Part 26 (1/2)

”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 s.h.i.+p could have reached Moris.h.i.+m.

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, wis.h.i.+ng 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.”