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There it remained for the next two hours, as mute and inscrutable as ever—in General Rieekan’s words, “running the yard like a dog who knows exactly where the fence is.” Ackbar and Leia watched the orbital traces of both ships on a monitor in her office, with Leia growing more and more impatient.

“What is he waiting for?” she demanded of no one in particular, pacing the room. “He was in such a hurry to raise ship, and now he just sits there. It doesn’t make any sense. If he’s planning to leave, he’ll have to ask for clearance to transit the shield, won’t he?”

“So far as we know,” said Ackbar, “it’s not possible to jump through or over our planetary shield.”

“That’s what I thought. But if he has something else in mind, he’s squandered his moment of surprise, and then some. So what could this be about?”

“Maybe he’s giving us a chance to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what? Am I supposed to guess? It’s hard enough dealing with all the ones who won’t say what they mean, or tell you what they think you want to hear—what am I supposed to do when they won’t talk at all? They come here and expect me to dance at their protocol ball without ever snowing me the steps—”

As she spoke, Ackbar recoiled at the bitterness of her words and the harshness of her tone. Belatedly Leia noticed his reaction. “I’m sorry,” she said, and sighed deeply. “It isn’t you. I just don’t understand why this is happening, and it’s making me a little crazy.”

“Princess,” said Ackbar, “that may be exactly why it’s happening.”

At the rostrum of the huge Senate chamber, Behn-kihl-nahm gaveled the body into order. He wondered at the unusual number of senators present for the opening—more than half the number seated, if his eyes did not deceive him.

There had been much talk in the corridor and the cloakrooms about the sudden departure of the Yevetha that morning, but that could not account for the turnout. The first hour or more of each daily session was usually lost to self-serving speeches intended more for the homeworlds than for the senators’ peers. It was common to find the chamber empty except for those waiting to speak. Behn-kihl-nahm glanced at the list and could find no name that could explain the high attendance or the speed with which the senators were moving to their seats.

There is something here, he thought worriedly. “The chair recognizes Senator Hodidiji.”

“I rise to speak on a point of privilege.”

“Senator Hodidiji is recognized on a point of personal privilege.”

Hodidiji rose at his seat and addressed the rostrum without benefit of the microphone available to him, his voice booming out across the rows of planetary representatives. “Chairman, a matter of substantial urgency has arisen since I first requested my time. Due to the seriousness of this matter, I elect to yield my time to Senator Peramis of Walalla, and I ask that this body attend carefully to his presentation.”

There was a stir in the chamber, but less of one than Behn-kihl-nahm would have expected. Apparently Peramis was the reason for the turnout. Just as apparently, Behn-kihl-nahm had not heard all of the morning’s gossip and rumors, a prospect that brought a frown to his face. “Senator Peramis,” he said with a nod, then stepped back from the podium.

“Thank you, Chairman. And I thank Senator Hodidiji for his indulgence,” said Peramis. “Most of you know by now that the Yevethan consular ship Aramadia made an unscheduled liftoff from Eastport this morning. I have been informed that three port employees are dead and more than a score injured—”

This time the stir had an angry edge to it.

Behn-kihl-nahm reached out and dragged an aide closer by means of a fistful of fabric. “Call the princess,” he whispered harshly. “Tell her she’d better get herself down here, now—and bring her firesuit.”

“—Three ships were also damaged, including a consular ship belonging to the autonomous territory of Paqwepori.

“However, it’s not the collapse of negotiations with the Yevetha, or the damage to property, or even