Treason - Timothy Zahn

by Star Wars

  Grand Admiral Thrawn.

  A female with Thrawn’s same blue skin and glowing red eyes wearing a white uniform of unfamiliar cut.

  A girl, maybe six or seven, also with blue skin and red eyes, wearing a simple jumpsuit, sitting on the table.

  The fact that Thrawn’s people had apparently been one side of that brief battle out there raised a number of highly important questions, questions Ronan would definitely be asking somewhere down the line. But for the moment, all of that paled in the sudden glare of the fourth person of the group.

  Commander Eli Vanto. Deserter from the Imperial fleet. Apparent collusionist with an alien government.

  Traitor.

  “I asked that you remain aboard the Chimaera,” Thrawn said. His tone was even, but Ronan could hear the edge beneath it.

  “You should have known that order had no power,” Ronan countered, his eyes on Vanto. So many things had now suddenly come clear. “Director Krennic and Governor Tarkin made very precise lines as to where your authority over me ends.”

  “Aboard an Imperial warship, the commander is the ultimate authority,” Thrawn said.

  “But I see now why you were so anxious to keep me out,” Ronan continued. “Hello, Commander Vanto. Or did your desertion gain you a new rank? Something to go along with your new friends and allies?”

  “It’s Lieutenant Vanto now, Assistant Director,” Thrawn said. “And his departure from the Empire wasn’t desertion. On the contrary, it was personally authorized by the Emperor himself.”

  “Was it, now,” Ronan said, feeling a rush of cynicism. A common defense in this kind of situation: One party would invoke a big name, and the second party would counter with an even bigger name. Ronan had brought up Tarkin and Director Krennic, leaving Thrawn nowhere to go but to name the Emperor.

  A common defense, but a foolish and ultimately self-defeating one. Out here, far from Imperial Center and civilization, Thrawn might get away with such a claim for a time. But ultimately the words would have to be backed up, and then it would fall apart.

  And if the Emperor roused himself from his doddering long enough to actually pay attention, Thrawn’s career might also fall apart. As might Thrawn himself. “And of course you have documentation proving that?” he asked, not bothering to hide his cynicism.

  “There is no documentation,” Thrawn said. “But that will be a discussion for another day. Time is short, and we need to utilize it to the fullest.”

  Behind Ronan, the door slid open. He turned, taking a step to the side, fully expecting to see the death troopers enter in a belated and futile attempt to detain him.

  Instead he found himself facing yet another blue-skinned face, this one attached to a young woman in a black uniform. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  The woman’s eyes flicked past Ronan to the group at the table. “This is Vah’nya,” Thrawn identified her. “She doesn’t speak Basic.”

  “Of course not,” Ronan growled, glaring as Vah’nya sidled carefully around him and joined the others. “So is this how it is? You bring in your people in the hope of subverting Stardust?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or do you think you can steal it entirely? Because if you even try—”

  “Calm yourself, Assistant Director,” Thrawn cut in sharply. “No one is threatening your project. But we are in grave danger here, and must act quickly if we’re to escape unharmed.”

  Ronan felt his lip twist. Another common defense and deflection.

  But as he gazed into the grand admiral’s eyes, and into the eyes of the others lined up alongside him, he had the eerie feeling that this time, at least, Thrawn was telling the truth. “Explain,” he said.

  “There is another enemy ship out there,” Thrawn said. “Cloaked and waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “For news as to whether she is alive or dead,” Thrawn said, gesturing to the girl sitting on the table. “We must assume that the two Grysks under restraint in the control room have a way of talking to that ship. We need to find that line of communication and either shut it down or in some other way put their minds at rest.”

  “Or?” Ronan asked.

  “Or they destroy this observation post,” Thrawn said. “And us along with it.”

  Ronan focused on the girl. Her face was tight and tearstained, fear and exhaustion filling her eyes. Surely she didn’t have any useful talents or expertise. Not a child that young.

  The obvious conclusion was that she knew something. Something vital, something the ship out there didn’t want anyone else to know.

  What in the Empire could she know that was that important?

  “So what are you going to do?” he asked.

  “As I said, we need to put their minds at rest,” Thrawn said.

  “Or,” Vanto said thoughtfully, “we need to give them what they want.”

  “In what way?” Thrawn asked.

  “We now have two docked Imperial shuttles,” Vanto said. “We could send one of them back empty and try to get the Grysks to shoot at it.”

  “Absurd,” Ronan scoffed. “They’ll surely be able to detect whether there are any life-forms aboard.”

  “Then we sweeten the pot,” Vanto said. “We put the two Grysks aboard and send a message to the Chimaera warning that a pair of valuable prisoners are on their way. We don’t let them fly it, of course,” he added quickly, “but strap them in.”

  “Then who does fly it?” Ronan asked. “You?”

  “No one flies it,” Vanto said. “The Chimaera reels it in with a tractor beam.”

  Ronan snorted. Maybe losing this idiot to Thrawn’s people hadn’t been such a disaster for the Empire after all. “And so after all that, we just let them blow up the prisoners and our best chance of finding out what’s going on?”

  “The prisoners are hardly our best chance,” Thrawn said. “They’ll already have prepared themselves for death precisely to forestall any such interrogation.” He smiled faintly. “However, that being said, I don’t believe we have to make that choice.”

  “You’re expecting the other ship to have to make it?” Ronan shook his head. “Ridiculous. If you’re going to bait them, you’ll need to send a clear-language message, and they’re surely not stupid enough to fall for that.”

  “I never said the message would be clear-language,” Thrawn said softly. “On the contrary, I have a code I fully expect them to be able to decipher.”

  Ronan frowned. There’d been an odd edge of darkness to that comment. “An Imperial code?”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said. “Yes, Lieutenant Vanto’s plan should work quite well.” He pursed his lips slightly. “With, I believe, a few more small refinements.”

  He turned to the white-clad woman and began jabbering in an unknown language. She replied, and he said something else. The woman turned to the girl and spoke, got an answer in return, then spoke to Vah’nya, who also replied. For a moment Vah’nya and the girl spoke, and then the white-clad woman joined in.

  Vanto looked over at Ronan, looked back at the group of jabbering blue-skins, then silently crossed over to him. “They’re working out a battle plan,” he said quietly. “Basically a flush-and-trap setup—”

  “Are you talking to me, traitor?” Ronan cut him off tartly.

  Vanto’s eyebrow twitched. “Apparently not,” he said. “My apologies.” Inclining his head, he began backing away.

  Ronan clenched his hand into a fist. Stalemate. “Stop,” he ordered. “I’m…sorry.” He forced out the word. “Tell me what they’re saying.”

  Vanto eyed him another second, then again inclined his head. “As I said, a flush-and-trap,” he said. “They want to draw the cloaked ship out of hiding and then let it lead us to its base.”

  “What makes you think it has a base?”

  “The Grysks need to have a comm center for an opera
tion this far from their territory,” Vanto said. “They can’t use the HoloNet for long-range communications—the Empire can tap into those messages—so they’ll be using something called a triad. If we can find the triad and the associated base—”

  The white-clad woman said something in a sharp tone. Vanto broke off and turned to face her, and for another moment she jabbered at him. He replied with a couple of words in the same language and an inclined head.

  Thrawn said something. The woman turned to him, and Ronan had a sense it was less a discussion now and more of an argument. “What are they saying?” he asked.

  “Admiral Ar’alani says this operation is none of your business,” Vanto said.

  Ronan bristled. “Oh, she does, does she?”

  “Admiral Thrawn disagrees,” Vanto continued. “He believes that the presence of Grysks here suggests they’re more prepared to move against the Empire than he’d anticipated.”

  A shiver ran up Ronan’s back. He’d already wondered about Thrawn’s people being here. The thought of an unknown alien species poised to move against the Empire was even more ominous.

  Especially if that action included an attack on Stardust.

  “Admiral Thrawn’s telling her you’re a senior official in a project called Stardust,” Vanto said. “He suggests that if the Grysks are preparing a move, Stardust could be of great value to the Imperial defense.”

  Ronan felt his eyes narrow. Thrawn had better not be suggesting that Director Krennic would simply hand it over to him.

  The woman—Ar’alani—snapped something again at Vanto. He turned back and answered, and Ar’alani again said something sharp. This time, Thrawn didn’t intervene.

  And when Vanto turned back to Ronan, he had a carefully controlled expression on his face. “Admiral Thrawn and Admiral Ar’alani request that I act as your liaison and translator for the moment,” he said.

  Ronan felt his skin tingle. To deal with a traitor—to listen to him and, worse, to talk to him?

  And worst of all, to rely on him?

  No. That was absolutely crossing a line. “Tell your admiral to forget it,” he said firmly. “Your presence is an affront to everything I believe in.”

  “Then you will be returned to the Chimaera,” Thrawn said, “and will remain in your quarters until the current operation is ended.”

  “You have no such authority,” Ronan shot back.

  “On the contrary,” Thrawn said coolly. “As I said, a ship’s commander is the ultimate authority for what can and cannot be done. Furthermore, the Chimaera may be going into battle, and standing orders specifically require me to protect high-ranking passengers, in any way I deem fit.”

  Ronan felt his eyes narrow. There was no way Thrawn could make that stick. Ronan could send a message to Director Krennic detailing everything that had happened, including Thrawn’s collusion with a possible alien invasion force and his association with the traitor Eli Vanto. Once the director got such a message, there was every chance Thrawn would find himself on the next prisoner transport to Imperial Center.

  But of course that assumed Thrawn wouldn’t cut off his access to the Chimaera’s comm system. If the admiral could invoke battle rules to lock Ronan in his quarters, he could probably do that, too.

  And there was no chance in the Empire that Ronan was just going to sit by while Thrawn took an Imperial ship into danger. Even if he could just be a voice of reason, it was his duty to maintain a presence in Thrawn’s upcoming deliberations and actions.

  “Fine,” he growled. “Vanto can play translator. What now?”

  “We shall offer the bait,” Thrawn said. “And then see if the enemy will take it.”

  * * *

  —

  “We shall be sending Assistant Director Ronan’s shuttle back to the Chimaera, Commodore,” Thrawn’s voice came over the speaker. “Two Grysk prisoners will be aboard. They’re to be treated as both highly valuable and highly dangerous.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” Faro said, frowning at the comm display. Thrawn had specified the G77 encryption, a code that was in the ship’s archives but one they’d never used.

  Still, she’d long since learned that whenever Thrawn did something without a good reason, it was usually because there was a very good reason lurking beneath the surface.

  “For security purposes we’ll be sending it without a command crew,” Thrawn continued. “You’ll arrange for a tractor beam to bring it in. I also want Captain Dobbs to run a full-wrap escort.”

  Faro smiled as the veil of confusion began to part. Captain Dobbs and his Defender squadron, fighters whose full capabilities this particular group of Grysks might well be unfamiliar with.

  Apparently, the Chimaera’s admiral was baiting a trap.

  “Understood, sir,” Faro said. “I’ll recall Dobbs and his squadron immediately from patrol.”

  “Thank you, Commodore,” Thrawn said. “Let me know when you’re ready. Once we have the prisoners aboard, I fully expect that our enemies’ plans, now shrouded in mystery, will be laid bare before us.”

  Faro felt her lip twitch. Shrouded in mystery. There it was: confirmation of the conclusion she’d already come to.

  Somewhere out there was another cloaked Grysk ship.

  “And those plans will soon see the light of day?” Faro suggested.

  “Not immediately,” Thrawn said. “But all that is dark will eventually be made light if one shows the proper persistence.”

  “Understood, sir,” Faro said again. “We’ll be ready when you need us.”

  “Thank you, Commodore. Admiral out.”

  The transmission cut off, and Faro crossed to the weapons console. “You get all that?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pyrondi said grimly. “So we’ve got another lurker. Wonderful.”

  “It could be worse,” Faro said. “The fact that it didn’t join the battle when its companion was fighting for its life—”

  “And losing.”

  “—and definitely losing,” Faro agreed, “suggests it doesn’t have a lot of firepower. Probably a scout or resupply ship that got caught at the wrong place and time.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Pyrondi tapped thoughtfully at her lip. “Could be a little tricky if it decides to hit and run. Aside from stumbling around a little blind, I don’t think there’s anything that prevents a cloaked ship from flying.”

  “There are the drive emissions that will stream outside the cloak,” Faro reminded her. “Looks like we’re supposed to follow it.”

  “Not going to get far if they jump to lightspeed.”

  “True.” Faro nodded in the direction of the Chiss ship, lying off the Chimaera’s bow a few kilometers away. “Maybe the Chiss have ways of tracking ships through hyperspace that we don’t.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Faro said.

  “I liked your line about their plans seeing the light of day,” Pyrondi added. “There’s nothing like concentrated turbolaser fire to brighten up a dark night. Too bad Thrawn said no.”

  “I don’t think he said no,” Faro said. “Just not yet. So stop pouting, Senior Lieutenant, and get your crews ready.”

  She looked out the viewport. “The universe is about to get interesting again.”

  * * *

  —

  The plans were made, the relevant information had been relayed to the Chimaera and Steadfast, and the players were in position.

  And now came the waiting. For Eli, that was always the hardest part.

  The fact that Assistant Director Ronan was glowering beside him wasn’t helping any, either. The two of them were a few paces behind Thrawn and his death trooper guard—the troopers, Eli noted with private amusement, having formed a box around the grand admiral, pointedly blocking Ronan from approaching him—all of them gazing out the Gry
sk observation post’s main viewport. The shuttle that was about to be the focus of everyone’s attention wasn’t visible from where they stood, but Eli could see the Chimaera holding position a few kilometers away. Beyond it, partially blocked from view, was the Steadfast. Both ships, he knew, were at full alert and ready for combat.

  At least Eli hoped they were. The problem was that Grysk forces were often supplemented by some of their client species, and each of those clients possessed a slightly different palette of tech and weaponry. That meant there was always the chance for a surprise, possibly even a lethal one.

  “This is insane,” Ronan muttered. “Thrawn’s going to get all of us killed.”

  “I think the idea is to not get any of us killed,” Eli said. “Regardless, I’m sure he would be open to better suggestions.”

  Ronan snorted. “Maybe from you or Ar’alani. Not from me. So where are they?”

  “Who?”

  “You know who,” Ronan ground out. “Ar’alani, Vah’nya, and the little girl. If you want to assume I don’t have a brain, at least recognize that I have eyes.”

  “Sorry,” Eli said, putting as much apology into the word as he could. He’d hoped Ronan wouldn’t notice the absence of the three Chiss for at least a little while longer. “I believe Admiral Ar’alani is consulting with the others.”

  “Consulting about what?”

  “I don’t know,” Eli said. For once, it was the truth—he really didn’t know what the three of them were up to. It had to have something to do with the Second Sight that Thrawn and Ar’alani had mentioned, but he was completely in the dark as to what that was.

  “Does it have to do with whatever the girl knows?” Ronan pressed. “It must be something she knows—she certainly can’t have any talents or training these Grysks might want. Not at her age.”

  “I really don’t know what they’re doing,” Eli said again, suppressing a grimace. Ronan had hit way too close to the mark on that one. “I’m sure we’ll be told whenever the others feel we need to know.”