Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

A shiver ran up Thrass’s back. “A return burst, as in back at the Starflash itself?”

“Yes,” Lamiov said softly. “As I said. A suicide mission.”

“So I gather the plan was to load the weapon into a heavily armored ship and send it into the center of the waiting fleet,” Thrawn said, his voice almost calm. Small wonder, Thrass thought—for him, this wasn’t so much a heartbreaking chapter in Chiss history as it was a military problem. “They waited until the enemy had gathered as closely as possible, then triggered it.”

“Yes,” Lamiov said. “Afterward, once the Ascendancy had freed the outer worlds from the minor garrisons the enemy had left behind, the Patriarchs unanimously decided to keep the details locked away in secrecy, never to be revealed to the Syndicure or the general public. The truth of the Final Assault was known only to the Patriarchs of the Ruling Families and their senior aides, the latter group tasked with passing the secret on to each successive Patriarch.”

He paused, a whisper of fresh pain crossing his face. “What we hadn’t anticipated, and what the Starflash records hadn’t described, was the effect on Csilla’s sun. Apparently, the brief disruption of its surface layers extended deeper than expected into its core. Over the next few decades it began to cool, ultimately forcing Csilla’s citizens to either move underground or abandon it entirely.” He gave Thrass a small, tired smile. “And no, we don’t know if it will ever recover. My personal feeling is that it won’t.”

“At any rate, the Aristocra were impressed by the courage and sacrifice of the Mitth,” Lappincyk said. “It was the impetus for bringing them into the ranks of the Ruling Families. It’s also the reason your family emblem is that of a blazing sun, though of course the true significance of that has been buried beneath the ice of time.”

Thrass winced. “Ironic, given that the sun actually blazed less afterward.”

“True,” Lamiov said heavily. “But of course no one could have anticipated that. Even if they had, the choice was between using Starflash or facing annihilation. I doubt the Patriarchs would have chosen otherwise.” He waved a hand as if trying to wipe away the memories. “But you can see why it was also decided that this part of our history should never become public knowledge.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Needless to say, as per your oaths, you’ll likewise keep it to yourselves.”

“To our graves, and beyond,” Thrass assured him. “So what exactly is in the box?”

“We salvaged what we could of Starflash after the destruction,” Lamiov said. “The Defense Hierarchy Council has occasionally asked to study one or more of the pieces as part of their effort to duplicate or adapt the device to other uses. Efforts that have never borne fruit, I may mention.”

“The box contains a section of one of the tachyon flow synchrotron accelerators,” Lappincyk added. “The Council thought it might be adapted to a new particle beam weapon they’re working on.”

“Under the circumstances, I’d have thought you’d have asked them to examine it on Sposia,” Thrass said. “There it would at least have still been under UAG security.”

“Normally, we would have,” Lamiov said with a wry smile. “In this case, the Council balked at taking their prototype out of their research security.”

“May we see it?” Thrawn asked.

Again, Lamiov and Lappincyk exchanged looks. This time, the silent debate was shorter. “If you wish,” Lamiov said. He gestured to Lappincyk, who produced a foldknife and began slicing into the seals. “Though I’ll warn you there’s nothing much to see.”

They sat in silence until Lappincyk had finished opening the box and pulling out the top section of customized molded padding. “Please,” he invited, gesturing at the contents.

Thrawn stepped around the table and over to the box. He craned his neck, peering at the object inside. “Syndic?” Lamiov added to Thrass.

“That’s all right,” Thrass said, waving away the offer. “I trust that it’s what you say.”

“Then your trust is misplaced,” Thrawn said his voice suddenly dark. He straightened up, his gaze steady on Lamiov. “This isn’t a piece of the Starflash weapon.”

“What makes you say that?” Lamiov asked evenly.

“The cylinder surface is pitted, and the edges are ragged as if it had been part of something torn apart by violence,” Thrawn said. “But the casing connectors show no sign of the degradation that would have occurred had it been hit by a massive particle flux.”

“Where would you have seen an instance of such effects?” Lappincyk asked.

“You saw one yourself,” Thrawn countered. “The ions in a plasma sphere impact are well known to cause similar degradation.”

“And your conclusion?” Lamiov asked, his voice still calm.

For a long moment Thrawn locked eyes with him. Then, abruptly, he stiffened. “The Stybla didn’t have just one Starflash weapon,” he said. “You had a second.”

He threw a hooded look at Thrass, then returned his gaze to Lamiov. “You have a second.”