Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 01_ Outcast - Aaron Allston [12]
With Han Solo on one side and an empty seat on the other, Luke waited, listening as Savar, outside, addressed members of his detail.
“Bessen, you are the stupidest trooper I've ever had the displeasure to command. Who told you to shoot the prisoner?”
“No one, sir, I didn't—I didn't mean—”
“Good answer. ‘I didn't mean to, I'm just incompetent.’ Are you competent to do two hundred pushups for me?”
The boy's tone became one of dejection. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Sergeant Carn, come watch him do two hundred pushups, then acquire transport and watch him run back to the blockhouse on foot.”
Han whispered, “To think I originally chose a military career.”
“You had a military career. You made the rank of general, then retired.”
“Don't rub it in.”
“Can you do two hundred pushups?”
“Shut up.”
The troopers watched, eyes wide, as two of the most famous humans in the galaxy, one of them under arrest for a felony, made small talk.
Savar, entering, slammed the transport's side doors shut behind him, leaving them all illuminated by weak blue glow rods. He sat down beside Luke.
As the transport lifted off, Han looked among the troopers. “Who wants to play some sabacc? I'll use my winnings for Master Skywalker's bail.”
GALACTIC ALLIANCE SECURITY BLOCKHOUSE, GOVERNMENT
DISTRICT, CORUSCANT
LUKE WAS TAKEN TO A GA SECURITY BUILDING, WHERE HE WAS SEPARATED from Han, who remained in the building's crowded main lobby, already making calls on his comlink. Troopers hustled Luke into a back chamber where he was searched and relieved of his personal possessions, then briefly holorecorded for identification purposes. After that, he was taken to another room, this one furnished with a bare table and chairs, where Captain Savar asked if he would consent to answer questions without his advocate present. Luke declined.
His next stop was a solitary confinement holding cell, a special one—beyond the durasteel bars were the glows of military-grade energy shields. There Luke was unshackled and left alone.
A considerable time passed—Luke could not be sure how long it was, as his chrono was one of the items removed from him—and then a visitor was shown in. The man was a Twi'lek, green-skinned, broadshouldered, richly dressed in black and gray office garments of a style common on Coruscant. His lekku—brain-tails—were wrapped around his neck. His brow ridge often cast his red eyes into deep gloom. The anger on his face and the stiffness with which he held himself made him a forbidding picture.
But Luke was delighted to see him. The Twi'lek, a pilot during the glory years of Wedge Antilles's Rogue Squadron, had lost his right leg below the knee in an engagement and subsequently returned to the practice of law. His limb replaced by a prosthetic one, he had performed as an attorney in numerous places across the galaxy and was now a familiar face in Coruscant litigation, interspersing high-paying cases with advocacy involving pilots or issues of constitutional law.
Luke sprang to his feet as the Twi'lek was shown through the cell door. As the shields reactivated beyond the bars, he held out his hand. “Nawara. It finally happened.”
Nawara Ven shook Luke's hand, but his expression did not brighten. “No, it didn't. Not the way we expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you'd better sit down.” He gestured at the cot that constituted half the furniture in the cell.
“I'm fine, thanks.”
“They tricked us, Master Skywalker, and I'm feeling rather foolish at being tricked. We didn't look beyond the rumors that this was all about you leading the Jedi out of the Alliance camp and waging a private war on Colonel Solo two years ago.”
“It's not about that?”
Nawara shook his head. “The government is actually asserting that, in not recognizing Jacen Solo's degenerative moral and ethical changes—the only way they can say ‘descent to the dark side’ in legalese—you were derelict in your duty as the Jedi Grand Master and