Thrawn (Star Wars: Thrawn, #1)

“I believe the lack of response to verbal attacks makes it inevitable,” Thrawn said. “Such actions would put them in position for official discipline, would it not?”

“Probably.” Vanto holds his hands in front of him in a gesture of confusion. “But didn’t you just—hold it; I’ve got a call.” He pulled out his comlink. “Cadet Vanto.”

For a minute he listened in silence. The voice is human, the words indistinguishable. Vanto’s facial muscles tighten and his facial heat increases. He is first surprised by what he hears, then wary, then suspicious. “Sure, sounds like fun,” Vanto said. His voice is guarded, but holds none of the wariness revealed in his expression. “We’ll be there.”

He closed down the comlink. “Well, you may just have gotten your wish,” he said. “We’ve been invited to the metallurgy lab tonight to play cards with Spenc Orbar and Rosita Turuy while they run some corrosion tests on one of their alloy boards.”

“Are we permitted in the metallurgy lab?” Thrawn asked.

“Not unless we have a project we’re working on,” Vanto said. His lips compress briefly. His suspicions change to certainty. “Which we don’t.”

“What if we are invited guests of those with such projects?”

“No such thing,” Vanto said. “Not in the big labs. If some wandering instructor or officer catches us, they will not be happy. And if the card game includes betting, it’ll go even worse. Gambling for credits is strictly forbidden.”

“That assures they will not attempt such a trap.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because if we are charged with gambling, they will be also,” Thrawn said.

Vanto shook his head. “You still don’t get how it works, do you?” His facial heat increases; his muscle tension also increases. Once again he shows frustration. “Orbar’s family is from here on Coruscant. Worse, they’re connected to the planet’s senator. He can probably pull anything short of straight-up murder without getting kicked out.”

“Then we will simply refuse any offers to gamble.”

Vanto exhales noisily. “You’re going to go, aren’t you?” His voice is calmer, indicating unwilling acceptance.

“We were invited,” Thrawn reminded him. “You may stay here if you wish.”

“Oh, I wish, all right,” Vanto said. “But I don’t think letting you wander around alone is what the Emperor had in mind when he put me here. Might as well find out what Orbar has planned.” His head turns a few degrees to the side. He is curious, or perhaps perplexed. “Is this what Chiss do? See a trap, and just walk into it? Because that’s not how the stories say you operate.”

“You would be wise to tread carefully around such stories,” Thrawn said. “Some have been distorted to the point where no truth remains. Some speak only of victories, and are silent about defeats. Some have been deliberately crafted to leave false impressions in the hearer.”

“And which one is this?”

“Sometimes walking into a trap is the best strategy,” Thrawn said. “There are few traps that cannot be turned against their designers. What card game did he suggest?”

“It’s called Highland Challenge,” Vanto said. Resigned acceptance? “Come on—I think there’s a deck in the lounge. I’ll teach you how to play.”



“I suppose you’re wondering,” Orbar said as he dealt out the first hand, “why we asked you two here tonight.”

“You said it was to play cards,” Eli said, watching him closely. Both Orbar and Turuy were playing it cool: greeting Eli and Thrawn at the door, making a big fuss of setting up their corrosion test, then pulling four chairs up to one of the lab tables and bringing out the cards.

But the courtesy and friendliness weren’t real.

Maybe Thrawn still couldn’t pick up the subtleties of human expressions. But Eli could. He’d been on the receiving end of his own set of sly smiles and whispered comments since the day they’d arrived, and he’d developed a fine-tuned sense of when he was about to be hit with a joke, trick, or insult.

And Orbar and Turuy were definitely winding up for one of the three. Or something worse.

At least it wasn’t the gambling thing Eli had worried about. Turuy had put up a small fuss when Eli told her that neither he nor Thrawn could afford the extra credits to bet on their game, and she and Orbar had accepted the condition with rolled eyes and thinly veiled scorn.

But the fuss hadn’t been big enough, and they’d given in too easily. Something else was in the works.

He grimaced. Walking into an unknown trap. Was this really how Chiss did things?

“Oh, sure, the game was part of it,” Orbar said, finishing the deal and picking up his cards. “Corrosion tests are boring, and you get tired of two-handed games.” He shifted his gaze to Thrawn. “But mostly I wanted to pick your friend’s brain.”

“On what subject?” Thrawn asked, his glowing red eyes narrowing slightly as he carefully fanned his cards the way Eli had shown him.

“Tactics and strategy,” Orbar said. “I’m having some trouble in a couple of my battle simulation classes, and I figured with all your military experience—”

“At least, that’s what we’ve been told,” Turuy put in with a smile. She was smiling way too much tonight.

“Right,” Orbar said. “We figured you might be able to help.”

“I am happy to share my experience,” Thrawn said. “Have you a specific question?”

“I’m interested in the idea of traps,” Orbar said, his voice way too casual. “Take these cards. If I’m holding a King’s Lane, there’s no way any of you can beat me. But you won’t know that until it’s too late. How would you prepare for that kind of situation?”

“One would first study the probabilities,” Thrawn said. “A King’s Lane is indeed unbeatable; but recall that there are three equivalent runs in the deck. Any of them would stagger yours and lead to mutual deadlock.”

Turuy snorted. “You have any idea what the odds are against getting two King’s Lanes in the same deal?” she asked.

“The odds for having two are similar to the odds for having one,” Thrawn pointed out. “But as you say, such runs are rare. More likely you hold a Prince’s Lane at best, or a Cube or Triad. In that event, what you described as a trap would more likely be termed simply a battle.” His eyes glittered. “Or a bluff.”

“Okay, but you’re avoiding the question,” Orbar said. “I asked what you’d do if I had a King’s Lane. I didn’t ask for a dissertation on game theory.”

“Let us assume you have the cards you suggest,” Thrawn said. “As I said earlier, even in that case your chance of success also depends upon which cards I hold.” He lifted his fanned cards slightly. “Knowledge that you do not have.”

“The premise is that my hand is unbeatable.”

“There is no such hand,” Thrawn said flatly. “As I suggested earlier, I might have a King’s Lane of my own. In that case, a challenge would mean mutual destruction. Your better option would be to avoid my hand and deliver your challenge to a different player.”

Orbar flicked a glance at Eli. “That assumes there’s another target worth going after.”

“True,” Thrawn said. “But mutual destruction is never the preferred option.” He gestured around the table. “You have not yet made your challenge. It is not too late to choose another.”

“But none would be more satisfying,” Orbar said, smiling tightly.

“As you wish,” Thrawn said, shrugging. “A moment, if you will.” He set his cards facedown on the table and slipped his hand into his tunic.

And drew it out holding his lieutenant’s insignia plaque. He fastened it into position on his upper left tunic and picked up his cards again. “I believe you were about to make a challenge?”

Eli looked at Orbar and Turuy. Both cadets were staring at the insignia plaque, their eyes widened, their mouths drooping open. Orbar threw a quick look at Turuy, got a completely unsmiling glance back from her—

“What’s going on here?” a hard voice called from behind Thrawn.

Timothy Zahn's books