Pellaeon was fascinated to note how Admiral Niathal had been erased from the scene. It was seen as Jacen's war. The Mon Cal schemer would probably be happy about that, he thought. She could step in when Jacen hit the buffers, hands relatively clean. "How badly do we want Bilbringi?

Borleias?"

"They're not going to be costly to take, "said Quille. "Very small population on Borleias post-Yuuzhan Vong, probably happier to have someone like us look after them than not. Bilbringi might require some military effort, though."

"Like I mentioned before, "Rosset said, "we could take both systems if we wanted to without committing anything to the GA, because I don't think Jacen's in a position to stop us."

Quille had an expression of almost religious epiphany on his face.

"But the GA isn't going to be able to hold Fondor without us, because that'll require an occupying army after it surrenders. Poor old GA, short of hands-and we offer to look after the place while it's busy hammering more wayward systems back into the Alliance fold. We end up staying.

And.... possession is nine-tenths of the law, after all."

Rosset let out a long breath. "I think they'll notice we tried to steal Fondor from under their noses."

"I don't think they'll see it like that."

Pellaeon interrupted. He was wary about agreeing with Quille even about the time of day, but the Moff had a point. And if Jacen was going to fall sooner or later anyway, when he stretched himself just that little bit too far - "If we have both Borleias and Bilbringi, then that gives us a platform from which to maintain a presence on Fon-dor, and then we'll have expanded down past the Core again."

Pellaeon didn't have to elaborate on that at all. Every Moff understood the potential.

"Are we all agreed, then, gentlemen? We accept the GA's invitation, subject to their sharing the Fondor plan with us, and our being able to resource our role?"

Normal practice was to go around the table and record votes for and against, but the Moffs paused in silence for a moment and then all burst into spontaneous applause. Pel-laeon wasn't sure if they were applauding him, or simply overwhelmed with martial emotion at the prospect of being back in the saddle.

"You're not entirely happy about this, are you, Admiral?" Reige said as he made Pellaeon's nightcap, a mix of two parts Corellian brandy to one part water. "You've never appeased the Moffs before, and Jacen Solo is..."

"Anathema to me? Yes. And I'm not appeasing the Moffs now."

Pellaeon stood on the balcony of his cham-bers, looking out over the parkland beneath. The Imperial cavalry's ceremonial troop was exercising the bloodfins, cantering in a neat line along the rise and skylined for a moment against the sunset that pa.s.sed for evening at this time of the year on Bastion. For a few weeks, the sun didn't set fully and night never moved beyond a glowing dusk. It was a fine moment to sip a brandy and savor the fresh scent of cut gra.s.s on the breeze. "I'm trying to make the best of a situation that Jacen Solo will impose on the galaxy whether we join him or not. If we don't, all the recovery ef-fort after the last war will be for nothing. I antic.i.p.ate that he will go the way of most despots, and fall, or even hang. If that happens-when that happens-we shall be there to pick up the pieces. I have no faith in the GA to run anything beyond their Coruscant front garden, let alone a galaxy."

Pellaeon rolled the brandy gla.s.s slowly between his palms and glanced back at Reige. He really did look like his dead son, Mynar, sometimes; and it would have been so simple to check, to test, to know for sure if Reige were his flesh and blood or not.

No, it wouldn't have made any difference to Pellaeon's regard for him. He settled for never knowing. Some things were best left unknown.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Thank you, Vitor, no." Pellaeon gestured with his gla.s.s. "Care to join me?"

"Perhaps later, sir. I have some work to finish."

"I look forward to it."

Pellaeon stood at the window until he'd drained his gla.s.s, but neither the decision nor the brandy could make one thought go away: that Jacen Solo was a self-serving megalomaniac, and there was nothing to rea.s.sure Pellaeon that the man would honor any agreement unless forced to. For all the victories he'd achieved, he was erratic, and the GA was still losing allies, even Hapes.

And Kashyyyk-that was a disgrace to anyone in uniform.

It was time to take out some insurance. Whatever Jacen was planning for Fondor and the Empire-and Pellaeon was certain there was a whole side of the strategy that the Empire would not have been told-Pellaeon needed a trump card of his own.

And not one for the Moffs to see yet, either. We have our own Jacens here, too.

"Well, then, old friend, "he said aloud. He walked over to the floor-length mirror and smoothed back his white hair, checking the cut of his jacket. "Time to call in a favor."

He felt suddenly foolish; she wouldn't even see him. He was simply going to send a message, and one without a sin-gle word in it. But she would receive it, and she would know what it meant, and that it was critical.

And she would respond.

Pellaeon took out a few small flimsicard trinket boxes from his desk drawer and tapped his fingertips on the lid of each in turn, listening for the best approximation of a small drum.

Rap.... rap.... rap.

Rap, rap...... brr-rrr-rapp.

That was the one. Pellaeon settled down at the desk and positioned his comlink next to the box, ready to drum out his message. He had to rehea.r.s.e it a few times; his fingers were a little stiff, but he refused to bow to arthritis even now, and Jacen Solo had nothing on that.

"I wouldn't do this unless I had to, my dear, "he said, and opened the comlink.

Rap.... rap... rap.... rap, rap... brr-rrr-rapp.

It was time for the warrior-sailor Darakaer to be sum-moned as in the Irmenu legend; Pellaeon felt that the galaxy was slipping toward its darkest peril, and Jacen-Jacen might have looked like an ally, but Pellaeon knew he was truly a foe in every sense.

Rap.... rap.... rap... rap, rap... brr-rrr-rapp.

Darakaer, long dead, probably didn't have the kind of fire power that Pellaeon wanted even if he rose from his grave and answered the call. But the admiral knew some-one who did, and who had been very taken with the saga of the Irmenu hero.

Rap.... rap... rap.... rap, rap.... brr-rrr-rapp.

The drumbeat went out across s.p.a.ce. It was just a re-peating rhythm that would mean nothing to anyone except an Irmenu historian, if any could listen in on this secure link, and a warrior-sailor who was-he hoped-still very much alive.

Rap.... rap.... rap.... rap, rap.... brr-rrr-rapp.

Pellaeon closed the link and settled in for a long wait.

Chapter 8.

The Tra'kad is primitive. We thought that you wanted state-of-the-art technology, and that is why you allied with us. What is the point of this machine?

-Sa.s.s Sikili, negotiator of the Roche hives, to Jir Yomaget, head of MandalMotors, on seeing holimages of the Tra'kad prototype multimission combat vessel OFFICE OF THE JOINT CHIEF OF STATE, CORUSCANT.

Caedus ran his fingertips over the name plate on the outer doors and wondered when he would have the engraving changed to replace COLONEL JACEN SOLO with DARTH CAE-DUS.

Would he need a plate on the door, or even an office at all? He'd still intended to leave the routine business of government to Niathal, but she was becoming an irritant, and it was time he started looking for an administrator to take over just in case he had to retire her. Caedus hoped she might see sense and return to Mon Calamari, or even ac-cept a transfer back to operational duties with the fleet, but she had tasted power, and few were willing to slide back into taking orders when they'd given them.

Flesh and blood were heir to ambition. He liked ambition in an apprentice or junior officer, but the closer it crept to his own rank, the more it got in the way of the tidy business of running a peaceful, stable galaxy. Keeping a constant eye out for usurpers was time consuming and distracting. He was beginning to prefer the service of droids; a legal droid had enabled him to exploit the law to grab power, and it expected no favors or high office in return. It simply did its job. Maybe he needed a droid administration.

Just one more push. Just one more, to break the back of resistance.

Make an example of Fondor.

The Imperial Remnant was joining him, and that made all the difference.

Caedus's sense of standing on the brink of a pivotal mo-ment was growing stronger. The state of galactic alle-giances might not have looked in his favor numerically, but the recruitment of the Moffs to his cause was a coup. Their military weight was what he'd wanted most, but their sphere of influence-which also included the banking cen-ters of Muunilinst and Mygeeto-was a prize in itself.

I have resources, should I need them, but I can also choke off the resources of others.... economics is a weapon, too.

"Tahiti, "he said. "Where have you been?"

Tahiri sat down in the chair facing his desk, now looking the ideal junior lieutenant. She'd even pinned up her hair. "I thought you could tell. Can't you detect me?"

Caedus activated the holochart and magnified the Fon-dor system, moving a.s.set icons into different positions. "I don't have time to keep an eye on everyone. And talking of detection, are you any farther forward with locating the Jedi Council's base?"

"No, I am not-sir."

"Why?"

"There's a lot of galaxy to search, and the StealthX needs regular maintenance. I lost one day already."

"I realize the service schedule seems to have been stepped up, but that doesn't explain the lack of results from a Jedi."

"Sir, that's unfair." Tahiri was taking her new military status seriously; she hadn't called him Jacen in days. "If this is a priority, then you have far more powerful Force senses than me, and you should be able to locate them. I still think they'd bolt to one of their old haunts."

Caedus didn't think Luke was so unimaginative, and would know that, of course; so he might do it, and head for somewhere like Hoth or Endor, as much to relive some sad nostalgia for his youth as to hide. But Luke would also know that searching Hoth or some Force-forsaken wilder-ness would tie up Caedus's scarce elite resources, and so he would be happy for Caedus to believe he was a fool, or have him lock himself into indecision trying to guess Luke's strategy.

I will not give Luke the satisfaction. He's yesterday's man. I do not dance to his tune.

"He'll want us to waste time searching his old haunts, "Caedus said. "So we won't."

He moved Star Destroyers and frigates around the Tapani sector chart with his fingertip, considering his op-tions for bringing Fondor back into line. In some ways, it mattered more than Corellia. Corellia had always been a thorn in every government's side, a planet of hobby dissi-dents who didn't care who ran the show or what the poli-cies were as long as they could rebel against them. Perhaps the worst thing to impose on Corellia was a regime in Cor-uscant that agreed with them on their every whining objec-tion, sending them into a spiral of confusion.

But Fondor was psychologically different. It was a regular world, usually a compliant and responsible world, and so its secession from the GA was a more dangerous signal to others in the GA. Caedus was sure this had emboldened other systems to break ranks. He had to be seen to crack down now, something he should have done months ago had he not been distracted by more domestic matters.

I haven't thought about Allana for hours. Or Tenel Ka.

If I try hard, I can forget them, in time.

"After we take back Fondor, I'll join you in hunting him, "Caedus said. He didn't plan to make the same mistakes as he had with Corellia, by listening to weak-willed bureaucrats who didn't have the stomach for a fight. I told Cal Omas that we should crush Corellia right away, and nip the rebellion in the bud. It's his fault for limiting me. And Niathal's.

I've proven my point. Either you put out a forest fire right away, or it goes on burning underground even when the surface vegetation is ash.

Caedus knew all about forest fires now. He liked the a.n.a.logy. Just as the real forest fires on Kashyyyk would enable new healthy growth to spring up again, so did purging the old order of chaos and petty planetary politics. "'After Fondor. Are you spend-ing any time around fleet personnel?"

"Sorry?"

"I meant-do you listen to the mood on the lower decks?"

"I-I ate in the mess at HQ a couple of times, yes."

"And?"

Caedus made himself forget Fondor for a moment and stepped back, eyes closed, to quiet his mind and focus on a randomly chosen point in time and s.p.a.ce, the junior rat-ings' mess in Fleet HQ. If he shut out everything else, he could sense the collective mood of fleet personnel, taste the blend of antic.i.p.ation, fear, curiosity, loneliness, even the worries about pay and promotion-as if it was one ent.i.ty. He sank deeper into the swirl of light, sound, and texture, sensing the mess as white noise, and then s.n.a.t.c.hes of specific emotions and chatter welled up from the blur in sharp clarity. I don't believe it.

It's true, I tell you. He killed her. Snapped her neck. He's the best officer we ever had. He cares. He killed her, I tell you. Tebut was all right. If he can kill her....

Lots of people have ended up dead since he took over. Omas, Gejjen, Luke Skywalker's wife.... Don't be stupid. She was family.

Caedus snapped out of the listening trance and his office looked dead, its colors washed out for a moment. He was furious. I killed Mara?

They're saying I killed her? She came after me. She was trying to kill me. If I hadn't killed her, I'd be the one getting a state funeral now.

Destiny steered by the Force or not, she tried to kill me. She was an a.s.sa.s.sin. It was all she ever was, all she was destined to be, for the purposes unfolding now. He felt his face flush, hot and hurt. The strength of his reaction shocked him. He could face himself when he shaved each morning, and however many lives this war was costing, he did what he had to do; each life spent was to save many others, and he would not apologize for it, or be regarded as a common criminal.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Caedus settled himself and embraced the temporary distress as another inevitable pain in the road to mastering the Sith way. If he couldn't feel stung and wounded, if he could ignore the barbs.... then he couldn't harness the pa.s.sions a Sith had to feed upon. They were his strength. The pain was his strength.

If only Ben had realized the value of pain. He was so much sharper, more thoughtful, more worthy than Tahiri, for all his sentimental shortcomings. Where will I find the right one? When will I find a deserving apprentice?

It would have to wait.

"I shouldn't have to do the foot-soldier work, Tahiri. Be my eyes and ears. I'd hate to have to use ch'hala trees. You're smarter than a tree-aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, "she said, and her resentment tasted like sour vattle juice at the back of his tongue. That was a positive sign, better than the needy desperation that had motivated her to effort only when she wanted to see Anakin again. If she was going to be more than just an errand runner, he had to find the durasteel in her spine, some powerful emotion that would make her fight back and even challenge him. Her fire, her drive, needed to come from her living self and not from a dead boy she could never have.

It was unhealthy, this fixation with what was gone forever. Caedus sometimes felt uneasy using the flow-walking bait, but it was just a way of placing Tahiri in the right po-sition so he could then show her something real and lasting. It was a necessary, temporary evil.

"Then you'll understand this, "he said. He beckoned her over to the holochart table, even though she could easily see the plot if she twisted in the chair. "Come here. See my strategy for Fondor."

Caedus moved clouds of small icons like miniature star cl.u.s.ters into an irregular ring around Fondor.

"Your strategy." Tahiri wasn't cowed down by Caedus's verbal slaps.

Good. She was still smarting and angry. "Is Admiral Niathal not involved?"

"Who runs the state while I'm away? We need to avoid having both Chiefs away at the same time unless there's an overwhelming crisis away from Coruscant that demands it." Caedus thought of how often they'd both not only been offplanet, but in the same engagement. No attempt to overthrow us, though.... how compliant beings can be. "She's aware of my plans."

"But you trust her enough to turn your back on her."

"My back, "Caedus said, "is never turned, no matter where I am."

Sowing seeds of doubt, either because she wants to rattle me, or because she's genuinely suspicious. Both worthy of a Sith. Perhaps Tahiri has turned a corner a last.

"So what am I looking at?" she asked.