Sacrifice

chapter eight

Once Omas pulls his troops back, we'll talk the Bothans into behaving. Give it a month or two, let everyone calm down and get used to a cease- fire, and we'll use that lull to regroup with Commenor, Fondor, and Bothawui to give Coruscant a pounding it'll never forget.

—Corellian Prime Minister Dur Gejjen, discussing longer-term plans with Confederation defense staff

GAG HQ LOCKER ROOMS, CORUSCANT: 2100 HOURS

Shevu took a long look at Ben and handed him a small container. It was filled with a dark brown fluid.

"You look dead beat," said Shevu. "But before you turn in for the night, there's a few loose ends to tie up."

Ben, slumped on a bench with his back resting on his locker door, was ready to drop. He had to be up at 0300 to prep for the flight to Vulpter, and he still didn't know his final destination, or the location for the hit.

That wasn't unusual, apparently. It was just as well he was used to improvising.

"I'm scoring ninety-seven percent, sir."

Shevu sounded as if he'd stifled a laugh. He exuded a sense of pity. "It's hard to know what to say."

"I'm ready. Really I am."

"I meant that it's amazing that we can pretty well train a sniper in a day. If he's a Jedi, of course." Shevu put the bottle in Ben's hand.

There was the slow and steady drip of water somewhere in the locker rooms, and the scent of faintly herbal soap. "You're being inserted ahead of time with Lekauf, and I'll be shadowing Omas's flight. We'll RV on Vulpter