When Asyr Sei'lar arrived on Bavinyar and her transport disgorged its passengers into the warm sea-smelling air, she was very relieved to find herself amongst a mixed crowd. There were humans and Cerean aplenty, of course, but there were also a number of others from non-human races, including another Bothan, three Duros, a Falleen, a massive Herglic, and more.

Just from eavesdropping on conversations she gathered that most of them were journalists from various small-scale news-networks that couldn't afford to ship their people in company shuttles; she also overhead one well-groomed Cathar explain to his Togruta seat-mate that he was a lawyer hoping to make some good litigation out of all this mess; the Togruta, in turn, explained that she was selling insurance policies that covered cases of political violence, the market for which had just exploded on this generally ignored little planet.

So, all kinds were suddenly flocking to Bavinyar, which meant a black-furred Bothan would stick out just a little less.

That feeling of confidence dissipated the further away she got from the spaceport. The streets of Cephalia seemed an almost equal mix of Cereans and humans, with other races easily standing out. As she watched the pedestrians' behavior, though, it seemed that the humans and Cereans watched each other more than they watched the obvious off-worlders. There was a concealed tension when they passed each other on the street; sideways looks lingered and people gave each other wide berths.

Asyr found herself reminded of the days after the capture of Coruscant, when the Krytos virus was plaguing non-human species and nobody was quite sure which new race it would spread to next. Humans stepped a little wider to stay clear of non-humans back then, even ones who'd previously spent their whole lives among aliens. It had been an awful time of casual paranoia and pervasive mistrust, in which the earnest affections of a young human pilot from Tatooine had been both Asyr's comfort and her escape. Gavin and the Krytos virus were a long time gone, but the fissure points on Bavinyar were just like they'd been twenty years ago.

By the time Asyr found her hotel, checked in, and deposited her things in her room, the sun was starting to set. Her room didn't have the best skyline view, but she lingered for a while to watch the gold smolder in the sky before heading back out. She had an appointment to keep.

She'd never been the Cephalia before, but the hotel had at least provided a datapad with a handy inter-active map that easily guided her to a place called Crescent Quay. True to its name, it was a curving stretch of coastline with a broad waterfront promen-ade. Spots of lamplights stretched out into the night and Asyr walked toward the north end of the curve, where she was unsurprised to find another Bothan standing in the darkness, leaning against a quay-side railing and looking out at the black ocean that stretched beyond.

She leaned against the railing right next to him and asked without greeting, "When did you arrive?"

"A day and a half ago," said Tresk Im'nel.

"Standard day or local?"

"It's not that much longer."

That was fair enough. Asyr glanced sidelong and took in the Bothan with a single glance. He didn't look much like a Force-user, dressed as he was in a casual set of trousers and a long-sleeved, loose shirt. She didn't see his lightsaber but she bet he had it hidden somewhere on him.

"I just got in a few hours ago," she told him, and looked back down the curving quay. Beings strolled casually along the waterfront in the darkness, and only when they dipped close to pools of lamplight could she differentiate between the cone-headed Cereans and short-headed humans. The tension she'd observed in the streets during the day seemed to have dissolved.

"Everyone feels more comfortable in the darkness," Tresk observed. Asyr could never tell when he was using his Jedi powers to sense her thoughts and when he was just being observant.

"It's a sad state when beings need anonymity to feel themselves," she said.

"Very true. I'm hoping we can do something about that."

"I hope so to. What have you found out?"

Tresk began explaining to her everything he'd learned since arriving on the planet. He divulged a number of interesting details still hidden from the public, namely the fact that the Cerean separatists were using Imperial-made weapons while the human ones seemed to have been supplied by the Republic.

It was an outrageous situation, but Asyr didn't question anything Tresk said. She'd known him even before he'd joined the Jedi Academy; shortly after she'd been assumed dead and left Rogue Squadron for a new life, Tresk had become disillusioned with his former employer and began searching for a new path of his own. Their mutual enmity for Borsk Fey'lya had drawn them both into the community of political dissenters in Drev'starn, though in time they'd branched into two very different paths. Despite the state of Jedi confidence and calm Tresk had fallen into since his training at Skywalker's academy, they both shared the same goal of reforming their homeworld and exposing its most powerful and dangerous political leader for what he was.

When Tresk had told her everything, Asyr shook her head and said, "Do you really think Fey'lya is behind it?"

"He's been posturing himself very effectively back on Coruscant," Tresk said, non-committal.

"I know. I follow the news-nets. But do you think it's possible?"

She was hoping, deep down, that he'd say yes, but instead Tresk merely shrugged. "It's too soon to say. What we do know is that he's intent on wringing every advantage he can out of this mess, so we need to stop it as soon as we can."

"If he becomes president it will be a disaster, for the Republic and for Bothawui."

"I agree completely."

Asyr looked at the dark water. Reflected light from the city at their backs winked on invisible waves. She asked, "What does your Jedi Master have to say about all this?"

"Master Skywalker's been trying very hard to keep the Jedi out of politics."

"It must be hard when your sister's in charge."

"It is. That's why he's being… overly cautious."

Asyr smirked in the dark. "In your opinion."

"In my opinion," Tresk allowed.

"I've heard you Jedi have this theory about how everything falls into one side or another, light or dark."

"That's… one way of saying it."

"I can't see much of a light side to political games."

Tresk was silent for a long time. Finally, thoughtfully, he said, "The Jedi were once servants of the Old Republic. They were political then, inherently."

"Weren't they also wiped out?"

"Exactly. Politics became an instrument of their destruction."

"You think Fey'lya is going to pull a Palpatine and wipe your kind out?" Asyr asked, surprised. Even for Fey'lya that sounded beyond the pale.

"No, not at all," Tresk shook his head. "What I mean to say is that politics are dangerous for Jedi. They drag us into all kinds of messy controversy. At the same time, if we completely ignore them, then we're derelict in a major part of our responsibility to keep this galaxy safe."

"Is that your opinion or Skywalker's?"

"Mine, primarily. But still, it's a difficult issue."

Even before taking up the lightsaber, Tresk had always been a thoughtful one. Asyr had always been one for action. She said, "You'll do what you do, Tresk, and I'll do what I do. So tell me where I should start."

"I've talked to some of the BSA officers working on the investigation into Pohl-Had-Narr's assassination. I can put you in touch with them."

"I'd appreciate that."

Tresk took a tiny datacard from his breast pocket. It glinted briefly in reflect lamplight as he dropped in into Asyr's paw and disappeared.

"That also has my new comm freq," he said. "Are you still using the old one?"

"I am."

"Good. I'll let you know if anything else comes up."

"Just keep me informed, Tresk. The only way we'll get to the bottom of this is by working together." She stuffed the chip into a pocket and added with a smile, "I wasn't expecting to be working together. Your Master Skywalker was wise to send you to Bavinyar."

"Master Skywalker and his sister."

"Of course. I'm glad she's still in charge for this. I just wish she was staying on."

"If she were, I don't think we'd be in this mess in the first place. Instead we have to make sure Behn-Kihl-Nahm wins that elected. If we solve the problem on Bavinyar I think we'll do just that."

"And if Fey'lya ends up being the problem?"

Tresk's fur bristled and his snout scrunched up in a scowl. "Then we'll find out if Jedi really can play politics without going dark."

-{}-

When Korr-Mad-Narr called Sham-Vi-Diin into his office for an update on the Pohl-Had-Narr investigation, the detective was acutely aware of how stuck he was, and how bad that would look to his superior. As he rattled through his report, however, he noticed how distracted Korr-Mad-Narr looked, and how unaffected he seemed by the awkward halt the investigation seemed to have ground to.

When he was finished with his talk, Korr-Mad-Narr finally looked alert, like he'd come to the point he'd been waiting for all this time. The director asked, "What's your opinion of the Republic officials you've been dealing with?"

"You mean, how do I judge their character?"

"Do you think they would be honest if it turns out, as we suspect, that the weapons for the BIL came from a Republic source."

"Ah. That's… a difficult question. I only know these beings professionally, so it's hard to say. As far as it goes, they seem honorable."

"Honor is a slippery concept. Do you mean they seem loyal to the Republic, to their government?"

"I've never gotten a sense other than that they're trying to do their jobs the best they can."

"What about the Jedi? They're not military or intelligence professionals. They have a different set of priorities. Do they seem as… wedded to the powers on Coruscant as, say, Pakkepkatt?"?

"I'm not sure. The Bothan Jedi has been working more with Detective Ven, and the human, I understand, has a military background, so he's been in contact more with the BDF."

Korr-Mad-Narr looked pensively at his desk, so Sham-Vi-Diin asked, "Sir, I'm not entirely sure what you're asking."

"I already told you what I'm asking. I'm asking whether we can trust these beings- either the Jedi or the NRI agent- to place Bavinyar's interests above the stability of their government."

"Frankly, sir, the government's in an election, so I'm not sure how stable it is in the first place."

"Well, whatever happens, it's still more stable than ours," Korr-Mad-Narr snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "The Jedi are interesting. As I under-stand it, their religion isn't officially associated with the New Republic government. They have no official place in the military chain of command and no representation on Coruscant."

"Not officially, but their leader is the Chief of State's brother. She brought those two personally when she came from the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4."

"So you're saying their loyalty is to Princess Leia personally?"

Sham-Vi-Diin frowned. "I suppose that may be true. It's hard to say. I think that if the Princess did something really egregious they'd object."

"But they're more likely to side with her than with Fey'lya."

Sham-Vi-Diin thought on that Bothan Jedi who'd come along. From what little he'd worked with Tresk Im'nel, the Bothan didn't seem to be a Fey'lya loyalist; if anything, he seemed personally close with the Princess.

"I think," Sham-Vi-Diin said, "That you'd be right."

"I thought so." Korr-Mad-Narr nodded, as though satisfied. "That means they'll do what they can to prevent a Republic intervention on Bavinyar."

"I suppose you're right. I'd rather not have to find out for sure."

"Detective, our goal is to pretect our sovereignty."

"We are part of the Republic, sir."

"I know, but we still have local autonomy. We chose our own leaders, run our own police and defense. Our fate is our own and it needs to stay that way. This isn't like the days under Empire, no matter what the human terrorists say. If what you're saying is true, the Jedi might be our best allies. They might be our best help to protect ourselves. That's something we have to keep in mind, going forward."

Korr-Mad-Narr went silent, as though he'd said all that needed to be. Sham-Vi-Diin looked down at him, uncertain as to what had just happened, but he felt that somehow it must have touched on something very important, something he would only be able to under-stand in time.

-{}-

It had been nearly twenty years, nearly half her life, since Leonia Tavira had acquired the star destroyer Invidious as her personal command ship. The act of possessing the mighty Imperial vessel had been a reason in itself, and more, Invidious had allowed her to create such a mighty pirate fleet that the New Republic had mustered its wartime navy to stop her.

Unfortunately, possessing a star destroyer had its share of inconveniences, which became only more apparent with time. It required a bigger crew than she could muster, and its many systems needed rigorous maintenance. After the Republic broke up her pirate group and left her with only one star destroyer, her crew had withered with her prestige, and at one point she'd raided a convoy of Cybot Galactica cargo ships for the sole purpose of stealing enough maintenance and technical droids to keep Invidious up and running. A small part of Tavira recognized that it might be more economic to simply abandon Invidious and relocate to a smaller ship; the rest of her was repulsed at the idea. Invidious was her home, her love, her hard-won prize. Over nearly twenty years the ship had become a part of her and she a part of it, and she'd do anything to keep it flying.

One inconvenience to Invidious she'd learned early on was that it was very, very difficult to refuel a mile-long star destroyer without attracting people's attention. Best Tavira knew, the only other such warship traveling space, unattached to any govern-ment, was Booster Terrik's Errant Venture, and Terrik, unlike Tavira, was a smuggler and a ruffian but not an outlaw still wanted by the New Republic. Terrik could refuel at many different space stations and all he'd get for his trouble was free advertising for his mobile casino and shadowport. Tavira had to follow a very different procedure to get her ship topped up.

Outlaws did for outlaws, so when Invidious needed refueling, Tavira always made her way to Hutt Space. Kwenn Station, located on the Coreward boundaries of their territory, was one of the only ports in the galaxy that had the ability and the willingness to perform refueling and repairs on an Imperial-class star destroyer, no questions asked, as long as you had the credits.

And, thanks to her recent deals with both sides of the current Bavinyar crisis, Tavira had just that.

While her ship was being serviced, Tavira went out onto the station. Nobody was going to not notice a black-painted Imperial-class star destroyer docked at Kwenn Station, so there was no point in being coy. Tavira brought along her towering Togorian guards, Grovlith and Argriss, plus a quartet of old Trade Federation battle droids from before the Clone Wars. As she walked down the station broad promenades, trailing her entourage, she drew satisfying looks from every being in her path. She knew what so many beings said about her: that she was old, down-and-out, a short-lived has-been pirate who now floated aimlessly in her broken-down old star destroyer hoping the Republic wouldn't catch her.

It was, as always, immensely satisfying to prove her naysayers wrong.

She had business to conduct as well. Once she felt certain she'd made her presence known, Tavira made her way to the section of Kwenn Station that had been set aside for use by the Besadii kadijic.

To her slight disappointment, the Nikto guards and Toydarian majordomo who led her inside the secure zone didn't bat an eye at her appearance; but then, she'd been here before. In almost two decades since leaving Imperial service, Tavira had made a number of close ties with the Hutts, the Besadii clan most of all. After the disaster of Lord Durga's Darksaber project, some had said the Besadii were doomed to irrelevance. Instead, under leadership of Durga's cousin Borga, the Besadii had re-emerged as the most wealthy and powerful crime family on Nal Hutta, even edging out their longstanding rivals the Desilijic, who were now under the leadership of Pazda, uncle to the late and infamous Jabba.

Tavira and her escorts were led into a large domed chamber. A small ring of Gammorean guards, hefting heavy pikes and axes, stood around a repulsorbed on which a single Hutt lay. Tavira rarely spoke with Borga herself when visiting Kwenn Station; more often than not she spoke with the Hutt before her, Golga Besadii Fir. Two human dancing girls, chained by the neck and wearing next to nothing, lay against Golga's bronze-colored bulk and looked up at Tavira with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

Golga said in his native tongue, "Welcome back to Kwenn Station, Admiral Tavira. It's been too long."

"I've missed every day I was apart from you, Bounteous Golga," she smirked in the same language. Golga was one of the few Hutts who could speak fluent Basic, though he preferred not to, and after this long, she was perfectly proficient in Huttese.

The creature rumbled laughter and petted the head of one of his slave girls like she was a pet tooka cat. "Have you met my newest additions, Admiral? These are Charise and Margla."

"Charmed," Tavira smirked down at the girls, who glared resentfully up at her. She wasn't averse to using her good looks to win favors from males- if anything she rather enjoyed it- but only when she was the one holding the leash. For these slave girls she felt a mix of condescension and pity.

"Are they fine dancers, Golga?"

"Excellent, my dear. The best I've ever had." Golga's fat tongue swiped across his lipless mouth. "You know, Admiral, I've always thought that you would make a fine dancer. You have the grace and the figure for it."

"I'm afraid I ended up on a different career path, but thank you for the compliment."

The Hutt rumbled laughter again. "So tell me, Admiral, why have you really come to see me?"

"To thank you for the fuel and repair work, of course.

"Your credits are thanks enough for that. What else?"

"Information that I think a canny business organiz-ation like yours will find useful."

Golga's tail-end twitched. "Go on."

"I imagine you'd like to know the results of the coming New Republic presidential election."

"The senate vote has been delayed because of the ongoing… crisis at Bavinyar."

"I know, but I'm sure you've been following the wage-makers. Tell me, what are the current odds?"

"Currently? Fifty-five percent on Behn-Kihl-Nahm."

"And he was the favorite by sixty-five before the last debate, wasn't he?"

"Are you telling me Borsk Fey'lya will win the election?"

Tavira smiled. "I'm here to guarantee it. I recommend your organization invest accordingly."

"Hmmm…." Golga rumbled, "And what of Dravvad? What of Pwoe?"

"Dravvad is a non-entity," Tavira waved a hand. "He only ran to raise his profile. As for Pwoe, he'll be dropping out soon and declaring his support for Fey'lya."

"And you're here to assure me of that also?"

"I'm actually here to ask your help in the matter."

Golga's eyes narrowed. "What help do you expect from the Besadii?"

"My arm isn't as long as it used to be. Yours is. I need a man on Coruscant killed."

Golga shook with laughter. "Is that so? And why should the Besadii act as your assassins?"

"Because it will prove that I can direct the outcome of this election."

"And who do you want killed? Not Pwoe."

"No, merely a human named Aston Blake."

"Should I know him?"

"No, you shouldn't. He's merely a sub-director in the quartermaster and provisions department for the Third Fleet, based at their administrative headquarters in Galactic City. He needs to die, and it needs to look like a suicide. I'm sure you have people on Coruscant capable of that."

Golga considered. "And if we do this for you?"

"Then Pwoe will end his candidacy shortly thereafter. I guarantee that."

"Hmmm… And when do you want this man killed?"

"In exactly two standard days would be timely. When Pwoe resigns, you'll know to take my advice seriously."

Golga rumbled thoughtfully once more. "I have to ask, Admiral. What's in this for you?"

"That's a broad question, Great Golga," she smirked. "Naturally, I've already placed substantial bets with every wage-maker I could."

"Naturally. What else?"

"The emotional satisfaction of seeing the Republic tear itself apart from the inside, and the knowledge that I had a key hand in its undoing."

"Hmmm. You do enjoy vengeance, don't you, dear?"

"Of course I do. Anyone who talks down vengeance hasn't done it right."

"Then remind me never to find myself on your bad side. But what else?"

"Isn't that enough?" she spread her arms.

"Perhaps it is, for you." Golga narrowed his eyes. "Very well. The Besadii will take care of this Aston Blake. If Pwoe bows out of the race and endorses Fey'lya in two days' time, I'll know you are telling the truth, and that you really do have the election in your hand."

"I'm glad we've reached an agreement."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me how you've managed all this?"

"Trade secret." She winked.

"Very well," Golga waved a small hand. "I will wait two days, then do as you asked."

"I'd start placing bets on it already," Tavira advised. "I already have."

"Hmmm…. Will you still be here on two days' time?"

"I'm afraid not. I have important strings to pull."

"Then I shall miss you, my dear, until we meet again."

"Until then, Illustrious Golga." Tavira executed a snap bow, smirked down at the two slave girls, then began her march back through Kwenn Station to Invidious.

On the walk back, she checked her comlink and found that Oskvarek had left a message telling her to come up to the bridge on her return. He said no more than that, but then, Oskvarek rarely said more than he needed to.

When she arrived on the bridge the Trandoshan was still hovering near the comm station. As she approach-ed he bore his fangs and growled, "There's been another attack on Bavinyar."

"The CPF?"

He shook his head. "No. It was the BIL. They attacked several small islands with Cerean settlements."

"Attacked? Attacked how?"

"Reports are still coming in. It's not clear, but it sounds like they were using our hardware."

"What were the targets? BSA offices?"

"It looks like bombings in public places. A few local government buildings, plus marketplaces and transit hubs"

"Pure terrorism then." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. More fuel to this fire was a good thing, in theory, but if the New Republic cracked down on the BIL fast, she might have to move her timetable forward.

She stalked over to the comm station and input her personal encryption code. Then she punched in the frequency for Pedric Cuf.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the console surface as she waited. During their last meeting Pedric had assured her that he'd give her extra forewarning of any BIL attacks to come. That warning had never come, and now she stood to be embarrassed with the Hutts because of it. It was decidedly not a favorable turn in what had heretofore been a promising partner-ship.

She had to wait for almost two full minutes, long enough to doubt he'd answer, when Cuf's blue holo-image finally sprung up in front of her. The human blinked, like he was surprised to see her, and said, "I'm sorry for the delay. Things are busy here, as you can imagine."

"I thought we had an agreement, Pedric." She gave her best girlish pout; best not to come off too angry from the start. "You were supposed to give me fair warning before this happened."

"I know. These new attacks went without my knowledge."

"Is that normal, Pedric? I thought you were Kolin's most trusted man?"

"I am. This was different. These attackers weren't acting on his authority either."

"A rogue group then? Dissension among the ranks?"

"It appears so. Some young members were very incensed by the attack during the memorial service and retaliated of their own volition."

"Did they use our weapons?"

"They were some of the groups that received them, yes."

"If the Republic is going to trace these weapons back to me, I want to know. I need a warning. If I don't, they'll get me, and that means they'll get you as well."

"I'm quite aware," Pedric said through his teeth. "Rest assured, I'm doing everything I can right now so the Republic does not find out about our arrangement."

He was clearly stressed and angry, and she felt a twinge of sympathy despite herself. "It sounds like you have a mess to clean up."

"I certainly do. I'd like to get to it."

"Very well, then. But I need to know, Pedric. Even if you don't hear anything, I want a call from you the next standard day. If I don't get it, I'll have to assume you've been taken by the authorities."

He looked reluctant, but nodded. "Very well. I'll update you tomorrow. Goodbye, Leonia."

The holo shrunk to nothing. Tavira glanced over her shoulder, where Oskvarek was hovering.

"How long until we're ready to go?" she asked the Trandoshan.

"Another twelve hours at least."

"Then I'll be in my quarters until then. But be ready to depart as soon as possible."

"Yes, Admiral."

Tavira spun on her heels and marched off the bridge. Her strides were long, fast, tense. She knew that even when she got to her quarters she wouldn't be able to rest. The stakes suddenly felt much higher.