Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [100]
“Do it from there,” Tycho said. “And send us your captain, what’s-his-name…”
“Tawaler,” Wedge supplied. “Also, no body, no weapon, no scorch mark, no splash of spilled caf is to be touched.”
“Don’t touch the security recordings without our say-so,” Tycho added. “Just stand by in the security station and be prepared to open doors or provide information whenever I call for it, or General Antilles, or Admiral Pellaeon, or Master Skywalker, or anyone we designate.”
Lieutenant Yorvin tried one last time. “But—this isn’t the way things are done.”
Wedge turned back toward Pellaeon. “Admiral, if these people don’t do exactly as we say, is Toryaz Station going to be paid for rental of this habitat?”
“No, it’s not.” Pellaeon, once again in full-dress uniform, settled back in an overstuffed chair.
“If they continue to obstruct this investigation, are they going to be sued?” Tycho asked.
Pellaeon nodded, looking like a kindly old grandfather reluctant to give bad news. “And they’ll lose. Oh, how they’ll lose.”
Wedge looked back at the officer. “Dismissed,” he said.
She left. More precisely, she fled, nearly banging her nose on the lounge door as it slid out of her way almost too slowly.
“Since there’s only one party here that is plausibly neutral,” Wedge said, “I propose we hand coordination of this situation over to Master Skywalker and his Jedi.”
“I agree,” Pellaeon said. “Which is not to say that I only want Jedi looking into it.”
“Don’t worry,” Luke said. “I’ll be happy to draw on everyone’s strengths.” He frowned. “Allow me the first question here, Admiral. Do you routinely have a double along with you?”
The old officer shook his head. “But then, I don’t routinely go on diplomatic missions. The double, and swapping out of the bedchambers we’d been assigned for others that were supposed to be empty, were notions of General Celchu’s. And they saved my life.”
“Actually,” Tycho corrected, “it’s something Wedge and I settled on together.”
Pellaeon stage-whispered, “This treasonous collaboration has got to stop.” His expression suggested he didn’t mean it.
Luke turned to Wedge. “But Saxan wasn’t protected by the same measures.”
Wedge nodded. “I recommended they be implemented, but remember, I’m not—I wasn’t—in charge of the Prime Minister’s security the way Tycho is in charge of the admiral’s. I was overruled by her security chief, fellow named Tommick. He’s among the dead.”
Han frowned. “Not Harval Tommick?”
Wedge nodded again.
“A member of Thrackan Sal-Solo’s political machine,” Han continued. “What’s someone like that doing in charge of security for a political rival?”
Wedge offered up a humorless smile. “In his secondary capacity as Minister of War, Sal-Solo was able to insist that Saxan’s security be ‘augmented’ by Tommick’s crew. Tommick’s crew took over.”
“Who’s going to take over as Five World Prime Minister?” Luke asked. “Saxan’s deputy?”
Wedge nodded. “Fellow named Denjax Teppler. Once married to Saxan, in fact. They parted but remained friendly. He’ll hold the post until they can arrange a new election. Months, perhaps.”
Han snorted. “You mean, until he gets killed, too.”
Luke, seated, finished dressing—he flexed his toes in his boots and then zipped the boots up along the side. Now he was clad head-to-toe in black, somber dress for a somber occasion—and also vaguely menacing dress in a time when he needed politicians and bureaucrats to listen to him very carefully.
“All right,” he said, “if I’m in charge of this investigation—a circumstance that can only last until the GA and Corellian delegations receive orders from their respective governments—then I’m going to have to act fast.” He rose. “Tycho, Wedge, and the Jedi will spread out to investigate. Admiral, I’d like to ask you to stay here, coordinate data as we obtain it. Han…” He frowned, obviously at a loss to make use of Han’s skills in this situation.
Leia spoke up. “Han can provide security here. And maybe let