Che’ri didn’t answer. But Ar’alani thought she was crying a little less hard.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll draw you a hot bath—Thalias said you like those—and while you’re soaking I’ll make whatever you want to eat. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Che’ri said.

“Okay,” Ar’alani repeated. “I’ll go start the bath while you figure out what you want.”

Che’ri nodded. “Admiral Ar’alani…Thalias said you’ve done a lot of things with Captain Thrawn.”

“I’ve had my fair share of experience with him,” Ar’alani said, smiling wryly. “And Thalias’s right. Being with Thrawn is one of the safest places she can be.”

“Can you tell me about some of the stories?” Che’ri asked hesitantly. “She gave me some, but they’re all official and stiff and I…don’t read very well. Thalias likes to read but I can’t…” Without warning, the body-racking sobs were back.

Ar’alani closed her eyes and let out a silent sigh. This was going to be a long, long night.

The Garwians had been reasonably quick to allow the shuttle to land. They were equally quick to order it to leave, citing security concerns about an obvious Chiss craft sitting on the ground and promising that the petitioners would be seen quickly.

But as Thalias and Thrawn continued to wait in the security office anteroom, she began to wonder if they had changed their minds. Certainly no one in the Unity seemed eager or even willing to talk to them.

Thrawn had said that the Garwians owed him a favor. But from the way the people bustling around the office seemed to be avoiding eye contact, Thalias was having serious doubts about the depth of any such gratitude.

She was also having second thoughts about the thick, plaster-like makeup Thrawn had decided should be a proper part of her appearance. She understood the logic of making a family hostage’s status instantly apparent to passersby, but with much her face seemingly covered by textured ridges and plateaus she could hardly form any expressions at all.

Which, again, might be part of the whole point of such makeup. Hostages as nonentities, or some such. Still, as she sat there in silence and expressionlessness, feeling the extra weight of the plaster pressing down on her neck and shoulders, she couldn’t help wondering what the long-term effects of the stuff might be on her skin.

Finally, four hours after their arrival, one of the Garwians finally stopped in front of them. “Second Defense Overlord Frangelic will see you now,” he said in Minnisiat. “Follow me, please.”