“So all his promises and negotiations went straight out the vent,” Thalias said.
“Correct,” Thrawn said.
“So what was it Admiral Ar’alani saw?” Thalias asked.
“She’d been looking into Vak history, and saw something odd,” Thrawn said. “For all the contempt their neighbors heaped on them over the years, on the grounds that they can’t make a decision, all of those neighbors have been very careful in their confrontations to never kill a Vak in combat.”
Thalias glanced at Che’ri, saw her own surprise reflected in the girl’s face. “Really?”
“Really,” Thrawn said. “Because they knew the same thing Ar’alani realized. The Vaks value everyone’s thought lines…but when someone is killed, their thought lines are gone forever. That robs the whole of the Combine of information, and threatens the culture.”
“So an attack on any individual is an attack on the whole society,” Thalias said, nodding.
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “Whether or not Yiv realized that, the commander of the Battle Dreadnought who’d been tasked with destroying the Springhawk apparently didn’t care about such subtleties. Ar’alani was able to lure him into firing on a pair of noncombatant Vak ships, killing their crews and awakening that cultural fury. At that point, all the rest of the thought lines suddenly faded away, with only one remaining.”
“The one where they join together to protect their world and their people,” Thalias murmured.
“And with the battle coordination plan I’d already given them, there was no fumbling or false starts. They and Ar’alani’s warships quickly and efficiency joined forces against the Nikardun.”
“And she got all that just from reading history?” Che’ri asked.
“That, and the way she looks at the universe,” Thrawn said with an oddly sad smile. “Where I see non-Chiss as assets, she sees them as people.”
Thalias looked over at Che’ri. A lot of people saw sky-walkers as just assets, too. “Makes her a good commander.”
“Indeed it does,” Thrawn said. “Certainly a better commander than I.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Thalias said. “Different doesn’t necessarily mean better or worse. Different just means different.”
“It was your battle plan, right?” Che’ri put in. “She got them on our side, but it was both of you together who won the fight.”
“Along with the warriors of her attack fleet,” Thrawn said. “Her officers follow her with confidence, even eagerness. Mine follow me because they’re good Chiss warriors.”
“So change,” Thalias suggested. “Learn how she does it.”
“I’m not certain I can.”
“I wasn’t sure I could fly,” Che’ri said. “You taught me how.”
“And you’ve been teaching me how to observe and think,” Thalias added. “As to confidence, if you think Che’ri and I put our heads into Yiv’s trap just because we’re good Chiss warriors, you really don’t understand people. Or at least not us.”
“And may it be a long time before either of you are forced into such trust again,” Thrawn said. “The Ascendancy owes you greatly, Sky-walker Che’ri and Thalias, Trial-born of the Mitth.”
“You’re Trial-born?” Che’ri said, smiling with delight. “Wow! That’s great!”
“Thank you,” Thalias said, blinking at Thrawn. “I didn’t know they’d announced that yet.”
“A blazing-star hero of the Mitth?” Thrawn smiled. “Trust me. If they could have announced you as a ranking distant, they would have. But that time will come.”
“Maybe,” Thalias said.
“Sure it will,” Che’ri said. “We’re heroes. Captain Thrawn just said so.”
“You are indeed.” Thrawn stood up. “And now I need to get back to the bluedock. The Springhawk’s going to need extensive repairs, and I’m told the foreman would like me there in person to hear his report.”
“Thank you for coming by,” Thalias said. “Che’ri and I wanted to hear how it had all ended, but no one had time to talk to us.”
“You’re welcome,” Thrawn said. “I hope you’ll be able to join us aboard the Springhawk again in the near future.”
“If we have anything to say about it, we will,” Thalias promised.
Though that assumed, of course, that she would be allowed to continue as Che’ri’s caregiver. Right now, that was anything but certain.
“Then take care,” he said. Nodding to each of them, he turned and walked through the hatchway.
Thalias watched him go, the Patriarch’s words echoing through her mind. And watch over your commander. I cannot help but feel that he holds the key to the Ascendancy’s future, whether that future be triumph or ultimate destruction.
“Thalias?”
Thalias turned back to see Che’ri frowning at a yapel she’d picked up. “Yes?”
Che’ri eyed the snack another moment, then set it back down on the plate. “I’m finished with these,” she said. “Can I have some real food now?”
“You certainly may,” Thalias said, smiling. “What exactly would you like?”
* * *
—
The trance abruptly ended, and with a start Qilori found himself wrenched from the Great Presence.
He blinked open his eyes. He was still on the bridge of his current ship, nestled into a configured navigator’s seat.
But the lights and displays that should have shown position and status were blank. Somehow, the power to the flight and navigation systems had been shut down.
And as he pulled off his headset, he saw to his surprise that the bridge was deserted. “Hello?” he called tentatively.
No answer. “Hello?” he repeated, staring out the viewport as he fumbled for his straps. The ship was floating dead in space, squarely in the middle of nowhere, with no nearby stars or planets that he could see. What in the Depths had happened? “Is anyone there?”
“Greetings, Qilori of Uandualon,” a cultured voice came from the bridge speaker. “Forgive the interruption in our journey, but I wished to speak to you in private.”
“Of course,” Qilori managed, his winglets fluttering harder than they had since Thrawn’s grand confrontation with the Benevolent two months ago. “Yes. I—may I ask your name?”