Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 04_ Exile - Aaron Allston [7]
Jacen felt himself redden. He forced the anger away. It wouldn’t do to let an insect like Lavint bother him. But clearly, additional punishment was in order.
He turned to Ebbak. “My father used to have endless trouble with the Millennium Falcon. The hyperdrive would fail all the time, and he’d tell the universe that it wasn’t his fault, and then he’d fix it and be about his business.” He nodded toward the closed door. “Delay her in transit to the hangar bays. Have Duracrud’s hyperdrive adjusted so that it will fail catastrophically after one jump.”
“Yes, sir.” Ebbak considered. “Since she’s a smuggler, she’s not going to go anywhere with a single jump. Her first jump will always be to some point far away from planetary systems or traffic lanes. She’ll be stranded.”
“That’s right. And she’ll become intimately acquainted with her hyperdrive.”
“She might die.”
“And if she doesn’t, she’ll be a better person for the experience. More polite, probably.”
“Yes, sir.” Ebbak moved to the door. It slid open for her. “Sir, your meeting with Admiral Antilles is in one hour.”
Jacen consulted his chrono. “So it is. Thank you.”
“And, Colonel, if I can make a personal remark—”
“Go ahead.”
“You’re not looking well.”
He gave her a humorless grin. “Crisis will do that to a man. I’ll be fine.”
The door slid shut behind her.
chapter two
Exactly an hour later, Ebbak returned, escorting Admiral Wedge Antilles of Corellia. The aging military officer, upright and moving as easily as a man half his age, wore the full-dress uniform of an officer of the Corellian Defense Force and a grave expression that concealed his feelings like a mask. Even through the Force, Jacen could pick up little of what Wedge was experiencing—alertness, confidence that might or might not have been forced, a patience born of self-control.
Jacen rose from behind his desk to shake Wedge’s hand. He gestured for Ebbak to leave, and she did so without speaking. Jacen resumed his chair and gestured to its comfortable, high-backed double on the opposite side of the desk, situated there just for this conference. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Wedge did, his posture perfect, and Jacen felt a tiny trickle of annoyance. Wedge had to know that Corellia was beaten at this point—he could have the decency not to pretend otherwise.
“I know you don’t like to waste time,” Jacen continued. “So do you have a position statement for me?”
Now, at last, Wedge did look confused, if only faintly. “A position statement?”
“As in, It’s clear the Corellian position is hopeless, so I’m here to talk sense.”
Wedge chuckled. “I’m here because you suggested a meeting with a top-ranking representative of the Corellian military or government. You’re here because, having achieved a military victory on Hapes—one that has been spectacularly covered in the media, and let me add my congratulations on that—you want to press your advantage and conclude a peace with Corellia to give your brilliant political career one more boost.”
Jacen felt a flash of anger and instantly clamped down on it. Wedge’s words hit close to their target. If Jacen could negotiate a peace here in the next few days, everyone would benefit—Corellia, the Galactic Alliance, and Jacen himself. “You’re not in a good position to make accusations about other people’s motives and ethics. Not after signing off on the coup attempt at Hapes.” He knew the anger in his voice was real.
Wedge was silent for a long, chilling moment. “Because I think you need to know, I’ll tell you something that constitutes a Corellian government secret. I didn’t know about the plot against Hapes. You already knew I had nothing to do with its planning.”
“How would I know that?”
“Because it failed.”
Jacen almost asked whether belligerent cockiness was part of the genetic pattern of all Corellians, but he resisted the urge. His own father was the archetypal Corellian, and if belligerent cockiness were