Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [17]
It was once again turning into a good night.
One of the arrivals was Wynn Dorvan, chief of staff to Admiral Daala, the Galactic Alliance Chief of State. He was not drunk, not bewildered, but he still felt a bit shell-shocked.
When the Borleias base general arrived, the man deployed his command staff as shields, using them to keep outraged or incoherent celebrities from engaging him while he headed straight for Dorvan. He only had two aides left by the time he reached his objective. He held out a hand. “Wynn Dorvan? General Eldo Davip.”
Wynn shook his hand and gave him a close look. Davip was large, nearly two meters in height, and filled out his uniform to an extent that suggested a more strict diet and exercise regimen would have been a good idea. Wynn knew the man’s reputation: A lackluster career officer, Davip had been here on Borleias during the Yuuzhan Vong siege and had distinguished himself. Through the rest of the war and in the years since, he’d served well and intelligently. But doing his duty and following his orders, he’d ended up under co–Chief of State Jacen Solo’s command during the Second Galactic Civil War. Never accused of impropriety or complicity in Solo’s ruinous plans, he nonetheless was tainted by association, and had maneuvered for a transfer to this little-noticed outpost. It was a good way to retire inconspicuously while still drawing pay and doing a little good.
Dorvan nodded. “Glad to meet you.”
“You seem to have a small animal in your pocket.”
Wynn glanced down at his suit’s breast pocket. Nestled there, his pet, all orange stripes and sleepy eyes, peered out at the general, then settled down for another nap. Wynn grinned. “Pocket’s a lot of fun. I sometimes try to convince people that they have animals in their pockets, too.”
“Ah.” Davip didn’t rise to the bait. “Will you come this way?”
“Thank you.”
They walked clear of the party atmosphere and the worst of the noise, to the general’s personal landspeeder. They boarded, but the general did not signal his pilot to move out. “It’s calmer here.”
“I could use some calm.”
“I’ve been in direct contact with the Chief of State and have given her the preliminary report that you’re fine. She wants you to get on the holocomm and report as soon as possible. But the security and survival of this outpost is my first concern, so I need you to tell me what I can expect from that.” He jabbed a finger upward, pointing at the Errant Venture, a tiny triangle orbiting far above, so high that it was in sunlight, a red arrowhead.
Wynn shrugged. “I don’t think you can expect any action, actually. As far as I can tell, Booster Terrik and the Jedi have just one agenda here—staying clear of the Alliance military—and no plans to do Borleias or anyone else any harm. From what I could overhear as we were being lined up for the shuttles, they plan to leave the Pyria system as soon as the last shuttle returns. I think they want to stay clear of any capital ships coming out of Coruscant or other Alliance naval bases.”
The general offered an irritated grunt. “I don’t think there will be any capital ships.”
“How’s that again?”
“I’ve been informed of no relief coming our way.”
Wynn blinked. That made no sense—
Oh, yes it did. Slave revolts were now popping off all along the galactic rim like celebratory fireworks, and the Jedi departure from Coruscant had to have suggested to Admiral Daala that she had enemies capable of doing tremendous harm to her military close to home. She doubtless did not want to pull any forces from the fleet guarding Coruscant. To do so would weaken the planetary defenses, weaken herself.
He sighed. “Any idea how we’re getting home?”
“I’ve been given broad discretionary powers to deal with that. There’s a transport here—it was grounded by the Errant Venture’s arrival while delivering consumables. I intend to press it into service to deliver all of you back to Coruscant. It’ll be a little cramped, I suspect,