Chaos Rising

by Timothy Zahn

  “That won’t be necessary,” the soldier said. “We have a navigator and ship waiting to take you back to the Chiss Ascendancy. He arrives now.”

  Thalias frowned. “No one wants to talk to us?”

  The soldier didn’t answer. Instead, he gave an open-hand salute, gestured to his companions, and the whole group of them marched off the landing platform and disappeared through one of the doors.

  “Are we still on the plan?” Che’ri asked.

  Thalias hesitated. They were, but there were certain parts that Thrawn and Ar’alani had elected to keep from the younger girl. “We’ll find out,” she said evasively.

  “Ah—Thalias of the Chiss Ascendancy,” a cheerful voice said from behind them.

  Thalias turned, feeling her stomach knot up as she saw the familiar creature walking toward them, a broad smile on his face. “You won’t remember me,” he said, “but we met—”

  “You’re Qilori of Uandualon,” she interrupted. “You were with General Yiv at the reception.”

  “Ah—you do remember,” Qilori said. “Excellent. Come with me—the shuttle to our transport is right down here.”

  A few minutes later they were in the shuttle’s passenger compartment, heading through the thinning atmosphere toward the rows of ships in Primea orbit. “It’s a busy place, Primea,” Qilori commented, peering out the window. “I’m just as glad I never have to take control of a ship until we’re well out of the gravity well and ready for hyperspace. You must have had an interesting time getting through it all.”

  “Che’ri did,” Thalias said, looking around the otherwise empty compartment. “She’s the pilot. Where are the other passengers?”

  “Oh, they’re already aboard the transport,” Qilori said. “You were a late addition, courtesy of the Combine government. They must be pleased to have their fighter back.”

  “It was never our intention to keep it,” Thalias said. “Which one’s our transport?”

  “You’ll see it in a minute,” Qilori said. “It’s…there it is, just coming into view.”

  “Thalias?” Che’ri asked, her voice uncertain. “That doesn’t look like a transport to me.”

  “If by transport you mean something to get you from here to there, of course it’s a transport,” Qilori said. “If you mean civilian transport, though, I’m afraid that’s not what we’re doing today.”

  He pointed out the viewport. “That, my noble Chiss hostages, is the Deathless, a Battle Dreadnought and the flagship of General Yiv the Benevolent of the Nikardun Destiny.”

  Thalias looked at him, mentally measuring the distance between them. They were both strapped in, but if she got free quickly enough…

  “Please don’t,” Qilori said. “The Benevolent would very much like you to be in undamaged condition when he hands you over to Thrawn.”

  “He’s going to give us back to Thrawn?” Che’ri asked hopefully.

  “Of course,” Qilori said. “He’ll message Thrawn, Thrawn will come, they’ll meet right on the bridge of that warship, and Yiv will hand you over to him.

  “And then, of course, Yiv will kill him.”

  * * *

  —

  Treason.

  That was really the only word for it, Thurfian thought bitterly as he hurried toward the Convocate Hall for the Syndicure’s emergency meeting. Treason.

  And after all the precautions he’d taken—the meetings and comparing of notes with Zistalmu, the careful reading of every scrap of data from every one of Thrawn’s missions and activities—after all that he’d still been taken completely by surprise.

  He’d often watched as the arrogant warrior skated up to the line and occasionally stepped over it. But nothing had prepared him to watch Thrawn take a flying leap over that line.

  They had him. This time, by every evil of the Chaos, they had him.

  But at what cost? What terrible, terrible cost?

  The Convocate Hall was packed when Thurfian arrived, and as he headed toward the Mitth section he did a quick head count. The Speakers of all Nine Families were present, as were most of the upper-level syndics. A dozen other lesser families were represented, mostly those with close ties to one of the Nine or aspirations to someday join them in Ascendancy rule. The room buzzed with quiet conversation as those who’d only heard part of the situation were filled in by the others.

  Seated at the witness table, a pocket of silence amid the verbal storm, were Supreme General Ba’kif, Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk, Admiral Ar’alani, and Thrawn.

  Thurfian had just taken his chair when Ja’fosk rose to his feet.

  Instantly the rumble vanished. “Speakers and Syndics of the Ascendancy,” Ja’fosk said, throwing a quick, appraising look around the chamber. “I’ve received a transmission from General Yiv of the Nikardun Destiny.” He lifted his questis. “Quote:

  “ ‘I have in my possession the two family hostages of Senior Captain Thrawn, whom he sent to Primea with an offer to the Vak Combine of union and treachery against the peaceful peoples of the Nikardun Destiny. If he wishes the females to be released unharmed, he will travel alone to the attached coordinates in an unarmed freighter with the equivalent of two hundred thousand Univers.’ ” Ja’fosk lowered the questis. “The coordinates given indicate a high orbit over Primea.”

  The usual protocol was for one of the Speakers to offer the first response or ask the first question. But Thurfian wasn’t much interested in protocol at the moment. More than that, he needed to make sure the entire chamber had the full horrifying situation. “Leaving aside for the moment the question of why Yiv thinks the Chiss have such a thing as family hostages,” he said, rising to his feet, “I’d like to know who these two women are.” He raised his eyebrows. “Or are they both women, or is one a young girl?”

  “One of them is a woman,” Ja’fosk said, his voice under careful control. “Her name is Mitth’ali’astov. The other is indeed a girl, Che’ri.” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “One of our sky-walkers.”

  A ripple of disbelief and outrage ran through the assembled Aristocra. Apparently, most of them hadn’t heard the whole story. “I assume Yiv is unaware of her status?” Thurfian asked.

  “We believe so,” Ja’fosk said. “There’s certainly no indication that he even knows about the sky-walker program, let alone has any details.”

  “I assume there’s also no indication that he doesn’t,” the Plikh Speaker put in harshly. “I would like to know exactly how Senior Captain Thrawn made such a blunder as to put one of our sky-walkers in enemy hands.”

  “The Nikardun aren’t our enemies,” Ja’fosk reminded her. “As to Captain Thrawn’s reasoning in this matter…” He looked down at Thrawn.

  “I certainly never intended either of them to be put at risk,” Thrawn said. “Their mission was to return the Vak fighter I had borrowed and to bring a warning to the Primea leadership of Yiv’s activities among other species in the region. Thalias was supposed to deliver the message, then take a passenger transport to Navigator Concourse Four Forty-Seven, where they would be brought back to the Ascendancy.”

  “And why was a sky-walker even aboard?”

  “Che’ri could pilot the fighter. Thalias could not.”

  Thurfian felt his lip twist. Liar. Thrawn clearly knew or at least suspected what Yiv would do if Thalias and Che’ri came within reach. This whole thing smacked of a back-door approach to getting the Syndicure to order a retaliatory strike.

  And if the mood in the chamber was any indication, he was going to get it. If there was one resource the Ascendancy guarded with insane jealousy, it was their sky-walkers.

  “This conversation is not over,” the Irizi Speaker warned. “We’ll want the details of this situation—all the details—at some point in the future. If blunders or outright deception are found, the Syndicure will mete out the appropriate co
nsequences.”

  “Understood,” Ja’fosk said. “For now, though, speed is of the essence. We must use whatever means necessary to retrieve the two women.”

  “I assume,” Zistalmu spoke up harshly, “that means a military strike.”

  “Against those who, as Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk has already admitted, aren’t our enemies,” Thurfian added.

  “They’ve taken a sky-walker,” Thrawn said. “I believe that act in and of itself constitutes an attack on the Ascendancy.”

  “Even when they’re unaware of their crime?”

  “They’ve taken a sky-walker,” Thrawn repeated.

  Thurfian caught Zistalmu’s eye across the chamber, saw his same cynicism reflected in the Irizi’s expression. Yes, this had been prearranged, all right. Ja’fosk and Ba’kif might not have known the whole plan going in, but Thrawn and Ar’alani most certainly had.

  There would be a reckoning for this down the line, Thurfian promised himself. But for now, that would have to wait. Yiv had a sky-walker, and it was abundantly clear that the Aristocra would turn the Chaos upside down if necessary to get her back.

  Still, if they were lucky—if they were very lucky—Thrawn might finally have outsmarted himself. In which case, Thurfian would happily and with full sincerity join into the Mitth family’s eulogy for its fallen hero.

  * * *

  —

  “I think the thing I’ll miss most about Thrawn,” Yiv commented casually from his bridge command chair, “is the way he always seemed able to read his opponent and plan accordingly. It forced one to keep alert and to learn to anticipate in turn.”

  Thalias kept silent, focusing instead on the task of not scratching her arms despite the itchy feel of the shapeless robes the Nikardun had given her and Che’ri to wear. She suspected they were prisoner suits, and that they were deliberately designed to be uncomfortable, but she would be damned if she would give Yiv the satisfaction.

  “This canister, for instance,” Yiv continued, pulling out the small, flat canister that had been concealed inside Thalias’s belt buckle. “Hard to tell without opening it, but deep-spectral analysis suggests it’s some kind of soporific. Possibly a lethal one?”

  “It’s not lethal,” Thalias said. “It’s a sleepwalking drug called tava. It’s the drug my master used on the crew of the Vak fighter when he commandeered it.”

  “And you just happened to have another batch with you?”

  “He likes to have backup plans,” she said. “I think he put the canister in my belt so he would have extra if he needed it.”

  “You didn’t know it was there?”

  Thalias hunched her shoulders. “No. But would it have mattered if I did? As long as we remain family hostages, our master owns us. Heart, soul, and life. He can do what he wishes with all three.”

  “I would call that barbarous,” Yiv said, the strange tendrils on his shoulders waving a little harder than usual, “if that wasn’t basically the same arrangement I demand of my own conquered peoples. Perhaps he and I are even more alike than I thought. Did he tell you what the message was that he had you deliver?”

  Thalias shook her head. “No.”

  “It was quite interesting,” Yiv said, setting the tava canister on the arm of his chair and pulling out the envelope Thalias had given the Vak soldier at the landing platform. “He’s offering an alliance with the Chiss Ascendancy in return for permission to come to Primea and challenge me.” He gave a snort and set the envelope beside the canister. “Also excruciatingly naïve. Does he really think the Vaks could make a decision like that without studying every aspect and every nuance?”

  “My master is very good at reading cultures,” Thalias said.

  “Really,” Yiv said. “When you return to Csilla, you must look up the story of his dealings with the Garwians and Lioaoi. The real story, not the version available to the public.”

  “Why?” Thalias asked. “What’s different about it?”

  “Oh, far be it from me to ruin the surprise,” Yiv said cheerfully. “But I’ve had the full truth from the Lioaoi. Let’s just say that your master isn’t nearly as good as he thinks.” He considered. “Not that it matters in this case, because no one in the Combine will ever read his offer. The letter the Vaks actually received was merely an apology and an earnest hope that this won’t sour the Combine’s view of the Chiss. Content that, I daresay, they won’t need to endlessly debate.”

  Thalias looked at Che’ri. The girl was trying to keep up a good front, but Thalias could see that Yiv’s one–two punch with the tava canister and his substitute note had left her shaken.

  Yiv had spotted it, too. “I seem to have upset your fellow hostage,” he said with feigned concern. “Or perhaps she’s simply not as good at hiding her feelings as you are.”

  “We’re hostages,” Thalias said. “Our feelings also lie at the mercy of our master and his family.”

  “No doubt she would learn with age and practice,” Yiv said. “Well, perhaps your next master will continue her training. Would you care to retire to a resting area for a bit? I’ll want you here with me when Thrawn arrives—I’m sure he’ll want to see you—but that will be several more hours.”

  “Or several more days,” Thalias said. “Primea is a long way from the Ascendancy via jump-by-jump travel.”

  “Not a problem,” Yiv said with another broad smile. “He’ll certainly wish to hire a navigator for such an important meeting. And that navigator—my navigator—is likely even now coming aboard his freighter. A few hours, maybe less, and it will all be over.”

  * * *

  —

  “I’m glad you were available for this journey,” Thrawn said, handing Qilori a steaming mug.

  “As am I,” Qilori said, sniffing approvingly. Galara tealeaf, his favorite drink. “I’d just returned to the concourse and was looking over the list of possible jobs when your message came through.”

  “I’m glad you were willing to wait for my arrival.”

  “I was happy to do so,” Qilori said. “For one thing, voyages with you are never boring. For another—” He hefted his mug.

  “The tealeaf?”

  “Yes,” Qilori said. “Very few Pathfinder employers remember their navigator’s preferences. A large number don’t even bother to learn our names.”

  “It seemed appropriate,” Thrawn said. “Since this will likely be our last voyage together.”

  “Really?” Qilori asked, frowning at the Chiss over the edge of the mug. “How so?”

  “I’m going to Primea to ransom my two hostages from General Yiv,” Thrawn said. “I don’t expect the exchange to end well.”

  “Oh,” Qilori said, trying for the right mix of surprise and concern. “Surely you’re not expecting treachery? Yiv the Benevolent has always struck me as upright and honorable in his dealings with others. At least when the other party has also been honorable. You aren’t planning any tricks, are you?”

  “He wanted me to come alone in an unarmed freighter.” Thrawn waved a hand around them. “Do you see anyone else? Or any weapons?”

  “Well, certainly not from here,” Qilori said with a shrug. Though considering that he’d given the freighter’s hull a thorough visual inspection before coming aboard, and had spent his last rest period surreptitiously checking for weapons controls, he was considerably more certain than his offhanded comment made it look.

  Still, there was something odd about the freighter’s shape, something that had caught his attention as he’d spiraled around it earlier. It was nothing hugely out of the ordinary for this class of ship, and he couldn’t even codify what it was that was different. Yet hours later, it was still nagging at him.

  “You can therefore affirm that I’ve followed his instructions,” Thrawn said.

  “In which case you should have nothing to fear,” Qilori said.r />
  “Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Are you ready for the final segment?”

  “I am,” Qilori said, taking one last sip of his tealeaf and setting the mug aside. Thrawn was right: It would be their last voyage together. Qilori would have to thank the Benevolent later for letting him be present to watch the arrogant, Pathfinder-murdering Chiss die. “Another half hour, and we’ll be there.”

  “Good,” Thrawn said, settling himself in his chair. “Let’s make an end of it, Qilori of Uandualon. One way, or another.”

  Insight. In the end, Ar’alani mused, that was what it came down to. Analysis followed, then extrapolation and countermove. Those were what made a successful military campaign. But it all started with insight.

  And if the insight was in error, the rest collapsed like an ice bridge over a bonfire.

  Thrawn claimed to understand Yiv. He claimed to understand the Vaks.

  But he’d also thought he understood the Lioaoi and the Garwians. His failure there had stirred up old animosities and political conflicts, had gotten a bunch of aliens killed, and had put the Ascendancy in the middle with dirt on its hands. If he was wrong this time, there would be more deaths.

  Only this time, many of the dead would be Chiss.

  There was a movement to her left, and she looked up to see Wutroow come to a stop beside the command chair. “Breakout in five minutes,” the Vigilant’s first officer reported. “All systems and stations report ready.”

  “Thank you, Senior Captain,” Ar’alani said. “Anything else?”

  Wutroow pursed her lips. “I trust you realize, Admiral, that we’re walking on splintered eggs here. We only have Senior Captain Thrawn’s assumption that the Vaks haven’t completely gone over to the Nikardun side. If they have, we’re going to end up fighting both of them. And unless the Vaks attack us directly, we have no authorization whatsoever to fire on them.”

  “It gets worse,” Ar’alani warned, thinking back to the Lioaoi fighters she and Thrawn had seen at the Lioaoin heartworld. “If the Vaks have joined Yiv, there may already be Nikardun crews aboard Vak warships. We won’t know for sure who’s who until they open fire.”