Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

Thrawn inclined his head. “Then I accept the tribute as given.” He turned to Maris. “And now, Ferasi, I’m ready with your special request.”

Car’das frowned. “Special request?”

“Ferasi asked me to create a description of one of the artworks aboard the Vagaari pirate vessel,” Thrawn told him.

Car’das looked at her. “Oh?”

“I wanted some extra practice with abstract terms andadjectives,” she said, meeting his eyes coolly.

“Okay, sure,” Car’das said hastily. “I was just wondering.”

She held his gaze a fraction of a second longer, then turned back to Thrawn. “May I ask which piece you’ve chosen?”

“Certainly not,” he admonished her with a smile.

“You’ll have to deduce that from my description.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding momentarily nonplussed. She glanced at Car’das, then set her jaw firmly. “All right. I’m ready.”

Thrawn’s eyes seemed to defocus as he gazed across the room. “The changing of colors is like a rainbow’s edge melding into a sunlit waterfall…”

Car’das listened to the melodious flow of Cheunh words, struggling to keep up as he studied Maris out of the corner of his eye. She was struggling a little, too, he could see, her lips occasionally moving as she worked through some of the more complex terms. But behind the concentration he thought he could sec something else in her eyes as she looked at Thrawn.

Only it wasn’t the kind of look a language student should be giving her teacher. It most certainly wasn’t a look a captive should be giving her captor.

An unpleasant sensation began to drift into his gut.

She couldn’t actually be falling for Thrawn, could she? Surely she wouldn’t let herself be drawn in by his intelligence and courtesy and sophistication.

Because she wasn’t just Qennto’s partner and copilot, after all. And while Car’das had never seen Qennto in a fit of jealousy, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to.

. . with a deep sense of disconnection and strife between the artist and his people.“

“Beautiful,” Maris murmured, her eyes shining evenmore as she gazed at Thrawn. “That was the flat with the carved edging, wasn’t it? The landscape with the darkness growing upward from the lower corner?”

“Correct,” Thrawn confirmed. He looked at Car’das.

“Were you also able to identify it?”

“I—no,” Car’das admitted. “I was mostly concentrating on understanding the words.”

“One can concentrate so closely on the words of a sentence that one thereby misses the meaning,” Thrawn pointed out. “As can happen in any area of life. You must never lose focus on the larger landscape.” He looked over at a series of lights on the wall above the door and stood up. “Today’s lesson is over. I must see to my guest.”

“Guest?” Maris asked as she and Car’das also stood up.

“An admiral of the Chiss Defense Fleet is on her way to take possession of the Vagaari vessel,” Thrawn said as they all headed to the door. “Nothing you need concern yourselves with.”

“May we observe the welcoming ceremony with you?”

Car’das asked. “This time we should be able to understand what’s being said.”

“I believe that will be permissible,” Thrawn said.

“Admiral Ar’alani will certainly have heard of your presence from Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano and will want to see you for herself.”

“Are they both from the same family?” Maris asked.

Thrawn shook his head. “Senior officers of the Defense Fleet belong to no family,” he said. “They’re stripped of family name and privilege and made part of the Defense Hierarchy in order that they may serve all Chiss without deference or prejudice.”

“So military command is merit-based, and not something that comes from Family connections?” Maris asked.

“Exactly,” Thrawn confirmed. “Officers are taken into the Hierarchy once they’ve proven themselves, just as the Ruling Families themselves select merit adoptives.”

“What are merit adoptives?” Car’das asked.

“Chiss brought in from outside a Family’s bloodlines to enrich or diversify or invigorate,” Thrawn told him. “All warriors are made merit adoptives when they’re accepted into either the Defense Fleet or the Expansionary Fleet.” He tapped the burgundy patch on his shoulder. “That’s why every warrior wears the color of one of the Families.”

“Which one is yours?” Maris asked.

“The Eighth,” Thrawn said. “My position is actually different from that of most warriors, as I’ve been named a Trial-born of the family. Most warriors’ positions automatically cease when they leave the military, but mine carries the possibility that I will be deemed worthy and matched permanently to the Family. I may even be granted the position of ranking distant, which will tie my descendants and bloodline into that of the Family.”

“Sounds complicated,” Car’das commented.

“Sounds smart,” Maris countered. “The Republic could use a lot more of that, instead of always going with straight bloodlines, or the highest bidder.”

“Mm,” Car’das said noncommittally. This was not the time to get into a discussion about Republic politics. “And you said there are nine of these Ruling Families?”

“There are nine at present,” Thrawn said. “The number fluctuates with events and political fortunes. At various times over the centuries there have been as many as twelve and as few as three.”

They reached the welcoming chamber to find it had already been configured for the new arrival. The wall and ceiling hangings were totally different from those featured for Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrano’s arrival, and to Car’das’s eye the arrangement seemed less elaborate. Perhaps even a senior military officer didn’t rank as highly as a distant relative of one of the Ruling Families.

“The ceremony will be considerably shorter and less formal than the last one you witnessed,” Thrawn said as he gestured them into positions flanking him but two paces back.

“You should be able to follow.” He seemed to consider, then favored them with a small smile. “The admiral’s appearance may surprise you a bit, as well,” he added. “I’ll look forward to hearing your thoughts later.”

He turned toward the door and nodded to one of the warriors. With a melodious chiming that reminded Car’das of a water carillon, the door slid open and four black-clad Chiss warriors came through, taking up flanking positions on either side. Wondering what Thrawn had meant by their guest’s appearance, Car’das straightened into his best approximation of military attention as a tall female Chiss stepped into view.

Only instead of the normal black uniform, she was dressed from collar to boots in dazzling white.

Car’das blinked in surprise as she strode past her escort into the welcoming chamber. Every Chiss warrior he’d seen up to now had invariably worn black, except for the clearly family-based guards who had accompanied Chaf’orm’bintrano.

Was it because she was connected to the Defense Fleet instead of the Expansionary Fleet?

The admiral stepped to the center of the room and stopped. “In the name of all who serve the Chiss, I greet you, Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn intoned, taking a step toward her.

“I accept your greeting, and greet you in return, Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” the admiral responded. Her words were to Thrawn, but Car’das could tell that her eyes were on the two humans standing behind him. “Do you guarantee my safety, and the safety of my crew?”

“I guarantee your safety with my life and the lives ofthose of my command,” Thrawn said, bowing his head low.

“Enter in peace, and with trust.”