Considering what had happened at Kinoss a few years ago, he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised.

“It’s good to see you again, Qilori of Uandualon,” Thrawn said as Qilori was ushered onto the bridge.

“Thank you,” Qilori said, looking around. He’d never been on a Chiss warship before, and the difference between this and his usual freighter and diplomatic cruiser assignments was like the difference from sweet to sour. Weapons boards, defense boards, status panels, multiple displays, a full complement of black-uniformed blueskins—

“Are you familiar with the Rapacc system?” Thrawn asked.

Qilori jerked his attention back from the lights and displays, fighting to keep his cheek winglets still. Rapacc. That was one of the places Yiv the Benevolent had under blockade, wasn’t it?

Yes—he was sure of it. Qilori didn’t know Yiv’s final plan, whether the Benevolent would directly annex the system or leave the Paccosh as tributaries. But either way the Nikardun were certainly already there.

What in the Great Presence’s Name did Thrawn want with Rapacc?

“Pathfinder?” Thrawn prompted.

Abruptly, Qilori remembered he’d been asked a question. “Yes, I know the system,” he said, again trying to keep his winglets steady. “Difficult to get into. Nothing very interesting once you do.”

“You might be surprised,” Thrawn said. “At any rate, that’s our destination.” He gestured to the navigator’s station. “At your convenience.”

There was nothing for it. Guild rules apart, Qilori could hardly tell Thrawn that the Nikardun would be as happy to cut a Chiss warship to ribbons as they would any other unwelcome intruder. Apart from all the other considerations, a warning like that might prompt Thrawn to wonder how Qilori knew so much about Yiv and the Nikardun, and where he’d learned it.

So Qilori would take the Chiss to Rapacc as ordered. And he would hope to the Great Presence that the system’s Nikardun overseer would take the time to pull the valuable and totally innocent Pathfinder out of the wreckage before ordering the ship’s final destruction.

He would hope it very, very much.

The bridge was quiet as Samakro came in, with only the command, helm, primary weapons, and primary defense stations occupied. Plus, of course, the alien Pathfinder sitting at the navigation station, and the two charric-armed guards standing on either side of the hatch keeping a watchful eye on him.

Mid Commander Elod’al’vumic was seated in the command chair, her fingers tapping noiselessly and restlessly on the armrest as she gazed through the viewport at the undulating hyperspace sky. She looked up as Samakro came alongside her. “Mid Captain,” she greeted him.

“Mid Commander,” Samakro greeted her in turn. “Anything to report?”