here, listening to his measured voice, she knew it would be useless. “It’s going to sound stupid,” she warned.

“Noted. Continue.”

She braced herself. “I just wanted to see you again,” she said. “You changed my life, and I…I wanted to see you again, that’s all.”

He frowned at her. “Really. How exactly did I change your life?”

“We met once before,” she said, feeling even more ridiculous. Of course he wouldn’t remember such a minor interaction. “It was a long time ago, when I was finishing my last trip as a sky-walker.”

“Ah, yes,” Thrawn said, still frowning. “Aboard the Tomra, when I was a cadet.”

“That’s right,” Thalias said, breathing a little easier. So he did remember her. That eased at least a little of the awkwardness she was feeling. “Captain Vorlip came in, you talked—”

“And she spun me around to see if I could really feel the ship as I’d claimed.”

“Yes,” Thalias said. “And you impressed her.”

“Did I?”

“Of course,” Thalias said. “She told me afterward that—”

“Because she also sent fifty downmarks ahead of me to Taharim.”

Thalias felt her eyes widen. “She did what? Why?”

“For unauthorized intrusion into the Tomra’s command area,” Thrawn said. “I was three months working them off.”

“But—” Thalias sputtered. “But she was impressed by you.”

“Perhaps as a person she was impressed,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps even as a spacefarer. But as an officer of the Chiss Ascendancy, she had a duty to enforce regulations.”

“But it was an honest mistake.”

“Intent and motivations are irrelevant,” Thrawn said. “Judgment can focus only on actions.”

“I suppose,” Thalias murmured, her gut twisting inside her. So his memory of her would always be linked to an unpleasant episode in his career. Wonderful.

“How exactly did our meeting change your life?”

Thalias sighed. The last thing she wanted was to keep talking about it. But she’d decided to tell the truth, and there was no way out of it now. “You gave me hope,” she said. The words sounded a lot sillier when she said them aloud than they had when they were just bouncing around inside her head. “I mean…I was thirteen. I thought my life was over. You told me I’d find a new path, and that I could choose how things worked out.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said, his voice thoughtful. Not sympathetic, not encouraging, not even really responsive. Just thoughtful.

Thalias had thought about this moment for a long time. She’d wondered what he would say, what she would say, and if it would open up new vistas for her life and her future.

And now nothing. He was thoughtful. Just thoughtful.

She closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere else in the galaxy. She should never, never have started down this path in the first place.

“I had an older sister,” Thrawn said, his voice almost too soft for her to hear. “She was five when she disappeared. My parents would never tell me where she went.”

Thalias opened her eyes again. He was still sitting there in the gloom, still looking thoughtful.

But now there was something new in his eyes. A distant, well-hidden, but lingering pain. “How old were you?” she asked.

“Three,” Thrawn said. “For a long time I assumed she’d died, and that I would never see her again. It wasn’t until I reached bridge officer rank that I was finally told about the sky-walkers, and realized what must have happened to her.” He gave her a small smile, tinged with the same distant sadness. “And I’ll still never see her again.”

“You might,” Thalias said, moved by an obscure desire to comfort him. “There have to be records somewhere.”

“I’m sure there are,” Thrawn said. “But most sky-walkers want to disappear into obscurity after they finish their service, and the Ascendancy’s long had a practice of honoring those wishes.” He lifted a hand. “We all have regrets, however, just as we have hopes that will never be fulfilled. The key to a satisfying life is to accept those things that cannot be changed, and make a positive difference with those that can.”

“Yes,” Thalias said. But just because something couldn’t be changed didn’t mean a person shouldn’t hammer away at it anyway. Secrets could sometimes be brought to light, and even Thrawn could be wrong.

“In the meantime, we have time to rest and think out our future strategy,” Thrawn continued, pulling a pack of cards from his pocket. “You can choose the first game.”