If she thought she'd redeemed herself in his eyes, she was wrong.
She was becoming a risk. But that was always the Sith way; always this struggle between two.
He turned the audio back on while the amendment was discussed.
HM-3 was right. Senators chewed over the sums involved and satisfied themselves that the budget wouldn't be exceeded without authorization from the Treasury. Nobody seemed to see that the finely tuned wording by HM-3 would enable Jacen to change other legislation, too.
He'd think of things that needed changing.
Once I kill Ben Skywalker, once Mara and Luke find out that it's me—and that day will have to come—then they'll hunt me down. I'll bring down the whole Jedi order on my head.
Who would be his apprentice then?
It'll finish the Jedi.
He just wanted things to become clear when the time came. He had to trust his destiny. He was too far along the path to stop now.
"Item three fifty-seven, carried. Next item, variance of regulations regarding the licensing of air taxis . . ."
And that was it.
The amendment had been passed, and when the revised statute came into effect at midnight, Colonel Jacen Solo—and Admiral Cha Niathal, because it applied equally to her—would be able to order whatever the defense forces needed, and get it fast.
And change any other administrative legislation within existing budgets, without recourse to the Senate.
They'd handed him an extraordinary power, and one that he'd use to change the way the galaxy was governed. He'd use it to take down Chief of State Omas: he wasn't sure of the details yet, but he could do it, and soon. The Galactic Alliance would fall, not with a clash of lightsaber blades, or ion cannons fired, or troops surrounding the Senate, but with a sheet of flimsi and a nod of heads.
"Well done," he said softly. "Nicely influenced."
"Not me," Lumiya said. He could hear the smile in her voice. "They reached the decision themselves, without any help from me. I just redirected a little opposition from the gallery."
The irony was too delicious sometimes. Jacen didn't know whether to be satisfied at the outcome, or angry that Senators were so stupid that they let him get away with this.
They deserved to be ruled by the Sith.
They needed to be.
chapter six
Reports are coming in of a major battle between Sikan forces and invading Chekut troops on the Sika homeworld. The Sikan administration has called for Galactic Alliance forces to intervene in what it calls "an act of opportunist aggression," and share prices have tumbled over fears that the invasion will draw more planets in the Expansion Region into the conflict.
—HNE newsflash
GALACTIC ALLIANCE WARSHIP BOUNTY.
ON STATION WITH ALLIANCE FRIGATE DARING.
BOTHAN SECTOR
It was a tidy-looking vessel, she had to admit that. The new Bothan frigate wasn't even in their database. Admiral Niathal watched it on Bounty's bridge screen, curving out of Bothawui orbit trailed by five small unarmed tenders. The profile and signature were immediately logged in the ship's recognition systems.
"Looks like the Bothans have been shopping after all," she said.
"At least the intel was right on that."
"Seems they're still doing work-ups, too," said Captain Piris. The warship was being assisted by the tenders, or maybe it was simply feigning helplessness: Niathal never took Bothans at face value. "Let's see what specs we can collate on them before we scratch the paintwork. I hope they kept their receipts . . ."
"KDY construction, do you think?"
"Tallaan," Piris said. "We'd know if Kuat was building them."
"Well, they're not going to level Coruscant with those, but they certainly will spread us thin if they've got as many as Intelligence estimates."
Admiral Niathal shared a number of military philosophies with Jacen Solo, and being seen on the front line was one of them. She also liked to see things for herself, especially if Galactic Alliance Intelligence was involved. The current overstretch gave her cause to wonder what Cal Omas was playing at—an anxiety that might have been visible to the bridge crew as she paced up and down, glancing over shoulders to check screens and readouts.
"We need every hull we can hang on to, Admiral." Bounty's commanding officer, Piris, had been on the bridge far too long. He was a Quarren, evolved for an amphibious existence, and the atmosphere on board was too dry to keep pulling double watches; his uniform was sealed tightly at the cuffs and neck, but he kept wiping his face with a moist cloth. He needed a rest in his humid cabin. "If the Bothan fleet is growing as fast now as Intelligence suggests, then I fail to see how we're going to contain it if we have to support Sika and every other local skirmish, too."
"Looks like the Kem Stor Ai dispute will be the next to boil over."
Niathal had a brief moment of wishing that she could target one world, reduce its surface to slag from orbit just to make her point, and then ask who else wanted some of the same. But it passed. It always did.
"Every backworld with a grievance is resurrecting old fights in the guise of Alliance loyalty and asking us to help out. And Omas thinks he can hold the Alliance together by placating every call for a backup fleet across the galaxy."
"When is he going to admit he can't?"
"When I give him no other option, I think."
Maybe the Bothans were ahead of the curve. Instead of commissioning more capital ships—juicy, high-value targets in battle—they'd opted for a big fleet of smaller, more agile warships that could be stockpiled without anyone panicking about the escalation in arms.
"It's a different kind of war. Flexibility and rapid response, that's the name of the game now." Piris put his hand on the ship's comm control. "Let's see what they're made of. Mothma Squadron, launch when ready. Qaresi Squadron, remain on alert five. Confine them to their own space, but attack if fired upon."
Niathal still wondered who'd assassinated the Bothans and kicked off this escalation. Could have been our assets, if we'd played the Bothans right. Some Intel moron, she decided. She'd get to the bottom of that sooner or later. If she was going to be Chief of State one day, she'd weed out the loose cannons first.
"If you can get our furry friends to give us a ship's tour, in one piece . . . ," she suggested. But intercepting and boarding the new frigate in these circumstances was next to impossible. The best break they'd get would be to retrieve debris for inspection. "I'd love to know their top speed."
Niathal quite liked Bothans, even if she didn't trust them as far as she could spit, which was a lot farther than anyone might have believed.
She didn't dislike Quarren, either, even if it was almost expected of Mon Calamari. Quarren were a rare sight on ships; she knew Mon Cal officers who made every effort to avoid being assigned Quarren crew, and few Quarren wanted to serve alongside Mon Cals even now. But when they were good, they were very, very good. Piris was outstanding. If she caught any Mon Cal referring to him as Squid Head, they'd answer to her, and she didn't care how many whispered that she was an apologist.
Did we have the right to take their kids for some social engineering experiment—-for our benefit?
She asked herself that question more often these days, and the answer always came up negative. Jacen Solo would think she was a hopeless wet liberal.
She wondered how she was going to wipe him off her boots when the time came. It wouldn't be easy.