Ba’kif snorted. “You know what certain syndics think of your definition of unobtrusive.” He glanced at his desk monitor and gave a small snort. “And by sheer coincidence—or perhaps not—two of those syndics have just arrived in my inner office.”

Ar’alani’s first impulse was to urge the general not to let them in. But it would be a useless gesture. Clearly, someone had spotted her and Thrawn coming here; just as clearly, the two syndics weren’t going to go away just because the Defense Force’s supreme general told them to.

Official policies of separation of duties or not, non-interference or not, the confrontation the syndics were obviously here for was going to happen. Might was well have it out now.

Ba’kif had apparently come to the same conclusion. He tapped a key, and the door slid open. “Welcome, Syndics,” he said briskly as the three officers rose to their feet. “How may I serve you?”

Ar’alani turned to face the newcomers. Mitth’urf’ianico, one of the syndics of Thrawn’s family, led the way. That was standard procedure whenever the family wanted to deliver a message to the military regarding one of their own without tugging on any of the tangled web of interfamily politics.

Striding along close behind him was Irizi’stal’mustro, one of the syndics of Ar’alani’s former family.

She felt her eyes narrow. That was not standard procedure. Thurfian might be here to talk about Thrawn on behalf of the Mitth, but she was no longer part of the Irizi family, which meant Zistalmu had no reason to talk about her to Ba’kif.

But there was an even more interesting subtext about this whole thing. Given the intense rivalry between the Irizi and Mitth, two syndics from those families who wanted to see Ba’kif on general military matters would normally have arranged to come one at a time, not together.

Or was that the point? Could Thurfian and Zistalmu have worked up this joint meeting to underscore a high-level opposition to Thrawn’s recent activities, a resistance that superseded family politics?

“Good day, General,” Zistalmu said, inclining his head to Ba’kif. “Admiral; Senior Captain,” he added, making the same gestures to Ar’alani and Thrawn. “Are we interrupting anything important?”

“I was discussing an upcoming mission with two of the Expansionary Fleet’s finest officers,” Ba’kif said.

“Really,” Thurfian said with a feigned enthusiasm that wouldn’t fool a child. “Given the presence of Captain Thrawn, may we assume this mission is connected to the report the fleet submitted to the Syndicure three days ago?”

Ar’alani stifled a curse. Normally, reports from the fleet could sit on the syndics’ questises for days or weeks without being read by anyone except their aides and the lower-ranking Aristocra. At the moment, that was especially true of any report that didn’t connect to the Csilla attack investigation.