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:
“Indeed,” Lamiov said, his own voice now as grim as Thrawn’s. “And therein lies the true hope and threat to the Ascendancy. You see now why we were so desperate to retrieve the waylaid accelerator section. Not only could the Paataatus conceivably gain an understanding of the underlying technology, but our reserve Starflash would be useless without it.”
“Does the Council know about this second weapon?” Thrawn asked.
“The second item,” Lamiov corrected. “We refer to it only as the item.”
“Where did it come from?” Thrass asked. “Did you create it?”
“No,” Lamiov said, shaking his head. “The technology remains far beyond our capabilities. Like the first item, it was obtained from somewhere in Lesser Space, though this one has been in our possession for only a few hundred years. The details have been either lost or deliberately suppressed, but it’s said the Stybla learned of its existence and sent a team to locate and capture it.”
“Who else knows about it?” Thrawn asked.
“Those of us in this room, plus General Ba’kif and Admiral Ja’fosk,” Lamiov said. “No one else. Not even the techs studying the device know what it is.”
“So there are six of us,” Thrass said.
“Yes,” Lamiov confirmed. “Six of us, holding together the future of the Ascendancy.”
“What will you do with it?” Thrawn asked.
“You mean now?” Lamiov gave a little shrug. “We’ll continue as we have. We’ll guard it, study it, try to learn from it, and hold it against the desperate day when its horrible devastation may once again be needed.” He blinked, and Thrass noticed with surprise that the Patriarch’s eyes were wet with tears. “And if that day comes,” he said, almost too softly to hear, “perhaps there will then be two Chiss Patriarchs who will be known to the future as the Tragic.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said, and Thrass saw a muscle in his cheek give a small twitch. “If that’s all, Patriarch, the Springhawk’s departure has already been delayed longer than the Council is probably comfortable with. If you can call a shuttle, or allow Syndic Thrass to do so—”
“Actually, Mid Commander, I’m afraid the Council and Springhawk will have to wait a bit longer,” Lamiov said, holding up a warning hand as Thrass started to stand up. “The Stybla Patriels are gathering for a short ceremony that will be taking place in three hours.”
Thrawn shot a frown at Thrass. “A ceremony that concerns the Springhawk?”
“A ceremony that concerns you.” Lamiov paused, as if gathering his thoughts or words. “In the two days since Senior Aide Lappincyk sent his message reporting on the success of your mission—and speaking particularly of your pivotal role in retrieving the wayward section of the item—I’ve had several conversations with the Patriels and other top-ranking Stybla officials. While I obviously couldn’t express the full nature of your success, I could and did emphasize to them the incredible importance of your act. As a result of those conversations—”
He paused again, and to Thrass’s surprise he seemed to draw himself up a little taller. “I wish to offer you an honor that has seldom been given to Stybla, and even more infrequently to members of other families. Your name, Mitth’raw’nuru, will henceforth carry the additional appellation odo. In Tybroic, the original language of our family, it was the word-mark of a guardian or protector who had proved worthy of the most extraordinary respect.”
Thrawn darted another quick look at Thrass. “I’m honored, Patriarch Lamiov,” he said, a bit uncertainly. Wondering, Thrass suspected, whether this was truly a reward for reclaiming the Starflash, or whether it was to be a perpetual reminder of his commitment to keeping the secret. “I respectfully wonder if the Mitth leadership will be bothered by such a name change.”
“You’re welcome to ask Patriarch Thooraki about that yourself,” Lamiov said, smiling. “He’s already arrived to attend the ceremony. Now.” He lifted his hands, pointing one finger each at Thrawn and Thrass. “Lappincyk will take you to your rooms so that you may dress and look over your parts of the ceremony. Your clothing is already laid out, and the procedures will be on your questises shortly. If there are no further questions, I’ll see you in three hours.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Early on in his career, Samakro had discovered that if the timing was just right a dubious report could sometimes fall between the cracks during either the filing, reading, or official attention stages. That extra time could be useful if the officer in question needed to dig up additional data, precedents, or legal loopholes. If the officer was extremely lucky, the whole thing might disappear into the record storage facilities without anyone who cared ever even looking at it.
Here, unfortunately, there wasn’t a chance in hell of any of that happening.
“Of course he’s angry,” Samakro growled as he stood just inside the Springhawk’s sky-walker suite, impatience digging at him as he watched Thalias and Che’ri frantically throwing together the travel bags Ba’kif had ordered them to bring. “His neck was already stuck out all the way to the Plikh homestead with the whole Magys thing. Now we come back late, without Senior Captain Thrawn, and with two more battles with alien ships to report? We’re lucky he hasn’t melted down completely.”
“But it’s not your fault,” Che’ri said, her voice tense and miserable. “I can tell Supreme General Ba’kif that it was me, not you.”
“I appreciate that, Che’ri,” Samakro said, forcing back some of his own anxieties. Whatever part Che’ri had played in this, she didn’t need him throwing more weight on her shoulders. “But I was the commander on the scene, and I gave the orders. That means it’s on me. All of it is on me,” he added, emphasizing the word. “Don’t worry—I’ve been in trouble with the Council before.”
“So have we,” Thalias said, giving Che’ri what was probably the best smile she was able to pull off right now. “It’ll be okay.”
“Of course it will,” Samakro said, eyeing the tension lines in Thalias’s face. She was worried, too, and with a lot more reason than Che’ri. The absolute worst the Council would do to a wayward sky-walker would be to order an early retirement and a transfer to her permanent family. Thalias could be facing anything from loss of family position to full eviction from the Mitth to actual prison time. “I should also point out that making senior officers wait won’t exactly endear us to them.”
“Ready,” Thalias said, snapping her travel bag shut and sealing it. “Let me just grab those last things, Che’ri—we can pack them in during the shuttle ride.”
There were three warriors waiting at the shuttle landing site, more than the one that would indicate a simple courtesy guide, but less than the eight that would normally be deployed for an honored Aristocra or a dangerous prisoner. They gave Samakro the restrained and perfunctory greetings typical of warriors who wanted to keep themselves as uninvolved as possible, and the group piled into a twelve-person tube car and were whisked to Defense Force HQ.
Samakro had guessed there would be two other officers besides Ba’kif waiting for them in the hearing room. There were, in fact, four others plus the supreme general.
Not a good sign. But at least no one from the Syndicure had talked their way into the inquiry.
“Thank you for your promptness, Mid Captain,” Ba’kif said after the usual introductions and official greetings had been made. “Please take a seat at the table.” His eyes shifted to Thalias and Che’ri, standing a little to Samakro’s side. “Thank you for coming as well, Sky-walker; Caregiver,” he continued. “Please wait in the lounge area where you first entered this corridor until we’re ready for you. One of the warriors will show you the way.”