“What you want for dinner,” Thalias said, “and whether you want to eat it now or wait until your first break.”
Recruitment duty, Aristocra Zistalmu reflected as he awaited his visitor, was among the most tedious of tasks a family member could be assigned. Tedious, and usually frustrating. Most of the time, the recruiter didn’t even know why that particular person had been chosen.
In this case, at least, Zistalmu knew exactly why Mitth’raw’nuru had been chosen. And he wondered if the Irizi family had gone completely mad.
The expected tap came at the door, at precisely the specified time. “Come,” Zistalmu called.
The panel slid open. “Senior Commander Mitth’raw’nuru, reporting as requested,” his visitor said formally as he stepped into the room.
“Senior Commander Thrawn,” Zistalmu said, nodding and gesturing to the chair in front of him. “I’m Aristocra Irizi’stal’mustro.”
“Aristocra Zistalmu,” Thrawn said, nodding in return as he lowered himself into the indicated chair. “I was surprised to receive your invitation.”
“Yes,” Zistalmu said, keeping his voice neutral. “I understand you briefly visited the Irizi family homestead a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “I don’t recall seeing you there.”
“Sadly, the press of Syndicure business prevented me from being at the event,” Zistalmu said. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself over the past few years.”
“Sometimes that name is appended to a curse.”
At least he recognized how polarizing his career and he himself were. Zistalmu hadn’t been sure the man was even that self-aware. “Sometimes people don’t appreciate your talents and skills,” he said. “I understand you’ve had some problems with certain members of the Mitth family.”
Thrawn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I understood that the family still supports me.”
“Perhaps,” Zistalmu said, the bitter taste of resentment in his mouth. Why the Irizi family wanted this man was beyond him, and why they’d saddled him with the recruitment was even more opaque. But he’d been given the job, and there was nothing he could do but see it through. “I simply note that those who feel your exploits reflect badly on the family aren’t reluctant to say so.”
“I’m sorry they’re displeased,” Thrawn said. “At the same time, I have to fulfill my duties to the Expansionary Defense Fleet to the best of my ability.”
“I don’t disagree,” Zistalmu said. “But I’ve asked you here to assure you that, whether or not the Mitth recognize your dedication, the Irizi family certainly does.”
“Thank you,” Thrawn said, inclining his head. “Though given the tensions between our two families, I doubt your support will help my position.”
“I believe the Irizi family was thinking of helping your position more directly.”
A frown creased Thrawn’s forehead. “How?”
Mentally, Zistalmu shook his head. In the military realm, Thrawn had demonstrated a fair degree of insight and tactical ability. But in the political realm, he might as well have been dropped straight out of the sky. “I’m suggesting that you detach from the Mitth,” he said, “and accept a position instead with the Irizi.”
“A position as merit adoptive?”
“Not at all,” Zistalmu said, bracing himself. This was the most odious part of the whole offer. “That may be good enough for the Mitth, but not the Irizi. We’re prepared to offer you the position of Trial-born.”
“That’s…very interesting,” Thrawn said, clearly taken aback. “I…that’s extremely generous.”
“It’s no more than you deserve,” Zistalmu said. That had caught his attention, all right. A merit adoptive brought in via military service automatically lost the relationship when that service ended. A Trial-born not only kept the connection but if deemed worthy could advance to the status of ranking distant, where his bloodline would thereafter be incorporated into the family’s. “And of course, coming in at that status means you wouldn’t ever need to go through the Trials themselves. Your exemplary service has apparently been deemed an adequate substitute.”
“I’m both honored and humbled,” Thrawn said. “I’m not certain how my detachment from the Mitth would benefit the Irizi.”
“It would serve in many ways,” Zistalmu said. “Our overall presence in the military—well, that’s a political matter. Nothing you need concern yourself with. Let’s just say that we can always use another distinguished high-ranking military officer, and the Irizi believe you’re the best choice.”
“I see,” Thrawn said, nodding slowly, his forehead creased in thought.
Zistalmu held his breath. If this worked—if Thrawn accepted the offer—then it would be finished. The Irizi would have him, and the Mitth wouldn’t.
Whether the Irizi would someday regret that was of course another question. But that was their problem. All Zistalmu needed to focus on was how a successful recruitment here and now—whether he agreed with it or not—would raise his own name and prestige within the family.
“I appreciate your interest,” Thrawn said. “But I can’t make a decision without further thought.”
“Think as long as you wish,” Zistalmu said, keeping his face neutral, struggling to balance the mix of annoyance, regret, and relief. Was Thrawn really such a fool that he couldn’t see how immensely valuable this move would be? “Just bear in mind that if you delay too long, some other up-and-coming officer might catch the family’s eye instead.”
“I understand,” Thrawn said. “Thank you for your time, and for your offer.” He stood to go, then paused. “Your comment about distinguished high-ranking officers. It occurs to me that you already have one such in your family: Senior Captain Ziara.”
“Yes, we do,” Zistalmu said ruefully. “But not, I’m afraid, for much longer.”
* * *
—
“Senior Captain Irizi’ar’alani,” Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk intoned. “Stand forth.”
This was it. Bracing herself, trying to keep her breathing steady, Ziara stepped forward into the center of the floodlit circle facing Ja’fosk and the other two senior officers.
“State your name,” Ja’fosk said in that same death-knell tone.
“Senior Captain Irizi’ar’alani,” Ziara said. Was he trying to be intimidating, she wondered, or was that merely a side effect of his ultra-formal voice?