Abyss (19 page)

Han leaned close to Leia’s ear and whispered, “We should’ve brought Allana.”

“She’ll be fine with Threepio and Artoo,” Leia said. “Threepio’s practically a nanny-droid himself, and we’re not going to be more than a few minutes.”

Han shook his head. “If they’ve been arguing this long, it might not be that easy to swing them our way.”

“Han, we
agreed,
” Leia said. “We didn’t come here to discuss the arrest warrants.”

“Yeah, I know,” Han replied. “But as long as we’re here anyway, we might as well bring it up.”

Leia exhaled in exasperation, but Han had timed it just right: Before she could warn him against trying to undermine Kenth’s authority, Jaden Korr stepped out to block their way.

“Jedi Solo,” Korr said. His eyes slid toward Han. “Captain Solo. I’m sorry, but the Council has left strict instructions to prevent all interruptions.”

“And I’ll bet they mentioned us by name,” Han said.

Korr smiled. “As a matter of fact, Captain Solo, yes, they did.”

“And since we know that,” Leia said, “
you
know that we wouldn’t be here unless the matter was vitally important.”

“Nevertheless, I have my orders,” Korr said. “And I was specifically reminded how persuasive you two can be.”

“Yeah, but you’re also a Jedi Knight,” Han said, “and that means you’re trained to follow your own initiative.”

“Of course.”

“Now is the time to do so, Jedi Korr,” Leia said. “We’ve come into possession of some information the Masters need to hear—
before
they make their final decision about Barv and Yaqeel.”

The resolve in Korr’s face began to crack, but his piercing gaze remained fixed on Han—no doubt because he knew that it would be easier to read the truth of the assertion in Han’s Force aura.

After a second, Korr sighed and looked away. “Okay, I’ll take a message inside—and I shouldn’t even do that much. Grand Master Hamner said—”

“
Grand Master
Hamner?” Han erupted. “Don’t tell me the
Masters
are actually calling him that now?”

“Since about two hours ago, when Master Katarn came out during a break,” Korr said. “He said it was time for the Masters to set a proper example for the rest of the Order.”

“I’ll bet I know whose idea
that
was,” Leia said, letting the acid drip into her voice. “And he’s being presumptuous.”

Korr nodded, but said, “Did I mention it’s just temporary? Apparently, the Council feels Master Hamner might command a little more authority from … well,
you
, if the Masters show their support.”

“The
Council
feels that way?” Han shot Leia a worried glance. If Kenth could persuade the Masters to call him
Grand
anything, he probably had the votes to turn the sick Jedi over to Daala. “Or
Kenth
does?”

Korr shrugged uneasily. “Does it matter?” He looked to Leia. “You said you had some important information?”

Leia looked to Han, as though suggesting that
he
relay the information, and Han knew that she had reached the same conclusion he had. The Solos really had to get inside that Chamber and set the Council straight.

Han cast a meaningful glance at the two apprentices standing behind Korr, then nodded him toward one side of the foyer. Korr cocked his brow, but followed. Han put an arm around the Jedi Knight’s shoulder, then, being careful to keep him facing away from the door, leaned close.

“I can’t tell you how, but we have this on good authority.” Han kept his voice nearly inaudible, so that Korr would have to concentrate on him instead of what was happening behind him. “Chief Daala is getting ready to call in the Mandos.”

Korr’s eyes widened. “Mandalorians?” he gasped. “
Supercommandos
?”

Han made a disparaging face. “Come on,” he said. “Those guys can’t even agree on a color for their armor. There isn’t anything
super
about them.”

That actually drew a smile from the usually staid Jedi. “Except maybe their ability to overheat Jedi jets.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Is Daala
trying
to provoke us?”

“I don’t think so,” Han said. “That old dame is just space-crazy enough to think a few hundred tin suits might actually scare the Jedi.”

Korr snorted his opinion of that possibility—then heard the soft click of a latch opening. He spun toward the Council Chamber just in time to see Leia pushing a door open, while the two apprentices—a human male and a Mon Calamari female—stood behind her, protesting that they weren’t supposed to let her through the doors. Korr’s mouth fell open in surprise, closed in anger, then finally broadened into an embarrassed grimace. He turned to Han, only half scowling.

“I
knew
she was going to do that.”

Han slapped him on the shoulder. “If you say so, Jaden.”

“Well … I would have let you in anyway.” Korr started back toward the door. “The Council needs to hear about this.”

“Yeah,” Han said, accompanying him. “If nothing else, they can probably use a good laugh.”

Korr did not even crack a smile. “What’s so funny about killing Mandalorians, Captain Solo?”

Korr paused at the door to reassure the two apprentices that no one had expected them to physically restrain Leia Solo, then he and Han followed her into the Council Chamber proper. It was a bright, moderately sized room elegant in its simplicity, with a circle of high-backed chairs sitting in a transparisteel viewport bay designed to give visitors the subliminal impression that Masters were floating above the city. Every seat was equipped with a holocomm unit to allow the participation of Masters who happened to be away from the Temple when a meeting was called, but today all of the Masters—except Luke himself, of course—were present in person.

And by the look of it, they were all hopping mad. Saba Sebatyne was sitting motionless in her chair, her slit-pupiled gaze sliding from one Master to another while her forked tongue flicked between her
lips. Cilghal was perched on the edge of her seat, her Mon Calamari skin flushed crimson with rage. Kenth Hamner and Kyle Katarn were glaring at each other across the circle, while Kyp Durron was on his feet, actually pounding his fist in the air, his graying hair trimmed short and neat, but his rumpled brown robe still looking like something he had slept in.

And Corran Horn … Corran was the scariest of all, just sitting slumped in his chair, glaring at the floor as though trying to focus all the Force energy he could draw into that one spot. Han could only imagine how the current debate must be playing to him, sitting in a room with a dozen of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, listening to them arguing
not
about how they were going to get his two sick kids out of carbonite, but about whether they should turn two more young Jedi Knights over to the same people who had frozen Valin and Jysella.

In Corran’s place, Han wouldn’t have been anywhere near a council chamber. He would have been holed up in a warehouse somewhere, planning how he was going to break into the GAS blockhouse where his kids were being held and get them back. But Corran had always been a law-and-order kind of guy. Even now, when the government that he had always served so loyally had turned against his own children, here he was, still trying to work within the law to set matters right. It wasn’t something Han could have done, not even something he could truly understand, but he
did
admire it. Corran was a man of principle, and he stuck to those principles even when they became a dagger in his own gut.

When Leia reached the edge of the seating alcove, she stopped and folded her hands in front of her, waiting in silence for someone in the circle to acknowledge her. Han and Korr did the same thing. Interrupting a Jedi Master in the middle of an argument with another Jedi Master was a good way to end up with a Force-clamped mouth. It might look like the Council hadn’t noticed them, but Han had been to enough of these things to know that every Master in the room had realized the Solos were coming even before Leia had brushed past the apprentices.

To Han’s dismay, however, the Masters were no longer arguing
about whether to honor the arrest warrants. They were arguing about something he would have thought was a given: whether to intercede on Tahiri’s behalf.

“… we demand her release,” Kyp was saying. “Tahiri was vital to winning the battle at Shedu Maad. If she hadn’t come back to us, we’d have lost our entire hangar complex.”

“I’m not sure that excuses some of the things she did during the war,” Kenth said. His voice and manner were restrained, but Han didn’t need the Force to know by the way he kept his stare fixed on Kyle Katarn that something bad must have passed between them shortly before. “She
assassinated
Gilad Pellaeon.”

“A lot of people killed a lot of people,” Kyle replied. His voice was just as restrained, but his stare did not leave Kenth’s. “What about Cha Niathal? She played an equal part in Jacen’s coup, and I don’t see any charges being filed against
her
. Daala is only going after Tahiri to make a statement—a statement directed at
us
.”

“I agree with Master Katarn,” Cilghal said. “Chief Daala is taking the resignations of Melari and Reeqo as a bolt across her bow.”

“How so?” asked Kyp.

“The only thing more frightening to Chief Daala than an independent Jedi Order is no Order at all,” Cilghal explained. “So she reads the resignations as a warning: if she continues to push, the Jedi will disband and spread across galaxy as independent agents. Then it will be impossible for
anyone
to control us.”

Kyp smiled. “Not a bad idea, when you think about it.”

“It’s a
very
bad idea,” Kenth grumbled, finally looking away from Kyle. “How do you think we would accomplish anything?”

“And we still have the dozens of Jedi Knights who were hidden at Shelter as young ones,” Cilghal pointed out. “If we disband—”

“Hold on,” Kyp said, waving both palms. “
Joke
, okay?”

Cilghal’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but she simply inclined her head. “Of course, forgive me.” She turned to the other Masters. “Perhaps if we sent Leia to explain—”

“No. We explain
nothing
to Daala.” It was Corran who said this, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor. “That would imply the
Order
answers
to her—and the day that happens, you’re going to have a lot more than apprentices resigning.”

A heavy silence fell over the circle as the Masters considered his words. Then Saba Sebatyne hissed, “Massster Horn is correct. The Jedi Order is no thedyklae herd. We are shartuukz.”

Kyp turned to her in obvious confusion. “Uh, sure,” he said. “What’s a shartuuk?”

“A guard beast,” Saba explained. “It protectz the lair from zo’oxi and tarnoggz.”

“Oh,
that
explains it.” Kyp rolled his eyes, then asked, “And zo’oxi and tarnoggs are what, exactly?”

“Alwayz hungry.” Saba leaned forward and jabbed a talon toward the viewport, where the silver cylinder of the Galactic Justice Center was just visible on the far side of Fellowship Plaza. “Like any tyrant.”

Kyp nodded. “Ah—of course.” He turned back to Cilghal. “We can’t explain to Daala. We’re the shartuuks, and
she’s
the zo’oxi.”

“Tarnogg,” Saba corrected. “Zo’oxi are skin parasitez. The shartuuk eatz them off.”

“I don’t know,” Kyp said. “Zo’oxi sounds like a pretty good description of most of the politicians I’ve—”

“In any case,” Cilghal interrupted, “we’re the shartuuks, and shartuuks don’t explain. Where does that leave us with Tahiri?”

“Well, she’s not a Jedi anymore,” Kenth said. “And that means we can’t demand anything on her behalf.”

“Not that Daala would listen if we tried,” Kyle replied. “But we
can
and
should
support her. I insist on that much.”

“As does this one,” Saba agreed. “The Order will send Nawara Ven to represent her.”

“And plant the idea in a few media heads that there’s a disparity of treatment between her and Cha Niathal,” Kyle said. “Maybe even provide some background on Niathal and Daala’s partnership after the Battle of Fondor.”

“Good,” Corran said. “That should put some pressure on Daala to give Tahiri an easy out.”

When no one objected, Kenth let out a long sigh. “Agreed.”

For the first time since the Solos had entered the room, Corran raised his gaze—and turned it on Jaden Korr.

“Now, Jedi Korr, perhaps you’d be good enough to tell us why you ignored orders and allowed the Solos to interrupt us?”

Korr’s face reddened, but he met Corran’s gaze and said, “I’m sorry, Master Horn. I didn’t have a choice.”

“
Of course
not.” It was Korr’s former Master, Kyle Katarn, who said this. He turned to Kenth and said, “I
told
you we should have done this somewhere else,
Grand
Master Hamner.”

There was just enough sarcasm in Kyle’s voice to make Kenth clench his teeth visibly. “Next time, we will,” he said. “But since they’re here now, perhaps
you
would you care inform them of our decision regarding the arrest warrant.”

Han’s heart jumped into his throat.
“What
?” He started forward without thinking—until Leia caught him by the arm and physically held him back. “You’ve already decided?”

“Afraid so,” Kyp said. He started across the circle toward Han. “And it was a tough one—”

“But you haven’t done it yet, right?” Han asked, growing desperate. If Kyle Katarn was addressing Kenth as
Grand
Master even in the privacy of the Council Chamber, then Bazel and Yaqeel were as good as hanging on Daala’s wall. “There’s something you
really
need to know first.”

“I doubt that very much,” Kenth said. He took a deep breath, then rose and started across the circle. “Han, Leia, I know how much you care about all of our troubled Jedi Knights, and I think I even understand why. But Luke isn’t here at the moment, so you need to respect the chain of command now. Your behavior is starting to be disruptive, and it’s
not
going to change any of our decisions.”