Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [48]
Two Jedi were now incarcerated. That was good. The Jedi had been chafing under Daala and all but reveling in their new, legal freedom. That was good, too. Jag was distracted, and so was Jaina, and reporters were apparently annoying the two to no end. Also very good.
The threads were all there. Now to weave them into a tapestry that would illustrate a picture of the Moffs restored to their rightful Imperial glory—without a lovesick puppy of a pilot at its head.
Lecersen drained the wine, looked at the empty glass, and smiled.
JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
JAINA COULDN’T BELIEVE IT, BUT SHE ACTUALLY MISSED DAB HANTAQ.
She did not miss the random check-ins that had often interrupted her sleep or other nocturnal activities. She did not miss his following her during her waking hours, reporting on her every movement. And she most certainly did not miss the fact that he was a dead ringer—nice pun, Jaina, she thought with a wince—for her late brother, Anakin.
What she did miss was the fact that Dab had tried to do his job with courtesy. He did what he was ordered to do, but he never seemed to particularly relish it.
Unlike the reporters. Jaina was beginning to think the ruling in favor of eliminating the official observers had traded one nuisance for a worse one. At least the observers had had rules of their own. The journalists seemed to have none whatsoever. During the whole “let’s give the entire galaxy access to the Jedi” phase that had mercifully come to an end recently, certain areas of the Temple had been opened to journalists. At least a Jedi had accompanied them during their sightseeing, but Jaina had never gotten used to running into the press in the dining room or in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
She sighed and slipped into her outfit for the night’s mission, which Jag had dubbed Operation Caranak, and began to apply the makeup necessary to complete it. She scowled at herself in the mirror and sighed. Time was growing short. It would have to do.
Automatically she reached for her lightsaber, and then hesitated. Sword of the Jedi she might be, but tonight’s mission would not necessitate fighting. She hoped. It had a very specific goal in mind, and if she ended up being forced to use her lightsaber, all would already be lost. With a slight frown, she dropped it in her black, stylish nerf-hide handbag anyway. No one needed to see it, and she felt naked leaving without it.
She clicked on her comm. “Gaunt, this is Slicer.”
“Gaunt here.” Jag, his voice calm as ever but with a slight edge to it that only Jaina, who knew him so well, would have noticed. The mission clearly had him keyed up.
“Everything in order?” she asked.
“Check. Carved is in position.”
“So is Curved. I’m preparing to initiate Phase One.”
“Copy that,” Jag said. “I’m moving into the secondary location.”
She took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she might face. “Okay. See you at the rendezvous.”
“Watch yourself. They’ll be gunning for you.”
“I know. You too.”
She clicked off her comlink and attempted to put it in its usual position on her belt, then remembered she wasn’t wearing the belt tonight.
These stealth missions were annoying.
She dropped the comlink in her bag beside her lightsaber. A final perusal of her outfit and she left the room.
The reporter was waiting for her the instant she stepped outside the Temple.
She had known he would be, and steeled herself for the encounter.
Reporters were forbidden to enter the Temple unless invited to do so, a welcome change from earlier. So instead they clustered like a swarm of insects at the base of the stairs, a milling little knot of salacious beings all clamoring for the exclusive story.
“Jedi Solo! Over here!”
“Solo! Where are you heading?”
“Jedi Solo, what is your opinion on the movement to eliminate slavery on Vinsoth?” This last from