Star Wars_Thrawn Page 17

  “Welcome to the real Coruscant.”

  —

  Arihnda managed to slip out of the ballroom without Juahir or Driller spotting her. She caught an air taxi, rode to Renking’s office, and put Ghadi’s data card in the slot in the desk safe as she’d been instructed. Then, calling another air taxi, she returned to Driller’s borrowed apartment. The last thing she wanted to do was stay in Core Square a second longer than she had to, but she knew that running would make her look guilty.

  Besides, her lungs and vision were still showing the effects of the spice, and there were probably other visual cues that would tag her to anyone who knew what to look for. It would be the height of irony if Ghadi kept his word not to turn her in only to have some random security guard do it for him.

  She lay awake on the daybed for the next three hours, waiting for the symptoms to fade, wondering what was on the card. Wondering what it would do. Wondering what she would do.

  She had no answers.

  It was after two in the morning when Juahir and Driller finally returned. Arihnda brushed off Juahir’s questions with a story about not feeling well, then fended off the other woman’s efforts to help. Eventually, Juahir gave up, and she and Driller drifted off to their own beds.

  It wasn’t until dawn was starting to lighten the sky that Arihnda finally nodded off. Her last thought as she fell asleep was to wonder when the blow would fall.

  It fell very quickly.

  —

  The general comm call came at oh-nine-hundred, barely three hours after Arihnda fell asleep. She arrived at Renking’s office to find most of the local staff already assembled, whispering urgently and apprehensively among themselves. Renking arrived a few minutes later, his eyes cold, his face dark and stiff.

  “I have some bad news,” he said without preamble. His gaze moved across the crowd as he talked, but Arihnda noted that his eyes never seemed to touch her face. “Some allegations have recently arisen of financial and corporate discrepancies coming from my office. While these allegations are categorically false, I must nonetheless address them as quickly as possible. I will therefore be returning to Lothal for a time, and will probably need to make brief visits to other worlds before I return.

  “Unfortunately, until the situation has been straightened out, my funding levels will be severely restricted. I have no choice but to close several of my outlying offices and relieve those assigned there of your duties. Here are the offices affected.”

  He read off a list of seven offices from his datapad. It wasn’t coincidence, Arihnda suspected, that he saved Bash Four for the very end.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he concluded. “My apologies to those of you whom I’m no longer able to employ, but I’m certain you’ll find other positions soon. Enjoy the rest of your Ascension Week festivities. Ms. Pryce, if you’d stay a moment?”

  Arihnda remained standing beside the wall as the others filed out. Renking busied himself with his datapad, or at least pretended to do so, until the two of them were alone.

  And then, for the first time since entering the office, he looked at her.

  Arihnda had expected to see anger in his eyes. She saw only ice. She expected him to shout or curse. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft and infinitely more frightening. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  “I didn’t have any choice,” Arihnda said, silently cursing the shaking that had suddenly afflicted her voice. She’d promised herself that she would match him tone for tone, but an Imperial senator in full-blown anger was more intimidating than she’d expected. “He said he would have me arrested.”

  “And you believed him?” Renking demanded. “You honestly believed you were important enough to waste even the time of a single police call on?” He shook his head. “You really are a fool, aren’t you?”

  “What about you?” Arihnda countered. How was this her fault? “Whatever you were trying to do, you must not have disguised it very well. If I’d known what was going on, I would at least have been ready for him.”

  “Oh, right,” he bit back. “A wet-eared Lothal yokel would have been ready for a moff. Yes, I’d have paid good money to watch that match.” He held out his hand. “Your airspeeder key.”

  Arihnda handed it over, clamping her mouth shut against the retort that wanted to come out. “I assume you’ll be taking back my apartment, too,” she said instead. “I’ll go over and start clearing it out.”

  “It’s already being emptied,” Renking said. “Your things will be waiting in the outer office tomorrow.” His lip twisted. “We could have done great things together, Arihnda. I’m sorry I couldn’t rely on you.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you, either,” Arihnda said.

  “Trust?” Renking snorted. “Don’t be a fool. There’s no trust in politics. Never has been. Never will be. Now get out. I’m sure you’ll be very happy back on Lothal.”

  —

  To Arihnda’s surprise, Juahir and Driller were waiting outside the office. “Are you all right?” Juahir asked anxiously. “I got a call from the landlady that a group of Ugnaughts were in your apartment packing everything up and figured you were here.”

  “I just got fired,” Arihnda told her. The trembling was starting to creep back into her voice. Ruthlessly, she forced it down. “The apartment disappeared when the job did.”

  “Ouch.” Juahir peered closely at her. “Does this have anything to do with why you bailed on us last night?”

  “Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Arihnda looked around at the cityscape rising all around them, at the majestic buildings and the never-ending flow of airspeeder traffic. When she’d first arrived she’d found the view exotic and exciting. Later, it had become familiar and commonplace.

  Now it was ominous. Billions of humans and aliens were crammed together out there, all jockeying for the same jobs and the same living space.

  And Arihnda was now one of them.

  “Okay,” Juahir said briskly. “Well, you can stay with me for the moment. A little cramped, but we’ll make do. Work-wise…well, you know what Topple’s clientele is like, so you might not want to even consider it. But the server droids are always breaking down, so Walt’s always hiring.”

  “Yes,” Arihnda murmured. Renking’s words, I’m sorry I couldn’t rely on you, echoed accusingly through her mind.

  Maybe that was the trick to surviving on Coruscant: never relying on anyone.

  If that was what it took, Arihnda could do it.

  “Or you could stay with me for the next two months if you’d rather,” Driller offered. “Closer to the center of things and the fancier jobs. Though it’s probably hard to get one of those.”

  “Probably,” Arihnda said. She took a deep breath. She could do this. “Thanks for your offers. What I need, Driller, if you’re willing, is to stay with you and Juahir for the rest of Ascension Week. After that, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Juahir and Driller exchanged glances. “Okay,” Juahir said carefully. “You sure you don’t want to come back with me?”

  “No,” Arihnda said. “Thank you.”

  “Isn’t there anything else we can do for you?” Driller pressed. “Nothing else you need?”

  “Just one more thing,” Arihnda said, pulling out her datapad. The datapad, at least, was hers, not Renking’s. “I need the address of the nearest citizen assistance office.”

  —

  “…and it is therefore the decision of this panel that Lieutenant Thrawn be cleared of all charges.”

  Eli took a deep breath. So that was that. The court-martial panel had taken the full details of the Dromedar incident into account, specifically made note of Captain Rossi’s pettiness, and rendered the correct decision.

  It was a solid vindication. Still, Eli found himself having mixed feelings as he and Thrawn walked together from the room. He himself had been under the edge of the cloud on this one, but as a subordinate officer his career hadn’t been at risk nearly as much as
Thrawn’s. If Thrawn had been convicted and discharged from the navy, would Eli have been returned to his old supply officer career path?

  And if he had, would he have been pleased or disappointed?

  He scowled at the flat gray walls around them. He hadn’t asked for the role that had been thrust upon him, and he definitely hadn’t wanted it. As he’d long suspected, his position as Thrawn’s aide was having a dampening effect on his own advancement, and there were many times over the past couple of years when he would have given anything to be free and clear of the Chiss.

  But then there were the other times. The times when Thrawn made some connection or noticed some small fact that nailed a smuggler or racketeer red-handed. The times when the Chiss suggested a tactical maneuver that pulled an unexpected victory out of defeat. The times, as with Cygni and his pirates, when Thrawn was two steps ahead of the enemy at every turn.

  Or at least, most of the turns. The lost tibanna still rankled him. It rankled Thrawn even more, he could tell.

  So what did Eli really want? A calm, safe pathway that utilized his talents and skills to their maximum potential and took him to the top of his chosen field? Or a path where he nearly always felt like a fish flopping on the shore, but where he got to see true genius in action?

  He’d been mulling that question ever since Royal Imperial. He still didn’t have an answer.

  “Your family still engages in private shipping, does it not?” Thrawn asked into his thoughts.

  “Yes, sir,” Eli confirmed, wincing a little. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about being Thrawn’s aide, but his parents had made their thoughts about his stagnating career very clear. It had gotten so bad that he no longer looked forward to their letters and calls.

  “I assume that such work also includes a knowledge of supply and demand?”

  “Shipping by itself doesn’t,” Eli said, “but they also do a lot of purchasing, and that definitely does. Why, is there something you need?”

  Thrawn was silent another few steps. “Doonium,” he said. “Cygni identified my buzz droid as a Mark One model, and clearly recognized its value. That can only be due to its doonium content.”

  Eli shrugged. “No surprise there. The price of doonium has gone through the roof since the navy started its latest shipbuilding surge.”

  “That is the tale,” Thrawn agreed. “But I wonder. Do you know how many ships are being constructed, and how much doonium they require?”

  “Not offhand, but I could probably find out,” Eli said, frowning. “Are you thinking the navy might be stockpiling the stuff?”

  “That is one possibility,” Thrawn said. “The other possibility is more…intriguing.”

  “That possibility being…?”

  “Some other project,” Thrawn said thoughtfully. “Something large, and unannounced.”

  “Militaries sometimes have off-the-list projects going on,” Eli pointed out. “But I don’t know how large it could be. I suppose the first step would be to check the Senate and finance ministry’s public records.”

  “Unless the project has been made invisible even to them.”

  “That would argue something even smaller,” Eli said. “Secret project or not, the money has to come from somewhere. Not just material costs, but engineering, worker payments, and resource transport. The bigger it is, the harder all that is to hide.”

  “But not impossible?”

  “My parents always said that nothing was impossible,” Eli said. “If you’d like, I can look into it.”

  “I would be most appreciative,” Thrawn said. “Thank you.” He gestured to a door ahead. “I was told our new orders would be waiting for us here.”

  “Ah,” Eli said. That was fast. Apparently the High Command had known in advance what the panel’s verdict would be. At least he and Thrawn wouldn’t just be sitting around in limbo.

  Still, the news was likely to be mixed. From what he’d read, courts-martial were the ultimate in career killers. Even if the officer was acquitted, he was usually given only ground or orbital assignments for the next few years. Given the navy’s attitude toward nonhumans—and given the way Thrawn had ruffled both Admiral Wiskovis’s and Captain Rossi’s feathers on his way to scoring only half a victory—he doubted it would be one of the nicer or more prestigious ground assignments, either.

  And where Thrawn went, would Eli follow?

  “Ensign Eli Vanto?” a voice came from behind them.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eli confirmed, turning around.

  The woman striding toward them was middle-aged, dressed in a quiet but expensive-looking business outfit topped by a short cloak. Her expression was cool, her skin smooth with the look of someone who rarely if ever walked beneath an open sky. “A word, if you please?” she asked.

  Eli looked at Thrawn. “You may speak with her,” Thrawn said. “I will get our orders and return.” He sent the newcomer a brief look, then continued on toward the door he’d indicated. It slid open, and he disappeared inside.

  “You may speak with her?” the woman echoed. “I didn’t know even ensigns needed permission from their superiors to talk with people.”

  “That’s just the way he talks,” Eli said, feeling his face warming. Thrawn had long since become fluent in Basic, but his ability to phrase his comments in polite or diplomatic ways was still sometimes woefully lacking. “You are…?”

  “My name is Culper,” the woman said. “I’m an aide to Moff Ghadi.” Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “You do know who Moff Ghadi is, I assume?”

  “Of course,” Eli said. He actually had heard of Ghadi—the moff of the important Tangenine sector here in the Core, he vaguely remembered. Beyond that one fact, though, the details of Ghadi’s life and position were somewhat fuzzy.

  “Good,” Culper said briskly. “His Excellency has been following this case with some interest. He concurs with the outcome, but is somewhat displeased that your role in the lieutenant’s success was not more fully acknowledged.”

  “Not hard to explain,” Eli said. “Lieutenant Thrawn was the one who identified the impostor Cygni as a plant, laid out a plan to capture him, then executed that plan with skill and efficiency.”

  “But hardly alone,” Culper pointed out. “You and the other members of the Blood Crow’s crew were vital to his achieving that result.”

  “Which has been stated time and again,” Eli reminded her. “Mostly by Lieutenant Thrawn himself. Who I believe has also recommended commendations for all of us.”

  “But not promotions.”

  “Junior officers don’t get to tell senior officers how to do their job,” Eli said. “I trust High Command and the Imperial Navy to do what is right and proper.”

  Culper smiled thinly. “Ah, yes. Right and proper. Two high-sounding but meaningless words. One doesn’t get what one deserves in this universe, Ensign Vanto. One certainly shouldn’t wait for what someone else considers right or proper. No, one must be alert for opportunities and take firm grasp of them.” She lifted a hand, closed it emphatically into a fist.

  “Is there an opportunity out there that I’m missing?”

  “Indeed,” Culper said. “His Excellency Moff Ghadi has many contacts and associates across the Empire. One of them, a governor in a prestigious Inner Rim system, is in need of an assistant military attaché. A single word from His Excellency, and the job is yours.” Another thin smile. “And you would certainly be promoted to lieutenant along the way, with promotion to captain soon following.”

  “Interesting,” Eli said. “Unfortunately, I’m committed to three more years of service to the navy before I could even consider such an offer.”

  “Not a problem,” Culper assured him. “In the particular system at issue, the attaché’s office is an extension of the Imperial Navy. You’d be serving out your Imperial commitment even while establishing yourself in the local hierarchy.”

  “Sounds even better,” Eli said. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not yet ready for a desk job.”<
br />
  “This would hardly be a desk job,” Culper said, her lips twisting just slightly with amusement or contempt. Apparently, Eli was even less well informed about such things than he’d realized. “You’d liaison with the Imperial Navy, yes; but you’d also be an officer in the system fleet’s own defense force. Before you know it, you’d have a command of your own. A patrol craft to start with, then a frigate, up to a light or even heavy cruiser.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” Eli said.

  “More than simply intriguing, I would hope,” Culper said, her smooth forehead wrinkling. “You seem oddly hesitant, Ensign. I trust you realize that there are senior officers throughout the navy who would jump at a chance like this. For His Excellency to offer it to an officer as junior as you is unheard of.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Eli agreed. “Which leads to the obvious question: Why me?”

  Culper shrugged. “One might just as well ask why not you? You’ve proved yourself capable in an unusual situation, you’ve made a name for yourself—” She paused, her eyes flicking to the door through which Thrawn had just exited. “And it’s not like the navy has your future in mind.”

  Eli looked away, a knot forming in his stomach. Culper was right on that one, anyway. Thrawn was on his way to a desk assignment of his own, with his aide likely falling meteorlike alongside him.

  Or instead, Eli could take Moff Ghadi up on his offer and command his own ship.

  He’d never considered that as a possibility for his future. He’d been in supply at the Academy, and the best that career track had to offer was chief supply officer on a Star Destroyer or possibly command of a major ground-based depot.

  But that career track was long gone. Now he was an officer’s aide…and if there were ever a path that led nowhere, that was it. He might end up a captain, possibly even a lieutenant commander; but he would always be standing in the shadow of a full commander, an admiral, or a grand admiral.

  Or instead, he could be captain of his own ship.

  It was the opportunity of a lifetime. He would be a fool to turn it down.