Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 05_ Allies - Christie Golden [113]
“I’ve just promised the Jedi that we’d gun down anyone who wasn’t Saar or Altamik,” Rhal said, irritation creeping into his cool voice.
Wynn thought at hyperdrive speed. “I know, but I’ve been working on Thul for months. We’ve had lunch on the steps every day about this time. I might be able to use him to convince the Jedi to surrender.”
A pause. Dorvan began to think that the Mando wasn’t buying it. They would slaughter Thul, just as they had slaughtered Kani, and public opinion would simply not stand for it. There would be furious protests, perhaps even the riots that Daala was seemingly ready to practically sell her soul to prevent. Public sentiment would turn against the GA, and then—
“This is an order from the Chief of State.” Wynn usually didn’t lie, but this time, he felt the situation warranted it. “I will be there myself in a few moments. Stand down.”
“I will not go back on my orders to my soldiers or my promise to the Jedi. It will weaken my standing with them, and Daala assured me I was free to use my best judgment. I answer to her, not you.”
“You wouldn’t dare fire on me!”
“Of course not.” Rhal’s tone suggested that he thought Dorvan considered him an idiot. “But you are not a Jedi.”
“There will be no firing if I am on those steps!”
“No, sir. But five of your fifteen minutes have just gone by. If this Thul person is due to come out, I suggest you hurry.”
Dorvan sprang from his chair and sprinted for the door.
DORVAN KNEW THAT IT WAS UNBECOMING OF SOMEONE IN HIS POSITION within the Galactic Alliance hierarchy to be running flat-out across the square to the Temple. He knew that Daala wouldn’t like it. He knew that it would provide fodder for the reporters. He knew that if any of the Mandos whom he was racing toward had an itchy finger, he’d be dead.
None of that mattered. A man’s life was at stake.
His eyes were on the steps of the Temple. Thul had not yet emerged, but Kani’s body was still there. He slowed down slightly, holding out his ID, as a small group of Mandos broke formation and began trotting toward him.
“Wynn Dorvan, chief of staff to Admiral Daala,” he said, panting slightly from the exertion. “Let me through. Commander Rhal knows to expect me.”
They took seemingly forever looking at the ID, at him, and back at the ID again. A terrible thought struck him: what if Rhal had told them to delay him so that Thul could be executed? He wouldn’t put it past the man, after what he’d seen today.
The precious seconds ticked by. Finally they waved him through the thick lines of machines and humans, two of them dropping into formation behind him, ostensibly acting as an escort. Fine, then, Dorvan thought, let them escort me. He began to push his way through, moving as fast as he could. One of his “escorts” laughed.
“Where is it exactly you’re trying to go?”
“The entrance,” Dorvan said. “On the steps to the entrance.”
The Mando, her face hidden by her helmet, turned to regard him. “Not the best place in this world to be.”
“Doesn’t matter. Get me there.”
“All right. Your funeral.” He realized that she might very well be right—literally.
Still, having agreed to do so, she shoved her way effectively through the circle of beskar armor. Dorvan did not see Rhal, though he was most certainly here. Probably taking aim at the Temple entrance right now.
And then he was there. The steps loomed before him, looking impossibly high, taunting him that he’d never make it up there before Raynar Thul stepped out into firing range. He took them two at a time and had just cleared the top when he saw a movement beyond the pillars.
He’d been right.
Raynar Thul stepped forward, hand outstretched, and Dorvan moved to take it, clasping it hard in relief.
“Wynn,” Thul said. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s dangerous.” He tilted his head in the direction of the Mandos.
“I know,” Wynn said, gasping a little. He wasn’t unfit,