Qilori gazed back, cursing himself for saying even that much. The first thing every navigational group learned when it joined the Navigators’ Guild was that it was forbidden to speak about one client to another. The most heinous criminal activity needed to be as safe from exposure as the most innocent freighter passage or military exercise.

But right now, breaches of protocol were the least of Qilori’s worries. Just before they arrived here, right when his trance was lifting, he’d sensed through the Great Presence that there were fellow Pathfinders nearby. If they were aboard some of the corsairs—and if any of those corsairs were prepped for flight—they could follow Qilori effortlessly through hyperspace no matter how many jinks or re-coursings Thrawn tried.

And none of the corsairs were likely to care if silencing a troublesome Chiss also required the death of an innocent Pathfinder.

“I don’t know if the regime is part of it,” he said. “Just trust me when I say this isn’t a safe place to be.”

Thrawn wasn’t listening. He was staring out at the ships and docks, his glowing eyes narrowed slightly.

“I mean it,” Qilori said, trying one final time. “If they suspect you’re hunting pirates—”

“You think they only suspect?” Thrawn echoed. He cocked his head. “Yes; point taken. Let’s remove any lingering doubts.” He keyed the comm—

And suddenly it was as if he’d lost his senses. “Alert!” Thrawn called. “I’ve found the pirates. Repeat: I’ve found them. Get out of here and report back!”

Qilori gasped. What in—? “Thrawn—?”

Thrawn keyed off the comm. “There,” he said, his voice and expression back to their usual coolness. “Now they know for certain.”

“What in the Depths did you do?” Qilori said in a strangled voice. “You’ve just painted a death mark on us. They’ll be coming after us—”

“There they go,” Thrawn said, pointing at a spot on the main display.

Qilori looked at the display in time to see a ship flicker and disappear into hyperspace. “My second ship,” Thrawn identified. “One of my colleagues is aboard, with one of yours navigating it back to the Ascendancy.” He turned the helm yoke over, and the freighter curved smoothly away from the planet. “And now, as you suggest, it’s time to leave.”

“Yes, let’s,” Qilori muttered, slumping in his chair as Thrawn ran the thrusters to full power. The patrol ships were starting to move, and as Qilori looked up at the high-orbit docking bays he saw three corsairs emerge, their own thrusters blazing as they angled toward him and Thrawn, hoping to intercept them before they could escape into hyperspace.

Either Thrawn also saw them or else he’d anticipated the response. He was already on it, shifting the freighter’s course onto a vector that would slip it past the potential trap.