“Yeah,” Eli said, frowning at him. Thrawn’s tunic was badly rumpled, and there were spots of oozing blood on both cheeks. “You sure?”
“It appears worse than it is,” Thrawn assured him, gingerly touching one of his cheeks. “Your assistance was most timely. Thank you.”
Eli felt his face warm with private shame. If the Chiss knew why he hadn’t moved faster…“Sorry I couldn’t do more,” he said. “I was on the wrong side of the hedge, you know. I gather you heard them coming?”
“There is a particular tread all predators tend to use,” Thrawn said, walking over to him. “A balance between silence and speed. Humans use a version of this tread.”
“Ah.” Eli had already known that Chiss eyes were a bit better than those of humans, their visible spectrum edging a bit into the infrared. Apparently, their ears were better, too. “Thanks for getting me out of the way. I’ve had just enough training to know I’m not very good at this.”
“You are welcome.” Thrawn looked at the approaching cadets, who had slowed to a jog now that the attackers were gone. “And now, I believe,” he added, “it is finally time for us to see Commandant Deenlark.”
A leader is responsible for those under his authority. That is the first rule of command. He is responsible for their safety, their provisions, their knowledge, and, ultimately, their lives.
Those whom he commands are in turn responsible for their behavior and their dedication to duty. Any who violates his trust must be disciplined for the good of the others.
But such discipline is not always easy or straightforward. There are many factors, some of them beyond the commander’s control. Sometimes those complications involve personal relationships. Other times it is the circumstances themselves that are difficult. There can also be politics and outside intervention.
Failure to act always brings consequences. But sometimes, those consequences can be turned to one’s advantage.
—
“All right,” Commandant Deenlark said as he made a final notation on his datapad. The skin around his eyes is puffy. Perhaps he is newly awakened. His facial heat is bright and the muscles in his throat are tight. There is a thin coating of perspiration on his face. Perhaps he is nervous. “Cadets Orbar and Turuy set up the assault, you say. Did you actually hear them calling in the men who attacked you?”
“No, sir, we didn’t,” Vanto said. “But their comlink records—or the lab’s own comm system—should give you the necessary indicators.”
“Yes, they should,” Deenlark agreed. His voice goes deeper in tone. Reluctance? “Unless the assailants were an entirely separate bunch.”
“They were not,” Thrawn said.
“How do you know?” Deenlark asked. His eyes narrow.
“They came across the southwest corner of the parade ground,” Thrawn said. “At that time, they were already moving with speed and stealth. But the only way for them to have independently identified us was with electrobinoculars.”
“Which none of them had,” Vanto said. He nods, a gesture of understanding. “That also rules out an attack driven by jealousy or xenophobia, since they couldn’t have known it was Cadet Thrawn. So it was Orbar or Turuy. Or the instructor?” he added. His tone rises slightly with thoughtfulness.
“No,” Deenlark said. “It wasn’t him.”
“It could have been,” Thrawn said.
“I said it wasn’t,” Deenlark repeated. His tone has gone deeper, his face stiff, his eyes gazing with heightened intent. Perhaps he does not wish it to be possible. “Bad enough that cadets were mixed up in something like this. We’re not going to drag an instructor in, too.” He looks back at his datapad. His facial heat increases as he makes a final note.
“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think politics should enter into this,” Vanto said. His tone is respectful but firm.
“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Deenlark said. His voice becomes harsh. “Are you ready to have your name put on a witness list?”
“I could handle it, sir.”
“I doubt that, Cadet,” Deenlark said. “Orbar’s family has a lot of say about what happens on Coruscant. Even if they let you graduate, you’d probably find yourself assigned to some Wild Space listening post.”
“Is not such manipulation of the justice system in itself illegal?” Thrawn asked.
“Of course it is,” Deenlark said. His lips compress, his facial glow fading slowly. “All right. Assuming your assailants haven’t figured out a way to bypass the comlink records, we should have their names by morning.”
“It will not be a long search,” Thrawn said. “They would not risk going outside their closest circle of friends. There are eight other cadets who typically socialize with them, two of whom may be eliminated by considerations of aura.”
“Aura?”
“Esethimba.”
“Presence or aura,” Vanto translated. “The Sy Bisti term can refer to a person’s height, weight, build, vocal quality, mannerisms, profession and expertise, or some combination.”
“They’re cadets,” Deenlark said. “They don’t have a profession.”
“All ten are in the weapons engineering track of study,” Thrawn said.
“Yes, I suppose they are,” Deenlark said. “Which leaves us six suspects.”
“All of them also from the same social level as Cadets Orbar and Turuy, I assume?”
“If you’re suggesting I’m going to look the other way on this, Cadet, I strongly suggest you revise your thinking,” Deenlark said. His voice is harsh, his facial heat increased. Perhaps he is angry, or feels guilt. “Yes, I’m concerned about the potential political fallout here. I’ve put up with Orbar’s antics for almost four years because of it. Two more months, and he’ll be someone else’s problem. So yes, I’d like to see this go away. But I can’t let this one slide. And I won’t.”
“I am gratified to hear that, Commandant,” Thrawn said. “Let me then suggest an alternative means of action. You will find our attackers. But you will not bring charges against them.”
Deenlark’s eyes narrow. His mouth opens slightly in surprise. “You don’t want them charged?” he asked. “Then what the hell are we all doing here?”
“As I said, I want them found,” Thrawn said. “I then recommend they be transferred.”
Deenlark gave a snort of derision. “To where? Mustafar?”
“To starfighter pilot training.”
Deenlark stares. His expression of surprise deepens. “Hardly what I’d consider a punishment.”
“It is not intended to be,” Thrawn said. “All three show the aptitude and aura necessary for fighter-craft pilots.”
“Really.” Deenlark leans back in his chair. He folds his arms across his chest. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”
“It was obvious from their method of attack,” Thrawn said. “From the way they moved both together and singly. I do not have the words to properly explain it. But it was the mark of instinctive combat pilots.”
“Cadet Vanto?” Deenlark gestures toward Vanto in an inviting manner. “Can you corroborate that?”
“Sorry, sir,” Vanto said. His expression is thoughtful. “But I wasn’t concentrating on their tactics. And I doubt I would have seen what Cadet Thrawn’s talking about even if I had.”
“Such an action would also carry an additional bonus,” Thrawn said. “The Royal Imperial’s starfighter program is excellent, but I believe the program at the Skystrike Academy is equally capable?”
“Nothing equal about it—Skystrike’s far better with pilots than we are,” Deenlark said. He sits up straighter in his chair. His frown fades away. He understands. “And there’s no reason to tell Orbar and Turuy where their fellow conspirators have disappeared to, is there?”
“Not at all, sir,” Thrawn agreed. “In fact, I would suggest that the three begin their new training—” He paused. “Ngikotholu. Is there a word in Basic for that?”
“Yes: incommunicado,” Vanto said. “Can they be held incommunicado, Commandant?”