JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

Kenth Hamner sipped a cup of caf and glanced at a pile of datapads on his desk. So many things were getting neglected, but that was the nature of command, of leadership—one had to prioritize, practice a sort of political triage. Not everything was going to get accomplished. Hamner’s job was to make certain that if something had to slide, it wasn’t the important things.

To that end, taking a cue from the woman who was starting to become the chief thorn in his side, he had promoted one of the most promising apprentices, a young woman named Kani Asari, to the role of an assistant. It was, like many decisions he had been forced to make recently, not a very popular one with some of the other Masters. He had heard grumblings, especially from the more outspoken people like Kyp Durran and Han Solo—who wasn’t even a Jedi—who hadn’t bothered to try to hide their displeasure. Luke, the Grand Master, the creator of the new Order, hadn’t had to have an “assistant.” Couldn’t Hamner get his own caf and read his own datapads? Did he need pillows fluffed for him, too?

None of them quite understood the volume of activity that passed across his desk on any given day—any given hour. He did not think even the intrepid Han Solo would be able to juggle everything. And of course, everyone who had any kind of an issue with him or the Jedi felt that his or her problem was the single most dire thing in the known universe.

Hamner ignored the grumblers, and only hoped that the fair-haired, rather petite human girl who was doing a superb job was either ignoring them, too, or, better yet, hadn’t overheard them.

He sensed Kani on the other side of the door and called, “Come in,” rising and going to a small sideboard.

She poked her golden head in with a bright smile that belied the circles under her eyes. Again, Hamner felt a stirring of resentment on her behalf. It seemed that only he understood how hard she worked.

“Good morning, Master Hamner,” she said, taking her usual seat.

“Morning, Kani. Care for some caf?”

“Oh, yes please,” she said, thankfully. He warmed up his own cup and poured a fresh one for her, bringing it back to his desk. She took a sip, then put the cup down and retrieved her datapad. She looked up at him expectantly, peering out from a fall of bangs that had escaped their comb.

His eyes narrowed. He took in her robe, her hair, the fading makeup. “You didn’t get to sleep last night, did you?” She had promised to leave shortly after he did, right before midnight. Apparently, she had not kept that particular promise.

“Um … no Master. But it’s fine. I’ll try to leave early today if I can.”

“I’ll see that you do,” he said, frowning. “It is important to take time to rest. At the very least, meditate.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “I’ll go to the fountain room this afternoon for a bit.”

“Good. Now, bring me up to speed, since you stayed later than I did.” He settled back, sipping the hot caf.

“Well, I have good news, and I have bad news.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Well, at least there is some good news. Let’s start with that.”

“You probably know this already, but Tahiri Veila’s trial is going well so far. The news media is reporting positively on it, and I spoke with Nawara Ven last night. He’s impressed with how Bwua’tu is handling it. Have you watched any of the proceedings?”

“Some.”

“Then you’ll know that Eramuth Bwua’tu is quite … colorful.”

Hamner smiled a little, something he did not do often these days. “Perhaps a little color is just what is needed,” he said. “At any rate, that is good news. Though it was quite the blow when Daala’s ‘Jedi Court’ did not permit him to represent Tahiri, Ven did say he had every hope of getting a favorable verdict. Although I’m afraid that it’s impossible to exonerate her completely.” Tahiri’s sincere regret at her actions, and her behavior since she had turned away from the dark side, were clearly standing her in good stead. He, and all the other Jedi, had been surprised—pleased, but surprised—that Chief of State Daala had agreed to dissolve the Jedi court prior to the trial. He knew it was because Daala thought the case was open and shut. However, obviously, it was far from that.

“Ven cautions us that the outcome is far from certain, and that the current climate of pro-Jedi sentiment is going to make the Chief of State unhappy.”

“Let her be unhappy,” Hamner said, his voice almost, but not quite, a growl. “She wants to do things by the book; we are. She’s got to live with the consequences. Now … what’s the bad news?”

“Master Cilghal is very concerned about the recent … well, wave, I guess is the word … of Jedi … um …”

“Snapping?” supplied Hamner. Kani nodded. “Well, I am, too.” There had been no fewer than five reports of Jedi—all of whom had been at Shelter in their childhood years—going mad. Two incidents had occurred within the last thirty-six hours.

Even Luke Skywalker himself had found his hands full with one. Not a Knight, thankfully, nor even a Jedi proper, but a Force-user who met the profile. One Dyon Stad, Hamner believed his name was. Of course, Luke had not contacted him. Young Ben had contacted Cilghal, and the information had reached Hamner through her. Hamner found himself longing for the days when one did not have to go through something akin to gymnastics in order to get and share information among the Jedi.

He found himself longing for Luke Skywalker’s return.

“She’s written a report, going into detail about the most recent ones, Jedi Kunor Bann and Turi Altamik.” Both Kunor and Turi were humans, male and female. Bann, fortunately, had succumbed right here in the Temple, and been captured and confined without anyone outside knowing a thing about it. They had not been so lucky with Turi, who had led them on a brief chase when she managed to escape the Temple. They had recovered her, but not before good old Javis Tyrr had captured it on holocam. There she had been, bigger than life, large green eyes wide with fear and determination, full lips shouting out accusations, short golden hair damp with the sweat of terror. She had made almost as big an impression on the public consciousness as Jysella Horn.

“Anything unique or unusual?”

“She’s afraid that the rate of … snapping … might be accelerating,” Kani said. “They’re not having any luck at all with Sothais Saar. They’ve often been reduced to sedating him at times, and Master Cilghal says they’re actually getting low on supplies. She’ll be getting another order in shortly, but she’s concerned.”

“Accelerating? Perhaps we’re just now starting to get reports from elsewhere, now that we know what to look for.” Even as he said it, he could hear the hope in his voice. It might be true. Or Cilghal’s concern might be warranted. Only time would tell. “Have her come in to talk to me personally when she has a moment,” he told Kani, who dutifully wrote down the request.

There were a few other items of import—certain worlds were asking for Jedi aid in various skirmishes, or in two cases, in potential uprisings designed to overthrow governments that were deemed harsh and unduly cruel. When Kani mentioned an underground organization that seemed to span several worlds, something called the “Freedom Flight,” whose purpose was to eradicate slavery throughout the galaxy, Hamner sighed inwardly. He was reminded harshly of Saar and his report on surviving slavery practices. More than ever, he wished the rather dour Chev was well to hear that the cause about which he cared so passionately was gaining support.

He would bring up the request at the next Master’s meeting, but he did not think that it was possible at this time to grant any request for resources or public support. He knew some would want to, but felt certain that, given the current situation with Daala, cooler heads would prevail.

Finally, two cups of caf later, Kani had finished her briefing. “I’ll notify Master Cilghal that you wish to see her, and continue monitoring the trial,” Kani said. “And I’ve heard back from all of the Masters but two that they’ll be present for the meeting later today. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes,” Hamner said. “You go right to the Room of a Thousand Fountains when you’re done talking to Master Cilghal.”

She gave him a tired grin, finished her caf, and left. Hamner eased his chair back, resting his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. A chiming sound from his comlink caused him to open his eyes again, slightly irritated.

“Hamner,” he said.

“Master Hamner,” came a female voice.

He sat up quickly in his chair. “Chief of State Daala,” he said.

“I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me.”

“I confess that I am. Usually, it’s your chief of staff, Wynn Dorvan, I hear from.”

“I decided to go right to the source. I’ve got a lot on my plate, Kenth, and I know you do, too. We can stop this little tug of war dead in its tracks. No more intermediaries, no more press releases or photo opportunities, no more dancing around the issue. You know what I want. And you know why I want it.”

“Yes, Admiral,” he said, keeping things formal, “I know who you want, and all the reasons you’ve given me for wanting him. Sothais Saar is a Chev, and therefore has been property for most of his life. Do him the courtesy of referring to him as a person, not a thing, please. Whether or not he’s mentally ill.”

“Come off it, Hamner,” she said. “Don’t play the semantics game. You know what I meant. I want Saar, and I want Altamik.”

“You’re not going to get them. No one trusts you anymore, Daala. Do you not understand that? Make a show of good faith. Earn our trust again. If this ‘little tug of war’ is bothering you so much, then you have the ability to end it.”

There was a pause. “So do you. Right now. Before things get so bad you’d give a great deal to be having this conversation again.”

There was something in her voice that chilled him.

“I do not respond well to threats, Admiral. Nor did the Solos. Nor will the other Jedi. I must ask you to prove your innocence and trustworthiness, otherwise we have nothing to discuss.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate. You say you represent the Jedi—I hope you represent the families of the Jedi as well when you say that. Good-bye, Master Hamner.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she had gone. Nor would she respond when he had Kani attempt to raise her. Not even Wynn Dorvan would speak with him. The best Hamner could do was talk to a flustered-sounding female who said, “I’m awfully sorry, sir, but the Chief of State has left me explicit orders that neither she nor Wynn Dorvan are to be interrupted.”

He stood for a moment, calming himself. Then he looked down at his comlink and called Kani. “Summon the Masters. Immediately. The meeting’s been moved up, and I need everyone there.”

Jaina got the summons in the middle of Tahiri’s trial. She frowned at the blinking light on her comlink, stepped out, heard that she had been requested to attend an emergency meeting of the Masters, and let Kani, known to some of the Masters as “K.P.,” Kenth’s Pet, know she was on her way immediately.

Most of the Masters had already assembled by the time she had arrived. She went up to Kyp Durran and said, “We have to stop seeing each other like this.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s just so wrong, but I can’t help it.”

“What is wrong,” Jaina said, too worried to continue the banter, “is that I keep being asked to attend these meetings. I’m not a Master, I’m the Sword of the Jedi, and the fact that I keep getting invited means that someone thinks the Sword of the Jedi might be needed. Also wrong is that this is an emergency meeting when a regular one was scheduled in just a couple of hours.”

Kyp nodded and sighed. “I know. K.P. wasn’t much help at all when I asked what was going on.”

“You shouldn’t keep calling Kani that, she’s a good kid,” Jaina said, glaring at him.

“Doesn’t mean she’s not Kenth’s Pet,” Kyp countered. “And don’t look at me like that. Your dad was the one who came up with the nickname, you know.”

Jaina’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I know,” she said.

Hamner was outwardly calm, and was clearly doing his best to suppress his emotions in the Force as well, but some of his agitation leaked out anyway. Jaina stood close to the door, leaning against the wall, arms folded. This was the closest she’d ever come to seeing Kenth Hamner rattled, and her curiosity was eating her alive.

Eventually, everyone who was going to attend had arrived. They took their seats and waited expectantly.

“A little while ago, I was contacted by the Chief of State,” he said without preamble. “Based upon our conversations, I suggest we brace ourselves for another attack. Most likely, again from the Mandalorians.”

Jaina felt all eyes turn on her, including Hamner’s, which she took as permission to speak. “Then we should be fine, judging by how we handled them last time,” she said bluntly. “We didn’t lose a single Jedi, but they lost quite a few against us. Let’s face it, the biggest consequence of that whole incident was forcing us to delay the launch. The StealthX’s are still trapped here, but I can’t think of anything worse the Mandos could do that they haven’t already done.”

“There was something new this time,” Hamner said, and something in the tone of his voice made the hair on the back of Jaina’s neck stand on end. “Right before she ended the conversation—and, I might add, neither she nor Wynn Dorvan has responded to my repeated efforts to contact her—she said that I had a chance to end this little game we were playing with each other. Before things, and I quote, ‘get so bad I’d give a great deal to be having this conversation again.’ ”

“That’s a nicely ominous but completely vague threat,” Kyle Katarn said. “Did she honestly think such a thing would make you surrender Saar and Altamik?”

“I can’t be sure. I told her I spoke for the Masters, and we are deeply mistrustful of her right now. That she would have to prove herself to us before any negotiations would resume. Her response was that she hoped I spoke for the families of the Jedi as well.”

If someone had tossed a thermal detonator into the room, it could not have gotten a stronger reaction than those few words. Saba Sebatyne lashed out with her tail so hard she cracked one of the chairs.

“She goes too far! Threatening our families!” cried Saba.

“What kind of threat? Wait, quiet, what kind of threat?” Katarn, calm as usual, trying to get more information and less emotion.

“This is complete and utter bantha poodoo!” Jaina was furious and wanted badly to follow Saba’s example and break something. Nearly everyone else was shouting, even some of the quieter Masters such as Octa Ramis and Katarn. Strangely enough, Jaina noticed that Corran Horn stayed silent, though a vein throbbed at his temple. Jaina immediately felt a hot surge of shame. His family had already been taken by Daala, and they were nowhere near getting them back.

Hamner called for silence, finally using the Force to amplify his voice into a bellow that sliced through the uproar.

“Quiet!”

He followed it with an extremely powerful Force suggestion for some which, though everyone assembled could resist, nonetheless had an effect. Calm started to replace the anger in most of those present, though the worry was still there, quivering in the air.

Our families, Jaina thought. Her mind went back to the restaurant, and little Allana’s terrified shrieks. It was all getting very ugly very fast.

“The threat was deliberately vague,” said Hamner. “It could even be empty.” It was clear he didn’t believe his own words. Nor did Jaina, nor, she suspected, did any Jedi in the room. Daala wasn’t known for bluffing. And Jaina’s danger sense was tingling, like unfriendly fingers tickling the back of her neck.

“We must launch!” growled Saba. “We should have done so before we were trapped. Now, we must launch before Daala does something to cripple the Order even more.”

“She’s right,” Jaina said. The words escaped her lips without even realizing it.

“Come on, Jaina, think,” Kyp said, too annoyed to curb his tongue. “We’ve had this conversation before. The second we launch, we’ll be heard and shot down like game birds.”

“Not if we’ve got help,” Jaina said. Hamner shot her an angry glance.

“Not again, Jaina. No more Darkmeld, or any other scheme you’ve come up with. We don’t need the bad public response right now. It’s a delicate juncture and I will not have you jeopardizing it.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“I don’t care!”

Jaina’s mouth slowly closed. For the next few minutes, she listened to the uproar. Everyone was shouting, no one was listening, and no one was going to do anything.

Except Jaina.

Quietly, unobtrusively, she made her way to the door. She waited for a long moment, then slipped out.

There was someone she thought just might help.