“So even the navy hasn’t got infinite resources,” Arihnda said as patiently as she could. She should have guessed Renking would be so focused on his petty political intrigues that he would miss the full significance of Sanz’s power play. “So every credit they spend on Kintoni is a credit they don’t spend on Lothal. So we have to put a stop to it.”
“All right, fine,” he said. “Points well taken. I presume you have some ideas?”
“Of course,” Arihnda said. “The plan is threefold. First, I have a proposal showing what Lothal could do in the way of landing and maintenance facilities. Here are the details.” She handed him a data card. “Second, I have an analysis and recommendation for Lothal from Commodore Thrawn. Third—”
“Thrawn?” Renking cut in, frowning again. “That blue-skinned lieutenant we met at that Ascension Week party?”
“Yes, only he’s a commodore now,” Arihnda said. “And is highly respected by the High Command. His opinion ought to carry significant weight. And third—” She raised her eyebrows. “—I want you to work on Governor Sanz.”
“Work on her how?”
“I don’t know,” Arihnda said impatiently. “Talk to her, argue with her, persuade her—however you want to do it is up to you. Just get her to withdraw her proposal.”
“I can try,” Renking said. “How long do I have?”
“The presentations will be heard six days from now,” she said. “I’m going to spend that time fine-tuning my proposal and looking for allies in the Senate. I suggest you spend that time working on Sanz.”
“Got it,” Renking said. “However I want to do it?”
Arihnda lifted a hand. “Just do what you do best, Senator. Do what you do best.”
—
“All rise,” the warrant officer standing beside the short table intoned.
Seated among the crowd in the petitioners’ gallery, Arihnda stood up, Renking beside her, as an officer and two civilians filed into the room. Across the narrow aisle, she spotted Governor Sanz as she rose with the rest of the people on her side of the gallery. Sanz’s back, it seemed to her, looked unnaturally stiff.
The board took their seats, and as the petitioners sat down the civilian in the middle picked up the datapad lying on the table in front of her. “The select committee of the Imperial High Command has studied the various proposals that have been brought before it,” she said. “We are here to make their decisions known.” She tapped the datapad. “First: in the matter of Lothal versus Kintoni regarding a contract for the expansion of navy facilities. The contract is awarded to Lothal.”
Arihnda felt a flood of relief wash over her. She glanced across the aisle, and it seemed to her that some of Sanz’s stiffness drained away.
Odd, given that her bid had just been turned down. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted the contract as much as she’d let on.
“We can go now,” Renking prompted quietly, tapping her sleeve.
“Go ahead,” Arihnda murmured back, studying her datapad. “The next few petitions are also Outer Rim matters. I’d like to see how those go down.”
Renking grunted. “Fine,” he said, and lapsed into sullen silence.
Arihnda had been keeping an eye on the various petitions, and none of the board’s decisions came as a surprise. Finally, after twenty minutes, she nodded and gestured Renking to the aisle. He stood up and slipped past the rest of the people in their row, Arihnda right behind him.
“That worked out well,” Renking commented as they left the audience room and headed toward the building’s exit. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you,” Arihnda said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a woman in a white ISB tunic angling across the entryway toward them. “But we couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’m glad I could do my part—”
“Senator Domus Renking?” the woman said.
Renking turned to her, giving a small twitch as he spotted the uniform. “Yes,” he said cautiously.
“Major Hartell, ISB,” the woman identified herself. “I need you to come with me, sir.”
“What for?” Renking asked, his face starting to darken. “What’s this about?”
Passersby were beginning to pause and slow down, Arihnda noted peripherally, and heads were starting to turn. “Do you really want to have that discussion here, Senator?” Hartell asked.
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” Renking countered, his voice starting to rise. “I don’t want some ISB flunky throwing my name on a list just so some other ISB flunky can play power games with the Imperial Senate. I demand to know the charge, if there even is one, and who the claimant is.”
“As you wish, Senator,” Hartell said. “The claimant in this case is the Imperial Security Bureau itself. The charge is bribery.”
Renking caught his breath. “What?” he asked, the words coming out from between stiff lips.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Hartell said. “Four days ago, you approached Governor Sanz of Kintoni, offering a substantial bribe if she would withdraw her planet’s petition before the High Command. Governor Sanz declined on the grounds that a withdrawal at this late date would look suspicious, but then agreed to your counterproposal that she deliberately sabotage her presentation, with double the original bribe to be paid if Lothal won the bid.”
Renking had taken on the look of a hunted animal. “That’s a lie,” he insisted. “All of it.” But to Arihnda his tone sounded more worried than defiant. “Whatever Sanz told you—”
“Governor Sanz hasn’t told us anything,” Hartell said evenly. “But she will. She’s already in custody for her part in this conspiracy.”
Renking caught his breath, twisting his head to look at Arihnda. “Pryce?”
“You really shouldn’t discuss criminal acts with someone else’s data card in your card pouch,” Arihnda said calmly.
“But—” Renking shot a look at Hartell, looked back at Arihnda. “You told me to do it.”
“I told you to talk, argue, or persuade her,” Arihnda corrected. “I never suggested or even hinted you try to bribe her.” She gestured at Hartell. “All of which is also on the recording.”
“Indeed,” Hartell said. “Thank you for your assistance, Governor Pryce. You may go. Senator Renking, follow me, please.”
Renking gave Arihnda one final look, his expression a mix of disbelief and hatred. Then, without a word, he turned and followed Hartell out.
All around them, with the drama now over, the people of Coruscant resumed their activities.
—
“I’ll be leaving for Lothal in the morning,” Arihnda told the receptionist at her Coruscant office as she gathered the data cards she’d forgotten to pick up earlier that day. “I shouldn’t be gone long, though. There are a few meetings and conferences next month I’ll want to attend, Grand Moff Tarkin has invited me to visit Eriadu, and I’ll certainly want to be back for Ascension Week. So you might as well keep everything open and running.”
“Yes, Governor,” the receptionist said. “Oh, and you got another message about two hours ago from a Juahir Madras.”
Arihnda froze. “Juahir Madras?”
“Yes, Governor, from the Oovo Four detention center. She’s written, oh, about twenty of these messages over the past year or so. I send them on, but your Lothal office always turns them back. Do you want to take them with you now?”
Arihnda took a deep breath. Juahir Madras. Her old friend. Her old, traitorous friend. “No, keep them here,” she said. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to read them.”
The soldier in the field and the crew member aboard a warship inevitably see a war from a limited perspective. Their goal is to carry out their mission or their appointed task, and trust that their commanders are aware of the larger situation and the vast matrix of facts, positions, options, and dangers. Leadership is a role and a task that should never be aspired to lightly. Neither should loyalty be given without reason. Even if the primary reason is nothing more than the soldier’s oath and duty, a true leader will work to prove worthy of a deeper trust.
But leadership and loyalty are both two-bladed weapons. Each can be twisted from its intended purpose. The consequences are never pleasant.
—