But Lakuviv remembered the warship, just as he remembered the days of glory. That glory would return, he told himself firmly, and when it did that frigate and those cruisers would once again ply the Ascendancy space lanes bearing the crest of a Ruling Family.
“I don’t know as I’d call them mighty,” he told Haplif. “All I could offer you is a system patrol ship, like the ones that escorted your own ship in from orbit.”
“You speak far too modestly,” Haplif said, his earlier astonishment now turned to eagerness. “Compared with our poor freighters, they are mighty indeed.” His mouth slit curved up at the corners. “I daresay it would seem mighty to the cowardly pirate attackers, too.”
Lakuviv shrugged. But the alien was right. Even a simple Xodlak patrol ship could easily go head-to-head against most of the small pirate groups that lurked outside the Ascendancy’s borders. Certainly it would have no trouble against a gang that was so pathetic it couldn’t even chase down a running Agbui freighter. “Let me talk to the Patriel,” he said. “The patrol ships are under her ultimate authority, but it’s not uncommon for a Councilor to requisition one or two for special purposes. Do you know how far it is to the mining world?”
“Not too far,” Haplif said. “Three or four days’ journey.”
“That’s traveling jump-by-jump, I presume?”
“Excuse me?”
“Jump-by-jump,” Lakuviv said. “That’s where you go only a couple of systems at a time to avoid the problem of unstable hyperspace pathways.”
“No, no, our ships have navigators,” Haplif said brightly. “We hire them on, usually for several months or a year at a time.”
“You have a navigator?” Lakuviv asked, frowning.
“Oh, yes,” Haplif said. “Have I not mentioned him to you?”
“No, I’m quite sure you haven’t,” Lakuviv said, eyeing the alien with new eyes. Navigators with the rare ability to guide ships through the Chaos didn’t come cheap, and most people who hired them only did so for a single trip at a time. Yet Haplif had one who’d been sitting idly at Lakphro’s ranch for almost three weeks now? “So he stays with you through all your trips?”
“Of course,” Haplif said, as if it was obvious. “We never know when we might need to go somewhere new, and traveling to a navigator concourse to hire someone would cost valuable time.”
“And you pay him the whole time he’s with you?”
“Fortunately, he doesn’t charge very much,” Haplif said. “Like us, he also seeks adventure and cultural enlightenment.”
“Fortunately,” Lakuviv agreed. Yet so far as he’d heard—and he’d made sure to hear everything about their alien visitors—this mysterious pilot hadn’t so much as set foot outside Haplif’s ship. What kind of culture could he possibly be absorbing in there?
And then, of course, the obvious answer came to him. “He must really like your spices and jewelry,” he said.
“Indeed,” Haplif said, giving Lakuviv another of those bizarre smiles. “Not so much the spices, for his tastes lie in a different direction from yours or ours. But he likes our modest creations very much. So much so that he’s willing to be paid in them.”
“Ah,” Lakuviv said, hiding a cynical smile. If he was being paid in nyix, he’d have no problem sitting idly around for a few months, either. “Well, we unfortunately don’t have anyone like that on call. If we’re going to keep up with your freighter we’ll have to travel jump-by-jump to one of the navigator concourses and hire someone. Unfortunately, that will also take time.”
“Oh—I know,” Haplif said eagerly. “I have the answer. There’s no need for you to hire a navigator. I would be honored if you would accept the loan of ours.”
“You’d really do that?” Lakuviv asked, trying to sound surprised.
“Of course,” Haplif said. “You are our friends. We also have no reason to leave here, certainly not until our next harvest of spices, and so we can do without him for several weeks at the least.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Lakuviv said. Perfect. He’d been trying to figure out how to talk Haplif into that very solution, and here the alien had come up with the idea on his own. “I’m not sure I should accept, though.”
“It’s no more than the hospitality you yourselves have offered us,” Haplif said. “At any rate, I will hear no objection. Your hospitality aside, your warship will be taking a risk in protecting our freighter. It is the least we can do to add our assistance to their venture.”
“Very well,” Lakuviv said, his mind racing. He’d need a personal representative aboard the ship, of course—he couldn’t risk the officers or crew knowing what he was looking for. Lakjiip was the obvious choice: smart, observant, and loyal. Especially loyal. “I’ll give Patriel Lakooni a call and set it up.”
“Thank you,” Haplif said. “If you’ll allow me to return with Rancher Lakphro, I’ll prepare the navigator.” He frowned. “Perhaps it would be best if you could send another vehicle behind us,” he went on. “I would hate to insist Rancher Lakphro make this same journey twice in the same day.”
“I’ll get Senior Aide Lakjiip on it right away,” Lakuviv promised. “May I ask which guild the navigator belongs to?”
“Of course,” Haplif said. “I understand the hesitation of working with the unfamiliar. But I’m told the Chiss have worked with the Pathfinders before.”
Lakuviv nodded. “Yes, we have. That should work out well.”
“Good,” Haplif said. “We do so want this to work to your satisfaction and convenience.”
“I’m sure it will,” Lakuviv soothed. “Well. Let’s go find Lakphro and get the two of you back to his ranch.”
He smiled, the most genuine smile he’d ever given this alien. “And let’s get this plan off the ground.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There were times, Samakro mused, where something in his life felt vaguely like a bit of personal history repeating itself. There were also times there was no vagueness about it whatsoever.
Today was one of the latter.
Flying the Springhawk into the Paataatus hive-home system of Nettehi. Flying along the same approach vector they’d used during the punitive raid with Admiral Ar’alani. Flying in with no idea of what was waiting for them.
Only this time they didn’t have the Vigilant and the other ships of Ar’alani’s task force along. This time, they were going in alone.
“Prepare for breakout,” Thrawn called calmly from his command chair.
Samakro glanced around the bridge, long experience enabling him to gauge the officers’ moods merely by looking at them. They were tense, he could tell, for all the same reasons he was. But he could see no panic or serious doubt. They’d been with Thrawn long enough to trust him to get them through whatever mess he was leading them into.
Distantly, Samakro wondered if they’d had that same confidence back when he’d been the Springhawk’s commander.
“Three, two, one.”
The star-flares flashed and settled into stars framing the planet Nettehi. “Dalvu?” Thrawn asked.
“Combat range: We’ve got fighters,” the sensor officer announced. “Approximately twenty gunboats within combat and mid-range.”
“Check planetary orbit,” Thrawn said. “I think I see some larger ships there.”
“Checking … confirmed, sir,” Dalvu said. “I make seven ships: six enhanced cruisers, one heavy frigate.”