Vision of the future

completely out of the question. The Ishori will not accept anything less than full and complete justice for the Caamasi and the people of the New Republic.'

'Justice is what we all seek,' Diamalan Senator Porolo Miatamia countered, his voice the glacial calm of his species. 'But—'

'You lie!' Dx'ono all but screamed, his ears flattened against his head. 'The Diamala demand the impossible, and refuse to settle for anything else!'

'Senators, please,' President Ponc Gavrisom cut in, his wings sweeping briefly between the other two as if trying to separate a pair of enraged shockball players. 'I'm not asking for a resolution of the Caamas situation here and now. All I'm asking—'

'I know what you're asking,' Dx'ono snarled. 'But justice postponed is too often justice ignored.' He jabbed a finger accusingly toward Miatamia. 'And that is precisely the situation the Diamala are trying to engineer.'

'The Diamala have every intention of seeing justice served,' Miatamia said coldly. 'But we understand that more urgent matters should take priority.'

'Thrawn is dead!' Dx'ono snarled, leaping to his feet as if to physically attack the other. 'He is dead! All Imperial records agree!'

Miatamia remained unmoved. 'I saw him, Senator. I saw him, and heard him—'

'Lies!' Dx'ono cut him off. 'All lies, created to distract us from the search for justice.' Seated in the small room behind the false wall, Booster Terrik shook his head. 'Idiots,' he muttered. 'Both of them.'

'Now, now, Father,' his daughter Mirax Terrik Horn said, squeezing his arm. 'Both of them are probably sincere, from their own different points of view.'

'And we all know what road is lined with sincere people,' Terrik said sourly, glancing back over his shoulder. 'Where is that blasted Bel Iblis, anyway? I've got work to do.'

'You've got nothing but overhaul and maintenance work on the Errant Venture scheduled for the next three weeks,' Mirax admonished him firmly. 'And you're not needed for a single bit of it.' Booster sent a glare at her, a glare that worked about as well as such looks had ever worked on her. Which was to say, not very. 'I thought daughters were supposed to be a source of pride and comfort to their fathers in their old age,' he grumbled.

She smiled. 'When you get there, I'll see what I can do,' she promised. The smile faded as she turned back to the false wall. 'This whole thing is starting to get out of hand. Have you heard that a hundred systems have already petitioned to rejoin the Empire?'

'My sources say it's only been twenty systems,' Booster said. 'Everything else is just rumors.'

'Whatever the numbers, it's still something to worry about,' Mirax said, a note of quiet dread in her voice. 'If Thrawn is really still alive, and if all this turmoil persuades people they want or need his protection, then the Empire could regain its territory without firing a single shot.'

'I doubt they're going to talk that many systems into coming back,' Booster argued. But he didn't feel nearly as confident as he was trying to sound. 'Anyway, there's not a lot we can do about it.' Behind him, the door slid open. 'Ah—Captain Terrik,' General Bel Iblis said, striding in and offering his hand. 'Thank you for coming. I trust you've been well entertained?'

'If you mean the dance show, I've seen better,' Booster said, jerking a thumb toward the loud drama in the next room as he reluctantly and briefly gripped Bel Iblis's hand. He and authority had never gotten along very well. 'Speaking of dance shows, I've got a bone to pick with you over that nonsense in the Sif'kric system three weeks ago. The bureaucrats there still haven't released the Hoopster's Prank back to me.'

'I didn't know that,' Bel Iblis said, shutting off the speaker that was bringing the argument in from the next room and pulling over the room's remaining chair. 'I'll give orders to have it sprung as soon as we finish here.'

Booster eyed him warily. 'The word 'finish' implies a start.'

'Indeed it does,' Bel Iblis agreed, positioning the chair to face the two of them and sitting down.

'I didn't ask you here just for a private showing of Gavrisom's mediation skill. Incidentally, I presume I don't have to tell you that anything you heard here is to be considered confidential.'

'Really.' Booster frowned thoughtfully at his daughter. 'Let's see. The Ishori scream when they debate and want a square meter of skin off every Bothan to give to what's left of the Caamasi. The Diamala want the same square meter, but only from the Bothans who helped destroy Caamas—exhuming them if necessary—as soon as anyone figures out who they were. Who do you think we should sell these big secrets to first, Mirax?'

She gave her father a patient look and shifted her attention to Bel Iblis. 'We understand, General,' she said. 'What is it you want?'