Lumiya: Dark Star of the Empire
June 22, 2006
By Michael Mikaelian with Patrick McLaughlin; Illustrations by Colleen Doran
The Imperial frigate Revenant, flanked by her escort corvettes Wolf-Pack and Borealis, ruptured the usual desolation of the Cron Drift. The ships hammered at the small asteroids that normally made the Drift treacherous to navigate. On the bridge of the Revenant, a soft beeping sensor cued an Imperial ensign to speak.
"Captain Valek, we're approaching Communications Research Station Epsilon Nine."
"Very well. Hail them on--"
"No," hissed a stern metallic voice. "Continue our approach at half-speed and monitor all transmissions." Lumiya moved like a shadow across the command deck. The ensign looked up again.
"Epsilon Nine is emitting an unknown low-level radiation pulse. Their ground comlinks are New Republic frequencies." Valek turned toward Lumiya, eyes wide. "Captain, scanners indicate nine X-wing fighters inbound, bearing two-seven-one."
"How could the Republic have known about this station, much less capture it," said the astonished Valek, looking toward Lumiya, herself unfazed by the situation.
"Imperial Intelligence became aware of this very recently, Captain. Apparently, they have made a push into the Elrood sector to acquire some of our technology for themselves."
There were several isolated facilities built by the Empire to conduct top-secret research, each tucked away in the remote Cron Drift. Lumiya's current task was to inspect each one and get a first-hand report on their progress. Due to the fractured order among Imperial forces, the Epsilon research project was ignored by many. But not by the New Republic.
"Have the corvettes assault the station's laser batteries," commanded Lumiya, sending a wave of cold authority throughout the bridge. "Helm, turn us broadside to the station, but bring the turbolasers to bear on those fighters. Flight Ops, launch TIE interceptor squadron Alpha. Have TIE bomber squadron Theta support the corvettes."
Outside, the Drift was aglow with the thick, precise mayhem of turbolasers. The X-wings, surprised by the Revenant's heavy weapons, fell quickly to the power of the frigate and the sudden onslaught of TIE interceptors.
New Republic laser turrets fired pointlessly on the broadside of the Revenant, ignoring the two corvettes. The pair surgically carved through the ground weaponry and troop emplacements. Their TIE bomber support dropped proton torpedoes with uncanny accuracy and blew open the landing platform, a pathway to breathable atmosphere.
From the belly of the Wolf-Pack came two assault shuttles. The Borealis flew low and dispatched two juggernauts. Their crushing wheels mowed over several barricades as they plowed toward the central research station; their heavy. laser cannons shredded the blast doors of the outer perimeter. Crimson-clad stormtroopers followed, swarming through the portal. Even outnumbered, two-to-one, Lumiya's commandos made short work of the station security.
As the firefight raged below, a lone Lambda-class shuttle streaked from the Revenant toward the planetoid's surface.
Lumiya scanned the carnage caused by her fleet as she strode through the gaping hole in the compound. The stormtroopers had herded together a group of frightened scientists, the station's only survivors. The smell of ozone permeated the room; small fires marked blaster shots on the walls and floors.
"All Republic forces have been eliminated. We suffered three wounded. All personnel are accounted for," reported a stormtrooper, pointing to the group. The glow of the fires gleamed off Lumiya's armor as she approached the scientists.
"A woman?" proclaimed one of them. In an instant, he was lifted by an unseen Force, and flew across the room, stopped only by Lumiya's hand gripping his throat. The others watched in horror as she crushed his throat.
"I am Lumiya," she stated coldly, dropping the scientist's lifeless body. "You were charged with developing new spy satellites for Imperial Intelligence. I am here to remind you of your loyalties to the Empire, and will overlook consorting with the enemy just this once. "
Lumiya whirled back toward the still-smoldering door. With a flashing stroke of her arm, deadly tendrils of energy snaked from Lumiya's lightwhip and wrapped around a New Republic sigil. Sparks flew as the polysteel symbol of hope was bisected by the weapon. The scientists hung their heads, knowing that once again they were to serve the Empire.
"My garrison will insure your diligent work -- and safety. I will return in eight weeks to witness your dramatic progress. Failure will not be tolerated."
With that, Lumiya and her assault team boarded their shuttles and departed. As the troops escorted Epsilon Nine's staff to their quarters, a small group spoke quietly among themselves. "Do you think they intercepted our signal?" whispered a dark-haired woman.
"Doubtful, " replied a Mon Calamari. "Their scanners should have only picked up low-level radiation. When our emissions reach the satellite web, it will transmit a distress signal... but there's no guarantee anyone will receive it. "
Here's part six of Evil Never Dies:
Life After Darth
The problem Bane addressed when he bound the Sith to secrecy and their number to a pair was that only under such conditions could dark side ambition be checked. But Emperor Palpatine eventually broke the rule of secrecy and "bent" the rule of two by keeping a multitude of dark siders in reserve. Like his emperor, Vader also bent the rules, secretly training Sith disciples of his own so that he himself might usurp the title of Sith Master. Among them were Lumiya, an Imperial double-agent-turned cyborg, and Flint, a stormtrooper whose father was killed by General Grievous during the Clone Wars.
Vader had planned to pit these pupils against one another as past Dark Lords had done, taking the victor as his Shadow Hand. The Sith Lord died before that could happen, however. Flint, who had looked to Vader as a father, felt the loss deeply. He retreated to the planet Vjun where he mourned within Vader's Bast Castle. It wasn't long before he was found there by Lumiya. Though they'd never seen one another, without words they came to a mutual understanding. A towering statue of Vader looked on as Flint ignited his lightsaber and Lumiya her Sith lightwhip. The furious battle left both warriors battered, but in the end Flint's despair was no match for Lumiya's hatred, and the roles of master and the apprentice were determined.
Lumiya tasked Flint with subjugating the Phelleem sector and killing Luke Skywalker while she prepared an alien species called the Nagai (or N'Gai) for the invasion of galactic space. Nothing could make Flint happier, but instead of killing Skywalker, Flint was persuaded by an old friend to turn back to the light. For many years thereafter, Flint was kept in a cell of Mandalorian iron on an Alliance safeworld, healing from the traumatic influence of the dark side. Eventually, he returned to his home planet Belderone to live out a simple life. Lumiya vowed to deal with Flint when circumstances allowed and sought a new apprentice. She didn't have to look far.
As the dominant black color of his robes suggests, the dark sider Carnor Jax had ties not only to the Imperial Royal Guard, but his father was once a Sith mercenary of the Thyrsus Sun Guard who was killed by Darth Sidious following his failure to recover King Adas' holocron. Jax himself was a superior soldier, savvy and ambitious. Like Flint, he excelled as a stormtrooper, but Jax was handpicked from the ranks of the Blackhole's special stormtrooper unit for the Royal Guard.
After Palpatine's death, a number of Royal Guards partook in a mass suicide. Some distraught guards joined the cause of Lord Shadowspawn, while others found solace in the words of the Prophets' Church of the Dark Side, who promised the Emperor would one day return. Jax was disgusted at the weakness he witnessed blind loyalty produce and resolved to have no part of it. Thus, it was easy for Jax to transfer allegiance from Palpatine to his successor Sate Pestage, then again to Empress Ysanne Isard. Ultimately, Jax was loyal only to himself.
That became problematic, however, when Isard transferred Jax and a number of other Royal Guards into the hands of Lumiya as part of a deal. Sensing the Force in Jax, Lumiya offered him something altogether different than any of his previous masters: the power of the dark side.
After giving Jax limited training, Lumiya informed her apprentice of her need to now gather the necessary elements to rebuild the Sith Order. The New Republic already thought Lumiya dead, and the circumstances surrounding her encounter with the Emperor's Hand Mara Jade on Caprioril led the Empire to the same conclusion. Before she disappeared on this quest, however, Lumiya ordered Jax to infiltrate the Empire's upper echelons and prepare, by whatever means necessary, for the ultimate threat to the Sith legacy. Jax pursued this agenda, collecting political and military allies and incriminating secrets within the Imperial Ruling Council and using Dark Side Adepts like Sarcev Quest to learn new Force powers. Jax soon had the Empire eating out of his palm.
Then came the unthinkable. Emperor Palpatine, dead for six years, miraculously returned. Suddenly, Jax realized what threat his master Lumiya had been referring to, and was not prepared to give up the power he'd accumulated. As a Force-sensitive Royal Guard, Jax easily became part of the Reborn Emperor's elite and trusted Sovereign Protectors. With Quest's help and particular relish, Jax convinced the Imperial Ruling Council to bribe Palpatine's physician into poisoning the clones the Emperor was using to stay alive. Palpatine died his last death as a result, and Jax set himself up as Imperial ruler. Afterward, he attempted to reestablish communication with Lumiya -- not to rejoin her but to lure her into a trap. That's when one of Palpatine's loyal former Royal Guardsmen killed him.
Lumiya was nonetheless thankful, for not only had Jax permanently eliminated Palpatine, but before his attempted betrayal, he'd passed on word to her of a mysterious stranger called Nom Anor who was interested in a possible alliance with the Dark Lady.
Firepower
May 12, 2006
Page 6
The next Ketrian knew stark white light was filtering through her eyelids and the acrid smell of antiseptic assailed her nostrils. Her stomach heaved and she rolled to one side.
"Please use the waste unit," a droid's unemotional voice echoed about her.
Ketrian fell from the narrow bunk onto a duracrete floor that bruised her knees. She grabbed at the nearby waste unit, turned and threw up into it.
"Thank you," the droid responded. There was a whirring of servomotors as he came closer. Long metal arms heaved her back onto the bunk. "You are functional?" it asked, glowing photoreceptors and sensors assessing.
"Oh, go melt your circuits." Ketrian wiped at her mouth. "Who are you and where am I?"
"Medical guard unit FM-6B at your service," he replied. "You are in Arginall Garrison Infirmary Cell number 23B."
"Cell!" Ketrian felt worse than ever as it all came back. "I am going to murder you, Makintay." She clutched at her head. "If I live."
"You are experiencing head pain?" the droid asked.
"How do I get out of here?" Ketrian demanded. "Open the door." She saw all four walls were completely smooth. No sign of an exit.
"I cannot do that," the droid answered. "You must be given proper clearance. First I have been programmed to provide medication that will hasten your return to full function."
Ketrian saw an appendage appear with a ready-filled hypodermic. "What is that?" she asked suspiciously.
"Standard treatment for your condition."
"Good," Ketrian sighed in relief. As she rolled up her sleeve, she found her new dress was torn and covered in mud. The hypo-spray discharged its load into her arm. She rubbed at it and asked, "Where is my friend, Alikka Nolan?"
"I am not programmed with that information," the droid responded.
Part of the wall slid open to reveal stormtrooper guards in a corridor. Then Major Pedrin stepped into the cell. "I see you've had your medication." His lips twitched in what could have been a smile. "Feeling better?' He pressed at his mustache as he lowered himself to sit on the single chair. "I've been worried about you, Ketrian, You received a double dose of stun shock."
"You should teach your troopers to shoot straight," Ketrian said angrily. "They could have killed me. Is that how you tell them to handle hostage situations? Where's Ali? She better be all right or I'll be making an official complaint."
Pedrin's eyes darkened to twin black holes. "You are in no position to make complaints, Miss Altronel. You and your friend deliberately avoided your guards at the inn. If not for the fact that they noticed the man who took you to the storage cellar and questioned him upon his return, we may never have located you."
"Grathal?" Ketrian's pulse raced and her mouth went dry as she wondered what the old man had told them. "Where is he now? I'd like to ask him a few things myself."
"Such as?" Pedrin leaned forward and she noticed he was recording her answers on a datapad.
"Such as how he could have managed to get so confused. He took us to the wrong address. Way back by the river. Ali and I thought we were meeting a sculpture dealer from off-world. You know how I collect such things?" He nodded. "I know we shouldn't have left without notifying your men, but Grathal said the dealer was worried about ... "
"Customs excise?"
"Yes," Ketrian sighed in relief. "Grathal explained?"
"That is what he told us, but it was not the full truth."
Ketrian swallowed. "It wasn't?"
"Who did you find waiting at that warehouse?"
"People," Ketrian said. She brushed mud from her skirt. They must had captured Makintay and identified him by now. "Resistance fighters. They wanted me to join them." She made it sound like a great joke. "Me. Can you imagine? When I refused they took Ali and me prisoner."
Pedrin said nothing for a long moment. Then he sighed, straightened and turned off the recorder. "Loyalty is an admirable trait, Ketrian," he said quietly, "but you cannot protect Miss Nolan forever. She knew where she was taking you last night."
"Surely not."
Pedrin gave her a stern look. "She knew. You see now why you needed my officers with you at all times?"
She nodded. "I'm glad they were able to rescue me. May l go home now?"
"Soon. First I want you to tell me all you know about Stevan Makintay. You and he declared your betrothal five years ago." He snorted disgustedly and said, "Makintay's father doesn't let a day go by without complaining of his son's choice. He wanted Stevan to marry some High Lady, I take it?" Ketrian nodded. Pedrin gave another of his reptilian smiles. "Personally, I'd say that was the single smart choice of Stevan's life."
Ketrian flushed. "I have work to do, Major. I should be getting back to the refinery. I don't think there is much I can tell you about Makintay. He abandoned me five years ago and I never heard from him again until last night."
"Yes," Pedrin agreed. "Of that, at least, we are certain. We had you both under close surveillance during your university days." Ketrian's head lifted in shock. "Security, you understand. We were assessing the elder Makintay for appointment to the position of Imperial Governor."
"And did you leave off that surveillance when Stevan disappeared?" Ketrian asked angrily.
Deep Spoilers
May 26, 2006
Page 4
"Haw!" Neb Neb laughed. "Wesa da luckiest un da moto skilled too! If wesa no lucky un clumsy, how comen wesa still breathin, standen hair in yous office, instedda maken liken fish food?"
Cova clapped his hands together and smiled. "Yousa lucky, all right. Boss Nass liken bongo racen, un tinks yous duey is good sports. Dat's why he talkie tooda Council, un tell dem dat youse only ganna get a short suspension."
"How longo is a short suspension?" asked Neb Neb.
Cova grinned. "Mesa tinks youse be back in da races just as soonest yousa do Boss Nass a favor."
Spleed gulped. "A favor? For da Boss?"
"Dat's right," said Cova."It involves hisen old heyblibber."
* * *
Major Fassa met Captain Tarpals in front of a crowded restaurant bubble that adjoined the City Bigspace. Fassa wore a civilian outfit and could not help but frown when she saw that the kaadu patrol chief was still in uniform. "Yousa worken overtime," she said.
Tarpals nodded. "Sumptin come up."
"Seems liken sumptin always comen up. Any word about Squidfella Quiglee?"
"Noyet," Tarpals replied. "Patrols still lookee for him."
Fassa noticed that Tarpals was carrying a small rolled scroll, and asked, "What's dat."
"A message from Boss Nass. My have to take it to Lob Dizz."
"My take da message to Dizz for yousa," Fassa offered.
"Tanks," Tarpals said as he handed the scroll to Fassa. "Boot firstest, let's take-a walk."
Leaving the restaurant bubble, they entered the City Bigspace and stepped onto the Grand Walkway. In every direction wandered hundreds of tourists. Many of them were first-time visitors to Otoh Gunga, and several were clearly neither Gungans nor Naboo. In the aftermath of the Battle of Naboo, the ambassadors of other Republic planets had taken a keen interest in Naboo culture, Otoh Gunga in particular. At the sight of two humanoids exchanging a long kiss before a Gungan ceremonial fountain, Tarpals winced.
"Da tings some people do in public," Tarpals commented.
"My tinks daza honeymoonen," said Fassa.
"Honeymoonen?" said Tarpals. "What's dat?"
"Mesa nut surr," Fassa said, "boot mesa hear talken. Word is dat outlaunders tink dat Otoh Gunga is `good place for honeymoonen."
Tarpals stole a quick glance back at the kissing couple, who remained locked in a tight embrace. "My wonder if dat meanen honeymoonen is no good in otter places. Mabee some places it even illegal."
Fassa stopped walking and said, "What gooie-on,Tarpals. Yousa tryen to tell mesa sumptin?"
Tarpals gazed into Fassa's eyes, then looked away. "Tings is changen too fast in dis city," he said at last. "At firstest, mesa tinken dat some change is good. Bein friends wit da Naboo seemed liken good ting, un still seems liken a good ting. Boot all dese otter beings ... Fassa, daza drivin mesa nutsen."
"What?" Fassa said, surprised by Tarpals' admission.
"Moto of dem is okeyday," Tarpals continued. "Boot some ... dey bringen dair own food un talkie-ways. Dey traden garments wit uss-ens, boot dair garments isa no good for wearin underwater. Dey comen hair to get a lookee round, boot dey no learn da local laws or customs. Dey walk where dey no supposed to walk, un mesa tinks dat some of dem been swipen locap plants." Tarpals shook his head.
"In otter words," Fassa interjected, "Yousa confound-ed becausen some outlaunders got no respict for uss-ens culture?"
Tarpals nodded. Fassa beamed. "Den yousa no avoiden mesa becausen mesa uncle is Boss Nass?"
"What?" Tarpals gasped, lifting the lids of his eyestalks. "Doan be ridiculous. Mesa beyond all dat." Then Tarpals looked past Fassa's shoulder and said "Uh-oh."
"What yet?"
"Duty callen," Tarpals snarled as he moved away from Fassa. "Dat honeymoonen couple just climb-ed into da ceremonial fountain."
Fassa watched Tarpals walk toward the soaking couple, then looked down at the rolled scroll in her hand. Deciding that she didn't want to wait around for Tarpals, she turned to exit the City Bigspace and headed for Lob Dizz's laboratory bubble.
Lob Dizz was one of the most respected engineers in Otoh Gunga, especially for her expertise with bongo propulsion systems. She was passionate about her work, and most of her assignments were official jobs for the Otoh Gunga Transit Authority or Grand Gungan Army. Her current project was more personal in nature; Boss Nass had asked her to see whether she could do something with the engine to his old heyblibber, the luxury sub that had been totaled by Jar Jar Binks.
Specifically, Boss Nass wanted the heyblibber's engine restored and installed into a tribubble racing bongo. He also had some specific ideas about the bongo's design, insisting on the input of a pair of racers. Lob Dizz had agreed, but when she had learned that the two racers were Spleed Nukkels and Neb Neb Goodrow, she immediately wondered whether Boss Nass were trying to punish her.
Lob Dizz heard rumors that Spleed and Neb Neb might know something about the disappearance of Squidfella Quiglee, but she didn't believe them. In all fairness, she liked Spleed and Neb Neb. She had dealt with them in the past and had employed them as test pilots, but that was before their recent string of crashes. Although Spleed and Neb Neb had never damaged any of Lob Dizz's prototypes, their reputation as crash survivors did not inspire much confidence.
As the engineer watched Spleed and Neb Neb at work in the sub pen that neighbored her laboratory, she figured that Boss Nass might not be trying to punish her after all. Perhaps the Boss intended to use the pair's cleverness and teamwork in more productive ways. The two racers had thrown themselves into their assignment with great enthusiasm and had offered several good ideas for increasing speed and navigational control. The main problem was working with the heyblibber engine itself, as the power unit had been originally engineered for a sub that had been quite a bit larger and longer than a typical bongo. Instead of being frustrated by the challenge, Spleed and Neb Nebb were thrilled by it.
Kella Rand, Reporting...
December 02, 2005
Page 4
Some beings thought the best way to hide something was to just put it out in plain sight. It looked like Barayel's assassin agreed. Quite by accident, she'd caught Darme placing a tiny but powerful bomb inside Barayel's comm panel. And as far as she knew, she was the only reporter who knew about it, much less had a visual recording of it.
TriNeb, eat your heart out!
Thumping the console with excited delight, she leapt to her feet and flung open the editing booth door. It slammed against the wall, startling everyone into looking up.
"Take a look at this!" she yelped, and disappeared back inside. Juloff and Crislyn glanced at each other questioningly, but Nostler hit the hold button on his holoclip and followed, leaving an Ithorian entertainer suspended mid-warble over his desk. Both reporters strained to follow the conversation filtering out the open door.
"You know that old saying about hiding out in the open?" Kefla asked Nostler. "Well, check this out!"
A brief silence, then -- "What in blazes? Is that what it looks like?"
"It's a bomb," she confirmed. "And that guy there is the same Authority who shot and killed L'varren's aide. The one they found the detonator on," she added significantly.
Out in the newsroom the reporters exchanged glances. "This I've got to see," Crislyn said and got up to stand in the editing booth doorway, peering over the pair's shoulders. Juloff waited a few moments to make sure they were all engrossed. Then, pulling out his comlink, he headed for the bureau door.
Excited by Kella's discovery, no one in the editing booth even noticed that he'd left.
* * *
Satisfaction still sang through her veins a short time later as Kella left the bureau, hovercam humming behind like a tethered vartlett. After some discussion, she and Nostler had agreed they couldn't simply turn the vidclip over to the Council Authorities. If one guard were involved in the assassination, others could be too, and they didn't want to chance it ending up in the wrong hands.
That left just one other person that Kella thought might be able to help: L'varren. With the New Republic being blamed for Barayel's death, the ambassador might have a certain interest in helping her make sure her datacard -- and its evidence to the contrary -- got to the proper people.
Her report, waiting in the bureau newsbank for the courier to arrive within the next hour or so, included the incriminating clip, and a second copy was nestled among the cards littering the bottom of her datatote. If she hustled, she might have time to add an update.
L'varren and his diplomatic entourage were staying in the same hotel as she was, just a few blocks from the GNN bureau, and paying only cursory attention to the light evening traffic bustling past, Kella mentally ran down her reporter's checklist as she walked. The who, what, when, where, and how of the explosion seemed clear, but not the why.
She was still mulling over possible motives when a blaster shot sizzled a mere meter overhead, cracking against a marbled storefront and spattering hot stone chips down about her shoulders.
Kella was on the ground before it really even registered -- fortunate, since a second, lower shot followed the first, a bright shower of sparks striking the wall where her head had been. A sharp crack to her left made her look, and with a chill, she realized that a stone planter full of perky flowers had just saved her life.
Hissing for the hovercam to get down, she wiggled further into the limited cover and tried to assess the situation. She thought the shots were coming from somewhere across the wide street, but wasn't sure of the exact direction, and didn't dare stick her head up to take a look. Pinned down like this, she was horribly vulnerable. The few pedestrians she could see nearby weren't going to be much help -- like her, they'd hit the walkway, or ducked into nearby doorways. Nobody seemed to be raising an alarm.
The tiny hairs on her arms prickled. Even now as she hesitated, her attacker could be moving into position for the kill. She reluctantly decided to draw her blaster and try to lay down some covering fire while making a desperate dash for safety when, just a couple of meters away, a door swung open and a man in an amazing purple suit stepped out, demanding to know just what in the galaxy was going on out here?
Kella saw her chance. Crab-like, she scuttled past him, scurrying through the ornate doorway and bursting, not into a store as she'd expected, but a fancy eating establishment. A golden droid with a black bow tie gaped at her as she crouched in the tastefully decorated foyer, and well-dressed diners goggled in astonishment as she got to her feet and meandered through the tables toward the back of the building. She caught quick glimpses of fancy red tablecloths and gleaming flatware as she searched for another door. There should be a rear entrance through the kitchen area, and from there, she could make a run -- where?
Bursting through a door at the back, she narrowly avoided a waiter droid loaded down with a tray of steaming entrees. Flattening herself against a counter to squeeze past, she spotted another door, this one labeled "exit" in blocky Basic, and emerged into a poorly-lit alley, startling some leathery-skinned rodent nosing through an overflowing waste bin. Wrinkling her nose at the unappetizing smells wafting up from the sticky pavement, she hurried down the narrow passage with the hovercam whirring along behind her.
There was still no sign of pursuit by the time the alley emptied into a street a few hundred meters later, so Kella stayed in its concealing shadows while she caught her breath and pondered her next move.
With the datacard and its incriminating clip in the bottom of her datatote, it wasn't hard to figure out why somebody was after her. What was a mystery was who, and how they'd found out what she had.
Her thoughts flicked to Nostler, and the other two reporters back at the bureau. She hated to think one of her own might be involved in this, but there weren't many alternatives. Grimly running through her options, she decided to stick with the original plan of contacting L'varren. At least he had a bevy of security officers who could offer some protection while she and the ambassador decided what to do with the vidclip.
Cautiously peeking out of the alley, she uneasily identified at least a dozen potential hiding spots for a sniper. But there was no other way. Hyper-alert to every little flash of movement, she started down the street. Ten tense minutes later, she arrived at the hotel.
Rising majestically into the night sky, it was a thoroughly modern transplant which towered over its surrounding stone companions. While an impressive sight, it was the crowd milling about on its steps which caught Kella's eye. Pausing at the foot of the long sweep of stairs leading up to the entrance, she surveyed the scene ahead.
Placard-carrying protesters provided visual fodder for the hovercams floating up and down the steps, while their reporters interviewed some of the demonstrators -- or lounged around on stone planters, apparently prepared to wait all night, if necessary, to catch L'varren and wring a quote out of him regarding this new development. A few choice placards stood out, and Kella wryly noted that the "Indu Imperialists," as she'd privately dubbed the business consortium she'd talked to earlier, were making the most of the day's events to register their anti-New Republic sentiments. The newsnets seemed eager to help them fan the flames.
We'll just see about that, she thought smugly, starting up the steps. Intent on her destination, hurrying through the lobby and heading for the turbolifts beyond, it didn't register at first.
But then her eyes snapped back in startled recognition to the man standing next to a decorative holosculpt at the front of the lobby. Juloff, one of the reporters from the bureau. And next to him--
Darme.
They'd seen her. Her heart sank with belated realization. Of course, they'd probably been waiting for her. Juloff nodded in response to something Darme said, and as they began to purposefully weave through the lobby toward her, Kella studied their implacable expressions and knew she was in trouble.