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She bowed to Daala. “My apologies, Admiral.”

“What is it?” Daala didn’t try to keep the curtness out of her tone.

“Dust Dancer has entered the system. Wynn will be here within half an hour by shuttle.”

Daala moved to and then past the Twi’lek, allowing her speed and decisiveness to suggest that she had already put Nek Bwua’tu from her mind. The door reopened for her and she swept out. She did not need to look—she could hear Desha’s rapid steps as the Twi’lek tried to catch up to her, to keep up with Daala’s longer stride.

Once Desha had drawn up alongside, Daala spared her a glance.

“Bring his shuttle to the Senate Building. I’ll debrief him personally.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

JEDI TEMPLE

A crisis, Leia noted, far from the first time, cut through barriers of rank and social status like nothing else could.

The conference chamber, deep within the Jedi Temple, was packed with Jedi who seldom interacted in these numbers on the basis of equals. But here, anyone might throw out an idea that could save lives. Thousands of lives. Millions of lives.

She sat in a high-backed gliding chair next to her daughter, Jaina, who brushed a lock of chestnut hair back behind her ear and spared her mother a smile. Leia patted her hand and turned to listen, to ease into the flow of conversation and information.

Master Corran Horn, standing in front of his own chair, his green Jedi robes somewhat rumpled from his having occupied them for too many hours, was talking. “… telemetry indicates that it entered planetary atmosphere five minutes ago and is on an approach path toward the government district, perhaps the Senate Building.” He glanced at a junior Jedi Knight, a dark-skinned human male, who appeared to be monitoring matters on a datapad. The Jedi Knight returned his look and nodded confirmation of what Corran had just said.

Saba Sebatyne, the Barabel Jedi Master and temporary leader of the Jedi Order, sat to his immediate right. She glanced at the Jedi Knight and then back to Corran. “What are the chances Master Ramis and Jedi Dorvald will be detected?”

Corran shook his head. “Minimal. Seha is the sole pilot, and she is not well known. Facial recognition scanners are going to be thwarted by plastinserts in her cheeks, which change the outlines of her face, and by her optical goggles. Octa Ramis and Kyp Durron are inside the shielded smuggling compartment.”

Master Cilghal, to his left, turned her large, bulbous eyes onto him. “Two Masters. If they are detected entering the Senate Building under these circumstances, it will force Chief of State Daala’s hand. She will—correctly—assume that she’s under assault. It will be all-out war.”

Jaina spoke up. “You don’t win by playing a defensive game.”

“Jedi Solo is correct.” Saba shifted in her seat, an unconscious indication of discomfort. Though it had been a few days since her tragic duel to the death with Master Kenth Hamner, the injuries to her side were not fully healed. Cilghal and Tekli exchanged a glance, outwardly emotionless, but it was clear to Leia that both wished Saba would do what she had to do to rest and recuperate.

But Saba could not afford the time that a protracted stay in a bacta tank would entail. Her position slightly more comfortable, she continued. “Now we must figure out how to capitalize on this opportunity. How to manage the timing. How to keep it as bloodless as possible.”

His formal report done, Corran resumed his seat. “We already have provisions in place to ground the shuttle in the Senate Building. But if Kyp and Octa are going to be able to move around in the building, we need to get them resources. Identification, for those times a Jedi hand wave won’t get them through a security station. Makeup. Yes, Leia?”

Leia lowered her half-raised hand. She thought for another split second about saying, Forget it, bad idea. But it wasn’t a bad idea, just a betrayal of trust. Daala perhaps did not deserve to be able to trust … but Leia’s instincts ran contrary to what she was going to suggest. “After the, um, less-than-entirely-friendly