Vision of the future

Disra swore viciously. 'That kriffing clone. That kriffing clone. We should never have trusted them. Thrawn should never have started this kriffing project in the first place.'

'Calm down,' Tierce said, his tone suddenly sharp. 'Thrawn knew what he was doing. And don't forget that a good many of those clones died fighting for the Empire.'

'They're still an abomination,' Disra snarled. He'd spoken with clones; had ordered them into battle; had even sold them to the Cavrilhu Pirates in exchange for Zothip's precious Preybird starfighters. They still made his skin crawl. 'And you can't trust any of them.'

'Can we get off Carib Devist and clone treachery for a minute?' Flim put in tautly. 'Seems to me the question ought to be why he sent us a faked record in the first place. What did he have to gain?' Tierce took a deep breath, clearly forcing calmness into himself. 'That is indeed the question. Disra, how did the record come in?'

'Aboard a drone probe from the Ubiqtorate contact station at Parshoone,' Disra told him. 'Sent by the agent in charge—'

'Sent directly here?' Tierce cut him off. 'No handoffs or course changes?'

'No,' Disra said, one hand curling into a fist as it suddenly and belatedly struck him. 'They wanted Bastion's location.'

'And they got it,' Tierce said darkly, his comlink already in his hand. 'Major Tierce to Capital Security: full background alert. Possible spies in the city; locate and put under surveillance. Do not—repeat, do not—detain at present. Confirmation from Moff Disra will be forthcoming.' He got an acknowledgment and keyed off. 'You need to send them a confirmation, Your Excellency,' he said.

'I know,' Disra said, frowning at him. 'Excuse me if I seem unusually dense today; but you don't want them detained? Spies or saboteurs in my city, and you don't want them detained?'

'I don't think they're saboteurs,' Tierce said. 'After all, they've been here at least a couple of days and nothing has blown up.'

'Oh, that's comforting,' Disra said icily. 'Why don't you want them detained?'

'As Thrawn often said, within every problem lies an opportunity.' Tierce shifted his gaze to the side. 'It occurs to me we have an extremely interesting opportunity here.' Frowning, Disra followed his gaze...

'You'd better not be thinking what I think you're thinking,' Flim warned, his eyes flicking uneasily back and forth between Tierce and Disra.

'Of course we are,' Tierce assured him. 'A Rebel spy team, being confronted personally by Grand Admiral Thrawn? It would be the perfect cap to your performance.'

'The perfect slab under my funeral pyre, you mean,' Flim shot back. 'Are you crazy, Tierce?

They get one glimpse of me, and you're going to have a martyred Grand Admiral on your hands.'

'Which might not be such a bad idea,' Disra growled, keying confirmation of Tierce's security alert into his board. 'Tierce is right—this is a perfect chance to demonstrate your omniscience.'

'I can hardly wait,' Flim said sourly, crossing his arms.

'Calm down, Admiral,' Tierce said, nudging Disra aside and keying the display for a search grid overview. 'We'll have them spotted in fifteen minutes, and the whole thing will be over in thirty.' There was a beep from the display. 'Your Excellency?'

Muttering a curse, Disra keyed the comm switch. 'Yes, what is it?' A young, earnest-looking man appeared on the display. 'Major Kerf, Your Excellency: spaceport control,' he identified himself. 'I thought you'd like to know that his shuttle has just landed.' Disra shot a look over the display at Tierce, got a shrug in response. 'Whose shuttle has just landed?'

'I thought you knew, sir,' Kerf said, looking a little bewildered. 'He said he was on his way to the palace to see you, and I just assumed—'

'Never mind your assumptions, Major,' Disra snapped. 'Who is it?'

'Why, the admiral, sir,' Kerf stammered. 'You know—Admiral Pellaeon.'

* * *

The waiter at the open-air tapcafe set the plate of mesh-cooked trimpian slices down on the table, accepted