by Troy Denning
“I see.” Jacen glanced up the Crooked Way, where the steeply pitched roof of the lecture hall loomed behind a hedge of bambwood. “So you summoned the entire Jedi order to Ossus to do something cautious?”
Luke put on an exaggerated frown. “I said usually, Jacen.” He let out a melodramatic sigh to show that he was not truly angry, then said, “Go on ahead. I can see that you’re a disrespectful young nephew who delights in embarrassing his elders.”
“Of course, Master.”
Jacen smiled and bowed, then started up the Crooked Way, now taking the straightest possible line toward the lecture hall. Luke watched him go, wondering whether the jump he was about to make with the future of the order was any less bold—or blind—than the one his nephew had made in attacking the supply depot.
“You have to do something,” Mara said, sensing the drift of his thoughts. “And this is the best choice.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s what worries me.”
Luke followed, taking his time, concentrating on the musky smell of the garden soil, deliberately focusing his thoughts on something other than the address he was about to give. He already knew what he needed to say—that had grown very clear to him as he learned more about the growing rift in the order—and overthinking it now would only interfere with the message. Better to let the words come naturally, to speak from his heart and hope the Jedi would listen with theirs.
By the time they reached the eastern gable of the lecture hall, a familiar calm had come over Luke. He could sense the Jedi waiting inside the building, tense with anticipation, all hoping that he could resolve the impasse that was threatening to tear the order apart. That much was clear, but he sensed more: frustration, animosity, even bitterness and rage. The disagreements had grown intense and personal, to the point that several Jedi Masters could barely stand to be in the same room.
Luke slid open the instructor’s door and led the way down a short, wood-floored hallway. As they approached the sliding panel at the end, the Jedi on the other side sensed their presence, and the low murmur in the auditorium died away.
Mara kissed Luke on the cheek, then whispered, “You can do this, Luke.”
“I know,” Luke said. “But keep a stun grenade handy just in case.”
Mara smiled. “You won’t need a grenade—they’re going to be stunned.”
She pulled the panel aside, revealing a simple but soaring auditorium with pillars of pale wood. The Jedi were gathered in the front of the room. Kyp Durron and his supporters were clustered near the left wall, and Corran Horn and his group were bunched along the right. Jacen and Ben sat in the middle with the Solos and Saba Sebatyne, while the students were interspersed in small groups along both sides of the center aisle.
Luke was shocked by how small the gathering looked. Including the students and Han, there were just under three hundred people in a hall that had been designed to hold two thousand—the academy’s entire complement of Jedi and support staff. The vacant benches were a stark reminder of how small a bulwark the Jedi truly were against the dark forces that always seemed to be gathering in the unwatched corners of the galaxy.
Luke stopped in the middle of the dais and took a deep breath. He had rehearsed his speech a dozen times, but he still had more butterflies in his stomach than when he had faced Darth Vader on Cloud City. So much depended on what he was about to say…and on how the Jedi responded to it.
“Thirty-five standard years ago, I became the last guardian of an ancient order that had thrived for a thousand generations. During all that time, no evil dared challenge its power, no honest being ever questioned its integrity. Yet fall it did, brought low by the treachery of a Sith Lord who disguised himself as a friend and an ally. Only a handful of Masters survived, hiding in deserts and swamps so that the bright light that was the Jedi order would not be extinguished.”
Luke paused here and exchanged gazes with Leia. Her face had been lined by four decades of sacrifice and service to the galaxy, yet her brown eyes still shined with the intensity of her youth. At the moment, they were also shining with curiosity. Luke had not discussed what he intended to say even with her.
He looked back to the other Jedi. “Under the guidance of two of those Masters, I became the instrument of the Jedi’s return, and I have dedicated myself to rekindling the light of their order. Ours may be a smaller, paler beacon than the one that once lit the way for the Old Republic, but it has been growing, both in size and in brilliance.”
Luke felt the anticipation in the Force beginning to shift toward optimism, but he also sensed concern rising in his sister. As a Force-gifted politician and a former Chief of State, she realized what he was doing—and she could see where it would lead. Luke pushed her worries out of his mind; he was doing this to save the order, not to aggrandize himself.
“We have been growing,” he continued, “until now.”
Luke looked first toward Corran and his supporters, then toward Kyp and his.
“Now we are threatened by a different enemy, one that I brought into our midst through my misunderstanding of the old practices. In my arrogance, I believed we had found a better way, one more in tune with the challenges we face in our time. I was wrong.”
A murmur of soft protest rustled through the hall, and the Force near both Kyp and Corran grew unsettled with guilt. Luke raised his hand for silence.
“In the order I envisioned, we served the Force by following our own consciences. We taught our apprentices well, and we trusted them to follow their own hearts.” Luke looked directly into Leia’s troubled eyes. “It was a splendid dream, but it has been growing more impractical for some time now.”
Luke returned his gaze to the other Jedi. “My mistake was in forgetting that good beings can disagree. They can evaluate all of the evidence and study it from every angle and still reach opposite conclusions. And each side can believe with pure hearts that only their view is right.
“When that happens, it’s easy to lose sight of something far more important than who’s right and who’s wrong.”
Luke fixed his eyes on Kyp, who managed to avoid looking away despite the color that came to his face. “When the Jedi are at odds with each other, they are at odds with the Force.”
Luke shifted his gaze to Corran, who responded with a contrite lowering of the eyes. “And when the Jedi are at odds with the Force, they can’t perform their duty to themselves, to the order, or to the Alliance.”
The hall fell utterly silent. Luke remained quiet—not to build the suspense, but to give every Jedi time to reflect on his or her own part in the crisis.
Ben and the students were sitting very still, with their chins pressed to their chests. But their eyes were darting from side to side, looking for clues as to how they should respond. Tesar Sebatyne flattened his scales—betraying the shame he felt for helping precipitate the crisis, and Lowbacca slumped his enormous shoulders. Tahiri sat up straight and stared stonily ahead, her stiff bearing an unsuccessful attempt to disguise her guilty feelings. Only Leia seemed unaffected by the subtle chastisement. She sat with her fingers steepled in front of her, studying Luke with a furrowed brow and a Force presence so guarded he could not read her emotions.
When the mood in the hall began to shift toward regret, Luke spoke again. “I’ve meditated at length, and I’ve concluded that how we respond to a crisis—the one facing us now or any other—is far less important than responding to it together. Even with the Force to guide us, we’re only mortal. We are going to make mistakes.
“But mistakes by themselves will never destroy us. As long as we work together, we’ll always have the strength to recover. What we can’t recover from is fighting among ourselves. It will leave us too exhausted to face our enemies. And that is what Lomi Plo and the Dark Nest want. It’s the only way they can defeat us.”
Luke took a deep breath. “So I’m asking each of you to rethink your commitment to the Jedi. If you can’t place the good of the order above all else and follow
the direction chosen by your superiors, I’m asking you to leave. If you have other duties or loyalties that come before the order, I’m asking you to leave. If you cannot be a Jedi Knight first, I’m asking you not to be a Jedi Knight at all.”
Luke took his time, looking from one shocked face to another. Only Leia seemed dismayed—but he had expected that.
“Think about your choice carefully,” he said. “When you are ready, come to me and let me know what you have decided.”
TWO
A stunned silence still lay over the lecture hall as Leia stepped onto the dais and started after her brother. As a Jedi Knight, it was hardly her place to challenge a decree from the order’s most senior Master, but she knew what Luke was doing…even if he did not. She entered the small corridor behind the dais, and that was when Han caught up and took her arm.
He slid the panel shut behind them, then whispered, “Hold on! Don’t you want to talk this over before you quit?”
“Relax, Han. I’m not leaving the order.” Leia glanced down the corridor, toward the golden light spilling out the entrance to the lecture hall’s small library. Inside, calmly awaiting the storm, she could sense her brother’s presence. “I just need to talk some sense into Luke before this gets out of hand.”
“Are you sure?” Han asked. “I mean, you’re not even a Master.”
“I’m his sister,” Leia retorted. “That gives me special privileges.”
She strode down the corridor and entered the library without announcing herself. Luke was seated on a mat at the far end of the room, with a low writing table before him and the HoloNet access terminal at his back. Mara stood beside him at one end of the table, her green eyes as hard and unfathomable as an eumlar crystal.
When she saw Leia, Mara cocked her brow. “I doubt you’re here to pledge your obedience to the order.”
“I’m not.” Leia stopped in front of the table and glared down at Luke. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”
“Of course,” Luke said. “It’s called the Rubogean Gambit.”
Leia’s aggravation gave way to shock. “You’re taking control of the order as a ploy?”
“He has to do something,” Mara said. “The order is falling apart.”
“But the Rubogean Gambit?” Leia protested. “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m afraid so,” Luke said. “I wish I wasn’t.”
Leia reached out to her brother in the Force and realized he was telling the truth. He was filled with disappointment—in Kyp, Corran, and the other Masters, in himself, in her. The last thing he wanted was to take personal control of the order, but Mara was right. Something had to be done, and—as usual—it fell to Luke to do it.
Leia considered her brother’s plan for a moment, growing calmer as she reflected on his other options—or rather, his lack of them.
Finally, she said, “Your provocation isn’t strong enough. Most of the Jedi in that hall want you to take over. They won’t resist you.”
“I hope they’ll change their minds once they reflect on it,” Luke answered. “If not, then I’ll have to take control of the order.”
“For its own good.” Leia’s rusty political instincts began to trip alarms inside her head. “Do you know how many despots have said the same thing to me?”
“Luke is not a despot.” Mara’s voice grew a little heated. “He doesn’t even want control.”
“I know.” Leia kept her gaze on her brother. “But that doesn’t make this any less dangerous. If the gambit fails, you’ll be reducing the order to a personality cult.”
“Then let’s hope my ultimatum helps the Masters find a way to work together again.” Luke’s eyes grew hard. “I will not let them tear the Jedi apart.”
“Even if it means anointing yourself king of the Jedi?” Leia pressed.
“Yes, Leia—even if it means that.”
Surprised by the sudden sharpness in her brother’s voice, Leia fell into an uneasy silence. It was clear Luke had already made up his mind. That alone made her worry. He had reached his decision without seeking the benefit of her political experience—and the fact that she could think of no better plan made her worry even more.
When the silence became unbearable, Han stepped to the end of the table opposite Mara. “Okay, I’m lost. Will somebody please slow down and tell me what the blazes a Rubogean Gambit is?”
“It’s a diplomatic ploy,” Leia explained, relieved to have an excuse to break eye contact with Luke. “You distract your counterpart with a provocative assertion, hoping he’s so upset that he doesn’t notice what you’re really doing.”
“In other words, you pull a bait and switch.” Han scowled at Luke. “So you don’t want the Jedi to put the order first?”
“Actually, that’s what I do want,” Luke said. “Our problem now is that everybody puts the order last. Corran thinks we exist to serve the Alliance, and Kyp is convinced we should follow nothing but our own consciences. Meanwhile, Jaina and her team believe our first duty is to protect the weak from aggression.”
“I’m with you so far,” Han said. “Where I make a bad jump is the part where you take full control. If you don’t want to be king of the Jedi, why are you using this swindle to slip it past everyone in the order?”
“Luke is trying to unite the Masters against him, Han,” Leia explained.
“Yeah, I get that part.” Han furrowed his brow, clearly even more skeptical of what was happening than Leia was. “But like I said, if Luke doesn’t want to be king, why try slipping it past everyone?”
“Because being sneaky is the only way to convince the Masters I really want this,” Luke said. “The threat has to be big—and it has to be real. If I’m too obvious, they’ll know I’m trying to manipulate them, and it won’t work.”
Han thought this over for a moment, then said, “That makes sense. But it’s still risky. How do you know they’ll catch on to this Rubber Gambit or whatever it is?”
“Han, they’re Jedi Masters,” Mara said. “They caught on before Luke finished his speech.”
Luke suddenly lifted his chin and looked past them toward the entrance to the library. “This will have to be the end of our discussion. The first Jedi is coming to tell me her decision.”
A sad heaviness began to fill Leia’s chest. “Of course.”
She took Han’s hand and turned to go. Danni Quee was already coming through the entrance, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. When she saw Leia and Han already in the room, she stopped abruptly and looked a little flustered.
“I’m sorry.” She started to withdraw. “I’ll come back later.”
“That’s okay, Danni,” Leia said. “We were finished here, anyway.”
Leia started to lead Han past, but Danni put up her hand to stop them.
“Please don’t leave on my account. This won’t take long, and what I have to say isn’t private.” Without waiting for a reply, Danni turned to Luke. “Master Skywalker, I hope you won’t think I don’t value what I have learned with the Jedi because I came to this decision quickly, but I was never a true member of the order, and my future lies with Zonama Sekot. There is still so much to learn from her that I’d be lying to myself if I said that the Jedi came first. I wish you and the Jedi the best, but I’m going to return to Zonama Sekot.”
“I understand, Danni.” Luke rose and stepped around the table, then took her hands in his. “You were a tremendous help to the Jedi in our most desperate hour, but we’ve all known for some time that your destiny lies elsewhere. Thank you, and may the Force be with you always.”
Danni smiled and wiped her eyes, then embraced Luke. “Thank you, Master Skywalker. And please come see us when you can. Sekot would enjoy visiting with you again.”
“I will,” Luke promised. “I’d enjoy visiting with her, too.”
Danni released Luke and embraced Mara and Leia and Han, then left the room.
She was barely gone before Tenel Ka, the Queen Mother of Hapes, strode in. She he
ld her dimpled chin high and her shoulders square, but the resolve in her eyes was more heartbreaking than reassuring.
Tenel Ka flashed Leia a sad smile, then turned to Luke. “Master Skywalker, I would like nothing more than to place myself entirely at the Jedi order’s disposal.” She bit her lip, then reached under the Jedi robe she had donned for her visit and removed her lightsaber from its clip. “And if there were only myself and my daughter to consider, perhaps I would.
“But that would be irresponsible. I am the sole able-bodied sovereign of an interstellar empire, and if I were to relinquish my throne, my nobles would spill lakes of blood fighting to take my place.” She held out her lightsaber to Luke. “It is with great regret that I must surrender this. I simply cannot fulfill the duties of a Knight in the Jedi order.”
“I understand.” Luke accepted Tenel Ka’s lightsaber, then pushed it back into her hand. “But please keep your lightsaber. You earned the right to carry it, and that can never be taken away.”
Tenel Ka managed a sad smile. “Thank you, Master Skywalker. Your gesture means a great deal to me.”
“Thank you, Queen Mother,” Luke said. “You may have assumed other duties for now, but you carry within you everything that a Jedi Knight is. Perhaps one day you will be free to return to the order. There will always be a place for you.”
Tenel Ka’s smile turned more hopeful. “Yes, perhaps that is so.”
She embraced Luke with her one arm, then surprised Leia by embracing her and Han. “You mean more to me than I will ever be able to tell, my friends. I am going to miss you both.”
“Miss us?” Han replied. “This isn’t forever, kid. We’re going to visit, you know.”
“That’s right,” Leia added, returning the Queen Mother’s embrace. “Your security chief may not allow baby holos, but I still want to see your daughter—and if we have to come all the way to Hapes to do it, we will.”
Tenel Ka stiffened in Leia’s arms. “That would be…nice.” She stepped back, her anxiety permeating the Force. “Be sure to let us know when you are coming, so we can arrange the proper security.”