Treason - Timothy Zahn

by Star Wars

  Ar’alani’s body stance stiffens. Her narrowed eyes hold a sudden hope. “Where is she?”

  “No.”

  Ar’alani turns. Her expression holds disbelief and growing anger. “What did you say?” Her voice holds threat.

  “You seek vengeance. I understand. But these are my prisoners, and I cannot yet allow you to vent your rage upon them.”

  Ar’alani stands motionless. Her body stance holds confusion and anger, but she remains silent. Her expression changes, now holding understanding. “We’ll speak of this later, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she said. Her voice holds careful neutrality. “You will now allow me to see the fallen.”

  “Certainly. Major Carvia?”

  “Yes, sir.” Major Carvia’s voice holds recognition that something has happened, but no understanding of the balance or details. “This way, Admiral,” he said. He leads the way out into the corridor. Two death troopers join him. Ar’alani moves to walk beside Thrawn, with Lieutenant Vanto behind them. The remaining death troopers follow.

  “Thank you,” Ar’alani said in Cheunh. Her voice is low, holding understanding and acceptance, but also some anger. “That said, don’t ever speak to me that way again in front of my officers or crew.”

  “Was it not necessary? Lieutenant Vanto, did you see disrespect to your admiral?”

  “So it perhaps appeared on the surface, Admiral,” Vanto said. His voice holds hesitation, but also understanding. His Cheunh speech is still imperfect but quite acceptable. “I’m assuming that’s what the Grysks saw, too.”

  “Then you saw my words as an effort to create an imaginary wedge between Admiral Ar’alani and me that they may hope to exploit?”

  “Yes, sir,” Vanto said.

  “Very good, Lieutenant,” Ar’alani said. “But you missed one crucial part. I had a surge of hope, and Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo didn’t want the prisoners to see or recognize that. So he made it appear as if I was angry in order to confuse them.” She gestures toward the comlink on Vanto’s belt. “Call to the Steadfast and order Navigator Vah’nya brought here.”

  “Does Navigator Vah’nya have Second Sight?”

  “She does.” Ar’alani’s tone is firm, her body stance holding understanding and anticipation of what awaits them. It likewise holds fear that her hope is in vain.

  “Yes, Admiral.” Vanto’s voice now holds confusion. While he is certainly familiar with Third Sight, he has doubtless never heard of Second Sight. But his hand is quick and sure, holding no hesitation or questioning as he draws out his comlink to obey the order. “You said…hope?”

  “Hope, Lieutenant,” Ar’alani confirmed. Her expression now holds grim amusement. “For I believe there is every chance that Major Carvia’s dead navigator is in fact very much alive.”

  Grand Admiral Savit was sifting through the reports from the Third Fleet’s latest pirate cleansing operation when the call came through from Director Krennic.

  “Admiral Savit,” Krennic said tersely. Even with the limitations of the flickering holoimage, Savit could see the man wasn’t happy. “I need you to go find out what Thrawn is up to.”

  Savit raised his eyebrows a millimeter. “Excuse me, Director?”

  “I’ve just received word that Thrawn has engaged in a battle somewhere near my transfer point,” Krennic said. “I need you to find out what’s going on, and who’s involved, and then stop it.”

  “A moment,” Savit said, sitting up straighter in his seat. A battle? “What kind of battle? How big? Who was he fighting?”

  “Weren’t you listening?” Krennic bit out. “I don’t know the details. Assistant Director Ronan sent a quick report—he sounded rather frantic, actually—but apparently hasn’t been able to provide a follow-up. That’s why I need you to go there. If Thrawn’s decided to go pirate hunting, and I have to move the transfer point—again—the whole Stardust schedule will be dangerously compromised.”

  “I was under the impression it already was.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, actually, I don’t,” Savit said. “Because you haven’t given me any real information. You need Ronan to send you more details.”

  “I’ve already asked,” Krennic said. “As I said, he hasn’t responded.”

  “Well, then, I don’t suppose it can be too serious.”

  “Unless he’s being interfered with,” Krennic shot back. “He’s hardly a free agent, you know. The whole Chimaera is rotten with people who are fanatically loyal to Thrawn. There’s only so much they’ll let Ronan do.”

  “Which should tell you something right there,” Savit said. “When a ship is that devoted to its commander, it’s because he’s earned their trust and respect. I suggest you stop worrying about Thrawn and worry about getting Stardust back on track.”

  Krennic’s eyes hardened. “Interesting suggestion, Admiral. So I shouldn’t worry about whatever insanity Thrawn’s perpetrating near my operation and go back to my own business? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “What do you suggest I do, Director?” Savit asked, keeping his own voice and expression calm. Experience had taught him that the best way to push an angry person into making mistakes was to refuse to join in that anger. “I have my own duties and responsibilities. I can’t simply rush off at your request to deal with a problem you haven’t even proved exists.”

  For a long moment Krennic just stared at him. “You like Thrawn, don’t you, Admiral?” he said at last.

  “Thrawn is a fellow grand admiral,” Savit said, watching the director’s face closely. An odd question, especially coming from Krennic. Where exactly was he going with this? “Likes and dislikes don’t enter into it.”

  “No, but you really do like him,” Krennic said. “Cultured types, both of you, him with his art and you with your music. Did I ever tell you I was at one of your mother’s cultural galas some years back when your To the Stars was just a work for solo performer?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Savit said. “I don’t know how that relates to—”

  “Unusual combination, you know, gifted composer and gifted performer,” Krennic said. “And it was sheer genius that you subsequently worked that piece into a full opera. Did you know at the time how much Chancellor Palpatine and Governor Grazlos liked operas?” He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter, does it? The point is that you attracted the right kind of attention and made the right kind of contacts and ended up with your commission.” He smiled genially. “In fact, I don’t think it would be overstating the case to suggest that that opera and your subsequent works, along with the associated favors each new piece gained you from the never-satisfied Coruscant elite, might well have had a hand in your promotion to grand admiral.”

  Savit smiled back. So that’s where he was taking this. The fool. “You may be right,” he said. “It’s been said that Coruscant’s cultural life is the suede glove covering the granite fist that is the true Imperial power. Tell me, Director: Are you threatening me, or are you threatening my family?”

  Krennic’s eyebrows rose. “I?” he asked innocently. “I don’t threaten, Admiral. I merely point out that what is favored among the elite today can be lost among the discarded dregs tomorrow.”

  “Then you really don’t understand the elite,” Savit said. “One moment, Director: I have a priority transmission coming through.”

  “Admiral—”

  Krennic’s voice broke off in mid-sentence, his image likewise freezing in mid-outrage. Savit keyed his personal comm system and punched in Grand Moff Tarkin’s private number. “This is Grand Admiral Savit,” he said to the screener droid. “I need to know if Governor Tarkin has received any information from his source aboard the Chimaera about an alleged battle near the Stardust transfer point.”

  He smiled to himself as he keyed off and switched back to Krennic. “—dare leave me hanging—” the dire
ctor was snarling.

  “Apologies, Director,” Savit said. “I believe we were talking about the elite and veiled threats?”

  “We were talking about Thrawn and the way his actions are threatening Stardust,” Krennic bit out.

  “Ah,” Savit said. “Forgive me, Director, but it seems to me that you’ve lost sight of a key fact. If Thrawn gets distracted by other matters and fails to meet your deadline, he forfeits the Defender funding that you so desperately want to keep.”

  “And you, Admiral, seem to have lost sight of the fact that if he fails completely the grallocs continue to harass my cargoes and wreck my schedule,” Krennic said. His voice was calm again, his attitude back on balance. “Or perhaps you haven’t. I understand you’re another of the Defender’s secret supporters.”

  “Hardly a secret one,” Savit said. “But yes, I think the Empire would benefit more from a few million advanced starfighters than from your precious Death Star.” He paused, enjoying the flicker of shock that crossed Krennic’s face. The true name of Stardust’s end product was a deep, dark secret, and Savit wasn’t supposed to be among the handful of top people who knew it. “I’m sorry—was that supposed to be a secret?” he added genially.

  “I believe you know the answer to that,” Krennic said. His voice was still calm, but the texture had darkened considerably. “As for Thrawn’s deadline, I wouldn’t worry about that. Ronan is there, and he’ll ensure Thrawn doesn’t achieve his goal in time. Eventually, he’ll find a way to destroy the grallocs, which will be most helpful. But I’ll also keep the Defender funding.”

  There was another ping from the comm. Tarkin, right on schedule. “In that case, Director Krennic, I may need to reconsider my earlier decision,” Savit said, keying Tarkin into the audio part of the conversation but keeping his holo invisible to Krennic. “If I can help Thrawn fulfill the agreement, the Defender project will continue, and that would be a good thing.” He keyed Tarkin’s hologram into the loop. “Wouldn’t you agree, Governor Tarkin?”

  “Indeed I would,” Tarkin said calmly. “Good day, Director Krennic.”

  Savit held his breath, watching both holograms closely. Here was where his blade-edge gamble could turn against him. He’d basically blindsided both Tarkin and Krennic into this confrontation, and if either of them chose to respond by making a full-blown, enemies-forever issue of it, Savit could find himself in trouble.

  But for right now, such potential reprisals seemed to have been left for the future. Tarkin’s expression was calmly malicious, showing that he’d quickly grasped what was going on and almost certainly deduced Savit’s part in it. Krennic’s face, after a brief moment of surprise and outrage, had also settled into his standard combat expression as he faced his more immediate enemy.

  “Good day, Governor,” Krennic said, matching Tarkin’s tone. “I didn’t realize you’d been brought into this conversation.”

  “Admiral Savit asked if I’d received any information about Grand Admiral Thrawn’s battle an hour ago,” Tarkin said. “My source says that his TIE Defender squadron played a pivotal role in the victory.”

  “I see,” Krennic said, a bit of fresh strain invading his calm. “I didn’t know the battle was that extensive. Can you tell me who exactly the Chimaera was fighting?”

  Savit leaned a little closer to the display. That was indeed the crucial question.

  But for the moment, at least, it was going to remain a mystery. “My source didn’t have that data,” Tarkin said. “Apparently, it involved two other ships, non-Imperials, possibly engaged in a private dispute of their own.”

  “Rival pirates?” Krennic pressed. “Pirates and rebels?”

  “As already stated, I don’t know,” Tarkin said, a hint of amusement touching his eyes at Krennic’s obvious agitation. “But I’ve sent a request to my source. If I should obtain that information, I will of course share it with you.”

  “Of course,” Krennic said. His eyes turned back to Savit. “Under the circumstances, Governor, perhaps you’d be good enough to join me in requesting that Admiral Savit investigate the situation.”

  “I’m certain Grand Admiral Thrawn has it under control,” Tarkin said. “But if he requests aid, I shall certainly reconsider your request.”

  And that, Savit knew, was that. Krennic was caught between two rocks, with the pressing need for Thrawn to clear up the transfer point mess pressing up against the need for him to not clear it up too quickly. Tarkin, for his part, had everything to gain by letting Thrawn work without interference and solve the gralloc problem on his own terms and timing. The fact that he got to see Krennic squirm was just an added bonus.

  And of course, with their private agreement for Savit to cooperate with Thrawn should assistance be needed, Tarkin held one final card.

  As for Savit himself, the best thing he could do was stay completely out of it until and unless that card needed to be played. The more invisible he could remain, the better.

  “Then I believe my part of this is finished,” he said. “Governor Tarkin, I’ll likewise be interested in learning more about the situation, should you receive further information.”

  Tarkin inclined his head. “I’ll be certain to pass it on to you,” he promised.

  “Thank you,” Savit said. “And thank you, too, for your interest, Director Krennic. Perhaps I’ll see you someday at one of my mother’s cultural galas.”

  Krennic offered only a slight smile in return. But it was clear he’d gotten the message. Threats against Savit’s family, even off-edge, veiled ones, were unacceptable. “Good day, then,” Savit said, and keyed off.

  And as the two holos vanished, Savit permitted himself a smile of his own.

  “And that,” he murmured to the universe, “is how a grand admiral deals with things.”

  He keyed for the bridge. “Signal for the Misthunter,” he ordered the comm officer. “Captain Rasdel has spoken of a contact he claims to have inside Governor Tarkin’s office. Tell him he’s to activate that contact and feed me anything pertaining to Stardust within our patrol area.”

  He smiled to himself. Tarkin could promise all he wanted that he would pass on information. Savit preferred a bit more of a sure thing.

  And with that accomplished, it was time to put this ridiculous political infighting nonsense behind him and get back to work. “And then send a transmission to the Harbinger,” he continued. “Tell Captain Pellaeon I want him and his first officer to meet me here in one hour to discuss his next pirate-hunting mission.”

  * * *

  —

  Major Carvia was clearly uncomfortable allowing Thrawn and the others to enter the observation post medcenter without him. Thrawn’s death trooper escort was even more reluctant. It took a direct order to make the three of them wait out in the passageway.

  Some of it, Eli knew, was the presence of Ar’alani, an admiral from an unknown and unevaluated alien fleet who might pose a threat to the stormtroopers’ commander. But most of it, he suspected, was because of him. A man who’d once worn the uniform of the Imperial Navy, but now wore the black of the Chiss Defense Fleet.

  Eli didn’t know what Thrawn was going to say about him to the stormtroopers, or to Commodore Faro, or to anyone else. Actually, he didn’t know if the grand admiral would say anything at all. For all he knew, Thrawn might send him back to the Ascendancy still carrying the burden of shame and suspicion.

  He didn’t mind for himself. Thrawn had said he might be of use to the Chiss, and Ar’alani seemed satisfied with his work, and for right now that was enough.

  It was his parents who had to bear the brunt of the stigma, and his former friends in the fleet who had to see his name forever draped with contempt.

  Which made Thrawn’s aloofness toward him so puzzling. Didn’t he realize what Eli had gone through? What he’d given up for him?

  Maybe before this w
as over he could get Thrawn alone, even if only for a minute, and find out what his former commander was thinking.

  If he couldn’t, he could only hope that whatever it was Ar’alani had in mind for him, it would be worth it.

  Carvia had identified the room as the observation post’s medcenter. To Eli’s eyes, it looked more like a disturbing mix of treatment bay, torture chamber, and dissection room. A human body was slumped in a sort of exam chair, his arms and legs strapped down, apparently stabbed to death right where he sat. Three bodies of a species Eli didn’t recognize were crumpled on the floor, two near a console in the center of the room, the other near the dead human, all of them lying in pools of a pale-pink blood.

  The Chiss girl, in contrast, seemed completely untouched. She was lying on her back on a treatment table at the rear of the room, her arms at her sides with the hands tucked beneath her legs, a double fold of black cloth draped across her face and upper torso. There was no blood, but as far as Eli could tell she looked very much dead.

  Ar’alani apparently thought otherwise. Before the door had even closed behind them she was striding quickly across the room toward the table. “Somnia?” Thrawn asked as he and Eli followed.

  “A variant of the technique, yes,” Ar’alani said over her shoulder. “You’d already left before this one was developed. I’ll need the lights lowered.”

  “Yes.” Thrawn glanced around and headed toward the control console at the center of the room. “Lieutenant Vanto, a towel soaked in hot water, if you please.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eli said, heading in the opposite direction toward a wide double sink. “May I ask…?”

  “Some navigators, especially the younger ones, occasionally experience a sort of sensory overload,” Ar’alani said. “It’s accompanied by such symptoms as headaches, body aches, sparkle-vision, and vertigo.”