“Thank you,” Thrawn said gravely. “I ask only that you refer any questions and questioners to me. As you say, I will stand or fall. I don’t require or wish for you to stand or fall at my side.” He turned back to Samakro. “Nor do I wish that for you, Mid Captain.”
“Thank you, sir,” Samakro said, his voice as formal as Lakinda’s. “But you’re my commanding officer. If those are your orders, I of course will obey them.”
Thrawn nodded. “Thank you both.” He paused, seeming to shift mental gears. “We’ll leave for Csilla as soon as both ships are ready to fly. I don’t wish either of us to still be here if the Battle Dreadnought sends reinforcements. If there are further repairs that can’t be performed in hyperspace, we can stop along the way.”
He looked at Lakinda. “If you’ll signal me when you’re ready, we can jump together.”
“Agreed,” Lakinda said.
“I’ll alert the docking bay to prepare your shuttle,” Thrawn continued. He stood up, the other two following suit. “Make sure Admiral Ar’alani gets a copy of the data. The Battle Dreadnought’s missile attacks on the Grayshrike weren’t as definitive as I’d hoped, but we may still be able to determine whether or not they were the same weapons that destroyed the Nikardun base.”
“And if they were?” Lakinda said.
Again, Thrawn locked eyes with her. “Then the life and knowledge of the Magys and her people become even more important,” he said. “We need to determine if this is a new enemy standing on the Ascendancy’s threshold.”
“And then she told me we could probably teach the yubals some tricks,” Lakris said, stuffing the last bit of breakfast fritter into her mouth and helping herself to another one from the platter. “She said she could teach me how to do it,” she added around the bite.
“Not with your mouth full,” Lakansu admonished her daughter.
Admonished her for about the tenth time in the past week, Lakphro noted to himself as he took another bite of his own fritter. He’d had a problem with youthful exuberance overwhelming social politeness when he was a midager, and his daughter had clearly inherited those genes from him. Lakansu, on the other hand, had grown up in a much larger family with highly disciplined parents who had imposed that same self-restraint on her and the rest of their children.
Lakphro tried to be more strict. Lakansu tried to be more casual. Their parenting approaches were getting closer together, but Lakphro was pretty sure the differences still sometimes drove Lakris crazy.
Still, the midager dutifully finished chewing before continuing her part of the conversation. “I’ve never heard of anyone training yubals,” she said. “Have you?”
“I haven’t,” Lakansu said, looking across the table at her husband. “Lakphro?”
“They can certainly be trained,” Lakphro said. “Getting them to follow the lead growzer sort of qualifies, though maybe that’s just domestication. But to do tricks?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure they’re even physically capable of doing anything except walking, eating, and creating crop fertilizer.”
“And tasting delicious when roasted,” Lakansu added.
“No argument there,” Lakphro agreed.
“Well, I’m going to see if she can do it,” Lakris said, taking another bite. “Can I—?” She broke off, apparently remembering her mother’s warning, and chewed furiously for a couple of seconds until her mouth was clear again. “Can I take her to the yubal pen when I’m letting them out?”
Lakphro hesitated. The Agbui visitors hadn’t been nearly as much of a problem as he’d feared they might be when Councilor Lakuviv dropped them onto his land a couple of weeks ago. But while he and the other ranchers in the area were working hard to be good hosts, he also didn’t want the aliens getting too comfortable with his land, his animals, and especially his family.
Still, Lakris and Haplif’s daughter Frosif seemed to have struck up a tentative friendship, and for a loner like Lakris that was no mean accomplishment. And really, the strangers were only going to be here for a few months. “I suppose so,” he told Lakris. “Just make sure you warn her not to get in their way, or between them and the growzers. You know how Slobber gets when someone messes with his herd.”
“I’ll be careful,” Lakris promised. “I’m going to show Frosif some of his tricks, too.”
“Including the telepathic call?” Lakansu asked with a sly smile.
“Especially the telepathic call,” Lakris said, smiling back. “Everybody likes that one.”
Actually, Lakphro could remember a couple of the other ranchers being rather annoyed when they found out how Lakris’s “telepathy” worked. But they’d never had a sense of humor to begin with, so they didn’t count. “Just remember the Agbui still don’t know a lot about the Chiss,” he said. “Make sure you tell her the truth before she leaves today so she doesn’t go back to her parents with wild stories about Chiss telepathy.”
Lakris made a face, but nodded. “Okay.” She finished her fritter and stood up. She hesitated, eyeing the platter, then scooped up two more and wrapped them in her napkin. “See you later,” she said, and headed for the door.
“And before you offer Frosif one of those, make sure Agbui can digest everything that’s in it,” Lakansu called after her.
“I will,” Lakris called back over her shoulder. She started to grab her usual jacket, paused, and pulled out the heavy checkered brown one with the brass sealer instead. “I’m going to need this one, okay?” she said, holding it up.
“Go ahead,” Lakphro said. “Just remember that if you get kumeg mash in the sealer teeth, you’re the one who’ll be cleaning it.”
“I won’t,” Lakris said. “I mean I will. Clean it. Bye.” With a last wave, she bounced out of the house, only the soft-latch keeping the door from slamming behind her.
“She seems to have found a friend,” Lakansu commented as she sliced a bite off her own fritter with a knife and fork.
“Yeah,” Lakphro said. “Seems to.”
Lakansu eyed him. “You still don’t like having them here, do you?”
“They’re not exactly brightening up the neighborhood,” Lakphro growled as he took another fritter from the platter.
“Well, they haven’t crushed the seedlings,” Lakansu said, ticking off fingers. “They haven’t frightened the yubals or spread plague through the herd. They haven’t poisoned the groundwater with their spice plots.”
All of which Lakphro had loudly predicted when the Agbui first arrived. He hated it when people quoted his own words back at him. “They’ve got crowds of gawkers pressed up against our fences staring at them,” he said, ticking off fingers of his own. “They’ve got number-squinters from Redhill flying in twice a day—”
“Once a day,” Lakansu corrected.
“It was twice a day at the beginning,” Lakphro said doggedly. “And they’re so damn touchy.”
Lakansu frowned. “What do you mean, touchy?”
“I mean they want to touch you all the time,” Lakphro said, an unpleasant shiver running through him. “That Haplif, mostly. I’m trying to explain our contour bunding on our hillside plots, and he’s trying to touch my hair or the back of my neck or someplace. It’s creepy.”
“I think that’s just part of their culture,” Lakansu soothed. “I don’t think they mean anything by it.”