by Timothy Zahn
“Thanks, Dad,” Eli said.
But despite the smiles and cheerful words, he could sense an unexpected reserve lurking behind his father’s eyes. His mother’s concerns were even more visible.
It wasn’t hard to figure out the reason. Every glance at the Coruscant skyline, every lingering look at one of the other freshly minted ensigns, every lowering of their voices whenever someone nearby might hear—all of it pointed to the fact that a Wild Space cadet like Eli should never have been at Royal Imperial in the first place.
And then, there was Thrawn.
“You’re sure he’s okay?” his mother asked as they walked along one of the garden patches leading back to the barracks. “Because if the stories about Chiss are right…” She trailed off.
“They aren’t, Mom,” Eli assured her. “At least, not the ones you’re thinking about.”
“How do you know which ones I’m thinking about?”
“The ones about cunning and cruel vindictiveness,” Eli said. “If they were, a lot of the cadets you’re looking at would never have survived long enough to graduate.”
He winced as the last words left his mouth. Probably not the best way he could have put that. “He’s okay,” he assured them. “Really. Very smart.”
“So that part of the stories is true?” his father put in.
“Yes,” Eli said. “Let’s not talk about him, okay?”
“Fine,” his father said. “Let’s talk about you. What happens now that you’re off your career track?”
“Who says I’m off it?” Eli countered. “Up until I came here, that was the bulk of my training. As far as I know, that’s still where I am.”
“Well, I hope so,” his father said. “I just…you never know about Core World nonsense.”
Eli suppressed a sigh. After all he’d put up with at Royal Imperial…but then, that was the way of things.
“And hanging around that Chiss might have affected things, too,” his mother added.
“I didn’t have any choice, Mom,” he once again explained as patiently as he could. No matter how far down the social scale a person was, he added sourly to himself, there was always someone lower. “I was assigned to him as his translator.”
“Well, hopefully that’s over now,” his father said. “When do you get your ship assignment?”
“Later today,” Eli said. “And it might be a ground assignment, not a ship.”
“It’ll be a ship, dear,” his mother said, patting his arm. “You come from a family of voyagers, and you’re good with numbers. They’d be silly to put you on a base.”
“Sure,” Eli said. Though now that he had a better understanding of navy logistics, he knew that being good with numbers might be the perfect reason for them to put him at a base or supply depot.
“And we have to get going,” his father said suddenly.
Eli frowned, looking at him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Thrawn approaching at a brisk walk. As his father had apparently also noted.
Always someone lower. “You really don’t have to,” he said. “If you can stay another day, or even another few hours, we can find out my assignment together.”
“We have to go,” his father said, fumbling in his tunic. “We have to…damn.”
And then it was too late. “Good afternoon,” Thrawn said as he joined their little group. “You are Ensign Vanto’s parents, of course. Welcome to Coruscant.”
“Thank you,” Eli’s father said, his voice a little strained. “You are…uh…”
“I am Lieutenant Thrawn,” Thrawn said. “Your son has done quite well. You should be very proud of him.”
“We are,” Eli’s mother said. Her voice was less strained than her husband’s, but the blatant curiosity in her face more than made up for it. “You’re a—you’re really a Chiss?”
“I am,” Thrawn confirmed. “Your son has spoken of your legends concerning us. Be aware that not all of them are accurate.”
“But some of them are?” Eli’s father asked carefully. “May I ask which ones?”
“Dad!” Eli admonished him, feeling his face warming.
“The most flattering ones, of course,” Thrawn said, a small smile touching his lips. “Still, even when false, legends can be most informative.”
“I thought you said they weren’t all true,” Eli’s mother said.
“I did not refer to the legends themselves,” Thrawn said, turning his glowing eyes on her. “But what is remembered says a great deal about those doing the remembering.”
For a moment an awkward silence surrounded the group. “I see,” Eli’s father said at last. “Very interesting. But as I was saying, we have to go.”
“What was the problem?” Eli asked.
“The problem?”
“You said damn. That usually implies a problem.”
“Oh,” his father said. “No, not really. I’d just forgotten we can’t use our beckon call here, that’s all. We’ll have to get an airbus to our landing platform.”
“Which they charge an arm and a leg for,” his mother added. “But we’ll be fine. We need to get back home anyway.” She stepped close to Eli and wrapped him in a big hug. “Thank you for inviting us here, Eli. Let us know where they put you, and take care.”
“I will, Mom,” Eli promised as his father wrapped his arms around them both. “Have a safe trip back.”
“We will,” his father said. “Goodbye, and take care.” He released his hug. “Lieutenant,” he said, nodding gingerly at Thrawn.
“Mr. Vanto,” Thrawn said, returning the nod. “Ms. Vanto. Safe journeys.”
“Thank you.” Eli’s father took his mother’s arm and led her away.
For a moment Eli and Thrawn stood in silence, watching as his parents walked down the path toward the Academy’s landing platform. “They are concerned about you,” Thrawn said at last.
“Parents’ prerogative,” Eli said, wondering uncomfortably how much Thrawn had been able to read from his brief encounters with them. Had he figured out that a major part of their concern was that Thrawn’s presence in Eli’s life might somehow have poisoned his future? “They’re also not all that comfortable here. Big city, Core people. You know.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Your father spoke of a beckon call. What is that?”
“It’s a device that can remotely bring your ship to you,” Eli said. “All my family’s business ships are slave-rigged for beckon calls. With some of our clients, it’s a good idea to keep your ship and the rest of your cargo out of sight and reach until you’ve finished your deal.”
“Because of the potential for theft?”
“Basically.”
“Why does the Empire not suppress such criminal activity?”
“Because they can’t be everywhere,” Eli said. “And Wild Space isn’t exactly high on Coruscant’s list.” He nodded at the lieutenant’s rank plaque, now attached prominently to Thrawn’s tunic. “So is that a new plaque Deenlark gave you at the ceremony? Or did you give him back the old one beforehand?”
“This one is new,” Thrawn said, rubbing his fingertips gently across the tiles. “Evidently he forgot he had already given me one.”
“Ah,” Eli said, nodding. “I guess you can keep the other one as a souvenir.”
“Or find another use for it,” Thrawn said. “When will we learn our assignments?”
Eli checked his chrono. “Could be any time now.” He looked back at his departing parents, now nearly lost among the rest of the family members who’d gathered for the graduation ceremonies. “Might as well head over to the commandant’s office and see.”
“Very well,” Thrawn said. “Why do they not simply send us the assignments on our computers?”
“I don’t know,” Eli said. Turning his back on the other cadets and their well-wishers, he headed toward the commandant’s office. “Probably want to get us used to handling properly encrypted data and orders. Or it’s the way they’ve always done things. Take your pick. Come on
—good chance we’ll be the first ones in line.”
—
They weren’t the first. But they were the second and third.
Eli gazed at his data card as he and Thrawn walked past the line of graduates now starting to form, his eyes lingering on the Royal Imperial Academy logo, a new trickle of satisfaction running through his disappointment at his parents’ abrupt departure. They might not think much of his transfer to Coruscant, but everyone else in the navy would.
He’d done it. He’d really and truly done it. Against all odds, the Wild Space yokel had been thrown into the elite of Coruscant and had succeeded.
“Well?” Thrawn prompted.
“You first,” Eli said. And as his time at Royal Imperial was coming to an end, so was his time with Thrawn. It had been interesting, but he was ready to move on.
“Very well.” Thrawn slipped his card into his datapad and peered at the display. “Interesting. I am to be second weapons officer aboard the Gozanti-class cruiser Blood Crow.”
“Nice,” Eli said. Gozantis were Corellian design, about sixty-four meters long, with dorsal and ventral laser turrets. They were a bit old—most were of pre–Clone Wars manufacture—but they could still hold their own alongside newer ships. Most were being used as freighters or evac ships, but some were being retrofitted with external clamps to carry starfighters or walkers, which would bring them into the front lines against pirates, smugglers, and slavers. In any role, though, a Gozanti was a good, solid ship from which to launch a career.
“And you?” Thrawn asked. “I presume you asked for a supply officer position?”
“I did,” Eli confirmed as he inserted his own data card. “Good chance I got it, too—the bigger ships are always hurting for supply personnel…”
He trailed off. What the hell?
“What is it?” Thrawn asked.
It took Eli two tries to find his voice. “The Blood Crow,” he choked out. “Aide to…Lieutenant Thrawn.”
He looked up at Thrawn, a red haze of anger dropping over his vision. “Did you do this?” he demanded.
Thrawn shook his head. “No.”
“Don’t lie!” Eli snarled. “Lieutenants don’t get aides. Ever. You set this up with the Emperor, didn’t you?”
“The Emperor does not speak to me,” Thrawn said. “Nor have I spoken with him since my first day on this world.”
“This didn’t happen by accident,” Eli ground out. “You must have said something. What was it? What was it?”
Thrawn hesitated, then lowered his head. “The Blood Crow is scheduled for duty in border sectors where Sy Bisti and related trade languages may be spoken,” he said reluctantly. “I merely pointed out that it might be beneficial to have two officers aboard who understood those languages.”
“Since they aren’t programmed into translator droids?” Eli bit out, an acid taste in his mouth.
“But I assure you I said nothing about an aide,” Thrawn insisted. “If you wish, I will refuse to accept you in that position.”
Eli looked down at his datapad, feeling the anger drain out of him. The anger, and the excitement of graduation. Thrawn could refuse, ask, or demand all he wanted. It wouldn’t do any good. Once orders were logged into the navy data system, they might as well be laser-etched into granite.
So that was that. In a single stroke, Eli’s life had been completely upended. Again.
Only now it wasn’t just his schooling. This time it was his career, so carefully calculated and implemented, that had been snatched away from him. He would enter the navy not as an up-and-coming supply officer, but as an officer’s aide. The career path most solidly guaranteed to go nowhere.
And that assumed that Thrawn was even up-and-coming himself. What if he wasn’t? What if he failed?
Because he might. In fact, the odds were high that he would. Disrespect for nonhumans might not be official policy, but it nonetheless quietly pervaded the navy. Thrawn would have to try twice as hard as anyone else, and succeed twice as often, just to stay even with them.
And when Thrawn went down, it was almost guaranteed that anyone associated with him would go down, too.
“Ensign Vanto?” Thrawn prompted. “Shall I speak with the commandant?”
“No point,” Eli said, shutting down the datapad and putting it away. “The navy doesn’t change orders just because junior officers don’t like them. When you’re an admiral, we’ll see what you can do.”
“I understand,” Thrawn said quietly. “Very well. I shall strive to achieve that rank as quickly as possible.”
Eli looked sharply at him. Was the damn Chiss mocking him?
But there was no hint of amusement in his face. Thrawn was deadly serious.
A shiver ran up Eli’s back, the ghosts of the old stories whispering through his mind. Chiss didn’t make idle boasts or promises. And once they set their minds to something, they succeeded or died in the attempt. Maybe he really thought he could make admiral someday.
Maybe he was right.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Eli said. “Come on. The orders said to be on the Corellia transport at eighteen-hundred hours. We don’t want to start our careers by missing our ride.”
There is satisfaction in defeating an enemy. But one must never allow oneself to become complacent. There are always more enemies to be identified, faced, and vanquished.
All warriors understand the need to face and defeat the enemy. Both aspects of the task can be challenging. Both can require thought, insight, and planning. Failures in any of those areas can cost unnecessary time and irreplaceable lives.
But a warrior may forget that even the task of identifying the enemy can be difficult. And the cost of that failure can lead to catastrophe.
—
Eli had occasionally warned Thrawn of the presence of politics within the navy. They’d certainly seen evidence of that influence during the Orbar incident.
Now, once again, politics had arisen that could directly affect them.
“I wasn’t able to get anything on why Captain Virgilio was replaced,” Eli murmured as they followed the procession of officers escorting the new commander, Captain Filia Rossi, on her tour of the Blood Crow. “But everyone agrees that Rossi’s very well connected. Nowadays, that’s all you need to get a command.”
“I see,” Thrawn said.
Eli grimaced. I see. That was Thrawn’s go-to answer when he didn’t want to say anything else.
There was certainly plenty that he could say.
Starting with the kind of captain Rik Virgilio had been. He’d been excellent at his job, walking the necessary balance between standing orders and flexibility. In the eighteen months Eli and Thrawn had served under him, the captain had built up a fine reputation for trapping smugglers, rendering aid to distressed vessels, and defusing potentially damaging political situations on Mid Rim and Outer Rim worlds. He’d earned the respect of his officers and crew, and highly satisfactory reviews from the governors and other political leaders with whom he’d interacted.
Equally important, certainly from Eli’s and Thrawn’s point of view, Virgilio had taken in stride the presence of an alien officer on his ship. There had been a degree of tension during the first few weeks as Virgilio tested the limits of Thrawn’s intelligence, knowledge, and ability, but once the captain learned his new officer’s parameters Eli could detect no difference in the captain’s treatment or acceptance of his second weapons officer. When the position of first weapons officer opened up, he’d raised no objections to Thrawn being promoted to that position. In fact, ship’s gossip had suggested that Virgilio might have actually recommended the Chiss for the job.
Now, without warning or explanation, Virgilio had been removed from the Blood Crow and a younger, less experienced captain brought in.
There was little that Eli had been able to learn about the new captain. Filia Rossi had graduated from the Raithal Academy twelve years earlier and had spent most of her time since then on Socorro, first on th
e ground, then aboard an orbiting defense platform out in the system’s asteroid belts. For the past year she’d been first officer aboard an ore freighter escort.
Now, suddenly, she’d been promoted to command of a cruiser.
It seemed obvious that the decision had been based on politics and influence rather than merit or even seniority. Still, Eli was willing to give Rossi the benefit of the doubt. It was possible that the driving force was less political status than the simple result of personnel transfers. If Captain Virgilio had been promoted to a better, more prestigious command, then someone else had to be brought to the Blood Crow to take his place.
But if that was the case, news of Virgilio’s promotion had not been passed to the Blood Crow’s other officers. Such silence from the High Command lent additional weight to Eli’s suspicions that the former captain had been retired or even quietly dismissed.
“Still, there must necessarily be a first command in every officer’s career,” Thrawn said into Eli’s thoughts.
“I suppose,” Eli conceded. “I just don’t see why her first command has to be on our ship.”
Ahead, the captain and the short line of officers trailing behind her had reached the Number Two storage bay. The captain hit the hatch release and stepped inside, First Officer Nels Deyland close behind her.
Eli winced. “Uh-oh,” he murmured.
The rest of the officers knew what it meant, too. They began drifting to both sides of the passageway, making room for Thrawn to pass when the expected call came.
The wait was barely ten seconds. “Thrawn!” the captain’s voice boomed from inside the storage bay. “Get in here. Now.”
—
Captain Rossi and Senior Lieutenant Deyland stood at one side of the storage bay. Rossi’s facial glow is increasing, her eyes narrowed in a frown. Deyland stands motionless, his face showing a partially masked expression of discomfort. “Senior Lieutenant Deyland tells me this is yours,” Rossi said, pointing at the equipment stacked along the bulkhead.
“It is, Captain.”
“You mind telling me what the hell it’s doing taking up space on my ship?”