The ride outbound to Broken Moon was a succession of small revelations. Marin Fel knew that her mother and father had met sometime during the Senex-Juvex Crisis. In the course of those events Tamar had made an enemy of Mand'alor Gevern Auchs and been forced to seek refuge with the Jedi.

Marin got a lot of clarifications on the way to Broken Moon. She found out that her mother had been part of a team of Mandalorians sent by Auchs- and Darth Xoran, though they hadn't known it at the time- to interdict and possibly killed her father and Chance Calrissian. Things had gone crazy. Another Sith had attacked and tried to kill them both. Tamar found out the same Sith might have killed her sister Nyal.

It was a lot to take in. As they exited hyperspace into the Tolomen system, an apparently-lifeless collection of planetoids and one big gas giant orbited by dozens of small moons, her father dropped the last bits of key information.

"When we were first here we had some help," Arlen said as he gently guided Starlight Champion toward around a silver-swirled giant. "We got close to the crime boss, Mordran Krux, with the help of one of his servants, a Twi'lek girl named Sherev'ath."

Marin might have grown up sheltered in the Jedi academy, but she knew the cliché about crime bosses and Twi'lek slave girls. "Okay. What happened?"

"She killed the shabuir," Tamar said from the co-pilot's seat.

"Language," Arlen said. "But yes, Sherev'ath killed Krux. And then we lost track of her because things got pretty chaotic. I didn't hear anything about her until I guess… six years back?"

"Seven years ago she showed up again on Broken Moon," Tamar said, "Only this time she was running the place. She's been in charge ever since. Broken Moon keeps a lower profile now than it did under Krux. It's mostly a shadowport, a place for beings to trade all kinds of illicit goods and hold meetings. Shever'ath has her fingers in a lot of things, though she's bigger on selling information than spice."

"And you think she'll help us because you helped her all those years ago?"

"She's thrown a few favors my way since," Arlen said. "Mostly little crumbs of information it's hard to get through Jedi networks."

"She's quite fond of your father," Tamar drawled.

"Last time I checked. Let's hope she still is. Are we getting hailed yet?"

Tamar checked the comm console. "Looks like we've been given a green light. Main hangar complex."

"All right. Let's take her in."

Arlen steered Champion toward a dark, rocky moon. As Marin peered over her parents' shoulders she saw that the moon trailed a long chain of slow-moving space-rock as it orbited the gas giant. Maybe a quarter of the sphere's mass seemed to have been ripped away, probably by a comet or asteroid, and it must have been crumbling slowly in the centuries since. It was, indeed, a broken moon, and it felt strange to name your secret base in so obvious a way, but she remembered that the galaxy was gigantic and there were probably thousands of similarly damaged satellites drifting around forgotten planets.

Champion carefully threaded the many tumbling rocks and slipped into the ripped-open section of the moon. She felt her father tense with concentration as he guided them through a series of rocky, twisting tunnels. Champion's forward light-beams sometimes flashed on mechanical things; Marin spotted what looked like sensor packages and a few defensive gun turrets.

When the finally reached the landing zone they set down on a broad pad a kilometer across and occupied by over a dozen ships of all designs, most similar in size to Champion. These were smuggler's ships, Marin thought; the vessels of outlaws and spice-runners the likes of which rarely ventured into Imperial Space's law-and-order and never to Bastion itself.

This was a very different world than what she'd known and her heart pounded fast as she followed her parents out of the ship. She felt exhilarated and ultra-paranoid at once as she scanned a flight deck that was mostly empty of people. All three of them wore loose civilian clothes; her mother had brought her full beskar'gam suit along just in case but kept it aboard Champion for now. Tamar kept a blaster pistol clearly visible at her hip while her father had his lightsaber in a secure spot on his jacket. Marin had brought her saber along as well, but her parents had both insisted she leave it aboard the ship. It had felt a little demeaning at the time, but now she was glad she didn't have to worry about whether she'd have to use the half-familiar weapon in a situation of real danger.

As they walked across the deck Tamar casually flicked a finger at one ship. "There it is. Harm's Way."

Marin had heard it; it belonged to her mother's cousin Dorn. It was an unusual ship, not as strange-looking as Starlight Champion but still different from the usual disc-shaped Corellian freighters or boxy Imperial haulers.

"Mandalorian ship?" Marin asked in a low voice.

"More or less. Variation on the old Kuati Firespray-type patrol ship. Dorn's made plenty of customizations."

"Can you call him now?" asked Arlen.

"One way to find out." Tamar pulled a personal comlink out of her jacket and flicked it on. She said something fast and soft Marin couldn't catch, but it sounded like Mando'a. A tinny voice responded, even harder to hear. Tamar pocketed the link and said, "They're in the main audience room. She's there too."

"Then let's get this over with," Arlen said.

Marin followed her parents out of the hangar, through a long series of winding corridors carved through rock. A group of Yuzzem, each three times bigger than Marin and encased in thick armor, shoved past them, roaring and barking things she couldn't understand. They passed an open door and Marin got a glimpse of a smoky room; broad-bodied aliens she couldn't place were reclining on lounges and what looked like a couple of Togruta girls were writhing in front of them, bare skin gleaming under red lights.

"Eyes ahead," Arlen said with a nudge in the Force.

"Right," Marin swallowed. She could feel more from her father in the Force, unspoken but clear. He was telling her, you don't belong in a place like this.

She definitely wasn't going to disagree. She kept a little closer behind her parents as they kept moving through the halls. Though wound around a couple of armored, rough-looking Nikto arguing in the middle of in intersection, then stepped into a large chamber with a broad, high dome carved from the rock. Blue and green lights cast across the dome and reflected down on the circular stage in the middle of the room where a couple of muscular, pink-skinned Zeltron men were doing acrobatics Marin was used to seeing from Jedi and nobody else.

Not that their display was Jedi-like. The poses were definitely not Jedi-typical and those Zeltrons had as much on as those Togruta girls she'd glimpsed, which was to say pretty close to nothing.

Her parents lingered on the edge of the chamber and Marin stayed with them. Tamar nudged her arm and did another small pointing gesture. Marin followed her finger and spotted a table with two unapologetically Mandalorian figures in full armor, helmets and all. The bigger one had dark blue plates. The smaller, thinner one had red beskar over an off-white body suit.

Dorn and Ninet Skirata, clearly. The red-faced helmet tilted in Marin's direction, a tiny nod.

It was a weird place to meet your family for the first time.

"Well," Marin whispered, "Do we say hello?"

"Not here," Arlen said. He was looking at the dance floor, past it, to the raised dais where a blue-skinned Twi'lek woman sat on a gold-plated throne, one bare leg crossed over the other, watching the show with an expression of faint amusement.

"What do we do now?" Marin asked. "Just… go up to her?"

"She'll take us when she wants to," Tamar said. "Where she wants to, which won't be in the open like this."

Marin looked around. There were four different serving stations where humans and aliens of all types clustered, plus other small side tables, some full and other empty.

"Do we take a seat?" She'd never felt more out of place in her life.

"Don't worry," Arlen muttered. "Won't be long."

She gave the room one more anxious look around and suddenly they had company. Anx were tall aliens, hard to miss for their long crested skulls, but somehow this one had sneaked up on them. He sidled beside her father, hands clasped in front of him, and said, "Well, I never thought I'd see the two of you together again. And you've brought a guest."

"Good to see you too." Arlen smiled, plenty of teeth. "How's business?"

"Stable, the way she likes it. I assume you want an audience for the three of you?"

"If it can be arranged."

"I'm sure it can." The Anx gestured to the Zeltron dancers. "Their stamina is impressive, but they'll wear themselves down soon. I'll take you to someplace private."

Marin reached out to both parents in the Force and tried to ask if they could really trust this guy. The best she got was a nudge from a father that meant stay with me, which might have been an answer.

They followed the Anx down a new side hall, through a security-locked set of blast doors, and into a surprisingly luxurious chamber with plush sofas, woven carpets, ivory furniture and violet and red shimmersilk curtains hung over the walls and ceiling that nearly obscured the rock from which the chamber was carved.

"Make yourselves at home," the Anx said dryly. "She'll be with you shortly."

And then he was gone, leaving the three of them alone. Marin looked over the chamber once more and wondered how much all this was worth. Jedi often claimed to be monastic, and indeed they weren't supposed to have much in physical possessions, but their communal property at the academies, mostly paid for by donations from private citizens in the Empire and Alliance, was generally clean and well-functioning. This kind of brash display of wealth was another big leap from all she'd known.

"What happens now?" Marin asked. "Do you have a way to signal-"

Her mother tapped two fingers on her forearm, a common Mando signal for silence. Marin shut her mouth. This place was sure to be bugged and her mother didn't want to advertise her connection to Dorn and Ninet out in the main chamber.

They only had to wait a minute more. When the door slid opened Sherev'ath walked into the chamber. Seeing her this close, Marin was caught by surprise. She looked young, closer to Marin's age than her parents', and she was closer to Marin's height too, a full head-and-shoulders shorter than Arlen.

Nonetheless, she walked right up to Marin's father, diaphanous rainbow-colored robes trailing behind her. She smirked, reached up, and fondly stroked Arlen's bearded chin.

"It's been a while, Master Jedi," the Twi'lek smiled.

Arlen didn't return it. "Are you surprised to see me?"

"No. I knew you'd be back one day. What I am surprised by-" she looked at her Tamar, expression darkened. "Is you. I thought you were no longer… attached."

"We're not," said Tamar.

Her gaze swung on Marin. "Then maybe she's the reason you're here together."

"This is-"

"Your daughter. Your Jedi daughter." Sherev'ath walked a slow half-circle around Marin. She felt like she was being sized up by a hungry manka cat.

She swallowed hard and said, "Please to meet you. But I'm not a Jedi yet."

The Twi'lek tilted her head and twirled one blue lekku-tip around her finger. "I suppose you've wanted to be one since you were a child."

"That's right."

"Pity. I'm sure with your bloodline you have all kinds of natural talents. Which means you could be anything you want to be."

"I want to be a Jedi."

Sherev'ath gave her a look, like she didn't really believe that and didn't think Marin did either, but before she could press the point Arlen said, "We're here for some specific information. We think you can help us."

She looked at Marin's parents. "Mandalorian business or Jedi business?"

"Maybe both," said Tamar.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you were here about Galaset. Correct?"

Arlen did a little bit better at hiding his surprise than Tamar. With a level voice he asked, "Who's Galaset?"

Sherev'ath rolled her eyes. "Auchs's man was here two weeks and five days ago. He didn't stay long."

"Do you keep tight tabs on all your visitors?" Tamar asked.

"Naturally." Sherev'ath sat down at the edge of a sofa, pushed back a hidden panel on the white table beside it, and tapped something into the keypad beneath. A holo-image sprung up in the middle of the room, from some projector Marin couldn't spot. She and her parents circled a life-sized image of a bald, jowl-faced alien and a human male around her parents' age sitting at a small table, maybe one of the ones in the main audience chamber.

Sherev'ath leaned back on the sofa, arms spread lazily across its back. "Galaset's been running 'cargo' through Broken Moon for years now. He does it under a different name, Makempet. A lot of what he routes is actual cargo but he likes to use this place for secret meetings, information-gathering, and the rest."

"Why does he use a fake identity?" asked Marin.

"Because he doesn't want me to know he's Gevern Auch's man," she scowled. "Coming in as Makempet is his way of keeping an eye on me, and using the services I provide without revealing his connections."

"You don't like Mandos then?"

"My… predecessor was close with Auchs. That's reason enough for me not to be." Her pretty blue face resumed its smile when she looked at Arlen. "Thankfully, I had a brave young Jedi Knight to help liberate me. And I won't have it said I don't repay honest debts."

Marin's father shifted uncomfortably. "What else can you tell us about Galaset? Who was he meeting here?"

"That's a good question, and believe me, I've tried to find out."

"Why?"

"Because I like to know things," Sherev'ath shrugged. "And I had a feeling you'd show up."

"Did you really?" Tamar asked.

Sherev'ath smiled a hard smile. "It wouldn't be the first time you came crawling to me, begging for dirt you could use against the Mandalore."

Marin felt faint surprise from her father but Tamar said coolly, "You weren't much help those times. Can you be helpful now?"

"To an extent." She trapped the control switch on the table and the holo-image flickered into motion.

The alien leaned in close to the human and started talking. The audio was crackled and the voices a little faint, like ambient noise had been scrubbed away.

"So," the human said, "Do you have a name?"

"Call me Galaset. What should I call you?"

"I think you know already. Starts with Halcyon."

"Ends with Blackmor."

"Fake," Tamar whispered as the human said, "You've been in contact with my employer."

"My employer has," replied Galaset. "I'm just his messenger."

"And how does your employer have an arrangement with this, ah..."

"Her name is Sherev'ath and to her I'm just a being who gets goods from place to place with no problems and no questions."

"That explains something. Frankly, I was expecting someone in different attire."

"I'm still Mandalorian. Even when I'm not fully dressed."

"I was told I'd meet with someone who'd speak with the authority of the Mandalore. Is that you?"

"It is."

"I need to hire your services. I'm very willing to pay the price."

"What kind of services?"

The figures leaned a little closer. "I need a team to hijack several ships, then use them in a combat situation."

"What kind of ships?"

"Medium-sized capital ships. I have all the technical specifications on my person. I'll share them fully with your people."

"What kind?"

"Vagaari."

Marin gasped. The alien said, "The target?"

The human said, "The Chiss Ascendancy. Not a major assault, but enough to leave a mark. I'll give you all the information I have. And I will let your people run the mission your way. However, my employer wants me to remain with your people and observe."

Sherev'ath tapped the controls and the holo froze. She said, "I'll give you a copy of the recording if you want, but the rest is haggling over payment. Very tedious. No further clues."

Arlen put his hands on his hips. "Do you bug all the conversations in this place?"

She shrugged. "Whenever possible. But frankly I barely bother with most of it. The vast majority of what people have to say isn't worth listening too."

"But you listened to Galaset." Tamar said.

Sherev'ath shot her another hard smile. "You Mandos are more interesting than most. I'll assume those bucket-heads outside are part of your clan."

"Then we'll get very far away from here before having a conversation."

The Twi'lek laughed and popped off the couch. She stalked over to Arlen and placed a small datacard in his hand; her fingers lingered on the lines of his palm as she looked up and told him, "A favor to you. If you can pass anything back my way you know I'd appreciate it."

Arlen drew his hand away and pocketed the card. "I'll see what I can. But thank you. This is… This could change everything."

"But you don't have any clue who the human was?" asked Marin. "Not at all?"

Sherev'ath shook her head. "Nothing for certain. Tell me- Marin, isn't it?- who do you think he was working for?"

Marin hadn't given the Twi'lek her name and its mention threw her off-balance, but she concentrated on the mental image of that man. Despite his worn spacer's outfit he'd had a stiff posture; square shoulders and a square jaw; short-cropped blond hair like a soldier would wear. Every time she left the Jedi academy and wandered around Ravelin she saw men like that.

"I'm not sure either," Marin said, "But my gut tells me Imperial."

Sherev'ath smiled and looked at Arlen. "I like your daughter. I assume you did most of the rearing."

He ignored her comment. "You've given us a lot to think about. Is there anything else?"

"Not for now. But you know when to find me when you need me again."

"That we do." Arlen looked to Tamar and Marin. "I think we're done here."

When they slipped out, leaving Sherev'ath behind, the Anx majordomo was there to guide them through the secure halls back to the main audience chamber.

As they walked Marin whispered to her mother, "She doesn't seem to like you very much."

"Like I think I said, I did punch her in the face when we first met."

"From what you told me on the way here, you punched Dad a couple times too."

"Well," Tamar sighed, "You have to admit I'm good at setting the tone."

-{}-

On their way back to the hangar Arlen saw that Tamar's cousin and his daughter had deserted their spot in the audience chamber. He half-expected to see they'd sneaked aboard Starlight Champion but found only a blinking red light on the comm system denoting a message left for him.

Tamar stayed in the vestibule corridor and got on the comm with her cousin, probably nestled in his own ship. Arlen and Marin went into the cockpit and played the recording. He'd been expecting something from his mother or one of the other Jedi, perhaps someone from Ossus, but instead it was a head-and-shoulders shot of his brother.

"I don't know how much you've heard," Davek said, "So I'll say it quickly. Head of State Avaris and Supreme Commander Darakon are dead. They were killed in a surprise attack over Bastion by the Kaleesh ship Grievous." His voice darkened at the name.

Arlen's chest tightened. It had been an act of Jedi mercy to let that ship run; his brother had scolded him for it at the time but he'd never imagined it could lead to this.

Davek went on, "The Grievous and Avaris' shuttle were both destroyed. Admiral Hallis from the First Fleet has been appointed Supreme Commander. The Moff Council elected Corrien Veers as the new Head of State. He's called on emergency powers and promised to root out all enemy agents inside the Empire before calling a general election."

"Fierfek," Tamar rasped from the cockpit threshold.

"Arlen, we need to be ready for anything," Davek said very seriously. "I don't think he'll move against the Jedi. The Order's generally popular now after what you did at Sevok-358. But you know Veers' politics. I'd feel much better if you were in Imperial Space. There's no telling when Mom and the children might need you. Please respond when you get this message."

The holo disappeared. Arlen fell back in the pilot's chair as thought pinned down by the weight of it all.

In a trembling voice, Marin asked, "What now? Do we go back home?" She'd held her own against Sherev'ath but she looked overwhelmed again. She was worried about her grandmother, about Vitor and Roan.

"Davek's right," Tamar said. "You should have back. Take a copy of the recording with you. I'm sure your brother will be interested. I'll go over to Dorn's ship. We can keep chasing leads."

He looked up at her. "You'd do that? Why?"

She shrugged and glanced at the bulkhead. He wanted to think it was because she felt an obligation to uncover the truth and bring justice to the thousands of Chiss killed in a false flag attack. Maybe she just wanted a weapon to use against Auchs. Probably it was a mix of both. After all they'd been through he knew Tamar better than just about anyone, even if he didn't always understand her weird mix of earnest morals and Mandalorian clan pride.

"I'll do it, Jedi," Tamar told him. "So keep a link open. I might have more information for you."

"What about me?" asked Marin, voice still weak. "Where do I go?"

Arlen opened his mouth to tell her to come; then he wasn't sure. There was no telling how things would be when he got back to Bastion. Imperial space was on the exact opposite side of the galaxy from Broken Moon; it would take over a week to get there. Anything could happen in a week and if Veers decided to crack down on the Jedi like Palpatine a century ago, Arlen didn't know if he'd be able to safeguard his daughter, let alone his mother and nephews.

There was also no telling what would happen if she went with Tamar. If they tried to investigate Galaset that could set them in Gevern Auchs' sights, and the Mandalore might decide to put a terminal end to Skirata meddling in his affairs.

That was possible but having Marin around would make Tamar act with restraint. He knew that about her too; even above clan pride she valued her daughter. She'd keep her from safety even if it meant surrendering a shot at Auchs. He needed both of them to get out of this alive and putting them together would keep them both safer.

He held Marin's eyes and said, "Go with your mother."

"But I-"

"Vitor and Roan have your grandmother to keep them safe until I get there. They'll be fine." He projected certainty in the Force and hoped she bought his lie. "We need to figure out who hired the Mandalorians to strike the Chiss. That might be more important than anything. Go with the Skiratas. They're family too. They'll keep you safe."

The girl shook, just a little, at the word family. A family she'd never known, a family that was in so many ways antithetical to what the Jedi stood for. Arlen wondered if he hadn't just made a great mistake, but Tamar put a hand on Marin's shoulder and said, "Don't worry. You'll be fine with us and your father can take care of things back home." She looked at Arlen as she said it. "We don't have time to waste. Get everything you need. Everything. Then we'll head over to Harm's Way."

Marin nodded and stood. She slipped out of the cockpit without looking back, as though pursued by her own anxieties. Arlen sighed and slumped back into his chair.

"You know we'll take care of her," Tamar said, standing over him. "She may be a Fel but she's also a Skirata. Even if she doesn't know it."

"I know. And… thank you. The situation on Bastion…. It'll probably be okay, but I can't be sure of anything anymore."

After a pause, Tamar said, "I need to get ready too. Collect my beskar'gam and everything else. Make me a copy of that recording."

"Right. Sure." He added, "Thank you."

"You already said that. Don't go crazy on the long ride back to Bastion. The whole Empire's not going to fall apart just because you're away for a week or two."

"And you think I'm worried about that?"

She gave him a look that said, I know you, Arlen Fel, turned, and left the cockpit.

She did know, better than almost anyone in the damned galaxy, but she didn't know it all. Worrying about his family on the long trip home would be bad enough. Much worse would be the endless second-guessing over his actions at Kalee- wondering if he should have shot down that ship, if he should have ignored his instincts and the Force, if acting as a Jedi would cost more lives than it saved. He didn't want to talk about that with Tamar; he didn't want to discuss it with Davek either but he had a feeling that conversation was coming one way or another. He could talk about it with his mother, maybe, if everything was okay when he got back to Bastion.

Too many questions, some which might never have answers. He took out the datacard he'd gotten from Sherev'ath, plugged it into Champ's computer, and began to copy the data. That file asked a question that surely had an answer, somewhere, one Tamar and Marin might even be able to find. If they did then it might solve a lot more problems too. It was a hope he'd have to cling to on the solo flight ahead.

-{}-

Most visitors to Kuat were only allowed access to the great orbital construction yards that ringed the planet. The select and honored few were allowed onto the surface, where miles and miles of lushly manicured landscape had been maintained for centuries as leisure zones for ancient aristocratic houses. The Kuhvult estate was neither more or less opulent than most, but it was enough to elicit some nicely astonished expressions from both Chance Calrissian and his business partner, Volgma the Hutt. Calrissian was from a family two generations rich but still no stranger to luxury; Volgma had been around for four centuries and seen many shameless displays of wealth. That he was able to impress them both gave Kroan some amusement, dull but there; it was the most he got from vermin nowadays.

After Calrissian and Volgma gave their contract pitch to the Board, one Kroan would make sure was approved before the annual conference for defense contractors at Balmorra in a week, they spent the rest of the day touring the Kuhvult estate. After a visit to a private gallery stocked with priceless art from Alderaan and Caamas they strolled the mile-long arcade where giant marble pillars carved with the faces of centuries-dead Kuhvult nobles rose twenty meters high on every side. They ended the day with a ride over an artificial ocean where a family of imported Mon Calamari whaladons swam freely beneath the transparisteel deck of their water-skimmer.

As the sun set, turning water the same red as the wine they drank, Volgma asked, "Tell me, Chairman Retor, what wings to this estate have you added personally?"

"None, actually," Kroan said. He and Chance leaned over the rail of the skimmer to watch the sun set, while the great Hutt reclined on the repulsor-bed he'd brought with him from Coruscant.

Volgma huffed. "But what of your accomplishments? You should build tributes to them. You're the first Kuhvult to chair the Board in nearly a century."

Kroan smirked at him. "I didn't know you've read into my history."

"Less reading, more living. I met Kateel of Kuhvult once. Your grandmother?"

"Great-grandmother," Kroan said evenly. She'd been the last head of KDY before the Rebellion ousted her and nationalized its manufacturing machine. It had cast the Kuhvult clan into disfavor for generations but had also proven useful in convincing Moff Veers of his pro-Empire credentials.

"Ah, of course," moaned Volgma. "I sometimes forget how fleeting human lives are." Calrissian chuckled and shook his head. The Hutt went on, "I knew your great-grandmother as a Kuati noble, but ah, she refused to do business with my corporation. A bias against my race, most unfortunate and all too common, though understandable in her case. Did you know she was once memory-wiped and sold as a slave to the infamous Jabba? A terrible affair, though I heard she made quite the dancer..."

Kroan let the Hutt ramble on. He knew Volgma's history; the Hutt had grown of age on Nal Hutta before breaking off from his Anjiliac clan a little over century ago, when Darth Sidious had been reigning in the Hutts' power with his new Empire. Since then Volgma been a shockingly ethical corporate executive, to the continual surprise of his clients and shame of the Anjiliac. He was still a Hutt, though, and displayed it constantly via keen business acumen, gluttonous appetite, and propensity for self-absorption.

Eventually the Hutt directed his repulsor-sled to the lower deck to get some food. The sun had just dipped beneath the horizon-line and the sky was turning from violet to black. Calrissian tilted his head back, let the wind tussle his curly hair, and sighed.

"So," Kroan said conversationally, "What is it like running your business with a Hutt?"

"A trying partnership, sometimes," Calrissian said seriously. "But profitable."

"Good to hear." Kroan tapped his wine-glass lightly against Calrissian's.

"So I can trust you to approve our pitch, right?"

"Oh, I think you'll win enough votes through the merit of your proposal."

"Good to know," Chance chuckled. "So if I'm working with KDY now, does this mean I get an invite to that big conference on Balmorra next week?"

"Why? Do you want to hobnob with more defense contractors?"

"That's the hope."

"Always looking for a good connection. That's the Chance I remember. But it can't all be business. How is the family? Your daughter is… how old?"

"Brenna is sixteen."

Kroan had met her once, a long time ago. A whiny, self-centered little child. "Time does fly."

"You know, I have to ask," Calrissian said, "Why did you never marry?"

"I still have time." An equivocal smile.

"True, true. It's just… You must've had opportunities. You've got the money. And, if I'm being honest, the charisma and the looks."

"No need to flatter me, Chance, you've got my vote," Kroan said flatly.

"But seriously, is there an answer?"

Kroan took a gulp of wine. "Married to my work, I suppose."

"Huh. I guess yours must keep you even busier than mine."

"You have no idea." He sipped a little more wine and decided to start angling. "But like I said, time gets away from you. We don't see each other often enough, my friend."

"You can say that again."

"But it happens to everyone, doesn't it? How often do you see that Jedi friend of yours anymore? You two used to be close as brothers."

"You mean Arlen? I talk to him sometimes. But see him, in person? You're right, it has been a while."

"Any idea what he's doing now?" Just a touch of Force suggestion. Calrissian normally had a strong mind but alcohol and beckoning nostalgia softened it.

Calrissian's face went blank for a moment, then brightened with a smile. "You're not going to believe it, actually."

"Believe what?"

Calrissian hesitated, like he was wondering how much to say. Kroan pressed further, reaching into his mind with invisible hands, searching for memories and sensations. Calrissian said, "Do you remember, all those years ago, when Arlen and I hitched a ride on your yacht back to Coruscant?"

"Vividly." He'd known about their trip to Broken Moon and reported it to Darth Xoran. Kheykid and those Mandalorian vermin had failed to kill them there; it had been the beginning of the end of the One Sith's plans for Senex-Juvex.

"He's going back there is all. Funny thing. Got an old friend with him too."

"Which old friend?"

Calrissian hesitated; Kroan prodded. The vermin muttered, "Old girlfriend."

The Mandalorian defector, Tamar Skirata. The mother of Arlen Fel's child. The Sith had figured she'd been the one to kill Mordran Krux and wreck their spice-selling scheme. Pieces fell into place.

"When did they leave for Broken Moon?" he pressed.

Calrissian blinked like he'd gone groggy. A stupid mistake; he hadn't named the location aloud. Retor of Kuhvult shouldn't have known it. He'd need to rub that memory free. Kroan reached out to lay a hand on the top of Calrissian's back. The man didn't shift; Kroan snaked his hand up further to the back of his skull, muddling the vermin's thoughts all the while, then reached deeper into his mind.

A conversation, on holo. Days ago, before Fel had left Bastion. Before Calrissian had left Coruscant. The Jedi might have been to Broken Moon already. He must have gotten information from that Twi'lek wench. It was a mistake to use that shadowport as a meeting place; he'd warned Auchs against it over and over but the damned Mand'alor never took advice.

He heard the sounds of Volgma returning from below the deck. He smudged the last minute of conversation from the top of Calrissian's memory and removed his hand. When the Hutt rolled out onto the deck, now dark under a black sky, he found Calrissian hunched forward over the railing like he was going to tip into the water.

Kroan, smiling, took the wine-glass from Calrissian's hand and said for both to hear, "Looks like you've had too much to drink."

"I guess so," the man winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem. Maybe we should turn in."

"I think so." Calrissian turned around and told the Hutt, "You can stay out here if you want."

"No, it's quite alright," Volgma waved a plump hand. "Nothing follows up a good meal like a good night's sleep."

Mental suggestion on Hutts was difficult, even for a Sith Lord, but gluttony did what the Force could not. They retreated to the Kuhvult family's palatial estate; the twenty minutes it took to get his two guests settled felt like forever. When they were finally in their chambers Kroan retreated to his and activated his most secure communications device. He hesitated; he needed to talk to Veers and Auchs both and decided to try to the Imperial first.

The newly minted Head of State was a busy man, and for security reasons he only communicated with Kroan over this line very rarely. Being hailed on it would be enough to extricate Veers from whatever he was doing now.

When the man's holo-image appeared he was all polite smiles. "Ah, Chairman Retor. What a pleasant surprise."

In his hurry Kroan had forgotten the aggravating small-talk and cloaked language they always used in these transmissions. The communications tech they used were some of the most secure in the galaxy, but for the stakes they were playing for they had to be careful even now.

"Thank you. Congratulations on being elected Head of State. And my condolences too, of course, for all the Empire's lost today."

"Thank you, Chairman. We all appreciate your good wishes," Veers said, so earnest. "On the positive side, I'm happy to report that Invincible is operating exactly as promised."

"I hope you can use it to keep the Empire safe from any threat."

"Believe me, I hope so too. While I appreciate the good words, is there a reason for this call?"

"A few things, actually. They won't take long. I was wondering about that emissary you sent last month."

"Emissary? Ah, yes, what of him?"

"He made a good impression and I wanted to check in on him. Now, my eyes may have deceived me, but I believe I saw him yesterday morning accompanying Admiral Hallis aboard Invincible. Was I mistaken?"

He blinked in surprise. "No. You were not."

"I see. Then I have to ask, was your emissary also present at those delicate negotiations I directed you toward?"

Veers knew exactly what he was saying. His eyes narrowed. "Yes. Is this important?"

"I'm learned recently that those negotiations may have had a compromised security element." Panic flashed on the Imperial's face. Kroan assured him, "I'm doing everything I can to investigate the matter. Rest assured I'll take care of any problems and let you know if there's anything further to worry about. I do, however, insist you ensure your agent cannot compromise things further."

Veers scowled. "He's one of my best men."

The damn vermin was letting sentimentality cloud his judgment. He was a poor emulation of Darth Sidious but he was the best they had to work with. The agent needed to die; that was obvious. He could press Veers but the man might hold it against him, so he decided to try a subtler approach. "I appreciate your loyalty. Can you vouch for his?"

"Absolutely. He'd never break, not even under torture."

"Torture by Jedi?" Veers couldn't speak to that one definitely; when he hesitated Kroan pressed, "Since you seem fond of the man, let me make another suggestion. Send him to me. They may be looking for him in Imperial space but they'll never thing to search for him on Kuat."

Veers thought for a moment. "I see. Well, I think that can be arranged."

"I'm so glad."

"Where and when should he meet your people?"

"Hmmm…. I'm due for a conference on Balmorra in eight days. Have him meet me then." He'd kill the man, of course, but it would interesting to lock him up and pick through his brain in the Force to see what secrets Veers had been keeping from him.

"I'll arrange that," Veers said. "Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing. A curious inquiry. I was wondering if you planned to make any personnel changes among your senior fleet officers? Or has that not been decided yet?"

Veers understand that meaning too. "There is one fleet admiral I may have to remove from his post."

"Ah. Do you think he's not up to performing his duty?"

"I think there's some uncertainty about his loyalties. In fact, I have evidence implicating his family in some very questionable activities."

"Do you plan to go after his entire family? All his allies?"

"To keep the Empire safe, I don't think I have a choice."

There it was. Veers would arrest Davek Fel and go after the Jedi. They'd lost a dozen knights battling Abeloth and would be weakened, but Kroan had his doubts Veers' best soldiers would be able to take them; vermin were still vermin, and never a true match for Force-users.

Still, he'd alert Darth Wyyrlok. She'd set Sith agents on Bastion in preparation for the attack. Veers had no idea who he was truly in bed with and Kroan planned to keep it that way. Attacking the Jedi on Bastion, killing them or just driving them out of the Empire, would put the whole Order on alert, but his agents said more Jedi, including their Grand Master, had currently gone off searching for Abeloth. When Veers struck they'd be weak and off-balance, slow to respond especially given the political complications. They wouldn't break the Jedi Order yet, but they could deal some crippling damage.

And, Kroan thought, there was on particular Jedi still on Bastion whose death would hurt the Order a great deal. She'd been the Sword of the Jedi in her prime; she'd slain Darth Caedus and nearly killed Darth Krayt himself. Jaina Solo was an old woman now, no master duelist but still a symbol of great importance. Killing her would be the world blow to the Order unlike anything since Darth Xoran killed Ben Skywalker.

It took effort to keep the smile off his face. "Good luck, Head of State Veers. I have no doubt you'll do right by the Empire."

"Thank you, Chairman Retor. I look forward to speaking to you again."

He turned off the transmission. Veers' consolidation of Imperial space was going according to plan, but if the Jedi could trace his connection to the false flag attack it would ruin him. Worse, they might trace his connections further, back to Kroan himself.

Gevern Auchs would have to take care of the rest. Unlike Veers, the Mandalore knew exactly who was employing him. He'd known since Darth Xoran revealed her true purpose all those years ago, during the Senex-Juvex Rising. He'd been a useful tool, but Kroan knew the Mandalorians were using the Sith as much as the Sith used the Mandalorians. In his work for Xoran and Kroan, Auchs had made his mercenaries more wealthy and feared than any time since the Old Republic.

All of that, too, might be on verge of falling down. Kroan patched in the Mandalore's comm frequency and started the call. They were all so close to victory, and he wouldn't let Arlen Fel and his rogue Mandalorian woman ruin everything.

Not a second time, anyway.