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He shook his head. It wasn’t time yet. He would watch the news from Farlax, where the Fifth Fleet’s prowlers were now all on station outside Koornacht Cluster sweeping hyperspace with their sensitive ripple filters, and the news from the Senate and administrative complex, where every analyst and commentator in Imperial City was on duty, sifting the corridor gossip with their hypersensitive news antennae. And he would wait to see which situation changed first.

Absurd or not, the Global report on Leia’s resignation ran through the diplomatic hostel like a virulent infection. It puzzled many, and worried Jobath, who began to fear he had brought his appeal to the wrong ears. That fear carried him, in the company of the seneschal of the Marais, to the office of Chairman Behn-kihl-nahm.

Half an hour later they left the office reassured that Leia still held executive power for the New Republic and that their petitions were being acted on with all possible dispatch. The moment they were gone, Behn-kihl-nahm tried one more time to reach Princess Leia. But he had no more success than with any of his many previous attempts that morning.

Behn-kihl-nahm was fast losing patience with her—Leia had closed everyone out at exactly the worst time, when they should be planning their strategy and response together. He disliked having to make tactical decisions unilaterally.

Would Leia approve of his tying the withdrawals of the Walalla and the others up in procedural knots, as he had successfully done that morning? Or would she have preferred he simply let them go? Should he offer Peramis and Hodidiji the appointment to negotiate the return of the bodies? He thought it might give both a way to justify a change of heart, but would they conduct themselves with dignity, or simply become an embarrassment?

Even more than making decisions, Behn-kihl-nahm disliked being caught out uninformed. The business with the Polneye, the pilot in the hospital—why should he have had to hear about that from a couple of ambassadors-without-portfolio? How had one of them been able to meet with Leia while his calls were still going begging? Was she going to resign? If not, what was she going to do about the petitions for protection?

When his usual sources were unable to satisfy his curiosity, Behn-kihl-nahm called Hiram Drayson. The machinery of governance was frozen, paralyzed in the face of crises that would only grow worse if not attended to. Did Drayson know what had gotten stuck in its gears?

“I couldn’t say, Chairman,” Drayson said.

“You can’t say, or you don’t know?”

“Chairman, my suggestion to you would be to put up the best pretense you can that everything’s under control. And that includes letting whoever wants to huff and puff in the well of the Senate do so to his or her heart’s content.”

“Admiral,” said Behn-kihl-nahm gravely, “that advice worries me more than any other development of the last week.”

“Admiral Ackbar.”

The man in the doorway wore casual civilian clothing, but he still had the posture of a soldier in uniform. “Mr. Drayson. Come in.”

“I’m not here to visit this time. Can you get me in to see Leia?”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” said Ackbar. “My key was deactivated this morning.”

“I have to talk to her,” Drayson said simply. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Ackbar grunted. “I’m a little surprised to learn that the Old Ghost of Coruscant has no secret passages or secret passwords available to him.”

“Getting in isn’t the problem,” said Drayson. “Getting listened to is. I’m afraid that none of the means at my disposal would be likely to earn me a reasoned hearing.”

“There are many people who want to talk to her,” said Ackbar. “She does not seem to want to talk to us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t permit her the luxury of refusing,” said Drayson.

“She is tired of being pushed and poked at,” said Ackbar. “If we give her some time—”

Drayson shook his head so slightly it was almost imperceptible. “There’s no more time,” he said.

Blinking slowly, Ackbar sat back in his chair. “Do you