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:
“He knew the names of the four families he says are involved,” Zistalmu countered. “Why not one of them? Why you?”
“I already said I don’t know,” Thurfian said patiently. “I presume you have a theory?”
For a moment Zistalmu seemed to study his face. “The Erighal, Xodlak, and Pommrio were at Hoxim,” he said. “Jixtus could have learned those names there.”
“Or from the Agbui who apparently goaded them into going to Hoxim in the first place.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Zistalmu said. “But there was one other family present at Hoxim. Senior Captain Thrawn and the Springhawk.”
“Which according to all reports was being pummeled by alien gunships when the three family forces arrived,” Thurfian reminded him.
“So they say,” Zistalmu said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We’ve already dismissed the idea that he was caught in an ambush. So tell me, Thurfian: When was the last time you heard about him being pummeled?”
Thurfian felt his throat tighten. He’d wondered that same thing since the first bits of information about Hoxim began trickling out. He’d wondered about it a lot. “I thought the whole premise of our private conversations was that he was eventually going to mess up. Maybe this was it.”
“No,” Zistalmu said firmly. “We expect him to fail on a massive, disastrous level. Not in something as mundane as simple combat. No, something happened at Hoxim, something that involved Thrawn. Apparently, this Jixtus knows all about it.” He cocked his head slightly to the side. “My question is, do you?”
“I know nothing beyond what was in the Hoxim reports, and what I reported to the Syndicure about Jixtus,” Thurfian said. “I presume you noticed that when he showed up again at Rhigal, he did talk to the Clarr?”
“Whose report on the incident, I also note, was remarkably similar to yours,” Zistalmu said. “Including how Patriarch Rivlex virtuously sent the aliens on their way without making any deals.”
“You think he did?” Thurfian asked.
Zistalmu snorted. “The way the Clarr and Dasklo have been at each other’s throats forever? I think that if you dangled something in front of Rivlex that he thought he could stab them with, he’d buy it like a shot.”
“That vid Jixtus showed us certainly isn’t that magic spear,” Thurfian warned. “All it’s good for is to light unverifiable fires under the Dasklo, the other three families—”
“Hold it,” Zistalmu cut in, his eyes shifting away from the cam. “There’s an emergency alert coming in.”
Thurfian looked over at his own data feed monitor. Nothing was showing the double-red border that would indicate an alert. It must be something on the private Irizi channel, a situation pertaining only to the Irizi or one of their allies.
Zistalmu muttered a curse. “What was that you said about lighting fires?” he asked, his voice suddenly grim.
“What is it?” Thurfian asked.
“Jamiron,” Zistalmu told him. “A Clarr convoy there is being attacked.”
“That’s impossible,” Thurfian insisted, keying the monitor into the Defense Force feed. “Jixtus and the Kiljis can’t be stupid enough to think they can get away with an overt attack—”
“It’s not the Kiljis,” Zistalmu cut him off. “It’s—” His lips compressed. “It’s the Erighal and Xodlak.”
Thurfian felt his mouth drop open. “What?”
“Four Clarr freighters from the family’s electronics manufactory complex have been intercepted by two Erighal and two Xodlak patrol ships,” Zistalmu said. “Their escort cruiser’s fighting back … three Clarr system patrol ships are trying to assist … damn. Three more Erighals are engaging the Clarr patrol.”
“You’re sure about their identities?” Thurfian asked, his mind reeling. What did they think they were doing?
“Their family crests are covered,” Zistalmu said. “But the reports say the obscuring masks fit the proper shapes for those crests. They also say the ships show their families’ specific design peculiarities.”
“I see,” Thurfian said, keying his monitor to the Mitth family fleet status listings. This attack made no sense at all, but right now that didn’t matter. There would be time enough to sort it out after the Clarr freighters were safe. “All right,” he said. “We have two patrol ships at Rentor—I can send them to assist.”
“They’ll never get there in time.”
“Depends on how well the defenders can hold up,” Thurfian said. “We’ve also got a light cruiser traveling from Rentor to Sposia that should be passing Jamiron just about now.”
“No, don’t bother,” Zistalmu said.
“It’s a long shot,” Thurfian said, “but if the captain decides to stop at Jamiron I can send a message—”
“I said no!”
Thurfian twitched. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’ll handle it, Thurfian,” Zistalmu ground out. “I mean, we’ll handle it, Your Venerante.”
Thurfian stared at him. Zistalmu’s expression was tight, his eyes blazing with emotion. “Zistalmu, what’s going on?” he asked carefully.
Zistalmu took a long, shuddering breath. “This could be an attack by the Erighal and Xodlak. Or it could be something entirely different.”
“Such as?”
“Such as a trick by the Mitth,” Zistalmu said bluntly.
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” Zistalmu countered. “Face it, Thurfian—Your Venerante—our families have been locking antlers for centuries. We’ve both tried to create alliances with the Clarr over those years, and neither of us has ever succeeded. Now we’ve suddenly got aliens in the Ascendancy warning that the Xodlak—one of our allies—are thinking about teaming up with the Dasklo. What better chance for the Mitth to stage a false Xodlak attack against the Clarr and then swoop in to save the day? I imagine the Clarr would be very grateful for that assistance.”
“You can’t possibly believe we’d do something like that,” Thurfian protested. “Fine, so our families are rivals. But I thought we had an understanding. Our common enemy, remember?”
“Thrawn?” Zistalmu snorted. “Maybe that was what he was once. I’m not so sure he is anymore.”
“Nothing has changed,” Thurfian insisted. No—surely Zistalmu wasn’t going to fall apart on him. Not now. “He’s still a threat to the Ascendancy—”
“I have to go, Your Venerante,” Zistalmu said. “My Speaker and Patriarch need my attention.” He paused, and his lip twitched. “And it’s Syndic Prime Zistalmu.” He reached off-cam and his face vanished from the display.
For a few seconds Thurfian stared at the blank screen, his mind still spinning. What madness could have possessed the Erighal and Xodlak families to pull something like this?
He had no idea. But right now that didn’t matter. Zistalmu’s wishes and suspicions be damned—if the Mitth could help in this crisis, they would.
Starting with a continuous broadcast message to the light cruiser he’d mentioned. With the relatively safe hyperspace travel within the Ascendancy, there was no particular reason for the cruiser’s captain to pause in his journey for a navigation check or repositioning before continuing. But experienced and meticulous commanders sometimes did that anyway, just to be on the safe side.
Thurfian could only hope this particular captain was experienced and meticulous.
“Prepare for breakout,” Ziinda called out to the Grayshrike’s bridge crew, watching as the timer counted down.