Her eyes did not open, but she spoke, her voice low and languid. “I hear you.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“You are Master Luke Skywalker. Leader of the Jedi. Enemy of the Listeners. Enemy of the Lady.”
Luke smoothed down the hair on the back of his neck. It was abruptly threatening to stand up. “Where is the Lady now?”
“I don’t know.”
“How about Master Nenn? Do you know where he is?”
She turned her head, suddenly fretful. “I don’t want to go there.”
“You don’t have to go there. You can stay here where it’s safe. But I have to go there. Where is Nenn?”
“Below.”
“Below, where?”
“In the pumping station. With the Listeners. With the drochs. In the dark.”
This time Luke felt gooseflesh rise on his skin. He had bad memories of being in the dark with drochs.
“Here in Hweg Shul?”
“No, somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. The only pumping station I’ve ever seen is here. It isn’t that one.”
Luke sat back and sighed. “Of course Abeloth would be in a place like that … Sel, you welcomed us when you realized who it was. You pretended there was no problem. What were you going to do with us?”
“Delay you. Keep you here. Alert the Listeners.”
“So you have not alerted them?”
“No.”
“Sel, you will sleep now. You’re very, very tired. You will hear no voice but mine until you awaken. No voice, no alarm, no beep from your comm board, nothing. When you awaken, you will feel very good, refreshed, and you will marvel that you slept so long. But you will not recall that we were here with you.”
“I understand.”
Ben settled on a chair. “In the future, I suggest that we only ever fight guys who set up their lairs in posh hotel suites. With sunlight and buffets and sanisteams and dancers.”
“Son, if you could figure out how to make that a reality, I’d make you the head of the Jedi Order.”
Ben shuddered. “Pretend I never said that.”
Vestara looked over the quiescent Sel. “Three of us to search a planet, and now it’s more or less ruled, or at least influenced, by Abeloth, and we can’t rely on our Force powers … Are you sure it isn’t time to bring in your Jedi?”
Luke gave her a thoughtful look. Her words suggested that she really was dedicated to the elimination of Abeloth as a threat above all other concerns. That was a good sign. But still he shook his head. “The Jedi are needed elsewhere now.”
“ ‘One Jedi, one planet’ is not a realistic motto to try to live by.”
Ben grinned. “But we have two Jedi and one Sith. We have them outnumbered.”
Vestara looked skyward as if seeking inspiration, and Luke wondered whether the frustration-infused word flying around in her mind was Jedi, men, or both.
ABOARD THE SHUTTLE VERNUS, DEEP SPACE
Kandra sighed, frustrated. “You’re not being very forthcoming.”
Opposite her, in a rear-facing chair in the shuttle’s passenger compartment, Valin Horn shrugged. “Some things are better experienced than spoken of. Jysella and I are taking you and your cam operator somewhere you can experience something remarkable.”
“Where?”
“Nam Chorios.”
The name sent a little thrill of childhood fear through Kandra. What had come out of Nam Chorios thirty years earlier had been the stuff of bedtime horror stories for those of her generation. “Does it involve the Death Seed plague?”
“Perhaps. It certainly involves a menace endangering our galaxy. Our very existence.”
“But you won’t tell me what it is, or how it relates to the Fireborn explosion, or to the Jedi takeover of the Senate Building …” She now knew, from scattered hypercomm reports picked up during their flight from the Coruscant system, that the Jedi had ousted and imprisoned Chief of State Daala. But Valin’s hints, vague, tantalizing, and maddening, suggested that there was something far, far bigger going on. Some other reason the Jedi needed to be in charge.
“Correct. I won’t. Some things are better experienced—”
“Than spoken of. Right. But—”
Valin rose. “It’s about time for me to take over piloting duties from my sister.” He moved forward, entered the shuttle’s small flight deck, and shut the door behind him.
Valin settled into the copilot’s seat with a sigh of relief. “She won’t stop asking questions.”
Jysella gave him a cool, emotionless look. “She is one of them. You could just space her.”
“No, she may be useful to us when we get to Nam Chorios. As a distraction.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Just stay patient. We’ll get through this. Even if we’re the only real Jedi left in the galaxy, if we stay smart and let the Force guide us, we’ll prevail.”
Jysella gave him a troubled glance, clearly not convinced. “If you say so.”
NINTH HALL OF JUSTICE,
CORUSCANT
LOOKING AT SUL DEKKON, THE CHAGRIAN PROSECUTING ATTORNEY, Tahiri allowed herself to feel another twinge of hope.
The attorney was not his usual crisp, upright self. Dressed in black robes that were positively funereal, he sat back in his chair at the prosecution table, watching with a marked lack of interest as Judge Zudan, up at the bench, sorted out her file printouts for the proceedings of the day to come. Though Dekkon’s face betrayed no emotion, his body language was that of someone grappling with some unexpressed sorrow. There was a sort of waxy lifelessness to his blue skin and horns Tahiri had never seen before.
Anxious to have her suspicions confirmed, Tahiri turned to her own attorney, the Bothan Eramuth Bwua’tu. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He looks rattled. Have we won?”
But Bwua’tu was none too cheerful. His eyes moved as though he were reading a text page no one else could see. He raised his eyes to meet Tahiri’s. “We may be in trouble. He’s just been dealt a new card, and I think he’s playing it.”
Her sorting done, the Falleen judge raised her head to survey the courtroom. “Prosecutor, are you ready to proceed?”
“I am.” Dekkon rose and moved around to stand in front of his table. He took extra moments to straighten his robes, then looked at Zudan again. “Your Honor, the prosecution rests.”
There was a murmur from the audience seats. It wasn’t much of a murmur. Tahiri’s trial had not been truly newsworthy for days, and after yesterday’s coup by the Jedi against Daala, the gallery had scarcely a dozen onlookers in it.
Judge Zudan blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge turned toward the defense table. “Master Bwua’tu, are you ready to begin presentation of your defense?”
“If I could have just a few minutes to confer with my client, Your Honor.”
“I think that would perhaps be appropriate. We will stand at recess for five minutes. Nobody go anywhere.” Zudan rapped her gavel and returned her attention to her piles of printouts.
Now worried, Tahiri leaned over so she and Bwua’tu could speak and not be overheard. “I don’t understand. You’ve been beating his case black and blue. You proved his star witness was a liar. You’ve been pulling his other witnesses’ testimony apart like you were peeling fruit. And clearly he’s giving up. Why are we in trouble?”
Bwua’tu gave her a look of sympathy. “Understand: Populations, represented in this case by the jury over there, do not generally approve of their heroes being killed. Our defense is predicated, among other things, on the notions that there are circumstances under which anybody would feel obligated to do such a thing, and that any effort to lie or manipulate evidence to convict a defendant must be symptomatic of a desperate need to ensure an unfair conviction—owing to the defendant’s innocence. Yes?”
She nodded.
“Dekkon was indeed losing. And then the
fates handed him enough ammunition to get back in the fight. The fact that the Jedi just seized control of the Galactic Alliance.”
“But—wait. First, I’m not a Jedi anymore. And second, the Jedi didn’t do that. They just ousted Daala, and now they’re taking part in a transitional government …”
Bwua’tu shook his head, his expression sad. “Remember that the jury has been sequestered.”
“So they shouldn’t even have heard about the coup.”
“But something like that can’t be kept from even a sequestered jury. Crowds by the millions on the pedways, airspeeders flying by their windows trailing banners, hotel staff members speaking in hushed whispers—‘What’s happening? What’s happening?’ Inevitably the jurors will have heard something. The problem with their being sequestered then becomes the fact that they get only a part of the story. That part is that the Jedi have taken over.”
“Which still has nothing to do with me.”
“Ex-military still have friends in the military. Former workers from an office still have friends in that office. Ex-Jedi still have Jedi friends. And Dekkon shows up in court the morning after the coup, dejected, and rests his case, signaling defeat.”
Understanding finally dawned. “Leading the jury to assume the trial doesn’t matter. That even if the jury convicts, the Jedi are going to get me freed.”
“Correct.”
“But that’s not fair. That’s deceptive—”
“Is it? I have well-placed sources who say that, late yesterday, the Jedi Order made some initial queries to the Department of Justice about dropping your case and negating Master Skywalker’s plea bargain. Dekkon may be responding with genuine dismay to anticipated interference with the process of justice. Or he may be play-acting to accentuate his case. I suspect both are true. Regardless, yesterday his chances of success were perhaps one in ten, and after the Jedi coup, this tactic has made them fifty–fifty. No better than a random throw of the dice … but far better than he had before.”
Tahiri let out a long, slow breath. “What do we do?”
“We can choose one of three paths. Number one, we hope that the Jedi do indeed decide to oblige the government to drop your case. Number two, we proceed with our original defense course, extending this case for a few more weeks, and hope that during this time the Jedi do not lose the sympathy of the people. To achieve this, of course, they collectively would have to be superior politicians with a deeply ingrained understanding of motivating, encouraging, and uplifting large populations, as well as handling transition-era crises with superior diplomacy, which would be enhanced by the enthusiastic cooperation of the rest of the government. Or, number three, we can rely on the same fifty–fifty die roll that Dekkon has just made.”
Tahiri thought that over. Her heart sank farther. “The die roll is our best option, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my dear, I think it is.”
“Go ahead and roll, Eramuth.”
Bwua’tu turned to look at the judge. When she noticed, he gave her a little nod, indicating readiness.
She rapped her gavel. “Court is once again in session. Master Bwua’tu, are you prepared to commence the defense case?”
“Your Honor, the defense rests.”
This time the judge did not even blink. She stared at the Bothan as if her eyes were being held open by adhesive. The low murmur began again in the echoingly empty gallery.
Finally she turned to Dekkon. “Master Dekkon, are you ready to begin closing arguments?”
“The prosecution has no closing arguments to offer, Your Honor.”
That caused a noise to emerge from Bwua’tu, faint, a sigh of pain.
“Master Bwua’tu?”
“The defense has no closing arguments, Your Honor.”
“How interesting. We will recess for another few moments while I send for the usual documents, and then I will issue final instructions to the jury.” She rapped her gavel again.
JEDI TEMPLE
In the upper reaches of the Temple, below the Masters’ chamber on a broad patio capable of holding a few hundred people, lay the bier of acting Grand Master Kenth Hamner, Hamner’s body atop it. His robes were spotless and military-crisp, not the ones in which he had died, and his eyes were closed, but none of the Jedi and visitors filing past to pay their final respects offered the comforting, idiotic opinion that he looked as though he were only sleeping.
A very few of the mourners, having passed by him and offered a few words or a salute of respect, broke away from the line of people exiting the patio. These few stood in knots to watch the procession and speak in hushed tones. One was made up mostly of Jedi Masters, senior Jedi Knights, and their close associates—Saba, Corran, Han, Leia, Jaina, Amelia, Tionne, Kam, Cilghal, Jagged Fel, Octa, and Kyp.
Jaina caught Corran’s eye. She kept her voice appropriately low. “Any word on Valin and Jysella?”
Grim, Corran shook his head. “It’s pretty clear that they found someone who could do a sophisticated sweep on them for transmitters, found and discarded theirs … and then just disappeared. The only reasonable conclusion is that they’re still suffering the madness effects that plagued all the Shelter Jedi.”
There was regret in Cilghal’s rumbling tones. “We must conclude that the fact that they were in carbonite suspension when the other Shelter Jedi Knights were cured prevented them from being cured, as well.”
Corran offered an I-don’t-care-why shrug. “And there’s no telling where they might be hiding.”
“Are you joining the search?”
If possible, he looked even more glum. “In any military, paramilitary, or security organization, including Corellian Security and the Jedi Order, there’s a rule that is sometimes implicit, usually explicit. You’re never assigned to a case involving your own loved ones, never allowed even to participate. Normally, I’m all in favor of that rule. At times like this, I just have to trust in others.” He did not look as though he were a very trusting soul at that moment.
Jaina reached out a hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. He nodded and turned away, standing a couple of paces apart from the others, watching the procession.
Wynn Dorvan had now reached the bier. Solemn, he said a few words to Hamner’s body and moved on. Behind him, Senator Treen and General Jaxton paused to pay their respects.
Jag’s mouth quirked just for a moment into a slight smile. “The Alliance’s Triumvirate and the Empire’s Head of State all gathered in one place, open to the sky, just one missile drop away from galaxywide chaos … my security people were not happy.”
Saba offered a nod. “Some—the friendz of Master Hamner from the armed forces—have been saying that such a strike would be appropriate. Where this one is concerned, that is.”
Jag gave her a look of sympathy, though the Barabel was not necessarily going to be able to interpret the human facial expression. “What about the Department of Justice? What’s their reaction?”
Saba glanced toward the crowd on the opposite side of the bier. “That man, the tall human with white hair.” Jag followed her gaze and saw an aristocratic-looking man, pale of skin, dressed all in gray, his left hand clearly robotic in origin. “Commander Makken. He has been appointed as special investigator on this matter. The Department of Justice does not yet know whether to charge an interim Chief of State, or even if a duel between Jedi should be considered a criminal offense, so they investigate.”
Leia shook her head. “Even if they do decide to file charges, they won’t do so until the Triumvirate has broken up and there’s a properly selected Chief of State in place.”
Saba regarded her. “Explain, please.”
“I know it’s only been a day, but the signs are already in place. The Senate has tabled most of its committee discussions and debates. No new bills were introduced today. They’re going slack, Master.”
“Why?”
“The less they do, the more you, Treen, and Jaxton have to do, if only through examples of l
eadership. This puts even more pressure on you to leave that post as soon as you can. Also, any political problems that arise while you’re in charge can convincingly be blamed on the Triumvirate, meaning that problems the individual Senators have been grappling with can be allowed to worsen—and all blame will be laid at your feet. In appointing a special investigator in the matter of Master Hamner’s death, they demonstrate to their constituents that they’re taking action, but by not authorizing him to press a criminal action against you, they suggest that there’s only so much they can do until you leave your post.”
Saba shook her head. “This one was never meant for politicz. Fortunately, Jedi Solo, you were.”
Han’s face fell. “Uh-oh.”
His reaction drew a brief siss of amusement from Saba. “Yes, this one has an assignment for you. For both, since this one speakz as co–Chief of State.”
Leia gave her husband an admonishing look, then turned back to Saba. “So it is Klatooine.”
“Yes, but the situation there has developed even since we spoke last night. There is much anger at the fact that Chief Daala dispatched the Mandos against them. Yes, the Mandos were called off, but the rage continues. Now we hear that many groupz that have fought for the freedom of their kind are gathering on Klatooine. We wish to normalize relationz with them. Persuade them that new governing principles are in place. We wish you and General Solo to go there, participate in their discussionz.”
Leia frowned. “To make any sort of lasting impression, we’re going to have to offer them something. Something substantial.”
“We have something to offer. Many of these groupz do speak for the enslaved or disenfranchised peoples of their homeworldz. Choose the one that is already closest to breaking away from their masterz, already most suitable to be a self-governing world … and offer full provisional membership in the Alliance. And a Senate seat.”
Han whistled. “That’s a prize.”
Saba nodded. “It will demonstrate that we are serious, and take them seriously. It will also present a procesz for the otherz to follow if they want Alliance aid.”
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Conviction Page 22