CHAPTER FOUR

Mara swore under her breath.

This was taking far too long. She paced around Ghent working feverishly at the wall-spanning computer terminal of the Abregado-rae Spaceport Traffic Records Office. A few meters away Faughn covered the door, tensed and ready for action should the plan go awry. Dorsett, by contrast, leaned casually against the heavy steel doorframe.

"How much longer?" Mara demanded.

"I'll need another five minutes, at least," Ghent replied, not lifting his eyes from the glowing display. "You can't ask me to transfer all the spaceport data on Outer Rim freighter traffic and expect to walk out in thirty seconds." He gestured briefly to the datalink steadily transferring flight plans to Karrde's remote terminal.

"Yeah, and this whole thing will be a waste of time if we don't get all the data we need." Dorsett added.

"Provided any of it even proves useful at all," Faughn commented.

"Mara, you've got company," Karrde's voice cut in. "I'm picking up a large group of armed men approaching the main entrance."

Mara leaned over Ghent. "Bring up the security vid," she snapped.

Ghent complied, and the four watched as the fuzzy image resolved into a squad of more than a dozen spaceport police shuffling into the main lobby of the building.

"Damn!" Mara spat.

"They must've been tipped," Faughn said. "If we'd set off any alarms, Karrde would know."

"But who..." Dorsett began.

"No time for speculation," Karrde interjected. "The guards are splitting up, probably searching for you. Get out now."

"There are still four minutes left to complete the data transfer," Ghent commented. "If we abort now, we've got nothing."

Mara chewed her lip thoughtfully. If the troops were splitting up, whatever tip they received hadn't been too specific. And they had an entire building to cover.

"A squad of five has entered the main lift," Karrde cut in. "They are heading for your floor."

Perhaps the tip wasn't so vague, Mara considered. However, it might be that they simply hoped to secure the building by controlling the top and bottom levels.

"Dorsett, Faughn," Mara said, turning. "I need you two to meet that lift, and draw them away from this room until Ghent can finish the transfer."

"Leave it to us," Dorsett said grimly, swinging his blaster rifle off his back.

"Meet back at the service entrance as soon as you can," Mara said.

"We'll be there," Faughn called as the two dashed out the door.

They took position against the wall of the corridor, weapons trained on the lift. A nearly synchronized click sounded as they released the safeties on their rifles.

"Set for stun," Dorsett advised. "We'll get as many as we can when the doors open, then break left down the corridor."

Faughn nodded, silently. A smooth tone announced the arrival of the lift, and with a whoosh the doors slid apart.

A high-pitched keen and a blue ripple enveloped the first trooper out of the lift, knocking him back against his companions. Faughn let loose another shot, dropping the second in line. The others quickly recovered from their initial shock and hugged the corner of the lift for cover.

"Go, now!" Dorsett called. The order proved unnecessary. Faughn was already sprinting down the hallway.

The two had just rounded the corner when the first crimson blaster bolts whizzed by. Dorsett quickly let down the corridor's security door, knowing it was only a temporary deterrent. Building security guards would no doubt know the access codes.

"Hardly seems fair," Faughn commented. "We were only using stun blasts."

"Looks like you've got their attention," Karrde's voice sounded over the comlink. "Additional guards are headed for the main and service lifts."

"There go our potential escape routes," Dorsett growled.

"We're heading for the processing area," Faughn called into her comlink. "We may be able to double back if we can shake them." Grabbing Dorsett's sleeve, she jogged down the corridor.

"Understood," Mara responded, adjusting her own comlink as she paced the abbreviated length of the cramped office. "Rendezvous at the service entrance. If we're not there in five minutes, call Chin and don't worry about us." She turned back to Ghent.

"One minute left," Ghent breathed, breaking into a grin. "See, I knew we could do it. We'll be out of here before..." He broke off as Mara twitched her head suddenly, as though straining to hear.

"What is it?" he asked.

Mara ignored him, striving to control the familiar warning tingle on the back of her neck. Somewhere, nearby...

"Two of them, heading right for this room," Mara said, distantly. Her eyes went unfocused, a familiar compulsion worrying the back of her mind.

She sighed inwardly, reaching out with the Force to determine their intent. Using her limited Force powers in these situations was always her last resort. It touched too closely to her days with the Emperor and left her feeling weaker despite any advantage she might gain.

The minds of the two guards were alert, but the feeling was more like general searching than knowingly coming to apprehend them.

She shook her head to clear it. There was no time for this. The more important enigma was why Karrde had not warned them of the patrol's approach. As if in answer, the comlink crackled to life.

"Mara, we've got problems," Karrde called. "I've lost all sensor control."

"They've found my data-link," Ghent said, all humor gone from his voice.

"Get out now," Karrde ordered. "With or without the data."

Mara could not respond, however. She sensed the two men, their minds cautious and nervous, approaching the office. She had to act... now. Tensing her muscles, she sprinted the few meters between the terminal and the door, and executed a cat-like leap up to the thick doorframe. Powered by the momentum of her jump, she lifted herself neatly to a perching position above the doorframe. The men were just outside the entrance now. With a quick motion, she signaled Ghent to stop watching her and turn around. She clicked the safety off her blaster rifle as she heard the door slide open below her.

As the security officers advance through the door, blasters at the ready, all they observed was a lone individual working at the glowing computer console.

"Turn around. Slowly!" The leftmost officer shouted, trying to sound authoritative despite his youthful voice. Ghent complied, swiveling the terminal's chair around.

"Put your hands up. NOW!" The officer instructed, motioning with his weapon. Ghent raised his hands slowly, doing his best to look completely terrified.

Mara chose that moment to make her move. Propelling herself forward, she leapt over the heads of the two officers. The young guard didn't even have to time to shout as Mara's left boot came down on his rifle, wrenching it from his grasp. Her right kicked out with incredible speed, landing square in his face. With a grunt of pain, he flew backwards against the doorframe. Mara landed on her left foot and, keeping her right extended, swung it in an arc at her other opponent's legs. Just as he swung his rifle toward her for a shot, he tripped backwards, sending a reflexive blaster bolt into the ceiling as he fell. Mara quickly leapt back to her feet and, bringing her own rifle to bear, neutralized the two officers with a stun blast. Exhaling sharply, she turned back to a wide-eyed Ghent.

"Have we got what we need?" she asked curtly. He nodded slowly. "Then cut your connection and let's go."

Ghent made a few quick keystrokes, pulled some wires from the terminal and leapt up. Checking the corridor, Mara motioned him to follow. She tugged his sleeve as he headed toward the main lift.

"Not that way," she corrected. "They've no doubt got control of the entire first floor, and all the lifts now that Karrde's connection is cut."

"Then which way can we go?" Ghent asked.

"Only one way to go." she stated. "Up."

"Great," Ghent muttered.

They quickly located a ladder to the roof in a nearby maintenance locker. Knowing that the roof was the only level the lifts did not reach, Mara hoped that the patrol unit had not had time to secure it yet. Of course, there was always the chance that a police airspeeder or troop transport awaited them above. She urged Ghent up the ladder and was up the first two metal rungs herself when a voice from below stopped her cold.

"Freeze!" The voice bellowed. "Drop your weapon or I will open fire!"

Mara let her blaster drop with a clatter. With her hands still raised, she slowly stepped back down from the ladder, and turned towards the voice. A burly, older spaceport officer stood in the doorway of the maintenance room, blaster rifle at the ready. Mara swore inwardly. Her fickle extra-sensory abilities had failed her, and her reliance on them earlier had dulled her normally acute awareness. She only hoped Ghent had the sense to keep climbing up the ladder and leave her behind.

"Don't move! Do as I say and you won't be hurt," the officer grunted. Not moving his eyes from her, he spoke into his comlink. "Unit One, this is Bravo-Two, I have apprehended one armed suspect...female. Send assistance please." With the gun he motioned Mara against the back wall of the cramped room.

At that moment, Ghent came dropping through the opening in the ceiling like a stone. With a thud he hit the floor. Startled, the officer swung his blaster to meet this new threat. Mara reacted to this moment of distraction, dropping her arm and letting off a single deadly bolt from her hidden wrist blaster. The bolt took the officer in the chest and with a hoarse cry he fell to the floor. It was over in a moment.

Ghent got to his feet, grinning.

"Pretty rare I get to save you, huh?" He chuckled. "Think I twisted my ankle though."

"You should have kept climbing," Mara bit off. "He could have blasted you to pieces."

"With your reflexes I knew I was safe," Ghent responded, shrugging. He looked down at the fallen guard. "Poor guy... just doing his job."

"So are we," Mara said coldly. "Now let's move."

Inwardly, however, Mara fumed. They had wanted to do this clean. In and out, and no one ever the wiser, but nobody had ever said the universe was fair.

Karrde had not wanted a body count, and she had agreed. This whole plan was unraveling, and she didn't like losing control. Karrde, at least, had a backup plan. One she realized they would probably need to use if they were ever going to escape alive.

Mara scrambled up the ladder, practically shoving Ghent ahead of her as she went. The ladder ended in a hatch, which Ghent opened rather more carefully than usual, Mara noted with approval.

They dropped to the roof, landing in twin crouches against a ledge. A cool breeze drifted unconcernedly past in the amethyst Abregado twilight, welcome after the recycled air inside the building.

Mara signaled Ghent to wait. The breeze stirred her hair, brushing it lightly across her face as she moved. She eased around the ledge they’d sought cover behind…and found herself staring at the backs of nearly a half-dozen security officers. The ledge, she realized, was the roof of a small sheltered area housing heavy stone benches and tables scattered in a friendly and conversational arrangement. Probably where the datapushers from the Records Office came to eat their lunches. Perfect.

She sprang back noiselessly, swearing silently under her breath.

"Karrde," she whispered fiercely into the tiny, comlink headset, "We’ve got major trouble here. Feel free to jump in anytime."

She waited, expecting to hear Karrde’s familiar voice come back dryly in her miniature earpiece. There was dead silence on the other end of the connection.

Mara swallowed; her throat suddenly dry. "Karrde?" she whispered again.

A burst of white noise answered her, before the connection abruptly severed.

Fighting a sick feeling in her gut, Mara leaned back against the stone wall and examined their options. There weren’t many.

She looked up to find Ghent kneeling in front of her. The skinny kid was white-faced and looking as though he’d just lost his best friend.

"What do we do now?" He ran a hand through his unruly, dishwater hair, betraying his anxiety.

"We get out of here." Mara said firmly.

Closing her eyes, Mara reached out again with the Force. Ignoring an uncomfortable sensation at the back of her mind, she steeled herself and continued.

Karrde? She sensed nothing. Even assuming he was still alive, he was probably too far away.

She focused instead on their immediate area. There were the security officers: five of them. Proving that her original assessment had been correct. And then behind them…

"Ghent!" she whispered, "We aren’t out of this fight yet. But I need you to trust me. Do exactly as I say."

He nodded but did not look entirely hopeful.

She spoke softly into the comlink again. "Dorsett? Faughn?" All she heard in return was static. Mara grabbed for the comlink power pack at her belt. She twisted the knob and tried to raise them on another channel with no luck.

"Dorsett and Faughn are coming through the hatch at the other end of the roof. I can’t get through to warn them. They won’t have any cover, but if we can distract those guards long enough…"

"I read you." Ghent said. He set his jaw, looking so deadly serious it would have been almost comical.

Mara handed him her spare blaster. "Just follow me. And try to keep some cover between you and them."

They eased around the corner, kneeling with Mara in front. She held up a hand. "Not until I give the word. Understand?" She could see the hatch Dorsett and Faughn would come through, directly in front of the security men. She reached out for them again. They were near the top of the ladder. Almost…

"Now!" she hissed.

Without waiting for Ghent’s acknowledgement, she opened fire. The nearest guard went down without a sound. Ghent’s blaster joined hers as two more bolts sizzled into the midst of the group. The four remaining guards whirled around to greet this threat. A second collapsed as they dived for cover.

The heavy granite tables provided the guards more than adequate protection from her and Ghent’s relentless blaster fire. A hail of blaster bolts and stone fragments sparked through the darkened air. Mara could only hope that across the roof Faughn and Dorsett had caught on to what she was attempting to do.

At that moment, the far hatch swung open. Dorsett and Faughn hurtled through, throwing themselves immediately flat against the surface of the roof. They squeezed off two quick shots each, taking the remaining guards from behind.

Dorsett rolled over and helped Faughn up from where she lay flat on her belly. They briefly inspected their handiwork before signaling the all-clear.

Mara and Ghent relinquished the safety of their ledge and joined the others down on the main area of the roof.

"Well, now what?" Dorsett asked.

"We get back down. What else?" Faughn winked. "By the way, nice shooting, Ghent."

"Thanks." He said, a bit uncertainly.

"Yeah. " She smiled brightly. "Never would’ve thought you had it in ya!"

"Um, yeah." He said distractedly. He was messing with his hair again; his long, bony, slicer's fingers trembling slightly.

"Hey-ey…" Faughn looked from Ghent's pale face to Mara's grim one. "What's going on here?"

"We lost Karrde and Lachton." Mara said, matter-of-factly, moving over to the roof's edge to examine the their escape route. "The Gados were jamming us and then I lost the comm channel."

Faughn nodded, her expression betraying nothing. Dorsett muttered something vicious and unintelligible and kicked the wall. Both knew that meant Karrde's position had been compromised.

That doesn't mean he's dead. Mara told herself firmly, leaning over to inspect to dizzying drop to the crowded city thoroughfare below. Besides, I'd feel it if he were dead…

Mara forced herself to focus. The street below was practically swarming with security officers. The evening crowd continued on, its pace unbroken. The citizens of Abregado seemed to take no notice of the minor drama unfolding. Then again, in Abregado-rae this was probably not a wholly unusual sight.

"We aren't going to be able to get past them." Mara muttered. Her voice sounded harsh, even to her own ears.

Just then, without warning, all hell broke loose in the street below.

Alarms screamed from one end of the city to the other. In the distance, Mara imagined she heard the satisfying report of something sizable exploding.

Karrde? But this time she didn't need the Force to know it was him. At the very least it meant he'd had time to signal their back-up.

An airspeeder screamed past, it's tail dramatically ablaze. It streaked across the night sky like a signal flare before hurtling to the ground. At the time, Mara reflected, she'd told Karrde this back-up plan was overkill for a simple recon op. But now…

The previously nonchalant citizens were fleeing for cover. Most of the security officers took off in the direction of the explosion.

Mara gestured to the others. They joined her at a corner of the roof where the city street met a darkened alley. State of emergency or not, Mara didn’t want them dropping down onto a major byway. But she didn't want to get caught in a blind alley either. This way was risky. It would put them down the farthest from Dankin and Chin, but it was the best available option.

Dorsett and Faughn were set and rappelling down the sheer glass before Mara had even finished double-checking Ghent's cable. She gave her own a cursory tug and started down.

Faughn and Dorsett scouted the alley briefly, as Mara and Ghent descended.

"Looks clear." Dorsett said.

"Alright." Mara nodded. "Let's move quickly. We've got to get around and back and meet Dankin and Chin."

Ghent looked around curiously. "Is this our small distraction?" He asked as a nearby building burst spectacularly into flames. A secondary explosion caught a flock of passing blufferavians in its wake. Burning feathers floated to the ground like macabre snowflakes.

"You might say that." Mara acknowledged, checking her blaster.

"Karrde's friends from the hill clans did all this, then?" Dorsett said. "I'm sufficiently impressed."

"Maybe this time their revolution will stick." Faughn commented as she led them around the back of the building.

"We can only hope." Mara added softly and ran smack up against a Gado security officer. Without thought she brought her blaster to bear.

"Hey! Hey!" The security officer was holding out his arms. "It's me. Dankin. Don't kill me. I've got our ride." He gestured to the speeder where Chin waited.

Mara lowered her blaster. In a building on their left someone hung a banner that read "Down with tyranny."

Within moments they were tearing through the smoke-filled streets.

Chaos reigned by the time they reached the spaceport. Mara half-dragged Ghent through the mob. Dorsett and Faughn followed, flanking Chin, with Dankin bringing up the rear.

They were almost to the Wild Karrde's landing pit, when Mara spotted Karrde and Lachton racing in from the opposite direction. Mara studiously ignored the involuntary relief that swelled in her chest upon catching sight of them. As they approached Mara noticed that they had abandoned all their comm equipment and that both men had their blasters drawn.

The two groups nearly collided in the midst of the crowd. Karrde grabbed Mara's arm to steady her.

"Trouble?" she asked, nodding toward the blaster in his hand.

"We had some uninvited guests, yes." He acknowledged. The comlink attached to his belt chirped to life.

"Boss? What's your position?" Kent's voice crackled from the tiny speaker.

"We're right outside, Kent." Karrde said, "Lower the ramp."

"Right, boss." In response the Wild Karrde's aft door began to lower.

They'd reached the foot of the landing ramp by this point. Mara and Karrde flanked the entrance. The others hit the ramp running before it even touched the deck.

Mara nodded to Karrde. "All right. We're clear." He said into the comlink as he started up the ramp. Mara followed closely on his heels. The Wild Karrde got underway as the aft door slammed shut.

"Do you think we'll have any problems with spaceport control?" Mara asked.

"I doubt that." Karrde said. "I doubt there's anyone actually running control at this point."

"I guess that means we're in for a bit of a thrilling ride then?" Mara holstered her blaster.

"It might." The Wild Karrde was picking up speed. The ship picked its way nimbly through the glut of air traffic with a ponderous agility that belied its size.

"Hey!" Kent called over the intercom. "Everybody strap in back there."

The ship lurched, narrowly missing a passing freighter. Mara was thrown against the bulkhead. She cracked her head loudly and painfully on the cold metal.

"Are you alright?" She opened her eyes to find Karrde leaning over her.

"I thought you were dead." She whispered hoarsely against his ear.

"I know." He smoothed her hair back and gently probed the ugly knot forming on her aching temple. "I think you'll survive." He said, as the Wild Karrde cleared Abregado's atmosphere. She closed her eyes again and listened to the hum of the navicomputer as it began calculating the jump to hyperspace.

"Um, boss. You'd better come straight to the bridge. Right now." Kent's voice jolted Mara awake. She'd lost a few more minutes, but at least her head hurt less. She was still sprawled on the deck beside the bulkhead. She looked at her wrist and found that someone had slapped a bright blue medpatch on it.

Karrde, still kneeling beside her, directed a puzzled look at the intercom speaker. "Why's that?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There's something here you should see right away. Something big's gone down on Coruscant."

"Something big?"

"Yeah. It looks like the situation in the Republic's just gone straight to hell."

***

Attempting to thread her way through the press of the crowd in the Grand Corridor, Madeleine Hgyashi struggled against the tide of beings that threatened to sweep her from her course. The corridor was choked with people, the chaos nearly deafening. She finally reached her destination, the entrance to the Inner Council chamber, and shouldered past a cluster of aides speaking frantically into their respective comlinks.

She plunged into the chamber, trying to catch her breath as she entered what should have been the eye of the storm. In truth the Inner Council was in more of an uproar than the corridor outside. She nearly lost her grip on her stack of briefs as a couple of panicked-looking pages jostled her.

"General!" She spotted Bel Iblis standing in quiet conference with General Crix Madine. The latter was speaking, his face lined and grave. Both looked up as she approached.

"Madeleine," Bel Iblis smiled grimly. "I was beginning to wonder. You remember General Madine, of course."

"Yes, sir."

"General Madine has just arrived on Coruscant from the Bothan colony-world of Kothlis." He waited to let the import of his statement sink in.

An expression of vague surprise flitted across Madeleine's features. "Really. I was under the impression there were no Republic witnesses present."

The blond man shrugged. "I was there unofficially. And I can't really be counted as a witness. The mining facility is in an asteroid field quite a way from the planet. We on the planet's surface had no idea anything was wrong until it was far too late."

"But," Bel Iblis lowered his voice; "you were the only non-Bothan present immediately after the fact. That may be helpful."

"Perhaps, General. But most of what I saw only serves to support the Bothan version of the incident."

A muscle in Bel Iblis' cheek twitched. "Then we shall have to look into this further."

Dimly through the din of voices, Madeleine became aware of a dull thud. The sound repeated and she looked up to see Mon Mothma hammering at her podium with a gavel.

"Councilors, please!" Miraculously the older woman managed to make herself heard without appearing to raise her voice. "Come to order if you please." She slapped the small hammer against the desk once more to punctuate.

Gradually the clamor in the chamber started to lessen and Mon Mothma began again.

"I realize the somewhat spectacular nature of these accusations has caused considerable consternation amongst you. However, very little can be accomplished by our simply shouting at one another about it. Only by following proper procedure will we get to the bottom of this situation."

She looked around. The room had gone deathly quiet. "First, we will hear from the honorable Councilor from Bothawui. At which point we shall decide if there is sufficient evidence to convene the entire council."

Mon Mothma moved to relinquish the floor. "Councilor Od'win..." She gestured to her right as the Bothan representative stood.

"Madame Chief of State..." He nodded curtly, his camel-hued fur rigid and flat against his body. "Fellow Councilors. As most of you are aware, three days ago an unprovoked and malicious attack was perpetrated against the Bothan people by representatives of the New Republic-" At this the room erupted once again and Mon Mothma called for order.

"Councilors, if you please." She turned back to the Bothan councilor. "Councilor Od'win, I would encourage you to refrain from the hyperbole and confine yourself to those facts which we can substantiate...That is, if you would like to be allowed to finish without further outbursts from the floor."

"As you wish, Madame." He gritted out, managing to make the honorific sound like a curse. "Very well. Three days ago a strategic Bothan-owned mining facility near the colony-world of Kothlis was attacked, apparently by New Republic forces."

"If I may, Councilor Od'win." A minor councilor, whom Madeleine did not recognize, stood abruptly, "You are asking us to accept that our own forces, unbeknownst to the Republic, carried out an attack on a Bothan interest for no apparent reason? That hardly seems plausible."

"It would seem that how much the Republic knew is still under question, wouldn't it?" The human councilor flushed angrily, but Od'win continued unfazed. "Perhaps once you and the other honorable representatives hear eye witness accounts you will not be so hasty to question us. Madame Chief of State, if you have no objection, we are prepared to bring several survivors before the council to testify."

Mon Mothma nodded. "Proceed, but carefully, Councilor Od'win. This is only a first hearing, not a trial."

"Not yet, Madame. Not yet." His fur rippled once and stilled again. He gestured toward his aide, Tav Breil'lya. The aide ducked from the room and returned with another Bothan in tow.

"Councilors, this is Tor Ch'ov, director of engineering at the Breil'ya Mining Station. You may find what he has to say enlightening."

Ch'ov proved to be a timid-looking engineer, whose fur seemed determined to stick out at odd angles. The Bothan ran a nervous hand through the unruly fur and looked directly at Mon Mothma.

"I apologize, Madame. I don't know if I can be of much help. I was in the lab and..."

"That's alright, Tor." Od'win smiled reassuringly. "Just tell us what you personally saw."

"Well, as I said, I was in the lab. We were just finishing up with some new samples from one of the smaller asteroids. Really fascinating stuff..." His fur rippled apprehensively. "Well, uh, anyway. It was probably around 1300 hours. All of a sudden we've got alarms in every sector. No warning at all. It was total chaos."

He paused. "I went up to the command center to see what I could do, but the shield doors had locked down."

"Why is that, Tor?" Od'win asked.

"Because..." The young engineer faltered. Od'win moved forward to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Because the command center had been completely blown away by the cruiser."

"Tor, how many Bothans were usually in that command center?"

Ch'ov shrugged. "Around three-hundred, I guess."

"And you have no idea what provoked the attack?"

"Nothing, sir. Madame." He looked at Mon Mothma again, "I didn't even know what kind of ships were attacking until it was over."

The council spent the next two hours listening as Od'win paraded a string of engineers, miners, and pilots before them, all telling the same story: A task force led by the Mon Cal cruiser Benevolent laid waste to the mining facility, accusing the Bothan people of crimes against the Republic. According to the witnesses there had been no provocation for the attack. The bewildered survivors made a pitiable tableau before the council.

Madeleine glanced over at Bel Iblis. Lost in deep thought, the general didn't seem to be paying attention to the floor.

"Madeleine, please go to my office and find the most recent report from Commander Antilles. Quickly."

Madeleine blinked in surprise. "Right now, sir?" Catching his expression she swallowed her consternation. "Yes, sir. Right away."

As Madeleine hurried from the Inner Council chamber, Bel Iblis reclined in his seat. A stray memory had clicked: Antilles and the Benevolent at the TelStar plant in the Parmel system. That had been several days ago and he had yet to hear from the commander; or from anyone at the starfighter facility for that matter. This Bothan situation had so eclipsed everything else that perhaps they had overlooked something important. Perhaps... if he could find Commander Antilles, he could find some answers.

"Thank you, Councilor, for bringing these first-hand accounts to our attention. I believe we have sufficient evidence to justify an investigative committee. The entire council will convene to discuss this matter in five days. In the meantime, the investigators will travel to Kothlis and bring back further evidence." Seeing Odwin about to speak, Mon Mothma conceded. "Yes, Councilor, the Bothan people will have considerable input into who comprises the committee, but I warn you, I will not have this a Bothan hand-picked team. We shall conduct this fairly and according to procedure." She wrapped her desk with the gavel. "That will be all for now."

***

The trip to Kothlis was shorter than expected; the traffic around the system suspiciously light for a planet that should have been crawling with New Republic investigators. Oroo'vle, the most populous city on the planet, had the characteristic industrial look of mining settlements the galaxy over. The Bothans, for their part, were giving human visitors a particularly wide berth. Most of the locals didn't have much useful information anyway. The mining facility itself was far enough removed from the planet that details of the incident were sketchy at best. These Bothans were the support community for the miners and engineers who worked in the asteroid field; therefore most of what they knew, or thought they knew, was second- and third-hand.

Sidestepping a squat, battered droid, Talon Karrde rounded a damp street corner as the grey, unhealthy dawn struggled over the horizon. He spied the building that housed the shabby rooms he and his team had rented a block or two further down the street. He had sent the others on ahead to grab some sleep after two days of almost nonstop information gathering. His own insatiable curiosity, though, had kept him wired, making sleep impossible. On the building's street level, the last of bleary-eyed revelers exited a rowdy, local cantina. Drunken Bothans, while not stellar company, were at least talkative. Unfortunately, their sudden suspicion toward humans made the task a bit more difficult.

Recent events had caused Karrde to question whether his affiliation with the New Republic was becoming a liability. Now, with this latest catastrophe, his survival instincts were screaming at him to put as much distance between his organization and the Republic as possible. And yet...

He couldn't. Something wouldn't let him run. He'd been turning this puzzle over in his head ever since Mara had met him on Rishi with tidings from Coruscant... Mara, who'd led him to the Smuggler's Alliance and the New Republic in the first place. Well, he certainly wasn't staying for her sake. If he chose to vanish into the galaxy's fringe, Mara could disappear right along with him and the rest of the group. Or not, if that was the way her decision ultimately went.

Karrde shook his head, oddly disturbed by this line of thought. An icy prickle of apprehension abruptly broke his concentration. He was being watched. Pushing speculations from his mind, he concentrated on the situation around him.

Behind him, a footfall: quiet and out of place. It was just enough to put him on his guard. He glanced across the street at the cantina stragglers, then casually behind him. Nothing. To his left: a blind alley. Stroking the butt of his blaster with taut fingertips, he quickened his pace. There was no sound from his pursuer, but years of survival in the murky underground of the smuggling trade told Karrde someone was indeed there.

Bypassing his makeshift base, Karrde swung onto a side street running perpendicular to the main avenue. Here the street was lined with merchants preparing for the day's commerce. Speeder trucks rumbled up and down, making early morning deliveries. He ducked behind one that was backed up against the pedestrian walkway, and waited.

He did not have long to wait. A handful of seconds passed before a cloaked man came around the corner from the block Karrde had just exited. He had been holding out hope that his tail had been simply another of the Bothan security agents that had been keeping a none too subtle eye on Karrde and his people since they arrived. This pursuer was definitely human, and subtler than any Bothan. The man paused for a moment as if gauging what direction his quarry had taken, then strode purposefully toward Karrde in the shadow of the parked speeder truck.

Wasting no time, Karrde ducked into the alley behind him. The side door to a small shop stood unlocked and Karrde slapped the release, barreling passed a dumbfounded, elderly Bothan. He threaded his way through a backroom filled with foodstuffs, textiles, and other necessities, up the narrow passage to the roof.

He sprinted across the roof, hurdling the half-meter chasm between this building and the next, feeling his heart begin to pound from adrenaline and unaccustomed exertion. If memory served, this block exited into the populous downtown area, which included a crude bridgeway to the spaceport. He should be able to lose his pursuer in the crowds of humans and other aliens that only the spaceport could provide. Here, in the Bothan-populated section, he might as well hold up a sign.

He looked back and could see the cloaked man still in pursuit. Karrde had a good lead, but he couldn't maintain it indefinitely. He was rapidly approaching the end of this block, and was poised to spring across the alleyway...Karrde skidded to a stop, cursing inventively. He had misjudged the distance between the two blocks of buildings...badly. He glanced back. Perhaps fatally.

The wind whipped around him as he drew his blaster and turned to face his opponent. Oroo'vle's drab and desiccated cityscape stretched away below him, the spaceport tantalizingly close at hand. He stood firm, expressionless, with blaster in hand as the cloaked man app

roached.

The other man was speaking, the wind robbing his words of sound. He pulled back the hood of his cloak as he closed the distance between them.

Karrde felt his muscles relax as recognition dawned. "Hello, Skywalker." He said, arranging his features into a sardonic half-smile. "I see you haven't lost your talent for making a melodramatic entrance." He re-holstered his blaster.

Skywalker shrugged sheepishly. "I did try to call to you back there, you know."

"Did you?" Karrde raised an eyebrow. "Now I see how the Republic has managed to keep such a low profile. I guess a single Jedi makes for a subtle investigative team."

"I'm not exactly alone." Skywalker's dark robes snapped in the gusting wind, billowing behind him. "The rest of our team is out in the asteroid field right now."

"Looking for answers?" Karrde started back toward the far edge. "Why aren't you out there with them?"

Skywalker shifted around to follow him. "I was there yesterday. Not that there was much left for the investigators to look at."

"No information to be found?" Karrde let his tone cool. "Or none that you're willing to share with me?"

"When have you ever handed over information for free?"

"Touché." Karrde favored him with a mock-salute. "But perhaps we could arrange a trade."

"Perhaps." Skywalker paused before a narrow entrance that led back to street level. "Have your people learned anything here in Oroo'vle?"

Karrde inclined his head noncommittally. "Let's take a walk and talk about it." He led the other down the cramped passage and out onto the street.

Karrde moved off toward the spaceport, still hoping to appear less conspicuous in the crowds there. "Now, Skywalker, what do you think happened here? And don't give me the official New Republic version."

At this, Skywalker's features darkened. "I don't know." He paused. "Everything we've turned up suggests that the Bothans are telling the truth. But I know that no one in the Republic would have allowed something like this." He said earnestly.

"Mm-hm." Karrde acknowledged. Skywalker frowned, but continued. "We've found a Bothan security probe embedded in an asteroid near the facility. The investigative team is attempting to retrieve it now. Once its data is analyzed..."

Karrde nodded, lost in thought. "How can you be so sure that no one in the Republic ordered this?" He asked, at last. "It wouldn't surprise me at all. There are a lot of people out there who'd love to take a few potshots at the Bothans. Particularly the Mon Calamari... Now, don't look so scandalized..." Karrde ignored the other's attempt to protest. "And, this is admittedly the more likely scenario: there are also people in the Republic hierarchy who wouldn't let a few dead Bothans bother them if it guaranteed a political victory."

"Have you learned something to support this?" Skywalker asked sharply.

"Nothing concrete. Just whispers. But I must say, given the decaying situation in your New Republic over the last three years, it does make sense. Your government is hardly the champion of freedom and light that it purported to be." He said the last with a trace of bitterness.

"You're very cynical." Skywalker frowned. "At least not everyone in the Smuggler's Alliance shares your feelings."

"Oh?" Karrde kept his voice casual. "I assume by that you're referring to Mara."

"Mara has proved a very valuable asset to the New Republic. Though not as valuable as she is destined to become." They were passing through the pedestrian by-way into the crowded city center. The walkway was increasingly jammed with both locals and spaceport types.

Karrde nonchalantly scanned the crowd. "So, you're still convinced that Mara's going to come around and become a Jedi."

"She has to." Skywalker said ardently. "She has so much potential... The galaxy is still waiting for the Jedi to rise again. Mara can help that to happen."

"Ah, I see. It's her civic duty."

Skywalker seemed impervious to the sarcasm. "It's not that simple. She could become very powerful, but without the proper guidance... The dark side is very strong."

"Really." Karrde mused. "To my way of thinking, Mara has the least to fear in that respect. She lived with the Emperor for years, yet didn't give in to this 'lust for power' you Jedi seem to fear so much."

Skywalker answered quickly. "Well, she wasn't a Jedi then."

"Exactly." Karrde smiled.

Skywalker was quiet for a moment, thinking.

They rounded a corner and found themselves on a street that housed a typical collection of spaceport hangouts: tapcafes, cantinas, sabaac parlours, and the occasional glitterstim den.

Karrde continued, unfazed. "Besides, the question is really academic. It's Mara's decision. Not either of ours. Nothing we do will affect her choice. She's too much of her own woman."

"Is that really what you think? You haven't asked yourself what would keep her from pursuing her training? The only tie she has yet to free herself from?"

Karrde let the temperature of his voice drop a degree or two. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Her loyalty to you drives her decisions. It has as long as I've known her. It kept her from killing me on more than one occasion." Skywalker did his imitation of a wry smile. "At this point in her life, her relationship with you and your group is more important than anything. If Mara chooses the path of the Jedi, she loses that. And that's why she hesitates."

"Ah-ha. A very stimulating debate, but hardly the reason we're here, is it?" Karrde said offhandedly, trying to steer the conversation to less dangerous territory. "I thought we were trying to help one another discover what is behind this Bothan business."

Skywalker regarded the older man for a moment: Karrde was cool and urbane as always. "I suppose you're right. But... just talk to her, please. It's important."

Karrde gestured noncommittally.

"All right, then." Skywalker conceded. "It's your turn. What has your group uncovered here on Kothlis?"

Karrde smiled politely. "Not a damn thing. The Bothans aren't talking. Particularly not to humans."

"Some trade. You might have told me."

"I think that's information in and of itself. Wouldn't you agree?"

It was Skywalker's turn to gesture vaguely.

"Cheer up. I'm sure we'll have something for you by the next time Mara goes to Coruscant." The smuggler paused for a moment. "Then, again, next time I may go myself."

***

Cavanaugh peered through a large window cut into the armored side of Ilic, the most populous of the walled cities of New Cov. A verdant tangle of vegetation thrust up against the reinforced transparisteel. Safely cocooned within the confines of the city, the citizens of Ilic largely ignored the deadly and exotic plants that proliferated throughout the planet's elaborate ecosystems, except as a source of commerce. A languid jade green vine twitched toward the captain, making him suppress an involuntary shudder. A first-time visitor to the planet, Cavanaugh could not help but wonder whether windows, however strong, were not an ill-advised notion.

Pellaeon, Cavanaugh, and the Chimaera had been detained at New Cov several days longer than expected. The closed-in city was beginning to make Cavanaugh slightly claustrophobic.

Others in the room were speaking, and, with an effort, Cavanaugh returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"So you see, Admiral," the planetary governor was saying, "a formal alliance at this juncture would hardly be the most beneficial option for us. We have our trade to consider, after all."

New Cov was the galaxy's leading supplier of biomolecules: a resource that was happily provided to the highest bidder, regardless of political affiliation.

Pellaeon poured himself another brandy and looked up measuringly at the governor.

"Governor, your trade is precisely what makes this agreement in your best interest. The Republic has proven time and again that they are incapable or unwilling to protect the outer systems from attack by those on the fringe. Cargo as valuable as that you have here would prove a rather tempting target for pirates, don't you think?"

"Ah, Admiral. Well parried." The governor raised his glass ever so slightly. "However, you will note that I said an official alliance was out of the question at the moment. I think we can come to a less-than-official arrangement that will satisfy both of our interests."

Pellaeon laughed grimly. "For the moment, of course."

"Of course." The other man smiled wolfishly. "I've no doubt the time will come when we will have to re-negotiate...one way or the other."

"I assure you." Pellaeon said. "The outcome of this struggle is considerably less certain than it was two years ago."

"Really. Does the Republic know yet?"

Pellaeon looked up, catching Cavanaugh's eye. "Not yet. But it will soon enough."

***

The scene in the corridor had been repeated with varying levels of urgency numerous times over the last several days. A sense of controlled strain permeated the city, spreading outward from the Imperial Palace itself. Aides and pages jostled and pushed, waving comlinks and datapads; shouting to hear one another above the din. Several of the aides moved aside to let Admiral Drayson, Ackbar's second-in-command, pass as he moved along the variegate surface of the Grand Corridor toward the massive senate chamber.

A set of ornate, colossal doors opened allowing him to enter. He nodded vaguely in polite acknowledgement of some unseen doorman. The chamber arced dizzily before him; its lavish expanse one of the few existing remnants of the Old Republic Senate. The current Council seldom used the old senate hall; such elaborate ceremony no longer seemed appropriate. That age had passed and in it's passing taken an innocent sense of civility and tradition. These stark and ravaged times of the modern age made this hall and its auspices an archaic mockery: a cheap shell of its former state.

Instead the pomp and ceremony of the Old Republic was trotted out only during times of great celebration or crisis. That Mon Mothma had seen fit to call together the entire council in such a formal setting did not bode well.

Drayson settled himself into place alongside Ackbar, smoothing the creases in his uniform as he sat. The chamber was nowhere near capacity; many seats were empty, belonging to worlds that, whether by choice or force, still belonged to the Empire. Also standing empty were those seats of worlds that simply preferred to remain outside the Republic, for whatever reason.

Yet another reminder that the grandeur and scope of the Old Republic are mere memory, Drayson thought with a twinge of regret.

A holovid droid hovered nearby and Drayson checked the urge to swat at the damned thing. It made a whirring sound; its eye adjusting focus on the two officers.

Drayson glanced casually to his left where Bel Iblis was leaning over, speaking quietly to that exotic-looking young aide of his. If it had been anyone but Bel Iblis there certainly would have been rumours.

From the center platform, came a sound like the calm, polite clearing of someone's throat for attention. Mon Mothma stood patiently, surrounded by a cocoon of aides and associates, waiting for the Council to favor her with its collective attention.

Drayson's eyes focused on a lone figure standing slightly back from the chief of state on the platform. Luke Skywalker's presence was unmistakable. The Jedi's cloaked form seemed to draw attention and the holodroids buzzed around him like voracious winged insects. The hood of the Jedi's robe was thrown back, revealing the young man's impassive expression.

"Councilors. Honored guests of the Republic." Mon Mothma gave the impression of nodding to each in turn. "As you no doubt are aware of our reason for gathering here today, I'll dispense with any preamble." She paused. "Our team has returned from Kothlis with detailed information about the regrettable tragedy that occurred there. After the team has presented their findings, we shall open the floor for motions to decide our course of action." Responding to some unseen gesture, a clean-cut, military type stepped to Mon Mothma's side. "Commander Shears, you have the floor."

Skywalker eased further back into the knot of people on the platform as the majority of the hovering droids abandoned him in favor of Commander Shears.

Drayson frowned inwardly. Why wasn't Skywalker presenting this to the council? What in space could they have found on Kothlis? A hard knot settled into his stomach as the stern-faced, young officer began to address the assemblage.

"Gentlefolk," he began. "Upon our investigation of the Breil'ya mining facility we discovered an intact Bothan security probe embedded in one of the facility's asteroids." He gestured, an insect-wing flutter over a touch sensitive switch and suddenly the mammoth mining facility was there in the chamber with them.

"This is the visual playback recovered from the probe," Shears was saying.

Personnel transports and cargo carriers labored along their flight paths, carrying on the daily business of the facility.

"As you can see," Shears continued, "business as usual...until approximately 1300 hours." The commander gestured again and the scene wavered, jumping hours forward through time.

"At approximately 1300 a force exited hyperspace at point three five." On cue, a Mon Cal cruiser entered the visual field. The comm crackled to life.

"Attention Breil'ya mining station... this is CRS Benevolent. You stand accused by the High Council of weapons smuggling and harboring Imperial spies! Prepare to be boarded!"

The protest of the Bothan comm officer was cut short as the cruiser began launching fighters. A wing of X-Wings streaked away from the Benevolent followed closely by the cruiser's B-Wings.

In answer the Bothans launched a motley array of X-, A-, and T-Wings; all capable craft but sorely outmatched by the obviously battle-hardened pilots of the invading starfighters.

The opposing forces closed the distance between them. As they met, the fighters split off into the balletic chaos of dog-fighting.

The Bothan fighters were quickly dispatched, although a few hung on valiantly to the end. The mining facility was not entirely without further defenses. The gun emplacements hidden in the asteroid field took out many of the enemy fighters. But in the end a bloody path was cleared for the Benevolent.

Drayson watched in awe. Here was something he never thought to see. A New Republic cruiser raining destruction upon one of her allies.

And yet there it was. The Benevolent moved through the swath of death, into the asteroid field, and calmly blasted the mining facility into dust. Several Bothan shuttles escaped. Were allowed to escape, Drayson corrected himself. That was interesting. So while this clearly looked bad for the Republic there was more going on here than was obvious at the surface.

The vid fluttered and disappeared with a barely perceptible sigh. The senate chamber, for perhaps the first time in a thousand generations, was entirely silent.

Moving around the block of ice that had situated itself in his gut, Drayson whispered to Ackbar. "They may have a valid complaint that some faction orchestrated this, but I know one thing. This wasn't done by any of our people."

Ackbar sniffed. "Yes. You're right. I don't know who was commanding the Benevolent, but that certainly wasn't Kolodny on the comm." He shook his head. "Any progress finding the ship yet?"

Drayson pressed his lips into a grim line. "No, sir." And as he spoke, was aware of a low-level hiss throughout the chamber, sounding like the massive outgassing of a Star Destroyer in atmosphere. And, then, as if on some predetermined cue, the collective whispers of the councilors and their aides exploded into a dull roar.

"Councilors. If you please." Mon Mothma gestured vaguely. "The council recognizes the representative from Bothawui. What say you to this, Councilor Od'win?"

Od'win's platform rose to preeminence as the pepper-specks that were the holodroids splashed his face onto various vid screens.

"Well, Madame, I would think there should be nothing further to say in defense of my cause. The Bothan people are owed reparations and apology from the entire Republic."

"That is outrageous!" A human councilor broke in. "Madame Chief of State, if I may?"

Mon Mothma nodded. "The council recognizes the representative from Ukio."

"While there is no doubt that the Bothan people have been dealt an injustice, is it not rather hasty to place blame on the entire New Republic? I've no doubt that with further investigation, it will come to light that these were the actions of one isolated faction, acting, as it were, without the knowledge or consent of anyone else in the Republic!"

"Really, Councilor." Od'win practically spat. "Do you hold the Bothan people in such low regard as to believe we would accept such a ludicrous and improbable hypothesis? This "faction," as you put it, has the means and wherewithal to appropriate a New Republic cruiser and you expect us to believe they have no benefactor in the highest echelons of the Republic? Pardon my incredulity, sir."

"Gentlemen? If I may interject?" General Garm Bel Iblis looked to the platform for leave to speak. Mon Mothma nodded, but her face appeared lined with concern.

"The council recognizes the commander of New Republic armed forces. You may speak, General."

The holovid droids swung their cycloptic lenses toward Bel Iblis' platform. "Perhaps I may suggest another scenario? One that has only recently come to my attention." He keyed for visual, a holo of the ruined TelStar Starfighter Facility springing to life at his touch. Less impressive than the Kothlis footage, it still served to capture some attention.

"This is TelStar, the recently commissioned New Republic Starfighter facility in the Parmel system. It is also the last known...official...location of the Mon Cal Cruiser Benevolent. It was destroyed perhaps a handful of hours before the attack on the Breil'ya mining facility. There were no survivors and we have no idea how or why it was attacked. So it would appear, gentlefolk, that this situation is far from being resolved."

Under his breath, Drayson cursed viciously. Aloud he said, "What does Bel Iblis think he's doing? And why the hell would he keep us out of the loop on this?"

Ackbar regarded him with unreadable alien eyes, but said nothing.

Above them, Od'win regarded Bel Iblis disdainfully. "That's very convenient. Don't you think, General? Why was this not brought to light earlier?"

"Should we disregard the General's information simply on the basis that it does not fit within our own political agendas? I think that would be most unwise, don't you agree?" Councilor Borrsk Fey'lya smiled benignly at his fellow Bothan. He blinked violet eyes and rippled his cream-colored fur in a gesture that was lost on the rest of the council, but Od'win bristled. Snarling, he turned to Mon Mothma.

"If satisfactory reparations are not made to our people the Bothans are prepared to fight for justice. And if there is none to be found here, we and our supporters will not remain under rule of a corrupt and inconstant government." With that he cut his platform's connection and stalked from the chamber, with several other councilors following in his wake. A disturbingly high number of councilors, actually, Drayson realized. When had the Bothans re-accumulated so many allies?

Mon Mothma seemed to reflect over Od'win's abrupt departure for a moment. She looked to Skywalker, still standing resolutely behind her. She glanced briefly at Fey'lya, who was looking pleased with some private victory; then returned her attention to the chamber, her expression revealing nothing.

"Councilors, it would appear we are adjourned."

***

The shadows were once again lengthening on the Outer Rim world of Yoncalla. Sunlight was waning and the clouds on the horizon were beginning to converge, gathering the dark promise of a violent storm. From his vantage-point overlooking the mountainous coastline, Talon Karrde tried not to take the inevitable weather as a portent of things to come. As it was, the darkling sky provided a too-accurate reflection of his own mood. He sat alone. Sturm and Drang had retreated indoors, fleeing the static electricity in the air.

He heard a quiet footfall behind him on the stone steps. He half-turned, but he already knew who it was.

Mara sat down on the step above him, cupping her hands around her glass and staring thoughtfully into the coming storm.

"It occurs to me," she said, without looking at him, "that in the three years we've been together, I've never joined you in this ritual of yours." He felt her eyes on him as she shifted her gaze.

She leaned toward him. "Something's bothering you."

It wasn't a question.

Karrde indulged in a half-smile in the fading light. "This must be Skywalker's influence on you: Using your Jedi skills to rescue me from myself."

"Hardly." She answered just a tad too quickly.

"I just know you better than you think." Or than you would ever be willing to admit, she added silently.

Karrde was quiet for a few moments. Then, as if remembering Mara's presence, he said suddenly, "Have you given any more thought to Skywalker's offer?" He stared into his drink, swirling the ice and amber liquid.

"I'm not entirely sure that's the path I'm intended to follow." She paused, considering her next words, "Karrde, what's this about?"

He turned to face her, surprising

her with the intensity of his expression. His usual urbane facade was gone, and he held her gaze as he spoke. "Decisions. Regret, maybe." He shook his head, "I never intended to get mixed up with the New Republic; their wars, their petty politics. I wanted no part of it. I still don't. But circumstances left me little choice, and as long as they remained a profitable client..." He shrugged. "Now... if things continue on this way, it may be in our best interest to cut our losses. The government is nearing collapse; it's only a matter of time. Bel Iblis implied as much, although he wouldn't come out and say it. I don't want to see us pulled down with them.

"Mara, I don't want... I want you to know, that whatever I decide you shouldn't feel obligated to come with us."

"My loyalty is to you," She said quietly, looking him straight in the eye. "Not the New Republic. Or the Jedi, or Luke Skywalker. Where you go, I go. Whatever you decide."

And that, he thought, grimly, is exactly what Skywalker predicted you would say.

The wind began to pick up, bringing with it the tang of impending rain.

"Come on. Let's go inside." He stood, pulling away from her; retreating back inside that carefully constructed veneer of his.

She stopped him with a hand on his forearm as the first drops began to fall. "I mean this, Karrde. I don't want you to think I stay here out of obligation. I just don't operate like that."

In the dimness, Mara could feel him smile. "I know you don't."

They walked through the doors just as the sky opened up behind them; sheets of water lashing the stone sides of the building and distant lightning rending the sky above the sea.

Once inside, Mara turned to him again. "Looks like we made it just in time."

He favored her with a wry smile. "It does appear that way, doesn't it?"

Later that evening, as the storm raged outside, Karrde sat in his study reviewing reports from his fellows in the Smuggler's Alliance. Lightning flashed beyond the latticed glass doors, briefly illuminating the dark, burnished wood that lined the room. A massive stone hearth dominated the far wall, flanked by a pair of antique Corellian flame sculptures. A large fire had been lit to combat the howling wind and rain. The flames flickered, causing shadows to dance across the bare fijisi wood floor.

The flight paths they'd sliced in Abregado had yet to yield up any leads, but if there were anything there they would find it. And if there weren't...then perhaps it would be time for a career change.

The door opened and Mara quietly entered the room. "Anything?"

"No. Nothing promising," he replied, without looking up.

"Do we still care?" She asked, only half-seriously.

Karrde looked up abruptly, "Yes. We still care, Mara. We've taken the New Republic's money for this investigation; we'll see it through. Although, it doesn't appear there's much left to look into. Unless something comes along soon..."

She settled herself in a chair near the large, old-fashioned hearth and scooped up a stack of datacards. "If it wasn't Bel Iblis' money...if it were, say, Borrsk Fey'lya's; would we be quite so conscientious?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "Probably not, Mara. Point taken."

She busied herself scrolling through several of the cards, mentally sorting data as she spoke. "Is it this Bothan thing that has you spooked or is it something else?"

"I am not spooked." He frowned.

"All right. What then has caused this resurgence of judicious self-preservation?"

He raised an eyebrow in her general direction. "Oh, very nice..."

"I'm serious." She looked up, her expression suddenly grave. "If you aren't telling me something..."

"I ran into Skywalker on Kothlis," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"I see."

A familiar, tense silence settled in between them.

For the last two years they'd danced around this issue, never daring to confront the inevitable decision that had to be made.

The decision she had to make, Mara admitted to herself. She shook off the thought, promising herself she would deal with it soon.

"Well," she said, at last, daring to break the tension before it became irreversible, "This is interesting, at least." She gestured at the datapad in her lap. "It would appear, that we've been invited to the opera." Karrde looked up at her, mild surprise coloring his features as she continued. "Opening night. And they're very good seats."

"Is that from Dravis' contact?" Karrde rose from behind his desk and came around to look over her shoulder. "Intriguing, indeed." He took the datapad from her and examined it more closely.

"Karrde," she said, warningly, "You aren't considering meeting this source, are you?"

"Why not? It would appear our benefactor has information to sell." He scrolled down the page as if to make his point.

"This could be a set-up...any number of things..."

"Mara," he said firmly, kneeling down beside her chair. "I want to check this out. If it's nothing, then we're through working for the New Republic. End of story. This is our last lead with any promise."

Mara shook her head in disagreement. "I think this is foolish."

"And I say we check it out." He met her gaze, finding himself strangely unwilling to back down on this. "Go find Aves. Tell him he'll be handling the next tracking run with the Starry Ice and have Dankin get the Wild Karrde prepped. Then get Ghent to slice us some ID's."

Mara frowned, a touch of her old fire visible in her eyes. "All right. But I still don't like it." She did as he bid her, leaving Karrde alone to ponder yet again whether he was making the right decision.

***

Viola