“Asokaji, I need you to do something for me,” he said. “I need you to find out, if at all possible, if Admiral Parova has had any contact with Moff Drikl Lecersen.” He was quiet, listening. “I’ll explain the next time you’re visiting me. The club is simply following up on a lead.” More silence. “Yes, I understand. Do your best, Rynog. You always have.”
He leaned back against the pillows. “He’s going to attempt to find any documentation for us. It’s putting him in a very dangerous position, Wynn. I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right about something,” Dorvan said, then added self-deprecatingly, “I’m just not sure what.”
INDIGO TOWER RESTAURANT, CORUSCANT
“THE INDIGO TOWER IS PERHAPS NOT THE BEST CHOICE OF DINING establishment to chase away the blues,” said Treen, poking disinterestedly at her plate. It was one of her favorite appetizers—Naboo shellfish sautéed in, predictably, butter made from blue cream, seasoned just right. But tonight, nothing tasted good.
Bramsin reached out a liver-spotted hand and patted hers gently. “Perhaps not. Let’s order a special bottle of something.”
Treen sighed. Perhaps a vintage bottle of gold wine would lift her spirits. Bramsin waved down the young human male waiting on them tonight and ordered one.
“I don’t like how things are going,” she said once they were alone. “Not in the slightest. First this peculiar silence from Drikl, then Kameron takes what we’ve handed him on a plate and doesn’t even bother to give us the crumbs.”
“Perhaps he’s just laying the foundation,” offered Bramsin. He spooned up his bisque, his hand shaking so badly that half of it spilled.
“I don’t think so,” mused Treen, tapping her finger on her chin. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”
“Next you’ll tell me you’re a Jedi,” joked Bramsin. They both had a good laugh over that one. The waiter came with their wine—Bramsin had sprung for the superior vintage on the wine list—and poured their glasses.
“A toast,” said Treen. “To old friends.”
Bramsin smiled and clinked his glass to hers. She felt better after the first sip. It was good to pamper oneself.
“So,” she said, returning to her shellfish with renewed interest, “I take it that you haven’t heard from Drikl, either?”
Bramsin shook his head. “Not a peep,” he said. “I had lunch with Parova the other day. She seems to be in good spirits, though.”
“She’s always in good spirits. Unnaturally cheerful, that woman.” Treen didn’t particularly care for most of her co-conspirators. The old phrase about politics and bedfellows was quite true. She had approached Drikl, and was fond of him, and of course had a long friendship with dear Fost. Jaxton she thought handsome, but a bit flighty. Parova annoyed her, and General Thaal—she hadn’t made up her mind about him. Intelligent and dangerous, certainly, and for now that was really all she needed to know.
“Well,” she said, “I’ll try to contact Lecersen this evening. We’ll give Suldar a few more days to remember who put him in power, then we shall have a little talk with him. For now.” She beamed at him, her good spirits restored by the company, the food, and the most delicious wine.
She returned to her apartments some three hours later in an excellent mood. She was greeted at the door by Wyx, her BII Butler Droid. Wyx had been in the Treen family for generations, and appeared to be poised to continue to serve for at least several more decades.
“Good evening, Madame Senator,” said Wyx. As always, he was timely and attentive, sporting the family colors, blue and gold, proudly on his torso. “How was your evening with Senator Bramsin?”
“Lovely, thank you, Wyx,” said Treen, handing the droid her coat and starting to head up the stairs. “Any messages?”
“Only one,” Wyx said, “In your office. A General Thaal.”
Treen paused, her hand on the banister. “Delete all references and recollection of General Thaal from your data banks for the last four hours,” she said.
“Deleted,” Wyx said obligingly.
“Prepare a bath for me. I’ll be in my office for the next few minutes.” Sanisteams were fine for day-to-day hygiene, but Treen enjoyed the luxury of immersing herself in hot, scented water.
She went into her office, decorated with paintings and statuary from Kuat’s finest artists. The lights turned on automatically. She entered the general’s comm number and sat back in the black nerf-hide chair, waiting.
General Stavin Thaal’s imposing form was in no way diminished by being reduced to a small holographic image. Though his eyes were tiny, they were intense, and she could even see the scar winding its ugly way across the miniature throat.
“Good evening, General,” Treen said pertly. “I received a message that you wished to speak with me.”
“You deleted the info?” The voice was deep and cold and prickled at the base of Treen’s spine. She did not think she would ever grow used to the sound of a droid voice coming from a human throat.
“Naturally,” said Treen. “Although as Wyx is a B-Two Butler, it’s a redundancy. You’re not dealing with an amateur, you know.”
“Actually, I do know,” continued Thaal. “That’s why I’m contacting you. It’s time to move camp, Senator.”
She frowned. “I’m afraid that, while I understand your colorful military metaphor, I’m not sure exactly why we should move camp.”
“Lecersen’s ratted us out. Or at least, he will, sooner or later. I have received information that he is now working with Admiral Natasi Daala. If he hasn’t given us up yet, he will soon. She’s too smart not to make connections.”
An icy lump formed at the pit of Treen’s stomach. “Oh, dearie me,” she murmured. “This is most unpleasant news, General. Most unpleasant indeed.”
“I also think that Suldar has been playing us,” Thall continued in his unnatural voice. “We gave him the Galactic Alliance, and he’s given us nothing. I haven’t heard word one about any promotions, have you?”
“No,” said Treen, drawing out the word. “I was just remarking on that to Fost tonight.”
“I got into this whole thing because I wanted power. Just as you did. No shame in that. But now it’s just about saving our own skins. I haven’t led as many campaigns as I have without recognizing the signs of an enemy preparing to strike. We need to strike first and get out.”
Treen knew he was right.
“What do you want from the rest of us?” she asked.
He was silent for a moment. Then, his hard face looking almost regretful, he said, “There is no rest of us, Senator. Not if we’re to get out of this. Think about it. Lecersen’s been compromised. Bramsin was a powerful politician in his day, but now he’s an old bumbler who falls asleep in his soup. I don’t have much respect for Parova—too quick to turn her back on what should have been her first loyalty. And Jaxton will blow with the prevailing wind. This whole plot was your idea, Senator. And it was brilliant. I wouldn’t have been on board with it if I didn’t believe it would work. But even the best-laid campaigns can be ruined by the unexpected. We could have ridden out either Lecersen or Suldar turning against us, but not both. We each have complementary resources. I intend to eliminate anything that will tie me to this, and stay right where I am. You bring me down, I’ll bring you down with me.”
“Well, you most certainly would have to, General, but fortunately, I don’t intend to do that,” Treen said, keeping her voice and manner mild. “Who shall be our first target?”
“Bramsin. He’s become completely unreliable. Who knows what he’d blurt out at the next press conference without even realizing what he’s doing?”
Her heart sank. The worst part of it was she knew Thaal was right. Lecersen was out of their hands now. Parova and Jaxton wouldn’t act until they felt it was in their best interests. But poor dear Fost …
Sadly, she said, “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”
It had been a lovely evening, mused Bramsin as he allowed Mar
dith, his driver, to help him into his home. An evening with Haydnat was always a delight. Such good food and conversation. He wondered why Lecersen hadn’t joined them. Wasn’t he supposed to?
“Thank you, Mardith, that will be all,” Bramsin said, extending his cane. He had recently moved to apartments all on one floor. Stairs were simply too challenging. He shuffled slowly into the parlor, where he sank into a chair. A basic-model serving droid rolled up with a nightcap for him.
He frowned at the Corellian brandy. “I don’t like this.”
“Sir,” piped the droid, “you ordered a case of it last week.”
“Don’t you think I know what I like?” he asked querulously. “I don’t need a droid telling me what I like to drink!”
“Of course not, Senator. What would you like instead?”
Bramsin blinked, confused. What would he like?
His comm beeped. He clicked it at once. “Senator Bramsin.”
“Fost, my dear!” It was Haydnat. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I was wondering if I might invite myself over for a nightcap.”
Bramsin brightened. His problem had been solved. “Of course, of course! What would you like to drink? I’ll have it ready.”
SOLO SAFE HOUSE, CORUSCANT
Leia opened her eyes. She sat up in bed, her mind surprisingly clear, and strained to listen for what had woken her. Then she knew.
This was going to be so hard on Han.
“Honey,” she said gently, “we need to get up.”
He, too, had had many years of needing to wake up alert. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing yet, but someone’s coming. Get dressed, then go get Allana. I bet she’s not asleep, either.”
Ten minutes later, the three of them were in the kitchen. Leia had some caf brewing and set out four mugs. Han carried Allana, who, as Leia had predicted, had been awake when her grandfather entered her room. She was, honestly, too big to be carried, but nobody, not even his wife, was going to tell that to Han Solo.
“Care to enlighten me, Princess?” he asked. “I don’t think Allana and Anji are going to be drinking caf. Anji’s keyed up enough as it is.” The nexu had been greatly agitated, and knowing at least something of what was coming, Leia had told Allana to close up her pet in her room for now.
Leia turned to him, and she knew by his reaction that she was wearing the Stoic Face.
“Oh, bloah,” Han said. “What’s going on, Leia?”
“Don’t swear in front of All—Amelia,” she said. “Han, honey … if I’m right, I think I’m going to have to go away for a little bit. But everything’s going to be just fine.”
There came a knock on the door. Han’s face went ashen, and his eyes went angry.
“You’re kidding. That is not who I think it is.”
Standing up at her full diminutive height, Leia Organa Solo went to the door and opened it, smiling. “Good evening,” she said to the two beings who stood there wearing GAS uniforms. “Won’t you come in and have a cup of caf?”
ABOARD THE JADE SHADOW
“They took Leia,” Han said without preamble.
Luke stared at him. Han was contacting him via hologram, and he stood there in miniature, holding an Allana who was actually considerably calmer than her grandfather.
“What? Who took her?”
By now Ben, copiloting, and Vestara, engrossed in reading a datapad Natua had prepared for her, were paying attention.
“The GAS. Those sleemos took her away on a whole slew of trumped-up charges. You know about the anti-Jedi legislation that’s being enacted? And the whole news slant?”
“I’ve heard some,” Luke said. “But this is ridiculous. What were the charges?”
“Conspiracy to overthrow the rightfully elected government,” Han snarled. “Espionage. And get this. Spice smuggling.”
“Wow,” said Ben. “They’re getting desperate. Aunt Leia a spice dealer?”
“And you simply let them take her?” asked Vestara.
Han shot her a furious look. She drew back a little, despite the fact that Han was only a third of a meter high. “I would have preferred to have blasted them into the next sector,” Han said, “but Leia wouldn’t let me. She told me I have this one to worry about. So she went quietly. I think the two guys sent to take her in were embarrassed.”
“They should be,” said Natua, who had overheard and poked her head in. “Leia Organa Solo? A traitor dealing in spice?” Luke felt himself growing angry, and calmed himself in the Force. He knew it for what it was—Natua’s pheromones affecting his own feelings.
“She’s a public figure,” Luke said, “and a well-loved one. Padnel Ovin is your friend. Someone on that subcommittee just wants to make a big gesture, that’s all. It’ll backfire and Leia will be released.”
“Yes,” said Han grimly, “she will. One way or another.”
“I bet Padnel is already working on it,” Luke said. “What time is it there?”
“Four AM.”
“The Chief of State’s office opens at eight,” Luke said. “Go talk to Padnel and Dorvan. I would offer my own help, but with the anti-Jedi sentiment growing there, I think any interference on my end would do more harm than good.”
“I don’t want to talk,” Han said, “I want my wife back. I want to knock heads together.”
“But you won’t,” said Ben.
“Not yet, anyway.” Han had calmed down somewhat. “I’ll go in first thing.”
“Bring your daughter,” Vestara said. Everyone turned to look at her. She shrugged. “It will be harder to turn her down than you.”
“Besides,” said Allana, “if you go, I go. She’s my mommy. They’ll have to deal with me and you, Dad.”
“That … wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but that works, too,” said Vestara.
Han rested his forehead against Allana’s. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s try to get some more sleep, and then we’ll go in and, uh, persuade Dorvan and Ovin that a mistake has been made.”
“A really bad mistake,” said Allana, grinning. Han hugged her tight, nodded at Luke, and pressed the button.
Luke was silent for a while. Finally Ben said, “I can’t believe they did that. I had no idea they hated us so much.”
“If you mean the people of Coruscant, they don’t,” Luke said. “But someone in a position of power does. Patch us through to the HoloNet, Ben. Even at this hour someone will be reporting on this.”
Ben obliged. “Oh look, speaking of hating us …” he said. The station, BAMR, was a fairly new one, and very aggressive in its political leanings.
“Surprise, surprise,” said Vestara.
A handsome dark-skinned human male gazed intently into the holocam. “… able to obtain footage of the arrest of former Chief of State and current Jedi, Princess Leia Organa Solo, at her residence.” Behind him rolled a recording of Leia emerging from her home. There was no sign of Han or Allana, and Luke was glad. The last thing they needed was for Allana’s face to be all over the HoloNet, and for Han Solo to be yelling at some poor unfortunate being simply doing his job.
Leia looked tired, but regal and beautiful. She did not smile, but neither did she attempt to dodge the bright lights and cams shoved into her face. Luke ached for her.
“Solo had no comment as to the charges levied against her,” the anchor was saying. “BAMR did attempt to get an interview with Captain Han Solo, Jedi Solo’s husband, but we were refused.”
“I’ll just bet,” said Ben.
Another image appeared behind the anchor. It depicted a handsome older man, graying, with a firm, strong jaw and intelligent, sharp eyes. “Senator Kameron Suldar, leader of the Senate Subcommittee to Investigate Jedi Activity, will be holding a press conference four hours from now at—”
There came a soft gasp. Luke turned to see Vestara’s eyes wide.
“Ves? What is it?” Ben touched her shoulder gently.
“I—that Senator. I know him.”
“Huh?”
She turned to Ben. “His name’s not Kameron Suldar. It’s Workan. High Lord Workan. He’s—”
“A Sith of the Lost Tribe,” said Luke calmly.
They stared at him. “How—why—” stammered Vestara.
“I’ve been playing a rather delicate and high-risk game,” Luke said, “but it seems to be going in our favor. Why do you think I made such a big fuss over the Jedi departing? Think for a minute. We’ve searched several planets and we’ve yet to find the Sith. When you are hunting an animal and it keeps eluding you, what do you do?”
Vestara got it first. “You set out bait,” she said quietly.
Luke nodded at her. “Exactly. With the Jedi very publicly gone, Coruscant was wide open. Ripe for the picking.”
“Dad—you gave Coruscant to the Lost Tribe?”
“I laid a trap,” Luke said. “That’s quite a bit different. The Lost Tribe believes it has a destiny to rule the galaxy. What better way to take a huge step toward fulfilling that destiny than to infiltrate Coruscant?”
Ben had been shocked, but was recovering quickly. “Uh, Dad, you maybe forgot one little thing.”
“And that might be?”
“Sith have infiltrated Coruscant!”
“I’ve lured them all to one place. I know exactly what I’m doing, Ben. We’ll deal with Ship—and that should, I hope, mean dealing with Abeloth—and then we’ll come back to Coruscant and handle the Sith.”
“I wonder if it will be as easy as you think it will be,” said Vestara. “Sith do not flee from a fight. And you have no idea how many of them are on Coruscant—or how powerful they might grow while we deal with Ship.”
Luke could tell she was rattled by the revelation, but he also sensed … pride? That was to be expected, he supposed. It was easier to turn your back on an ideology that was clearly harmful than on beings you loved who practiced that ideology.
“Sith are also arrogant,” Luke said. “Ivaar Workan is posing as a high-profile Senator. I am willing to bet that you know most of the Lords and High Lords by sight.”
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Ascension Page 28
