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her gaze toward the back of the closet, where a tall man in the red cape and golden armor of the Senate Security Force stood next to a wurlwood door leading to the Senator’s inner sanctum. “In any case, watching the chrono isn’t going to change the Senator’s schedule. He’s the chair of the Galactic Alliance Senate, after all. He’ll see us as soon as he can.”
    “I hope so.” Ben cast a meaningful glance at the crate. The battle for Coruscant would be won or lost in the next half hour, and the outcome could depend on getting that crate into Suldar’s office before the Sith knew they were under attack. “If we’re still here in five minutes, I’m going anyway.”
    Vestara exhaled in exasperation. “Hold this.”
    She passed the silver tray to Ben, then rose and walked to the security guard. The man was lean and good-looking, with a square jaw and the flawless grooming that Ben had learned to associate with the vanity of Lost Tribe Sith.
    “Excuse me.” It was impossible to see Vestara’s expression because she was facing away from Ben, but he had heard that particular voice quiver often enough to know she would be flashing a smile that appeared more nervous than it really was. “Have you announced our presence?”
    The guard glared at her for a moment; then his brows came together, and he glanced toward Ben. “I have.”
    The nervousness vanished from Vestara’s voice. “And have you mentioned that the gift is a peace offering from Senator Wuul?”
    The guard’s eyes widened just enough to suggest that he knew more about the feud between the Senators Suldar and Wuul than any true security guard should have.
    Vestara leaned a little closer. “I mean, I’d hate to think of the Senator in there, trying to line up support for a Tibanna tax increase, when Senator Wuul is ready to give in.”
    “You know this for a fact?” The guard’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
    Vestara shrugged. “Pages have ears, the same as security guards,” she said. “We know a lot of things we shouldn’t.”
    The guard considered this for a moment, then glanced back toward Ben. “Wait here.”
    He depressed a hidden latch, and a gap appeared in the boiserie behind him. Pulling one of the panels open just far enough to squeeze through, he slipped into a hidden corridor beyond, then closed the panel behind him.
    Vestara glanced back and cocked a brow. Ben rolled his eyes, but he had to smile and give her a grudging nod of approval. Her knowledge of the Sith and their vulnerabilities had proven invaluable in planning the liberation of Coruscant, and now her presence was turning out to be just as crucial in executing the operation. Only a former Sith could truly understand how a mind steeped in the dark side worked, how to appeal to their greed and vanity without revealing the trap. Ben was glad she had persuaded the Masters that her presence on Coruscant, during the battle itself, would be crucial to the success of the initial assault.
    But Ben also knew how difficult this particular operation had to be for Vestara. She loved him as much as he loved her, he was sure. But choosing him and the Jedi meant turning her back on her people and her home, never again breaking bread with childhood friends, and he would have been a fool to think she had made her choice with no regrets. There would always be a part of her that remained Sith, that longed to return to Kesh, and she had once confided to him that she hoped someday to do just that—to return home at the head of a Jedi peace delegation, so she could teach her people that there was no need to conquer the galaxy to live in it.
    She was being atypically naïve, but she had given up so much already that Ben could not bear the thought of depriving her of this one dream—and that was why he had persuaded his father to stop pressing her for Kesh’s coordinates. The hard truth was that redeeming an entire tribe of Sith was about as likely as stopping a nova, but this was a