“It is,” Ba’kif said. “But your, shall we say, enthusiasm in identifying and confronting General Yiv has made certain of the Aristocra nervous about sending too many forces outside the Ascendancy and leaving its own worlds less than thoroughly defended. Even bolstered by the Ruling Families’ private fleets, the Defense Force is thought by many to be stretched too thin.”
“I don’t find that assessment valid,” Thrawn said.
“Nor do I,” Ba’kif said. “But valid or not, the opinions of the Syndicure carry a certain amount of weight.”
“I understand,” Thrawn said. “Hence the blackdock?”
“Come now, Senior Captain,” Ba’kif said with an odd mix of innocence and reproach. “You imagine dots and connecting lines where none exist.”
Samakro frowned. What in the world were they talking about?
“My apologies,” Thrawn said, inclining his head to the general. “I understand the Vigilant is scheduled to return to those last Nikardun bases for more data.”
“It is,” Ba’kif said. “The Syndicure has also made it clear they don’t want Admiral Ar’alani going any farther out than that.” He gestured. “As for you and Mid Captain Samakro, you have a mission of your own to prepare for. Dismissed, and good luck.”
A minute later Samakro and Thrawn were back in the corridor, heading toward the shuttle docking area. “What was all that about the blackdock?” Samakro asked as they walked.
“The Grayshrike is undergoing repairs in Csilla Blackdock Two instead of one of the bluedocks,” Thrawn said.
“Yes, I know that,” Samakro said. “The facilities there were available and the bluedocks were backed up with other work. What does that have to do with the Syndicure?”
Thrawn glanced casually around. “Only that with the Grayshrike that much farther out from Csilla, it won’t be nearly as noticeable when it heads away on its next mission.”
Samakro stared at him. “You’re not serious. They’re going to—?”
“The Syndicure doesn’t control the Expansionary Defense Fleet,” Thrawn reminded him. “All they can do is advise, encourage, and make trouble.”
“Especially the latter,” Samakro said, his stomach tightening. If and when they found out the Council and Ba’kif had effectively ignored them and sent Lakinda back to Sunrise, they would undoubtedly drop several layers of that trouble on all of them.
And if Samakro was to connect dots and lines that weren’t there, he might suspect the Vigilant would be joining the Grayshrike once they’d cleared the Ascendancy’s borders. Something else for the Aristocra to scream about down the line.
Theoretically, Ba’kif at least was immune from Syndicure wrath. But that didn’t mean some group of syndics might not set themselves the personal goal of making his life so miserable that he would be forced to resign.
Worse, there was the possibility that one or more families could be persuaded to fully join in that pressure. If that happened, Ba’kif’s days as supreme general would be short indeed.
“We need to know who that Battle Dreadnought was, Mid Captain,” Thrawn said, his voice going grim. “And who in this region they’ve allied with.”
“I’m not arguing, sir,” Samakro said. “Just worrying about Lakinda. She and the whole Xodlak family have a lot of politics going on at the moment.”
“Lakinda will do fine,” Thrawn said. “Politics aren’t supposed to be part of Expansionary Fleet missions.”
“Of course not,” Samakro said. “Speaking of alliances and missions, I don’t suppose you can confirm that rumor about the Vagaari gravity-well trap? I’d like to have a better feel for what we might be getting into.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Thrawn said. “That said, you may be right about the Syndicure looking to profit from our investigation.”
“Profit’s always a good motive, sir, yes,” Samakro agreed.
But money wasn’t the only thing that brought covetous gleams to Aristocra eyes. The fact that both the Mitth and their Irizi rivals supported the Springhawk’s expedition had already raised warning flags in his mind.
Did those two families know more than the rest of the Syndicure about what was going on out past the Paataatus, something that perhaps made it worth a temporary alliance? Were they hoping for new technology they could use directly or fashion into a bargaining chip?
Or were the Irizi simply jumping at the chance to get Thrawn out of the Ascendancy for a while, and had somehow talked the Mitth into going along? That was also a motive he could understand.
“But I wouldn’t worry about it,” Thrawn said. “The Vagaari were severely beaten down the last time we met. Whatever’s going on out there, I don’t anticipate any major surprises.”
Councilor Lakuviv gazed at the Agbui brooch nestled in his palm, a chill running through him. “You’re sure?” he asked Lakjiip, cursing the quaver in his voice. “They’re sure?”
“They are,” the senior aide said, and Lakuviv cursed the calmness in her voice. A mere functionary shouldn’t be calmer than the official she served. “The silver-colored wires are pure nyix.”
“Pure nyix,” Lakuviv murmured, rubbing his thumb distractedly across the cold metal strands. “How is this even possible?”
Lakjiip shrugged. “The metallurgist at Vlidan who ran it couldn’t tell me.”
“He couldn’t tell you?”
“Oh, he made noises about alloys and temperings and annealings,” Lakjiip said. “But the bottom line is that he can’t figure out how the Agbui pulled it off—”
“I don’t mean how they physically did it,” Lakuviv cut her off irritably. “I mean who in the Chaos has such an abundance of nyix that they can waste it on jewelry?” He shook the brooch for emphasis. “And then offer it for such an absurdly low price?”
“I don’t know,” Lakjiip said, her own calmness starting to fray a little at the edges. “You’re right about the price, though. I was told that the nyix in this one piece is worth at least a thousand times what Haplif told me they would be selling them for.”
Lakuviv clenched his teeth. A thousand times. In what version of reality could the Agbui sell these things so cheaply? “Have they started selling them yet?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Lakjiip said. “When I last talked to Haplif a few days ago, he said they wanted to stick to their spice sales first while they decided whether or not the local market could handle their jewelry.” She gave Lakuviv a twisted smile. “He was concerned that their prices might be too high.”
“Too high?”
“I’m just telling you what he said.”
“Yes, of course,” Lakuviv said, looking at the brooch again. “You found out about this just today, I assume?”
“Actually, it was two days ago,” Lakjiip said. “You were—”
“Two days?” Lakuviv cut her off. “And you’re just telling me now?”
“You were working on that petition to the Patriarch of the Irizi family,” Lakjiip said evenly. “As I recall, you said you didn’t want to be disturbed for anything less than a declaration of war.”
Lakuviv ground his teeth. Fine; so he had said that. She should still have gone past the words of the order and focused on the intent. “Next time a thunder-maker like this comes to hand, feel free to ignore my orders,” he said. “Never mind. Three things we have to do. First: For now you and I are the only ones who know about this. Plus the metallurgist,” he added. “We need to talk to him.”