Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [138]
He shook his head sadly at the well-groomed anchor. “Look at this,” he said with a mixture of horror and disgust. “My future mother-in-law a spice smuggler? Padnel Ovin running the GA?”
“This is worse than when the Jedi had their little keepers tagging along after them,” Tahiri said.
“No,” said Jag, reaching a decision. “The Galactic Alliance is in no position to go head-to-head with Daala. It can’t even wipe its own face after dinner without the Senate’s say-so. There’s no way that—”
He paused in midsentence, grabbed by the shocking image on the holoscreen. The body of a fit, dark-skinned woman sprawled beneath the bright lights of a holocam. Burns crisscrossed her body, mutilating her face almost beyond recognition.
Almost.
Tahiri turned, following his gaze, and her own eyes widened.
“… of Admiral Sallinor Parova, acting chief of naval operations, was discovered on the steps of the now-vacant Jedi Temple. Cause of death appears to be …” The blond anchor paused dramatically. “… lightsaber.”
“What?”
“I think it’s obvious what happened,” said the handsome visage of Senator Suldar as if in reply to Jag’s exclamation. “Tahiri Veila remains at large. We know she has a grudge against the Galactic Alliance—this smacks of personal vendetta to me.” He turned to face the viewing audience. “If anyone has any information regarding this criminal, please—don’t think twice about turning her in. She’s proved that she’s a murderer—twice now. This is what happens when the Jedi think they are above the law.”
“Oh, hey,” Tahiri said mildly. “I can kill with a lightsaber when I’m halfway across the galaxy. I think you should double my pay, Jag.”
“I think I should clone you,” Jag replied.
Ashik had entered during this last scathing comment. Jag waved him to a seat. “Any updates?”
“No, sir. What shall we do now?”
Jag considered. “There’s one person I haven’t talked to yet. Moff Tol Getelles. Contact him and arrange to have him to dinner tonight aboard the Pellaeon. Let’s see if we can possibly sway him to our cause. If not—and even if we can—I think it’s time I played my trump card.”
Tahiri looked confused. Ashik, though, knew what Jag meant, and looked at him sharply.
“Sir? Are you certain? Once you’ve done that, you change everything. You can’t go back.”
“I’m aware of that,” Jag said.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” asked Tahiri.
Jag held up a hand and continued speaking to Ashik. “I’ve thought this through very carefully, Ashik. Simply arresting Daala is going to stir things up worse than they are now. But her challenge to my position and to the GA has got to be halted. I don’t see any other alternative that isn’t going to cost the lives of millions of beings, and perhaps not even accomplish what we want. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time. Start getting things in readiness. Once I deem it’s time to act, we’ll have to move fast.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?” asked Tahiri.
Jag and Ashik shared a small, conspiratorial smile. “For something no one will see coming,” Jag said.
“Moff Tol Getelles,” said Jag. He did not extend his hand.
Getelles had started to, but smoothly altered the gesture to appear as though he were merely adjusting his other sleeve.
“Head of State Jagged Fel,” he said. His voice was gruff, but pleasant. “I must say, your dinner invitation was rather a surprise, although a most happy one. I’m very gratified you chose to see me.”
“It was the least I could do, after the bold public stand you took on Daala’s incarceration. I wanted to thank you in person for your support. Please, have a seat.”
The table in the formal dining area aboard the Pellaeon could easily accommodate eight, but there were only two places set. Serving droids