by Claudia Gray
“The local authorities are merely puppets. They do whatever the cartel leaders want. Our job is to reveal little and promise nothing.” Leia raised an eyebrow. “Understand?”
“Perfectly.” Casterfo sniffed. “If at any point we run into anything in the galaxy you don’t already know, please alert me. I shall wish to record the event for posterity.”
Did he just say—
Before Leia could lose her cool, C-3PO chimed in. “Oh, sir, you need not trouble yourself! I am programmed to record all essential conversations, and as you know I am fluent in nearly seven million forms of communication—”
“Yes, we know.” Leia gestured to silence the droid, then forced herself back into diplomatic mode. Casterfo didn’t like her any more than she liked him: fair enough. If he just had the sense to shut up and let her handle this, they’d be fine.
The magistrates—both of them Niktos—practically fell all over themselves to welcome the New Republic envoys. “What an honor,” said Magistrate Tosta, one clawed hand to his chest. “To meet the famous Princess Leia Organa in person!”
“But of course we are just as pleased to meet Senator Casterfo,” hissed Magistrate Xun. “So new to the Senate, and yet already so well respected.”
Their flattery applied to everyone, and they even insisted upon inviting her staffers and pilots along to dinner as well. Everyone accepted, save Greer, who insisted so convincingly upon remaining with the ships that anyone would think it was her personal preference, not Leia’s cautious orders. They set out—Leia and Casterfo in the lead, with Korrie and Joph just behind—to a chorus of praise from Tosta and Xun for the New Republic, for Leia’s war record, for everyone’s clothing, and so on. Even C-3PO was plied with flattery. Such an unusually sophisticated droid. Had he truly been with her so long? Extraordinary.
Luckily, C-3PO was the only member of the team whose head could be turned by such stuff. The rest of them stayed on track as they were led deeper into the caverns of Bastatha. All business and personal life was conducted within these enormous tunnels of stone, most of them carved until they seemed to sweep up into majestic arches and vaults. The natural colors of the rock had been polished until they shone in mottled clouds of black, red, and every shade of gray. Air traveled through the tunnels in erratic gusts and gales, sometimes catching the edges of Leia’s long robes but mostly blowing overhead.
Where it steals the sound, she thought. Otherwise every word spoken here would echo. Were Bastatha’s strange air currents truly ungovernable by modern climate technology? She doubted it. No, this place was designed to keep its secrets close.
“We have prepared a table for you all at our grandest establishment,” fawned Tosta, whose gaudy, gilt-edged robe put even Casterfo’s finery to shame. “Amid the splendors of the nightlife Bastatha is coming to be known for.”
Meaning Rinnrivin Di didn’t want to hear about any of you getting a chance to speak with the senatorial delegation in private, Leia thought. “Yes, you’re positioning this world as a resort, aren’t you?”
“The market for gambling in this region has too long been monopolized by the uncivilized,” Xun interjected. “We can offer a far more sophisticated experience here.”
Indeed they could. Leia’s party was ushered through gigantic doors that sectioned the tunnel—an arbitrary, but effective, split between what was considered “outside” and “in.” Glinting metal tiles spiraled upward along the richly carved columns that appeared to hold the ceiling fifty meters overhead. Perhaps a thousand visitors lounged at the long oval tables, some of them merely eating or drinking, but most of them gaming. The dealer droids had been uniformly plated in shining copper so that they looked more like ornaments than tools as they dealt cards, spun wheels, and called out the winners and losers.
“And here we are.” Tosta held out his scaly hands to present their table, which was placed nearly in the middle of the gaming hall. “We even have Riosan mead, to honor Senator Casterfo.”
Leia accepted her glass without acknowledgment. She liked mead, but she couldn’t enjoy the sweet taste while Casterfo preened before the Niktos’ flattery. “Are we only here to eat,” she said, “or will we be able to enjoy Bastatha at its best?”
The Niktos went still, their confusion obvious. Xun began, “Senator Organa—I beg your pardon, but if the arrangements are not to your liking—”
“Your arrangements are splendid.” She smiled warmly before gesturing at the games of chance nearby. “But after our meal, will we not be allowed to play?”
Immediately both Niktos brightened. Tosta said, “But of course! What game would be the noble senator’s pleasure?”
“Sabacc, if you don’t mind.”
Their smiles sharpened, the telltale sign of those who expected to make some money in short order. Sabacc was notoriously tricky, and the odds were always in the house’s favor.
But few sabacc players had learned the game from Han Solo and Lando Calrissian.
“Honestly,” Casterfo whispered as he leaned closer to Leia. “Is this the kind of example we should be setting as representatives of the Senate?”
“These people don’t respect decorum. They respect cunning.” Leia gave him a sidelong look. “Besides, if you’re so worried about setting a good example, maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time staring at the upper gallery.” Above them, on a wide balcony, strolled scantily clad people of a dozen species and at least four genders Leia had spotted thus far.
“I wasn’t—I didn’t intend—” Casterfo’s pale skin flushed. “The guests there seem determined to catch our eyes.”
“Of course. That’s because they’re not guests. I would guess the casino refers to them as independent contractors.” Leia took pleasure in watching Casterfo’s face as he realized he’d been ogling the paid escorts—and with no intention of buying, which was rude on any planet. He sank back into his seat, obviously caught between embarrassment and ill-concealed umbrage.
The banquet itself was pleasant enough, with food that was popular on several worlds, all of it prepared well. Leia made polite chitchat about “economic development” with her Nikto hosts, paying more attention to what they didn’t say than what they did. For instance, Tosta and Xun spoke often of “investors” without ever identifying who any of those investors might be, or what their main financial interests were. They praised the New Republic in terms that might have been thought flattering for a Populist—“respect for independent worlds,” “a less controlling approach,” and so forth—but were borderline insulting to Casterfo, who clearly wasn’t sure how a good Centrist ought to respond. Of course, the Niktos weren’t actually declaring their allegiance to a party; they just didn’t want anyone interfering in their business.
Leia’s eyes took in even more information than her ears. Some of this was merely amusing—for instance, the sight of towheaded Joph Seastriker trying hard to come across as grown-up and experienced, when really he looked as young and bright as a meadow flower. Meanwhile, Korrie adeptly talked her way through the usual courtesies while working hard to recall every word. If Greer had been here, her quick mind would’ve been able to replay the conversations nearly as accurately as C-3PO. But Greer had been teaching Korrie all her best tricks, and it appeared Korrie was learning fast. Casterfo made a point of complimenting the food, the arrangements, all of it—and Leia noticed that he drew people’s eyes even without openly trying to. This wasn’t the same kind of fascination she knew she commanded, the sort that caused whispers: Princess Leia the Rebellion the senator the princess and so on. Ransolm Casterfo wasn’t that famous, at least not yet. But his good looks and youth, combined with his evident power and prosperity, gave him a luster few could deny. Most of the attention focused on him was open curiosity, though with many the interest clearly involved attraction as well.
Leia smiled as she imagined Casterfo as a shiny bauble she could dangle before the crowd…a perfect distraction.
She particularly noticed a nearby table of huma
ns. None of them were playing cards; although they held drinks, they appeared to be nursing them rather slowly. This wasn’t a group of hard-core gamblers or even people out looking for a good time. They were quiet. Watchful. Curious. Leia focused hardest on an older woman, perhaps ten to fifteen years her senior, whose long, dark, curly hair was boldly streaked with silver. Her face showed the impact of small scars she hadn’t bothered to have healed—maybe she’d been in the war. Although she said little, body language alone proclaimed that this woman was in charge. Her dark eyes scanned the room constantly, back and forth and back again, as inexorably as any security sensor.
Never once did her gaze linger on Leia or on Casterfo. They might as well have been inanimate objects. But it was this very inattention—or the appearance of it—that tipped Leia off. Anyone else would at least notice the sudden arrival of a senatorial mission in the center of the room. This woman’s impassivity was a clue that she did not want to be noticed in return.
Who was she? And why was it so important to her to remain unseen?
So, after the meal, when the dealer droid offered to start a game of sabacc for her table, Leia shook her head. “Not enough at stake for a truly exciting game. If you could direct me to one of the larger tables—”
“Senator Organa.” Casterfo leaned closer to her, appalled. “What can you be thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’d like to play some cards.”
“These are professionals. Do you realize that if you were to lose to them, they could try to hold your debts over you for favors or political bribes?”
Leia patted Casterfo’s arm. “Relax.”
He didn’t relax, even though—two hours later—his complaints had totally changed direction. Casterfo leaned over her shoulder at the gaming table, crushed in closer to her by the throngs who had come to watch. “They think you’re cheating.”
“I doubt it.” Leia tossed a card into the interference field, an opalescent octagonal column of energy in the center of the gaming board. Around her were clustered the only remaining players: a human man with dark skin and a frown, a Loneran who kept pushing his fur back from his eyes as if improving his view of his cards might also improve his hand, and a dark-blue, long-snouted Toydarian woman who hovered fitfully at the end of the table. In front of Leia was piled a good portion of her winnings to date. But she’d already pushed a lot of those winnings into the pot for this hand, and she was tempted to push forward the rest. “Why would they think I was cheating, Casterfo? You said so yourself: These are professionals. They know I’m on the up-and-up.”
“Your streak of good fortune would seem to go beyond chance,” Casterfo said primly.
“It’s not about luck. It’s about probabilities.”
Han and Lando had both taught her the likelihood of each card coming up. The trick was to play those odds and never, ever deviate in the heat of emotion. For all the excitement surrounding her—the Nikto officials pleased the senator was enjoying herself, Joph and Korrie laughing with delight—Leia kept her cool.
The randomizer flickered, changing the cards in their hands again. Her eyes widened as she recognized the final card she needed, and she hit the control. “I call.”
Immediately all the hands went on display. The Loneran’s hand, with a mere sixteen points, was barely worth considering. Both the Toydarian and the other human had nineteen points, however. Leia’s hand showed the Ace of coins and the Ace of sabers—thirty points and well over maximum—but there, glittering in the interference field, was the Star, value negative ten.
“Twenty points!” Joph started to applaud, and others followed suit. “You won again!”
The dealer pushed yet more chips over to Leia as the crowd murmured and clapped. Instead of claiming them, Leia called out, “These aren’t for me. They’re for everyone. I’d like to buy a drink for every single being in the house!” Wild cheering followed, and immediately droids began to roll out, their trays filled with tall glasses of something green that wafted wisps of smoke.
“I ought to have expected it.” Casterfo crossed his arms in front of his chest. “A cheap trick to win over the crowd.”
“Not that cheap.” Leia watched as her pile of winnings began to diminish; the drinks on Bastatha were of the highest quality and therefore the highest prices. But this was exactly what she’d won the money for.
“Very well played, ma’am,” Korrie said, her glass of green stuff already in hand. “Would you like a tally of your wins and losses? Not that there are that many losses to mark down…”
“That’s all right, Korrie. Enjoy yourself, but be careful. That’s a lot stronger than Riosan mead.” Leia turned her attention to one of the server droids, one that appeared sophisticated enough to answer questions. “Is everybody enjoying their drinks?”
“Free intoxicants are among those gifts most welcomed by sentient biological life-forms,” the droid replied.
Leia casually said, “What about them, over there? The people who just got their drinks, directly in front of us?”
The table in front of her was that of the dark-eyed woman she’d seen earlier. Although she did not acknowledge Leia’s win, this woman and her companions accepted their drinks quickly and quietly—attempting to avoid the very attention they had just earned.
“The party from Daxam Four have lodged no complaints during this visit to Bastatha, ma’am.”
Daxam IV. Leia mentally cataloged that name for later. Maybe her curiosity had only seized upon a random group of people, frequent gamblers who would naturally visit a world like this often, calmer than most. Her suspicion of them was only a hunch, but her hunches often proved to be right.
Luke said those strong instincts of hers served as proof of the Force, evidence that it was working through her all the time. Maybe he was right. But Leia believed just as much in her experience and her common sense. All of them were telling her the same thing: The woman from Daxam IV meant trouble.
Just how much trouble—only time would tell.
Leia had every intention of discussing the group from Daxam IV with Ransolm Casterfo as they all walked back to the Mirrorbright. While she didn’t like Casterfo very much, he wasn’t the type to have connections to the underworld. No doubt he had shoved his way into this mission in an attempt to raise his profile; vain as this desire might be, it meant he genuinely wanted to find something worthy of reporting to the Senate. Besides, strong as her doubts were, she knew they were based mostly on her—call it intuition. Bouncing ideas off someone else would be valuable, even if it was Casterfo.
But she never got the words out of her mouth. Casterfo never gave her the chance.
“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself,” he said as they left the casino complex to return to the windy tunnels that led back to their ship. The caverns arched high overhead, dark and foreboding. “You made a spectacle completely unbecoming to the dignity of the Senate—”
“Do you hear yourself?” Leia shot back. “How is playing cards in a casino a ‘spectacle’?”
“It is when you insist upon buying intoxicants for hundreds of people.”
“Would you rather I walked off with my new fortune? They would have hated that. Buying drinks for people makes them like us. When people like us, they’re more likely to cooperate and tell us the things we need to know. Working with people to get them to cooperate is what we call politics.”
Casterfo gave her a withering look. “Your brand of politics, perhaps. I prefer appealing to my constituents’ reason.”
Was this guy born already eighty years old? Leia managed to resist saying as much out loud. “I guess you like to keep yourself tidy. You don’t understand what it means to get your hands dirty doing what needs to be done. We learned that in the Rebellion.”
“Did you spend the entire Rebellion in the company of smugglers and lowlifes?”
He probably meant this to be a cutting remark. Instead Leia found herself thinking of the first time she’d really seen Han’s face—in a ga
rbage compactor aboard the Death Star, moments before he fired his blaster at the magnetically sealed walls and nearly killed them all. Leia couldn’t help smiling. “Almost, Senator Casterfo. In fact, I wound up married to one.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joph Seastriker and Korr Sella exchange glances. This was the display unworthy of the Senate—she and Casterfo bickering in front of her intern and military escort. But Casterfo’s priggishness chafed at her, and for all Leia’s diplomatic experience, all her years and wisdom, she’d never been good at curbing her temper.
Casterfo obviously wasn’t entirely sure what to do with her reference to Han. Would he insult her husband, a war hero and a racing legend? Or would he back down?
Neither, as it turned out. Instead, he went straight for insulting the Rebellion itself. “ ‘Getting your hands dirty.’ An interesting euphemism. I appreciate your candor, Senator Organa. Very few former rebels are willing to admit that their movement wasn’t as high-minded and noble as people now like to claim.” He ostentatiously straightened the collar of his billowing velvet robe, thin lips set in a smile that clearly said he thought he’d scored a point.
Leia felt her temples throb, as if her fury at Casterfo had driven a spike straight into her skull. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, his gait never slowing—and by this late at night, this far in the walk, Leia was all too aware that his long young legs were making this trip more easily than hers. Casterfo continued, “Don’t misunderstand me. Obviously the Rebellion was right to oppose Palpatine. Something had to be done. But if you ask me, that hardly condones the terrorist tactics of the Rebel Alliance.”
“Terrorist tactics?”
Casterfo stopped mid-pace; the two of them now stood in the heart of one of the long, dark tunnels, the wind rippling their robes and chilling Leia to the bone. He said, “Destroying the Death Stars, for a death toll of nearly one and a half million people, the vast majority of whom were low-level Imperial officers or even civilian workers? The slaughter on Noult after the rebels had left, and the planet was discovered to have housed a secret base? Or what about the rebel assault on Vivonah? Or the campaigns of Saw Gerrera’s Partisans? Can you condone that?”