[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(24)
“Yes,” Disra said, leaning back in his chair. “Excellent little starfighters, aren’t they? Not quite the same psychological presence as TIE fighters, perhaps, but perfectly adequate in their own way.”
“Adequate enough that I wondered why we hadn’t seen more of them over the years,” Pellaeon said. “So I did some checking. It turns out that SoroSuub never really got the Preybird project going, but wound up shutting down the line after only a few production models. Which leads to an interesting question: where are you getting them from?”
“I don’t see why the source should matter to anyone, Admiral,” Disra said. “As long as they show the traditional SoroSuub quality-“
“I want to know who the Empire is doing business with,” Pellaeon cut him off. “Who I am doing business with.”
Under the silver eyebrows, Disra’s eyes seemed to flash. “A group of private investors bought up the Preybird production line and restarted it,” he growled. “I have a business agreement with them.”
“Their names and systems?”
“It’s a group of private investors,” Disra repeated, enunciating the words carefully as if talking to a young child. “I don’t care,” Pellaeon said, matching the other’s tone. “I want their names, their home systems, and their corporate connections. And the means you’re using to finance this deal.”
Disra drew himself up. “Are you suggesting there’s anything improper about any of this?”
“No, of course not.” Pointedly, Pellaeon let his gaze sweep across the room. “Certainly a man of your obvious means has access to a great number of financial resources.” He looked back at the Moff. “I merely wish to make sure the entire Empire is benefiting from the deal.”
He’d rather expected Disra to take offense at that. But the Moff merely smiled. “Rest assured, Admiral,” he said softly. “The entire Empire will indeed benefit.”
Pellaeon stared at him, feeling a slight frown creasing his forehead. There was something in that expression he didn’t care for at all. Something ambitious, and vaguely sinister. “I want the names of your investment group.”
“I’ll have the list transmitted to the Chimaera,” Disra promised. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Major Tierce and I have work to do.”
“Of course,” Pellaeon said, trying to put a touch of condescension into his voice. The Supreme Commander of Imperial forces should not leave the impression that he could be summarily dismissed that way. Not even by a Moff. Not unless he himself chose to go. “Good day, Your Excellency.”
He turned and headed back toward the double doors. Yes, he would have Intelligence look into the names of Disra’s private investment group, all right-he’d put Commander Dreyf and his team on it immediately. And while he was at it, he’d have them look into the Moff’s personal finances as well. There might be some very interesting connections there to be dug up.
But in the meantime, be had a diplomatic mission to prepare. And, with luck, a war to bring to an end.
The double doors closed behind Pellaeon, and for a moment Disra permitted his face to show a small portion of the contempt he felt for the departing Admiral. Contempt for Pellaeon as a man and an Imperial officer. Contempt for his inability to win against this motley collection of alien-loving Rebels. Contempt for his faceless attitude of appeasement.
The moment passed. There were more pressing matters to deal with right now, matters that required a clear mind. Besides, if things went as planned Pellaeon would very soon be reduced to an irrelevancy. Swiveling his chair halfway around, he peered up at Major Tierce. “Interesting conversation, wouldn’t you say, Major?” he inquired mildly. “Tell me, what were your impressions?”
With obvious effort, Tierce dragged his eyes from the doors where Pellaeon had exited. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but I really don’t know,” he said. His shoulders were curled slightly with the humility of a man who knows his limits, his expression earnest but simple. “I’m just a Fleet adjutant. I don’t know much about these political things.”
It was an extremely competent bit of role-acting, Disra had to admit, one which had apparently fooled dozens of civilian and military commanders over the past fifteen years, including Disra himself. But he knew better now … and the performance was about to come to an abrupt end. “I see,” Disra said. “Well, then, let’s leave politics out of it and have the military opinion of a military officer. You heard my suggestions as to how the Empire can avoid this capitulation the Admiral seems to want so badly. Comments?”