But not yet. Not until things had quieted down, or there was a new threat or internal scandal to distract the Syndicure’s attention.
For the moment, it was more vital that they gather further information on these Agbui cultural nomads who seemed to be somehow at the center of everything. The Council needed to know who they were, where they came from, who if anyone they were working for, and what their intentions were. Unfortunately, at the moment all of those investigations were being conducted by the three affected families.
But that was about to change. Fleet forces had also been involved, which made it only reasonable that the Council invited themselves into the game.
The families probably wouldn’t like it. Neither would the Syndicure.
Ba’kif didn’t especially care.
It could have gone better, Samakro realized soberly as he made his way from Ba’kif’s office toward the main shuttle landing area. But it could also have gone much, much worse.
His claim of silence based on Che’ri’s presence on the Springhawk’s bridge was pure fantasy, of course. It adhered to the strict form of that regulation, certainly, but it was light-years out of the creators’ intent. If Ba’kif had chosen to demand an answer, and Samakro had continued to refuse, he would be on his way to a small detention cell right now.
But he’d been pretty sure Ba’kif wouldn’t press the issue. Right now, the Syndicure was in self-defense mode, determined to sweep whatever had happened out the door, and the Council was just as clearly not interested in sweeping any of it back in. Maybe later, after the families moved on to other matters, but not now.
What was bothering him more was that, as far as he could tell, there hadn’t been a peep out of anyone regarding the nonsense story he’d given Thalias.
And there should have been. The soap bubble he’d spun to her about Sunrise being the last-stand fortress for the Nikardun remnant should have been screamed from the Assembly Cupola by now. There should have been outrage and scorn and syndics calling for Thrawn’s head in a bucket for ever entertaining such a ridiculous notion.
Instead, there was nothing. Did that mean that Thalias wasn’t a spy, after all?
Samakro scowled. Of course not. All it meant was that she or her controller had decided to sit on the story, waiting for a better opportunity to hang it around Thrawn’s neck.
But that time would come. And when it did, Thalias would finally be unmasked.
And she would very much regret it.
Because her betrayal wouldn’t just be an attack on Thrawn. It would be an attack on the entire Expansionary Defense Fleet, on all the officers and warriors who risked their lives daily to protect the people of the Chiss Ascendancy. That was something that simply could not be allowed to happen.
So let them wait. Let them plot and scheme. Let them choose the time and the place.
Whenever it was, wherever it was, Samakro would be waiting.
When the assignment Qilori was handed identified his job as guiding an unnamed person in an unflagged ship, he was pretty sure what was going to happen somewhere along the way.
He was right.
“I’m sorry I can’t deliver a better report,” he apologized when he finally ran out of words.
“Calm yourself, Pathfinder,” Jixtus said, his gloved fingers tapping gently on the edge of his contour chair. “I never expected this to mark the end of the Chiss Ascendancy. They’re more resilient than that.” He paused, and Qilori had the sense of an evil smile behind the black veil. “Though perhaps not nearly as resilient as they think.”
Jixtus paused, the robed shoulders giving a little shrug. “You were right to be concerned about this Chiss officer, though. I’ll be sure to add Senior Captain Thrawn into our calculations in the future.”
“I would definitely recommend that,” Qilori said, his cheek winglets twitching. “I wish I could offer some hints on how to defeat him.”
“Defeat isn’t always necessary,” Jixtus said. “Isolation and neutralization can be equally effective. My more immediate concern is the fact that you left Haplif’s body behind for the Chiss to examine.”
“That wasn’t my decision,” Qilori said hastily, feeling his winglets starting to flutter. “Shimkif saw that the Xodlak rancher had killed him and ordered the pilot to get clear.”
“Again, Pathfinder, calm yourself,” Jixtus said, more severely this time. “The Grysks lay blame only where it’s deserved, and only on those who fail us. Each of our servants is responsible solely for his own decisions and actions, not for another’s.”
“Yes, sir,” Qilori said, feeling his winglets and his tension subsiding. Grysks. He’d never heard of a species by that name.
Or a faction, if that’s what they were. Or a combine, or a gang, or something else entirely. A name by itself really didn’t contain much information.
But at least now he had a name to put to the manipulators behind all this. “Is it over?” he asked. “I mean, are you going to need me for anything else?”
“Really, Pathfinder, you surprise me,” Jixtus said. “Have you forgotten your other mandate?”
Qilori frowned. “Sir?”
“I told you to learn for me how exactly the Chiss navigate through the Chaos,” Jixtus reminded him. “That is what I need you for, and that is the task you will accomplish.”
“Yes, sir,” Qilori said. The weight on his heart, which had been starting to lift, now came crashing back down. “I’ll do my best.”
“Yes, you will,” Jixtus agreed calmly. “Because as I said, we lay blame on those who fail us.”
“I’m told, Senior Captain Lakinda,” Syndic Zistalmu said, his voice studiously casual, “that your family is unhappy with you.”
“I’ve heard similar reports, Syndic Zistalmu,” Lakinda said, long practice allowing her to keep her face and voice expressionless. “You’ll understand that I can’t comment on such things.”
“Of course,” Zistalmu said. “I understand.”
Lakinda nodded. She would just bet he did.
The Xodlak weren’t just unhappy with her. They were furious. The Patriarch himself had sent a message castigating her for failing to secure the nyix mine for them. That, despite the fact that the Celwis Patriel’s own internal investigation had surely by now uncovered evidence that the whole thing had been a fraud from the beginning.
Lakinda herself would probably never know the final results of any such inquiry. The fog of secrecy that had been spread over this thing was both awesome and more than a little frightening. Under the circumstances, she probably didn’t want to know what was going on right now between the Xodlak and their allies.
Only she might not have a choice about that. The Irizi were one of the Xodlak’s strongest allies, and her presence today in Syndic Zistalmu’s office might well be part of the fallout from those backroom deals and maneuverings.
If he demanded she tell him everything she knew, could she refuse him? There were limitations on such things in the fleet, but she’d been on a family mission and under family auspices. Did fleet rules even apply?
“Naturally, I commend both your loyalty and your discretion,” Zistalmu continued. He picked up his questis and gestured to it. “I’m also quite impressed by your list of recent successes,” he continued. “Your campaigns with Admiral Ar’alani’s task force have been most impressive.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lakinda said. “I’ll remind you that much of the credit for those victories goes to the admiral and her capable leadership.”
“Again, loyalty and discretion,” Zistalmu said, inclining his head to her. “We of the Irizi value both qualities. You’re, what, a Xodlak merit adoptive?”