Chapter 3

Coruscant

After three days of debate and deliberation, Senator Polla Essada of Gyndine emerged the easy successor of Ferrin Belotab as the next Galactic Alliance Chief of State. The ceremony in the plaza of the Executive Building was, perhaps, not as grandiose as would normally befit the ascension of a new leader, but the solemnity of the circumstances surrounding the resignation of the former Chief of Staff and the election of a new one dictated a certain low-key quality to the proceedings. Indeed, Essada had first suggested forgoing the public ceremony altogether, but her predecessor had pointed out that the people liked to feel involved and, especially in the case of a Senate-only election, it was fitting to give the general populace an open, if superficial, look at their new representative to the galaxy.

Anonymous in the masses of people present in the plaza were too lithe figures, heavily swathed in formal robes, faces concealed by thick veils in a custom proper to their affected home world, should anyone ask, watched the proceedings absently while they, in fact, had their attentions focused on the mood of the crowd, on any abnormalities in attitude, in intent…

"They'd be foolish to try something today," the figure on the left murmured in their native tongue. "Acting against Essada would only signal to anyone with half a clue that Belotab's downfall was orchestrated."

"But," her companion muttered softly back, "to act against Belotab would begin Essada's rule with fear, would keep the government on edge and distracted from the next phase."

The first considered a moment, watching calmly as Ferrin Belotab and Polla Essada shook hands and the office was formally resigned by one and taken up by the other. The crowd was surprisingly subdued; Belotab had been a popular leader until the recent discontent began with the political upheavals and planetary secessions, and the people seemed to remember that they had once truly liked the man who was quietly stepping down to permit the Galactic Alliance to carry on with maximum efficiency. "Essada will be more easily swayed if she is off her guard," she finally surmised. "The political stage is set- we must now look to the military."

People milled about them and paid the two females little mind. After all, for the few who might have been able to hear them speak, Cheunh was a remarkably unknown language in this part of the galaxy.

X-X-X-X

Coruscant

Kyp took it to be a good sign when Jaina answered the door of the apartment with little delay. Less encouraging was the fact that as soon as she had, she turned around and retreated back towards the sitting room; but as she made no obvious demand for him to leave, either verbally or in the Force, he chose to take that as an invitation to follow. He slapped the pad on the wall and the door slid shut with a hiss behind him. When he reached the other room, Jaina was sitting in an armchair, her feet drawn up and arms wrapped around her legs.

"Good timing," she remarked tonelessly. "Coincidence?"

He shook his head slowly, though she wasn't even looking at him. "Jag told me when to come by." That finally drew her full attention, and her head shot up in confusion. "I need to talk to you, alone."

She sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. "Look, Kyp- what I said yesterday morning… I didn't mean it."

Kyp regarded her curiously. "Of course you meant it; it was entirely true. But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about." Jaina looked at him blankly. "Gavin Darklighter went to Gennevi last week. He's growing concerned about things in the Alliance, about things in the Defense Force. I guess Nek Bwua'tu paid him a very brief and very cryptic visit right after he was relieved of his post as Supreme Commander. He asked Gennevi to help him put together and train an independent squadron; Booster Terrik's already agreed to start outfitting one of the unused levels of the Venture to serve as a base of operations."

"And?"

"And Darklighter feels that such a scheme might be best left off the official charts. From the military, from the government… from the Jedi. Especially from the Masters' Council."

Her lips quirked in wry humor. "That lasted."

"Well, that's where it gets complicated, but there's something else- Gennevi wants Jag to be squadron leader."

"She what?"

Kyp shrugged. "They've faced off in sims, she knows and trusts him… and she wants someone older, more disciplined for the job since a lot of the pilots she thinks she'll have are pretty young."

"Who is she pulling in for this little project?"

"A couple of kids who flew with Trinity squadron when Leyla and I did… one is a rodian who was forced out several months ago. Syal Antilles. It sounds like Jysella Horn might go with her. I think Darklighter made some recommendations, probably some others who got caught when Sullust and Bothawui pulled out."

"Jysella," Jaina murmured. "Interesting. So where does the Horn family stand on this?"

He sought the right words for a moment. "Corran and I have found some merit in the idea of… preemptive preparedness. We're pulling a wing of Jedi in to the project, which will help mask the activity of the non-Jedi team without being technically affiliated with it."

"Plausible deniability?"

He grinned. "Something like that. And…" he hesitated. "You're still one of the best Jedi pilots out there, Jaina." He held up a hand. "Before you make the same objections that Jag did, I'll reiterate what Booster told him- you can bring Naviin to the Errant Venture, and Wedge and Iella will be accompanying us for intel and coordinative purposes. He won't be lacking in someone to look out for him, if need be." She bit her lip and looked torn. "Jaina, I don't know what Leyla's doing, and of course I'm worried about her- but I know my daughter, and I trust her to do what she honestly thinks is the right thing; and I trust Vulcor to tell her in no uncertain terms when she's wrong. And… at the moment… that's really all I can do."

Jaina nodded reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Kyp."

He smiled a bit sadly. "It's not supposed to be easy, you know? For me… especially not for you."

"It's been twenty years."

"That doesn't mean that the memory can't still hurt."

X-X-X-X

Council Headquarters- Csaplar- Csilla

They were a regal bunch, the four Aristocras who comprised the Council of Families which was the highest authority within the Chiss Ascendancy- though it had its limitations on power imposed by the parliament. Their numbers had fluctuated in recent years as families rose and fell from power; the most recent change was the subtraction of the Chaf family two years prior with Chaf'orm'bintrano's death and a broken family line.

Equal in standing in every possible way save amongst each other, the four of them recognized- some grudgingly, some proudly- their stature within the council itself. At the top, the eldest of them, the one who served as intermediary between the council and the parliament was head of the Fourth House, Aristocra Adr'igi'sabosen. Next was head of the Second House, Aristocra Tsel'oru'nuruodo. The First House came next in standing with Aristocra Mitt'royvr'yni. And at the bottom, the Third House, still disgraced over the treachery of their kin, was Aristocra Haun'arnt'inrokini.

Today though, the four were equal in their consternation as they considered their next scheduled order of business: a meeting. It was not a meeting that was inherently strange; indeed, one might expect that the Council of Families meet with foreign envoys, official or otherwise. But the Ascendancy was a political entity unlike any other, and the political realities of the entity had provided for little outside contact in the past nine years, since the withdrawal of the body from the larger Galactic Alliance.

But it could not be denied that their visitor had been a staunch ally. A long-forgotten alliance had been forged between his empire and theirs, an alliance which had encouraged this council to approve military action by General Fel in order to protect the capital world of their guest's empire, even when those attackers had in no way first threatened the Ascendancy.

Their visitor was an ally of a dead alliance, in a realm that had long ago shunned foreign inclusion, to the point that this very council had agreed to withdraw from the Galactic Alliance; to the point that others, quiet factions, had schemed the removal of General Fel and his son, Ambassador Fel, from the Ascendancy altogether- by death if need be. No, the Ascendancy had no great love for humans. It did beg the question, however-

Just what was it that Gilad Pellaeon wanted?

X-X-X-X

Kuat – Orbital Driveyards

It started out as a standard morning for the Assistant Director of Operations of the Kuat Driveyards primary facility in orbit around the planet; his assistant, a young gotal male, brought him a cup of caf, gave him an account of any pertinent information regarding the overnight shift, and transferred the most recently updated account of his daily schedule to his datapad. The first matter on the schedule gave him immediate pause, however, and he frowned at his assistant. "Wharren, this first appointment has a procurement flag next to it- why wasn't it made with the proper department head?"

"Ah," the gotal bobbed his head, horns glinted in the office's lighting. "You were requested personally, Mr. Lassiter."

"Hm," he glanced back down at the datapad and tapped the time slot, pulling up the information on the meeting. Frowning, he tried to recall any familiarity he might have with the name MT Horn, and was about to give up when he ever so vaguely recalled, among the plethora of people he had been quickly introduced to at his sister's wedding, the name Horn.

One of the Jedi, perhaps? That was right, a longtime acquaintance of Durron, Master Corran Horn. And Horn, if he recalled correctly, was married to the daughter of none other than Booster Terrik- Mirax Terrik Horn. MT Horn.

Mirax Terrik Horn- former smuggler in her father's impressive network, turned more reputable doing charitable work for the Rebellion and early forms of the New Republic. And once the need for discreet shipping across Imperial lines was more or less nullified, once she'd married a member of Rogue squadron who later turned Jedi Knight, she'd continued to specialize in trading rare items that most people couldn't get their hands on in day to day life.

And now she was here, specially requesting a meeting with a man she'd briefly met and barely spoken to, at the galactic headquarters of the quite frankly impressive Kuat Driveyards operations. This could be interesting.

Keldon Lassiter glanced at the chrono on his desk and put the datapad down. It would still be another half-hour until Mirax Horn was due to arrive. "I'll keep the appointment," he told his assistant. "When Mrs. Horn arrives, show her in if she's alone. If she's not, find out who is with her first."

"Sir." Wharren nodded and backed out of the office, giving no indication that he may or may not have found those instructions at all peculiar. He was very professional in his work.

When she did arrive twenty-five minutes later, she was not, in fact, alone. When Wharren reported to him the identity of the person accompanying her, Keldon raised his brows but waved him on to allow them entrance. Standing, he accepted the older woman's hand, smiling a bit bemusedly. "Mrs. Horn," he nodded.

"Mr. Lassiter," she grinned easily, making her look far younger than her advancing but still middle-aged years. "Or would you prefer 'Director'?"

"Mister is fine," he returned drily. "Keldon is even better; especially given that we've met under informal circumstances before now."

"Keldon it is. Call me Mirax. And my young friend here," she gestured to the woman at her side with blonde hair, "is…"

"Syal Antilles," Keldon finished for her, shaking the younger woman's hand. "Pleasure. I believe we met very briefly as well, at my sister's wedding."

Syal nodded. "Yes, I believe we did," she acknowledged quietly.

Keldon gestured them into seats. "I won't deny that finding this appointment on my schedule this morning caught me rather off-guard. Normally a meeting regarding acquisitions of materiel would first go through a procurement officer before working its way up to a director, and that only if there were a problem that warranted it."

Mirax nodded her understanding. "Understood, Keldon- I hope you'll forgive the presumption then, but our query is of a somewhat… unusual nature… and we figured we'd just bypass the initial step and go right to the problem stage, if you understand me." He frowned slightly but nodded for her to go on. "Syal and I are interested in acquiring a number of decommissioned X-wing class starfighters; preferably XJ-six or seven model."

There was a brief silence while Keldon's frown deepened and Mirax eyed him calculatingly. Finally he coughed lightly into his hand and sat back, clasping his hands in front of him as he considered them. "So talk to Incom," he suggested evenly. "We haven't manufactured vehicles of that size in some time, as I expect you're fully aware." His tone was curious.

She shook her head. "We're not interested in anything new, and I know for a fact that, with the folding of the Fifth Fleet, the big cruiser-class frigates and bigger ships are cycling through maintenance at all the major shipyards. And in turn, those crews are parsing out the starfighters to determine which ones need maintenance and which ones need to be scrapped altogether. We're interested in the latter sort."

He stared. "You want junked fighters?" The two women nodded. "Mind if I ask why?"

Syal smiled lightly. "For able mechanics, it's far cheaper to salvage for parts from a dozen scrapped ships than to either buy a new ship or to buy all new replacement parts."

"That's not really what I meant when-"

Mirax shook her head. "It's for a volunteer unit that's forming. We're not at liberty to say much more."

"We don't sell military-class vessels to civilians," he pointed out.

"I'm not a civilian," Syal pointed out wryly. Pulling an identicard from her pocket, she slid it across the table to him, and he scanned it quickly, noting that the Antilles girl was, in fact, a naval lieutenant.

He perused the basic information offered. "Dancer squadron, based out of the Blue Diver…" he murmured. "What fleet are you with?"

The answer occurred to him even before she voiced it. "The Fourth, sir."

Keldon sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. "And I was going to guess that my sister sent you in my direction. Darklighter then?" Their silence was confirmation enough. For a minute, he considered their request in silence, tapping a couple of interrogatives into his datapad to see what sort of capital ships they even had in their docks, and what preliminary assessments they had of their starfighter complements. "If you're looking for this to go forward without making it into the books, you should turn around and leave right now," he warned them. "Such as it is, I can't promise anything, and I will have to speak with my superior."

"Understood," Mirax nodded sharply.

He sighed again. "Come back tomorrow; Wharren will make an appointment for you on your way out. And I'll see what I can do."

X-X-X-X