The Corellians have been in the right all along, and we’ve betrayed our own people by opposing them.”
Klauskin frowned. He knew his thinking was muddled, but he couldn’t see how he was harming his homeworld of Commenor by opposing Corellia. True, Commenor’s government had offered words of encouragement to Corellia, but that was just politics at work.
Edela continued, “Commenor and Bothawui are coming into the war on Corellia’s side. And you, darling, have been imprisoned here and convinced that you’re ill … just so the Alliance can keep you from helping our world.”
Klauskin sighed. Truth was such a slippery concept these days that he found it hard to trust-even his dead wife. “You’re either here or not.”
There was a little curiosity in Edela’s voice. “True.”
“And I’m either a prisoner or a patient.”
“True.”
“And Commenor and Bothawui are either in the war or not.”
“True.”
“I have to know the truth, and the truth is in what can be verified. I’m sorry, darling. I’m going to go through that open door and then wake myself up. If I don’t wake up, then what you say is true.”
“Don’t apologize, Matric. I know these are difficult times for you.”
Klauskin rose. His bare feet were cold on the tile floor. He walked out through the door, looking up and down the corridor at the other doorways; they were all closed. Edela followed and joined him.
Klauskin raised his hand to his lips and bit the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. It hurt. He kept the pressure on, biting deeper, and tasted blood. He held the bite until he couldn’t stand the pain anymore, and finally he let his arm swing to his side again.
Weary, he said, “I’m convinced.”
“Good. Because you have a lot to do. I’m going to lead you out of this prison. Outside, a friend will give you clothes, transportation, and documents.” Her expression turned to one of sympathy. “You’ve been a hero of the Alliance for so long. But they turned against you, and it’s time to be a hero of Commenor again.”
STAR SYSTEM MZX32905, NEAR BIMMIEL
Lumiya gave Klauskin one last, sweet kiss as he stood on the walkway outside the mental hospital. The shaking her real body was experiencing almost reflected itself in trembling in Edela’s arms, but she maintained ruthless control.
Then she let Edela fade away to nothingness. Her consciousness roared back into her own body.
That’s when the pain and weakness hit hard. She spasmed, sitting upright, and nearly rolled out of her reclining chair. She forced herself to lie down again. She lay there, her limbs twitching-even the artificial ones.
“My lady?” the medical droid asked. “Can you hear me?”
“Yessss.” Feebly, she waved fingers at him, trying to dissuade him from unnecessary conversation.
This session had gone longer than most, and had been worse than most. It would take her longer to recover. She wondered what would have happened if she had continued it to the point of her own collapse. Would she have died? Or would she be trapped on Coruscant, in the phantasmal body of a long-dead military wife, forever hovering around a man she had deliberately driven crazy?
She didn’t know the answer, and it didn’t matter. She had succeeded, and Klauskin would now dutifully go about accomplishing her plans.
The Galactic Alliance had been so circumspect about covering up the details of Klauskin’s mental breakdown. They thought they were being merciful; that if Klauskin was able to effect a recovery he could someday resume command, even if a lesser one. His official record said only that he was on administrative leave, which could result from a physical injury or an urgent family problem. He still held his admiral’s rank and command rating.
And in not informing the fleet that Klauskin was dangerously delusional, they had doomed - had doomed.
On that thought she fell asleep.
DREWWA, MOON OF ALMANIA
DREWWA SPACEPORT
Customs inspections, Ben decided, are very inconvenient.
The transport ride to the Outer Rim system of Almania had been long and dull. Ben spent most of it reading Jedi texts on his datapad-texts about his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, he’d been given as preparation for the document he was supposed to write-or sleeping. He interacted very little with his fellow passengers, preferring not to become memorable to them.
Finally the transport had landed on the heavily industrialized moon of Drewwa, with its high-security spaceport and its carefully regimented customs facility. Ben stood in the inspection line, his small pack and his belt pouch in hand, and prepared to enter the twenty-meter-long sensor tube. There he would be scanned a dozen different ways, and at the end his belongings would be laid out on a table and hand-inspected, with anything the sensors had flagged receiving special attention.