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She shook her head, long, flowing, blue-green tresses waving gently with the movement. “Oh, no, Workan. I just see farther than you. My vision,” she said, almost purring the words, “is vast. You will meet me … tomorrow. Yes?”

“… Y-yes.”

This could, thought Workan, work to his advantage. With Grand Lord Vol dead, he was, effectively, the highest-ranking Sith not only on Coruscant, but in the entire Lost Tribe. It was not official, of course. But it did not have to be. He was in charge of the single most vital mission the Sith had ever embarked upon. In the absence of a Grand Lord, no one would question his stepping into the role. At least temporarily. And as Workan had cause to know, temporary, with the right machinations, could be anything but.

Workan did not know how Roki Kem had managed to defeat an unmatched Force-user such as Grand Lord Vol, and he could hardly ask her. He could only assume one of two things: either the Grand Lord had made a grave mistake that Roki could exploit, or else she was some kind of powerful Force-user herself. If the first, then she was merely arrogant. If the second … well, there was an old Lost Tribe saying: “The shadow of another keeps the sun from scorching.” While it would have been immensely gratifying to have achieved adulation and fame, there was much to be said for lurking in the shadows and letting someone else be the target.

She had first warned him to stay out of her way. Now she wanted to meet with him.

Who you will help me become.

Now that the initial horror and shock had worn off, Workan found himself very curious as to what that might entail.

She had proposed meeting at The Nook, a fashionable little grill tucked away within walking distance of the Senate that specialized in breakfast foods. It opened at four in the morning and stayed open till noon. Considering that Workan did not think he would have gotten any sleep anyway, he readily agreed. The sun had barely lightened the always-brown sky to a lighter shade of tan when he walked into the quaint little establishment. He was welcomed by name by a Twi’lek and ushered into an out-of-the-way booth.

“Pleasure to serve you, sir,” she said as she poured him a most welcome cup of steaming black caf. “Will you be dining alone, or will someone be joining you?”

“Senator Roki Kem will be arriving soon,” he said. Her eyes lit up.

“Roki Kem? Really?”

He felt annoyance at being so overshadowed, but reminded himself again of the old saying. He knew the moment when Roki entered from the sudden applause that erupted. Applause for a Senator? Here in a restaurant that one might expect to have seen its share of celebrities? Workan shook his head.

“Please, please!” came the mellifluous voice, tinged with just the right amount of appreciation and embarrassment. “Thank you. I feel so welcome. Please, sit down and enjoy your breakfasts!”

She slipped into the booth across from him, and even though he knew better than to be fooled by her sweet demeanor, he found himself smiling a little at her.

“The peko peko egg omelet is very good here, and they have fresh brul juice,” he told her.

“That sounds lovely,” Roki said, gracing the slightly flustered server with a beaming smile. As soon as the Twi’lek server had gone, Roki turned to Suldar, and the smile turned predatory.

Shadow, indeed.

“I am glad I did not have to eliminate you, as well,” she said.

“I’m rather glad of that myself,” Workan replied, stirring powdered taka root into his caf. “We both have rather pressing schedules. Tell me what I can do to help you, Senator.”

“Straight to the point,” she said. “I like that. I have waited long enough myself. What I want is easy to explain. I wish to rule.”

Workan thought as he stirred. “I can manage that,” he said. “As you have no doubt suspected, it was my actions that ensured Padnel Ovin’s appointment to the interim position. Once you make it known that you are running for the position, I am certain your own popularity will propel you to leadership of the Galactic Alliance.”

“I want that, yes,” said Roki,