• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Of a sort. You will recall, my lord, that following your announcement that the war had been won, Fang Zar and several other signatories of the Petition of the Two Thousand were briefly detained for questioning by Internal Security Bureau officers.”

“Come to the point,” Sidious snapped.

“Fang Zar was instructed not to leave Coruscant, and yet he did, managing to reach Alderaan, where he has been in residence at the Aldera Palace ever since. Now, however, the conflict that engulfed his home system has come to an end, and Fang Zar is apparently determined to return to Sern Prime without attracting the notice of the ISB or anyone else.”

Sidious considered it. “Continue.”

Mas Amedda spread his huge blue hands. “Our only concern is that his sudden return to Sern Prime might prompt dissension in certain outlying systems.”

Sidious smiled tolerantly. “Some dissension should be encouraged. Better they rant and rave in the open than plot behind my back. But tell me, does Senator Organa know that Zar was questioned before he fled Coruscant?”

“Perhaps he does now, though it is unlikely he knew when he granted refugee status to Fang Zar.”

Sidious grew interested once more. “How is Zar planning to reach Sern Prime without, as you say, attracting attention?”

“We know that he made contact wtih a crime lord on Murkhana—”

“Murkhana?”

“Yes, my lord. Perhaps he wishes to avoid involving Senator Organa in his predicament.”

Sidious fell silent for a long moment, attuned to the currents of the Force. Currents linking Vader and Murkhana, and now Zar and Murkhana. And perhaps fugitive Jedi and Murkhana …

Into his thoughts came the words of Darth Plagueis.

Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you …

“Perhaps it would be more prudent for Fang Zar to remain on Alderaan awhile longer,” he said finally.

Mas Amedda bowed his head. “Shall I inform Senator Organa of your wish?”

“No. Lord Vader should deal with the situation.”

“To deflect his hunger for the Jedi,” the Chagrian risked saying.

Sidious shot him a look. “To sharpen it.”

Perhaps it was because Alderaan presented such a pleasant picture from deep space that it had enjoyed such a long history of peace, prosperity, and tolerance.

Even deeper into its intoxicating atmosphere, closer to its montage of alabaster clouds, blue seas, and green plains, the picture held. Coruscant’s neighbor in the Core was a gem of a world.

The pacific impression didn’t begin to diminish until one reached street level on the island-city of Aldera, and only then as a result of the day’s activities, which demonstrated that for tolerance to endure, voice had to be granted to all, even when free expression challenged the perpetuation of peace.

Bail Organa understood this, as had his predecessors in the Galactic Senate. But Bail’s compassion for those who had taken to Aldera’s narrow streets was not a case of noblesse oblige, for he shared the concerns of the demonstrators and had deep sympathy for their cause. As many said of Bail, were it not for genetics, he might have been a Jedi. And indeed for most of his adult life he had been a valued friend of the order.

He stood in plain sight of the crowds, on a balcony of the Royal Palace, in the heart of Aldera, which itself lay in the embrace of green mountains, their gentle summits sparkling with freshly fallen snow. Below him marched hundreds of thousands of demonstrators—refugees representing scores of species displaced by the war, bundled up in colorful clothing against the mountains’ frigid downdrafts. Many of the refugees had been on Alderaan since the earliest days of the Separatist movement, living in housing Alderaan had provided; many more were recently arrived onplanet, to show their support. Now that the war had ended, almost