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Feeling nauseous, Ayddar closed his eyes and rested his head on his arms. “Yes,” he said, his voice small and muffled.

“I have also heard,” said the Calamari, gliding nearby, “that your planet is wholly without surface water, and that your people’s most powerful fears have come to involve being immersed in standing water.”

Ayddar nodded weakly.

“I confess that such fears are completely alien to me,” said Ackbar. “Yet you willingly entered the lake in an effort to see me.”

“Y-Yes, Admiral. I thought it was my d-duty.”

Effortlessly, the big Calamari eased himself out of the water and onto the ledge. Ayddar saw that he held the datapad securely in one big hand.

“Well,” Ackbar said, extending his empty hand to Ayddar, “I find I am not resting any longer. So perhaps you will come to my study with me and tell me what news has inspired such reckless devotion to duty.”

The track outside the officers’ gymnasium at Fleet Headquarters wound its way for a kilometer over hilly, wooded ground. Secured, shielded, and privacy-screened, it had been used many times for discreet, deniable meetings—not least by the man for whom Admiral Ackbar waited in the cool morning air.

Ackbar stood at the edge of the line of trees, a few strides from the cinder track, and looked back toward the rising sun as a solitary runner crested a small rise. As the runner drew near, Ackbar stepped out from the trees. “I see you are a still a creature of habit, Hiram,” he said with cheerful gruffness.

Admiral Hiram Drayson slowed from his brisk jog to a walk. “I see you’re still as slothful as ever. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in the gym.”

“I do not much enjoy coming here, but sometimes I have no choice,” Ackbar said, falling in beside Drayson. “Will you take pity and walk with me a while?”

“I think I can accommodate myself to your pace,” said Drayson. “What’s new?”

“I had a visit last night from the senior analyst of Asset Tracking,” said Ackbar.

“Indeed.”

“So—you have already heard.”

“I heard there was a disturbance at your residence—nothing more.”

“I will choose to believe that,” Ackbar said. “Ayddar has uncovered something which concerns me, and about which I would like your counsel. But I did not want to be seen coming to your office, or allow this to be placed on the Fleet net.”

“Go on.”

Even at their modest pace, Ackbar was beginning to pant. “Ayddar has been studying the Imperial order of battle taken from the Gnisnal a month ago. He has found a discrepancy.”

“Another Katana?”

“Nothing so large or clear-cut,” Ackbar said. “What the young man has discovered is this: There are an unusual number of vessels assigned to the Empire’s Black Sword Command which we cannot account for.”

“Black Sword Command defended the center of the Empire’s Rim territories,” Drayson noted. “Praxlis, Corridan, the entire Kokash and Farlax sectors.”

“Yes,” Ackbar said, nearly gasping for breath. He placed a hand on Drayson’s shoulder and turned him. “Please—may we stop?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” said Ackbar, his neck and upper chest heaving. “I apologize. The older I get, the harder it is for me to keep my lungs wet in air.”

“Apology not necessary. You were saying—”

“Yes, of course.” Ackbar glanced up and down the track, then dropped his voice. “According to Ayddar, the order of battle for Black Sword includes forty-four capital ships which we have not seen nor heard of since the fall of the Emperor. None smaller than a Victory-class Star Destroyer. Three are Super-class vessels.”

Drayson whistled. “What do you think of his analysis?”

“I find it indisputable.”

“You know that that’s more than enough firepower to overwhelm any planetary system in the New Republic,” said Drayson. “Coruscant included.”

“Yes,” said Ackbar. “If those ships still exist, they would represent a serious threat.”

“If?”

“If,” Ackbar repeated. “You see, there are many wrinkles to this matter. All but five of the forty-four were either newly laid keels or in a yard somewhere for refit or major repairs.