“Such as?”
Thrawn was silent for another few steps. “We located the Paccosh partly because the refugees’ ship came from this general direction. We also presume that the Nikardun followed them or in some other way anticipated their arrival in the Ascendancy, then ordered the attack on Csilla in order to distract our attention from the Paccosh destruction.”
Thalias nodded. “That makes sense.”
“But that leads to another question,” Thrawn said. “How did the Nikardun know to stage their ambush at that particular spot?”
“Well…” Thalias paused, trying to think it through. “We know the two Paccian ships rendezvoused in the four-star system before the one ship headed for the Ascendancy. Maybe the captain decided we were their best shot at getting help, especially with one of the two ships unable to keep going. Don’t know how they knew where we were, though.”
“Many of the aliens out here know about us, or at least have a general idea where we are,” Thrawn said. “Though our reputation often precedes any actual knowledge. You’ll note the Paccosh didn’t seem to recognize that we were Chiss. But you miss the critical point of my question. The refugee ship left hyperspace much farther out in the system than was necessary. Far enough that they would have needed several hours of space-normal travel before they were even close enough to initiate communication.” He paused. “And far enough that while their slaughter was detected, there was no chance that any of the patrol ships could respond in time.”
Thalias breathed a curse as it suddenly became clear. “The only way the Nikardun could be waiting for the ship is if the refugees’ navigator deliberately brought them out of hyperspace there.” She frowned. “They did have a navigator, didn’t they?”
“I assume so,” Thrawn said. “Presumably a Void Guide, like the second ship’s. Note also the fact that we found no such body aboard the first ship.”
He paused again, clearly expecting Thalias to follow his path of logic. “The Nikardun took him with them?” she offered.
“Indeed,” Thrawn said. “Was he dead, or alive?”
Thalias chewed at her lip. How was she supposed to know that?
For that matter, why was Thrawn even going through this logic puzzle with her, especially this way? It was like the schoolwork classes she’d had to take as an occasionally reluctant sky-walker, or the same classes she was now having to inflict on an even more reluctant Che’ri.
“The Paccosh aboard the other ship died much later than those who were attacked in the Ascendancy,” he prompted.
Thalias nodded as she finally saw where he was going. Especially since the second group had asphyxiated instead of being murdered like the first group. “He was dead,” she said. “If he’d been alive, he’d have told the Nikardun where the other ship was and they’d have moved in and slaughtered them, too, instead of letting them die on their own.”
“Excellent,” Thrawn said. “We also glean the fact that it was the Paccosh, not the Void Guides, who chose the four-star system as their rendezvous.”
“Okay,” Thalias said, frowning. “How does that help us?”
“It may not,” Thrawn conceded. “But sometimes small bits of knowledge return in unexpected ways.” He gestured ahead. “At any rate, I believe we’ve learned all that we’re going to here. A stealthy return to the Springhawk is now in order, followed by a hopefully unimpeded exit from the system.”
“The Nikardun will be watching,” Thalias warned.
“Agreed,” Thrawn said. “But after the Vigilant’s incursion, I expect the Nikardun will have pulled their sentry lines closer into the inner system. Our escape should be straightforward, as should our rendezvous with the Vigilant to retrieve our sky-walker.”
“And then back to the Ascendancy?”
Thrawn looked down at the double ring in his hand. “Not right away,” he said. “No, I think we’ll go to a Navigators’ Guild concourse and hire ourselves a navigator.”
Thalias frowned. “You already said we’ll have Che’ri.”
“In case we need her,” Thrawn said. “But the Paccosh indicated there may be more Nikardun ships arriving in the near future. There’s something I want to do before that happens.”
“Ah,” Thalias said carefully. Unless the fleet had changed the rules since she was a sky-walker, a captain who wanted to expand the scope of a mission was supposed to first get authorization.
But that really wasn’t any of her business. “You’re looking for a Void Guide?”
“No,” Thrawn said. He fingered the ring one last time, then put it carefully into a pocket. “No, I think there’s someone who will be far more useful to us.”
“Chiss diplomatic cruiser coming in,” Pathfinder dispatcher Prack called above the buzz of conversation filling the Navigators’ Guild lounge. “Who wants it?”
The conversation broke off like a door had slammed shut over it, and everyone did their best imitation of being somewhere else.
Including Qilori of Uandualon. He sat unmoving on his bench, his shoulders hunched, still gripping the rim handle of his mug. Chiss. Just his pathetic luck to be on duty when a Chiss rolled in.
“Qilori, where are you?” the dispatcher continued. “Come on, Qilori—I know you’re here.”
“He’s over here,” someone two tables over called helpfully.
Qilori sent the other navigator a glare. “Yeah, I’m here,” he growled.
“Good for you,” the dispatcher said. “Grab your headset, sash up, and sashay down. Your turn for the hot box.”
“Yeah,” Qilori growled again, his cheek winglets snapping flat against the sides of his head with disgust as he stood up and crossed the room to the dispatcher. The other Pathfinders wanted to jeer at his dirt assignment, he knew—he’d certainly done his share of jeering when the situation was flipped.
But none of them dared. Prack wasn’t above changing assignments at the last second if someone higher on his gripe list caught his eye. “So where are they going?” he asked.
“Bardram Scoft,” the dispatcher said.
“What are they going there for?”
“Don’t know; don’t care. Board gate five; fifteen minutes.” He gave Qilori a smirking smile. “Have fun.”
Fifteen minutes later, his travel bag slung over his shoulder, Qilori watched the boarding gate swing open and a couple of black-uniformed blueskins step out. “You our Pathfinder?” one of them asked in the Minnisiat trade language.