That wrong way was what was happening right now.
“Pathfinder?” someone called from down the corridor in front of him. “Pathfinder!”
“I’m coming,” Qilori called back, cursing under his breath. Yiv’s whole plan to eliminate Thrawn hinged on the Garwian ship being exactly where it was supposed to be when it was supposed to be there. Qilori’s job was to make that happen from the Garwian end of the ambush.
But even he wasn’t good enough to stall an entire day just because the Garwian envoy had suddenly decided to cut short the negotiations and head home early.
Now what was he supposed to do?
The bridge was the typical scene of chaos when he arrived. The captain was barking orders, the officers and crew were scrambling to get their boards up and running. Off in one corner—
Qilori felt his winglets flatten as he headed for the navigator’s seat. Off in the corner, the Garwian he’d heard the others refer to only as Officer Frangelic stood silently, watching the commotion like a director overseeing a stage performance.
“There you are,” the captain growled as Qilori settled himself into his seat. “How soon can you be ready?”
Qilori glanced at the status boards. They were still deep within Primea’s gravity well. Several minutes at least to get far enough out that they could access hyperspace, more like a quarter hour if they made a more leisurely departure. If he insisted on an additional status check of the hyperdrive, the engines, and the environmental systems before they left, it would buy him a little more time.
His winglets stiffened in frustration. A little more time, but not nearly enough. If Yiv hadn’t spotted the prep work, the Benevolent would have lost all chance to capture or kill Thrawn.
Which was undoubtedly the whole point of the sudden change in schedule. Thrawn, the envoy, Frangelic—maybe all three together—had decided to sneak Thrawn away from Primea before the Benevolent could launch his attack.
And then a movement on the aft display caught Qilori’s eye. Yiv’s flagship, the Deathless, had appeared over the horizon behind them, running a lower orbit and casually gaining on the Garwian ship.
He felt his winglets relax fractionally. So Yiv hadn’t been caught napping after all. Perfect. Now Qilori could let the Garwians move out of the gravity well on their own schedule, then make sure he didn’t take them into hyperspace until Yiv made his move—
“Officer Frangelic?” the Garwian at the communications station called. “The Vaks send an answer to your query. They’ve done a complete search of the diplomatic offices and guest quarters, and neither Artistic Master Svorno nor his companion are anywhere to be found.”
“Tell them they must be mistaken,” Frangelic said tersely. “If they’re not here, they have to be there.”
Qilori’s winglets froze in place. Thrawn wasn’t aboard? No—that couldn’t be. He had to be here. If he wasn’t—
Then Yiv was about to attack a Garwian ship, and almost certainly kill everyone aboard, for nothing.
“The Vaks are very insistent,” the comm officer said. “They’ve searched everywhere the Chiss might be. There’s no sign or trail of them.”
Qilori stared at the display and the Nikardun Battle Dreadnought coming steadily up into attack range. He needed to get word to Yiv, and he needed to do it fast.
Only he couldn’t. With this many Garwians milling around, there was no way he could get to any of the comm panels without being seen. But without comm access, he couldn’t talk to the Deathless.
Or rather, he couldn’t talk to the Deathless. “Officer Frangelic?” he called, turning toward the officer. “Excuse me, but I remember Artistic Master Svorno talking at length with General Yiv the Benevolent at the reception our first night on Primea. I believe that among other things they discussed Vak art and art displays. Perhaps the Benevolent will have some idea where he might have gone.”
“Perhaps,” Frangelic said. “Comm, you heard?”
“Yes, Officer Frangelic.”
“Signal to General Yiv,” Frangelic ordered. “Put the question to him.”
Qilori took a deep breath, his winglets finally relaxing. Thrawn might have slipped out of Yiv’s immediate trap, but all he’d really done was postpone his fate. Even though the Vaks weren’t yet under full Nikardun domination, Yiv had enough forces in the region to quickly isolate Primea and keep the fugitives on the ground. Sooner or later, either he or the Vaks would run them down.
And really, how long could a pair of blueskins hide among a planetful of aliens?
Thalias had known from the start that Thrawn’s plan was doomed. Their blue skin was nothing like the pale-amber skin and black stub hairs of the indigenous population, to say nothing about the contrast between glowing red Chiss eyes and the Vaks’ dull brown. The hooded cloaks that many of the people wore would make things less obvious, but Thalias had no illusions as to how well that would work in the long run. How many of the locals actually used the hoods, she’d argued, instead of letting the sun and breeze wash over their faces?
The answer, it turned out, was pretty nearly all of them.
“You’re just lucky it’s raining today,” she said as she and Thrawn walked along the street, the light drizzle beating gently on the tops of their hoods and dripping off the fronts.
“Not at all,” he replied. “Up to now we’ve always traveled the city in vehicles, where the hoods are unnecessary. But during those trips I observed that most pedestrians used their hoods nearly all the time, protecting against rain but also against sunlight.”
“So really the only danger we were in was if today was just cloudy?”
He chuckled. “A point. But even then, wearing hoods would not be so rare as to attract attention.”
Thalias peered past the edge of her hood into the diner they were passing. Inside, she noted uneasily, the Vaks had all laid their hoods back. “That’s fine out here,” she said. “But eventually we’re going to have to go inside somewhere. What happens then?”
“Let’s find out,” Thrawn said. Taking her arm, he steered her toward a door with a faded sign above it. “In here.”
“What is it?” Thalias asked, peering at the sign. She’d made an effort to learn the Vak script over the past few days, but she was a long way from being able to read any of it.
“Hopefully, answers,” Thrawn said.
And then they were at the door, and Thrawn had pushed it open and ushered Thalias inside. She blinked, ducked her head forward sharply to shake some of the water from her hood onto the mat at their feet, and then looked up.