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“Any relation to Commander Wister Tolann of the Imperial Navy?”

“His grandson.”

Treen nodded, thoughtful. “I knew the elder Tolann. Thought he was rather more efficient than he turned out to be.”

“Grand Admiral Thrawn agreed with you. His fitness reports on the older Tolann basically kept him from rising above the rank of commander. This boy’s grandfather spent the last years of his military career routing waste-management convoys for Sate Pestage and Ysanne Isard when they ran the Empire.”

“Ah.” Finally some interest sparkled in the old woman’s eyes. “So the younger Tolann has reason to hate the Chiss.”

“The Chiss, anyone who is associated with the Chiss, and, in fact, any nonhuman species that dares to compete with humans. For anything.”

“And, of course, Jagged Fel, reared among the Chiss—”

“More than that. Senator, do you know what duusha is?”

She offered him a delicate little frown of consideration. “Some sort of cheese, isn’t it?”

“Produced on Tatooine and other backward worlds. It’s made with blue milk and takes the milk’s coloration. It’s aged in rounds. Various fungi grow on the outside, insulating the cheese as it ages, protecting it from contaminants; some are white, some brown, red, green …”

“I see. Or, rather, I don’t.” Then she did. Lecersen all but saw a glow rod light up over the Senator’s head. “No, I do. Duusha is blue on the inside and some other color on the outside … like Fel.”

“Correct. His nickname among certain bands of critics in the Empire is Duusha because, they say, he’s crude, cheap, and blue on the inside. Hence, tonight’s activity is Operation Duusha.”

“You should have been a teacher. You bring your subject matter to life, and engage your students.”

Lecersen cleared his throat and pointed back at the monitor to return Treen’s attention to it. “At any rate, Head of State Fel and his dining party are now en route to Pangalactus. They will arrive, they will be told that their chamber is ready. But they’ll be slightly put off by the fact that some news of their dinner has been uncovered by Galactic Alliance Security, so they’ll insist on a change of chambers. The only other chamber with a party sitting down at the same time, with similar dimensions, is immediately adjacent to Kester Tolann’s.”

Treen smiled. “So young Tolann, to avenge his grandfater’s disgrace and to save the Empire from nonhuman job stealers, is going to kill Jagged Fel.”

“I doubt it. He is an idiot, after all. Odds approach ninety to one that he’ll fail.”

“Oh.” Treen’s expression turned to one of rebuke. “You brought me here to see a failure.”

“No, I brought you here to see Jag Fel take another big step toward dropping the role of Head of State into my lap,” he said. “And to see how we’re going to prevent Daala from restoring her public image.”

A trio of deep wrinkles appeared between Treen’s carefully plucked brows. “I don’t recall asking for your assistance with that.”

“No, but an opportunity presented itself, and she has been making a lot of noise about working things out with the Jedi of late,” Lecersen said. “I’m sure you can imagine how difficult it would become to remove her from office, if she came to an accommodation with them and actually had their support.”

Treen’s lips tightened. “True,” she said. “But I really don’t think you’re going to convince the Solos that Daala is the one trying to have their future son-in-law killed. The blame is naturally going to fall on you and your fellow moffs—especially when the assassin is the grandson of a former Imperial officer.”

Lecersen’s smirk only widened. “You might be right, were he the only surprise I have in store for you tonight.”

A sparkle came to Treen’s eyes. “I do love surprises,” she said. “But only if I have a hint.”

“Very well,” Lecersen said. “The true attack—the one on Fel—is going to look like a diversion.”

Treen’s eyes grew round. “There’s going to be another?”

Lecersen nodded. “Against the Solos,” he said. “And they’ll believe that they’re the true targets.”

“Oh.” Treen licked her lips.