"The three of you can do anything you need to for the duration of the war. With Admiral Niathal, you are effectively a triumvirate. I have yet to hear Senator G'vli G'Sil take note of that, despite his position as head of the Security Council. The Defense Council is simply nodding everything through-when it actually meets, of course."

The thought took Jacen aback. He had his own plans for upending the galaxy, but they were large-scale, strategic, and focused on order, justice, and the benign application of military might. The petty minutiae of bureaucracy had never crossed his mind as a weapon in the battle for order.

He'd spent five years learning the most arcane Force techniques in the galaxy, but-again-he didn't have to use a single Force skill to gain power this time. It was simply a matter of using psychology to manipulate people around him.

This is what makes Jedi weaker and lazier. They instantly resort to Force techniques, without thinking.

HM-3 didn't have to remind him to look at the fall of the Republic.

In his desire to understand the environment that had turned his grandfather from Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader, he'd examined that final decade. Palpatine seemed to have grabbed most of his power by brilliant manipulation and understanding of people's weaknesses, not simply by channeling the power of the dark side.

Jacen and the droid reached the mighty carved doors of the procurement center. They were almost as fine as the doors to Chief Omas's office. No-they were actually more opulent. Jacen turned to his infallible legal adviser.

"Do you think it's wrong that we're effectively a triumvirate, Aitch-Em?" Jacen asked. "Undemocratic?"

"I'm not programmed for right and wrong, sir." HM-3 sounded a little disappointed, as if Jacen hadn't fully understood the complexity of his art. "I can tell you only what's legal and illegal, because they have definitions. Right has no parameters. Justice doesn't, either, nor good. Flesh has to make those decisions."

"Flesh makes a different decision on those every day, my friend."

Jacen put his hand on the controls, and the splendid relief of an ancient Coruscanti cityscape split into two to admit him into the procurement offices.

I can change a law to let me change laws.

But can I use the law that lets me change laws to change that law itself?

He thought for a moment that he was enjoying a few childish seconds of playing at circular logic. Then it struck him he'd just had an insight of significant proportions.

"Colonel Solo," said the head of the procurement agency. Tav Velio was an edgy human male who looked in need of a good meal. "I've tasked one of my a.s.sistants to investigate the shortages. It might simply be a case of delays in the process."

"Is there anyone ahead of the fleet or the GAG in this line?" Jacen asked.

"Our suppliers do have other clients."

"I hope they're on our side."

"We source our equipment from allies."

"Are your people moving as fast as they can?""

"Of course they are, Colonel Solo. We're also looking for ways to streamline the process."

Jacen smiled. "So am I." He looked around the office. It wasn't gold-plated, but he was expecting to see some evidence of lack of frugality. "Now, about the cannon service packs. The parts that need swapping out frequently. I asked for an explanation of why there have been so many misfires."

Velio consulted his datapad with the air of a man with a very good defense, or at least a robust excuse. "We ran random sampling on those packs yesterday for all the main cannon specs, and the service packs we buy are adequate."

"But we don't want adequate. We want best."

"We do have budget constraints, sir."

"Is this decision made by a department?"

"There's a senior purchasing officer, yes."

Jacen knew there was only one way to focus people who didn't quite understand what adequate meant in the field. He turned to the droid.

"Aitch, under the current powers, is there a mechanism by which I can co-opt civilian staff to carry out research?"

HM-3 hummed on the threshold of Jacen's normal hearing for a few seconds. "Yes, sir."

"Is there any restriction on location and conditions?"

"No, sir."

"That's what I like to hear." Jacen was starting to enjoy the rich scope for inventiveness that regulations gave him. They didn't limit his options at all: they created new ones. He started to see the joy of the letter of the law. "I'd like to meet the chief purchasing officer who signed off on the cannon packs."

Velio looked slightly bemused. "I take responsibility for what my staff do, sir."

"That's very commendable, but I really want to understand the process, and that means getting to know the people. Understanding of the other person's situation is the key to this, I think."

Velio, still looking bewildered, went to summon the purchasing officer via his desk comm.

"No, that's quite all right," Jacen said. "I'll go to his office."

HM-3 made an inscrutable clicking sound as the three of them took the turbolift to the purchasing floor. They stepped out of the cab into an open-plan office that could have accommodated wandering herds without trouble. Good. Jacen wanted an audience. Hearts and minds.

"Let me introduce you to Biris Te Gaf," said Velio. "He's our senior purchasing officer for engineering support."

Te Gaf was visibly nervous, and his staff and co-workers-mainly humans, but Nimbanese, Gossams, and Sy Myrthian, too-feigned work while watching discreetly. Jacen could feel the pervading anxiety throughout the floor. Gaf offered a damp hand for shaking, and Jacen turned on his full charm. Te Gaf had a lot of data about why the cannon pack was fit for the job. It was a very good price, he told Jacen.

"But we have misfires and various problems to iron out," said Jacen. He checked that everyone could hear him, judging their attention by the close-range ripples in the Force and their body language. "I'd really like your help on this. I'm asking you to do some evaluation of the cannon pack."

"Of course, Colonel Solo. Anything I can do to help."

HM-3 leaned in close and whispered to Jacen. "Article five, subsection C-twenty-seven."

"I'm glad to hear that." Jacen smiled at the purchasing officer.

"That's why, under article five, subsection C-twenty-seven of the Emergency Measures Act, I'm a.s.signing you to the front-line ship that's had the most cannon misfires in the fleet, because there's no better place to gather facts than from the people who have to use this kit, and in the place where they have to use it." Jacen glanced around. Even with Force-enhanced hearing, he could detect very little breathing and no swallowing. "I'm more than happy to extend this field deployment to anyone who wants to better understand the end users' experience of procurement. Just say the word. We're always happy to accommodate you. In fact, I can guarantee you a ringside seat for the action."

Jacen smiled with all the diplomatic sweetness he'd learned from his mother and looked around the room, knowing he wouldn't be mown down by volunteers. Te Gaf looked stricken. Jacen felt he'd focused everyone on the significance of their job more effectively, and that they now knew what would happen if they thought adequate was good enough.

If you think it's good enough, then it's good enough for you to use personally-on the front line.

HM-3 followed Jacen out of the building, and they took an air taxi back to the GAG headquarters. It took a little while because the traffic was heavier than usual, and by the time Jacen got back to his office, the arrangements to transfer one civilian-Te Gaf, Biris J.-to the Ocean were already being discussed by GAG personnel. Corporal Lekauf and two of the other 967 Commando troopers greeted him like a hero in the briefing room.

"That was a good clean thing you did there, sir," said one trooper, grinning. "My rifle parts feel more efficient already."

Lekauf gave him a thumbs-up. "Your grandfather would have done the same, sir. Nice move."

In these barracks, that was an honest compliment and not a warning of the temptations of the dark side. Jacen preferred the judgment of ordinary soldiers to the arcane philosophical debate of the Jedi Council.

It's all going to change.

No more wars flaring up in each generation.

No more career politicians wringing what they can out of the system.

No more talk of freedom that just means a handful can do as they please while the rest struggle for survival.

No wonder the old guard feared the Sith, if that was what they threatened-the end of chaos that served only the few.

Jacen returned the thumbs-up to Lekauf. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

HM-3 plucked out a datapad. "I'll keep you apprised of the progress of the amendment, Colonel Solo. Is that all for today?"

"I may consult you again. You make all this easier to understand."

"That's my job."

Jacen just wanted to check. He had the germ of an idea. "Funny thing, laws and regulations, aren't they? That amendment gives me-and others, of course-the ability to change the amended law itself, doesn't it? It's quite circular."

HM-3 didn't care about right and wrong: just legal and illegal. If Jacen had designs on manipulating the amendment for uses beyond speeding up the dispatch of medical supplies, then the droid didn't regard it as part of his remit.

"Yes," HM-3 said. "It is."

Jacen tackled the pile of intelligence reports that had stacked up on his desk with renewed enthusiasm. The air was alive with imminence, of things about to happen. The endless thoughts of whom he would have to kill to achieve his sacrifice had gone away for a while, but they'd be back. In the meantime, he had a new tool with which to effect change.

I can change the law that lets me change laws.

If I use that wisely, I can bypa.s.s the Senate when I need to.

The power of simple human reason was as effective as the Force some days.

TEKSHAR FALLS CASINO, KUAT CITY, KUAT.

What happened to the clones?" Mirta asked.

Kuat City stank of credits. Fett had never been able to understand how an industrial society whose wealth was built on heavy engineering still had an ancient aristocracy. Funny place. Anachronistic. Ahead of him, the smarter part of Kuat City glittered, elegant towers and spires that seemed a refined echo of the industrial skyline of cranes in the orbital shipyards.

He knew Kuat well. He'd once saved its shipyards from an attempt to destroy them. He hoped the place was going to show him some grat.i.tude.

"Cannon fodder," he said, answering Mirta at last. He brought the speeder bike to a halt by an arcade of smart shops. "They died."

"Not the one I saw. He said some left the army."

"The only way out," said Fett, "was death or desertion."

"None of them retired?"

"Depends what you mean by retired. I heard a few ended up in care homes run by well-meaning peace campaigners, though."

Mirta seemed to be working out what retire meant for men who were trained to kill, who'd been kept apart from regular society, and who had an artificially shortened life span. The slight jut of her chin-a sure sign she was annoyed-communicated itself through the helmet. There was only so much she could hide.

"Did you ever hunt deserters?"

"No." He'd seen plenty, though. "Didn't pay enough."

"Did you care about them, Ba'buir?'"

Okay, she finds comfort in playing Mando. But I'll never get used to that name. "Not really."

"They were your brothers."

"No, they weren't." He motioned her to get off the speeder. "Blood isn't everything. You know that's the Mando way."

"But I bet you'll be shooting that clone a different line," she said. "How else are you going to get him to help you? Beat it out of him?

He looks as tough as you are."

"Maybe I'll just ask nicely," said Fett. "Right now I need to walk into the Tekshar and have a chat with Fraig. That might be a little inconvenient for him."

The Tekshar Falls was one of those feats of architectural near impossibility at which the Kuati excelled. Other establishments in the galaxy had impressive water features, but the Tekshar was a waterfall, a raging, hammering torrent from a river diverted at vast expense into the entertainment center of the city. It provided its own hydroelectric power, which was just as well given the ferocious array of lights that pierced the curtains of water. The casino was set within the waterfall itself, part construction, part natural stone, with turrets jutting through the water like tree fungi. To get to the entrance, gamblers had to walk through water plummeting five hundred meters.

"Pity, I've just had my hair done," Mirta said, solidly encased in armor from head to toe. "Is this how they stop the riffraff from coming in?"

"We are the riffraff," said Fett. "And we're going in."

He paused to hack into the Kuat police database from his HUD system. They wouldn't mind. He was just contributing to law and order around here. Images of sc.u.mbags, petty villains, and serious bad boys-and girls-scrolled down the display inside his helmet. He waited, and shortly FRAIG, L., appeared. For gangland vermin, Fraig looked remarkably respectable: fresh-faced and framed with gold curls that would have made a mother weep. Fett suspected that if Fraig still had a mother, he'd have sold her to a Hutt by now.

"So you're just going to stroll in," said Mirta.

"I only want to ask him a question."

"It's never that easy, is it?"

"We'll see." Fett strode down the tree-lined boulevard that led to the foot of the falls and forked around it. Only the stupidly wealthy had the time to gamble this early. It said a lot for Fraig's business ac.u.men.

"There's no reason for him to get upset. Just check that your jet pack's primed."

"We might be leaving rapidly, then . . . ," Mirta said, keeping up with him without apparent effort, a reminder that he was slowing down.

"Will they make a fuss about letting us in dressed like this?"

"It's all about making an entrance." Fett wiped the windborne spray from his visor. "People usually find my dress acceptable. Sooner or later."

He walked straight across the bridge at the wall of roaring water and churning white foam. The falls parted like a curtain to create a wide portal. Behind, the casino was a vividly lit-and completely dry-haven.

"Very impressive," said Mirta.