“So I assume,” Jixtus agreed. “I’m simply warning you that it won’t be as easy as this was.” He gestured toward the planet in front of them. “Take whatever resources you need. Others will take over from you here.”
“We could do more,” Haplif offered. “I still think we should move more of the survivors out of the zone.”
“We’ll decide whether and how to deal with them,” Jixtus said severely. “This task is finished. The next lies ahead.”
“Yes, my lord,” Haplif growled. He hated leaving any job uncompleted, even when all that remained was mop-up.
“And I’ll want the locations of the Nikardun bases you mentioned before we part company,” Jixtus added. “We don’t want someone stumbling across your success here.”
“Definitely not,” Haplif agreed. Still, if Jixtus considered the job done, who was he to argue? “So. Once we’ve destroyed the Chiss for you, then we go home?”
“Then you go home, Haplif of the Agbui,” Jixtus said. “And with double payment.”
“Thank you,” Haplif said. “Though after everything you said about the Chiss, I’m wondering if the payment perhaps should be tripled.”
“Perhaps it should,” Jixtus acknowledged. “We shall see. You said there was one known advanced civilization along the refugees’ vector. Which one?”
“It’s a minor, off-the-path world, barely worth notice,” Haplif said. “A place called Rapacc.”
CHAPTER TWO
With one jump left to the Rapacc system, Mid Captain Ufsa’mak’ro had called for the Springhawk’s bridge personnel to take a short rest break.
Which was fine with Mitth’ali’astov. As Sky-walker Che’ri’s caregiver—her official caregiver, now—she’d seen the subtle signs of fatigue in the young girl during the last section of twisting path through the Chaos. If Samakro hadn’t called for a break, Thalias would have asked him to do so.
But he had, and all was well. Che’ri sat at her navigation station, sipping fruit juice and looking idly around. That was pretty standard, at least as Thalias remembered her own days as a sky-walker: After spending hours deep in Third Sight, she’d often felt the need to stretch her eyes a little during her breaks.
Unlike Thalias’s old routine, though, she saw how Che’ri’s eyes kept coming back to the piloting console beside hers. To Thalias, the pilot’s realm had always been little more than a slab of mystery with controls attached. To Che’ri, it was almost like a familiar friend.
The girl’s juice packet looked to be almost empty. “Would you like some more?” Thalias asked, stepping up beside her. “Or something to eat?”
“No, thank you,” Che’ri said. She put the sipper to her lips, her cheeks puckering briefly. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Thalias looked around the bridge as she took the empty packet. Samakro, she saw, was over by Senior Commander Chaf’pri’uhme at the weapons station, talking softly with both Afpriuh and one of the plasma sphere specialists—Lieutenant Commander Laknym, if she was remembering his name right. “Doesn’t look like we’re in a hurry,” she told Che’ri. “Besides, Senior Captain Thrawn isn’t here yet. I imagine he’ll want to be present when we contact the Paccosh.”
“Okay.” Che’ri hesitated. “What are they like?”
“The Paccosh?” Thalias shrugged. “Alien. Voices that are kind of whinnying, though you can understand them okay. Speak Taarja, which I never liked.”
“You mean they whinny like packbulls?”
“A little,” Thalias said, trying to remember when she’d heard a packbull in real life. She was pretty sure she had, but she couldn’t place where or when that might have been. “The Paccosh we saw in the mining station were about my height, maybe a little taller. Big chest and hip bulges, light-pink skin, and they’ve got head crests that look like woven feathers. Their arms and legs are thin but they seem strong enough. Oh, and they’ve got purple splotches around their eyes that sometimes change when they’re talking to people.”
“Sounds interesting,” Che’ri murmured. “I wish I could see them.”
“I’m sure we’ll bring back vids.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not,” Thalias conceded. “But really, some downtime would be good for you. You can draw, play with your building snaps—”
“And do lessons,” Che’ri said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Oh, right,” Thalias said brightly, as if she’d completely forgotten that part of a sky-walker’s routine. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Che’ri peered up over her shoulder, giving Thalias the kind of strained-patience look that ten-year-olds pulled off so well. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Thalias said, mock-chiding. “There might even be some lessons you’d like.” She pointed at the pilot control board. “If you want, I’ll help you sweet-talk Lieutenant Commander Azmordi into teaching you how to fly the Springhawk.”
To Thalias’s surprise, Che’ri seemed to shrink into herself. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I got in enough trouble just learning how to fly a scout ship.”
“One: You didn’t get in trouble,” Thalias said firmly. “Maybe Senior Captain Thrawn did, a little, but it all worked out. Two: Learning things should never get you in trouble. Now, if you actually took the Springhawk for a ride around some planet without permission, that might be a problem. But just learning how to do it shouldn’t. Three: You’re—”
She broke off with a sudden flicker of embarrassment. “Three: If someone doesn’t like it, we’ll just refer them to Captain Thrawn, and he’ll set them straight.”
“That’s not what you were going to say,” Che’ri said, frowning suspiciously up at her. “What were you going to say?”
Thalias sighed. So embarrassing … “I was going to say you’re ten now,” she said. “And that reminded me that I missed your starday. I’m so sorry. With all that was going on last month, I just totally forgot it.”
“It’s okay,” Che’ri said, hunching her shoulders. Her voice was quiet, and Thalias could hear the distant hurt beneath it. “It’s not like I remember being taken to the skylight to see my first star. And, you know. Parties and treasure-puzzle poems are mostly for little kids.”
“I still feel terrible for forgetting it,” Thalias said. “Maybe we could do something now. A belated starday celebration. I could make something special for dinner, and then we could play whatever games you wanted.”
“It’s okay,” Che’ri said again. “Anyway, there’s not much we can do when I’m on duty.”
“All right, then,” Thalias said, determined not to just let it slide. “We’ll wait until we’re back on Csilla or someplace and do you a tenth-and-a-half starday. How about that?”
“Okay,” Che’ri said. She seemed to straighten in her chair. “Senior Captain Thrawn’s here.”
Thalias turned around, mentally counting out the time. She was at a second and a half when the hatch opened and Thrawn stepped onto the bridge. His eyes flicked around the room, lingered a moment on Thalias—he could tell that she’d already been turned to face him before he entered, she guessed, and had deduced that the reason for that was Che’ri’s Third Sight—then came to rest on Samakro. “Report, Mid Captain Samakro?” he said, stepping toward the first officer.
“Ready for our final jump, sir,” Samakro said, turning away from Laknym and taking a step toward his captain. “Weapons and defenses all show green.” He flicked a glance at Thalias and Che’ri. “Shall I have the sky-walker and caregiver escorted to their suite?”