"I'm sure you will, Commander," Pellaeon a.s.sured him. "Was there anything else?"

"Actually, sir, yes," Dreyf said, consulting a datapad. "I just got word from one of my people on Bothawui who was tracking down one of Lord Graemon's connections there. He says there's been a bad riot over at the Combined Clans Building in Drev'starn, apparently over this Caamas Doc.u.ment thing."

Pellaeon frowned. "Any other details?"

"Only that there were definitely casualties," Dreyf said. "No idea of the number yet.

Apparently it's just happened-the news hasn't even hit the various services yet. It'll probably take them a while to sort things out, but I thought you'd like to know."

"Yes, thank you," Pellaeon said. "Anything else?"

"No, sir, not right now."

"Very good," Pellaeon said, nodding. "Keep me informed, Commander. Out."

For a few minutes he remained seated at the computer station, gazing at the empty display as he turned that last bit of information over in his head. The New Republic is unstable; ultimately, it has no choice but to self-destruct. How many times, he wondered, had that thought been hurled at him in the three weeks since he'd begun this campaign to persuade the leaders of the Empire that it was time to concede defeat? A hundred times, it seemed, maybe more; and each time he'd stood against it, repeating his same list of arguments over and over again to the point where their precise and polished phrasing now came automatically to his mind and lips.

And yet . . .

He'd read the reports of the riots that had been springing up over this Caamas revelation and controversy; had skimmed the Intelligence summaries of the increasingly heated debates taking place in the New Republic Senate and various sector a.s.semblies; had read the threat a.n.a.lyses of the growing belligerence between ancient rivals all across the galaxy.

Was he wrong and all the rest of them right? Was the New Republic on the verge of destroying itself?

And if it was, what in the Empire was he doing trying to make peace with them?

With a sigh, he levered himself out of his chair and crossed back to his bed. No, it didn't seem reasonable right now; but then, nothing ever seemed reasonable in the lonely stillness of the deep night. He'd had good and proper reasons to start on this path, he knew, and he could only a.s.sume that those reasons would still seem valid when he examined them again in the light of day. And if this controversy over the Caamas Doc.u.ment got in the way of the process&mdash Pellaeon frowned in the darkness, the memory of a comment Thrawn had once made flickering to mind. Examine all obstacles carefully, the Grand Admiral had admonished him. With a little ingenuity, they can often be turned into levers.

If the Caamas Doc.u.ment was tearing the New Republic apart . . . what might they offer in exchange for the Empire's help in putting that controversy to rest?

Reaching across the bed, he snagged his datapad and keyed for his list of upcoming meetings. Returning to Bastion was out; aside from the disruption it would cause in his schedule, any attempt to pull a copy of the Caamas Doc.u.ment out of the Imperial Library there would undoubtedly be relayed directly to Disra, and he had no interest in giving the Moff any advance warning of his intentions.

But there was also a complete set of Imperial records at the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor. And four meetings from now, that was where the Chimaera was going to be.

Keying off the datapad, Pellaeon set it back on the nightstand and lay down again. Yes, that was what he would do. Try to find a copy of the complete Caamas Doc.u.ment and offer it to the New Republic in exchange for political concessions.

a.s.suming, of course, that that meeting did indeed take place.

For a moment he considered checking with the bridge to see whether there were any messages waiting from Major Vermel. But the comm officers already had explicit instructions to alert him immediately if any such messages came through. Reminding them of those instructions twice a day would only make them wonder what was going on.

Besides, it had only been eleven days since Vermel's ship could have reached Morishim.

With the political situation on Coruscant the way it was, General Bel Iblis might well have needed this much time simply to get the New Republic hierarchy to accept the idea of a meeting.

No, Vermel would call eventually. And in the meantime, Pellaeon had four more meetings with most likely hostile senior Fleet officers to get through before he could head to Yaga Minor.

The first of which would be in barely six hours. Rolling over, closing his eyes, he cleared his mind and tried to get back to sleep.

Han shook his head. "No," he said, wincing slightly as Leia carefully dabbed salve onto his left shoulder. "I did not fire. Not into the crowd; not anywhere."

"Those we spoke to claim you did," Orou'cya insisted. "They say a blaster shot came from your balcony."

"Did Clan Leader Rayl'skar also fire?" Sakhisakh demanded. "The survivors say that as well."

"They are mistaken about that," Orou'cya said, his huffy voice in odd contrast to the wariness with which he eyed the Noghri. "Clan Leader Rayl'skar had no blaster."

"Well, I didn't fire mine," Han insisted.

The Bothan's fur rippled. "If that is your word, I must accept it," he sighed. "It does not really matter."

Han grimaced. No, probably it didn't. With twenty-seven of the rioters dead and maybe forty more injured-and with the first floor of the Combined Clans Building a total loss-it hardly mattered anymore who had started it.

Except to the news reporters, of course. Most of whom were blaming him.

The door opened and a pair of Bothan guards stepped in, carrying a few bent pieces of gold metal. "Here is the rest, First Secretary," one of them said, offering their prizes to Orou'cya. "We have completed our search, and there is no more to be found."

Han scowled at the fragments. They'd been sweeping up pieces of Threepio for nearly an hour now, from nooks and crannies all over the first floor. It was like Cloud City all over again, only worse.

"He'll be all right," Leia murmured to him. "It didn't look like any of his major components had been seriously damaged while they were being kicked around. Most of it is cosmetic."

"We can repair him, if you'd like," Orou'cya offered.

"No, thanks," Han said, wishing Chewie were here instead of back on Coruscant minding the kids.

Or maybe not. The last time the Wookiee had had to put Threepio back together, the droid hadn't exactly bubbled over with grat.i.tude. "We've got people on Coruscant who can do it."

"Of course." Orou'cya hesitated. "Speaking of Coruscant, Councilor Organa Solo, Clan Leader Rayl'skar has been in contact with the New Republic government. President Gavrisom would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience."

Han looked up at Leia. "You want me to need some extra looking after?" he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

Leia made a face, but shook her bead. "No, I'd better not put it off," she said, handing him a bandage. "The sooner we get our side of the story to him, the better. May I use your communications room, Secretary Orou'cya?"

"Of course, Councilor Organa Solo," the Bothan said gravely, gesturing to the door.

"Follow me, please."

They went out, the other two Bothans following, Sakhisakh rather conspicuously inviting himself along. Scowling again, Han took advantage of his new solitude to relieve himself of a few choice words; and he'd just gotten the bandage in place on his shoulder when the door opened and Barkhimkh came in. "Leia's gone to the comm room," he told the Noghri.

"I know," Barkhimkh said, stepping over to him and holding out his hand. "But I wished you to see this first."

Frowning, Han picked up the charred and twisted device from the Noghri's hand. "What is it?"

"The remains of an Imperial delusion," Barkhimkh bit out, his voice harsh with contempt.

"A redirection crystal and blast tube filled with Tibanna gas are mounted in a wad of adhesion material and placed near one who is to be accused of a murder. A sharpshooter then fires a shot into the crystal, which redirects the energy into the tube."

"Which then fires just like a regular blaster." Han nodded grimly. Suddenly this whole thing was coming clear. "A random shot into the crowd, and I get blamed for it."

"Yes," Barkhimkh said blackly. "Once again, you have been blamed for something that was not your fault."

"Yeah, but this time they've done a real good job of it," Han said. "Wait a second, though. How come no one saw the sharpshooter's blast?"

"He was most likely using a Xerrol Nightstinger sniper weapon," Barkhimkh said. "It fires an invisible bolt."

Han frowned. "You're kidding. I've never heard of a blaster that could do that,"

"The Empire did not advertise its existence," the Noghri said, "And aside from that sinle advantage it was a decidedly inferior weapon. The blaster gas required cost well over a thousand per canister, could only be used in specially designed blasters, and only permitted three to five shots per canister before replacement. Hardly a weapon for common usage."

"Yeah," Han said. "On the other hand, not exactly a weapon someone would just happen to be carrying around, either."

"True," Barkhimkh agreed. "Whatever it was that began this confrontation, there is no doubt it was Imperial agents who turned it into a riot."

"The problem being how to prove that," Han said, hefting what was left of the gadget in the palm of his hand. "I don't suppose this would be enough on its own."

The Noghri shook his head. "The device is a single-shot weapon, designed to disintegrate upon use. I know what it was solely from your description of what occurred."

And because Noghri a.s.sa.s.sination teams bad used the gadgets themselves on occasion?

Probably, but there wasn't any point in bringing that up. Even now, ten years after learning the truth and switching sides, the Noghri were still touchy about their long service to the Empire. "Well, at least we know about it," he said, "Who's in charge of the Imperial Fleet right now, anyway? I've kind of lost track."

"The Supreme Commander is Admiral Pellaeon," Barkimkh said. "He commands the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera."

Han felt his lip twist, "One of Thrawn's people, right?"

"Pellaeon served directly under the Grand Admiral," the Noghri confirmed. "Many considered him Thrawn's primary protege during those months."

"He sure seems to have picked up the tricks of the trade pretty well," Han growled. "We'll have to find a way to make him pay for that."

He handed the device back. "Here-try to keep what's left of it in one piece until we can get it back to the ship. And don't mention it to the Bothans, either."

"I obey, Han clan Solo," the Noghri said, bowing his head briefly as he slipped the device into a side pouch. "Will you be able to use this information?"

"Oh, we'll use it all right," Han a.s.sured him, brushing the soot from his hands. Nearly sixty humans and aliens dead or injured; the New Republic in general and he in particular being blamed for it; and Supreme Commander Pellaeon and Imperial agents at the bottom of it. "Trust me, we'll use it."

The dark Noghri eyes gazed at his face. "How?"

Han shook his head. "I have no idea."

CHAPTER 14.

The starlines faded into stars, and they were there. Wherever in s.p.a.ce "there" was.

"Reading three planets in the inner system," Faughn said, the last syllable half swallowed as she stifled a yawn. The normal crew rotation had put her off-duty when they were due to reach the Nirauan system, but she'd insisted on being awakened for the end of their trip.

Gazing out at the dim red star, Mara wondered whether it had been worth it.

"Second planet looks habitable," Torve reported. "It's got atmosphere-temperature seems okay-"

"We've got movement," Elkin snapped. "Bearing fifty-three by seventeen."

Mara threw a quick look at the instruments. As per her orders, the Starry Ice had come out of hypers.p.a.ce in full sensor-stealth mode, and there was no indication of the kind of serious high-focus probe that should be necessary to penetrate that protection. Still, given they were dealing with alien technology, that might not mean anything. "Where's he headed?" she asked Elkin.

"Second planet for sure," Elkin said, keying his board. "Hang on-let's see if I can bracket his endpoint."

"Is it the same kind of ship that buzzed Terrik's Star Destroyer?" Faughn asked.

"The profile looks right," Torve said. "Can't tell for sure without doing a sensor focus."

"Endpoint coming up now," Elkin reported. "It's a spot in the northern hemisphere, lower lat.i.tudes."

"Anything around it?" Faughn asked.

"Nothing obvious," Tone said. "At least, nothing putting out a readable energy spectrum."

"This whole place makes me nervous," Elkin growled, drumming his fingertips restlessly on the edge of his control panel. "Why isn't there anything on either the planet or system in the datafiles? It's got a name&mdashsomeone must have been here once,"

"Oh, someone was here, all right," Faughn agreed. "But probably not for very long. For a while back in the Old Republic you could basically just come into an unknown system, do a quick life-forms scan, and file for development rights-the name it, claim it' law, they called it. You had systems all over the Outer Rim put on maps and a.s.set lists without anyone having the slightest idea what was actually there."

"I remember reading about that," Mara said. "The Corporate Sector was especially bad about abusing the privilege, and we're not all that far from there."

"Right," Faughn said. "Still, all that having been said, I have to agree with Elkin's guts on this one. If this is somebody's military base, where are the defenses? Where's the base itself, for that matter?"

"No one said it was military," Mara reminded her. "They're using an alien technology-that's all we know." She looked out the viewport. "And it's all we're going to know as long as we stay out here."

"I don't know," Faughn said. "We've confirmed this is the system. Maybe we should head back and get some backup."

"Unfortunately, we don't know this is really the system," Mara pointed out. "It could be just this month's rendezvous point. If we leave now, they may all be gone by the time we get back."

"I suppose," Faughn said reluctantly. "Well . . . looks like that target zone is rotating away from us. We could give them a few hours to get around the horizon, then ease the ship in."

"That a.s.sumes they don't have a network of warning sensors scattered around the planet,"

Torve put in. "If they do, it won't matter whether the main base is line-of-sight to us or not."

Faughn shrugged. "It's a calculated risk."

"But not one the whole ship has to take," Mara said, mentally sifting through the possibilities. Along with its escape pods, the Starry Ice carried three shuttle-sized ships: two cargo-movers and a highly illegal New Republic Defender in-system starfighter Karrde had appropriated from somewhere. "What's the sensor stealthing like on that Defender?" she asked.

"Minimal," Faughn said. "On the other hand, it's got a pretty small sensor cross section to begin with, and of course no hyperdrive emissions at all. If their equipment isn't too good and you take it easy, you ought to have a fair chance of sneaking in."

"All right," Mara said, stretching out to the Force. There was no particular tingling from her danger sense. At least, not yet. "We'll go with your idea of letting the target zone rotate away from us for a few hours. Maybe upgrade the Defender's stealthing a little while we wait. After that . . . I go in and take a look."