Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

“Maybe a little,” Roscu said, keeping her voice casual. There was nothing odd about Rivlex’s reaction, as far as she was concerned—clearly, he’d been remembering the fiasco with Thrawn and that Stybla senior aide at the alien world Pleknok.

But that incident had been deeply and deliberately buried, and Roscu had no intention of digging it up now. “Maybe he was thinking about the fact that the Mitth routinely hand over any alien artifacts they find to the Stybla.”

“I thought everyone did that.”

“Mostly,” Roscu said. Actually, he was right—everyone did hand over alien artifacts to the Stybla. But only in the sense that the Stybla ran the UAG and all such items were examined by that agency before being dispersed elsewhere. “Or maybe he was thinking about the old theory that the two families worked a treasonous deal with the invaders during the Final Assault on Csilla.”

Raamas smiled. “I doubt the Patriarch’s worrying about thousand-year-old stories academy cadets tell each other when they don’t feel like studying,” he said. “Especially stories that don’t hold air. Can’t be much of an alliance when the invaders end up dead and the Mitth and Stybla don’t end up dead beside them.”

“Or even censured by everyone else,” Roscu said. “It was just a thought. Probably he just hadn’t had his caccoleaf yet.”

“That’s probably it,” Raamas said. He hesitated. “One more thing, Captain, if I may. Forgive me if I’m out of line, ma’am, but I’m wondering about Admiral Ar’alani.”

Roscu felt her stomach tighten. “You mean why she and I don’t get along?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Raamas said. “I know it’s none of my business. But with the ramped-up tensions we’re seeing in the Ascendancy—”

“You need to know what might get in the way of cooperation with other Ascendancy forces,” Roscu finished for him. “Fair enough. All right. A few years ago Ar’alani was my commander aboard the patrol cruiser Parala when we happened on a pirate attack against a Garwian merchant-hub station. The Garwians were losing, when suddenly they switched to new tactics that saved the day. I suspected those tactics were illegally given to them by our fourth officer, Senior Commander Thrawn, and I lodged a complaint against him.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing at all,” Roscu said, forcing her voice to remain steady. The incident belonged to the distant past, and she’d already dredged up more of its emotional coloring recently than was good for her. “Ar’alani covered for Thrawn, Supreme General Ba’kif covered for Ar’alani, and the whole thing was swept out the door.”

“I see,” Raamas said. “Is that when you left and joined the Clarr family forces?”

“It was a couple of months later,” Roscu said. “But yes. I was ready to leave, the Patriarch offered me a position, and I took it. End of story.”

“I see,” Raamas said. “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your honesty.”

“You’re welcome, Commander,” Roscu said. “Senior officers shouldn’t have secrets from each other.”

“I agree,” Raamas said. “Thank you again for your time. I’ll see you when we reach Ornfra.”

For a minute after he left the bridge Roscu sat quietly in her chair, her eyes doing the methodical sweep of stations and status boards that her years in the fleet had ingrained in her.

No, the captain and first officer shouldn’t have secrets between them … unless those secrets were dark and shameful.

Such as the true reason Roscu had left the Expansionary Defense Fleet. Not out of some high-minded protest against Thrawn and Ar’alani, but because a month after the Garwian incident Roscu had herself been brought up on charges for a minor protocol infraction. It had been a small lapse, certainly far milder than the crime Thrawn had committed.

Only in her case, no one came to her defense. No one worked tirelessly to clear her name. In the end, all they did was offer her the choice between official discipline and quiet departure.

She’d chosen the latter, and had never regretted it.

And then had come Pleknok.

Roscu glowered at the displays, feeling a trickle of the old emotions seeping through despite her efforts to suppress them. The fact that the Clarr had emerged from that incident more or less intact didn’t matter. The fact that no one had died and the family had even managed to save face didn’t matter.

What mattered was that the Mitth and the Stybla knew the truth about Pleknok. They knew what her part had been, and they knew how she’d failed, just like she’d failed to hold on to a position in the Expansionary Defense Fleet.

Worst of all, Thrawn knew.

There was a score there that needed to be settled between her family and Thrawn’s. Maybe today, at Ornfra, Roscu would finally have the chance to do so.