Mara's knife made neat little paring motions. "There would be, wouldn't there? If she was an infiltrator."
"It's awfully roundabout to infiltrate the Jedi by way of the Yuuzhan Vong."
Mara put down her knife. "Maybe she was a Jedi. The question is, after fifty years with the Vong, what is she won??"
Luke had no answer. "She doesn't feel dark," he said.
"She doesn't feel anything. She's practically invisible. We only sense what she wants us to sense."
"Are you going to play spy today?"
"Nylykerka can handle the enemy networks on his own today if you have another idea. Do you?"
"I have a Jedi Council to put together," Luke said. "I thought you might help me."
Mara smiled. "We get to spend the day gossiping about our colleagues and calling it work? I'm willing."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I knew I could count on you," he said.
Ruined. Ruined.
Warmaster Tsavong Lah gazed in revulsion over the Square of Sacrifice, where the great formations of Yuuzhan Vong, each in formal robes, had been assembled to witness the painful, extended death of more than a hundred captives, all for the glory of Yun-Yuuzhan, whose great temple was being dedicated on this day.
Many of the captives were of high rank, military officers or Senators captured in the battle for Yuuzhan'tar. Their lives had been carefully preserved just for this moment. They had been strapped to their execution beds, and the priests stood by with their flesh-eating beetles, and their flaying knives. The symphony of the captives' screams would have risen for many hours to the delighted ears of the god.
But instead it was ruined. While Supreme Overlord Shimrra stood on the steps of the temple, the high priest of Yun-Yuuzhan had gone into his extended blessing, hands raised over the thousands assembled to watch the work. And then a pestilential odor swept over the assembly, and the squares of formed Yuuzhan Vong began to eddy as something crept among them.
The square was being flooded by a noxious liquid, something spewed up from beneath ground level. The muck spread through the crowd, but the Yuuzhan Vong were disciplined, and remained in their ranks, plucking up the hems of their cloaks to keep them out of the ooze.
The rank fluid was composed of every kind of waste. Below ground level lived the maw luur who digested the sewage produced by the growing city, but apparently something had upset their omnivorous stomachs, and they were regurgitating onto the square.
The high priest's voice hesitated, resumed, hesitated again. He wheezed as a gust of wind brought a wave of stench to his nostrils. The high priest managed to renew his prayers, but Shimrra's booming voice cut him short.
"The sacrifice is spoiled! Dismiss the onlookers, and kill the captives!"
The high priest turned to face the Supreme Overlord. "Are you certain, Dread One?"
Shimrra gave a savage laugh. "Unless you think that sewage is deep enough to drown our victims in."
The high priest looked out over the flooded square. "I don't believe so, Supreme One."
"Then order your people to kill the captives." Shimrra turned on his heel to enter the temple. "The rest of you, follow me."
Tsavong Lah followed his Overlord into the shadowed green-and-purple depths of the temple, where the air smelled properly of heavy organics. Shimrra seemed more thoughtful than angry, which Tsavong Lah thought was not a good sign—it might mean the rage would burst out later, and in an unpredictable direction. At least the Dread One wasn't accompanied today by his shadow Onimi, as the presence of a Shamed One at a sacrifice this grand would have been an insult to the gods.
"Another failure," Shimrra growled. "Another public failure, witnessed again by thousands of our people—and by our chief god."
"Treachery, Supreme One!" someone called. "Sabotage by this so-called underground!"
"Or by heretics!" said a priest, loyal to his leader Jakan,
"I have six remaining voxyn, Dread Lord," Tsavong Lah said. "Let me take one or two out, and if there are Jeedai involved in this business, the voxyn will find them and tear them!"
Shimrra looked left and right. His burning eyes turned yellow, then red as they settled on Nom Anor. "You have received no reports of underground activity?" he demanded.
Tsavong Lah rejoiced at Shimrra turning to Nom Anor with this question. After Nom Anor's attempt to brand him with the catastrophe of Vergere, any discomfort in Nom Anor could only be to Tsavong Lah's delight.
"No reports, Supreme One," Nom Anor said.
Nom Anor almost wilted beneath the fierce glare of Shimrra's mqaaq'it implants. But Shimrra again chose to withhold his anger, and his savage look again turned thoughtful.
"We know the World Brain has been contaminated by that fool Ch'Gang Hool," Shimrra said. "Could this be another manifestation of the shapers' incompetence?"
No one dared to either confirm or deny this supposition. "It's almost as if the World Brain has developed a nasty sense of humor,"
Shimrra said thoughtfully. "Onimi won't care for that—he much prefers being the only one permitted to make jokes."
No one commented on that, either.
The Supreme Overlord turned to one of his assistants. "Find a shaper to die for this."
"I will, Supreme One."
Nom Anor seemed to sag with relief once he realized that the shaper class was going to get the blame for the botched sacrifice. Tsavong Lah snarled at him. Next time, filth, he thought.
Shimrra's glowing, restless eyes swept again over the company, then settled on Tsavong Lah. The warmaster straightened, then bowed from the waist, keeping his back rigid.
"Dread Lord?" he said.
"Your forces eliminated an enemy cruiser at small cost to themselves. Vengeance for Komm Karsh, though a small one."
Tsavong Lah took a grip on his courage. "With your permission, Supreme One, I will exact vengeance in full. Give me permission to take the fleet and—"
"No, Warmaster."
"Give me a decisive battle, Supreme One! Let the infidels' blood fill the spaces between the stars!" The words sprayed from the warmaster's slashed lips.
"Be silent!"
Tsavong Lah threw himself to the ground before the Supreme Overlord's feet. "I obey," he said.
There was a moment of awful emptiness in which Tsavong Lah contemplated his own immediate death.
Then the silence was broken by an unexpected voice. "With respect, Supreme One," Nom Anor said, "I agree that a decisive battle must be fought, and soon."
Astonishment filled Tsavong Lah's soul, followed immediately by suspicion. Nom Anor couldn't be agreeing with Tsavong Lah out of sympathy for his position. This had to be some plot, some devious scheme by the executor to discredit him.
To Tsavong Lah's surprise, Shimrra restrained his anger. "Your reasons, Executor?" he asked.
"We aren't growing any stronger, Supreme One," Nom Anor said. "As soon as our auxiliaries are in place and the fleet is at full strength, we must seek to bring about a decisive engagement that will win the war."
Mockery entered Shimrra's tones. "I thought the Battle of Yuuzhan'tar was supposed to be 'the decisive engagement that would win the war.' "
Nom Anor hesitated. "The infidels have proved more adaptable than we suspected."
Tsavong Lah stepped in. "We shouldn't waste our strength on an offensive for its own sake. If we choose the right moment, however, the right target ... if we can catch their forces at a disadvantage, then we can smash them beyond recovery."
The mockery continued. "How can we choose such a time, such a target?"
"We must depend on accurate intelligence of the enemy, Supreme One," Nom Anor said.
Shimrra laughed. "On you, then. All hail Nom Anor! This victory depends on you, who has just lost a pair of valuable agents in a bungled assassination."
Nom Anor wisely chose not to rise to the mocker)'. "Assassination is always a risky business, Supreme One. Agents may be risked in this way, but no chances should be taken wit
h the fleet."
"Very well then." Shimrra hesitated. "Rise, Warmaster."
Tsavong Lah got to his feet, his clawed vua'sa foot scrabbling for traction on the chitinous temple floor. He looked at Nom Anor and tried to mask his resentment.
Shimrra looked from one to the other. "Warmaster, you will have your decisive battle, after the fleet is ready. But you will not launch the battle blindly; you will wait for Norn Anor's spies to report that the time is ripe. And my own permission will be required. Do you understand?"
"Completely, Supreme One." Tsavong Lah bowed in submission.
A smile twisted across Shimrra's features. "It seems that the two of you are bound together once again. The fate of one will depend entirely on the fate of the other. If success comes to one, it will come to both. But if one fails . . ." He left the thought unfinished.
Tsavong Lah straightened and looked at the executor, who he found looking back at him. Tsavong Lah let a smile spread across his slashed lips.
At least if I fall, he thought at him, I may rejoice in the thought that you will not long survive me.
Though it was not comfortable to think that Nom Anor was probably thinking the very same thing.
"I want Cilghal," Luke said. "I want a healer. The fact that she's an ambassador is a bonus."
He and Mara were in their apartment, trying to choose five Jedi to serve with Luke on the new Jedi Council. In the background, a live holo of Cal Omas was giving his acceptance speech before the Senate.
"With sorrow for our countless dead, but with hope for the future," Cal was saying. "With sadness for the many who have fallen, but with confidence in the many who have taken their place ..."
"Cilghal," Mara said. "Very well."
Luke looked at her. "Who I really want," he said, "is you."
Mara's green eyes sparkled. "I'm always flattered to hear that."
"For the council, I mean," Luke said, "as of course in every other way. But a Jedi Master can't appoint his wife to government jobs without people disapproving."
"You'll get my advice anyway," Mara said. "You won't be able to avoid it." She looked at the list they'd compiled. "Who's next?"
"How about Kenth Hamner? He has the contacts, and the knowledge."
Mara nodded, and entered the name on her datapad. "Hamner's in, then." She looked up. "Kam Solusar? Or Tionne? It would be good to have someone representing the Jedi academy."
"Put them down as maybes. If we weren't at war, I'd put one of them on the council for certain, but right now we may need a council oriented more toward action."
"Then why Cilghal?"
Luke looked at her. "Healing is important."
Mara held his gaze, then nodded. "Of course."
"Saba Sebatyne. She commands an all-Jedi squadron, and brings all the Barabels on board. She's proved herself many times over, and it's time she had a higher profile."
Saba hadn't been trained at the Jedi academy, but on Barab I by the Jedi Master Eelysa. Saba in turn had recruited and trained a whole pack of her fellow Barabels, most of whom formed her Wild Knights Squadron.
"You've thought about this pretty thoroughly, haven't you?" Mara said.
"I do my best."
She gave a sly smile. "Maybe Cal is right—you are turning into a politician."
Luke affected horror and made a warding gesture.
Mara laughed. "My only objection is that Saba is a Knight," she said, "not a Master."
"Knights should have some representation on the council, too."
Mara looked at her datapad. "Saba's representing a lot of people—Knights, Barabels, and an all-Jedi squadron."
"Then it's all the more important that she have a seat."
"With compassion for the millions of our dispossessed," Cal's holo was saying, "with firmness in the rightness of our cause . . ."
Mara shrugged and made a mark by Saba's name. "Streen?" she suggested.
"A maybe. Tresina Lobi?"
"She'd be good."
From the holo came Cal's voice. "... I accept the Senate's nomination to be Chief of State of the New Republic." Roars followed, and applause.
"That was a good speech," Mara said.
"It was." Luke glanced thoughtfully at the holo Cal listening respectfully to the Senate's applause. "You know, I'm beginning to have a lot of sympathy for Cal. He's got to fill seats not only on the Jedi Council, but in all the government departments as well."
"He has more practice at this sort of thing than we do."
"Let's hope so." Luke glanced at Mara's datapad and the list of names. "Let's add one more. My most controversial nominee."
Mara turned her eyes to him in rising horror. "Not Kyp Durron!"
Luke returned her gaze, then gave a deliberate nod. "For what it's worth," he said, "I think that Kyp's actions at Hapes and Borleias show that he's a much more stable person than he was. He seems to have made peace with himself. Remember, he renounced pride on Ithor, and since then he voluntarily put himself under Jaina's command. He's always supported the idea of a Jedi Council."
"You're setting yourself up for a lot of grief."
"Wouldn't it be more grievous to have a Kyp running around loose, where the council can't control him?" Luke said. "Remember, he's only one vote. If he takes an independent line, he'll be outvoted by the rest, and then he'll be obliged to support the majority."
"I think you have a very generous idea of Kyp's sense of obligation. Plus," Mara considered, "how do you know he'll be outvoted? There are going to be six non-Jedi on the council now. What if Kyp's arguments make sense to them?"
"If Kyp's arguments make sense to half a dozen political appointees, then I'd better pay more attention to those arguments than I have been."
Mara gave him a skeptical look. "I think you're going to regret this."
Luke shrugged. "I may. I probably will. But if a person in authority talks only to those who agree with him, he soon finds himself out of authority."
Mara sighed. "You are a politician," she said.
Luke presented Ms nominees for the Jedi Council to Cal Omas the next morning. Cal leaned back in his office chair—the office smelled of fresh paint and newly laid carpet—looked at the list, and gave Luke a skeptical look.
"Kyp Durron?" he said.
"Kyp has changed," Luke said.
"He hasn't blown up any planets in a few years, that's true."
"That wasn't precisely Kyp who did that," Luke said. "He was possessed by the spirit of a long-dead Sith Lord named Exar Kun."
Cal shook his head, and when he spoke his voice had a mournful air. "That's exactly the sort of tiling I hope never to have to explain to a Senatorial committee," he said.
Luke looked at Cal in concern. "Should I withdraw the nomination? I don't want to wreck our chances of reestablishing the Jedi Council."
Cal considered, then shook his head. "No," he said. "I understand why you did it. It's best to have the opposition inside the tent, where you can keep an eye on them. That's why I'm putting some of Fey'lya's old faction on the Advisory Council. And Fyor Rodan, if he'll agree." He looked at Luke. "And you."
Surprise rose in Luke. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Don't you think Leia would be better?"
"Maybe. But Leia hasn't returned from Bastion, and you're here."
Luke smiled. "You're going to keep me so busy running to meetings that I'm not going to have time for anything else."
"Would that be a bad thing?" Cal asked. "Docs the head of the Jedi order need to be blowing up Death Stars and engaging in lightsaber fights at his age?"
Luke smiled. "I haven't blown up a Death Star in ages."
"That's what your young folks are for," Cal said. "If you put me back in a starfighter, I'd feel like an idiot,"
"I doubt that very much," Luke said.
"Maybe I exaggerate." Cal smiled. "I'm appointing myself to the Jedi Council, by the way."
"I had hoped you would."
"And Triebakk, as Senatorial representative—the S
enate will need to confirm that, but I don't think we'll have any trouble. Dif Scaur, the chief of Intelligence. Someone from the Justice Council— I haven't worked out just who as yet. Releqy A'Kla, who will also head the Ministry of State."
"Her uncle was a Jedi."
"I know."
"You don't have any of Fey'lya's people. Or Fyor Rodan's."
"I know." Cal smiled. "They'll have to be satisfied with seats on the Advisory Council, won't they?"
"You haven't mentioned the sixth."
"Sien Sow, as head of the military." He looked troubled. "If I decide to retain him. He offered me his resignation practically the second I finished my acceptance speech."
Luke gave Cal a serious look. "You need to call on Ackbar."
Cal looked curious. "To be Supreme Commander?"
"No, but you need to talk to him. He has a plan to deal with the Yuuzhan Vong."
"I'll talk to him."
"Very soon, Cal," Luke warned. "You know how good he is."
Cal nodded again. "Fine. Soon."
The voice of Cal's comm droid came from the speakers on his desk. "Senator Rodan is here for his appointment."
Cal rose. "I shouldn't keep Fyor waiting."
He escorted Luke to the door, allowing the Jedi Master to precede him into the outer office.
Fyor Rodan stood there, wearing a stainless gray suit and a cold demeanor. Luke gave him a polite nod, but Rodan only returned a glare.
"I see you have the compliant Chief of State required by your plans," he said.
"I don't believe you ever asked me my plans," Luke said. "You only assumed you knew them."
"You interfered," Rodan said. "You and your wife did some-tiling to my supporters."
"We did nothing of the sort," Luke said.
"Then it was your pirate friends. Do you deny that?"
"I deny that I have pirate friends," Luke said mildly. "And I have no idea what my other friends may have done, if anything."
"Jedi virtue!" Rodan said. "You remain stainless, while your friends do the dirty work. I couldn't help but notice that your friends' droids are guarding the Chief of State whom they created."
"The YVH droids in the corridor belong to the government," Cal Omas said. "You voted for the appropriation yourself, Fyor."
STAR WARS - THE NEW JEDI ORDER - Destiny's Way Page 24
