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shrug. “I was spared out of acknowledgment for my past contributions, and because I had enough sense to limit my involvement with the battle station. Exile to Haidoral Prime was the best I could hope for under the circumstances.”
    Von Geiz peered at Chalis as if inspecting the skin of her forehead. “And that’s when you chose to defect?” he asked.
    Namir suspected Von Geiz was present to put a kind face on the company. He’d begun the meeting by checking Chalis over, asking about aftereffects of the stun bolt, while Howl had waited patiently and Lieutenant Sairgon had scowled. Von Geiz was a smart man, and he knew the role he’d been asked to play—kind, fatherly, sympathetic. But Chalis barely looked at anyone but the captain.
    “Don’t be absurd,” Chalis said. “Even on Haidoral, I had time to read, time to sculpt … I had money for occasional luxuries.” She turned in her chair and reached down to where Namir had placed her duffel bag. He’d already inspected it for weapons, though he’d only delivered it to the office under protest.
    Unlike Von Geiz, Namir wasn’t in the room to ask questions or manipulate the governor. Howl hadn’t said as much, of course, but Namir knew he was present as muscle. Chalis’s capture was being kept a secret; as first sergeant, Namir was a high-ranking grunt, authorized to witness senior staff discussions and duty-bound not to do a thing about them.
    “And speaking of luxuries,” Chalis said, “you’ve been more than hospitable and I’ve been ungracious.” From the bag, she retrieved a glass bottle filled with a translucent violet liquid adrift with gossamer white threads. She turned it in her hands, set it on the desk with a heavy
thunk
, then withdrew a handful of yellow fruit, which she placed beside the bottle. “A gift from Haidoral to my hosts: local brandy and native figs. Something to celebrate our new relationship.”
    The lieutenant looked questioningly at Howl. Howl lifted one of the fruits and, with a smile, began peeling it as Chalis uncapped the bottle. “Normally when a recruit smuggles alcohol aboard, she knows better than to share it with the senior staff,” Howl said, though his tone was light.
    “Then you should vet them for better manners,” Chalis replied. “Cups?” None were forthcoming, and with a shrug she took a sip directly from the bottle. When she removed the brandy from her lips and slid it across the table to Howl, she tilted her head to look up at Namir. “Perfectly safe,” she said.
    The thought of poison had crossed Namir’s mind. He cursed himself for being transparent enough to show it, and Chalis for seeing through him.
    The others passed the brandy bottle as Chalis started on the fruit, continuing to speak between bites. “So as I said, an exile to Haidoral was far from the worst fate. Then you came to my planet, and I realized I was doomed.”
    “Your mansion wasn’t a target,” the lieutenant said.
    Chalis laughed bitterly. “Being shot by
rebels
wasn’t my worry. Who do you think will be blamed for the failure of Haidoral’s defenses? Who will be held responsible for the raid on her city, the theft of Imperial supplies? I could argue I worked
miracles
, holding your men off with a legion of stormtroopers spread across three continents; I could argue Haidoral was an obvious target
months
before I even arrived, and that I did all I could to shore up its defenses.
    “But Darth Vader,” Chalis continued, her patter slowing, her eyes intent on Howl again after dancing about the room, “doesn’t take to rational,
reasoned
arguments. My reputation was already blemished. The moment your ship arrived in orbit, my life in the Empire ended.”
    “Too bad you didn’t ask to defect
then
,” the lieutenant said. “Would’ve saved us some trouble.”
    Namir choked back a laugh. Howl bit into his fruit and said nothing.
    “Some men delude themselves all their lives,” Chalis said. “I feel no shame in taking