Car’das jerked. “You found—? I mean… in that case, why did you ask me about it?”
“As I said, I appreciate honesty,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Who is the intended recipient?”
“A group of Hutts operating out of the Comra system,”
Car’das told him, giving up. “Rivals to the ones you—the ones who were attacking us.” He hesitated. “You did know theyweren’t just random pirates, didn’t you? That they were hunting us specifically?”
“We monitored your transmissions as we positioned ourselves to intervene,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “Though the conversation was of course unintelligible to us, I remembered hearing the phonemes Dubrak Qennto in the Hutt’s speech when Captain Qennto later identified himself. The conclusion was obvious.”
A shiver ran up Car’das’s back. A conversation in an alien language, and yet Mitth’raw’nuruodo had been able to memorize enough of it to extract Qennto’s name from the gibberish. What kind of creatures were these Chiss, anyway?
“Is the possession of these gems illegal, then?”
“No, but the customs fees are ridiculously high,”
Car’das said, forcing his mind back to the interrogation.
“Smugglers are often used to avoid having to pay them.” He hesitated. “Actually, considering the people we got this batch from, they may also have been stolen. But don’t tell Maris that.”
“Oh?”
Car’das winced. There he was again, talking without thinking. If Mitth’raw’nuruodo didn’t kill him before this was over, Qennto probably would. “Maris is something of an idealist,” he said reluctantly. “She thinks this whole smuggling thing is just a way of making a statement against the greedy and stupid Republic bureaucracy.”
“Captain Qennto hasn’t seen fit to enlighten her?”
“Captain Qennto likes her company,” Car’das said. “I doubt she’d stay with him if she knew the whole truth.”
“He claims to care about her, yet lies to her?”
“I don’t know what he claims,” Car’das said. “Though I suppose you could say that idealists like Maris do a lot of lying to themselves. The truth is there in front of her if she wanted to seeit.” He took another look at those glowing red eyes. “Though of course that doesn’t excuse our part in it,” he added.
“No, it doesn’t,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “What would be the consequences if you didn’t deliver the gemstones?”
Car’das felt his throat tighten. So much for the honorable Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Firegems must be valuable out here, too. “They’d kill us,” he said bluntly. “Probably in some hugely entertaining way, like watching us get eaten by some combination of large animals.”
“And if the delivery is merely late?”
Car’das frowned, trying to read the other’s expression in the flickering hyperspace glow. “What exactly do you want from me, Commander Mitthrawnuruodo?”
“Nothing too burdensome,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I merely wish your company for a time.”
“Why?”
“Partly to learn about your people,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “But primarily so that you may teach me your language.”
Car’das blinked. “Our language? You mean Basic?”
“That is the chief language of your Republic, is it not?”
“Yes, but…” Car’das hesitated, wondering if there was a delicate way to ask a question like this.
Mitth’raw’nuruodo might have been reading his mind.
Or, more likely, his eyes and face. “I’m not planning an invasion, if that’s what concerns you,” he said, smiling faintly. “Chiss don’t invade the territories of others. We don’t make war against even potential enemies unless we’re attacked first.”
“Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about any attacks from us,” Car’das said quickly “We’ve got too many internal troubles of our own right now to go bother anyone else.”
“Then we have nothing to fear from each other,”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “It would be merely an indulgence of my curiosity.”
“I see,” Car’das said cautiously. Qennto, he knew, would be into full-bore bargaining mode at this point, pushing and prodding and squeezing to get everything he could out of the deal. Maybe that was why Mitth’raw’nuruodo was making this pitch to the clearly less experienced Car’das instead.
Still, he could try. “And what would we get out of it?”
he asked.
“For you, there would be an equal satisfaction of your own curiosity.” Mitth’raw’nuruodo lifted his eyebrows. “You do wish to know more about my people, don’t you?”
“Very much,” Car’das said. “But I can’t see that appealing to Captain Qennto.”
“Perhaps a few extra valuables added to his cargo, then,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo suggested. “That might also help mollify your clients.”
“Yes, they’ll definitely need some mollifying,” Car’das agreed grimly. “A little extra loot would go a long way toward that.”
“Then it’s agreed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, standing up.
“One more thing,” Car’das said, scrambling to his feet.
“I’ll be happy to teach you Basic, but I’d also like some language lessons myself. Would you be willing in turn to teach me the Chiss language, or to have one of your people do so?”
“I can teach you to understand Cheunh,”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But I doubt you’ll ever be able to properly speak it. I’ve noticed you don’t even pronounce my name very well.”
Car’das felt his face warm. “I’m sorry.”
“No apology needed,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him.
“Your vocal mechanism is close to ours, but there are clearly some differences. However, I believe I could teach you to speak Minnisiat. It’s a trade language widely used in the regions around our territory.”
“That would be wonderful,” Car’das said. “Thank you, Commander Mitth—uh… Commander.”
“As I said, Cheunh pronunciation is difficult for you,”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo noted drily. “Perhaps it would be easier if you called me by my core name, Thrawn.”
Car’das frowned. “Is that permissible?”
Mitth’raw’nuruodo—Thrawn—shrugged. “It’s questionable,” he conceded. “In general, full names are required for formal occasions, for strangers, and for those who are socially inferior.”
“And I’m guessing we qualify on all three counts.”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “But I believe such rules may be broken when there are good and valid reasons for doing so. In this case, there are.”
“It will certainly make things easier,” Car’das agreed, bowing his head. “Thank you, Commander Thrawn.”
“You’re welcome,” Thrawn said. “And now, a light refreshment has been prepared for you and the others. After that, the language lessons can begin.”
3
The receptionist set down her comlink and smiled up at the man and woman standing over her. “The Supreme Chancellor will see you now, Master C’baoth,” she said.
“Thank you,” Jedi Master Jorus C’baoth said, his voice cool and brooding.
Beside him, Lorana Jinzler winced to herself. Her Master was angry, and under the circumstances she couldn’t really blame him. But C’baoth’s quarrel was with Palpatine, not a lowly receptionist who had no power or authority over the orders that issued from the Supreme Chancellor’s Office. There was no reason to vent his annoyance at her.
That wasn’t the way C’baoth did things, however.
Without another word, he strode away from the woman’s desk and headed for the doors to Palpatine’s inner office. Lingering half a step behind him, Lorana made sure to catch the receptionist’s eye and give her an encouraging smile before following.
A pair of Brolfi came out the door as they approached, their yellow-and-green-patterned hornskin quivering with emotion beneath their leather tunics. C’baoth didn’t break stride, but continued straight ahead toward the two aliens, forcing them to move hastily to either side to let him pass.
Wincing again, Lonna took a couple of quick steps to catch up with her Master, reaching him just as he passed through the doors into the office.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was seated at his desk, an expansive view of Coruscant’s skyline visible through the wide window behind him. A young man wearing a tooled tunican and vest was standing beside him, leaning over the desk with a data-pad and speaking in a low voice.