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“Master Skywalker, apologies,” Cal Omas said. “But you see how controversial the Jedi have become.”

Rodan narrowed his dark eyes. “Master Skywalker,” he said, managing to make that title sound demeaning, “it is increasingly obvious that the Jedi choose to help some peoples, but not others. Why?”

Luke shook his head, and Mara felt his mood turn deadly sober. “Jedi are responsible to the Force, not to me. I’ve tried to coordinate them. I’ve tried,” he added, shooting another side glance toward Councilor Rodan, “to reestablish some semblance of organization. But there are people who feel that if we were better organized, we’d be a danger to the New Republic.”

“Can you blame them?” Rodan asked. “We are determined to keep the Jedi and their quaint philosophy separate from this government.”

“To the extent of refusing to sanction us, Councilor? Of threatening persecution?”

Chief of State Fey’lya’s cream-colored fur rippled again. “Your agents misinformed us concerning the dangers to Corellia and Fondor. That failure contributed gravely to the Centerpoint catastrophe.”

“The Yuuzhan Vong planted misinformation by altering the Hutts’ shipping patterns,” Luke answered. “We won’t be fooled next time. And we won’t be able to observe Hutt smuggling behavior anytime soon.”

Point, Mara observed. The Hutts were mired in the fight of their lives.

Fey’lya sat stroking his beard.

“When peace and justice are threatened,” Luke said, “our mandate to rescue becomes a mandate to defend whole worlds. It’s true that some Jedi have used that mandate to rationalize extreme behavior. Despite what some of you think, I’ve done my best to correct them. Their freedom to make choices means they are free to make wrong ones.”

Commodore Brand, silent until now, spoke up at last. “Hear, hear.”

“It’s never easy to use power,” Luke said, shaking his head and giving Rodan a long look. “You’ve all dealt with that problem, and with the ethics of spending other beings’ lives in battle.”

“That is why governments have high councils,” Rodan said. “To check powerful individuals.”

Mara finally heard some tension in Luke’s voice as he said, “And this body, Councilor Rodan, certainly has chosen to defend some systems at the expense of others.”

Rodan, of Commenor, glowered.

Luke rested one elbow on the table. “Some Jedi have stepped back from using the Force almost entirely, for fear of misusing it. My nephew Jacen, for one.”

Mara happened to be looking at Viqi Shesh at that moment. The Kuati senator raised one manicured eyebrow.

“The Jedi are scattered,” Luke went on. “They’re my commitment. We’re all answerable to you—”

“Is that so?” Narik of Rodia muttered.

Luke turned to the Rodian. “Yes,” he said, “it is. For as long as this body represents peace and justice.”

Mara clapped a lid on her urge to give Narik a saccharine smile.

Narik clasped his hands over the table. “My homeworld is about to suffer the most terrible depredations—”

“And mine,” Luke said, “is probably next.”

True enough. Tatooine was just Rimward from Rodia.

Narik’s green hide darkened. “That is not my concern.”

“All worlds are my concern,” Luke said.

In a lounge on one of Coruscant’s floating docks, Mara sank into a cushioned repulsor chair and blew out a breath. This divisiveness could bring down the New Republic, without requiring the Yuuzhan Vong to bring in a single ship.

At one edge of the floating dock, a local shuttle pulled away. Mara’s eye caught movement on the lounge’s far side. A tall female with short, wheat-blond hair walked toward them. Mara opened herself to the Force—and before she could reach toward the woman, she felt something primitive but alive, clinging to her body near her hip-hugging belt. She brushed at it with one hand.

“Tresina Lobi,” Luke murmured to Mara.

Mara had met the woman, the first of her people—the Chevs—to show Force talent. Tresina had a charming knack for melting into mixed crowds.

“Were you expecting her?” Mara asked.

She brushed her stomach again. Granite slugs often sloughed off walls, and maybe