Allies

by Christie Golden

  Hamner had no wish to be at odds with his fellow Masters. But Grand Master Luke Skywalker had charged him with a duty, and that duty was to lead the Jedi as best he could. Hamner would do nothing less. It pained, and sometimes frustrated, him that what seemed like obvious, sound, clear choices to him were seldom perceived as such by the Council.

  Duties awaited him, even now, even when the Temple was under siege and an innocent girl’s corpse lay stiffening on the steps. But he couldn’t move, not yet.

  His comlink chimed. His eyes still fastened on Kani, he fished out his comm and clicked it.

  “Hamner.”

  There was a slight pause, then a voice that Hamner recognized.

  “Master Hamner. Thank you for speaking with me.” Pleasant, purring Bothan.

  Hamner recovered swiftly, and his voice was steady as he replied. “Admiral Bwua’tu. This is unexpected, to say the least.” What was Admiral Nek Bwua’tu doing contacting him on a secure channel out of the blue in the middle of a siege? And how—no, he knew without asking. Buwa’tu was the head of the Galactic Alliance Navy. He’d be able to bypass Galactic Alliance jamming signals if he wanted to.

  “I’m certain it is. But this is a matter of some import and timeliness.”

  “I’m staring at the body of a girl who was murdered by the heartless bastard you picked to lead the siege,” he said. “I assure you, sir, I am all attention.”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, Master Hamner,” the pleasant voice continued, “but your Jedi are in severe peril at the moment.”

  Hamner actually laughed, though it was an angry one. “Indeed? Thank you for pointing that out, Admiral. I’m sure we would never have noticed that we were under siege by order of the Galactic Alliance, or that my assistant was just killed in cold blood.”

  Bwua’tu appeared unruffled by the sarcasm. “I deeply regret the girl’s death. It is in the hope of avoiding more bloodshed that I speak to you now. I do not refer to the siege, Master Hamner, when I speak of peril.”

  Hamner suspected a trap. Bwua’tu was a decent sort and a fine admiral. His loyalty to the Galactic Alliance was beyond question; Hamner knew that he had even sworn an oath of krevi, a vow so binding it meant that Bwua’tu put the needs of the Galactic Alliance before those of his homeworld or his own people. Hamner respected that. But the being was canny, the oath of krevi meant that he worked for the GA first and foremost, and Hamner suspected that, discreet as the two tried to be, Bwua’tu was involved with the Chief of State as more than a friend and adviser.

  “Let us do each other the courtesy of being blunt, Hamner,” Bwua’tu said. “It will save us time and possibly lives.”

  “By all means,” Hamner replied, and braced himself.

  “It has come to my attention that the Jedi are building up a considerable attack force of StealthXs for some purpose as yet unknown to me.”

  The knot in Hamner’s gut tightened another loop. Oddly, though, his danger sense was not active. He inhaled, exhaled, gathering calm about him.

  “When you said ‘blunt,’ clearly you meant exactly that. But rumors are wild things, Admiral. You of all people should know that.”

  “True,” said Bwua’tu. “But recordings made by Mandalorians as they fought inside the Temple are not rumors. There’s quite a buildup going on, Master Hamner. It looks as if you’re preparing for something big.”

  Hamner closed his eyes, opened them. “Who else knows about this?” There was no point in denying it, not if they had footage of the strike force.

  “What few Mandalorians survived,” Bwua’tu continued. “Myself.”

  “The Chief of State?”

  “No, she does not. And frankly, I’d rather she didn’t.”

  Hamner was confused. “I see.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. Master Hamner, believe this—if I intended you ill, I would not be speaking with you right now. I’d have informed the Chief of State of the content of the recordings. And instead of a siege, you’d be looking at a full-out preemptive attack. Daala could draw no other conclusion than that this buildup of vessels was intended to be used against her and the Galactic Alliance.”

  “But you can.”

  “I certainly can, and am entertaining other possibilities.”

  “Am I speaking to the Head of the Navy, or am I speaking to Natasi Daala’s … companion?”

  Bwua’tu seemed completely unruffled by the comment. “The Head of the Navy. The Chief of State knows nothing about any of this—not the buildup, nor my contacting you.”

  “Forgive me if I am dubious.”

  “Then perhaps what I have to say will convince you of my trustworthiness. We are military, you and I. We are beings of honor, beings of duty. It is in this spirit that I ask you this question. Is this buildup of armed vessels intended to be directed against Daala or the Galactic Alliance?”

  Hamner didn’t even have to weigh the issues. Swiftly, truthfully, he said, “No.”

  “I believe you, Master Hamner. As I intimated, that was the answer I was expecting. I take it then that the Jedi have another target. Are you aware of another enemy? A mutual one, perhaps?”

  “I believe so, yes,” Hamner said. He knew that if anyone on the Council had heard the conversation, they’d be outraged. But all his senses, senses in the Force he had been trained to trust, as well as his rational mind, were telling him to be truthful at this moment.

  “But I do not think that the Chief of State is prepared to listen to anything we have to say about this … potential mutual enemy.”

  “She may not be. I am.”

  Hamner considered for a long moment, then made his decision. “I can’t tell you anything more than that,” Hamner said finally. He could not divulge the details without feeling like he had betrayed the Jedi, even if doing so might get Bwau’tu firmly on his side. “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand. Perhaps a bit later, you might feel differently. Here is what I am willing to propose. I would ask you to refrain from launching your flotilla of StealthXs until such time as I tell you that you may do so.”

  “Absolutely not,” Hamner stated, bridling. This was going too far. “I know the nature of the situation, Admiral. You don’t. I’m not about to launch or refrain from launching according to your timetable.”

  A sigh. “Well, then you should be aware that the Chief of State will absolutely and unhesitatingly fire on them the second they do launch. I wouldn’t be able to stop her from doing so unless there were better relations between her and the Jedi. However, I am in—shall we say—a unique position to lower tensions between the two parties.”

  Hamner’s eyebrows lifted at the admission. So, Bwau’tu was confirming the rumors about him and Daala—a not-inconsiderable gesture of trust on his part.

  “I see,” was all Hamner said.

  “If you agree to stay your hand until such time as I tell you when, I will personally guarantee that, so long as these StealthXs are not involved in any activity that violate GA interests, the Jedi will have complete fleet cooperation with your operation.”

  Surprise flickered through Kenth. Surprise—and hope. “I’m not sure you’re in a position to promise such things.”

  “I’m Chief of the Navy, Hamner. They’re my ships. I will deploy them covertly if I must to keep to this bargain.”

  It sounded too good to be true. “You wouldn’t come to me with such an offer if there wasn’t something in it for you,” he said.

  “It would be a poor bargain indeed if I were to walk away empty-handed. The best negotiation, as I know you understand, is one that both parties feel satisfied with.”

  Here we go, Hamner thought. Irritation made his tongue sharp. “What is it—handing over Sothais and Turi? Allowing Jedi to be searched every time they enter a tapcaf? Inserting transmitters so their every movement can be tracked?”

  “Nothing so drastic. I want to do what is best for the GA. I have sworn a vow to uphold that. And Master Hamner—frankly, seeing the head
of this organization I love so dearly at odds with the beings best suited to protect it is, in my opinion, most definitely not what is best for the GA. I do agree with some of Admiral Daala’s sentiments regarding your order and its place, but not all of them. Both the Chief of State and many of your Jedi are reacting, rather than acting, and that is not good for anyone. Soon no one will be able to scratch his nose without someone freezing him in carbonite or lopping off the arm doing the scratching. If you launch that flotilla, Daala will destroy you—not just the StealthXs, but the whole Jedi order, if she can. There will be no going back from it, and everyone walks away—if they can walk—the worse for it. I want exactly the opposite. I want a solution in which everyone benefits. And both you and I know they will.”

  Hamner was silent for a while, his patrician brow creased in a furrow as he weighed the options.

  Daala’s heavy hand was causing a great deal of harm. One innocent had already lost her life. For what seemed like the first time in too long a while, Hamner and the Masters he ostensibly led were in agreement—Luke Skywalker needed aid. Everyone, including himself, was chafing at the delay when the ships were prepped and ready to go. They would have been useful before now, when Skywalker was on Dathomir. He had been alone and unaided and forced to strike a dark and dangerous bargain—with Sith, for star’s sake.

  He knew that Bwua’tu was sincere. There was every reason for the Bothan to be telling the truth, and no reason Hamner could fathom that he would lie. The StealthXs were ready to launch, past ready, but there would be no assisting Skywalker if they were blown out of the sky when they tried to lift off. That would be a disaster of epic proportions. Bwua’tu was right. There would be no way either Daala or the Jedi could turn back to peaceful negotiations. Jedi would be killed for no reason, and innocent civilians would be caught in the middle. It was utterly unacceptable.

  But if Bwua’tu meant what he was saying, then the strike team would be able to deploy and finally get Skywalker the help he so clearly needed. And they would do so with the GA Navy’s support—be it official or unofficial, Hamner didn’t care at this point.

  There was never a question in his mind of taking this to the Masters for a vote. There was too much negativity there for them to listen and understand exactly how useful and timely a deal this was. They would not want to wait; they burned to act, right now, unable to see the wisdom in patience. He disliked that, but his duty, given to him by Grand Master Luke Skywalker himself, was clear—to protect the interests of the Jedi order and the Jedi themselves.

  He took a deep breath and made his decision. “We have a deal. Although Nek—”

  “Yes, Kenth?”

  “Move as fast as you can. There’s not a lot of time. The longer we hold off on launching, the more chance that beings are going to die. And not just Jedi.”

  “I understand. I believe things are going to come to a head quickly. And then perhaps you’ll be willing to tell me what this is all about.”

  Kenth Hamner, Acting Grand Master of the Jedi Council, said gravely and quietly, “Perhaps the fate of the galaxy.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit—melodramatic?”

  I don’t see how the thought of an entire planet full of Sith and a mysterious, malevolent being in the Maw who can control Jedi all over the galaxy is melodramatic.

  “Not at all,” he said. “If anything, it’s an understatement.”

  A pause. Then, “I see. I will make all due haste then, Master Hamner. I will be in touch.”

  Hamner clicked off the comlink. The mantle of leadership in this case was proving far, far heavier than even he had imagined. He had just made a bargain that he knew probably every single Master would have challenged.

  He also knew that he could have done nothing else. He gazed with deep sorrow one last time on Kani’s body, then turned away from the Temple entrance, his footsteps, if not light, at least certain.

  “THE PROSECUTION CALLS FORMER JEDI TAHIRI VEILA TO THE STAND,” said Sul Dekkon. He turned with a flourish and swirl of dramatic robes and fixed Tahiri with his piercing gaze.

  She rose, her face calm. She wasn’t looking forward to this, of course, but she was ready for it. She and Eramuth had prepared earlier.

  “Just tell the truth, but don’t volunteer anything that is not specifically asked,” Eramuth had advised her. “And if he seems to score a point, don’t worry. I’m allowed to cross-examine, and I’ll get things back on track.”

  “It sounds like a game,” Tahiri had said. “A game with my future, maybe my life, at stake.”

  “Not a game, but an art form, if you will,” Eramuth had replied, sipping at his caf. “And I am a master of this art form.” He had given her a confident grin and a wink. Now, as she rose to take the stand, he still looked completely confident and relaxed. It was reassuring.

  He had told her about the Mando siege of the Temple, so that she wouldn’t be taken by surprise while on the stand. “It actually works in our favor,” he had said. “Mandalorians in the middle of the city generally do not make people feel calm and relaxed. It’s much more likely to generate sympathy for you than the opposite, although you probably will have fewer friendly faces out in the public seats today.”

  She supposed she could deal with that.

  The bouncer-bailiff faced her. “State your name.”

  “Tahiri Veila.”

  “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

  “I do.”

  “Furthermore, do you solemnly swear to not utilize the Force in any way, large or small, trivial or significant, to influence the outcome of the jury’s verdict and the judge’s ruling?”

  Tahiri gritted her teeth. Still, having to take such a vow was more palatable than having to deal with an entire special Jedi court for the trial.

  “I would not have done so in any case, but yes, I swear.” There was a slight rippling through the courtroom at her tart response. She knew she shouldn’t have said it, and Eramuth’s ever so slight frown of rebuke confirmed the fact, but she couldn’t help herself.

  The bailiff trundled off to his usual position, his footfalls so heavy Tahiri thought it a wonder the floor didn’t shake. The Chagrian took the bailiff’s place in front of her, smiling with artificial pleasantness. Tahiri didn’t bother to smile back, just looked at him quietly, expectantly. She wondered if he’d feign solicitude to get her to drop her guard, or go in like an anooba for the kill.

  “Before we begin, would you care for some water?” he asked. Solicitude, then. She eyed the pitcher of water and the empty glass to her right.

  “No thanks. Even without using the Force I can pour myself a glass of water if I want it.”

  There was another murmur of disapproval, but she caught a few chuckles as well.

  He gave her a thin smile. “Then, since you are obviously not thirsty, would you please tell the court about your … relationship with Jacen Solo?”

  Now he was going in for the kill. He could switch gears fast. She’d half-expected Eramuth to leap forward with an objection, but he seemed completely at ease.

  “Of course,” she said, taking her cue from her lawyer and not rising to the bait. “I knew Jacen Solo half my life.”

  “So there was no personal relationship?”

  She’d known this was coming, and replied calmly. “There was.”

  He tried and failed to hide the gleam of excitement in his eyes. “Please elaborate on the nature of this relationship.”

  “Objection,” said Eramuth. “Surely, the court has no prurient interest in the details of Tahiri Veila’s private life.”

  “Your Honor, I am trying to establish how deeply involved the accused and Jacen Solo were, whether their relationship was personal or professional.”

  Judge Zudan considered, then said, “Overruled. The prosecution may continue.”

  Tahiri felt heat rising in her cheeks, but kept her face calm. “So, would it be accurate to say that you and Jacen
Solo were lovers?” Dekkon continued.

  “We were involved,” Tahiri said bluntly. “Love had nothing to do with it.”

  “So we may assume that you were physically—”

  “Objection!” Eramuth said again. His whiskers bristled, and he was the very image of wounded propriety. “Further questioning along this line verges on the salacious. A relationship has been established. No one here needs to know details. This is a trial, not a holodrama.”

  “Sustained,” said the judge. “Prosecution may continue with another line of questioning.”

  The rest of her history was gone through, all with a subtly negative cast. She felt some agitation, but pushed it down. She’d expected this, and if there was anything Eramuth felt was damaging, he would revisit it and correct it in the cross-examination.

  Finally, the prosecutor arrived at the most recent events. Eramuth looked relaxed, perhaps even a trifle bored, but sufficiently attentive so that the jury did not think he didn’t care. The press had been recording everything, but now they started paying more attention. One positive that had come out of the siege was the fact that, while her trial was still obviously news, journalistic attention was now divided. Still, she hated those hungry looks they gave her.

  She thought about the Solos, coming to visit her with the news that even after his death, Anakin still loved her. They knew who she was. Ben knew who she was, and Luke, and Jaina. Even Jag, who had found Eramuth for her. Everyone who mattered understood and forgave, and if this trial went badly, Tahiri knew that would be enough.

  “So by this point, you were officially working with Darth Caedus.”

  It was accurate, as far as it went. Tahiri knew now that by the time Jacen had begun seeking her out in order to have her assistance, he had gone over to the dark side. Eramuth’s ear twitched slightly, but otherwise he seemed calm.

  “Yes.”

  “There were several orders that you were asked to carry out that most beings of conscience might find unpalatable. What were your thoughts on doing such things?”