Chaos Rising

by Timothy Zahn

  Conspicuous by its absence was Thrawn’s family, the Mitth.

  Conspicuous and suspicious. The fact that Thrawn himself wasn’t here had probably been the others’ excuse for keeping the Mitth out of the questioning. But given that he was clearly the focus of the interrogation, the Mitth should have insisted on being present.

  Unless they’d already decided among themselves that Thrawn was a liability and were throwing him to the nighthunters. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d considered that path.

  “Let me get directly to the point,” the Clarr said. “Six days ago, your picket force was sent against the Paataatus in reprisal for their probes against our southeast-zenith border. During that battle, one of your ship commanders, Senior Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo, disobeyed a direct order. Is this true?”

  Ar’alani hesitated. Truthful, but spiraled. “He disobeyed a lesser order, yes, Syndic,” she said.

  The Clarr frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “I said he disobeyed a lesser order,” Ar’alani said. “At the time, though, he was obeying a greater order.”

  “Well, this is certainly fascinating,” the Irizi put in drily. “The Irizi family has been honored to supply officers and warriors to the Defense Force for generations, and I don’t recall ever hearing of greater and lesser orders.”

  “Perhaps priorities would be a better term,” Ar’alani amended. “A warrior’s first priority is of course to defend the Ascendancy. The second is to win the current battle and war. The third is to protect the ship and crew. The fourth is to obey a specific order.”

  “Are you suggesting the Expansionary Defense Fleet operates like a free-form melee?” the Droc asked.

  “More like a free-form sculpture if Thrawn is involved,” the Ufsa added under her breath.

  A couple of the others chuckled. The Clarr didn’t so much as smile. “I asked you a question, Admiral.”

  “Certainly the fleet isn’t as chaotic as your comment would make it appear,” Ar’alani said. “Ideally, the senior commander’s orders are perfectly in line with all those priorities.” She cocked her head, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “In fact, I would venture to say it’s much the same with you.”

  The Clarr’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  “Your first duty is to the Ascendancy,” Ar’alani said. “Your second is to your individual families.”

  “What’s good for the Nine Families is good for the Ascendancy,” the Plikh said stiffly.

  “No doubt,” Ar’alani agreed. “I simply refer to the hierarchy of goals and duties.”

  “Even within the families,” Wutroow put in. “I imagine you treat blood differently from cousins, ranking distants, Trial-borns, and merit adoptives.”

  “Thank you for your statement of the obvious, Senior Captain,” the Clarr said acidly. “But you weren’t brought here for a discussion of family relationships. You were brought here to explain why Captain Thrawn was permitted to disobey a direct order from his superior without suffering any consequences for his actions.”

  “Forgive me, Syndic,” Wutroow said before Ar’alani could answer, “but I have a question.”

  “Admiral Ar’alani, kindly inform your first officer that she’s here to answer questions, not ask them,” the Clarr snapped.

  “Again, forgive me, Syndic,” Wutroow said doggedly, “but my question has a direct bearing on Captain Thrawn’s actions.”

  The Clarr started to speak, hesitated, then pursed his lips. “Very well,” he said. “But I warn you, Captain, that I’m not in the mood for frivolous deflection.”

  “Neither am I, Syndic,” Wutroow said. “As has been established, the reason Captain Thrawn moved the Springhawk away from Admiral Ar’alani’s force was to draw the ambush to himself and give the rest of the ships time to adjust and counterattack. My question is this: Why was the force ambushed so quickly and completely?”

  “Because the Paataatus knew that their actions against the Ascendancy would naturally invite reprisals,” the Clarr said. “Especially if they were the ones behind the Csilla attack. I warned you about frivolous questions—”

  “But why there?” Wutroow persisted. “Why that particular spot? Because they were very clearly expecting us.”

  “You sound as if you already know the answer,” the Kiwu said. “Why don’t you tell us?”

  “Thank you,” Wutroow said, inclining her head to him. “I’ve obtained a detailed report of the mission the Syndicure sent to the Paataatus shortly after they were identified as the ones pressing against our flank. The conversations were brief—”

  “We’ve all read the report,” the Clarr interrupted. “Get on with it.”

  “Yes, Syndic,” Wutroow said. There was no trace of a smile on her face, Ar’alani noted—Wutroow knew better than to even look like she might be mocking any of the Aristocra—but there was a subtle look in her eye that promised this was going to be good. “As the discussions ended and the emissaries returned to their ship, one of them said to the Paataatus delegation—” Wutroow paused and peered at her questis. “—and I quote: ‘The next time you see Chiss ships come toward you through those stars, they’ll be bringing your utter destruction.’ ” She looked up. “Do I need to identify the direction that emissary was pointing?”

  “Nonsense,” the Ufsa bit out. “No diplomat would do anything so foolish.”

  “Apparently one of them did,” Wutroow said. “Had Admiral Ar’alani known about that, of course, she would certainly have chosen a different attack vector. But she didn’t know.”

  “And under those circumstances,” Ar’alani added, picking up on Wutroow’s opening, “I’m sure you recognize that Captain Thrawn’s actions were both necessary and proper.”

  “Perhaps,” the Clarr said. His voice and face still weren’t conceding the point, but his earlier confidence had definitely cooled. “Interesting. Thank you for your time, Admiral; Captain. You’re dismissed. We’ll call you back after we’ve looked into this matter further.”

  “Yes, Syndic,” Ar’alani said, standing up. “One other thing. I fully believe that this attack is the last demonstration we’ll need to launch against the Paataatus. Their diplomats seem fully committed to withdrawing to their borders and leaving the Ascendancy strictly alone. If that makes a difference to your deliberations.”

  “Thank you,” the Clarr said again. “Good day.”

  “They won’t, of course,” Wutroow said as the two women retraced their steps down the long corridor. “Call us back, I mean. Once they figure out what happened, the last thing they’ll want is to draw more attention to such a blunder.”

  “Agreed,” Ar’alani said. “So is that story actually true?”

  “Absolutely.” Wutroow smiled. “Bluffing an enemy in combat sometimes works. Bluffing the Aristocra doesn’t. No, one of the emissaries was actually stupid enough to stand there and point out our optimal attack vector.”

  “You got this from someone in your family, I assume?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wutroow confirmed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you the specifics.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask,” Ar’alani assured her. “I assume leaking it to you had to do with some larger stakes of family politics, and not just getting Thrawn off the hook?”

  “No, that was just a fortunate side effect.” Wutroow gave Ar’alani a sideways look. “I note you didn’t credit Thrawn with that prediction of future Paataatus inaction.”

  Ar’alani felt her nose wrinkle. Normally, she hated the common practice of one officer taking credit for another’s achievements or ideas. But in this case…“I’ll make sure to correct the record in a year or two, assuming the prediction works out,” she said. “Today I don’t think it would have gone over well.”

  “But you wanted to get it on the record,” Wutroow said, nodding. “And this was yo
ur best way of doing that. I guess you never realize how important family connections and pipelines are until you lose them.”

  “No, you don’t,” Ar’alani said, feeling an old and distant sense of loss. “So enjoy it while you can.”

  “What, me?” Wutroow gave a small laugh. “I appreciate the compliment, Admiral. But there’s no way I’ll ever make flag rank.”

  “You never know, Captain,” Ar’alani said. “You really never know.”

  Che’ri came out of Third Sight with slightly bleary eyes, a horrible tiredness, and a massive headache. It felt like an overload spell starting to come on.

  She hoped desperately it wasn’t an overload spell.

  “We’re here,” someone said.

  Che’ri turned her head, careful not to move it too quickly. Senior Captain Thrawn was seated in the command chair, with Mid Captain Samakro on his left and Thalias on his right.

  That was new. Most of Che’ri’s momishes had walked her to and from the bridge but stayed in the suite while she was on duty. She’d always assumed they simply weren’t allowed inside.

  Maybe they all could have stayed if they’d wanted to, and just didn’t want to. Or maybe Thalias was special because she’d been a sky-walker.

  Thrawn and Samakro were looking at a planet centered in the main viewport.

  Thalias was looking at Che’ri.

  Quickly, Che’ri turned back to her controls, the sudden movement hammering an extra jolt of pain into her head. Never show weakness, she’d been warned over and over again. A sky-walker never shows weakness. She’s always ready to continue on, cheerfully and efficiently, making one more journey, and one more after that, until her captain allows her to rest.

  “No energy emissions,” the woman at the sensor station called. “No masses of refined metal, no indications of life activities. Planet seems dead.”

  “Not surprising, given the environment,” Samakro said. “Scratch one more. On to the next system?”

  There was a pause. Che’ri kept staring at the controls in front of her, hoping Thrawn would say no.

  But she was sure he would say yes. No one had told her what this journey was all about, but they seemed to be looking for something important. A captain like Thrawn wouldn’t want to waste any time.

  Could Che’ri navigate with an overload spell coming on? She’d never tried before. But she had a job to do, and there was no one else aboard who could do it. If Thrawn said they should go on—

  “I think not,” Thrawn said. “The ship and warriors could use a few hours’ rest.”

  Che’ri felt tears blurring her eyes. Tears of relief that she could rest. Tears of shame that she was too tired to go on.

  Thrawn knew. She could hear it in his voice. He could say everyone else needed rest, but he knew. It was all on her. All on Che’ri. She was the reason they had to stop.

  “Helm, bring us into high orbit over the planet,” the captain ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” the man at the console next to Che’ri’s said.

  She watched his fingers moving on the controls, fascinated despite her aches and blurry vision. She’d played some flying games on her questis, but watching someone doing it for real was a lot more interesting.

  “Sensors, extend your search outward during the inbound,” Thrawn continued. “Once we’re in orbit, refine the search toward the planet.”

  “Yes, sir,” the woman said.

  “What are you expecting to find?” Samakro asked.

  “Not expecting, Mid Captain,” Thrawn corrected. “Merely speculating.”

  Che’ri frowned. Speculating? About what? She kept listening, hoping Samakro would ask.

  But he didn’t. “Yes, sir,” was all he said. Che’ri heard his footsteps as he walked away.

  “Thank you,” Thalias said quietly.

  Che’ri squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the pain and shame, spilling the tears down her cheeks. Thalias knew, too. Did Samakro know?

  Did everyone on the ship know?

  There was a breath on Che’ri’s cheek, warming the tears. “Are you all right?” Thalias asked softly into her ear. “Shall I help you back to the suite?”

  “Can I stay here a little longer?” Che’ri asked. “I can’t…I don’t want to be carried.”

  “Is she all right, Caregiver?” Thrawn asked.

  “She will be,” Thalias said, pressing her hand against Che’ri’s forehead. The cool and the pressure felt good. “Sometimes sky-walkers come out of Third Sight with sensory overload that presents with aches and sparkle-vision. If it goes into a full-on spell, it can take some time to throw it off.”

  “All the more reason to stop for now,” Thrawn said.

  “Yes,” Thalias said. “At any rate, I’d like to give Che’ri a few minutes here to start her recovery before we walk back to the suite.”

  A small bit of comfort whispered through the pain. None of Che’ri’s other momishes had ever really understood these overload spells. One of them had even gotten angry with her. It was nice to have someone who knew what they were, and what to do about them.

  “Take all the time you need,” Thrawn said. “I’m not surprised she was affected so strongly, given this system’s parameters.”

  Che’ri frowned, opening her eyes and peering at the planet the Springhawk was moving toward. It didn’t look any different from any other planet she’d seen on this trip. What was so special about it?

  “Not the planet,” Thrawn said.

  Che’ri jerked, the movement sending another wave of pain through her head and shoulders. The captain’s voice had come from right behind her.

  Captains didn’t usually get close to their sky-walkers. She didn’t know if they weren’t supposed to, or if they just didn’t. But Thrawn was standing right beside Thalias. Almost close enough to touch.

  “Look at the tactical display,” Thrawn continued, pointing at one of the big screens beside the viewport. “It gives you a wider view of the system as a whole.”

  Che’ri squinted at the display, trying to sort out all the lines and curves and numbers.

  And then she got it, and felt her eyes go wide.

  There wasn’t just one star out there, like she’d thought. There were four of them.

  “Quadruple star systems like this are quite rare,” Thrawn said. “I imagine navigating into the middle of one takes an extra toll on Third Sight.”

  “Yes, I imagine it does,” Thalias said, shifting hands to bring her other, colder one onto Che’ri’s forehead. “Why are we here? I mean here?”

  “Do you really want to know, Caregiver?” Thrawn asked.

  Thalias’s hand against Che’ri’s forehead suddenly went stiff. “Yes, sir,” Thalias said. “I really do.”

  Thrawn stepped around to Thalias’s other side. “A refugee ship was found drifting in one of the Ascendancy’s outlying systems,” he said, his voice low. Maybe Che’ri wasn’t supposed to hear this part? “We’re following the likely vector the ship came from in the hope of identifying the people. A question, Lieutenant Commander Azmordi?”

  “No, sir,” the lieutenant commander said stiffly. “But may I remind the captain that there are certain areas that are to be kept”—squinting past Thalias’s hand, Che’ri saw him pointing at her—“within the senior officer corps?”

  “Your concern is noted, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn said. “However, at some point Sky-walker Che’ri and Caregiver Thalias may be required to perform extraordinary tasks. It’s important that the team knows what’s at stake and is mentally prepared.”

  Che’ri frowned. The team. No one had ever called her part of a team before. She’d never even thought of herself that way. She was the sky-walker, and her caregiver was her momish, and that was all. Che’ri guided the ship where it needed to go, and the caregiver made her meals and put her t
o bed at night. They weren’t a team.

  Were they?

  “Yes, sir,” Azmordi said. Che’ri had heard enough unhappy officers to know what one sounded like, and this one definitely wasn’t happy.

  But he didn’t keep arguing.

  “It occurred to me that the refugees wouldn’t want their enemy to know where they were going,” Thrawn continued. “I also read from the way the family units had been gathered together on the destroyed ship that the people had a close sense of comradeship. It seemed to me that such people would prefer to travel in groups. Or, if not a group, then at least with a companion ship.”

  He paused, like he was expecting one of them to say something. Che’ri looked at the four stars again, trying to think through her headache.

  And then, suddenly, she had it. “I know!” she said, raising her hand. “The four stars. It’s hard to get in here.”

  “Yes,” Thrawn said. “Which means…?”

  Che’ri felt her shoulders hunch. She didn’t have any idea what it meant.

  “Which means it’s a perfect place for two ships to rendezvous,” Thalias said. “A place where any pursuers would hesitate to look. Do you think we’ll find the other ship here?”

  “Possibly.” Thrawn paused again, and Che’ri had the feeling he was looking at her. “Sky-walker Che’ri, are you ready yet to return to your quarters?”

  The moment of excitement disappeared. Che’ri wasn’t part of the team anymore, just someone there to move the ship around. “I think so,” she said with a sigh.

  “Let me help you,” Thalias said. She took Che’ri’s arm with one hand, and undid the safety straps with the other. “Are you ready to stand up?”

  “Yes,” Che’ri said. She stood up, stopped as her head spun suddenly with vertigo. The universe settled down, and she nodded. “Okay,” she said, and walked around the chair. With Thalias still holding her arm, she went to the bridge hatchway.