Abruptly, Fey’lya stopped. “Let me speak frankly with you, Captain Solo,” he said, still not looking directly at Han’s face. “Whether you understand my motivations or not, I certainly understand yours. You hope to bring the Katana fleet to Coruscant yourself; and with that leverage to force my downfall and Ackbar’s reinstatement.”
“No,” Han said tiredly, shaking his head. “That’s the whole point, Councilor. Leia and the others don’t play by Bothan rules. They make decisions based on evidence, not prestige. If Ackbar is guilty, he gets punished; if he’s innocent, he gets released. It’s that simple.”
Fey’lya smiled bitterly. “Take my advice, Captain Solo, and stick with smuggling and fighting and other things you understand. The private rules of politics are far beyond you.”
“You’re making a mistake, Councilor,” Han said, trying one last time. “You can back out now without losing anything-you really can. But if you keep going, you risk bringing the whole New Republic down with you.”
Fey’lya drew himself up to his full height. “I do not intend to fall, Captain Solo. My supporters among the New Republic military will see to that. Ackbar will fall, and I will rise in his place. Excuse me, now; I must speak with Admiral Drayson.”
He turned and stalked off. Han watched him go, the sour taste of defeat in his mouth. Couldn’t Fey’lya see what he was doing? That he was risking everything on a single long-shot bet?
Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe it took an experienced gambler to see how the odds were stacked here.
Or a politician who wasn’t so set in his own system that he couldn’t change.
Fey’lya reached the end of the Grand Corridor and headed to the left toward the Admiralty center. Shaking his head, Han turned and headed back toward Karrde’s guest quarters. First the Coral Vanda, and now this. He hoped it wasn’t the start of a trend.
Mara stood at the window of her room, staring out at the Manarai Mountains in the distance, feeling the oppressive weight of black memories gathering around her mind. The Imperial Palace. After five years, she was back in the Imperial Palace. Scene of important governmental meetings, glittering social functions, dark and private intrigues. The place where her life had effectively begun.
The place where she’d been when it had ended.
Her fingernails grated across the carved swirls of the window frame as well-remembered faces rose before her: Grand Admiral Thrawn, Lord Vader, Grand Moff Tarkin, advisers and politicians and sycophants by the hundreds. But above them all was the image of the Emperor. She could see him in her mind’s eye as clearly as if he were staring in at her through the window, his wrinkled face frowning, his yellow-tinged eyes bright with anger and disapproval.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER
“I’m trying,” she whispered to the words echoing through her mind. But even as she said it she wondered if it were really true. She’d helped save Skywalker’s life on Myrkr; had come begging for his help on Jomark; and had now uncomplainingly come to Coruscant with him.
She wasn’t in any danger. Neither was Karrde. There was no way she could think of why Skywalker would be useful to either her or any of Karrde’s people.
She had, in short, no excuses left.
From the next room over came the faint sound of a door opening and closing: Karrde, returned from his meeting. Turning from the window, glad of an excuse to drop this line of thought, she headed toward the door connecting their rooms.
Karrde got there first. “Mara?” he said, opening the door and poking his head through. “Come in here, please.”
He was standing by the room’s computer terminal when she arrived. One look at his face was all she needed. “What’s gone wrong?” she asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he said, pulling a data card from the terminal’s copy slot. “That Bothan on the Council put up a surprising amount of resistance to our offer. He basically forced Mon Mothma to hold off on any serious retrieval mission until the location’s been checked out. He’s getting a ship set up now for a morning flight.”
Mara frowned. “A double-cross?”
“Possibly, but I can’t see any point to it.” Karrde shook his head. “Thrawn already has Hoffner. He’ll get to the fleet soon enough. No, I think it more likely Fey’lya’s playing internal politics here, perhaps connected to his campaign against Admiral Ackbar. But I’d rather not take any chances.”
“I’ve heard stories about internal Bothan politics,” Mara agreed grimly. “What do you want me to do?”