Not that Ilparg probably noticed the comment. He was standing beside Ar’alani’s command chair, his eyes on the distant planet, his mind clearly elsewhere than the Vigilant’s bridge.

Ar’alani looked back at the planet and the ships clustered around it, the brief moment of amusement disappearing. Most of the vessels out there were undoubtedly Lioaoin: freighters, patrol ships, two low-orbit bluedock repair stations, possibly a warship or two. The old records suggested there was at least one blackdock in much higher orbit, raising the possibility of another warship in the area, though if it was undergoing repairs it could probably be ignored.

The question was whether there were any Nikardun ships in the mix, there to keep an eye on the locals.

“Sweep complete,” Senior Commander Obbic’lia’nuf called from the sensor station. “No matches to the Nikardun ship we saw at Urch.”

Which didn’t prove anything, Ar’alani knew. Aside from the oversized viewports and the particular placement of the main weapons clusters, none of the Nikardun ships she and Thrawn had run into looked exactly like any of the others. Certainly Yiv didn’t seem to go with any kind of standard silhouette.

“Traffic Control is hailing us, Admiral,” Wutroow said.

“Never mind them,” Ilparg said before Ar’alani could reply. “Get me someone in the Regime Diplomatic Office. If they had anything to do with that Urch business, I want to have it out here and now.”

“A moment, Ambassador,” Ar’alani said, looking over her shoulder at the bridge hatch. Thrawn was apparently running late. “We’re waiting for Senior Captain Thrawn to arrive.”

“What do we need him for?”

Because he’s the one who can tell us if there are Nikardun ships out there—the obvious reply ran through Ar’alani’s mind. Because he has a feel for tactics that will be crucial if this thing blows up. Because he’s got a track record in combat situations that most Chiss commodores and admirals would give their blood firstborn for.

But she had more tact than Commander Octrimo. She also had none of his family rivalries to deal with. “Because I want him here, and I’m the admiral,” she said instead.

Ilparg made a little huffing noise. “Fine,” he said. “But he’d better not be long.”

The hatch slid open and Thrawn stepped onto the bridge. “My apologies, Admiral,” he said as he crossed to Ar’alani and Ilparg. “Apologies, Ambassador. My studies took longer than expected.”

“What studies were those, Senior Captain?” Ilparg asked suspiciously.

“Tactical data,” Ar’alani put in.

“Tactical data?” Ilparg repeated scornfully. “Is that what the Expansionary Fleet calls art these days?”

Ar’alani clenched her teeth. “The first rule of strategy is to know your enemy, Ambassador,” she said. “That includes their battle tactics; but also their history, their philosophy, and, yes, sometimes even their art.”