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“The droids are in a sleep phase, the room is soundproof, and I’ll simply feign an emergency call from Antemeridias,” the Moff said. “I’ll be safely away before they even know anything is wrong.” He reached for the small vial and closed his hand about it tightly.

“Here I thought an assassination would be so difficult, and they welcomed you with open arms,” said Daala. “Meet me at the rendezvous base in twelve hours. You will find me most appreciative of your efforts, Moff Getelles. If I don’t forget grudges, I also don’t forget favors.”

“I’ll remember that, Admiral,” Getelles said, “but for now I must make haste.”

“Twelve hours,” Daala said.

“Twelve hours,” Getelles replied.

EXODO SYSTEM, MERIDIAN SECTOR

FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE TAKING THE OATH OF OFFICE OF CHIEF OF State of the Galactic Empire, Admiral Natasi Daala stood on the bridge of the Chimaera and surveyed the Maw Irregular fleet.

It was smaller than it had been when she had come, too late, to Gilad Pellaeon’s aid and turned the fleet loose on Jacen Solo. Gone or dismantled were the vessels that had some of the more … unique … upgrades that had in the end proved too costly to maintain. Still, there were several vessels left at her disposal. In addition to the Chimaera, which was an Imperial II–class Star Destroyer, the museum-quality but still powerful and deadly Maw Irregular remnants included another Star Destroyer, a Venator-class; an Acclamator-I class assault ship; a Republic-class cruiser; several frigates; and a handful of corvettes of two classes.

It was a fine start.

Daala had always prided herself on her ability to be ready for the vagaries of changing fate. She did not forget old friends, or old enemies, and so she had been pleased, but not surprised, at the alacrity with which her allies had come to her aid. Of course, there was something in it for them, too. “Everybody’s got an angle,” Han Solo had said once, and nowhere was the saying more true than in politics.

Daala had not come lightly to the decision to assassinate Jagged Fel. She felt it was a disrespectful way to deal with one’s enemies, and she did respect Fel. But it had been necessary. A realist, Daala knew that she was acting as much to protect and promote herself as to support any political agenda. But she also had faith that the path she had followed, crooked and backtracking and strange as it had been, was the right one. She had earned her position as Chief of State, and had done her best to govern wisely and well. The galaxy needed what she had to offer. There were many who agreed with her. She had a power base, and she was not going to give it up. And so, Fel had needed to be eliminated.

Daala had been monitoring communications as best she could, utilizing her network of contacts and spies. Fel’s people were keeping the assassination quiet. There was no mention of it anywhere on the Holonews, not even from the new, sensationalist network, BAMR. She had heard no response from the Solo family. Leia was in prison, which brought a spark of admittedly petty pleasure, and Han had apparently dropped out of sight with their adopted daughter. Jaina was with the Jedi, wherever they might be gallivanting off to.

What mention or coverage there was of Fel was brief and was either old or else consisted of grainy footage of someone who looked an awful lot like Fel. Daala knew the man had employed a double on more than one occasion, and she had to admit that whoever Jag had hired would easily fool someone who didn’t know him personally.

In other words, all was playing out as she expected. News of Jag’s death would rock what was left of the Empire at a time when, in the public eye, everything else was in chaos—a new and woefully inexperienced Chief of State; she, Natasi Daala, vanished; the Jedi gone. Eventually they would be forced to make some kind of an announcement, but not immediately, not until they got something into place. Which played right into her hands.

Exodo II, the rendezvous point, was nothing remarkable. It had been