And then a sudden thought occurred to him. “At least, nothing I can do to get you to your ship,” he continued before Miatamia could respond. “If all you need right now is to get to Coruscant or back home, that’s another matter.”
Both ears twitched this time. “Explain.”
“My ship is docked in Bay 68,” he said. “I would be honored to take you wherever in the New Republic you wished to go.”
“Others of the crew are still outside,” the aide pointed out. “Trapped away from the ship by the crowd. Do you offer them transport as well?”
“I was thinking mainly of you and Senator Miatamia,” Lando said, looking at him. “My ship has rather limited living space.”
He shifted his eyes back to Miatamia. “But it seems to me that the crowd isn’t interested in your crew, just in the attention of the Senator. Once you’re not here to give them that attention, there won’t be much point in them hanging around.”
“You speak reason,” Miatamia said. “Now speak cost.”
“No cost, Senator,” Lando assured him, waving a hand in invitation back toward his docking bay. “I would be honored to have such a distinguished personage aboard my ship.”
The other didn’t move. “Speak of the cost, please. There is always a cost.”
So much for finding a subtle way to bring up the topic aboard the Lady Luck, “There is no cost,” Lando repeated. “However, my underwater mining operation is having problems with pirate attacks. I thought perhaps I might be able to make an arrangement with the Diamalan military to provide extra security for my shipments.”
“The primary task of the Diamalan military is to protect Diamalan interests,” Miatamia said. “However, there may be room for discussion.”
“Thank you, Senator,” Lando said. “Honest discussion is all I ask. Shall we go?”
The short trip across the street to the docking-bay door was just a shade worse than Lando had expected it would be. The two Diamala refused to run or even to hurry-a matter of dignity, apparently-and they were no more than halfway to the door when the crowd waiting two bays down spotted them. Fortunately, having no compunctions of his own against a little judicious haste, Lando had already reached the other side and was keying the door open by the time the mob started its belated surge toward them. The Diamala made it inside in plenty of time, with only a few minor fruit juice stains from glancing impacts as souvenirs.
“They are barbarians,” the aide said, his voice icy cold, as Lando sealed the door behind them. “No being should have the right to attempt such dishonoring of another.”
“Peace,” Miatamia said in the same tone as he flicked a few drops of juice from his sleeve with his fingertips. “Few other beings have the wisdom or capacity for proper expression that characterize the Diamala. Rather than considering them as barbarians to be shunned, or even as wrongdoers to be punished, you must see them as children who merely need instruction in civilized behavior.”
He looked at Lando. “Do you not agree?”
“I think any such discussions should be postponed, Senator,” Lando said, not about to let himself get dragged into that kind of conversation. “At least until we’re safely off Cilpar.”
“You speak wisdom,” Miatamia said, his ears twitching again. “Please; lead the way.”
***
Tierce looked up from the display … and from his expression alone Disra knew he’d hit solid ore. “You have a target?” he asked.
“I do indeed,” Tierce said. “Senator Porolo Miatamia, Diamalan representative to the New Republic.” He swiveled the display around to face the other. “And you’ll never guess who he’s hitched a ride with.”
Disra scanned the report, feeling his own eyes widen a little. “They must be joking. Lando Calrissian?”
“No joke,” Tierce assured him. “And no error, either. The reporting agent back-checked against the Mos Tommro Spaceport lift records. Calrissian, the Senator, and the Senator’s aide all took off together in Calrissian’s yacht.”
“Did they indeed,” Disra murmured. No wonder Tierce was looking so self-satisfied. The Diamala were even louder advocates of the forgive-and-forget attitude than either the Mon Calamari or the Duros. An ideal choice for the little drama Tierce had in mind.
And to have a close friend of Han Solo’s along for the ride made it even more perfect. What’s their destination-oh, here it is. Coruscant.”
“Yes.” Tierce had called up a star chart and was laying rate-of-passage tracklines across it. “Assuming Calrissian heads straight for Coruscant, we should have no trouble intercepting them wherever we want along the way. The only question is whether Flim and I can rendezvous with the Relentless before they grab the yacht.”