Chaos Rising

by Timothy Zahn

  But not anymore.

  “The Ascendancy is your family,” Ja’fosk continued. “The Ascendancy is your home. The Ascendancy is your future.

  “The Ascendancy is your life.”

  Ziara had heard those words many times over the past week as she practiced for the ceremony. But not until this moment, hearing them spoken in Ja’fosk’s stentorian voice, did they seem real. The Ascendancy is your life.

  But really, hadn’t it always been so? Once she made the decision to join the Defense Force, hadn’t she effectively surrendered her future to the greater good of her people?

  And having offered her life, was it such a loss to offer also her ties to her family?

  “Senior Captain Irizi’ar’alani is no more,” Ja’fosk said. He reached to the table behind him and picked up a flat box. “In her place”—he held the box toward her—“now stands Commodore Ar’alani.”

  Bracing herself, Ziara stepped forward and took the box. Through the transparent lid she saw that it was her new commodore’s uniform, blazing white instead of the black one she’d worn throughout her entire career. The insignia pins were already in place on the collar, and where the Irizi family shoulder patch would have been was the multi-circle symbol of the Chiss Ascendancy.

  “Do you accept this uniform and this new life?” Ja’fosk asked.

  Ziara took a deep breath. No; not Ziara. Not anymore. “I do,” Ar’alani said.

  Ja’fosk bowed his head…and as he did so, Ar’alani thought she detected a small, slightly bittersweet smile.

  Remembering, perhaps, when he himself had stood in her place. And had lost his own family.

  * * *

  —

  Ar’alani’s promotion celebration party was winding down, and the crowds of well-wishers had dwindled to a lingering few, when Thrawn finally made his appearance.

  “Congratulations, Commodore,” he said, inclining his head to her. “You’ll remember I said you’d be here one day.”

  “Actually, as I recall, you suggested I’d someday make admiral,” Ar’alani reminded him. “I still have a ways to go.”

  “You’ll make it,” Thrawn said. “I understand you’ve been assigned the Destrama and Picket Force Six.”

  “I have,” Ar’alani confirmed. “I’ve also requested that you be made my first officer.”

  “Really,” Thrawn said, clearly surprised. “I thought your babysitting duties had ended.”

  “You think you were aboard the Parala because General Ba’kif wanted me to look after you?”

  “I think it was more a matter of wanting you to make sure I didn’t go off the edge.” Thrawn paused. “Again.”

  “There may have been a bit of that,” Ar’alani conceded. “But that’s not really relevant. I asked for you because you’re a good officer.” She smiled faintly. “I also suspect there’ll be a promotion for you somewhere along the way.”

  “Thank you,” Thrawn said. “I’ll try not to make you regret your decision.” He hesitated. “I’m in need of advice, Commodore, if you have a moment to spare.”

  “For you, what moments I can’t spare I’ll make,” she said, glancing past his shoulder. None of the other guests were close enough to hear. “And when it’s just the two of us, it can just be Thrawn and Ar’alani.”

  He gave a sort of hesitant smile. “Thank you. That’s…I’m honored.”

  She smiled back. “So. What do you need?”

  “I was recently approached by one of the Irizi,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “He said that some of the Mitth are unhappy with me, and may try to have me released.”

  Ar’alani’s first instinct was to deflect the conversation elsewhere. Family politics were always a touchy subject.

  But she didn’t have any family politics. Not anymore. “What was his name?”

  “Aristocra Irizi’stal’mustro.”

  Ar’alani nodded. “Zistalmu. Never met him, but I know of him. Let me guess: He thought you should request to join the Irizi instead?”

  “Actually, his tone and phrasings suggested that the rematching was already a given,” Thrawn said. “There was certainly no mention of interviews or other barriers to my acceptance. He also suggested I would be a Trial-born instead of a merit adoptive.”

  “Interesting,” Ar’alani said. “You say all this was suggested, but not stated outright?”

  “There wasn’t any formal invitation, if that’s what you mean.”

  “It is.” Ar’alani pursed her lips, her gaze drifting around the room. The two Irizi who’d been here earlier were long gone, with only a few of the minor families still represented. “Okay, here’s the relevant history. The Irizi have always been strong supporters of the military, particularly the Defense Force. They like having family in the upper ranks—feel it buys them additional prestige, which is of course one of the currencies among the Aristocra.”

  “Prestige is a currency?”

  “Of a sort,” Ar’alani said. “There are a whole lot of things that factor into a family’s position and power. Some of them are financial or historical; others are more nebulous, like prestige and reputation.”

  “I see,” Thrawn said, though Ar’alani was pretty sure from his expression that he didn’t. “What does this have to do with the Mitth and me?”

  “The Mitth are overall in a stronger position than the Irizi, at least at the moment,” Ar’alani said. “Over the past few years, the Mitth have also tried to cut into the Irizi military strength by recruiting promising cadets and officers.”

  “Such as me?”

  “Very likely,” Ar’alani said. “It was clear all the way back at the Academy that you had a strong career ahead of you. The point is that, perhaps a bit belatedly, the Irizi have recognized your potential and are hoping to steal you from the Mitth.”

  “Do you think he was right about the Mitth wanting to rematch me?”

  Ar’alani shook her head. “Impossible to say. I don’t have a feel for Mitth politics and structure the way I do with the Irizi. I’d guess that if you can avoid doing anything…controversial…in the future, you should be all right. Merit adoptives are always on probation until they’ve proved themselves. But once they do, and once they’ve passed the Trials, they’ll hold a much more secure status. And of course, if and when you’re elevated to ranking distant, you’ll be largely untouchable.”

  “I see,” Thrawn said. “Yet if the Irizi are more military-minded, would they perhaps not be a better family for me?”

  Ar’alani hesitated. No family. No family. “In all honesty, I’ve never been comfortable with the way the Irizi dominate Defense Force personnel. I know we’re supposed to ignore family identity as we serve, but we’ve all seen rivalries bleed over into conversation and even duty assignments.”

  “So you’d recommend I stay with the Mitth?”

  “That’s a decision you have to make for yourself,” Ar’alani said. “Being blood of the Irizi was very good for my career, and the family’s done the same for many others. But what was good for me may not be good for you.”

  “I understand,” Thrawn said. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ar’alani dared a smile. “And not just one, you know. I like to think I contributed my small bit to keeping you in the academy over that cheating charge.”

  “Your contribution was far larger than you perhaps remember,” Thrawn assured her. “And your assistance has hardly been limited to the distant past. I never properly thanked you for your support in the aftermath of the Stivic incident.”

  “My support was completely unnecessary,” Ar’alani said, looking him squarely in the eye. “The Garwians have stated on the record that it was Security Officer Frangelic who spotted the weakness of the pirates’ tactics and found a way to exploit it. From the way they were raving about him, he�
�s probably been promoted by now.”

  “And he richly deserves whatever accolades he’s received.”

  “Agreed.” Ar’alani cocked her head. “Just out of curiosity, I looked into it afterward, and I couldn’t find an obvious way to tie a comm into a ranging laser.”

  “There isn’t,” Thrawn said. “But there’s a spot where a questis can be linked for data downloading and analysis.”

  “And connectors like that can usually run either direction,” Ar’alani said, nodding. “So you tied your questis into the laser’s frequency-modulation option and used voice-to-script?”

  “Just script,” Thrawn said. “If there was an inquiry afterward, having a voice recording would narrow the search a bit too much.”

  Ar’alani nodded again. “The Garwians owe you. I hope they realize that.”

  “I didn’t do it for their gratitude,” Thrawn said, sounding a bit surprised that Ar’alani would even think of it in those terms. “I did it for the good of their people, and for all who would otherwise have faced those same attackers.”

  “A high-minded goal,” Ar’alani said. “I wish the Ascendancy appreciated it more.”

  Thrawn smiled. “Nor did I do it for our gratitude.”

  “Indeed.” Again, Ar’alani looked over his shoulder. Still six people lingering, but they were engrossed in conversation with one another and would never miss her. “Tell you what. Let’s go someplace a little quieter, and you can buy me a celebratory drink.”

  She touched his arm. “And while we drink,” she said, “you can tell me all the other goals you have that the Ascendancy will pretend not to be grateful for.”

  The bluedock foreman shook his head as he ran to the end of the listing. “I don’t know what it is with you folk,” he said. “This is the second time in two months. Do you deliberately run into the middle of your battles?”

  “Of course not,” Samakro said stiffly. “It’s hardly the Springhawk’s fault if the Council and Aristocra keep sending us out into the Chaos to fight people.”

  “It’s hardly their fault if you don’t win the battles faster, either,” the foreman countered, half turning to peer out the viewport at the Springhawk floating nearby, silhouetted against the blue-white disk of the frozen Csilla surface filling half the sky.

  “We won it fast enough,” Samakro assured him. “And let’s not get overly dramatic, shall we? There’s not that much damage.”

  “You don’t think so?” the foreman said sourly. “Well, I suppose that’s why you’re out there running into missile salvos and I’m in here putting your ship back together.” He lifted a finger. “Sensor nodes needing replacement: seven. Hull plates needing replacement: eighty-two. Spectrum lasers needing repair or refurbishment: five. And what’s this nonsense about adding an extra tank of plasma sphere fluid?”

  “We use a lot of plasma spheres.”

  “And where exactly does Senior Captain Thrawn suggest I put it?” the foreman retorted. “His quarters? Your quarters?”

  “I have no idea,” Samakro said. “That’s why you’re in here performing maintenance miracles and we’re out there making people regret tangling with the Chiss Ascendancy.”

  “This would take a miracle,” the foreman grumbled, looking at the questis again. Still, he seemed pleased by Samakro’s small compliment. “The least he could do is come ask for these miracles in person.”

  “He’s in consultation with General Ba’kif right now.”

  The foreman sniffed. “No doubt planning his next foray into trouble. Fine. I’ll get started on the rest of this, and see if I can find enough space somewhere for this impossible plasma tank he wants.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can,” Samakro assured him. “What kind of time frame are we looking at?”

  “At least six weeks, maybe seven,” the foreman said. “If I get a rush order from Ba’kif or Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk, I can maybe slice a week off that.”

  “Well, go ahead and get started, and I’ll see about getting you that rush order,” Samakro said. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me by not wrecking your ship next time.”

  “What, and make the Council wonder if they still need people like you?” Samakro asked blandly.

  “I’d love to see the Council try their hand at this job,” the foreman said. “The Ascendancy would never fly again. Go on, get out of here—I’ve got work to do.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Samakro was on a shuttle heading for the surface.

  A hard knot in his stomach.

  Do you deliberately run into the middle of your battles? the foreman had asked. Samakro had waved off the sarcasm…but in the core of his heart he wasn’t nearly that certain. There’d been at least two times during the Lioaoin skirmish, maybe three, when Thrawn had taken the Springhawk far deeper into the enemy fire zone than he’d had to. Nearly all of the damage the foreman had groused about had come from those particular sorties.

  Had Thrawn been trying to glean additional information on the new Lioaoin tactics, as he’d claimed? Or was it possible he was starting to lose the judgment and tactical insight that had raised his name to such prominence?

  Thrawn had implied he’d initiated his current meeting with Ba’kif. But maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Ba’kif had noticed the same troubling subtext in the after-action reports and was having some of the same doubts as Samakro. Maybe he’d called Thrawn in to find out what was going on.

  And if the general decided Thrawn was no longer capable of commanding the Springhawk…

  Samakro took a deep breath. Stop it, he ordered himself. Even if Thrawn was relieved of command, that didn’t necessarily mean Samakro would be restored to it. The Springhawk still had an important name, and the Ufsa family wasn’t the only one who would love to have one of their own in charge.

  Still, it was an interesting thought.

  * * *

  —

  “An interesting thought,” General Ba’kif said, pursing his lips. “The question is whether that thought is dangerously inspired or merely criminally insane.”

  “I don’t see why either adjective has to be attached, sir,” Thrawn said, his voice carrying his usual mix of respect and confidence. “The small scout ship I’m proposing—”

  “You don’t?” Ba’kif interrupted.

  “No, sir,” Thrawn said calmly. “A scout ship could easily slip the three of us past any sentries or watchers General Yiv might have placed along the way. The data we collect would not only give us a better idea of how large this so-named Nikardun Destiny is, but also offer hints as to how solidly those behind Yiv’s battle line are being held and controlled.”

  “To what end?”

  “There are several possibilities,” Thrawn said. “We might be able to foment revolt among some of them—”

  “Preemptive action,” Ba’kif interrupted again. “Never get past the Syndicure.”

  “—or possibly lease bases or supply depots from them—”

  “More preemptive action.”

  “—or, if there are unconquered peoples scattered among them, we might learn how they were able to resist the Nikardun.”

  Ba’kif frowned thoughtfully. That last could indeed be quite instructive. Even better, a straightforward data-gathering mission wouldn’t generate nearly as much outrage among the Aristocra as Thrawn’s other suggestions.

  But even there, the whole thing was swimming in risk and uncertainty. “Independence and resistance are a difficult combination to maintain,” he pointed out. “Any halfway-competent conqueror would never permit it.”

  “Unless Yiv isn’t aware of the situation,” Thrawn said. “In fact, as you suggest, that’s probably the only way such a situation could continue.”

  “So independence, resistance, and vacuum-tight secrecy,” Ba’kif said. “The odds against these theoretica
l allies existing are getting rather tall. Do you need anything else from them? Proficiency in small arms, maybe?”

  “No, nothing else,” Thrawn said. Either he hadn’t noticed Ba’kif’s sarcasm or had chosen to ignore it. “We can find a way to work with whatever other skills they might possess. The primary focus now has to be on finding them.”

  “If they exist.”

  “If they exist,” Thrawn conceded. “At any rate, I’ve already spoken to Caregiver Thalias and Sky-walker Che’ri, and both have indicated willingness to go with me.”

  “You spoke of confidential matters to unauthorized personnel?” Ba’kif asked, hearing his tone go ominous.

  “Sky-walkers and their caregivers know many things even senior officers sometimes don’t,” Thrawn said. “That said, no, I offered no restricted information. I merely posed the question of whether they would accompany me on a long-distance journey of unspecified destination and purpose.”

  For a few seconds Ba’kif gazed at him, weighing the options, considering the possibilities, assessing the risks. Nothing about this mad scheme exactly filled him with confidence.

  But if the information Thrawn and Ar’alani had brought back about the quiet infiltration of the Nikardun was even halfway accurate, something had to be done. And the quicker, the better.

  “There are members of the Syndicure who consider you an ungimbaled laser,” he said, pushing the questis back toward Thrawn. “There are times I’m inclined to agree with them.”

  “The Nikardun are a serious threat, General,” Thrawn said quietly. “Possibly the most serious the Ascendancy has faced in recent history. General Yiv is competent and charismatic, with the ability to both conquer and enlist those in his path.”