IT WAS A RELIC OF THE OLD IMPERIAL ARROGANCE, TAHIRI THOUGHT, that Vitor Reige would allow the Bloodfin’s communications officer to waste so much bandwidth on an Imperial News Network report that obviously held no interest for his commander in chief. Seated at the head of the conference table in the admiral’s salon, Jagged Fel was paying more attention to the personal datapad on his lap than to the holographic riot raging above the transceiver pad, and if he was listening to the droning voice of the political operations instructor he had drafted from the Imperial military academy, there was no indication of it in his distracted manner.
“… can see, the unrest continues to spread,” said the instructor, a gray-haired commodore named Selma Djor.
As she spoke, Djor used a laser pointer to draw attention to the mob of thugs above the holopad. The image showed them charging into a line of political supporters, most of whom were carrying signs with Jag’s name above a slogan too small to be legible in the image.
“To tell the truth,” Djor continued, “I’m beginning to believe a general election isn’t appropriate for Imperial citizens. Most of our subjects simply aren’t capable of participating in the democratic process.”
As Djor spoke, Tahiri expanded her Force awareness toward Jagged. Finding his presence filled with loneliness and fear, she understood the reason for his preoccupation. The assault on the Jedi Temple was well under way, and it was not going well. It only made sense that he would be checking for an update from Jaina. That was probably why he had scheduled Djor’s briefing for this time slot—because he had known he would be distracted by his concern and did not want to have to concentrate on anything important. It was so Jag to plan ahead like that, and Tahiri couldn’t help feeling a bit envious of Jaina. Not that she wanted Jagged for herself—she just wanted to feel that kind of love again, to know there was someone out there who cared for her so much he actually planned time to worry about her.
Djor abruptly fell silent and frowned at Jagged. She looked like a headmistress who had caught one of her charges watching the latest episode of Flame Flicker on his datapad.
“Please continue, Commodore,” Jagged said, not bothering to look up. “I am listening.”
“You may be listening, Head of State Fel,” Djor replied. “But without actually seeing these images, I doubt you can comprehend the situation fully.”
Jagged’s Force aura blazed with a sudden anger, and he looked up to meet Djor’s gaze.
“Commodore Djor,” Jagged began, “your orders were to remain on Bastion to oversee the development of a proper electoral apparatus. Yet you have come all the way to Exodo Two to do … what, exactly? To persuade me that the Imperial populace is too ignorant to participate in a general election? That the Empire does such a poor job of educating its citizens that they are simply too ignorant to vote for their own leader?”
Djor drew herself to attention. “Not at all, Head of State Fel,” she said. “But the evidence suggests that the citizenry isn’t prepared to act responsibly at this time. There’s a good possibility that … well, that they might not make a wise decision.”
“And by ‘not make a wise decision,’ you mean the citizens might choose Daala?” asked Ashik. Jagged’s chief aide and head bodyguard, the blue-skinned Chiss was standing at his superior’s shoulder, directly opposite Tahiri. “Is that correct?”
Djor glanced at Ashik, then returned her gaze to Jagged. “I’m afraid that Lieutenant Pagorski’s efforts are turning public opinion against you, Head of State,” she said. No sooner had an election been announced than Lydea Pagorski—the same security officer who had given false testimony at Tahiri’s murder trial on Coruscant—had turned up as Daala’s primary campaign coordinator. “Your insistence on keeping Daala and her allies inside the blockade is being perceived as weakness. Most people assume you’re simply afraid of her fleet strength.”
“Or that she’s the better tactician?” Jagged asked.
Djor dipped her head in acknowledgment. “That, too, Head of State,” she said. “It simply makes you look … frightened.”
“Yet you believe the citizenry isn’t ready for an election,” Jagged said, looking surprisingly satisfied. He glanced over at Ashik. “It certainly sounds as though they’re paying attention.”
Ashik nodded. “Indeed it does, Head of State.”
Djor glanced in confusion from Jagged to the Chiss, then said, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I do assume that we all agree Head of State Fel is the superior choice. Otherwise, what’s the point of opposing Daala at all?”
“Exactly, Commodore,” Jagged said. “What would the point be?”
Tahiri could see by the gleam in Jagged’s eye that there was more to his plan than he had shared—even with her. Not only had he anticipated the doubts Djor had mentioned, he was counting on them.
When Jagged did not elaborate, Admiral Reige said, “I’m afraid I agree with Commodore Djor.” Seated on Jagged’s right-hand side, he was the only other person in the cabin who was not standing. “I fail to see how this kind of mob violence benefits you—or the Empire.”
Jagged gave him a confident smile. “Only because you’ve never lived in a democracy, Admiral.” He took his datapad out of his lap and placed it on the table, then finally glanced at the holographic riot. “In a real democracy, it’s not the result that is important. It’s the process.”
Reige’s eyes betrayed his doubt, and he and Djor exchanged worried glances.
Jag smiled patiently. “People will only truly follow a leader if they choose that leader themselves.”
Djor rolled her eyes, and Reige looked even more worried.
“If I may,” Tahiri said, addressing Jagged, “perhaps I should explain the real reason you agreed to this election.”
Jag’s smile changed to a smirk, and he actually looked impressed. “Be my guest.” He glanced at a pair of puzzled-looking Imperials, then said, “I’m looking forward to hearing this as much as you are.”
Tahiri started to feel less confident of her conclusion, but said, “Clearly, you’re laying a trap.”
“And?” Jag steepled his fingers and looked at her expectantly. “I hope you can do better than that, Tahiri. I’d hate to think Jaina’s confidence in you is misplaced.”
Tahiri frowned. “Jaina’s confidence?” She glanced down at the datapad. “I thought she was still inside the Jedi Temple.”
“She is,” Jagged said. “And no, I haven’t heard if the shields are down yet. This is something she suggested after their last attempt failed.”
“You commed to ask her for advice?” Tahiri asked. “In the middle of a battle?”
“Not quite,” Jagged said. “She commed me. They were trying to regroup, and she had a few minutes. So she asked HQ to set her up with an S-thread feed.”
There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes, and Tahiri knew there had been more to the conversation than Jag would share in front of his subordinates. Probably, Jaina had asked to speak with him because she feared it might be her last chance to say good-bye. Tahiri held Jag’s gaze a bit longer than was needed, letting him know she understood how difficult it must be for him to be here—instead of helping Jaina on Coruscant—then flashed him a supportive smile.
“And when you and Jaina ran out of other things to talk about, the conversation naturally turned to Daala,” Tahiri said. “Jaina suggested a way to deal with her.”
“Something like that,” Jagged said. He turned to Reige and Djor. “Jedi Solo has a wonderfully devious mind, when the occasion demands.”
“Behind every great leader stands a great adviser,” Djor said tightly. “However, you might want to keep her role confidential until after she becomes an Imperial citizen, don’t you think?”
“Jaina?” Tahiri gasped, unable to contain her shock at the idea. “An Imperial citizen?”
“Of course,” Reige said, scowling at her. “If she’s going to marry the Head of State, she’ll become a citizen of the Empire.”
Trying not to laugh, Tahiri looked to Jagged. “I’ll bet that conversation went well,” she said. “I’d give anything to see Han’s face when someone tells him that his only daughter will have to join the Empire to marry you.”
“We haven’t actually discussed that yet.” Jagged paled at the thought, then gathered himself with a shudder. “And stop trying to change the subject. Do you know what I need you to do, or don’t you?”
Tahiri thought for a moment, trying to imagine how Jaina would handle a problem such as Daala. “She arranged for the Jedi to loan you a StealthX, didn’t she?”
Jagged nodded. “She did.”
“And shadow bombs?” Tahiri asked.
“An entire rack,” Ashik replied.
“I see,” Tahiri said. She took a deep breath, trying to decide how she felt about what Jagged was asking her to do, then finally shook her head. “I’m sorry, Head of State Fel. Attacking the Chimaera during the battle would have been one thing. But now that you and Daala have agreed to a truce, I’d be committing the same crime I’m accused of in Admiral—”
“It’s not Daala,” Jagged interrupted. “It’s nothing that easy.”
Tahiri frowned. “Then I don’t understand,” she said. “If you’re not sending me after Daala, then who are you trying to trap?”
Jagged pointed to the holographic riot still raging above the transceiver pad. “The one who’s behind that,” he said. “I’m sending you after Abeloth.”
“Abeloth?” Reige gasped. He leaned closer to the holo, as though he actually expected to see her in the riot, then finally nodded. “Of course. She is on Daala’s side.”
“I wouldn’t assume that,” Jagged said. “But she’s certainly not on ours.”
“That does seem doubtful, from what you have told me of her.” Reige turned to Tahiri. “And you can find this Abeloth?”
Tahiri remained quiet, mentally sorting through all the Imperial Intelligence reports she had been reading lately, then realized she had a decent idea of where to start looking.
“Didn’t I see something about a certain Mandalorian who was seen on Hagamoor Three?” she asked.
Reige frowned at Jagged. “That communiqué was Utmost Secret,” he said. “Am I to assume that you are now in the habit of granting un-vetted security clearances to prisoners?”
Jagged shrugged. “Tahiri was a Jedi, Admiral. Who’s to say how she knows what she knows?”
Reige’s eyes smoldered, and he turned back to Tahiri. “I don’t suppose you’d care to enlighten us?”
“The thing is, Boba Fett is the one who broke Daala out of the Galactic Alliance’s detention center,” Tahiri said, dodging Reige’s question. “So if Abeloth is working with Daala …”
Irritated though he was, Reige was quick to see the connection. “Then Abeloth might be on Hagamoor Three with Fett,” he said. “Though I should mention that the Mandalorian’s identity wasn’t established. We don’t know for certain that it was Fett.”
“But Hagamoor Three is part of the Getelles holdings, correct?” Jagged asked. “It’s a moon orbiting Antemeridias?”
Reige nodded. “It is.”
“And that would be the same moon where the nanovirus scientists have gone into hiding?” Jagged asked. “The ones who developed the strain that targeted the Hapan Chume’da?”
Tahiri had not seen that detail in the reports.
“That’s what Eye-eye reports,” Reige said, using the common acronym for Imperial Intelligence. “And everything certainly points in that direction. But the reports haven’t been confirmed.”
“Of course not,” Jagged said. “Otherwise, those scientists would all be under arrest.” He turned to Tahiri. “These would be the same scientists who developed the nanovirus strain that Admiral Atoko released into Mandalore’s atmosphere.”
“Then I think we know the identity of the Mandalorian on Hagamoor Three,” Tahiri said. “And if that’s where Boba Fett is, it’s as good a place as any to start looking. If I can pick up his trail, maybe I’ll be able to trace it—or him—back to Abeloth’s hiding place.”
“Then you’ll be going to Hagamoor Three?” Reige asked. “To find Boba Fett—so you can use him to find Abeloth?”
His expression was equal parts disbelief and respect.
Tahiri nodded. “So it seems,” she said. “If you’ll return my lightsaber.”
“Of course, Prisoner Veila,” Reige said. For the first time since Tahiri had met him, he gave her a broad smile. “Quite honestly, I can say that returning your lightsaber will be my great pleasure.”
“Uh, thanks … I think,” Tahiri said. She turned to Jagged. “And assuming I find her?”
“I don’t care about Fett one way or another, but do whatever it takes to stop Abeloth,” Jagged said. “I’ll assign you a frigate—with my full authorization to use it however you must.”
Tahiri cocked her brow. “As in vape her?”
“Back to her atoms,” Jag said. “All I ask is that you do what you can to limit collateral loss of life.”
“Of course,” Tahiri replied. “And thank you for trusting me with something like that.”
“We all want Abeloth destroyed, prisoner Veila. And if you succeed, you’ll have a pardon for any and all crimes against the Empire.” Jagged turned to look at Reige. “Is that acceptable, Admiral Reige?”
Reige’s brow rose in surprise. “I’m grateful that you would ask, Head of State.” He fell silent and regarded Tahiri for a moment, then finally said, “Fett and Abeloth? If she survives that, I’d sign the pardon myself.”
Jagged smiled. “Thank you, Admiral,” he said. “And if you should happen to become the next Head of State, I’ll expect you to honor your word.”
Reige’s smirk turned worried. “Sir?”
“My trap,” Jagged said. “Prisoner Veila hasn’t explained your part in it yet.”
Reige looked back to Tahiri, who quickly looked back to Jagged.
“You want me to explain this?” she asked. “You’re sure?”
“Who better?” Jagged turned to Djor. “Unless you would care to enlighten the admiral, Commodore?”
Djor frowned, then said, “I’d be happy to, Head of State—if I had the slightest idea what you’re thinking.”
Jagged shook his head in mock disappointment. “This is going to be harder than I thought. Imperials clearly have no idea how democracy works.” He flicked a hand toward Tahiri. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do it, prisoner Veila.”
“Very well, Head of State.” Tahiri faced Reige and returned the cruel smile he had given her earlier. “Admiral Reige, you’re going to be what’s known as a spoiler.”
Reige frowned. “A spoiler?” He looked to Jagged. “What am I to spoil?”
“Daala’s chances of winning the election, of course,” Jagged explained. “You’re about to become the third candidate in the race to become the Imperial Head of State.”
Djor’s eyes lit with comprehension. “Of course—an admiral against an admiral,” she said. “You intend to split the military vote!”
“Very good,” Jagged said. “We might make a political adviser of you yet.”
Reige scowled, looking none too happy about the prospect of running against his superior officer. “I’m sorry, Head of State. Are you ordering me to enter the election against you?”
Jagged turned and leaned away from the admiral. “Do I need to?”
“Uh, no?” Reige replied, looking more confused than ever. “I’m happy to serve the Empire in any way I can, sir.”
“Good.” Jagged smiled and stood, then clapped a hand on Reige’s shoulder. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, Admiral.”