Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Vector Prime by R. A. Salvatore Page A

the point,” Luke replied. “Not at all. The point is that the scattering of Jedi Knights prevents any cohesive movements.”
    Jacen’s gaze seemed distant, as if Luke had just lost him.
    “We have Wurth Skidder acting foolishly defending Mara’s shuttle and the Osarians over here, other Jedi apparently going after smugglers with a vengeance at the Outer Rim, and I’ve heard stories of still other problems in other sectors,” Luke explained. “It’s hard to keep up with it all, and sometimes it feels like I’m fixing symptoms without ever getting to the real disease.”
    His choice of words gave Jacen pause, and Luke, too, when he thought about them in the context of his wife.
    “That’s why we need the Jedi Council,” Luke pressed on a moment later. “A singular purpose and direction.”
    “Is that what it means to be a Jedi Knight?” Jacen asked bluntly, a question Luke had been hearing many times in thelast few months—from Jacen, and not from his other apprentice, Jacen’s younger brother, Anakin.
    “Why do you care what the councilors think?” Jacen asked, as much to change the subject as out of true curiosity. “You don’t need them to reestablish a Jedi Council. Why would you want anything from them and their foolish arguing?”
    “I don’t need them,” Luke admitted. “The Jedi, despite what Fyor Rodan and Niuk Niuv and even Borsk Fey’lya might think, don’t answer to the council. But if I don’t have their agreement in this matter, my plans, as I develop them, both for the academy and for the Jedi Council, might prove more difficult to implement, at least in the public relations department. You learn to play along, Jacen. That’s the game called diplomacy.”
    But that was just the point, Jacen thought, though he kept it to himself. Any formalities concerning the Jedi, from the academy to any new councils, seemed to him to be layers of bureaucracy added to something spiritual and personal, something that should not be governed. In Jacen’s idealistic sixteen-year-old eyes, the individual Jedi Knights, by their mere acceptance of the philosophy necessary to sustain their Force powers, should be self-governing. A properly trained Jedi Knight, who had been taught to avoid the dark side, who proved he could resist the temptations associated with such power, needed no bureaucrats to guide his actions, and putting that governing layer there, he feared, would steal the mystery.
    “We know that Rodan and Niuk Niuv are against us,” Luke went on, walking again as he spoke. “I doubt that Pwoe will be receptive to anything that he feels will threaten the power of his position—the Quarrens have waited a long time for a seat on the council. Triebakk will be with me on whatever I decide, as will Cal Omas, who learned long ago to trust me and the Jedi. That makes Chelch Dravvad the key vote, and I think I’ll have him if I can answer the concerns of some of these problems that Rodan and Niuk Niuv are pushing.”
    “What about Councilor Fey’lya?” Jacen asked.
    Luke waved his hand, as if the Bothan was irrelevant. “Borsk wants whatever is best for Borsk,” he explained. “If Chelch goes over to side with Rodan and his group, making it four to two against me, then Borsk will back them. But if the others are split, three to three, Borsk will lead them either to inaction, not wanting to risk a fight with me and Leia, or he’ll back us, hoping we’ll return the favor.”
    “Mom would never back Borsk for anything,” Jacen said dryly, and Luke didn’t disagree. “Borsk Fey’lya would be a fool to think that she would.”
    “He lives in a world where alliances shift by the moment,” Luke explained. “Borsk does what Borsk needs to do, at any given moment, to benefit Borsk. And he’s so jaded by that personal philosophy that he thinks everyone else plays by the same rules.”
    Now it was Jacen’s turn to come to an abrupt halt. “And these are the people you want to please?” he