[Legacy Of The Force] - 08(39)

Ben almost relented and risked telling him about Mom, but the moment was lost. It would come again. “Take care, Dad.”

Shevu fidgeted, waiting for Ben to end the link. “What about Niathal? What did he say?”

“She went to see Dad. She’s come out against Jacen, at least privately.”

“That could be a break.”

“Specifically?”

“She can authorize things. All I have to do is ask her.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“So is breaking into the GAG hangars and getting caught swabbing the seat of the Chief of State’s personal StealthX.”

“We could drop this right now.”

“No, because now I have to know, too, and this is a reported crime, right? ‘Forget that murder I mentioned, officer…’ It doesn’t work like that.”

“I could get you killed.”

“I could get you killed.” Shevu pulled the holochart onto his lap, balancing it on his knees. “Even if Jacen’s away on one of his jaunts minus the Stealth, then someone will have to have a pretty good reason for scrambling all over it or he’ll be on full paranoid alert. I’ll find a reason and get Niathal to make it happen. And I’ll make sure I’m always wired with a holorecorder when I have contact with dear Jacen, even if it’s only audio. You can never be too careful.”

Shevu was casting around for any evidence he could grab. Every loose thread Ben followed, every connection he made, seemed as fragile and flimsy as a hair. It was all if, if, if. They might risk their lives getting into the StealthX and find nothing. Ben saw Mara Skywalker again, tugging strands from her scalp and dropping them into his palm that would have waited forever to catch them. Perhaps they were still falling somewhere; he hoped that whatever unknown forces determined the existence of ghosts would allow her to appear to Luke when his father most needed her.

Mom would know the right time, if she could choose.



JOINT CHIEF OF STATE NIATHAL’S SUITE

Niathal consulted the fleet status repeater display on her office wall-known as the tote board within the service-and noted that the Anakin Solo had returned from Fondor.

“He’s always been a day-tripper, “she said to her droid administrator, recalling Jacen’s unexplained absences in previous months. “If I didn’t know he was wasting muni-tions on pointless exercises, I’d say he had a secret lover.”

“There was minor enemy contact off Fondor.”

“How off?”

“In Fondorian space.”

“I hate it when he throws stones and goads them. I’ll as-sume he’s testing their resolve before the big push.”

“I believe he was training his new assistant.”

“Is that girl even enlisted? I won’t have civilians playing battleships. Not in my navy. At least the Skywalker boy had a proper commission.”

“She remains a civilian, Admiral.”

“We’ll see about that.” She tapped a note to Jacen and submitted it to the system. He’d see it come up on his datapad next time he deigned to check it. “There have to be some limits to this unstructured style of leadership.”

Putting on a display of niggling annoyance was superfluous with a droid, but Niathal had to remain in character so rhat she never slipped. If she looked as if she’d gone off the boil, Jacen would turn his attention to her; she knew enough about him to realize her mood was transparent to his Force senses, and so she kept it set at a steady temperature of irritated contempt and disdain.

It really didn’t take much effort. It came naturally.

Niathal could still manage to keep tabs on most of Jacen’s movements by logging his ship’s movements or the times his StealthX was missing from the hangar-an in-complete method but more than she expected to be able to do at this stage of his megalomania. And whether he liked it or not, procedure said there had to be someone con-tactable to make decisions as need arose, and that meant that he either had to hand over the reins to her completely or tell her where he was going if he wanted to be consulted.

The Anakin Solo wasn’t hard to track anyway. Even Jacen couldn’t make a Star Destroyer disappear. And he didn’t seem to be able to secure the ship against intruders, so either he was less omnipotent than most supposed, or he used the ship like an insect trap.

If she pressed him, she had a feeling he would say the lat-ter. Not knowing how powerful he actually was-that troubled her. No military strategist could be comfortable while the enemy’s strength and assets remained undefined. Niathal stared in slight defocus at the image of Mon Calamari on her office wall, losing herself for a moment in the unbroken horizon behind Reef Home-her home-and wondering when she might find time for shore leave again.