STRESSFUL TIMES: CONTEMPLANYS HERMI

3, Twilight in the Garden

Greenhouse Three

1300 hours

Although there was no speeder or air taxi in sight when he alighted from his private vehicle at the entrance to the Greenhouse, Bail Organa expected to be received and he was not disappointed.

The Greenhouse was one of several that decorated the Ambassadorial District of Coruscant. Like everything in Coruscant now, it had a political history and had been commissioned by some earlier government not secondarily for the purpose of ornamentation and primarily as a means of uniting the various systems and their cultures through their non-sentient botanical life forms. There were twelve greenhouses in all and assumedly, every species in the known Galaxy was represented in at least one Greenhouse. This inadvertedly meant that not all the Greenhouses shared universally aesthetic appeal - or even environmentally conduciveness - for spectators. Greenhouse Five, for example, was best viewed by the human species through the 20-centimetre thick dura-glass. The consequences of not doing so were best left to the imagination.

Greenhouse Three housed plants of the more human-friendly genre: including samples from Alderaan, Naboo, Corellia and even, Tatooine. It was a two-storey glass house that contained an active ecosystem of plants. Once upon a time, he had been a frequent visitor here. He had discovered for himself the pockets of privacy located between large plants and imitation forests and used them to isolate himself from the tourists and school excursions and the couples that came in the evenings. He had found it a conducive place to relax and free himself from the constraints and the posturing of his office.

How long ago had he been here? Bail wondered now. When had he become so consumed with work that his naturally aesthetic nature had been reduced to feeding on dead art and high culture? He had known of Garm's little hang-out a long time ago and he had always planned on exploring it for himself. Why hadn't he?

Garm Bel Iblis was at the west corner of the first floor. He glanced up briefly at the sound of Bail's footsteps.

"Why hello, Bail. Fancy bumping into you again."

Bail gave their surroundings a cursory glance. A large potted plant with leaves that were metres across shaded them from the night sky peeping through the glass roof. He had not met anyone on his way up and to the best of his knowledge the greenhouse was deserted. But he still gave Garm a questioning stare.

Garm shook his head and the men engaged in idle chit-chat for a few minutes. Then the Corellian glanced at his watch, ostensibly to check the time, confirmed that the emergency spy sweep had been completed and then turned to grin broadly at the younger man.

Garm shrugged. "Unless it's technology that came out within the past twenty days - which I don't doubt in the least, then I think we can speak freely."

Bail sighed. "I suppose that will have to do."

Garm felt his eyebrows rise. "You are keeping on your toes, aren't you? That's paranoid, even for you. But again maybe I am wrong. You seem to be losing your touch after all. I definitely expected this little tête-à-tête a lot sooner than now. Which was it - over-confidence in your powers of persuasion or laxity on the part of your employees?"

"I gather that you understand of the purpose of my visit," replied Bail dryly.

"Let's not jump into conclusions here," retorted Garm. "You showed me some old scrap of paper... jotted out what seems to be a bit of my private bank account statement and a few disjointed Corellian business deals. You're no fool so I'll cut to the chase. So you see a pattern in certain Corellian commerce dealings. We've been closing a lot of deals and paying off a lot of protracted contractors. My bank statement is suspect. It might be a bit hard on me if I wanted to run for Chancellor... but I don't think that's what you think I'm working at. So spill it: what do you know… and more to the point, what do you want to do with it?"

"I've heard that the Corellian government is exploring certain options… holding certain debates…" Bail looked at Garm expectantly.

Garm snorted. "You need to be a lot more specific than that if you want anything out of me."

Bail looked at him directly.

"Contemplanys Hermi."

The ripple of anger that ran through Garm surprised him. It took more than instinct to keep his face blank. Instead, he glared up at the wavering leaves of the overhanging plant.

His wry voice was acid when he broke the silence. "I have another impertinent question; which was it: the plasti-paper that the new receptionist threw into the trash bin instead of the incinerator yesterday or the datapad that was stolen along with her jewelry from my aide last week? You see, security lapses can never be completely eliminated but they should always be anticipated for times like this."

Bail heaved a large sigh. "You are not denying it."

Garm snorted. The anger had not subsided. "Spare me, Bail. When should I be expecting an emergency meeting with Palpatine?"

"Give me some respect, Garm!" Bail snapped.

Garm looked away from the plant to give Bail a cold glare. "Believe you me, you have all the respect already."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You have the Chancellor's ear, don't you? I wonder what opinion of this matter you chose to share with him."

Years of political training helped Bail keep the outrage from his face. Barely. "If the Chancellor is aware of this matter, I was not his source. And I am no sycophant, I don't play those games."

"The opposite of sycophant was what I implied," Garm retorted. "And spare me the self-righteous act."

Bail took in a visible breath. "I came here for a civil discussion; regardless of your own special brand of tactics, I am going to have it."

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