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:
“We know who you are,” the Grysk in front of him said.
“Good,” Qilori said. “Tell me, how did you escape from today’s battles?”
“We escaped because we were never in them,” the Grysk said. “Our task was to stay away from the mines and the savages working them at all times. We would thus remain uncounted among our forces and free to maintain surveillance if such proved necessary.”
“As it now has,” the Grysk behind Qilori added. “You must take a message to Jixtus.”
“Yes, I would be happy to do so,” Qilori assured him. “That group of huts down the valley—did I see a tri-lobe transmitter in their midst?”
“You will take a message to Jixtus,” the Grysk repeated more harshly. “Not send. Take.”
“All right,” Qilori said hastily. “What is the message?”
From the direction of the encampment came the sound of approaching footsteps and muttering voices. “You will tell Jixtus that we stand ready,” the first Grysk said. “He need only speak the word, and we will sow chaos and reap death among his enemies. We will bring him the one—”
“Who goes?” a Paccian voice demanded.
Instantly, the two Grysks melted back into the trees. “It is I, Qilori of Uandualon,” Qilori called carefully.
“Approach.”
Qilori stumbled out of his partial concealment to find himself facing three armed Paccosh. “I am here.”
“So we see,” one of the Paccosh said. “It grows late. You will return to the barracks.”
“Of course,” Qilori said. Walking gingerly past them, he headed for the encampment.
Qilori had been assigned a bed out of the twenty or so that had been laid out in one of the larger buildings. About half of the other beds were already occupied, he noted as he made his way through the dimness to his cot and began to undress.
Today’s combat had been stressful enough. Tomorrow’s efforts to come up with a plan of escaping the death trap that was Sunrise would be even more so.
He’d settled down and drifted toward sleep when he was abruptly shaken awake. “Qilori,” a whispered voice came. “Qilori.”
Qilori opened his eyes. Thrawn was leaning over him, a warning finger to his lips. “What is it?” Qilori whispered back, his winglets vibrating with surprise and tension.
“Get up and get dressed,” Thrawn said. “We’re leaving.”
Qilori’s still foggy mind snapped to full alertness. “We’re leaving? Where are we going?”
“To Csilla,” Thrawn said. “I’m going to Csilla, at any rate. You’ll be dropped off at Schesa, just inside the Ascendancy. Enough freighter traffic passes through the system that you should be able to pick up a job. If not, you can use the triad transmitter there to call back to your concourse and ask your dispatcher to arrange a pickup.”
“Yes, that will work,” Qilori agreed, wincing a little as he sat up and started pulling on his clothing. “May I ask why this sudden rush?”
“I need to obtain some specialized equipment,” Thrawn told him. “We’ve just located someone who may have the same abilities as the Magys.”
Qilori felt his winglets freeze. “You’re going to replace her?”
“Ideally, we’re going to supplement her,” Thrawn said. “But we won’t know for certain until we can run some tests.”
“I see,” Qilori said. And if it worked, then this newcomer and the Magys would be able to see battles before they actually happened?
A shiver ran through his winglets. More than ever now, it was vital that he make contact with Jixtus. Fortunately, Schesa and its triad transmitter would be perfect for that task. “How soon do we leave?” he asked.
“As soon as you’re ready,” Thrawn said. “I trust that will be acceptable?”
“It will,” Qilori assured him. “Very much so.”
Patriarch Lamiov stood beside the conference room table, gazing down at the crate Lappincyk had set there, shaking his head in a gesture of relief. “Against all odds,” he murmured, running his hand gently over the box. “Against all hopes.” He looked up and gave Thrass and Thrawn a wry smile. “Against even all my expectations. You did it.”
“Hardly alone,” Thrass pointed out. “It was Senior Aide Lappincyk who found the key to defusing the situation.”
“But you were the ones who led Roscu to the door where that key could be used,” Lappincyk reminded him.
“I recognize it was a team effort,” Lamiov said. “I also recognize that the Stybla are in debt to the Mitth, as I personally am in debt to you. If there is anything I can ever do for you, you have only to ask.”
“There is one thing,” Thrawn spoke up. “Tell us what’s in that box.”
Lamiov smiled again. “I believe I mentioned once that that’s a secret.”
“I know,” Thrawn said. “But the question is no longer whether it’s a secret. The proper question is whether it should remain one. I’m a warrior, Patriarch. The more I know about the weaponry available to me, the better I can defend the Ascendancy and its people.”
“You’re letting your imagination run away with you,” Lamiov said, still smiling. “Whoever said it was a weapon?”
Thrawn nodded toward Lappincyk. “Senior Aide Lappincyk.”
Lamiov looked at his aide, his smile slipping a bit. “Excuse me?”
“Not in words, of course,” Thrawn said. “But in actions and responses. The first indication was actually before our departure. Your own comment he knows suggested a fear that the Clarr Patriarch knew something he shouldn’t. That was followed by Senior Aide Lappincyk’s violent reaction when he learned the hijacked transport might be captured and plundered by the Paataatus.”
He gestured toward the box. “There’s nothing I can think of that would fit inside that crate and cause such fear except a weapon.”
“An alien weapon,” Thrass added, a small fact connecting in the back of his mind. “The Universal Analysis Group center on Sposia. That’s under Stybla control, is it not?”
“I believe that’s enough speculation for one day,” Lamiov said, standing up. “Once again, I thank you for your assistance—”
“No,” Lappincyk spoke up softly.
Lamiov looked down at him, his eyes hardening. “Excuse me?”
“It’s no use, Your Venerante,” Lappincyk said. His tone was respectful, but firm. “They already know too much. If we let them go now, they’ll just continue to poke and investigate until they uncover the truth.” He looked at the two Mitth. “And in the process, they may shake loose the stones of the wall we’ve worked so hard to build.”
For a long moment the two Stybla stared at each other. Beside Thrass, Thrawn shifted in his seat, clearly preparing to speak. Thrass got there first, touching his arm warningly. Thrawn hesitated, then settled back again in his chair, leaving unspoken whatever he’d been about to say.
There were times for persuasion, Thrass knew. There were times for arguments, promises, and even threats. Here and now, though, was the time for silence.
He counted twenty heartbeats before Lamiov finally stirred and turned reluctantly back to the two Mitth. “You understand,” he said, “that what I’m about to tell you is a secret of the highest order. A secret that could bring ruin to the Stybla and Mitth families, perhaps even lead to the destruction of the Chiss Ascendancy. Are you prepared to embrace this secret to your graves and beyond?”
Thrass felt a prickling on his skin. Embrace this secret to your graves and beyond. Those were the words of the most stringent and binding oaths in the Mitth repertoire. “I am,” he said.