Thrawn

by Timothy Zahn

  But the IDs that Yularen had given them—partial real name and fake planetary address for Arihnda, fake everything for Gudry—did the trick, bolstered by some amazingly good patter from Agent Gudry. Arihnda had expected to have to carry that load. Clearly, Yularen hadn’t been overstating Gudry’s abilities.

  “You did very well, Governor,” Gudry murmured as they headed for a line of four-seater personal transports just inside the last checkpoint. “Better than I expected.”

  “I’m glad I met with your approval,” Arihnda murmured back. “We’ll start with my parents’ house, then head into the mine area for a look around.”

  “We only needed your parents to get in,” Gudry said. “We’re in.”

  “We’re only in past the barricade,” Arihnda pointed out. “Not into the mine complex itself.”

  “Not a problem,” Gudry said. “Anyway, I want to see what’s going on before it gets dark.”

  Arihnda closed her fingers around his upper arm. “One: Don’t be an idiot,” she said, lowering her voice. “My father’s a foreman, and my mother’s an administrator. Having a familiar face along will get us past checkpoints or security patrols a lot easier than ISB bluster talk. Two: A mining facility is as bright at night as it is in the daytime. It’s just the shadows that move to different places. And three: Since by-the-book Imperials like to attack enemy positions in the dark, sundown will draw the insurgents’ attention outward. Night is exactly what we want.”

  Gudry was silent another couple of steps. “Fine,” he growled. “We’ll do it your way. For now.”

  “We’ll do it my way,” Arihnda agreed. “For always.”

  Her first fear was that her parents might have been shifted to a different work schedule. That would have entailed hunting them down or risking a comm call. To her relief, her mother answered the door on the second ring. “Yes?” she said cautiously. She looked back and forth between them, her eyes settling on Gudry. “What can I do for you?”

  “You could start with a hug,” Arihnda suggested.

  Elainye jerked, her gaze snapping back to Arihnda. There was a split second of confusion, and then her eyes widened. “Arihnda!” she gasped, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around her daughter. “I had no idea you were coming. What have you done to your hair?”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, Mother,” Arihnda said, giving Gudry a triumphant smirk over her mother’s shoulder. Gudry had argued that the long blond wig over Arihnda’s short black hair and the darkening lenses over her blue eyes wouldn’t fool anyone. Obviously, Arihnda had been right. “I heard about the trouble here and wanted to make sure you and Father were all right.”

  “We’re fine,” Elainye said into Arihnda’s shoulder. “Though that could change at any moment.” She pulled back and held out a hand to Gudry. “I’m Elainye Pryce.”

  “Mattai Daw, ma’am,” he said. “Arihnda’s told me so much about you that I feel I already know you.”

  Arihnda felt her lip curl. In fact, everything Gudry knew about her parents had been relayed in brief snatches of conversation aboard the transport, dialogue that had consumed maybe fifteen minutes of their time together. The rest of the voyage from Dennogra had been spent in silence as Gudry buried himself in schematics, maps, and the latest ISB dispatches. “We need to talk, Mother,” she said. “Is Father in?”

  “Yes, of course. Come in, come in.”

  A minute and another round of hugs later, the four of them were seated together in the living room. “So what’s going on out there?” Talmoor asked. “Did you come here to talk to the governor about fixing this mess?”

  “Unfortunately, Governor Restos doesn’t listen much to anyone,” Arihnda said, running a critical eye over her father. He’d aged considerably in the weeks since their last holocall, with his face more lined, his eyes more careworn, and his posture slumping. “In fact, I’m here very unofficially, which is why the hair and the eye lenses. Aside from making sure you two were safe, we need your help. A friend of Mattai’s may be inside the mine area, and we need your help to find him and get him out.”

  “Oh, he’s in there, all right,” Gudry said with just the right mix of concern and embarrassment. “He’s just the type to jump into something like this without thinking. I need to find him and get him out before the whole thing goes up.”

  “Let’s hold on just a minute here,” Talmoor said. “First of all, there’s no one in the mine who isn’t there of his or her own free will. They’re fighting for people’s rights against a repressive and dangerous government.”

  Arihnda felt a knot form in her stomach. Thrawn had wondered which side her parents would be on in the standoff. At the time, Arihnda had reflexively defended their loyalty. To hear her father talking like this—“I think you may be painting with too wide a brush,” she put in. “The Empire is quite multifaceted.”

  “Maybe on Coruscant it is,” Elainye said. “Maybe on Lothal. Not on Batonn. Here, the governor and his friends are—well, I’ll just say it. They’re corrupt, Arihnda. Utterly corrupt. And the galaxy needs to hear about it.”

  Arihnda began to breathe again. So it was just the local politics that were the problem? She could handle that. “I’ll look into it when I get back to Lothal,” she promised. “I can petition the Senate, possibly even the Emperor. There are procedures for that kind of thing.”

  “Yes, there are,” Talmoor said grimly. “They’re called revolution. I understand your concerns about your friend, Mattai, but there’s really nothing you can do.”

  “And I’m perfectly willing to accept that,” Gudry said. “But I need to hear that from him. I’ve heard too many stories about people being press-ganged by pirates and insurgent groups—and yes, I know most of them are probably apocryphal. But I need—” He swallowed hard. “I just need to hear it from him.”

  “So we’re going in,” Arihnda said. “You don’t have to take us if you don’t want to, but it would help if you could call ahead to someone you know.”

  Talmoor sighed. “You’ll never get through the cordon without me. Fine, I’ll take you. What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Who knows?” Gudry said. “I mean, he hasn’t always been on the right side of the law, if you get my meaning. I knew him as Blayze Jonoo, but I don’t know what he’s using here.”

  “That’s helpful,” Talmoor said with a touch of sarcasm. “Will you at least recognize him if you see him?”

  “Absolutely,” Gudry assured him. “And he’s a weapons electronics guy, so that should give us a clue as to where they might have him working.”

  “Okay,” Talmoor said, snagging his jacket from a coat tree by the door. “We’ll go in and take a quick look around. But if and when they tell us to leave, we leave. Clear?”

  “Clear,” Arihnda said. “Before we go, I need to use the restroom.”

  “Okay,” Talmoor said. “You remember where it is?”

  “Unless you and Mother have moved it,” Arihnda said with a tight smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  She was, too. But on the way to the restroom was the kitchen, and her mother’s handbag hanging by its strap as usual on a peg behind the door. Out of sight of the others, Arihnda opened the side pouch, hoping fervently that her mother hadn’t changed her comm make and model since the last time she’d visited.

  But her mother was a creature of habit, and to Arihnda’s relief the comm was the same one she’d had before. Quickly, Arihnda swapped it out for the identical one she’d brought from Coruscant, then continued on to the restroom.

  It would have been nice to simply borrow the comm without bothering with the switch. But she didn’t dare risk it. If her mother noticed it was missing, she’d use a finder ping to locate it, and that could bring up awkward questions at the wrong time and place. This way, unless Elainye decided to make a call, her comm’s disappearance shouldn’t be noticed.

  Gudry was still going on about his missing friend when Arihnda rejoined them. “Ready?” Talmoor asked. />
  “Ready,” Arihnda confirmed. “Thanks, Father.”

  “You’re always welcome,” Talmoor said. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  —

  The terminator line had passed Paeragosto City. The sky over the enemy stronghold at Creekpath was darkening with the approach of night.

  It was time.

  Thrawn’s office was quiet, filled with the same twilight the insurgents below were experiencing. Surrounding him were holograms of Batonnese art, hovering like messengers from the past, each piece speaking to the ethos, attitudes, and modes of thinking of the people and culture that had created it. Shape and flow, color and texture, style and medium—it all spoke to him. Even such factors as the type of art and the reputed value of the pieces offered clues as to how the people would act and react in warfare.

  Unfortunately, with this kind of insurgency the patterns weren’t as clear as a simple planetary uprising would be. Most of those under Nightswan’s leadership were Batonnese, but there would be others who had journeyed here to join their cause. Those outside elements would distort and dilute the patterns laid out by the art.

  Ideally, he would have had time for a more leisurely, more focused study of the enemy. But there was no more time. Scrim Island had been a diversion, something loud and obvious with which Nightswan had hoped to hold Imperial attention while he gathered his forces and weaponry under Creekpath’s protective shield. Most likely he had expected the island’s recapture to persuade the Empire that Batonn was no longer a threat, leaving him time for further preparation after they withdrew.

  But for once he’d miscalculated. His time was coming to an end, along with the Batonn insurgency.

  It was Thrawn’s responsibility to do everything in his power to ensure it ended in the best possible way.

  His desk comm was already set to the proper frequency. “Yes?” a woman answered.

  “This is Admiral Thrawn aboard the ISD Chimaera,” he said. “I wish to speak to Nightswan.”

  There was a pause. “Excuse me?” the woman said. Her voice holds disbelief and astonishment.

  “This is Admiral Thrawn,” Thrawn repeated. “Please inform Nightswan that I wish to speak with him.”

  This time, the pause was longer. “One moment.”

  It was forty seconds before the comm came active again. “This is Nightswan,” the familiar voice said. His tone holds caution but little surprise. “How did you get this frequency?”

  “It was one of many contained in the records of the freighter Commander Vanto and I took from your Nomad.”

  “Ah,” Nightswan said. His voice now holds dark humor within the caution. “Careless of whoever flew that ship last. Well. With anyone else I’d expect an ultimatum or at least some gloating. But neither strikes me as your style. Why did you call?”

  “I wish to speak with you.”

  “We are.”

  “Together, face-to-face, with no barriers between us.”

  There is a quiet snort. “Certainly. Do you want to come to my heavily armed camp, or shall I come to yours?”

  “There is a field two kilometers northeast of the Creekpath facility,” Thrawn said. “It includes a ridge of low hills that block it from casual observation, but is easily accessible from your camp.”

  Another pause. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Nightswan said. His voice holds confusion. “You really want me to come there, out from under the shield?”

  “If it would make you feel more comfortable, I will arrive first,” Thrawn offered. “As you know, I have a civilian freighter, one that would not draw undue attention.”

  “You’ll have guards, of course.”

  “I will order them to stay with the freighter and out of firing distance. Be assured that I do not seek your death.”

  “Just my capture?”

  “You misunderstand,” Thrawn said. “Your value to me cannot be realized by your capture. It certainly cannot be realized by your death.”

  “You’ve piqued my curiosity,” Nightswan said. Caution, but also a rising interest. “What is my value to you?”

  “I will only speak of it face-to-face,” Thrawn said. “I will not discuss it in a comm conversation.”

  “I see.” Another pause. “You say you don’t want to kill me. I like that part. What makes you think I won’t kill you?”

  “Because you value life,” Thrawn said. “Because I am the only guarantee that the civilians crowded within your stronghold will not be slaughtered. Should others lead the attack, they will almost certainly kill everyone and destroy everything in their path. You do not want that.”

  “I didn’t ask the civilians to come here,” Nightswan said. There is fresh pain, and anger, and resentment. “Some I couldn’t help, the ones whose homes are under the shield. But the others…I asked them not to come. But we couldn’t keep them out.”

  “I understand,” Thrawn said. “I also understand that you see that burden the way I would see it. I pledge to do all in my power to prevent unnecessary deaths. That is why I know you will allow me to return to the Chimaera in peace.”

  The pause this time was longer, nearly eleven seconds. A reading of expression and body stance would be useful. But the connection was only audio.

  If Nightswan accepted his invitation, a more complete reading would be possible.

  “As I say, curiosity,” Nightswan said. “All right, why not? The northeast field. When?”

  “I will be there in one hour,” Thrawn said. “You may arrive at your convenience.”

  “One hour,” Nightswan said. “I’ll be there.”

  —

  It took some fancy talking on Talmoor’s part, but eventually he, Arihnda, and Gudry were allowed through the mine’s outer perimeter. There were no personal transports in sight, but Talmoor assured them the central part of the complex was only another kilometer inward, and they set off on foot.

  And as they did, as Arihnda had expected him to, her father launched into a monologue of Creekpath’s recent history.

  “…the irony is that the governor has himself to blame for the fact we’ve got a shield at all,” he said as they stepped out of the way of a speeder truck heading inward, its cargo bay loaded with boxes. Arihnda squinted as the vehicle went past, caught the words MAKRID STRING on the sides. “When the trouble started on Denash, Creekpath’s owner pleaded with him for some protection. All he really wanted was a couple hundred troops to beef up his checkpoints, but the governor wanted to save all the soldiers for his own protection. So instead he found a used DSS-02 regional shield and had it set up.”

  “Nice,” Arihnda said, glancing behind him at Gudry walking on her father’s other side. The sun was long since gone, but as she’d predicted the complex’s lights more than made up for it, and in their glow she could see a small smile playing around the agent’s lips.

  Small wonder. DSS shields were used all across the Empire, and somewhere in Gudry’s ISB training he’d undoubtedly learned how to take them down.

  Yularen had suggested they eliminate the shield, but in the kind of offhanded way that had implied he was mostly joking. Before the evening was over, he might find himself surprised.

  “I’d have thought the operators would have tried to sabotage it before you kicked them out,” Gudry commented.

  “Before the insurgents kicked them out,” Talmoor corrected, a bit stiffly. “I might agree with some of their grievances, but I’m not one of them. Anyway, from what I understand they were rounded up and escorted off the premises before they even knew what was happening.”

  “And then Nightswan came in?” Arihnda asked.

  Talmoor frowned at her. “Who’s Nightswan?”

  “The group’s leader,” Arihnda said. “Didn’t you know?”

  “I told you, I’m not with these people,” he said shortly. “You said your friend was a tech, Mattai?”

  “Mostly a tech, but he dabbled in a lot of things,” Gudry said. “He might even have been brought in to keep the sh
ield running. You know where the generator is?”

  “Over there somewhere,” Talmoor said, pointing. “I guess we might as well head in that direction as any other.”

  Arihnda let them get a couple of steps ahead. Then, picking her moment, she slipped behind a parked speeder truck and angled off. She passed that truck, slipped around another one, and dropped to one knee where she’d be out of sight if Gudry or her father looked in her direction. She pulled out her mother’s comm and punched her father’s frequency.

  He answered on the second signal. “Elainye? Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t feel well,” Arihnda said, wheezing as if she were having some sort of reaction. “I think it was—I think it’s something in the air.”

  “Hang on, I’ll call the hospital,” Talmoor said, his voice anxious.

  “No, it’s not that bad,” Arihnda said, wheezing a little more. She had no idea how good her impression was, but the strain and wheezing would hopefully cover up any deficiencies. “Can you come home? I need you and Arihnda to come home.”

  “Yes, of course,” Talmoor said. “Arihnda—”

  He broke off, undoubtedly wondering where she’d disappeared to. “Please hurry,” Arihnda said. She turned off the comm, slipped it into her shoulder bag, and stood up.

  Just in time. Even as she turned back, her father and Gudry appeared around the end of the speeder truck. “Arihnda!” Talmoor called.

  “Here,” Arihnda called back, hurrying to them. “Sorry—I saw a group of men and wanted to check them out.”

  “What did they look like?” Gudry asked.

  “Nothing like the description you gave me, I’m afraid,” Arihnda said. “Is something wrong?”

  “Your mother’s been taken ill,” Talmoor said, taking her arm. “We have to go home right away.”