“But—” Thalias sputtered. “But she was impressed by you.”
“Perhaps as a person she was impressed,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps even as a spacefarer. But as an officer of the Chiss Ascendancy, she had a duty to enforce regulations.”
“But it was an honest mistake.”
“Intent and motivations are irrelevant,” Thrawn said. “Judgment can focus only on actions.”
“I suppose,” Thalias murmured, her gut twisting inside her. So his memory of her would always be linked to an unpleasant episode in his career. Wonderful.
“How exactly did our meeting change your life?”
Thalias sighed. The last thing she wanted was to keep talking about it. But she’d decided to tell the truth, and there was no way out of it now. “You gave me hope,” she said. The words sounded a lot sillier when she said them aloud than they had when they were just bouncing around inside her head. “I mean…I was thirteen. I thought my life was over. You told me I’d find a new path, and that I could choose how things worked out.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said, his voice thoughtful. Not sympathetic, not encouraging, not even really responsive. Just thoughtful.
Thalias had thought about this moment for a long time. She’d wondered what he would say, what she would say, and if it would open up new vistas for her life and her future.
And now nothing. He was thoughtful. Just thoughtful.
She closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere else in the galaxy. She should never, never have started down this path in the first place.
“I had an older sister,” Thrawn said, his voice almost too soft for her to hear. “She was five when she disappeared. My parents would never tell me where she went.”
Thalias opened her eyes again. He was still sitting there in the gloom, still looking thoughtful.
But now there was something new in his eyes. A distant, well-hidden, but lingering pain. “How old were you?” she asked.
“Three,” Thrawn said. “For a long time I assumed she’d died, and that I would never see her again. It wasn’t until I reached bridge officer rank that I was finally told about the sky-walkers, and realized what must have happened to her.” He gave her a small smile, tinged with the same distant sadness. “And I’ll still never see her again.”
“You might,” Thalias said, moved by an obscure desire to comfort him. “There have to be records somewhere.”
“I’m sure there are,” Thrawn said. “But most sky-walkers want to disappear into obscurity after they finish their service, and the Ascendancy’s long had a practice of honoring those wishes.” He lifted a hand. “We all have regrets, however, just as we have hopes that will never be fulfilled. The key to a satisfying life is to accept those things that cannot be changed, and make a positive difference with those that can.”
“Yes,” Thalias said. But just because something couldn’t be changed didn’t mean a person shouldn’t hammer away at it anyway. Secrets could sometimes be brought to light, and even Thrawn could be wrong.
“In the meantime, we have time to rest and think out our future strategy,” Thrawn continued, pulling a pack of cards from his pocket. “You can choose the first game.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Are you certain,” Zistalmu said, “that you know exactly what you’re supposed to do?”
Ar’alani drew in a deep breath, pulling with it every bit of patience her mind and body could muster. “Yes, Syndic,” she said. “I think we’ve been over it enough times.”
“Because I’m serious,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. Or more likely didn’t believe her. “If either the Garwians or the Vaks refuse to give him up, or deny knowing anything about him, we turn the ship around and go home.”
“I understand,” Ar’alani said.
Which wasn’t to say that she agreed with him. Or that she had any intention of following such a ridiculous order.
Defying an Aristocra syndic could mean the end of her career, of course. But she’d put her career on the line so many times before that it was almost becoming routine.
What wasn’t routine was why Zistalmu and Thurfian both seemed so single-mindedly determined to destroy Thrawn. She’d been mulling over that question since their departure from the Ascendancy, and she was no closer to figuring it out now than she had been then.
Maybe it was time she did something about that.
She looked over at the navigator’s station. Che’ri was sitting there, her breathing slow and steady, deep in Third Sight as she guided them toward Primea. Standing beside her was Zistalmu’s wife, who’d never offered Ar’alani her proper name but had instead insisted that everyone aboard call her Nana. A rather annoying affectation, in Ar’alani’s opinion. Possibly why the woman had only lasted two years as a caregiver.
But right now all that mattered was that for the next minute neither she nor anyone else was in position to listen in.
“A question, Syndic,” Ar’alani said as Zistalmu started to turn away. “For my own curiosity.”
“Yes?”
She turned her full gaze on him. “Why do you and Syndic Thurfian hate Thrawn so much?”
She’d expected some kind of reaction from him. To her surprise, his expression didn’t even twitch. “About time,” he said calmly. “I’ve been expecting you to bring up that topic since we left Csilla.”
“Sorry, I’ve had other things on my mind,” Ar’alani said. “May I have an answer?”
“First ask the correct question,” Zistalmu said. “We don’t hate Thrawn. Actually, we both admire his military skill. We resist him because he’s a threat to the Ascendancy.”
“To the Ascendancy?” Ar’alani countered. “Or to the Irizi family?”
Zistalmu shook his head. “You really don’t see it, do you? In that case, there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”
“Excuse me, Syndic, but there’s every reason to continue,” Ar’alani said. “You’re aboard the Vigilant, under my authority, and you’re obligated to answer any reasonable question and obey any reasonable order. Unless you plan to invoke official Syndicure secrets—and I will follow through on that if you try it—you’ll tell me how Thrawn is a threat to the Ascendancy.”
Octrimo called a warning from the helm. “Breakout in thirty seconds, Admiral.”
“Acknowledged.” Ar’alani raised her eyebrows toward Zistalmu. “Talk fast.”
“There’s no time for a proper explanation,” the syndic said. “But really, you don’t need one. You’ve seen enough of Thrawn and his career to understand. If you don’t, it’s because you choose not to.”
Ar’alani shook her head. “Not good enough.”
“It’s all you’re going to get.” Zistalmu nodded toward the viewport. “And we’re here.”
Ar’alani turned to see the hyperspace swirl collapse into star-flares and then into stars. Looming directly ahead was a half-lit planet with dozens of ships of all sizes moving in or out or simply drifting steadily along in their orbits.
“Primea, Admiral,” Octrimo announced.
“I read forty-seven visible ships,” Senior Commander Biclian added from the sensor station. “Checking configurations for anything that looks Garwian.”
“Acknowledged,” Ar’alani said. “Senior Captain Wutroow, a signal to the planetary diplomatic office. Identify us, and tell them we’re trying to reach Artistic Master Svorno.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Wutroow said. She leaned over the comm officer’s shoulder and began speaking quietly.