“Yes,” Thrawn said. “The oldest numbers are at the top. Study them, and tell me what you see.”
Eli peered at the list. It was an impressive document, long and detailed. It wasn’t just the items Thrawn had bought, either, but an entire spectrum of Clone Wars weaponry and equipment. He gazed at the list, his mind slipping automatically into the supply and shipping mode that he hadn’t had much opportunity to use since graduating from the Academy. “Well, the Mark One buzz droids are through the roof,” he said. “But with the price of doonium still going up, that one was inevitable.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “Continue scrolling down the list, if you would. Search for a pattern.”
Eli nodded absently, already ahead of the suggestion. Items, prices, dates…
And there it was. “The vulture droids,” he said, tapping the datapad. “The prices have been stable until five months ago.”
“When they suddenly began moving upward,” Thrawn said, nodding. “What do you conclude from that?”
“Obviously, someone’s buying them. Someone’s buying a lot of them.” Eli raised his eyebrows. “More doonium?”
“Not with these droids,” Thrawn said. “But you remind me. Have you made any progress in your analysis of the navy’s warship program?”
“Some,” Eli said cautiously. In truth, they’d been so busy over the past few months that he’d only had occasional moments to devote to that project. “There are a lot of nooks and crannies in that kind of matrix sheet, so I can’t say for certain. But right now, I can’t find any building project that could be absorbing anywhere near the amount of doonium that’s been disappearing from the markets.”
“And the finances themselves?”
“Again, nothing obvious. If something’s going on, it’s being very well hidden.”
“Interesting,” Thrawn murmured. “I trust you will continue your investigation.” He gestured toward the datapad. “In the meantime, we have these vulture droids to consider. You say they are being purchased?”
“Yes,” Eli said. “And the buy-up’s not just local, either. You can’t get numbers rising this fast unless all the surrounding sectors are being drained, too.”
“That was my assumption, as well,” Thrawn agreed. “And with no other obvious value to the droids, the likely conclusion is that the buyer intends to use them.”
“Not much a vulture droid can be used for except to shoot at other people,” Eli pointed out. “And their tech has to be at least a couple of decades old. I was under the impression that we’d pretty much learned how to deal with them.”
“It is possible we have forgotten,” Thrawn pointed out. “As weaponry advances, the techniques used against obsolete ordnance may be neglected or lost.”
“Possibly,” Eli said. “Takes a pretty confident person to think he can beat modern turbolasers with blaster cannons, though.”
Thrawn shrugged. “I could.”
“Right, but you’re on our side,” Eli said drily. “Who else could?”
Thrawn raised his eyebrows in silent question. Eli frowned…“Let me guess. Nightswan?”
“The Rodian who sold me the vulture droid part had an order for more such parts under the name Nightswan,” Thrawn confirmed.
“The merchant let you see his order requests?”
“He was unaware that I did so.”
“Ah,” Eli said, peering closely at him. Ever since Uba and the lost tibanna, Thrawn had had a subtle but strong focus—Eli refused to call it an obsession, even in the privacy of his own mind—toward Nightswan. Over the past year Thrawn had been summoned back to Coruscant four times to consult with the Emperor, and during each of those visits he’d made time to visit Colonel Yularen for a private and unofficial update on Nightswan’s activities. “I don’t suppose there could be a second Nightswan out there?”
“That is always possible,” Thrawn said. “But consider. We know our Nightswan specializes in clever strategies. We know he has seen firsthand the effectiveness of old technology and weapons that no one expects to face. And along with the name, the request specified that payment would be in iridium.”
“So you’re also tagging him for the operation we just took down?” Eli shook his head. “I don’t know. Nightswan is smart. These guys are idiots.”
“Indeed they are,” Thrawn agreed. “Which is why I asked one of them about the mollusk meat as they were being locked away. He admitted that the man who set up the scheme specifically told them to disperse the meat over their entire path. They told him that was too much trouble.”
“Interesting,” Eli said. “Still doesn’t qualify as proof.”
“True, but it bears further examination,” Thrawn said. “I will inform the commander of my thoughts and speculations. Meanwhile, perhaps you could track the smuggled metals and look for a connection to vulture droid purchases.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Eli said. “But lines like that are pretty easy to cover up.”
“I trust your abilities,” Thrawn said. “We must also watch for reports of trouble on the planet Umbara.”
“Why Umbara?”
“The smugglers remembered that the man who instructed them mentioned that world.”
“Sounds like misdirection,” Eli warned “Umbara was one of the major Separatist planets. The locals fought pretty hard, and got stomped pretty solidly. Hard to believe they’d want to go through that again.”
“Agreed,” Thrawn said. “But we will watch for reports from there just the same.” His expression hardened. “Nightswan escaped the Empire once. I’m sure the Empire would appreciate it if we remedied that failure.”
—
Art.
For some it was a measure of culture. For others it was a measure of wealth. For most it was a matter of simple enjoyment.
For Thrawn, it was an invaluable tool.
The Thunder Wasp’s computer library had only a limited catalog of art reproductions, and only three pieces of those were from Umbara. Fortunately, Thrawn had spent the past three years building up an extensive collection of data cards that rivaled the best art archives in the Empire.
He sat in his cabin, surrounded by holograms of sculptures, flats, mobiles, kinetics, interactives, and the other art forms the Umbarans had developed and explored over the centuries. Of particular interest were the subtle changes that had taken place between works created before and after the Clone Wars.
The other Chiss didn’t understand. They never had. He’d been asked innumerable times how he was able to build such detailed tactical knowledge from such obscure and insignificant ingredients.
The question carried its own answer. To Thrawn, nothing in a species’ art was obscure or insignificant. All the threads tied together; all the brushstrokes spoke to him; all the light curves told the story of their creator.
Artists were individuals. But they were also products of their culture and history and philosophy. The weave of artist and culture was evident to the discerning eye. The fundamental pattern of a species could be sketched, then drawn, then fully fleshed out. Most important of all, the relationships among art, culture, and military doctrine could be deduced.
And what could be deduced could be countered.
Distantly, Thrawn became aware that a new image had entered the pattern of Umbaran art flowing around him. Reluctantly, he withdrew his mind from contemplation and reflection and narrowed his focus.
Ensign Vanto had entered his cabin.
“Ensign,” Thrawn said. “You disturb my solitude.”
“You worried us,” Vanto countered. His expression is concerned. “Commander Cheno has been trying to reach you by intercom for the past ten minutes. We’ve entered the Umbara system, and he wants you on the bridge.”
“My apologies,” Thrawn said. “I was more focused than I realized.”
“Sure,” Vanto said. He looks around at the artwork. “The commander thought you might have become ill. What’s all this?”