The Jedi were silent on the walk out of the office, on the turbolift down to the building’s hangar level, and until Kyp’s speeder carried them out of the Senate Building.
Mara broke the silence. “What is a taras-chi?”
Kyp smiled, showing teeth. “A bug in the mines of Kessel,” he said. “Six legs under a hard round carapace about three centimeters in diameter. Properly roasted, they only tasted a little awful. When you could catch them, they offered a little nutrition, helped you starve more slowly.”
Luke looked thoughtful. “Thanks for supporting me back there. Why’d you do it?”
“Luke…” Kyp stopped, shook his head. “No. Master Skywalker. I do think Jacen should be a Master, or I wouldn’t have brought up the point at that meeting. But I’m all for showing solidarity, a united Jedi order, when this sort of thing happens. When cracks open and politicians get their fingers in them, bad things happen. Empires are formed. Also, I’m more than a little annoyed that they brought up my suggestion from that meeting-how did they find out, anyway?” He frowned. “Loose talk between Masters and apprentices around the Temple, probably.”
“Probably,” Mara said, but Luke could feel a trace of suspicion growing within her-as it was within him. Even if Kyp’s opinions had been overheard in the halls of the Temple, someone, some Jedi, had to have passed them on to the government. Perhaps Jacen had done so himself.
Luke steered away from that line of thought, and from the even more distressing possibility that it had been Ben who had leaked the information.
CHAPTER FOUR
CORONET, CORELLIA
A bunker always felt like a bunker, Wedge reflected. No matter that this chamber was decorated for entertainment with wall-mounted displays showing scenes from the city of Coronet and its surroundings in true-life colors, no matter that it was furnished with tables supplied with dinnerware suited to formal company and trays of refreshments, with elegantly curved handmade chairs and comfortable, immaculate sofas in the most eye pleasing of styles. It was a bunker, deep beneath the ground, and the men and women who were gathered here, politicians of the world of Corellia and the drones who worked for them, all sat a little hunched, as though they could feel the tons of masonry and dirt heaped protectively above their heads. Politicians of the other four occupied worlds of the Corellian system, represented by holograms, must have been in aboveground buildings where they were; their postures were not bent.
Wedge also sat upright, both out of habit and to annoy the others, and accepted a cup of caf from one of the drones, this one a pale, slight young man in a CorSec uniform. Wedge waited until the drone had withdrawn before turning back toward the other man on the couch. “So the conversation didn’t accomplish much politically … except that I think Colonel Solo will advise in favor of the Galactic Alliance giving us more time.”
The man he addressed, Dur Gejjen, the Five Worlds Prime Minister and Corellian Chief of State-handsome, younger than his political acuity might suggest, darkskinned and dark-haired-set his own cup of caf on a nearby table and frowned. ” `Giving us more time,’ ” he echoed. “That sounds a lot like a victor doing a favor to the vanquished.”
“Obviously, they’re not victors here,” Wedge said. “But just as obviously, they’re in the stronger position. A few more weeks or months of their blockade, and they’ll starve our economy past the point of resistance. Solo was right when he said that we were alone. Unless your communications with the Bothans have had a sudden breakthrough you haven’t mentioned.”
“You sound defeated, Admiral.” The speaker was the hologram of a short, wide-shouldered man. The transmission of his seated form was superimposed onto a chair to Gejjen’s right. The speaker had thinning hair and a face ideally suited to belligerence. His name was Sadras Koyan, and he was both Chief of State of the world of Tralus and a member of the Centerpoint Party, the minority force within the Corellian system’s new coalition government.
Wedge gave him a neutral look. “Clearly, we’re not defeated. But if things continue as they are, we will be. I’m telling you that we can negotiate a non-surrender resolution to this situation, rejoin the Galactic Alliance, and experience minimal repercussions, if we negotiate in good faith, starting now.” He felt his mood darken and knew his expression had to be doing so as well. “Good faith may be tricky to come by, though, in a political body that uses its secret, reserve fleet to execute a plan to assassinate a foreign head of state…”
He was drowned out, shouted down by the voices of the others. Gejjen was saying, “Now is not the time…” while Koyan roared, “…lack of competence in keeping our access to our own shipyards open…” Denjax Teppler, former Five Worlds Prime Minister, now Minister of justice, grimaced and spoke inaudible words of calm and caution, motioning with both hands for the others to lower their voices. Rorf Willems, Minister of Defense, was grumbling, “…bit more cooperation is called for here.” Minister of Intelligence Gavele Lemora seemed to be evaluating Wedge, as if measuring him for a coffin. The drones kept conspicuously quiet while the ministers and Chiefs of State raged.