[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(26)
“But then-?” Disra floundered.
“Why did he die?” Tierce’s jaw tightened. “Because I guessed wrong. I was expecting an attack on the Grand Admiral when we encountered unexpected numbers at the Bilbringi shipyards. But I was expecting it in the form of a commando team boarding the Chimaera in the confusion of battle. Luke Skywalker had penetrated the ship that way once before, to rescue the smuggler Talon Karrde, and I thought they might try it again. So I put my stormtrooper unit on station near the hangar bays.”
“Ah.” Disra nodded, a stray bit of history from that battle falling into place. “So it Was your unit that intercepted and killed the Noghri traitor Rukh after he murdered the Grand Admiral?”
“Yes. For what cold comfort that was.”
“Um.” Disra eyed him. “Did Thrawn know about you?”
Tierce shrugged again. “Who could ever tell what a Grand Admiral knew or didn’t know? All I can say is that I never identified myself to him, and he never confronted me with my past.”
“Why didn’t you identify yourself?” Disra asked. “I’d have thought a Royal Guardsman would be entitled to certain&mdashah&mdashspecial assignments.”
“Don’t ever suggest such a thing again, Disra,” Tierce said, his voice quiet and deadly. “Don’t even think it. A Royal Guardsman never seeks special privileges. Ever. His entire goal in life is to serve the Emperor, and the New Order he created. His goal in life, and his desire in death.”
“Yes,” Disra murmured, taken aback in spite of himself. It was becoming increasingly clear that the reputation of the Royal Guard-a reputation he’d always assumed to be the spun-frosting product of the Emperor’s propagandists-had in fact been quite honestly earned. “I beg your pardon, Guardsman.”
“Major,” Tierce corrected. “Just Major. The Royal Guard no longer exists.”
“Again, your pardon, Major,” Disra said, a touch of annoyance seeping through the awkwardness. He had intended to stay on top of this conversation; yet, at every turn, it seemed, he was losing control of. it. “And I am to be addressed as Your Excellency.’”
Tierce frowned, and for a painful moment Disra held his breath. Then, to his relief, the other’s lip twitched into an ironic smile. “Of course,” he said dryly. “Your Excellency. Have you properly satisfied your curiosity, Your Excellency?”
“I have,” Disra said, nodding. “The past is past, Major. Let us now consider the future. You heard my suggestions to Admiral Pellaeon. What do you think?”
Tierce shook his head. “The Admiral is right: it won’t work. The numbers are too heavily slanted against us.”
“Not even with the New Republic busy with dozens of internal conflicts?”
“No.” Tierce gestured at Disra’s desk. “Not even with the interesting report filed under Lak Jit’ on the third datacard down.”
“Oh?” Disra frowned, pulling out the datacard from the stack Tierce had brought in. All these reports were supposed to be private, encrypted with a special Imperial code reserved for top Intelligence officers and the Moffs themselves. Obviously, Disra wasn’t the only one who’d been doing some high-level slicing. Sliding the datacard into his reader, he keyed for decryption.
It was an Intelligence report, purchased from a Devaronian freelancer named Lak Jit, concerning the discovery in the Mount Tantiss ruins of a partial record of the destruction of Caamas. “This is perfect,” he told Tierce as he skimmed through it. “Exactly what we need.”
Tierce shook his head. “Certainly it’s useful. But it’s not enough.”
“Ah, but it is,” Disra said, feeling a tight smile tugging at his lips as he reread the crucial parts of the report. “I don’t think you fully understand the political situation the New Republic finds itself in these days. A flash point like Caamas-especially with Bothan involvement-will bring the whole thing to a boil. Particularly if we can give it the proper nudge.”
“The situation among the Rebels is not the issue,” Tierce countered coldly. “It’s the state of the Empire you don’t seem to understand. Simply tearing the Rebellion apart is not going to rebuild the Emperor’s New Order. We need a focal point, a leader around whom the Imperial forces can rally. Admiral Pellaeon is the closest thing we have to such an authority figure, and he’s obviously lost the will to fight.”
“Forget Pellaeon,” Disra said. “Suppose I could provide such a leader. Would you be willing to join us?”