[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(98)

“Perfectly, Admiral,” Dreyf said. “Don’t worry, sir; no matter how deep they’ve buried themselves, we’ll dig them out.”

“I’m sure you will, Commander,” Pellaeon assured him. “Was there anything else?”

“Actually, sir, yes,” Dreyf said, consulting a datapad. “I just got word from one of my people on Bothawui who was tracking down one of Lord Graemon’s connections there. He says there’s been a bad riot over at the Combined Clans Building in Drev’starn, apparently over this Caamas Document thing.”

Pellaeon frowned. “Any other details?”

“Only that there were definitely casualties,” Dreyf said. “No idea of the number yet. Apparently it’s just happened-the news hasn’t even hit the various services yet. It’ll probably take them a while to sort things out, but I thought you’d like to know.”

“Yes, thank you,” Pellaeon said. “Anything else?”

“No, sir, not right now.”

“Very good,” Pellaeon said, nodding. “Keep me informed, Commander. Out.”

For a few minutes he remained seated at the computer station, gazing at the empty display as he turned that last bit of information over in his head. The New Republic is unstable; ultimately, it has no choice but to self-destruct. How many times, he wondered, had that thought been hurled at him in the three weeks since he’d begun this campaign to persuade the leaders of the Empire that it was time to concede defeat? A hundred times, it seemed, maybe more; and each time he’d stood against it, repeating his same list of arguments over and over again to the point where their precise and polished phrasing now came automatically to his mind and lips.

And yet …

He’d read the reports of the riots that had been springing up over this Caamas revelation and controversy; had skimmed the Intelligence summaries of the increasingly heated debates taking place in the New Republic Senate and various sector assemblies; had read the threat analyses of the growing belligerence between ancient rivals all across the galaxy.

Was he wrong and all the rest of them right? Was the New Republic on the verge of destroying itself?

And if it was, what in the Empire was he doing trying to make peace with them?

With a sigh, he levered himself out of his chair and crossed back to his bed. No, it didn’t seem reasonable right now; but then, nothing ever seemed reasonable in the lonely stillness of the deep night. He’d had good and proper reasons to start on this path, he knew, and he could only assume that those reasons would still seem valid when he examined them again in the light of day. And if this controversy over the Caamas Document got in the way of the process&mdash

Pellaeon frowned in the darkness, the memory of a comment Thrawn had once made flickering to mind. Examine all obstacles carefully, the Grand Admiral had admonished him. With a little ingenuity, they can often be turned into levers.

If the Caamas Document was tearing the New Republic apart … what might they offer in exchange for the Empire’s help in putting that controversy to rest?

Reaching across the bed, he snagged his datapad and keyed for his list of upcoming meetings. Returning to Bastion was out; aside from the disruption it would cause in his schedule, any attempt to pull a copy of the Caamas Document out of the Imperial Library there would undoubtedly be relayed directly to Disra, and he had no interest in giving the Moff any advance warning of his intentions.

But there was also a complete set of Imperial records at the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor. And four meetings from now, that was where the Chimaera was going to be.

Keying off the datapad, Pellaeon set it back on the nightstand and lay down again. Yes, that was what he would do. Try to find a copy of the complete Caamas Document and offer it to the New Republic in exchange for political concessions.

Assuming, of course, that that meeting did indeed take place.

For a moment he considered checking with the bridge to see whether there were any messages waiting from Major Vermel. But the comm officers already had explicit instructions to alert him immediately if any such messages came through. Reminding them of those instructions twice a day would only make them wonder what was going on.

Besides, it had only been eleven days since Vermel’s ship could have reached Morishim. With the political situation on Coruscant the way it was, General Bel Iblis might well have needed this much time simply to get the New Republic hierarchy to accept the idea of a meeting.

No, Vermel would call eventually. And in the meantime, Pellaeon had four more meetings with most likely hostile senior Fleet officers to get through before he could head to Yaga Minor.