"What does he offer?"

"Well, as I said, he is quite charming, and is making a superb impression on some of the other Senators. Especially the ones who are fledglings, and who are a bit more timid and less ambitious than he."

That piqued Lecersen's interest. "Go on."

"He apparently has quite the following. It's rather endearing, really. There's one in particular he's been working closely with. You'll never guess who."

"I probably won't," Lecersen agreed readily, "so please enlighten me."

"Padnel Ovin, the new, rather scruffy Senator from Klatooine."

"Really?" Lecersen was surprised. "They seem like an odd pair. I'd be surprised to learn that Padnel Ovin even remembers to take a sanisteam once a day."

"Well, it seems as though Kameron is grooming-oh my, I didn't even mean to make the pun-" Treen giggled. "-Senator Ovin for something rather key later on down the line. And he has intimated that others of his little gaggle of admirers are in positions where they could give us a great deal of support."

"What positions are those, and who are we talking about?" Lecersen drained his drink and put it on the table.

"He was rather coy about that, but I don't think he's fibbing."

"You're hardly a Jedi, my dear, to be able to tell such things."

"Ah, but I am a most excellent judge of character, and you cannot argue that, Drikl."

He supposed he couldn't. "Well, for now, that's a very promising start. I will leave him in your extremely capable hands. There is something I'd like to bring to your attention, and you had best pa.s.s it along to the others."

Quickly, he told her about the nighttime visit from Mahlor, from the unfortunate Minyavish's arrival to his end.

"How unpleasant," said Treen. He could imagine her wrinkling her nose in distaste and smiled a little. "And he mentioned Fost and myself specifically by name?"

"He did. He did not seem particularly experienced in how to handle such negotiations. I believe if he had known about the rest of us, he'd have said so."

"Well, how honored we are to be singled out," she said archly. "This does not make me particularly happy, Drikl. And I was having such a pleasant evening."

"Well, the good news is, he gave me the location of the evidence and the code to locate and destroy it. While he resisted torture rather well, I do think in the end I retrieved everything he had to tell me."

"So you do believe he was acting alone?"

"My dear, hardly anyone truly acts alone, whether they realize it or not," Lecersen replied. "If one being was able to acquire this type of information, we'd do well to be on the alert for more insects crawling out of the woodwork."

"I'm afraid you're right."

"I'd best be turning in. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I'll dispatch someone to take care of the evidence on Minyavish and by nineteen hundred hours I'll be en route for Imperial s.p.a.ce. It sounds like you all have things well in hand."

"If you refer to Senator Suldar, I would say eating out of would not be inaccurate."

"I don't doubt it for a minute, my dear." His voice was warm with affection. He'd grown rather fond of his co-conspirator, as long as he didn't have to have too much interaction with her. She, Bramsin, Jaxton, Parova, and Thaal were right where they should be, and he was about to go where he should be.

Into Imperial s.p.a.ce, where human Moffs-male human Moffs, which were the only right and proper kind-were treated with the respect they were due.

Where he would eventually launch his bid to become Emperor.

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES.

ADMIRAL NATASI DAALA, STILL IN HER OWN MIND THE RIGHTFUL-AND greatly wronged-Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance, sipped at the cup of poor-quality caf Boba Fett had provided and stared out at the stars streaking past.

An hour after they were safely away on the actual Slave I-after escaping on an extremely fake Slave I and then transitioning to an ordinary shuttle-Daala had been on the comm. Fett had agreed to take her wherever she needed to go, and there was no doubt in her mind where that was. She had been busy, calling in old favors, talking to old friends-and old enemies-and new friends. She had much, much more to do, but for now it was a good start. She would have appreciated the chance to have a sanisteam and new, proper clothing instead of her prison garb, but Fett's generosity didn't stretch that far. Even so, she was grateful to be free. She could handle prison clothing for a while longer, just so long as her wrists and ankles were no longer "decorated."

The initial round of contact over, she and Fett had broken out some rations, and now were sipping caf. He'd had only a few questions for her, and had been silent for a while, but then, so had she.

"You've been quiet," Daala said.

He shrugged. The audacity and simple brilliance of the plan still astonished her. Boba Fett had broken her out of her Galactic Alliance prison cell by pretending to be ... Boba Fett. It was a deception within a twist that her own complicated mind could most definitely appreciate-would have even found amusing, if she had any energy to spare for such lighter things. He was leading the uncertain and wobbly "triumvirate" on a wild caranak chase, because, according to all logic, if it was the infamous Boba Fett, legendary bounty hunter, he would never attempt a rescue as himself. No, for a while at least, what pa.s.sed for the GA would be wasting time and resources looking for a Boba Fett impersonator, not the genuine article, sitting right in front of her clad once more in his actual armor and helmet.

"Long flight. Plenty of time to talk when you're ready."

"Genius, by the way, and such a nice little jab at the Jedi. The disguise, I mean."

He turned his head toward her as she sat beside him in the copilot's seat. "Oh-you mean the mad Jedi and their imposters. Thought that was a good touch myself."

Until very recently, Jedi Knights had been snapping-believing that everyone they met, including those they loved, had been replaced by an evil doppelganger. "You are your own evil twin."

"Then wouldn't I be good?" he shot back.

Daala did allow herself to smile at that. It faded almost at once as she thought about what her own "doppelganger" would be like. She'd lived that life for too brief a time. Happy, whole, in love with Liegeus Vorn, a good man who had been ripped away from her far, far too soon.

Daala had been chasing a hopeless ideal, trying to be a good, decent, fair leader of all the beings who made up the Galactic Alliance. All her attempts to restore order had failed. She was not the "Empress Palpatina" that some would paint her as. She was happy to work with any gender, any species, as long as they were willing to obey orders and uphold the law. She did not endorse slavery. Once she had brought the Jedi to heel and had them serving in their proper capacity, she would have been free to turn her attention to these burgeoning new governments. Would have employed due process of law.

But no one, it seemed, wanted that. Not the Jedi, not Dorvan-to whom she had given more trust than she really should have-and certainly not the Solos.

No, she realized, her resentment more bitter than the bad caf she sipped. She'd been fooling herself to think that. Had been fooling herself, too, in thinking that she just might, finally, be able to love someone who wouldn't be ripped away from her by murder. First Wilhuff Tarkin, then Liegeus, then Nek Bwua'tu. Oh, Nek wasn't dead, but she wasn't sure he would call the lost, befuddled state in which he currently existed "living." She certainly didn't.

No happy doppelganger Daala for her. And it was just as well.

She drained the cup and made a face. Turning to her rescuer, she said, "One of the first things I'm going to do when I come to power again is make sure you Mandos have the ability to make a decent cup of caf."

Fett snorted slightly. "As long as it keeps me sharp, it can taste like poodoo for all I care. We've got a more pressing problem you can help with."

Here it comes, thought Daala. She had known there would be a fee, she just hadn't known what it was. "I owe you a great deal," she admitted freely.

Again the helmet turned toward her. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze.

"That you do. But before I name my price, I'm going to make it a bit sweeter for you to pay it. I've learned a few things you might be interested in hearing."

She was intrigued. Her brooding and soul-searching was growing tiresome; she was ready to move forward. "Go on."

"Moff Drikl Lecersen is not your friend."

Now it was her turn to snort. "And Luke Skywalker is a Jedi. Are we through with the obvious?"

"Not yet." He didn't rise to the bait. Fett never did. "He's been operating behind the scenes plotting your downfall for some time. Even gone to some pretty extraordinary measures and very complicated, long-simmering plans."

"Sounds like a recipe for brogy stew."

"It does at that. Maybe I'm hungry." He shrugged. "He's no friend of mine, either, but I'll get to that in a minute. I've learned something very interesting about the Moff. He's behind the Freedom Flight."

Daala was glad she'd finished the bitter brew earlier; she was afraid if she'd been drinking, she'd have choked. Her brows drew together.

"That's a poor joke, Fett," she said in an icy voice. "That sleemo would rather have his hand cut off than do anything n.o.ble."

"I think that was an unfortunate side effect as far as Lecersen is concerned," Fett continued, completely unruffled by her reaction. "He didn't set it up-or rather, hijack it-in order to help poor downtrodden species obtain their rights. He did it so there'd be too many situations you'd have to respond to, quickly, without thinking it through. Think of it as arson. He was lighting fires all over the galaxy."

"And I rushed to put them out," Daala said slowly. Comprehension dawned sickly over her, causing her stomach to clench hard. "That whole organization ... it's just a front?"

Fett shook his head. "Not at all. Most of the poor fools who are the 'pilots' are as idealistic as you'd imagine. Think they're doing good, and they are. They're just being moved about by Lecersen, like pieces on a hologame table. We Mandos had the opportunity to ... shall we say, learn more about the Flight when you sent us in to put out the fires."

"Crush the uprisings," Daala said harshly. "Call it what it is." She was done with the kind of metaphors and justifications she had used when speaking to Wynn and Nek.

"Fine by me. I like plain talk," Fett said. "We've gotten some information from some of the slaves. But they can't tell us what they don't know. And most of them don't know much."

"It was underground before it became so high-profile," Daala said. "Three beings can keep a secret if two of them are dead." It was an old quote that many worlds claimed as theirs, and it was still brutally true.

"Or if they only know a little," Fett continued. "It's like a link in a chain. Each being could only implicate a handful of others, and none of those was anybody worth going after. Except one. A Minyavish had apparently discovered some things that linked Lecersen and a few other highly placed individuals to the Flight. We weren't able to recover the actual physical evidence, or any other names, but he certainly sounded convincing about Lecersen."

"Should I ask how you got this information?"

Fett shrugged. "You didn't hire us to calm tempers with jeru tea and sweetcakes."

"No, I didn't," Daala replied. "This is most enlightening. Things that made no sense whatsoever before suddenly have become quite plain."

"Such as the attack on Admiral Bwua'tu."

She gazed levelly at where his eyes would be, if she could see them. "Such as that, yes."

Someone had gone to great lengths to implicate the Jedi in the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on Nek, but had botched the job. "It also explains the attack on the Solos and Fel at the Pangalactus Restaurant."

"You had no part in that?"

Her green eyes, thoughtful a second before, turned to jade ice. "Even if I wanted them dead, I wouldn't put a child in the line of fire. There are other ways."

Fett nodded, as if satisfied. "It all fits."

Yes. It did all fit. Another troupe of players had come onstage, after lurking in the wings un.o.bserved for so long.

"And so," Fett said, "we have a common enemy, you and I, and we get to the issue of my payment."

"I knew we'd get to that eventually. Proceed."

"I've overheard some of your plans," he said, "which you clearly didn't mind or else you'd have declined when I offered you the use of my communications array. Sounds like you've got some pretty powerful contacts and a solid base of operations. I'm prepared to give you still more. Continued, if covert, use of my people and our technology. I want you safe and solid."

"I'm touched, old friend," she said, and there was actually a hint of sincerity in the words.

"Friendship is a part of it, I don't deny that," he said. "But once you're safe and solid and the head of the Empire, you'll be in a position to say thanks. And you can do that by finding a cure for this hut'u-unla nanovirus."

One hand curled into a fist as he spoke. Slowly, he unclenched it and returned it to the controls.

Daala understood, and sympathized. No one, it appeared, was untouched by Darth Caedus's treachery. Toward the end of the Second Galactic Civil War, the Moffs had created an airborne nanovirus that could be specifically tailored to a certain genetic code. It was first used in the Battle of Roche, where it targeted and killed only the Verpine soldier caste. Later, it was used to attack the Hapan royal house, causing the death of the young Chume'da, Allana, and ensuring Tenel Ka's enduring hatred for the Moffs.

Another family would share that sentiment. Caedus had obtained a sample of the blood of Fett's granddaughter, Mirta Gev. From that, the Moffs had attacked their next target-the Fett line. Fortunately for grandfather and granddaughter, neither had been on Mandalore at the time of the nanovirus's release, but because of the nature and lengthy life of the concoction, Boba Fett would never be able to return to his homeworld.

Unless a cure was found.

Home, thought Daala. We all want it, and so few of us really seem to find it, be it a physical place, or with someone we love.

"I understand," she said, and she did. "You want to go home. I'm sure you know, however, that finding a cure for this nanovirus cannot be a top priority, at least not right away. I've got to claim all this power and make sure my position is, as you put it, safe and solid, before I'll have the funds and talent pool to turn toward that."

"I know. Not right away," he agreed, "but soon. Very soon." The helmeted head turned toward her. "I trust we understand each other."

She nodded. As favors went, this one wasn't unappealing. She might have even done it had he simply asked, without his having to have gone to the effort of rescuing her.

But she was glad he had.

"And it's more than a wish to go home," Fett continued. "It's about revenge. I imagine you've got an inkling of how I must feel."

She smiled, a smile as frosty as his voice had been. "I do indeed, Fett. I do indeed."

"Good. On occasion it's nice to mix business with pleasure."

"Yes, it is," Daala mused. "I need your comm again, I'm afraid. There's an old enemy-turned-friend who would appreciate an update on this situation as much as I do."

WATERFRONT DISTRICT, VARLO, ROONADAN.

If she allowed herself, Leia could almost believe that they were indeed just a family on vacation.

The day was sunny, the sky a lovely blue. The artificial river that wound its way through this part of the capital city of Varlo was clean and made pleasant burbling sounds. Trees in st.u.r.dy duracrete pots provided just enough shade at the small cafe table where she, Han, and Allana sat perusing the menu.

They'd already ordered drinks. Allana was happily sipping a creamy concoction made from frozen blue milk. Han had ordered a Corellian ale, and Leia was drinking iced tea. The breeze was cooling and so were the beverages.

Several tables away sat Zekk and Taryn Zel. Zekk wore protective sun visors that, very conveniently, covered much of his face. Taryn, her distinctive red hair dyed a subtler auburn, wore one of the large floppy hats considered fashionable outerwear by the females on this world. Both seemingly had their noses buried in their own menus, but Leia knew that their eyes were on the Solo family. They were here, close but un.o.btrusive, to guard Allana should anything go wrong. The Solos had wanted to give their granddaughter as much of a normal life as possible, but in the end this b.u.t.ton-nosed little girl would become ruler of her world, and perhaps much more. So they had struck a compromise that pleased all involved. Well, except Allana, but as she knew nothing of the arrangement, she couldn't protest it. Zekk, a Jedi Knight, and Taryn Zel, cousin to Tenel Ka, were the best possible bodyguards Leia could imagine for a Chume'da thought dead.

The waitdroid hummed over and hovered. Many droids designed to serve in such a capacity were humanoid. This squat droid more resembled R2-D2 than C-3PO. Barely a meter tall and rather narrow, with a head that opened to extend a serving tray, it was clearly designed for the sole task of waiting tables, and Leia doubted it was terribly expensive.

"May I take your orders?" it inquired in a pleasant, if droning, voice.

"We're still looking." Leia offered a smile, more for the benefit of any onlookers than for the droid itself. "A few more minutes."

"Of course, ma'am." It buzzed off and repeated the inquiry at another table.

"I think we should order something," Han said. "I'm starving."