Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [32]
He had done his best to navigate the Jedi through one of their most trying times. He was good at the game of politics; he had a flair for it, a deftness when it came to dealing with people. Luke Skywalker had known that about him, and had also known that Hamner was respected in many quarters. He himself knew he was a good choice for interim Master.
And yet everything he did, every order he gave, every stance he took, seemed to drive the Jedi he was trying to protect—both as individual beings and the Order as a whole—even deeper into a very ugly pile of bantha poodoo.
Daala in particular seemed to confound him. She had initially struck Hamner as a good choice for Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance. The Imperial connections didn’t seem to matter so much after the war, not when Jagged Fel was the Imperial Head of State and was clearly involved with Jedi Knight Jaina Solo, daughter of two famous erstwhile Rebels. It was—calming, actually. Natasi Daala herself seemed rational and composed. Things had been going well.
Until Luke Skywalker had been arrested, and Valin Horn had gone—and Hamner himself realized he agreed with the choice of words—criminally insane.
He’d done his best to cooperate, thinking to hunker down and ride out the storm. He’d let the GA assign their “observers,” at least until Nawara Ven had been able to overturn that order. He’d let GA Security into the Temple itself to physically remove the raving Valin, in full view of the observers. He’d opened up areas of the Temple to the public, even the press, for scrutiny. And yet Daala was still riding the Order, pressing down on them like an assassin pressing a thumb on the carotid artery until blackness descended.
He shook his head. That was an unkind image. And yet—he had requested a meeting with her immediately, and she had put him off for three days.
Three days.
He ran a hand through his fair hair and sighed, turning away from the window and crossing the marble floor, which had been almost perfectly reproduced. He eased into the carved stone chair, relaxing slightly. The view might be different, but this room still bore its link to the past. Although this was not the exact same room that had served the Jedi Masters well through centuries, the restoration had been painstaking, and the spirit was still here.
Kenth Hamner gave a ghost of a smile and wondered how Grand Masters past would have dealt with the predicament in which he now found himself.
Over the next several minutes, the Jedi Masters currently at the Temple came trickling in, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in pairs or small groups. He nodded to them quietly as they entered: Kyle Katarn, Octa Ramis, Saba Sebatyne, Cilghal, Kyp Durron. Leia Organa Solo and her daughter, Jaina, entered, their heads together, quietly talking. They were not officially Masters—not yet, though Hamner suspected that one or both might be elevated sooner than either woman expected—but this was not the first time their insight and positions made them welcome guests at a Masters meeting.
But there was one Master present whom Hamner did not see, one who most assuredly ought to have been. And he had had no word from this particular Master about appearing via hologram in lieu of in person. Hamner waited a moment, letting the Masters settle in and murmur among themselves, then discreetly clicked his comlink.
“Master Horn,” he said. “We are all assembled and awaiting your arrival. May I ask when we might expect to—”
“I’m on my way.” The voice was strained and sharp. Such was to be expected,