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“It's happened before.”

“Sabotage, always sabotage.” He grinned at her. “You're going to be in such trouble with Kenth Hamner when you get back.”

“That's what I keep you around for. To drag me into trouble.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” Han leaned forward for a kiss.

“Master Han, your caf. Master Han? Mistress Leia? Oh, dear.”

RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT NEAR THE JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

“How did you manage to get free of your Head of State duties? And bodyguards?” Jaina asked.

Jag leaned against the door frame where they'd just arrived. This was one hallway of a residential high-rise; the passageway, its walls decorated with brown rhombuses against a tan background, spoke of a decorative style several years old, but was meticulously clean. Even now, a mouse droid affixed atop a circular cleaning attachment was gliding down the hallway, buffing dirt up out of the carpet and sending a faint, sweet smell of cleanser into the air.

“Most of what my delegation does is negotiate insanely minute points.” Jag looked as though he found that prospect about as attractive as a bowlful of worms. “I let my advisers and advocates do that, and at the end of the day I veto every decision they've made. Thus is the balance of power between ruler and bureaucrat maintained. In the meantime, I get to spend my day with you. And I tell my bodyguard that you're protecting me. That's where your ferocious Jedi reputation helps me.”

Jaina shook her head. “The system is unimaginably broken.” She pressed the button beside the door. Beyond the door, a chime faintly sounded.

“But fun,” Jag said.

The door slid open but no one stood there. There was only a short green hallway beyond, a door open and brightly illuminated at the far end. Jaina caught the scent of freshly cut grass, if her nose did not deceive her. She gave Jag a quizzical look and preceded him in. The door slid shut behind them.

The hallway opened into a large chamber that had probably been intended as a living or family room. But where overhead glow rods would normally shine comfortably and placidly, there were brighter light fixtures, emitting, Jaina suspected, the exact frequencies of sunlight. Where comfortable, padded furniture should sit, instead rested weatherproof outdoor furnishings of light, foamed durasteel supports and colorful strapping—there were chairs, lounges, even a patio table with a large umbrella overhead. One picture viewport, as tall as an adult human and twice as long, admitted light and a view of buildings fifty meters away, stretching upward and downward as far as the eye could see from Jaina's position; streams of airspeeder traffic at just the altitude of this apartment added a dash of fast-moving color.

Tahiri Veila, former Jedi, former Sith apprentice, stood up from a piece of lounging furniture as they entered. Blond and attractive, she wore a simple, tight-fitting jumpsuit in gray. She was, as usual, barefoot. Her lightsaber was not at hand but lay nearby, on the patio table. Her expression was just a touch uncertain. The scars on her forehead, earned during the Yuuzhan Vong War, were not visible; Jaina doubted that they could have faded in just the few months since she had last seen Tahiri, so they were probably concealed by makeup.

Tahiri nodded to them. “Jedi Solo, Colonel—I mean, Head of State Fel.”

Jag spoke, his manner brusque: “Tahiri.”

“Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Caf, water—”

“No, thank you.” Jaina took one of the lightweight chairs and sat facing Tahiri; Jag did likewise. Tahiri settled again on her lounger.

Jaina gestured at the grass. “Please tell me that your refresher doesn't have a dirt floor.”

That broke through Tahiri's discomfort and she grinned. “No, perfectly normal tile.” She looked over her living green carpet. “I've always preferred being barefoot to wearing shoes … but most places just aren't that comfortable. Overheated permacrete, carpets where they glare at you for tracking in dirt … Now that I have some credits to spend, I decided I wanted a home where I could be comfortable.