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Dal Perhi stood and extended one hand toward the wall. A section of the crystasteel surface de-opaqued, revealing a magnificent sight: the bright curve of the planet itself, facing the velvet of space. Since Sinharan T’sau was a skyhook, Coruscant appeared “above” them, effulgent against the night. As Kaird watched, a Victory-class Star Destroyer moved ponderously out of orbit. The nine-hundred-meter wedge-shaped vessel, bristling with turbolasers, missile launchers, and other armament, began to lift slowly and silently toward the stars, its ion drive array glowing. It was pointed in the direction of the Massiff Nebula, although Kaird knew that that was no clue as to the Destroyer’s ultimate destination.

“Xizor wants all of this,” the Underlord said, gesturing at the golden crescent that filled the upper half of the great window. “I truly believe that, if he replaces me, he still won’t be satisfied. I think he’ll try to use his position to gain the ear of the Emperor himself.”

Kaird was surprised. The Republic’s attitude toward Black Sun had been one of intolerance; local law enforcement agencies on various planets had raided gambling halls, shut down spice dens and distribution points when and where they could, and in general made life extremely complicated, especially in the Core systems. Of course, toward the end the Senate had become so bloated and ineffectual that it was little, if any, threat, but the stigma had remained in place.

With the Empire, it was different. Emperor Palpatine had proven to be a much more pragmatic ruler than Chancellor Palpatine had been. He stopped short of any official recognition of Black Sun, of course, but it was an open secret that, as long as nothing too overt was attempted, the spice-smuggling lanes, the dens of iniquity, and the black-market trafficking were free to operate. Planetary law enforcement personnel were far more likely these days to turn a blind sensory organ to the various and lucrative operations of the cartel.

Naturally, there was a price—or rather, a slew of various prices, tariffs, kickbacks, and others—for this, but for the most part Black Sun paid it gladly. All things considered, it truly was, as Palpatine had proclaimed after seizing the reins of government, a Golden Age. For criminals, anyway.

Perhi, however, did not see the honeymoon lasting forever, and he wasn’t convinced that it was an unalloyed blessing while it did. The Underlord felt it was important for Black Sun to retain autonomy. He didn’t want perpetual war between Black Sun and the Empire, but he felt that détente should proceed only so far. Complete accord would eventually, inevitably, lead to complacence, and thence to compliance. Given all this, Kaird could see how Xizor’s perceived threat would have Underlord Perhi very worried—and not just for his own sake.

All this flashed through Kaird’s mind in a moment’s time. Before he could speak, however, Perhi raised a quieting hand.

“Now,” he said, “I am fairly certain that I’ve read our Falleen prince correctly. Tell me if I’ve judged you as accurately.

“You, too, aspire to be a Vigo, Kaird of the Nediji,” he said. “But your ultimate goal is not to be Underlord of Black Sun. In fact, your goal lies far out on one of the spiral arms.” He gestured again, and the panoramic view abruptly shifted, lining up with the galactic plane. A moment later Kaird had to suppress a gasp as the entire skyhook seemed suddenly to leap forward, zooming with unbelievable speed straight toward the blinding galactic Core.

Of course, he told himself, the whole trip was simulated, generated in a mainframe somewhere in Midnight Hall. Still, the realism was absolute. They seemed to flash through the Core in seconds, screaming silently past and between the closely packed stars that were, in some cases, mere light-months apart. For an instant they were teetering on the edge of the churning maelstrom at the center, the ravenous black hole that sucked entire