Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Conviction

by Allston, Aaron

  The words were much the ones she expected to hear. “… acting in the interest of the Galactic Alliance … to prevent a catastrophe that might tear the Alliance … taken into custody …” Flanked by Master Horn and Jaina Solo, with Senator Rockbender conspicuous behind them, Saba’s magnified image, stern but not ferocious, spoke down toward the assembled Senators.

  One level below and well to one side, her platform now empty of all but her, Treen managed her own communications far more quietly. “We have no choice. We can either leap aboard this speeder or watch it disappear into the distance, carrying all our opportunities with it. We’ll collect the pieces and suffer only a delay … if we cooperate with the Jedi right now. They need us. Yes, a unified front. I’ve been able to reach all relevant parties, even the one in custody.”

  She barely listened to Bramsin’s replies. Nothing the man said meant anything at the moment. She made a few noncommittal noises of assent, then cut off the communication.

  Resuming her place at the platform controls, she maneuvered so that her platform was next to Rockbender’s. She locked its controls in place, then stared at Master Sebatyne.

  Eventually the Jedi came to the end of her speech. She glanced over at Treen. Treen looked just as pointedly up at the main holocam unit hovering above the platform level.

  Saba gestured for the holocam to switch its attention to Treen.

  Though she was not staring at the gigantic monitors above, Treen knew when the image switched from Saba to her; the light intensity changed, reflecting the fact that the image, previously dominated by Saba’s dark, scaly skin, now showed Treen’s sky-blue robes.

  She lifted her chin and stared into the holocam. “Though the action by the Jedi Order has no precedent, nor was the cooperation or blessing of the Senate or any of its members sought before this action, I now announce that the portions of our government still devoted to concerns of justice and rightness have chosen to lend our conditional support to this action. I have personally spoken with General Thaal of the army; Admiral Parova, acting head of the navy; and General Jaxton of Starfighter Command. They are in agreement that this unfortunate turn of events was the only one left to reasoning beings—the only option left by former Chief Daala. The armed forces will therefore not oppose the Jedi Order so long as the Order proceeds in a just fashion and works toward returning the executive branch to duly selected hands. A convocation of Senators, including myself, Fost Bramsin of Coruscant, and many others whose names I will list as soon as they cease to pour into my comm board, also support this action.”

  She saw, in her lower peripheral vision, activity on the platform’s comm monitor. She’d taken thirty seconds to put up a Senatorial poll, whose title, enigmatic until her last few words, simply read, WHO IS IN ACCORD WITH SENATOR BRAMSIN AND MYSELF ON THIS ISSUE? Now names suddenly began appearing in the left-hand column, the YES column. In an instant the list of names stretched to the bottom of the monitor, and then the document’s title scrolled off the top as more names were added.

  “We encourage all citizens of the Alliance to remain calm. There is no cause for worry, and the functions of government will continue—far more smoothly and rationally than they have in recent months under former Chief Daala.” She turned back to Saba and nodded, quietly ceding control of the transmission back to the Jedi.

  Back in the Chief of State’s waiting area, Han blinked as Saba’s face once again filled the monitor. He turned back to his wife. She was flanked by Kam and Tionne. Zekk and Taryn held the inner office and the still-unconscious Daala. Late arrivals Kyp and Octa had already escorted the others from the waiting room out into the approach corridor and now held that door against possible strikes by security operatives. “We won.”

  Leia nodded. She looked a little shell-shocked herself. “That was already likely. Possibly inevitable. But we won instantly. No waiting for the armed forces and Senate to come around.”

  “So we can leave?”

  “Soon, Han. Soon.” She frowned, clearly troubled.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  Leia shook her head as if dismissing what was bothering her. “It just felt a little like fleeing the first Death Star. Where we’d gotten some help that made everything easier … help that meant more trouble in the future.”

  “That was nearly forty-five years ago. No similarity.” Han leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “What do you suppose will happen if we order something to eat?”

  “Your Bothan’s out in the hall. Ask him.”

  News of the coup hit the holochannels the instant the Senate Building unsealed. It flashed to near and far parts of the Alliance, into Imperial Remnant space, into regions uncontrolled by those two political bodies, at hyperspace speeds.

  News feeds exploded with noise and commentary. The recorded message queues of the comlinks of Han, Leia, Saba, Jag Fel, Treen, Bramsin, Rockbender, Jaxton, Thaal, Parova, Dorvan, and innumerable others filled up with desperate invitations to appear on holocam and explain what had just happened.

  It was hours before the dust could even begin to settle, before all individuals in all corners of the Senate Building could be convinced that the situation was, for the moment, resolved, that blaster pistols and lightsabers were not about to flash into action once again. Ambulances removed the few individuals injured in the Jedi storming of crucial points in the building, plus the many who had fallen victim to riot gas attacks in the main security center and the dozens who had collapsed from stress. Some awoke still thinking that the Yuuzhan Vong had attacked.

  As peace—a tense, charged peace—settled on the seat of government, Wynn Dorvan, effectively under house arrest in his office for the last several hours, was ushered into the Chief of State’s office by C-3PO. He looked at the damaged door into the inner office, propped open by a bookcase, and ducked to enter the office itself.

  Inside, where Daala usually sat, stood Jedi Master Saba Sebatyne, her back to the door. She turned, careful not to let her tail sweep across the desktop or bookcases to the side as she did so. She gave Wynn a little nod. “This one appreciates your coming.”

  “As though I had a choice.” He regretted saying that the instant the words left him. It might not be a good idea to irk the new, if temporary, masters of the Galactic Alliance. But he was tired, and his discretionary instincts had ebbed.

  “You did have a choice. Would you care to sit?”

  “Not if you’re to remain standing.”

  “A practical necessity. This one failed to bring a chair suited to her structure.”

  Wynn remained standing regardless. From a pocket, he withdrew a small, sealed envelope and placed it on the desktop before Saba.

  She glanced at it but did not pick it up. “A protest?”

  “My resignation.”

  “Ah. Understandable. Honorable. But this one will ask you to retrieve it. And destroy it.”

  Wynn shook his head. “Chief Daala’s political allies will not cooperate with me if I collaborate with you. Her enemies will not cooperate with me in any case—they’re too anxious to fill my job from within their own ranks. I’m useless here. And—let me be frank. Whatever you think of her, Natasi Daala is an honorable person. I’m not going to cooperate with a government that intends to hyperdrive her into a conviction and a prison term. I’m already hearing people talk about leveling charges of treason against her. I’m going to use my skills and my resources in her defense. That’s it.”

  Saba regarded him steadily, long enough for her to take a few slow breaths. “This one commendz you and appreciates your candor. Now will you listen to what this one has to say?”

  “Of course.”

  “The Jedi Order does not intend to remain in control of the executive branch, of course. Conquest was not our aim. Until a new Chief of State can be duly selected, we will be appointing a Triumvirate to act collectively as the Chief of State. It will consist of this one, Senator Treen, and General Jaxton.”

  “Representing the interests
of the Jedi, the Senate, and the armed forces, respectively. About as appropriate an organization as one could hope for—but I’m surprised, even shocked, that former Chief of State Solo is not on it.”

  “Instead of this one?”

  “Yes. Because of her experience with the office.”

  “Ah. But to have Jedi Solo here would suggest to the people that the Jedi intend to install her permanently, no?”

  “Hm. Well, yes.”

  “Besides, we have other taskz for Jedi Solo’s unique combination of political and Jedi skillz. Specifically, Klatooine. Newz of the intended assault there has stirred up a piranha-beetle’s nest of protest and anger. She will quell it.”

  “And you want me for what, exactly?”

  “A continuity of knowledge. We want someone who knowz the politicz, yet who would willingly abandon the opportunity to influence this office in order to defend a woman who is now the focus of the greatest political trial in many yearz. He who wishes to abandon power may be the one best suited to direct it.”

  “And Daala? What will you give me related to her situation if I agree?”

  Saba sissed, a steam-valve noise bespeaking amusement. She recovered quickly. “Daala’s defense team will doubtlesz want a change of venue so her trial does not take place on Coruscant or in some region hostile to her. The Triumvirate will ensure that the trial does receive a change of venue, and that the choice is made before we abandon the office.”

  “You have enough pull with the Department of Justice to do that?”

  “It seemz so. They have already agreed to drop charges against Seha Dorvald, Booster Terrik, and Valin and Jysella Horn, and to set aside the plea bargain of Master Skywalker so that he might return to Coruscant. We are working on persuading them to drop the case against Tahiri Veila.”

  “Don’t do that. Let that one go to trial.”

  Saba cocked her head, clearly curious. “Why?”

  “First—unlike the case with Terrik, the active-duty Jedi, whose actions were clearly preludes to Jedi Order missions the populace basically approves of or should not have been prosecuted in any case, and Master Skywalker, whose trial and plea bargain were clearly the result of Chief Daala’s specific interest—the Veila case is more murky. She did kill Pellaeon, and not for a clearly altruistic reason. Second, if you clear both Master Skywalker and Jedi Veila, critics of the Jedi will have an unimpeachable argument that you’re using your new power for gain or personal reasons, but if you clear Master Skywalker and allow the case against Tahiri Veila to proceed, you divide your critics and weaken their opposition. Let’s be honest, you can’t stand too much opposition right now.”

  Saba was silent for a long moment. Then she picked up Wynn’s letter of resignation and handed it to him. “Destroy this, please. Then assemble a list of ten worldz you believe can give Chief Daala a fair trial. Have it on this one’s desk by tomorrow morning.”

  He looked over the envelope, its contents so carefully composed over so many hours, and accepted it from her. “Yes, Master Sebatyne.”

  “This one appreciates your help, Dorvan.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  HWEG SHUL, NAM CHORIOS

  IN THE MOST STILL PREDAWN HOUR, THEY LANDED THE SHUTTLE, SHUT it down, and, bundled as well as they could be against the chill, hiked the few remaining kilometers in to Hweg Shul.

  From a hilltop a kilometer off, Luke studied the town through his macrobinoculars. He could make out the government center, mostly domes and other raised buildings, and the area near the spaceport where the Admirable Admiral was located. But many things had changed in the couple of days they had been away. Nighttime overhead lighting was out in several sections of town; only when Luke switched the macrobinoculars over to starlight-vision mode could he make out details.

  In the Oldtimer sections of town, there were men or women on the occasional street corner, dressed for the chill, standing stationary or pacing to keep warm. All were armed with blaster rifles.

  There were also sentries on street corners in the Newcomers’ and Latecomers’ portions of town—uniformed police.

  Everywhere there was to be seen the aftermath of Force storm damage. There were smashed landspeeders and speeder bikes here and there, one landspeeder atop another in a ruined heap just in front of a garage, another speeder nose-first halfway into a raised dome. One building in ten showed damage characteristic of battering by flying junk; one in twenty had collapsed entirely.

  He handed the macrobinoculars to Ben. “They’ve been through a lot.”

  “They have.” That was Vestara. She had her comlink in hand and an earpiece in place in her left ear, occasionally visible when she turned her head and her cloak hood gaped. Clearly, she was listening to broadcasts. “And we’re being sought by the authorities.”

  “That’s crazy.” Ben studied the damaged town. “They’re blaming us for the storms?”

  “No, for the murder of Dr. Wei. We let a lot of people know that we were searching for him. Then we disappeared and someone else found his body out in the wilderness. The whole matter of trumped-up evidence suggesting he was engineering a new species of drochs seems to have been forgotten. Then there’s the assault on Mayor Snaplaunce. He was stabbed at the site where he handed over the shuttle to us—most people seem to think we did it to steal his shuttle.”

  Luke glanced at her. “Did he survive?”

  “Yes, and he’s out of the hospital now. But he doesn’t remember the circumstances of his stabbing, or whether it happened before or after we left.”

  Luke grimaced. “Force techniques may have been used to mess with his memory.”

  “Probably.” Vestara hesitated before suggesting something Luke knew she never would have proposed a few weeks earlier. “Perhaps you should bring in some more of … your people.”

  Luke and Ben exchanged a look. Luke was still behaving according to the dictates of his plea bargain, not issuing orders to the Jedi. Ben, under no such restrictions, had listened to his father and, before planetfall on Nam Chorios, sent off a holocomm transmission with some suggestions. But none of that would lead to Jedi coming to this world to aid in a ground search. The Jedi were needed elsewhere.

  Luke merely shook his head. “We’re on our own.”

  Ben raised the macrobinoculars to his eyes again. “Besides, it’s a planet with an itty-bitty population. Two Jedi and a Sith should be able to handle anything they throw at us.”

  Vestara snorted. “Not necessarily including Abeloth.”

  Luke pulled his cloak more tightly around him. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

  It was slow, careful work entering Hweg Shul. The task was made easier by the fact that it wasn’t a walled community and by the fact that the damage to the lighting grid made it harder for the locals to detect them.

  Staging their movements, remaining alert in all directions, and never yielding to impatience, the three made their way through the city outskirts and to the Newcomers’ district, avoiding guards and eluding the views of elevated security holocams.

  That brought them, half an hour before dawn, to the front of Teselda’s dome.

  Ben and Vestara kept an eye out while Luke leapt up to the entryway and ran a bypass on the entry keypad. A moment later the door slid open and the three of them entered.

  The dome interior was mostly dark, illuminated only by colorful lights gleaming from various electronics, with only the hum and hiss of a heater to be heard—and then, from above, Sel’s voice. “Is someone there?”

  Luke gestured for the others to remain quiet.

  A spiral metal stairway descended from the ceiling near the living room’s back wall, unfolding like a musical squeeze box, and Sel descended. She was dressed in a downy nightshirt and leggings all in dark blue, and in her hand was an unlit lightsaber. When she caught sight of Luke and the others, she visibly relaxed and lowered the weapon. “Master Skywalker. I was worried about you.”

  Luke loosened his cloak, allowing some of the room�
��s warm air to flow over him. “We’re fine. We weren’t quite shot down.”

  Sel reached the first-floor level. “They’re looking for you. The authorities.” The staircase rose behind her until it was flush with the ceiling again.

  “Just the authorities?”

  She cocked her head, puzzled. “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind. As you might expect, we didn’t do it—whatever it might happen to be that they suspect us of.”

  “I knew that. Would you—would any of you like some breakfast?”

  Luke cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but …” And he began to sing. The song had a gentle melody spanning a narrow range of notes, well suited to the average parent. “Green grasses beckon, soft and warm / My arms will keep you safe from harm / As thrantas dance across the sky / As stars smile down and south winds sigh / The scent of flowers fills the air / And sleep comes for Teselda fair …”

  As he sang, he could feel the perplexed gazes of Ben and Vestara on him. But the song’s effect on Sel was more dramatic. With the first few notes, she stumbled, her eyes fluttering, and dropped the lightsaber. It bounced on the carpet. Sel staggered over a meter and slumped onto her sofa.

  By the time Luke finished the first stanza, Sel’s eyes were closed. She breathed deeply in untroubled sleep.

  Luke drew a hand over his brow, a mock expression of relief. “We’re lucky that worked. I’m not known for my singing.”

  Ben moved over to look down on Sel. “What was that all about?”

  “It’s her trigger for the mnemotherapy technique. She gave it to me.” Luke stepped beside his son and helped position Sel more comfortably on the sofa. “I need to know if she’s been meddled with.”

  Vestara handed him Sel’s lightsaber. “It looks old.”

  “Four centuries at least.” Luke set the weapon aside and knelt. “Sel, can you hear me?”