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:
It was especially what enabled them to win.
Samakro had never liked Thrawn, not the way he liked some of the Springhawk’s other officers, and he probably never would. But that didn’t mean Thrawn should have had the Springhawk ripped away from him. Not even if his loss was Samakro’s gain.
Back when he lost his ship, Samakro had wondered if there was truly any justice in the universe. Now, to his mild surprise, he was wondering that same thing again.
“And now, to point three,” Ja’fosk said, his expression going a little odd. “During Lieutenant Commander Azmordi’s testimony, he told us that at one point you told Caregiver Thalias that you and Senior Captain Thrawn suspected the Nikardun remnant had gathered in the Sunrise system for their final stand. Do you remember that conversation?”
“I do,” Samakro managed, fighting to keep his voice even. In the heat of everything else that had happened, he’d completely forgotten about that story.
A story that had been completely made up. A story he’d pitched to Thalias so that, when Patriarch Thurfian demanded to know how Thrawn had come up with such a ridiculous idea, Samakro would finally have proof that Thalias was passing confidential information to him.
Only now it was Samakro who found himself trapped. Senior officers weren’t supposed to spread disinformation, especially disinformation that could influence important tactical decisions. If he confessed what he’d done, he might well find the Springhawk again taken away from him.
But there was an alternative. Thrawn was already disgraced in the Council’s eyes. If Samakro pushed the blame for the story onto him, the whole issue would probably simply fade away, leaving Samakro completely untouched.
It would be quick and easy. It would also be wrong.
He squared his shoulders. His lie. His responsibility. His consequences.
“Granted that it was the Grysks and not the Nikardun who were assembling there,” Ja’fosk continued, “the Council was still impressed by the accuracy of the information.”
He leaned forward a little in his chair. “Tell us, Senior Captain: How did you and Thrawn know?”
For a moment Samakro just sat there, feeling the universe gently turn sideways around him. Not only were they not angry, but they were actually pleased?
The universe might not have much justice to it, he decided. But it did appear to have something of a sense of humor.
He cleared his throat. “I wish I could tell you, Supreme Admiral,” he said, putting some regret into his voice. “But you know as well as I do that Senior Captain Thrawn … well, sometimes he just pulls these things out of thin air.”
“Yes, he does,” Ja’fosk murmured, leaning back again. “That’s a talent we’re going to miss.”
Samakro nodded, suppressing a sigh. So the rumors were correct. The Council was going to demote Thrawn, possibly even below command rank. Hardly unexpected, but certainly ungracious and petty.
Still, it wasn’t as if that was the end. Sooner or later, the political storm would pass, and Thrawn would be quietly reinstated. The Council might sometimes have to bow to the Syndicure’s anger, but it wasn’t stupid. “Yes, sir,” he said. “As shall we all.”
Ba’kif had been seated in the hearing room for about five minutes when the observers were finally allowed in.
He watched as they filed through the doorway, studying their faces and listening to the low murmur of conversation. For the most part they seemed at ease, their expressions solemn but calm, their low voices holding that unique combination of seriousness and comradeship that marked those who’d faced death together in battle. Samakro and Thalias came in together, talking quietly with Wutroow; Ziinda and Roscu, a few people back, seemed to be having a slightly more animated conversation.
There were a fair number of faces Ba’kif didn’t recognize, junior officers and warriors from the Springhawk here to support their captain. They, too, had the same nonchalance as their more senior colleagues, the sense that they were here to watch Thrawn and his victory be once again recognized and—perhaps reluctantly—rewarded by the Council.
Only Ar’alani seemed to recognize the darker sense floating through the hearing room air. Her gaze turned to Ba’kif as she entered, her eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion and doubt, clearly wondering why he was in the observers’ gallery instead of one of the tribunal members who would be entering shortly to pronounce judgment.
She was right, of course. As head of the Expansionary Defense Fleet, Ba’kif should have been on the tribunal. But Thurfian had urged the Syndicure to order him to step aside, and as Thurfian was Thrawn’s Patriarch the other Aristocra had deferred to his wishes. So, reluctantly, had the Council.
The observers were all seated, and the conversation had quieted, when the five admirals of the board entered through the side door.
Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk was there. So were Admirals Dy’lothe of the Venturous and Ers’ikaro of the Bellicose and two others from the Defense Force that Ba’kif only knew in passing. All five were wearing the same rigid, solemn expressions. As they seated themselves at the table, Patriarch Thurfian appeared behind them and walked over to a chair a little way from the end of the table.
And the solemnity in his expression, Ba’kif noted, carried more than a hint of grim satisfaction.
Ja’fosk turned back and forth to the other admirals seated to his right and left, making quiet comments to each in turn and getting equally inaudible responses. He threw a glance at Thurfian and another, almost surreptitious one at Ba’kif. Then he turned to face forward and touched the stone on the table in front of him with his fingertips.
“He will enter,” he intoned.
There was a moment of silence. Then the rear door was opened, and Thrawn stepped into the chamber.
He was in full-dress regalia, the gold epaulets on his shoulders gleaming in the light, the honor chains and their medals clinking softly against his chest as he walked through the gallery toward the table. The four warriors accompanying him broke off to the sides as they passed the front edge of the gallery, standing rigidly as he continued on. Ba’kif looked around the gallery, seeing concern starting to register in some of the observers’ faces as they began to realize something was wrong. Thrawn reached the patterned circle centered in front of the table, and as he came to a halt the five admirals rose to their feet.
Ba’kif looked across the observers again, noting that the concern in their faces had turned to stunned disbelief. Now, finally, they realized that what was coming wasn’t a commendation, but judgment.
Only they still had no idea of the depth that judgment would take.
“Senior Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo, you have been found guilty of deliberate and knowing violations of Defense Hierarchy Council protocols and Chiss Ascendancy law,” Ja’fosk continued in the same heavy tone. “Have you anything further to say in your defense before sentence is passed?”
“No, Supreme Admiral,” Thrawn said. His voice was even, almost calm.
But Ba’kif could hear the pain there, the frustration and weariness. He’d fought so long and so hard in the Ascendancy’s defense, only to have his dedication turned against him.
“Very well,” Ja’fosk said. “It is the will of the Syndicure, and the obligation of the Council, that the following sentence be passed.”