Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [91]
The shouting began in earnest. No one wanted to hand over Hellin or Wan. Some took up Hamner’s position, perhaps feeling a slight sting at not having been included in the “plotting.” Others insisted that it was time for the Jedi to stand firm against the bullying the GA had been imposing.
Hamner’s comlink beeped. It was Jedi Leia Solo. He flicked it on and listened while the uproar raged about and without him.
“Sir, request permission to speak with you immediately. I’d like to bring Jaina, as well. I know the situation is … challenging, but with your permission, I’d like to run a possible solution by you.”
“Jedi Solo,” Hamner said quietly, “if you have anything in the neighborhood of a solution to this dilemma, I will most happily listen to it.”
“Thank you, sir. We’re just arriving with Jedi Wan. Once we get her safely into the medcenter we’ll meet you in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.”
“I would welcome the serenity,” he said, and clicked off the comlink.
DAALA HAD CONTACTED JAVIS TYRR AND EVERY OTHER REPORTER SHE could think of. By the time she, Dorvan, and her security team had arrived at the Temple, there was quite a throng of the press crowding the steps.
She had taken a few moments to get her anger under control. While ultimately her desire was to be able to, finally, completely control the Jedi, she had always thought she’d played fair with them. To find out about this deception was insulting and infuriating. She wanted more than simply having the two rogue Jedi handed over to her. She wanted to see the Jedi humiliated, as they had humiliated her. Javis Tyrr’s “special report” stung.
“You shouldn’t let him get to you like that, ma’am,” said Dorvan as they drove up.
“If anyone else had said that to me, Dorvan,” Daala said quietly, “firing would be the least of their worries.”
He absently petted Pocket. “I’m well aware of that, ma’am. I am also aware that you know I’m right.”
Daala gave a noncommittal grunt but continued to compose herself. A free press had its advantages and disadvantages, and she intended to make use of this particular weapon. Hamner had asked to meet with her in private; she had refused, instead insisting on a public meeting at the very top of the steps of the Temple. Eventually they would retire somewhere and speak, of course, but before then she wanted to shake the Jedi up just a bit more.
The night-blue personnel transport speeder she had arranged for was already there, and upon her vehicle’s arrival the sides of the transport, large swing-out doors, opened wide. Two full squadrons of men and women in the instantly recognizable blue of Galactic Security—well, blue except for their black riot body armor—poured out. Each was armed with a blaster rifle, but thus far the weapons were not lifted. The threat was all Daala wanted.
They marched in solid formation up the steps. The beings standing there were equally solemn in their stance. Kenth Hamner, calm, tall, not a hair out of place; Cilghal, standing quietly; Octa Ramis; Saba Sebatyne, her eyes unnervingly unblinking.
And three people Daala did not expect to see: what was left of the Solo family.
Han, as was to be expected in situations like this, looked like he wanted to blast someone or something. Leia—a master politician, and one Daala could not help but respect—looked calm and composed. Jaina, her father’s daughter, looked more like Han than Leia right now. Bright spots of color were in her cheeks, but she stood straight without fidgeting. Daala took her time ascending the steps, then nodded to each of them in turn and briefly introduced Dorvan.
“I’d really hoped there would be no need for this sort of thing again,” she said, knowing that every word was being recorded.
“I share that sentiment, Admiral,” said Hamner. “Shall we retire to discuss the situation?”
“Lead the way.”
JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
DAALA WAS VAGUELY AMUSED THAT THE MEETING TOOK PLACE IN THE gardens of the Tower of Reconciliation.