Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

“You also directly and personally confirmed its authorization,” Thalias shot back. “You wouldn’t just be vilified, you’d be thrown out of office and brought up on charges.”

“As you just said about Thrawn, what charges?” Thurfian countered. “I’m afraid you overestimate the public’s capacity and stamina for outrage. Especially now, with the Nine and Forty at each other’s throats, they have far more urgent matters vying for their attention. Certainly there would be some anger, but it would quickly pass.”

Thalias could feel her throat working, her mind hunting desperately for something she could say that would refute his scenario.

But he was right. She’d seen it time and time again. Something would catch the public’s attention, sparking joy or surprise or outrage; and then barely a week or two later, it would have been completely displaced by the next item of interest.

“After that, though, we’d get to the long-term problems,” Thurfian continued into her frustrated silence. “Assuming the Ascendancy survives our current crisis—and I personally have no doubt we will—some of the parents who now bring their children in for special abilities testing would keep them away from the centers. That would not only cut back drastically on the number of available sky-walkers, but would also hurt the fine arts and sciences programs and the promising children who would no longer be identified early and provided with specialized training and instruction.”

“That kind of talent will always come through,” Thalias murmured.

“Sometimes,” Thurfian said. “Not always.” He raised his eyebrows. “And even longer-term, that same lack of sky-walkers would weaken the Expansionary Defense Fleet, drastically slowing their warships’ passage through the Chaos and as a result limiting their reconnaissance of the regions outside the Ascendancy. Limit it enough, and the next General Yiv could be on our threshold before we even knew of his existence. Is that what you want for the Chiss people, Caregiver Thalias?”

“I—no, of course not,” she managed, a swirl of disbelief and horror running through her. “But—”

“But what?” Thurfian pressed. “Let me give you a bit of historical reference you’re probably too young to know about. The gambit you just tried to use was once called the volcano option. That’s where one side threatens mutual destruction if they don’t get what they want.”

Thalias winced. “I’ve heard of it.”

“Good,” Thurfian said. “Then you know that the problem is that word mutual. The only way it works is if the side doing the threatening genuinely believes they have nothing to lose.”

“But there is nothing to lose,” Thalias said, hearing the pleading in her voice. She had no more points of logic; no facts or reasonings or warnings. All she had left was pleading. “If Senior Captain Thrawn isn’t able to stop Jixtus and his fleet, the Ascendancy will be gone.”

“I don’t believe that,” Thurfian said. “No, Thalias, it’s over. You had your chance to work with me for the betterment of the Ascendancy, and instead you aligned yourself with Thrawn. I don’t owe you anything.” He cocked his head. “Are there any other cards you’d like to play? If not, I have work to do.”

Thalias swallowed hard. Yes, she did have one final card. One desperate, desperate card. “Yes, I do,” she told him, her heart thudding in her chest. “As you said: the volcano option. Only this time, it’s more personal.” She put her hand into her side jacket pocket and wrapped her fingers around the hard, cold metal concealed there. “Your death, and mine.

“Right here. Right now.”