Treason - Timothy Zahn

by Star Wars

  “I’d like to oblige you, Thrawn,” Savit said. “But I do have other duties.”

  “Then allow me to add to the incentive,” Thrawn said. “That system also holds evidence of a threat against the Empire. An even larger threat is imminent, one that we together could easily face and defeat.”

  Savit pursed his lips. An isolated system, not even important enough to have a name, without inhabitants or probably even solid HoloNet access. A good spot for an ambush.

  But the alternative was to turn Ronan over to Haveland.

  And then there was Tarkin’s veiled request that Savit assist Thrawn if he could. There should be a way to use that request to turn this situation to Savit’s own advantage.

  “Very well,” he told Thrawn. “I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you,” Thrawn said. “My shuttle will be waiting.” He reached off cam for the switch, and his image vanished.

  For a long moment, Savit stared at the coordinates Thrawn had sent him. Then, with a brief scowl, he keyed them to the helm. “Helm: Set course for the indicated system,” he called as he strode back into the bridge. “Best possible speed. Captain Boulag: Prepare my ship for hyperspace.”

  “We’re abandoning our pirate campaign, sir?” the Firedrake’s commander asked, frowning.

  “The pirates will wait,” Savit assured him. “Signal the Harbinger, Stormbird, and Misthunter and send them the helm’s coordinates. If we’re going all that way, we might as well make a party of it.” He smiled tightly at Boulag. “Grand Admiral Thrawn says there’s a threat out there. We might as well look like we believe him.”

  * * *

  —

  For a long moment, the Chimaera conference room was silent. Carefully, worried that the slightest move might break the moment, Eli looked around at the others: Thrawn, Ar’alani, and Faro. The three most powerful people currently in this system.

  So why was he here with them?

  “So you’re convinced?” Ar’alani asked.

  Thrawn nodded. “I am.”

  “Yet you still intend to go through with it?”

  “He must be given the opportunity,” Thrawn said. “If he could be persuaded to join us, there would be no doubt about the outcome of the coming battle.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Ar’alani persisted. “Do you really know him?”

  “I believe I know him well enough,” Thrawn said.

  “If you’re wrong, one against many is a perilous situation to be in.”

  “Understood,” Thrawn said. “But it has certain advantages.”

  Ar’alani raised her eyebrows. “Such as?”

  “Heavy odds can create overconfidence in the enemy.”

  “Often that’s not enough.”

  “But sometimes it is.”

  Ar’alani eyed him a moment, then turned to face Eli. “Lieutenant? Your comments?”

  “I can’t anticipate the end result, Admiral,” Eli said carefully. “But I believe the plan is sound.”

  “And you believe the TIE Defenders will obey your orders?”

  “I knew Captain Dobbs back when I was aboard the Chimaera,” Eli said. “I think he’ll trust me. More important, he’s an officer of the Imperial Navy and immensely loyal to Grand Admiral Thrawn. Once he’s received his orders, he and the others will obey them.”

  Ar’alani shifted her eyes to Faro. “And you, Commodore? Do you agree with your admiral’s plan?”

  “Yes,” Faro said.

  “You have no qualms?”

  Faro’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. “One always has qualms, Admiral. The key is to prepare as best you can, and not to let the doubts stop you.”

  Ar’alani looked again at each of them. Then, reluctantly, she inclined her head. “Then I, too, accept it,” she said.

  The words were firm. Her expression wasn’t. To Eli’s mind, it was obvious she still wasn’t happy with the situation, or with Thrawn’s proposed solution. But she was willing to go along with it.

  “Then let us prepare,” Thrawn said. “Lieutenant Vanto, another moment of your time, if I may.”

  “Of course, sir,” Eli said, a knot forming in his stomach. What could Thrawn possibly want to say to him that he couldn’t say in front of the others?

  The two of them remained seated, Thrawn with his eyes on his datapad, waiting as Ar’alani and Faro left the conference room. The door closed behind them, and Thrawn raised his eyes to Eli. “I understand from Admiral Ar’alani that you’d hoped for more command authority aboard the Steadfast.”

  So it was going to be a dressing-down. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious, sir.”

  “It was to her,” Thrawn said. “You must understand that such things take time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eli said, thinking back to Thrawn’s own long climb through the Imperial ranks. Then, it had been Thrawn who’d been the stranger among the humans of the Empire. Now it was Eli who stood as the foreigner among the Chiss. “Time, plus experience and trust.” He frowned. Trust. “Is that why you asked Admiral Ar’alani to let me handle the Defenders for this battle?”

  “That was a welcome side effect,” Thrawn said. “But no, not directly. As you stated earlier, the primary reasoning was that Captain Dobbs knows you.” He smiled slightly. “And that he trusts you.”

  “I hope so,” Eli said, wincing. Because if he didn’t—

  “He does,” Thrawn said. “I’ve already spoken to him. He is eager to play his part in the upcoming battle, and welcomes the chance to serve with you again.” He paused. “And of course, you’re also the only one aboard the Steadfast who speaks Basic with any fluency.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eli said. He should have expected a solidly practical side to this, as well.

  Still, Thrawn didn’t have to have assigned the Defenders to the Steadfast for their coming battle with the Grysks. In fact, proper Imperial protocol probably forbade him from doing so.

  But it was clear that he didn’t want to leave Ar’alani to face the Grysks alone. And the Defenders would be a surprise, a hoped-for edge toward a hoped-for victory. “I hope I’ll justify your confidence.”

  “I’m certain you will.” Thrawn cocked his head to the side. “The project you’re working on for Admiral Ar’alani. She hasn’t yet told you its purpose, has she?”

  “No, sir,” Eli said, thinking back to his private resentment at being saddled with such a mundane task. Numbers, organization, analysis.

  “Ask her after the battle,” Thrawn said. “I believe she’ll then be willing to tell you.” He gestured toward the hatch. “And now Captain Dobbs and his pilots are waiting in the TIE ready room for you to give them their final briefing.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eli said, standing up.

  “In the meantime, I have to speak one more time with Colonel Yularen,” Thrawn said. “The battle stands before us, Lieutenant Vanto. May warrior’s fortune be with us all.”

  Savit had expected Thrawn’s coordinates to bring his four ships into the unnamed system somewhat closer to the primary. To his surprise, the Firedrake came out of hyperspace much farther out, beside an asteroid cluster.

  Near a darkened space station clearly of unknown design.

  Savit stroked his lip thoughtfully as he studied the bridge displays. So that part of the information he’d wormed out of Tarkin’s office, at least, had been true. “Signal the Harbinger,” he ordered. “I want Captain Pellaeon to move over to that station for a close-in sensor sweep.” A thought occurred to him—“Tell him he can send over boarding parties if he wishes. We shouldn’t need him out here.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Savit turned back to the viewport, searching the sky for signs of the promised shuttle. Pellaeon was a good officer, but he’d never had quite the degree of personal loyalty that Savit liked in his subordinates. Sending him off to the st
ation, away from what was about to happen out here, was simply a prudent thing to do.

  “Shuttle approaching, sir. Bearing two seventy-two by fourteen.”

  Savit turned to face the indicated direction. A Lambda shuttle, by the looks of it, favored transport of high-ranking officers and politicians all across the Empire. “Signal the shuttle, Lieutenant,” he ordered the comm officer. “Inform him he’s to dock in Number Seven.”

  “Yes, sir. The shuttle is hailing you, Admiral.”

  Savit frowned. A humble, low-grade shuttle pilot had the gall to ask to speak personally to a grand admiral? “You can tell him—”

  “Good day, Admiral,” a calm voice came from the speaker. “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. I’m here for your passenger.”

  For a fraction of a second Savit’s tongue seemed paralyzed. He’d expected Thrawn to send one of his people, not to come here himself.

  And suddenly the whole plan had gone off vector.

  “I trust you will have him ready when I arrive?” Thrawn continued.

  Savit found his voice. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll deliver him to you personally.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. I shall see you shortly.”

  It was a short walk to the detention center where Ronan and his pilot Mole had been sequestered. Ronan had been furious about being dumped in a cell; Mole had barely come up to full awareness for the procedure before drifting away again into his own private dreams.

  Ronan was in his cell when Savit arrived, his earlier seething coming back to full glower as he saw the grand admiral’s face. Mole, to Savit’s surprise, was gone.

  “It says he was taken away for further interrogation,” the chief warder said, peering at his displays. “No name attached to the order.”

  Savit scowled at the record. Whoever had taken the pilot had indeed forgotten to log himself into the order. Unforgivably sloppy, and Savit would make sure Captain Boulag brought down the full wrath of navy procedure when they caught up with the culprit.

  But there was no time now for that. Anyway, a no-name, no-future drifter would be relatively easy to dispose of. “Find him, and get him back in his cell,” he ordered the warder. “I’m taking this one to the hangar deck for transfer to the Chimaera.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronan’s face light up with fresh hope as he picked up his neatly folded cape from the sleeping ledge and fastened it around his neck. Good—that anticipation and relief should keep the prisoner docile along the way.

  “Yes, sir,” the warder said. “Let me get you an escort.”

  “No need—I can handle him,” Savit said. “Just give me a blaster.” If there came a moment when he and Savit were alone and Savit could plausibly claim the prisoner had tried to escape…

  A moment later, a blaster belted at his right hip, his left hand firmly gripping Ronan’s upper arm, they headed out.

  Normally, the route Savit had chosen had several places where they were unlikely to be observed. Unfortunately, not knowing what Thrawn had had planned for him, he’d had the Firedrake put on full alert before they arrived. With no imminent threat, Boulag had scaled back the alert, and the corridors were unusually active as people moved back and forth between stations.

  Which meant that Savit and Ronan arrived at the hangar deck without a single moment when they were alone.

  Which was now going to be a problem. Savit’s original plan had been to put Ronan and Mole aboard the shuttle and then shoot it down as it headed for deep space, claiming new information that showed the shuttle’s pilot to be an imposter whose plan was to kidnap the Stardust official. At that point, he would express deep regret that his attempts to bring the shuttle to a halt had led instead to its destruction, accept the slap on the wrist the High Command would deliver, and the matter would be closed. He would take what he already had, shut down his private operation, and move on to something else.

  But that was before Thrawn decided to come here personally. There was no way that the lone Chiss in the fleet could be mistaken for anyone else, and an equally zero chance that someone could or would impersonate him. Savit was going to have to come up with some other way to make this work.

  Two of the Firedrake’s navy troopers were standing guard at the shuttle ramp when Savit and Ronan arrived. Thrawn himself was nowhere to be seen.

  Savit permitted himself a small smirk. Probably still inside, wrapped up in the latest of the artwork studies that had made him the butt of so many jokes in the navy’s upper ranks. Thrawn’s supporters claimed it helped him learn his enemy’s tactics; his critics figured he just liked pretty pictures.

  Which didn’t in any way excuse this breach of protocol. The Firedrake was Savit’s ship, and Thrawn should have been waiting on its commander, not making Savit wait on him. “Tell him I’m here,” he ordered the troopers as they came to attention. “If he’s not out in ten seconds—”

  “He’s already gone, sir,” one of the troopers cut in nervously before Savit could finish the threat. “He said he’d meet you on the bridge.”

  Savit stopped dead in his tracks. Thrawn was gone? “Why didn’t you stop him?” he demanded. “I give the orders on this ship, not him.”

  “We—” The trooper looked helplessly at his companion. “He was just standing over there beside the fueling station. We thought he was joking.”

  “And then he was just gone,” the second trooper said. “We thought—he knew you were coming, Admiral. We thought he would be back.”

  Savit’s comlink signaled, and he yanked it from its holder. “What?” he snapped.

  “Sir, this is the bridge,” Boulag’s voice came, his tone a little uncertain. “Ah…Grand Admiral Thrawn is here.”

  Savit clenched his teeth. “Tell him I’ll be right there,” he ordered. “And make damn sure he stays there.”

  Thrawn and Boulag were talking quietly together on the command walkway when Savit and Ronan arrived. Standing at the aft end of the walkway were a pair of stormtroopers, their E-11 blaster rifles held in ready positions at their waists. Keeping his grip on Ronan’s arm, Savit walked between them and strode up to the two officers. “Admiral,” he greeted Thrawn as civilly as he could manage. “I thought you were going to wait in the hangar bay.”

  “I reconsidered,” Thrawn said coolly. “It occurred to me that our conversation would be better held here.”

  “We have nothing to talk about,” Savit said. “You’re here to pick up a prisoner, and that’s all.”

  “With all due respect, Admiral, I think a conversation would be good,” Boulag put in. “The Harbinger’s advance survey team has boarded the station, and Captain Pellaeon says—”

  “That will be all, Captain,” Savit cut him off. “The aft turbolaser status report should be finished. Go make sure everything is in order.” He let go of Ronan’s arm. “And take this one with you.”

  “I would prefer that Assistant Director Ronan stay with us,” Thrawn said.

  “This is my ship, Admiral,” Savit countered.

  “So this is the real Ronan?” Boulag asked, eyeing Ronan with new eyes. “We thought he might be an imposter. My apologies, Assistant Director.”

  “Admiral Thrawn’s statement notwithstanding, that’s what we still have to determine,” Savit insisted.

  “Along with other truths,” Thrawn said. “Admiral?”

  Savit glared at him. Unfortunately, whether by luck or design, Thrawn had effectively outmaneuvered him. Ten seconds ago, before Thrawn gave Ronan his stamp of approval, there would have been little to lose by letting the pompous fool say whatever he wanted to Boulag. But with that identification, even Boulag was smart enough to take Ronan’s babblings seriously. “Fine,” he said, taking Ronan’s arm again. “He stays here. You have your orders, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a final speculative look at Ronan, Boulag headed back
down the walkway. He passed the two stormtroopers and disappeared into the aft bridge.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Thrawn said.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re welcome,” Savit said. He made a show of looking around. “What, no death troopers? I’d have thought the least you could do after the Emperor so graciously assigned them to you would be to keep them around.”

  “Sometimes it’s best to leave them behind.”

  “I suppose,” Savit said. “A point of curiosity: How did you get from the hangar deck to the bridge without being seen?”

  “Of course I was seen,” Thrawn said. “Did you expect any of your officers would interfere with the activities of a grand admiral?”

  “No, I don’t suppose they would,” Savit said, his lip twisting in contempt. “I see I’ll have to have a conversation with them later about that. Now, what’s this about an enemy threat?”

  “We will speak of that presently,” Thrawn said. “First, though, I wish to know why you have been stealing cargoes from the Stardust project.”

  Beneath his hand, Savit felt Ronan’s arm muscles suddenly tighten. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, keeping his voice even and doing a quick mental survey of the bridge. He, Thrawn, and Ronan should be far enough forward on the walkway that no one in the crew pits could hear them.

  “I believe you do,” Thrawn said. “The first indicator was the incomplete data you gave me on the grallocs. You did not want us to realize the creatures were drawn to Clouzon-36, which was the lure you used to bring them to your chosen freighters. The second indicator was the fact that the turbolaser parts being stolen were from a new model. Only a high-ranking official would know of its existence, let alone which parts were required to build one.”

  “A moff would also have access to that information,” Ronan put in. “Governor Haveland, for instance.”

  “The third indicator,” Thrawn said, ignoring the interruption, “was your sudden interest in pirates in this region. While a reasonable enough undertaking for the Third Fleet, its actual purpose was to clear out competition so that your operatives could more easily work the relevant spaceports.”