“So this is not so much a gift as a weapon?”
“A weapon against you, yeah,” Eli said. “And then there’s group three. They’ll think you’re a joke. No, on second thought, they’ll probably think you’re a test.”
“What sort of test?”
“The really hard kind,” Eli said. Yes, this had to be what Deenlark was going for. “Okay. Here you’re not supposed to show disrespect to superior officers. I assume it’s also like that in the Chiss military, right?”
“Normally,” Thrawn said, his voice going a little dry.
Eli winced. For a moment he’d forgotten how Thrawn had arrived in the Empire in the first place. “Well, officially we’re not allowed to disrespect aliens, either,” he went on hurriedly. “I say officially, because that’s what the General Orders say we’re supposed to do. But that’s not always what we really do.”
“You dislike nonhumans?”
Eli hesitated. How was he supposed to answer that? “There were a lot of different nonhuman groups in the Separatist movement,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “The Clone Wars killed a lot of people and devastated whole worlds. There’s still a lot of resentment about that, especially among humans.”
“But were not other nonhuman groups allied with the Republic?”
“Sure,” Eli said. “And most of them did all right. But humans still carried most of the weight.” He considered. “Well, that’s the perception, anyway. I don’t know if it’s actually true.”
Thrawn nodded, either agreement or simple acknowledgment. “Either way, would it not be more reasonable to resent only those nonhuman groups that opposed you?”
“Probably,” Eli said. “Well, okay—definitely. And it probably started that way. But sometimes that sort of thing seeps down to other groups.” He hesitated. “On top of that, there’s a lot of contempt in the Core Worlds toward the people anywhere past the Mid Rim, humans and nonhumans alike. And with me from Wild Space and you from the Unknown Regions, we’re about as far into the Sneer Zone as you can get.”
“I see,” Thrawn said. “If I understand, I am untouchable for three reasons: I am an officer, I am not human, and I am from the disrespected edge of the Empire. So the test for the cadets would be to see how creative they can be in their disrespect toward me?”
“Basically,” Eli said. “And how close to the line they can get without stepping over it.”
“Which line?”
“The line where they’ve done something that can’t be ignored,” Eli said, trying to think. “Okay, try this. Someone could shove you off a walkway and claim you were the one who bumped into him. But he couldn’t break into your quarters and wreck your computer. See the difference? In the second case, there’s no way he could claim you were the one at fault.”
“Unless he claimed I had stored stolen data on the computer and he was attempting to retrieve it.”
Eli winced. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “But yeah, that’s exactly how it would work. Though in that case he’d have to prove you had stolen data in order to get away with it.”
“It could be planted after my quarters were entered.”
“I suppose,” Eli said. This just got better and better. “Looks like we’re going to be walking on eggshells for the next three months.”
Thrawn was silent another few steps. “I assume that is another idiom,” he said. “Perhaps it would be better if you did not walk on these eggshells alongside me.”
“Yeah, well, you should have thought about that before you asked the Emperor to stick me as your translator,” Eli said sourly. “You want to call the Palace and tell them you’ve changed your mind?”
“I still require your services,” Thrawn said. “But you could join the others in expressing your contempt for me.”
Eli frowned. “Come again?”
“Excuse me?”
Eli rolled his eyes. Sometimes Thrawn caught these idioms right away. Other times, he didn’t have a clue. “That means I want you to repeat that, or otherwise explain what you mean.”
“Were the words not clear? Very well. You may make it clear to the others that I am no more than an assignment. One, moreover, that you resisted and thoroughly dislike.”
“I don’t dislike my assignment,” Eli protested, the polite lie automatically coming to his lips. “And I don’t dislike you.”
“Do you not?” Thrawn countered. “Because of me you were taken from your ship and brought to this Academy, which you fear.”
Eli felt something stir inside him. “Who said I was afraid?” he demanded. “I’m not afraid. I’m just not looking forward to spending my last term with a bunch of Core World snobs, that’s all.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Thrawn said gravely. “We shall endure it together.”
“Yeah,” Eli said, frowning hard at him. Had he just been maneuvered into supporting the Chiss against whatever the Royal Imperial could throw at them? Apparently, he had.
Which didn’t mean he couldn’t backpedal on that anytime he wanted to. And that time might very well come. “I can hardly wait,” he said. “Change of subject. Did you really meet General Skywalker?”
“I did,” Thrawn said, his voice going distant. “It was an interesting time.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me? That it was interesting?”
“For now,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps we will speak more of it later.” He opened his hand and looked at his new rank plaque. “I cannot help being nonhuman or coming from a region of low respect,” he said. “But perhaps it would be best if we kept this a secret between us.” He slipped the plaque out of sight into his tunic.
Eli nodded. “Works for me.”
Ahead, the mouse droid rolled to the front of a three-story building and stopped, waiting for someone to open the door for it. “I guess we’re here,” Eli added. “Let’s see what the Admiralty has sent ahead for us.”
“And then we will learn our schedule and duties,” Thrawn said. “And prepare as best we can for the onslaught.”
Eli sighed. “Yeah. And that.”
To some extent, the direction of one’s chosen path automatically selects for the paths that may cross it. A warrior’s path will intersect the paths of other warriors, allies and enemies alike. A worker’s path will intersect the paths of other workers.
But as with games of cards or dice, sometimes unexpected crossings occur. Some are driven by chance, others by design, others by a change in one’s goals.
Some are driven by malice.
Such manipulations can prove effective in the short term. But the longer-term consequences can be perilously difficult to predict.
The path of Arihnda Pryce is one such example. A deep and perceptive study of it can serve as a valuable lesson.
And as an even more valuable warning.
—
“Ms. Pryce?”
Arihnda Pryce paused and turned around. Hurrying toward her down the long corridor was Arik Uvis, a datapad in his hand, an intense expression on his face.
Arihnda glowered to herself. Uvis with one of his rock-brained questions or comments wasn’t something she really wanted to deal with right now.
But he wasn’t going away, and the Pryce Mining’s corporate building was far too small for her to successfully avoid him all day. Might as well get it over with.
He caught up to her and stopped. “Ms. Pryce,” he repeated, breathing a little heavily. The man was in his mid-thirties, about Arihnda’s own age, but in far worse shape. “Glad I caught you.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Uvis?” Arihnda asked, keeping her face and voice neutral.
“I heard a rumor that your father’s just uncovered a heretofore unknown vein of doonium,” Uvis said. “Is that true?”