“I agree that’s how they did things before,” Ar’alani said. “But fleets change doctrine all the time. Maybe not this drastically, but they do adjust and adapt to new tech or situations.”

“This is Lioaoin Orbital Command,” a voice came over the speaker.

Ar’alani blinked. She’d been so focused on the distant ships and Thrawn’s analysis that she’d almost forgotten their ostensible purpose for being here.

“This is Ambassador Boadil’par’gasoi of the Chiss Ascendancy,” Ilparg replied with all the dignity and arrogance Ar’alani had come to expect from the diplomatic corps in general and Ilparg in particular. “I wish to speak to someone in the diplomatic office concerning the aggressive treatment we received a few days ago at the Urchiv-ki capital of Urch.”

“What makes you think the Lioaoin Regime has anything to do with the Urchiv-ki?” the voice came back.

“There was a Lioaoin ship present when the Urchiv-ki attempted to capture our ship,” Ilparg said.

Ar’alani hissed out a breath. What the hell did Ilparg think he was doing? Handing over information like that, especially without getting anything in return, was the height of foolishness. “Ambassador—”

“No, let him go,” Thrawn said, closing a warning hand over her arm. “Let’s see their reaction to who we are.”

Ar’alani scowled. Yes, that would be Thrawn’s plan, giving the Lioaoi a nudge and seeing how they reacted. All well and good, provided the reaction wasn’t to throw everything they had at the intruders.

Still, the Vigilant was a fully armed Nightdragon, and they weren’t yet too deep into the heartworld’s gravity well. No matter what the Lioaoi had, Ar’alani had no doubt she could get them out with only minimal damage to her ship. Around the side of one of the bluedocks she saw something move into view…

And felt her eyes widen.

“Uh-oh,” someone across the bridge breathed.

Ar’alani’s hands closed involuntarily into tight fists. It was a warship.

A huge warship—Battle Dreadnought class at least, half again the Vigilant’s size. Its flanks bristled with weapons clusters, angular lines marked sections of heavy armor, tight-spaced patterns of nodes proclaimed the existence of a strong electrostatic barrier.

And the overly large bridge viewport—the arrogantly, invitingly, overly large viewport—marked it as Nikardun.

“Admiral?” Wutroow asked, a hint of urgency in her voice.

Ar’alani eyed the Nikardun warship, noting particularly the vectors and positions of the ships around it, then gave the tactical display a long, careful look. “Hold course,” she ordered Octrimo. “They’re not making any threatening moves.”

“That could change at any minute,” Wutroow warned.

“No,” Thrawn said. “They could move to attack mode, but it would take more than simply a minute.”

“Agreed,” Ar’alani said. “At their distance and orientation, any move would be well telegraphed.”

Wutroow seemed to brace herself. “Yes, ma’am.”