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Moments later, with the temperature plunging, the cabin lights failed. The trouble board, now a mass of blinking red and yellow squares, provided the only illumination.

In the last excruciating seconds of consciousness, with the gases boiling in his blood vessels, the pilot tried to reach the switches to manually fire the emergency buoy and transmit the log. But his limbs, bound up by agony, would not obey him. He was already dead, and consciousness soon gratefully followed volition into the abyss.

Vol Noorr, primate of the battle cruiser Purity, watched approvingly as a fierce salvo of high-energy laser pulses blindsided the intruding vessel.

The accuracy and discipline of his gun crews pleased him, and he made a note to commend the weapons master. The firing ceased with the vessel holed and ravaged but not destroyed. A cloud of white fire and metal dust would have had little to tell them. But there would be wreckage enough to examine, and Vol Noorr’s follow-up report could be as complete and useful as possible.

“Send out the salvors,” he ordered. “Make certain they maintain hygienic protocols on all material recovered.”

Then Vol Noorr locked himself in the secure communications booth. A few minutes later he transmitted what would be the only alert concerning the destruction of the Astrolabe to be sent from Doornik-1142—a short burst of code aimed not at the Astrographic Survey Institute on Coruscant but at the viceroy’s flagship Aramadia, ground-moored at Imperial City’s Eastport.

“Three days in a row now,” Princess Leia said to those gathered in the staff conference room. “Does anyone have any hint why Nil Spaar has been canceling our sessions? Is he ill? Do we know anything about what he’s been doing?”

“He’s only left the ship once,” said General Carlist Rieekan. “He went to the diplomatic hostel and stayed two hours and thirteen minutes—”

“Never mind that. Who did he go there to see?” asked Ackbar.

“We weren’t able to develop that information,” Rieekan admitted. “You know what the hostel is like—hot and cold running privacy. The diplomatic missions expect that. I can tell you that the hostel host has been keeping a chalet reserved for the Yevetha since before they arrived, and this is the first time any of them have turned up there.”

“So he could have met with any or all of the legates staying at the hostel,” said Leia.

“That’s correct.”

“I want to see a list,” Ackbar demanded.

“We’ve prepared one, and transmitted it to everyone on the clearance sheet for this meeting,” said Rieekan. “I do have some additional information, which was given to me just before I left the office to come over here. The viceroy received visitors today on board the Aramadia—”

“What?” exclaimed Nanaod Engh. “They haven’t allowed anyone but their own past the portal since that ship arrived. Who was it?”

“Senator Peramis, Senator Hodidiji, and Senator Marook,” said Rieekan. “They arrived together, and all stayed more than two hours. Senator Marook left before the others.”

“Do we know if they were invited or they invited themselves?” asked Leia.

“I made a discreet inquiry to Senator Marook’s staff. It seems they were invited.”

“Have they been in contact with the Yevetha all along?”

“Princess Organa, I can’t answer that.”

“Let’s get them all in here, and we’ll get some answers,” Admiral Ackbar said testily. “Let Senator Peramis answer.”

“Easy, my friend. Let’s try to keep this in perspective,” said Leia. “The viceroy has every right to meet with whomever he chooses. He doesn’t need our permission to hold a tea party.”

“Princess, forgive me—if you were not ready to hear the answers, why did you ask the question?”

Leia turned to Rieekan and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You asked if anyone had any notion why the viceroy was canceling his sessions with you. Now you learn that he’s met privately with some of the candidate legations, and publicly with some of the Senate’s most iconoclastic members. He’s not only broken all precedent, but pointedly extended courtesies to others that he’s never