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“I’ll let you know what—” His comlink beeped. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, speaking into it. “Ovin. What?” He listened, and his eyes widened. Softly he growled. “I see. Be respectful of the body, but bring it in to the Galactic Senate Medcenter for immediate autopsy. No, no, you were right to contact me. Keep me posted.”

Leia grew cold. “Jaxton,” she said. He nodded. “Murdered, like Parova?”

He shook his head. “Looks like a suicide. But I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“Nor do I.”

Padnel turned to her and took her hands in his. “Leia, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t ever have been brought in here. I thought I was doing the right thing by going along with the Senators and observing, but I should have stopped this the minute I smelled something rotten.”

“You did what you thought was best. Who knows, perhaps you actually got me out of harm’s way,” she said.

“I’d like to hope that. I’d like to think I did something right. But now I intend to keep you out of harm’s way.” His olive-green flews pulled back from his sharp, jagged teeth in a chilling smile. “I’ve heard it said that being the Chief of State means when you speak, they have to be quiet. Tomorrow I intend to make them quiet long enough to repair some of the damage I’ve done. And then—I’m going to knock some heads together.”

Despite the direness of the situation, Leia found herself smiling. “You sound just like Han,” she said.

“That is perhaps the finest compliment I have ever received,” said Ovin. And Leia had to agree.

HIGH LORD WORKAN WAS RATHER PROUD OF HIMSELF.

This political system was so easy to manipulate. One could be physically weak, even unable to use the Force at all, and still rise to power based on being popular and gathering enough beings in one’s corner. There were loopholes everywhere, if one knew where to look, and like a pack of anoobas, Sith excelled at finding weaknesses and using them to destroy. What Roki Kem wanted him to do was not only fairly easy, it was even legal.

The Senate had the ability to appoint whomever they chose as interim Chief of State until such time as a formal election could be held. Workan had persuaded the Senate to appoint Padnel Ovin a short time ago. All he needed to do was introduce the motion to appoint Roki Kem instead. With the Jessar’s charisma, fame, and the path of goodwill she left everywhere she went, as well as his own resources, he would easily be able to get the three-quarters majority necessary to replace Ovin.

Then it was on to making her Beloved Queen of the Stars, whatever that meant. Workan would, as he always had, handle that as he came to it.

If all went according to plan, and there was no indication that it wouldn’t, he would secure the position of Chief of State for Roki Kem by the end of the day. Which would definitely win him favor in her eyes.

Workan had admired and respected Lord Vol, but he had to admit he was enjoying the new turn of events.

The current chair of the Senate, a Chagrian named Nensu Kaatik, stepped forward and read the agenda. Workan sat with his eyes closed, extending himself in the Force, letting it flow through him and carry him to touch each Force presence in this vast chamber. He listened, and when the last item was read and the chair inquired if there was any further business to be put before the Senate, he rose.

“May it please the Senate,” he said, fighting the desire to use the Force to make his voice carry and relying solely on technology. “I have urgent business to place before this Senate immediately.”

The chair frowned. “The chair recognizes the honorable Senator Suldar from B’nish.”

Workan inclined his head and moved his hoverdais forward. He thought, not for the first time, that with the lighting and the uniform color and shape of the daises, from a distance the Senate chamber looked like a massive scaled beast.

“It is established that in times of crisis, when an interim Chief of State is in power, the Senate has the right—nay, the duty—to challenge its leadership and put in place whomever this august body determines