Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [53]
His eyes still closed, Jag offered a lazy nod. “I told him about Daala’s discovery of the Sith you tried, in case it has some bearing on the way the prosecution portrays Tahiri’s association with the Sith outlook on things.”
“What did he think?”
“I can’t say.”
“Ah.”
“What’s going on with the Jedi Order?”
“I can’t say.” She was up to her ears in the Jedi plan to depose Chief of State Daala, and that was the last thing she could tell Jag. He might not be obliged to warn Daala … but he would surely take steps to protect his own people, and those steps might alert GA Security, which in turn might alert Daala.
“Ah.”
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “How goes the investigation into the assassination attempt against you?”
“Can’t say. How about the search for Abeloth?”
“Can’t say.” Finally it got to be too much for her and she began laughing.
He joined her, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “Was it this hard for your parents? Just trying to talk to each other?”
“I don’t think so. They weren’t duty-bound to keep as many secrets. And in the early years, they were on the run together. Plus, Dad more or less gave up his profession as a smuggler. Which eliminated one source of stress in their situation. How about yours?”
He shook his head. “Well, for a while, they were basically on the run together. And Mother gave up her career as an actress …”
“Which eliminated one source of stress in their situation?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that gives us a course of action.”
He opened his eyes to look at her. “Go on the run together?”
“I’m all for it. You hide from your advisers and the Moffs. I hide from the Masters.”
“And one of us gives up his or her profession?”
“I’m all for that, too.” She poked him in the chest. “You.”
He caught her hand and glanced down at the engagement ring on her finger. “Maybe we’ll flip a coin to decide it.”
“Sabacc tournament?”
“It’s been done.” He kissed her, but when he drew back there was a little sorrow in his expression. “For now, we can’t not keep secrets from each other. All we can do …”
“Is not be angry for it. Ever again.”
He nodded. “Preemptive forgiveness. For that and everything else.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What else do I have to forgive you for?”
“Can’t say.”
She grinned despite herself. “I ought to smack you for that.”
“No, you have to forgive me. Part of the new engagement contract.”
“You win this one, Imperial swine.”
Seventeen kilometers away, in the sort of tiny, tidy apartment suited to a budget-conscious security lieutenant, Javon Thewles stretched out on his own sofa, one far less expensive than the Imperial Head of State’s, and luxuriated in his day off. Better still, the news holocasts showed citizens rallying, gathered in plazas, on elevated pedways, on rooftops, all within sight of the Senate Building, protesting Chief Daala and her vengeful responses to freedom and anti-slavery movements—and Javon did not have to work those potential security nightmares today. He didn’t even have to listen to the holocasts narrating their movements, showing their placards, offering sound bites from their spokespeople.
Other things were going well, too. The young woman he’d met the other day was a looker and showing definite signs of interest. Javon was receiving glowing fitness reports from his superiors and anticipated doing well when he tested for captain.
He didn’t feel quite so confident a moment later when his front door shot up and four military police in naval blues ran in, leveling blaster rifles at him.
He raised his hands, inadvertently spilling his drink all over the carpet. “The hell?”
The fifth person through his door—his ruined door, for he could now see a curl of smoke rising from its security keypad—was a tall being in a naval captain’s blues, his skin faintly green, his long black hair gathered in a topknot—Falleen, Javon thought. The Falleen moved to stand over him. “Lieutenant