Yiv took a sip of his drink. “The choices are three: to take him as he leaves this event, to do so at another time during his stay on Primea, or to do so as the Garwian envoy leaves for his return to Solitair. All three present difficulties and dangers, not the least of which is my reluctance to move overtly against either the Vaks or the Garwians at this point.”

“Or the Chiss,” Qilori warned.

“The Chiss are irrelevant,” Yiv said scornfully. “They only move after they themselves have been attacked.”

“The capture or murder of a senior officer might qualify.”

“Only if the officer in question is flag rank, commodore or above,” Yiv said.

“Really?” Qilori asked, frowning. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Yiv said. “It’s not a subject they talk of openly.”

“Nor presumably do they speak of traveling with hostages,” Qilori said. “But so she appears to be.”

The Benevolent snorted again. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Qilori countered. “I heard him tell her to go fix her makeup, that a family hostage needs to maintain decorum.”

Yiv waved a hand. “A transparent bluff, designed to make me think there are things about the Chiss we don’t know. It was obviously spoken for your benefit.”

“He didn’t know I could hear him.”

“It was a bluff,” Yiv insisted.

But there’d been some hesitation in the Benevolent’s voice just then. Thrawn certainly might be playing him, just as he’d said.

But if he wasn’t—if the Chiss really did have a hidden hostage culture—there might be other, more crucial things about them that were also unknown. “So what will you do?”

Yiv turned an icy stare toward him. “Have you become my confidant?” he asked. “Or been raised to the rank of tactical commander by the Destiny?”

“I beg your Benevolence’s pardon,” Qilori said, cringing back. “I only ask because a decision to take him during the Garwians’ departure may require some level of awareness or participation on my part.”

Yiv eyed him thoughtfully. “A point,” he conceded. “Very well, Pathfinder. Unless I decide differently, the plan will be to intercept the Garwian ship on some pretext as it leaves Primea.” His eyes locked on Qilori’s. “You will make sure they don’t escape into hyperspace before my ships engage.”

“Yes, my lord,” Qilori said, his heart beating painfully. For a Pathfinder to be part of such an operation was a huge violation of every rule and guideline in the Navigators’ Guild code. If it ever came to light, not only would he be finished as a Pathfinder, but depending on the operation’s outcome he might well find himself in the executioner’s chains.