Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 06_ Vortex - Denning Troy [36]
Next to the Mon Calamari sat the Council’s newest member, a golden mountain of fur and fangs whom Kenth himself had nominated. Standing a full head taller than most Wookiees, with a boxy snout and a thin line of white fur covering a scar across her throat, Barratk’l was of a species that had been enslaved by the Empire because of its great strength and endurance, the Yuzzem. In contrast with her fierce appearance and powerful build, she had an abundance of patience and good-natured common sense that were all too rare on the Council these days.
Octa Ramis, of course, was on her feet, her brow lowered in anger, her fist banging like a slammed door as she struck it against her palm. “… holding them hostage!” she was saying. “This, we can no longer permit. We have shown the entire galaxy that Valin and Jysella no longer pose a danger to anyone, and the time has come to demand their return—or to recover them ourselves.”
Kenth closed his eyes, retreating into his thoughts and silently urging Nek Bwua’tu to awaken from his coma. Together he and Bwua’tu could force Daala and the Council to come to terms and end this thing. But Kenth was himself in no position to extract the necessary concessions from Daala, and that left him with only two options—accede to his Masters’ demands for action, or continue stalling and hope Bwua’tu awoke soon. Since only one of those choices did not lead to more violence between the Jedi and the government they were sworn to serve, his choice was clear.
Without opening his eyes, Kenth asked, “Master Ramis, the Mandalorian legion has barely cleared the plaza. Do you really think now is the best time to test our détente with Chief Daala?”
“I do.”
Kenth’s eyes popped open. “You can’t be serious.”
“As an asteroid headed dirtside,” Ramis replied. “It’s the last thing Daala will expect.”
Saba’s tail stopped twitching. “This one agrees,” she said. “GAS will still be on alert. But even so, they will not be much trouble.”
“And Daala won’t have a response prepared, so we’ll have the publicity initiative,” Kyp agreed. He stood and began to pace in front of his chair. “If we move quickly, we might be able to keep this entirely out of the press—maybe even force her into claiming the release was on her authority.”
Kenth began to feel light-headed. “You’re talking about a raid against an Alliance facility, a raid that may end up killing Alliance soldiers. Have you lost your minds?”
The Masters paused to look his way for only a moment, then turned back to their discussion.
“Forcing Daala to claim she released the Hornz is good,” Saba said. “This one would like to hear more.”
“Well, this one wouldn’t.” Kenth drew himself upright in his chair; he had to cut this discussion off before the idea gathered any more momentum. “Mandos are one thing, but we are not going to take arms against Galactic Alliance personnel. Is that clear?”
Only the Solusars, Barratk’l, and Cilghal nodded. The rest of the Masters turned toward him with blank or slightly puzzled expressions, as though they were wondering why he thought his pronouncement should matter to them. Clearly, his leadership of the Council was hanging by a thread—a very frayed thread.
It was Corran Horn who broke the silence, finally seeming to return from his trance to stare across the circle at Kenth.
“And what are you going to do?”
Kenth scowled. Had Corran really just dared him to try to stop them from taking action? He rose to his feet,