“What time is—? Oh, I see,” Lakbulbup said, and Lakphro could visualize his cousin’s familiar squint as he peered at his display’s readouts. “Why in the world are you calling at this hour?”
“I need a favor,” Lakphro said, making sure to keep his voice low. “I’m calling now because Lakansu and Lakris are still asleep, and I don’t want either of them to know about it.”
“Must be some favor,” Lakbulbup said. “If you’re thinking about running away from home and enlisting in the Expansionary Defense Fleet, forget it. We have some standards, you know. Anyway, after seventeen years of marriage, there can’t be much fight left in you.”
“You might be surprised,” Lakphro said, rolling his eyes. Lakbulbup’s attempts at humor were legendary at family get-togethers. “Listen, I have a piece of jewelry an alien gave me. I need to know—”
“An alien? Who?”
“They’re called Agbui, but I doubt you’ve ever heard of them,” Lakphro said. “This particular group says they’re cultural nomads traveling the Chaos looking for new cultures and insights and some such.”
“Sounds like a mass wandering year.”
“Could be,” Lakphro said. “Maybe Agbui do wandering decades. No idea. The point is that they gave my wife and daughter fancy brooches they’d made out of thin metal wires. Sort of as an apology for—well, that doesn’t matter.”
“What kind of metal is it?”
“I don’t know,” Lakphro said, fishing Lakris’s brooch out of his pocket and peering at it. “There are four different types: gold, silver, red, and blue. The point is that when I showed Lakansu’s to the senior aide to our local Xodlak Councilor, she snatched it right out of my hand, ordered me not to tell anyone about it or let my family tell anyone about it, and then left with it in her pocket.”
“Interesting,” Lakbulbup said, his earlier annoyance at the hour of the call fading away. If there was one thing the man liked, it was a good puzzle. “I don’t suppose you have a way of testing for radioactivity?”
“Actually, I do,” Lakphro said, “and no, it’s not. It’s also not magnetic or prismatic or microwave-responsive. It’s also not particularly heavy.”
“That cuts out a lot of the exotics, anyway. Have you tried running a current through it?”
“I’m afraid to,” Lakphro admitted. “I’ve already lost Lakansu’s. If I fry Lakris’s, I’m going to be in very serious trouble here.”
“Sounds like you’re already in serious trouble,” Lakbulbup said. “Or don’t I count as one of the people you’re not supposed to talk to about this?”
“I know,” Lakphro said with a sigh. “But it’s driving me crazy, and I had to talk to someone. I’ve looked at this thing until I was cross-eyed, and I can’t figure out why Lakjiip went completely airborne when she saw it.”
“Who can tell with politicians?” Lakbulbup said. “I presume you didn’t call just to get this off your chest.”
Lakphro braced himself. “I want to send it to you,” he said. “Your wife’s a scientist, and she knows other scientists. Maybe she can get someone to run tests that I can’t and see things I can’t.”
“You do know her lab is biological, right?” Lakbulbup reminded him. “What you need is someone in metallurgy, or maybe just a professional jeweler.”
“Which I hoped Dilpram could find for me. Can she?”
“Probably,” Lakbulbup said. “But I’m wondering why you’re sending it halfway across the Ascendancy when there are a thousand people on Celwis who could do the same job.”
“A thousand people who might happen to bump into Councilor Lakuviv or his aide?”
“What, do people just casually bump into family officials on Celwis?”
“Redhill’s a folksy province, and Lakuviv’s angling for higher office,” Lakphro said. “And all it would take is one.”
“I suppose.” Lakbulbup’s sigh was audible over the comm. “Okay. I’ll ask her to make a list of people who might be interested. How soon can you get it to me?”
“I can send it out tomorrow morning,” Lakphro said. “Later this morning, rather. If I ship it standard parcel, the schedule says it should reach Naporar in six to eight days.”
“Or you could send it express.”
“Have you checked those rates lately?”
“Point,” Lakbulbup conceded. “Okay, go ahead and toss it in the mail. While I’m waiting for it to get here, I’ll talk to a few people. Discreetly, of course.”
“Thanks, Lakbulbup,” Lakphro said. “And make sure they know they have to be discreet, too.”
“I’ll only approach the ones I know I can trust,” Lakbulbup promised. “Actually, the whole thing’s starting to sound quite intriguing. Very shifty-eyes-and-dark-shadows and all.”
“You’ve been watching too many dramas.”
“Excuse me; I’ve been watching too many?” Lakbulbup countered drily. “I’m not the one shipping contraband jewelry across the Ascendancy in the dead of night.”
“Whatever,” Lakphro said. “Thanks, Lakbulbup. I owe you one.”
“No problem,” Lakbulbup said. “Say hi to Lakansu and Lakris for me. Well, when you can say hi. I assume we’re also not talking about this conversation?”
“Not for the moment, no,” Lakphro said. “Thanks again, and I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asleep,” Lakbulbup said innocently. “But there’s nothing like an early-morning grouse to set the proper mood for the day. Anyway, I had to let the growzer out. Talk to you later, cousin.”
“You too.”
For a long minute after Lakphro clicked off the comm, he sat at his desk, cupping Lakris’s brooch in his palm. It still wasn’t too late to give the jewelry back to his daughter, he knew. He could make up some story about how she must have dropped it in the feedlot, and how he’d found it. Then he could go back to being a rancher and forget the whole thing.
But he couldn’t. Lakjiip had stolen his wife’s brooch, and Lakphro was going to find out why. Whatever it cost him, he was going to find out why.
As a Pathfinder, one of the gifted few who could achieve the trance state that allowed the Great Presence to guide him through the tortured and ever-changing paths of hyperspace, Qilori of Uandualon had spent most of his life in ships or in navigator concourses. He’d seen planets from afar, and actually landed on a number of them, but they’d never felt like home.
Still, as the Chiss pilot flew the Xodlak patrol ship inward, staying behind and to the side of the Agbui freighter it had been escorting, Qilori could see how people who liked nature and planetary life might be impressed by the place.
Wide-open vistas dotted with sparkling blue lakes and rivers. Forest and grassland, rugged mountains, and only occasional swaths of desert. No cities, no construction, untouched by war or pestilence or civilization. Just woodland creatures, and peace and quiet.
Until, of course, those same woodland creatures decided they didn’t want anyone disturbing their land. At that point, any would-be colonists had better hope they were armed.
All in all, Qilori preferred the more ordered life of space.
“Did I hear the Agbui captain call the planet Hoxim?” a voice came from behind him.
Qilori turned, feeling his cheek winglets press flat against his skin. He’d navigated his fair share of Chiss ships, mostly diplomatic vessels but also occasional merchants who needed to get across the Chaos in a hurry and didn’t mind paying the price for a good navigator. Never in all of those missions had he met a single blueskin with even a shred of humor.
But this one, this Senior Aide Lakjiip, was in a class by herself. Her expression seemed to be set in a permanently intense half scowl, her questions were clipped and precise, and he never saw her interact with any of the other Chiss aboard unless she was giving orders or asking for information.
She was on the bridge every time Qilori came out of his trance, looking at him as if wondering what he needed a rest break for. She was there when he left for his brief sleep periods, and she was there when he returned. If the Chiss ever decided to develop mechanical robots, she would probably be the template.
But her personality defects really didn’t matter. She was here, Qilori was here, and his job was to answer her questions. “That’s what the Agbui call it,” he said. “I don’t know if the word means anything in their language or is just a pair of random syllables.”
“What do the natives call it?”
“There aren’t any,” Qilori said. “No natives, no colonists, not even any observation bases. The Agbui wouldn’t be here if they thought they were intruding on someone else’s territory.” He offered her a small smile. “They’re very conscientious about such things.”
If she was impressed by Agbui conscientiousness, she didn’t show it. “You’ve been here more than once, I gather?”
“A few times, yes,” he said. Actually, of course, he’d never even seen the place before today. “It was Haplif’s turn—let me see—about ten months ago to come by to drop off supplies for the workers and collect the processed metal strands to take for his own group and any others who might happen to pass nearby. Like this freighter just did with Haplif’s group.”
“So there aren’t any regular supply runs?”
“I don’t think anything down there is that organized,” Qilori said. “But to be honest, I really don’t know. I’ve gone outside to look around a couple of times, but I frankly prefer the cleanliness of a ship to the untidiness of planetary life.”
“How long have the Agbui been coming here?” Lakjiip asked. “Specifically, how long have they been working these mines?”
“I don’t know,” Qilori said. “Long enough to erect a permanent settlement and a couple of electroextraction processing units. Not more than a few decades at the most, though.”
“And no one else has ever found the place?”
“There are an immense number of worlds in the Chaos,” Qilori reminded her. “This one in particular isn’t close to any of the local civilizations and is also far off the usual travel pathways. There’s really no reason for anyone to come here.”
“Except cultural nomads seeking knowledge, making new friends, and expanding the width and breadth of their lives,” Lakjiip said.
Qilori looked at her in surprise. “That’s very poetic, Senior Aide.”
“It’s what Haplif told Councilor Lakuviv when he first arrived at Redhill,” she said. “I understand the payment for your services is some of their jewelry?”
“And room and board, of course,” Qilori said, feeling his cheek winglets doing a small flutter. This was the delicate part. “Plus the chance to share in the cultural aspects of their travels.”
“Yet you rarely leave the ship,” Lakjiip said.
Qilori shrugged. “As I said, I prefer shipboard life. But I’m able to share in the various local foods they bring in, and can peruse the electronic entertainment and educational options from my quarters.”
“Mm.” Lakjiip looked back out the viewport. “There are a few things I’ll want to check when we get down there. Perhaps you’d be good enough to show me around.”
Qilori felt another twitch of his winglets. Showing her around a place he’d never been to. “Of course,” he said. “I’d be honored.”
Haplif had carefully and thoroughly prepped Qilori for what he’d be heading into. Even so, the Agbui settlement was surprisingly impressive.
The main part was a modest, two-story building to the left of the mine entrance, consisting of a pair of sleeping room wings attached to a combination cafeteria and relaxation center. The two ore processing plants to the right of the mine were marvels of compact design, with power and water sources off to the side and neat stacks of compacted waste material a couple of hundred meters farther on where it wouldn’t bother either the work or the workers. The mine entrance itself was built into the rock face of a mountain, the center section of a spine of volcanic peaks cutting across this part of the planet and fading into the mists in both directions. Groups of Agbui moved briskly back and forth, transferring crates of supplies from the freighter to the residence building and taking smaller crates from a storage shed near the refinery back to the ship.
Qilori had seen the maps, floor plans, and technical specs, of course. But none of them had done the place justice. If the goal had been to make it a combination of efficient, resourceful, and simple, they’d succeeded beautifully.
“At least now we know why no one else bothered with this place,” Lakjiip said from behind him.
Qilori turned. The woman was squatting down beside one of a row of bushes, peering at a shoulder-slung multi-analyzer. “Pardon?” he asked.
“The soil,” she said, straightening up and showing him the display. “Quite acidic. Too acidic for any Chiss food plant to grow. Probably equally hostile to most of the alien foodstuffs in this part of the Chaos. If the whole planet is like this, it’s useless for any large-scale colonization.”
“I assume the acidity means you can’t eat the native plants, either?”
“Probably not.” Lakjiip leaned over the bush for a closer look. “I’ll take a few samples back to Celwis, but most alien plants aren’t useful to us even when the soil is better. You did say the other nomad groups bring in supplies for the miners, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Qilori said. “Though the Agbui might have figured out how to process the local plants. Someone in the cafeteria could probably tell us.”
“Later.” Lakjiip nodded toward the mine. “I want to look in there.”
They were nearly to the mine entrance, and Qilori could see the darkened tunnel stretching back into the mountain, when an Agbui suddenly popped up in front of them. “I’m sorry, gentlebeings,” he said in a tone that made it clear he genuinely was sorry. “No outsiders are permitted in the mine. There are dangers within.”
“What kind of dangers?” Lakjiip asked.
“Those that exist in all mines,” the Agbui told her. “Unsafe footing. The chance of rocks breaking from walls and ceilings. Uncertain air, with occasional outgassings of unhealthy or even toxic fumes.”
Aboard ship, Qilori had noted that Lakjiip was accustomed to getting her own way, and for that first half second he thought she might actually demand the alien step aside. But the moment passed, and she simply nodded. “I understand,” she said. “Perhaps on my next visit.” She half turned and pointed at the refinery. “May I look in there?”
“Sadly, that area is also deemed dangerous to the unwary and unprepared.” The Agbui brightened. “But we can look in through the windows, if you’d like. I would be happy to describe to you the equipment and processes within.”
“That would be helpful,” Lakjiip said. “Lead on.”
They spent the next hour looking in through various of the refinery’s windows while the Agbui gave a running description of what his six fellows inside were doing. Lakjiip asked occasional questions but was mostly content to let him talk.
Qilori spent little of his own time on either the view or the commentary. Most of his attention was spent avoiding a group of large flying insects that seemed to have taken an interest in him. Between his furtive efforts to shoo them away, he kept a wary eye on some beady-eyed lizards squatting beneath one of the nearer bushes, creatures that also seemed inordinately interested in the strangers. It was to his immense relief when Lakjiip finally finished her inspection tour and gave him permission to return to the ship.
They spent the rest of the day there, slept overnight in the patrol ship, and left the next morning in convoy with the Agbui freighter. The aliens weren’t going back to Celwis, or even to another world in the Ascendancy, but Lakjiip had agreed to escort them out of the system to make sure some passing pirate didn’t get ideas. One of the peculiarities of their hyperdrive, the Agbui had explained to Lakjiip, was that their ships needed to be farther out of a planetary gravity well than those of most species before they could enter hyperspace. That greater distance, along with the time it took to cross it, made them especially vulnerable to attack.
Given how much of the rest of the Agbui story was false, Qilori normally would have assumed that was also a lie. But given that he’d already witnessed the longer approach time during his brief association with Haplif, he was inclined to believe it.
Should he ever need to make a quick escape in an Agbui ship, he made a note to himself, he would need to keep that in mind.
He was in the navigational chair, making one final adjustment to his sensory-deprivation headset, when he heard the captain’s voice behind him. “Did you accomplish everything you set out to do here, Senior Aide?”
“Yes,” Lakjiip said, and even through her precise professional tone Qilori could hear her underlying satisfaction. “Yes, I did.”
Qilori smiled. She had accomplished what she wanted. In that case, so had Haplif.
And so had Jixtus.
Still smiling, he settled the helmet on his head and prepared to once again join the Great Presence.
Once again, Thurfian was already waiting at the agreed-upon spot in the March of Silence when Zistalmu arrived.
Only this time, instead of using the time to observe and brood and plan, Thurfian used it to seethe.
How did Thrawn keep pulling these things out of the fire?
“You’re late,” he snapped as Zistalmu stepped into conversational range. “I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”
“My apologies,” Zistalmu said, inclining his head.
Which made Thurfian even angrier. Getting snapped back at would have given him an excuse to verbally lay into the man, and he really, really wanted to lay into someone right now. “I assume you have some kind of excuse?”
“I was working out the details of a contingency plan,” Zistalmu said, still with that maddening calm.
“Oh, so now you have a plan?” Thurfian said scornfully.
“Yes, I do,” Zistalmu said, some of the coolness starting to crack. “Because it certainly looks like yours has run straight into the ground.”
Thurfian took a deep breath, preparing a crushing retort—
And paradoxically, the seething rage faded back into a corner of his mind.
Because Zistalmu was right. Sending Thrawn against the Vagaari had been his idea. And it certainly wasn’t the Irizi’s fault that it hadn’t worked. “It does, doesn’t it?” he conceded. “My apologies for my words and my tone. I was just so furious…I assume you’ve read the report?”
“Twice,” Zistalmu said sourly. “And listened to the diplomatic corps try to decide if they were outraged or salivating at this first real break in relations with the Paataatus.”
“And no doubt listened to General Ba’kif point out oh-so-sincerely that because the ship he attacked was Nikardun, it didn’t even violate the preemptive-strike prohibition.”
“That too,” Zistalmu said. “Also listened to Ba’kif explain that just because the message came in via a Paataatus triad transmitter doesn’t mean it might be some trick. Not when it came wrapped in a military encryption with Thrawn’s personal confirmation overlay.”
“And the fact that they were willing to send it from one of their triads just underscores their gratitude toward him.”
“Indeed,” Zistalmu said. “All of which just adds another layer of glory on the Mitth. Are you sure you want to take him down?”
“Are we going to have to go through this every single time?” Thurfian growled. “What if he’d misread the Paataatus, or they’d misread him? What if he’d missed with that breacher and plasma sphere barrage? What if he’d not only missed the Nikardun but hit the Prince Militaire’s ship? We’d be at war, Thrawn would be up on charges, and there might well be only Eight Ruling Families.”
“I think you’re overstating the case a bit,” Zistalmu said. “But only a bit. The question now is, since Thrawn seems to be on another winning streak, what do we do about it?”
Thurfian eyed the other, belatedly remembering that this whole conversation had started with Zistalmu stating he had a plan. “I assume you have a way to stop him?”
“My sense right now is that, realistically, he can’t be stopped,” Zistalmu said. “If the suggestions the Paataatus gave him about possible Vagaari whereabouts prove false, then he returns empty-handed. But he still returns a hero on the diplomatic front. If there are still a few Vagaari out there, odds are he’ll destroy them.”
“Assuming the Paataatus are right about there being only a small remnant at most,” Thurfian said.
“That is the Paataatus backyard,” Zistalmu reminded him. “If anyone would know about a major pirate gang operating there, it’s them.”
“Assuming they didn’t lie to Thrawn just to get rid of him.”
“There’s that, of course,” Zistalmu agreed. “To get back to the plan. My thought is that if we can’t stop Thrawn from picking up some glory, maybe we can at least make him share it.”
Thurfian frowned. “How?”
“We send him some help,” Zistalmu said. “Obviously, we can’t send one of our ships.” He smiled tightly. “Even more obviously, we can’t send one of yours. So. How does a Xodlak ship sound?”
Thurfian thought back. Hadn’t it been a Xodlak representative who’d made Zistalmu late to their last meeting? “Do they even have any warships?”
“Technically, all they have are their various planetary defense forces,” Zistalmu conceded. “Though some of their planetary patrol ships probably edge toward warship class. They also have some larger ships in reserve, though again they’re technically not allowed to fly them.”
“Until and unless they regain Ruling Family status.”
“Right. But no, I was talking about an Expansionary Defense Fleet ship commanded by a Xodlak. If the Mitth get the glory from Thrawn’s exploits, surely the Xodlak will get equal credit if one of theirs is in command.”
“Seems reasonable,” Thurfian said. “And since the Xodlak are allies of the Irizi…?”
“We might get a bit of the glow,” Zistalmu conceded. “But the Mitth will get all of Thrawn’s, so what are you worried about?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Thurfian said, a bit reluctantly. Clearly, Zistalmu was hoping the Irizi would get more than just a glow off a Xodlak captain’s success.
Still, Thurfian could hardly expect Zistalmu’s cooperation on this if he didn’t get something out of the deal. “You have a ship in mind?”
“That was the research that made me late.” Zistalmu pulled out his questis and handed it over. “Our best bet is the Grayshrike, commanded by Senior Captain Xodlak’in’daro. She’s part of Admiral Ar’alani’s task force, so she and Thrawn have worked together, which makes her a logical person to send to assist him.”
“You think Ba’kif and Supreme Admiral Ja’fosk will go for that?”
“Why not? The Springhawk’s off in unknown territory. The Paataatus are behind him, possible Vagaari forces are in front of him, and there are no allies or resources anywhere nearby. It’s only prudent to send help, and the Grayshrike is the ideal option.”
Thurfian skimmed the data Zistalmu had compiled. It did indeed look like the Grayshrike would be an excellent choice. “What about this Captain Lakinda? Is she going to fall under Thrawn’s spell like Ba’kif and Ar’alani?”
“Not a chance,” Zistalmu assured him. “I’ve spoken with a Xodlak on Naporar who deals with the Expansionary Defense Fleet officer corps. He says she’s ambitious, competent, and that even as a senior officer she’s very family-focused. Given the Xodlak relationship with the Irizi, and the tensions we have with you Mitth, she’s going to be completely resistant to anything he throws at her.”
“All right,” Thurfian said. There were still potential pitfalls to all this, he knew. But there were pitfalls to everything he and Zistalmu had been doing ever since they made this private alliance. “How do you want to do this?”
“I’m ready to submit the proposal to Ba’kif and Ja’fosk,” Zistalmu said. “The Grayshrike’s somewhere out of the Ascendancy at the moment, but Csilla ought to be able to reach it with a triad message. Given Thrawn’s legendary thoroughness, it’s unlikely he’ll finish his survey before Lakinda can get out there to assist him.”
Thurfian hesitated. So many uncertainties…but it was certain that if they didn’t do something, Thrawn would eventually crash and burn, and possibly take the Mitth down with him.
And if Zistalmu was hoping the Grayshrike could share in the glory, Lakinda should also be able to share in the blame if that happened. “All right, let’s do it,” he said. He lifted a warning finger. “But this had better work.”
“It will,” Zistalmu promised. “Lakinda wants the Xodlak to be one of the Ruling Families again. Thrawn and the Mitth can’t get that for her. The Irizi can.
“Whatever we need her to do, she’ll do it.”