Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil
- Автор: Зан Тимоти
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Random House
- ISBN: 9781473596580
- Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Электронная книга - «Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil». Краткое содержание книги:
Even now, careening inexorably toward his death, he could nevertheless appreciate the irony.
A massive alien spaceship, snatched out from under the noses of a Chaf task force determined to gain sole possession of it. He and a single human female from Lesser Space, attempting to take the ship to an uninhabited refuge world from which they could offer the treasure trove of Republic technology to the full Hierarchy Defense Council.
Only it hadn’t worked out that way. The ship was too damaged to reach the world they’d hoped to bring it to. Worse, there was a whole group of survivors aboard that no one had known about when Thrass first agreed to this mission.
And the reality of their chosen crash site dictated that either he and his human pilot companion could survive, or the other innocent humans could. But not both.
“You can’t handle the landing alone,” the pilot said, her voice grim but resolute. “But I could do that while you go.”
She was right, of course. Thrass could escape. There was a ship aboard that he should be able to fly back to the Ascendancy. He could yet survive to do all the great things Patriarch Thooraki expected of him and Thrawn.
But no. “And who would keep the remaining systems from self-destruction while you cleared a path through the pylon for me?” he countered.
She had no answer for that, because there wasn’t one. If Thrass left, everyone aboard would die.
He thought about his father, and how he’d given his life for a man he didn’t even know. How could Thrass turn his back on these people, save himself, and condemn all of them to certain death?
The answer was simple. He couldn’t.
There would be no honor in this for the Mitth. Nor would there be glory for the Ascendancy. It was likely no one would ever even know what happened here today. They almost certainly would never find whatever remained of the ship.
Perhaps that was for the best. He’d seen the Ruling Families battling together, striving to turn small advantages into political gains. A ship bristling with alien technology could spark a frenzy that might have huge and lasting effects on the always precarious balance of power.
If Thrass couldn’t bring glory, at least he could perhaps succeed in not bringing destruction.
“Your people will come here someday,” the woman said quietly. “Until then, the survivors have enough food and supplies to last for generations. They’ll survive. I know they will.”
Thrass looked at the displays, at the image of the stone-filled valley rushing up toward them. He hoped she was right. But like the ship itself, it was probably something no one would ever know.
The survivors might eventually figure out what had happened. But even if they did, they wouldn’t remember Thrass. Perhaps they would remember the woman who had worked to save them, but not the Chiss who’d died at her side.
But that wasn’t important. He would know, and the woman would know.
Are you prepared to embrace this secret to your graves and beyond? The old Mitth oath whispered through his mind. Was that promise heavy with responsibility but empty of reality? Or did its words truly hint at something beyond death?
He didn’t know. But he was about to find out.
“I hope someday humans and Chiss will be able to work side by side in peace,” he told the woman.
“As do I, Syndic Mitth’ras’safis of the Eighth Ruling Family,” she said, taking his hand.
“Then let us bring this part of history to a close,” he said, trying to put some confidence into his voice. “May warrior’s fortune smile on our efforts.”
And if not on theirs, he added silently, perhaps warrior’s fortune would smile on Thrawn.
The man who was, and who had truly always been, his brother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The stars reappeared, and the Orisson was finally back home.
And the time had come, Roscu thought with a certain dread, for that conversation with Patriarch Rivlex.
But not quite yet. The Orisson had made the last half of the voyage in a single leg, and even in the relatively smooth space between Chiss worlds prudence dictated that a pilot build a hefty margin of error into the course calculations. As a result, the Orisson had emerged from hyperspace a long way from the planet itself, far enough in fact that Rhigar’s sun was barely distinguishable from the background stars.
“Helm, get me an in-system jump,” Roscu ordered.
“To the planet?” Raamas asked.
“Where else?” Roscu asked, frowning.
“I thought you might want to take a look at the Junkyard first,” Raamas said. “See if that alien fleet is still there.”
“And see if we can get one of them to chase us again?” Roscu countered. “No, I think we’ll give that a pass. At least until after we’ve talked to the Patriarch.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Raamas nodded to the pilot. “In-system jump to Rhigal.”
“Acknowledged.”
And as the pilot started the necessary calculations, Roscu thought about her last contact with the outside universe. That strange conversation with Senior Captain Ziinda.
Her proposal had been sheer insanity, of course. Heading off to an alien world to try to trap and destroy an enemy fleet wasn’t something a responsible captain did, certainly not on a whim, and absolutely not without orders. Roscu’s primary responsibility was to the Clarr family, her second was to her ship and crew, and neither obligation permitted that kind of adventurism. She and Raamas had discussed it briefly after Ziinda’s call, and both had been in agreement.
Which didn’t mean they were ignoring the situation’s potential for disaster. The Orisson had already tangled briefly with one of these alien warships, and if Jixtus was indeed the imminent threat Ziinda claimed he was then he and his forces definitely needed to be dealt with. But not in some haphazard way, and not in the midst of family distrust and heightened antagonism.
And definitely not if it meant blindly following Senior Captain Thrawn. She wasn’t ready to take a step like that.
“Ready, Captain,” Raamas said.
“Take us in.”
There was the usual flicker, and they had arrived. “Contact System Patrol and get us a low equatorial orbit,” she told the pilot. “Commander Raamas, have a shuttle prepared. Comm, get me Lieutenant Rupiov at the homestead defense center.”
“Captain, we have a signal already coming through,” the comm officer said. “Patriarch Rivlex is calling you.”
“Send it here,” Roscu said, keying her chair’s speaker. The things she had to say to the Patriarch weren’t for the rest of the bridge crew to hear.
“Yes, ma’am.” The officer keyed for reception.
“Captain Roscu, this is Patriarch Rivlex,” the Patriarch’s voice boomed, the words stiff with anger.
Boomed across from the bridge speaker. Roscu looked sharply at the comm officer, got a helpless look in return and a gesture at the comm board. Apparently, Rivlex’s ground-based comm center had overridden her choice of speakers, forcing the conversation to go public.
And that, Roscu realized with a sinking heart, was not good.
“Captain Roscu here, Your Venerante,” she said.
“Finally,” Rivlex bit out. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the past day. Jixtus said you’d been attacked, and that he hadn’t been able to contact you.”
“We’ve been in hyperspace, Your Venerante,” Roscu said. “We wanted to get back to Rhigal—”