Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [30]
Beside the Senator was the acting naval chief, Admiral Sallinor Parova. Like the other heads of the military, she was still in uniform, crisp and efficient looking as she sipped her caf.
The talk was pleasant, filled with lively chatter, humor, and the sound of forks and knives scraping against dishes as those gathered enjoyed their rather late supper. When the serving droid came to clear the empty plates away and refill cups of caf—rich and dark and headily aromatic, the best that could be found—Lecersen knew it was time to get down to business.
An E-3PO protocol droid hastened up with datapads, which it diligently handed out to the guests. They wiped their mouths and put their napkins down, ready to direct their full attention to the matters at hand. After all, fine as Moff Lecersen’s caf, pastries, and nerf steaks were, that was not why they had come.
“You’re certain Dorvan doesn’t know we have access to this?” Bramsin asked, carefully picking up his datapad and perusing it.
“If he did, we would not be having this pleasant gathering,” Lecersen said.
“I cover my tracks,” Jaxton said. “Don’t worry. He’s got no idea.”
“Always so careful!” Treen said brightly. “I like that about you, General. I do.” She turned to address her fellow Senator. “Such a thing is a possibility, but it would be a very long-term way of misleading or flushing us. Chief of State Dorvan’s position is rather delicate at the moment. If he suspected our compatriots in the military of anything, it would behoove him to move quickly, not put something extended into play when he might not be in office long enough to follow up.”
Lecersen nodded absently, seeing no need to comment further. He was quite certain they remained safely undiscovered.
“The only break we seem to have caught recently is that we three survived the purge,” Jaxton said. He popped a pastry into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of caf before wiping his fingers on the fine linen napkin and picking up the ’pad. “I intend to milk it for all it’s worth. This is the list of what Dorvan’s cabinet discussed earlier today. I’ll tell you—”
“We will tell you,” Parova interrupted. Her voice was pleasant, but there was a brief flash in her dark eyes that told Lecersen that, while she was the junior member of the little group of conspirators, she did not intend to stay humbly in the background.
Jaxton met her gaze. A muscle tightened in his jaw, then he nodded. “Of course. Several of us were present at the meeting. We will tell you where the cabinet fell out on each issue. But that’s really secondary. What the six of us need to do tonight is to see if there is any being or any situation that we might turn to our benefit. Let us begin with B’nish, which I’d never heard of until today.”
“Don’t feel bad about that,” Treen soothed, reaching across the table and patting the younger man’s hand. “There’s no need to apologize. Very few of us had.”
Jaxton glared at her. “I wasn’t apologizing. If I haven’t heard of it, it’s because there’s not anything worth hearing. This is a completely ineffectual world. Look at the stats. Basic agriculture, midlevel technology, no extreme political views. They even solved a slavery issue in a civilized way. I don’t think there’s anything to really exploit here.”
Lecersen opened his mouth to agree, then paused. He had called up an image of the Senatorial candidate put forth by B’nish, one Kameron Suldar. Suldar seemed pleasant enough, but there were wrinkles etched in his face that were not laugh lines. His gaze was clear, his head held at a certain angle. Lecersen had not gotten as far as he had in politics without being able to read body language.
Even just in a single,