by Timothy Zahn
“Yes, Governor,” the receptionist said. “Oh, and you got another message about two hours ago from a Juahir Madras.”
Arihnda froze. “Juahir Madras?”
“Yes, Governor, from the Oovo Four detention center. She’s written, oh, about twenty of these messages over the past year or so. I send them on, but your Lothal office always turns them back. Do you want to take them with you now?”
Arihnda took a deep breath. Juahir Madras. Her old friend. Her old, traitorous friend. “No, keep them here,” she said. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to read them.”
The soldier in the field and the crew member aboard a warship inevitably see a war from a limited perspective. Their goal is to carry out their mission or their appointed task, and trust that their commanders are aware of the larger situation and the vast matrix of facts, positions, options, and dangers. Leadership is a role and a task that should never be aspired to lightly. Neither should loyalty be given without reason. Even if the primary reason is nothing more than the soldier’s oath and duty, a true leader will work to prove worthy of a deeper trust.
But leadership and loyalty are both two-bladed weapons. Each can be twisted from its intended purpose. The consequences are never pleasant.
—
“Persuade them if you can,” Fleet Admiral Jok Donassius said, his face on the holo grim and angry. “Devastate them if you have to. But stop them, one way or another. And stop them fast.”
“Understood, Fleet Admiral,” Thrawn said, his voice steady and cool. A lot steadier, Eli thought, and a lot cooler than he himself was feeling right now.
And from the expressions he could see on the rest of the Chimaera’s bridge crew, he wasn’t alone in his misgivings.
Small wonder. It hadn’t been all that long since the Separatist crisis sparked the bloody devastation of the Clone Wars. Billions had died in that conflict, with hundreds of planets all but destroyed and thousands more still clawing their way up from the brink. The last thing the galaxy could afford was a repeat of that horror.
But Governor Quesl and the people of Botajef were apparently ready to give it a try.
Thrawn and Donassius finished their conversation, and the holo blanked. For a moment Thrawn continued to gaze at the empty projector, as if pondering the orders he’d just received. Then, lifting his head a few centimeters, he turned to face his senior officers. “Commander Faro, instruct the helm to lay in a course for Botajef,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir.” Faro looked over at the helmsman—who was, Eli noted, already watching her closely—and lifted a finger. The helmsman nodded back and turned to his board. “On course for Botajef, Commodore,” Faro confirmed.
“Thank you.” Thrawn looked around the group. “Comments? Senior Lieutenant Pyrondi?”
“With all due respect, sir, I think they’re crazy,” Weapons Officer Pyrondi said, a bit hesitantly. As the newest addition to the Chimaera’s bridge officer corps, she was still getting used to Thrawn’s unique style of open tactical consultation. “Do they really think they can secede from the Empire all by themselves?”
“Who says they are all by themselves?” Faro countered soberly. “There’s a lot of unrest out there in the galaxy, and it’s growing.”
“Though it’s mostly just grumbling,” Eli said.
“So far,” Faro said pointedly. “But who’s to say Quesl hasn’t got a hundred other systems quietly backing him, all of them just waiting to see how far he gets before making independence proclamations of their own?”
“Not far is exactly where he’s going to get,” Pyrondi said. “I mean, seriously, ma’am? We’ve got enough firepower here to carve our initials into Botajef’s bedrock.”
“A fact Governor Quesl is undoubtedly aware of,” Thrawn said. “What then does he hope to gain by his words of defiance?”
“That’s the question, sir,” Faro agreed. “If he’s the representative for a lot of other systems, just slapping him down won’t necessarily solve the problem. It might even exacerbate it. If he’s alone”—she gestured to Pyrondi—“then Lieutenant Pyrondi is very likely right. The man is crazy.”
“Though if he is, he’s picked a great place to show it off,” Pyrondi said. “I’ve met a few Jefies in my life. They’re the best followers in the world. You persuade them you’re their leader, and they’ll follow you anywhere. And even with all the immigration over the past century they’re still a solid eighty-five percent of the planetary population.”
“Yet they didn’t complain about Coruscant appointing a human governor over them?” Eli asked.
“Like I said, sir, they’re followers,” Pyrondi said. “Prove you’re a leader, and they’re there. Quesl must have proved it, and then some.”
“That is my reading of the Jefies, as well,” Thrawn agreed. “Which suggests that the best strategy may be to create a new leader for them.”
“Assuming they’re just blindly following Quesl, sir, and haven’t bought into this secession thing themselves,” Pyrondi warned. “You get a group of Jefi true believers, and they may not need a leader to tell them what to do. There’s a lot we don’t know about them.”
“Then we should learn,” Thrawn said. “Commander Faro, how long until we reach Botajef?”
Faro checked her datapad. “Approximately fifteen hours, sir.”
“I’ll be in my quarters,” Thrawn said. “You have the bridge, Commander Faro. I want the Chimaera fully ready for combat fourteen hours from now.”
“It will be, Commodore,” Faro said grimly, and in her eyes Eli could see the flickering, burning memories of her own Clone Wars experiences. “Count on it.”
—
The history of Botajef was one of long periods of passive allegiance, followed by brief episodes of often fiery conflict, followed by new leadership and another era of passive allegiance.
Jefi art followed that same pattern: curves interrupted by stark lines or sharp angles, with a color palette mirroring the group emotional and ethical spectrum. Sculpts were low-contrast, perhaps indicating that the Jefies themselves recognized the shortcomings in their cultural matrix. In contrast, the hanging tressiles, with their quick-dampening balances, indicated they also recognized the basic stability of their political system.
“Commodore?” Vanto’s voice came.
“Enter.”
Vanto crossed the floor, passing through the holograms. “Jefi art?”
“Yes.”
“Nice,” Vanto said, his gaze moving between the pieces. “A bit jagged for my taste, but nice. I came to inform you, Commodore, that we’re two hours from Botajef and the Chimaera is ready for battle.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Thrawn said. “You seem troubled. Are you concerned about the upcoming confrontation?”
“I am,” Vanto said. “But probably not in the way everyone else is. I’m concerned that we were given this assignment because certain people are trying to set you up.”
“Have you any evidence for this?”
“No evidence, but plenty of logic,” Vanto said. “We know there are government officials who don’t like you, many of whom also dislike nonhumans in general. So now we have a largely nonhuman world proclaiming independence, with a hefty system defense fleet to back it up. The two most likely outcomes are, first, that you’ll stomp the Jefies into the dirt; or, second, that the Botajef Defense Force will overwhelm us and chase us out of the system.”
“Fortunately, there are more than just those options.”
“I hope so,” Vanto said. “Because in my first scenario Coruscant can paint you as the mad alien run amok who stomped a world of innocent Jefies and humans who were just obeying their appointed leader. In the second scenario, you get painted as incompetent and they kick you down to commanding an ore carrier.”
“Interesting that you should choose that example,” Thrawn said. The Jefi art holos vanished, replaced by a map of the Empire. “Do you recall the position Captain Filia Rossi held before commanding the Blood C
row?”
“First officer on an ore freighter escort, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “I’m aware that you and some of the others had reservations at the time about her capability and seniority. But consider what we now know about how doonium and other metals are being taken from the general market. It may be that the ore freighters she was escorting were more important than anyone knew at the time.”
“Interesting,” Vanto said thoughtfully. “Not just that, but I seem to recall now that her previous posting was to Socorro. Lots of doonium in the asteroid belts there. I wonder…as you say, no one knew what those freighters meant. I wonder if that could have led to someone being a little less careful with security than they are now.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “In which case, it should be possible to track the shipments and discover where this operation is occurring.”
“I can try.” Vanto frowned as the word caught his attention. “Operation, singular? You think this is a single project?”
“I do,” Thrawn said. “Consider. Hyperdrive components are being taken from supply depots, but no assembled hyperdrives are disappearing. Sublight engine components are likewise being taken, but no completed engines.”
“Interesting,” Vanto said slowly. “Though that could just mean they don’t want to lug around things that are that bulky.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Though there are certainly transports large enough to carry such items. My conclusion is that they may be creating hyperdrives and sublight engines of a size never before seen.”
Vanto’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re saying something bigger even than a Star Destroyer?”
“From my reading of the data, considerably larger,” Thrawn said. “I confess I feel a certain foreboding at that conclusion. I’ve seen this same…omseki.”
“Syndrome.”
“I’ve seen this syndrome before,” Thrawn continued. “Star Destroyer-sized capital ships and large numbers of supporting starfighters are the most efficient and flexible naval array for both deterrent and combat. Yet there are many who consider larger to be the equivalent of better. Even the Empire has limited resources, and I fear that those resources are not always allocated wisely.”
“The realities of a large bureaucracy,” Vanto said ruefully. “Two bureaucracies, in this case, if you count both the government and the navy. There are always boondoggles—sometimes really big ones—that slip through the cracks of the review process.”
“That is unfortunately true,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps I will yet have an opportunity to express my thoughts on the strategies of such large-scale weapons systems.”
“Well, you get invited to Coruscant often enough,” Vanto pointed out. “Maybe…” He trailed off, suddenly understanding. “You know where it is, don’t you? You’ve figured out where they’re building this monstrosity.”
“I have an idea.”
“I should have guessed you would,” Vanto said. “I take it you’ve tracked Rossi’s ore freighters?”
“I was unable to discover their final destination,” Thrawn said. “However, I did find the most likely vector for the shipments.”
“Which only gives you…” Vanto smiled with fresh understanding. “But we also have the likely vector for that Wookiee slave ship. So assuming they were all headed to the same place, you crossed the vectors…?”
“And found a location,” Thrawn said. “It may not be the correct location, of course. Perhaps an opportunity to visit will present itself at some point. In the meantime, we have Botajef to deal with.”
“Yes,” Vanto said. “I presume you have a plan?”
“I do.” The galactic map disappeared, replaced by the image of a human standing behind a podium. “This is the recording of Governor Quesl’s declaration of independence thirty hours ago.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it,” Vanto said. “Speechwise, the man really lights up a room.”
“Did you notice the artwork hanging on the display wall behind him?”
“All fifty-seven pieces of it.” Vanto smiled wryly. “Yes, I counted them. I also made holos of every piece visible on that recording, in case you wanted to see what you could pull out about the man.”
“Thank you,” Thrawn said. “However, it won’t tell us anything about the governor. The artwork has been collected over the centuries by the Jefi people, and neither the pieces nor the placement have been altered by Governor Quesl.”
“Which you know because you’ve already checked the older archives,” Vanto said, a bit crestfallen. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“It was an excellent idea,” Thrawn said. “In other circumstances it might well have been highly useful. But I draw your attention to the governor’s words and speaking manner. What do you hear?”
“Well, he’s not shy about his goals or feelings,” Vanto said. “Makes it very clear he has no intention of keeping Botajef in the Empire.”
“Yet should he not also show some recognition of the power that will surely be brought to bear against him?”
“One would certainly think so,” Vanto said, rubbing his chin in concentration. “Now that you mention it, he’s almost daring Coruscant to come in and stop him.”
“I make a prediction,” Thrawn said. “I believe that upon our arrival we will find heavy weaponry situated around the main governmental building. I also predict that Governor Quesl will repeat his challenge directly to the Chimaera.”
“Really,” Vanto said. “And the planetary defense forces?”
“He will initially deploy them to keep the Chimaera at a distance. At some later point, they will be sent to the attack.”
“Interesting tactics,” Vanto said. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “You may return to the bridge now. When you arrive, have Starfighter Commander Yve and Stormtrooper Commander Ayer report to me here. I have some final orders for them.”
—
The Chimaera reached Botajef exactly on schedule.
And damned if Thrawn hadn’t been right.
“Two CR90 corvettes rising from orbit,” Eli reported, running a quick eye over the tactical readout. “Coming in from starboard and port, possibly trying to flank us, but keeping out of effective firing range. Five squadrons of V-19 Torrent interceptors rising from the north-polar base; two more squadrons coming from south-polar.”
“Both corvettes’ weapons systems are running cold,” Faro added. “We may have taken them by surprise.”
“Reading three ground-based turbolaser clusters,” Eli said, smiling to himself. “Coordinates on tactical. Note that one of them is in the capital, five turbolasers grouped around the governor’s palace.”
“Around the palace?” Faro echoed disbelievingly. “He’s really counting on Imperial self-restraint, isn’t he?”
Eli thought back to the battle over Umbara, and the pinpoint fire the Thunder Wasp had later delivered to the pre-spice vein on Cyphar. “More likely he doesn’t understand Imperial gunner accuracy, ma’am.”
“Perhaps we will have the opportunity to instruct him,” Thrawn said. “Senior Lieutenant Yve, launch TIEs.”
“TIEs launching, Commodore,” Yve acknowledged. “Targets?”
“Send four each to the corvettes,” Thrawn ordered. “They are not to fire, but are to perform close-line flybys, two each starboard and portside. The other TIEs will move to form a screen between us and the V-19s.”
“Including the special unit, sir?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “They are not to fire until and unless I so order.”
“Yes, sir.” Yve turned to her board.
Eli frowned. He hadn’t heard anything about a special TIE unit. Something Thrawn and Yve had cooked up after he left Thrawn’s quarters for the bridge?
“You’re not letting the TIEs defend themselves, sir?” Faro asked.
“I am offering the Jefies one free shot, Commander,” Thrawn replied calmly. “That said, I do not
believe they will make the first attack.”
“Commodore, we’re getting a signal from Governor Quesl,” Lomar called.
“Put it through.”
The comm display lit up with the same wizened, scowly face Eli had seen on the previous recording. Quesl was standing closer to the cam this time, and up close he looked even more unpleasant and shifty. “This is Governor Quesl of the free system of Botajef,” he intoned. “You have intruded into Jefi space. If you do not leave, you will be fired upon.”
“This is Commodore Thrawn, commander of the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera,” Thrawn said. “I’m afraid you are acting under a misapprehension, Governor. According to the treaty signed by the Jefies after the Clone War, any change in status must follow the formal rules called for in Section Eighteen, Paragraph Four.”
The wizened face drew back from the cam, and Eli caught a glimpse of the artwork hanging on the wall behind him. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “There is no such treaty.”
On the tactical, the four TIE fighters swept past the starboard corvette as Thrawn had ordered. Eli held his breath, wondering if the corvette would see it as an attack and open fire.
Fortunately, it didn’t. Aside from a brief twitch of its bow, in fact, it made no response at all. The portside corvette was even more sanguine in the case of its starfighter flyby, without even that small reflexive twitch.
“Your lack of knowledge regarding your assigned post is puzzling,” Thrawn said. “Under the circumstances I must draw your attention to Paragraph Seven. That proviso states that before any talks may be opened, the governor or other leader must fully disarm.” He gestured toward the tactical. “I must therefore insist that those turbolaser emplacements around your palace be removed.”
“Oh, you insist, do you?” Quesl retorted in a condescending tone. “So. Commodore or not, Imperial Star Destroyer or not, you still dare not face a free people and their weapons? Afraid our bite is as bad as our bark?” He folded his arms across his chest, a mocking smile on his face. “You want those turbolasers gone, Commodore Thrawn? Fine. Do it yourself.”
