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Kyp was standing with the other pilots about two meters behind Saba, within easy distance of the narrow metal staircase that descended to the hangar floor. Even if Hamner tried to prevent him and the others from joining their squadrons, Saba was in a good position to intervene.

“This wasn’t Saba’s decision alone,” Kyp continued. “The whole Council agreed.”

“I didn’t agree,” Hamner shot back. “And I am still the acting Grand Master.”

Octa Ramis glared up at him. “No. You lost the Council’s confidence when you didn’t take us into yours.”

“You were wrong,” Kyle Katarn agreed. “You should have told us about the deal with Bwua’tu.”

“Why keep us in the dark?” Kyp demanded. “I’ll tell you why—because you knew we’d never go along.”

“Because it was not your decision to make,” Hamner retorted. “I’m the one Master Skywalker appointed to take his place while he’s away.”

“Only you are the one Daala agreed to, yes?” Barratk’l growled. “Have you never wondered why that was?”

Hamner’s body tensed, and for a moment it seemed he was about to leap down on the fanged tower of fur that was a Yuzzem. Instead his expression turned hurt and angry, and his disappointment rippled through the Force.

“This is not what I expected of you, Barratk’l,” Hamner replied. “Had I realized how little value you place on loyalty, I would never have suggested you for the Council.”

“Had you told me you wanted loyalty to you above the Order, I would not have agreed.” Barratk’l checked her chrono, then turned to the other vac-suited Masters. “Eight minutes to launch, and prep takes five. We must go.”

“Yes.” Saba motioned them toward the stairs, but kept her gaze fixed on Hamner. “This one will finish matterz here.”

But the Masters did not start down the stairs immediately. Instead, Kyle Katarn cast one last look up at the catwalk.

“Kenth, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “We all know how much stress you’ve been under, but you should never have tried to carry it all on your own. That’s why we have a Council.”

As Kyle spoke, Hamner’s hand came up, and Saba felt the Force flowing to him in a rush. Thinking he had finally gathered the courage to challenge her, she raised her own hand to counterattack—and was astonished to hear not the echoing boom of a Force blast, but the spine-chilling screech of twisting metal. Saba checked her own attack, then glanced back toward the stairs and found a pair of twisted safety rails ending over empty air.

The staircase hit the hangar deck with a deafening clang that drew all eyes toward the Masters, and Saba realized with a heavy heart that Hamner was not going to make this easy on himself. He intended to mount his challenge in full view of the entire Order—a foolish decision that would only heighten his humiliation when he failed to win back his dominance.

“No!” Hamner pointed at the vac-suited Masters and used the Force to send his voice booming across the hangar. “You will not lead the Jedi Order into treason! I forbid it!”

The Force erupted into a vortex of confusion and astonishment. A sudden stillness fell over the hangar as all eyes turned toward the observation balcony, and the first wisps of doubt began to seep into the auras of the beings below as Jedi Knights and support staff alike began to wonder whom they should obey. Saba sighed, then caught the gaze of Kyp Durron and pointed to the far end of the balcony, where a second staircase descended to the hangar floor.

“Go,” Saba said. “This one will see to Master Hamner.”

Kyp nodded, but did not start across the balcony. “Saba, remember that he’s one of us. Don’t do anything you don’t have—”

“This one knowz how to fight without killing,” Saba interrupted. As she spoke, Hamner continued to bellow about treason, urging the Jedi Knights and support staff to follow the law instead of misguided orders. She looked back toward the catwalk. “But two longtailz in a pod is too many. It causes … disharmony.”

Saba raised a hand toward the catwalk and began to pull with the Force. A three-meter section of metal twisted and snapped, then came clanging down