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FRIGATE RAKEHELL, MAIN HANGAR BAY

JAVON THEWLES SAT, UNCOMFORTABLE, IN THE LIGHTWEIGHT METAL-TUBING chair and listened to what Leia Organa Solo had to tell him.

He was uncomfortable for a variety of reasons.

First, he was sitting in a chair meant to endure the elements of sun and rain beside a swimming pool and occasionally hold swimsuited frolickers off the permacrete, while he was a full-grown man in black body armor styled like that of Galactic Alliance troopers but lacking unit or rank insignia. The chair sagged under his weight and threatened at any moment to buckle and send him to the metal deck of the hangar bay.

Second, he was talking to Leia Organa Solo. He’d been on guard detail for a number of famous people in his GA Security career, but none had ever said anything to him other than a brief greeting. And mere meters away was the Millennium Falcon. Somewhere atop it, the equally famous Han Solo was laboring on an antenna array. Javon couldn’t see him, but the occasional outbursts of complaint or cursing gave Han’s location away. Now a metal tool rang off the metal decking, bounced, and clanked to a halt, followed by Han’s shout: “Amelia, get that for me, would you?”

Third, there was the task Javon was being assigned.

He cleared his throat to give himself another second to think. “I’m to be a babysitter?”

Leia nodded. “For all practical purposes, yes. Is that a problem? Beneath your dignity?”

“Nothing like that. Security is security, and people who need protection need it regardless of their ages. But I’ve never protected a child before. I’m not sure I’m competent for the task.”

Leia gave him an understanding look. “The first thing to remember, which is a real help, is that you generally don’t have to tell them to duck when you’re firing over their heads.”

“That was … a joke?”

“A little one, yes.”

“Oh, good. Um, this is not offered as a criticism, I’m genuinely curious … and a little confused. You’re bringing a child into an armed camp, an ad hoc settlement where security is going to be handled by several incompatible units varying from freedom fighters to, it seems, terrorists, to self-aggrandizing warriors, none of whom have any consideration for the safety of a little girl …”

“It’s not an ideal situation, correct.” For a moment, Leia sounded very weary indeed. “I can’t really think of a point in time in the last forty-five years that could be described as an ideal situation.” She resumed an expression of good humor. “But things aren’t necessarily any safer on Coruscant. If I were there, given my history, I’d be helping with the affairs of the Chief of State’s office, which would potentially bring Amelia into harm’s way. So Klatooine may actually be safer. Usually we have a Jedi and an associated security expert hovering near Amelia and providing protection—don’t tell her that—”

“No worries.”

“—but given the recent government crisis and other situations abroad in the galaxy, we’re stretched too thin. So when Seha Dorvald said that our actions had cost a promising and diligent young security lieutenant his job, maybe his career, I thought you’d be a good choice to head up an interim security detail.”

“I intend to be. I just wanted to express reservations. About my own lack of experience in one area. I mean, I don’t know what to do if she starts crying.”

Leia laughed. “It takes a lot to make her cry. I suggest you empty a blaster rifle clip in the direction of whatever made her cry.”

“That’s reassuring …”

“Seha also said you had a theory about the charges made against her.”

“Well …” Javon moved effortlessly from one discomfort to a new one, not entirely at ease discussing a theory so obviously in need of fact checking and elaboration. “It’s just that I have the sense that the poisoning of Moff Lecersen, Senator Bramsin, and General Jaxton, and the placement of a poison container in the Senate Building, was part of a specific effort to discredit Galactic Alliance Security. After the coup, I thought that maybe—forgive me for this—it was part of the Jedi plan, since