Star Wars: Thrawn

by Timothy Zahn

“I do not need their permission to protect them, Your Majesty. Nor do I expect their thanks.” “I’ve seen others with your sense of nobility,” the Emperor said. “Most fell by the wayside when their naïve selflessness collided with the real world.” “I have faced the real world, as you call it.” “You have indeed,” the Emperor said. “What exactly do you wish from my Empire?” “A state of mutual gain,” Thrawn said. “I offer my knowledge and skill to you now in exchange for your consideration to my people in the future.” “And when that future comes, what if I refuse to grant that consideration?” “Then I will have gambled and lost,” Thrawn said calmly. “But I have until that time to convince you that my goals and yours do indeed coincide.” “Interesting,” the Emperor murmured. “Tell me. If you served the Empire, yet a threat arose against your people, where would your loyalties lie? Which of us would command your allegiance?” “I see no conflict in the sharing of information.” “I’m not speaking of information,” the Emperor said. “I’m speaking of service.” There was a short pause. “If I were to serve the Empire, you would command my allegiance.” “What guarantee do you offer?” “My word is my guarantee,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps your servant can speak to the strength of that vow.” “My servant?” the Emperor asked, his eyes flicking to Parck. “I do not refer to Captain Parck,” Thrawn said. “I speak of another. Perhaps I assumed incorrectly that he was your servant. Yet he always spoke highl...

War is primarily a game of skill. It is a contest of mind matched against mind, tactics matched against tactics. But there is also an element of chance that is more suited to games of cards or dice. A wise tactician studies those games, as well, and learns from them.

Leadership and obedience are the two legs on which a warrior’s life is balanced. Without both, victory cannot be achieved. Leadership depends on information and comprehension. Not so obedience. Sometimes a commander may choose to share details of his plan. Often he may not. In either case, obedience must be instant and complete. Such automatic response relies on trust between commander and those commanded. And that trust can only be obtained through leadership.

“So you have an enemy, and a threat to that enemy,” Thrawn said. “That gives you two possible vectors of attack. One is to turn the threat into an ally, then use him against your enemy. The other—” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Is to use the threat as a lever against your enemy in order to make him into your ally.” “I see,” Arihnda said slowly, her mind spinning. When he put it that way…“Any recommendation as to which approach would be best?” “Only you can decide that,” Thrawn said. “You must consider which weapons and levers you have available, and which approach offers the best chance of success.” He lifted a warning finger. “But remember that in neither case is your new ally likely to be your friend. His association with you will be based solely on fear or need. Fear of what you can do to him, or a need for what you can provide him. If either of those forces loses its value, so does your position.”

The subtle hunter takes no visible weapon at all. He instead induces a thousand stingflies to attack the tusklan from all sides. The method is slow, and destructive of the pelt. But in the end, the tusklan is dead. And it dies never knowing where the attack came from.

Patterns and connections. Ultimately, that was what it came down to. Patterns and connections in nature; patterns and connections in created things; patterns and connections in warfare.

There are many stories and myths about the Chiss. Some are accurate; others have been eroded by the twin forces of distance and time. But one fact has always remained constant: The Chiss must be approached from a position of strength and respect. One must have strength, for the Chiss will deal only with those capable of keeping their promises. One must have respect, for the Chiss must believe that those promises will be kept.

“What about you, Commander? Why do you seek high rank?” It was a question many had asked over the years. Thrawn had asked it of himself. The answer never seemed to satisfy the questioner. “Because there are problems that must be solved. Some cannot be solved by anyone except me.”

The soldier in the field and the crew member aboard a warship inevitably see a war from a limited perspective. Their goal is to carry out their mission or their appointed task, and trust that their commanders are aware of the larger situation and the vast matrix of facts, positions, options, and dangers. Leadership is a role and a task that should never be aspired to lightly. Neither should loyalty be given without reason. Even if the primary reason is nothing more than the soldier’s oath and duty, a true leader will work to prove worthy of a deeper trust.

Vanto’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re saying something bigger even than a Star Destroyer?” “From my reading of the data, considerably larger,” Thrawn said. “I confess I feel a certain foreboding at that conclusion. I’ve seen this same…omseki.” “Syndrome.” “I’ve seen this syndrome before,” Thrawn continued. “Star Destroyer-sized capital ships and large numbers of supporting starfighters are the most efficient and flexible naval array for both deterrent and combat. Yet there are many who consider larger to be the equivalent of better. Even the Empire has limited resources, and I fear that those resources are not always allocated wisely.” “The realities of a large bureaucracy,” Vanto said ruefully. “Two bureaucracies, in this case, if you count both the government and the navy. There are always boondoggles—sometimes really big ones—that slip through the cracks of the review process.” “That is unfortunately true,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps I will yet have an opportunity to express my thoughts on the strategies of such large-scale weapons systems.”

“There are patterns in Imperial communications, as there are in everything else. Once the pattern is known, knowledge is easier to obtain.”

The focus now would be on improving his observation and training his mind to assemble data and reach conclusions more quickly. In battle, such reflexive decisions often meant the difference between victory and defeat.

“I was exploring the edges of the new Empire shortly after the Clone War. I had witnessed a small part of that conflict, and had seen the chaos the collapse of the Republic had created throughout the region.” “There are theories that both the conflict and collapse were engineered by outside agents.” “The causes do not alter the fact that the Republic was unstable,” Thrawn said. “There were too many different points of view. Too many different styles of political thought and action. The system was by its nature sluggish and inefficient.”

“There are evil things in this galaxy, Nightswan. Far more evil than the Empire, and far more dangerous to all living beings. We know of some, while of others we have heard only rumors. We needed to know whether the Empire that was rising from the ashes of the Clone War could be an ally against them.” “Or whether it should instead be collapsed into an easy prey,” Nightswan said.

“And your study convinced you that it was better to hope the Empire would someday be your ally than to bring it down?” Nightswan shakes his head. His expression holds disappointment. “I’m afraid that uniform has blinded you to reality.” “Not at all,” Thrawn said. “Certainly the Empire is corrupt. No government totally escapes that plague. Certainly it is tyrannical. But quick and utter ruthlessness is necessary when the galaxy is continually threatened by chaos.” “And what happens when the ruthlessness breeds more chaos?” Nightswan asked. His tone holds challenge, his body stance briefly throwing off the weariness to hold fresh energy. “For that is what happens. Repression and revolt feed and devour each other.” “Then the revolt must die,” Thrawn said. “The danger is too great. The stakes are too high. If the Empire falls, what can replace it?” “Justice. Mercy.” Nightswan’s smile holds sadness. “Freedom.” “Chaos,” Thrawn said. “Lawlessness. The Clone War.”

“The tone of a government is set by its leader. But Emperor Palpatine will not live forever. When it comes time for his authority to be handed to another, my position as a senior officer will allow me to influence the choice of that leader.” “And do you expect that new leader to spread light into the darkness?” “There is hope that he will,” Thrawn said. “But if evil is victorious, that hope will be extinguished. Forever.” “Hope.” Nightswan shakes his head. His body stance holds no such hope. “I fear, Admiral, that you’re still dangerously naïve on political matters.” He lifts a hand. His body stance holds defeat. “I hope you’re right. But I fear you’re wrong.” “We shall see.”

“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.”

Setting aside the datapad, he gazed again at the pattern of numbers flowing across his display. For most people, he knew, numbers were next to meaningless. For Eli, by life and by training a supply specialist, they were like music. Whether they formed themselves into inventory lists, targeting calculations, or hyperspace course and position data, numbers were at the heart of everything that made the universe function. They spoke to a grand symphony of people, humans and nonhumans alike; of worlds and trade routes; of the lifeblood of good and evil alike. Perhaps that was why he and Thrawn had worked so well together. Eli had his numbers, Thrawn had his art, and neither skill could be fully understood by anyone else.