Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [112]
“Well then, lucky us,” Vansyn said. “Fel isn’t winning many popularity contests, either. One might wish they’d just go at each other and save us the trouble of overthrowing one or both of them.”
Lecersen tensed. “Why would they go at each other?” He kept his voice calm, languid, and sipped his gold wine with a hand that trembled not at all. Inwardly, he was on high alert. It might have been an offhand comment.
Might.
Vansyn coughed. He waved at the smoke from his cigarra too vigorously. “Apologies, Drikl. I don’t smoke these very often. Don’t usually have something worth celebrating.”
“And you do now?”
He was certain that if Vansyn hadn’t been filling the room with the cigarra smoke, he could have smelled the other man’s fear.
“But of course! My old friend is back, and he’s going to be Emperor.” Vansyn was too cheery, too quick to respond. “What’s not to celebrate?”
And that was when Lecersen knew he had walked into a trap. He sprang to his feet, but he heard a door hiss open behind him and realized he was too late—the trap had already been sprung.
Without turning around, he said, “Hello, Admiral Daala.”
“Moff Drikl Lecersen,” Daala said. “Please be seated. Porak, could you pour me a glass of whatever he’s having? He certainly seemed to be enjoying it.”
Lecersen had seldom tasted true despair. He did now, bitter and acrid at the back of his throat, and no fine vintage gold wine would take that taste away. His opponent had seen all his cards, but he was still determined to keep playing to the last minute.
To the last breath.
Vansyn at least had the grace to look uncomfortable as he poured Daala a drink. The admiral and former Chief of State slid into a chair next to Lecersen and lifted her glass in a toast.
“To the Empire,” she said. Lecersen did not touch his. She frowned. “Oh for pity’s sake, at least enjoy the wine. You’ve provided me with both information and entertainment in one brief conversation, Drikl. You’ve earned a drink.”
“Do I get a last meal, too?” Lecersen said drily.
“You don’t necessarily have to,” Daala said. Vansyn was staring very intently at the smoke coming up from his cigarra. “And please, Porak, put that disgusting thing out.”
“Of course, Admiral.” Vansyn ground out the cigarra at once. Sycophant, thought Lecersen. Why he had ever liked the man was now quite beyond him.
“Just to satisfy my curiosity, when exactly did you decide to betray me, Porak? And what was your price?” asked Lecersen. He couldn’t keep a biting tone from his voice.
“Um,” said Vansyn. “I wouldn’t … exactly say betray.”
“You shouldn’t abandon your friends just because they are not immediately useful to you, Drikl,” Daala said. “You hurt poor Vansyn’s feelings. So when I happened along and offered him my support, he was more than happy to give it.”
“In other words, worms should be squashed once they cease to pass fertile soil,” said Lecersen. “A valuable lesson, Admiral. I assure you I won’t forget it.”
She smiled, icily. “I know you detest me. And Vansyn—I didn’t appreciate your attempt at wit at the expense of my eye, either.”
Vansyn had the grace to look embarrassed.
“He was right about one thing. Fel and I are, indeed, going to be going at each other quite soon. The question is—are you with me, Lecersen, or are you dead?”
“I presume this is the part where you tell me you were recording everything, and that you’ll blackmail me and my cohorts if I don’t throw my lot in with you,” Lecersen said.
“No,” Daala said. “This is the part where I tell you that not only was I recording everything, but I also know about the Freedom Flight, and the involvement of not just Senator Treen, but Senator Bramsin as well. You yourself kindly mentioned others in positions of power—it won’t be that hard to figure out who they are. It’s also the part where I tell you that the reason you never heard back from the agent you sent to Qaras was that we intercepted him and acquired all the evidence in that