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“Okay!” snapped Grees. He bared his very healthy, very white teeth and almost flung the vial at Jag. “But we have rights, too! We feel this was taken from us without due compensation, as the deal we negotiated originally did not include obtaining and delivering—at tremendous personal risk—a sample of an extremely valuable serum.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Han said.

“Sounds to me like they were supposed to listen and bring back what they learned,” Allana said. “If they brought back more, shouldn’t they get paid extra?”

Emala beamed at her. “You sure you’re not half Squib, Fuzzling?”

“Quite sure,” Leia said. “Jag—”

“Leia, I’m sorry. This has given me some unique leverage, and I need to put it to use right away.”

“See?” said Sligh gleefully. “Unique leverage. Procured by us.”

“You’re a pretty poor haggler, Head of State Fel. Sorry to say so but it’s the truth,” said Grees.

“Look,” said Jag. He was holding the small, precious vial very tightly. “We’ll discuss recompense when I return. Because if you don’t let me go now, you’ll be negotiating with Daala.”

Their ears drooped slightly, and they murmured unhappily.

“Excellent,” Jag said. “I see we understand each other. Han, Leia—I’ll leave them in your care until I return.”

Han paled, and even Leia looked flustered. “Oh, no!” gasped C-3PO.

Allana, however, looked extraordinarily pleased.

MOFF VANSYN’S ESTATE, IMPERIAL SPACE

“IT’S SUCH A PLEASURE TO FINALLY BE ABLE TO HOST YOU FOR A change,” said Moff Porak Vansyn. He selected a cigarra from the humidor proffered by the serving droid and snipped the end off. The droid moved to Lecersen, who declined but lifted his glass in a silent request for a refill of the delicious gold wine.

“It’s good to see you, Porak,” said Lecersen, and to his surprise he actually meant it. He’d always been rather fond of the slightly younger, debonair Moff, with his droll manner of speaking and unfashionably thin mustache. “I regret that the tides of politics have separated us these past few months. You appear to be doing very well for yourself.”

Vansyn leaned forward and allowed the droid to light his cigarra. Blue-gray smoke trickled up to form a wreath around his head as he replied. “Well enough, though I would say that you are poised to do still better.”

Lecersen raised an eyebrow in feigned perplexity. How much did Vansyn know? “What makes you say that, Porak?”

Vansyn grinned around his cigarra. “You’re here in Imperial Space, for one thing.”

“Isn’t a Moff allowed home now and then when things become unpleasant at the seat of government?”

“Come now, Drikl,” said Vansyn. “We’ve known each other too long. You are like a spider in the center of its web. You feel the vibrations from elsewhere, but you stay in the center and let opportunities come to you. It’s magnificent, all the strings you manage to keep track of. Quite an inspiration.”

“What a nice compliment,” said Lecersen, honestly flattered. “It’s true I do believe in maximum results with minimal effort.”

“So therefore, when you stomped your foot and made much to-do about returning to Imperial Space, I knew that the action was no longer truly on Coruscant, seat of government notwithstanding. You’re plotting something.” Vansyn’s eyes were bright. “Do be a good fellow and let your old friend in on it, hmm?”

Lecersen considered how much he should tell Vansyn. While he had indeed approached the other Moff in the hope of acquiring his assistance, he was actually taken by surprise at Vansyn’s perception. The logic held, of course, and for a moment Lecersen wondered if he was that transparent to all his friends—and enemies. But Vansyn had known him for a long time. Maybe it was time Lecersen brought him into the thick of things.

“You’ve got a lovely home here, Porak,” Lecersen said. “A good, solid reputation. I’m not sure I can in good conscience ask you to risk it.”

Vansyn waved a hand dismissively, sending loops of smoke leaping about. “Come now, Drikl, you