Treason - Timothy Zahn

by Star Wars

  “You seem unhappy, Admiral,” the thin, gray-haired man standing at the comm station suggested.

  Savit focused on him. And of all the political players in the Empire, he’d long since decided, Grand Moff Tarkin was one of the worst. “I doubt my state of mind was high on the Emperor’s priority list when he decided to change the meeting site from Coruscant to the Firedrake,” he said.

  Tarkin raised his eyebrows slightly. “Should it have been?”

  Savit’s lip twitched. Politics at its worst, but at least Tarkin had a sense of humor. “Of course not,” he conceded. “The Firedrake and I are here to serve the Emperor and the Empire that he commands.”

  “As are we all,” Tarkin said. “I’m certain you can see the Emperor’s desire not to waste any additional time by asking the participants to travel all the way to Coruscant. The Firedrake’s current location was a key factor in the decision.”

  Savit pricked up his ears. A key factor? “Of course,” he said. “And the other factors?”

  Tarkin favored him with a thin smile, then let his gaze drift past Savit to the main bridge. “Tell me, Admiral: What are your thoughts concerning Project Stardust?”

  “An interesting question,” Savit said, his mind dropping reflexively into combat mode. The Emperor’s pet project—Krennic’s pride and joy—Tarkin’s own quiet interest…“It’s a bold and unique approach to the question of Imperial security,” he continued, choosing his words carefully. “I’m looking forward to its completion.”

  “As are we all,” Tarkin said. “At the same time, there are…issues…particularly with regard to allocation of funds. Are you familiar with Grand Admiral Thrawn’s TIE Defender project?”

  “Somewhat,” Savit said. “I’ve looked over the schematics, but haven’t had a chance to see any of the fighters in action.”

  “Thrawn feels quite strongly about the navy’s need for the Defender,” Tarkin said. “It’s also no secret that the Emperor holds him in high regard. But the Emperor also feels strongly about the need for Stardust.”

  “Indeed,” Savit said. “We’re both busy men, Governor. What exactly do you want from me?”

  Tarkin’s forehead furrowed slightly as he studied Savit’s face. “Can you keep a secret, Admiral?”

  Savit had to smile at that one. “Of course.”

  “I have reason to believe the meeting that will take place shortly will end in a challenge,” Tarkin said. “Director Krennic will be on one side. Admiral Thrawn will be on the other.”

  “The makings of a fine contest,” Savit said. “Which of them do you want me to help win?”

  “Thrawn is a proud officer,” Tarkin said, his voice going thoughtful. “Efficient, highly capable, but definitely proud.” Another thin smile. “Much like you yourself, Admiral. He would never ask for help, nor would he willingly accept it.”

  “But if I were to happen to find a way to assist him without his knowledge…?” Savit suggested.

  “I feel such assistance would be of great benefit to the Empire,” Tarkin said gravely.

  Or at least, Savit thought cynically, of great benefit to Tarkin himself.

  But that was how the game was played. And really, anything that took Krennic and Stardust down a few pegs was all for the best. “Understood,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, Director Krennic will expect me in the hangar deck to personally welcome him aboard. You’ve signaled Thrawn about the change in venue?”

  “Yes, and the Chimaera has acknowledged my message,” Tarkin said. “Please add my greetings to Director Krennic, and I’ll see both of you in a few hours.”

  “I’ll do so, Governor.” Savit smiled. “And I’ll look forward to the meeting.”

  * * *

  —

  Three men are seated around the table in the Star Destroyer Firedrake’s command conference room. The room itself is a duplicate of the Chimaera’s conference room, though the Firedrake’s table and chairs are newer and somewhat more elaborate.

  “Ah—Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Tarkin said in greeting. His expression holds anticipation, perhaps an underlying calculation. His voice holds calmness, perhaps with the mental preparation of one going into combat. “Allow me to introduce Grand Admiral Savit, commander of the Firedrake and the Third Fleet. I don’t believe you two have met before.”

  “No, Governor, we haven’t,” Savit said. His voice holds guarded welcome. His expression holds wariness and evaluation. His body stance holds a mixture of confidence and pride. “Welcome aboard, Admiral.”

  “You may have heard of Admiral Savit through his family’s music programs on Coruscant,” Tarkin said. The calculation in his voice increases. The tone holds warning, perhaps a heightened political awareness of the strong cultural position of Savit’s family.

  “So I have. I would very much like to attend one of your performances someday.”

  “You’d certainly be welcome,” Savit said. His voice holds pride and a hint of smugness, reflecting his own awareness of his family’s status.

  “And this—” The stiffness in Tarkin’s voice increases, perhaps accompanied by heightened combat awareness. His expression holds reserve, perhaps antagonism. “—is Director Orson Krennic.”

  “Admiral.” Krennic’s voice holds perhaps caution. His expression holds perhaps unfriendliness. His body stance holds perhaps anger, perhaps defiance. “I understand you wish to take funding away from my Stardust project.”

  “Not at all. I wish only to preserve the funding I was already promised.”

  “By the Emperor himself, I might add,” Tarkin said. He looks at Krennic for half a second, his eyes unblinking, then touches a switch on the console before him. There is a stiffness to his touch, perhaps holding combat readiness. “Now that we’re all assembled, I shall alert him that we’re ready to proceed.”

  There is a pause of eleven seconds. No one speaks. Tarkin’s eyes remain fixed on Krennic. Krennic’s eyes shift between Thrawn and Tarkin. Savit’s eyes remain on the table’s holopad, his expression holding watchful calm.

  The holopad lights up, and an image of the Emperor appears above it. “Good day, Governor Tarkin,” he said. His voice holds anticipation and interest. The shaky image renders his expression, currently in profile, unreadable. “Director Krennic; Grand Admiral Savit; Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

  “Good day, Your Majesty,” Tarkin said. He inclines his head in greeting and perhaps respect. The others do the same. Krennic’s expression includes a small smile, perhaps holding confidence. “As you know, Project Stardust has run into a small problem, which I thought should be presented to you.”

  “Indeed.” The Emperor’s face turns to Krennic. The corners of his mouth turn downward. “I was under the impression that Stardust was proceeding at a satisfactory pace.”

  “The project itself is, Your Majesty,” Krennic said. His voice continues to hold confidence. “The problem is merely in the supply chain, and I assure you it’s under control.”

  “Is it?” the Emperor countered. “Governor Tarkin seems to believe differently.”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty,” Tarkin said. His expression does not change, but there is a loosening of facial muscles that perhaps indicates a hidden desire to smile. “And as Director Krennic seems unwilling or unable to face the problem, I have invited Grand Admiral Thrawn here for consultation.”

  “So I see,” the Emperor said. The image turns, a small smile touching his lips. “And what, pray tell, does Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo think of this situation?”

  “Actually, Your Majesty, I’ve not had an opportunity to bring the admiral up to speed,” Tarkin said. “With the extreme security surrounding Stardust, I deemed it prudent to keep any such details off the HoloNet.”

  “Very wise, Governor Tarkin,” the Emperor said. “Perhaps, Director Krennic, you would be kind enough to explain your readin
g of the situation.” The corners of his mouth again turn down. “For both our benefits.”

  The muscles in Krennic’s throat tighten briefly. “As I said, Your Majesty, the situation is under control. We’re merely having a few problems with mynocks at the equipment transfer point.”

  “Grallocs,” Tarkin murmured.

  “Grallocs are simply a cousin species to mynocks,” Krennic countered. His expression hardens, the skin flushing slightly. Possibly annoyance; possibly anger; possibly embarrassment. “They live in vacuum, they attack power cables and couplers—”

  “They’re also considerably larger and tougher than typical mynocks,” Savit put in. His expression holds hidden amusement. “Governor Haveland and her people have had a great deal of trouble with them in the Esaga sector.”

  “The point is that they’re a nuisance and nothing more,” Krennic said. The skin reddening fades. His voice holds renewed control. His eyes are steady on Tarkin, perhaps holding challenge.

  “A nuisance?” Tarkin asked. His expression holds triumph. “Your own reports show the equipment and point-defense turbolaser transshipments are already three weeks behind schedule. I don’t see how this qualifies as merely a nuisance.”

  “So you are saying Stardust is being held hostage by a group of vermin?” The Emperor’s voice holds controlled anger. His eyes focus on Krennic.

  “I assure Your Majesty that the problem is under control.” Krennic’s voice holds fresh caution. But the confidence remains intact.

  “Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” the Emperor invited. “Do you share Director Krennic’s assessment?”

  “A delay of three weeks seems more than simply a nuisance. But I have duties to attend to on Lothal.”

  “We all have duties, Admiral,” Tarkin said. “But Governor Pryce has the bulk of your force available to maintain order. Surely you can spare some time to deal with this problem.”

  “It appears that Admiral Savit has more information and experience with these creatures than I do. He would be better able to find a solution.”

  “Admiral Savit also has other duties,” Tarkin said. “Furthermore, he lacks your tactical and problem-solving capabilities. Capabilities of which, I dare say, Director Krennic should already have been cognizant.”

  “I tire of this bickering,” the Emperor said. “You, Governor, were the one who arranged this meeting. What precisely was your intent?”

  Tarkin’s eyes are steady, his face again holding triumph. “Director Krennic has suggested to Your Majesty that the funds earmarked for the TIE Defender program be transferred to Stardust. I propose that this delay in Stardust equipment shipments not only threatens the project’s timetable, but also squanders funds that could and should be utilized elsewhere.”

  “So you propose a trade?” the Emperor asked. His voice holds anticipation.

  “I do, Your Majesty,” Tarkin said. “I propose that if Admiral Thrawn is able to solve this problem and destroy the grallocs, the necessary funds be restored to his Defender program.”

  “Director Krennic?” the Emperor invited.

  Krennic is silent a full second. “I would be willing,” he said at last. His face is under careful control. His eyes are wary, as if watching a stalking animal. “If Admiral Thrawn can destroy them within the next week.”

  “That’s hardly fair,” Savit objected. His expression and voice hold contempt. “As I said, Governor Haveland has been dealing with these things for years.”

  “If Admiral Thrawn can’t solve it in that time, he’s of no use to us,” Krennic countered. “It would also, I daresay, bring his so-called problem-solving capabilities into serious question.”

  “Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” the Emperor asked. “I give you the decision.”

  “I accept Governor Tarkin’s proposal. I further accept Director Krennic’s conditions.”

  “Very well,” the Emperor said. The corners of his mouth turn up in a satisfied smile. “One week. Director Krennic, you will provide the necessary coordinates. Admiral Savit, you will provide all the information Governor Haveland has gleaned about these creatures. Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo, you have one week.” The image vanished, and the holopad went dark.

  “One more thing,” Krennic said. His eyes turn to Thrawn. His expression holds tension, perhaps suspicion, perhaps simple animosity. “I’ll be sending a representative aboard to observe your procedure and the progress of your work.”

  “I hardly think that necessary,” Tarkin said. “Admiral Thrawn’s success record speaks for itself.”

  “Admiral Thrawn’s record also speaks of some notable irregularities,” Krennic said. His voice is harsh, no longer pretending a veneer of civility. “I know what you’re up to, Tarkin. If I’m to sacrifice any Stardust funds, I want to ensure that proper Imperial procedures have been followed. To the letter.”

  “They will be. I will expect the transfer point’s coordinates to be transmitted to the Chimaera within the quarter hour. Your representative will board within that same time period or be left behind.”

  “Not a problem, Admiral Thrawn,” Krennic said. His expression becomes a smile, perhaps mocking, perhaps triumphant. “They’ll arrive simultaneously, since Assistant Director Ronan will personally bring the data.” He looks at Tarkin, his smile fading, his expression turning hard but once again feigning civility. “As Governor Tarkin said, this data is too sensitive to trust to transmissions.”

  Savit rises from his chair. His expression holds both amusement and disdain. “Come, Admiral. I’ll escort you back to your shuttle.” He smiles, the amusement fading and the disdain increasing. “Along the way we can talk about grallocs. And other predators.”

  * * *

  —

  The door to the suite slid open, and Brierly Ronan looked up to see Director Krennic stride through the opening, his long white cape swirling behind him. “Director,” Ronan greeted him, rising quickly from his chair. “I trust the meeting went well?”

  “No, it did not,” Director Krennic said, biting out each word. “Are you familiar with Grand Admiral Thrawn?”

  “Ah…I’ve heard the name, sir,” Ronan said cautiously. “But that’s all.”

  “Then you need to get an education,” the director growled. “The terminal over there—download everything the Firedrake has on Thrawn.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ronan said, hurrying over to the terminal. “May I ask what this is all about?”

  “You may,” the director said sourly. “Apparently, Thrawn is the latest weapon Tarkin’s picked to launch against me.”

  “Weapon, sir?”

  “Weapon.” The director dropped into a chair, deftly flapping his cape back with both hands to get it clear as he sat down. “As in, our dear grand moff’s latest attempt to steal Stardust out from under me.” He snorted. “And the Emperor just sat there and smiled. Smiled.”

  Ronan felt a surge of contempt as he keyed the computer terminal. Typical. Instead of providing actual leadership, the kind of guidance Director Krennic gave his staff and workers on a daily basis, Emperor Palpatine chose to entertain himself by pitting his subordinates against each other and watching the resulting battles. “What do you want me to do?”

  Director Krennic took a deep, calming breath. “Tarkin has maneuvered Thrawn into wagering the funds for his TIE Defender project against his ability to solve the gralloc problem our Kurost sector shipment line is having. Thrawn has one week to get rid of the grallocs. If he fails, Stardust gets those funds.”

  “And Thrawn actually accepted those terms?”

  “He did,” the director said grimly. “Which puts us in an interesting situation of our own. We want Thrawn to get rid of the grallocs; but we want him to do it after his week is up.”

  Ronan thought about that. “That’s certainly the best solution,” he said. “But what keeps him from simply
stopping when his time runs out?”

  “In theory, nothing,” Director Krennic conceded. “But in actual practice, he strikes me as the stubborn sort. If he’s close, I think he’ll keep at it.” He gestured toward Ronan. “That’s where you come in. I’ve arranged for you to join Thrawn aboard the Chimaera, where you’ll watch the operation and send me reports on his progress. You’re to note any approach that looks even marginally promising and send me the details.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ronan said, peering at the display. Ah—there it was: The navy’s official file on Thrawn. The more unofficial files kept by many of Imperial Center’s hierarchy might be better, but Savit’s private files would be encrypted and he had no way of slicing into them. “So if he does want to give up after his week…?” he asked as he slid a data card into the slot.

  “Your job will be to see that he doesn’t,” the director said. “Failing that, you’re to collect whatever pieces he’s found and bring them back so that we can put them together into our own solution. Any questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you’re dismissed,” Director Krennic ordered. “Thrawn’s expecting you; you’re to meet him in the hangar bay.” He pulled out a data card and handed it to Ronan. “Here are the coordinates to the transfer point for the Chimaera to use. Thrawn will know how to decrypt it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ronan said. He tucked away the data card, nodded a farewell, and turned toward the door.

  “And Ronan?”

  Ronan turned back. “Yes?”

  “Watch him,” the director said quietly. “Watch him carefully. He wouldn’t be a grand admiral if he weren’t smart, and there may be more to Tarkin’s gambit than meets the eye.”

  “Not a problem, sir,” Ronan promised. “Whatever Tarkin’s planning, I’ll be ready for it.”

  * * *

  —

  Savit had never met Thrawn before. But like Krennic, he’d heard stories of the man’s exploits.