Free Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Vector Prime by R. A. Salvatore

pads, and forbid them to rebuild such offensive weapons.”
    Leia stared at him hard, and the depth of her expression, he knew, carried more than the frustration of the immediate circumstances, carried in it the remembered weight of long-ago enemies.
    “And when they leave us alone, the conflict will be at its end,” Nom Anor went on. “Peace will prevail. And so will prosperity.” He paused and brought a hand up to his black-masked face and struck a pensive pose. “Ah, yes, then prosperity will prevail, but it will be prosperity for Rhommamool and not Osarian, not the favored elite of the New Republic.”
    “You can’t believe what you’re saying,” Leia returned dryly.
    “Can’t I?” Nom Anor asked, his voice dripping sarcasm. “A plausible read of the situation. Go out yourself among the streets of Redhaven and ask.”
    “If you cared for the people of Rhommamool, you’d sit down and negotiate away this budding war,” Leia said bluntly.
    “I thought that was what we just did,” Nom Anor said.
    Leia’s expression again turned incredulous.
    “I told you how to stop it,” Nom Anor went on. “A simple call to the commander of your intervening terror weapon …”
    Leia looked back at Mara and Jaina and shook her head.
    “Not what you expected?” came Nom Anor’s sarcastic, taunting reply. “But more than you, or the New Republic, deserved. I think our positions are clear, and so I bid you turn about, back to your silly little flying box, and away from Rhommamool. I am afraid that I have lost patience with your foolishness.”
    Leia stared at him long and hard, then turned on her heel and stormed away, sweeping up Jaina and Mara in her wake. Bolpuhr, too, turned about, but not until he had given a long and threatening stare at Nom Anor, who merely smiled widely in reply.
    C-3PO, too, turned to leave, but he lingered there a moment, wilting under Nom Anor’s glare, perhaps the coldest stare he had ever felt.
    “Excuse me, sir, but may I inquire if there is a problem?” the droid gingerly asked.
    “One I could easily rectify,” Nom Anor answered ominously, coming forward a step, his stance threatening.
    “Have I somehow offended you?” the droid politely asked, although he was quaking with fear.
    “Your mere existence offends me!” Nom Anor growled, and C-3PO, having heard enough—too much, actually—wheeled about and hustled away, calling for Princess Leia.
    “I did not expect such an encounter,” Tamaktis Breetha dared to say, moving to stand beside Nom Anor.
    “Nor did I,” Nom Anor replied. “I had thought the meeting would be boring, and hardly that much fun.” He looked at his former mayor and recognized the doubts on the man’s face.
    “Speak your mind,” Nom Anor bade him. “Your questions will only strengthen me.”
    “Rhommamool will indeed need the help of the New Republic,” Tamaktis Breetha said after a long pause.
    Nom Anor chuckled. The man didn’t understand. Thiswasn’t about Rhommamool—Nom Anor would hardly care if he left the place and then later learned that Osarian had completely obliterated it. Of course, he would never go on record making such a statement.
    “Our cause is bigger than the civil war between a pair of planets,” he told Tamaktis. “It is about the basic freedoms of citizens of the New Republic and basic fairness to the exploited masses everywhere. When that truth comes out, then Rhommamool will find all the allies it needs to crush the thief-lords of Osarian.”
    The former mayor squared his shoulders as Nom Anor spoke, taking pride in the cause—the greater, if impractical, cause. “I will see that our guests depart promptly,” he said, dipping a bow and, after Nom Anor motioned for him to proceed, starting away.
    Nom Anor went to Shok Tinoktin and gently patted the head of the still-excited shlecho newt.
    “The scent of the coomb spore was strong on her breath,” Shok Tinoktin remarked.
    “And she wasn’t as strong,” Nom Anor