“The treason is in the fact that the deal has been made outside proper channels,” Pellaeon said. “And in the fact that certain high Imperial officials are siphoning off a significant percentage of those funds for their own personal gain.”
Deliberately, he turned his gaze on Kyte. “And in the fact that the deal includes the supplying of Imperial equipment and personnel to various pirate gangs.”
Kyte held his gaze without flinching, but his face paled just noticeably. Pellaeon knew, all right; and now Kyte knew that he knew.
“And how do you expect your treaty with the New Republic to stop this?” Ramic asked.
“Cooperation and open lines of communication would enable us to track down the participants more efficiently,” Pellaeon said. “And those participants would no longer be able to pretend they were merely doing the Empire’s business in their own, shall we say, creative way.”
“Then you suspect some in the Fleet are involved?” one of the others asked.
“I don’t suspect,” Pellaeon said. “I know.”
For a long moment no one spoke. Pellaeon let the silence linger and harden, then gestured to the datapads in front of them. “But that’s not the issue here today. The issue is the proposed peace treaty, and whether you will support it. I suggest we adjourn for an hour so that you’ll have time to consider all the ramifications. Discuss it among yourselves if you like; I’ll be here if you have any questions you wish to ask privately.”
He looked at each of them in turn. “At the end of that hour we’ll reconvene, and I’ll expect your answers. Any final questions? Very well, then; dismissed.”
He turned again to the window, his back to the table, as they gathered their datapads and datacards and exited quietly from the room. The door slid shut, and Pellaeon took a careful breath. “Your comments?” he asked, turning around again.
Ramic hadn’t moved from his seat. “I disagree completely,” the high general said bluntly. “The New Republic is going to self-destruct-you know it and I know it. The only questions are how violent the explosion will be and whether the trigger will be this Caamas thing we keep hearing about or something else. There’s no need for us to humiliate ourselves in front of aliens and alien-lovers this way.”
“I understand your position,” Pellaeon said. “Is that your final word?”
Ramic’s thin lips compressed briefly. “I don’t support your treaty, Admiral,” he said, standing up. “But I’m an Imperial officer, and I will obey my superiors. You and the Moffs have agreed; if and when the order to cease hostilities is given, I will obey it.”
Some of the weight on Pellaeon’s shoulders eased a bit “Thank you, General,” he said quietly.
“Thank my family and its history of proud service,” Ramic countered. “They’re the ones who installed the sense of duty and loyalty in me.” He dropped his gaze to the table and set about gathering together his datacards. “Do you think the New Republic will accept your offer of a meeting?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Pellaeon said. “Colonel Vermel should be reaching the Morishim system just about now.”
“Yes,” Ramic murmured. He started for the door; paused and turned back. “You’re certain there are pirate gangs involved in all this?”
“There’s no doubt at all,” Pellaeon assured him. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, they’re being hired to attack specified New Republic shipments. They get the booty; the Empire gets a degree of confusion and consternation in the New Republic and the shadow partners, knowing which shipments are going to be hit, make money on the business and commodity exchanges.”
Ramic shrugged. “Aside from that last, it sounds like perfectly reasonable privateer activity.”
“Perhaps,” Pellaeon conceded. “The problem is that the ultimate decisions on which shipments are to be hit are coming from the shadow partners, not the High Command or Imperial Intelligence. And there are also strong indications that the sleeper cells Grand Admiral Thrawn set up are being raided to provide crewers for the gangs.”
“If those alleged sleeper cells really exist,” Ramic rumbled. “I’ve never been convinced of that myself.”
“If the troopers aren’t from the sleeper cells, then the conspirators are getting them from somewhere else,” Pellaeon said. “The only other choice is that they’re siphoning them off from the regular line forces.”
Ramic’s face hardened. “If they’re doing that, I’ll personally help you flay the perpetrators. We don’t have enough troopers and crewers as it is.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And which of us do you suspect of being in on it with Lord Graemon?”