The Last Jedi

Twenty


Sal put the train in motion the moment Pol Haus came aboard. A precaution, merely. There was no way of knowing what the police prefect might do if he thought he had been compromised. For all Tuden Sal knew, Haus was taking orders directly from ISB.

He gritted his teeth as Haus came through into the council car. Schooled his face to expressionless calm as the other man’s gaze swept the empty chamber, at last returning to rest on the Sakiyan sitting at the head of the long table.

“Am I the first one aboard?”

“You’re the only one aboard. Have a seat.” Sal gestured at a chair along one side of the table.

Haus slid into a chair three seats down from Sal. “No one else could come?”

“No one else was invited.”

Haus shook his shaggy head. “I thought we agreed there weren’t going to be any closed meetings. That sort of thing leads to factions, internal division—”

“And what does disinformation lead to, Pol?”

The prefect raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“The Emperor’s forces have been redeployed. They’ve shifted their attention from the Imperial Palace to a villa on the Western Sea. You knew this.”

To his credit, Haus didn’t bat an eyelash. Sal had to admire his poise—albeit grudgingly.

“Yes. I did.”

“And you—what? Thought it wouldn’t interest me?”

The Zabrak chuckled; the sound grated on Sal’s ears. “Oh, I knew it would interest you.”

Sal sat in the silence that followed, resisting the desire to throw himself across the table and wipe that lopsided smile from the prefect’s face. Sal was a Sakiyan: the veneer of civilization was painted very thinly on him. Beneath it, he could feel his pulse at his temples, fast and frantic. His yithræl—his clan-pride—was stirring angrily.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me, then? You knew I was waiting for an opportunity like this—an opportunity to get close to the Emperor.”

Maddeningly, Haus nodded. “Yeah. I knew that, too.”

“And didn’t tell me. You withheld important information from me, Pol. What else haven’t you told me?”

“That’s a silly question, isn’t it?”

Sal stood, his fists planted firmly on the table. The gleaming surface felt solid, steady. He needed that steadiness. “You intentionally undermined Whiplash operations—”

“Actually, I intentionally tried to keep you from undermining Whiplash operations, Sal. I hope I haven’t failed.”

“What are you talking about?”

The Zabrak looked up at him with annoying aplomb, his amber eyes showing an intensity that belied his relaxed slouch. “Stay away from the Emperor, Sal. Stop plotting to take his life. Our cause won’t be won that way.”

“Oh really? And in what way do you imagine it will be won?”

“I don’t know. But not that way. You put our resources into that and the consequences could be horrific.”

A chill settled into the marrow of Sal’s bones. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a fear.” Haus rocked forward in his seat, put his elbows on the table, and gave Sal a look that was disconcertingly direct. “If you try to assassinate Palpatine and fail—even if you succeed—it could cost us the entire network. Right now Vader’s got Thi Xon Yimmon. What do you think would happen if he got more of us?”

“Vader’s offworld.”

Haus nodded, slowly. “Yes. He is. Which means that the Emperor is more closely guarded than usual.”

“By Inquisitors, you mean? There are only a handful left. Or so you said.”

The prefect tilted his head to one side. “There are. I wouldn’t underestimate them, though.”

“Is he guarded by your men, Pol? By you, personally, perhaps?”

Now Haus laughed out loud. “I’m not the Emperor’s man, Sal. If I were, I’d’ve ratted you out long since. Can you imagine the cachet that would go with bringing down Whiplash and putting Jax Pavan—alive and well—into Vader’s hands?”

Fear and rage warred in Tuden Sal’s head. “Have you imagined it? Is that what this is about?”

“I repeat: I am not the Emperor’s man.”

“No, you’ve always been your own man, haven’t you? Working your own agenda.”

Sal stood back from the table, then turned and tapped a control on the system panel that dominated the forward right corner of the car. He kept one eye on Haus throughout. It would be only too easy for the police prefect to pull a blaster on him and blow him away. He’d taken precautions against that, of course, and Haus would realize that. That didn’t mean he might not test the proposition.

Sal turned back to face the Zabrak even as the train began to slow. “It’s over, Pol. We’re done. You’re no longer part of Whiplash.”

Something sparked deep in the Zabrak’s eyes, but he only rose from his seat and rearranged his disreputable coat. “What, you’re not going to shoot me?”

“If I had proof that you were in league with the enemy, I would. In a heartbeat. But I’m not sure you haven’t just been working for your own ends. Protecting your own interests. You’re right, after all. If you were in league with the Empire, we all would have been dead long since.”

“Are you going to go after Palpatine?”

“I’m not stupid, Pol. You’ve hamstrung me. I can’t exactly go forward with any plans I might have had now. You know what I might do. You’ve known long enough that even if I did shoot you, that information probably exists somewhere outside this room just waiting to be found.”

“Naturally.”

“Naturally.”

“So what then?”

“So, I let you off at an unscheduled stop and you never see this train again. I’ve rerouted it, and I’ll let the other members of the council know where to meet it as needed.” The mag-lev was slowing to a stop. “And now, it’s time for us to part ways.”

“I won’t betray you, Sal,” Haus said solemnly. “Friends don’t betray each other. But I’d like you to reconsider. If you’re going to do something stupid, you should at least have a full complement of naysayers to keep you in check. And the best intel you can get.”

Sal shook his head, resenting that the Zabrak had felt it necessary to make a veiled reference to his betrayal of Jax’s father. “Whatever we do now, we’ll just have to do it without your intelligence, friend. Besides, you’ve demonstrated that I can’t trust you to give me the best intel if it suits you to withhold it.”

“I withheld it to protect you. To protect Whiplash.”

“It’s a nice enough story. I simply don’t believe it.”

The train had come to a full stop. The magnetic field that had cradled it was dissipated, and it dropped gently into the curved durasteel channel in which it ran.

Sal gestured at the forward doorway. “Good-bye, Pol. I sincerely hope I never see you again.”

The Zabrak pulled himself to his full height. “If you need to see me again, Sal, don’t hesitate to call.”

Pol Haus went out through the forward door, there to be deposited on a deep service platform from which it would be difficult to extract himself quickly. If he had associates tracking him, the Whiplash Express would be long gone before they reached him.



Sal sat down at the table again, vaguely aware that the hovertrain had started moving. The rear door of the compartment hissed open and Dyat Agni came into the car. The Devaronian singer studied him for a moment, then asked, “Are you sure that he won’t betray us?”

“I’m sure he can’t betray us without betraying himself. He’s worked too actively to protect Jax Pavan. Even if he turned coat now, the Emperor would never trust him. There would be too many unanswerable questions about why he waited until now to reveal what he knew. And people the Emperor doesn’t trust—” He made a flinging gesture with one hand.

“Die,” Dyat said simply. “So we stand down, then.”

Tuden Sal smiled. “I think not.”

The Devaronian’s tilted red eyes widened. “But you said—”

The smile deepened. “I lied. Merely returning the favor.”



Pol Haus stood in the dark on the abandoned service platform for long moments, considering his predicament. He had expected that Tuden Sal might eventually discover what Haus had tried to conceal. He hadn’t thought it would happen quite so soon.

He could at least console himself that he’d cut Sal off from any attempt on the Emperor … maybe. He shifted the energy absorptive shielding he wore beneath his long, tatty coat and scratched at the spot where it met his collarbone. It was a good thing to know about Tuden Sal: that he would not kill a comrade he thought might have betrayed him, even if it meant giving up—or at least revising—a plan he had long hungered to put into motion. He could only suppose the Sakiyan felt his own betrayal of Lorn Pavan and I-Five acutely enough that it still affected his judgment and his behavior.

Well, it was a wrinkle, not a tear—a bump, not a breach. Tuden Sal was not to be rid of him that easily. Hopefully it would be some time before the Sakiyan realized that.

Haus smiled grimly. Sal really should have shot him down where he stood.