The only barrier was Pellaeon, now too old to bend with the winds of change. He had been a great admiral once, but even though he’d retired-voluntarily or otherwise-he was still blocking the skylane. Admirals didn’t retire, of course. They were always subject to recall. Pellaeon might still be biding his time.
“Tahiri, to get the Moffs to back me, I need to be en-dorsed by Pellaeon, “Caedus said. “It’s more than his position as Bastion’s head of state. I can bypass figurehead when I need to, but the old boy is still very much hands-on, and he has enormous sway over the Moffs. They would commit their forces to the GA for the right reward, but not as long as Pellaeon opposes it.”
“And does he oppose it? I can see why he wouldn’t exactly trust you.”
“No, I’m not his favorite person, and I suspect he regards Niathal as a traitor in that stiff-upper-lip way of his. But this isn’t a refusal, I think… just a gesture. I believe he wants to be wooed.”
Tahiti’s mind was calculating visibly. “So what’s the right incentive for the Moff who has everything?”
“More of it, Tahiri. More. Everybody likes more.”
“But more of what, exactly?”
“Territory.”
“Must be a tough job finding parking for all those Star Destroyers, mustn’t it, Jacen?”
Caedus had to admit she was sometimes more entertaining than Ben even if he didn’t like being called Jacen. “I was thinking of Bilbringi or Borleias, actually. Maybe both if I have to. Shipyards and banking. I think the Moffs will like that… if I can get Pellaeon to see sense.”
Tahiri never asked if the worlds in question had been consulted about becoming bargaining chips, and Caedus wasn’t sure if she didn’t think politically or she took it as read that he would make it happen with or without their consent. “He’s a pragmatist, “she said. “And he wants the best for his little Empire.”
“He likes his honor better.” Caedus smiled and reached for the pile of datapads. There were a couple of items that troubled him still sitting in view. “But I think he needs time to consider this, and perhaps a visit from someone persuasive. Preferably in a smart suit and shoes, Tahiri.”
She gave him a withering glance. “You want me to see him?”
“I hope you’ll do better in this task than the last.”
“I’ve done my best, Jacen.”
“Yet you can’t find the Jedi base.”
“And, obviously, neither can you…”
“Show me you can complete a mission. Talk to Pellaeon.”
“He wouldn’t see the military attache. What makes you think he’ll agree to see me?”
“Pellaeon is a gentleman, Tahiri. He’ll see you. Not only because you’re pretty and charming, but because someone will let the Moffs know the nature of the deal he’ll be offered, and so they’ll ask him questions that he’ll feel obliged to answer.” Caedus already had his networks set up; floating the idea through informal channels was quick and easy, but Pellaeon had to feel it was his idea. There was no herding the man. That Corellian blood made him very contrary. “Imperials need an empire, you see. It’s what they do. How can he turn that down?”
“Why didn’t you comm him and put it to him straight? Even if he hates you, he’d respect directness.”
“I was just testing the water with the letter. Now that I know how resistant he is, I’ll go to Plan B and get the Moffs excited about two shiny new acquisitions, and by a gentle process of osmosis, speeded up by your charm, he’ll say yes, without being made to feel I co-opted him after ending his long and glorious career sooner than he wished.”
Tahiri sat back on the edge of the desk and looked out over skylanes marked by the winking lights of speeders. “You plan every possible move, don’t you?”
“I don’t guess, “said Caedus. “There are too many wild cards being dealt as it is. Some of which are showing up now.” He picked up the first data pad on the pile. Wild cards indeed: intelligence reports confirmed that Corellia had placed an order for the Mandalorians’ Bes’uliik fighter. It was faster than an X-wing, armored in virtually impregnable Mandalorian iron-beskar-and for sale to anyone who had the credits. It was one of those destabilizing things that changed the course of wars. A subtle man, Fett; Caedus had been waiting to see what form his revenge would take for killing his daughter, thinking in terms of pure terminal violence, personal retribution, but the old mercenary was showing signs of playing a much, much longer and more destructive game. “Off you go, Tahiri. Come back to me with your timetable and strategy for getting an audience with Admiral Pellaeon and signing him up to the cause.”