QUARTERS OF THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
HEAD OF STATE, CORUSCANT
SURROUNDED BY THE DARK, EXPENSIVE, INNOCUOUSLY TASTEFUL FURNISHINGS and fixtures that suited Jagged Fel with such predictable and ridiculous accuracy, Jaina Solo sat on a black leather sofa, tucked against the shoulder of her future husband, and tried to think of something to say. “Did you get in touch with Tahiri’s attorney?”
His eyes still closed, Jag offered a lazy nod. “I told him about Daala’s discovery of the Sith you tried, in case it has some bearing on the way the prosecution portrays Tahiri’s association with the Sith outlook on things.”
“What did he think?”
“I can’t say.”
“Ah.”
“What’s going on with the Jedi Order?”
“I can’t say.” She was up to her ears in the Jedi plan to depose Chief of State Daala, and that was the last thing she could tell Jag. He might not be obliged to warn Daala … but he would surely take steps to protect his own people, and those steps might alert GA Security, which in turn might alert Daala.
“Ah.”
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “How goes the investigation into the assassination attempt against you?”
“Can’t say. How about the search for Abeloth?”
“Can’t say.” Finally it got to be too much for her and she began laughing.
He joined her, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “Was it this hard for your parents? Just trying to talk to each other?”
“I don’t think so. They weren’t duty-bound to keep as many secrets. And in the early years, they were on the run together. Plus, Dad more or less gave up his profession as a smuggler. Which eliminated one source of stress in their situation. How about yours?”
He shook his head. “Well, for a while, they were basically on the run together. And Mother gave up her career as an actress …”
“Which eliminated one source of stress in their situation?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that gives us a course of action.”
He opened his eyes to look at her. “Go on the run together?”
“I’m all for it. You hide from your advisers and the Moffs. I hide from the Masters.”
“And one of us gives up his or her profession?”
“I’m all for that, too.” She poked him in the chest. “You.”
He caught her hand and glanced down at the engagement ring on her finger. “Maybe we’ll flip a coin to decide it.”
“Sabacc tournament?”
“It’s been done.” He kissed her, but when he drew back there was a little sorrow in his expression. “For now, we can’t not keep secrets from each other. All we can do …”
“Is not be angry for it. Ever again.”
He nodded. “Preemptive forgiveness. For that and everything else.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What else do I have to forgive you for?”
“Can’t say.”
She grinned despite herself. “I ought to smack you for that.”
“No, you have to forgive me. Part of the new engagement contract.”
“You win this one, Imperial swine.”
Seventeen kilometers away, in the sort of tiny, tidy apartment suited to a budget-conscious security lieutenant, Javon Thewles stretched out on his own sofa, one far less expensive than the Imperial Head of State’s, and luxuriated in his day off. Better still, the news holocasts showed citizens rallying, gathered in plazas, on elevated pedways, on rooftops, all within sight of the Senate Building, protesting Chief Daala and her vengeful responses to freedom and anti-slavery movements—and Javon did not have to work those potential security nightmares today. He didn’t even have to listen to the holocasts narrating their movements, showing their placards, offering sound bites from their spokespeople.
Other things were going well, too. The young woman he’d met the other day was a looker and showing definite signs of interest. Javon was receiving glowing fitness reports from his superiors and anticipated doing well when he tested for captain.
He didn’t feel quite so confident a moment later when his front door shot up and four military police in naval blues ran in, leveling blaster rifles at him.
He raised his hands, inadvertently spilling his drink all over the carpet. “The hell?”
The fifth person through his door—his ruined door, for he could now see a curl of smoke rising from its security keypad—was a tall being in a naval captain’s blues, his skin faintly green, his long black hair gathered in a topknot—Falleen, Javon thought. The Falleen moved to stand over him. “Lieutenant Javon Thewles?”
“You know I am. Can I sit up?”
“You’re under arrest.”
“Can I sit up anyway?”
The Falleen paused as if nonplussed by Javon’s casual reply. “Don’t you want to know why?”
“You’re just the kind of clown who feels rewarded seeing people’s expressions when you choose to tell them why. We have them like you in GA Security, too. Can I sit up?”
“The charge is conspiracy to commit murder.”
“The sentence for which is not being able to sit up?”
The Falleen appeared to swell, and his color went from a faint green to a ruddy red. He held a datapad beside Javon’s face. “Do you know this woman?”
Javon looked at the screen. It was a shot taken from a ceiling-mounted holocam, of himself talking with Sela Dorn almost the minute he’d met her, just before the fire-retardant foam had descended on both of them.
He glanced back up at the Falleen. “Do you know who my lawyer is?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. But I bet he’s going to tell me not to talk to you until I’ve talked to him first. What do you bet?”
“Yes, sit up.”
“Can I get dressed?”
Two hours later, arriving at the Senate Building for their daily confrontation with Chief of State Daala, Han and Leia cleared the security check, recently made more strenuous, and then were escorted, not to Daala’s antiseptic office, but to a larger conference room. It was already full when they arrived. Daala had the head chair, flanked by Wynn Dorvan and his Twi’lek assistant. Also present were officers of Galactic Alliance Security, Starfighter Command, and the navy. Leia recognized General Jaxton and Admiral Parova. Jaxton sweated excessively for the current air temperature, and his skin color seemed off, just a touch gray. The security officers looked unhappy, too, a despairing sort of unhappiness in contrast with Jaxton’s brooding anger.
As the doors hissed closed behind the Solos, Daala pointed at two empty chairs directly opposite her. “Sit.”
They did.
Han smiled. Leia knew it was a mask for irritation, knew he didn’t care to be ordered around like a nek. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “Lot of protesters out there today.”
“Not relevant.” Clearly, it meant something to Daala; her face was as stiff as that of a duraplast doll.
“The holocasts estimate they’re in the millions. That’s a lot of protest.”
“I’m not going to waste your time as you’ve been wasting mine.” Daala was even more abrupt than during their previous visit. “Where is Jedi Knight Seha Dorvald?”
Leia and Han exchanged a baffled look. Bafflement was good. They genuinely didn’t know where Seha was, and their ignorance on that point, and on how Daala might have rooted out Seha’s involvement so soon, helped cover any telltale sign constituting admission that they knew what Daala was talking about.
Leia shook her head. “I have no idea.”
Han mimicked her motion. “And what Leia doesn’t know, I doubly don’t know. That’s the secret to a happy marriage, actually.”
That got the faintest of grins from Wynn Dorvan. No one else appeared to notice his amusement.
“Have you contacted the Jedi Temple to inquire about her?” Leia tapped the pocket that normally held her comlink. “My communications have bee
n taken away by building security, but I can put the call in for you.”
“Don’t play stupid.” Daala sounded as though she could crack nuts with her voice alone. “We know she masqueraded as a shuttle pilot from the transport Dust Dancer. She poisoned General Jaxton and Moff Lecersen.”
“What?” Leia couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. Han slowly sat up straight and brought his hands forward, gripping the tabletop.
“She contrived to remain in the Senate Building for an entire day. We’re now scouring the locations in the building she might have reached and are searching for more poison or other signs of sabotage. She is clearly another mad Jedi. You had best not be protecting her.”
“I don’t believe it.” Leia didn’t have to force a note of incredulity into her voice; her surprise was real. “General, are you all right?”
Jaxton made a sour face. “It was a slow-acting cardioparalytic. Fortunately, I had myself examined the minute I started feeling unwell. And even more fortunately, the medical droid ran some tests I won’t ever again refer to as excessive or unnecessary, and detected the toxin.”
Leia turned to Daala. “You can’t think that the Order had anything to do with this.”
“I don’t think you would, and perhaps that means the Order as a whole would not.” Daala steepled her fingers and stared over them at the Solos. “So I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. The benefit of the doubt says that Seha Dorvald went mad, decided to perpetrate murder, and fled … and the benefit of the doubt says that the Jedi Order will now find her and turn her over to me before I decide to withdraw the benefit of the doubt. We know what my displeasure can mean.”
Han said it before Leia had a chance to kick him under the table. “Another failed assault on the Temple by the Mandalorians?”
Before Daala could rise to the bait, Leia interrupted. “What about Moff Lecersen? And the other passengers—Wynn, were you poisoned? The aides?”
Wynn gave her a little smile. “Thanks for asking. I’m fine, and the others are, too. Lecersen’s poisoning was detected, and an antidote administered, as soon as we notified him of General Jaxton’s troubles.”
The doors slid open behind the Solos. A naval lieutenant—a Bothan female—hurried in, moved behind Admiral Parova, whispered in her ear, and, at the admiral’s nod, repeated the process with Daala. Daala spoke to her, a few whispered words, and the Bothan departed as rapidly as she’d come.
Daala turned back to the assembly. “Fleet Intelligence has found at least one more component of Seha’s sabotage. A small tank with a timer, spliced into the main Senate chamber’s water supply, containing the same poison. Fortunately, it had not yet triggered.”
“How …” Han wasn’t acting; he was so surprised that his words started out stumbling all over one another. “How could she—Seha, I mean—have gotten access to those pipes? And how did this whole situation come to light?”
Daala jabbed a finger at the security officers. “Incompetence on the part of our much-vaunted security forces. One of them was dating your mad Jedi. We’re still trying to determine how much information she seduced out of him. Fortunately, Fleet Intelligence was doing due diligence on the Dust Dancer’s part in transporting so many important people back to the Coruscant system, noticed some irregularities in their authorizations, and went from there.”
Leia kept her face impassive as her mind roared through the possibilities. Seha had taken her shuttle back to orbit yesterday, rejoined Dust Dancer, and accompanied the transport on its exit from the system—an exit to a location very different from the course it had filed with Coruscant authorities. She should have transferred to another vehicle and returned to Coruscant yesterday, but Leia had not followed her movements, was not sure if that had happened as it was supposed to. In any case, GA forces looking for Dust Dancer at its destination of record would not find it. Unless Han and Leia were immediately arrested, they’d be able to get back to the Temple and get a transmission to the transport, letting its crew know it was being sought.
Now to test the waters and find out if the Solos were to be arrested. “As soon as we return to the Temple, I’ll get word to Master Hamner and convey to him your wishes regarding Jedi Dorvald.”
“See that you do.” Daala gave Leia the unblinking stare of an enemy. “Immediately.”
Han and Leia did not speak during their quick march back to the Millennium Falcon. In fact, they did not speak until they had landed the transport in the hangar bay at the Jedi Temple and had themselves gone through the similarly strenuous security check there. Only then, sure that they were not carrying new transmitters, did they convene with the Masters to report, and told their story.
Han, no stranger to being accused of crimes against the government, sometimes rightly, was not furious, just curious. “We know Seha didn’t poison anyone. So who did poison Jaxton and Lecersen? And why them but not Wynn Dorvan or the others?”
Corran Horn shook his head. “Find the motive, means, and opportunity, and you find the criminal. Head of State Fel, for instance, might have a motive to do in Lecersen, as there’s some talk that Lecersen could have been behind the assassination attempt made against him.” He cocked a brow at Han and Leia. “Which makes you two suspects as well, since you were endangered by that attack. You, like Fel, have access to associates with considerable skill and perhaps poisons. Means. And you, like Fel, have been visitors to the Senate Building recently. Opportunity.”
Leia offered Corran an Oh-no-you-don’t smirk. “But, Officer, we have no motive to harm Jaxton.”
“Correct. Lecersen and Jaxton. Find the connection, find the motive. And then why the entire Senate chamber? One general, one Moff, and a lot of Senators?” Corran shrugged.
Master Cilghal heaved a rumbling sigh. “I wish they had mentioned the name of the poison. I could then tell you about its availability, characteristics … Will they give up that information?”
Leia shook her head. “Probably not. Daala only gave up as much information as she did in order to shake us, gauge our reactions, and embarrass her security detail for their failure. If we start making inquiries of her office, she’ll seal up tight.”
Corran looked thoughtful. “Back-door the query. Ask Wynn Dorvan. Or perhaps persuade Head of State Fel to ask Moff Lecersen.”
“Is Jedi Dorvald back?” Saba Sebatyne asked.
“Back, and safe, and here at the Temple. Since she’s already wanted as one of the pilots who left with the StealthX wing, we made sure that her return to the Temple was by inconspicuous routes. And we’ll get word to the Dust Dancer just as sneakily.”
Han leaned back and stretched his long legs out under the table. “There’s one good thing about her being suspected of attempted murder.”
Cilghal gave him a disapproving eye. “Murder charges are not good subjects for jokes.”
“I’m not joking. They think Seha’s motive was an attempted poisoning. Or hundreds. This means they’re not looking for Kyp or Octa.”
Cilghal considered, then nodded. “You’re right. That is a good thing. And not a joke.”
“See, if I were telling a joke, it would start out, ‘Two Mon Calamari and a Quarren swim into a cantina …’ ”
Saba offered a hiss of displeasure, interrupting. “This one dislikes the fact that there are unknown forces moving around us. This plan is dangerous enough. We must be even more cautious. Make sure the message getz to everyone who needs to know.”
The others nodded.
“Let us return to our duties. Jedi Solo, this one has a special task for you … for your special diplomatic skillz.”
“What’s that?”
“This one wantz you to persuade Seha to turn herself in for arrest, trial, and possible execution.”
In the Senate Building, the meeting was now finishing, with only Daala, Wynn, and Admiral Parova still present.
The admiral made her final statement as she rose. “I’ll have the first team in place in five minutes, Chief Daala.”
Daala nodded. “Be prepared for some resentment from security.”
“Those who have failed always resent those who haven’t. I’m used to it. And allow me to say, I’m proud, we’re proud, to offer you our service, you personally.”
“Thank you, Admiral. And well done.”
HWEG SHUL, NAM CHORIOS
THE ITHORIAN WAS PHYSICALLY IMPOSING, AS THE HAMMER-HEADED species tended to be in comparison with humans, and not at all happy. “I have considerable difficulty thinking such disturbing things about Dr. Wei.”
Luke, pausing midway through examination of a sheaf of flimsi printouts in Dr. Wei’s small home office, nodded in understanding. “I can appreciate that, Mayor Snaplaunce. Can you tell me what you know of him?”
The mayor, standing in the office’s doorway, offered a credible imitation of a human shrug. “He has been here nearly thirty years and has tried not just to get along in the community but to become a part of it. He was married for twenty of those years to a woman of the Newcomers, a jeweler, who died in a landspeeder accident. They have a son who is now studying medicine on Corellia.”
From elsewhere in the doctor’s spacious dome floated Ben’s voice: “Doesn’t he wear anything but black?”
Vestara, from another room, answered. “You’re one to talk.”
“Some people can pull it off, Vestara. Others can’t.”
Snaplaunce listened to the exchange, his head cocked. “Your boy is very energetic. He seems quite responsible.”
“He is. Mature beyond his age. In most ways. Not all.”
“He and the girl, are they a couple?”
Luke cleared his throat. In some cultures, a question like that would never be asked by a stranger, but on a world like this, in a town where everyone knew everyone else, there was little regard for privacy. “No.” And let them continue not to be.
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Conviction Page 13
