“You do not,” Pryce said. Her voice holds confidence. “Your entire career has been one of military triumphs and political bumps, and every one of those bumps has required someone with political skill to get you out of it.”
She leans forward and sets her hands, palms down, on the table in front of her. “Let’s lay out our cards. Or rather, I’ll lay out my cards, since you’re not the card-playing sort. You clearly suspect me of knowing more than I’ve said about what happened on Batonn. Fine. Suspect me all you want. But don’t lose track of the fact that you need me.”
“In what way?”
“To smooth out your future political bumps,” she said. “And trust me: There will be more bumps. You’re a successful admiral. That makes you a target for people who want to siphon off some of your power for themselves.”
“People such as you?”
She smiled again. Her expression holds irony. Her body stance holds a slightly grudging respect. “At least you’ve learned some political lessons. But no, I don’t want to take your power away. I merely want to direct it along a line that will do us both the most good.”
“Such as?”
“The fact is that I have something of an insurgent situation on Lothal,” she said. Her voice holds reluctance. Her facial heat increases. Her body stance holds resentment and anger, but directed elsewhere. “I wanted to make my world the Outer Rim’s best and finest source of high-grade metals, as well as the premier manufacturing and military center for the sector. In the process, I may have pushed the locals a bit too hard. Regardless of the cause, we have a problem, and Admiral Konstantine has been less than effective in dealing with it.”
“You’ve spoken to the High Command?”
“The High Command has a lot of hot spots to deal with right now.” Her voice holds impatience and scorn. “With more popping up every day, I’ve had some discussions with Grand Moff Tarkin, and he isn’t any happier about the situation than I am. He’s especially not happy that our local rebels are starting to take their brand of annoyance to other places in the region. He’s made it clear that I need to find a solution.”
“Have you?”
“Yes,” she said. “You.”
“And what would my benefit be?”
“I already detailed one of those benefits,” Pryce said. “If you don’t think my political guidance of enough value, then consider the gain to your prestige from another victory or two. That’s all Coruscant values, you know: results.” She cocks her head to the side. “My sources tell me that Fleet Admiral Sartan of the Seventh Fleet is going to be replaced soon. Batonn is just the kind of victory that could put you in line for that command.”
“I am content with the Ninety-Sixth Task Force.”
“You’d be more content with the Seventh Fleet,” Pryce retorted. She pauses, her expression and body stance showing her effort to regain control. “One last card, a card I know you care about. The Seventh Fleet carries a lot of firepower. It’s sent to major conflicts, where there are powerful and desperate enemies. If you don’t command it, someone else will. Do you think there’s anyone else in the Imperial Navy who cares as much as you do about limiting casualties?”
“You make interesting points,” Thrawn said. “I will consider your proposal.”
“Do that.” Her body stance holds complete confidence. Her expression holds quiet triumph. “In the meantime, go have your meeting with the Emperor. Smile and thank him for whatever accolades or trinkets he heaps on you.” She smiles, her expression holding cynicism. “Who knows? He might even make you a grand admiral. The point is, get through it, and we’ll see each other again soon.”
“We may indeed,” Thrawn said. “Farewell, Governor. Safe journey.”
She had been gone for eighteen minutes when Vanto returned to the conference room. “Governor Pryce just left,” he reported, eyeing Thrawn closely. “What did she say?”
“She offered herself as my adviser on political matters.”
“You could definitely use someone like that,” Vanto said doubtfully. “Not sure she’s the right one for the job, though. What did she say about Creekpath?”
“She didn’t admit to playing any part in the destruction,” Thrawn said. “But I believe she bears at least some of the blame.”
“But you have no proof?”
“None.”
“Figured as much,” Vanto said, his voice grim. “And from what Yularen said, we’re not likely to get any. So she gets away with it.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps not. I’ve noted there is often a symmetry to such things.”
“We can hope,” Vanto said. “So. To Coruscant?”
“To Coruscant,” Thrawn said.
“I know you’re not going to like accepting the credit for the action down there,” Vanto said. “But try to smile and act grateful anyway.” He frowned. “What are you smiling about?”
“Governor Pryce had much the same advice.”
“Oh.” Vanto shrugged. “Well, it’s still a good idea. With your permission, I’d like to go see if there’s any final data from groundside before we leave.”
“Please do,” Thrawn said. “Remember, too, that others have served the Empire well. I trust the Emperor will have enough honors to award to all.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Vanto said. “Doesn’t matter. I’m quite content to be your aide, Admiral. It’s where I’m supposed to be.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps not.”
—
The throne room was as Thrawn remembered it, though he saw it now with different eyes. The new uniform he’d been given was white, with gold shoulder bars and silver collar insignia, completely unlike anything else in the Imperial Navy. The rank insignia plaque the Emperor held in his gnarled hand was equally impressive: twelve tiles in blue, red, and gold.
The Emperor’s face was as Thrawn had never seen it. His expression holds satisfaction, with hints of both amusement and malice. “Congratulations, Grand Admiral,” he said as he held out the insignia plaque. “An excellent day for you. An excellent day for my Empire.” The amusement grows. “Though I fear many will not see it that way.”
“I will endeavor to set their hearts and minds at ease,” Thrawn said. “But I must first calm my own heart and mind.”
The smile leaves the Emperor’s face. Some of the satisfaction fades, replaced by displeasure. “Must you, now,” he said. “Very well. Speak your mind, Grand Admiral.”
“Tell me about the Death Star.”
The amusement vanishes. The malice grows. “When and how did you hear of that project?”
“I learned the name from unguarded dispatches,” Thrawn said. “I deduced the size and power from resource allocations. I now wish to learn from you its purpose.”
The amusement reappears, mixed now with understanding and triumph. “Ah,” he said, lowering his hand to his side. “Your thoughts are laid bare, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You fear that, once I have dealt with the rebels within my borders, I will turn my unstoppable weapon against your Chiss. Is that your concern?”
“That is part of it,” Thrawn said. “I would certainly not wish to see my aid to you and your Empire subverted into conquest or destruction. But I would also warn against diverting too many of the Empire’s resources from a flexible navy of capital ships and starfighters to massive projects that can bring the Imperial presence to only one system at a time.”
“Allow me to allay your fears,” the Emperor said. “I have no designs against your people. Indeed, I have noted that despite your assistance in mapping the Unknown Region hyperspace routes you have kept the location of Chiss worlds and bases secret. That is acceptable. I don’t begrudge you the defense of your people. As to Imperial resources—”
He smiles again, the triumph growing and turning strangely brittle.
“—there will soon be no need to spread the Imperial presence across the galaxy. Once the Death Star is fully operational, its very existence will suppress all opposition. And so…?”
He raises his arm, again holding out the rank plaque.
This time, Thrawn took it.