“Your master is ill informed,” the Garwian said tartly. “It’s the Vector One navigators who have tattoos. We fly today with a Pathfinder.”

“They have no tattoos?” Thalias asked, frowning. “Are you certain?”

The officer waved toward the figure in the navigator’s seat. “See for yourself.”

Hiding a smile, Thalias crossed to the board, focusing on the figure as she stretched out with all her senses. She caught a whiff of something spicy—somehow, none of the material she’d read on Pathfinders had mentioned they had a distinctive odor—but there was nothing else. She kept at it, coming right up behind him. Still nothing.

Negative information. Still, it had been worth a try. She stepped around the side of the chair, remembering she was supposed to confirm Pathfinders didn’t tattoo their faces—

It was all she could do to keep from gasping with surprise and horror. The alien sitting there—the facial contours, the shape of the cheek winglets, the flow pattern of the bristles above his eyes—she’d seen this one before. In fact—

“I told you,” the Garwian said, her tone a mix of satisfaction and contempt.

Thalias nodded, searching for her voice as she took one final, painfully careful look. There was no doubt. “You were right,” she agreed. She stepped away from the chair and bowed again to the Garwian. “My apologies for the intrusion.”

Thrawn was in the study section of their suite when she returned. “We have trouble,” she said without preamble.

He set down his questis, his eyes steady on her. “Explain.”

“You remember that Pathfinder you hired for the Springhawk’s raid on Rapacc?” Thalias asked.

“Of course. Qilori of Uandualon.”

“Right,” Thalias said. “He’s on the bridge right now.”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. “Is he, now.”

“That’s all?” Thalias demanded. “Is he, now? Seems to me a situation like this calls for a stronger response than just is he, now.”

“What would you suggest we do?” Thrawn asked calmly. “Ask Frangelic to stop the ship so we can get off? Urge him to imprison Qilori the minute we leave hyperspace, possibly resulting in a boycott of the Garwian Unity by the entire Navigators’ Guild?”

“No, of course not,” Thalias ground out. She hated when people went immediately to worst-case scenarios. “What if he sees us? Or rather, what if he sees you? What if the Nikardun are on Primea? Because they’re already out for your blood. A casual word or slip of the tongue from Qilori, and we’ll be running for our lives.”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “On the other hand…”

“On the other hand what?”

“Hardly the right tone for a hostage to take toward her master,” Thrawn said.

“I’ll keep that in mind. On the other hand what?”