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“You’re not the only one who can make the truth sound impressive.”

“Get the news from Nal Hutta,” Randa urged.

Gamely, they stayed on-line while bureaucratic underlings shuffled them back and forth. Then a long-faced, elegant woman appeared, her black hair pulled back severely to show exquisite ears.

“Jedi Solo,” she said smoothly. “And—what a pleasant surprise, two Jedi Solos. How may I assist you?”

Jacen bent toward Jaina’s ear, but she’d already identified the voice. “Senator Shesh,” Jaina said, “we need to contact Mother. I’ve been furloughed out, injured. The last we heard anything specific, she was on Coruscant. Can your office trace her?”

“I’m sure we can,” the senator said. “It is splendid to see you together, and looking so well.” There was something false in her tone, though. Jacen leaned toward the image—

Randa pushed forward, into his way. “Senator,” he gushed, “please! You must send additional troops to—”

“I’m sorry.” Senator Shesh tilted her head. “We mustn’t hold this line open for nonessential communications. I’ll have my staff return your call.”

“Wait!” Jacen stretched forward, over Jaina’s shoulder. “This connection took us an hour to—”

The senator’s image dissolved into a network of fine diagonal lines.

Jaina gargled a cry of frustration. “Randa! I’m the one who got the call through. I’m the one who deserved to talk to her. You ruined it!”

Randa undulated backwards, away from the console. Tempted to insist that SELCORE would surely call back, Jacen pressed his lips shut. The callback might take days, or weeks, or it might not come.

“Speaking of worms,” he said, and he couldn’t resist glancing at Randa as the Hutt left the shed. “Senator Shesh rubs me wrong.”

Jaina frowned. “But she’s been named to the Advisory Council. She’s practically the head of SELCORE.”

“I know,” Jacen said, “and SELCORE isn’t exactly keeping its commitments. Think about the way she was standing, too. And that falseness in her tone of voice … The way she held herself, and that strange little smile. They reminded me of the holovids I’ve seen of another senator.”

Jaina twisted the mask in her lap. “I hate guessing games.”

“Palpatine, pre-Empire,” he explained. “When he was on his way up, and he didn’t care who or what he destroyed to get there.”

Jaina frowned. “And she’s the one,” she said, “who delivers what we need to survive.”

“She’s also the one,” Jacen said, “who put us here. Who decided Duro was safe.”

“I don’t like where you’re taking this, Jacen.”

“Neither do I,” he said softly. “Not at all.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tsavong Lah stroked the villip in his privacy chamber. His agents had recently delivered a newly budded subordinate villip to their contact on Coruscant. This first time, his contact might need a few moments to realize she was being called. On future occasions, his agents would deliver appropriate discipline if she delayed.

She must have been eager. In only one minute, the villip softened and everted on its stand. Bumps formed on its pale surface. An aristocratic nose emerged first, then a dominating chin, high forehead, strong cheekbones, a firm stern mouth. He’d studied the human species enough to recognize the flare of her nostrils and the widening of her eyes as signs of distaste. For the villip itself, maybe—in her diplomatic work, she would have dealt with many species and their methods. She controlled her reaction quickly.

“Senator Shesh,” he said, forming words in her language as prompted by the tizowyrm he’d slipped into his ear. He enjoyed seeing her eyes and nostrils twitch again, as her villip spoke his words. “I will receive your report.”

The villip rotated slightly forward. She must have inclined her head, a sign of respect. “Warmaster Lah, thank you for responding to my offer to open negotiations.”

“I will receive your report,” he repeated. She was young in his ways. He must make some allowances.

Her eyes widened slightly. “We are withdrawing from Kubindi,” she said, “and from Rodia. We wish to live at peace with your people.”

Peace, as the tizowyrm translated