Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [70]
“Our supporters grow impatient.” Mousul let the sun bake his chest, its rays carefully filtered through the inconspicuous polarized shield that hovered above the boat. “Tam Uliss in particular worries me. He would not be as easy to deal with as was the unfortunate Nemrileo.”
“Impatience is a potentially fatal disease.” Rolling to her left, Shu Mai picked up the spiral tumbler of refreshment and sipped contentedly at its contents. “According to everything you tell me, events on Ansion are unfolding at a predictable and reasonable speed. The others must learn to contain their impulsiveness.”
“It isn’t easy, you know, to restrain people caught up in the grip of a new idea.”
Raising her tumbler, Shu Mai gazed through the liquid-filled transparency. It colored the sunlight gold. “That’s your job, my friend. I handle the Guild, you keep the local political and business interests in check. We’ll move only when the time is right.”
Mousul bridled inwardly at what sounded like a directive. Outwardly, he smiled and nodded. For now, Shu Mai was in control. Let her dream her dreams of personal grandiosity. When Ansion seceded and Mousul was appointed sector governor, their positions would be reversed. Then it was Shu Mai and her guild that would come calling in search of favors. He met his smaller colleague’s gaze evenly.
“These Jedi complicate matters. Whatever Uliss and the others think, no legitimate vote can go forward until they have been dealt with. I have been in regular contact with our agent there, and I’ve been assured as recently as yesterday that the visitors will be neutralized.”
“They’d better be.” With a soft grunt, Shu Mai leaned back in her chair. “If only the Jedi Knights could be brought around to our way of thinking. It would simplify everything greatly.”
“Won’t happen.” Mousul stirred his drink with a finger, activating a few more of the time-release narcotics swirling within. “The Jedi can’t be bent.”
The president of the Commerce Guild shrugged. “It may be that some are not so staunch as you believe.”
Mousul blinked at his co-conspirator. “What do you mean?”
“Time will reveal all. Meanwhile, events on Ansion will unfold at their own speed. While they do, you and I must wait, and persuade the others to do likewise.” She took a long swallow of her own, non-narcotic-infused drink.
Mousul grunted and went silent. Businessfolk like that brusque Tam Uliss simply did not understand. While it was true that life was transitory and the window of opportunity to do great things fleeting, they could not be rushed. To move too soon would be to risk everything. If Uliss and the rest would only be patient, the future would be handed to them.
Beneath the two, who rested and plotted and warmed themselves in Coruscant’s beneficent sun, thousands of lesser beings toiled in the great interlocked buildings two hundred stories high whose roof was the lake known as Savvam.
If not for the small matter of their mission, the travelers would have chosen to spend another day and night at the tranquil, bucolic campsite. Sadly, as always, time insisted and duty called.
Following the route proposed by the Yiwa brought them to a line of high hills that stretched unbroken across the northern horizon. Kyakhta and Bulgan did not know their names, but a few of the prominences were almost high enough to be called mountains. Gentle of slope, with only a few isolated cliff faces but many water-worn undercuts and overhangs, they presented no barrier to the wonderfully long-legged suubatars. Still, to save time and preserve the strength of their mounts, the travelers chose to continue forward through one of several meandering gaps that cut through the range. None of these was particularly steep-sided, being more gully than gorge. Erosion, Luminara reflected, had long since worn down these old mountains.
Riding alongside Kyakhta, she noticed that the guide’s attention was unusually fixed. “You see something that troubles you, Kyakhta?”