Thrawn_Alliances_Star Wars

by Timothy Zahn

  “Any chance I can persuade you to return to Coruscant with us to speak with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine?” she asked as she took the comm back and put it away. “Our peoples should get to know each other. There’s a great deal we could accomplish together.”

  “I’m afraid I have other duties I must attend to,” Thrawn said. “In addition, I’m not in a position to take part in official communications.” His eyes flicked over her shoulder. “General Skywalker, I must take my leave.”

  “I understand,” Anakin said. Padmé turned, wincing at the bundle of wrapped explosives he’d put together. “But you really should reconsider Padmé’s offer. The Republic’s going to win this war, and Chancellor Palpatine is the one who’ll lead us to that victory. The Chiss Ascendancy would do well to establish good relations with him.”

  “Perhaps someday,” Thrawn said. “But for now, I must depart.” He looked up.

  Padmé followed his gaze. Above them, a dark shape was dropping toward the ground.

  “I’ll wait in orbit until you depart to guard against further attacks,” Thrawn continued as a sleek ship settled to the ground nearby. “Safe travels to you both.”

  “I hope we’ll meet again,” Padmé said. “Thank you for your help.”

  “And for yours,” Thrawn said, inclining his head to her.

  The ship’s ramp lowered as he walked toward it, the hatch behind it sliding open. He walked to the ramp.

  And paused. “One final thought,” he said, turning to face them. “I’m concerned by your suggestion that the Separatists plan to infiltrate your government offices disguised in enhanced clone armor. Successful attacks of that sort generally require numbers that the Separatists will have difficulty placing into position.”

  “There are a lot of clones wandering around the Senate and Chancellery,” Padmé said.

  “But a single massive infiltration draws attention, while gradual infiltration holds the risk of premature discovery,” Thrawn pointed out. “I cannot help but wonder if the armor is intended for some other purpose.”

  “Was intended,” Anakin said, leaning on the word. “Was. Whatever Solha and Dooku were planning, it’s no longer relevant.”

  “Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Still, it would be wise to think on it, General.”

  Turning again, he walked up the ramp and disappeared inside. The hatch and ramp sealed, and the ship rose again into the sky.

  “You think he could be right?” Padmé asked, suppressing a shiver. There was something in Thrawn’s earnestness that had sent a darkness through her.

  “I don’t know,” Anakin said. “And right now, I don’t care. Get back to the ship and make sure it’s ready. I’ll set this thing and we’ll get out of here.”

  “Anakin—”

  But he was already gone. With one last lingering look up at the stars, Padmé headed back to their borrowed ship.

  LebJau met her at the ramp. “I was hoping I could hitch a ride somewhere,” he said.

  “You aren’t going back to your people?” Padmé asked, frowning.

  “You mean the people who’ll probably hang me if I stay?” he countered bitterly.

  “It’s not that bad,” Padmé said, trying to sound positive. “Most of the workers at the factory will be able to go back. They’ll still need you to work on the super battle droid assembly line.”

  “If the duke lets us,” LebJau said. “Fair chance he won’t. Especially—” He broke off, waving a hand at the mine buildings. “Even if he does, the miners aren’t going to get their jobs back.”

  This is war—the old, clichéd phrase came automatically to Padmé’s mind.

  But this wasn’t Mokivj’s war. Or it hadn’t been until they’d been dragged into it. The fact that it was the Separatists who’d done the dragging and not the Republic was small consolation.

  It wouldn’t be any consolation at all to LebJau’s people.

  “I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Yes, of course you can come with us. Would Batuu work? We have to go there anyway to get my ship.”

  “Sure,” LebJau said, his eyes still on the mine. “I know some guys who went there once. Sounded okay.”

  “If you know people who go there, it might be wise to change your name.”

  “Yeah, no big deal.” He waved at the ship. “I don’t suppose I can have that ship when you’re done with it? I know it’s stolen, but it doesn’t sound like people on Batuu would care. I could probably sell it for a stake.”

  “Of course you can have it,” Padmé said. “It’s the least we can do.” She craned her neck as Anakin reappeared at the mine entrance. “Here he comes.”

  “Okay,” Anakin said, hurrying up to them. “Into the ship. LebJau, you need to get clear—”

  “We’re taking him to Batuu,” Padmé interrupted.

  Anakin flashed her a frown, shifted the frown to LebJau. “Okay. Sure. In that case, both of you into the ship.”

  Three minutes later they were half a kilometer in the air, hovering a kilometer away from the mine building cluster. “Ten seconds,” Anakin warned. “Though there shouldn’t be much to see.”

  “What’s supposed to happen?” Padmé asked.

  “I’m just collapsing the tunnels,” Anakin said. “There should be some ground fracturing, maybe some dust—”

  An instant later the area exploded into a blazing geyser of fire and smoke.

  Padmé gasped as Anakin twisted the control yoke hard over, trying to get them away from the geyser. Something slapped into the ship’s underside, throwing a slight wobble into his maneuver, and a few blazing embers landed on the hull near the cockpit viewport. “What the frost is that?” LebJau yelped.

  “I don’t know,” Anakin snapped back, fighting the controls as more globs slammed into both the upper and lower edges of the ship.

  “Don’t give me I don’t know,” LebJau snarled. “That’s my world down there! What the frost did you do?”

  “I just collapsed the tunnels,” Anakin said. The ship was leveling off now, outside the edge of the roiling fountain still pouring from the mine. “It shouldn’t—look, I’ve taken down mines before. I know how to do it.”

  “But this isn’t just a mine,” Padmé said, staring at the biggest of the glowing globs on the ship’s hull as she suddenly understood. “It’s a cortosis mine.”

  “What does that—?” Anakin broke off. “No—that’s crazy. It’s only supposed to redirect blaster energy.”

  “I guess it can redirect the heat of explosives, too,” Padmé bit out, her stomach tightening into a painful knot. “That’s lava out there, Anakin. However the cortosis did it, it sent your explosion straight down through the crust into the magma.”

  For a long moment, none of them said anything. There was nothing to say.

  “Doesn’t look like it’s coming too close to your town,” Padmé said at last. Even to herself, the attempt at solace sounded pitiful. “It’s blowing away from the factory, too.”

  “No, it’s just pouring lava onto our best cropland,” LebJau said bitterly. “And that ash and smoke…it’s going to be in the air and cropland and water for years. Maybe forever.”

  Padmé looked at Anakin. His jaw was set, his eyes focused straight ahead. Collateral damage—the other cliché came to her mind.

  Collateral damage. A planet full of people, just trying to live their lives. The kind of ordinary civilians she and Anakin had once dedicated themselves to protecting.

  Collateral damage. And it hadn’t started here, either. She’d been doing it ever since she arrived on Mokivj. She’d cajoled and bribed and all but insisted that LebJau and his friends work for her; that they risk everything for this stranger who’d dropped into their midst.

  Collateral damage. Had she become so numbed and war-weary that she no longer even saw what she
was doing to everyone else around her?

  “But I guess there’s nothing we can do about it now,” LebJau continued. The bitterness was gone, leaving only tiredness behind.

  “I’ll talk to the Senate,” Padmé promised. “We’ll talk to the Senate,” she amended, looking at Anakin. “Maybe they can send some help.”

  Anakin didn’t reply.

  But then, he knew as well as she did that the words were meaningless. The Senate had far too many demands on its limited resources to even notice Mokivj, let alone help its people.

  Collateral damage.

  “Yeah,” LebJau said. He wasn’t fooled, either. “Can we get out of here now?”

  “Sure,” Anakin said. “Batuu?”

  “It’s as good a place as any to start a new life,” LebJau said. His eyes, Padmé noted, were still on the magma geyser.

  “You can always try the Black Spire cantina,” Anakin said. “I’m guessing they go through a lot of bartenders at that place.”

  “Sure,” LebJau said. “I’ll think about it.”

  The Chiss warship drifted away from the Chimaera and turned back onto its original vector. A moment’s pause; then with a flicker of pseudomotion it was gone.

  For a moment Vader gazed out the main viewport after it. The ship wasn’t nearly as big as a Star Destroyer, but from what he’d seen of its flankside weapons it would be a formidable opponent.

  He sensed Thrawn’s presence behind him before he heard the soft footsteps on the command walkway. “All is well?” he asked the Chiss.

  “All is well,” Thrawn said. “Admiral Ar’alani will return the children to their families, and has promised to bolster the defenses of the colony world from which they were taken.”

  “Yes,” Vader said. “The time has come, Admiral.”

  “The time?”

  “You promised proof that the Grysks are a threat to the Empire.” Vader turned to face Thrawn. “If such proof does indeed exist.”

  “It awaits us in my office,” Thrawn assured him. “At your convenience.”

  Vader strode past him down the walkway, his cloak swirling. Thrawn’s office was off the rear of the aft bridge; stretching out with the Force to wave the door open, he walked inside.

  Lying in the middle of the desk, taking up half the available space, was a section of half-disassembled machinery. “This is the proof?” he demanded as Thrawn closed the door and crossed to the other side of the desk.

  “It is, my lord,” Thrawn confirmed. “It is the inner power coupling mechanism from one of the Grysk gravity projectors. Note the meshwork wrapping the three poles and linking to the shield shell?”

  Vader frowned. The material looked familiar…

  He stiffened. “Cortosis?”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said. “This is what the Grysks use the material for: power couplings and energy management. It cannot dissipate the sharp power gradient of their arc-cannon weaponry, as you saw, and so is of no use to them as armor.”

  “How does that prove Grysk interference with the Empire?”

  “I propose two questions,” Thrawn said. “First: How did the Grysks know that cortosis would be an effective defense against blasters and lightsabers?”

  Vader stared at the cortosis weave, more of The Jedi’s memories seeping back into his consciousness. “You suggest they were studying us as far back as the Clone Wars?”

  “I do, my lord.” A small smile touched the Chiss’s face. “After all, the Chiss were watching you. Why not the Grysks? My second question: Once the Grysks knew the value of cortosis against blasters and lightsabers, how did the Separatists gain that knowledge?”

  Vader reached out and touched the edge of the cortosis with a gloved finger. So many dark, dark memories…“You suggest the Grysks contacted Dooku. That they offered him invulnerable battle droids as a way to ensure Separatist victory.”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said. “I believe their plan was to offer him a taste of such a victory, then withhold it until they had obtained his servitude. But he surprised them.”

  “In what way?”

  “We have now seen the Grysk pattern of dominance, my lord,” Thrawn said. “On Batuu they forced the Darshi into obedience by holding their ceremonial daggers hostage. With the Chiss, they are attempting to do the same by taking our children. Stealing one species’ treasured and honored past; stealing another species’ treasured and vital future.

  “But Dooku surprised them. Instead of simply armoring battle droids, he armored both droids and clone armor. I believe that it was that surprise, and the further reconsideration it forced upon them, that delayed the Grysks’ movement into the Empire until now.”

  “Yes,” Vader murmured.

  Only it wasn’t Dooku who’d created that plan. What Vader knew now—what The Jedi had never known—was that the factory was being secretly overseen by Chancellor Palpatine, who saw in the cortosis an extra guarantee of success for his upcoming Order 66. “You said before that they were sealing themselves away,” Vader said.

  “I was wrong,” Thrawn said. “Or rather, my conclusion was incomplete. I believe now they are ready to make their move, and that the purpose of sealing off the region around Batuu is to discourage Imperial travel there while they take their final steps toward learning how to manipulate humans the way they have the Darshi and the Chiss.”

  “Why can it not be both?” Vader asked. “They seek to isolate Batuu for study and also close all convenient avenues the Empire might use to move against them. Their observations of Clone War battles and subsequent Imperial operations will have taught them that our preferred strategy is to bring large numbers of ships and overwhelming force to bear.”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said thoughtfully. “Yes. Their own combat pattern, according to legend, is to use many small groups of warships, each group composed of only a few vessels. It is a strategy designed for infiltration over a large area instead of immediate, massive conquest.”

  “Especially when such infiltration is accompanied by reluctant allies among their target’s populace.”

  “Indeed.” Thrawn’s eyes took on a new intensity. “You may recall my suggestion that using the cortosis clone armor for infiltration would not be an effective tactic for the Separatists to use against the Republic. In retrospect, that could indicate the hand of the Grysks in molding that particular Separatist strategy.”

  Vader stared at him.

  He knew.

  “You made no such suggestion to me,” he said. A hollow gesture, but one he had to make.

  “Ah,” Thrawn said, and Vader sensed a subtle shift in his thoughts. Doubt? Confirmation? “My error. I was thinking of an incident from my past. My point remains: The Grysks stand ready to begin their infiltration of the Empire. The only solution is to eliminate the threat before they are fully prepared.”

  And there it was. The reason, perhaps merely the justification, for dealing with the grand admiral right here and now. Treason, overt or subtle, was grounds for execution. “So you propose spending Imperial resources against the Grysks,” he said. “Thereby protecting your own Chiss Ascendancy at the expense of the Empire.”

  “You question my loyalty,” Thrawn said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “I do,” Vader said, eyeing the grand admiral’s throat. A quick twist, a snapping of the neck…

  “You misunderstand, my lord,” Thrawn said quietly. “Have you listened to the transmission I sent the Grysk ship, the message I knew would be passed on by the survivors of the battle?”

  “Would that make a difference?”

  Thrawn reached to his computer and pressed a few keys. “Grysk war vessel, this is Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” The Meese Caulf words came from the computer’s speaker. “You are hereby delivered notice to return to your homeworlds and abandon your ambitions to extend your rule beyond your bor
ders. If you continue in these endeavors, be assured that you will be defeated and destroyed.”

  Thrawn touched another key, and the recording ended. He looked at Vader, waiting.

  Vader ran the words over again in his mind…and then he saw it. “You identified yourself as Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he said quietly. “A Chiss name.

  “And the Grysks always attack the closer enemy first.”

  “Yes,” Thrawn said, and Vader sensed a fresh layer of emotion in his voice. “The invasion is coming, Lord Vader. But I have now bought the Empire time to prepare.”

  “Perhaps,” Vader said. “But that is not all of it.”

  Thrawn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.” Vader gestured toward the bulkhead and the galaxy beyond it. “I saw the ship, Admiral. The ship that escaped from the battle.” He paused, but Thrawn didn’t respond. “I presume from your silence that you saw it, as well. It was a courier ship.

  “A Chiss courier ship.”

  “Perhaps you were mistaken,” Thrawn said.

  “No,” Vader said flatly. “There is more. The personal cloaking device worn by the Grysks. Identical in function to that used by your assassin Rukh. I submit they are all of Chiss design.”

  For another moment Thrawn remained silent. Then he took a slow, measured breath. “Yes,” he said. “Though ironically such devices are of no use to our own people. Yes, it was a Chiss shuttle you saw, my lord. But my message to the Grysks, and its importance to the Empire, still remain.”

  “Do they?” Vader countered. “Was your message to warn the Grysks away from the Empire? Or was it a warning to whatever group of Chiss are working with them that you are aware of their presence?”

  Thrawn smiled faintly. But Vader could sense the pain behind the smile. “Why can it not be both?”

  “Was it both?”

  Thrawn turned away. “There were stirrings of political conflict when I left my people for the Empire those many years ago,” he said. “I assumed the Aristocras would settle their differences, as they have so many times before. This time, perhaps they could not. Or perhaps the Grysks have made deeper inroads into our culture than I’d hoped.”