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For safety and security reasons, neither the landing nor the launch patterns brought ships anywhere near the rebuilt administrative complex. But it was still possible to watch their comings and goings, and—for the sharp-eyed—to identify familiar types and even individual vessels. On more than one occasion Leia had come to the conference room to watch the Millennium Falcon leave on a mission or watch impatiently for its return.

Rarely, though, did any of the activity at Eastport actually demand the attention of those in the staff conference room. Only the largest ships, the occasional crash landing and explosion, or a full-power launch abort could be heard through the transparisteel. So when the viewpanes began to hum in sympathy with the sound beating on them from outside, both Leia and Ackbar glanced up from their work to see why.

They saw a bright spherical shape three times the size of an ordinary transport descending toward the spaceport. Three much smaller escorts circled it like planets around a star. At the bottom of the spherical vessel, waves of atmospheric distortion rolled out of scalloped depressions in its hull.

“I believe that ship is using Aradian pulse-lifters, undampered,” said Ackbar. “Remarkable. Look how slow and steady the descent is. I shall have to have a closer look at that vessel.”

“It appears the Duskhan delegation is finally here,” Leia said. “I guess they don’t put their spaceports in family neighborhoods over in the Koornacht Cluster.”

“Are you not going to go greet Ambassador Spaar?”

“First Administrator Engh is there, with a protocol droid,” Leia said.

“I see,” said Ackbar. “Sending a message?”

“Only that they have to understand that President isn’t a ceremonial title,” Leia said. “But I’m not singling them out. I’m slighting everyone from now on. There are just too many ambassadorial missions arriving each week. I was spending half my day waiting in arrival lounges.” Her face wrinkled with annoyance. “Especially when someone postpones his landing three times, and always at the last minute.”

As she spoke she quietly refolded the blue triangle of Walallan vellum which a courier had placed in front of her a few moment before, and set it aside.

The act did not escape Ackbar’s notice, since only one of his eyes was trained on the window. “Is that the letter from Senator Peramis?”

Leia nodded.

“And?”

“It’s pretty humble,” she said.

“Excellent.”

She nodded again. “I wish I had Behn-kihl-nahm’s gift. He almost never leaves thumb bruises on the throats of his vict—of the people he’s persuading.”

“You must find out where he buys his gloves,” said Ackbar. The Duskhan transport was on the ground now, and the escorts were disappearing one after another into a landing bay near the top of the sphere. “Do you have meetings scheduled with Nil Spaar?”

“In ten days.”

“That long? You should allow the First to handle some of the smaller worlds on your schedule. Not merely meeting their delegations—the entire admission process.”

“Showing them that they’re going to be second-class members of the New Republic? I don’t think so.”

“There must be a way to shift some of the weight you’re carrying to other shoulders.”

“I’ll take suggestions,” she said. “But Nil Spaar asked for the delay. He’s never been to Coruscant before. He said he wants to explore a bit before negotiations occupy him.”

“I see,” said Ackbar. “Perhaps he’s the one sending a message.”

“I’m not sure,” Leia said. She reached out and pulled a datapad across the tabletop toward her. “Well, Admiral—now that it’s operational, what shall we do with the Fifth Fleet?”

“A trickier question than I thought it would be,” admitted Ackbar. “Tig Peramis has shown us what we can expect if there is even the appearance of gunboat diplomacy.”

Leia frowned. “I don’t want us afraid to show the flag where it might help cooler heads prevail.”

“Then I would like to send the new fleet into the Seventh Security Zone,” said Ackbar.