Greater Good (Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy, #2)

by Timothy Zahn

He’d never seen Jixtus without his cloak and hood, his gloves concealing his hands, his black veil covering his face. He had no idea what the creature looked like. But that voice would stay with him forever.

“The Ascendancy has always encouraged stories that describe and emphasize our military strength. The easiest battles to win are those that are never fought.

“Tell me, how long has it been since you touched the Beyond?” Another mistranslation? “I don’t know what that means,” she said. “I don’t know what the Beyond is.” “Certainly you have touched it,” the Magys insisted. “I can see it in you. That was why I wished to speak only to you. Only you would truly understand. I ask again: How long since you touched it?” And then, suddenly, Thalias understood. “You’re talking about my time as a sky-walker,” she said. “Many years ago, when I used Third Sight.” “Third Sight,” the Magys said thoughtfully, as if listening to the sound of the words. “You speak strangely of the Beyond. But that is correct. You have touched the Beyond, as we, too, will soon rest in it. Do you now understand?”

“You said it yourself: The world is not the people. Our world has been torn and scarred, but perhaps it can be healed. We will join the Beyond and make the attempt.” Thalias frowned, trying to make sense of it all. So the Magys believed that by dying she and the rest of her group could join with some greater cosmic system and through it work to heal the damage caused by their civil war? “But what’s the point of healing the world if there’s no one left to live there?” she asked. “There are others in the universe,” the Magys said. “Many others. Some of them may one day come to live on the world we leave to them. Why should we not strive to properly prepare it?” “Because those others may or may not come,” Thalias said. “You and your people, on the other hand, are already here. Shouldn’t you be trying instead to return and rebuild your world and culture for yourselves? We did. Why not you?” “No,” the Magys said. “We are not you. It cannot be done.” She lowered her eyes again. “All that can be done is death, and the Beyond.”

“I don’t know,” Thalias said. “But she seems to think this Beyond is connected somehow to how I used to navigate as a sky-walker.” “The Force,” Thrawn murmured, his voice thoughtful. Thalias frowned at him. “The what?” “A concept from Lesser Space that General Anakin Skywalker told me about when we were working together,” Thrawn said. “He defined it as an energy field created by all living things from which he and others could draw power and guidance.” “So that’s what sky-walkers do?” Thalias asked. “Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “The concept seemed somewhat vague. But if living things create the Force, perhaps it can work in reverse, with the Force creating or nurturing living things.”

He clenched his teeth. Politics. Every single time the thrice-damned Ascendancy politics came aboard his ship—every time internal squabbles or interfamily rivalries oozed their way into the precise and well-honed fleet machinery—he lived to regret it.

“Ah. The confidence and absence of false pride that comes of already having achieved flag rank. Would that all officers saw things so clearly.” “Would that they did,” Ar’alani agreed, giving Wutroow’s straight face right back at her. Which would never happen, of course. Family pressures and ambitions would forever be an entanglement to the officers and warriors of the fleet, despite the Council’s best efforts to eliminate such influences. Most of Ar’alani’s colleagues condemned the politics. Ar’alani had found it more effective to simply accept the fact and factor it into her assessments and plans.

“As soon as we locate your world, we will learn its condition. What is its name, if I may ask?” “We do not share that with outsiders,” the Magys said stiffly. “Ah,” Thrawn said. “Well, then, for our convenience, we’ll name it Sunrise.” The Magys’s tongues darted out. “You mock our destruction?” “Not at all,” Thrawn said. “I choose to nurture hope.” “There is no hope.” “We will know soon enough,” Thrawn said. “Until then, I will hold to hope.”

“Battle tactics are often so deeply entrenched that they’re followed even when a given situation doesn’t require them. But you raise another interesting point.”

Lakinda looked at Apros. “Could have been one of the Springhawk’s shuttles.” “Possible,” Apros said. “Or Thrawn may have gotten himself in the middle of the civil war the Paccosh mentioned, and he’s watching the two sides shoot at each other.” And no doubt trying to get them to stop their war. Thrawn’s exaggerated concern for aliens and alien worlds that the Ascendancy had no business caring about was both a joke and a curse.

Since when was Thrawn in charge of their joint battle plan, and Lakinda merely playing a part? The plan came up on the tactical, and she felt her eyes narrow even further. Of all the insane— “Whoa,” Apros muttered. “Does he ever come up with a battle plan that’s not borderline insane?” “Not that I’ve noticed,” Lakinda growled.

“The odds are never impossible,” Thrawn said calmly. “Merely unfavorable.”

Thrawn was Mitth, one of the Nine, and Lakinda was Xodlak, one of the Forty, and while military regulations expressly forbade any preferential treatment on the basis of family association, everyone knew decisions of etiquette nearly always fell in line with the rest of Ascendancy society.

“Her life is her business. It’s certainly none of ours.” “I believe it is,” Thrawn said. “All lives are important, and I resist the thought of standing by and watching two hundred possibly needless deaths. Moreover, we know this world was important to the Nikardun. Otherwise, why move to blockade Rapacc when the refugees arrived there? There was—or is—something of interest down there, and the Magys may be the key to that mystery. For the security of the Ascendancy, we need to solve it.”

Nyix. The rarest known metal in the Chaos, a vital component of the alloy used to create the incredible toughness of a warship’s hull. Only three mines of pure nyix existed in the whole of the Ascendancy, with a handful of other areas offering diffuse seams or single threads. With nyix, a species could conquer and defend; without it, they could only cower and appease. With it, a family could rise to status and power with a speed and sureness nearly unrivaled in Chiss history. Without it, they might stay in the background forever.

“Well. The way the Magys’s people do things is that if they think there’s no hope for them—no hope at all—they…they make a decision to do something called touching the Beyond. It’s supposed to let them join with something—people in Lesser Space call it the Force—that will let them start healing their planet.” “Okay,” Che’ri said, frowning. “So that’s why she’s in there?” “Not exactly.” Thalias braced herself. “You see, what they have to do to touch the Beyond is…die.” Che’ri drew back. “You mean they kill themselves?” Thalias nodded. “Yes.” “But…” The girl waved a hand helplessly. “No, that’s not how the Chiss do things,” Thalias said. “But different peoples and different cultures…people sometimes do things in different ways.” “But what if they make a mistake?” Che’ri asked. “Or change their minds?” Thalias felt her throat tighten. “They can’t change their minds,” she said. “Once it’s done, it’s done.” Che’ri inhaled sharply. “Is that why Thrawn locked her up? Because she was going to…do that?” “Yes,” Thalias said. “We put her in my sleeping room because it would be out of the way, and no one but me would see it.” She felt her lip twitch. “No one but us. So you need to keep this a secret from everyone except—” “Wait a second,” Che’ri interrupted, frowning. “You said the Magys is in there? Just the Magys? But there were two of them—” She broke off, her expression going rigid. “Did he…?” For a moment Thalias was tempted to lie. It would be so much easier, and Che’ri didn’t n...

“But that’s not what I asked. I asked if you found the confluence fascinating.” He cocked his head, that side of the hood opening slightly to show more of the veil behind it. “I certainly do.” Haplif stared. “You do?” “Without a doubt,” Jixtus said. “Did you know that, while most of the birds here feed on seeds and insects, there are several larger predator birds as well?” “I would think that would make the seed-eaters uncomfortable.” “Yes, one would assume that,” Jixtus agreed. “But these particular predators eat rodents and fish, not other birds.” He lifted a finger in emphasis. “Here’s the interesting part. There are other land and water animals nearby that do target the smaller birds. The predator birds’ response is to take settlement grounds along the edges of the main migration fields, up against the surrounding tree line and into the trees themselves.” Haplif shook his head. “I don’t understand.” “Don’t you?” Jixtus said. “The predator birds, with beaks and talons designed for combat, are creating a protective zone around the more vulnerable species, thus discouraging attacks while the flocks rest up to continue their journeys.” He made a sort of chuckling sound. “Rather analogous to Chiss society in general, though one must be careful not to carry metaphors too far. Did you bring your report?”

“Yiv had his own Battle Dreadnought,” Jixtus said mildly. “Thrawn had a one-person freighter,” Qilori said. “Are you starting to understand who this Chiss is?” Haplif shook his head. “No. I don’t believe it.” “I was there, Haplif,” Qilori said. “I saw it; and on one level I don’t even believe it. But it happened.” He looked back at Jixtus. “Again with respect, sir, if you listen to me on anything, please listen to me on this. If Thrawn gets involved in this operation, it’s over. And not in a good way.”

“And yet, it appears that most Chiss military craft don’t hire navigators at all,” Jixtus said. “Would you agree?” “I don’t know,” Qilori said, his winglets fluttering again. “I can only speak from my own experience. Though now that you mention it, I don’t recall other Pathfinders talking about such jobs.” “That leaves two possibilities,” Jixtus said. “Either the Chiss have their own group of navigators, some aliens hidden on an obscure world of the Ascendancy…” He paused. “Or they have a means of finding their way through the Chaos without navigator assistance.” Qilori frowned. “What other means could there be?” “It is said that millennia ago, the Chiss adventured into Lesser Space, taking part in wars between two hostile factions over vast and ever-shifting regions,” Jixtus said, his voice again thoughtful. “Those factions reportedly had special navigational techniques that involved computers or mechanical constructs. Even now, those in that part of the galaxy use such techniques.” “I see,” Qilori said as he saw where Jixtus was going. “You think the Chiss may have brought some of those devices back when they got tired of the wars and withdrew to the Ascendancy?” “Possibly,” Jixtus said. “And no, I don’t expect you to solve this mystery for me at this time. But be aware that the mystery exists, and be watchful.”

She’d been wrong earlier, she realized now. It wasn’t Thrawn who’d borrowed tactics and strategies from Admiral Ar’alani, but Ar’alani who’d observed and adapted Thrawn’s methods for herself. Thrawn’s methods were Thrawn’s, all the way. Because Ar’alani would never try something this insane.

“You see, you made a mistake,” Lakphro went on. “You forgot who we were.” “Who, the grand and mighty Chiss?” Haplif scoffed, starting to ease toward the other. “Don’t make me laugh. You have the same weaknesses and passions as everyone else in the Chaos, and are just as easy to manipulate.” He snorted. “If anything, this insane family setup of yours makes it even easier. All that ambition and infighting and suspicion are perfect for my kind of operation.” “And that’s where you made your mistake,” Lakphro said softly. “You’re right about the ambition and infighting parts. But you never understood the family part.” “Hardly,” Haplif said, still drifting forward. The rancher was almost within grabbing range now. “Family is genetics and bloodlines and annoying relatives. Nothing more.” “You’re wrong,” Lakphro said. “It’s also friendship, loyalty, support, and communication.” He raised his eyebrows. “Especially communication. We talk to one another, the Xodlak do. Our leaders may wallow in ambition, but the rest of us talk to one another. We talk here in Redhill, we talk elsewhere around the planet, and we even talk to relatives on Naporar.”

He saw Laknym’s throat work. “Sir…I’m being asked to fire on my own family’s ships.” “Yes, you are,” Samakro agreed. “And you know the reason for that. You and the other Xodlak on this team are the ones most familiar with your ships’ weaponry and defenses.” “Yes, sir, and I understand that.” He hesitated again. “Here’s my problem, sir. The Xodlak are allies of the Irizi. Senior Captain Thrawn is of the Mitth, rivals of the Irizi. I’m wondering…do you think there might be…could there be a political aspect to this?” “An excellent question,” Samakro agreed. “Let me give you a simple answer: no.” Laknym frowned. “No, sir?” “No,” Samakro repeated. “I understand your concern, especially under the circumstances. But the truth is…” He paused, looking down the aisle at the other men and women working busily on their drills. “The truth, Laknym, is that I’ve been Thrawn’s first officer since he came aboard. I’ve watched him in battles, in preparation for battles, in the aftermath of battles, and dealing with Aristocra and senior officers.” He looked back at Laknym. “And I have never—never—seen anyone as utterly incompetent at politics as he is.” For a moment Laknym just frowned up at him. Then slowly, the frown relaxed. “You’re saying, sir, that Senior Captain Thrawn isn’t playing politics here because he never plays politics?” “I’m saying,” Samakro corrected, “that Senior Captain Thrawn never plays politics because he doesn’t know how to play politics.” He took a deep breath, huffed...

Ba’kif eyed him. There’d been something in his tone…“You don’t like Thrawn, do you, Mid Captain?” Samakro hesitated. “Permission to speak honestly, sir?” “Certainly.” “No, sir, I don’t,” Samakro said. “I don’t think he understands how anything outside the fleet works, and I don’t think he’s very good at inspiring his officers and warriors. He pushes things to the edge, takes liberties with orders, and generally acts in a manner that previous generations of fleet officers would find disgraceful.” He seemed to brace himself. “But that doesn’t really matter. He’s an excellent commander, and he knows how to handle his ship. Even his most outrageous hunches are generally proved correct, and he always brings us through whatever storms we find ourselves in. Always.”

“I never expected this to mark the end of the Chiss Ascendancy. They’re more resilient than that.” He paused, and Qilori had the sense of an evil smile behind the black veil. “Though perhaps not nearly as resilient as they think.” Jixtus paused, the robed shoulders giving a little shrug. “You were right to be concerned about this Chiss officer, though. I’ll be sure to add Senior Captain Thrawn into our calculations in the future.” “I would definitely recommend that,” Qilori said, his cheek winglets twitching. “I wish I could offer some hints on how to defeat him.” “Defeat isn’t always necessary,” Jixtus said. “Isolation and neutralization can be equally effective.

“Again, Pathfinder, calm yourself,” Jixtus said, more severely this time. “The Grysks lay blame only where it’s deserved, and only on those who fail us. Each of our servants is responsible solely for his own decisions and actions, not for another’s.” “Yes, sir,” Qilori said, feeling his winglets and his tension subsiding. Grysks. He’d never heard of a species by that name. Or a faction, if that’s what they were. Or a combine, or a gang, or something else entirely. A name by itself really didn’t contain much information. But at least now he had a name to put to the manipulators behind all this.

“You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” “Pleased?” Thurfian asked cautiously. “Pleased that you’ve been granted the highest position in the Mitth family,” Thivik said, still looking at the boxes. “Pleased that you now have more power than you’ve ever dreamed possible. Pleased that your hopes and goals, whatever they might be, are about to be realized.” “Should I instead cower in fear and false modesty?” Thurfian countered. “Yes, I’m pleased. Pleased, humbled, and awestruck. Should one who has been placed at the head of the greatest and noblest family of the Chiss Ascendancy be otherwise?” “The greatest?” Thivik said, his tone suddenly gone odd. “Perhaps. That determination is for future historians. But the noblest?” He turned around, and Thurfian had to stifle a sudden urge to take a step backward. The sudden intensity in the other’s face…“We shall travel to the homestead, Patriarch Thurfian,” Thivik said quietly. “We shall speak with the Patriels, and your staff, and we shall settle you into your new home. You shall have a good night’s rest, and a filling breakfast.” Thivik’s eyes seemed to glitter. “And then,” he said, his voice taking on an edge of long distant pain, “I will tell you of the ancient history of the Mitth. The true history, so long suppressed. “And I will tell you of a terrible alien weapon known as Starflash.”