Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 04_ Exile - Aaron Allston [56]
“For a man,” he added, mockingly.
“For a man.” Her reply was straight-faced. “I’m going to do you two favors. I’m now transmitting a package of data I have obtained from my sources within the Galactic Alliance Guard. Favvio?”
The next voice belonged to someone not in the holocam view: “Transmitting, Mistress.”
Rodan forced himself not to grimace. He imagined the speaker as a Hapan drone male, his body perfectly maintained through exercise regimens for the pleasure of the woman he called Mistress, his mind stunted by the pampered life he led.
The woman continued, “These are the plans by which the GA will conquer Commenor, exactly one month after the fall of Corellia.”
“I see,” Rodan said, keeping his voice neutral.
“Your people will analyze them and confirm their authenticity,” she continued. “Establishing my authenticity. Then, in a few days, I will transmit you the time and movements of other fleets that will be moving on Corellia. Fleets that, by themselves, perhaps cannot prevail. Fleets that, with the aid of Commenor, must prevail.”
“Thank you for your transmission, my lady,” Rodan said.
She smiled. Her image winked out.
Rodan checked his comm display to make sure that the transmission had been cut, and that the data package was intact and in his computer. Then he sat for long moments, still on the outside, vibrating on the inside.
Much of what the woman had said was true, especially the part about his ministers’ dithering. If the woman also spoke truly about the conquest plans, Rodan had to act, his ministers had to act.
“Vee-Ell Eight,” he said.
Instantly his secretary droid was beside him. “Yes, sir.”
“Transmit that datafile to the Ministers of War and Intelligence, plus to everyone on our top military analysis list. Encrypt it to top levels and attach a note saying that it must be evaluated. Then set up a meeting for me and all those parties for midday tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
STAR SYSTEM MZX32905, NEAR BIMMIEL
Lumiya waited until her medical droid was set up beside her reclining chair. She was healing well—she should be fit to return to physical activities within a few days. She was still weak, though, and wanted care to be instantly available if this task caused her to collapse.
She closed her eyes and let the dark side power that suffused the asteroid roll over her, through her.
Then she began looking, through the Force, for a distant target—a mind she had touched many times and reshaped during those contacts, a mind she had made so familiar and distinct she could find it even halfway across the galaxy.
It helped that she knew on what world the mind was to be found, but even so it was long, wearying minutes before she found it—to her inner eye it was a distinctive yellow glow, surrounded by tiny gleaming sparks of red. Fewer sparks than before; the efforts of the enemy to diminish her influence had apparently been successful in part.
But only in part. Lumiya smiled. The enemy’s techniques were nowhere near as effective as hers.
She approached the mind until it filled her vision, and she planted herself there, making its location an anchor point for her consciousness.
Now for the second phase of this elaborate Sith technique. She drew back from her target mind, seeking other mentalities in the area. And there they were, glows of various hues, none of them, sadly, decorated with the red sparks of her influence.
She sampled each in turn. Most were awake—firm, more resolute than she could affect at this distance. Others were too fragmented; when she touched them they tended to drift apart into smaller, incoherent glows, and she knew that these were the minds of the inmates…the patients.
Then she found one that was firm, grounded, but not so resistant to her touch. Its