Ar’alani looked around the bridge, confirming one final time that her ship was prepared for battle. Sky-walker Ab’begh and her caregiver were safely tucked away in their suite, the weapons and defense status boards all showed green, and all stations were cleared for action.
Two more Nikardun bases in this region, if Yiv’s records were accurate. Two more battles, and then they could go home. She took a steady breath, setting her mind into combat mode.
And then the view outside changed, and they had arrived.
“Contact,” Senior Commander Obbic’lia’nuf called from the sensor station. “Three ships, bearing…” His voice trailed off.
Ar’alani frowned, shifting her attention from the tactical display to the sensor readouts. If those energy profiles were correct…
“Make that three derelicts,” Wutroow corrected, a grim edge to her voice. “Don’t really qualify as ships anymore.”
“Confirmed,” Biclian said. “Reading severe battle damage on all three.”
Ar’alani nodded. “Grayshrike?” she called. “Anything over there?”
“Six more ships, Admiral,” Senior Captain Lakinda’s voice came over the bridge speaker. “Badly mauled, all of them. Looks like someone beat us to them.”
“So it would seem,” Ar’alani agreed.
Only who in the region had both the reason and the massive firepower necessary to take on this many Nikardun ships? And to win? “Start a full sensor scan, Captain,” she ordered Lakinda. “Full range, full depth. Get us on that, too, Biclian. Let’s see if we can figure out what weapons were used on them.”
“Spectrum lasers were definitely involved,” Biclian said, manipulating his sensor controls. “But of course, everyone uses those. Looks like a fair number of missile strikes, too. We’ll need a closer look if you want a blast profile.”
“I do,” Ar’alani said, nodding toward the helm. “Mid Commander Octrimo, take us in. Be ready to go to evasive if they’re playing cute.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot acknowledged.
Wutroow crossed to Ar’alani’s command chair. “You really think the Nikardun have picked up some tactical sense at this late stage?” she asked.
“You mean, as in setting the derelicts out as bait for us?”
“Or for anyone else who might wander along,” Wutroow said. “Or someone could be quietly hunkered down inside the listening post, hoping whoever comes along will see the wrecked ships, assume everyone’s gone, and not take a closer look.”
“If that’s the plan, they’re going to be disappointed,” Ar’alani said. “We’re definitely taking a closer look. I don’t like the idea of someone with this much military power working this neighborhood without us knowing about them.”
“As long as we don’t spend too much time at it,” Wutroow warned, pulling out her questis. “The Aristocra already think we’re cleaning house way farther down the walkway than we ought to be.”
Ar’alani felt her lips compress. Wutroow was right, of course. The Vigilant’s sole purpose out here was to eliminate any lingering Nikardun and Nikardun influence. If they did anything beyond that, she’d better be able to justify it to the Council and Syndicure. “Consider it a threat assessment,” she said. “Until we know who did this, we won’t have any idea what their motives are or what they might intend for the Ascendancy.”
“No argument here, ma’am,” Wutroow assured her, giving her questis a couple of taps and peering at the results. “But that kind of ignorance is considered fashionable in certain circles. Well, whoever was involved, they don’t seem to be local. There aren’t any planets nearby on Yiv’s list of conquests and tributaries. No one who would have known about the Nikardun and had a reason to come after what was left of them.”
“No one that we know of,” Ar’alani corrected. “Lots of small one- and two-system nations out here that we’ve never made direct contact with. Though I’ll grant that if Yiv hadn’t already been threatening them, they would hardly be likely to go out of their way to take on one of his bases.”
“My point exactly,” Wutroow said, putting the questis away. “And Yiv really liked to talk about his conquests. Hard to believe he’d leave any of them off his brag list.”
“Admiral?” Junior Commander Stybla’rsi’omli called from the Vigilant’s comm station. “Message coming through from Schesa; relay from Csilla and Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk.”
“Thank you,” Ar’alani said. Schesa was the closest Ascendancy world with a long-range triad transmitter, but even with that kind of power behind the signal the Vigilant was far enough that it was pushing the limit. “Send it here as soon as it’s decrypted.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There’ve always been rumors that Ja’fosk could hear his officers’ conversations through solid walls,” Wutroow commented. “First I’ve heard that he could also hear us over multiple light-years of space.”
“You’d be amazed at what they issue flag officers along with these,” Ar’alani said drily, tapping the collar insignia pins on her white uniform.
“I’m sure I would,” Wutroow said. “Ah,” she added as the message appeared on the command chair personal display.
From: Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk, Csilla
To: Springhawk, Vigilant, Grayshrike
Senior Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo and the Springhawk are to return to Csilla with all due speed for a new assignment.
“Interesting,” Wutroow said as she read over Ar’alani’s shoulder. “I wonder what the Syndicure wants with him now.”
“The Syndicure?” Ar’alani asked, wincing a little. The fact that she and the Grayshrike had been copied on the message implied that Ja’fosk thought the Springhawk was still with the Vigilant’s task force.
Only, of course, he wasn’t. Had Ba’kif forgotten to clue Ja’fosk in on Thrawn’s unofficial side trip?
“Has to be,” Wutroow said. “Ja’fosk or Ba’kif or anyone else on the Council would have added once mission has been completed or some such language. It’s only the Aristocra who expect people to drop everything at the twitch of their collective finger. So now do I get to know where Ba’kif sent the Springhawk?”
“It’s not a huge mystery,” Ar’alani said. Though it was, of course, supposed to have been kept quiet. So much for that plan. “You’ll remember that one of the Paccosh who met Thrawn and Caregiver Thalias on the Rapacc mining station gave him a ring for safekeeping. Thrawn’s gone there to return it to him.”
“Oh,” Wutroow said.
Ar’alani raised her eyebrows. “You sound disappointed.”
“Not disappointed, exactly,” Wutroow said. “But the last time Thrawn went off-mission we got the Republic shield generator, and the time before that we identified Yiv and the Nikardun. I was hoping he was somewhere kicking up that level of excitement.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” Ar’alani warned. “You’d be amazed what Thrawn can do with what looks like a straightforward assignment.”
“I probably would,” Wutroow agreed, half turning toward the navigation display. “Speaking of straightforward…?”
“I know,” Ar’alani said, scowling. If Thrawn was on his planned schedule, he was almost certainly out of range of the Schesa triad right now. He was also out of range of the Vigilant’s own ship-to-ship comm transmitter. If he lingered long enough at Rapacc to make the unofficial assessment of the Paccosh that Ba’kif had privately requested, it could be another week or more before he even knew he’d been summoned home.
And if it was indeed the Syndicure who’d put through the order, they would not be amused at being kept waiting.
Unfortunately, that left Ar’alani only one real option. Knowing exactly how this order would be perceived, she keyed for ship-to-ship comm. “Grayshrike, this is Admiral Ar’alani for Senior Captain Lakinda.”
“I’m here, Admiral,” Lakinda’s voice came back.
“I assume you picked up Schesa’s transmission?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lakinda said, the sudden caution in her tone showing she’d already guessed where this was going. “Do I assume Senior Captain Thrawn is out of comm range?”
“He is,” Ar’alani confirmed. “And while there weren’t any specific imperatives in the message, I have the feeling that Csilla wants the Springhawk back as soon as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lakinda’s voice was steady, but Ar’alani could hear the unhappiness she’d expected floating beneath the surface. “May I offer the Grayshrike’s services to travel to his current location and deliver the message?”
“Yes, Senior Captain, thank you,” Ar’alani said. “That would be most helpful.”
“My one concern would be whether or not you and the Vigilant can carry out our assigned mission alone,” Lakinda continued. “Notwithstanding this latest example, our previous encounters with Nikardun remnants would suggest that a single-ship incursion may be ill advised. It might be better if the Grayshrike first accompanied you to the final target.”
“I appreciate the analysis and suggestion,” Ar’alani said. “But Yiv’s list indicates that the previous bases were far larger than these final two listening posts. I think the Vigilant can handle the last one alone.”
“Understood,” Lakinda said. Which didn’t necessarily mean she agreed, of course. “I’ll need the Springhawk’s current location.”
Wutroow already had her questis in hand. “Senior Captain Wutroow is sending the coordinates now,” Ar’alani said. “It’s the Rapacc system, which should already be in your nav package for confirmation.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There was a short pause. “Coordinates acknowledged and confirmed. I’ll get our sky-walker to the bridge, and we’ll be off.”
“Just make sure you’ve first pulled all the data you can on those derelict ships,” Ar’alani said. “I want us to take back as complete a picture as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lakinda said again. “We already have most of it. I’ll make sure we get the rest.”
“Good,” Ar’alani said. “Let me know before you leave.”
“You realize,” Wutroow said softly as Ar’alani keyed off the comm, “that there is one other possibility for the carnage out there we haven’t considered. The rest of the Nikardun may have left all their unflyable ships here, riddled with lasers and missiles, in the hope that we would assume these last two posts had both been destroyed and wouldn’t bother checking out the other one.”
“While whatever forces they have left assemble there with the goal of making one last glorious assault somewhere?” Ar’alani suggested.
“Okay; so you did consider it,” Wutroow said drily. “Apologies for my impudence.”
“No apology needed,” Ar’alani said. “Part of your job is to watch for anything I might have missed.”
“I do my best, ma’am,” Wutroow said. “I assume you have a strategy in mind should that turn out to be the situation?”
“Of course,” Ar’alani said. “Inflict as much damage as we can, then run like a whisker cub and get help.”
“Sounds good to me,” Wutroow said. “And then, of course, not tell Lakinda that she was right about us going into the packbull’s field alone?”
“On the contrary,” Ar’alani said. “She and Thrawn will be the first ones I call in to help finish them off.”
“Of course,” Wutroow said, maintaining a straight face. “Ah. The confidence and absence of false pride that comes of already having achieved flag rank. Would that all officers saw things so clearly.”
“Would that they did,” Ar’alani agreed, giving Wutroow’s straight face right back at her.
Which would never happen, of course. Family pressures and ambitions would forever be an entanglement to the officers and warriors of the fleet, despite the Council’s best efforts to eliminate such influences.
Most of Ar’alani’s colleagues condemned the politics. Ar’alani had found it more effective to simply accept the fact and factor it into her assessments and plans.
“Admiral?” Larsiom called from the comm station. “Senior Captain Lakinda reports the Grayshrike is ready to leave.”
Ar’alani tapped the mike switch. “Safe travels, Captain Lakinda,” she said. “We’ll plan to rendezvous back here once we’ve returned from our individual tasks.”
“Understood,” Lakinda said. “Safe travels to you as well, Admiral, and successful combat.” The comm keyed off. Ar’alani turned to look out the bridge viewport just as the Grayshrike disappeared into hyperspace.
“Orders, Admiral?” Wutroow asked.
“Finish scanning the derelict ships,” Ar’alani said. “Then do a cursory sweep of the base itself.”
“Just a cursory one, ma’am?”
“We’ll save the full survey until after we’ve dealt with the final listening post,” Ar’alani explained. “Hopefully, Lakinda and Thrawn will be back in time to join in the fun.”
“Because cataloging is such fun,” Wutroow said. “And after our cursory sweep?”
Ar’alani straightened her shoulders. “We end the Nikardun threat. Forever.”
It was nearly the end of Samakro’s watch when the Springhawk’s bridge hatch opened and Thalias came in.
Though really, in Samakro’s critical opinion, it wasn’t so much came in as it was staggered in. The young woman’s eyes were half closed, her shoulders were sagging, and her general air was of someone who was dead on her feet.
“Good evening, Mid Captain Samakro,” Thalias said as she made her way toward him. “I’m here to pick up Che’ri.”
“I hope you don’t mean that literally,” Samakro said, looking her up and down. “You look barely able to pick up yourself.”
“I’m okay,” Thalias said, peering past his shoulder at the girl seated at the navigator’s station. “It’s been an hour since her last break?”
Samakro checked the log. “Just under,” he said. “I was going to have Lieutenant Commander Azmordi bring her out in about five minutes.”
“I’d like to wait a bit, if you don’t mind,” Thalias said, stopping beside him and consulting her chrono. “About fifteen more minutes.”
“Why fifteen?”
“Because that’s when she’ll be at a lighter stage of Third Sight,” Thalias said. “It’ll be easier to bring her out then. It’ll also leave her with less physical and mental stress.”
Samakro frowned. He’d never heard about Third Sight stages before. Or any of the rest of it, for that matter. “So you’re saying an hour and ten minutes is the optimal time?”
“Well, it is for Che’ri,” Thalias said, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples. “Not necessarily for anyone else. Third Sight stages roughly mirror a sky-walker’s normal sleep cycle, and for Che’ri that’s an hour ten.”
“How do you know what her sleep cycle is?” Samakro asked. An unpleasant image flashed through his mind: Thalias sitting silently in the girl’s room, watching her eyelids and taking notes on her questis.
Thalias gave him a wan smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not staring at her while she sleeps. I had her wear a diagnostic patch for a few days, that’s all. Her cycles are actually pretty consistent, which makes them easy to work with. I remember mine being all over the map when I was her age. Still are, really.”
“Interesting,” Samakro said, looking over at Che’ri. “Why haven’t I ever heard of this before?”
“Probably because most caregivers and sky-walkers don’t know about it, either,” Thalias said. “I only figured it out after I lost Third Sight and left the program.”
“And it really works?”
Thalias gestured toward Che’ri. “It’s worked the last two times I tried the coordination. We’ll find out in a few minutes if third time’s the charm.”
“So we will.” Samakro eyed her. “You sure you want her to see you like this?”
Thalias gave him a patient look through her half-lidded eyes. “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about. The Magys wanted to perform a religious ceremony to the Beyond before we arrive, and it requires at least two observers.”
“Those observers being her companion and you?”
Thalias nodded. “I tried reminding her that I’m not of her people or their religion, but apparently all that matters in this one are the numbers.” She considered. “The fact that she sees former sky-walkers as having touched the Beyond—whatever she means by that—may also have been a factor.”
“Possibly the biggest.” And since Thrawn had put her in charge of the aliens, she probably hadn’t felt like she could refuse. “Do you understand this Beyond she talks about?”
“Not really,” Thalias admitted. “But I suppose there are people who don’t understand how sky-walkers can navigate the Chaos, either.”
Samakro shrugged. “I know they can do it. Do I also have to understand how?”
Thalias smiled faintly. “I never understood how hyperdrives work, either. If that answers your question.”
“More or less,” Samakro said. “I rather like religions that have a visitors-welcome policy. You did run a bioclear scan first on whatever you drank, right?”
“Actually, there was no drinking involved,” Thalias said. “Or incense, or vapor, or skin rubs. This”—she pointed at her eyes—“is from a sort of audiovisual kaleidoscope she used in the ceremony. Fascinating to watch, but it leaves you feeling like you were run over by a skytruck.”
“It’s usually a little hard to get run over by something that’s flying.”
“Agreed,” Thalias said. “My statement stands.”
“Interesting,” Samakro said. “You should probably see about buying one of the gadgets. There are people in the Ascendancy who pay good money to feel that rotten.”
“Yes, I knew a few of those back in school,” Thalias said. “I’ll see if I can work a deal with the Magys.”
“Good luck,” Samakro said. “I’m still trying to figure out why syncing Third Sight to the sleep cycle isn’t part of standard procedure. We’ve been using sky-walkers for hundreds of years. Even if the caregivers missed the connection, someone must have noticed it. We Chiss are nothing if not good record keepers.”
“I don’t know,” Thalias said, and Samakro saw her throat tighten briefly. “I suppose because it’s easier to specify a standard ten-minutes-per-hour break, which for most sky-walkers is probably close enough, than to order the caregiver to take the time to calculate a more personal cycle.”
“Because it’s easier?” Samakro growled. “This is the Expansionary Defense Fleet, Caregiver. We don’t do things just because they’re easier. We do things because they work. The sky-walkers are the key to our entire mission statement. We need to protect that resource as much as we can.”
Thalias gave a little snort. “You make it sound like she’s just another plasma sphere launcher.”
“So?” Samakro countered. “We’re all resources here—you, me, the whole damn Springhawk. That’s how you have to think in the military.”
“Sorry,” Thalias said with thinly veiled sarcasm. “I always assumed we were real, live, socially valuable people.”
“I didn’t say we weren’t,” Samakro said. “But captains who start to think of their officers and warriors that way will never be able to send anyone into danger. We have to numb that kind of compassion if we’re going to do our jobs.”
“Because otherwise you’ll hurt every time one of them dies?”
Samakro looked away from her, all the ghosts from his past flickering across his memory. “We hurt anyway,” he said quietly. “That’s why we do our damnedest to make sure those lost lives are minimal, and that none of them are wasted.”
Thalias shivered. “Just as well I’m not in your position. I don’t think I could handle it.”
“You’re running close enough to it as it is,” Samakro said. “No. I don’t buy that the caregivers just don’t want to put extra effort into their jobs. There has to be another reason.”
“Like I said, they probably haven’t noticed,” Thalias said. “I don’t know if you knew this, but I’m the first sky-walker in at least a hundred years who’s gone on to become a caregiver. And as I said, it took me years to figure all this out. Someone who’d never been through the program wouldn’t even think to look.”
“Yes, I’d heard about that,” Samakro said, feeling his eyes narrowing in thought. “Seems strange. I’d think you’d be the perfect candidates for the job.”
“I’ve heard most sky-walkers don’t really want to come back,” Thalias said. “They leave the program exhausted, and don’t want anything more to do with it.”
“Maybe,” Samakro said. “But remember what I said about easier a minute ago?”
“You can’t force someone to do this job,” Thalias said. “If they resent it, or don’t want to do it, the sky-walker suffers. There are already enough caregivers in the program who just seem to be going through the motions.”
“I suppose,” Samakro said reluctantly. “It strikes me as something that ought to be looked into.”
“I agree,” Thalias said. “Good luck getting anyone to listen to you.” She cocked her head a little. “May I ask you a question, Mid Captain?”
“Go ahead.”
“What do you think of this mission?” she asked. “Because at the beginning I had the feeling you didn’t approve.”
“Whether or not I approve of a given decision is irrelevant,” Samakro said. “Senior Captain Thrawn has given an order. It’s my job to obey it.”
“I know,” Thalias said. “I’m just saying you seem to be…I don’t know. Calmer right now, or at least less stiff.” She offered a small smile. “This conversation, for one thing. I don’t think you and I have ever had anything like it before. I was just wondering if that calmer attitude toward me means you’re also calmer about the mission.”
“Interesting leap of logic,” Samakro said, thinking quickly, a small part of his mind noting the unusual combination of irony and opportunity that had just presented itself. “Fine. Since you ask…Senior Captain Thrawn and I did some checking on the location of the refugees’ planet, and it turns out it’s not all that far from the final group of Nikardun bases we’ve been clearing out. We’re now wondering if what the Magys called a civil war was actually a massive attack by General Yiv.”
“I thought he liked to conquer planets, not destroy them.”
“Usually he did,” Samakro said. “We’re guessing his plan here was to wipe out the whole population, or reduce it far enough that he could move in his forces without leaving any possible resistance. We think that when we arrive we’ll find the rest of the Nikardun survivors there, probably under the command of one or more of Yiv’s warlords, gathering their forces for a renewed military campaign.”
He stopped. Thalias’s mouth, he noted, was hanging slightly open. “That’s a…terrifying thought,” she said.
“Isn’t it?” Samakro agreed soberly. “Anyway, if our analysis is true, this will be our chance to finally make an end to the whole Nikardun threat.”
“Which is what we’re supposed to be doing out here anyway,” Thalias said, her eyes narrowed in thought.
“Exactly,” Samakro said. “One of those serendipitous things that always seem to fall across Thrawn’s path.” He gestured toward the nav station. “About time for Che’ri to come out of Third Sight, isn’t it?”
Thalias seemed to shake herself. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.” Nodding to him, she crossed to the nav station and leaned over Che’ri’s shoulder. Samakro couldn’t hear what she said to the girl, but there was a sudden half-seen movement. A moment later, Thalias stepped back, holding the girl’s hand and helping her out of the chair.
“Welcome back,” Samakro said as the two of them reached him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” Che’ri said, frowning a little. “I didn’t really go anywhere.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” Samakro said. “I believe you and your caregiver are on for some food and rest now.”
“Unless you need me,” Che’ri offered. “Lieutenant Commander Azmordi told me we’re only a few hours from where we’re going.”
Samakro flicked a glance at Thalias. She wasn’t saying anything, but the look in her eye told him clearly that the correct answer was an emphatic no. “That’s true,” he said to Che’ri. “But you’ve already put in a full day’s work, and you need rest as much as anybody else. We’ll go jump-by-jump for a bit, and then you can bring us the rest of the way in. Okay?”
“Okay.” Che’ri looked up at Thalias. “What are we going to eat?”
“That’s a surprise,” Thalias said, smiling at her. “But you’ll like it—I promise. Good evening, Mid Captain.”
“Good evening, Caregiver; Sky-walker.”
They walked past him, Che’ri making some comment about how she’d know what was cooking before they even got through the hatch to their suite. Then they were gone, the bridge hatch closing behind them.
Samakro turned back. “Let’s get back to hyperspace, Commander Azmordi,” he ordered. “Best jump-by-jump you can do without wrapping us around a star or asteroid.”
“Yes, sir,” Azmordi said, flashing Samakro a smile before turning back to his board.
Samakro settled back in his chair, feeling a grim satisfaction. The story he’d spun for Thalias was a complete soap bubble, of course—there was no way Yiv would have set up in the middle of nowhere that way, especially not if he had to spend the resources to burn it to bedrock first.
But Thalias had originally come aboard the Springhawk as a spy. She’d never fully admitted it, and would probably deny it vehemently if she was asked. But Samakro had never had any doubts.
And now he’d given her a plausible-sounding story, with Thrawn’s name attached. A story that, when it was proved false, would probably be used by Thrawn’s enemies to chastise him for ridiculous knee-jerk thinking.
A story that could only have come from her.
The trap was laid. Thalias was a spy…and when the story surfaced in the Syndicure, he would finally be able to prove it.
Thurfian had just put the finishing touches on the latest agreement when, with perfect timing, Speaker Thyklo summoned him to her office.
“Syndic Prime,” Thyklo greeted him gravely. “I wanted to know the status of your discussions with the Krovi.”
“They’re finished, Speaker,” Thurfian said.
Thyklo’s eyebrows went up. “Already?”
“Already,” Thurfian confirmed. “We’re going to supply them with enough transports for their projected harvest overage in return for one percent of that overage.”
“Only one?” Thyklo asked, the eyebrows going back down. “I assumed you’d be able to do a bit better than that.”
“I decided to accept current losses in return for future gains,” Thurfian said. “This way we’ll have their gratitude to tap into when it’ll be most useful to us.”
“Perhaps,” Thyklo said. “Still, I’ve often found gratitude to be a currency that may or may not hold its value.”
“In this case, I think it will,” Thurfian said. “But that’s really just the surface stratagem, the one everybody’s supposed to see. More important to me is the fact that the Stybla are also helping the Krovi, and having our people there should give us some insights into the Stybla transport system. If we can learn how to match their efficiency, it will pay off immensely for us in the future.”
“Interesting approach,” Thyklo said thoughtfully. “Nicely layered, and definitely a valuable goal if you can pull it off.” Her expression hardened. “Just make sure your spies aren’t caught.”
“They never are,” Thurfian assured her.
“And make sure they don’t push or prod or do anything else that could be seen as aggressive,” the Speaker continued. “The Stybla may be mostly shippers and merchants now, but in the old days…well, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thurfian said, keeping the flicker of contempt out of his voice. Like everyone else in the Ascendancy, he knew the legends of the Stybla and their ancient fame and glory. In his opinion, a family that cared so little about power that they simply gave it away deserved every bit of the obscurity they got. “It will just be passive observation and information gathering. Nothing more blatant.”
“Good,” Thyklo said. “What about the Irizi? Weren’t they also trying to work a deal with the Krovi?”
“They were,” Thurfian said. “But I spoke with Syndic Zistalmu, and he’s agreed to step aside and let us take this one.”
“In return for…?”
“In return, we’re giving them free rein to work with the Boadil on their new Rentor defense platform.”
“Which we didn’t want to be bothered with anyway,” Thyklo said nodding. “Very good, Syndic Prime. Adroitly done.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Briefly, Thurfian wondered if the Speaker would be so complimentary if she knew Zistalmu’s cooperation was largely a result of the fact that he and Thurfian were working together to take down Thrawn. Probably not. “Now that the Krovi discussions are out of the way, I’ll be meeting with two of the Csap syndics this afternoon to discuss their proposed Dioya building project.”
“Excellent,” Thyklo said. She cocked her head slightly. “I have to say, Thurfian, that the Patriarch had some reservations about my elevating you to Syndic Prime. But you’re well on the way to proving even to him that I made the right decision.”
“You honor me, Speaker,” Thurfian said. “I hope you’ll never be disappointed in my work. I assume you’ll have something else ready for me when I’m finished with the Csap?”
“Actually, I have one now, if you want to take it with you,” Thyklo said, her voice sober as she tapped her questis and sent him a file. “This one’s an internal matter. Two of your fellow syndics are engaged in some kind of feud, and while it’s still at a low level I want it stopped before it spills out into the Syndicure.”
Thurfian nodded as he glanced at the first page. Unfortunately, internal squabbles were all too common among the Aristocra, and they could be more detrimental to a family than any of the more visible interfamily rivalries. “I’ll deal with it, Speaker,” he said.
“Privately, of course,” Thyklo reminded him. “And now I’ll let you get back to your work. Good day, Syndic Prime. Be sure to offer my greetings to the Csap.”
A minute later, Thurfian was heading back down the corridor, his mind busy sorting out the rest of the day’s tasks and priorities.
The Csap meeting would be first, easiest, and potentially the most valuable. A discussion of Dioya, where the presence of that Paccian refugee ship had first started the Ascendancy on its path to General Yiv, would be the perfect opportunity to remind them of Thrawn’s risky adventurism. Whether or not the Csap agreed with Thurfian’s subtle warnings, they would still leave the meeting with those thoughts lurking in the backs of their minds. After that he would call the two warring Mitth syndics to his office, find out what was going on, and hopefully find a way to smooth things over. When that was finished, he and Zistalmu were scheduled to hold another of their meetings in the March of Silence.
And after that, once he was finally back in the privacy of his own quarters, he would continue his study of Caregiver Thalias. She was to have been the key in his private duel with Thrawn, an asset who would remain totally invisible until he was ready to use her. The fact that she’d defied him once, and in fact had found a way to wriggle out from under his thumb, still rankled.
But she was still in place, she was still invisible, and there would still be opportunities to use her. And Thurfian had long since learned the value of patience.
His first attempt to use her had failed. His next attempt would not.