Omas stepped a little closer to Jacen, his face centimeters away, so close that his breath brushed Jacen's skin like a hand.

"You obnoxious, power-crazed, ludicrous little jerk," he said sweetly, with the smile of an indulgent grandfather. "You had Gejjen killed, too, didn't you?"

Jacen waited for him to spit in his face and still smile, but Omas conducted himself impeccably as he left. Wirut walked behind him, blaster visible but not jammed into the Chief of State's back, and Jacen led the way. It was the longest, most awkward turbolift descent that Jacen could imagine. When they reached the lobby, the security guard stared for a moment, put down his holozine, and stood up.

"Sir? What's happening?"

"Would you water the plants while I'm away, please?" Omas said pleasantly. "I'm afraid I'm under arrest."

There was a second GAG transport waiting outside. Wirut and Limm ushered Omas into it, then watched it speed away to GAG HQ. Jacen found that his hands were shaking. It was an effort to take out his comlink.

"Admiral, it's done," he said. "Time for a public announcement."

Wirut pushed back his visor and wiped his face with his glove.

"That," he said, "was the hardest thing I've ever done. Next time, sir, can I volunteer for snatching heavily armed Wookiee psychopaths? It'd be a lot easier on my nerves."

Wirut and Limm joked, but the arrest had crossed an emotional line for them, and it showed. Jacen climbed into the speeder beside them and took a long route through the canyons of buildings, checking for signs that

Coruscant, the heart of galactic democracy, had undergone a silent, bloodless, and thoroughly civilized military coup.

Outside government buildings and bank headquarters, small groups of GA ground forces stood guard. It looked like no more than the routine public order precautions for festival nights, except the uniforms were not the blue of CSF.

"Weird," said Limm.

"Poor old Jori." Wirut sighed. "Poor kid. He was so keen to live up to his granddad."

Jacen rubbed his eyes and realized he was in for another very long day. And the sun wasn't even up yet.

"I won't forget that," he said. "I never will."

chapter thirteen

SENATE BUILDING

Trading on the ISE was suspended in the early hours of this morning when Acting Chief of State Admiral Cha Niathal declared temporary martial law following the shock arrest of Cal Omas. A statement is expected in the Senate within the hour. Meanwhile, other galactic financial centers report brisk trading. KDY "A" shares closed fifty point three credits up on yesterday, and both MandalMotors and Roche Industries ended the day up more than thirty credits.

—Market News: business headlines

Senator G'Sil glanced at the holocams that transmitted Senate debates to every office, restaurant, and public area in the Senate Building, then shook his head, eyes closed for a moment.

"Full house," he said. "You'd better have a good speech ready, Cha.

A really good one."

Niathal adjusted her uniform and prepared to go out onto the Chief of State's platform to address the Senate. Things weren't playing out quite as she'd imagined, but then battles never did, and the political arena was as prone to the fog of war as any fleet engagement.

Jacen Solo, whom she expected to see strutting around the Senate, was keeping a low profile. But she'd see about that. If she was going to be shoved out front to tap-dance for his coup, she'd make sure he was visibly part of their double act. She wasn't taking responsibility for this on her own.

"It's temporary, it's for the duration of the war, and no ordinary citizens will notice an adverse impact on their lives," she said, rehearsing her key messages. "Play a bit of Omas's clandestine meeting footage, wave around the news on Mandalore and Roche, and everyone nods and says, yes indeed, Admiral, we live in dangerous times, please do look after us as an

interim government while the Chief of State's office is thoroughly investigated."

"I like Jacen," G'Sil said, suddenly very quiet. "But is he reliable these days?"

"Reliable for what?"

"I would never have authorized the Gejjen business. It was . . .

extreme."

"It's done. Corellia is wobbling a little, because their assorted lunatic fringes have given us a massive bonus by claiming they did it.

Bothawui has been brought up short, because they probably think we did it but can't believe we had the nerve, and—well, I never thought I'd live to say this, but those ghastly little Mandalorian savages have been wonderfully helpful."

"Cha, I don't want to worry you, but have you noticed they're rearming? With Verpine tech, too?"

"I certainly have. Best news of the week."

"They must teach you something at staff college that's beyond us lesser mortals."

Niathal checked the chrono. She had ten minutes to psych herself up into appearing as a safe pair of hands, reluctant to take the burden of the reins of state and anxious to hand them back as soon as the current unpleasant business was over. Yes, she meant that, too. She wanted the Chief of State's post, but she wanted a genuine mandate to do it; and there was no better way to achieve that than to show she could be a responsible leader in this most extreme of situations.

When she finally ran for office, the electorate would know her by her deeds.

As long as I can keep Jacen on a choke chain, of course, and, he doesn't ruin it for me. If he gets out of hand . . . well, there's always Fett.

"Have you ever kept nuna?" she asked.

"Not in the apartment . . ."

"I'm told they tend to form rival groups within the flock, and they can get very territorial. Squabbles break out. Now, let wild bursas into the coop, and it's bedlam—they go into a killing frenzy, grab as many nuna to eat later as they can, and escape. They don't care which group they eat. That's your Mandalorians."

"It's a lovely analogy, but it's lost on me."

"Forget strategy. Mandalorians don't care who wins. They just want to eat, drink, fight, and maintain their self-image."

G'Sil gave her a long, wary stare. "You're the Supreme Commander. I assume you can assess a military risk."

"You want my assessment? Fett has no intention of expanding his small sphere of influence. Mandalorians might have been a mighty empire a few millennia ago, but they can't handle the difficult business of running a modern, complex democracy. They know it, so they just want to live their primitive warrior fantasy and revel in their reputation."

"Which is earned."

"I accept that they're phenomenal soldiers."

"They kicked out the Empire and the Yuuzhan Vong, without any help from us."

"That still doesn't mean they want to dominate the galaxy. There are fewer than three million of them on Mandalore now, and they don't have anything like a government structure that could organize them well enough to take

over the GA or the Confederation. They'll always be the bursa let loose among nuna. They're opportunistic feeders."

"But Fett's a smart, smart man. Forget the Wookiee braids."

"He wants to see Jacen Solo fall a long way," Niathal said.

"I don't buy fostering galactic chaos just to get back at one man, even if it's Jacen."

"No, we've created our own chaos. Fett's just the distraction act."

Two minutes to go: Niathal sipped a glass of water and rolled her head to loosen her neck. There was nothing worse than a strained voice caused by tight muscles. She needed to sound relaxed, regretful, but authoritative.