Тимоти Зан: Chaos Rising

“Okay, that’s fine,” Thalias hastened to assure her. “But if you ever change your mind, I’d love to see what you do.”

“Do you like to draw?” Che’ri asked.

“I’m not very good at that sort of thing,” Thalias said. “But I like looking at art.”

“You don’t think drawing is silly?”

“No, of course not,” Thalias assured her. “Having that kind of talent is a good thing.”

“I don’t really draw,” Che’ri said. “I already told you I just put things together.”

“Well, it’s still a talent,” Thalias said doggedly. “And talents are never silly.”

Che’ri lowered her eyes. “My last momish said it was.”

“Your last momish was wrong,” Thalias said.

Che’ri gave out a little snort. “She always thought she was right.”

“Trust me,” Thalias said. “I’ve seen momishes come and go, and I can tell you straight up that one was wrong.”

“Okay.” Che’ri peered at her. “You’re not like the others.”

“The other momishes?” Thalias tried a small smile. “Probably not. How many of them have you had?”

Che’ri lowered her gaze again. “Eight,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Thalias winced at the pain in the girl’s voice. “Wow,” she said gently. “Must have been hard.”

Che’ri snorted again. “How would you know?”

“Because I had four,” Thalias said.

Che’ri looked up, her eyes wide. “You’re a sky-walker ?”

“I was,” Thalias said. “And I remember how it hurt each time they took one caregiver away and gave me a new one.”

Che’ri looked down again and hunched her shoulders. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“Probably nothing,” Thalias said. “I worried about that a lot, too, and I could never come up with anything. Except sometimes she and I didn’t get along very well, so that might have been one reason.”

“They didn’t understand.” Che’ri’s throat worked. “None of them understood.”

“Because none of them had ever been a sky-walker,” Thalias said. Though that hadn’t always been the case, if that personnel officer had been right. Fleetingly, she wondered why that policy had been changed. “Once we leave the program, most of us don’t come back.”

“So how come you did?”

Thalias shrugged. This wasn’t the time to tell the girl she was here to reconnect with someone she’d only met once. “I remember how hard it was being a sky-walker. I thought someone who’d been one herself might make a better caregiver.”

“Until you leave,” Che’ri muttered. “They all do.”

“But not necessarily because they want to,” Thalias said. “There are all sorts of reasons for caregiver transfers. Sometimes the sky-walker and caregiver just don’t get along, like you and your last one, and me and that one I just mentioned. But sometimes there are other reasons. Sometimes they need a special caregiver to watch over a new sky-walker. Sometimes there are family disputes—I mean between the various families—that get in the way.” She felt her lips pucker. “And sometimes it’s because there are shortsighted idiots in charge of the process.”

“You mean shortsighted, like they don’t see very good?”

“I mean shortsighted like they have the brains of a hop-toad,” Thalias said. “I’m sure you’ve met people like that.”

Che’ri gave her an uncertain smile. “I’m not supposed to talk like that about people.”

“You’re right, you probably shouldn’t,” Thalias said. “Neither should I. Doesn’t change the fact they’ve got the brains of hop-toads.”

“I guess.” Che’ri squinted at her. “How long were you a sky-walker?”

“I was seven when I navigated my first ship. I was thirteen when I navigated my last.”

“They told me I’d be a sky-walker until I was fourteen.”

“That’s the usual age,” Thalias said. “My Third Sight apparently decided to quit early. You’re—what?” She made a show of squinting at Che’ri’s face. “About eight?”

“Nine and a half.” The girl considered. “Nine and three-quarters.”

“Ah,” Thalias said. “So you’ve had lots of experience. That’s good.”

“I suppose,” Che’ri said. “Are we going into a battle?”

Thalias hesitated. There were things adults weren’t supposed to tell sky-walkers, things the Council in its odd wisdom had decided might upset them. “I don’t know, but it’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “Especially not aboard the Springhawk. Senior Captain Thrawn is our captain, and he’s one of the best warriors in the Ascendancy.”

“Because they wouldn’t tell me why I’m here,” Che’ri persisted. “There’s nobody very far away we have to fight, is there? They say we don’t go outside the Ascendancy to fight anyone. And if the people they’re fighting are close, the ship doesn’t need a sky-walker.”

“Good points,” Thalias said, an unpleasant feeling stirring in her stomach. Even if the task force was heading off for some punitive action, traveling jump-by-jump would get them any reasonable distance without having to risk taking a sky-walker into combat. So why were she and Che’ri aboard? “Well, whatever we’re doing, Senior Captain Thrawn will get us through.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read a lot about him.” Thalias pulled out her questis. “Do you read? Would you like to read about his career?”

“That’s okay,” Che’ri said, wrinkling her nose a little. “I’d rather draw.”

“Drawing’s good, too,” Thalias said, sending Thrawn’s files to Che’ri’s questis. “This is just here if you want to read some later.”

“Okay,” Che’ri said uncertainly as she peered at her questis. “There’s an awful lot there.”

“So there is,” Thalias conceded, feeling a pang of embarrassment. She’d loved reading when she was a sky-walker. Naturally, she’d assumed Che’ri would be the same. “Tell you what. I’ll go through it later and make up a shorter version for you. Some of the more exciting stories of things he’s done.”

“Okay,” Che’ri said, sounding marginally less unenthusiastic.

“Good.” For a moment, Thalias tried to think of something else to say. But she could see the wall still standing between them, and she remembered how moody she’d sometimes been when she was Che’ri’s age. Best not to push it. “I have to check in with the first officer,” she said, standing up. “I’ll let you get back to your drawing.”

“Okay,” Che’ri said. “Am I supposed to get my own lunch?”

“No, no, I’ll make it for you,” Thalias assured her. “Are you hungry?”

Che’ri shrugged. “I can wait.”

Which wasn’t exactly an answer. “Do you want me to make you something now?”

“I can wait,” Che’ri repeated.

Thalias clenched her teeth. “Okay, then. I’ll go check in, and then come back. While I’m gone, you think of what you’d like to eat.”

Another shrug. “I don’t care.”

“Well, think about it anyway,” Thalias said. “I’ll be back soon.”

She headed out, glowering to herself as she strode down the corridor. Maybe taking this job had been a mistake.

Still, she and Che’ri had barely met. It wasn’t surprising the girl was holding back, especially given that she was still hurting from what she saw as desertion by her previous caregivers.

So Thalias would give the girl time, and space, and probably more time. Eventually, hopefully, she would come around.

And if she still didn’t know what she wanted for lunch by the time Thalias returned, it would be nut-paste sandwiches. Even if Che’ri didn’t read, surely she at least liked nut-paste sandwiches.