[Legacy Of The Force] - 04(49)

Jag flipped his towel across his neck, his action mimicking Zekk’s, and showed her a forced smile. “Colonel. I suppose not, Jedi Solo.” He turned and strode from the room.

She rose to follow, then stopped herself. She hadn’t meant to sting him-she had inherited her mother’s sharp tongue but lacked the diplomatic skills that Leia used to keep it in check when appropriate. But perhaps it was better this way.

She needed to keep him at bay. But she didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t know how to achieve both goals.

She didn’t even know whether she wanted to achieve both goals, or either. Sometimes she wanted to hurt him. Sometimes she didn’t want to keep him at bay.

Blast him for getting past her armor.

COMMENOR

PRESIDENT’S RESIDENCE

The holotransmission was in the image of a woman-a beautiful woman, her features aristocratic and refined in the inbred Hapan fashion, almost to the point of anonymity. She’s a generic Hapan, Fyor Rodan told himself, and the startling thought made him more suspicious of her.

“Your War and Intelligence Ministers argue and delay,” the woman was saying. She shook her head in sad sympathy, sending her golden curls swaying. “Knowing that your fleet will be wiped out by the Galactic Alliance forces if they make a misstep. And that would be catastrophic. But delaying will also be disastrous. Corellia will fall soon, and then attacking would be suicide. Soon the GA will turn its attention to Commenor, to what it perceives as Corellia’s treason, and you will fall, too.”

Rodan snorted. “You’re clearly proficient at cutting through the layers of disinformation we surround ourselves with to keep people like you from taking up too much of our time, but that doesn’t make you correct in your assumptions. Yes, the government of Commenor has spoken out against Alliance aggression and for Corellian independence. That’s not an act of war-as readying a fleet would be.”

The unnamed woman gave him a slightly superior smile. “For a man, you’ve done a superb job of instituting on Commenor the kind of government you advocated for the New Republic. There are no loose turbocannons like the Jedi order rolling around on your decks. But the same caution that convinced you to keep the Jedi at bay could doom you now. Though I don’t think it will. You’re clever.”

“For a man,” he added, mockingly.

“For a man.” Her reply was straight-faced. “I’m going to do you two favors. I’m now transmitting a package of data I have obtained from my sources within the Galactic Alliance Guard. Favvio?”

The next voice belonged to someone not in the holocam view: “Transmitting, Mistress.”

Rodan forced himself not to grimace. He imagined the speaker as a Hapan drone male, his body perfectly maintained through exercise regimens for the pleasure of the woman he called Mistress, his mind stunted by the pampered life he led.

The woman continued, “These are the plans by which the GA will conquer Commenor, exactly one month after the fall of Corellia.”

“I see,” Rodan said, keeping his voice neutral.

“Your people will analyze them and confirm their authenticity,” she continued. “Establishing my authenticity. Then, in a few days, I will transmit you the time and movements of other fleets that will be moving on Corellia. Fleets that, by themselves, perhaps cannot prevail. Fleets that, with the aid of Commenor, must prevail.”

“Thank you for your transmission, my lady,” Rodan said.

She smiled. Her image winked out.

Rodan checked his comm display to make sure that the transmission had been cut, and that the data package was intact and in his computer. Then he sat for long moments, still on the outside, vibrating on the inside.

Much of what the woman had said was true, especially the part about his ministers’ dithering. If the woman also spoke truly about the conquest plans, Rodan had to act, his ministers had to act.

“Vee-Ell Eight,” he said.

Instantly his secretary droid was beside him. “Yes, sir.”

“Transmit that datafile to the Ministers of War and Intelligence, plus to everyone on our top military analysis list. Encrypt it to top levels and attach a note saying that it must be evaluated. Then set up a meeting for me and all those parties for midday tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

STAR SYSTEM MZX32905, NEAR BIMMIEL

Lumiya waited until her medical droid was set up beside her reclining chair. She was healing well-she should be fit to return to physical activities within a few days. She was still weak, though, and wanted care to be instantly available if this task caused her to collapse.

She closed her eyes and let the dark side power that suffused the asteroid roll over her, through her.