Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [116]
“Both? That would be quite a neat trick to manage,” Dorvan replied.
“Indeed.”
“Why do you think you were nominated at all? Forgive me, but by your own words, you’re not a diplomat.”
“And that is why,” Ovin said. “A Jedi helped broker an agreement that saved my world … but a Jedi also was among those who ruled in the Hutts’ favor. I despise Daala, and my brother martyred himself to protest her policies. No one believes I have personal ambitions, and they are quite right.”
“I’m not following you.”
Ovin leaned forward and smiled, flews drawing back from sharp teeth. His voice dropped. “They picked me to lead them,” he said in a voice that sent a chill down Dorvan’s spine, “because they think I am harmless.”
And Dorvan understood. “They wanted a puppet,” he said.
“Exactly,” Ovin said. “They are right to think that this sort of power will not corrupt me. It holds no temptations for me. But they are wrong to think that I will mindlessly obey. I have done as well as I have because I surround myself with wise beings to advise me, and to manage what I am smart enough to know is not my strength. I do care about this organization. I want to govern it well until such time as the beings of the Galactic Alliance finally have a chance to put whomever they like into office. While I will have to ask you to move out of this office, I’d be grateful if you moved only a few meters away. I’ll need a chief of staff, Wynn. And I can’t think of anyone better suited for the position than you.”
Dorvan blinked. Desha came in with a fresh pot of caf and some pastries.
“Desha,” he said, “I’m afraid you won’t be getting a new boss after all.”
GALACTIC SENATE MEDCENTER
“They’re starting to suspect.”
“I know. They’re not stupid.”
“If they figure it out, this could ruin everything.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. We need to move faster.”
“We’re moving as fast as we can.”
Wynn Dorvan leaned back in the visitor’s chair and sighed.
Bwua’tu was having an increasingly difficult time fooling the doctors. They were, as Bwua’tu had just said, starting to suspect. And as Dorvan had replied, the doctors weren’t stupid. Thus far, Bwua’tu’s performance had been sufficiently convincing for them to remain puzzled as to how it could be that, when all medical indications pointed to his complete recovery, the admiral still seemed to be mentally damaged. Dorvan recalled Eramuth intoning how the mysteries of the mind were impregnable, and perhaps the Force that the Jedi were so attuned to had more control over such things than science.
It had not made the doctors happy, but it had kept them satisfied for a time. But everyone knew that at some point, and that likely soon, the deception would be discovered.
It was just the two of them today: Rynog Asokaji’s presence had been requested by Parova, and Eramuth had been called in to testify, again, about any information he had regarding Tahiri Veila. Both of them, while conversing with each other, were watching the new network that had sprung up seemingly overnight: BAMR. An exceptionally attractive—even for an anchorbeing—human female was reporting on the latest changes from the Senate.
“It seems,” drawled Bwua’tu, “that the Senate’s inability to take decisive action while under the leadership of the triumvirate has suddenly evaporated.” His husky voice was heavy with sarcasm and disapproval.
Dorvan nodded. “Indeed. It was rather blatant, actually. Treen and the Senate waved their hands helplessly, letting the Jedi representative and myself take most responsibility. If anything went wrong, they’d be seen as blameless.”
“And now, the tree is bearing fruit,” Nek said glumly.
The Senate had sprung into action so fast it could make one’s head spin. First was the shocking election of Padnel Ovin, a fledgling Senator,