CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

The Elegencia

“I hear your concerns, Shipmaster Hazziz, and share them myself.”

Pan Eyta was on board the Elegencia, listening to the feed the Republic thought was encrypted. There was a moment while an intermediary— a protocol droid or other such lackey—transcribed Senator Toon’s words into Cyclorrian chirps and buzzes, and another when the shipmaster responded.

Pan smirked as the senator relayed the information that he’d been waiting to hear. “From what I can gather, our Jedi friends are going to ground. All Jedi have been instructed to return to that monstrosity of a space station in the Outer Rim, with only the smallest contingent sent to fortify Hetzal.”

“Hetzal?” the shipmaster repeated in disbelief.

“What do you expect? Of course the Jedi would protect their vanity over all. I’m afraid that no Knights are being deployed to any of the places that really need them most, including Cyclor. It seems my deepest fears are being realized. The Jedi are abandoning us in our hour of need. We are all but defenseless.”

There was another pause. Another translation. “Perhaps I can count on Cyclor’s support at the next reading of the defense force bill? If the Jedi won’t—or, Force forbid, can’t—protect us, then we must defend ourselves.”

Hazziz buzzed a reply, which seemed to flummox Senator Toon. “You want Sullust to defend the shipyards? If only we could oblige, my friend. Chancellor Soh likes to say that we are all the Republic. Unfortunately, since Valo, I think the reality of the situation is that we are all very much alone. That’s why the DFP is so importan—”

Pan flicked off the communication, swiveling around to face Lourna Dee’s holo. “Did you hear?”

The Twi’lek nodded from the safety of her own ship, still in geostationary orbit on the dark side of Grizal’s moon. “It appears we have our target.”

“And the Eye doesn’t suspect?”

“The Eye is still on the Gaze Electric. All he cares about is his relics …”

Pan huffed, the sound becoming a rattling cough.

On the holo, Lourna looked concerned. “Pan?”

“It’s nothing,” Pan lied, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He glanced down, seeing the spots of blood. His body still ached, but it was nothing compared with what he would do to Ro when they returned from the raid.

“So, we’re set,” he said, changing the subject. “We’ll take the Tempests to Cyclor and then, when we get back—”

“We’ll storm the Gaze,” Lourna confirmed.

“And Zeetar?”

Lourna pulled a finger across her neck.

Pan sniggered. “Will you let me watch?”

The Twi’lek smiled playfully. “I’ll even let you lick the knife.”

“You little tease. Do we have the Path?”