“Not at all, and I insist,” Shimkif said firmly, her lipless slit of a mouth curving up at the corners in a pleased smile. “Your family has been so kind to us. It’s the least we can do by way of thanks.”
“And for frightening you last week,” Frosif added, pulling her hand triumphantly from behind her back and revealing a smaller brooch of a different design, “we want you to have this one.” Stepping up to Lakris, she took the midager’s hand, turned it palm up, and placed the brooch in it.
“Oh!” Lakris breathed. She shot a look at Lakphro, looked back at the brooch, then up again at Frosif. “No, that’s silly. You were the one who was frightened, not me. I should be the one giving you something.”
“Not at all,” Haplif said, draping his arms around his wife’s and daughter’s shoulders in a show of solidarity. “We’re happy to be able to give back at least a little for your generous hospitality. That is, if it’s all right with you?” he added, looking questioningly at Lakphro.
Finally, Lakphro thought sourly, someone was asking him.
No, it wasn’t all right. Not a bit. The gifts were way more extravagant than anyone in his family deserved, way out of line with what little they’d actually done for the visitors. It left him with the sense of being beholden to Haplif and all the rest of the Agbui, and he hated that feeling.
Maybe that was the point of the gifts. Ever since the brass-tooth sealer incident, when Lakjiip had swooped in from Councilor Lakuviv’s office and Lakphro had pulled her aside with the question of whether the Agbui might be war refugees, he’d had the creepy feeling that Haplif was keeping a particularly close eye on him.
It might be his imagination. But then again, it might not.
Was he right about the Agbui? Were they more than they claimed? Or less, or maybe just different?
Lakphro had since then looked into the Ascendancy’s official policy on accepting war refugees, and it wasn’t very encouraging. If the Agbui were trying to find somewhere permanent to live, they had a lot of hurdles to jump, and even then the end result was far from assured. They would most definitely not want questions about them being bandied around at this early stage of the process.
So was this sudden generosity Haplif’s way of encouraging Lakphro and his family to keep their mouths shut?
Which, of course, would make it more than just a social obligation. That would make it a bribe.
Lakphro hated bribes. He’d never taken one in his life, and in fact had quit a perfectly good job in his youth when he’d found that a supervisor was taking them. His gut instinct was to bluntly ask the question right here and now, to make Haplif tell him exactly what was going on with him and his so-called cultural nomads.
But he couldn’t. Not while his wife and daughter were gazing at their new prizes with such excitement and happiness. Lakansu had always loved exotic-looking jewelry, and Lakris was clearly following in her mother’s footsteps. Lakphro couldn’t ruin their moment.
Maybe that, too, was the point of the gifts.
“My wife is right,” he said instead. “These are far more than we deserve for anything we’ve done. But if one wants the joy of giving, one must in turn accept the humbleness of receiving, so as to allow others their own joy. You honor us, and we humbly accept your gifts.”
“Thank you,” Haplif said. “I like those words about the joy of giving. Is that a Chiss proverb?”
“I don’t know if it’s anything official,” Lakphro said. “It was something my parents used to say when I didn’t want to accept some gift or favor.”
“I think Chiss in general tend to have a problem with false pride,” Lakansu added, taking her husband’s arm.
“False pride,” Haplif said as if trying out the sound. “What does that mean?”
“There are several shades of meaning,” Lakansu said. “In this case—”
“Hold it,” Lakphro interrupted as the comm on his shoulder band vibrated. “I’ve got a call.” He keyed it on. “Lakphro.”
“Rancher, this is Senior Aide Lakjiip,” the woman’s familiar voice came back. “Do you happen to know where Haplif is?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s right here,” Lakphro said, frowning as he took a step toward the alien. “Haplif, it’s Councilor Lakuviv’s senior aide. She wants to talk to you.”
“Really?” Haplif said, sounding surprised as he took his own step toward Lakphro. “I thought the official visits for this week had ended.”
“Don’t ask me, ask her,” Lakphro said. He started to pull the comm from the shoulder band, remembered just in time Lakuviv’s strict orders that no Chiss technology was to be given to or even handled by any of the aliens. “Speak here—right here—into the comm.”
“Yes, I know.” Haplif leaned toward his shoulder. “This is Haplif of the Agbui.”
“This is Senior Aide Lakjiip,” Lakjiip again identified herself. “A freighter claiming to be from another group of Agbui has entered Celwis space. Do you know anything about it?”
“Nothing specific, Senior Aide,” Haplif said. “It may be here to see if we need assistance, or to gather a share of our spices if we were sufficiently blessed with land and climate to have a surplus.”
“Do you?” Lakjiip asked.
“I believe we can spare some for our brethren,” Haplif said. “They may also be bringing more metal filaments for jewelry production.”
There was just the slightest of pauses. “Which ones?”
Lakphro frowned. Lakjiip’s voice had suddenly gone odd.
“Presumably, all four of those we use,” Haplif said. “Though sometimes we use only two or three. Where are they landing? Perhaps I should first ask if they will be permitted to land.”
“Councilor Lakuviv’s talking with Patriel Lakooni,” Lakjiip said. “But I’m sure she’ll permit it. We’ll have them put down at the main Redhill field. I’ll send a skycar for you.”
“A moment, Senior Aide?” Lakphro put in as a sudden idea occurred to him. “Sending a skycar will take extra time, and freighters are often on a tight schedule. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to bring Haplif to you and the Agbui ship and then bring him back here.”
“There’s really no need for that,” Haplif said, his voice now also subtly changed. “I’m sure you have work to do.”
“My wife and daughter can easily handle things for a few hours,” Lakphro said. “Besides, you’ve been so generous and kind to us that it’s the least I can do.”
“I have no objection,” Lakjiip said. “Our patrol ships are in contact with them, and as soon as the Patriel gives her authorization Councilor Lakuviv will have them escort the ship to Redhill. Can you be here in an hour or so?”
“No problem, ma’am,” Lakphro said. “I’ll let Haplif go get whatever he needs while I fire up our skytruck.”
“Thank you, Rancher,” Lakjiip said. “We’ll see you soon.” She keyed off.
“Nice day for a flight, anyway,” Lakphro commented, taking a step away from Haplif as he keyed off the comm. “I’ll get the truck and meet you at your ship.”
“Yes, of course,” Haplif said. To Lakphro’s ear he didn’t sound nearly as happy as he had a minute ago when he and Shimkif were handing out jewelry. Maybe he didn’t like accepting favors any more than Lakphro did. “Shimkif and I will collect all the spices we can spare to offer our brethren.”
“Right,” Lakphro said. “I’ll be ready.”
The aliens turned and headed toward the Agbui ship. “You’re really going to go all the way to Redhill?” Lakansu asked, sounding more surprised than annoyed.
“It seemed a reasonable offer,” Lakphro said, trying to sound casual. “There’s something I wanted to talk to the Councilor or senior aide about anyway. Can I see that brooch?”
“It’s not about our yubal assessment again, is it?” Lakansu asked as she handed it over.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Lakphro assured her, peering closely at the jewelry. The thing was quite beautiful, he had to admit, with four different metallic threads weaving in and out of one another like a cross between a hair braid and an ancient wedge harp. “Oh, and would you go pack a travel bag for me? I don’t know any reason why I’d get stuck in Redhill overnight, but it’s always good to be prepared.”
“All right,” his wife said, giving him a slightly suspicious look.
Not without reason, Lakphro had to admit. He’d had his fair share of headbutts with the Councilor’s number-squinters in the past. But today wasn’t going to be one of those. “Thank you,” he called after her as she headed for the house. “Lakris, would you go check on the herd for me, make sure that water spigot didn’t get jammed again?”
“Sure, Dad,” Lakris said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
“And make sure your lurestick is set on lure this time,” he added into her shoulder. “The last time you zapped Briscol it took him fifteen minutes to unknot, and he walked funny for two days.”
“Yeah, but none of the others gave me any trouble after that,” she reminded him cheerfully as she pulled back from the hug. “Drive safe.”
“I always drive safe.”
“Except when you drive like a maniac.”
“Which I never do,” Lakphro insisted with mock reproof. “Unless I need to.”
“Well, don’t need to,” she admonished him. “We don’t want our guest screaming out of the truck the minute you hit ground again. Bad for the Ascendancy’s image.”
“Trust me,” Lakphro promised. “I’ll be the most boring driver in the sky.”
“Good,” she said. “See you tonight. Be boring on the way home, too.” She scampered off, tucking her own new brooch safely away in her chest pocket.
Lakphro took a deep breath, sliding his wife’s jewelry into his own pocket as he turned toward the skytruck. Hopefully, he and Haplif could get out of here before Lakansu remembered to ask for it back.
Fortunately, Lakansu either forgot about the brooch or just decided her husband had enough other things on his mind. She tossed his overnight bag in the backseat and waved as he got the skytruck a couple of meters off the ground and headed over to the Agbui ship. Haplif was waiting with a bag of his own, not much bigger than Lakphro’s, and three minutes later they were in the eastbound air lane burning through the sky toward Redhill.
The ride was mostly quiet. Haplif tried a couple of times to start a conversation, but Lakphro wasn’t much interested in talking. After he’d answered a few questions with single words or short comments the alien took the hint and shut up. Halfway to Redhill he got another call from Lakjiip, who confirmed the Agbui freighter was on its way down and directed him to the official family landing area on the far side of the city from the main commercial site. Well within the hour Lakjiip had specified, Lakphro set the skytruck on the ground a hundred meters from the newly arrived freighter.
A small but impressive group was already assembled near the alien ship. Councilor Lakuviv was standing on one side, talking earnestly with one of the newcomers. From the elaborate pendant the alien was wearing Lakphro guessed he was someone important, possibly the ship’s captain or maybe even some official. Off to the other side were Senior Aide Lakjiip and a few other Xodlak family officials holding some kind of discussion with three more of the aliens. Lakjiip looked over as Lakphro’s skytruck settled to the ground, and by the time he and Haplif had climbed out she was there to greet them. “Haplif of the Agbui,” she said, nodding to Haplif. “Rancher Lakphro,” she added with another nod. “Thank you for your assistance, Rancher. Are those the spices they wanted, Haplif?”
“Yes,” Haplif said, hefting his bag. “I offer you the chance to examine them if you wish.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Lakjiip gestured back at the group she’d just left, and Lakphro now saw there were two satchels half again the size of his overnight bag sitting on the ground beside two of the Chiss. “As you anticipated, they’ve brought more metal for your jewelry.”
“Excellent,” Haplif said. “I would feel better if you would be kind enough to examine the bags before I take possession. I wouldn’t want any question to arise in the future as to whether your Agbui servants brought evil or contraband to your world.”
“Oh, we’ve already searched them,” Lakjiip said. She cocked her head slightly. “You didn’t tell me they would also be bringing in finished jewelry.”
“Did they?” Haplif chuckled, shaking his head. “The combination of long space travel and the firm belief that everyone is an artist. This sometimes happens with long voyages, when the crew becomes bored and resources are readily available.”
“So the crew did these?” Lakjiip said. “Interesting. The pieces look as good as the one you gave Councilor Lakuviv.”
“I’m sure they do,” Haplif said. “But surface quality and long-term durability are not necessarily synonymous. Still, no harm. We’ll examine them and make alterations if needed.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Lakjiip said. “You can take them whenever you wish.”
“I thank you.” Haplif took a step toward the group, then paused, frowning at the ship. “I’m sorry. I just noticed…is that battle damage?”
“So it would appear,” Lakjiip said, turning her head to look. “Not from the patrol ships that brought it in, of course,” she added.
“No, no, that was not at all my thought,” Haplif assured her hastily. “I merely wondered if there were pirates or other dangers they passed through before coming here.”
Lakphro’s mind flashed back to Haplif’s daughter and her reaction to Lakris’s brass-tooth sealer. “Or maybe there are dangers right there at your home,” he muttered.
Lakjiip sent him a puzzled look. Haplif ignored the comment. “Well, I can ask the captain,” the alien said. He bowed to Lakjiip and headed off toward the group with the bags.
“They’ll probably want to talk some, maybe compare notes,” Lakjiip said to Lakphro. “But I don’t expect it to take too long. If you want, you can wait in the receiving lounge over there. There are some refreshments laid out if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you,” Lakphro said. “I have a question,” he added quickly as she turned away.
Reluctantly, she turned back. “Yes?”
“I have this thing.” Lakphro pulled out the brooch Shimkif had given his wife. “I was wondering how valuable it was, like maybe enough to constitute a bribe—”
“Where did you get that?” Lakjiip demanded, snatching it from his hand.
“Haplif gave it to me,” Lakphro said, twitching back from the unexpected intensity of her reaction. “Actually, to my wife—”
“You’re not supposed to have this,” Lakjiip said, cutting him off. “No one is supposed to have these.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m confiscating it, under the authority of Councilor Lakuviv and the Xodlak family.” She slid the brooch into her pocket. “And you’re not to mention this to anyone. You hear me?”
“No, I don’t hear you,” Lakphro growled, breaking free of the momentary mental paralysis. “You can’t just take my property. What gives you the right?”
“The authority of Councilor—”
“Yes, I know what you said,” Lakphro interrupted. “But there are laws that govern property confiscation, and there are rationales to be delineated and protocols to be followed. You can’t just take something from a Xodlak family member and stuff it away in a pocket and not expect to hear about it.”
“I’m not going to hear about it,” Lakjiip said, her voice abruptly low and dark, “because you’re not going to talk about it. Not to me; not to Councilor Lakuviv; not to anyone. Do you understand, Rancher Xodlak’phr’ooa? Anyone.”
Lakphro stared at her, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. No one on Celwis used anyone’s full name after they’d first been introduced. Not unless the circumstances were official, legal, or extraordinary.
“Do your wife and daughter know about this?” Lakjiip continued.
“Yes,” Lakphro said, his heart pounding. Her next likely question would be—
“Did Haplif give you any more of them?”
Fortunately, that half second of anticipation had already set up his mind and mouth with the proper answer. “No,” he said.
For a long moment Lakjiip stared at him, her eyes hard, wondering perhaps if that was a lie. Then her lip twitched, and she gave a reluctant nod. “Warn them not to say anything about this,” she said. “If Haplif offers you another one…” She hesitated. “You can accept it if you want. But then you’re to call me immediately.”
“All right,” Lakphro said. “But—”
“Immediately,” she said. “I know you don’t understand, Lakphro, but trust me when I say this is a matter of deepest security. The ripples from this day will stretch all the way to the Patriarch, possibly even beyond that to the Syndicure itself. No one—no one—is to know about these.” She patted the pocket holding the brooch. “Do you understand?”
“You just said I didn’t,” Lakphro said sourly.
Her face hardened. “Fine—be that way. Just keep it to yourself.” She took a deep breath, some of the stress lines in her face smoothing out. “Go wait in the lounge. I’ll come get you when Haplif’s ready to leave.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He trudged across the field toward the reception building, his heart thudding, his mind a strange combination of spinning and numb.
What the hell?
Was the brooch poison? Was it dangerous in some other way? Was it evidence of some horrific crime?
Or was it even worse? Was it something so insanely outrageous that he would never in a million years think of it? Could the brooch be a treasure map—or even better, half a treasure map—to some fortune in wealth or technology that had been lost in the millennia since the Ascendancy retreated to its worlds from its ill-advised ventures in Lesser Space? There were rumors of such pieces of alien technology, supposedly buried in secret tombs and research labs only the Patriarchs knew about. Even worse, could the metal strands somehow encode a detailed plan for an alien invasion?
He shook his head in disgust. Right. And with that, it was time to haul himself back from the edge of reality before he fell off.
But if the brooch was gone, the memory of Lakjiip’s intensity remained. Whether this was as important as she’d said, there was no denying that she at least believed it was.
It was a puzzle, but not one he was going to solve today. It would take some thought and some discussion, first with Lakansu, and after that perhaps with trusted friends.
Probably not with Lakris, though, he decided regretfully. His daughter was smart enough, but telling a midager a secret was always a tricky proposition, especially when it was one that would get them all in serious trouble if she slipped up. It was going to be awkward enough explaining to his wife how he’d lost her new jewelry; he didn’t need to set himself up for an equally unpleasant future conversation with Councilor Lakuviv.
Hopefully, he and Lakansu could solve it themselves. If they couldn’t, the critical question would be who they could turn to for advice.
Picking up his pace, wondering what refreshments the Councilor’s people had set out, he began making a mental list of people he trusted.
“So I was right,” Haplif said, nodding sagely as he and Lakuviv gazed up at the side of the Agbui freighter. “I saw this—all the way from over there—and I was right. Battle damage.”
“It is indeed,” Lakuviv confirmed. “A run-in with pirates, the captain said.”
Though from the way the captain had described the incident, Lakuviv had the sense it was less battle damage and more running-like-a-whisker-cub damage. The story had been related with a certain vagueness, but given that Lakuviv couldn’t see a single hull emplacement that looked like a laser, particle beam, or missile tube he wasn’t surprised the captain had chosen to grab for hyperspace at the first hint of trouble.
“Alas,” Haplif said ruefully. “We so often are plagued with such dreadful beings.”
“Yes, there are way too many of them out there,” Lakuviv said. “Have you ever considered arming your ships?”
“A futile effort,” Haplif said, shaking his head. “We are cultural nomads, not warriors. We have no knowledge of weapons or tactics or battle.”
“It still wouldn’t hurt to have a couple of big fat laser turrets visible,” Lakuviv persisted. “Even if you’re not very good at using them, they’d at least warn potential aggressors that you’re not completely helpless.”
“And then what of our voyages of knowledge and learning?” Haplif asked, a hint of sadness in his voice. “Tell me: Would you have permitted an armed vessel of unknown origin to make a temporary home among your people?”
Lakuviv felt his lip twitch. No, he probably wouldn’t, he had to admit. Even if he’d been willing to host them, the Patriel almost certainly wouldn’t have let them land.
And even if she had, she’d have wanted to keep them in Brickwalk, under heightened security, instead of sending them out to the more open Redhill province.
Which would have been disastrous. Lakuviv knew the Patriel, and was pretty sure she would have simply tossed Haplif’s brooch gift into a drawer somewhere instead of having it analyzed. If that had happened, the Xodlak family would never have recognized the incredible wealth and power the Agbui were sitting on.
“The price of wisdom can be high,” Haplif continued in a philosophical tone. “But we have made our choices, as all beings must.” He gestured at the scorched hull. “We can only hope their next journey will end more safely.”
“We can hope,” Lakuviv agreed. “Where are they going next?”
“Our mining world,” Haplif said. “Well, not our world, really. As far as we can tell, no one owns it. We call it ours because it’s where our mines are.”
Lakuviv felt his chest suddenly tighten. “These are the mines where you get the metals for your jewelry?”
“Yes,” Haplif said. “Ironically, we first sought out the world in the hope there would be a location or two with the right climate and soil for our spices. But that dream proved false.” He made a sort of dry chuckling sound. “Imagine our surprise and delight when we accidentally happened on these rich veins of metal, all but exposed on the surface, that would be perfect for jewelry. We knew then that we’d been guided to that world for a purpose.”
“It would certainly seem so,” Lakuviv said, trying to keep his voice even and only politely interested. “Tell me, do all your metals come from there?”
“Most of them,” Haplif said. “The mines are particularly rich in the blue spinpria, but there’s some of all the others in the same area.”
“Sounds very convenient,” Lakuviv said, hearing his heart rate pick up. Blue spinpria: the metal the Chiss called nyix.
A whole mine of it. A mine, moreover, that was rich enough that the Agbui could afford to make the stuff into trinkets.
A mine that was just sitting on an uninhabited and unclaimed world.
“But of course, the more important issue is the safety of your people,” he said. “I sympathize with them, and certainly the Chiss Ascendancy hates pirates.”
“I thank you for your compassion,” Haplif said. “But what can be done?”
“Well…” Lakuviv paused, as if he was working out a brand-new thought that had just occurred to him. “What if I sent along an escort with your freighter? Obviously, it couldn’t go everywhere with them, but at least it could get them safely to their next destination.”
Haplif turned to him, the dark red and white forehead folds going even more wrinkled. “You would do that for us?” he asked. “You would send one of your mighty Chiss warships to protect us?”
Lakuviv suppressed a scowl. A mighty warship. Once, as one of the Ruling Families, the Xodlak had indeed had its own small fleet of genuine warships.
But that fleet, and the right to fly it, had ended fifty years ago. Now all the Xodlak on Celwis had available were a handful of system patrol ships, little more than oversized gunboats, plus the two decommissioned light cruisers with skeleton crews that acted as planetary defense platforms.
None of which Haplif could possibly know, of course. He and his people would have been escorted to the surface past the watchful lasers of one of the cruisers, and the alien would naturally jump to the conclusion that they were fully functioning warships. He’d no doubt have been even more impressed if he’d gotten a glimpse of the abandoned frigate resting beneath the protection of a cliff wall on Celwis’s largest moon, a half-forgotten relic of the old days of glory.
But Lakuviv remembered the warship, just as he remembered the days of glory. That glory would return, he told himself firmly, and when it did that frigate and those cruisers would once again ply the Ascendancy space lanes bearing the crest of a Ruling Family.
“I don’t know as I’d call them mighty,” he told Haplif. “All I could offer you is a system patrol ship, like the ones that escorted your own ship in from orbit.”
“You speak far too modestly,” Haplif said, his earlier astonishment now turned to eagerness. “Compared with our poor freighters, they are mighty indeed.” His mouth slit curved up at the corners. “I daresay it would seem mighty to the cowardly pirate attackers, too.”
Lakuviv shrugged. But the alien was right. Even a simple Xodlak patrol ship could easily go head-to-head against most of the small pirate groups that lurked outside the Ascendancy’s borders. Certainly it would have no trouble against a gang that was so pathetic it couldn’t even chase down a running Agbui freighter. “Let me talk to the Patriel,” he said. “The patrol ships are under her ultimate authority, but it’s not uncommon for a Councilor to requisition one or two for special purposes. Do you know how far it is to the mining world?”
“Not too far,” Haplif said. “Three or four days’ journey.”
“That’s traveling jump-by-jump, I presume?”
“Excuse me?”
“Jump-by-jump,” Lakuviv said. “That’s where you go only a couple of systems at a time to avoid the problem of unstable hyperspace pathways.”
“No, no, our ships have navigators,” Haplif said brightly. “We hire them on, usually for several months or a year at a time.”
“You have a navigator?” Lakuviv asked, frowning.
“Oh, yes,” Haplif said. “Have I not mentioned him to you?”
“No, I’m quite sure you haven’t,” Lakuviv said, eyeing the alien with new eyes. Navigators with the rare ability to guide ships through the Chaos didn’t come cheap, and most people who hired them only did so for a single trip at a time. Yet Haplif had one who’d been sitting idly at Lakphro’s ranch for almost three weeks now? “So he stays with you through all your trips?”
“Of course,” Haplif said, as if it was obvious. “We never know when we might need to go somewhere new, and traveling to a navigator concourse to hire someone would cost valuable time.”
“And you pay him the whole time he’s with you?”
“Fortunately, he doesn’t charge very much,” Haplif said. “Like us, he also seeks adventure and cultural enlightenment.”
“Fortunately,” Lakuviv agreed. Yet so far as he’d heard—and he’d made sure to hear everything about their alien visitors—this mysterious pilot hadn’t so much as set foot outside Haplif’s ship. What kind of culture could he possibly be absorbing in there?
And then, of course, the obvious answer came to him. “He must really like your spices and jewelry,” he said.
“Indeed,” Haplif said, giving Lakuviv another of those bizarre smiles. “Not so much the spices, for his tastes lie in a different direction from yours or ours. But he likes our modest creations very much. So much so that he’s willing to be paid in them.”
“Ah,” Lakuviv said, hiding a cynical smile. If he was being paid in nyix, he’d have no problem sitting idly around for a few months, either. “Well, we unfortunately don’t have anyone like that on call. If we’re going to keep up with your freighter we’ll have to travel jump-by-jump to one of the navigator concourses and hire someone. Unfortunately, that will also take time.”
“Oh—I know,” Haplif said eagerly. “I have the answer. There’s no need for you to hire a navigator. I would be honored if you would accept the loan of ours.”
“You’d really do that?” Lakuviv asked, trying to sound surprised.
“Of course,” Haplif said. “You are our friends. We also have no reason to leave here, certainly not until our next harvest of spices, and so we can do without him for several weeks at the least.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Lakuviv said. Perfect. He’d been trying to figure out how to talk Haplif into that very solution, and here the alien had come up with the idea on his own. “I’m not sure I should accept, though.”
“It’s no more than the hospitality you yourselves have offered us,” Haplif said. “At any rate, I will hear no objection. Your hospitality aside, your warship will be taking a risk in protecting our freighter. It is the least we can do to add our assistance to their venture.”
“Very well,” Lakuviv said, his mind racing. He’d need a personal representative aboard the ship, of course—he couldn’t risk the officers or crew knowing what he was looking for. Lakjiip was the obvious choice: smart, observant, and loyal. Especially loyal. “I’ll give Patriel Lakooni a call and set it up.”
“Thank you,” Haplif said. “If you’ll allow me to return with Rancher Lakphro, I’ll prepare the navigator.” He frowned. “Perhaps it would be best if you could send another vehicle behind us,” he went on. “I would hate to insist Rancher Lakphro make this same journey twice in the same day.”
“I’ll get Senior Aide Lakjiip on it right away,” Lakuviv promised. “May I ask which guild the navigator belongs to?”
“Of course,” Haplif said. “I understand the hesitation of working with the unfamiliar. But I’m told the Chiss have worked with the Pathfinders before.”
Lakuviv nodded. “Yes, we have. That should work out well.”
“Good,” Haplif said. “We do so want this to work to your satisfaction and convenience.”
“I’m sure it will,” Lakuviv soothed. “Well. Let’s go find Lakphro and get the two of you back to his ranch.”
He smiled, the most genuine smile he’d ever given this alien. “And let’s get this plan off the ground.”