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conclusion Vestara needed to reach herself. And when she did, Ben knew, she would be a true Jedi.
    Vestara returned and held out her hands. “Get ready,” she said. “We’ll be inside in less than a minute.”
    Ben returned the plate and stood. “You seem pretty sure of yourself,” he said. “So why did he scowl?”
    “He scowled?” Vestara asked. “When?”
    “Right after you approached him,” Ben said. “When you asked if he had announced us yet.”
    “Oh,
that
scowl,” Vestara said lightly. “I don’t know—maybe he isn’t accustomed to pretty pages smiling at him.”
    She flashed him a playful grin, and Ben had to admit that she could be pretty disarming.
    “I can see how you might have unsettled him,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean your charm is going to work on the Senator—not from out here.”
    Vestara rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “What
politician
is going to put off accepting a surrender?”
    By
politician
, Ben knew, Vestara meant
Sith
. Kameron Suldar, chair of the Galactic Alliance Senate, was actually High Lord Ivaar Workan of the Lost Tribe of the Sith. Ben and Vestara were there to set him up for a surprise attack. They had to be inside the office before the battle began, holding the High Lord’s attention so he wouldn’t sense the rest of the Skywalker team coming to capture or kill him. Ben didn’t like being part of what would probably end up being a targeted killing. But there was a war under way, and he and his fellow team members were commandos sent to destroy the enemy’s command-and-control structure. If they could do it quickly and quietly enough, the Sith invaders would be leaderless before they realized they were under attack. And
that
would save thousands of civilian lives—perhaps hundreds of thousands—by preventing the fight from spilling over into the general population.
    The wurlwood panel swung open again, and the red-caped guard emerged. He was followed by a stunning redhead with the striking features of a HoloNet star and the calculating eyes of a seasoned political operative. She crossed the closet in a few quick steps and took the envelope from Vestara’s tray.
    “ ‘My dear friend Kameron,’ ” the woman read drily. She returned the envelope to the tray, then looked to the float pallet. “What’s all this?”
    “A cafasho steamer,” Vestara said. She leaned closer and spoke in aconfiding tone. “Senator Wuul has observed that Senator Suldar has a certain fondness for the drink, and he thought Senator Suldar might enjoy having a steamer of his own.”
    The redhead studied the gift for a moment, then turned to the guard. “Has the package been screened?”
    The guard sneered, obviously offended. “Of course. Them, too.”
    “There’s no need for your concern,” Vestara assured the redhead. “I have the impression that Senator Wuul is looking for a graceful way to capitulate.”
    The woman considered this for a moment, then looked to Ben. “And what about you, Twi’lek?” she asked. “Do you have the same impression?”
    Ben nodded. “It’s definitely a cafasho steamer,” he replied. “We were instructed to set it up and teach Senator Suldar’s staff how to use it.”
    The redhead narrowed her eyes, then suddenly turned toward the back of the closet. “Very well,” she said. “The Senator will see you now.”
    “Thank you,” Vestara replied. She looked over at Ben and cocked her brow, then followed the redhead into the secret passage. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be meeting the Senator in person.”
    All across Coruscant, Sith impostors began to receive their final warnings, a simple message that said:
    S URRENDER OR DIE . D ECIDE NOW .
    —T HE J EDI O RDER
    Sitting in the backseat of his armored limousine, GAS Superintendent Jestat Vhool snorted at the arrogance of the Jedi fools and snapped his datapad shut … and then recalled the unexplained hesitation he had felt the last time his pilot had