SOLO SAFE HOUSE, CORUSCANT
“GRANDPA, ARE YOU SURE WE CAN’T INVITE THE SQUIBS TO LIVE HERE?”
Leia grinned at Han, who was tucking their granddaughter into bed. “The Squibs would hate it here,” Han said confidently.
“Why? It’s small, but it’s nice.”
“Trust me, they would.”
“I miss Threepio and Artoo,” the little girl grumbled. Anji jumped onto the bed and Leia observed that the animal was growing almost as large as Allana, and that perhaps it was time to suggest that Anji start sleeping on the floor. She debated the bed’s ability to fit them both when Anji reached adulthood.
“We do, too,” Leia reassured her. “But we can’t ask Zekk and Taryn to spend all their time watching the Squibs. They’ve got to get some sleep sometime.”
Allana made a face and cuddled her eopie. “I know. But … does someone even have to be watching them? I mean, it’s clear they want to stay and get their deal.”
“Honey … with Squibs, you just never know,” Han said. “Now get some sleep, kiddo.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Leia did likewise, patting Anji, as well.
They closed the door and looked at each other. Han opened his mouth. Leia raised a finger to her lips, nodded at the door, and they went into the kitchen. Han poked about for something to eat while Leia prepared some tea.
“That meeting was supposed to be just a formality,” Han said.
“I know,” said Leia. “I’m worried, too. I don’t know what can be taking this long. Treen was quite sincere that she didn’t want the job, but there was … I don’t like or trust her.”
“From what you told me,” said Han, getting some snack items ready, “she, you, Saba, and Luke all agreed that Dorvan was the right guy for the job.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Leia said, spooning some sweet syrup into her tea. She turned around and noted that Han had prepared a plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers. “I thought you didn’t like those things.”
“I thought I didn’t, either,” Han said. “I hate to be beholden to the Squibs for anything, but those crackers are pretty good.”
Without either one needing to say a word, they both headed for their small office. Han perched on the desk while Leia sat in the chair. Both of them pointedly avoided staring at the comm unit. Steam wafted up from their cups.
Han popped a cracker in his mouth and crunched on it for a moment. “So Dorvan’s election should have taken all of about five minutes.”
“Should have,” Leia agreed.
“And they met today at two, and they’re still in the meeting seven hours later,” Han said.
“Sure are,” Leia said.
“I’ll say it,” Han growled. “Something’s wrong.”
Leia nodded wordlessly and picked up her tea, trying to let the hot beverage calm her. But of course, Han was right. With every hour that passed, her anxiety had grown. This should have been the easiest vote the Senate had ever had. Dorvan knew his job, had no real long-term ambitions, and seemingly had no enemies.
Seemingly.
“I wonder if we were just a little too smug,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Han asked. He frowned a little as he ate another cracker. “The Squibs were right. These are better when you dunk them in a malted.”
“We know Dorvan is the best one for the job,” she said. “We know he’s sincere, honest, and wants to do what is best for the GA. Moreover, he doesn’t have his own agenda.”
“Exactly,” Han said. “Even Treen seems to know that.”
“She didn’t want the job,” Leia said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean someone else didn’t.”
Han stared at her. “You think she set this whole thing up to get someone else elected Chief of State?”
Leia lifted solemn brown eyes. “I can’t think of any other reason for the Senate to still be in session.”
Han swore and thumped his mug down so hard some tea splashed onto the desk. Leia reached for his hand and covered it with her own.
“We shouldn’t give up all hope,” she said. “At least whoever it is, is getting some opposition. Otherwise, if it were a done deal, the session would have wrapped up quickly. There are some good, decent beings in the Senate, Han.”
“Some,” Han admitted. “Too few for my liking. Let’s hope they’re strong enough to not let themselves be bribed, bullied, or outvoted.”
The call came at two in the morning.
Leia awoke, instantly alert after years of dealing with late-night emergencies. “Leia,” she said into her comm. She heard the bedsheets rustle, knew Han was awake and listening.
“Leia, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour,” came the voice of Sullustan senator Luewet Wuul. “But—I thought you should know.”
“Wynn Dorvan was not elected as interim Chief of State,” said Leia. It was a statement, not a question.
“Is there anything you Jedi don’t know?” Wuul said, attempting to sound bluff and hearty.
“Plenty of things, Luew,” Leia said. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure I even know,” Wuul said. He sounded tired, angry, and frustrated. “It had been my opinion that Dorvan was the logical candidate. In fact, he was the only candidate. But when his name was put forward, really almost as a formality, that new Senator from B’nish, Kameron Suldar, started speaking. He said that Dorvan was too closely affiliated in the public mind with Daala’s administration to perform effectively, and that the GA needed a fresh new face to represent it. Someone who could never possibly be accused of consorting with Daala.”
“That’s nonsense! Wynn was just doing the best he could as Daala’s chief of staff! In fact, he did a lot to mitigate some of her more egregious policies! Besides, he’d only be governing for two months. The stability of the galaxy should come before putting in a fresh new face.”
Behind her, Han groaned slightly.
“Further, Suldar said the GA needed someone who did not side so openly with the Jedi, and he indicated that he thought Luke’s decision was a good one. There is more anti-Jedi sentiment in the Senate than I thought, Leia, I’m extremely sorry to say. It was honestly a bit alarming.”
Leia thought about the now-famous image of Wynn Dorvan racing up the Temple steps, and her heart sank further. “They can’t have it both ways,” she said, her voice harsh in her worry. “He can’t be both too pro-Daala and too pro-Jedi.”
“You know that, and I know that,” Wuul continued wearily, “but apparently many of the other Senators thought this was a perfectly valid argument. So there we sat for the next twelve hours, debating whether to put an experienced, trustworthy diplomat or a former terrorist in charge of the Galactic Alliance. And in the end, the terrorist won. Leia, I must tell you, I don’t know what things are coming to. Makes me want to take my burtalle and retire to Sullust.”
A sudden chill seized Leia. Behind her, Han, frustrated with only hearing one end of the conversation, kept whispering, “What? What?” She waved him to silence and took a deep breath, calming herself in the Force.
“Terrorist? Who would that be?”
She knew before he even said the name.
“It’s that new representative from Klatooine—Padnel Ovin.”
“Sir,” came Desha Lor’s soft, tentative voice, “the, uh, acting Chief of State is here to see you.”
Wynn Dorvan looked up. Since he had received the call at two, he had not slept. He’d come in early to facilitate the transition. His office was completely packed up, and he was already halfway through organizing the red tape that would be necessary for Padnel Ovin to formally take over Dorvan’s role.
“Chief of State,” he said graciously, his voice betraying only a little of his weariness. “Good morning. Desha, some fresh caf for the Chief, please. And for me, as well.”
“Certainly,” said Desha, withdrawing to discreetly leave the two of them alone.
Padnel stood looking so
rely out of place in this room of precision and simple, clean lines. He wore a tunic of simple colors, typical fashion for the Senatorial crowd, and the garment was well tailored to his body, but it did not fit him. Dorvan felt a twinge of pity for the being. Ovin had no idea what he was getting into.
“I’m almost done,” Dorvan said. “I confess, I didn’t expect you quite so soon. I’ll be completely moved out within the hour.” He went to the side table to pour his guest a cup of caf.
“You misunderstand me, Wynn,” said Padnel in a gruff, husky voice. “I’m not prepared to move in just yet. I—wanted to speak with you. Privately.”
“Oh?” Dorvan handed him a cup and poured the last of the carafe for himself. “Please, have a seat. What did you wish to talk to me about? We have a formal debriefing scheduled for this afternoon.”
Despite his words, Ovin didn’t speak immediately, nor did he take the offered seat. He stood, looking uncomfortable, and stared at the caf for a long moment.
“I am the last being in the galaxy to call myself a diplomat,” he began. “I’m a warrior. I know tactics, and I know violence. I’ve been called a terrorist. I came here to represent my people, because they wanted me to represent them, and I would do anything for them. After twenty-five thousand years of slavery, they are free. Part of that is my doing.” He now looked at Dorvan. “Part of that was thanks to Jedi Solo and Tenel Ka. I wanted you to know that my nomination yesterday was as much a shock to me as it was to you.”
Dorvan frowned slightly, confused. “With all due respect, sir, if you didn’t want to be Chief of State, why did you accept the nomination?”
“Because I saw what was going on,” Ovin said, “and I did not like it.”
“And what was going on?” Dorvan sat, not behind his desk, but in one of the two other chairs in the room. Now, at last, Ovin sat down, holding the caf but not drinking it.
“Selfishness,” Ovin said, surprising Dorvan. “Untruths. I like things plain and simple, as I understand you do, too. You should have been the one to have been chosen, but had I declined, they simply would have tossed another name on the table. And I knew that if that happened, it wouldn’t be good. There’s all kinds of accusations flying around. You are too pro-Daala. You are too pro-Jedi.”
“Both? That would be quite a neat trick to manage,” Dorvan replied.
“Indeed.”
“Why do you think you were nominated at all? Forgive me, but by your own words, you’re not a diplomat.”
“And that is why,” Ovin said. “A Jedi helped broker an agreement that saved my world … but a Jedi also was among those who ruled in the Hutts’ favor. I despise Daala, and my brother martyred himself to protest her policies. No one believes I have personal ambitions, and they are quite right.”
“I’m not following you.”
Ovin leaned forward and smiled, flews drawing back from sharp teeth. His voice dropped. “They picked me to lead them,” he said in a voice that sent a chill down Dorvan’s spine, “because they think I am harmless.”
And Dorvan understood. “They wanted a puppet,” he said.
“Exactly,” Ovin said. “They are right to think that this sort of power will not corrupt me. It holds no temptations for me. But they are wrong to think that I will mindlessly obey. I have done as well as I have because I surround myself with wise beings to advise me, and to manage what I am smart enough to know is not my strength. I do care about this organization. I want to govern it well until such time as the beings of the Galactic Alliance finally have a chance to put whomever they like into office. While I will have to ask you to move out of this office, I’d be grateful if you moved only a few meters away. I’ll need a chief of staff, Wynn. And I can’t think of anyone better suited for the position than you.”
Dorvan blinked. Desha came in with a fresh pot of caf and some pastries.
“Desha,” he said, “I’m afraid you won’t be getting a new boss after all.”
GALACTIC SENATE MEDCENTER
“They’re starting to suspect.”
“I know. They’re not stupid.”
“If they figure it out, this could ruin everything.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. We need to move faster.”
“We’re moving as fast as we can.”
Wynn Dorvan leaned back in the visitor’s chair and sighed.
Bwua’tu was having an increasingly difficult time fooling the doctors. They were, as Bwua’tu had just said, starting to suspect. And as Dorvan had replied, the doctors weren’t stupid. Thus far, Bwua’tu’s performance had been sufficiently convincing for them to remain puzzled as to how it could be that, when all medical indications pointed to his complete recovery, the admiral still seemed to be mentally damaged. Dorvan recalled Eramuth intoning how the mysteries of the mind were impregnable, and perhaps the Force that the Jedi were so attuned to had more control over such things than science.
It had not made the doctors happy, but it had kept them satisfied for a time. But everyone knew that at some point, and that likely soon, the deception would be discovered.
It was just the two of them today: Rynog Asokaji’s presence had been requested by Parova, and Eramuth had been called in to testify, again, about any information he had regarding Tahiri Veila. Both of them, while conversing with each other, were watching the new network that had sprung up seemingly overnight: BAMR. An exceptionally attractive—even for an anchorbeing—human female was reporting on the latest changes from the Senate.
“It seems,” drawled Bwua’tu, “that the Senate’s inability to take decisive action while under the leadership of the triumvirate has suddenly evaporated.” His husky voice was heavy with sarcasm and disapproval.
Dorvan nodded. “Indeed. It was rather blatant, actually. Treen and the Senate waved their hands helplessly, letting the Jedi representative and myself take most responsibility. If anything went wrong, they’d be seen as blameless.”
“And now, the tree is bearing fruit,” Nek said glumly.
The Senate had sprung into action so fast it could make one’s head spin. First was the shocking election of Padnel Ovin, a fledgling Senator, to the position of leader of the Galactic Alliance. Hard on the heels of that had come a burst of anti-Jedi sentiment, with nearly everyone being interviewed expressing dislike of the Jedi and pleasure that they were no longer “meddling.”
“A new Senate subcommittee has been formed to investigate possible abuses of power by the Jedi during their time on Coruscant,” the anchor was saying. Dorvan and Bwua’tu exchanged surprised glances. “There are only two known Jedi remaining on the planet—Jedi Leia Organa Solo and the escaped felon, Tahiri Veila. Jedi Solo has been contacted and has agreed to testify before the Senate subcommittee.”
There was a shot of both women: an unflattering one of Leia, which made her look irritable and haggard, and one of Tahiri turning to snap angrily at a reporter.
“So that’s why Uncle Eramuth was called back,” Nek said quietly. “They want to find all the Jedi.”
“I really don’t think I want to know why,” Dorvan said.
“I confess, I had not thought I would ever see another Order 66 enacted,” Nek said, his voice close to despairing. “Well, we knew there was a conspiracy afoot.”
Dorvan frowned, listening with only half an ear as the BAMR news anchor went on and on about the Subcommittee to Investigate Jedi Activity and its members, some kind of update on the increase in spice smuggling and new security measures to stop it, and a shot of an uncomfortable-looking Padnel Ovin standing in front of the Senate receiving a standing ovation.
“We do know that,” Dorvan said slowly, “but things aren’t adding up.”
“What do you mean?” asked Nek. “I was attacked by beings pretending to be Jedi, and suddenly we have a subcommittee formed with what seems to be the express purpose of crushing them utterly. That seems to add up rather well to me.”
Dorvan shook his head. “It’s a different
cast of players,” he said. “Think about it. Did you recognize any names on that list of the subcommittee members?”
“Other than Suldar? No,” Bwua’tu said.
“They’re all fledging Senators, even Suldar,” Dorvan said. “And as I told you, the only reason I’m still around is that Ovin wanted me to stay—a lucky break for us, and we need to make the most of it. Someone thinks they’re pulling the strings on him.”
“Are they?”
Dorvan thought about it. “No, I don’t believe so,” he said at last. “At least, not as much as they think they are. Nor is Ovin trying to play me. I believe he is what he seems to be. Jedi Solo seemed to, and she had much more contact with him than I had.”
“So, new players.”
“Different players,” Dorvan corrected.
“Clearly there is a distinction I am missing,” Bwua’tu said. “Perhaps I am not as ‘back’ as we thought.”
“Oh, you are, sir. New implies ‘replaced.’ Different in this case means ‘additional.’ And I wonder if they’re on the same team.”
“Do you think we have two separate conspiracies going on?” Nek asked incredulously. “Perhaps you, too, ought to be talking to the doctors. That’s a trifle paranoid.”
“Is it?” Dorvan asked. “Think about the poisoning attempt that occurred a while ago at the Senate. It first looked like Jedi Seha Dorvald was behind it, but that idea quickly was proven wrong. There was a flurry of concern over it when it happened, but it got completely swept away once the coup occurred.”
“I remember Asokaji telling me about that,” said Bwua’tu. “It’s still an open case. The incident discredited Galactic Alliance Security. Parova was tapped to provide security instead. GAS was really smarting about …”
Their eyes met.
Bwua’tu reached for his comm, using his prosthetic hand. He did everything with that hand now, attempting to become as adept with it as with his former, flesh-and-blood hand. So far, he was making good progess.
He clicked in a code. “This lets Asokaji know it’s me,” he told Dorvan, who nodded. A moment later Bwua’tu’s comm beeped.
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Ascension Page 27