Treason - Timothy Zahn

by Star Wars

  Un’hee’s expression is distant, as of one nearing sleep. It holds hints of fear and despair.

  “They near the end,” Ar’alani said.

  She stands beside the door. Her hand rests on her concealed sidearm. Her stance holds alertness. Her expression holds fear. “Do you fear Vah’nya will be unable to draw out the necessary information?”

  Ar’alani’s expression shifts, now suggesting a degree of annoyance. “It’s not fear, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she said. Her voice holds the same annoyance, but to a lesser degree than her expression. “I hope you realize how disconcerting your mind-reading tricks are, even when they don’t work.”

  “I don’t read minds, Ar’alani. Only faces. If not fear, then what?”

  Ar’alani is silent for two and a half seconds. “What do you know of the Second Sight?” She speaks more softly now. The annoyance is gone, but her voice still holds fear.

  “Very little. I’m not privy to the deepest secrets of the Ascendancy.”

  “Nor should you be.” Her voice now holds a degree of contempt. “You were sent to the Empire to learn about it, not to join it.”

  “I took advantage of the tactical situation presented to me. What is it about this situation that most concerns you?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Then you rob us of our best hope of victory. Partial information is of no use to me.”

  Ar’alani is silent another two seconds. “You should not know this,” she said. Her voice holds resignation, but also stubbornness. “The Council will be furious if my words leave this room.”

  “They will not.”

  “Not even to your Emperor?”

  “He commands only the loyalty of my actions, not the loyalty of my heart and mind. The deepest secrets of the Chiss will always remain secrets.”

  “I can only hope that’s true.” Ar’alani’s voice holds renewed concern. “There are tales of his powers. Unlike you, it is rumored that he can read minds.”

  “The secret will remain safe. What do you fear?”

  “Third Sight is the sight from without,” Ar’alani said. Her voice lowers again in volume. Her tone holds fresh awareness that she is about to speak that which she fears will be compromised. “Second Sight is the sight from within.”

  “Within what?”

  “Within whom,” Ar’alani corrected. “Even now, Vah’nya’s mind delves deeply into Un’hee’s, seeking information about Un’hee’s use of Third Sight to navigate Grysk ships to this place.”

  “Does this delving endanger Un’hee?”

  “Under normal conditions, no,” Ar’alani said. “Vah’nya will find the information and thus be able to duplicate the paths that will take us to the Grysk forward base.”

  “What if the conditions aren’t normal?”

  “The danger comes if Un’hee also possesses Second Sight.” Ar’alani’s face warms, her facial muscles stiffening. Her fingers tighten on her weapon, as if preparing to ward off an attack. “In that situation, there is a danger that she and Vah’nya will become lost within each other’s souls.”

  “Is there no record of Un’hee’s abilities?”

  “Second Sight normally doesn’t manifest until the age of ten or eleven,” Ar’alani said. “Un’hee is only seven.”

  “But the effect may still occur?”

  “It may,” Ar’alani said. “Or it may not. In my reading I’ve not heard mention of such an event between two such unusual navigators.” She gestures toward the two girls still sitting closely together. Her fingers are stiff, the rigidity of the movement holding uncertainty and dread. “Un’hee, by all precedent too young to know if she has Second Sight. Vah’nya, by all precedent too old to retain Third Sight. The one defies history. Perhaps the other does, too.”

  “It’s Vah’nya you fear for most, isn’t it?”

  “I fear for both,” Ar’alani said. “But yes, Vah’nya is the one who most tightly holds hope for our future. Learning how she’s been able to extend Third Sight beyond the normal age is the key to a defense force the like of which the Chiss have never known.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Ar’alani turns. Her face holds sudden suspicion and wariness. “Why so?”

  “Because if Vah’nya is able to learn the path to the Grysk base, I’ll need her to guide the Chimaera there.”

  “No.” Ar’alani’s voice holds complete refusal. Her body stance holds defiance and sudden anger. Her hand tightens harder on her weapon. “She stays with the Steadfast.”

  “I need her to guide me to our enemies.”

  “You have your own navigational system.”

  “I cannot translate Un’hee’s memories into numbers within a nav computer.”

  “You will not take her into danger.”

  “I must. The Grysk base may be within observation range of Imperial ships or worlds. Furthermore, the enemy may still hold living prisoners we can rescue. You and the Steadfast must not be seen by any of them.”

  “I don’t fear either the Grysks or your Empire.” Ar’alani’s expression holds defiance and contempt.

  “Then fear for me. Even now Assistant Director Ronan decides what to report to Director Krennic, and beyond him to the Emperor. Chiss military activity within sight of Imperial forces could end my career. Possibly my life.”

  Ar’alani is silent for seven seconds. Her expression shifts, now holding frustration and resignation. Her fingers tighten one last time around her weapon, then reluctantly relax. “Either result would be less than useful for the Ascendancy, I suppose,” she said. Her voice holds a degree of dark humor and irony. “Very well. When Vah’nya returns from the entwinement, I’ll inform her of her new duties. I warn you that she’ll most likely be unwilling and fearful.”

  “Vanto will be with her at the beginning. Unfortunately, he won’t be with us for long.”

  “Will his departure be because of Ronan?”

  “That may ultimately be the case. Ronan and his actions remain unpredictable.”

  “He’s a threat.” Ar’alani’s expression holds no hesitation or uncertainty. “I trust you have a plan to eliminate him?”

  “I have a plan to eliminate the threat.”

  “Be certain that you do.” Ar’alani’s expression and tone now hold grim resolve. “As I said, your place with the Empire is important to the Ascendancy. If you don’t eliminate Ronan, then I will.”

  There is the sound of a muffled gasp. Vah’nya and Un’hee jerk upright from their hunched positions, their torsos arching a few degrees backward before straightening again into proper vertical postures. The motions of both navigators are in close synchronization. Vah’nya’s eyes open, followed half a second later by Un’hee’s. Vah’nya turns her head to look across the room, Un’hee’s eyes remain lowered, ending their earlier movement synchronization.

  “They’ve separated,” Ar’alani said. Her voice holds relief. “The danger has passed.” She takes a step forward. “Navigator Vah’nya, are you all right?”

  Vah’nya’s expression holds weariness and a slowly fading fear. “I am. That was…difficult.”

  “I’m certain it was,” Ar’alani said. “Do you have the path?”

  “I do.” Vah’nya’s voice continues to hold weariness, but also resolve. “I can take you to the Grysk forward base.”

  “Excellent.” Ar’alani’s voice holds wariness. Her expression holds close focus. “But for the next few hours you won’t be aboard the Steadfast. Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo has asked for your assistance in taking the battle to our common enemy, and I have granted his request.”

  Vah’nya’s facial muscles tighten. Her eyes go back and forth, then focus on Ar’alani’s face. “Will someone from the Steadfast be with me?” she asked. Her voice holds anxiety and dread. “Lieutenant Eli, perhaps. Wi
ll he at least be there?”

  “He will be present when you come aboard. Unfortunately I have another mission for him.”

  “A mission more important than protecting Navigator Vah’nya?” Ar’alani asked. Her voice holds challenge.

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Vah’nya said. The anxiety in her voice deepens. “I can’t go alone. Please don’t make me go alone among strangers.”

  “There is no one else,” Ar’alani said.

  “What about you?”

  Ar’alani turns, her widened eyes holding total surprise. “I? Impossible. I command the Steadfast. I must remain with my ship.”

  “Your ship and crew will be quite safe here for the brief time that our mission requires.”

  “The Grysks might return.”

  “Not yet. Perhaps eventually, but not yet. At any rate, the first task of your people here is to search this observation post and draw out all of its secrets. Your presence is hardly required for that task.”

  “I am the commander,” Ar’alani said. Her voice holds insistence.

  “And Vah’nya is a vital resource of the Chiss Ascendancy. For the next hours, she needs you more than the Steadfast does.”

  “I would feel better if you were along,” Vah’nya said. Her voice holds hesitation and fear, as well as a growing unhappiness. “Please, Admiral?”

  “The Command Articles permit it.”

  “Kindly don’t lecture me on what the Command Articles do or do not permit.” Ar’alani’s tone holds irritation. But it no longer holds hesitation or indecisiveness. “Very well. For the sake of Navigator Vah’nya and the future of the Chiss Ascendancy, I’ll accompany you.” Her expression holds a brief moment of anger. “I do not do it for your sake.”

  “I ask no more. Let us travel to the Chimaera and prepare. The sooner this second part of the battle is over, the sooner the third and final part may begin.”

  “There,” Vanto said, pointing to a pair of lines he’d marked on Faro’s office computer display. “Those two right there. Do you see them?”

  “Of course I see them,” Ronan growled. Not that they told him a single damn thing.

  Not that any of it told him anything. He’d been sitting here for nearly two hours while Vanto went back and forth through the data, then up and down, then sideways and inverted, then who knew what else. During that whole time Vanto hadn’t spoken at all, except for an occasional grunt or soft, tuneless whistle under his breath.

  Faro had dropped in twice, apparently just to check on his progress. She’d looked over Vanto’s shoulder, nodded silently at Ronan, and left.

  Maybe this was how Vanto always did things. Faro had worked with him when he was still one of the Chimaera’s officers. Maybe she was used to it.

  Or maybe they were just playing games with the observer Director Krennic had foisted off on them, and whom none of them wanted around.

  Either way, Ronan was sick of it. If there was anything in there to find—and Ronan still didn’t believe the data held any of the dark secrets Thrawn seemed to think were there—it was clear Vanto wasn’t going to succeed in his digging.

  But then, Ronan had already written this off as a waste of time. Someone who was actually good at this kind of analysis wouldn’t have had to desert the Empire and go running off to Thrawn’s people.

  To Ronan’s left, the door leading to the aft bridge slid open. He looked over, expecting to see Faro stick her nose in again—

  “Any progress, Lieutenant?” Thrawn asked as he stepped inside.

  “Yes, sir,” Vanto said. “I was just about to show Assistant Director Ronan.” He tapped another pair of keys.

  Abruptly, the lines of numbers reshuffled themselves into four color-coded groups in the corners of the display. “Here are the key elements,” Vanto said. “First, as you pointed out, Admiral, twenty-eight of the forty-one missing ships vanished along suspicious vectors. Those twenty-eight were most likely stolen. Second point: While the stolen ships’ cargoes were reasonably diverse, I was able to make several connections among them. Three of them carried foodstuffs, mainly human, but also an unusual amount of blosphi extract.”

  “Wookiee food, right?” Ronan asked, frowning. A large number of Wookiees had been pressed into service in Stardust’s early days, but he’d thought their contribution had largely ended.

  “In a way,” Vanto said, “Wookiees don’t particularly like it, but it’s a cheap alternative to their usual diet and provides enough nutrition to keep them going. More likely it was for someone else—some species find it a delicacy. The more interesting connection was the specific types of machine parts that were stolen. Each ship carried certain specific parts, though no more than seven percent of its total cargo.”

  “Buried among the other, more prominent items,” Thrawn said.

  “Yes, sir,” Vanto said. “Presumably so as not to draw attention to them. But here’s the interesting part. The items include TRL-44 cylinders, Klymtra spark collimators, Boorian synchronization grids, thorilide shock absorbers—”

  “Wait a minute,” Ronan interrupted, a sudden icy feeling jabbing into the pit of his stomach. “Thorilide shock absorbers are—no. You’re wrong.”

  “Do you recognize those elements, Assistant Director?” Thrawn asked calmly.

  Ronan glared at him. He recognized them, all right. And he was pretty damn sure Thrawn did, too. “They’re components for point-defense turbolaser batteries,” he growled. “But that’s impossible. Turbolaser components are transported on special freighters, under special security.” He gestured. “Especially these. They’re a brand-new design, barely two months off the testing line.”

  “Lieutenant Vanto?” Thrawn prompted.

  Ronan looked over in time to see Vanto’s lip twitch. “Together, the stolen ships carried the necessary components for eight complete turbolasers,” Vanto said. “Not the armored outer casings, of course, or the Tibanna gas to drive them. But all the crucial internal parts are here.”

  Ronan looked at Thrawn. He was looking back, an infuriating calmness in those glowing red eyes. “Fine,” Ronan bit out. “Assume you’re right. Assume this isn’t some false pattern or mistake.”

  “You can see for yourself the pattern is genuine.”

  “Assume it’s not a false pattern,” Ronan repeated, chewing out each word. “How could it have happened? Those shipping manifests are carefully controlled and monitored. No pirate gang could have altered them to include these components or to give the proper clearances to these freighters.”

  “I agree,” Thrawn said. “The only reasonable conclusion is that the changes were made at the source.”

  “Someone in Stardust?” Ronan shook his head. “No.”

  “Then someone further down the pipeline,” Vanto said. “Someone in Esaga sector.”

  “Esaga sector?”

  “The stolen ships all originated from three worlds in that sector,” Vanto said, pointing at one of the corners of his display. “Equipment was brought in from other sources, repackaged aboard those particular ships, and sent to the transfer point.”

  Ronan stared at the display, the ice in his stomach digging in a little deeper. Esaga. Governor Haveland’s sector.

  Governor Haveland, who’d made such a strong case to Director Krennic as to why Stardust should funnel as many of its supply chains as possible through her territory.

  Ronan hadn’t been in on that decision or most of those discussions. But he remembered the director commenting on how eager Haveland had been, and wishing other moffs and governors would embrace Stardust’s needs with equal enthusiasm.

  Privately, especially over the past couple of years, Ronan had suspected that much of Haveland’s enthusiasm was the hope that an influx of Stardust funds and personnel would finally give her the resources to eradicate the grallocs that had plagued so m
any of her systems for so long. Indeed, even as the Stardust equipment supervisors had been forced to periodically change the transfer points in an ongoing attempt to shake off the pests, Ronan had further suspected Haveland was perhaps quietly sweetening the deal with those supervisors in order to keep Stardust from abandoning her territory entirely.

  But the supplies had mostly gotten through, and the rest of Stardust was proceeding mostly on schedule, and in the press of other matters the question of Haveland and her grallocs had been set aside and largely forgotten.

  “An interesting plan,” Thrawn murmured thoughtfully. “Allow a small number of freighters to be lost to gralloc interference in order to accustom Stardust’s overseers to such losses. Once that pattern has been established, special ships with special cargoes can disappear under supposedly identical circumstances and no one will think to look into it further.”

  Ronan grimaced. No one, that is, except Thrawn himself. Even Director Krennic had seen the grand admiral’s current task as nothing more than dealing with the grallocs.

  “But time is short,” Thrawn continued. “We must move quickly if we’re to find the truth. Lieutenant, you said you had identified the relevant systems?”

  “Yes, sir,” Vanto said. “I don’t yet know which port the ships are from, though. The connections were designed to be difficult to read.”

  “No doubt. Can you do it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Vanto confirmed. “But it’ll take another couple of hours at least.”

  “You can work en route.” Thrawn turned to Ronan. “The shuttle will depart in thirty minutes, Assistant Director. I trust you can be ready to go by then.”

  “Go?” Ronan asked, frowning. “Go where?”