“It would seem we have found the reason for the attack,” Thrawn said. “The purpose for a clearly futile assault upon an Imperial force. Nightswan wished for the Empire to take control of Umbara’s mines.”
“Because it’s easier for him and his smugglers to cheat material past Imperial inspectors than past the Umbarans.” Eli huffed out a breath. “I’ll grant that it sounds like Nightswan’s brand of deviousness. But we don’t even know for sure that he was involved.”
“He was,” Thrawn said. “He is. Who else would invite me here to demonstrate his handiwork?”
Eli blinked. “He what?”
“Surely it is clear,” Thrawn said. “He set up his mollusk smuggling group in an area he knew the Thunder Wasp was patrolling. He made certain that Umbara was mentioned within the smugglers’ hearing. He knew of my interest in Clone War weaponry and made certain the name Nightswan was on at least one order.”
“Interesting,” Eli murmured. On the surface, for Thrawn to even suggest such a thing bordered on the egomaniacal.
Still, the Chiss was seldom wrong about tactical matters. And Nightswan wasn’t exactly an ordinary mastermind, either. It was entirely possible that he would do such a thing simply for the challenge of it all. “Well, if it is him, he lost this one.”
“Not at all,” Thrawn said, his voice grim. “I defeated his vulture droid attack, but winning that encounter was not his true goal.”
“The Imperial takeover.”
“Or perhaps the Imperial takeover itself was merely a step,” Thrawn said. “It may have been his final goal if he was merely a smuggler. But he is more.”
“So if he’s not a smuggler, what is he?”
“I do not yet know,” Thrawn said. “Possibly his activities are building to a political confrontation or resolution on some planet or system. Possibly he seeks vengeance or humiliation against some person or organization. But whatever his goals and motivations, he is a person of extreme interest.”
“I guess we’d better keep an eye out for him, then,” Eli said. “Sooner or later, he has to surface.”
“Incorrect, Ensign. Sooner or later, he will choose to surface.”
One is born with a unique set of talents and abilities. One must choose which of those talents to nurture, which to set aside for a time, which to ignore completely.
Sometimes the choice is obvious. Other times, the hints and proddings are more obscure. Then, one may need to undergo several regimens of training and sample several different professions before determining where one’s strongest talents lie. This is the driving force behind many life-path alterations.
There are few sets of skills that match only one specific job. More often they are adaptable to many different professions. Sometimes, one can plan such a change. Other times, the change appears without warning.
In both instances, one must be alert and carefully consider all options. Not every change is a step forward.
—
It had been a hard day, full of desperate and petty people with desperate and petty problems. By all rights, Arihnda should be exhausted.
At the same time, it had been a resoundingly successful day, with solutions for nearly all those problems and gushings of heartfelt gratitude. By all rights she should be ecstatic.
She was trying to decide which feeling would dominate her evening, and anticipating the start of that evening, when there was a warning beep from the outer door.
She glanced at the chrono, suppressing a sigh. Technically, the office still had two minutes to go. Realistically, none of today’s problems had been solved in less than twenty. Her evening was evidently going to start later than she’d hoped.
But this was her job, and she was good at it, and there wasn’t anything better for ten kilometers in any direction, including up or down. So however long this took—
“Hey, stranger,” Juahir said cheerfully as she walked through the inner door. “How are you doing?”
“Juahir!” Arihnda all but gasped, feeling her face light up in a smile. “I’m fine. What are you doing in the pricey end of the planet?”
“Oh, this is the pricey end, is it?” Driller asked, walking in behind her. “Hey, at least you make enough to actually live here.”
“Just barely,” Arihnda said, feeling her smile grow a little brighter. Driller had dropped in on the office a couple of times before his uncle came back to reclaim his apartment, but she hadn’t seen him since.
As for Juahir, she’d come by only once, and that had been nearly six months ago. They’d talked a few times on the comm, though, and Juahir had a standing invitation to tour the Federal District if she ever found the time to come to this side of the planet.
Apparently, she just had.
“It’s great to see both of you,” Arihnda said, coming around her desk and giving each of them a quick hug. “How long are you going to be here? Do you have plans for the evening? I’m off duty in about a minute and a half.”
“You sure they can do without you?” Driller asked, looking pointedly at the line of empty desks. “Or did the supervisor decide you were so good they didn’t need anyone else?”
“No, we’re still a fully staffed and thoroughly overworked office,” Arihnda said. “Everyone else just happened to have evening plans and I volunteered to do the last half hour alone.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Juahir said with mock outrage. “Serve them right if someone came in here and swept you off your feet.”
“It’s not so bad,” Arihnda said. “Actually, I do my best work when I’m alone.”
“You like the extra pressure?” Driller asked.
“I like the lack of witnesses.”
He gave her a sideways look. “You’re kidding, right?”
Arihnda shrugged. “You’d be amazed how far a little insinuation will get you with an apartment owner.”
“What kind of insinuation?” Juahir asked.
“Hints that you know what she did last night,” Arihnda said. “Or last month, or last year. Throw out a few vague comments, and most people will fill in the rest. Once they do, they’re a lot more open to settling the problem the tenant is having.”
“Assuming they have some hidden dirt to fill in,” Juahir pointed out.
“Everyone has hidden dirt,” Arihnda said. “You never said how long you would be here.”
“You never answered my comment about someone sweeping you off your feet,” Juahir countered.
“I thought you were joking,” Arihnda said, aware of the permanent hollow spot in the core of her being. She’d met many men over the past year, some of whom had tried to befriend or romance her. She’d tried with a few of them—really, really tried—but nothing had worked out.
Nor had she met anyone, man or woman, whom she could call a friend. In her line of work, everyone she encountered started by thinking of her as a helper, champion, or even mother figure. None of those was a good basis for a balanced emotional connection.
“I never joke about food,” Juahir said solemnly. “We’re hungry, and we bet you are, too. So shut this place down and let’s go.”
“I’m with you,” Arihnda said, starting her computer’s lockdown procedure. “Fair warning: I can’t afford to take you anywhere near as fancy as the Alisandre Hotel this time around.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered,” Juahir said with an impish smile. “We already have reservations.”
“At the Alisandre? Seriously?”
“No, no, no.” Juahir pointed upward. “At the Pinnacle.”
Arihnda felt her eyes widen. “The Pinnacle? You’re joking.”
“Nope,” Juahir said, grinning even more broadly. “You game?”
“Sure.” Arihnda looked down at her clothing. “In that case, I need to change.”
“No problem,” Juahir said. “We budgeted time for that.”
—
The Pinnacle wasn’t the highest point on Coruscant. But it was the highest point in the Federal District, and it provided magnificent views of the Palace, the Senate Building, and the various ministries and monuments clustered around them.