Vision of the future

'My sentiments exactly,' Pellaeon agreed, frowning. There had been something in that look... They passed the major and the guard station without comment and headed around the corner. The stormtroopers, as per Pellaeon's earlier instructions, fell into full escort array with twelve each front and rear. 'You didn't sound very confident when I mentioned Disra's people a minute ago,' Pellaeon commented as they headed down the long corridor.

'It may not be Disra's authority you'll have to go up against, Admiral,' Vermel said, moving a bit closer to Pellaeon as if worried about being overheard. 'When Captain Dorja brought me aboard after intercepting my ship at Morishim, he said he'd been personally ordered to do so by Grand Admiral Thrawn.'

Pellaeon felt his throat tighten. 'Thrawn.'

'Yes, sir,' Vermel said. 'I've been hoping it was just some trick of Disra's—I remember you mentioning how totally against these peace talks he was. But Dorja seemed so sure.'

'Yes,' Pellaeon murmured. 'I've heard some of those rumors myself. He's allegedly been seen by various people in the New Republic, too.'

Vermel was silent a moment. 'But you haven't actually seen him yourself?'

'No.' Pellaeon braced himself. 'But I think it's time I did,' he said. 'If he has indeed returned.'

'You might be in trouble with him for pulling me out,' Vermel pointed out reluctantly, glancing back over his shoulder. 'Perhaps it would be better if I went back.'

'No,' Pellaeon said firmly. 'Thrawn never punished his officers for doing what they sincerely thought was right. Especially when he hadn't given them orders or the necessary information to understand otherwise.'

They reached the end of the corridor and turned into the main guard nexus. The guards and officers were still sitting where Pellaeon had left them, glowering under the silently watchful eye of yet another contingent of the Chimaera's stormtroopers. 'No, we're going to go back to Bastion and see what Moff Disra has to say about all this,' he continued as they passed through the nexus and headed toward the landing bay where their shuttles were berthed. 'If the rumors are false, then we should have no further trouble with Moff Disra. Commander Dreyf and I have obtained a set of datacards—in Disra's personal encrypt, no less—that lays out his entire operation: names, places, and deals, including all his links to the Cavrilhu Pirates and various shady financiers on both sides of the border.'

He felt his face harden. 'And including the details of his efforts to incite civil war within the New Republic. That alone should be worth a great deal to us in any future negotiations with Coruscant. It will certainly put Disra away for a long time.'

'Yes, sir,' Vermel murmured. 'And if the rumors are true?' Pellaeon swallowed. 'If the rumors are true, we'll deal with them then.' Vermel nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

'In the meantime,' Pellaeon went on conversationally, 'your last report is far overdue. I'd like to hear exactly what happened at Morishim.'

CHAPTER

31

The preparations had taken six hours: six hours of frantic work as every flight-worthy spaceship on Exocron was hurriedly fitted out for battle. It took another hour to get the whole ensemble into space, and one more to arrange them into something resembling a combat perimeter. And with that, their estimated eight-hour grace period was over.

And now, with the entire Rei'Kas pirate gang on its way, the most pitiful defense fleet Shada had ever seen stood by in trembling readiness to defend its world or die trying. Most likely, to die trying.

'Report from ground, Adm'ral David,' Chin reported from the Wild Karrde's bridge comm station, looking over at the helm. 'Supreme Adm'ral Darr says we all in good position. Also says Airfleet ships ready if pirates get past.'

Looming over Dankin, his hands clasped stiffly behind his back, Admiral Trey David nodded.

'Very good,' he said, his formal tone nevertheless hinting at a great deal of energy below the surface.

'Signal the rest of the fleet to be ready. They could be here at any moment.'

'Oh, my,' Threepio said miserably from beside Shada at the spotting station. 'I do so hate space combat.'

'I can't argue with you on this one,' Shada agreed, looking over her status board. She had wondered at first— wondered with a great deal of suspicion, actually—why Admiral David would ask to direct the battle from the Wild Karrde instead of one of Exocron's own combat ships. But her subsequent assessment of those ships and their capabilities had unfortunately provided her with the answer.

Eight hours ago, she had snidely suggested to Entoo Nee that the Exocron space force might find anything more formidable than an occasional smuggler beyond its strength. Never before in her life had one of her offhanded