Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [63]
“Well, how honored we are to be singled out,” she said archly. “This does not make me particularly happy, Drikl. And I was having such a pleasant evening.”
“Well, the good news is, he gave me the location of the evidence and the code to locate and destroy it. While he resisted torture rather well, I do think in the end I retrieved everything he had to tell me.”
“So you do believe he was acting alone?”
“My dear, hardly anyone truly acts alone, whether they realize it or not,” Lecersen replied. “If one being was able to acquire this type of information, we’d do well to be on the alert for more insects crawling out of the woodwork.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.”
“I’d best be turning in. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I’ll dispatch someone to take care of the evidence on Minyavish and by nineteen hundred hours I’ll be en route for Imperial Space. It sounds like you all have things well in hand.”
“If you refer to Senator Suldar, I would say eating out of would not be inaccurate.”
“I don’t doubt it for a minute, my dear.” His voice was warm with affection. He’d grown rather fond of his co-conspirator, as long as he didn’t have to have too much interaction with her. She, Bramsin, Jaxton, Parova, and Thaal were right where they should be, and he was about to go where he should be.
Into Imperial Space, where human Moffs—male human Moffs, which were the only right and proper kind—were treated with the respect they were due.
Where he would eventually launch his bid to become Emperor.
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
ADMIRAL NATASI DAALA, STILL IN HER OWN MIND THE RIGHTFUL—AND greatly wronged—Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance, sipped at the cup of poor-quality caf Boba Fett had provided and stared out at the stars streaking past.
An hour after they were safely away on the actual Slave I—after escaping on an extremely fake Slave I and then transitioning to an ordinary shuttle—Daala had been on the comm. Fett had agreed to take her wherever she needed to go, and there was no doubt in her mind where that was. She had been busy, calling in old favors, talking to old friends—and old enemies—and new friends. She had much, much more to do, but for now it was a good start. She would have appreciated the chance to have a sanisteam and new, proper clothing instead of her prison garb, but Fett’s generosity didn’t stretch that far. Even so, she was grateful to be free. She could handle prison clothing for a while longer, just so long as her wrists and ankles were no longer “decorated.”
The initial round of contact over, she and Fett had broken out some rations, and now were sipping caf. He’d had only a few questions for her, and had been silent for a while, but then, so had she.
“You’ve been quiet,” Daala said.
He shrugged. The audacity and simple brilliance of the plan still astonished her. Boba Fett had broken her out of her Galactic Alliance prison cell by pretending to be … Boba Fett. It was a deception within a twist that her own complicated mind could most definitely appreciate—would have even found amusing, if she had any energy to spare for such lighter things. He was leading the uncertain and wobbly “triumvirate” on a wild caranak chase, because, according to all logic, if it was the infamous Boba Fett, legendary bounty hunter, he would never attempt a rescue as himself. No, for a while at least, what passed for the GA would be wasting time and resources looking for a Boba Fett impersonator, not the genuine article, sitting right in front of her clad once more in his actual armor and helmet.
“Long flight. Plenty of time to talk when you’re ready.”
“Genius, by the way, and such a nice little jab at the Jedi. The disguise, I mean.”
He turned his head toward her as she sat beside him in the copilot’s seat. “Oh—you mean the mad Jedi and their imposters. Thought that was a good touch myself.”
Until very recently, Jedi Knights had been snapping—believing that everyone they met, including those