Vision of the future

'You are right, there is no flame yet,' the Bothan explained. 'The fire must therefore be inside the walls.'

'The Extinguishers are coming,' one of the other Bothans reported anxiously, waving his comlink.

'But they will not be here for a few more minutes.'

'Understood,' the first said, pausing at the power coupling box. Abruptly, his fur flattened, and he pulled a knife from his belt. 'Perhaps we can help prepare their way.'

'Wait a minute,' Navett barked, jumping forward. The Bothan had dug the knife between wall panels directly over their hidden compartment. 'What the fracas are you doing?'

'The fire smells of wiring,' the Bothan explained breathlessly. 'Here at the power coupling is the likely place for it to be. If we can expose it and bring fire preventers to bear—' He broke off, staggering as the prying knife unexpectedly shattered through the relatively thin false front of the storage compartment. He caught his balance, gaping at the Nightstinger sniper blaster now visible inside. 'Proprietor Navett!' he exclaimed. 'What is this weapon—?' He fell to the floor, question unfinished, as Navett shot him in the back. The second Bothan got out just a squeak before Navett's second shot dropped him. The third was fumbling frantically for both comlink and blaster when Klif's shot took him out. 'Well, that's torn it,' Klif snarled, glaring at Navett. 'What in the Empire—?'

'She's expecting us to be properly professional about this,' Navett ground out. 'And professionals never start shooting unless they have to. So fine: we've just gone unprofessional. That ought to take her by surprise.'

'Oh, terrific,' Klif said. 'A brilliantly unorthodox strategy. Now what do we do?'

'We take it down, that's what,' Navett snarled back, thrusting his blaster back into his tunic and stepping over the body to pull the Nightstinger from its hiding place. 'Rouse Pensin and Horvic and get your tails out to the ship and into space. You've got two hours, maybe less, to get aboard the Predominance and into position.'

Nightstinger in hand, he turned back to find a stunned look on Klif's face. 'Navett, we can't do it now,' he protested. 'The attack force won't be ready for another three days.'

'You want to try to dodge our lady friend that long?' Navett snapped, dropping the Nightstinger onto the table and starting to scoop the rest of the mawkrens into their cage. 'You can see her plan—she's trying to maneuver the police or Extinguishers or Vader knows who else in a uniform into running interference against us for her. We have to move now, when she's not expecting it.'

'But the attack force—'

'Stop worrying about the attack force,' Navett cut him off. 'They'll be ready, all right. Or will get that way blasted quick. You have your orders.'

'All right,' Klif said, sliding his own weapon away. 'I'll leave you the landspeeder—I can lift another one for the three of us. Anything else you need?'

'Nothing I can't get myself,' Navett told him shortly. 'Go on—the chrono's counting.'

'Right. Good luck.'

He left. Navett finished getting the mawkrens into their cage, then gathered up the rest of the cylinders and slid them back into the cage's false bottom. Yes, the old woman had forced his hand, and that sudden drastic change in plans was going to cost them dearly.

But if she thought she'd won, she was mistaken. He only wished he could be around to see her when she realized that.

* * *

'I'm sure you understand, Admiral,' Paloma D'asima said, obviously picking her words very carefully, 'how unprecedented this step would be for our people. We have never before had what might be considered close relations with the Empire.'

Seated a quarter of the way around the table, Disra suppressed a cynical smile. Paloma D'asima, one of the proud and exalted Eleven of the Mistryl, might well think herself subtle, even clever, in the ways of politics and political sparring. But to him, she was as patently transparent as only a rank amateur could be. If this was the best the Mistryl could do, he would have them eating out of his hand before the day was over.

Or rather, eating out of Grand Admiral Thrawn's hand. 'I understand the conflicts we've had in the past,' Thrawn said gravely. 'However, as I've pointed out to you—and to Karoly D'ulin before you,' he added, nodding politely to the younger woman at D'asima's side, 'the Empire under my leadership will bear little resemblance to that of the late Emperor Palpatine.'

'I understand that,' the older woman said. Her face wasn't giving anything away; her hands, though, more than