“Exactly,” Ba’kif said. “No, I think he didn’t denounce you because that would also have gotten Thalias thrown off the Springhawk when she returns, and there’s something he still wants her to do. Probably something connected to the price of getting her aboard in the first place.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “But that can wait. Right now we need to get Thrawn off Primea before the situation becomes too much to handle.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Thrawn, sir,” Ar’alani said. “He’s expecting me, of course; but if I don’t show, I’m sure he’ll find his own way home.”

“Thrawn’s not the one I was worried about,” Ba’kif said tartly. “It’s the Ascendancy that may wind up in a situation we can’t get out of.”

“Point taken, sir,” Ar’alani said, wincing. “I’ve got Wutroow working on flight prep. We’ll be ready to go by the time Zistalmu and his wife arrive.”

“Good,” Ba’kif said. “And watch him, Ar’alani. Watch him very closely. I know Zistalmu, and he wouldn’t voluntarily walk into possible danger unless he thought there was a way to turn that to his and his family’s advantage.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Ar’alani assured him. “Whatever game he’s playing, I think he’ll find that his cards aren’t nearly as good as he thinks they are.”

There was a right way to do things, Qilori fumed to himself as he hurried toward the bridge, and there was a wrong way. In this case, the right way was to keep on schedule, do a proper ship prep, and ensure that the captain, the crew, and especially the navigator were moving along at a steady but relaxed pace. The wrong way was exactly the opposite of all those.

That wrong way was what was happening right now.

“Pathfinder?” someone called from down the corridor in front of him. “Pathfinder!”

“I’m coming,” Qilori called back, cursing under his breath. Yiv’s whole plan to eliminate Thrawn hinged on the Garwian ship being exactly where it was supposed to be when it was supposed to be there. Qilori’s job was to make that happen from the Garwian end of the ambush.

But even he wasn’t good enough to stall an entire day just because the Garwian envoy had suddenly decided to cut short the negotiations and head home early.

Now what was he supposed to do?

The bridge was the typical scene of chaos when he arrived. The captain was barking orders, the officers and crew were scrambling to get their boards up and running. Off in one corner—

Qilori felt his winglets flatten as he headed for the navigator’s seat. Off in the corner, the Garwian he’d heard the others refer to only as Officer Frangelic stood silently, watching the commotion like a director overseeing a stage performance.