Chapter Seven

"L'Grath, a traitor?" Rurik Caelin stared Thelea. "How did you know?"

"When he started shooting at me, I had a feeling something was wrong." The red eyes didn't waver from his, but he could hear the sarcasm. Then, abruptly, the confrontational tone vanished. "To be honest I wasn't sure until then." She paced the length of the Victorious's briefing room, hands clasped tight behind her back. "But if you think, it makes sense. No one was supposed to have survived from the Eradicator. If he did, he must have either avoided the Rebels, or they avoided him. He had the authority to change records and he had the access to the fighters. The only further question is who was helping him."

"And just how in worlds were you able to send a distress signal to the Victorious?" Giriad asked.

"I don't know," Thelea said irritatedly, forgetting her control. "I was given the code and told that if I needed to call for help, to send the code and help would come. I don't know who gave it to me, or why."

"What are you going to say when they ask that?" Giriad shot back. "We've been aboard six hours and they haven't asked anything! That can only be trouble."

"Well, I do not know and nothing is going to change that. I'm not telepathic, for Empire's sake!" Well, not in that sense, something inside her whispered, but she ignored it.

Rurik eyed her, idly rubbing the fingers of his right hand along the inside of his left arm. Her glowing eyes narrowed and she looked pointedly away. "That won't be much help when they come in here to debrief us. What are you going to tell Captain Medreian?"

"I am going to tell him that the Victorious responded to our distress signal, and that, as he could see, his own first officer did not want to assist us. In fact, I seem to recall Varkris refusing us backup. That seems suspicious to me." Thelea's face revealed nothing again, but Rurik could guess what she was thinking. "I was warned we'd been betrayed. Now the question is why, and who are they working for?"

"Working for?" Rurik raised an eyebrow.

"For someone who's supposedly from such a shady background, you're remarkably naive at times, Rurik," she said. "No one does anything without a reason."

"Do you think Varkris is working for the Rebels?" Giriad asked.

"L'Grath certainly was," Rurik said before Thelea could reply. "And Varkris is working for somebody."

"You think L'Grath could have been a double agent?" she mused.

"I think you're seeing conspiracies where none exist," Rurik shot back.

"Maybe you should ask Commander L'Grath."

They jumped at the voice, and turned to the door of the briefing room. Vice Admiral Thrawn stood there, flanked by Captain Medreian of the Valiant and another man with a Captain's insignia, probably the commander of the Victorious. Rurik snapped to attention and Giriad scrambled up from his seat. Thelea, more sedately, bowed from the neck, hands still clasped at the small of her back.

"As you were," the Admiral said. "We have questioned Commander L'Grath regarding his actions. He has not been forthcoming. Time in detention may encourage him to cooperate. I would be very interested to hear why you disobeyed orders, not only from your Wing leader, but from the first officer of the Valiant." Thrawn paused. "Though on listening to the datatapes of the mission, I cannot blame you. Your disobedience saved your lives."

"It was Commander Thelea, sir," Giriad said. "If she hadn't known-"

"Lieutenant, be quiet," Thelea muttered, turning her head slightly to glare at him.

Thrawn's mouth twitched in some semblance of a smile. "No, Commander, he is quite correct. Upon review, we have found your actions to be quite commendable. You saved Lieutenant Caelin's life, you took command when it became evident that your wingleader was compromised, and you knew when to send for help. All highly commendable."

Thelea shrugged and tried to hide any unseemly hint of pride of pleasure at that praise, coming from him of all people. "I did what was required at the time. Nothing more." Medreian looked convinced, but Thrawn was eyeing her suspiciously. "Especially considering that Commander Varkris refused much-needed reinforcements. If the Victorious had not arrived, we would have been cut to the pieces by the incoming Rebel fighters."

The Admiral turned to Captain Medreian. "Has your second-in-command explained his actions regarding that situation, Captain?"

Medreian's eyes hardened. "Not adequately, Vice Admiral. I've been trying to get him to explain, but all he's told me is that he had reason to believe a member of the wing was a rebel agent, and that by his reasoning, three innocent pilots were a small sacrifice to punish a single traitor."

Glowing red eyes darkened. "Did he now," Thrawn said. "Did he, indeed."

"Tell me, Commander Thelea," said the third man, presumably the Victorious's captain, "how did you obtain that distress signal? That's the Victorious's emergency frequency. It overrode all the communications circuits."

For the first time, her impassive face showed her anxiety. "I don't know, sir."

The captain's eyebrows shot up. "You don't know?"

"When I strapped in-when I entered my Interceptor, I found the message warning me that the mission was a trap, telling me to transmit the encoded information if I needed help," Thelea explained, visibly distressed. Rurik winced at the edge to her voice. Thelea had lost her calm before, but now she sounded frightened. "I sent the message. The Victorious arrived."

Thrawn nodded slowly. "Tell me, Commander," he said slowly, "do you have any knowledge of a group calling themselves the Empire's Inner Circle?"

Rurik could have sworn Thelea stopped breathing. If her anxiety was evident to him, it had to be blindingly obvious to Thrawn. She glanced at the two captains, at Giriad, and back to the Admiral. Finally, she said quietly, "I'm afraid I cannot help you, Admiral."

For the first time, Thrawn seemed taken aback. "You're certain, Commander?"

The lines around her eyes deepened, the only outward sign of her anguish at lying. "I am sorry, Admiral."

There was a long silence. Medreian, more than a little nervous at one of "his" pilots being openly defiant, shifted from booted foot to booted foot, glaring through narrowed dark eyes at Thelea. Rurik was more interested in Thrawn's reaction. If the Admiral decided to be displeased-

Instead, Thrawn simply nodded. "Understood." Thelea's shoulders slumped with relief as she realized she was not about to be court-marshaled or worse and he was not, in fact, displeased with her. "You have all conducted yourselves with great honor and bravery. That will not go unrewarded." A gesture of a slender blue hand summoned a black-uniformed aide from the door. The aide carried a lacquered flat black case supported on both forearms with an air of reverence. He stopped beside the Admiral and came to attention. Suddenly Thelea knew, in a rush of dread and excitement, what was coming. She stepped between Rurik and Giriad and slightly ahead of them.

"Alpha Wing-attention!" With a clack of their rather scuffed flight boots, they came to parade-ground perfect attention. Thrawn smiled, just a little. It was impossible to tell whether the expression touched his eyes.

The box opened with a faint click and revealed three glittering gold medals resting on black velvet. Thrawn lifted the central medallion by a long navy-blue ribbon. "The Imperial Medal of Unity," he said. "Presented to the Members of Alpha Wing, Star Destroyer Valiant, for bravery and success above and beyond the call of duty; namely, engaging a mine field without question of orders, despite overwhelming odds and eliminating the threat; engaging a superior number of enemy fighters after sustaining severe damage in the aforementioned mine field; and finally, exposing and capturing a traitor to the Empire. Presented to Lieutenant Giriad Quoris." Giriad, barely able to conceal a grin, stepped forward as Thrawn placed the medal around his neck. "Lieutenant Rurik Caelin." The medal weighed heavily against his uniform, and only Academy-ingrained discipline kept him from fingering the gold metal.

Thrawn paused as he raised the last medal and stood before Thelea. "Presented to Lieutenant Commander T'hele'arana." The medal went around her neck, but Thelea did not even seem to realize it was there. Her mouth came open, but no sound came out. Rurik forgot standing at attention in his amazement-was Thelea actually crying?

Thelea couldn't cry-not in the sense a human could. She could do something quite similar, however, and she could feel the sobs welling up deep inside her. I will not cry, I will not cry, I haven't cried since I was an infant, not here, not now... She controlled herself-barely-but it was a minute before she trusted her voice to speak. "Mitth'raw'nuruodo," she stammered, the full name feeling far more appropriate than intimate corenames, in their own language, barely forcing the name out, "how-why-"

Thrawn's smile softened a trace, so faintly a human would not have noticed. "Calm yourself, child. Remember your manners," he replied in kind. Not as one spoke to a servant, but as to a child indeed, too young to be expected to behave but old enough to learn.

Thelea drew in a deep breath and tried again. "You know my fullname," she said, "you knew all along. Why have you never contacted me? You must have known who I was, that I was serving the Empire. Why? And why did no one ever tell me, why-"

He hesitated, and she saw the confused expressions on the humans. Apparently deciding the humans had no chance of understanding what was being said, he told her, "Because you had no need of the knowledge. Knowledge is power, T'hele'arana. Always remember that. It will serve you in good stead in the Imperial Nav, just as it would on homeworld. And I did not contact you because I wanted to see what sort of solider you would become. You have exceeded all expectations."

The praise was almost more than she could bear. Still, grateful as she was, he had answered only half of her questions. "You know who I am. You must know who my parents are, why they abandoned me. I have to know."

Rurik wasn't sure what they were saying, but it sounded urgent. He had come to know Thelea's body language well enough to see that she was agitated, pleading even. The language was strange, fluid and full of long vowels and strange breaks in the flow of speech, unlike any humanoid language he'd ever heard before. Thrawn's accent was somewhat more clipped than Thelea's, but that might, he thought, be attributable to Thelea's emotional delivery, or perhaps the different timbre of their voices-he shook his head. Whatever Thrawn was saying now, it sounded distinctly like a lecture. That intonation didn't seem to differ across languages.

Thelea lowered her head as Thrawn spoke. "I did know your mother, a long time ago. She was impulsive, highly intelligent and very unwise both in her choice of life partner and in her choice of...vocation." He paused, just perceptibly, visibly measuring her, deciding how much to tell her. "She . . . she never wanted to abandon you. Many years later, after I had come to the Empire, she told me that you were applying to the Academy."

"She's alive?" Thelea interrupted. Her impertinence earned her a glare and she subdued herself.

"Not . . . in the manner you mean." Thrawn continued, when he decided that she was going to be quiet. Thelea was about to ask what he meant, but the slight, disproving inclination of his head suggested she not do that. "She asked that I look out for your interests as you would be otherwise alone in the human Empire."

He let the silence hang for a moment as Thelea turned the information over in her mind. "You," she breathed. "You were my sponsor for the Academy."

"I wished to remain anonymous," he said. "You did not need to know. I was, incidentally, very pleased with your performance. More than could be expected, even from one of us. Before you ask, I had nothing to do with your assignment to my fleet. That was beyond my control. Your reassignment is not."

"Reassignment?" The word struck her like a blow. Not now, not after this... "What reassignment?"

Thrawn switched back to Basic fluidly. "Your squadron has been selected for a great honor. The Fleet has acquired a new flagship: the Super Star Destroyer Executor. Lord Vader will be using the ship as his headquarters for the final assault on the Rebels. It is your honor, Alpha Wing, to be assigned to the 207th Interceptor assault squadron. You will participate in the final defeat of the Rebel Alliance."

Rurik and Giriad exchanged ecstatic grins-such an honor they hadn't expected. Thelea, however, looked more distraught than anything. "Vice Admiral," she said, also in Basic, "with all due respect-"

"Be silent," he snapped, again reverting to their tongue. "Where I will soon be going, you for your own sake must not follow." He looked at all three again. "You do the Empire proud by your service." Turning on his heel, he left without further word, Medreian and the Victorious's captain following close behind.

"Can you believe it?" Giriad fingered the medal around his neck in disbelief. "I thought we were court-marshaled for sure."

Rurik was less fascinated by the medal than by Thelea's strangely blank features. "Thelea? Are you all right? What did he say to you?'

She turned slowly, red eyes wide and sightless, moving like a dream-walker. "My name is T'hele'arana," she said softly, voice scarcely audible.

Rurik didn't entirely understand. He knew that she had said once that she had no name, and therefore no honor or familial ties. Thrawn had obviously corrected that situation, for whatever reason. She'd called him by a longer name, too, similar to her own but one he couldn't have hoped to repeat. She still looked numb. "That's an awfully big mouthful for us pitiful humans," he said. "Would you be hideously offended if I still called you Thelea?"

An expression foreign to her features crept over them, so foreign he barely recognized her. For the first time since he'd known her, Thelea smiled. And there was not question that it touched her eyes.

"She will be in the best place possible for advancement," he said to the darkness. "That is what you wanted."

Yes. For now.

"She is a good and capable officer."

I know. She paused. Give her the means to defend herself. He didn't reply for a long time. Are you still there? Only she dared take that tone, even now.

"Yes," he murmured. "You're absolutely certain?"

It's time. Past time, if some could be believed.

"Ah." He didn't respond further for a moment. "She has been back, hasn't she?"

Under the circumstances, it would be more accurate to say that I have been back to visit her. But she may be right. Leaving Thelea to blunder on her own is more dangerous than giving her the tools to hide her abilities and to defend herself.

He sighed. "I leave it to you. If you think it best-"

I do.

"Very well, then." He paused, and then decided to allow himself a moment. "I still miss you."

There was a surprised silence. Really? How fascinating. In her own way, though there was nothing to see, he thought she was smiling.

Thelea packed the remainder of her belongings into the regulation bag, shoving a little harder than was necessary. She couldn't say she would miss the Valiant. She couldn't say she was happy to be leaving the fleet, either. If she lived to be five hundred, she would never understand Thrawn. Then again, from what she had been told, very few ever did. First he gave her something she'd wanted since she was old enough to understand, a name, a clue to her origin. Then, not only did he not expound on that, he announced that by his own authority they were all being transferred. Not that a posting to the 207th squadron of the Executor was a bad thing-it was, in fact, more than she could have hoped for. Lord Vader's new flagship was rumored to be the greatest ship the galaxy had ever seen, and the names of the ships around it were legendary- Avenger, Judicator, even Vader's old flagship, the Devastator. The fact that Thrawn seemed to want to be rid of them hurt more than she cared to admit. The fact that Varkris showed no signs of either remorse for his mistake or punishment for his treason only aggravated the injury.

Her door chime sounded. Probably Rurik, come to talk before they left. "Come," she called tiredly. No response.

Of its own volition, her hand went to her hold-out blaster. Moving slowly, predatorily, she approached the door and triggered the lock. She found herself staring into an empty hall. All right, now I'm losing my mind to boot. She looked up and down the dark corridor and saw no sign of anyone. She was about to return to packing and write off the chime to a computer glitch, which wouldn't be unheard of on a ship as old as Victory-class, when she looked down. Sitting propped against her door was a small package wrapped in a velvicloth bag. Intrigued, she picked it up and stepped back inside.

The bag's tie was attached to a small data chip. Cautiously, she inserted the chip in her datapad and read the brief message that appeared, much to her surprise, in her own people's script.

"Do not attempt to contact me after you receive this. I cannot provide any more answers than are contained here. You are going to face many dangers soon, or so I am warned by a benefactor who wishes to remain nameless. In the bag is a gift your mother wished you to have when you were ready for it. I do not approve, but she insisted and I will honor my promise to her. It served only to cause her trouble, trouble that cost her her life. I would strongly advise against wearing it, carrying it in plain sight, or using it unless the need is desperate. You will know when that time comes. Understand this transfer is for your own good, though you may not understand that now. I know that by the reckoning of the humans; indeed, most races, you are an adult. By our lives, you are still little more than a child. You have much to learn. I can only promise that in time, you will understand. Look out for yourself and for comrades you trust. As you serve the Empire, trust your instincts." The message was signed "Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

Turning to the bag, she slid the metallic cylinder it contained and turned it over in her hands. It was about the right size to be gripped with two hands, weighted so one end was slightly heavier. The lighter end was open, not quite like a blaster barrel, but similar. The heavy end had a ring so that the device could be hung from something; a belt perhaps, or a hook. There was a switch close to where her fingers curled over the grip. When she pressed the switch, the open end produced a finite beam of light not quite a half-meter in length that glowed a pale gold. When she turned the blade in her hand, it sliced through the air with a low humming sound. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she recalled a glowing gold light, and the sounds of a loud argument. Closing her eyes she tried to call up the memory in more detail, but all she remembered was a woman's harsh, angry voice and the beautiful glow of-

"Lightsaber," she murmured. This was a lightsaber. Was that why her mother had died? Was she a Jedi? That would explain why she'd left. But if she were a Jedi, then Vader and the Emperor must have-

The blade closed down as she touched the switch again. The Admiral was right. If she were to need the lightsaber, better to keep it hidden than to explain what it was, where it had come from. Determinedly, she placed the saber and the data chip back into the bag and buried them deep among her belongings. There was a new life waiting aboard the Executor. Whatever-whoever she was, she had her duty to consider, first and foremost.

When the door chimed again, it was in fact Rurik. "Ready? It's almost time to report to the shuttle bay."

"Yes," she said, back still turned to the door. Then, her shoulders straightened. "Yes," she said more firmly. "I'm ready." Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she turned and walked purposely with him out the door.

So ends the first part of our story. When we rejoin Thelea, Rurik and Giriad

the Empire will be in different circumstances indeed-the Rebels are routed, but

far from defeated, and the Executor is bound for a green moon in the farthest arm

of the galaxy...a place called Endor...