But that was as unlikely as Patriot and his simple-minded conspirators realizing how thoroughly the flopbrim was being pulled over their eyes. Nothing impressed people more than the perception that they were being entrusted with exotic technology.
“Then our victory is assured,” Patriot said, fingering the data card almost reverently.
“It is indeed,” Doriana said. “One final matter, then.
Were you planning to return to your homes when you leave here this evening?”
“Of course,” Patriot said, frowning. “We’ll need a good meal, and sleep—”
“And you’ll get them as far from your homes as you can travel,” Doriana interrupted. “From this time onward, you must stay strictly away from your families and your other friends.”
Patriot’s whole body jerked in stages, from his feet up to a little whiplash jerk of his head. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that by noon tomorrow, with Magistrate Argente and Guildmaster Gilfrome lying dead, the authorities will descend upon the homes of every member of your guild,”
Doriana said coldly. “You and your friends must not be there, nor can anyone know where you’ve gone.”
“But for how long?”
“As long as necessary,” Doriana said. “Make no mistake, Patriot. From now on you and the others will be fugitives, running and hiding from the very people whose lives and prosperity you will have risked your lives to protect.” He lifted his eyebrows. “If you aren’t strong enough to pay that price, now is the time to renounce your oath.”
Patriot straightened up, the resolve in his face visibly hardening. “We do what is necessary for our guild and ourpeople,” he said firmly. “We will pay the price for all.”
“Then you are a Brolf of high honor indeed,” Doriana said gravely. For some people the prospect of life on the run would be grounds to take a second, harder look at what they were doing. But for Patriot and his friends, such a potentially bleak future merely added to the perceived nobility and glamour of their insane plot.
Which was why Doriana had recruited them for this mission in the first place. Stupid, angry, and malleable, they’d been the perfect pawns for his plan. The deed would be done, and Doriana himself long gone, before any of them realized what had actually happened. If indeed they ever did. “Then here and now we stand together on the path to glory and destiny,” he continued. “By tomorrow noon these traitorous negotiations will lie crumbled in the dust of history, and the precious minerals of Barlok will be forever held in Brolf hands.”
“And those who would betray us will know the cost of such betrayal,” Patriot intoned solemnly. “The Brolf people arc deeply in your debt, Defender. Someday, I swear, this debt will be repaid.”
“And I swear in turn that I will return to collect that payment,” Doriana said, though offhand he couldn’t imagine anything he was less likely to do. “I have one more small adjustment to make to the missile after the burst thrusters are in place, and then will leave to prepare my own part in this redemption of the Brolf people. Be certain you place the missile at precisely the spot we agreed on. Only there will it be inside the sensor shadow that guarantees it will not be spotted.” And only from there, he added to himself, would the pre-programmed path take it where it had to go.
“I will,” Patriot promised. “Then to our victory, Defender.”
Doriana smiled. “Yes,” he said softly. “To our victory.”
Car’das had noted on their first approach to Thrawn’s asteroid that the base itself seemed remarkably well hidden. Itwas only as they approached now for the second time that he found out how the commander had pulled off that particular trick.
Instead of being built on the surface, the base was inside.
Inside, in fact, down a long, twisting tunnel, a path the Springhawk‘s helmsman took at a far better clip than was actually necessary. “Impressive place,” Car’das said aloud, trying to cover his nervousness as he watched the rocky walls shooting past. “Is this typical Chiss construction?”
“Not at all,” Thrawn said, his voice sounding odd as he gazed out the bridge viewport. “Most bases are on the surface. I wanted this one to be more difficult for potential enemies to penetrate.”
“Hardly an original idea,” Qennto put in. His voice was casual, but Car’das could see a little tightness around his eyes as he paid close attention to the helmsman’s maneuvering. “You make the approach tricky so an attacker has to come at you slowly. ‘Course, that makes it just as hard to get your own ships out, but that’s the price you pay.”
“There are ways of minimizing that particular problem,” Thrawn told him. “At the moment, the Chiss Defense Fleet is working with this same concept with another base, on a much larger and more sophisticated scale than this. Interesting.”
“What?” Car’das asked.
“That pattern of colored lights woven between the approach markers,” Thrawn said, pointing to the wall just ahead. “It indicates the presence of visitors.”
“Is that good or bad?” Maris asked.
Thrawn shrugged. “That depends on who the visitors are.”
Three minutes later they came around a final curveand the tunnel opened up into a large cavern. At the far side, the rock face was alive with the glinting lights of ranging markers and viewports, with eight ships nestled up against various docking stations. Five were the Chiss fighters Car’das had already seen in action, two were small transport-style shuttles, and the eighth was a cruiser about the size of the Springhawk.
Unlike the smoothly contoured military ships, though, this one was all planes and corners and sharply defined angles. “Ah,”
Thrawn said. “Our guests are from the Fifth Ruling Family.”
“How can you tell?” Maris asked.
“By the design and markings of the spacecraft,”
Thrawn said. “I can also tell that the visitor is of direct but peripheral family lineage.”
“So is that good or bad?” Car’das asked.
“Mostly neutral,” Thrawn said. “The Fifth Family has interests in this region, so this is most likely a routine survey.
Certainly someone of higher rank, and from the First or Eighth Families, would have come to deliver a reprimand.”
Car’das frowned sideways at Maris. A reprimand?
“You’ll all be my guests at the welcoming ceremony, of course,” Thrawn continued as the Springhawk made its way toward an empty docking station. “You may find it interesting.”
Interesting, in Car’das’s opinion, was far too mild a word.
To begin with, there was the welcoming chamber itself.
At first it appeared to be nothing more than an empty, unadorned gray room just off the docking station. But at a touch of a hidden button all that changed. Colorful panels folded out from the walls, reversing and settling themselves flat again. A
handful of draperies descended from hidden panels in the ceiling, along with wavy stalactite-like formations that reminded Car’das of frozen pieces of aurora borealis skyfire. The floor tiles didn’t flip or reconfigure, but intricate patterns of colored lights appeared through a transparent outer surface, some of themremaining stationary or slowly pulsing while others ran sequences that gave the illusion of flowing rivers. Every color of the spectrum was represented, but yellow was definitely favored.
It was an impressive display, and the Chiss who stepped through the portal a minute later was no less impressive.
He strode in flanked by a pair of young Chiss wearing dark yellow uniforms and belted handguns, his own outfit consisting of an elaborately layered gray robe with a yellow collar and generous yellow highlights. Though not much older than Thrawn, there was an air about him of nobility and pride, the bearing of someone born to rule. The movements of his escort were crisp and polished, and Car’das had the impression that they and the four black-clad warriors Thrawn had brought along were having a subtle contest as to which group could look the most professional.
Thrawn’s greeting and the visitor’s response were in Cheunh, of course, and once again Car’das was only able to catch occasional words. But the tone and flow of the speeches, along with the equally formalized gestures and movements, had a sense of ancient ritual that he found fascinating.