Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [58]
“Now, now, you don’t know that,” said Lecersen mildly. “Freedom is a deep-seated need for many beings. It’s possible that—”
“No. Unrest has been fomenting only in the last few years. Never before had the Jessar experienced this so-called ‘deep-seated need.’ ” His voice dripped contempt. He was wrong, of course. Lecersen had done his homework. He had heard about the Silence oath, and was well aware that it was an old, old tradition among the Jessar. Slaves who were planning to escape, or who had managed to do so only to be recaptured, submitted to being beaten—sometimes to death—rather than reveal anything that would harm future escape attempts for others. The Minyavish, like most beings who fancied themselves decent, had lied to themselves about the true nature of the institution.
Nonetheless, he continued to humor the fuming Minyavish. “What form would this … justice take? An army, to slaughter your enemies and take back your world?”
The feathers rose along every inch of Mahlor’s body, reminding Lecersen of the way a Bothan’s fur would ripple in irritation.
“You are already believing Rokari Kem’s propaganda,” he snarled. “We are not brutes! We could win back our world, yes, but at what cost? Your kind might not shrink from having so much blood on your hands, but no species on Qaras would willingly embark on so violent a course. No. We have been exiled, and so we will go. But we have no place to go. We are a large populace—three billion. There is no world that has offered to shelter us, and we do not have the means or funds to tame a new one. That is what I want from you. You are directly responsible for the Minyavish being forced to leave Qaras. You will find us a new home.”
Lecersen was not pleased. He had not expected such a pacifistic response by the seemingly belligerent Minyavish. Covertly funding another revolt would be more cost-effective, and he might have been willing to consider it. Such a debt from the Minyavish could prove useful if—no, when—they won. Lecersen didn’t support losers.
But relocate three billion beings?
“That is absurd,” he said. “What you ask is a massive undertaking, and there’s nothing in it for me.”
“You have connections.”
“Oh, indeed I do, but there’s nothing in it for them, either.”
“Then you leave me no choice. I will expose your connection to the Freedom Flight.”
Lecersen laughed. “Oh, dear,” he said mockingly. “Reveal the fact that mean old Moff Lecersen actually wanted to do a little good in this galaxy. How awful it will be to be exposed as someone who wants to help free enslaved populations. Go right ahead, Mahlor. I dread the fact that the galaxy will know my deepest, darkest secret—that I am a decent being.”
“You are not,” growled Mahlor. “Your reasons for founding the Freedom Flight were not in the least altruistic. Nor were those of your cohorts.”
Lecersen had been relaxing the more the Minyavish spoke. Even if the evidence of which he spoke was real, exposure of his role wouldn’t harm him. It might even boost his popularity in certain quarters, which meant expanding his influence. That stiff-necked Jagged Fel would certainly approve. But now he tensed, ever so slightly.
“Do go on,” he urged.
“You didn’t do it to free slaves. You did it because you knew it would cause upheaval at a time when the Galactic Alliance—particularly the Chief of State—was in no real position to handle it properly. You knew how Admiral Daala would react, and you knew what that kind of reaction would do to her popularity rating.”
It was as if the Minyavish had had a prime seat at the table the other day.
“You spoke of cohorts.”
The ugly smile grew. “Senators Fost Bramsin of Coruscant and Haydnat Treen of Kuat. I am certain there are others, but I think that’s enough to prove my point. I’m sure that they might