Fate Of The Jedi: Ascension Part 5

"He is respected by his people, and if we agree that Klatooine is deserving of membership, he is their choice to represent that world to the Senate. I believe his heart and his pa.s.sions are in the right place. He wants to do right by his people, even if that means learning an entirely new way to go about it."

"The Klatooinians have thrown off the bonds of slavery that have lasted twenty-five thousand years," Dorvan said. "They have won the right to run their world as they see fit, within the restrictions of Galactic Alliance membership. If they have chosen to send Padnel Ovin to represent them, we shall welcome him as we would welcome any other duly elected Senator." He eyed Leia and asked, "He was duly elected according to law?"

Leia nodded.

"I wonder if Klatooine is actually ready to formally become part of the GA," Rieekan said. All heads turned to him, listening. He leaned forward, his hands frail and liver-spotted but his eyes alert and intent. "If they're not, granting them membership could be a very negative thing for all involved. It would be much harder for them if we are forced to end their membership than if we take our time in granting it."

"I can understand your concern," Leia said. "But in a way ... this new freedom they have ... it's something they've been working toward for twenty-five thousand years."

"Then they can wait to get it right," Rieekan continued.

"No, sir," Leia said firmly to the man she had once served under. "The formal membership will tell the Klatooinians that after so long believing themselves only worthy to serve the Hutts, they have the right to come to the table with others. To sit down and have their voices heard by a body they respect. If we deny them that right based on nothing more than our opinion rather than looking at the facts, then this moment, this opportunity, unique in their history, will be lost."

"Jedi Solo," Dorvan said quietly, his eyes more intense than usual as he regarded her, "you have the finely honed instincts of a politician and a diplomat. You have years of experience. And you have the Force. In your opinion, are the Klatooinians ready for the challenges that being part of the Galactic Alliance will offer them? Particularly, do you think this former warlord is ready to sit down and solve problems with conversations and insights over a cup of caf rather than with weapons?"

Leia did not reply immediately, and Dorvan had not expected her to. She sank back thoughtfully, her eyes unfocused, her lips pursed. After a moment, she nodded firmly.

"I do believe it. He is certainly rough around the edges. But he loves his people and will learn to do what is right for them." A smile curved her lips. "Although he seems fonder of arguing for argument's sake than most."

"He should do just fine in the Senate then," Dorvan said drily. "If Klatooine continues to behave within our laws, it is welcome. Any further objections?"

There were none. Even though she was a Jedi, and even though not all agreed with her politics or her actions from time to time, everyone present respected Leia for the service she had given throughout her entire life. Her certainty was enough for them.

For now.

"Moving on," Dorvan said, taking the next datapad. He smiled slightly. "Well, this conversation should go a bit more quickly. Next up for membership is Qaras, and as all of us have heard by now they are submitting Rokari Kem to be their Senator."

"Qaras does have its share of difficulties to overcome, but at least they have her going for them," Darklighter said.

"It's a world divided, though," Tycho said. "I feel a bit bad for the Minyavish. By all accounts, they were not unduly violent toward the Jessar, and yet Kem is forcing exile on them. They've gone from being lords and masters to not even being welcome on their own planet."

"The government is apparently working with the Minyavish to help them relocate," Gavin said. "And frankly ... I can't blame the Jessar for not wanting them around." He looked over at Dorvan. "What information do we have about how this transfer of power is really working?"

In other words, mused Dorvan, what do our spies have to say about it? "It does seem that all is as it appears," he said. "It is indeed a world divided ... but both leaders seem to support the conclusion that separation is a good idea, and the transition is going as smoothly as can be expected. I imagine that Kem is probably going to request a.s.sistance with the issue, but that's a matter for the Senate to vote on. Our duty today is to decide if we wish to accept Qaras into the GA, and I for one see no reason not to."

There were nods around the table. As situations went, this was among the less sticky, and the atmosphere eased somewhat. Dorvan was convinced he even caught Carlist Rieekan smiling at one point.

Of course, the day was still young.

MOFF DRIKL LECERSEN'S ESTATE, CORUSCANT THIRTEEN AND A HALF HOURS LATER, HALF A WORLD AWAY FROM GA headquarters, a meeting very similar to that which the joint Chief of State had hosted was transpiring. As at that earlier conference, the attendees were all powerful beings in the world of politics. There were victuals and beverages provided for their enjoyment, and the meeting's itinerary was identical to that of the earlier meeting.

It was there that the similarities ended. It was well past the dinner hour, but those a.s.sembled were used to odd hours and still odder places to gather. This place was not as peculiar as others had been; it was a private residence, set on several acres of very expensive property, with a discreet landing field nearby.

Moff Drikl Lecersen smiled at his guests. He was seated at a large table carved of dark red wood, its heavy presence dominating the s.p.a.cious room. The table was covered by an exquisite cloth, spun from the silk of the rare saa.s.s worms of G'haris. Each dish and piece of cutlery cost more than a civil servant such as Desha Lor could expect to make in a year, and the a.s.sembled guests appeared quite at home. Fur rugs made of the pelts of various exotic creatures covered the cold Ithorian marble floor, and knickknacks from all over the galaxy adorned various shelves and sideboards.

Lecersen was at the head of the table, of course. At his right hand was Senator Haydnat Treen of Kuat. Today, at the after-dinner gathering that would also serve as a going-away party for Lecersen, Treen wore a lovely blue-and-silver robe that matched her hair perfectly. It was formal, yet relaxed, and an indigo scarf was tied just so around her elegant throat, not only for style, but also to hide the fine network of wrinkles on the slightly sagging skin.

Seated next to her was General Merratt Jaxton, who had arrived mere moments earlier. His hair, too, was gray, but the Chief of Starfighter Command had fewer years and fewer lines than the others seated at the table. And, it seemed, more appet.i.te. He had filled his plate with a great deal of small fried fish cakes and tiny slices of nerf steak with grilled mushrooms.

He, in turn, seemed dwarfed by the imposing General Stavin Thaal, who looked like he should be chewing on durasteel rather than the delicate pastries that appeared little more than crumbs in his large hands. The movement of his scarred throat as he swallowed was almost hypnotic, and Lecersen dragged his attention away to regard the guest on his left-Coruscant's own Senator, Fost Bramsin. Age had not been as kind to Bramsin as it had to Treen, and he was bowed with the weight of the years. He still had a good appet.i.te, but his hands trembled slightly as he poured cream into his caf to enjoy with a piece of traditional Bespin cloud meringue cake.

Beside the Senator was the acting naval chief, Admiral Sallinor Parova. Like the other heads of the military, she was still in uniform, crisp and efficient looking as she sipped her caf.

The talk was pleasant, filled with lively chatter, humor, and the sound of forks and knives sc.r.a.ping against dishes as those gathered enjoyed their rather late supper. When the serving droid came to clear the empty plates away and refill cups of caf-rich and dark and headily aromatic, the best that could be found-Lecersen knew it was time to get down to business.

An E-3PO protocol droid hastened up with datapads, which it diligently handed out to the guests. They wiped their mouths and put their napkins down, ready to direct their full attention to the matters at hand. After all, fine as Moff Lecersen's caf, pastries, and nerf steaks were, that was not why they had come.

"You're certain Dorvan doesn't know we have access to this?" Bramsin asked, carefully picking up his datapad and perusing it.

"If he did, we would not be having this pleasant gathering," Lecersen said.

"I cover my tracks," Jaxton said. "Don't worry. He's got no idea."

"Always so careful!" Treen said brightly. "I like that about you, General. I do." She turned to address her fellow Senator. "Such a thing is a possibility, but it would be a very long-term way of misleading or flushing us. Chief of State Dorvan's position is rather delicate at the moment. If he suspected our compatriots in the military of anything, it would behoove him to move quickly, not put something extended into play when he might not be in office long enough to follow up."

Lecersen nodded absently, seeing no need to comment further. He was quite certain they remained safely undiscovered.

"The only break we seem to have caught recently is that we three survived the purge," Jaxton said. He popped a pastry into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of caf before wiping his fingers on the fine linen napkin and picking up the 'pad. "I intend to milk it for all it's worth. This is the list of what Dorvan's cabinet discussed earlier today. I'll tell you-"

"We will tell you," Parova interrupted. Her voice was pleasant, but there was a brief flash in her dark eyes that told Lecersen that, while she was the junior member of the little group of conspirators, she did not intend to stay humbly in the background.

Jaxton met her gaze. A muscle tightened in his jaw, then he nodded. "Of course. Several of us were present at the meeting. We will tell you where the cabinet fell out on each issue. But that's really secondary. What the six of us need to do tonight is to see if there is any being or any situation that we might turn to our benefit. Let us begin with B'nish, which I'd never heard of until today."

"Don't feel bad about that," Treen soothed, reaching across the table and patting the younger man's hand. "There's no need to apologize. Very few of us had."

Jaxton glared at her. "I wasn't apologizing. If I haven't heard of it, it's because there's not anything worth hearing. This is a completely ineffectual world. Look at the stats. Basic agriculture, midlevel technology, no extreme political views. They even solved a slavery issue in a civilized way. I don't think there's anything to really exploit here."

Lecersen opened his mouth to agree, then paused. He had called up an image of the Senatorial candidate put forth by B'nish, one Kameron Suldar. Suldar seemed pleasant enough, but there were wrinkles etched in his face that were not laugh lines. His gaze was clear, his head held at a certain angle. Lecersen had not gotten as far as he had in politics without being able to read body language.

Even just in a single, frozen image.

He handed the pad to the protocol droid and said, "Eethree, run the hologram this image was taken from."

"Certainly, sir."

Glances were exchanged, but those present knew better than to question. They leaned forward as the small hologram materialized in the center of the table, next to the carafe of caf and the cream, curious to see why Lecersen had seen fit to bring this to their attention.

"It is with great appreciation, humbleness, and a sense of duty that I accept the nomination to represent my planet in the Galactic Senate."

The voice was strong. The handsome face, framed by neatly trimmed gray hair, showed both pa.s.sion and restraint. Lecersen thought he even caught a glimmer of tears in the eyes, but that could have simply been the lighting.

"For too long, we have kept to ourselves. We have grown too comfortable with our situation. But now, it is time to leave that comfortable rut. My friends and fellow B'nishi ... the only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth of the hole."

A cliche, no doubt, but one that clearly got a warm reception, judging from the sound of applause. Suldar nodded, lifting a hand to call for silence, smiling.

"Freeze, right there," Lecersen said.

The droid obeyed. And there it was-a glint of something very not-selfless. Something that bespoke pleasure in what he was doing, and a quiet understanding and appreciation of the power he now held.

"Do you see what I see, Senator?" Lecersen mused, turning to Treen.

"Oh, indeed I do," said Treen. "That looks like someone who might be right at home at this table. Why, he looks a bit like you, Fost, when you were younger and full of fire." Bramsin looked pleased.

"Come now, Drikl," scoffed Jaxton, looking at him incredulously. "You can get that from a single paused hologram? If you caught me at the right moment, I could look like either a G.o.d or an imbecile."

"This is true," said Lecersen, not adding that he thought the latter more likely than the former. "However, this new Senator bears watching. And you, my dear, are in an ideal position to do so."

Treen t.i.ttered.

They moved quickly through the list that Dorvan himself had handled, possibly quicker than the Chief of State had done, as their concern was much more focused.

"Ah, Klatooine and the oh-so-diplomatic and charming Padnel Ovin," purred Lecersen. "Can we use or turn him, do you think?"

"Nonhuman," grumbled Bramsin, refilling his caf. "I, for one, don't want to work with him."

"Neither do I," Parova put in. "I've served under a Bothan long enough. I thought I was going to develop allergies. I'd just as soon not a.s.sociate with a dog."

"I know the type." The voice was deep, metallic, and ominous. Everyone turned to regard Thaal. He so seldom spoke, it was always worth listening to. Thaal didn't miss the mixture of fascination and revulsion on the faces of the Senators, who had not spent much time around him recently, and a smile of amused contempt curled his lips.

"His b.u.mbling and noise should do us a roundabout favor. He will be a welcome distraction, if nothing else. The newsvids will adore either bashing or praising him, because he is so terribly colorful. Subtler things will escape their notice."

"One hopes," said Treen.

"One does hope, and one should make sure that it happens," Lecersen said, the barest hint of warning in his voice. Treen smiled cheerfully.

"All of these planets abolishing slavery reminds me of when the Empire fell," Bramsin muttered. "All the chaos of those liberated worlds celebrating and throwing everything out of order. It's making things very difficult."

"Difficulties are often opportunities in disguise," Treen said. "We've already determined a possible ally and a potential distraction."

"If I ever get my hands on whoever is responsible for creating and organizing the Freedom Flight, I'll choke the life out of him," Jaxton continued.

Lecersen, Bramson, and Treen exchanged glances. Then the Moff turned his attention back to Jaxton.

"I suppose, since I am safely in my own home with droids poised ready to stop you, that now might be a good time to tell you that I am the one behind the Freedom Flight," said Lecersen.

He smiled inwardly. It took a great deal to shock Jaxton, and the man was now staring like a slack-jawed idiot. Parova, too, looked startled, but she managed not to gape, and a small smile turned up the corners of her full lips. Stavin Thaal revealed his surprise only with a quick flash of his pale blue-gray eyes; otherwise, his expression remained unchanged.

"You're the mastermind behind this?" Parova asked.

"Mastermind is not quite the correct word." Lecersen nodded to the droid, who poured him another cup of caf. "You should all know by now that I make it my business to know what is going on in as many places as possible. One never knows when the perfect opportunity will arise. Intelligence reached me some time ago that there were small, isolated events involving rebelling slaves on a few distant worlds. Nothing that would attract any real attention from anyone. When I looked into it, I realized that it could potentially be turned to my advantage."

"Unleashing this madness on the galaxy?" Jaxton's voice was rising. "This is something I'd expect from the Solos, or someone else of that temperament, not from a Moff!"

Lecersen refused to let Jaxton's sputtering rattle him. "Think about it," he said. "Think of what a fire wasps' nest it could become for any politician who had to deal with it-especially someone who opted to come down on the quote-unquote morally wrong side of the situation. Someone like Daala."

Jaxton's expression changed. "Ah, now I see."

"Mmmm. When Senator Treen first approached me," Lecersen continued, "she very wisely recommended that we have a crisis ready to erupt at some point. What was it you said, my dear? You were working on some useful potential crises, and perhaps I could, as well?"

"Indeed, I believe that was precisely how I phrased it."

"Well. It turned out I had a perfect crisis all ready to erupt."

"So ... it was in existence before, but now you're running this show?" Jaxton pressed. "What happens if it is traced back to you?"

"As I believe I just said, no, I'm not running the show, and tracing anything back to me would be quite impossible. I organized a few things at the outset, and then let it do what it would. The late little Devaronian interviewer who was so pa.s.sionate about the Freedom Flight had it quite right-the chain of command is clear only for a few links." He sighed, glancing at his caf.

It had worked splendidly-for a while. The attempted a.s.sa.s.sination of Admiral Nek Bwua'tu, which Lecersen, Bramsin, and Jaxton had also arranged when it became clear that he would not willingly join with them, coincided beautifully with the greatest surge of the various uprisings. At first, Lecersen had lamented that Bwua'tu had survived, but the tension that the coma coverage had generated in the public eye had also played into their hands.

Daala had made some bad choices while under both of these pressures. She had brought in Mandos, generating sympathy for the Jedi, whose Temple had been laid siege to, and the other worlds, such as Blaudu s.e.xtus, when she had ruthlessly put down the rebellions. The attack on Bwua'tu had also kept her from thinking as clearly as Lecersen knew she could.

Despite those auspicious moments, however, the pesky Freedom Flight had taken on a life of its own. Like a child, it had outgrown its original form and was a.s.serting its independence. There was no way Lecersen could manipulate or even direct anything at this point.

"It pains me to admit that it has gotten rather beyond our control. But not all plans perform perfectly, and it has done a great deal of damage to Daala's administration. If those inconsiderate slaves had stopped there, all would have been well, but alas, the GA is now being flooded by shiny new advocates for their worlds."

"Ah, ah," Treen chided cheerily, "there can be opportunities there too, Drikl. Every cloud has a silver lining."

"And nearly every world has someone who can be corrupted," added Parova. "Such as Kameron Suldar, if all goes well."

Treen actually clapped her hands like an excited little girl. "I do look forward to meeting this fellow," she said. "I have the best feeling about him."

They worked their way through the rest of the list, but no likely candidates for corruption or opportunities for additional crises presented themselves. The droid hummed up, topping off cafs.

"When do you depart for Imperial s.p.a.ce?" asked Jaxton.

"In a few days," Lecersen replied. "I have some loose ends I need to tie up here, and a few favors I need to call in, but that shouldn't take too long."

"Where will you be heading, specifically?" Parova inquired.

"That, my dear, is one of the loose ends." He gave her a genial smile.

"We shall hold the fort until your return," said Treen.

And he had no doubt that they would.

The hour was growing late. Jaxton, the last to arrive, was the first to put his napkin down and push his chair back. "Dorvan's scheduled another obscenely early meeting tomorrow," he said.

Parova sighed and rose, as well. "Merratt unfortunately speaks the truth. We have only a few hours to snag some sleep."

"Then perhaps you should have gone lighter on the caf," Treen chided.

"Are you kidding?" said Jaxton. "With the brewed swill we've got to look forward to tomorrow morning? I'm going to enjoy the good stuff while I can." Parova chuckled and nodded her head in agreement.

"When things are settled, I promise you I shall introduce you all to my supplier," said Lecersen, rising and taking Jaxton's outstretched, meaty hand and giving Parova a courteous bow. "We can't possibly have a proper Empire fueled by bad caf."

Thaal rose in silence and shook Lecersen's hand, nearly crushing the other man's fingers. And in silence, he headed for the door. Lecersen flexed his fingers and eyed him speculatively.

"I should be heading home, as well," said Treen, rising as the generals and the admiral left. "As should ... oh dear."