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“Why would they?” Saxan asked, keeping her voice controlled, impersonal. “Negotiations between us and Coruscant are still cordial. Still in developing stages.”

Han shrugged. “I don’t know why. Just that they are. There are political, financial, military movements going on that all point to action here, and soon.”

Saxan considered. Could the Galactic Alliance have finally uncovered the Kiris shipyards? It seemed unlikely. She had been Prime Minister a full year before her budget auditors discovered that the secret appropriations authorized by Thrackan Sal-Solo and his political allies were being used to build a secret assault fleet. Her auditors had had direct access to the Corellian budgetary records; the GA investigators, impeded by Corellia’s formidable counterintelligence service, should not have been able to uncover the same facts.

It seemed more likely that the GA’s premature action had been prompted by the reactivation of Centerpoint. Despite everything, all the vetting and counterspying that had taken place at that facility since the Galactic Alliance had reluctantly surrendered its control to Corellia, some word must have reached Coruscant of the facility’s status.

She said nothing of this. Instead, she asked, “And why are you telling me this?”

“Well, let’s just say it galls me,” Han said. “If Corellia wants to be independent, I’m all for it.”

“Would you be willing to say that publicly?” Saxan asked. “In speeches to the Corellian people?”

“Sure,” Han said. “If you resign as Prime Minister and Thrackan resigns as Corellian Chief of State.”

This time, Saxan couldn’t keep the surprise off her face, out of her voice. “I should resign? Why?”

“I don’t like the game you’re playing,” Han said. “Whining ‘independence’ out one corner of your mouth and ‘benefits’ out the other.”

“That’s just strategy,” Saxan assured him.

“No, it isn’t. Not when a lot of people are listening to you and agreeing. People who don’t have the time or energy or brains to think it through. People who trust you because your father was famous or because you’re good looking.” Han finally looked disappointed, perhaps even faintly disgusted. “You need to be showing Corellians the lives they’ll be living if they do become independent. Planetary pride is one thing, and I’m all for it. Planetary pride with an assumption that the economy’s going to thrive and everyone’s going to love us is another thing. It’s a lie.”

Saxan kept the anger and, yes, hurt she felt at Han’s rebuke from showing. She turned to Leia. “And what about you? You’re a Jedi Knight. The Jedi are sworn to defend the Galactic Alliance. In coming here, aren’t you committing treason?”

Leia blinked at her. “How’s that again?”

“Your husband wants me to commit to a politically dangerous position. And yet here you are, straddling two positions, too. I think perhaps you and your husband should stay here in Corellia and lend us your support. It would be safer for you. If Coruscant learned you’d come here on your errand, it could do irreversible damage to your reputation.”

Leia smiled, showing teeth. “I am a Jedi Knight. And I am sworn to defend the Galactic Alliance. Even from itself, sometimes. But coming here with my husband and listening to him speculate on the future of political relations isn’t treason. It’s just something you do when you’re married.”

“Speculate?”

Leia nodded. “Speculate.”

“Meaning that you won’t have any hard data to hand me supporting his speculations.”

Han smiled, the knee-weakening, cocky smile Saxan had seen so often on holonews and occasionally in person. “What data?”

“Of course.”

“And, by the way”—Han lost his smile—“it wouldn’t do for Coruscant to learn we’d been here speculating. We’d take it personally. You might think about going through the historical records and seeing what happens when we take things personally.”

Saxan didn’t ask whether that was a threat. Of course it was. And it was the sort of threat they’d proven again and again they could