Vision of the future

Karoly retreated around the slight bend in the passageway. The dim light increased as the pirates pulled open the door, decreased again as they partially closed it down. And she now had a decision to make. Back here, four meters behind the two hidden pirates and their mutterings, she wouldn't be able to hear the upcoming conversation between Zothip and Disra the way she'd like to. Moreover, the thought of even an Imperial Moff getting ambushed by the likes of the Cavrilhu Pirates did not sit well with her.

She smiled tightly in the darkness at the irony of the situation. It was precisely the same thing Shada had objected to back on that windswept rooftop on Borcorash five weeks ago, and the reason Karoly was even here.

But the deep philosophical considerations could wait till another day. In the meantime, the Cavrilhu Pirates owed a death debt to the Mistryl... and the first installment would be collected right here and now. Putting her blaster away, Karoly drew a pair of slender knives and moved silently forward.

Crans and Portin, crouched side by side behind the partially open door, whispering and chuckling to each other in grim anticipation of the carnage to come, never even heard her coming. It was another minute's work to quietly drag the bodies a few meters back in the passageway where they'd be out from underfoot. Then, returning to the partially open door, she crouched down and eased the tip of one of her knives along the thick carpet into the room. The image reflected in the metal was small and somewhat distorted, but Karoly had done this a thousand times before and knew how to read it. As she'd expected, Zothip and his three remaining men were all facing the ornate door set into the right-hand wall. Zothip was seated rather arrogantly at the Moff's computer desk, the others slouched against walls or pieces of furniture at various other places around the room. All were fingering blaster butts or rubbing gun hands in preparation; all were well clear of her line of fire and the ambush they still thought was set up. She was just working through her likely attack plan, should it come to that, when there was the soft click of a lock from across the room. Instantly, the pirates' muttered conversation ceased. The door swung open, and two men stepped inside.

The one on the right was Moff Disra; that much was obvious from his age and his robe of office and the arrogant hauteur with which he strode into the room. The second man, on Disra's right, dressed in an Imperial uniform—

Karoly felt her breath catch in her throat, an unpleasant tingling on the back of her neck. The second man was a warrior.

Not a soldier: a warrior. She could see it in his stance, in his walk, in the way he held his hands, in the way his eyes took in the situation in front of him.

Control had warned that Disra would bring guards with him. Dimly, Karoly wondered if any of the pirates was capable of recognizing the warrior beneath the uniform.

Zothip himself, apparently, could not. 'Took your own sweet time getting here,' he growled as the warrior swung the door closed. 'Who's the nerf?'

'Get out of my chair,' Disra growled back, ignoring the question and gesturing irritably at the lounging pirate chief.

'I'm doing the talking here, Disra,' Zothip said, making no move to vacate the chair. 'Wait a minute—I know you,' he added, leveling a finger at the warrior. 'Yeah—you're the snotter who pulled all my advisers out on me. You rotten, rark-eating sovler.'

Karoly winced, half expecting sudden death to be the warrior's response to the insult. But he wasn't so easily provoked. 'That's right,' he said, his voice glacially calm. 'I'm Major Tierce. And as I explained at the time, the Empire had a more pressing need for their services.'

'So you just upped and pulled them, huh?' Zothip countered, his voice darkening. 'Well, maybe that's how you Imperial dreg-sifters do things. But that's not how it's done in the fringe. You make a deal, you stick with it.' He leveled his finger again. 'Or you get to spend your last couple of minutes of life regretting it.'

'I thought that in the fringe you also didn't lose your nerve,' Disra put in disdainfully. 'Did Pellaeon scare you that badly?'

'Never mind Pellaeon,' Zothip bit out. 'I'll deal with him later. Right now you're the one in the hot circle. Starting with full compensation for my battlecruiser and the eight hundred men who died with it.'

'Apparently, he has lost his nerve, Your Excellency,' Tierce said. 'The sabacc pot's grown too big for his taste, and he wants out.'

Zothip snorted. 'Words. That's all it is with you, Disra. Words and promises, and we end up doing all the work and all the dying. But not anymore. I figure twenty million ought to cover it—'

'Suppose we can show you we have more than words,' Tierce interrupted, an edge of challenge to his voice. 'Suppose we can give you proof that the Empire is once again on the rise, and that this time there will be no stopping us. Would you still want to quit?'

Zothip laughed, a thoroughly humorless sound. 'Proof, huh? If you think anything you've got can—'

He broke off as behind Disra and Tierce the door again swung open. One of the pirates half drew his blaster—

'Good afternoon, Captain Zothip,' the white-uniformed figure said calmly as he stepped into the room. 'Permit me