Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sunrise.

Qilori found himself running the name through his mind back and forth, over and over, as the Great Presence guided him along the final leg of the long journey. It was the name Thrawn had coined for the planet, he’d been told, and Jixtus had accepted it for convenience of discussion. But surely the world’s inhabitants had originally called it by another name.

Had that name been something bright and glorious, reflecting a satisfying past and an optimistic future? Did those who still remained call it by a different name now that it had been shattered by war? Would they rename it yet again after witnessing the battle about to take place in the sky above their heads?

Or would there even be anyone left there to remember or rename? Qilori had seen the horrific damage, the aftermath of a brutal civil war. According to Thrawn, that war had been instigated and encouraged by Jixtus and his Agbui agents. Once the Grysks had taken all they wanted from the world, would Jixtus then finish the job, destroying whatever was left?

After all, the galaxy had a long history of ruthless destroyers who preferred not to leave witnesses behind. Would the people of Sunrise fall into that category?

More important, would Qilori?

Something in the distance ahead touched his mind: another Pathfinder, deep within the Great Presence, approaching the world ahead. Probably Sarsh, he decided, the navigator whom he’d helped rescue from the Hammer only to then be forced into the service of Thrawn and the Paccosh. Unfortunate, probably even unfair, but at least his presence showed that Thrawn was definitely still at Sunrise.

Or was he?

Qilori’s winglets twitched beneath his sensory-deprivation headset. Sarsh was near Sunrise, but it almost seemed as if he was coming toward the Whetstone. Was Thrawn leaving the system, then?

He hoped not. Jixtus would be furious if the Chiss had finished his search ahead of schedule and was returning to the Ascendancy with his cargo of prescient aliens.

Or was Thrawn instead somewhere beyond the planet and now returning to it? Qilori couldn’t tell. The Great Presence could provide the location of another Pathfinder and a certain degree of identification, but distances and directions of movement were always tricky to estimate.

And then, Sarsh vanished from Qilori’s awareness.

The surprise of it nearly jolted him out of his trance. But a second later the other Pathfinder suddenly reappeared. Only now he seemed to be going the opposite direction, traveling back toward Sunrise. For another few seconds he continued on; then, once again, he disappeared.

Had he dropped back out of hyperspace? That was the usual reason a Pathfinder’s presence vanished. But if Thrawn was out in the vast nothingness between the stars, why would he suddenly choose to drop back into space-normal?

There was no time to figure it out now. Jixtus had ordered the fleet to rendezvous at the far edge of the Sunrise system, beyond any chance of being detected from the inner system, and the Whetstone was fast approaching its destination. Qilori made one final microscopic adjustment to the ship’s direction, awaiting the guidance of the Great Presence.

And then they were there. He keyed the controls, and the Great Presence faded as the Whetstone once again returned to space-normal.

Qilori reached up and slipped off his headset, blinking in the subdued bridge lights as he checked the nav displays. They were in the outer Sunrise system, just as he’d been ordered.

His winglets smoothed with relief. Whatever else happened, at least Jixtus couldn’t add a navigational mistake to Qilori’s list of failings. He looked at the sensor display, mentally counting down the seconds.

And then, suddenly, there they were, bursting into view all around him: the FateSpinner, the three WarMasters, and the eleven BattleChiefs. All fifteen arrived in perfect formation as their silent Attendant navigators brought them back to space-normal in rapid-fire succession. Qilori had seen the Attendants’ exquisite coordination before, and he still didn’t know whether they could sense one another in hyperspace the way Pathfinders could or whether they simply had an incredible sense of position and timing.

Jixtus was already on the comm, speaking with the other Grysk commanders in their own language. Off to one side, Generalirius Nakirre’s skin was shifting around even more than usual in that unpleasant alien way of theirs. Anticipation or dread, Qilori didn’t know which.

Or perhaps it was frustration. Qilori hadn’t had very much interaction with the Kiljis, but even so he’d gotten the impression that Generalirius Nakirre had expected to be a major part of Jixtus’s grand scheme. Instead, his role had apparently been merely to ferry Jixtus around the Ascendancy, looking innocent, while Jixtus stirred up discord until he was ready to reveal the true invasion fleet.