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:
Except when she’d deserted her ship and crew for the Hoxim madness. Something Apros had never done, nor would ever do.
And she had the audacity to complain about family politics in the military?
She took a deep breath and looked Ba’kif straight in the eye. “Yes,” she said. “If the Grayshrike is the only ship available … yes, he deserves it.”
“That’s good to hear,” Ba’kif said. “Still, a heavy cruiser might be a bit much for a freshly minted senior captain.” He frowned, as if suddenly remembering something, and picked up his questis. “By the way, I received a message from him about an hour ago,” he said, scrolling briefly down the display and peering at it. “He said if you came in demanding he receive a commendation—” He looked up, his eyes steady on Ziinda. “—that I was to tell you not to worry about it. That he was content to be remembered by those who know him, who work with him, and who respect him.” He set the questis aside. “I assume you know what that means.”
“Yes,” Ziinda said, feeling like a prizewinning fool. “You might have started with that, sir.”
“I might have,” Ba’kif agreed calmly, his eyes still on her. “But the most important part of my job is the people who serve under me. Whenever I get the chance to find out how those people feel about each other—” He shrugged, and for the first time since Ziinda came in his face creased in a satisfied smile. “I take it.”
“So the Grayshrike is still mine?” Ziinda asked.
“Of course,” Ba’kif assured her. “And now that I know that one of my finest commanders strongly feels one of her subordinates is ready for his own command, I’m ready to set those wheels in motion. Especially since the Parala’s commander has already informed the Council of his intent to retire.” He cocked his head. “Did you know that the Parala was Admiral Ar’alani’s first command?”
“No, sir, I didn’t,” Ziinda said. “I think Mid Commander Apros would consider it an honor to follow in her footsteps.”
“I’m sure he will,” Ba’kif said. “And now, you’d best go.” He gave her another smile, this one with a hint of mischievousness to it. “I suggested he meet you in the Markenday Bar in half an hour. In case you and the senior captain wanted to celebrate his promotion.”
“I’m glad I’m finally getting to meet you, Che’ri,” Borika commented as she set a mug of caccoleaf on the table in front of Thalias and a cup of grillig juice in front of Che’ri. “I just didn’t expect it to be quite this soon.”
“Neither did we,” Thalias said, looking around the ranch house’s great room. Some of the chairs were different, and a cracked stone around the firepit had been replaced, but otherwise it looked the same as the last time she’d been here. “I assume you’ve been given the whole story?”
“I have,” Borika said, taking a sip from her mug. “Sunrise and the Magys. Nightmares and strange visions.” She peered at Che’ri across the top of her mug. “Possibly being taken over by an alien mind?”
Thalias felt her stomach knot up. Che’ri, gazing into her grillig juice, didn’t even flinch.
“And yes, I’ve been asked to look into it,” Borika continued. “But it’ll take time and insight and resources.”
“All of which you have?” Thalias asked hopefully.
“We have the time, certainly,” Borika said, reaching over and touching Che’ri’s hand. “We’ll have to figure out the insight and resources as we go.”
“So I’m going to stay here now?” Che’ri asked in a small voice.
“For at least a while,” Borika told her. “Sky-walkers are rare enough as it is, and you now hold the record as the most unique of us all.”
“But the nightmares are gone,” Che’ri said, looking up with pleading in her eyes. “No one’s ever going to go back to Sunrise—Supreme General Ba’kif said so. Why can’t I fly some more with Senior Captain Thrawn and the Springhawk?”
“Oh, come on,” Thalias said, mock-severely. “We just got off five weeks with him, searching the edge of Lesser Space for any sign of the Grysks. That’s five weeks more than any of us expected.”
“And we didn’t find them, did we?” Che’ri shot back. “The Council’s going to send him back—they have to send him back. Why can’t we go with him?”
“Because you need to tell Borika and the others everything about the Magys while it’s still fresh in your mind,” Thalias said, catching Borika’s eye and giving her a small warning shake of her head. She didn’t know if Borika had been told, but Che’ri hadn’t, and this wasn’t the time to remedy that omission.
“Fresh,” Che’ri muttered. “It’s not exactly fresh anymore.”
“You know what she means,” Borika soothed. “It’ll be all right. And just think. What you help us learn could mean important things for every sky-walker who comes after you.”
“Maybe starting with how caregivers can do better at their job,” Thalias added pointedly. Important research or not, as long as she was being pulled into the middle of the Seeker program anyway she was going to make sure the sloppiness that had pervaded the system for the past century got a complete overhaul. “And don’t worry. I’ll be here with you the whole way.”
“But then you won’t get to fly, either,” Che’ri said.
“That’s all right,” Thalias assured her. “I really only wanted to go aboard the Springhawk so I could meet Senior Captain Thrawn again. Now that I have—” She gave Che’ri a lopsided smile. “—I think maybe I could use a little peace and quiet.”
“As I’m sure you could, too,” Borika added.
“But what if it takes a long time?” Che’ri asked, her face screwing up. “What if … you can’t stay here forever.”
“I said I’d be with you the whole way,” Thalias reminded her as she took the girl’s hand. “And I will.”
“Even if it takes forever?”
“Yes,” Thalias promised quietly, a chill running up her back. “Even if it takes forever.”
It had been a long time, Patriarch Thurfian thought, since he’d been in the March of Silence. Not since his rise to the leadership of the Mitth family; not since he and Syndic Zistalmu last met to discuss more of their private agreement to bring down Thrawn.
A lifetime ago.
He stood beside his chosen section of wall, watching the syndics and Speakers as they gathered in their own little groups: holding their private meetings, having their private conversations, most of them probably wondering what a Patriarch of the Nine Ruling Families was doing here.
Let them wonder.
He was just about to give up when he spotted Syndic Prime Zistalmu arrive at the far entrance. Thurfian watched as he slowly made his way through the March.
And then, finally, his onetime friend was in earshot. “Good day, Syndic Prime,” Thurfian greeted him. “Thank you for coming.”
“I almost didn’t, Your Venerante,” Zistalmu said, his voice studiously neutral. “I assumed that if you genuinely wanted to talk, you’d simply summon me to the Mitth homestead.”
“I wanted to meet in private,” Thurfian said, marveling at how many subtle insults had been laced through that single sentence, and ignoring all of them. “This seemed a good place to do that.”
“If you were hoping for anonymity, you seriously miscalculated,” Zistalmu said. “Even without your official robes, everyone here knows who you are.”