The yacht Violet Envy was perfectly suited for diplomatic duty. Grand Moff Kaine occupied the stateroom alone; Carias had let him be during their trip to Coruscant, both because he didn't want to disturb him, and because he'd spent every free minute making his own plans.
Not everything could be prepared in advance. ISB's assets on Coruscant were extremely thin, having been largely expended over the years and were difficult to replace. Unfortunately, most of the Coruscanti families that ISB would have recruited from—including Carias' own—had been among those to abandon the planet when the Rebellion had conquered it, which left few true loyalists (at least, loyalists who could be confirmed as such) among Coruscant's remaining population. But there were other options for Carias to procure what he would need.
Just as importantly, Carias had quietly ordered a number of personnel reassignments. Every Imperial warship carried some ISB personnel to monitor the loyalty of its crew—both officially and unofficially—but that might not be enough to assure loyalty in the days to come, so Carias pushed some judicious personnel shuffling to put the right people in the right places.
His new second-in-command, Lieutenant Brinner, swiveled in the chair at the yacht's electronic warfare and communications station. Carias had left Welko to look after ISB's affairs aboard Reaper, secure in the knowledge that the man was loyal, capable, and ruthless enough for the job. In his absence, Brinner was competent enough; a brick of a man who looked like he had a Gonk droid for a grandparent, he lacked Welko's well-honed accuracy with a blaster pistol, but made up for it with close-combat skills and unhesitating loyalty. "Ten minutes to Coruscant, sir."
Carias pressed the intercom button on the arm of his command chair. "We're ten minutes out of Coruscant," he announced to the crew. "Confirm all weapons powered down. We don't want to get into a shooting match with the Rebellion's First Fleet." He glanced over at the gunnery station, where the console's running lights showed only the dimmed grey of disasbled turbolasers.
The whisper-soft footsteps that heralded Brakiss' arrival seemed to get quieter and quieter each time he approached. "Are all preparations made?" Brakiss asked quietly, in that voice that was so much older than the teenager he was, or the teenager he had been when Carias had met him only a few days before.
"The last communications went out during our brief stopover at Brentaal," Carias murmured, keeping his voice too quiet for even his loyal bridge crew to easily overhear. "All that remains is to discuss the matter with the Grand Inquisitor." Carias swiveled his chair towards Brakiss, folding his hands across his lap as he did. "Arrangements have been made to take care of that after we arrive on Coruscant?"
Brakiss merely smiled, which Carias took as a confirmation.
The Inquisitors will do their job, Carias thought to himself, believing it more as he remembered their reputations. The Empire needs them. Even if the Force is incomprehensible, the last few years have proven that it is indispensable to the New Order.
The final minutes lingered, excruciating silence making them feel like hours. The only one of them that looked calm was Brakiss, but the lingering aura of menace around the man offered a premonition of tempest. Brinner's expression was irritated, but that was Brinner's normal condition.
There was a soft ding as the doors opened and Grand Moff Kaine entered. Kaine wore his full dress uniform, a concession to tradition that Carias knew Kaine usually disdained. On the left breast, under his rank plaque which marked him as the senior-most Moff in the Empire, one of the awards drew Carias' attention. Carias had one just like it, on his own dress uniform; a ISB distinguished service ribbon. They were no longer awarded—only the Emperor himself had possessed that privilege.
Kaine had earned it, once. But seeing it on his chest now made Carias silently furious. Treason, his mind whispered, unbidden. He has no right.
Kaine did not seem to notice where Carias' attention had wandered to. "Have we arrived?" he asked.
"Very nearly, sir," Carias answered, tearing his attention away and adopting his best unhurried commander impression.
With the typical subtle lurch of a hyperspace transition, Violet Envy returned to normal space. It had been years since Carias had been back to Coruscant, and the sudden sight of the world brought decades of memories. Growing up outside the Senate District during the final years of the Republic. The Battle of Coruscant and the battleships that had fallen from the sky, leaving trails of fiery debris which impaled structures and people with equal ease. The Declaration of Empire and the security it immediately brought to the people of the new Imperial Center. The reassurance and calm, the ease of life, the flush of patriotism and fervor.
Directly in front of them was a massive Executor-class Super Star Destroyer. There was a moment of flushed relief, a reminder of the first time the vessels had entered Imperial service, of the assurance that they would destroy the Rebellion once and for all—
On each of the ship's flanks was an enormous Rebel crest, gleaming in red.
The flush of rage was quickly suppressed. The determined intent was not. He glared at Lusankya, and at the planet that turned below. I will see the Rebellion burn, even if I have to scorch my homeworld to do it.
The meeting was not taking place in the Imperial palace. The palace was, unfortunately, far too conspicuous and busy to sneak an Imperial Grand Moff in and out without being seen. Instead, they'd selected a large hotel complex twenty minutes outside of the former Imperial Center, one known for its discretion. After renting the top three floors for themselves and their Imperial counterparts, they'd moved in, getting comfortable for what Leia expected would be an extended few days—if not longer—of preliminary negotiations.
In anticipation of Grand Moff Kaine's arrival, Leia put together a security and observation team that was second to none. Colonel Kapp Dendo, Crix Madine's protégé, and his Noghri commando team were assigned to security and subterfuge. Their job would be first to keep an eye on Kaine and his entourage, and second to make sure that no one else—especially no one with newsie ties—could do the same.
With security covered by the best commandos that the New Republic had to offer, Leia then established a political, military, and intelligence analysis team. Garm Bel Iblis knew the military situation better than anyone else, so he served as the military advisor. Leia could do the political analysis herself, but she preferred to have Winter as her aide, knowing that Winter would remember anything that Leia might forget herself, and could make connections that others would miss. Finally, Iella sat at the other side of the table, quietly reading from a briefing book while she drank a cup of steaming hot caf, wearing an expression of focused, attentive calm that Leia had come to expect from the woman.
There was a knock on the door, then Kapp slipped into the room; Leia caught a momentary glimpse of one of his Noghri team in the hallway beyond. Kapp was one of the more recognizable members of commando squads trained by Crix Madine—with the typical reddish skin and horns of a Devaronian, he could never disguise himself as a human—which left him often on missions of a less covert nature. "We've got the confirmation code," he announced, with a kind of stiff enunciation that betrayed both his uncertainties about the wisdom of this entire project and his determination to do his duty. "There's a transport on approach. Violet Envy. We've directed it to land on the rooftop pad. My team has just confirmed again that the floors are secure, no sign of listening devices or sludgenews operatives anywhere."
She and Winter shared a look; Leia's long-time aide, who had been with Leia even going back to their childhood on Alderaan, and then during Leia's time in the Imperial Senate, offered the same confirming nod and phrase she had been giving ever since they were children. "Yes, Princess."
"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" Garm asked, looking even more unhappy than Kapp. "Having someone military in the room might send a more confident message—"
"No," Leia interrupted with a shake of her head. "Our military superiority is already clear, I don't need to drive it home. This moment is one for conciliation." The corner of her mouth twitched, and she gave Garm a small, confident smirk. "We can always bring Kerrithrarr to one of the later sessions," she suggested. "Besides, I'll have Cakhmaim. He should be intimidating enough."
Garm didn't smile back. His serious expression was stiff with thoughtfulness. But he nodded his reluctant agreement after a glance at Cakhmaim. "All right. I'll stay here and observe with Agent Wessiri."
Leia and Winter stood, and Leia straightened her formal clothes. She'd spent far too long debating over what to wear. Han's suggestion, that she wear the combat gear she'd worn on Endor, had been amusing but… insufficiently diplomatic, and she had ultimately settled on a simple white outfit she'd often worn during her stint in the Imperial Senate. With a final nod to Garm and Iella, they turned to leave.
Beside them, Cakhmaim's silent, intimidating presence was a shield against all the threats in the world. The Noghri led them out of the lounge they'd turned into their temporary negotiating headquarters,
The hotel complex had been built well-near seven centuries before, during a high point in the history of the Old Republic. The Molalla Astor Hotel and Resort was an enormous complex, distant enough from the Senate District to offer anonymity while still close enough to make a morning commute practical. Two differents structures (the Molalla and the Astor) linked together by enormous, transparisteel passageways that offered a scenic view of Coruscant's ever-overbusy skyways attracted offworld tourists; its extensive security and privacy policies, rentable office space, library, and secure holocoms attracted politicians, ambassadors, and their aides.
Leia knew that rumors were swirling all around Coruscant why the top three floors of the Astor had been booked for a week, but General Cracken had produced several persuasive and salacious cover stories and a dozen body-doubles who were—if they were succeeding at their mission—currently leading sludgenews all over Coruscant (and some nearby systems).
Cakhmaim led the way as they traveled from the rooms that had been assigned to the New Republic to the ones that had been assigned to the Empire. Grand Moff Kaine should have landed on the roof of the Astor, on one of the hotel's very private landing pads, and his security detail would surely be performing a sweep before allowing the Grand Moff to disembark on the enemy-held world.
The Mollala Astor felt eerily empty. The hotel's decor was cream and gold and its halls carved with ornate patterns and carpentry. The efforts of craftsmen from across the galaxy had gone into its creation, and those efforts had produced a famously beautiful structure. During the height of the Old Republic, it would have been filled with dignitaries of all species. The hotel had declined under the Empire, with all its amenities for non-human species largely unneeded. Today it was completely empty, the void a looming presence of its own—a reminder of the stakes they fought for.
Cakhmaim pulled open the doors at the end of the hallway, a puff of stale air emerging as they yawed open.
The conference room was rectangular, with one entrance on either side, meant for two equal partners. That equality would have been an affront to previous Imperial warlords, who had never acknowledged the New Republic as an equal partner, but Kaine had not objected when she had suggested it. That, plus the fact that Kaine had decided to come at all, was enough to give Leia hope that perhaps there was room for an agreement to be made.
Leia and Winter took the two chairs on the Republic side of the room. Two lamps rested on the desk, casting a warm light that filled their side of the room; additional light came in through an array of windows on either side of the room, but those windows were offset behind a second wall that did not quite reach the ceiling. This both allowed some light to enter the room, but also ensured that neither sludgenews nor espionage could get a glimpse of the affairs within the room.
The worst part of a diplomatic negotiation was the waiting. Once everyone was together in a room, instinct and experience took over. But the minutes before the negotiation were agony. Leia ran through a silent litany of all the things that could go wrong, the demands that could be made, the potential consequences of failure. The dangers of Imperial intransigence, the risks of Imperial hardliners like ISB sabotaging the meeting, the possibility that the Provisional Council would reject whatever terms Leia could come to with Kaine.
"I recognize that expression," Winter said mildly from beside her. "The first time I saw it we were waiting to take our first form exams." She pointed at Leia. "You were listing the names of our five most important monarchs."
Leia's focus shifted from the impending negotiation back into the past. "I still don't remember," she laughed. "There's Darrus and Breha, after that I forget." The tension broken, Leia offered Winter a smile. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Winter replied lightly, mirroring Leia's smile. She rested her hand on her stomach. "Don't worry. In a few months I'm sure I'll be relying on you to keep me from worrying."
"They are arriving," Cakhmaim growled, making them both jump. The Noghri made his way across the room—in haste without being hurried—and pulled the doors open. As Leia and Winter stood, they could see three men on the other side of the threshold. After Cakhmaim checked them for weapons—to the clear annoyance of one of the men, a compact man with greying hair who wore a Colonel's uniform—they entered, and Leia got a good look at each of them.
She recognized the man leading the trio immediately. Grand Moff Kaine was unmistakable, looking every bit like a classic Imperial Moff. He didn't look like his predecessor, Grand Moff Tarkin; Tarkin had been pasty, with a gaze that was menacing even when it wasn't meant to be. Kaine was younger, with a thicker head of hair and more color. His expression was stiff and emotionless, but his face lacked the edge of inherent menace that had so defined Tarkin.
Behind him was the man in the Colonel's uniform. He was shorter than Kaine, stockier and more powerfully built. He was Kaine's version of Winter, Leia decided—his aide and confidante, there to provide counsel. Unlike Winter, though, the Colonel was probably there to be the more aggressive voice, to allow Kaine to seem like the voice of measured reason.
The last of the trio was the most curious. A very young man, one certainly not much older than Kyp was, he seemed to have stolen all the youth from the other two. His hair was as blonde as her brother's, and his eyes just as blue. He was the only member of the trio not wearing an Imperial uniform; instead, the young man had on a plain-looking outfit, formal but not too formal. He seemed too young to be security, Leia thought. Perhaps he was an additional aide?
Kaine and Leia approached one another in the center of the room, the meters of the hallway seeming to stretch. Compared to the three Imperial figures, Leia, Winter, and Cakhmaim were diminutive, almost comically so, and Leia was glad the sludgenews was not present; the headlines the next day would not have been able to resist a pointed commentary.
Kaine took her proffered hand. "Councilor Organa Solo," he said.
Her hand was small in his, but she made sure that her grip was firm. "Grand Moff Kaine. Welcome to Coruscant. May I introduce you to my aide, Winter Celchu, and the leader of my personal guard, Cakhmaim, warrior of the clan Eikh'mir."
The Imperial Grand Moff released his grip, allowing her to exchange a handshake with the Colonel who accompanied him. "Thank you, Councilor. This is Colonel Carias. He's an old friend of mine and is serving as my principal guard and advisor for these negotiations."
Carias' smile was cold; the man didn't even make an attempt at being genuine. "Princess."
Leia hid a wince. Kaine might be cooperative, but Carias was going to be a problem. She waited for Winter to exchange a handshake with Carias, then glanced behind Kaine at the young man who Kaine had not introduced. She waited for an introduction; when one did not seem forthcoming, she prompted it. "And this is…"
"Brakiss," the young man introduced himself. He offered a shy smile and took Leia's hand gingerly, with none of the firm grip of Kaine or Carias. And yet, Leia thought, there was something about him that made her distinctly uneasy. Those blue eyes were almost unnaturally so…
"Oh, my apologies," Kaine interrupted her musing, drawing her attention back to him. "Brakiss is serving as an aide for Colonel Carias and myself. He's here mostly for record-keeping and observation." He gestured at the pair of desks. "Shall we sit? I suspect there is going to be a great deal of talking, and seats and water would both be welcome."
It took them an hour and a half simply to finish hammering out an agreement about the current state of galactic affairs. Every time Leia referred to the New Republic as a legitimate governing body, Carias objected—and every time he did, Leia wanted to smack him. The Empire's intransigence on these issues had become an increasing problem, especially when it came to treatment of prisoners; while the New Republic diligently kept Imperial prisoners of war in expectation of returning them to the Empire in prisoner exchanges, New Republic prisoners held by the Empire had more uncertain chances.
These people can be utterly infuriating, Leia thought, hiding her scowl as Winter and Carias went through an extended, increasingly heated exchange about the proper obligations of combatants in wartime.
But, the longer the meeting went on, the more confident Leia became. Carias was intransigent, but he wasn't the one dictating the meeting. Kaine was. And Kaine had repeatedly stepped in to assure them that Imperial forces under his command had and would continue to treat the New Republic as an equal government. Carias' scowl at those words had vanished quickly; whatever his reluctance, he was willing to follow Kaine's lead, at least so far.
"The New Republic has certain necessary expectations," Leia laid out their demands, the same ones she and Mon Mothma had written and then run by the rest of the Provisional Council. "First, the recognition of the New Republic's legitimacy as an equal government." That was necessary for the negotiations to even begin; just by being here, Kaine had implicitly offered that much. "Second, the end of all military operations against territory currently held by the New Republic. Third, the end of slavery within the Oversector Outer, verified by New Republic monitors. And fourth, political considerations for Imperial worlds unsatisfied with its current governing arrangement."
Carias' expression was that of a looming thunderstorm. Kaine's lips tightened as she laid out each of their demands, from the easiest ones to the more strenuous ones. "If you believe," the Colonel ground out slowly, as if trying to speak while chewing shattered transparisteel, "that the Empire will ever permit New Republic inspectors unfettered access to all elements of its economy, then you are a fool as well as a traitor!"
Long years of diplomatic training, and Bail Organa's strenuous lessons about never letting her ire show—lessons which Leia had never been all that good at following—were the only thing that kept a hot retort from spilling free. What makes you think you can stop us, Imperial scum? she barely managed not to snarl. "The New Republic's stance on slavery is very clear," she replied instead, her fury confined to a slight increase in volume and passion.
Kaine raised his hand; to Leia's relief, Carias receded back a half-step, deferring to the Grand Moff. "I have had discussions with the leading luminaries of the Oversector's economy," he said. The emphasis was interesting. Kaine's emphasis on 'the Oversector' rather than 'the Empire' matched what she already expected from the man. Kaine rapped his fingers on the desk, keeping all attention on him—and keeping Carias momentarily quiet. "Finding a way to satisfy the New Republic's concerns about the institution of slavery in a way that will not be overly burdensome will be difficult," he conceded. "But I am willing to concede in principle that the Oversector would end the practice and seek to satisfy the Republic in our efforts to do so, over a reasonable transition period."
Leia could drive a Super Star Destroyer through a loophole that large.
"As for political considerations, that is a more complicated topic. But—" he held up a hand to forestall Leia's impending commentary "—I am willing to consider the restoration of the Imperial Senate in its previous governing role, with room for expansion of that role where appropriate."
Leia and Winter glanced at each other. Even with both of their sabacc faces in full effect, Leia could see, and understand, the other woman's surprise. "I see," Leia said, folding her hands together.
"But there are, of course, considerations the Oversector would want as well," Kaine continued. "First, the end to all trade restrictions. Full, open access to the galactic market, without the embargoes on Oversector-produced goods or services that are currently in place. Second, the option for planetary systems and populations currently part of the New Republic to forgo their membership in the New Republic and freely vote to join the Oversector if they choose to do so."
That could be a problem. If primarily human systems like Kuat, ones with insular societies and continuing prejudices, had the option to leave the New Republic for the Empire— especially an Empire that could operate freely in the galactic market—they might just take it. Overnight the Empire could regain major shipyards, strategic systems, and enlarge its economic base.
It would be a hard sell with the Provisional Council. But it would also be a difficult thing for the New Republic to refuse, with its rhetorical emphasis on freedom and self-determination. These people cannot be trusted, she thought, feeling decades of resentments and pain and the memory of Alderaan all swirl in her mind.
"Finally," she heard Kaine continue, "We must discuss the New Republic's intentions when it comes to prosecuting individuals it holds responsible for acts illegal under the law of the Republic." Kaine leaned forward, his voice darkening, as if carrying the weight of every act. "To put it simply, if the New Republic insists on holding every individual with a history of Imperial service accountable for every act it finds distasteful, it will make a negotiated end to the conflict impossible. What reason is there to put down their arms, if the New Republic will come and arrest them, take away their freedom or perhaps even their lives, once they have disarmed? I have prepared a list of acts that the New Republic formally intends to prosecute, and will insist that as part of any peace agreement subjects of the Oversector be formally granted amnesty for such acts." He handed a datapad to Winter, who took it. "The Oversector will not put down its arms just to hand its people over to the whims of the Republic."
To demand so much, Leia thought grudgingly, when his Empire is at fault for everything. She stared at the man. There was no hint of insincerity in Kaine's voice, or even in his sense in the Force. Carias, behind him, was clearly annoyed by the entire exercise, but he was difficult to read, shrouded by his bitterness and close-mindedness. But Kaine had every hint of being genuine. This is Tarkin's heir, she thought, feeling the hollowness of horror. His predecessor murdered my world. Winter's world. Billions of innocents. For a demonstration. And he asks us for concessions? For amnesty?
Leia was tempted to tell him to go kriff himself. To stand up, put her hands on the table, and explain in slow, excruciating terms exactly what the New Republic would do to every Imperial and Imperial sympathizer. To send Wedge and Lusankya to raze a hundred Imperial planets. To show the Empire what it was like to be on the wrong end of a blaster rifle or interrogation droid!
Her anger simmered, and she found her attention drawn to Carias, who seemed in an equal state. She and Carias scowled at each other. Leia took a deep breath, let it out again. Her fury was only natural, she reassured herself. But it would lead her, and all the people relying on her, down a path of further bloodshed. With an effort, she looked away from the aggrieved Imperial and turned to his superior.
Kaine was still waiting. She gave him nothing. "I will take it to the Provisional Council," she said. "But even if they agree to your terms—and I am not sure they will—this is the easy part. Finding a way to take the broad outline of this agreement, and turn it into a document we can both abide by in practice will be far more difficult."
The Grand Moff's expression was that of ice slowly thawing. Carias' expression was that of the nearby raging bonfire that had induced the thaw. For the first time since the negotiations began, Leia's attention was drawn to the last member of the Imperial delegation. Brakiss was sitting in a chair back near the door the Imperials had entered through. He had been sitting there the entire time, taking notes quietly on a datapad. He hadn't said a single word, nor received any attention from either of the more senior Imperials.
Their eyes met in one of those moments of accidental connection. In such moments, Leia's experience was that they ended awkwardly—suddenly looking away, or a small, disarming smile. But Brakiss did not look away and he did not smile. His icy gaze was locked upon her, boring, deep and inexorable, with the kind of demanding focus that Leia would not have expected from a man of his age.
"You're right of course," Kaine said, and Leia was forced to break the staring contest, her attention returning to the Grand Moff, a sudden chill suffusing through her. "But this negotiation ended in a better place than I had expected, to be honest. I believe it is possible for the Oversector to give you what you ask for. And you have not rejected our demands out of hand." He stood, offering Leia his hand. "The galaxy has known war for too long, Councilor Organa Solo," he said seriously. "My entire life has been one of warfare; if not against the Rebellion, then against the Separatists. The people of the Oversector deserve peace."
The people of the Oversector might, Leia thought sourly. But do you? You, Grand Moff Tarkin's heir, a founder of ISB, a creator of dread and a servant of death? And even if there was peace between the Republic and an independent Oversector, that would not bring peace to the Republic. The other warlords would not just disappear, the ISB forces which had murdered tens of thousands at Rendili and still more on a hundred thousand other worlds, they would not concede. How many worlds would suffer in the interim?
He does not deserve peace, her mind whispered. But the thought was unbefitting, and one Leia could not afford in her position, so she pushed it aside.
The handshake she exchanged with Carias was less amicable. His eyes blazed with an angry fury, but there was more than anger in it. In his gaze, and in his Force sense, she could sense a resigned sorrow. Whether Carias wanted to admit it to her or not, it was over and he knew it. "Princess," he growled, no sign of that knowledge showing on his face.
Winter exchanged handshakes with the two men, then they turned and departed, their Imperial uniforms shrinking as they approached the exit. Leia and Winter watched them go.
As he turned to exit, Brakiss offered her a smile before he closed the doors behind them. The expression sent a terrified shiver down Leia's spine, and she had no idea why exactly she was so afraid.
They returned to the operations room. Garm and Iella were each holding fresh cups of caf, talking quietly. As Leia and Winter entered, they offered Winter a cup of tea, and Leia the blackest of black caf. "We thought you would need these, under the circumstances," Iella said. "We also have some ryshcate, if you want something sweet."
Leia gratefully took a sip of the strong caf. "Thank you."
"What did you think of the Imperials?" asked Garm, sipping his own caf.
Leia opened her mouth to speak, but Winter got there first. "I think we have a serious problem," she announced.
Leia turned towards her, frowning. Winter hadn't touched her tea yet, and was turning back towards them from the computer set at the desk. "What do you mean?"
"I recognized Kaine's aide," Winter said flatly, her expression dark. "He's not from the Imperial army. He's ISB." She held up a datapad, which presented a tiny little face that unmistakably belonged to the Grand Moff's aide. "Colonel Kaday Carias, from Coruscant."
The suite that had been reserved for them underwent a thorough sweep by Carias' team before he allowed any of them to enter. He didn't really believe that the Rebellion would stoop to assassination—especially not when Kaine was perfectly willing to give peacefully everything they might take in war—but it was still necessary. When it was finished, and they were assured that the room was safe for both lives and secrets, they entered.
Kaine lumbered into a heavy chair, leaning back with a sigh. Carias made his way to the window, looking out over the city. This was a quieter part of Coruscant compared to the Palace District, but it was still Coruscant. The long rows of vehicles streamed through the sky, just as they had when he had served here as a young officer, and just as they had when he had been a child. The world had been the heart of the Old Republic, and even more the heart of the Empire, with its young men and women enlisting by the millions to serve the Empire in any capacity possible.
Palpatine had saved them all. He'd protected them as Chancellor, he'd won the war. He'd fought off attempts to seize the Republic by insidious forces, both from within and from without. The recruitment stations had made it clear it was the responsibility of every human to serve, and serve they had. Coruscant, and the other Core Worlds of course, had provided the foundation of the Empire.
And now Coruscant served a new master. One whose corruption was evident even in something as mundane as the construction of the hotel room he stood within. Carias wondered if Councilor Organa Solo had considered—even noticed—the disrespect she paid her guests by giving them a hotel room which had originally been built for non-human guests. The built-in humidifier—meant to turn the air heavy with moisture, probably to increase the comfort of an amphibian sentient—combined with the moisture-resistant furniture and electronics was proof enough of that.
"What did you think, Kaday?"
Carias turned away from the window, drawing the curtains closed, and then activating the manual tint to polarize them fully, preventing any espionage through the transparisteel. "I think they ask for a lot and offer very little," he said honestly.
"I have no doubt that they believe the same," Kaine replied, stroking his jaw. "Councilor Solo is probably having that discussion with Mon Mothma and the Provisional Council as we speak." He waved his hand in the air. "I can imagine the debates. The incredulity that we would demand so much." He shook his head. "But we cannot offer anything more than our people back home would accept."
Speak for yourself, Carias thought bitterly. You've already offered more than I would give. "True," he said instead of the words truly believed. "There will be Imperial worlds reluctant to accept your bargain." He considered his words carefully. "Carida in particular is devoted to the New Order and will be reluctant."
"Carida is an island," Kaine replied dismissively. "Without support from the Oversector, it could not even provide for its own economic needs."
People care about more than the economy, Ardus! He had to fight back the bubbling outrage. They care about what is right. About purity of spirit and purpose. You knew that when you founded the Imperial Security Bureau. When did you forget it? His thoughts took on a plaintive tone, as if pleading his friend to understand. Was it when your father died? Or after Endor? When did you lose your fighting spirit?
But he kept his mouth shut.
"Tomorrow we'll find out how they respond," Kaine was saying. "I have no doubt that the more militant figures in the Provisional Council—Kerrithrarr, Sian Tevv—are speaking against our offer, preferring to force our hand." Kaine stood, walking over to the provided amenities, pouring a cup of caf that Carias' team had tested and cleared of any possible dangers. Kaine sighed as he took a sip. "Not bad, although it's not as good as Garqi caf," he murmured, taking another sip. He turned back to Carias, putting the cup back down on the table. "I suppose we'll have something to offer on the galactic market after we have access to it again."
"So it would seem," Carias said, biting his tongue.
Kaine started to meander around the room, pacing. That had always been a habit of his, Carias thought—when Kaine wanted to think, he preferred to do so while in motion. "Our intelligence suggests that the two most important members of the Provisional Council—after Mon Mothma, of course—will be Councilors Garm Bel Iblis and Fey'lya. Both have a history of being more militant, so if they decide to embrace our proposal, that could go a long way to convincing the others to go along." Kaine stopped his pacing for long enough to retrieve his cup for a sip. "But Fey'lya in particular is unpredictable."
"What do you think will happen then?" Carias asked.
"I'm not sure," Kaine replied. "But I expect tomorrow to be very interesting."
Brakiss stood near the door, silent, concentrating on the voice of a dead man.
Can you hear them? Exar Kun's voice had an utterly foreign accent, unlike any that Brakiss had ever heard. There were many, many accents in the galaxy, of every conceivable variety, but when he heard Kun's it felt different, almost profound. Kun's accent wasn't one from some distant world, which had been cut off from the galaxy and developed its own dialect, after all. His voice was of the past, a forgotten accent.
What was old was new again.
He concentrated on the two men. Carias and Kaine were discussing the meeting with Councilor Organa Solo and the prospects for peace with the New Republic.
And he could hear them. Carias in particular was so furious, so profoundly angry, that Brakiss found it astonishing both that Carias managed to keep the emotion from his expression and that Kaine did not notice.
People often see what they wish to see, Kun whispered. Their friends, their family, their lovers. Sometimes the Dark creeps into the soul too quickly and too quietly to be easily seen. And even when they do see, sometimes they pretend they do not, because the truth is too painful to admit. There was amusement in that voice, and gloating. Just because a man is powerful does not mean he is not human.
It was still hard to pick out the precise content of the thoughts, though. Even concentrating as he was, the emotion came easier. Happiness, sadness, anger, fear; they all radiated outwards towards the aware mind. But pushing harder than that was more difficult, especially when—
Do not press too hard, Kun murmured, as he had several times before. His voice was unlike Drayneen's—there was demand, lingering menace, but not the same kind of cutting, tormenting whip. Kun offered power; Drayneen had demanded it. Kun was a true Master; Drayneen had been a playacting novice who had not really understood the Force or the nature of power at all. If you press too hard, Kun continued, even the Force-blind can sometimes notice your presence. And if you press much too hard, you can break a mind altogether.
Neither Carias nor Kaine seemed to notice his presence much at all. Brakiss had been uncertain when Kun had encouraged him to volunteer to attend the negotiations—after all, he was still a mere Apprentice Inquisitor in their eyes—but Kun had assured him that neither man would find his presence too alarming or injurious, and he had been right, as always. Brakiss hadn't found the meeting particularly interesting, himself, but Kun had wanted to be there.
Brakiss kept Kun's amulet close. He wasn't sure if the amulet carried Kun's presence, or merely made it easier for them to communicate, but either way it was his ticket to power and it stayed with him at all times.
The meeting was coming to a close. Carias and Kaine were exchanging departing pleasantries and handshakes, then Carias was sweeping past Brakiss. Brakiss turned to follow on Carias' heels, the two men stepped out into the ornate, intricately designed hallways of their hotel.
"With me," Carias ordered, marching off.
With annoyance, Brakiss followed.
Save your anger for later, Kun encouraged. You will need it. But showing too much of it, too soon, will jeopardize your position now.
The Violet Envy rested on the hotel's roof hangar. Its ramp was open and two ISB stormtroopers stood on either side of it, keeping diligent watch. They saluted as Carias strode up the ramp between them, and kept the salute up until Brakiss had passed. Once aboard, Carias led them in the direction of Violet Envy's holocomm unit, a small room with a fancy, full-body projector that would have allowed the Emperor—had he ever been interested in talking to a lowly ISB operations team—to appear with proper grandeur.
Never let it be said, Brakiss thought sourly, that ISB did not have its priorities in order.
We must discuss our plans for the Empire, Exar Kun whispered in his mind.
Feeling the prompt tug at his lips, Brakiss obediently allowed Kun to turn the thought into spoken words. "We must discuss our plans for the Empire," he said.
Carias looked at him now, his casual disrespect turning into something closer to the obedience he had displayed at Yavin. "Yes, we do," he said, as if speaking to an equal. "And it will not be enough to discuss it solely between us. I can assure ISB is prepared to do its part when the time comes, but we will need the Inquisitorius as well."
"I have relayed your proposal to the Grand Inquisitor," Brakiss said. "He is prepared to discuss the matter."
"By all means," Carias agreed.
Brakiss moved to the holocomm and inputted the codes that would connect with the Grand Inquisitor on Entralla. It took a few minutes. First Violet Envy needed to relay the request to Coruscant's HoloNet node, then the initial connection had to be made through hyperspace. The security precautions to ensure encryption in the event of eavesdropping on the nodes between Coruscant and Entralla needed to be fully in place as well—especially given New Republic Intelligence's certain monitoring of all their communications.
Grand Inquisitor Halmere was not that old. A young man when Palpatine had seized control of the Empire, his history was shrouded in mystery—quite deliberately, Brakiss suspected, as Halmere, Lanu Pasiq, and other inaugural members of the Inquisitorius had long since destroyed all the records. But the gossip was that he had been a member of the Jedi's Agricultural Corps: a Jedi apprentice who had failed his training.
Halmere was tall. He was also as blonde as Brakiss, but that was where the similarities ended. Halmere was enormous and hard, aged with lines that made him appear older than he was. Brakiss only knew he was blonde from his bushy eyebrows, as his hairline was entirely covered by a black hood that joined a long, flowing black cloak that was too long, hiding his legs and feet entirely from view. Over the cloak he wore white armor that covered his torso but left his sides bare.
Brakiss had always thought it made Halmere look like he was wearing an apron, but sharing that thought would be exceedingly unwise.
Exar Kun seemed amused by it, though. This is your leader? Your great Jedi killer? He scoffed. The centuries that have passed have diminished the galaxy's standards.
"Grand Inquisitor Halmere," Brakiss said, with the appropriate gravitas.
"Inquisitor Brakiss," Halmere said slowly, his cold, dark eyes almost lifeless.
"Grand Inquisitor, Colonel Carias wishes to speak to you."
"I have expected this," Halmere said, with the weight of foresight.
Exar Kun scoffed. A pretender playacting as a fallen Jedi. I will make you so much greater than this, my young apprentice.
"Grand Inquisitor," Carias took control of the conversation, and Brakiss let him. "You and I both know the current state of the Empire cannot last. The Council of Moffs is slow and divided. It barely exercises control over the territory that remains—and it does not exercise any control to speak of over the Deep Core Warlords. If the Empire is to survive, if it is to thrive, the Empire requires new leadership."
"You propose yourself?"
Brakiss could feel Exar Kun concentrating. Could feel the presence reaching out with the Force, focusing on Carias. He wasn't sure what the spirit was attempting to do, exactly, but he reached out as well, trying to understand what was being done, and why…
"No, Grand Inquisitor. I believe that great responsibility must fall to you. With me as your principal advisor, of course. Something of a duumvirate, one might say."
Brakiss blinked in surprise. He would not have guessed Carias to be the type to willingly pass power to another.
Do not be too surprised. Some men merely wish for a strong voice to guide them. They are easily led. For all his posturing, the Colonel is such a man.
"I see," Halmere said. The projection rippled. "What do you propose?"
"There are many traitors in the Empire, Grand Inquisitor. We must find the ones in the greatest positions of power and root them out, replace them with those who will be loyal. Once we have, the Empire will fall in line. It has been craving strong leadership—even Thrawn commanded it, and he was not even human."
Carias didn't need to say who he meant. All four of them—Carias, Halmere, Brakiss, and Exar Kun—knew that Grand Moff Kaine would have to be the first to fall.
The first. Not the last.
"What do you require?" Halmere asked.
"A credit line I can access here on Coruscant and the ability to escape the hotel and meet with contacts so that I can convert those credits into assets," Carias explained. "And I need to smuggle a second team into Imperial Center, to give me more freedom of action and… pursue goals shared by ISB and the Inquisitorius."
"I can provide credits," Halmere agreed. "I will coordinate with ISB to give you your team. And Brakiss can ensure your ability to come and go freely. You can do this, Apprentice Inquisitor Brakiss?"
"Yes, Grand Inquisitor," Brakiss said without thinking.
"Good." Halmere's smile was thin. "It would seem our closer collaboration will bear more fruit than either of us expected, Colonel."
"You are loyal to the New Order," Carias said. "And so am I."