“Without its crew?” Thrawn said. “That might be a bit awkward.”
Ar’alani felt her throat tighten. More than just a bit awkward, given that the Nikardun crew was gone because they’d committed mass suicide minutes before the Chiss boarding parties breached the hatches. For a while she’d rather hoped it had at least been a combination of murder and suicide, with perhaps the officers under orders to slaughter their warriors before taking their own lives. That would have indicated that it was only a few of the Nikardun that were that fanatical. But the medic team had concluded that all the deaths had been self-inflicted.
What kind of compulsion and dominance did this Yiv the Benevolent hold over them that they would willingly go to such violent extremes?
“True enough,” Ba’kif conceded. “Well. Until the syndics decide to write specifics into the law, I suppose we can treat it as a gray area.” He tapped the questis. “In the meantime, what kind of hellish nighthunter nest have you just kicked over?”
“A nighthunter nest that I believe will soon be hunting us,” Thrawn said grimly. “They clearly know about the Ascendancy. They also feel confident enough in their own strength to slaughter a refugee ship right on our threshold. And”—he gestured to the questis—“they’re already moving into our outer neighborhood.”
Ba’kif huffed out a breath, looking back at the questis as if the data on it might suddenly change to something less disquieting. “You’re sure they’ve had contact with the Lioaoin Regime?” he asked. “I looked at all the indicators you marked, and I confess I can’t see whatever it is you think you’ve found.”
“It’s there, sir,” Thrawn said. “It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
“What we don’t know,” Ar’alani put in, “is whether this is evidence that they’ve been to the Lioaoin heartworld itself or whether they’ve just picked up some Lioaoi art and artistic influences along the way from someone else.”
“That’s why we need to go to the heartworld in person,” Thrawn said. “I need to examine the local situation, and I can’t do that from transmission analysis or even third-person investigator reports.”
“You know what the Syndicure will say about anyone going to the Lioaoin Regime,” Ba’kif warned. “Especially you two.”
“That’s why we wanted to keep it quiet,” Ar’alani said. “And the Expansionary Fleet does have a fair degree of flexibility in its duties.”
“Which I’m no longer in direct command of,” Ba’kif reminded her, glancing with an odd sort of wistfulness around his new Csilla office.
Ar’alani could sympathize. This office was bigger than his old Expansionary Defense Fleet office on Naporar, as befit his newly exalted position as the Ascendancy’s top general.
But the office was on Csilla, which meant that it was not only under the planet’s frozen surface, but also within downwind spitting distance of the Syndicure and the rest of the Ascendancy’s governmental centers.
And just because the Aristocra weren’t supposed to interfere with military matters didn’t mean they were pleasant to be around.
“But you are in overall command of personnel in the fleet,” Thrawn pointed out. “A directive from you would surely be acknowledged and carried out.”
“The Springhawk is undergoing hull repairs, but we could take the Vigilant,” Ar’alani said. “Thrawn could come aboard as an officer or even just as a passenger and take a quick, unobtrusive look.”
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.
Apparently, at least for these two, Thrawn’s name garnered the same level of notice.
“We submitted several reports that day,” Ba’kif said. “Which one specifically are you referring to?”