Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [56]
Pellaeon nodded, carefully sipping his drink again.
“But these squabbling children have caused as much damage to the Empire as the Rebel Alliance has,” Daala continued. “If they would work together, decide on a leader among themselves, then we could strike back.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Admiral,” Pellaeon said. “But how to accomplish that? Your strong-arm tactics may have caught Harrsk and Teradoc by surprise, but the others won’t crumple so easily.”
Daala ran her fingertip across the rim of her glass, and Pellaeon watched her. She looked out the window at the empty blackness, devoid of stars. “I don’t for a moment think that Teradoc or Harrsk have surrendered. They are plotting ways to destroy me—and destroy you as well, since you have joined me for this conversation. No, they must be made to see.”
Her face took on a wistful look as she turned from the window and stared at the wall and into her past. She muttered, “I was trained at the Imperial military academy on Carida. Because I was a woman, I was not allowed to advance along with my classmates, though I had the same, if not greater, capabilities.
“I excelled in the academy’s exercises. I emerged at the top of my class in every case, and yet inferiors continued to be promoted above me. I was stuck in backwater assignments, forced to do menial labor. While those I had trounced in simulated combat rose up to take command of their own ships, I became a computer clerk, and then a galley overseer preparing packaged food for shipment on Star Destroyer fleets.
“I put up with all that,” she said, drumming her fingertips on the table, “because I was an Imperial soldier, and we are trained to obey orders—yet I felt that I would let the Empire down if I allowed my short-sighted superiors ignore the things I could do. The Emperor’s personal distaste for women and nonhuman species is one of the few things I disagree with.”
“Grand Admiral Thrawn was an alien,” Pellaeon said.
“Yes,” Daala said, “and according to the records I’ve seen, the Emperor exiled him to the Unknown Territories, though Thrawn was perhaps one of the best military commanders in the fleet.”
Pellaeon nodded. “I see your point. I was overjoyed when he returned and I finally found a commander I could follow with a genuine hope of victory, rather than an endless string of defeats.”
Pellaeon finished his drink and set the empty glass on the table; he did not request another. “So what did you do?” he asked. “How did you gain your rank of Admiral?”
“I created a false identity for myself,” Daala said. “I played simulations remotely on the Caridan computer networks. I defeated the best opponents, over and over again. Some of my tactics were true breakthroughs, variations on the zero-gravity fighting routines and space maneuvers developed by General Dodonna himself. All ships in the Imperial Navy were given copies of my battles to study. Space warfare changed because of the intuitive leaps I had made—all under a fake name, of course.
“My skills came to the attention of Moff Tarkin, who journeyed to Carida so that he could meet the mysterious individual who had developed such innovative tactics. It took him several months and two black-market slicers to dig me out of my network hiding place. Tarkin was astonished to learn I was a woman and even more astonished to see that I was a lowly corporal working in the kitchen.
“The officials on Carida were outraged, terribly embarrassed that their star tactician turned out to be someone they had buried—but when Tarkin realized that, instead of rewarding me for my exceptional intuition, the Caridan officials intended to assign me to a lonely meteorological station on the south polar ice cap, he transferred me to his own personal staff, promoted me to Admiral, and took me away from Carida.”
She smiled with a memory