“Excuse me, Syndic, but there’s every reason to continue,” Ar’alani said. “You’re aboard the Vigilant, under my authority, and you’re obligated to answer any reasonable question and obey any reasonable order. Unless you plan to invoke official Syndicure secrets—and I will follow through on that if you try it—you’ll tell me how Thrawn is a threat to the Ascendancy.”

Octrimo called a warning from the helm. “Breakout in thirty seconds, Admiral.”

“Acknowledged.” Ar’alani raised her eyebrows toward Zistalmu. “Talk fast.”

“There’s no time for a proper explanation,” the syndic said. “But really, you don’t need one. You’ve seen enough of Thrawn and his career to understand. If you don’t, it’s because you choose not to.”

Ar’alani shook her head. “Not good enough.”

“It’s all you’re going to get.” Zistalmu nodded toward the viewport. “And we’re here.”

Ar’alani turned to see the hyperspace swirl collapse into star-flares and then into stars. Looming directly ahead was a half-lit planet with dozens of ships of all sizes moving in or out or simply drifting steadily along in their orbits.

“Primea, Admiral,” Octrimo announced.

“I read forty-seven visible ships,” Senior Commander Biclian added from the sensor station. “Checking configurations for anything that looks Garwian.”

“Acknowledged,” Ar’alani said. “Senior Captain Wutroow, a signal to the planetary diplomatic office. Identify us, and tell them we’re trying to reach Artistic Master Svorno.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Wutroow said. She leaned over the comm officer’s shoulder and began speaking quietly.

“I’m not picking up anything that looks like a Garwian,” Biclian reported. “Maybe it’s on the other side of the planet.”

“Admiral, Primea Central Command acknowledges,” Wutroow relayed. “They claim the Garwian diplomatic ship left three days ago with all personnel aboard.”

“There you go,” Zistalmu said briskly. “Looks like Thrawn managed to extricate himself without any fuss or drama. Now, if we can say our farewells and head back to the Ascendancy—”

“Captain, please ask for clarification,” Ar’alani ordered. “I want a list of all the personnel on that ship. I also want copies of all transmissions to and from the Garwian before it left.”

“What makes you think they’ll have all that available?” Zistalmu demanded. “Or will give it to you if they do?”

“Captain?” Ar’alani prompted.

“Message delivered,” Wutroow confirmed. “Waiting for a reply.”

“We’ve got movement,” Biclian cut in. “Five small ships breaking orbit toward us, and another eight patrol ships rising from the surface. Make that nine from the surface.”

“Patrol ships?” Zistalmu asked, clearly confused. “What are they doing?”

“You should read the Defense Force’s after-action reports more closely, Syndic,” Ar’alani said, eyeing the small ships assembling between the Vigilant and the planet below. “Small fighters are a line in the dirt, a warning that the defenders are serious.”