by Timothy Zahn
“I am gratified to hear that, Commandant,” Thrawn said. “Let me then suggest an alternative means of action. You will find our attackers. But you will not bring charges against them.”
Deenlark’s eyes narrow. His mouth opens slightly in surprise. “You don’t want them charged?” he asked. “Then what the hell are we all doing here?”
“As I said, I want them found,” Thrawn said. “I then recommend they be transferred.”
Deenlark gave a snort of derision. “To where? Mustafar?”
“To starfighter pilot training.”
Deenlark stares. His expression of surprise deepens. “Hardly what I’d consider a punishment.”
“It is not intended to be,” Thrawn said. “All three show the aptitude and aura necessary for fighter-craft pilots.”
“Really.” Deenlark leans back in his chair. He folds his arms across his chest. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”
“It was obvious from their method of attack,” Thrawn said. “From the way they moved both together and singly. I do not have the words to properly explain it. But it was the mark of instinctive combat pilots.”
“Cadet Vanto?” Deenlark gestures toward Vanto in an inviting manner. “Can you corroborate that?”
“Sorry, sir,” Vanto said. His expression is thoughtful. “But I wasn’t concentrating on their tactics. And I doubt I would have seen what Cadet Thrawn’s talking about even if I had.”
“Such an action would also carry an additional bonus,” Thrawn said. “The Royal Imperial’s starfighter program is excellent, but I believe the program at the Skystrike Academy is equally capable?”
“Nothing equal about it—Skystrike’s far better with pilots than we are,” Deenlark said. He sits up straighter in his chair. His frown fades away. He understands. “And there’s no reason to tell Orbar and Turuy where their fellow conspirators have disappeared to, is there?”
“Not at all, sir,” Thrawn agreed. “In fact, I would suggest that the three begin their new training—” He paused. “Ngikotholu. Is there a word in Basic for that?”
“Yes: incommunicado,” Vanto said. “Can they be held incommunicado, Commandant?”
“On Skystrike?” Deenlark makes a snorting sound. “It’s hard not to be incommunicado there. And you’re right—I imagine even Orbar might learn to behave himself after three of his co-conspirators disappear without a trace.”
“Uncertainties are often useful in paralyzing an opponent’s plans and actions,” Thrawn said. “For a human like Cadet Orbar, who believes himself capable of handling all situations, this will also prove a useful lesson for his future. One can hope he will take it to his core, and become a better person and officer.”
“Not sure I’d go that far,” Deenlark said. “Not with Orbar. But it’s worth a shot. If you’re sure you want to do it this way.”
“Allow me to state it more strongly,” Thrawn said. “If you bring the attackers to court-martial, I will not testify against them.”
“Mm.” Deenlark angles his head a few degrees to the side. “Is this how you do things in the Unknown Regions, Cadet? Bypass the law and regulations and get what you want through blackmail or extortion?”
“We attempt to solve problems. This is the solution that is best for the Empire as a whole.”
“You have anything to add, Cadet?” Deenlark asked. He raises his eyebrows toward Vanto in question.
“No, sir,” Vanto said.
Deenlark shrugs his shoulders. Perhaps reluctant acceptance. “I’ll get the process started,” he said. “Maybe give Skystrike’s commandant a call. We’ll have the guilty parties’ names by morning, and their hindquarters off Coruscant by dinner.” He smiles. Perhaps sly amusement. “That should leave them just enough time to tell Orbar and Turuy they have no idea where they’re going before they disappear. As you said, Cadet: uncertainties.”
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “Thank you, Commandant.”
“Don’t thank me.” Deenlark’s tone deepens. “Just be advised that if this thing blows up, your name will be right under mine on the hell-to-pay list.” He inhales deeply. “You’re cleared for duty, both of you. Get back to the barracks and get some sleep. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir,” Vanto said as he stood up. “Thank you, sir.”
Thrawn and Vanto were again on the walkway before Vanto spoke again. “Interesting solution,” he commented. His voice is thoughtful. “I’m a little surprised Deenlark went for it.”
“I am not,” Thrawn said. “Did you observe the flatsculp on the left side wall?”
“Yes, I think so,” Vanto said. He frowns and his voice becomes more hesitant. He is focusing his memory. “The one with the ocean waves and the sailing ship?”
“The sailing warship, yes,” Thrawn said. “It is a highly valuable work of art, worth far more than a man of Commandant Deenlark’s position could afford.”
“I doubt it’s his,” Vanto said. “It’s probably part of the office décor.”
“And yet still too valuable for even the Academy to purchase,” Thrawn said. “I conclude therefore it was a gift from one or more of Coruscant’s powerful families.”
“Meaning?” Vanto said. His posture straightens abruptly as he understands. “Meaning that Deenlark knows Royal Imperial is beholden to the families. Meaning in turn that he would jump at any chance to avoid a public confrontation.”
“Beholden?”
“Ubuphaka.”
“Ah,” Thrawn said. “Yes, that is indeed Commandant Deenlark’s position. That was why he so readily accepted my plan. Odd that these comlinks do not have a preset emergency signal.”
“What?” Vanto frowns in surprise or confusion.
“Chiss comms have an emergency button,” Thrawn said. “It allows for aid to be summoned quickly.”
“Yeah, that could be useful,” Vanto agreed. “You’ve got them on civilian comms, but not military comlinks. Probably needed the space for all the extra encryption chips to make sure no one’s eavesdropping on official chatter.”
“It would also be useful to arrange the comlinks so that one would not need to draw them from belt or pocket.”
“That would definitely be handy.” Vanto gestures to the lieutenant’s rank plaque. “Maybe you could put it inside the rank plaque. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about dropping it.”
“Could that be done?”
“What, put a comlink in the rank plaque? Sure. You’d just have to hollow out the tiles from behind. Plenty of room in there for a comlink’s worth of electronics.” His eyes narrow in further thought. “Though on second thought you might not have enough room for all the encryption chips. Probably couldn’t squeeze in enough battery power for long-range use, either.”
“It would only function aboard ship, then?”
“Right,” Vanto said. “Which means you’d still have to carry a long-range version for off-ship use.” He sighs in resignation. “I guess there’s a reason why people do things the way they do.”
“Sometimes,” Thrawn said. “Not always.”
“I suppose,” Vanto said. His tone is thoughtful. “Could you really tell they would be good starfighter pilots? Or was that just a way to get them kicked out of Royal Imperial?”
“I could really tell,” Thrawn said. “You could not?”
“Not even close.” He is silent for three more steps. His forehead is creased in a frown. “Still doesn’t address the fact that they attacked you, you know. You’re just going to let them get away with that?”
“Your question assumes they will suffer no punishment,” Thrawn said. “On the contrary. They will spend tomorrow knowing their deeds are laid bare and wondering what fate Commandant Deenlark has planned for them. They will journey to Skystrike bearing the same fear and uncertainty.”
“Ah,” Vanto said. “I see where you’re going. Even once they’re there, they’ll never be sure they won’t be hauled out of bed in the middle of the night and brought back to Coruscant for tria
l.”
“That fear will eventually fade,” Thrawn said. “But not for a considerable time.”
“I suppose not,” Vanto said. “So they get to walk on eggshells for a few months, Orbar gets to do the same, and Deenlark doesn’t have to face Orbar’s family.”
“You also will not need to face that same pressure.”
“I wondered if you’d been thinking about that,” Vanto said. “So justice is served—sort of—and everyone else comes out ahead. What we call a win–win.” He points at Thrawn’s face. “Except you.”
“My injuries are minor, and will heal. I have endured worse.”
“I’ll bet you have.” Vanto is silent for another few steps. “So is this what the Chiss leaders have to look forward to?”
“I do not understand.”
“This kind of justice,” Vanto said. “Retribution for exiling you. The stories say the Chiss never forget injuries that have been done to them.”
“Your stories assume that memory necessarily leads to vengeance,” Thrawn said. “That is not always the case. Situations change. Reasons and motivations change. No, I seek no retribution.”
“Really? Because it looks to me like they deserve it.”
“They had reasons for my exile.”
“The preemptive strike thing?” Vanto asked. His tone is curious but cautious. He sees information within his grasp, but fears to chase it away. “What happened, anyway? Did you let someone’s strike get through the Chiss lines?”
“No,” Thrawn said. “I launched a strike of my own.”
“Who was it against?”
“Evil,” Thrawn said. “Nomadic pirates who preyed on defenseless worlds. I deemed it dishonorable for the Chiss Ascendancy to stand unmoving and not assist the helpless.”
“Did you beat them?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “But my leaders were unhappy.”
“Sounds pretty ungrateful,” Vanto said. His voice is firm, without uncertainty. “Also pretty stupid. Pirates like that would have turned on your people sooner or later. What then?”
“Then we would have fought,” Thrawn said. “But then we would have been the victims.”
“And you can’t fight until that happens?”
“That is the Ascendancy’s current military doctrine.”
Vanto shakes his head. “It’s still unfair.”
“Sometimes a commander’s decisions must be made without regard for how they will be perceived,” Thrawn said. “What matters is that the commander does what is necessary for victory.”
“Yeah,” Vanto said. “Lucky for me, I’m on track for a supply officer position. I’ll never have to worry about that.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps.”
—
“Now watch,” Arihnda said, pointing to the discolored spot where the conduit entered the apartment wall. “Okay, Daisie. Turn it on.”
From the other room came the sound of the restroom water being turned on. A moment later, a small spray of water spurted from the spot.
“A water leak?” Chesna Braker growled. “You dragged me all the way down here for a water leak?”
“It’s your building,” Arihnda reminded her calmly. “Your maintenance people kept stalling her off, and I couldn’t get anyone in your office to take this seriously.”
“So like a little girl who’s skinned her knee, you go crying to some bureaucrat in the housing department and get him to issue an order for me to drop everything and come down here?”
“Your government lease says your company is responsible for repairs,” Arihnda said. “You own the company that owns this apartment block. That makes you ultimately responsible. If your people won’t obey the law, I guess it’ll have to be you. Personally.”
“Hmm,” Braker said, eyeing her venomously. “Come over here a minute.” She turned and crossed to the window that looked out across the massive planetwide city that was Coruscant.
Frowning, Arihnda followed.
“You see that?” Braker asked when the two women were once again standing together. “Out there are the little people you’re representing so proudly. You know what they’re going to do if you ever get in trouble or need help?”
“No. What?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Braker said. “You’ll be as forgotten as yesterday’s breakfast.” She tapped her chest. “I’m the one you want to impress, Ms. Pryce. Men and women like me. Not Daisie what’s-her-name out there. We’re the ones with the power to make or break you. You’d be well advised to remember that.”
“I appreciate your concern for my well-being,” Arihnda said. “But I already have a friend in high places.”
“Who, Senator Renking?” Braker snorted. “You go ahead and believe that if you want. You’re just the latest in a long line of people he’s dropped in a dead-end job and left to rot.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Arihnda said. “In the meantime, you have some repairs to make, and I have fifty-seven more apartment doors to knock on. As long as I’m here, I might as well see what else is wrong with this place.”
“Don’t bother,” Braker growled. “I’ll have one of my people—one of my little people—check into tenants’ complaints. We’ll have it all finished by the end of next week.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Ms. Braker. Good day.”
Ten minutes later Arihnda was in her aircar, buzzing her way across the Coruscant sky along with millions of other vehicles. A month ago, she mused, she would have been terrified by the traffic flow. Now she barely noticed it.
Just as a month ago she might have agreed with Braker’s suggestion that Renking had stuck her here in order to get rid of her. For the first two months the senator had talked to her maybe twice, for no more than three minutes at a time. It had very much looked like he’d forgotten about her.
That was about to change. Very, very soon.
Her comm chimed, and she pulled it out. The ID said Senator Renking.
She smiled tightly. Very soon; or possibly right now. “Arihnda Pryce,” she said.
“Senator Renking, Ms. Pryce,” Renking said over the comm. “How are things going?”
“Very well, Senator, thank you,” Arihnda said. “I’ve just taken another landlord to task for failing her responsibilities to her tenants.”
“So I hear,” Renking said, his voice going a little brittle. “I just heard from Councilor Jonne, who just heard from Ms. Braker. You’re causing a real stir down there.”
“Just doing my job, Senator,” Arihnda said, smiling to herself. So her little one-woman crusade against corruption and indifference was finally drawing the right kind of attention. “I hope you and Councilor Jonne aren’t suggesting I ignore Coruscant laws and regulations.”
“No, of course not,” Renking assured her.
“Because the Lothal citizens I’m serving certainly seem happy with our progress,” Arihnda continued. “And that is the reason I’m here.”
“Of course,” Renking said. “You’re doing a very effective job. Which is actually why I called. As you may know, with so many people living on Coruscant, the usual array of government services has been badly strained for many years. A new program has been initiated that encourages senators to set up—and fund, of course—supplementary citizen assistance offices across the planet.”
“Offices open to all Coruscant citizens, not just that senator’s own transient citizens?”
“Exactly,” Renking said. “I have four such offices, and I’m about to open a fifth in the Bartanish Four Sector. It’s occurred to me that you’re the perfect person to run it.”
“Really?” Arihnda breathed, putting some schoolgirl excitement into her voice even as she sent a cynical smile toward the traffic flow outside. “That would be wonderful. When would I start?”
“As soon as you close your office for the day—I’ll have someone else reopen it next week—clear out your apartment, and move everything to Bartanish Four. The office there is ready, and I’ve got an apartm
ent reserved for you two and six away.”
“That sounds great,” Arihnda said. Two blocks and six levels would put her within perfect walking distance. “I’ll head back to the office and get things started right away.”
“Good. I’ll send you both the office and apartment addresses. Let me know when you’ll be arriving, and I’ll have someone meet you with the various keys. All right?”
“Sounds perfect,” Arihnda said. “Thank you again.”
“No thanks needed,” Renking said. “You’ve earned it. Take care.” The connection clicked off.
Arihnda put the comm away, smiling again. Renking didn’t mind her annoying the relatively rich and powerful; he just didn’t want her activities so closely identified with him. In an anonymous assistance office, with no obvious connection to Renking, she could make all the waves she wanted without nearly so much political blowback.
From Renking’s point of view, it had a couple of nice advantages. Arihnda would continue to stir Coruscant’s sludge, possibly digging up leverage points against local movers and shakers that Renking could use in the future. At the same time, her new position would hopefully keep her too occupied to worry about the mine she’d lost to the Empire.
What Renking probably didn’t realize was that it was just as much a win–win for Arihnda, which was why she’d worked so hard to land this exact job ever since hearing about the project a few weeks earlier. Dealing with actual Coruscant citizens instead of Lothal expatriates would move her a modest step up the social ladder; and in Bartanish Four she would also move several steps physically closer to the all-powerful Federal District.
Small steps, to be sure. But if there was one thing her parents had impressed upon her, it was that the best path didn’t have to be quick as long as it was correct.
And Arihnda was in no hurry. No hurry at all.
—
Suddenly, almost before Eli knew it, it was over.
“Congratulations, son,” his father said, gripping his hand tightly.