Star Wars_Thrawn Read online

  “Finally—a question about the actual Empire,” Vanto said. “Yes, absolutely there’s a hierarchy. A big, impressive, mostly unwritten, but absolutely rigid hierarchy. If you were counting on me to introduce you to the high and mighty, you’re going to be seriously disappointed.”

  “You give yourself too little credit, Cadet Vanto,” Thrawn said. “Or perhaps you give the social hierarchy too much. I am content to have you as my translator.”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased,” Vanto said. His tone rises slightly in pitch. His throat musculature still shows tightness. “Not that you had any choice in the matter.”

  “Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Tell me, when do we arrive at your capital world?”

  “My orders are to have you in the forward hangar bay—that’s the one you tried to escape from—at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow morning,” Vanto said.

  “And I will meet with the Emperor soon after that?”

  “I have no idea what happens after that,” Vanto said. The muscles under his tunic stiffen slightly, and wrinkles return to his forehead. “But odds are it won’t be anyone even close to the Emperor. Probably some senior administrator. Maybe even a junior one.”

  “Will you come with me?”

  “That’s up to the captain,” Vanto said. “I do still have other duties aboard the Strikefast. I also need to prepare for my return to the Myomar Academy.”

  “Your duties and studies are of course important,” Thrawn said. “We shall see what decision Captain Parck comes to. Until morning, Cadet, I bid you farewell and good evening.”

  “Yes, Vanto said. The tension in his musculature decreases. But it is not entirely gone. “Until morning.”

  —

  Captain Parck’s personal Lambda shuttle left the hangar at precisely oh-seven-oh-five the next morning. Apart from Parck, Thrawn, and Eli, the passenger list included Major Barris, three of the navy troopers who’d been on the planet when Thrawn was running everyone in circles, and two stormtroopers, presumably also part of the group who’d seen the alien in action.

  There were also ten heavily armed navy troopers. If Parck was worried about hard-eyed High Command administrators, he also wasn’t taking any chances on his prisoner making a break for it once they reached the planet.

  Like everyone else in the Empire, Eli had seen hundreds of holos of Coruscant. He’d also spent a couple of hours studying planetary maps the day after Parck announced they were heading there.

  None of it prepared him for the breathtaking grandeur of the real thing.

  He gazed at the passenger cabin’s repeater display, watching in utter fascination. The entire planet was surrounded by half a dozen rings of orbiting transports, passenger ships, and military vessels, each awaiting its turn to head to the surface. Elsewhere, steady streams of outgoing ships created subtle fountains of light as they joined the various exit corridors for passage through the atmosphere, then scattered in all directions once they reached space.

  As the Lambda continued inward, Eli watched the array of glittering starlike points that covered the planet slowly resolve into buildings and towers. Still closer, and the gridlines of repulsorlift vehicles wove their packed way between the towering buildings, doing their intricate dance as they headed for a thousand destinations. A sobering thought occurred to him: Right now he could probably see more vehicles than were on his entire home planet.

  The pilot eased them into one of the higher lanes, one that seemed reserved for military vehicles. They were close enough now that Eli could pick out specific landmarks. There was the Royal Imperial Academy, where the Empire’s elite trained for the army and navy. Beyond it and to the east was one of the industrial areas, with tall towers spewing superheated wastewater vapor high into the atmosphere. In the distance beyond that he could see an open area that was far below the tops of the surrounding towers, yet still many levels above the actual planetary surface. A landing area, most likely, probably for elite politicians or larger military vessels. He spotted the top of the Imperial Senate Building in the other direction.

  He caught his breath. If the Senate was there and the Royal Academy back there…

  They weren’t heading to either the Admiralty or the Imperial Security Bureau headquarters, which he’d concluded were the two most likely destinations.

  They were heading straight for the Imperial Palace.

  The Imperial Palace?

  No—that couldn’t be. Not for a single, random, blue-skinned near-human captured on an unnamed world out in Wild Space. There was no possible way the Emperor would even notice such an event, let alone take a personal interest in it.

  And yet that seemed to be exactly what had happened.

  Surreptitiously, Eli looked across the aisle, where Thrawn and Parck sat together surrounded by guards. The captain looked unnaturally stiff, as if he couldn’t believe their destination any more than Eli could. The guards looked the same way, except that some of them looked quietly but genuinely terrified.

  As well they should be. These were the men and women whose mistakes had allowed Thrawn to get aboard the Strikefast in the first place. There were dark stories about what the Emperor did with people who’d failed him.

  But Thrawn himself didn’t look frightened, or even concerned. All Eli could see in his face was that maddening confidence of his.

  Maybe Parck hadn’t told him where they were going. Maybe he hadn’t told him about the Emperor’s history, or his reputation.

  Or maybe he’d told Thrawn everything and the Chiss simply assumed that whatever their destination, he would have things under control.

  Eli turned back to the display, the old stories of Chiss military power echoing through his mind. As far as he had been able to ascertain, that whole culture and society had been lost from Republic knowledge for centuries, maybe even millennia. Now, suddenly, they’d reentered history.

  Was Thrawn’s level of confidence unique to him? Or were all the Chiss like this?

  As someone who might someday be called upon to fight them, he hoped fervently it wasn’t the latter.

  —

  Eli had almost managed to convince himself that the group would merely be meeting with some Palace official when they were ushered past a pair of red-robed and red-helmeted Imperial Guards into the Emperor’s throne room.

  Even more than Coruscant itself, the holos and vids Eli had seen of Emperor Palpatine paled in comparison with the real thing.

  At first glance, the Emperor didn’t seem like much. He was dressed in a plain brown hooded robe, with no ornamentation or glitz of any sort. His throne, while massive, was solid black and very simple, again with no ostentation about it, raised a mere four steps above the floor. In fact, the darkness of his robe made him almost disappear from sight into the black of the throne.

  It was as the group drew closer that the eeriness began.

  First was the Emperor’s face. The holos and vids always showed him as a dignified, older man, aged somewhat with the experience of life and the cares of leadership. But the holos were wrong. The face beneath the hood was old; old, and creased with a hundred deep wrinkles.

  Not ordinary wrinkles, either, the kind Eli’s grandparents had earned from years under the open sky. These creases were less like age, and more like scars or burn tissue.

  The histories stated that the Jedi traitors’ last attempt to seize power had been an attack on then-Chancellor Palpatine. The histories hadn’t mentioned that his victory over the assassins had come at such a terrible cost.

  Perhaps that was also what had happened to his eyes.

  A shiver ran up Eli’s back. The eyes were bright and intelligent, all-knowing and utterly powerful. But they were…strange. Unique. Disturbing. Damaged, perhaps, by the same treachery that had ravaged his face?

  Intelligence, knowledge, power. And even more than with Thrawn, a sense of complete mastery over everything around him.

  The Emperor watched in silence as the party walked toward him. Parck led the way, Barri
s and Eli behind him, followed by Thrawn and the navy trooper and stormtrooper witnesses. The guard contingent Parck had brought remained outside the door, six of the Imperial Guards having taken over their escort duty.

  It seemed to take forever to reach the throne. Eli wondered how close they would be permitted to approach, and how Captain Parck would know when he had reached that point. The question was answered as Parck came to within five meters and the two Imperial Guards at the foot of the steps glided to positions directly in front of him. Parck stopped, the rest of them following suit, and waited.

  And waited.

  It was probably only five seconds. But to Eli it felt like a medium-sized eternity. The entire throne room was utterly still, utterly silent. The only sound was the thudding of his pulse in his ears, the only movement the shaking of his arms in his sleeves.

  “Captain Parck,” the Emperor said at last, his gravelly voice neutral. “I’m told you bring me a gift.”

  Eli winced. A gift? For the Chiss of the stories, that would have been a deadly insult. Thrawn was behind him, and Eli didn’t dare turn around, but he could imagine the expression on that proud face.

  “I do, Your Majesty,” Parck said, bowing low. “A warrior reportedly of a species known as the Chiss.”

  “Indeed,” the Emperor said, his voice going even drier. “And what, pray tell, would you have me do with him?”

  “If I may, Your Majesty,” Thrawn put in before Parck could answer. “I am not merely a gift. I am also a resource. One you have never seen the like of before, and may never see again. You would do well to utilize me.”

  “Would I?” the Emperor said, sounding amused. “Certainly you’re a resource of unlimited confidence. What exactly do you offer, Chiss?”

  “As a start, I offer information,” Thrawn said. If he was offended, Eli couldn’t hear it in his voice. “There are threats lurking in the Unknown Regions, threats that will someday find your Empire. I am familiar with many of them.”

  “I will learn of them soon enough on my own,” the Emperor countered placidly. “Can you offer anything more?”

  “Perhaps you will learn of them in time to defeat them,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps you will not. What more do I offer? I offer my military skill. You could utilize that skill in making plans to seek out and eliminate these dangers.”

  “These threats you speak of,” the Emperor said. “I presume they’re not simply threats to my Empire?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Thrawn said. “They are also threats to my people.”

  “And you seek to eliminate all such threats to your people?”

  “I do.”

  The Emperor’s yellowish eyes seemed to glitter. “And you wish the help of my Empire?”

  “Your assistance would be welcome.”

  “You wish me to assist the people who exiled you?” the Emperor said. “Or was Captain Parck incorrect?”

  “He spoke correctly,” Thrawn said. “I was indeed exiled.”

  “Yet you still seek to protect them. Why?”

  “Because they are my people.”

  “And if they withhold their gratitude and refuse to accept you back? What then?”

  There was a slight pause, and Eli had the eerie sense that Thrawn was giving the Emperor one of those small smiles he was so good at. “I do not need their permission to protect them, Your Majesty. Nor do I expect their thanks.”

  “I’ve seen others with your sense of nobility,” the Emperor said. “Most fell by the wayside when their naïve selflessness collided with the real world.”

  “I have faced the real world, as you call it.”

  “You have indeed,” the Emperor said. “What exactly do you wish from my Empire?”

  “A state of mutual gain,” Thrawn said. “I offer my knowledge and skill to you now in exchange for your consideration to my people in the future.”

  “And when that future comes, what if I refuse to grant that consideration?”

  “Then I will have gambled and lost,” Thrawn said calmly. “But I have until that time to convince you that my goals and yours do indeed coincide.”

  “Interesting,” the Emperor murmured. “Tell me. If you served the Empire, yet a threat arose against your people, where would your loyalties lie? Which of us would command your allegiance?”

  “I see no conflict in the sharing of information.”

  “I’m not speaking of information,” the Emperor said. “I’m speaking of service.”

  There was a short pause. “If I were to serve the Empire, you would command my allegiance.”

  “What guarantee do you offer?”

  “My word is my guarantee,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps your servant can speak to the strength of that vow.”

  “My servant?” the Emperor asked, his eyes flicking to Parck.

  “I do not refer to Captain Parck,” Thrawn said. “I speak of another. Perhaps I assumed incorrectly that he was your servant. Yet he always spoke highly of Chancellor Palpatine.”

  The Emperor leaned forward a little, his yellowish eyes glittering. “And his name?”

  “Skywalker,” Thrawn said. “Anakin Skywalker.”

  War is primarily a game of skill. It is a contest of mind matched against mind, tactics matched against tactics.

  But there is also an element of chance that is more suited to games of cards or dice. A wise tactician studies those games, as well, and learns from them.

  The first lesson of card games is that the cards cannot be played in random order. Only when laid down properly can victory be achieved.

  In this case, there were but three cards.

  The first was played at the encampment. The result was entrance to the Strikefast. The second was played aboard ship. The result was the promise of passage to Coruscant, and the assignment of Cadet Vanto as my translator.

  The third was a name: Anakin Skywalker.

  —

  “Interesting,” the Emperor said. His eyes are steady and do not blink. The skin of his face is unmoving. “And your name?”

  “You already know it.”

  “I wish you to speak it.”

  “Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

  “So it was you,” the Emperor said. He leans back in his throne. The corners of his lips curve upward. His eyes remain unchanged in size. “When Captain Parck’s message arrived, I’d hoped it was.”

  “Jedi Skywalker survived the war, then?”

  “Sadly, he did not,” the Emperor said.

  “I mourn his passing,” Thrawn said. “He was a most cunning and…may I consult my translator?”

  “You may,” the Emperor said. His eyes narrow slightly. The yellow tinge now appears stronger.

  “Eqhuwa.”

  “Courageous,” Vanto translated. His face radiates extra heat. The muscles beneath his tunic show stiffness. His lips compress tightly before and after he speaks the word.

  “He was a most cunning and courageous warrior,” Thrawn continued. “I had hoped to meet him again.”

  “Most courageous indeed,” the Emperor said. His head turns slightly to his left. His eyes rest briefly on Vanto, then return. His fingers press gently against the arms of his throne. “But before his end he detailed for me the circumstances of your meeting, and spoke highly of your abilities. So you wish to become my adviser on matters of the Unknown Regions?”

  “I have said that already.”

  “And if I offered more?” the Emperor asked.

  “What larger offer would you make?”

  “You can see the power that I have created,” the Emperor said. His eyes are strongly focused, his lips showing a small curve. “Or you can be part of it.”

  “My home is lost to me,” Thrawn said. “Jedi Skywalker’s services are lost to you. If you wish my direct service as a replacement to his, I am honored to offer it.”

  “Interesting,” the Emperor said. His eyes linger a moment, then shift their direction and focus on Captain Parck. “You were correct to bring your prisoner to m
e, Captain. You and your men will return to your ship and your duties. The High Command will provide a suitable reward for your service and initiative.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Parck said, bowing again. “Thank you.”

  “A favor, Your Majesty?” Thrawn said.

  “Speak, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” the Emperor said. His eyes narrow.

  “I am still inexpert at your language. I would request that my translator be transferred to duty at my side.”

  The Emperor sits motionlessly without speaking. He then presses his hands onto the throne’s armrests and rises to his feet. “Walk with me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

  The two guards at the foot of the throne stepped a meter to either side. The Emperor descended to the floor and turned to his left, toward a garden area at the side of the chamber.

  The garden is small, but contains a variety of plants. Most are set in large pots or in long floor trenches lining the curved flagstone walkways. A few brightly colored flowers grow directly from the decorative stone. Small trees with shimmering bark stand at the periphery like sentinels of privacy. The distance from garden to throne ensures privacy from those still waiting there.

  There is an artistic foundation to the garden’s arrangement. There is a pattern in the interaction of curve and line, in the melding and contrast of shape and color, in the subtle play of light and shadow. It bespeaks power and subtlety and great depth of thought.

  “An interesting space,” Thrawn said. “Did you create it?”

  “I designed it,” the Emperor said. He stopped within the first curve of bushes. “Tell me, what do you think?”

  Subtlety, and depth of thought. “You did not bring me here to speak of translators,” Thrawn told him. “But you wish Captain Parck and the others to so believe.”

  “Good,” the Emperor said. His tone is deeper. The corners of his lips lift. His mouth opens slightly, revealing his teeth. “Good. Anakin spoke of your insight. I’m pleased to learn he was correct. The Unknown Regions intrigue me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. There is great potential there.”

  “There is also great danger.”

  “There is great danger here as well,” the Emperor countered. The corners of his lips turn downward, and his eyes narrow.