Thrawn_Alliances_Star Wars

by Timothy Zahn

  And then, to Kimmund’s complete lack of surprise, Rukh popped back into sight, his electrostaff still pressed against the last Grysk’s throat.

  Kimmund did a quick scan of the room behind the crumpled remains of the Grysk defense. It was a control area of some sort, its walls lined with consoles marked with curved arcs and circles of subdued light. In the center, half hidden behind a large console, a pair of blue-skinned Chiss girls were peeking anxiously toward him. There were no other hatches he could see in the compartment, and no more Grysk. “I thought your gadget was out of juice,” he said as he stepped over the alien bodies and strode toward the children.

  “That was what I wanted you to think,” Rukh said, falling into step beside him. Kimmund sniffed, a whiff of burning skin making its way through his air system. Apparently, despite his attempt to keep the Noghri clear of the shooting by ordering head shots from his soldiers, Rukh had caught the edge of one of the blaster bolts. “As I likewise wanted any Grysks monitoring our progress to assume.”

  “Nicely done,” Kimmund said, glancing at him. Now that he was looking, he could see a slight limp in the Noghri’s right leg that hadn’t been there before. “You okay?”

  “I can travel,” Rukh said.

  “Traveling without getting gunned down would be nice, too,” Kimmund pointed out. The two children had stood up, but were still half hidden behind the console, as if that offered any real protection. “It’s all right,” he called to them. “We’re friends. Grand Admiral Thrawn sent us to rescue you.”

  Not even a flicker of a response. Clearly, this pair didn’t understand Basic, either. “Come with us,” Kimmund tried again anyway, beckoning them toward him. “Come on, we don’t have all—”

  Abruptly, both girls’ glowing red eyes widened. One of them half turned and jabbed a finger toward a section of wall between two consoles. Kimmund shifted his gaze, frowning as he followed her finger—

  A hidden gunport suddenly opened and the muzzle of a lightning gun poked through.

  Cursing, Kimmund swung his E-11 toward the gunport. But Sampa was already on it. Even as the lightning gun tracked toward the three stormtroopers he sent two blaster shots into the opening. The lightning gun jerked, pointed briefly at the ceiling, then slid out of sight.

  Kimmund turned back to the Chiss, to see the other girl point suddenly at the wall behind her. This time, Kimmund made sure his blaster was lined up with the gunport when it began to open, firing through it before the Grysk could even get his own weapon into position.

  “They see the future,” Rukh grated.

  “So they do,” Kimmund said, his lips curling back from his teeth in a macabre grin. “So they do.” He beckoned again. “Come on, kids. We’re getting out of here.”

  He pointed at the two gunports. “And you are going to point out every attack before it happens. Got it?”

  He held out his hand. Hesitantly, the two girls came out from behind the console. One of them looked at the outstretched hand…

  “Show them you’re human,” Elebe suggested.

  Holstering his E-11, Kimmund pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his left arm. “See?” he said, giving the girls his best smile. “Not a Grysk. Not even a droid. Human.” Once again, he held out his hand.

  This time, the girl reached out and took it. “Move out,” Kimmund ordered quietly, offering the second girl his other hand. “Drav and Morrtic at point; Chiss girls behind them, Elebe and Sampa behind them, Rukh and me at the rear. Vanguard and rear guard’s job is to block any attack on the girls; Elebe and Sampa’s job is to have blasters lined up wherever the girls point. Let’s go.”

  And as they maneuvered their way down the corridors, and the increasingly panicky Grysk attacks were steadily fought off or blocked practically before they could even be launched, a stray thought whispered through Kimmund’s mind.

  He could really, really get used to this kind of combat.

  * * *

  —

  “Commander Kimmund, Admiral,” Kimmund’s voice came in Vader’s helmet. “The Chiss prisoners have been recovered; Imperial forces have returned to the Darkhawk.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Thrawn’s voice came in response. A cool voice, Vader noted, a voice that was neither surprised nor impressed by the First Legion’s success.

  Because that was, after all, simply what Thrawn had ordered and expected them to do. “And now the Grysks have lost the ability to navigate across unfamiliar regions.”

  “Do you want us to destroy the ship before we leave it, sir?” Kimmund asked.

  “Unnecessary,” Thrawn said. “It is sufficiently disabled to keep it from further combat, and I have need of the Darkhawk’s resources elsewhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kimmund said. “Casting off now.”

  “Well done, Commander,” Thrawn continued. “And now, Lord Vader, you may prepare for your attack. The enemy believe themselves superior to Imperial forces. Let us prove them wrong.”

  “We shall,” Vader promised. “Defender Squadron: Form up on me.”

  And so the children were safe. Force-sensitive Chiss children, alive and well.

  Mentally, Vader shook his head. All those private meetings. All those secret conversations. All his personal misgivings about what Thrawn and the Emperor were doing.

  But he realized now that he had nothing to fear. Thrawn’s loyalties would always be split between the Empire and his own people, a fact the Emperor undoubtedly knew. No matter how high Thrawn rose in the ranks of the military, he would never have the necessary standing to challenge Vader’s position at the Emperor’s side.

  “Lord Vader, you will lead the Defender squadron as Wave Three,” Thrawn continued. “You will match speed and firepower with the TIEs, and you will not use missiles or shields until cleared to do so.”

  “Acknowledged,” Vader said. Captain Skerris had argued long and hard against that part of the plan. Long enough, and hard enough, that Vader would have sent him to his knees had the man been under his command.

  Thrawn had been more patient and forgiving. Briefly, Vader wondered if the pilot’s attitude would someday come back against him.

  “All TIEs: Attack,” Thrawn ordered. “Take out the cruisers and engage Bogey Two.”

  “Acknowledge,” the TIE commander said. “All right, Imperials. Grand Admiral Thrawn wants to see carnage. Let’s make some.”

  The TIEs leapt forward, sweeping toward the Grysk ships at full power. Vader let the first two waves pass, then drew his Defender squadron in behind them.

  The first attack had been a test, a free shot Thrawn had offered the Grysks in order to confirm his analysis of their tactics. This time the enemy was going to have to work a lot harder for prizes. Even as the cruisers opened fire, the TIEs veered off their vectors, swerving to the sides and re-forming in pairs to swarm the cruisers.

  And every attack the cruisers launched was at the leading fighter of each pair.

  Vader nodded to himself. So Thrawn had been right about the Grysks’ tactical pattern. Now, with the cruisers fully engaged, it was time to see whether or not they could change that pattern.

  “Defenders; TIE Four: Follow me,” he ordered. Sweeping up and over the cruisers, he drove his Defender out of the battle and turned toward Bogey Two, the lead Grysk ship. Around him, the other Defenders arranged themselves into a broadside as the fourth TIE squadron swept through their formation and formed up in front of them.

  “Admiral?” Vader called.

  “I place the Defenders under your command, my lord,” Thrawn said. “You may act on your own discretion.”

  Once, Vader reflected, he might have considered that an off-handed comment, a veiled hint that this part of the mission wasn’t important enough for the grand admiral to bother with personally.

  But having watched Thrawn’s interactions with Co
mmodore Faro, and having heard him give her an almost identical order, he knew now that wasn’t the case. What Thrawn was telling Vader was that he trusted him to command that part of the operation.

  Whether a Chiss’s trust for a Sith Lord was a subtle insult wasn’t really the point. And Vader didn’t think any insult was intended, anyway. The Jedi had seen enough of Thrawn’s style and way of speaking to understand that that was simply how he was.

  “Very well, Admiral,” he said. “TIE Four: Prepare to veer off. Defenders, prepare to raise shields and go to full speed.”

  Bogey Two was looming ahead. This time the larger ship didn’t wait until the TIEs were nearly to their own range before opening fire. Their lasers lashed out—

  “Veer off!” Vader snapped. “Evasive and attack. Defenders, mark gunports.”

  Bogey Two fired again, and again, and again. The TIEs swept over and past, dodging the lasers and returning fire as best and as accurately as they could. Two more were hit, disintegrating into flaming debris. Vader gave the Grysks one more volley—

  And as that final blaze of laserfire lanced out from the big ship, he finally had all the data he needed. “TIEs: Pull back,” he ordered. “Defenders: shields and full power. Go!” He keyed the shields and pulled the throttle all the way back.

  A Dark Lord of the Sith never gasped in surprise. But if Vader had been anything else, he would have. Certainly The Jedi would have reacted as he was jammed back into his seat. Only in Vader’s prototype TIE Advanced x1 had he ever felt such power in a fighter before, or the incredible balance between speed and nimbleness. A laser burst blazed straight at him—

  It sizzled into nothingness, its only effect being a brief wave of luminosity flickering around the edge of the Defender’s shield.

  And with that, Vader knew they had won.

  “All Defenders: Attack,” he ordered. “Clear out the gun emplacements. TIE Four, form up again and move into the spots we’ve cleared. Darkhawk, come in behind TIE Four: Concentrate on anything that looks like a cruiser or fighter hatch. If there are other enemy ships, I want them to remain inside.”

  He took a deep breath, listening to the chorus of acknowledgments. The feel of a fighter; the thrill and burden and satisfaction of command…

  But those were The Jedi’s memories. Not his.

  Another laser bolt splashed off his shields. Arming a missile, he sent it into the center of the emplacement. A flare of fire and debris blew into space. He armed a second missile, chose his target, and fired.

  And then, right at the edge of the Defender’s sensors, back behind the main Grysk warships, Vader spotted another ship: small, courier-sized, unlike any of the configurations he’d yet seen.

  Doing its best to sneak away.

  He looked back at the battle. Among the Chimaera, Darkhawk, Defenders, and standard TIEs, the Grysks were minutes from defeat, their defenses crumbling in front of him. From this point on, Vader and his fighter would neither add to nor detract from that inevitability.

  Turning his Defender onto an intercept course, he set off in pursuit.

  Someone from the Chimaera called his name, once, then a second, more urgent time. He ignored both hails. The mystery ship had spotted him now, but instead of turning to engage it increased its speed, heading toward deep space. The Defender slowly but steadily closed the gap…

  But the timing was too short, the other ship’s lead too big. Long before Vader reached firing distance the ship escaped into hyperspace.

  For a long moment, Vader gazed at the spot where it had disappeared, the possibilities and implications churning together through his mind. Then, turning the Defender around, he headed back toward the battle.

  The Imperials would win the day…and then he and Thrawn would have a talk. A very long, very serious talk.

  * * *

  —

  “Bogey Two fully engaged,” Faro reported. Her voice holds new confidence, and her stance holds eagerness. “Bogey One is pulling back.”

  “Acknowledged, Commodore,” Thrawn said. “Move the Chimaera to attack Bogey One. Maintain distance from Bogey Two.”

  “Because as long as the TIEs are attacking Bogey Two, they’re its main threat,” Faro murmured. Her voice holds understanding.

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said. “You wondered earlier how we would defeat two ships nearly as large as ours. You now have an answer?”

  “Yes, sir,” Faro said. Her voice holds grim anticipation. “We persuade them to let us take them on one at a time.”

  “Very good,” Thrawn said. “Move the Chimaera into position, and commence attack.”

  “Defender Four, there is an emplacement to starboard of the weapon Defender Six destroyed,” Vader’s voice came over the speaker. The voice is different, but it holds the same intensity and focus. The word patterns are different, but the cadence and intonation are the same. The brashness has abated, but the firm sense of loyalty is the same.

  “Sir?” Faro asked tentatively.

  “Yes, Commodore?”

  “Sorry, sir.” Faro’s voice holds apology and concern. “The way you were looking out at Bogey One…are you all right, sir?”

  “I am,” Thrawn said. “I was pondering the problem of mixed loyalties, and the decisions one must sometimes make. Lieutenant Lomar, hail the Grysks.”

  “Yes, sir.” The comm officer’s voice holds no confusion or concern. But he is not as astute as Commodore Faro. “Ready, Admiral.”

  “Grysk war vessel, this is Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Thrawn said in Meese Caulf. “You are hereby delivered notice to return to your homeworlds and abandon your ambitions to extend your rule beyond your borders. If you continue in these endeavors, be assured that you will be defeated and destroyed.”

  There is no response. But the Grysk silence holds anger and malice.

  “End transmission,” he said in Basic.

  “Sir?” Faro’s voice holds caution. “May I ask…?”

  “I gave my name, and warned them to cease operations against us,” Thrawn said.

  “Ah.” Faro’s expression holds confusion. “I assume you’re not expecting them to listen?”

  “The survivors of this battle may take the warning to heart,” Thrawn said. “Their masters, unfortunately, will not.”

  “I see.” Faro looks out the viewport. Her stance and expression hold determination. “Well, then, when they come for us we’ll beat them, too.”

  Vader’s Defender continues to sweep around Bogey Two, alternating between missile and laser cannon fire. He spins the fighter in a tight curve and heads back toward another target, doing a complete roll as he does so. It is a familiar maneuver, carried out with a familiar precision.

  It is he.

  Without warning, he veers off, heading from the battle zone toward an escaping ship. TIE control calls to him once, then twice, but is ignored. The configuration of the ship Vader is pursuing…

  “I admire your confidence, Commodore,” Thrawn said. “Let us hope that confidence is not unwarranted.”

  “Yes, sir,” Faro said. “But I’m not concerned. We have you, and we have Lord Vader. Whatever the Grysks throw at us, we can take it.” She straightens up, her determination increasing. “Starting with this group right here. Turbolasers: You saw where the Bogey Two gunports were. Start by targeting the same positions on Bogey One.”

  The cortosis miners who shuffled back to the surface at LebJau’s order were, for the most part, fearful or angry or just hesitant. But they did come out, all of them. They filed past LebJau, Thrawn, and Padmé, throwing glances at Anakin as he moved back and forth between the equipment sheds collecting the tools and explosives necessary for destroying the mine. A few of the miners tried to ask LebJau what was going on, or to accuse him of collaborating with their oppressors.

  But for the most part, their anger or fear quickly
faded into a weary resignation.

  “I don’t think General Skywalker has thought this through,” Thrawn murmured to Padmé as the final group of miners walked past and headed toward the battered vehicles in the parking area. His expression was uneasy, and Padmé could hear the disapproval beneath the tone. “It would be better to allow the Separatists to waste their resources than to force them to look elsewhere.”

  “I agree,” Padmé said, feeling a twinge of guilt with each dejected-looking miner who passed. “But I’ve seen Anakin in this mood.” She looked sideways at him. “I’m guessing you have, too.”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said. “But he has feelings for you. Can you not persuade him to rethink this action?”

  “What do you mean?” Padmé asked, the all-too-familiar mix of innocence and disclaimer springing reflexively to her lips.

  “I understand your reticence,” Thrawn said. “But the time for that has passed. I’ve observed you both, and I know what you’re hiding. General Skywalker’s plan could create a serious threat to this world. You must stop him.”

  Padmé shook her head, her thoughts flashing back to that terrible day, that terrible frozen moment when Anakin had confessed his slaughter of the Sand People. “He won’t listen to me,” she said, blinking back tears. “Once he’s decided something, he won’t listen to anyone.”

  Thrawn was silent a moment. “Then there’s indeed nothing we can do.”

  Padmé looked at him. There’d been something new in his voice. “Is there a problem?” she asked. “I mean, another problem?”

  “There is no problem,” Thrawn said. “But my task here is complete. If you’ll again loan me your communicator, I’ll take leave of you and your”—he glanced at Anakin—“your associate.”

  “Of course,” Padmé said, slipping off her backpack. She dug out her comm and handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” he said, keying it on and tapping out a short code. “This has been an interesting experience, Ambassador Padmé. I trust that both our peoples have gained from our brief alliance.”