He doesn't get the chance, because instead he is picked up and slammed into a wall with a loud and echoing CRACK.

"And I'm a Sith apprentice, so don't you look the fool."

Interesting. The Grand Admiral notes the location of C'baoth's introduction to the wall. Away from him, and his men. How very thoughtful.

C'Baoth twitches when he hits. He is quite thoroughly pinned.

Judging her apprentice to have the crazy old fool well in hand, Occlus turn to the Chiss and his men. That is quite a high rank he has on his shoulder. Most atypical.

<Greetings,> she says in passably decent Cheunh. <How come you to be here?>

< Greetings, honored Sith, > replies Thrawn in the same tongue. < I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, and came in search of the means to restore the Empire's former glory. I could ask you the same question. >

<You could indeed.> "But let us continue in Basic, for the benefit of my apprentice. Grand Admiral is not a rank I was aware the Navy subscribed to. Nor are your men's uniforms quite standard."

"They follow Imperial regulations to the letter; I would ask nothing less. But as far as I knew, the last Sith died with the second Death Star. Perhaps we are working with different standards."

"If this 'Death Star' is the sort of idiotic superweapon it sounds to be, I expect so. None in my Empire would authorize the creation of such a thing."

Behind them, C'Baoth groans. He seems like he's waking up.

Thrawn doesn't comment, but a hint of a smile does touch his lips at 'idiotic superweapon.'

"No? And where was your Empire centralized? Who ruled it?"

Callida eyes her idiotic charge. She considers, weighs the likelihood that he'll have anything of import to contribute to the conversation, and then promptly begins choking him with the Force. Not to kill him, just to keep him quiet. His betters are talking.

"It was ruled by the Emperor, of course. Though the Dark Council handled most of the mundane business even prior to his assassination. The capital is Dromund Kaas."

C'Baoth gurgles. But quietly. He might be trying to say something.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize the name." He glances at C'baoth, a trace of amused.

Callida looks at C'baoth, then at Occlus, and raises an eyebrow. Hear what he has to say, or?

"Has the Ascendancy cut ties so thoroughly, then? Not that one can quite blame them."

Occlus shakes her head in response to her apprentice's unspoken query.

"I wouldn't know. How large is your Empire?"

Well, C'baoth doesn't get to talk then, does he. Just as well, he probably doesn't have anything important to say. She'll make sure she doesn't kill him or give him brain damage, but air is not a thing he's going to be well acquainted with right now.

"Large enough that you ought to have heard of it."

"Lord Callida, the 'fate' glyph you saw. How many turns was the spiral?"

"Four."

Of course, she's wondering where Occlus is going with this, but will let her explain.

"Four... and the trefoil edging, of course! How did I miss that? They were using the poetic register. The proper translation is not fate, but time."

"Ah," says Callida, not sounding at all thrilled by this revelation.

"Not a where, but a when? Intriguing."

"A hypertemporal wormhole, the stuff of spacers' legend. Not the first impossibility they would have actualized, but still." Occlus shakes her head. "They must have been trying to return to their heyday, to warn of the problem and gain more time to solve it, using the Ourobouros as an anchoring point. But it can only anchor for as long as it exists and so could send them only forwards..."

Callida has enough composure to keep C'Baoth right where he is, pinned to a wall and with a highly limited air supply, but also: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.