“We’ll be traveling to a nearby system to hand off our prize,” Thrawn said. Said it so casually, too, as if they’d just picked up an order of groceries from the corner shop. “After that, we’ll be returning to Concourse Four Forty-Seven. Will you need rest time before we leave?”

“No, not for a while,” Qilori said. Thrawn might not sound anxious to leave this neighborhood behind, but Qilori sure as the Great Presence was.

“Good,” Thrawn said. “I trust you found the exercise interesting?”

With an effort, Qilori flattened his winglets against his cheeks. “Yes, Captain,” he said. “Very interesting indeed.”

It wasn’t easy for even a Pathfinder to requisition a ship for his own personal use. But Qilori had been at Concourse 447 long enough to build up a collection of owed favors.

More important, he had a collection of blackmail material on several key people. Between the favors and the threats, he soon found himself speeding away from the station, bound for the Primea system, capital of the Vak Combine.

Thirty-five hours later, he was there.

Primea was in the early stage of a Nikardun conquest, which meant Yiv was still greeting and meeting with planetary leaders, talking about the benefits of joining the Nikardun Destiny, and letting his orbiting warships provide a silent warning of what would happen if they refused. Qilori gave his name and the urgency of his mission to the first gatekeeper, and the second gatekeeper, and the third. Six hours after his arrival, he was finally ushered into Yiv’s throne room aboard the Battle Dreadnought Deathless.

“Ah—Qilori!” Yiv called, his cheerful booming voice echoing in the oppressive stillness of the throne room. Draped over his shoulders like living epaulets were the fungoid strands of the strange creatures he’d taken on as symbionts. His cleft jaw was open in what passed for a smile with Nikardun, but which Qilori had always thought looked more like a predator preparing to strike.

At least he was in a good mood, Qilori thought with a tinge of relief. The talks with the Vaks must be going well. “Come. Tell me what news you bring from the lips of the Great Presence.”

Qilori grimaced as he walked the gauntlet between the two lines of watchful Nikardun soldiers. Yiv was mocking him, of course, as he mocked or dismissed all who didn’t believe solely in the godhood of Yiv himself. But right now the Benevolent’s famous ego wasn’t nearly as concerning as his somewhat less famous temper.

Qilori had never brought Yiv bad news before. He had no idea how such messengers were treated.

“I bring news from Rapacc, your Benevolence,” he said, stopping between the last pair of guards in the gauntlet and dropping forward to lie facedown on the cold deck at Yiv’s feet. “News, and a warning.”