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Daala’s finger stabbed at the button connecting her monitor to that of her primary secretary. “What is happening?”

There was no reply. The monitor image clicked over to the secretary’s desk, but he was not there. No one was.

A few seconds earlier, in the outer office, the chrono in Han’s vest pocket beeped.

Daala’s secretary, a gold-furred Bothan male, looked up at the noise. “What’s the alarm for?”

Han grinned. “Nothing good. You know how we have to come in here unarmed?”

“Sure.”

Beside Han, Leia rose to her feet, throwing her arms wide as if trying to get the attention of a crowd at a concert. “You are all my prisoners. Hand over your weapons.”

Other important visitors waiting to see Daala—Senators, representatives of major corporations, ambassadors—gaped at her. At either end of the room, two naval officers reflexively reached for their holstered sidearms.

The instant their thumbs popped the restraining flaps free from the butts of the holstered blasters, Leia drew her arms in. The blasters flew from the holsters, one to her hands, one to Han’s.

Without rising, Han switched his blaster over from blast to stun. Casually, he shot the naval officer to his left, traversed his weapon, and shot the one to his right. The secretary dived for the floor, thumping to the carpet behind his desk.

Leia spun, covering the door from the exterior hall into the waiting room.

Han smiled and waved his blaster in the direction of the other waiting dignitaries. “Nobody move. This is a holdup.”

“Han.”

“Oh, right, my mistake. Nobody move, this is a coup.” He aimed at the prostrate Bothan. “Especially you, Fuzzy. You twitch a finger or make a noise I interpret as a warning for your boss and I’ll fill you so full of stun bolts, you’ll be able to light a glow rod for the rest of your life.”

The office lights dimmed, and a low vibration rattled everyone’s bones.

A few seconds earlier, Senator Bramsin joined Senator Treen in the latter’s floating station in the Senate chamber. It was not floating now; it was firmly attached to its brackets against the curved wall midway between floor and ceiling. Together the old friends and conspirators watched the gigantic monitor at the chamber’s summit; the screen showed the image of Deggan Rockbender, sandy-haired Senator of Tatooine. The young man’s words floated down from the overhead speakers a fraction of a second after they emerged from the speakers at each station: “… expediency flies in the face of the principles that led to the foundation of the New Republic and the continuation of its ideals in the Alliance. An embargo against trade goods produced in territories where slavery is still permitted is an absolute ethical necessity, a declaration that we continue to be dedicated to the cause of …”

Treen sighed. “He does go on a bit.”

Bramsin nodded. He checked his chrono. “But think about it. In moments, Parova will break in and announce that the armed forces have arrested Daala. In the midst of Rockbender’s stirring speech about taking action against the forces of tyranny, Parova announces the deed’s done.”

Treen did think about it, and batted her eyes like a schoolgirl. “Rockbender’s stock will go up immeasurably, and not just with his constituents.”

“Correct.”

“Perhaps I should be in a position to talk to him immediately after Parova’s announcement.”

“Also correct.”

“Have you set up your priority override so you can take charge as soon as Parova is done?”

“Of course. The program’s in place, and with the touch of a button …”

The chamber’s lights dimmed. Treen felt her teeth rattle as a somber subsonic tone rippled through the assembly. On the big screen above, Senator Rockbender paused, looking around, confused. A data card on the desktop before Treen rattled under the vibration’s influence and began to slide toward the desk’s edge.

Bramsin gave her a puzzled look. “That’s not part of the plan.”

“No, indeed.”

“I’d best get back to my station.” He turned and left, moving faster