Treason - Timothy Zahn

by Star Wars

“The Aloxor system,” Thrawn said. “It’s the closest of Lieutenant Vanto’s three suspect worlds. We must obtain evidence before the conspirators realize their plot has been uncovered.”

  “So call ISB and turn it over to them,” Ronan said. “I understand Colonel Wullf Yularen is a personal friend of yours. I’m sure he can find an agent somewhere who can dig into this.”

  “I have, in fact, already been in contact with Colonel Yularen,” Thrawn said. “But if someone in Governor Haveland’s administration is involved, that person will surely have private contacts within ISB. If we report this on any official channel, the conspirators will learn of it and destroy all traces of their activity before it can be uncovered.”

  Ronan glared at him. But he was right. The network of quiet and undeclared contacts among the Empire’s elite rivaled even the HoloNet for speed and accuracy of information transfer. “Fine,” he said. “So send Vanto. There’s no need for me to personally see any of it.”

  “On the contrary,” Thrawn said. “You are the one and only voice Director Krennic will listen to. You must be a direct witness to the plot.”

  Ronan shot a look at Vanto. Clearly, the traitor was also hearing about this plan for the first time. Just as clearly, he wasn’t any happier about it than Ronan was.

  “The shuttle is being prepared, and I have assigned two of my men to escort you,” Thrawn continued, pointedly looking Ronan up and down. “I trust you have some civilian clothing you can use?”

  “I wear this uniform proudly, Admiral,” Ronan said stiffly. “I’ve worn nothing else in public in years.”

  “I assume that is a no,” Thrawn said. “I’ll instruct the quartermaster to fabricate local clothing in your size.” His eyes shifted to Vanto. “In both your sizes,” he added. “It will be waiting in the shuttle bay. Lieutenant Vanto, I’ll need you on the command walkway for a moment before you go. Good hunting to you.” Nodding to each of them in turn, he turned and strode out of the office.

  Again, Ronan looked at Vanto, to find the other also looking back at him. “You’re a deserter and a turncoat,” Ronan said flatly. “I despise both.”

  “I know,” Vanto said, his voice even.

  “But I despise traitors and thieves even more,” Ronan continued. “So as long as we’re working on this, we work together. No official or unofficial consequences. Afterward…let’s just see where we end up.”

  “Understood.” A smile twitched at the corners of Vanto’s mouth. “I should point out that dropping veiled threats before heading off into danger isn’t the wisest thing a person can do.”

  “What, you mean you might take a shot at me?” Ronan scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a high-ranking Imperial dignitary. It’s worth your life if anything happens to me. Besides, Thrawn’s precious Defender project depends totally on me and my support.”

  “I didn’t make any threats,” Vanto said calmly. “I simply thought I’d point it out.” He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to meet the admiral on the bridge.”

  “A question,” Ronan said as Vanto reached the door. “Why does Thrawn even have templates for civilian clothing aboard?”

  “Because it’s sometimes easier to get information when people don’t know who you really are,” Vanto said.

  “I’m an Imperial officer,” Ronan countered. “That should be enough to get us what we want.”

  “Agreed,” Vanto said. “But as I said, sometimes it’s easier. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

  Ronan waited until the door had closed behind him. Then, muttering under his breath, he went to the desk chair and sat down.

  He’d seen those numbers before, of course. He’d spent over an hour looking at them and sifting through them after he’d handed over the data to Thrawn and Faro. He hadn’t seen a single thing of interest there.

  Vanto, in less than two hours, had uncovered a complete conspiracy.

  It was all there, too, right out in the open. Ronan could see that now. But it had taken someone with Vanto’s abilities, and someone with Thrawn’s conviction that there was something in there worth hunting for, to see it.

  Ronan scowled. His working assumption had always been that people in positions of power and authority were lazy or incompetent or both, Director Krennic being the sole exception. Now Governor Haveland had added felonious to that list.

  There would be a certain satisfaction in turning Vanto over to the navy. But there would be far greater satisfaction in watching ISB haul Haveland off in binders.

  He snorted and blanked the display, sending the data back to Faro’s secure folder. Time to sort all that out later. Standing up, he crossed to the door and walked out into the aft bridge.

  And stopped short just outside the office door, his breath freezing in his throat. The bridge and aft bridge were bustling with activity—apparently, the Chimaera was preparing for action of some sort. Standing on the command walkway, a circle of calm in the middle of the commotion, were Thrawn and Vanto.

  Standing beside them in the midst of that calm were Ar’alani and the girl Vah’nya.

  The frozen breath inside Ronan turned instantly to boiling blood. This was an Imperial Star Destroyer, the very symbol of the Empire’s strength and determination. Thrawn had no business—he had no right—to bring outsiders to the heart of that power.

  To hell with Vanto’s treason. To hell even with Haveland’s. In a single stroke, Thrawn had outdone them both. Ronan took a step toward them, glancing around for troopers or stormtroopers he could commandeer to put the insubordinate grand admiral under arrest—

  Abruptly, the girl Vah’nya twitched.

  It wasn’t something violent or deliberate, like a medical condition or the prelude to an attack, but more like she’d been startled by something. Ronan frowned—

  And then, a few meters behind the girl, someone coming up from the portside crew pit tripped on the top step and fell forward, slamming both hands palms down on the metal deck to break his fall.

  The double slap echoed loudly across the bridge, sending twitches and jumps through everyone in earshot, including Ar’alani and Vanto.

  But not the girl. The girl had twitched first. Before it happened.

  Ronan’s boiling blood froze back into ice. The girl wasn’t just an alien. She wasn’t just an outsider. She was a Force-sensitive.

  She was a Jedi.

  He stared at her, his half-formed plan to confront Thrawn evaporating into uncertainty. This was no longer something clear-cut and obvious.

  A Jedi.

  What could Thrawn be planning?

  Or was he in fact planning anything at all? Could he be unaware of who this girl was? Was the scheme Ar’alani’s, not Thrawn’s?

  It was insane. The Emperor had demolished the Jedi Order and forbidden any resurgence of their ancient religion. Someone with Thrawn’s insight surely couldn’t have been taken in so completely by someone’s scheme. Not Ar’alani’s or anyone else’s.

  But that would imply that Thrawn himself was a part of it. How could he defy the Emperor this way?

  Unless it wasn’t defiance.

  Ronan gazed at the four of them, watching Thrawn’s lips moving as he gave inaudible instructions to the others. Could this whole thing be a carefully orchestrated scheme by Thrawn and the Emperor—with Director Krennic’s advice, no doubt—to seek out and destroy the Jedi among Thrawn’s people?

  Yes. Surely that had to be it. It would also explain why the director had sent him out here in the first place. Thrawn knew exactly what was going on, and was playing Ar’alani along in the hope of finding, defeating, and destroying this new threat to the Empire.

  In which case, Ronan’s best option was to pretend he hadn’t seen anything and let the scheme play out.

  He could be wrong, of course. It could still be that Thrawn was up to his neck in treason her
e. But right now, Ronan had bigger fish to spear. Thrawn might be a traitor; Governor Haveland was definitely one. All Ronan needed was proof, and with luck he and Vanto would soon have that in hand. He turned and headed for the turbolift to grab what he’d need for a couple of days off the Chimaera.

  At least he’d had a chance to send word back to the transfer point for the shipmaster to lock things down. Governor Haveland wouldn’t get her hands on a single additional ship or cargo.

  And if Thrawn was, in fact, a traitor?

  Not a problem. Ronan could always denounce him to Director Krennic after he got back.

  * * *

  —

  Eli took a careful breath. “Death troopers,” he echoed, just to make sure he’d heard Thrawn correctly.

  “Is there a problem?” Thrawn asked.

  Eli looked away from him at the preparations going on all around the bridge. What could he say? That death troopers were the elite of the elite, in both competence and fanaticism? That they hated traitors and renegades even more than Ronan did?

  Or that Eli himself was exactly the kind of person that men like that would normally shoot on sight without a second thought?

  “Perhaps a change in personnel should be considered,” Ar’alani suggested into the silence, her own eyes on Eli. “Lieutenant Eli’van’to seems uncomfortable with your choice of guardians.”

  “Then he had best become comfortable with it,” Thrawn said, his tone hardening a little. “The spaceport he and Assistant Director Ronan will be traveling through will likely present many dangers, not only from criminals and suborned Imperials, but also from loyal officials and guards seeking to interrupt his inquiries. Only death troopers will have the credentials and authority to circumvent such actions, should that become necessary.”

  “Ronan also has high-ranking credentials,” Eli pointed out.

  “Credentials that officials at a small spaceport may have never seen, for a project they’ve likely never heard of,” Thrawn countered.

  “Since you mentioned danger,” Ar’alani put in, “I presume these death troopers are combat-capable even without their armor and heavy weapons?”

  “They are,” Thrawn said. “Moreover, I’m sure you’ve also noticed that highly trained warriors such as these carry an aura of hidden danger about them, a sense that many criminals will recognize and avoid. It’s very likely that their very presence will make combat unnecessary.”

  “Understood,” Eli said with a sigh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vah’nya twitch suddenly. The girl hadn’t said a word since this conversation began, and Eli wondered why she was even here. Probably because Thrawn had wanted Ar’alani in on their chat and Vah’nya was sticking close to her commander. “I trust you’ve also made it clear—”

  He broke off as a muffled double slap echoed across the bridge. Eli twitched in response, looking toward the sound to see a clearly embarrassed ensign pick himself up off the deck at the top of the portside crew pit stairway. “I trust you made it clear,” he began again, “that turning me in to the authorities would be counterproductive to the mission?”

  A small smile touched the corners of Thrawn’s lips. “That point has been made very clear,” he promised.

  “You trust them that far?” Ar’alani asked.

  “I do,” Thrawn said. “Their loyalty to me will guarantee protection for those under their care.” He lifted a finger. “However, I wish you to keep their true identity a secret from Assistant Director Ronan. Should he choose to bring charges against me in the future, I wish for them to maintain their anonymity.”

  Eli winced. Consorting with possible enemies of the Empire; unsanctioned and unreported military actions; failing to report contact with unknown and unidentified forces—he could think of a dozen charges right off the top of his head that Ronan might choose to raise. Serious charges that could derail a career, or worse.

  Yet even in the midst of that, Thrawn was thinking about how his actions might affect his subordinates.

  Surely that level of consideration meant that he hadn’t simply sent Eli off without a second thought. Didn’t it?

  But that conversation was still for the future. Right now he had a job to do. “Understood, sir,” he said briskly. “We won’t let you down.”

  “I know,” Thrawn said. “Go now and find the evidence we need, Lieutenant. And warrior’s fortune be with you.”

  * * *

  —

  The demands were coming again. Though this time, at least, they were coming from Director Krennic and not Governor Haveland.

  Not that it really mattered. Regardless of the source, Grand Admiral Savit was getting roundly tired of them.

  Especially when they were demanding he do something that was not only foolish but also completely counterproductive.

  “You don’t understand, Admiral,” Krennic said, his eyes boring into Savit’s. At least this time the director had opted for a normal video transmission instead of Haveland’s overblown and self-indulgent hologram communication. “Assistant Director Ronan was very clear that there’s immediate danger to the Kurost transfer point. Governor Haveland has managed to scatter the local Imperial forces across her sector on a dozen insurgency-suppression missions, and even if she called them back immediately I doubt they could disengage and respond in a sufficiently timely matter. Your fleet is the only sizable force within range.”

  “Perhaps it’s you who doesn’t understand, Director,” Savit said, fighting to keep his voice calm. “We’re currently engaged in a running battle with a large and highly dangerous pirate gang, one that I’m convinced also has ties to the rebels threatening the Empire’s stability. Breaking off now could be disastrous.”

  “Not protecting the transfer point could be even more so,” Krennic countered.

  “The pirates are fighting for their lives,” Savit said. “The last thing they have time for is preying on your precious foodstuffs, kitchen supplies, and recreational equipment. Don’t look at me that way—I know the cargoes that go through Kurost. I also know that all the genuinely valuable cargo is shipped through other channels.”

  “It’s not pirates Ronan’s worried about,” Krennic gritted out. “He says there are at least two alien factions showing interest in the transfer point.”

  “Really,” Savit said, eyeing Krennic closely. “And what does Ronan say Grand Admiral Thrawn is doing about it?”

  For the first time in the conversation, Savit detected a note of hesitation. “Ronan was somewhat vague on that,” Krennic conceded. “But I have the impression Thrawn could use your assistance.”

  “Really,” Savit said, permitting himself a small smile. If Krennic only knew that he and Tarkin were finally on the same page on something. “My source says Thrawn has the situation well under control.” It wasn’t actually his source, of course, but Captain Rasdel’s man inside Governor Tarkin’s office, reporting on the information Tarkin had received from his contact aboard the Chimaera. But Krennic didn’t need to know that. “May I suggest that Assistant Director Ronan is jumping at shadows?”

  Krennic’s face darkened. But Savit could tell he’d hit a nerve. “Ronan doesn’t jump at shadows, Admiral,” the director said stiffly. “Unlike certain other people, he always has the best interests of the Empire at heart.”

  “Whatever you say,” Savit said. “At any rate, moving ships to your transfer point would be of little advantage. Your own Imperial detachment already has a sizable force guarding the freighters. More important, simple logic suggests that if there are pirates targeting your supply lines, they’re likely moving their operations back a step to raid the freighters as they come out of the assembly systems in Esaga sector. Certainly there’s been an increase in pirate and smuggler presence there.”

  “And if that’s the case, what do you intend to do about it?”

  “If it meets with your appro
val,” Savit said, not bothering to disguise his sarcasm, “I thought I’d send a ship to each of your Esaga staging areas and see if we can catch them. That does meet with your approval, I trust?”

  “It does indeed,” Krennic said, his tone and expression making it clear he recognized the mockery but dismissed it as being beneath his notice. “I trust you, in turn, will keep me informed as to your progress.”

  “Of course,” Savit said. “As you will, no doubt, continue to keep me apprised as to Assistant Director Ronan’s assessments from the Chimaera.”

  “Of course,” Krennic said.

  “Excellent,” Savit said. “I’ll be in touch, Director.”

  Krennic inclined his head, and the display blanked.

  Savit gazed at the empty screen, feeling his lip curl. As if either of them had the slightest intention of doing what they’d just promised.

  Politics, he’d heard someone say once, would ultimately be the death of the Empire. Politics between men like Krennic and Tarkin; politics all the way up to Palpatine himself. Infighting, jockeying for position, backstabbing with a smile, all the while ignoring the real threats. Threats from without…and from within.

  Not if Savit could help it.

  In the meantime, there were pirates and other more immediate matters to deal with. Pulling up the listing of the Third Fleet’s ships, he began choosing which ones to send to Krennic’s precious assembly systems.

  Thrawn had done this same trick once before, just a few short weeks ago. Then, in deference to Lord Vader’s desire for privacy—as well as the fact that Vader could probably kill everyone aboard the Chimaera without batting whatever soulless eyes were hidden behind that mask—Thrawn had sent Faro and everyone else off the bridge.

  Faro hadn’t been happy about that. Not because she had any interest in seeing how Vader pulled off this mysterious navigation trick Thrawn had come up with, but because flying into possible danger with an unstaffed bridge was a laser-etched invitation to trouble.

  This time, in deference to Faro’s concerns, she’d been invited to stay.