Star Wars: Outbound Flight

2

The victors took their time poking or prodding or gloating over whatever was left of the Hutt ship. From the number of maneuvering drives Car’das could see winking on and off, he guessed there were just the three ships that had been involved in the battle itself, plus the one still standing watchful guard off their flank.

Connor nets, like ion cannons, were designed to disable and hold rather than destroy, and Qennto and Maris had most of the systems back online by the time their keeper finally made its move. “Qennto, he’s shifting position,” Car’das called into the comm, watching as the gray ship drifted leisurely past the canopy and settled into a new spot with his stern above and in front of the Bargain Hunter‘s bow. “Looks like he’s setting up for us to follow him.”

“On our way,” Qennto called back. “Run the drive up to quarter power.”

The gray ship was starting to pull away when he and Maris returned. “Here we go,” Qennto muttered, dropping into his seat and easing them forward. “Any idea where we’re going?”

“The rest of the group’s still over by the Hutt ship,”

Car’das said, squeezing carefully past Maris as he headed back to his own station. “Maybe he’s taking us there.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Qennto agreed as he fed more power to the drive. “So far, they’re not shooting. That’s usually a good sign.”

There were indeed three alien vessels hovering around the remains of Progga’s ship when they arrived. Two were duplicates of their fighter-sized escort, while the third was considerably larger. “Not that much bigger than a Republic cruiser, though,” Car’das pointed out. “Pretty small, considering what it just did.”

“Looks like they’re opening a docking bay for us,”

Maris said.

Car’das measured the opening port cover with his eyes.

“Not much room in there.”

“Our bow will fit,” Qennto assured him. “We can use the forward service tube to get out.”

“We’re going to go into their ship?” Maris asked, her voice shaking slightly.

“Unless they want to use the tube to come in here instead,” Qennto told her. “The guys with the guns get to make those decisions.” He lifted a warning finger. “The key is for us to keep control of the situation while they’re doing it.”

He half turned toward Car’das. “That means I do all the talking. Unless they ask you something directly, in which case you give them exactly as much answer as they have question. No more. Got it?”

Car’das swallowed. “Got it.”

Their escort led them to the larger ship’s side, and two minutes later Qennto had the Bargain Hunter‘s bow snugged securely inside the docking collar. A boarding tunnel began extending itself toward the service hatch as Qennto shifted the systems to standby, and by the time the three of them had made it down the ladder the exit sensors indicated the tunnel was in place and pressurized. “Here we go,” Qennto muttered, drawinghimself up to his full height and keying the release. “Remember, let me do the talking.”

Two of the crew were waiting outside the hatch as it slid open: blue-skinned humanoids with glowing red eyes and blue-black hair, dressed in identical black uniforms sporting green shoulder patches. Each of them had a small but nasty-looking handgun belted at his waist. “Hello,” Qennto greeted them as he took a step into the tunnel. “I’m Dubrak Qennto, captain of the Bargain Hunter”

The aliens didn’t answer, but merely moved to either side and gestured down the tunnel. “This way?” Qennto asked, pointing with one hand as he took Maris’s arm with the other.

“Sure.”

He and Maris headed down the tunnel, the ribbed material of the floor bouncing like a swinging bridge with each step. Car’das followed close behind them, studying the aliens out of the corner of his eye as he passed between them. Aside from the unusual skin color and those glowing eyes, they were remarkably human looking. Some offshoot of humanity’s ancient expansion into the galaxy? Or were they their own people, with the resemblance purely coincidental?

Two more aliens were waiting just inside the ship proper, dressed and armed the same way as the first pair except that their shoulder patches were yellow and blue instead of green. They turned in military precision as the three humans arrived and led the way down a smoothly curved corridor made of a pearl-like material with a soft, muted sheen. Car’das ran his fingertips gently along the wall as they walked, trying to decide whether it was metal, ceramic, or some kind of composite.

Five meters down the corridor their guides came to a halt outside an open doorway and planted themselves on either side. “In there, huh?” Qennto asked. “Sure.” He squared his shoulders the way Car’das had often seen him do just before a negotiating session. Then, still holding Maris’s arm, he headed inside. Taking one last look at the corridor walls, Car’das followed.

The room was small and simple, its furnishings consisting of a table and half a dozen chairs. A conference room, Car’das tentatively identified it, or possibly a duty crew meal room. Another of the blue-skinned aliens was seated on the far side of the table, his glowing eyes steady on his visitors. He wore the same black as their escorts, but with a larger burgundy patch on his shoulder and a pair of elaborately tooled silver bars on his collar. An officer? “Hello,” Qennto said cheerfully, coming to a stop at the edge of the table. “I’m Dubrak Qennto, captain of the Bargain Hunter: I don’t suppose you happen to speak Basic?”

The alien didn’t reply, but Car’das thought he saw his eyebrow twitch slightly. “Maybe we should try one of the Outer Rim trade languages,” he offered.

“Thanks for that brilliant suggestion,” Qennto said with a touch of sarcasm. “Greetings to you, noble sir,” he continued, switching to Sy Bisti. “We’re travelers and traders from a far world, who mean no harm to you or your people.”

Again, there was no response. “You could try Taarja,”

Maris said.

“I don’t know Taarja very well,” Qennto said, still in Sy Bisti. “How about you?” he added, turning to look at the two guards who had followed them into the room. “Do any of you understand Sy Bisti? How about Taarja? Meese Caulf?”

“Sy Bisti will do,” the alien behind the table said calmly in that language.

Qennto turned back, blinking in surprise. “Did you just say—?”

“I said Sy Bisti will do,” the alien repeated. “Please; be seated.”

“Ah… thank you,” Qennto said, pulling out chairs for himself and Maris and nodding to Car’das to do likewise. The chair backs were contoured a bit oddly for humans, Car’das noticed as he sat down, but not uncomfortably so.

“I’m Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Ascendance,” the alien continued. “This is the Springhawk, Picket Force Two command vessel of the Expansionary Defense Fleet.”

Expansionary Fleet. Car’das felt a shiver run up his back. Did the name imply this Chiss Ascendancy was in the process of expanding outward?

He hoped not. The last thing the Republic needed right now was a threat from outside its borders. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was doing his best, but there was a lot of resistance to change in the old business-as-usual attitudes and casual corruption of the Coruscant government. Even now, five years after its little misadventure on Naboo, the Trade Federation had vet to be punished for its blatant aggression, despite Palpatine’s best efforts to bring it to judgment. Resentment and frustration simmered throughout the galaxy, with rumors of new reform or secession movements surfacing every other week.

Qennto loved it, of course. Government bureaucracies with their dozens of fees, service charges, and flat-out prohibitions were an ideal operating environment for small-scale smuggling operations like his. And Car’das had to admit that during his time aboard the Bargain Hunter, their activities had earned a very respectable profit.

What Qennto perhaps failed to understand was that while a little governmental instability could be useful, too much would be as bad for smugglers as it would be for anyone else.

A full-scale war, needless to say, would be as bad as it got. For everyone.

“And you are… ?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo asked, shifting his glowing red eyes to Car’das.

Car’das opened his mouth— “I’m Dubrak Qennto, Commander,” Qennto pill in before he could speak. “Captain of the—”

“And you are… ?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo repeated, his eyesstill on Car’das, a slight but noticeable emphasis on the pronoun.

Car’das looked sideways at Qennto, got a microscopic nod. “I’m Jorj Car’das,” he said. “Crewer on the freighter Bargain Hunter:”

“And these?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo asked, gesturing to the others.

Again, Car’das looked at Qennto. The other’s expression had gone rather sour, but he nevertheless gave his junior crewer another small nod. “This is my captain, Dubrak Qennto,” Car’das told the commander. “And his—” Girlfriend?

Copilot? Partner? “—his second in command, Maris Ferasi.”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo nodded to each in turn, then turned back to Car’das. “Why are you here?”

“We’re Corellian traders, from one of the systems in the Galactic Republic,” Car’das said.

“K’rell’n,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, as if trying out the word. “Traders, you say? Not explorers or scouts?”

“No, not at all,” Car’das assured him. “We hire out our ship to take cargo between star systems.”

“And the other vessel?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo asked.

“Pirates of some sort,” Qennto put in before Car’das could answer. “We were running from them when we had some trouble with our hyperdrive, which is how we ended up here.”

“Did you know these pirates?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo asked.

“How could we possibly—?” Qennto began.

“Yes, we’ve had trouble with them before,” Car’das interrupted. There’d been something in Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s voice as he asked that question… “I think they were gunning specifically for us.”

“You must be carrying a valuable cargo.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Qennto said, shooting a warning look at Car’das. “A shipment of furs and exotic luxury garments.

We’re most grateful to you for coming to our aid.”

Car’das felt his throat tighten. The bulk of their cargo was indeed luxury clothing, but sewn into the filigree collar of one of the furs was an assortment of smuggled firegems. If Mitth’raw’nuruodo decided to search the shipment and found them, there was going to be a very unhappy Drixo the Hutt in the Bargain Hunter‘s future.

“You’re welcome,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I’d be curious to see what your people consider luxury garments.

Perhaps you’ll show me your cargo before you leave.”

“I’d be delighted,” Qennto said. “Does that mean you’re releasing us?”

“Soon,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him. “First I need to examine your vessel and confirm that you’re indeed the innocent travelers you claim.”

“Of course, of course,” Qennto said easily. “We’ll give you a complete tour anytime you want.”

“Thank you,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “But that can wait until we reach my base. Until then, resting quarters have been prepared for you. Perhaps later you’ll permit me to show you Chiss hospitality”

“We would be both grateful and honored, Commander,” Qennto said, inclining his head in a small bow.

“I’d just like to mention, though, that we’re on a very tight schedule, which our unexpected detour has made that much tighter. We’d appreciate it if you could send us on our way as quickly as possible.”

“Of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “The base isn’t far.”

“Is it in this system?” Qennto asked. He lifted a hand before the Chiss could answer. “Sorry, sorry—none of my business.”

“True,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo agreed. “However, it will do no harm to tell you that it’s in a different system entirely.”

“Ah,” Qennto said. “May I ask when we’ll be leaving to go there?”

“We’ve already left,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said mildly.

“We made the jump to hyperspace approximately four standard minutes ago.”

Qennto frowned. “Really? I didn’t hear or feel anything.”

“Perhaps our hyperdrive systems are superior to yours,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, standing up. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to the resting area.”

He led the way another five meters down the corridor to another door, where he touched a striped panel on the wall.

“I’ll send word when I want you again,” he said as the door slid open.

“We’ll look forward to further conversation,” Qennto said, giving a truncated bow as he eased Maris behind him through the doorway. “Thank you, Commander.”

The two of them disappeared inside. Inclining his head to the commander, Car’das followed.

The room was compactly furnished, containing a three-tier bunk bed against one wall and a fold-down table and bench seats on the other. Beside the bunk bed were three large drawers built into the wall, while to the right was a door leading into what seemed to be a compact refresher station.

“What do you think he’s going to do with us?” Maris murmured, looking around.

“He’ll let us go,” Qennto assured her, glancing into the refresher station and then sitting down on the lowest cot, hunching forward to keep from bumping his head on the one above it. “The real question is whether we’ll be taking the firegems with us.”

Car’das cleared his throat. “Should we be talking about this?” he asked, looking significantly around the room.

“Relax,” Qennto growled. “They don’t speak a word of Basic.” His eyes narrowed. “And as long as we’re on the subject of speaking, why the frizz did you tell him we knew Progga?”

“There was something in his eves and voice just then,”

Car’das said. “Something that said he already knew all about it, and that we’d better not get caught lying to him.”

Qennto snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe there were survivors from Progga’s crew,”

Maris suggested.

“Not a chance,” Qennto said firmly. “You saw what the ship looked like. The thing’d been peeled open like a ration bar.”

“I don’t know how he knew,” Car’das insisted. “All I know is that he did know.”

“And you shouldn’t lie to an honorable man anyway,”

Maris murmured.

“Who, him? Honorable?” Qennto scoffed. “Don’t you believe it. Military men are all alike, and the smooth ones the worst of the lot.”

“I’ve known quite a few honorable soldiers,” Maris said stiffly. “Besides, I’ve always had a good feel for people. I think this Mitth’raw—I think the commander can be trusted.” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think trying to con him would be a good idea, either.”

“It’s only a bad idea if you get caught,” Qennto said.

“You get what you bargain for in this universe, Maris. Nothing more.”

“You don’t have enough faith in people.”

“I got all the faith I need, kiddo,” Qennto said calmly.

“I just happen to know a little more about human nature than you do. Human and nonhuman nature.”

“I still think we need to play completely straight with him,” Maris said.

“Playing straight is the last thing you want to do. Ever.

It gives the other guy all the advantages.” Qennto nodded toward the closed door. “And this guy in particular sounds like the sort who’ll ask questions until we die of old age if we let him.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt if he kept us around for at least a little while,” Car’das suggested. “Progga’s people are going to be pretty mad when he doesn’t come back.”

Qennto shook his head. “They’ll never pin it on us.”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, kid, let me do the thinking, okay?” Qennto cut in. Swiveling his legs up onto the bunk, he lay back with his arms folded behind his back. “Now everyone be quiet for a while. I’ve got to figure out how to play this.”

Maris caught Car’das’s eye, gave a little shrug, then turned and climbed up onto the bunk above Qennto. Stretching out, she folded her arms across her chest and gazed meditatively at the underside of the bunk above her.

Crossing to the other side of the room, Car’das folded down the table and one of the bench seats and sat down, wedging himself more or less comfortably between the table and wall. Putting his elbow on the table and propping his head up on his hand, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a sudden buzzstartled him awake. He jumped up as the door opened to reveal a single black-clad Chiss. “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s respects,” the alien said, the Sy Bisti words coming out thickly accented. “He requests your presence in Forward Visual One.”

“Wonderful,” Qennto said, swinging his legs onto the floor and standing up. His tone and expression were the false cheerfulness Car’das had heard him use time and again in bargaining sessions.

“Not you,” the Chiss said. He gestured to Car’das. “This one only.”

Qennto came to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“A refreshment is being prepared,” the Chiss said.

“Until it is ready, this one only will come.”

“Now, wait a second,” Qennto growled. “We stick together or—”

“It’s okay,” Car’das interrupted hastily. The Chiss standing in the doorway hadn’t moved, but Car’das had caught a subtle shift of light and shadow that indicated there were others wandering around out there. “I’ll be fine.”

“Car’das—”

“It’s okay,” Car’das repeated, stepping to the doorway.

The Chiss moved back, and he walked out into the corridor.

There were indeed more Chiss waiting by the door, two of them on either side. “Follow,” the messenger said as the door closed.

The group headed down the curved corridor, passing three cross-corridors and several other doorways along the way.

Two of the doors were open, and Car’das couldn’t resist a furtive glance inside each as he passed. All he could see, though, was unrecognizable equipment and more black-clad Chiss.

He had expected Forward Visual to be a crowded,high-tech room. To his surprise, the door opened into something that looked like a compact version of a starliner’s observation gallery. A long, curved couch sat in front of a convex floor-to-ceiling viewport currently showing a spectacular view of the glowing hyperspace sky as it flowed past the ship. The room’s own lights were dimmed, making the display that much more impressive.

“Welcome, Jorj Car’das.”

Car’das looked around. Mitth’raw’nuruodo was seated alone at the far end of the couch, silhouetted against the hyperspace sky. “Commander,” he greeted the other, glancing a question at his guide. The other nodded, stepping back and closing the door on himself and the rest of the escort. Feeling more than a little uneasy, Car’das stepped around the near end of the couch and made his way across the curve.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo commented as Car’das arrived at his side. “Please; be seated.”

“Thank you,” Car’das said, easing himself onto the couch a cautious meter away from the other. “May I ask why you sent for me?”

“To share this view, of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said drily. “And to answer a few questions.”

Car’das felt his stomach tighten. So it was to be an interrogation. Down deep he’d known it would be, but had hoped against hope that Maris’s naively idealistic assessment of their captor might actually be right. “A very nice view it is, too,” he commented, not knowing what else to say. “I’m a little surprised to find such a room aboard a warship.”

“Oh, it’s quite functional,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo assured him. “Its full name is Forward Visual Triangulation Site Number One. We place spotters here during combat to track enemy vessels and other possible threats, and to coordinate some of our line-of sight weaponry.”

“Don’t you have sensors to handle that?”

“Of course,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “And usually they’re quite adequate. But I’m sure you know there are ways of misleading or blinding electronic eyes. Sometimes the eyes of a Chiss are more reliable.”

“I suppose,” Car’das said, gazing at his host’s own glowing eves. In the dim light, they were even more intimidating.

“But isn’t it hard to get the information to the gunners fast enough?”

“There are ways,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “What exactly is your business, Jorj Car’das?”

“Captain Qennto’s already told you that,” Car’das said, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead. “We’re merchants and traders.”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo shook his head. “Unfortunately for your captain’s assertions, I’m familiar with the economics of star travel. Your vessel is far too small for any standard cargo to cover even normal operating expenses, let alone emergency repair work. I therefore conclude that you have a sideline occupation.

You haven’t the weaponry to be pirates or privateers, so you must be smugglers.“

Car’das hesitated. What exactly was he supposed to say? “I don’t suppose it would do any good to point out that our economics and yours might not scale the same?” he stalled.

“Is that what you claim?”

Car’das hesitated, but Mitth’raw’nuruodo had that knowing look again. “No,” he conceded. “We are mostly just traders, as Captain Qennto said. But we sometimes do a little smuggling on the side.”

“I see,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I appreciate your honesty, Jorj Car’das.”

“You can just call me Car’das,” Car’das said. “In our culture, the first name is reserved for use by friends.”

“You don’t consider me a friend?”

“Do you consider me one?” Car’das countered.

He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. Sarcasm was hardly the option of choice in a confrontation like this.

But Mitth’raw’nuruodo merely lifted an eyebrow. “No, not yet,” he agreed calmly. “Perhaps someday. You intrigue me, Car’das. Here you sit, captured by unfamiliar beings a long way from home. Yet instead of wrapping yourself within a blanket of fear or anger, you instead stretch outside yourself with curiosity.”

Car’das frowned. “Curiosity?”

“You studied my warriors as you were brought aboard,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said. “I could see it in your eyes and face as you observed and thought and evaluated. You did the same as you were taken to your quarters, and again as you were brought here just now.”

“I was just looking around,” Car’das assured him, his heart beating a little faster. Did spies rank above or below smugglers on Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s list of undesirables? “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Calm yourself,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said, some amusement creeping into his voice. “I’m not accusing you of spying. I, too, have the gift of curiosity, and therefore prize it in others. Tell me, who is to receive the hidden gemstones?”

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.”