Thrawn Ascendancy Book I: Chaos Rising

MEMORIES X

Recruitment duty, Aristocra Zistalmu reflected as he awaited his visitor, was among the most tedious of tasks a family member could be assigned. Tedious, and usually frustrating. Most of the time, the recruiter didn’t even know why that particular person had been chosen.

In this case, at least, Zistalmu knew exactly why Mitth’raw’nuru had been chosen. And he wondered if the Irizi family had gone completely mad.

The expected tap came at the door, at precisely the specified time. “Come,” Zistalmu called.

The panel slid open. “Senior Commander Mitth’raw’nuru, reporting as requested,” his visitor said formally as he stepped into the room.

“Senior Commander Thrawn,” Zistalmu said, nodding and gesturing to the chair in front of him. “I’m Aristocra Irizi’stal’mustro.”

“Aristocra Zistalmu,” Thrawn said, nodding in return as he lowered himself into the indicated chair. “I was surprised to receive your invitation.”

“Yes,” Zistalmu said, keeping his voice neutral. “I understand you briefly visited the Irizi family homestead a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “I don’t recall seeing you there.”

“Sadly, the press of Syndicure business prevented me from being at the event,” Zistalmu said. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself over the past few years.”

“Sometimes that name is appended to a curse.”

At least he recognized how polarizing his career and he himself were. Zistalmu hadn’t been sure the man was even that self-aware. “Sometimes people don’t appreciate your talents and skills,” he said. “I understand you’ve had some problems with certain members of the Mitth family.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I understood that the family still supports me.”

“Perhaps,” Zistalmu said, the bitter taste of resentment in his mouth. Why the Irizi family wanted this man was beyond him, and why they’d saddled him with the recruitment was even more opaque. But he’d been given the job, and there was nothing he could do but see it through. “I simply note that those who feel your exploits reflect badly on the family aren’t reluctant to say so.”

“I’m sorry they’re displeased,” Thrawn said. “At the same time, I have to fulfill my duties to the Expansionary Defense Fleet to the best of my ability.”

“I don’t disagree,” Zistalmu said. “But I’ve asked you here to assure you that, whether or not the Mitth recognize your dedication, the Irizi family certainly does.”

“Thank you,” Thrawn said, inclining his head. “Though given the tensions between our two families, I doubt your support will help my position.”

“I believe the Irizi family was thinking of helping your position more directly.”

A frown creased Thrawn’s forehead. “How?”

Mentally, Zistalmu shook his head. In the military realm, Thrawn had demonstrated a fair degree of insight and tactical ability. But in the political realm, he might as well have been dropped straight out of the sky. “I’m suggesting that you detach from the Mitth,” he said, “and accept a position instead with the Irizi.”

“A position as merit adoptive?”

“Not at all,” Zistalmu said, bracing himself. This was the most odious part of the whole offer. “That may be good enough for the Mitth, but not the Irizi. We’re prepared to offer you the position of Trial-born.”

“That’s…very interesting,” Thrawn said, clearly taken aback. “I…that’s extremely generous.”

“It’s no more than you deserve,” Zistalmu said. That had caught his attention, all right. A merit adoptive brought in via military service automatically lost the relationship when that service ended. A Trial-born not only kept the connection but if deemed worthy could advance to the status of ranking distant, where his bloodline would thereafter be incorporated into the family’s. “And of course, coming in at that status means you wouldn’t ever need to go through the Trials themselves. Your exemplary service has apparently been deemed an adequate substitute.”

“I’m both honored and humbled,” Thrawn said. “I’m not certain how my detachment from the Mitth would benefit the Irizi.”

“It would serve in many ways,” Zistalmu said. “Our overall presence in the military—well, that’s a political matter. Nothing you need concern yourself with. Let’s just say that we can always use another distinguished high-ranking military officer, and the Irizi believe you’re the best choice.”

“I see,” Thrawn said, nodding slowly, his forehead creased in thought.

Zistalmu held his breath. If this worked—if Thrawn accepted the offer—then it would be finished. The Irizi would have him, and the Mitth wouldn’t.

Whether the Irizi would someday regret that was of course another question. But that was their problem. All Zistalmu needed to focus on was how a successful recruitment here and now—whether he agreed with it or not—would raise his own name and prestige within the family.

“I appreciate your interest,” Thrawn said. “But I can’t make a decision without further thought.”

“Think as long as you wish,” Zistalmu said, keeping his face neutral, struggling to balance the mix of annoyance, regret, and relief. Was Thrawn really such a fool that he couldn’t see how immensely valuable this move would be? “Just bear in mind that if you delay too long, some other up-and-coming officer might catch the family’s eye instead.”

“I understand,” Thrawn said. “Thank you for your time, and for your offer.” He stood to go, then paused. “Your comment about distinguished high-ranking officers. It occurs to me that you already have one such in your family: Senior Captain Ziara.”

“Yes, we do,” Zistalmu said ruefully. “But not, I’m afraid, for much longer.”

“Senior Captain Irizi’ar’alani,” Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk intoned. “Stand forth.”

This was it. Bracing herself, trying to keep her breathing steady, Ziara stepped forward into the center of the floodlit circle facing Ja’fosk and the other two senior officers.

“State your name,” Ja’fosk said in that same death-knell tone.

“Senior Captain Irizi’ar’alani,” Ziara said. Was he trying to be intimidating, she wondered, or was that merely a side effect of his ultra-formal voice?

“That person no longer exists,” Ja’fosk said. “That name no longer exists. You are no longer of Irizi. You are no longer of any family.”

Ziara held his gaze, a knot in her stomach. She’d known this moment was coming for the past week, and had anticipated it for much longer. But even with all that mental preparation, it was an unexpectedly emotional moment. Unlike many Irizi, she’d been born into the family, with no merit challenges, rematches, or Trials to pass. She was a full-blood daughter, with all the privileges and honor that position bestowed.

But not anymore.

“The Ascendancy is your family,” Ja’fosk continued. “The Ascendancy is your home. The Ascendancy is your future.

“The Ascendancy is your life.”

Ziara had heard those words many times over the past week as she practiced for the ceremony. But not until this moment, hearing them spoken in Ja’fosk’s stentorian voice, did they seem real. The Ascendancy is your life.

But really, hadn’t it always been so? Once she made the decision to join the Defense Force, hadn’t she effectively surrendered her future to the greater good of her people?

And having offered her life, was it such a loss to offer also her ties to her family?

“Senior Captain Irizi’ar’alani is no more,” Ja’fosk said. He reached to the table behind him and picked up a flat box. “In her place”—he held the box toward her—“now stands Commodore Ar’alani.”

Bracing herself, Ziara stepped forward and took the box. Through the transparent lid she saw that it was her new commodore’s uniform, blazing white instead of the black one she’d worn throughout her entire career. The insignia pins were already in place on the collar, and where the Irizi family shoulder patch would have been was the multi-circle symbol of the Chiss Ascendancy.

“Do you accept this uniform and this new life?” Ja’fosk asked.

Ziara took a deep breath. No; not Ziara. Not anymore. “I do,” Ar’alani said.

Ja’fosk bowed his head…and as he did so, Ar’alani thought she detected a small, slightly bittersweet smile.

Remembering, perhaps, when he himself had stood in her place. And had lost his own family.

Ar’alani’s promotion celebration party was winding down, and the crowds of well-wishers had dwindled to a lingering few, when Thrawn finally made his appearance.

“Congratulations, Commodore,” he said, inclining his head to her. “You’ll remember I said you’d be here one day.”

“Actually, as I recall, you suggested I’d someday make admiral,” Ar’alani reminded him. “I still have a ways to go.”

“You’ll make it,” Thrawn said. “I understand you’ve been assigned the Destrama and Picket Force Six.”

“I have,” Ar’alani confirmed. “I’ve also requested that you be made my first officer.”

“Really,” Thrawn said, clearly surprised. “I thought your babysitting duties had ended.”

“You think you were aboard the Parala because General Ba’kif wanted me to look after you?”

“I think it was more a matter of wanting you to make sure I didn’t go off the edge.” Thrawn paused. “Again.”

“There may have been a bit of that,” Ar’alani conceded. “But that’s not really relevant. I asked for you because you’re a good officer.” She smiled faintly. “I also suspect there’ll be a promotion for you somewhere along the way.”

“Thank you,” Thrawn said. “I’ll try not to make you regret your decision.” He hesitated. “I’m in need of advice, Commodore, if you have a moment to spare.”

“For you, what moments I can’t spare I’ll make,” she said, glancing past his shoulder. None of the other guests were close enough to hear. “And when it’s just the two of us, it can just be Thrawn and Ar’alani.”

He gave a sort of hesitant smile. “Thank you. That’s…I’m honored.”

She smiled back. “So. What do you need?”

“I was recently approached by one of the Irizi,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “He said that some of the Mitth are unhappy with me, and may try to have me released.”

Ar’alani’s first instinct was to deflect the conversation elsewhere. Family politics were always a touchy subject.

But she didn’t have any family politics. Not anymore. “What was his name?”

“Aristocra Irizi’stal’mustro.”

Ar’alani nodded. “Zistalmu. Never met him, but I know of him. Let me guess: He thought you should request to join the Irizi instead?”

“Actually, his tone and phrasings suggested that the rematching was already a given,” Thrawn said. “There was certainly no mention of interviews or other barriers to my acceptance. He also suggested I would be a Trial-born instead of a merit adoptive.”

“Interesting,” Ar’alani said. “You say all this was suggested, but not stated outright?”

“There wasn’t any formal invitation, if that’s what you mean.”

“It is.” Ar’alani pursed her lips, her gaze drifting around the room. The two Irizi who’d been here earlier were long gone, with only a few of the minor families still represented. “Okay, here’s the relevant history. The Irizi have always been strong supporters of the military, particularly the Defense Force. They like having family in the upper ranks—feel it buys them additional prestige, which is of course one of the currencies among the Aristocra.”

“Prestige is a currency?”

“Of a sort,” Ar’alani said. “There are a whole lot of things that factor into a family’s position and power. Some of them are financial or historical; others are more nebulous, like prestige and reputation.”

“I see,” Thrawn said, though Ar’alani was pretty sure from his expression that he didn’t. “What does this have to do with the Mitth and me?”

“The Mitth are overall in a stronger position than the Irizi, at least at the moment,” Ar’alani said. “Over the past few years, the Mitth have also tried to cut into the Irizi military strength by recruiting promising cadets and officers.”

“Such as me?”

“Very likely,” Ar’alani said. “It was clear all the way back at the Academy that you had a strong career ahead of you. The point is that, perhaps a bit belatedly, the Irizi have recognized your potential and are hoping to steal you from the Mitth.”

“Do you think he was right about the Mitth wanting to rematch me?”

Ar’alani shook her head. “Impossible to say. I don’t have a feel for Mitth politics and structure the way I do with the Irizi. I’d guess that if you can avoid doing anything…controversial…in the future, you should be all right. Merit adoptives are always on probation until they’ve proved themselves. But once they do, and once they’ve passed the Trials, they’ll hold a much more secure status. And of course, if and when you’re elevated to ranking distant, you’ll be largely untouchable.”

“I see,” Thrawn said. “Yet if the Irizi are more military-minded, would they perhaps not be a better family for me?”

Ar’alani hesitated. No family. No family. “In all honesty, I’ve never been comfortable with the way the Irizi dominate Defense Force personnel. I know we’re supposed to ignore family identity as we serve, but we’ve all seen rivalries bleed over into conversation and even duty assignments.”

“So you’d recommend I stay with the Mitth?”

“That’s a decision you have to make for yourself,” Ar’alani said. “Being blood of the Irizi was very good for my career, and the family’s done the same for many others. But what was good for me may not be good for you.”

“I understand,” Thrawn said. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

“You’re welcome.” Ar’alani dared a smile. “And not just one, you know. I like to think I contributed my small bit to keeping you in the academy over that cheating charge.”

“Your contribution was far larger than you perhaps remember,” Thrawn assured her. “And your assistance has hardly been limited to the distant past. I never properly thanked you for your support in the aftermath of the Stivic incident.”

“My support was completely unnecessary,” Ar’alani said, looking him squarely in the eye. “The Garwians have stated on the record that it was Security Officer Frangelic who spotted the weakness of the pirates’ tactics and found a way to exploit it. From the way they were raving about him, he’s probably been promoted by now.”

“And he richly deserves whatever accolades he’s received.”

“Agreed.” Ar’alani cocked her head. “Just out of curiosity, I looked into it afterward, and I couldn’t find an obvious way to tie a comm into a ranging laser.”

“There isn’t,” Thrawn said. “But there’s a spot where a questis can be linked for data downloading and analysis.”

“And connectors like that can usually run either direction,” Ar’alani said, nodding. “So you tied your questis into the laser’s frequency-modulation option and used voice-to-script?”

“Just script,” Thrawn said. “If there was an inquiry afterward, having a voice recording would narrow the search a bit too much.”

Ar’alani nodded again. “The Garwians owe you. I hope they realize that.”

“I didn’t do it for their gratitude,” Thrawn said, sounding a bit surprised that Ar’alani would even think of it in those terms. “I did it for the good of their people, and for all who would otherwise have faced those same attackers.”

“A high-minded goal,” Ar’alani said. “I wish the Ascendancy appreciated it more.”

Thrawn smiled. “Nor did I do it for our gratitude.”

“Indeed.” Again, Ar’alani looked over his shoulder. Still six people lingering, but they were engrossed in conversation with one another and would never miss her. “Tell you what. Let’s go someplace a little quieter, and you can buy me a celebratory drink.”

She touched his arm. “And while we drink,” she said, “you can tell me all the other goals you have that the Ascendancy will pretend not to be grateful for.”