Star Wars: Thrawn

by Timothy Zahn

Making a final check, as he always did. Eli smiled to himself. For all of Thrawn’s interest in observing and establishing his opponents’ patterns, the admiral had plenty of his own.

“That would have been a waste. You belong on the bridge, not the conveyer.” “Not sure I agree, ma’am,” Eli said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “I certainly don’t have the admiral’s genius for tactics.” “Maybe not,” Faro said. “But once the plans are explained, you understand them.” Eli had to smile. “Once they’re explained, ma’am, anyone can understand them.” “You think so?” Faro countered. “You really think all the captains and their senior officers out there in the Ninety-Sixth understand how this is going to work?” “Of course,” Eli said, frowning. “It’s obvious.” “To you and to me, Commander,” Faro said. “Not to everyone.”

And if so, was that why Thrawn had manipulated Eli’s career to keep him as his aide? Not as a punishment, or even on a whim, but to train him in the art of command?

Each person has goals. Some of those goals are open, visible to all who care to observe. Others are more private, shared only with one’s closest friends or associates. Some are dark secrets that one hopes will never see the light of day. But eventually, inevitably, those deepest goals must be made manifest if they are to be reached. They must be opened for someone to hear, or see, or offer assistance. Everyone who brings those goals into the light must be prepared for either acceptance or rejection. And he must be ready to bear the consequences. All of them.

An enemy will almost never be anything except an enemy. All one can do with an enemy is defeat him. But an adversary can sometimes become an ally. There is a cost, of course. In all things in life there is a cost. In dealing with an adversary, sometimes the cost is paid in power or position. Sometimes it is paid in pride or prestige. Sometimes the cost is greater. Sometimes the risk is one’s future, or even one’s life. But in all such situations, the calculation is straightforward: whether or not the potential gain is worth the potential loss. And the warrior must never forget that he and his adversary are not the only ones in that equation. Sometimes, all the universe may hang in the balance.

All strive for victory. But not all understand what it truly is.

Sometimes the victory is greater than the warrior could ever hope for. Sometimes it is more than he is able to bear.

All people have regrets. Warriors are no exceptions. One would hope it was possible to distinguish between events caused by one’s carelessness or lack of ability and those caused by circumstances or forces beyond one’s control. But in practice, there is no difference. All forms of regret sear equally deeply into the mind and soul. All forms leave scars of equal bitterness. And always, beneath the scar, lurks the thought and fear that there was something else that could have been done. Some action, or inaction, that would have changed things for the better. Such questions can sometimes be learned from. All too often, they merely add to the scar tissue. A warrior must learn to set those regrets aside as best he can. Knowing full well that they will never be very far away.

A friend need not be kept either within sight or within reach. A friend must be allowed the freedom to find and follow his own path. If one is fortunate, those paths will for a time join. But if the paths separate, it is comforting to know that a friend still graces the universe with his skills, and his viewpoint, and his presence. For if one is remembered by a friend, one is never truly gone.