The clientele matched the view. Every third table, it seemed, sported a face Arihnda remembered from her days working for Senator Renking.
It was exhilarating. But at the same time it was vaguely depressing. She’d come to Coruscant to gain connections and influence and to work her way up the political ladder. Instead, she’d ended up stuck barely a few rungs from the bottom.
And as she gazed across the room, and up the ladder looming mockingly over her, her onetime goal of regaining Pryce Mining faded ever more into the mists of never.
But the food was good enough to almost drive away the wistful pangs of resentment at how she’d been treated. Once or twice along the way she wondered how Juahir and Driller were paying for all this, but what with the excitement, the memories, and the sheer taste sensations she didn’t wonder very much or very hard.
“So how does it feel being back in the skylanes of power?” Juahir asked as the waiter delivered their dessert plates.
“Very nice,” Arihnda said. “I thought I’d put all this behind me, but there really is a lure to it all.”
“So if you could come back to this life, you would?”
Arihnda gave a little snort. “What, is Senator Renking hiring?”
“Probably not.” Juahir nodded sideways to Driller. “But Driller is.”
Arihnda frowned at him. “Really? For what?”
“For a position with my advocacy group,” he said. “You do remember that’s what I do, right?”
“Of course,” Arihnda said. “I just assumed that people like you were on a hook-string budget. You’re really hiring?”
“We really are,” he said, nodding.
“And you didn’t snatch it up?” Arihnda asked, looking at Juahir. “Whatever it is has to be a hundred steps up from waitressing at Topple’s.”
“I’m not waitressing anymore,” Juahir said, frowning. “You know that. I dusted off my old martial arts stuff and got into bodyguard training, remember?”
“Since when?” Arihnda asked, frowning right back. Juahir had sometimes talked about her school-age hand-to-hand combat work, but she’d never even hinted she might want to do that sort of thing professionally.
“Since about four months after you moved here from Bash Four,” Juahir said. “I started part-time with a little dojo four hundred levels down from my apartment, and when a full-time position opened up—look, I told you all this.”
“You most certainly did not,” Arihnda said.
“But—” Juahir looked entreatingly at Driller.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” he said quickly. “You told me you told her.”
“I’m so sorry, Arihnda,” Juahir said, wincing. “I would have sworn…anyway, I’ve moved over here and have a job at the Yinchom Dojo now. We do civilian training, but we’re also licensed to train government bodyguards. We’ve got a handful of guards from the Senate, with some good word-of-mouth bringing in new ones.”
“They’re a hundred thirty levels down from your office but thinking of looking for someplace higher,” Driller added.
“Pluses and minuses,” Juahir said. “The lower levels are more discreet for aides and assistants whose senators want them to double as bodyguards, but don’t want the whole world to know they’ve been training. The higher levels are more prestigious and might draw more people who are supposed to look like guards.”
“And are more expensive,” Driller murmured.
“A lot more expensive,” Juahir agreed, crinkling her nose. “Anyway, to get back to your original question, that’s one reason Driller didn’t offer me the job.”
Arihnda had almost forgotten that was where this conversation had started. “And the other reason?”
“We’re looking for an expert in mines, mining, and refining,” Driller said. “Juahir doesn’t know the first thing about that stuff, while you know the first thing, the last thing, and all the things in between.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Arihnda said modestly, her mind racing. Working for an advocacy group wasn’t a huge step up, status-wise, but it would once again take her into the centers of political power. That alone made it worth pursuing.
Not to mention it would get her away from desperate citizens and their desperate problems.
“The downside of the job is that it doesn’t come with an apartment like your assistance office job does,” Driller continued. “But Juahir’s got a decent-sized place, it’s closer to the Senate Building, and she’s already told me she’d love a roommate.”
“Absolutely,” Juahir confirmed. “You have no idea how many times I’ve collapsed onto the couch, every muscle aching, and wished there was someone there to make dinner without me having to move.”
“I’m pretty good with dinner,” Arihnda said with a shrug. In politics, she’d learned, it never paid to look too eager. “And I’m definitely ready to move on to something else. Where and when do I apply for the job?”
“You just did,” Driller said with a grin. “Seriously. I’ve already floated your name, and the rest of the group has already vetted you. If you want the job, it’s yours.”
Arihnda took a deep breath. The hell with not looking too eager. “I want the job.”
“Great.” Driller picked up his dessert, frowning a little at Juahir. “So. Is it proper etiquette to toast a momentous event with a dessert plate?”
“I don’t know,” Juahir said, picking up her own plate. “Let’s find out.”
—
And just like that, Arihnda was back.
It was like waking up from a bad dream. Suddenly, she was among the elite again, walking the ornate hallways of the Senate and office buildings, speaking to the people who ruled the Empire.
Not just speaking, either, but actually being listened to. Back when she’d been delivering data card packets for Senator Renking, most of the recipients had barely noticed her. But licensed advocacy groups had prestige, if not any actual power, and they were noticed. Now, suddenly, it seemed like everyone knew her face and her advocacy group. Some of them even remembered her name.
Arihnda had survived the lower levels of the Federal District. But up here, where the sun shone and the brightest lights glittered, was where she wanted to be.
She was back. And she would never leave it. Ever. Whatever it took to stay in the skylanes of power, she would do it.
—
“Okay,” Driller said, sitting Arihnda down in front of the Higher Skies Advocacy Group’s main computer. “Last job of the day, I promise.”
“You promised that two jobs ago,” she reminded him.
“Who, me?” he said, looking innocent. “I know, I know. What can I say? You’re the mining expert. That means you get all the mining expert jobs.”
“Right,” Arihnda agreed. It wasn’t like anyone else could do it, after all.
Mainly because there never seemed to be anyone else around.
At first, she’d puzzled about that. Driller had explained that most of the time the other members were out of the office, talking to senators or aides, visiting the various ministries, or traveling offplanet to talk with governors or moffs or just gather firsthand information. He’d also reminded Arihnda that she herself was often out of the office, and suggested that it was simple bad luck that she’d missed crossing paths with any of the others.
It was a lie, of course. Arihnda had figured that out very early on. Either the rest of the staff was off doing nefarious things, or else there was no other staff.
But she didn’t care. Driller paid on time, and he had enough spare credits to keep her in outfits suitable for the rarefied company she kept these days.
More important, his license continued to give her access to the Empire’s powerful. Ultimately, that was all that mattered.
“So here’s what we need,” Driller said, reaching over her shoulder and tapping a few keys. “There seems to have been an unusual number of Imperial takeovers lately, mining facilities and sometimes whole planets. I want you to pull up the list and evaluate it for the importance of the mines in question, the circumstances of the Imperial takeover, and anything else that might establish a pattern as to what’s going on. What?”
“What do you mean, what?” Arihnda asked.