STAR WARS

CLOAK OF DECEPTION

by JAMES LUCENO

For KarenAnn, one of the few people I know who has made a true difference
in the world--most assuredly in mine

Luxuriating in the unfailing light of countless stars, the Trade
Federation freighter Revenue lazed at the edge of Dorvalla's veil of alabaster
clouds.
Indistinguishable from its myriad brethren, the freighter resembled a
saucer, whose center had been pared away to create two massive hangar arms and
a stalked centersphere that housed the great ship's hyperdrive reactors.
Forward, the curving arms fell short of each other, as if in a failed attempt
to close the circle. But, in fact, the gap was there by design, with each arm
terminating in colossal docking claws and gaping hangar portals.
Like some gluttonous beast, a Trade Federation vessel didn't so much load
as gobble cargo, and for close to three standard days, the Revenue had been
feeding at Dorvalla.
The outlying planet's principal commodity was lommite ore, a major
component in the production of transparisteel viewports and starfighter
canopies. Ungainly transports ferried the strip - mined ore into high orbit,
where the payloads were transferred to a fleet of self-propelled barges,
tenders, and cargo pods, many of them as large as shuttles, and all bearing
the Spherical Flame sigil of the Trade Federation.
By the hundreds the unpiloted crafts streamed between the Dorvallan
transports and the ring-shaped freighter, lured to the breach in the curving
arms by powerful tractor beams. There the docking claws nudged the crafts
through the magnetic containment fields that sealed the rectangular maws of
the hangars.
Safeguarding the herd from attacks by pirates or other raiders flew
patrols of bullet-nosed, quad-thruster starfighters, wanting shields but armed
with rapid-fire laser cannons. The droids that piloted the ships answered to a
central control computer located in the freighter's centersphere.
At the aft curve of the centersphere stood a command and control tower.
The ship's bridge occupied the summit, where a robed figure paced nervously
before an array of inwardly inclined viewports. The interrupted view
encompassed the distal ends of the hangar arms and the seemingly ceaseless
flow of pods, their dorsal surfaces aglow with sunlight. Beyond the arms and
the rust-brown pods spun translucent-white Dorvalla.
"Status," the robed figure hissed.
The Revenue's Neimoidian navigator responded from a throne-like chair set
below the burnished floor of the bridge walkway.
"The last of the cargo pods is being taken aboard, Commander Dofine."
Neimoidian speech, while lilting, favored first syllables and elongated words.
"Very well, then," Dofine replied. "Recall the starfighters." The
navigator swiveled in his chair to face the walkway. "So soon, Commander?"
Dofine ceased his relentless pacing to cast a dubious look at his shipmate.
Months in deep space had so honed Dofine's natur-ral distrust that he was no
longer certain of the navigator's intent. Was the navigator questioning his
command in the hope of gaining status, or was there some good reason to delay
recalling the starfighters? The distinction troubled Dofine, since he risked
losing face by airing his suspicions and being proven wrong.
He decided to gamble that the question had been prompted by concern and
contained no hidden challenges.
"I want those fighters recalled. The sooner we leave Dor - valla, the
better." The navigator nodded. "As you will, Commander." Captain of the
Revenue's skeleton crew of living beings, Dofine had a pair of front-facing
red oval eyes, a prominent muzzle, and a fish-lipped slash of mouth.
Veins and arteries pulsed visibly beneath the surface of puckered and
mottled pale-green skin.
Small for his species--the runt of his hive, some said behind his back--
his thin frame was draped in blue robes and a tufted, shoulder-padded mantle
more appropriate for a cleric than a ship's commander.
A tall cone of black fabric, even his headpiece suggested wealth and high
office.
The navigator was similarly attired in robes and headpiece, though his
floor-length mantle was solid black and of a simpler design. He communicated
with the devices that encircled the shell-like pilot's chair by means of data
readout goggles that cupped his eyes and a disk-shaped comlink that hid his
mouth.
The Revenue's communications technician was a jowled and limpid-eyed
Sullustan. The officer who interfaced with the central control computer was a
Gran - comthree-eyed, with a hircine face. Beaked and green-complexioned, the
ship's assistant bursar was an Ishi Tib.
Dofine hated having to suffer aliens aboard his bridge, but he was
compelled to do so as an accommodation to the lesser shipping concerns that
had allied with the Trade Federation; small companies like Viraxo Shipping,
and powerful shipbuilders like TaggeCo and HoerschKessel.
Humaniform droids saw to all other tasks on the bridge.
Dofine had resumed his pacing when the Sullustan spoke.
"Commander, Dorvalla Mining reports that the payment they received is
short one hundred thousand Republic credits." Dofine waved his long-fingered
hand in dismissal.
"Tell her to recheck her figures." The Sullustan relayed Dofine's words
and waited for a reply. "She claims that you said the same thing the last time
we were here." Dofine exhaled theatrically and gestured to a large circular
screen at the rear of the bridge.
"Display her." The magnified image of a red-haired, freckle-faced human
woman was resolving on the screen by the time Dofine reached it.
"7 am not aware of any missing credits," he said without preamble.
The woman's blue eyes flashed. "Don't lie to me, Dofine. First it was
twenty thousand, then fifty, now one hundred. How much will we have to forfeit
the next time the Trade Federation graces Dorvalla with a visit?" Dofine
glanced knowingly at the Ishi Tib, who returned a faint grin. "Your world is
far removed from normal space lanes," he said calmly toward the screen. "As
far from the Rimma Trade Route as from the Corellian Trade Spine. Your
situation, therefore, demands additional expenditures.
Of course, if you are displeased, you could always do business with some
other concern." The woman snorted a rueful laugh. "Other concern? The Trade
Federation has put everyone else under." Dofine spread his large hands. "Then
what is a hundred thousand credits, more or less?" "Extortion is what it is."
The sour expression Dofine adopted came naturally to his slack features. "I
suggest you file a complaint with the Trade Commission on Coruscant." The
woman fumed; her nostrils flared and her cheeks reddened. "You haven't heard
the last of this, Dofine." Dofine's mouth approximated a smile. "Ah, once
again, you are mistaken." Abruptly, he ended the transmission, then swung back
to face his fellow Neimoidian. "Inform me when the loading process is
concluded." Deep in the hangar arms, droids supervised the disposition of the
cargo pods from traffic stations located high above the deck. Humpbacked craft
with bulbous noses that gave them an animated appearance, the pods entered
through the hangars" magcon orifices on repulsorlift power and were routed
according to contents and destination, as designated by codes stenciled on the
hulls. Each hangar arm was divided into three zones, partitioned by sliding
bulkhead doors, twenty stories high.
Normally, zone three, closest to the centersphere, was filled first. But
pods containing goods bound for destinations other than Coruscant or other
Core worlds were directed to berthing bays in zones one or two, regardless of
when they were brought aboard.
Scattered throughout the hangars were security automata toting modified
BlasTech combat rifles, some with dispersal tips. Where the worker droids
might be hollow-bodied asps, limber - necked PK'S, boxy GNK'S, or flat-footed
binary loadlifters, the security droids appeared to have been inspired by the
skeletal structure of any number of the galaxy's bipedal Life forms.
Lacking both the rounded head and alloy musculature of its near cousin,
the protocol droid, the security droid had a narrow, half-cylindrical head
that tapered forward to a speech processor and, at the opposite end, curved
down over a stiff, backwardly canted neck. What distinguished the droid,
however, was its signal boost backpack and the retractable antennae that
sprouted from it.
The majority of the droids that comprised the Revenue's security force
were simply appendages of the freighter's central control computer, but a few
had been equipped with a small measure of intelligence.
The foreheads and chest plastrons of these lanky commanders were
emblazoned with yellow markings similar to military unit flashes, though less
for the sake of other droids than for the flesh and bloods to whom the
commanders ultimately answered.
OLR-4 was one such commander.
Blaster rifle gripped in both hands and angled across his chest, the
droid stood in zone two of the ship's starboard hangar arm, halfway between
the bulkheads that defined the immense space.
OLR-4 was aware of the activity around him--the current of cargo pods
moving toward zone three, the noise of other pods settling to the deck, the
incessant whirrs and clicks of machines in motion - comb only in a vague way.
Rather, OLR-4 had been tasked by th e central control computer to watch for
anything out of the ordinary--for any event that fell outside performance
parameters denned by the computer itself.
The resounding thud that accompanied the roosting of a nearby cargo pod
was, given the size of the craft, well within those parameters. So, too, were
the sounds emanating from inside the pod, which could be ascribed to a
shifting of whatever cargo the pod contained. But the same couldn't be said
for the hissing of pressure relief valves or the metallic clanks and
stridencies that prefaced the slow rise of the pod's uncommonly large,
circular forward hatch.
OLR-4'S long head pivoted and his oblique optical sensors fixed on the
pod.
Magnified and sharpened, the captured image was transmitted to the
central control computer, which instantly compared it to a catalog of similar
images.
Discrepancies were noted.
Even as OLR-4'S photoreceptors were scrutinizing the rising hatch,
additional security droids were already hurrying to assume positions on all
sides of the suspect pod. OLR-4 planted his bootlike feet in a combat stance
and leveled his blaster rifle.
The open hatch should have revealed the interior of the pod, but instead
it exposed what seemed to be yet another hatch, sealed shut. OLR-4 did succeed
in identifying the composition of the inner hatch, but the droid's puny
processor was not up to the task of making sense of what it was seeing. That
was the province of the central control computer, which was quick to solve the
puzzle--though not quick enough.
Before OLR-4 could move, the inner hatch had telescoped from the pod with
enough force to launch two security droids and three worker droids halfway
across the hangar. Immediately, OLR-4 and three others opened fire on the
battering ram and the cargo pod itself, but the blaster bolts were deflected
and sent ricocheting through the hold.
A pair of droids leapt onto the wide-bodied pod, hoping to attack the
striking device from behind, but their efforts were in vain. Blaster bolts
found them first, quartering one, and all but obliterating the other.
It was only then that OLR-4 realized, in his limited capacity, that there
were unfrlies behind the battering ram. And judging by the precision of the
bolts, the intruders were flesh and bloods.
With cargo pods gliding overhead and a hundred labor droids continuing to
tend to their tasks, oblivious to the firefight occurring in their midst, OLR-
4 rushed to one side, firing steadily and intent on gaining a better vantage
on the intruders. Bolts sought him as he moved, sizzling past his head and
shoulders, and streaking between his pumping legs.
In front of him two security droids lost their heads to well - placed
shots. A third droid remained intact, but dropped to the deck nevertheless,
hopelessly dazzled by untamed, coruscating electrical charges.
OLR-4'S internal monitors told him that his blaster was overheating and
close to depletion.
Though obviously aware of the droid's predicament, the central control
computer did not countermand its orders; so OLR-4 kept firing while he
attempted to angle behind the battering ram.
Off to his right another droid was blasted from the top of the pod, its
torso sent twirling in clumsy circles as it flew off into the hangar, only to
collide with a settling cargo pod. A droid with a missing leg hopped as it
shot, until its sound leg was blown out from under it, and it fell, skidding
across the deck, sparks flying from its vocoder chin.
OLR-4 shifted left and right, dodging blaster bolts. He had almost
reached the pod when a bolt caught him in the left shoulder, spinning him
through a complete circle. He staggered, but somehow managed to remain
upright, until a second bolt struck him in the opposite shoulder. Spun through
another circle, he landed on his back, with his legs wedged beneath the pod.
Looking up, he had a glimpse of the armed force that had infiltrated the
freighter a dozen or so bipedal flesh and bloods, sheathed in mimetic suits
and black body armor, their faces hidden behind rebreather masks, whose oxygen
recyclers resembled fangs.
OLR-4'S photoreceptors focused on a human with long black hair that fell
in thick coils to his broad shoulders. The servomotors of the droid's right
hand tightened on the blaster's trigger bar, but the fatigued and overheated
weapon's only response was a mournful whirr, as it powered down and shut off.
"Uh-oh," OLR-4 said.
Glimpsing him, the long-haired human swung and fired.
OLR-4'S heat sensors redlined and his overloaded systems wailed. Circuits
melting, he relayed a final image to the central control computer, then winked
out of existence.
The reassuring hum of machines on the Revenue's bridge was interrupted by
a grating tone from the scanner array. Gliding across the command walkway,
Daultay Dofine queried the droid stationed at the scanner.
"Long-range monitors report a cluster of small ships advancing all speed
on our position," the droid answered in a metallic monotone.
"What? What did you say?" The Sullustan elaborated.
"Authenticators identify the ships as CloakShapes and one Tempest-class
gunship." Dofine's jaw dropped. "An attack?" "Commander," the droid intoned,
"the ships are continuing to advance." Dofine gestured wildly to the outsize
display screen. "I want to see them!" He had started for the screen when
another worrisome tone sounded, this time from the station of the systems
officer, which was also set below the walkway.
"The central control computer is reporting a disturbance in zone two of
the starboard hangar arm." Dofine gaped at the Gran. "What sort of
disturbance?" "The droids are firing on one of the cargo pods." "Those
brainless machines! If they ruin any of the cargo--was "Commander,
starfighters are onscreen," the Sullustan reported.
"It could be nothing more than a glitch," the Gran went on.
Dofine's blinking red orbs darted from one alien to the other in mounting
concern.
"Starfighters changing vector. Breaking into two elements." The Sullustan
turned to Dofine.
"Flying the imprint of the Nebula Front." "The Nebula Front!" Dofine
rushed to the display screen, then raised his long, fat forefinger to indicate
the jet-black gunship. "That ship--was "The Hawk-Bat" the Sullustan said in a
rush. "The ship of Captain Cohl." "Impossible!" Dofine snapped. "Cohl was
reported to be at Malastare only yesterday." Jowls quivering slightly, the
Sullustan regarded the screen. "But that is his ship. And where the Hawk-Bat
ventures, Cohl is not far behind!" "Starfighters are forming up for attack,"
the droid updated.
Dofine turned to the navigator. "Enable defense systems!" "Central
control computer reports continued blasterfire in the starboard hangar. Eight
security droids destroyed." "Destroyed?" "Defense system has the Nebula Front
starfighters in target lock. Deflector shields are raised--was "Starfighters
firing!" Intense light exploded behind the rectangular viewports and shook the
bridge hard enough to rattle a droid off its feet.
"Turbolasers responding!" Dofine swung to the viewports in time to see
hyphens of pulsed, red light streak from the freighter's equatorially mounted
batteries.
"Where is our closest reinforcement?" "One star system distant," the
navigator said.
"The Acquisitor.
More heavily armed than the Revenue." "Send a distress call!" "Is that
wise, Commander?" Dofine understood the implication. Rescue was always a
belittling event. But Dofine was certain that he could offset the humiliation
by protecting the Revenue's cargo.
"Just do as I say," he told the navigator.
"Starfighter elements are forming up for a second run," the Sullustan
updated.
"Where are the starfighters? Why aren't they moving in to engage?" "You
recalled them, Commander," the navigator reminded.
Dofine gestured wildly. "Well, relaunch them, relaunch them!" "Central
control computer requests permission to isolate zone two of starboard hangar."
"Seal it!" Dofine sputtered. "Seal it now!" The masked group that had
infiltrated the Revenue were a diverse lot--as varied as the starfighters that
were flying support- - humans and nonhumans, male and female, stocky and
slender. Protected by camouflage suits and matte-black armorply, and sporting
gripsole deckboots and combat goggles, they emerged from behind the battering
ram that had afforded them an element of surprise, firing state-of-the-art
assault rifles and shoulder-slung field disrupters.
The handful of security droids that were still standing collapsed to the
deck, limbs splayed or hopelessly entwined.
The human OLR-4 had nearly gotten the drop on strode fearlessly to the
center of the yawning hangar, checked a readout on his wrist comm, and tugged
the rebreather and goggles from his face.
The firefight had left a vagrant tang in the air, the smell of ozone and
scorched alloy.
"Atmosphere is ena4," he told the rest of his band. "But oxygen levels
are equivalent to what you'd find at four thousand meters. Off your masks, but
keep them handy--especially you t'bac addicts." With some muffled laughter,
the team complied.
Beneath the apparatus, the human's dark-complexioned face was still a
mask thickly bearded with coarse black hair, and rashed from temple to temple
with small diamond-shaped tattoos. His violet eyes surveyed the damage with
obvious dispassion.
There wasn't a security droid in sight, but the deck was littered with
their remains. Labor droids of several varieties continued to route a few pods
to berthing spaces.
A human member of the team kicked aside the severed arm of a security
droid. "These things could be dangerous if they ever learn to think straight."
"Shoot straight," the bearded man amended.
"Tell that to Rasper, Captain Cohl," another said--Boiny, a Rodian. "It
was a droid that sent Rasper on his way." A green - skinned and round-eyed
male, Boiny had a tapered snout and a crest of pliant yellow spines.
"A lucky droid, a luckier shot," a Rodian female remarked.
"That doesn't mean we treat this like an exercise," Cohl warned, eyeing
everyone. "The central control computer will be deploying backup units soon
enough, and we've got a kilometer to go before we hit the centersphere." The
infiltrators glanced down the curved hangar toward a bulkhead that loomed in
the distance. High overhead were massive box girders and I-beams, cranes,
maintenance gantries, and hoists, a puzzle of atmosphere and vectoring ducts.
A human female--the only among them--whichistled softly. "Stars' end, you
could hide an invasion force in here." As dark-complexioned as Cohl, she had
short brown hair and an elegantly angular face. Even the mimetic suit could
not camouflage her shapeliness.
"That would mean spending some of the profits, Rella," a male human said.
"And the Neimoidians don't do that unless they can spend it on new robes."
Boiny loosed a high-pitched laugh. "You grow up a half - starved Neimoidian
grub, that's what happens." Cohl raised his bearded chin to two of his band.
"Stay with the pod. We'll make contact when we have the bridge." He swung
to the others. "Team one, take the outer rim corridor. The rest of you are
with me." The Revenue shuddered slightly. Muted explosions could be heard in
the distance.
Cohl cocked an ear. "That'll be our ships." Sirens began to blare
throughout the hangar. The labor droids stopped in their tracks, as a basso
rumble gathered underfoot.
Rella gazed at the far-off bulkhead. "They're sealing off the hangar."
Cohl waved a gesture to the first team. "Move out.
We'll rendezvous at the starboard turbolifts.
Set your suits to pulse--that ought to confuse the droids--and use the
concussion grenades sparingly. And remember to monitor your oxygen levels." He
took a few steps, then stopped. "One more thing You get blasted by a droid,
bacta rehabilitation comes out of your pay." Daultay Dofine stood rigidly on
the bridge's walkway, watching in arrant horror as the Nebula Front showed his
ship no mercy.
The motley starfighters fell on the Revenue in full force, pick ing away
at the freighter's fat arms and triple-thrustered hindquarters like ravenous
birds of prey. Many of the unshielded droid ships were annihilated as soon as
they emerged from the vessel's protective force field.
Emboldened by their effortless mastery, the enemy craft violated the
embrace the hangar arms threw about the centersphere by strafing the command
tower at close quarter. Ion cannon fire from the gunship sent waves of
aggravation through the Revenue's deflector shield. Violent light washed
against the bridge viewports.
It was all Define could do to keep himself rooted on the walkway, as he
cursed the terrorists under his breath.
In return for having been awarded what amounted to exclusive rights to
trade in the outlying star systems, the Trade Federation had pledged to the
Galactic Senate on Coruscant that it would content itself with remaining a
mercantile power, and refrain from becoming a naval power through the
accumulation of war machines. However, the further the giant ships traveled
from the Core, the more often they fell victim to attacks by pirates,
privateers, and terrorist groups like the Nebula Front, whose broad membership
had grievances not only with the Trade Federation, but also with distant
Coruscant itself.
As a result, the senate had granted permission for the freighters to be
equipped with weapons of defense, to safeguard them in the unpoliced systems
strewn between the major trade routes and hyperlanes. But that had only forced
the raiders to upgrade their armaments and, in turn, prepared the way for
periodic strengthenings of Trade Federation defenses.
Skirmishes in the Mid and Outer Rims--throughout the so - called free
trade zones--had since become commonplace. But Coruscant was a long way off,
even by lightspeed, and it was not always easy to ascertain who was at fault
and who had fired first. By the time matters reached the courts, it often came
down to the word of one party against the word of another, without resolution.
Things might have gone differently for the Trade Federation but for the
Neimoidians, who were as penurious as they were avaricious. When it had come
to fortifying the giant ships, they had sought out the most cut-rate
suppliers, and they had insisted that protecting the cargo was their paramount
concern.
Against all sound judgment, it was the Neimoidians who had dictated the
placement of quad laser batteries around the outer wall of the hangar arms.
While the equatorial arrangement was adequate for repelling lateral
attacks, it proved completely ineffective for countering attacks launched from
above or below, where nearly all the freighters' crucial systems were located
tractor beam and deflector shield generators, hyperdrive reactors, and the
central control computer.
Thus the Trade Federation had been forced to invest in bigger and better
shield generators, thicker armor plating, and, ultimately, in squadrons of
starfighters. But starfighter allotments were subject to senate sanction, and
freighters like the Revenue frequently found themselves defenseless against
fighter craft piloted by seasoned raiders.
Well aware of these shortcomings, Daultay Dofine saw the ship and its
cargo of precious lommite rapidly slipping from his grasp.
"Shields holding at fifty percent," the Gran reported from across the
bridge, "but we are imperiled. A few more strikes and we'll be disa4." "Where
is the Acquisitor?" Dofine whined. "It should have arrived by now!" A volley
from the Nebula Front's gunship--Captain Gobi's personal gunship--rocked the
bridge. As Dofine had learned in previous engagements, sheer size was no
guarantee of protection, much less victory, and the freighter's three-
kilometer diameter only made it a target that couldn't be missed.
"Shields marginal at forty percent." "Quad lasers one through six are not
responding," the Sullustan added. "The starfighters are concentrating fire on
the deflector shield generator and drive reactors." Dofine firmed his fleshy
lips in anger.
"Instruct the central control computer to activate all droids, all ship
defenses, and prepare to repel boarders," he brayed. "Over my dead body will
Captain Cohl set foot on this bridge." In the starboard hangar arm, Cohl's
team had barely made it through the bulkhead door when every device in zone
three conspired to prevent them from getting one meter closer to the
acceleration compensator shaft that connected the centersphere to its
embracing arms.
Overhead cranes threw grappling claws at them; towering derricks toppled
in their path; binary loadlifters dogged them like mechanical nightmares; and
oxygen levels plummeted. Even worker droids joined the fray, brandishing
fusioncutters and power calibrators as if they were flame projectors and
vibroblades.
"Central control's turned the entire ship against us," Cohl yelled.
Rella squeezed off bolts at a posse of hydrospanner-wielding PK droids.
"What did you expect, Cohl--the royal welcome?" Cohl gestured Boiny,
Rella, and the rest of his team toward the final bulkhead that stood between
them and the centersphere turbolifts. Sirens shrieked and howled in the thin
air. Crisscrossing and ricocheting blaster bolts created a pyrotechnic display
worthy of a Republic Day parade on Coruscant.
Cohl fired on the run, losing count of how many droids he had dropped and
how many blaster gas cartridges his weapon had expended. Two of his band were
pinned down by droid fire, but there was little he or anyone else could do to
help them. With luck they would get to the rendezvous point, even if they had
to drag themselves there.
Pursued by three binary loadlifters, the team raced through the final
bulkhead door and fought their way to the closest bank of turbolifts.
The hatch that accessed the transfer tubes was locked down.
"Boiny!" Cohl shouted.
The Rodian holstered his blaster and hurried forward, eyeing the hatch up
and down, then moved to the control panel set into the wall. Preparing to
slice the code, he rubbed his palms together and cracked his long, suction-
tip-equipped fingers. Before he could lay a hand on the panel keys, Cohl
slapped him in the back of the head.
"What is this, amateur night?" Cohl asked with a menacing scowl. "Blow
the thing." Define was pacing the walkway when the bridge hatch blew inward,
loosing a brief storm of paralyzing heat that tumbled him to the deck.
Cohl's band of six hurried in behind a roiling cloud of smoke, their
mimetic suits allowing them to blend even with the burnished bulkheads of the
bridge.
Quickly and efficiently, they disarmed the Gran and shot restraining
bolts onto the chest plastrons of the droids.
Cohl waved one of his men towar d the communications station.
"Contact the Hawk-Bat.
Tell them we've secured the bridge. Have the starfighters deploy for
defense, and stand by to cover our exfiltration." He waved another of his
cohorts toward the Gran's duty station. "Order the central control computer to
stand down. Have it open all bulkheads in the hangar arms." The human nodded
and dropped down below the walkway.
Cohl tapped a code into his wrist comlink and raised it to his mouth.
"Base team, we have the bridge. Move the pod into zone three and set it down
as close as possible to the inner wall hangar portal. We'll be here soon
enough." Cohl zeroed the comlink. His eyes roamed over the faces of his five
living captives, settling finally on Dofine. Then he drew his blaster.
Spreading his arms wide in a gesture of surrender, Dofine took two
backward steps as Cohl approached.
"You would shoot an unarmed individual, Captain Cohl?" Cohl pressed the
barrel of the weapon to Dofine's ribcage. "I'd shoot an unarmed Neimoidian -
comand I'd sleep better for it." He glared at Dofine for a long moment, then
holstered the blaster and turned to the Rodian member of his band.
"Boiny, get to work. And be quick about it." Cohl swung back to Dofine.
"Where's the rest of your crew, Commander?" Dofine swallowed and found
his voice. "Returning by shuttle from Dorvalla." Cohl nodded. "Good, that'll
simplify things." Repeatedly poking Dofine in the chest with his forefinger,
Cohl moved him backwards along the walkway until they reached the navigator's
chair. A final poke sent Define off the walkway and into the seat.
Cohl jumped down to face him. "We need to discuss your cargo, Commander."
"The cargo?" Dofine stammered. "Lommite--destined for SluisVan." "To the
depths with the ore," Cohl snarled. "I'm talking about the aurodium." Dofine
tried to keep his red eyes from bulging. His nictitating membranes spasmed,
and he blinked half a dozen times. "Aurodium?" Cohl leaned toward him. "You're
carrying two billion in aurodium ingots." Dofine stiffened under Cohl's gaze.
"You--you must be mistaken, Captain. The Revenue is carrying ore." Cohl raised
himself to his considerable height.
"I'll say it once more. You're carrying aurodium ingots--butribes
proffered by Outer Rim worlds to ensure the continued blessing of the Trade
Federation." Dofine sneered, in spite of himself. "So it is currency you seek.
I had always heard that the notorious Captain Cohl was an idealist. Now I see
that he is a simple thief." Cohl almost grinned. "We can't all be licensed
thieves like you and the rest of your bunch." "The Trade Federation does not
deal in violence and death, Captain." Cohl grabbed two fistfuls of Dofine's
rich raiment and yanked him halfway out of the chair. "Not yet you don't." He
pushed Dofine back into the seat. "But we'll save that for another day. What
matters now is the aurodium." "And should I refuse to submit?" Without taking
his eyes from Dofine, Cohl pointed to his Rodian comrade. "Boiny, there, is
affixing a thermal detonator to the Revenue's fuel-driver control system. As I
understand it, the device will trigger an explosion large enough to destroy
your ship in... Boiny?" "Sixty minutes, Captain," Boiny shouted, holding aloft
a metallic sphere the size of a stinkmelon.
Cohl pulled an object from the thigh pouch pocket of his mimetic suit and
slapped it against the back of Dofine's left hand. Dofine saw that it was a
timer, already counting down from sixty minutes. He raised his eyes to Cohl's
steadfast gaze.
"About the ingots," Cohl said.
Dofine nodded. "Yes, all right--if you promise to spare the ship." Cohl
laughed shortly. "The Revenue is history. But you have my word I'll spare your
life if you do as you're told." Again, Dofine nodded. "That way I'll at least
live to see you executed." Cohl shrugged. "You never know, Commander." He
straightened and grinned at Rella. "What did I tell you? Easy as--was
"Captain," Cohls man at the communications station cut him off. "Vessel
emerging from hyperspace.
Authenticators paint her as the TradeFed freighter Acquisitor." Rella
made a plosive sound. "You were saying, Cohl?" The look Cohl directed at
Dofine was one of genuine surprise. "Maybe you're not as thick-skulled as you
look." He leapt up onto the walkway and turned to the viewport array.
Rella joined him.
"The scenario has changed," Cohl announced to everyone. "The Acquisitor
will launch starfighters as soon as it's within range.
Order the Hawk-Bat to take the fight to the freighter." Dofine allowed a
smile of satisfaction. "Perhaps you will have to forgo your treasure, after
all, Captain Cohl." Cohl shot him a withering glance. "I'm not leaving without
it, Commander--and neither are you." He reached for Dofine's right wrist to
regard the countdown timer.
"Fifty-five minutes." "Cohl," Rella said leadingly.
He looked at her askance. "Without the aurodium, we don't get paid,
sweetheart." She took her lower lip between her perfect teeth.
"Yes, but we have to be alive to spend it." He shook his head. "Death's
not in the cards--at least not in this hand." Close to the bridge, a Nebula
Front starfighter, chased down by packets of lethal energy, vanished in a
nimbus of white-hot gas and debris.
"Fire from the Acquisitor" one of the mercenaries reported.
Sudden disquiet tugged at Rella's features.
Cohl ignored the look she sent him. Plucking Dofine from the command
chair and standing him on the walkway, Cohl shoved him toward the bridge's
ruined hatch.
"Double time, Commander. Our departure window has just narrowed." I n the
chaotic gloom of the starboard hangar arm, a final pod moving on repulsorlift
toward a zone three docking bay didn't draw much attention.
Somewhat turnip shaped, it was larger than most of the pods that had been
routed into zone three, though not as large as the one the Nebula Front had
infiltrated, and nowhere near the size of some of the ore barges. More, the
pod gave no hint that, like the terrorists' craft, it carried a living cargo.
Strapped into back-to-back seats were two human males who, in dress, were
the polar opposite of Daultay Dofine. Their light-colored tunics and trousers
were loose fitting and unadorned, their knee-high boots were made of nerf
hide, and they affected neither headpieces nor jewelry.
Their modest garments only made their obvious guile all the more
mysterious.
The fraudulent cargo pod lacked viewports of any sort, but vidcams
concealed in the hull transmitted assorted views of the hangar to display
screens inside the craft.
On observing the disorder Cohl's band had left in its wake, the young man
in the forward seat remarked in a nasal voice, "Captain Cohl has left us an
easy trail to follow, Master." "He has indeed, Padawan. But the trail you take
into the forest may not be the one you wish to follow when leaving. Stretch
out with your feelings, Obi-Wan." Fairly squeezed into the aft seat, the older
man was also the larger of the pair. His broad face was fully bearded, and his
thick mane of graying hair was pulled back from a gently sloping, noble brow.
His eyes were a sharp blue, and the bridge of his strong nose was flattened,
as if it had been broken beyond the repair of bacta treatments.
His name was Qui-Gon Jinn.
His counterpart at the controls of the pod, Obi-Wan Kenobi, had a
youthful, clean-shaven face, a cleft chin, and a high, straight forehead. His
brown hair was cropped short, save for a short tail at the rear of his head,
and a single, thin plait that fell behind his ear to his right shoulder, a
sign of his Padawan rank. Peculiar to the order to which Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan
belonged, the word meant apprentice or protege.
That order was known as the Jedi Knights.
"Master, do you see any sign of their craft?" Obi-Wan asked over his
shoulder.
Qui-Gon turned in his seat to indicate an open pod at the lower left of
Obi-Wan's heads-up display screen.
"That one. They must be planning to launch from the inner rim hangar
portal. Set us down nearby, with our hatch facing away from their pod. But be
mindful not to draw attention. Cohl is sure to have posted sentries." "Would
you like to assume the piloting, Master?" Obi-Wan asked peevishly.
Qui-Gon smiled to himself. "Only if you're tiring, Padawan." Obi-Wan
compressed his lips. "I'm anything but tired, Master." He regarded the display
screen for a moment. "I've found us a good place." As if under the guidance of
droids in the hangar traffic stations, the pod settled on its quartet of disk-
shaped landing gear. The two Jedi fell silent while they watched the vidcam
feeds. After a long moment, a pair of human males emerged from Cohl's pod,
oxygen masks covering their faces and disrupter rifles cradled in their arms.
"You were right, Master," Obi-Wan said softly.
"Cohl is becoming predictable." "We can hope, Obi-Wan." One of the
sentries circled the pod, then returned to the open hatch, where the other was
waiting.
"Now's our chance," Qui-Gon said. "You know--was "I know what to do,
Master. But I still don't understand your reasoning. We could surprise Cohl
here and now." "It's more important that we discover the location of the
Nebula Front's base, Padawan. There'll be time then to put an end to Captain
Cohl's exploits." Qui-Gon inserted a small breathing device into his mouth and
flipped a switch that opened the circular front hatch. A cacophony of skirling
sirens greeted them . The two Jedi climbed out into the red glow of emergency
lighting that suffused the hold.
No object was more symbolic of the Jedi Knights than the polished alloy
cylinders Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan wore on the hide belts that cinched their
tunics. With the belts' abundance of utility pouches, the thirty-centimeter-
long cylinders might have been tools of a sort--and, indeed, the Jedi viewed
them as such- - but, in fact, they were weapons of light, actual and
figurative, and had been employed by the Jedi for thousands of generations in
their self-appointed mandate to serve the Galactic Republic as the stewards of
peace and justice.
The crystal-focused lightsaber, however, was not the true source of a
Jedi's power, for that sprang from the omnipresent energy field that permeated
all life and bound the galaxy together, an energy field the Jedi knew as the
Force.
Tens of thousands of years the order had devoted to the study and
contemplation of the Force, and as by-products of that devotion had come
powers beyond the ken of ordinary folks the power to move objects at will, to
cloud the thoughts of lesser minds, to peer forward in time. But most of all,
the ability to live in symbiotic accord with all life, and thus be allied to
the Force itself.
Moving with preternatural silence and swiftness, Qui-Gon advanced on
Cohl's pod, the lightsaber gripped in his right hand, concealing himself at
every opportunity behind other pods. With all the noise in the hangar, he knew
that it wasn't going to be easy to distract the two guards. But he had to buy
Obi-Wan at least a few moments.
Sprawled atop the curving nose of one of the pods was what remained of a
battle droid's upper torso and elongated head. Glancing at Cohl's sentries,
Qui-Gon thumbed the activator button above the lightsaber's ridged handgrip.
A rod of brilliant green energy hissed from the sword's alloy hilt,
thrumming as it came in contact with the thin air. With a single one-handed
swipe of his lightsaber, Qui-Gon cleaved the droid's head from its thin neck.
At the same time, he extended his left hand, palm outward, andwitha blast of
Force power sent the severed head hurtling across the hangar, where it struck
the deck with a strident clank, not five meters from where the terrorists
stood.
The pair swung to the sound, with weapons raised.
And in that instant, Obi-Wan disappeared in a blur, headed for Cohls pod.
Midlevel in the freighter's centersphere, Cohl, Rella, Boiny, and the
rest of Cohl's band gazed wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the cache of aurodium
ingots, which had been removed from the Revenue's security cabin and piled--
lovingly--atop a repulsor sled. Hypnotic in their beauty, the ingots glowed
with a constantly shifting inner light that summoned all colors of the
rainbow.
Even Dofine and his four bridge officers could scarcely tear their eyes
away.
"Take my breath and call me wheezy," Boiny said. "Now I've seen it all."
Cohl snapped out of his reverie and turned to Dofine, whose thin wrists were
secured in shiny stun cuffs.
"You have our gratitude, Commander. Most Neimoidians wouldn't have been
so obliging." Dofine glowered. "You go too far, Captain." Cohl's broad
shoulders heaved in dismissal. "Tell that to the members of the Trade
Federation Directorate." He nodded to Rella to get the sled under way, then
took Boiny by the shoulders and steered him toward an inset control panel.
"Patch into the central control computer and tell it to run a diagnostic
on the fuel-drivers. When the computer locates the thermal detonator, it
should order an abandon ship." Boiny nodded in comprehension.
"Be sure to convince it to jettison all the cargo pods and barges," Cohl
added.
Dofine's eyes widened in revelation. "So, the lommite is important, after
all." Cohl turned to him. "You're confusing me with someone who cares one way
or another what goes on between the Trade Federation and the Nebula Front."
Dofine was confused. "Then why are you saving the cargo?" "Saving it?" Cohl
put his hands on his hips and laughed heartily. "I'm merely providing the
Acquisitor with a target-rich environment, Commander." With the same
extraordinary nimbleness that had guided him to the terrorists' pod, Obi-Wan
returned to the Jedi craft.
"Everything is in place, Master," he said, just loudly enough to be heard
over the wailing sirens.
Qui-Gon motioned him toward the hatch. But Obi-Wan hadn't even raised a
foot when all the pods in the hangar began to levitate and wheel toward one
hangar portal or another.
"What's happening?" Qui-Gon looked around in mild perplexity.
"They're jettisoning the cargo." "Hardly the act of terrorists, Master."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed in thought. "The central control computer wouldn't
allow this unless the freighter was in serious jeopardy." "Perhaps it is,
Master." Qui-Gon agreed. "Either way, Padawan, we're better off inside our
craft. Unless Cohl has failed in his mission, he should be arriving at any
moment." Barely keeping pace with the ingot-heaped repulsor sled, Cohl's band
jogged down the broad avenue of the starboard hangar toward the rendezvous
point. The Revenue's bridge crew struggled to keep up, despite being equipped
with rebreather masks and even when prodded in the back by the emitter nozzles
of the terrorists' blasters. To all sides of them hovered cargo pods and
tenders, moving toward inner and outer wall hangar portals.
Even Cohl was out of breath by the time everyone reached zone three and
the waiting pod. Only one member of the first team--a blond-furred Bothan--had
made it back, but Cohl refused to concern himself just then with the fate of
the rest. Every member chosen for the operation had been apprised of the
risks.
"Get the aurodium stowed," he shouted to Boiny through the rebreather's
communicator. "Rella, do a head count and get everyone aboard." Daultay Dofine
glanced worriedly at the countdown timer still affixed to the back of his
hand. "What is to become of us?" he yelled.
A human member of Cohl's band motioned broadly toward a large, nearby pod
that had yet to lift off. "I suggest you unload that one and cram yourvs
inside." Dofine blinked back panic. "We'll die in there." The human laughed
scornfully. "That's the idea." Dofine looked at Cohl. "Your word..." Cohl
twisted his head to one side to read the display on the countdown timer, then
cut his eyes to Dofine.
"If you hurry, you'll make it to the escape pods in time." o bi-Wan
waited for the terrorists' pod to rise from the hangar deck before activating
the repulsorlift engines. In addition to the huge portals at the ends of the
hangar arms, magnetic containment portals along the inner curve of the arms
had opened up in each zone. Scores of cargo pods and barges had begun to
converge on these smaller egresses, but bottlenecks were forming quickly,
despite the supervisory efforts of the central control computer.
Obi-Wan understood that if they were too late in reaching the portal, he
and Qui-Gon would be forced to resort to some other means of abandoning ship.
But the young Jedi was nothing if not methodical. He spent a long moment
studying the flow of traffic and anticipating where jams were likely to occur
before deciding on a course.
That course took them straight up into the hangar's lofty reaches of
hoists and cranes, before descending acutely for the zone three portal.
Grazing three pods on the way down, Obi Wan neatly avoided a collision
with a barge that was fast becoming lodged in the opening.
Cohl had exited the hangar arm minutes earlier, but the tracker Obi-Wan
had affixed assured that the Jedi would be able to single Cohl's pod out from
the now stampeding herd.
"We have them, Master," he told Qui-Gon, who was studying the rear
display screens. "They're heading straight for the centersphere. I'm not
certain if they intend to climb over it or dive beneath it, but they are
accelerating." "Stay with them, Obi-Wan. But keep a fixed distance. We don't
want to reveal ourselves just yet." With the bone-white centersphere looming
and the broad sweep of the immense arms to either side, the inner district of
the annular freighter was a sight to behold - comespecially with crafts of all
size and shape pouring from the holds. But the erratic motion of those same
pods and barges left Obi-Wan little time to appreciate the view. He divided
his attention between the flashing bezel that was Cohl's pod on the heads-up
display, and the console screens, which showed exterior views to either side.
With most of the pods streaming toward the lower portion of the
centersphere, even slight encounters were causing chain reactions within the
bunch. Many pods were already spinning out of control, and a few were on
collision courses for the hangar arms.
It all began to remind Obi-Wan of some of the exercises he had endured
during his youth in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, where the goal of a student
was to remain unswervingly attentive to a single task, while as many as five
teachers did all they could to distract.
"Watch our stern, Padawan," Qui-Gon warned.
A pod had emerged from below them, catching them aft on its ascent. In
danger of being tipped end over end, Obi-Wan applied power to the nose
attitude jets and managed just in time to stabilize their craft.
But the brush had knocked them off course, and suddenly they were closing
on the thick structural stal k that wedded the immense centersphere to the
hangar arms.
Obi-Wan glanced at the heads-up display, but found no pulsing bezel.
"Master, I've lost them." "Focus on where you want to go, Obi-Wan," Qui-
Gon said in a calm voice.
"Forget the display screen, and let the Force guide you." Obi-Wan closed
his eyes for a moment, then, following his instincts, adjusted their course.
Glancing at the display, he saw Cohl's pod ahead of them, off to
starboard.
"I see them, Master. They're angling for the top of the centersphere."
"Captain Cohl was never one to remain long in the herd." Obi-Wan fired the
pod's attitude jets to adjust course and soon saw the reassuring blinking of
the bezel.
The centersphere filled the display screens linked to the pod's nose
vidcams, revealing level after level of what Obi-Wan knew had once been
conference rooms and living spaces for the ship's crew, before the Trade
Federation had turned to droid labor. They were almost to the crown of the
centersphere when a lone starfighter streaked across one of the display
screens, dual laser cannons loosing bursts at some unseen target.
"A Nebula Front CloakShape," Qui-Gon said in mild surprise.
A sturdy, low-profile starfighter with downsloping wings, CloakShapes had
been designed for atmospheric combat. But the terrorist group had retrofitted
this one with rear-mounted maneuvering fins and a strap-on hyperdrive.
"But what are they firing at?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Cohl's pilots must have destroyed the Revenue's starfighters by now." "I
suspect we'll know soon enough, Padawan.
In the meantime, stay focused on the matter at hand." Obi-Wan bristled
slightly at the mild reprimand, but it was deserved. He had a habit of looking
forward, as opposed to staying in the moment, as Qui-Gon preferred--of
attending to what the Jedi called the living Force.
Well above the bald crown of the centersphere and the boxy scanners that
topped the freighter's command tower, Cohl's pod was gathering speed and, with
bold maneuvers, was emerging from the cloud of pods within which it had
hidden. In danger of falling too far behind, Obi-Wan called on the drives for
added power.
By the time they were coming around the top curve of the centersphere,
Obi-Wan had greatly reduced the distance between the two pods. He was
preparing to follow Cohl into space when another starfighter--a modified Z-95
Headhunter--flashed into view on the display screens and exploded.
"The battle continues," Qui-Gon said.
Emerged from the embrace of the arms, the two Jedi saw the source of the
return fire. Floating like a ring above Dorvalla's nightside was a second
freighter, engulfed in blossoms of fire sown by the Nebula Front ships.
"Trade Federation reinforcements," Obi-Wan said.
"That freighter could complicate matters," Qui-Gon mused.
"But surely we have Cohl this time." "Cohl is a sly one, Obi-Wan. He
would have anticipated this. He doesn't make a move without a contingency
plan." "But, Master, without his support ships--was "Expect nothing," Qui-Gon
interrupted.
"Simply stay your course." Inside the equally cramped quarters of the
terrorists' pod, Cohl's band of eight carried out their preassigned tasks.
"Outer and inner hatches sealed, Captain," Boiny reported from his wedge
of space at the curved instrument console. "All systems nominal." "Prepare to
convert from repulsorlift to fusial propulsion," Cohl said, snugging his seat
harness.
"Preparing to convert," Rella relayed.
"Comm is ena4," another said. "Switching to priority frequency." "Clear
space, Captain. Passing the thousand-meter mark from the centersphere." "Easy
does it," Cohl said, aware of a certain tension in the recirculating air.
"We'll maintain a low profile until ten thousand meters. Then we go for broke.
" Rella cast him an approving glance. "Plan precisely; perform faultlessly--
was "And avoid detection--before, during, and after," Boiny completed.
"Set course for one-one-seven, freighter's bow," Cohl told them.
"Accelerate to point five.
Fusial thrust on standby." He reclined his chair and switched on the
starboard display. The Hawk-Bat and the support ships had managed to hold the
Acquisitor at bay. But the TradeFed's starfighters were all over the arena,
harried by Nebula Front pilots and confounded by the torrents of cargo gushing
from the Revenue's hangar bays.
Still, it was just a matter of rendezvousing with the Hawk-Bat and
putting a couple of parsecs between the gunship and the Acquisitor.
Rella leaned toward him to whisper. "Cohl, if we survive this, I forgive
you for saying yes to this operation to begin with." Cohl had his mouth open
to respond when Boiny said, "Captain, something peculiar. Could be a fluke,
but we've got one cargo pod hanging dead on our six." "Show me," Cohl said,
cutting his violet eyes to the screen.
"Smack in the center. The one with the pointed snout." Cohl fell silent
for a moment, then said, "Alter our course to one-one-nine." Rella set herself
to the task.
Boiny squeaked a nervous laugh. "The pod's changing course to one-one-
nine." "Some kind of gravity drag?" one of the others asked - coma human named
Jalan.
"Gravity drag?" Rella said in obvious derision. "What in the moons of
Bodgen is gravity drag?" "It's what keeps Jalan from thinking straight," Boiny
muttered.
"Fasten it, the bunch of you," Cohl said, stroking his bearded jaw in
thought. "Can we scan that pod?" "We can try." Cohl forced a breath and folded
his arms across his chest. "Let's play this safe. Steer us back into the thick
of things." "Master, they're scanning us," Obi-Wan said.
"They're altering course, as well." "They're planning to hide in that
cluster of cargo pods," Qui-Gon said, mostly to himself. "It's time we give
them something else to worry about, Obi-Wan.
Activate the thermal detonator as soon as they're a bit farther from the
freighter." Cohl gripped the armrests of his narrow seat as the terrorists'
pod took a buffeting from its neighbors in the throng that was pouring into
the space between the two Trade Federation freighters.
"We can't take much more of this," Boiny warned, his sucker - fingered
hands gripped on the instrument console.
"Cohl," Rella said harshly. "Unless we get out now, we're going to end up
in the middle of a starfighter engagement." Cohl kept his eyes glued to the
overhead display screen. "What's the pod doing?" "Matching our every maneuver.
" One of the humans cursed under his breath. "What's in that thing?" "Or who?"
another put in.
"Something's not right," Cohl said, shaking his head.
"I smell a womp rat." Boiny glanced at him. "Never met one that could
pilot a pod like that, Captain." Cohl slapped the armrests in a gesture of
finality. "No more wasting time. Engage the primary fusials." "Now you're
talking," Rella remarked, carrying out the command.
Without warning, Boiny all but shot from his seat, gesticulating madly at
one of the console sensors and tripping over his own words.
"Boiny!" Cohl shouted, as if to break whatever spell the Rodian was
under. "Out with it!" Boiny swung about, his black orbs radiating incredulity.
"Captain, we've got a thermal detonator affixed to the pod's drive core!" Cohl
stared at him in similar disbelief. "How long to detonation?" "Five minutes
and counting!" W ith its sterile surfaces, sunken control stations, and
circular plasma screens that shone like aquariums, the bridge of the
Acquisitor was identical to that of her sister ship, save that it held a full
complement of bridge officers, and all eight were Neimoidians.
Commander Nap Lagard gazed out the forward viewports at the distant
Revenue.
At this remove, the bulbous-nosed pods and barges flooding from her cargo
holds were mere specks glinting in the sunlight, but magnified views had
revealed hundreds of burst pods--the result of collisions and of starfighter
laser bolts- - their payloads of lommite surrendered to space. A heartrending
sight to behold; but Lagard had already decided that he would retrieve as much
of the cargo as possible--assuming that the terrorists could be chased off.
The stamp of the Nebula Front was all over the crippled Revenue, in the
form of blistered durasteel, erose penetrations in the hull, pieces of twisted
superstructure.
Recently strengthened and overlapping deflector shields had prevented the
terrorists from inflicting similar damage on the Acquisitor.
More, the Acquisitor carried twice the usual number of droid-piloted
craft.
No sooner had the freighter decanted from hyperspace than the Nebula
Front ships had flown against her. In concert with the freighters' quad
lasers, the starfighters had succeeded in warding off the attack and forcing
the terrorists back toward the Revenue, where the conflict was still raging.
Countless droid ships had disappeared in globular explosions, but the Nebula
Front had not been spared casualties, having lost two CloakShapes and one Z-95
Headhunter.
Only the Hawk-Bat--the light-freighter-size gunship of the mercenary
known as Captain Cohl--had been a continuing menace to the Acquisitor, trying
the fortitude of the freighter's new shields with disabling runs.
Just now, however, even the Hawk-Bat was in retreat, streaking off in the
direction of Dorvalla's polar ice cap, the blue vortices of the gunship's
thrusters visible from the Acquisitor backslash bridge.
"It seems we have driven th em off," one of Lagard's subalterns remarked
in the Neimoidian tongue.
Lagard grunted noncommittally.
"Captain Cohl must have issued the abandon-ship order," the subaltern
continued. "The Nebula Front would rather see our lommite lost to space than
allow it to reach our customers on Sluis Van." Lagard grunted again. "They may
think they have struck a blow against the Trade Federation. But they will
think again when Dor valla is forced to make restitution to us." The subaltern
nodded. "The courts will stand with us." Lagard turned briefly from the view.
"Yes. But these acts of terrorism cannot be allowed to continue." "Commander,"
the communications officer intruded. "We are receiving a coded transmission
from Commander Dofine." "From the Revenue?" "From an escape pod, Commander."
"Put the message through the annunciators, and ready the tractor beam to
retrieve the escape pod." The bridge's speakers crackled to life. his
Acquisitor, this is Commander Daultay Dofine." Lagard hastened to the center
of the walkway. "Dofine, this is Commander Lagard. We will have you safely on
board as quickly as possible." "Lagard, listen closely," Dofine said.
"Contact Viceroy Gun - ray. It is urgent that I speak with him
immediately." "Viceroy Gunray? What is so urgent?" "That is for the viceroy
alone to hear," Dofine hissed.
Realizing that he had suffered a loss of face, Lagard stung back. "And
what of Captain Cohl, Commander Dofine? Is he in possession of your ship?"
Dofine's brief silence assured Lagard that the barb had found its mark.
"Captain Cohl fled the ship in a facsimile cargo pod." Lagard turned to
the viewports. "Can you identify it?" "Identify it?" Dofine asked sharply. "It
was a pod like all the others." "And the Revenue?
his "The Revenue is about to blow to pieces!" In the terrorists' pod,
Boiny studied the instrument console in dismay. "Thirty seconds to detonation.
" "Cohl!" Rella yelled when he failed to respond. "Do something!" Cohl glanced
at her, tight-lipped. "All right, jettison the husk." To a one, the terrorists
settled back in relief, while Boiny tapped a flurry of commands into the
console keypad.
"Charges activated," the Rodian reported.
"Separation in ten seconds." Cohl sniffed. "Times like this, you wish you
could see the faces of your adversaries." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watched Cohl's
pod on their separate screens. Abruptly, a series of small explosions ringed
the humpbacked craft along its equator, and it split into two parts, revealing
an oblate shuttle concealed inside.
The shuttle's fusial thrust engines ignited, and the craft rocketed away
from the pieces of its discarded husk. Then the lower half exploded.
"That would be our thermal detonator," Qui-Gon said. "And the tracking
device?" "Affixed to the hull of the shuttle and still functioning, Master,"
Obi-Wan reported, gazing at the flashing bezel. "Again, you have anticipated
Captain Cohl." "Not without help, Padawan. You know what to do." Obi-Wan
smiled as he reached for the controls. "I only wish I could see Cohl's face."
Cohl's mouth fell open as he watched the pursuing pod burst apart along a
midline seam. Inside was a wingless Corellian Lancet, painted a telltale
crimson from pointed nose to sleek-finned tail.
"It's flying Coruscant colors!" Boiny said in astonishment. "Judicial
Department." "Matching us maneuver for maneuver," Rella reported as she wove
the terrorist's shuttle through a swarm of cargo pods and clusters of loosed
lommite ore.
"Gaining on us," Boiny updated.
Rella refused to accept it. "Since when do judicials pilot like that?"
"Who else could be piloting?" one of the humans asked. "It sure isn't
Neimoidians." Cohl locked eyes with Rella.
"Jedi?" they said in unison.
Cohl considered it, then shook his head. "What would the Jedi be doing
out here? This isn't Republic space. Besides, no one--and I mean no one--knew
about this operation." Boiny and the rest were quick to agree. "The captain's
right. No one knew about this operation." But the uncertainty in the Rodian's
voice was glaring, and Cohl was suddenly aware that everyone was watching him.
"No one, Cohl?" Rella said leadingly.
He frowned at her. "Outside the Nebula Front, anyway." "Maybe the Force
told them," Boiny mumbled.
Rella studied the displays. "We might still make the Hawk - Bat" Cohl
leaned toward the shuttle's wraparound viewport. "Where is she?" "Holding at
the rendezvous point above Dorvalla's pole." When, after a long moment, Cohl
still hadn't responded, she added, "I'll just keep flying in circles while you
make your mind up about what to do." Cohl looked at Boiny. "Run a surface scan
of the shuttle hull." "Surface scan?" the Rodian asked dubiously.
"Now," Cohl said sharply.
Boiny bent over the console, then straightened in his seat.
"We're hosting a locator!" Cohl's eyes narrowed. "They're hoping to track
us." "Correction, Cohl," Rella said. "They are tracking us." Cohl ignored the
remark and glanced at Boiny again. "How much time before the Revenue blows?"
"Seven minutes." "Can you calculate the shape of the freighter's explosion?"
Boiny and Rella swapped troubled glances. "To a certain extent," the Rodian
said in a tentative voice.
"Do it. Then give me your best estimate of the blast radius and the
extent of the debris cloud." Boiny swallowed hard. "Even my best estimate is
going to be plus or minus a couple of hundred kilometers, Captain." Cohl
mulled it over in silence, then glanced at Rella. "Come about--hard." She
stared at him. "It's confirmed You've lost your mind." "You heard me," Cohl
snapped. "It's back to the freighter for us." Just inside the magcon portal of
the Acquisitor's portside hangar arm, Daultay Dofine crawled indecorously from
the barrel-shaped escape pod the freighter's powerful tractor beam had
retrieved.
The navigator and the rest followed him out.
Commander Lagard was on hand to meet them.
"It is an honor to rescue so celebrated a person," Lagard said.
Dofine adjusted the fit of his robes and straightened his command miter.
"Yes, I'm sure it is," he replied. "Did you do as I asked and contact Viceroy
Gunray?" Lagard indicated the Neimoidian mechno-chair that had probably
conveyed him from the bridge. "The viceroy is eager to hear what you have to
report. As am I, Commander." Dofine pushed past Lagard to get to the chair,
which immediately began to move off in the direction of the centersphere- - no
doubt at Lagard's remote behest.
A product of Affodies Crafthouse of Pure Neimoidia, the curious and
prohibitively costly device had two sickle-shaped rear legs that terminated in
single-claw feet, and a pair of double - clawed articulated guidance limbs.
The laser-etched designs that covered its metallic surface were modeled after
the shell ornamentation of Neimoidia's sovereign beetle. Gyroscopically
balanced, the high-backed chair was more status symbol than practical mode of
transport, but Dofine had grasped that the chair had not been provided for his
benefit.
Where one would have sat was a circular hologram plate, from which
projected the miniature holopresence of Viceroy Nute Gunray himself, leader of
the Neimoidian Inner Circle and a member of the seven-person Trade Federation
Directorate. Impediments of interstellar origin dazed the feed with diagonal
lines of noise.
"Viceroy," Dofine said, bowing in obeisance before he hurried to catch up
with the slowly scuttling chair.
Gunray had a jutting lower jaw, and his thick lower lip was
uncompanioned. A deep fissure separated his bulging forehead into two lateral
lobes. His skin was kept a healthy gray-blue by means of frequent massages and
meals of the finest fungus. Red and orange robes of exquisite hand fell from
his narrow shoulders, along with a round-collared brown surplice that reached
his knees.
Around his neck hung a pectoral of elongated teardrops of electrum, and a
black tiara--triple-crested, with a pair of dangling tails--sat atop his regal
head.
"What is so urgent, Commander Dofine?" Gunray asked.
"Viceroy, it is my sad duty to report that the Revenue has been seized by
members of the Nebula Front.
The cargo of lom - mite ore floats in space, and, even as we speak, an
explosive device counts down the moments to the ship's destruction." Realizing
that he had forgotten to peel the timer from the back of his hand, Dofine
retracted his hand into the loose sleeve of his robe.
"So Captain Cohl strikes again," Gunray said.
"Yes, Viceroy. But I bring news of an even more distressing nature."
Dofine glanced around him, in the hope that Lagard was out of earshot, but, of
course, he wasn't. "The cache of au - rodium ingots," he said at last. "Cohl
somehow knew about it. I had no recourse but to turn it over to him."
Expecting rebuke or worse, Dofine hung his head in shame as he trailed the
mechno-chair. But the viceroy surprised him.
"The lives of you and your crew were at stake." "Just so, Excellency."
"Then stand tall, Commander Dofine," Gunray said.
"For what has happened today may well prove a boon for the Trade
Federation, and a blessing for all Neimoidians." "A boon, Viceroy?" Gunray
nodded. "I order you to assume command of the Acquisitor.
Recall the starfighters and withdraw the freighter from combat." "Cohl is
headed back to the freighter," Obi-Wan said from the controls of the Judicial
Department starfighter. "Could he have tricked the freighter into abandoni ng
its cargo, even though it wasn't in jeopardy?" "I doubt it," Qui-Gon said. He
pressed his face close to the Lancet's transparisteel canopy. "All of Gobi's
support ships- - even the corvette--are distancing themselves from the
Revenue.His""" "It's true, Master. Even the Aequisitor is under way." "Then
we're safe in concluding that the freighter is marked for destruction. And
yet, Captain Cohl is speeding toward it." "As we are, Master," Obi-Wan thought
to point out.
"What could Cohl have in mind?" Qui-Gon asked himself aloud. "He's not a
man to undertake desperate acts, Obi-Wan, let alone suicidal ones." "The
shuttle isn't decelerating or changing course. Cohl is shooting straight for
the starboard hangar arm." "Just where we started." Obi-Wan's brow began to
furrow in concern.
"Master, we're getting awfully close. If the freighter is truly marked
for destruction..." "I realize that, Padawan. Perhaps Captain Cohl is merely
testing us." Obi-Wan waited a long moment before he allowed concern to show in
his voice. "Master?" Qui-Gon watched the shuttle angle down toward the center
of the circle that was the Revenue.
Stretching out with his feelings, he did not like what he found.
"Abort the pursuit, Obi-Wan," he said suddenly. "Quickly!" Obi-Wan fed
full power to the Lancet's drives and pulled the yoke sharply toward him. At
full boost, the ship climbed in a long loop away from the freighter.
Suddenly, the Revenue exploded. In the Lancet's cockpit, it was as if
someone had draped a bright white curtain over the canopy. The small craft
received a punch in the tail that sent it rocking forward, riding the crest of
the detonation wave. Great hunks of molten durasteel streaked like comets to
all sides. The Lancet shook to the breaking point, systems shorting out with
showers of sparks, and displays showing nothing but noise before they
darkened.
Glancing over his shoulder, Obi-Wan watched the Revenue burst into
sections, the massive hangar arms making brief, fist - first contact, then
rolling off to opposite sides, as two loosed crescents.
The centersphere and bridge tower spun away from the destroyed
acceleration compensator stalk and what was left of the ship's trio of gaping
exhaust ports.
Some distance away the Acquisitor was moving for the safety of Dorvalla's
dark side.
Cohl's corvette and two of the support starfighters streaked away from
the planet and made the jump to hyperspace.
"Dorvalla is either about to gain a moonlet or fall victim to a
devastating meteor," Obi-Wan said when he could.
"I fear the latter," Qui-Gon said. "Contact Coruscant. Inform the
Reconciliation Council that Dorvalla needs immediate emergency relief." "I'll
try, Master." Obi-Wan began to flip switches on the console, hoping that at
least some of the communications systems had survived the electronic storm
that had accompanied the explosion.
"Is there any sign of Cohl's shuttle?" Obi-Wan glanced at the display
screen. "No signal from the tracking device." Qui-Gon didn't reply.
"Master, I know Cohl hated the Trade Federation. But could he have cared
so little about his own life?" Qui-Gon took a long moment to respond.
"What are the sixth and seventh Rules of Engagement, Padawan?" Obi-Wan
tried to recall them. "The sixth is, Understand the dark and light in all
things." "That is the fifth rule." Obi-Wan thought again. "Exercise caution,
even in trivial matters." "That is the eighth." "Learn to see accurately."
"Yes," Qui-Gon said, "that is the sixth. And the seventh?" Obi-Wan shook his
head. "I'm sorry, Master. I cannot recall it." "Open your eyes to what is not
evident." Obi-Wan considered it. "Then this isn't the end of it." "Hardly,
young Padawan. I sense instead a menacing beginning." CORUSCANT r The four
walls of Finis Valorum's office, at the summit of the governmental district's
stateliest if not most statuesque edifice, were made of transparisteel,
paneled by structural members into a continuous band of regular and inverted
triangles.
The city-planet that was Coruscant--was Scintillant Orb," "Jewel of the
Core," choked heart of the Galactic Republic--spread to all sides in a welter
of lustrous domes, knife-edged spires, and terraced superstructures that
climbed to the sky. The taller buildings resembled outsize rocketships that
had never left their launch pads, or the wind-eroded lava tors of long-dead
volcanoes. Some of the domes were flattened hemispheres perched on cylindrical
bases, while others had the look of shallow, hand-thrown ceramic bowls with
finialed lids.
Striations of magnetically guided sky traffic moved swiftly above the
cityscape--streams of transports, air buses, taxis, and limousines, coursing
between the tall spires and over the measureless chasms like schools of exotic
fish.
Instead of feeding, however, they were the feeders, distributing the
galaxy's wealth among the greedy trillion to whom Coruscant was home.
As often as Valorum had beheld the view--which was to say, nearly every
day of his now seven years as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic--he had yet
to grow indifferent to the spectacle of Coruscant. As worlds went, it was
neither large nor especially rugged, but history had transformed it into a
uniquely vertical place, a vertical experience more common to ocean than
atmospheric life.
Valorum's principal office was located in the lower level of the Galactic
Senate dome, but he was generally so swamped by requests and business there
that he reserved this lofty perch for meetings of a more private nature.
Pale hands clasped at his back, he stood at the bank of transparisteel
windows that faced the dawn, though daybreak was hours behind him. He wore a
magenta tunic that was high - collared and double-breasted, with matching
trousers and a wide cummerbund. Southern light, polarized by the
transparisteel panels, flooded the room. But Valorum's sole guest had taken a
seat well out of the light's reach.
"I fear, Supreme Chancellor, that we face a monumental challenge,"
Senator Palpatine was saying from the shadows. "Frayed at its far-flung
borders and hollowed at its very heart by corruption, the Republic is in grave
danger of unraveling.
Order is needed, directives that will restore balance. Even the most
desperate remedies should not be overlooked." Although such opinions had
become the common sentiment, Palpatine's words pierced Valorum like a sword.
The fact that he knew them to be true made them all the more difficult to
hear. He turned his back to the view and returned to his desk, where he sat
heavily into his padded chair.
Aging with distinction, Valorum had a receding cap of shorn silver hair,
pouches under piercing blue eyes, and dark, bushy brows. His stern features
and deep voice belied a compassionate spirit and questing intellect. But as
the latest in the line of a political dynasty that stretched back thousands of
years--a dynasty many thought weakened by its uncommon longevity--he had never
been fully successful at overcoming an innate patrician aloofness.
"Where have we gone wrong?" he asked in a firm but sad voice. "How did we
manage to miss the portents along the way?" Palpatine showed him an
understanding look. "The fault is not in ourselves, Supreme Chancellor. The
fault lies in the outlying star systems, and the civil strife iniquity has
engendered there." His voice was carefully modulated, occasionally world -
weary, seemingly immune to anger or alarm. "This most recent situation at
Dorvalla, for example." Valorum nodded soberly. "The Judicial Department has
requested that I meet with them later today, so they can brief me on the
latest developments." "Perhaps I could save you the trouble, Supreme
Chancellor. As least in terms of what I've been hearing in the senate." "Rumor
or facts?" "A bit of both, I suspect. The senate is filled with delegates who
interpret matters as they will, regardless of facts." Palpatine paused, as if
to gather his thoughts.
Prominent in a kind if somewhat doughy face were his heavy - lidded,
watery blue eyes and rudder of a nose. Red hair that had lost its youth he
wore in the provincial style of the outlying systems combed back from his
high forehead but left thick and long behind his low-set ears. In dress, too,
he demonstrated singular allegiance to his home system, favoring embroidered
tunics with V-shaped double collars and outmoded cloaks of quilted fabric.
A sectorial senator representing the outlying world of Na - boo, along
with thirty-six other inhabited planets, Palpatine had earned a reputation for
integrity and frankness that had set him high in the hearts of many of his
senatorial peers. As he had made clear to Valorum in numerous meetings, both
public and private, he was more interested in doing whatever needed to be done
than in blind obedience to the rules and regulations that had made the senate
such a tangle of procedures.
"As the Judicial Department is certain to tell you," he began at last,
"the mercenaries who assaulted and destroyed the Trade Federation vessel
Revenue were in the employ of the Nebula Front terrorist group. It seems
likely that they gained access to the freighter with the complicity of
dockworkers at Dorvalla. How the Nebula Front learned that the freighter was
carrying a fortune in aurodium ingots has yet to be established. But clearly
the Nebula Front planned to use the aurodium to finance additional acts of
terrorism directed against the Trade Federation, and perhaps against Republic
colonies in the Outer Rim." "Planned?" Valorum said.
"All indications are that Captain Cohl and his team of assassins perished
in the explosion that destroyed the Revenue.
But the incident has had wide-ranging repercussions, nevertheless." "I'm
well aware of some of those," Valorum said, with a note of disgust. "As a
result of continuing raids and harassment, the Trade Federation plans to
demand Republic intervention, or, failing that, senate approval to further
augment their droid contingent." Palpatine made his lips a thin line and
nodded.
"I must confess, Supreme Chancellor, that my first instinct was to refuse
their requests out of hand. The Trade Federation is already too powerful--in
wealth and in military might. However, I've since reassessed my position."
Valorum regarded him with interest. "I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts."
"Well, to begin with, the Trade Federation is made up of entrepreneurs, not
warriors. The Neimoidians, especially, are cowards in any theater other than
commerce. So granting them permission to enlarge their droid defenses--
slightly, at any rate- - doesn't concern me unduly. More important, there may
be some advantage to doing so." Valorum interlocked his fingers and leaned
forward.
"What possible advantage?" Palpatine took a breath. "In exchange for
honoring their requests for intervention and additional defenses, the senate
would be in a position to demand that all trade in the outlying systems would
henceforth be subject to Republic taxation." Valorum sat back in his chair,
clearly disappointed. "We've been through all this before, Senator. You and I
both know that a majority of the senate has no interest in what happens in the
outer systems, much less in the free trade zones. But they do care about what
happens to the Trade Federation." "Yes, because the shimmersilk pockets of
many a senatorial robe are being lined with graft from the Neimoidians."
Valorum snorted. "Self-indulgence is the order of the day." "Undeniably so,
Supreme Chancellor," Palpatine said tolerantly. "But that, in itself, is no
reason to allow the practice to continue." "Of course not," Valorum said. "For
both my terms of office I have sought to end the corruption that plagues the
senate, and to unravel the knot of policies and procedures that thwart us. We
enact legislation, only to find that we cannot implement it. The committees
proliferate like viruses, without leadership. No fewer than twenty committees
are needed just to determine the decor of the senate corridors.
"The Trade Federation has prospered by taking advantage of the very
bureaucracy we've created.
Grievances brought against the Federation languish in the courts, while
commissions belabor each and every aspect. It's little wonder that Dorvalla
and many of the worlds along the Rimma Trade Route support terrorist groups
like the Nebula Front.
"But taxation isn't likely to solve anything. In fact, such a move could
prompt the Trade Federation to abandon the outlying systems entirely, in favor
of more lucrative markets closer to the Core." "Thus depriving Coruscant and
its neighbors of important outer system resources and luxury goods," Palpatine
interjected, seemingly by rote.
"Certainly the Neimoidians will see taxation as a betrayal, if for no
other reason than the Trade Federation blazed many of the hyperspace routes
that link the Core to the outlying systems. Regardless, this could be the
opportunity many of us have waited for--the chance to exercise senate control
over those very trade routes." Valorum mulled it over briefly. "It could be
political suicide." "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Supreme Chancellor.
Proponents of taxation would suffer merciless attacks from the Commerce Guild,
the Techno Union, and the rest of the shipping conglomerates awarded
franchises to operate in the free trade zones. But it is the appropriate
measure." Valorum shook his head slowly, then got to his feet and moved to the
windows. "Nothing would cheer me more than getting the upper hand on the Trade
Federation." "Then now is the time to act," Palpatine said.
Valorum kept his gaze fixed on the distant towers. "I could count on your
support?" Palpatine rose and joined him at the view.
"Let me be frank about that. My position as representative of an outlying
sector places me in an awkward situation. Make no mistake about it, Supreme
Chancellor, I stand with you in advocating central control and taxation. But
Naboo and other outlying systems will undoubtedly be forced to assume the
burden of taxation by paying more for Trade Federation services." He paused
briefly. "I would be compelled to act with utmost circumspection." Valorum
merely nodded.
"That much said," Palpatine was quick to add, "rest assured that I would
do all in my power to rally senate support for taxation." Valorum turned
slightly in Palpatine's direction and smiled lightly. "As always, I'm grateful
for your counsel, Senator. Particularly now, what with troubles erupting in
your home system." Palpatine sighed with purpose. "Sadly, King Veruna finds
himself enmeshed in a scandal.
While he and I have never seen eye to eye with regard to expanding
Naboo's influence in the Republic, I am concerned for him, for his predicament
has not only cast a pall over Naboo, but also over many neighboring worlds."
Valorum clasped his hands behind his back and paced to the center of the
spacious room. When he swung to face Palpatine, his expression made clear that
his thoughts had returned to issues of wider concern.
"Is it conceivable that the Trade Federation would accept taxation in
exchange for a loosening of the defense restraints we have placed them under?"
Palpatine steepled his long fingers and brought them to his chin.
"Merchandise--of whatever nature--is precious to the Neimoidians. The
continuing assaults on their vessels by pirates and terrorists have made them
desperate. They will rail against taxation, but in the end they will tolerate
it. Our only other option would be to take direct action against the groups
that are harassing them, and I know that you're opposed to doing that."
Valorum confirmed it with a determined nod. "The Republic hasn't had a
standing military in generations, and I certainly won't be the person to
reinstate one. Coruscant must remain a place where groups can come together to
find peaceful solutions to conflicts." He took a breath. "A better course
would be to allow the Trade Federation adequate protection to defend itself
against acts of terrorism. After all, the Judicial Department can't very well
suggest the Jedi dedicate themselves to solving the Neimoidians' problems."
"No," Palpatine said. "The judicials and the Jedi Knights have more important
matters to attend to than keeping the space lanes safe for commerce." "At
least some constants remain," Valorum mused. "Just think where we might be
without the Jedi." "I can only imagine." Valorum advanced a few steps and laid
his hands on Palpatine's shoulders. "You're a good friend, Senator." Palpatine
returned the gesture. "My interests are the interests of the Republic, Supreme
Chancellor." caret Diu Sheathed from pole to pole in duracrete, plasteel, and
a thousand other impervious materials, Coruscant seemed invulnerable to the
vagaries of time or assaults by any would-be agents of entropy.
It was said that a person could live out his entire life on Coruscant
without once leaving the building he called home. And that even if someone
devoted his life to exploring as much of Coruscant as possible, he would
scarcely be able to take in a few square kilometers; that he would be better
off trying to visit all the far-flung worlds of the Republic.
The planet's original surface was so long forgotten and so seldom visited
that it had become an underworld of mythic dimension, whose denizens actually
boasted of the fact that their subterranean realm hadn't seen the sun in
twenty-five thousand standard years.
Closer to the sky, however, where the air was continually scrubbed and
giant mirrors lit the floor of shallower canyons, wealth and privilege ruled.
Here, kilometers above the murky depths, resided those who fashioned
their own rarified atmospheres; who moved about by private skylimo, and
watched the diffuse sun set blazing red around the curve of the planet; and
who ventured below the two-kilometer level only to conduct transactions of a
sinister sort, or to visit the statuary-studded squares that fronted those
landmark structures whose sublime architecture hadn't been razed, buried, or
walled in by mediocrity.
One such landmark was the Jedi Temple.
A kilometer-high truncated pyramid crowned by five elegant towers, it
soared above its surroundings, purposefully isolated from the babble of
Coruscant's overlapping electromagnetic fields, and holding forth against the
blight of modernization. Below it stretched a plain of rooftops, skybridges,
and aerial thoroughfares that had conspired to create a mosaic of sumptuous
geometries--colossal spirals and concentricities, crosses and triangles,
quilts and diamonds--great mandalas aimed at the stars, or perhaps the
temporal complements of the constellations to be found there.
At once, though, there was something comforting and forbidding about the
Temple. For while it was a constant reminder of an older, less complicated
world, the Temple was also somewhat austere and unapproachable, off-limits to
tourists or any whose desire to visit was inspired by mere curiosity.
The design of the Temple was said to be symbolic of the Padawan's path to
enlightenment--to unity with the Force, through fealty to the Jedi Codes. But
the design artfully concealed a secondary and more practical purpose, in that
the quincunx of towers - comfour oriented to the cardinal directions, with a
taller one rising from the center--were whiskered with antennae and
transmitters that kept the Jedi abreast of circumstances and crises throughout
the galaxy they served.
Thus had contemplation and social responsibility been given equal voice.
Nowhere in the Temple was that wedding of purposes more evident than in
the elevated chamber of the Reconciliation Council. Like the High Council
Chamber, at the summit of an adjacent tower, the room was circular, with an
arched ceiling and tall windows all around. But, less formal, it lacked the
ring of seats occupied only by the twelve members of the High Council, who
presided over matters of momentous concern.
Qui-Gon Jinn had been back on Coruscant for three standard days before
the Reconciliation Council had asked him to appear before it. During that
time, he had done little more than meditate, peruse ancient texts, pace the
Temple's dimly lighted hallways, or engage in lightsaber training sessions
with other Jedi Knights and Padawans.
Through acquaintances employed in the Galactic Senate, he had been
apprised of the Trade Federation's requests for Republic intervention in
repressing acts of terrorism, and for permission to augment their droid
defenses, in the face of continuing harassment. Although those requests were
nothing new, Qui - Gon had been surprised to learn of the Trade Federation's
claim that Captain Cohl, in addition to destroying the Revenue, had made off
with a secret cache of aurodium ingots, rumored to be worth billions of
credits.
The revelation was much on his mind as he went before the members of the
Reconciliation Council, unaware that they, too, were interested in discussing
the incident at Dorvalla.
Many held the opinion that Qui-Gon would have been seated on the council,
if not for his penchant for bending the rules and following his own instincts-
-even when those instincts conflicted with the combined wisdom of the council
members. This had not endeared him to his loftier peers. In fact, rather than
treat him like a peer, they viewed his unwillingness to amend his ways and
accept a seat on the council as a further sign of his incorrigibility.
The Reconciliation Council was made up of five members- - though rarely
the same five--and today there were only four on hand Jedi Masters Plo Koon,
Oppo Rancisis, Adi Gallia, and Yoda.
Qui-Gon fielded their questions from the center of the room, where he
would have been permitted to sit but had elected to stand.
"How knew you, Qui-Gon, of Captain Cohl's designs on the Revenue, eh?"
Yoda asked as he paced the polished-stone floor, supported by his gimer stick
cane.
"I have a contact in the Nebula Front," Qui-Gon replied.
Yoda stopped moving to regard him. "A contact, you say?" "A Bith," Qui-
Gon said. "He made contact with me on Mala - stare, and later apprised me of
Cohl's plan to attack the Revenue at Dorvalla. On Dorvalla, I was able to
learn that Cohl had altered a cargo pod to suit his ends. Obi-Wan and I did
the same." Yoda shook his head back and forth in seeming astonishment. "News,
this is. One of Qui-Gon's many surprises." An ancient and diminutive alien--a
patriarch, of sorts--Yoda had an almost human face, with large knowing eyes, a
small nose, and a thin-lipped mouth. But most similarities to the human
species ended there, for he was green from hairless crown to triple-digited
feet, and his ears were large and pointed, extending from the sides of his
wizened head like small wings.
A senior member of the High Council, he was something of a trickster, who
preferred to teach by means of thought-puzzles and conundrums, rather than by
lecture and recitation.
Yoda and Qui-Gon had a long-standing relationship, but Yoda was one of
those who sometimes took issue with Qui - Gon's focus on the living Force over
the unifying Force. As Qui-Gon explained it, he was simply built that way.
Even in lightsaber training, he rarely entered into a match with a strategy in
mind. Instead he allowed himself to improvise, and to alter his technique
according to the demands of the moment--even when the longer view might have
helped him.
"Qui-Gon," Adi Gallia said, "we were given to understand that the Nebula
Front had hired Captain Cohl. What was your contact's purpose in sabotaging an
operation the Nebula Front itself had sanctioned?" She was a young and
handsome human woman from Corellia, with exotic eyes, a long slender neck, and
full lips. Tall and dark-complexioned, she wore a tight-fitting skullcap, from
which dangled eight tails, resembling seed pods.
Qui-Gon turned to her. "The operation was not sanctioned. That's why my
Padawan and I were there." Yoda lifted his gimer stick to point at Qui-Gon.
"Explain this, you must." Qui-Gon folded his thick arms across his chest.
"The Nebula Front speaks for many worlds in the Mid and Outer Rims, which
contest the prohibitive practices and strong-arm tactics of the Trade
Federation. Some of those worlds were originally colonized by species who fled
the civilized repression of the Core. Fiercely independent, they want no part
of the Republic. And yet, in order to trade, they are forced to do business
with consortiums like the Federation.
Worlds that have attempted to ship with other enterprises have found
themselves cut off from trade entirely." "The Nebula Front may have laudable
goals, but their methods are ruthless," Oppo Rancisis commented, breaking a
brief silence.
A scion of royalty from Thisspias, he had red-rimmed eyes and a tiny
mouth in a large head that was otherwise covered entirely by dense white hair-
-piled high at the crown, and extending from his hidden chin in a long beard.
"Go on, Qui-Gon," Plo Koon told him from beneath the mask he was forced
to wear in oxygen-rich environments. Like Rancisis, Koon had a keen mind for
military strategy.
Qui-Gon tipped his head in a bow of acknowledgment. "Without trying to
justify the actions of the Nebula Front, I will say that they tried to reason
with the Trade federation before turning to acts of terrorism. Where they
might have financed their operations by smuggling spice for the Hutts, they
refused to deal with any species that condoned slavery. Even when they finally
did turn to violence, they restricted their actions to interfering with Trade
Federation shipments or delaying their vessels whenever possible." "Destroying
a freighter is certainly one way to delay it," Rancisis said.
Qui-Gon glanced at him. "Gobi's actions were something new." "Then what
drove the Nebula Front to escalate the violence?" Gallia asked.
Qui-Gon sensed that she was asking as much for the sake of the council as
for Supreme Chancellor Valorum, with whom she had close ties. "My contact
claims that the Nebula Front has grown a radical wing, and it is those
militants who contracted with Captain Cohl. The Bith and many others were
opposed to employing mercenaries, but the militants have assumed command of
the organization." Yoda rubbed his chin in thought. "After the aurodium
ingots, were they not?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "Frankly, Master, I'm not sure
if I accept the Federation's claim." "You have reason to doubt it?" Koon
asked.
"It's a question of method. The Trade Federation concedes a preoccupation
with safeguarding their cargos.
Why, then, would they entrust a shipment of aurodium to a poorly defended
freighter like the Revenue, when the more heavily armed Acquisitor was only a
star system away?" "A point, he has," Yoda said.
"I consider the reason obvious," Rancisis disagreed. "The Trade
Federation falsely assumed that no one would suspect the Revenue of harboring
such wealth." "The question is of little consequence," Gallia said. "The use
of mercenaries like Cohl signals the beginning of a coordinated campaign to
counter the Trade Federation's droid defenses by force, and ultimately to
overthrow Trade Federation influence in the outlying systems." "Fortunately,
Captain Cohl is no longer a concern," Plo Koon remarked.
Yoda adopted a wide-eyed look. "Concern Qui-Gon, Cohl does." Qui-Gon felt
the council's close scrutiny.
"I don't believe that he perished with the freighter," he said at last.
"You were there, were you not?" Rancisis asked.
"Saw it with his own eyes, he did," Yoda said, with a twinkle in his eye.
Qui-Gon compressed his lips. "Cohl planned for every eventuality. He
wouldn't have piloted his craft into an explosion just to evade pursuit."
"Then why didn't you capture him as you hoped to do?" Rancisis asked.
Qui-Gon planted his hands on his hips, thumbs pointed behind him. "As
Master Gallia has said, Cohl is only the beginning. My Padawan and I attached
a tracking device to Cohl's ship, in the hope of tracking it to the Nebula
Front's current base, which could be on one of the Rimma worlds that support
the terrorists. After the explosion, the tracker failed to return a signal."
Gallia stared at him for a moment. "You searched for Cohl, Qui-Gon?" "Obi-Wan
and I found no signs of his shuttle.
For all we know, he rode the leading edge of the explosion right down
Dorvalla's gravity well." "You have informed the Judicial Department of your
suspicions?" Rancisis asked.
"Some of Cohl's better-known haunts are under surveillance," Gallia
answered for Qui-Gon.
Koon left his chair to stand alongside Qui-Gon. "Captain Cohl may be the
best of his ilk, but there are many more like him, just as heartless, just as
rapacious. The Nebula Front militants will have no trouble finding eager
replacements." Rancisis nodded gravely. "This is something we need to watch
closely." Yoda crossed the room, shaking his head back and forth. "Avoid a
conflict with the Nebula Front, we must. Speak for many, they do. Compromise
us, they will." "I agree," Rancisis said. "We can't afford to take sides."
"But we have to take sides," Qui-Gon blurted.
"I'm not an ally of the Trade Federation. But acts of terrorism by the
Nebula Front won't be limited to freighters. Innocent beings will be
endangered." Everyone fell silent, except for Yoda.
"A true Knight, Qui-Gon is," he said, with a note of gentle rebuke.
"Forever on his own quest." small, humid world disdained by an aging sun,
ationei - moidia was a place to be avoided--even by Neimoidians. Instead of
profiting from its relative proximity to self-reliant Corellia and
industrialized Kuat, Neimoidia had actually suffered for its placement, having
been passed over, time and again, by the fraternity of Core worlds. That
heritage of being shunned had informed Neimoidian society.
Scorn had imparted to the species a conviction that progress came to only
those who proved themselves not merely capable but predatory. Reaching the top
of the food chain required that the bodies of the weak be used as stepping-
stones. Once the summit was attained, it was held by seizing whatever
resources were available and preventing others from grabbing them.
Those tenets were frequently offered as explanation as to how and why the
Neimoidians had risen so rapidly to the fore of the Trade Federation, whose
signature was callousness.
Neimoidia's most able typically left home at an early age, opting for
lives of itinerant trading aboard the vessels of the Trade Federation fleet.
As a result, Neimoidia was scarcely populated by the weakest of the species,
who tended to the planet's vast insect hives, fungus farms, and beetle
hatcheries.
Viceroy Nute Gunray shared with his fellow self-exiles a peculiar
distaste for his homeworld.
But circumstance had demanded that he meet with the members of his Inner
Circle in a location that guaranteed protection from the prying eyes of
Coruscant. And in that sense, Neimoidia provided the best possible sanctuary.
The problem inherent in returning home was that one couldn't escape
recalling--on some level of cellular memory- - the seven formative years
Neimoidians spent as puny, pale, wriggling grubs, in competition with every
other grub for survival and the chance to mature into red-eyed, noseless,
fish-lipped, and decidedly distrustful adults.
Adults, like Gunray, at any rate, who swathed their bodies in the finest
raiment credits could buy, and who rarely, if ever, looked back.
The viceroy gave himself over to momentary reflection on such matters
while the mechno-chair carried him to the meeting place, through cavernous
halls of finely cut stone that mimicked the early hives, and past row after
row of protocol droids standing at attention on both sides.
His ultimate destination was a dark, dank grotto, the antithesis of the
gleaming bridges of Trade Federation freighters. On display were several
examples of exotic flora left to fend for themselves in capturing what
moisture they could from the stuffy air. The arching walls were graced with
the twin emblems of piety and power the Spherical Flame and the garhai--the
armored fish that symbolized obedience and dedication to enlightened
leadership.
Gunray's key advisers were waiting Deputy Viceroy Hath Monchar and legal
counsel Rune Haako. Each affected a black headpiece appropriate to his status.
Monchar's was a triple - crested crown, similar to but smaller than the
one Gunray wore; Haako's was an elaborate cowl, with two horns in front, and a
tall, rounded back.
The two advisers made deferential gestures to Gunray as the mechno-chair
eased him onto his feet.
"Welcome, Viceroy," Haako said, approaching him stooped and limping, his
left arm crooked by his side. "We hope you have not come in vain." Hollow-
cheeked and somewhat spidery, he had a deeply lined face, bags under his eyes,
and puckered flesh on his chin and thin neck.
Gunray made a harsh gesture of dismissal.
"He said he would come. That is enough for me." "For you," Monchar
muttered.
Gunray glared at his deputy. "Events transpired just as he promised they
would. Cohl's mercenaries attacked, and the Revenue was destroyed." "And this
is a reason to rejoice?" Haako asked, his prominent voice box bobbing. "This
plan of yours has cost the Trade Federation a class-I freighter and billions
in aurodium." Gunray's nictitating membranes betrayed his seeming self -
possession. He blinked repeatedly, then quickly regained his composure.
"One ship and a treasure box. If our benefactor really is who he claims
to be, such losses are meaningless." Haako raised a palsied hand. "And if he
is, he is a thing to fear, not to delight. And how can we be certain, in any
case? What proof does he offer, Viceroy? He contacts you out of the ether,
only by hologram. He can claim to be anyone." Gunray worked his jutting jaw.
"Who would be brain-dead enough to make such a claim without being able to
support it?" He brought forth a portable holoprojector and set it down on a
table.
When the Dark Lord of the Sith had first contacted him, months earlier,
he seemed to know everything about Nute Gun - ray and his rise to personal
power. How Gunray had testified to the Trade Federation Directorate against
Pulsar Supertanker--at the time a participatory company within the
conglomerate--accusing Pulsar of "malicious disregard for profit" and
"charitable donations lacking discernible reward." Indeed, it appeared to have
been that testimony and similar declarations of avidity that had first
attracted the notice of Darth Sidious.
Even so, Gunray had remained as skeptical then as his advisers were now,
despite demonstrations by Darth Sidious of his wide-ranging influence and
sway. Secretly, Sidious had arranged for several key resource worlds to join
the Trade Federation as signatory members, abdicating their representation in
the Galactic Senate in exchange for lucrative trade opportunities, and, where
possible, protection from smuggling concerns and pirates. And at each turn
Sidious had made the procurements appear the doing of Gunray, thus helping to
consolidate Gunray's increasing authority and assuring his appointment to the
directorate.
As to whether Sidious's influence truly owed to Sith powers, Gunray could
not say, nor did he care to know, based on what little he knew of the Sith--an
ancient, perhaps legendary order of black mages, absent from the galaxy for
the past thousand years.
Some referred to the Sith as the dark side of the Jedi; others claimed
that it was the Jedi who had ended the reign of the Sith, in a war that had
pitted dark and light against each other. Still others said the Sith, greedy
for power, killed one another. But Gunray knew nothing of the truth of these
things, and he hoped to keep it that way.
He stared pointedly at the holoprojector; the appointed moment was close
at hand.
Gunray hadn't finished the thought when the head and shoulders of a
cloaked apparition rose from the device, the cowl of his dark garment pulled
down over his eyes, revealing a deeply furrowed chin and a jowly, aged face.
An elaborate broach closed the cloak at the neck.
When the figure spoke, his voice was a prolonged rasp.
"I see, Viceroy, that you have assembled your underlings, as I asked,"
Darth Sidious began.
Gunray knew that the word underlines wasn't going to find favor among
Monchar and Haako. Though there was little he could do about that, he thought
it best at least to attempt to rectify matters.
"My advisors, Lord Sidious." Sidious's face betrayed nothing. "Of course-
-your advisors." He paused for a moment, as if probing the incalculable
distance that separated them. "I perceive an atmosphere of misgiving, Viceroy.
Has the aftermath of our plan failed to please you?" "No, not at all,
Lord Sidious," Gunray stammered. "It's only that the loss of the freighter and
the aurodium ingots is a matter of concern to some." He glanced with purpose
at his two counselors.
"The others lack your grasp of the larger purpose, Viceroy," Sidious said
with a note of disdain.
"Perhaps we need to reacquaint them with our intent to stir sympathy for
the Trade Federation in the senate.
That is why we informed the Nebula Front militants of the shipment of
aurodium. The loss of the ingots will further our cause. Soon you will have
the politicians and bureaucrats eating out of your hands, and then the Trade
Federation will at last have the droid army it needs. Baktoid, Haor Chall
Engineering, and the Colicoids are waiting to fill your orders." Gunray began
to fidget. "Army, Lord Sidious?" "The riches of the Outer Rim await those with
the courage to grab them." Gunray gulped. "But, Lord Sidious, perhaps the time
isn't right to take such actions--was "Not right? It is your destiny.
With a droid army to support you, who would dare question Neimoidia's
authority to rule the space lanes?" "We would welcome the ability to defend
ourselves against pirates and agitators," Rune Haako risked saying. "But we
don't wish to break the terms of our trade treaty with the Republic. Not when
the price of a droid army is taxation of the free trade zones." "So you've
heard about Chancellor Valorum's intentions," Sidious said.
"Only that he is likely to give his full weight to the proposal," Gunray
said.
Sidious nodded. "Rest assured, Viceroy, Supreme Chancellor Valorum is our
strongest ally in the senate." "Lord Sidious has some influence in the senate?
" Haako asked carefully.
But Sidious was too clever to take the bait.
"You will come to learn that there are many that do my bidding," he said.
"They understand, as you will understand, that they serve themselves best by
serving me." Haako and Monchar traded quick looks.
"The ruling members of the Trade Federation Directorate are not likely to
sanction spending hard-earned profits on droids," Monchar said. "As it is,
they consider us Neimoidians to be unnecessarily suspicious." "I am well aware
of the opinions of your partners," Sidious rasped. "Be advised that foolish
friends are no better than enemies." "Nevertheless, they will oppose this
arrangement." "Then we will just have to find some way to convince them." "He
doesn't mean to sound unappreciative, Lord Sidious," Gunray apologized. "It's
simply that... It's simply that we don't really know who you are, and what you
are capable of providing. You could be a powerful Jedi, hoping to entrap us."
"A. Jedi" Sidious said. "Now you do mock me. But you will see that I am a
forgiving master. As to your concerns about my identity--my heritage, let us
say--my actions will speak for me." The Neimoidians exchanged perplexed looks.
"What about the Jedi?" Haako asked. "They won't simply stand by." "The
Jedi will do only what the senate bids them to do," Sidious said. "You are
woefully mistaken if you believe they would jeopardize their lofty real estate
on Coruscant to challenge the Trade Federation without Senate approval."
Gunray glanced meaningfully at his advisors before replying. "We place
ourselves in your hands, Lord Sidious." Sidious almost smiled. "I thought you
might see things my way, Viceroy. I know that you will not fail me in the
future." The apparition vanished as abruptly as it arrived, leaving the three
Neimoidians to ponder the nature of the shadowy alliance they had just entered
into.
Sunlight was a stranger to Coruscant. The sun set as ever, but so ambient
was the light from the cityscape's forest of sky - scraping towers that true
darkness was a thing that prowled only the deepest canyons, or was summoned
with purpose by those residents who could afford blackout transparisteel. From
space, the planet's dark side sparkled like a finely wrought ornament strung
with bioluminescent life-forms, such as might be displayed in an heirloom
cabinet or a museum devoted to folk art.
The stars never appeared in the sky, except to those who resided in the
tallest buildings. But stars of a different sort turned up nightly at
Coruscant's celebrated entertainment complexes- - singers, performers,
artists, and politicians. As a rule more faddish than the rest, the latter
group had taken lately to attending the opera, following the lead of Supreme
Chancellor Valorum, whose renowned family had been patrons of the arts for as
long as anyone could remember.
In a galaxy boasting millions of species and a thousand times as many
worlds, cultural arts were never in short supply. At any given moment a
performance was debating somewhere on Coruscant. But few companies or troupes
of any sort had the privilege of performing at the Coruscant Opera.
The building was a marvel of pre-Republic baroque, all frosting and
embellishment, with an old-fashioned orchestra pit, tiered seating, and
private balconies in the time-honored design.
As a nod to Coruscant's citizens, there was even a warren of lower-level
galleries where common folks could view the performance via real-time hologram
and pretend to be hobnobbing with celebrities seated overhead.
The opera of the moment was The Brief Reign of Future Wraiths, a
production that had originated on Corellia, but was being performed by a
company of Bith, who had been touring the opera world to world for the past
twenty standard years.
A bipedal species with large rounded craniums, lidless black eyes,
receding noses, and baggy epidermal folds beneath their jaws, Bith were native
to the outlying world of Clak'dor VII, and were known to perceive sounds as
humans perceived colors.
Considering that it was Finis Valorum's parents who had underwritten
Brief Reign to begin with, it was only fitting that the supreme chancellor be
on hand for the opera's long-awaited return to Coruscant. The mere fact that
he would be attending had driven up the price of tickets and made them as
difficult to procure as Adegan crystals. As a result, the building was more
packed with luminaries than it had been in a long while.
As was customary, Valorum delayed his arrival, so as to ensure that he
would be last to be seated.
Restless for a glance at him, the audience came to its feet in prolonged
applause as he stepped onto the elaborate balcony that had been reserved for
Valorum family members for well over five hundred years.
Eschewing his usual surround of blue-caped and helmeted Senate Guards,
Valorum was accompanied only by his administrative aide, Sei Taria--in
matching burgundy septsilk--a petite young woman half his age, with oblique
eyes and skin the color of burrmillet grain.
In true Coruscant manner, rumors began circulating even before Valorum
took his seat. But the Supreme Chancellor was inured to innuendo, not merely
as an effect of his aristocratic upbringing, but also because of the fact that
nearly every sectorial senator--marital status notwithstanding--had made it
their practice to appear in public with attractive young consorts.
Valorum waved graciously and inclined his head in a show of benign
sufferance. Then, before sitting down, he directed a second bow to a private
balcony directly across the amphitheater.
The dozen or so prosperous-looking patrons in the balcony Valorum singled
out returned the bow, and remained standing until Sei Taria was also seated--
no small feat for the owner of the box, Senator Orn Free Taa, who had grown so
corpulent during his tenure on Coruscant that his bulk filled the space of
what had once been three separate seats.
Cerulean, with pouty red lips and eyelids, Taa had a huge oval face and a
double chin the size of a bantha's feed bag. He was a Twi'lek of Rutian
descent; his lekku head-tails, engorged with fat, hung like sated snakes to
his massive chest. His gaudy robe was the size of a tent. Prominently on
display was his Lethan Twi'lek consort, nubile and high-cheekboned, her red
body draped in bolts of pure shimmersilk.
A member of the Appropriations Committee, Taa was a vocal opponent of
Valorum, since his spice-producing homeworld of Ryloth had, time and again,
been denied favored-world status.
Taa's guests in the box included Senators Toonbuck Toora, Passcl Argente,
Edcel Bar Gane, and Palpatine, along with two of Palpatine's personal aides,
Kinman Doriana and Sate Pestage.
"Do you know why Valorum loves to attend the opera?" Taa asked in Basic,
out of the corner of his huge mouth. "Because it's the only place on Coruscant
where an entire audience will applaud him." "And he does little more here than
he does in the senate," Toora said. "He merely observes the protocols and
feigns interest." Fabulously wealthy, she was a hairy biped with a wide mouth,
a triple-bearded chin, and beady eyes and a pug nose squeezed onto the bony
ridge that capped her squat head.
"Valorum is toothless," Passel Argente chimed in. A sallow - complexioned
humanoid affiliated with the Corporate Alliance, he wore a black turban and
bib that revealed only his face and the swirling horn that emerged from the
crown of his head. "At a time when we need vigor, direction, unity, Valorum
insists on taking the tried-and-true route. The route guaranteed not to upset
the status quo." "Much to our enjoyment," Toora murmured.
"But a confidential bow," Taa said, as he was maneuvering into the chair
that had been specially made to conform to his girth. "To what could we
possibly owe the honor?" Toora gestured in dismissal. "This nonsense about the
Trade Federation's requests. Valorum needs all the support he can muster if
he's to succeed in convincing us to enact taxation of the free trade zones."
"Then it is even more curious that he should acknowledge us," Taa remarked. He
motioned broadly to other balconies. "There, all but in Valorum's lap, sit
Senators Antilles, Horox Ryyder, Tendau Bendon... Any of them, more than
worthy of a bow." Taa raised his fat hand in a wave when the group in the box
realized that they were being observed.
"Then the gesture must have been solely for Senator Palpatine," Toora
remarked meaningfully. "From what I hear, our delegate from Naboo has the
Supreme Chancellor's ear." Taa turned to Palpatine. "Is that so, Senator?"
Palpatine smiled lightly. "Not in the man ner you imagine, I can assure you.
The Supreme Chancellor met with me to solicit my opinion as to how taxation
might be received by the outlying systems.
We spoke of little else. In any event, Valorum scarcely needs my support
to see the proposal through. He is not as ineffectual as many seem to think."
"Nonsense," Taa said. "It will come down to partisanship- - a contest between
the factions of Bail Antilles, and those who allow Ainlee Teem to speak for
them. As ever, the Core worlds will stand with Valorum; the near colonies,
against." "He's going to polarize the senate further," Edcel Bar Gane opined
in a sibilant voice.
Representing the world of Roona, Bar Gane had a bulbous head and eyes
that narrowed and slanted upward at their outer corners.
Toora absorbed the remark without comment. Once more, she eyed Palpatine.
"I'm curious, Senator.
Just what did you tell Valorum, with regard to the impact of taxation on
the outer systems?" "Activate the balcony's noise cancellation feature, and I
might be inclined to tell you," Palpatine said.
"Oh, do it, Taa," Toora enthused. "I so love intrigue." Taa flipped a
switch on the balcony railing, activating a containment field that effectively
sealed the box from audio surveillance. But Palpatine didn't speak until Sate
Pestage--a trim human with pointed features and thinning black hair--had
double-checked that the field was indeed functioning.
Pestage's actions impressed Argente. "Is everyone on Naboo as careful as
you are, Senator?" Palpatine shrugged. "Consider it a personal flaw." Argente
nodded soberly. "I'll remember that." "So tell us," Toora said, "is the
Supreme Chancellor embarking on a dangerous course by taking on the Trade
Federation?" "The danger is that he sees only half the picture," Palpatine
began. "Though he would be the first to deny it, Valorum is essentially a
bureaucrat at heart, just as his ancestors were.
He favors rules and procedure over direct action. He lacks judgment. The
Valorum dynasty was largely responsible for granting the Trade Federation free
rein decades ago. How do you think they accumulated their vast holdings?
Certainly not by favoring the outer systems. But by making gainful deals
with the InterGalactic Bank Clan and corporations like TaggeCo. That this
latest crisis should revolve around the Nebula Front is especially ironic,
since Valorum's father had an opportunity to eradicate the group, and he
failed, chastising them rather than disbanding them." "You surprise me,
Senator," Toora said.
"In a good way, I think. Do go on." Palpatine crossed his legs and sat
tall in his chair. "The Supreme Chancellor fails to grasp that the future of
the Republic very much depends on what occurs in the Mid and Outer Rims. As
corrupt as Coruscant has become, the real corrosion--the sort that can
eventually eat away at the center--always begins on the edges. It progresses
from the outside in.
"Unless Valorum does something to stay the tide, Coruscant itself will
someday be a slave to those systems, unable to enact any legislation without
their consent. Unless we placate them now, we'll be forced to bring them under
central authority at some later date. They are the key to the survival of the
Republic." Taa huffed. "Unless I misread you, you're saying that the Trade
Federation is our link with those systems - comCoruscant's ambassador, if you
will--and that therefore we can't afford to alienate the Neimoidians and the
rest." "You are misreading me," Palpatine said firmly.
"The Trade Federation needs to be brought under control. Valorum is
correct to push for taxation, because the Trade Federation already has too
much influence in the outlying sectors. Desperate to conduct trade with the
Core, hundreds of outer systems have joined the Federation as signatory
members, yielding their rights to individual representation in the senate.
At the moment, the Neimoidians and their partners lack enough votes to
block taxation. But in a year, in two years, they could have adequate backing
to overrule the senate at every opportunity." "Then you'll stand with Valorum,
" Toora said.
"You'll support taxation." "Not yet," Palpatine said carefully. "He views
taxation as a means of punishing the Trade Federation and, at the same time,
of enriching Coruscant--an approach that will alienate not only the Trade
Federation members, but also the outlying systems. Before I cast Naboo's
support with one side or the other, I want to see how the votes stack up. Just
now, those who hold the middle ground stand to reap the most. Those who see
all sides clearly will be in the best position to guide the Republic through
this critical transition. If Valorum has sufficient support without the
backing of my sector, so much the better. But I won't flinch in my obligation
to do what is ultimately best for the general good." "Spoken like a future
party whip," Taa said, with a guffaw.
"Indeed," Argente said, in all seriousness.
Toora appraised Palpatine openly. "A few more questions, if you wouldn't
mind." Palpatine gestured toward the stage. "While I'd be glad to discuss
these matters at greater length, the performance is about to begin." Outfitted
in lackluster tunics and soft boots, the Jedi students stood in two opposing
lines, two dozen lightsabers ignited in brilliant cast, raised in twice as
many hands.
At a word from the lightsaber Master, the twelve students comprising one
line took three backward steps in unison and set themselves in defensive
postures--feet planted wide and lightsabers held straight out from their
midsections.
Custom-built by each student, to suit hands of varying size and
dexterousness, no two of the lightsabers were alike, though they did share
some features in common charging ports, blade projection plates, actuators,
diatium power cells, and the rare and remarkable Adegan crystals that gave
birth to the blade itself. There were few known materials in the galaxy that a
lightsaber could not cut. Fully powered, and in the right hands, a lightsaber
could cleave duracrete or burn its way slowly though a starship's durasteel
blast doors.
At the next word from the Master, the second line set themselves in
attack stances, giving their shoulders a quarter turn, lowering their center
of gravity by bending slightly at the knees, and raising their lightsabers in
two-fisted grips, as if to swat a pitched ball.
At the instructor's final word, the second line advanced in earnest. The
students in the first line set their lightsabers to defend and, with
choreographed precision, retreated purposefully as they allowed their
opponents to hammer repeatedly at their elevated blades.
When the defenders had been driven halfway across the room, the
lightsaber Master called the exercise to a halt and had the groups reverse
positions.
Now it was those who had defended who attacked, the blades of light
thrumming and grating riotously against one another, auras merging, filling
the air of the training room with blinding flashes of illumination.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watched from an observation gallery set slightly
above the room's padded floor, deep within the pyramid that was the Jedi
Temple's towering base. The exercise had been going on all morning, but only a
few of the students showed signs of fatigue.
"I can remember this like yesterday," Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon quirked a smile. "It's a good deal of yesterdays for me, Padawan.
" Though separated by more than a score of years, they had both passed their
youths in the Temple, as was the case with all Jedi, whether students,
Padawans, Jedi Knights, or Masters. The Force revealed itself in infancy, and
most potential Jedi were residents of the Temple by the age of six months,
either discovered on Coruscant or distant worlds by full-fledged Jedi, or
delivered to the Temple by family members. Tests were frequently used to
establish the relative vitality of the Force residing in candidates, but those
tests didn't necessarily forecast where a candidate might end up; whether he
or she, human or alien, might take up the lightsaber in defense of peace and
justice, or pass a lifetime of service in the Agricultural Corps, helping to
feed the galaxy's poor or deprived.
"As often as I trained, I always worried that I lacked the temperament to
become a Padawan, let alone a Jedi Knight," Obi-Wan added. "I fought harder
than anyone to mask my self-doubt." Qui-Gon glanced at him askance, his arms
folded. "If you had fought a bit harder, Padawan, you surely would have
remained in the Agricultural Corps. It was when you stopped trying so hard
that you found your path." "I couldn't keep my mind in the moment." "And you
still can't." Twelve years earlier, Obi-Wan had been assigned to the
Agricultural Corps on the planet Bandomeer, and it was there that he had
formed a connection with Qui-Gon, whose previous Padawan had fallen to the
dark side of the Force and left the Jedi Order. But despite the bond he and
Qui-Gon had formed, there were times when he wondered if he had the makings of
a Jedi Knight.
"How do I know that the Agricultural Corps wasn't my intended path,
Master? Perhaps our meeting on Bandomeer was a fork in the path I shouldn't
have taken." Qui-Gon finally turned to him. "There are many paths to take,
Obi-Wan. Not all of us are fortunate enough to find the one with heart, the
path the Force has set before us. What do you find when you search your
feelings about the choices you have made?" "I feel that I've found the right
path, Master." "I agree." Qui-Gon clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulders, then
smiled as he turned to regard the students. "Even so, I think you would have
made a good field hand." The students were kneeling in two rows, legs tucked
underneath, with feet crossed behind them. The room was still, save for the
sound of the lightsaber Master's bare feet adhering to the floor mat as he
sauntered between the two rows, appraising each of his students.
A Twi'lek, with slender head-tails and a heavily muscled upper body, his
name was Anoon Bondara, a duelist of unparalleled skill. Qui-Gon engaged him
in matches at every opportunity. For a match with Bondara, no matter how
brief, was more instructive than twenty contests against lesser opponents.
The lightsaber Master stopped in front of a female human student named
Darsha Assant, who happened also to be his Padawan. Bondara squatted down on
his haunches to regard her at eye level.
"What were you thinking when you attacked?" "What was I thinking, Master?
" "What was in your thoughts? What was your intent?" "Merely to be as forceful
as possible, Master." "You wanted to win." "Not to win, Master. I wanted to
strike impeccably." Bondara made a face. "Rid yourself of thinking.
Don't expect to win; don't expect to lose.
Expect nothing." Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon. "Now where have I heard that
before?" Qui-Gon shushed him, without taking his eyes from Bondara, who was in
motion once more.
"The lightsaber is not a weapon with which to vanquish foes or rivals,"
Bondara said. "With it, you destroy your own greed, anger, and folly. The
forger and wielder of a lightsaber must live in such a manner as to represent
the annihilation of anything that impedes the path of justice and peace." He
stopped and glanced at everyone. "Do you understand?" "Yes, Master," They
replied in one voice.
Bondara clapped his hands together loudly. "No, you don't.
You must learn to hold the lightsaber by loosening your grip on it. You
must learn to advance rhythmically so that you will learn to produce formless
rhythms. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master," they replied.
"No, you don't." He scowled and sat down at the end of the rows. "I will
tell you a story.
"A human, wrongly accused of a crime, was being transported by
repulsorlift vehicle across the desert wastes of a remote world, to a prison,
located even deeper in the wastes. Without warning, the vehicle experienced a
malfunction directly over a pit that was, in fact, the huge and ravenous mouth
of a creature that inhabited the wastes.
"The sudden malfunction catapulted the human's escorts down into the
mucus-coated maw of the creature. The human was also thrown from his perch.
But at the last instant he was able to grab on to the vehicle's landing strut.
Not with hands, however- - for they were shackled in stun cuffs behind him--
but with his teeth.
"Shortly a caravan of travelers happened by.
Lost and hungry, the travelers inquired to know the whereabouts of the
closest settlement, so they might replenish their meager stores.
"The human found himself in a quandary. By failing to respond, he
understood that he might be sentencing the lost travelers to certain death in
the sand wastes. But merely by opening his mouth and uttering a word, he would
be sentencing himself to certain death in the digestive tract of the sand
creature." Bondara paused. "Under such circumstances, what must the human do?"
The students knew in advance that they were not likely to hear the answer from
Anoon Bondara.
Getting to his feet, the lightsaber Master added, "I will hear your
responses tomorrow." The students bowed at the waist and kept their foreheads
to the mat until Bondara had left the room. Then they rose, eager to compare
opinions of the training session, though not a one spoke of possible solutions
to the instructor's thought-puzzle.
Qui-Gon tapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder.
"Come, Padawan, there's someone I wish to speak with." Obi-Wan trailed
him down the steps and onto the soft floor. There, several Jedi Masters were
conferring with their Padawans. Obi-Wan knew some of the Masters slightly, but
the person Qui-Gon steered them toward was not someone he had ever met.
She was perhaps one of the most exotic women Obi-Wan had ever seen. Her
eyes were oblique and widely spaced, with large blue irises that seemed to
favor her upper lids. Her nose was broad and flat, and her skin was the color
of fruitwood.
"Obi-Wan, I want you to meet Master Luminara Unduli." "Master Jinn," the
woman said, taken by surprise, and inclining her head in a bow of respect.
Qui-Gon returned the gesture. "Luminara, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my
Padawan." She bowed her head to Obi-Wan, as well. Her face was triangular in
shape, and the lower portion was tattooed in small diamond shapes that formed
a vertical stripe from her lush, blue - black lower lip to the tip of her
round chin. The backs of her hands also bore tattoos, atop each knuckle joint.
Qui-Gon's expression became serious.
"Luminara, Obi-Wan and I have had a recent encounter with someone who
bears markings similar to yours." "Arwen Cohl," Luminara said before Qui-Gon
could go on. She smiled faintly. "Had I grown up on my homeworld and not in
the Temple, I'm certain I would have heard tales of Arwen Cohl throughout my
youth." She met Qui-Gon?ness curious gaze. "He was a freedom fighter, a hero
to our people during a war fought with a neighboring world. He was a great
warrior, and he made many sacrifices. But soon after our people won their
freedom, he was accused of being a conspirator by the very people on whose
side he had fought.
That was their way of assuring that Cohl would not be elevated to the
position of authority our people wished him to assume. He spent many years in
prison, subjected to cruel punishments and harsh conditions, and those further
hardened a man who already had been hardened by war.
"When he left those conditions--whichenough he escaped that awful place,
with the help of some of his former confederates--he avenged himself on those
who did him wrong, and he swore that he would have nothing more to do with the
world that he had fought so hard to liberate.
"He became a mercenary, boasting openly that he would never make the
mistakes he had once made. That he now understood the nature of the cosmos,
and would always be one step ahead of those who would seek to bring him down,
capture him, or in any way thwart him." Qui-Gon inhaled through his nose. "Did
he bear any special grudge against the Trade Federation?" Luminara shook her
head. "No more than anyone else in my home system. The Trade Federation
brought us into the Republic, though they did so at the expense of my world's
resources.
"In the beginning, Arwen Cohl would hire himself out only to those whose
cause he felt was justified. But over time--noto doubt because of the blood he
shed--he became nothing more than a pirate and a contract killer. He was said
never to have betrayed a friend or an ally." She paused for a moment, then
added, "It is regrettable that history will remember the criminal Cohl rather
than the exemplary Cohl. I was sad to hear that he had perished at Dorvalla."
When Qui-Gon didn't respond, Luminara asked, "Did he not?" Qui-Gon appeared
preoccupied. "For now, I'll grant that he vanished at Dorvalla." Luminara
nodded uncertainly. "Whether Cohl is dead or alive, the matter is in the hands
of the Judicial Department, is it not?" Again, Qui-Gon took a moment to
respond.
"All that is certain is that Cohl's destiny is in hands other than mine."
c arbon scored and blistered by the explosion that had sundered the freighter,
an arc of the Revenue's starboard hangar arm hung over Dorvalla's wan polar
cap. Just outside the reach of the planet's shadow, the great curve of
durasteel appeared to have been there forever. Perpetual sunlight poured in
through the main hangar portal--where the arm's hand might have been- -
illuminating a shambles of cargo pods and barges.
Affixed like a barnacle to the inner hull, however, sat a lone battered
shuttle. Inside the shuttle, and even the worse for wear, sat her crew of
eight.
"I'm still waiting for that pardon you promised," Cohl said to Rella.
She shot him a look. "If and when you get us out of this, and not a
moment before." They were each in their chairs, as were the others, some of
them asleep, heads pillowed on folded arms or hung backwards with mouths ajar.
Lighting was faint, the air was frigid, and the scrubbed and rescrubbed oxygen
had a distinctly metallic taste.
The much-abused refresher was rank.
They had been inside the arm for almost four standard days, subsisting on
food pellets and relieving the boredom by putting on EVA suits and venturing
out into the hangar. Where the shuttle had artificial gravity, moving about in
the arm was like exploring a deep - sea wreck. Many of the cargo pods had
massed along the outer wall of the arm, but clouds of lommite and tangles of
droids drifted about like flotsam and jetsam. Boiny had even discovered the
body of one of the Twi'leks who hadn't made it back to the rendezvous point,
burned almost beyond recognition by blaster fire.
They hadn't planned on remaining in the hangar arm after the explosion.
But once it had been determined that the arm was just outside the tug of
Dorvalla's gravity, Cohl had decided that the hangar would be the best place
to bide their time. The Hawk - Bat and the Nebula Front support ships had
fled, and even the Acquisitor had disappeared--a fact that Cohl found curious,
since it was unlike the Neimoidians to leave cargo behind, jettisoned or
otherwise.
Another option would have been to race for Dorvalla's surface, to what
had been their base before the boarding operation. But Cohl suspected that the
base had been discovered and would probably be under surveillance.
When Rella and some of the others had suggested striking out instead for
nearby Dorvalla IV, it was Cohl who reminded them that salvage and relief
ships would be on their way to Dorvalla, and a lone shuttle, crawling through
space, would certainly attract unwanted attention.
In fact, salvage crews had arrived within local hours of the explosion.
Since then, Dorvalla Mining had been employing their ferries to gather up what
cargo pods they could, though much of the lommite had plunged into the
atmosphere, as if bent on returning home. The detached centersphere and the
other hangar arm had been hauled off, in advance of Dorvalla's bringing them
down. Soon the salvagers would turn their efforts to the starboard arm.
For Cohl, the long days were no more than tedious; nothing like the years
of confinement he had endured after being imprisoned on false conspiracy
charges by people he had fought beside and had counted as friends. Because the
rest of the shuttle's crew trusted him implicitly, they, too, suffered the
monotony without complaint. Most of them were stoic by nature and no strangers
to privation, in any case. Anyone who wasn't wouldn't have been selected for
the operation.
Only Rella was inclined to speak her mind. But she and Cohl had an
understanding.
"Anything on the comm?" Cohl asked Boiny.
"Not a peep, Captain." Rella snorted. "Who are you expecting to hear
from, Cohl? The Hawk-Batis long gone." Cohl looked past her to the Rodian.
"What's the status of the systems?" "Nominal." Rella growled impatiently. "You
know, I can last in here as long as any of you, but this litany is driving me
space happy." She mimicked Cohl's voice, "Systems status," then Boiny's,
"Nominal." She gave her head a shake. "Can't you at least come up with other
ways of saying it?" "Here's something that will cheer you up, Rella," Jalan
said irritably. "The arm's orbit is deteriorating." She forced her eyes wide
open. "If you mean we're actually in danger of falling from the sky, you're
right I'm thrilled!" Jalan looked at Cohl. "No imminent danger, Captain. But
we should probably begin to think about leaving." Cohl nodded. "You're right.
It's time we bid good-bye to this place. Served us well, though." Rella raised
her eyes to the low ceiling. "Thank the stars." "Where are we off to, Captain?
" Boiny asked.
"Downside." "Captain, I hope you're not thinking of riding this thing
down to Dorvalla," Jalan said. "The salvage crews will--was Cohl shook his
head negatively. "We're returning to base under our own power." The crew
members traded uneasy looks.
"Begging your pardon, Captain," Jalan said, "but didn't you say the base
was probably being watched?" "I'm sure it is being watched." Rella stared at
him for a moment. "Are you scrambled, Cohl? We've been monitoring Judicial
Department ships for the past four days, not to mention Dorvalla Space Corps
corvettes.
If you wanted to be caught, why did you make us sit through--was She
gestured broadly. his-comth?" The others muttered in agreement.
"Even if we make it to the base in one piece," Rella went on, "what
happens then?
Without a spaceworthy ship, we'll be stranded." "Maybe Dorvalla IV'S
worth a shot, after all, Captain," Jalan interjected. "If we manage to make
it... I mean, with the Nebula Front likely thinking that we're dead, and all
that au - rodium right here with us..." Rella cast Cohl a sly glance. "Are you
listening?" Cohl firmed his lips. "And when the Nebula Front learns that we
survived? You don't think they'll move planets to hunt us down?" "Might not
matter, Captain," Boiny said guardedly. "That much aurodium could buy all of
us new lives in the Corporate Sector or somewhere." Cohl's gaze darkened.
"That's not going to happen.
We took this job on, and we'll see it through. Then we collect our pay."
He swung angrily to Rella. "Begin your preflight. The rest of you, prepare for
launch." The small ship burned its way through sunlit Dorvalla's nebulous
envelope, red nose aglow and losing pieces of itself to the thin air. The crew
cinched their harnesses tighter and focused silently on their separate tasks,
even as items broke loose from the consoles and began to carom around the
cramped cabin-space like deadly missiles.
Rella aimed the trembling shuttle for a broad valley in the equatorial
region, defined by two steep escarpments. There, where ancient seas had once
ruled and plate tectonics had wreaked havoc with the terrain, the land was
blanketed by thick forest, with trees and ferns primeval in scale.
Massive, sheer-faced tors, crowned with rampant vegetation, rose like
islands from the forest floor.
Blinding white in the sunlight, the tors were the birthplace of
waterfalls that plunged thousands of meters to turbulent turquoise pools.
But for all the wildness, it wasn't a wilderness.
Dorvalla Mining had carved wide roads to the bases of most of the larger
cliffs, and two circular landing fields, expansive enough to accommodate
ferries, had been hollowed out of the forest. The tors were gouged and
honeycombed with mines, and a thick layer of lom - mite dust blanketed much of
the vegetation.
Likewise the product of outsize machines, deep craters filled with
polluted runoff water reflected the sun and sky like fogged mirrors.
It was from here, with an assist from several disenfranchised employees
of Dorvalla Mining, that Cohl had finalized his plans for boarding the
Revenue.
But not all of Dorvalla expressed a loathing for the Trade Federation,
much less a tolerance for mercenaries; certainly not those who saw the Trade
Federation as Dorvalla's salvation, as the planet's only link to the Core
Worlds.
The shuttle was leveling out of its bone-rattling ride down the well when
a blunt-nosed ship tore past to port, intent on making its presence known.
"Who was that?" Rella asked, reflexively ducking as the sonic boom of the
ship's passing overtook the shuttle.
"Dorvalla Space Corps," Boiny reported, his black orbs fixed on the
authenticators. "Coming about for another pass." Cohl swiveled his chair to
the viewport to watch the ship's lightning-fast approach. It was a fixed-wing
picket ship, single - piloted but packing dual laser cannons.
"Incoming transmission, Captain," Boiny said.
"They're ordering us to set down." "Did they ask us to identify
ourselves?" "Negative. They just want us on the ground." Cohl frowned. "Then
they already know who we are." "That Judicial Department Lancet," Rella said,
turning to Cohl. "Whoever was piloting it probably registered our drive
signature." The picket ship screamed overhead, closer this time.
"Another pass like that and they're going to knock us to the ground,
Captain," Jalan warned.
"Stay on course for the base," Cohl ordered.
The picket barrel-rolled through a tight loop and came back at them once
more, this time firing a burst from its forward laser cannons. Red hyphens
streaked across the shuttle's rounded nose.
"They mean business, Captain!" Boiny said.
Cohl swung to Rella. "Keep an eye out for a place to crash." She gaped at
him. "You mean land, don't you?" "As I said," Cohl emphasized. "Until then,
all speed. Get us as close to the base as you can." She gritted her teeth.
"There had better be an aurodium ring at the end of this thrill ride, Cohl."
"The picket's firing." "Evasive," Cohl said.
"No good, Captain. We can't outmaneuver it!" The picket's lasers stitched
a ragged line across the shuttle's tail, flipping it through a complete
rotation. What had been a steady roar from the engines became a distressed
whine. Flames licked their way through the aft bulkhead, and the cabin began
to fill with thick, coiling smoke.
"We're dirtbound!" Rella shouted.
Cohl clamped his right hand on her shoulder. "Hold her steady! Fire
repulsors and brace for impact." Trailing black smoke as it swept past one of
the tors, the shuttle clipped the top of the forest canopy, pruning huge
branches from the tallest trees. Rella managed to keep them horizontal for a
moment more, then they began to nosedive. The ship slammed into a massive tree
and slued to starboard, spinning like a disk as it buzz-sawed through the
upper reaches of the canopy.
Birds flew screeching from the crowns, as wood splintered to all sides.
Seat restraints snapped, and two of the crew were flung like dolls into the
starboard bulkhead. Rolled over on its back, the shuttle rocketed toward the
forest floor.
The viewports cracked, spiderwebbed, then blew into the cabin.
Contact with the ground was even harsher than any of them had
anticipated. The starboard stabilizer plowed into the leaf - littered soil at
an acute angle, causing the ship to flip like a tossed coin. Seats tore loose
from the deck, and instrumentation ripped away from the bulkheads. The roll
seemed to go on forever, punctuated by the deafening clamor of collisions. The
hull caved in, and conduits burst, loosing noxious fluids and gases.
All at once it was over.
New sounds rilled the air the pinging of cooling metal, the hiss of
punctured pipes, the boisterous calls of frightened birds, the tattoo of
falling limbs, fruits, and whatever else, striking the hull. Coughs, whimpers,
moans...
Gravity told Cohl that they were still upside down.
He unclipped his harness and allowed himself to drop to the ceiling of
the shuttle. Rella and Boiny were already there, bruised and bleeding, but
regaining consciousness even as Cohl went to them. He put an arm under Rella's
shoulders and took a quick look around.
The rest of the crew were surely dead, or dying.
Satisfied that Rella would be all right, Cohl sprang the portside hatch.
Moisture-saturated heat rushed in on everyone, but blessed oxygen, as
well. Cohl bellied outside and immediately consulted his comlink's compass
display.
Unaccustomed to standard gravity, he felt twice his weight. Every motion
was laborious.
"Did Jalan make it?" Rella asked weakly.
The human answered for himself. "Barely." Cohl squirmed back inside.
Jalan was hopelessly wedged beneath the console. He placed a hand on Jalan's
shoulder. "We can't take you with us," he said quietly.
Jalan nodded. "Then let me take a few of them with me, Captain." Rella
crawled over to Jalan. "You don't have to do this," she started to say.
"I'm most-wanted in three systems," he cut her off. "If they find me
alive, they're only going to make me wish I was dead anyway." Boiny looked at
Cohl, who nodded.
"Give him the destruct code. Rella, separate the ingots into four equal
allotments.
Put two allotments in my pack, one in yours, and one in Boiny's." He
glanced back at Boiny. "Weapons and aurodium only. No need for food or water,
because if we don't make it to the base, Dorvalla Penal will be providing all
of that for us. If that isn't inspiration enough for you, I don't know what to
tell you." Moments later the three of them exited the ship.
Cohl shouldered his weighty pack, took a final compass reading, and set
off toward a nearby tor at a resolute clip. Rella and Boiny kept up as best
they could, climbing steadily under thick canopy for the first quarter hour
while the picket ship made pass after pass in search of some sign of them.
From the high ground, at the base of the lommite cliff, they could see
the picket ship hovering over the treetops.
Rella grimaced. "He found the shuttle." "Unlucky for him," Cohl said.
No sooner had the words left Cohl's mouth than an explosion ripped from
the forest floor, catching the picket ship unawares. The pilot managed to
evade the roiling fireball, but the damage had already been done. Engines
slagged, the fighter listed to port and dropped like a stone.
A second picket ship roared overhead, just as the first was exploding. A
third followed, angling directly for the base of the tor where Cohl and the
others were concealed.
The picket poured fire at the tor, blowing boulder-size chunks of lommite
from the cliff face. Cohl watched the ship complete its turn and set itself on
course for a second run. As it approached, a deeper, more dangerous sound
rolled through the humid air. Without warning, crimson energy lanced from the
underbelly of the clouds, clipping the picket's wings in midnight.
Unable to maneuver, the fighter flew nose first into the cliff face and
came apart.
"That's another one we won't have to worry about," Cohl said, loud enough
to be heard over the roar in the sky.
Rella raised her head in time to see a large ship tear overhead.
"The Hawk-Bat!" She glanced at Cohl in surprise. "You knew.
You knew she would be down here." He shook his head. "The contingency
plan called for her to be here. But I didn't know for sure." She almost
smiled. "You may get that pardon yet." "Save it for when we're safely aboard."
The three of them scampered to their feet and began a hurried descent of a
scree field skirting the cliff face. Not far away, her weapons blazing, the
Hawk-Bat was setting down at the center of a Muddy and befouled catch basin.
T Thousands of sentient species had a home on Coruscant, though it might
be only a kilometer-high block of nondescript building.
And nearly all those species had a voice there, though it might be only
that of a representative long corrupted by the diverse pleasures Coruscant
offered.
Those manifold voices had their say in the Galactic Senate, which
sprouted like a squat mushroom from the heart of Corus - cant's governmental
district. Surrounded by lesser domes and buttressed buildings whose summits
disappeared into the busy sky, the senate was fronted by an expansive
pedestrian plaza. The plaza itself lorded over a sprawl of spired skyscrapers
and was studded with impressionistic statues thirty meters high, dedicated to
the Core World founders. Angular and humaniform in design, the long-limbed and
genderless sculptures stood on tall duracrete bases and held slender
ceremonial staffs.
The iconic motif was continued inside the senate, where many of the
public corridors that encircled the rotunda featured statues of similar
spindly design.
Proceeding briskly along one of those corridors, Senator Pal - patine
marveled at the fact that the senate had yet to commission and display
sculptures of nonhumanoid configuration. Where some delegates were willing to
dismiss the lack of nonhuman representation as a simple oversight, others
viewed it as an outright slight. To still others, the decor was a matter of
small concern, either way. But with nonhumanoid species dominant in the Mid
and Outer Rims, and their delegations fast overwhelming the senate--to the
secret dismay of many a Core World human delegate--changes were certainly in
order.
With its multilevel walkways, corridors, and vertical and horizontal
turbolifts, the hemispherical building was as labyrinthine as the inner
workings of the senate itself. Courtesy of Supreme Chancellor Valorum's
announcement of a special session, the corridors were even more jammed than
usual, but Palpatine was heartened to find that the delegates could still be
motivated to set aside their personal affairs for matters of broader import.
Flanked by his two aides, Doriana and Pestage, he smiled pleasantly as he
threaded his way toward the rotunda, easing past the blue-robed Senate Guard
stationed at the doorway and stepping down into ationaboo's balcony platform
in the vast amphitheater.
One of 1,024 identical balconies that lined the inner wall of the dome,
the platform was circular and spacious enough to accommodate half a dozen or
more humans. Each balcony was actually the apex of a wedge-shaped slice of the
building- - stretching from the rotunda clear to the outer rim of the
hemisphere--in which the separate delegations were quartered, and where most
of the senate's mundane affairs and illicit business were transacted.
Adjusting the fall of his elaborate cloak, Palpatine stepped to the
podiumlike console at the front lip of the platform. Given Naboo's elevated
position in the rotunda, the view to the floor was vertiginous.
The amphitheater was purposely sealed off from natural light, as well as
from Coruscant's dubious atmosphere, to minimize the effects of nightfall on
the delegates; that is, to encourage everyone to remain focused on the matters
at hand, despite the possibility that the sessions might continue late into
the evening. But more and more citizens had come to view the rotunda's
unnatural circumstances as symbolic of the senate's insularity - comxs
separation from reality. The senate was thought to exist apart, debating
issues of minor or occult concern, save for those that touched directly on the
illegal enrichment of its membership.
Nevertheless, Palpatine sensed renewed intensity in the recycled air.
Gossip had alerted everyone to the topics Valorum planned to discuss, but many
were eager to hear for themselves and hungry to respond.
In an effort to take a measure of senatorial opinion regarding taxation
of the outlying trade routes, Palpatine had spent the past few days meeting
with as many senators as possible. Gently, he had attempted to persuade the
undecided into backing Valorum, so that the Supreme Chancellor might carry the
day without the support of Naboo and its neighboring worlds. At the same time,
Palpatine had devised alternative plans, sufficient for dealing with a host of
eventualities.
His own sense of urgency took him by surprise; the buzz in the rotunda
was that infectious. But just as he had done at the opera, Valorum delayed his
arrival. By the time the Supreme Chancellor finally showed himself, the
atmosphere was agitated.
Valorum's perch was a thirty-meter-tall dais that rose from the center of
the floor like the stalk of a flower. Conveyed to the bud of the flower by
turbolift, Valorum stood alone, with the senate's sergeant-at-arms,
parlimentarian, journal clerk, and official reporter seated below him in a
round dish that cradled the bud. Echoing the predominant color scheme of the
amphitheater, he wore a lavender brocade cloak, with voluminous sleeves and
matching cummerbund.
It occurred to Palpatine as he applauded that the Supreme Chancellor's
lofty position made him as much a center of attention as target of
opportunity.
When the clapping and the occasional verbal accolades had gone on long
enough, Valorum held up his hands in a gesture that begged silence.
His first words brought a faint smile to Pal-patine's lips.
"Delegates of the Galactic Senate, we find ourselves beset by a
confluence of sobering challenges.
Frayed at its far-flung borders by internecine skirmishes and hollowed at
its very heart by corruption, the Republic is in grave danger of unraveling.
Recent events in the Mid and Outer Rim demand that we stem the rising tide of
strife by restoring order and balance. So dire is our plight, that even
extreme measures should not be dismissed out of hand." Valorum paused briefly
to allow his words to sink in.
"The free trade zones were originally created to foster exchange between
the Core Worlds and the outlying systems of the Mid and Outer Rims. At the
time, it was thought that free and open trade would prove a benefit to all
concerned. But those zones have since become a haven not only for smugglers
and pirates, but also for shipping and trading cartels that have availed
themselves of the liberties we ensured, by setting themselves up as entities
of political and military leverage." Murmurs of concurrence and discord
stirred the already impassioned air.
"The Trade Federation comes before us with a request that we do something
to safeguard commerce in the outlying sectors. They are within their rights to
request this, and we are obliged by our covenant to respond. But in a very
real sense it is the questionable practices of the Trade Federation that have
made it a target for thieves and terrorists." Valorum raised his voice to be
heard over hundreds of separate conversations, in as many tongues.
"In the same way, we must accept some of the blame for this, since it was
this body that granted the Trade Federation such latitude, and it is this body
that has chosen to turn a deaf ear time and again to what transpires in the
outlying systems. This practice cannot be allowed to continue. The Trade
Federation has become a bloated creature, ingesting lesser concerns and
refusing to do business with worlds that seek to ship with its few remaining
competitors. It would not be overstatement to say that these trade zones are
no longer free.
"And yet the Trade Federation comes before us to solicit our help in
putting an end to the disorder it has fashioned.
"The Federation asks for protection--as if this body can blithely deploy
a military force against the pirates and terrorists who prey on the
Federation's freighters. As if this body could provide starfighters and
Dreadnaughts and, in so doing, turn the free trade zones inffcctested space--a
battleground.
"There is, however, a solution to all this. If the Trade Federation wants
us to ensure that the outlying systems be made safe for commerce--a task that
will require action from this body, as well as from the many systems that lie
within the free trade zones- - then those planetary systems must be brought
into the Republic as member worlds. Those worlds that the Trade Federation
currently represents in the senate must abjure their affiliation with the
Federation and bring their individual voices to this hall, to be heard as
autonomous systems once more." Valorum allowed the grumbling to go on for
several moments before he gestured again for silence.
"We urge that the worlds of the free trade zones move quickly and
decisively. Terrorist groups like the Nebula Front are merely the tip of a
more deep-seated discontent. By working in accordance, the volunteer
militaries and space corps of the affected systems can quell local
insurrections before they swell to widespread revolution.
"The direct consequence of this will be the abolition of the free trade
zones. The trade routes to those outlying systems that join the Republic would
henceforth be subject to the same taxation that applies to routes in the Core,
the Colonies, and the Inner Rim. I urge you to consider that such action is
long overdue.
For free trade is no longer that when all trade is controlled by one
cartel." Clamorous cheers and boos punctuated the air, but reaction was not as
mixed as Palpatine had feared it might be. Still, he was disappointed. Valorum
had made a case for taxation without addressing any of the consequences or the
possible compromises that might be made.
Before such a motion could be enacted as legislation, special interest
groups--on the payroll of the Trade Federation or similar concerns--would
register their protests. Then the motion would move to committee, where it
would be further weakened. After that, it would be burdened with ancillary
legislation, aimed at appeasing the special interest groups and lobbyists.
Finally, it would be endlessly debated, in the hope of continued
deferral.
But there were ways to cut through the bureaucratic tangle. Exasperated,
Palpatine glanced around the amphitheater, wondering who would make the first
move - comfiguratively and literally.
It was the Neimoidians who acted, loosing their balcony from the inner
wall and directing it to the center of the rotunda. Detached, the platforms
resembled sleeker versions of the repulsorlift air taxis that filled
Coruscant's skies. Word had it that some of the platforms moved more rapidly
than others--even on autopilot--which was crucial, since delegates frequently
raced to be recognized by the Supreme Chancellor.
"We recognize Delegate Lott Dod," Valorum said, "representing the Trade
Federation." Lott Dod wore rich robes and a tall, black miter. A saucer -
shaped hovercam with a single antenna rushed in to broadcast his flat-faced
likeness to the screens built into the display consoles of the balconies.
"We submit that the senate does not have the right or the authority to
enact taxation of the outlying trade zones.
This is nothing more than a ploy to break up our consortium.
"It was the Trade Federation who opened the hyperlanes to the outlying
systems, who risked the lives of its space-faring captains to bring formerly
primitive worlds into the Republic, and new resources into the Core.
"Now we learn that we are expected to defend ourselves against the
mercenaries and pirates who masquerade as freedom fighters, merely to enrich
themselves at our expense. We come before you asking for aid, and instead
become the victim of an indirect attack." From delegations representing the
Commerce Guild and the Techno Union came loud shouts of encouragement.
"If the senate does not wish to intercede with the Nebula Front--or,
indeed, if it is incapable of doing so," Dod continued, "then it must at least
grant us what we need to defend ourselves. As it is, we are defenseless in the
face of far superior fighters." Where some cheered and some booed, Valorum
merely nodded. "Commissions can be appointed to determine if additional
defense capabilities are warranted at this time," he said sternly.
Another balcony dropped from the curved wall.
"We recognize Ainlee Teem, delegate of Malastare," Valorum said.
A Gran, Teem had a trio of eyestalks that were thick and closely set.
"Since the Trade Federation is willing to defend itself, at its own
expense, there is no justification for taxing the trade routes." Teem's voice
was deep and abrasive. "We have precedent in the Corporate Alliance.
Otherwise, it appears that the Republic is interested in nothing more than
skimming profits from those who endangered themselves to blaze the hyperspace
routes now used by one and all." Half the amphitheater applauded. But even in
the midst of it, a third platform was floating to the center.
"We recognize Bail Antilles of Alderaan." "Supreme Chancellor," the human
said with great emotion, "under no circumstances should the senate allow the
Trade Federation to augment its droid defenses.
If the Nebula Front has succeeded in making certain sectors dangerous,
then the Federation should avoid those trouble spots until such time as the
involved sectors find a way to counter terrorism. By sanctioning increases to
the Trade Federation's defenses, we imperil the balance of power throughout
the Outer Rim." "And what becomes of the worlds in those contested sec tors?"
Senator Orn Free Taa of Ryloth asked, his blue head-tails draped over the
bodice of an exorbitant cloak. "How do we trade with the Core? With whom do we
ship?" Rejoinders flew fast and furious from all sides of the chamber- - from
the Wookiee delegation, the Sullustans, the Bimms, and Bothans.
Valorum attempted to quote the rules, but many of the senators had had
enough of the rules, and shouted him down.
"The Trade Federation will seek to offset the taxes by charging more for
their services," the Bothan delegate argued. "The outlying systems will, in
turn, be forced to assume the burden of taxation." Palpatine saw what was
coming and quickly dispatched black-cloaked Sate Pestage to deliver a
handwritten note to the sergeant-at-arms, who relayed the note to the Supreme
Chancellor.
Valorum received the message a moment after the Bothan delegate had
demanded to know how the credits garnered from taxation would be allocated.
Lifting his eyes from the note, Valorum glanced at the Na - boo balcony
before responding. "I propose that a percentage of the revenues garnered
through taxation be allocated for relief and development of the outlying
systems." Cheers roared from most of the upper-tier balconies, and many of the
senators in the platforms there came to their feet to applaud. Closer to the
floor, encouragement came from Wookiee Senator Yarua, Tendau Bendon of Ithor,
and Horox Ryyder, who represented thousands of worlds in the Raioballo sector.
Palpatine made a mental note of the naysayers, including Toonbuck Toora,
Po Nudo, Wat Tambor, and other delegates. Then he detached the platform and
dropped for the center of the rotunda, chased by two hovercams.
"We recognize the senator from the sovereign system of Na - boo," Valorum
said.
"Supreme Chancellor," Palpatine said, "may I suggest that, while many
important points have been made, these issues are far from resolved, and
should perhaps be explored in greater depth in a different forum, after
everyone has had an opportunity to reflect on what has been said." Valorum
appeared confused for a moment. "What sort of forum, Senator Palpatine?"
"Before the motion goes to committee, I propose that a summit be held, where
delegates from the Trade Federation and its signatory members can meet openly
to offer their solutions to these... "sobering challenges," as you say." The
same senators who had cheered Valorum, now applauded Palpatine.
Uncertainty and perhaps vague misgiving drained some of the color from
Valorum's face. "Do you have some specific location in mind, Senator?" he
asked.
Palpatine considered it. "May I suggest...
Eriadu?" A platform joined Palpatine's at the center of the rotunda. The
delegation's dark-complexioned human members wore loose - fitting garments and
cloth turbans.
"Supreme Chancellor," their spokesman said, "Eriadu would be honored to
host such a summit." Senator Toora seconded the motion and moved to enact a
moratorium on the taxation proposal.
Valorum had no choice but to comply.
"I will confer with all relevant parties and set a date for the summit,"
he said when the furor had abated. "With regard to taxation of the outlying
trade routes, there will be a moratorium on the voting process until the
summit concludes and all view points have been expressed. Furthermore, as a
sign of the senate's commitment to foster peace and stability, I shall attend
the summit personally." Many in the rotunda rose and applauded.
Valorum's gaze found Palpatine and lingered on him for a moment.
Palpatine smiled and nodded conspiratorially.
s porting jagged wounds it hadn't had when it had first appeared over
Dorvalla, or later, when it had settled down to retrieve Cohl and what was
left of his team, the Hawk-Bat floated in space, gravitationally anchored to a
buff-colored world of arid mountain ranges and ice-blue seas. Five CloakShape
starfighters surrounded her, with a sixth nuzzled up to the gunship's
starboard airlock. Far beyond the ships spread a band of space mines, made to
resemble asteroids.
On the Hawk-Bat's side of the airlock, Cohl waited vigilantly for his
visitors to board. His bare arms were lacerated from the razor ferns he had
been forced to forge through on Dorvalla, and his dark face, with its eye mask
of diamond-shaped tattoos, was bruised black and blue beneath his beard.
Adding severity to features many thought ferocious to begin with, his coiled
hair framed his countenance like the hood of a serpent.
The airlock's indicator light flashed.
"Do you want me to disappear?" Rella asked from behind him.
She was in even worse shape than Cohl. Her left eye was con cealed by a
bacta patch and her left forearm wore a plascast. Boiny remained in a bacta
tank.
Cohl shook his head without taking his gaze from the airlock. "Stick
around. Keep your blaster handy." Rella drew the weapon from the holster on
her right hip and checked the charge.
The airlock hissed opened, and a slim human and a reptilian humanoid
stepped into the corridor, dressed alike in caftans, coarsely woven trousers,
and knee-high boots.
The latter had tough, corrugated skin, iridescent in sunlight, and hands
the size of scoopball mitts. His flat face had multiple nostrils, and four
small horns protruded from his forehead. From his left hand dangled a sizable
carrycase.
"Welcome to Asmeru, Captain Cohl," the human said in Basic. "It's good to
see you alive and comparatively well." Cohl nodded curtly in greeting. "Havac.
" Havac motioned to his hulking partner. "You remember Cindar." Cohl nodded
again. Neither he nor the Hawk-Bat's scanners saw signs of concealed weapons
on the pair.
"Rella," he said, motioning to her by way of introduction.
Havac smiled and extended his hand to her in a courtly gesture. "How
could I forget?" "Let's go forward, where we can talk," Cohl said.
He appraised his guests as they walked. Havac wasn't the human's real
name, but rather his combat name. A former holo - documentarian, Havac had
been an alien-rights activist during the Stark Hyperspace Conflict and had
spent the past several years chronicling the various abuses of the Trade
Federation. In fact, he had no stomach for violence, but he was sharp and had
a talent for treachery.
He and Cindar weren't characteristic of the thousands of human and
nonhuman members of the Nebula Front. But they were standard issue in the
organization's burgeoning militant wing. Now headquartered on the arid planet
below, the Front had recruited from worlds up and down the Rimma Trade Route,
from Sullust to Sluis Van, but only the Ancient Houses that ruled the Senex
sector had granted them a base of operations.
"Where's the rest of your crew, Captain?" Havac asked over his shoulder.
The question hit Cohl like a just-remembered nightmare.
It was the same question he had asked the commander of the Revenue days
earlier, when Cohl's team had numbered twelve.
"You might say that a lot of them never left Dorvalla space," he said
finally.
It took Havac a moment to grasp Cohl's meaning, then he frowned in
sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that, Captain. We thought we'd lost you, as well.
" Cohl shook his head. "Not a chance." "Half the Rim is talking about what
happened at Dorvalla. We really weren't expecting you to obliterate the
Revenue." "I don't like to waste time--especially when I'm dealing with
Neimoidians," Cohl said. "They'd sooner sacrifice themselves than their cargo.
Fortunately, the Revenue's commander was more cowardly than most of them.
As for destroying the freighter, you can consider that a gift." The four of
them entered the main forward cabin and seated themselves around a circular
table. Cindar placed the carrycase at the center of the table.
"I have to hand it to you, Captain," Havac said, "you've got the Trade
Federation running scared.
They've even solicited help from Coruscant." Cohl shrugged. "No harm in
trying." Havac leaned forward with a certain eagerness. "You have the
aurodium?" Cohl glanced at Rella, who unclipped a remote from her belt and
keyed a short code. A small repulsor sled bearing a lockbox lifted off the
deck nearby and floated toward the table.
Rella entered another code and the lid of the box opened, its contents of
ingots spilling rainbow light into the cabin.
Havac's and Cindar's eyes widened.
"I can't tell you what this will mean to us," Havac said.
But a hint of suspicion had crept into his partner's gaze. "It's all
here?" Cindar asked.
Cohl's neutral look became a glare. "What are you asking me?" The
humanoid shrugged. "Just wondering if any of it happened to get misplaced
along the way." Abruptly, Cohl reached across the table, grabbing Cindar by
the front of his caftan and yanking him forward. "That treasure is bloodied.
Good people died bringing it to you." He pushed Cindar back into his seat.
"You'd better put it to good use." "Stop this, please," Havac said.
Cohl glowered. "You don't like violence--except on your orders, is that
it?" Havac studied his hands, then lifted his eyes. "Rest assured that the
aurodium will be put to good use, Captain." Cindar smoothed the front of his
garment, but was otherwise unruffled by Cohl's fury. He slid the carrycase
forward. Cohl removed it from the tabletop and set it down on the deck.
Cindar watched him for a moment, then said, "Aren't you going to ask if
it's all there?" Cohl stared at him. "Let me put it this way.
For every credit it's short, I'll take a kilo of meat from you." "So, I'd
be a fool," Cindar said with a grin.
Cohl nodded. "You'd be a fool." Rella handed the remote to Havac, and
Cindar closed the lid on the lockbox.
"Where's the aurodium going?" Cohl asked mildly.
Havac looked surprised. "Captain, did I ask what you're planning to do
with your payment?" Cohl smiled. "Fair enough." Following the exchange, Rella
turned to Cohl.
"I'm sure he plans to donate it to his favorite charity." Havac laughed.
"You're not far off the mark." "Here's another bonus for you, Havac," Cohl
said. "We had some unexpected trouble at Dorvalla. Someone infiltrated the
Revenue using the same technique we used. They hid a ship inside a cargo pod,
just like we did. They tracked us when we left the freighter and came close to
ruining what I thought was a secure plan.
Their ship turned out to be a Judicial Department Lancet." Havac and
Cindar traded surprised looks.
"Judicials?" Havac said. "At Dorvalla, of all places?" Cohl watched them
carefully. "Actually, I think they were Jedi." Havac's incredulity increased.
"Why do you think that?" "Call it a hunch. The point is, no one was supposed
to know about that opera tion." Havac sat back in his seat, perplexed. "Now
it's my turn to wonder, Captain. What are you asking me?" "Who else in the
Nebula Front knew about the operation?" Cindar snorted in derision. "Think it
through, Cohl. Why would any of us sabotage our own campaign?" "That's what
I'm asking," Cohl said. "It could be that not everyone down below agrees with
your methods--your hiring us, for example. Someone could have been trying to
sabotage you, not me." Havac nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I'll bear that in
mind." He paused briefly, then said, "What's next for you two?" "We thought
we'd retire from mayhem," Rella said, taking hold of Cohl's left hand at the
same time. "Maybe take up moisture farming." Havac grinned. "I can see that.
The two of you on Tatooine or somewhere, living among banthas and dewbacks.
It's just your style." "Why the curiosity?" Cohl said.
Havac's grin straightened. "We may have something big in the works.
Something perfectly suited to your talents." He glanced at Rella, then back at
Cohl. "It would pay enough to guarantee your retirement." Rella shot Cohl a
warning look. "Don't listen to him, Cohl. Let someone else hire out to the
Nebula Front." She cut her eyes to Havac. "Besides, we plan to retire in high
style." "You want to retire rich?" Cindar said. "Buy a Neimoidian for what
he's worth, then sell him for what he thinks he's worth." "The job I have in
mind would allow you to retire in high style," Havac baited.
"Cohl," Rella said, "are you going to tell these guys to take a hike back
to their own ship, or do I have to do it?" Cohl let go of her hand and tugged
at his beard.
"It can't hurt to hear them out." "Yes, it can, Cohl, yes, it can." He
looked at her, then laughed shortly.
"Rella's right," he told Havac. "We're not interested." Havac heaved his
shoulders and stood up, extending his hand to Cohl. "Come and see us if you
have a change of heart." Much closer to the Core, the Acquisitor had returned
home. Sullen Neimoidia rotated slowly beneath the ring-shaped freighter. As
was the case in the far-off Senex system, meetings of a sinister sort were
under way; discussions centered around weapons and strategy, destruction and
death. But the ships that had brought the Acquisitor' "s guests had had no
need to sidle up to airlocks. Not when the hangar arms themselves were
commodious enough to conceal an invasion army.
In zone two of the port arm, balanced atop his claw-footed mechno-chair,
sat Viceroy Nute Gunray, in rich burgundy robes and triple-crested tiara. Off
to Gunray's right stood legal counsel Rune Haako and Deputy Viceroy Hath
Monchar; and to Gun - ray's left, the Acquisitor's new commander, smallish
Daultay Dofine, fresh from the debacle at Dorvalla and still bewildered by his
unexpected promotion.
In the center of the hangar floor hunkered a double-winged behemoth,
which bore a vague resemblance to Neimoidia's gauzy - winged needle fliers.
Ponderously exiting the wide-open jaws of the behemoth's foot ramp rode
thickly armored, russet-colored vehicles that might have been modeled on
charging banthas- - backs humped in anger, huffing clouds of hot exhaust,
laser cannons extended like tusks. And behind those came droid-operated
repulsorlift tanks, with shovel-shaped prows and top-mounted gun turrets.
Prototype war machines, the gargantuan landing craft, the monstrous
multitroop transports, and the sleekly styled tanks had been designed and
built by Haor Chall Engineering and Baktoid Armor, whose alien representatives
were standing in full view of Gunray and beaming with pride.
To Haor Chall, especially, design perfection amounted to a religious
edict.
"Behold, Viceroy," Haor Chall's insectoid representative said, gesturing
with all four arms to the closest transport, whose circular deployment hatch,
hinged at the top, was just swinging open.
Gunray watched in amazement as a rack telescoped from the hatch and
dozens of battle droids unfolded themselves before his eyes.
"And this, Viceroy," Baktoid's winged representative added.
Gunray's red eyes moved back to the landing craft in time to see a dozen
airhooks soar toward the upper reaches of the hangar arm. Blade-thin vehicles
with twin footrests and top-mounted blasters, all were piloted by droids,
whose backward leaning postures made them appear to be hanging on to the
slender handlebars for dear life.
Gunray was speechless.
While he had never seen their like, in each of the prototypes he
recognized elements of the very machines the Trade Federation had employed for
centuries in transporting natural resources and other commodities. In the
fuselage of the double-winged landing craft, for example, he recognized the
Federation's narrow ore barge. But Haor Chall had set the fuselage on a
pedestal and capped it with two enormous wings, presumably kept from sagging
by powerful tensor fields.
Despite the animistic look Baktoid had imparted to the troop transports,
Gunray recognized the Trade Federation's own repulsorlift cargo pod, built on
an even more gargantuan scale. As for the folding battle droids and the Single
Trooper Aerial Platforms, they were simply variations of Baktoid's security
droids, and Longspur and Alloi's Bespin airhooks.
But one thing was clear everything he was being shown spoke less to
spaceborne defense than to groundside deployment. The realization was more
than Gunray could absorb; more than he wished to absorb.
"As you have probably observed, Viceroy," Haor ChalPs representative was
saying, "the Trade Federation already has most of the raw materials needed to
create your army." He motioned to the representative from Baktoid. "In
partnership with Baktoid, we can convert your security and worker droids to
battle models, and your barges and cargo pods to landing craft." "More units,
less money," the Baktoid representative added.
"Best of all, since the components of the landing crafts can be stored in
various places--wings, fuselages, and pedestals- - they can be assembled at a
moment's notice. You could place one landing craft in each of a hundred
freighters, or a hundred landing craft in but one of your freighters--for
singularly thorny circumstances. Either way, none who come aboard to inspect
your freighters will comprehend what they are seeing. As our mutual friend
says, you will have an army without giving the appearance of having an army."
"Mutual friend," Rune Haako muttered, just loudly enough for Gunray to hear.
"When Darth Sidious says do this, it is performed." "We enjoy dealing with
Neimoidians," Baktoid's representative stepped forward to say, "because of the
enthusiasm and awe you demonstrate for our creations. Therefore, we have other
weapons in mind for you starfighters that will no longer have to rely on
droid pilots, but will themselves answer to a central control computer.
"You may even wish to contact the Colicoids of Colla IV, who are rumored
to have developed a combat droid capable of rolling to its destinations." The
alien gestured broadly to the immense hangar. "Perfect for covering the vast
distances inside your freighters, and defending against boarding parties."
Gunray heard Dofine swallow audibly, but, once more, it was Haako who spoke.
"This is madness," he said, lowering his voice and limping closer to the
mechno-chair. "Are we merchants, or are we would - be conquerors?" "You heard
Darth Sidious," Gunray hissed. "These weapons will ensure that we remain
merchants. They are our guarantee that groups like the Nebula Front or
mercenaries like Captain Cohl will never again risk going against us. Ask
Commander Dofine. He'll tell you." "Darth Sidious keeps us in servile
tearfulness," Haako said, blinking repeatedly.
"What can we do, otherwise? Instead of honoring our request for
additional defenses, the senate threatens us with taxation. We need to take
matters into our own hands if we are to protect our cargos. Or would you have
us continue to lose ships to terrorists, in addition to losing profits to
taxation?" "But the other members of the directorate--his" "For the time
being, they are to not to know anything of this. We will apprise them of these
things gradually." "And only if necessary." "Yes," Gunray said. "Only if
necessary." w ith its countless dark canyons, precipitous ledges, hidden
recesses, and jutting parapets--its surfeit of places to hide in plain sight--
Coruscant invited corruption. Its very geography inspired secrecy.
Palpatine had been on Coruscant for several years, and he felt that he
knew the place better than many lifelong residents did. He knew it the way a
jungle cat knew its territory. He had an instinctual understanding of its
shirting moods, and an instinctual feel for its power spots and dangerous
zones. It was almost as if he could see the coiling blackness that inhabited
the senate, and the refulgent light that poured from the spires of the Jedi
Temple.
It was a wonderful place to be for someone who had long been a scholar, a
historian, a lover of art, and a collector of rare objects; someone with a
passion for exploring life's manifold heights and depths.
Frequently he would shrug off his elaborate cloak and take up the simple
dress of a trader or a recluse. He would throw a hood over his head and wander
the lightless abysses, the dark paths and neglected plazas, the tunnels and
alleyways, the seedy underworld. Anonymous, he would make trips to the
equa tor, the poles, and other remote places. Beneath his ambitions--for
himself, for Naboo, for the Republic at large--he had always been unassuming,
and that apparent lack of guile allowed him to pass without being recognized;
to all but disappear in a crowd, as only a person of solitude might--as one
who had kept his own company for so many years.
And yet, others sought him out. Perhaps for the very reason that he
revealed so little about himself. Initially he assumed that others found his
reclusiveness intriguing, as if he led a secret life. But he quickly learned
that what they really wanted to do was talk about themselves; to solicit not
his counsel but his ear, trusting that he would guard the secrets of their
lives as closely as he guarded his own.
That had been the case with Valorum, who had forged a relationship with
Palpatine at the start of the Supreme Chancellor's second four-year term of
office.
What Palpatine lacked in charisma, he made up for in candor, and it was
that directness that had led to his widespread appeal in the senate. Here was
Palpatine, with his ready smile; above corruption, above deception or
duplicity, a kind of confessor, willing to hear the most banal confessions or
the basest of misdeeds without passing judgment--aloud, at any rate. For in
his heart he judged the universe on his own terms, with a clear sense of right
and wrong.
He looked to no other guide than himself.
Among the delegates who represented the worlds of the outlying systems,
his reputation was particularly exalted, primarily because tiny Naboo was one
of those worlds, all by itself at the edge of the Mid Rim, with Malastare--
home to Gran and Dugs--itso only neighbor of significance. Like many of its
neighbors, Naboo was ruled by an elected monarch - comand an unenlightened
one, at that--but it was a peaceful world, unspoiled, rich in classic
elements, and inhabited not only by humans, but also by a mostly aquatic
indigenous species known as Gungans.
When most of his peers had left public service at the accepted age of
twenty, Palpatine had elected to remain a politician, and his tenure on
Coruscant had provided him with singular insight into the afflictions that
vexed the outlying star systems.
It was while befriending a group of Bith delegates that he first learned
of the Nebula Front, and later, it was a Bith who introduced him to some of
the members who commanded the organization.
By rights Palpatine should have had nothing to do with terrorists, but
the founding members of the Nebula Front were neither fanatics nor anarchists.
Many of their grievances with the Trade Federation, and Coruscant, were
legitimate. More important, wherever the Federation was involved, it was
difficult to remain impartial.
Had Palpatine been one of the many senators receiving Trade Federation
kickbacks, it would have been easy to look the other way, or to turn a deaf
ear--as Valorum had put it. But as the representative of a world that depended
on the Trade Federation for food and other imports, as Naboo did, it was
impossible to dismiss what he had heard and seen.
Eventually, the Bith had introduced him to the Front's newest leader,
Havac.
For previous meetings with Havac, Palpatine had selected out-of-the-way
places in Coruscant's lawless lower levels. But the current crisis in the
senate had necessitated that they exercise a greater measure of secrecy, so
Palpatine had chosen a humans only club in Coruscant's midlevel--a place where
patricians could gather for t'bac, brandy, games of dejarik, and quiet
reading- - and where there were actually fewer prying eyes than lower down. He
had taken the added precaution of informing Havac of the location at the last
possible moment. As tactically minded as Havac was, he lacked the expertise to
catch Palpatine with his guard lowered.
"Valorum is audacious," Havac said angrily, as soon as they were seated
at a table in the club's hardwood-paneled dining room. "He has the gall to
announce a summit in the Outer Rim--on Eriadu, no less--without asking the
Nebula Front to participate." "Unlike the Trade Federation," Palpatine said,
"the Nebula Front does not enjoy representation in the senate." "Yes, but the
Front has many friends on Eriadu, Senator." "Then all the better for you, I
should think." Havac had come alone, as had Palpatine, though both Sate
Pestage and Kinman Doriana were seated nearby. Palpatine had accepted from the
start that "Havac" was an alias, and Pestage had subsequently confirmed the
fact. Pestage had also learned that Havac was native to Eriadu, where his
impassioned holo - documentaries had established him to a few as an enemy of
the Trade Federation, a proponent of nonhuman rights, a malcontent and
idealist. He wanted desperately to change the galaxy, but his visual tirades
against injustice had largely gone unnoticed.
He was a relative newcomer to the Nebula Front, but the Front's militant
faction had recruited him to serve a special agenda.
Exasperated by Senate indifference and the Trade Federation's continued
violation of the trade agreements, the militants had decided to up the stakes
from mere interference in Federation business to terrorism.
Havac and the Front's new radicals were determined to hit the Trade
Federation where the Neimoidians and the rest would feel it the most - comin
their distended purses.
Palpatine had encouraged Havac, without actually advocating violence.
Rather, he had maintained that the surest way to effect lasting change was to
work through the senate.
"We're fed up with Valorum," Havac was saying. "He treads docilely when
and wherever the Trade Federation is concerned. His threat to tax the trade
routes is pure rhetoric. It's time that someone convince him that the Nebula
Front can be a more dangerous foe than the Trade Federation." Palpatine made
an offhand gesture, as if in dismissal. "It's true that the Supreme Chancellor
has little understanding of the Nebula Front's objectives, but he is not your
primary obstacle." Havac held Palpatine's heavy-lidded gaze.
"We need a stronger chancellor. Someone who wasn't born into wealth."
Palpatine gestured again. "Look elsewhere for your enemies. Look to the
members of the Trade Federation Directorate." Havac mulled it over for a
moment. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we do need to look elsewhere." He
grinned faintly and lowered his voice to add, "We have made a powerful new
ally, who has suggested several courses of action." "Indeed?" "It was he who
provided the data we needed to destroy a Trade Federation freighter at
Dorvalla." "The Federation has thousands of freighters," Palpatine said. "If
you expect to be victorious by destroying their ships, you're deluding yourvs.
You must get to the principals. Just as I have been doing in the senate." "Do
we have any friends there?" "A meager few. Whereas the Trade Federation has
the support of many important delegates--Toonbuck Toora, Tessek, Passel
Argente... They are enriched for their loyalty." Havac shook his head in
outrage. "It's pathetic that the Front needs to buy senatorial support, in the
same deplorable fashion that it is compelled to employ mercenaries." "There is
no other way," Palpatine said, with a purposeful sigh. "The courts are useless
and biased. But corruption has its advantages when you can simply purchase the
votes of unscrupulous delegates instead of having to convince them of the
virtues of your position." Havac rested his elbows on the table and leaned
forward. "We have the funds you asked for." Palpatine's eyebrows went up.
"Already?" "Our benefactor told us that the Revenue--his "It's best if I don't
know how you received them," Palpatine interrupted.
Havac nodded in comprehension. "One possible problem. It's in the form of
aurodium ingots." "Aurodium?" Palpatine sat back in his chair, steepling his
fingers. "Yes, that could present a problem. I can't very well distribute
ingots to those senators we hope to... impress." "Too easy to trace," Havac
said.
"Precisely. We'll have to have the aurodium converted to Republic
dataries, even though that will require some time." Palpatine fell silent for
a moment, then said, "May I suggest that one of my aides help you set up a
special account with a bank on an outlying world that won't ask questions
about the origin of the ingots. Once the aurodium is safely deposited there,
you'll be able to transfer funds through the InterGalactic Bank, and draw
against the account in the form of Republic credits." Havac clearly liked the
idea. "I know you'll put the funds to the best possible use." "I'll do all
within my power." Havac smiled in admiration. "You are the voice of the outer
systems, Senator." "I am not a voice of the outer systems, Havac," Palpatine
rejoined. "If you insist on awarding me an honorific, then consider me the
voice of the Republic. You need to remember this, because if you begin to
think in terms of inner systems against outer systems, star sectors against
rims, there can be no unity. Instead of equality for all, we will end up with
anarchy and secession." s tanding just outside of the Jedi Temple's east-
facing gate, Qui-Gon gave thought to where he should wander.
The day was warm and cloudless, except to the north, where microclimatic
storms were swirling about the summits of some of Coruscant's taller
buildings, and Qui-Gon had nothing to do.
He set out walking into the sun , memories of his youth surfacing, as if
images glimpsed in the riffling of a deck of sabacc cards. As ever, he saw
himself inside the Temple, meditating, studying, training, making friends and
losing some. He recalled a day he had stolen into one of the spires and had
had his first real look at Coruscant's fantastic cityscape, and how from that
moment forward he had yearned to explore the city-planet from bottom to top. A
quest that would remain a dream until well into his teen years and, in fact,
had yet to be completely fulfilled.
On those rare occasions when students were permitted to leave the Temple,
they moved about like groups of tourists, and always in the company of
chaperons of one sort or another. Visits to the Galactic Senate, the Courts
Building, the Municipal Authorities Building... But in those early
explorations Qui - Gon saw enough to understand that Coruscant was not the fa4
land he had first imagined it to be. The planet's climate was more or less
regulated, its original topography had long ago been leveled or buried, and
what nature there was existed indoors, where it could be tended to and
controlled.
Because it resided in all life, the Force was in some sense concentrated
on Coruscant. But one felt the Force differently there than on worlds in their
natural state, where the interconnectedness of all life created subtle shifts
and rhythms. If on many worlds the Force was a gentle murmur, on Coruscant it
was a howl--a white noise of sentience.
Qui-Gon had nothing in mind beyond walking. The huge holomap in the High
Council spire indicated hundreds of distant trouble spots and emergencies, but
the Reconciliation Council hadn't gotten around to assigning him and Obi-Wan
to any of them. He wondered if Yoda and some of the others were angry about
his seeming obsession with Captain Cohl.
To Qui-Gon's thinking, the council members were too willing to dismiss
Cohl as nothing more than a symptom of trying times, when he was much more
than that.
But, then, the Council had a tendency to dwell on repercussions, on
future events, rather than the present. Yoda, especially, was fond of saying
that the future was always in motion, and yet he and Mace Windu sometimes
acted as if that wasn't the case at all.
Did they know of some great event looming on the horizon? Qui-Gon
wondered. And would he fail to recognize that event, even were he to trip over
it?
He supposed he should at least remain open to the possibility that the
High Council Masters knew something he didn't.
The one thing he accepted as beyond dispute was that the Force was even
more mysterious than any of the Jedi perceived it to be.
He hadn't gone half a kilometer when Adi Gallia fell into step beside
him, catching him by surprise.
"In search of something purposeful, Qui-Gon, or just hoping you'll bump
into something worthy of your attention?" He smiled at her. "I have--you." She
laughed, then scolded him with a look.
Adi's fingernails were polished, and the same blue cosmetic that rimmed
her dark blue eyes traced the ligaments on the backs of her hands. She had
been a permanent member of the High Council for over a decade, and a Jedi
Master for much longer than that. Her parents were Corellian diplomats, but,
like Qui - Gon, she had been raised in the Temple. Adi had always been
enthralled by Coruscant, and knew the planet about as well as anyone. Over the
years, she had forged a close friendship with Supreme Chancellor Valorum,
along with several Core World delegates.
"Where is your young apprentice?" she asked as they sauntered.
"Sharpening his wits." "So you actually give him an occasional respite
from your resolute tutelage," she teased.
"It's a mutual thing," Qui-Gon said.
She laughed again, then grew serious. "I have news that's bound to
interest you. It seems that you might have been right about Cohl's surviving
the explosion of that Trade Federation freighter." Qui-Gon came to a dead stop
in the center of the sky bridge they were crossing. Droids and pedestrians
ambled past him to both sides.
"Has Cohl been seen?" Adi leaned on the bridge railing and gazed back
toward the Temple. "Dorvalla Space Corps pursued a shuttle that matched the
description and drive signature you and Obi-Wan furnished.
The shuttle crashed and exploded onworld, apparently not far from where
Cohl had established a temporary base." Qui-Gon nodded. "I know the area."
"There wasn't much left to investigate at the crash site, but the remains of
three humans found in the wreckage were identified as associates of Cohl. But
here's the interesting part The shuttle was clearly attempting to rendezvous
with Cohl's personal ship." "The Hawk-Bat." "It set down close to the crash
site, then proceeded to blast its way off Dorvalla, taking out a number of
Dorvalla's picket ships on the way." "Cohl made it to the ship," Qui-Gon said.
"You're that certain?" "I am." Adi nodded. "One of the picket ship pilots
reported that two or three of Cohl's band might have made it alive to the
Hawk-bat." "Has there been any sign of the ship since?" "It jumped to
hyperspace as soon as it left Dorvalla behind. But surveillance has been
doubled at all of Cohl's known retreats. Assuming he did survive, he'll be
spotted and, with luck, captured." "Adi, is there a chance that Obi-Wan and I
could--was "Cohl is no longer our concern," she cut him off. "Supreme
Chancellor Valorum is attempting to encourage the systems along the Rimma
Trade Route to assume responsibility for curtailing acts of terrorism in their
separate sectors. Intervention on our part would likely be viewed as indirect
support of the Trade Federation." Qui-Gon frowned. "That's shortsighted.
Most of the worlds along the Rimma support the Nebula Front to one degree
or another.
Recruits, funding, intelligence... The Rimma worlds supply these and
more." Adi regarded him for a long moment. "Qui-Gon, suppose I could arrange
for you to meet with Chancellor Valorum, so you could apprise him of these
matters personally?" Qui-Gon nodded. "All right." "Then it's settled. I'm on
my way to meet with him now, and there's no time like the present." "I
couldn't have put it better." In his chambers beneath the senate rotunda,
Valorum reclined in his chair, exhaling wearily as he stretched his arms over
his head. Finished with the morning's business, he now had to face those
delegates who hadn't been able to secure appointments and were undoubtedly
lingering outside his office, anxious for a moment of his time.
"What's on the agenda for this afternoon?" he asked Sei Taria as she came
through the office's tall, ornate door.
The young human woman glanced at her wrist comm screen. "You have a
meeting with Adi Gallia, then a follow-up meeting with Bail Antilles and Horox
Ryyder. After that, you are meeting with the representatives of the Corporate
Alliance and the trade delegation from Ord Mantell. Then--was "Enough,"
Valorum said, holding up his hands and shutting his eyes. He gestured to the
door and the corridors beyond. "How bad are things out there?" "As crowded as
I've ever seen it, sir," she said.
"But I'm afraid that that's not the half of it." Valorum stood up and
reached for his cloak.
"Tell me the rest." "The plaza is swarming with demonstrators. Some are
calling for the breakup of the Trade Federation, others are denouncing your
stand on taxation. Security recommends that we leave by way of the rooftop
platforms." "No," Valorum said firmly. "This was to be expected, and now is
hardly the time for me to avoid my critics." Sei smiled approvingly. "I told
security you would say that. They said that if you insisted on exiting through
the plaza, they would be tripling the guard." "Very well." Valorum squared his
shoulders. "Are you ready?" Sei went to the door. "After you, sir." No sooner
did Valorum enter the anteroom than two tall Senate Guards stepped in to flank
him. They wore long dark - blue robes and gloves, and double-crested helmet
cowls that left visible only the eyes and mouth. Over their right shoulders,
the guards carried long, cumbersome rifles that were more ceremonial than
practical.
By the time Valorum had passed into the front offices, more guards had
fallen in before and behind him.
Short of the public corridors another pair joined the group, and yet two
more the moment Valorum emerged in the corridor.
Wide as it was, the walkway was crammed with beings, who had been forced
to stand shoulder to shoulder along both walls behind hastily erected
barricades.
The guards in front of Valorum closed ranks in a wedge formation,
thrusting through a forest of outstretched arms. Still, some hands managed to
get through, bearing messages meant for the deep pockets of Valorum's cloaks
but more often than not ending up trampled underfoot on the polished stone
floor.
The corridor was loud with voices, as well, most of them entreating
Valorum to attend to one urgent matter or another.
"Supreme Chancellor, about the terms of the peace negotiation..."
"Supreme Chancellor, regarding the recent devaluation of the Bothan credit..."
"Supreme Chancellor, your promise to respond to accusations of corruption
leveled against Senator Maxim..." Valorum recognized some of the voices and
many of the faces. Crushed against the left wall he noticed the delegate from
New Bornalex. Behind him, Senator Gre9ps and his trio of large-eyed, pudd le-
footed delegates from Brodo Asogi.
Off to the right, straining to reach to the front of the crowd in time
for Valorum's passing, stood Malastare delegate Aks Moe.
As they neared the exit to the plaza, the voices in the corridor were
overwhelmed by the chants and bellows of crowds of demonstrators massed along
the Avenue of the Core Founders, with its towering statues and sunken sitting
areas.
The Senate Guards pressed closer still, all but lifting Valorum off his
feet and spiriting him outside the building on their shoulders.
The chief of the guard detail swung to Valorum.
"Sir, we'll be proceeding directly to the north hover platform. Your
personal shuttle is already waiting. There will be no stopping along the way
to respond to reporters or protestors. In the event of any untoward activity,
you will submit to our custody and do as we say. Any questions, sir?" "No
questions," Valorum said by rote. "But let's at least attempt to appear
cordial, Captain." "You didn't mention you were inviting me to a political
rally," Qui-Gon said, as he and Adi Gallia arrived at the expansive plaza that
fronted the senate.
"I didn't know," Adi said, plainly astonished by the sight.
Mixed-species crowds extended from the pedestaled building itself, clear
to the terminus of the Avenue of the Core Founders. The balconies there
overlooked a sprawl of spired buildings, their close-set summits rising below
the plaza.
"Where are you supposed to meet him?" Qui-Gon said loudly enough to be
heard over the periodic chants and general clamor.
"Outside the north entrance," she answered, close to his ear.
Tall enough to see over the heads of many in the crowd, Qui - Gon gazed
toward the senate dome. "There'll be no getting to him--not if I know the
Senate Guard." "Let's try, anyway," Adi said.
"Otherwise, we'll go to his private office in the Presidential Tower."
Qui-Gon took Adi's hand and began to edge into the crowd. This far from the
building, there was no telling the pro-Valorum from the anti-Valorum
protestors.
Qui-Gon stretched out with his feelings.
Beneath the current of anger and dissent, something else was in the air.
Coruscant's usual howl was charged with menace. He sensed danger--not the
vague sort that might emanate from any gathering of this nature, but specific
and targeted. He closed his eyes momentarily and allowed the Force to guide
him.
His opened eyes found a Bith, standing at the leading edge of one
gathering. The Force bade Qui-Gon look to his left, to two Rodians, lurking
near the tall base of one of the statues. Closer to the senate's north exit
stood two Twi'leks and a Bothan.
Qui-Gon raised his gaze to the ceaseless traffic flow above the plaza's
north end. A green air taxi caught his eye. Disk - shaped and open-topped,
with a semicircle of stabilizers below, it was no different from most of the
other taxis that filled Corus - cant's sky. But the fact that it was riding
outside the denned corridor of the autonavigation lane told Qui-Gon that the
pilot- - another Rodian--knew the skylanes well enough to have been granted a
free-travel permit.
Not far below the taxi, just at the rim of the plaza, hovered an eight-
lobed repulsorlift platform, atop which sat Chancellor Valorum's personal
shuttle.
Qui-Gon swung to Adi. "I sense a disturbance in the Force." She nodded.
"I feel it, Qui-Gon." He glanced up at the air taxi, then cut his eyes to the
Rodians positioned near the statue base. "The Supreme Chancellor is in danger.
We need to hurry." Unclipping their lightsabers from their belts, they
began to thread their way through the crowd, their brown cloaks billowing
behind them. They reached the north exit in time to see a phalanx of guards
surge into the plaza. Behind them came Valorum and his young aide, at the
center of six other guards, who were steering the couple toward the docking
platform.
Qui-Gon looked up. The air taxi reversed direction and began to hover
above the plaza. At the same instant, the two Twi'leks began to hasten toward
Valorum, their hands buried in the sleeves of their loose robes.
The chanting rose to a crescendo.
Suddenly, blaster bolts streaked from the crowd, catching two of the most
forward guards and dropping them to the paving stones. Screams erupted and the
crowd panicked, rushing every which way to avoid danger.
Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and moved toward the Twi'leks. Weapons
drawn, they fired, only to see the bolts deflected by the brilliant green
blade of Qui-Gon's lightsaber. Additional bolts darted from the Rodians"
blasters, but Qui-Gon moved quickly and managed to deflect those. He twirled,
raising his weapon to parry fire, careful to divert the bolts above the heads
of the scattering demonstrators.
The Force told him that Adi, her azure blade ignited, had angled for
Valorum, who was effectively pinned to the plaza by his guards.
A muffled explosion sounded nearby, launching clouds of astringent white
smoke and further terrifying the fleeing demonstrators.
Qui-Gon understood at once that the detonation was only a distraction.
The real danger came from the opposite side of the plaza, where two more
assassins were racing forward, armed with small hand blasters. As another
guard fell, one of the assassins fired into the gap that had been opened in
Valorum's protective cordon. Adi turned two of the energy darts, but a third
got through.
Valorum grimaced in pain and toppled sideways.
A Senate Guard advanced, his long rifle blazing, felling both assassins.
Qui-Gon heard the air taxi begin a rapid descent, its rounded form
trailing a trio of hauling cables. A Twi'lek and the two Rodians fought their
way to a clear area in the plaza and grabbed hold of the cables.
Qui-Gon prized a liquid-cable launcher from a pouch on his belt and fired
it as he ran. The hook bit deep into the underside of the taxi, and the
monofilament cable began to unspool. Qui - Gon hooked onto the cable, thumbed
the winding mechanism, and rode it skyward, his lightsaber extended in his
right hand.
Coming alongside the two Rodians, he severed their cables with his blade,
sending them plummeting back to the plaza. The Twi'lek, however, was still
above him, and Qui-Gon realized that he would never reach him in time. The air
taxi was already banking for the northern lip of the plaza, clearly hoping to
shake Qui-Gon loose into one of the chasms below.
Level with the tallest of the Core Founder statues, Qui-Gon let go and
dropped, landing on the shoulders of the statue, then leaping to the pedestal
base, and finally to the plaza.
Backing away and firing steadily, one of the Rodians ran into the arms of
two Senate Guards, who threw him harshly to the paving stones.
A broken leg kept the other Rodian rooted to the spot where he had
fallen.
Qui-Gon spun on his boot heels and hurried for Valorum. Formed up into an
unbreachable perimeter, the remaining guards stood with their feet planted and
their rifles pointed straight out. Adi saw Qui-Gon approaching and told the
guards to make room for him.
The right side of Valorum's cloak showed a large blood stain.
"We have to get him to the medcenter," Adi said in a rush.
Qui-Gon put his right hand under Valorum's left arm and eased him to his
feet. Adi supported him from the other side. With their lightsabers still
ignited, they began to move the Supreme Chancellor back into the senate
building, while the guards covered their retreat.
It was theorized--by ^th who devoted themselves to such things - comt one
could fall from the roof of the senate dome and land directly in the medcenter
at which the delegates enjoyed exclusive privilege, assuming, of course, that
the winds that blew through Coruscant's chasms were just right, and that one
managed to miss being struck by passing vehicles during the plunge through the
traffic lanes.
A safer and more certain method for arriving intact at the Galactic
Senate Medcenter was to ride a turbolift from the rotunda, or be delivered
there by skycar, as Senator Palpatine had chosen to do.
The medcenter occupied the top five stories of an ordinary building that
rose precipitously to Coruscant's midlevel. Its numerous entrances were coded,
by color and other means, to individual species, many of whom required
specific atmospheres and gravities, as was also the case with many of the
senate rotunda balconies.
Sate Pestage piloted the skycar to an unoccupied lobe of a docking
platform anchored to the entrance coded for humans and near-humans, by far the
most adorned of all the rectangular admitting areas.
"Waste no time," Palpatine said from the backseat, "but be discreet."
Pestage nodded. "Consider it done." Palpatine stepped from the rear of the
circular skycar, gave a smart tug to the front of his embroidered cloak, and
disappeared through the entrance.
In the lobby he encountered Senator Orn Free Taa.
"I heard that you were here," Palpatine said.
The corpulent Twi'lek gave his massive head a presumably mournful shake.
"A tragic event. Truly terrible." Palpatine raised an eyebrow.
"All right," Taa huffed. "The truth is that Valorum has been blocking my
requests for reduced tariffs for the exportation of ryll from Ryloth. If I can
ease that by visiting him in the medcenter, so be it." "We do what we must,"
Palpatine said mildly.
Taa studied him for a moment. "And I take it that your visit is prompted
by genuine concern?" "The supreme chancellor is the voice of the Republic, is
he not?" "For the moment," Taa said nastily.
With Senate Guard sentries posted throughout the admitting area,
Palpatine was made to show his identification no fewer than six times before
being ushered into a waiting room reserved for Valorum's visitors. There, he
exchanged greetings with Alder - aan's delegate to the senate, Bail Antilles--
a tall, handsome man with dark hair--and with the equally distinguished
senator from Corellia, Com Fordox.
"You've heard who's to blame for what happened?" Fordox asked as
Palpatine sat down on the couch opposite him.
"Only that the Nebula Front appears to have been involved." "We have
confirmed evidence of their involvement," Antilles said.
Fordox's features reflected anger and confusion.
"This is beyond comprehension." "An act that cannot go unpunished,"
Antilles agreed.
Commiserating with them, Palpatine firmed his lips and shook his head. "A
terrible sign of the times," he said.
Most of the infirmities that landed delegates in the medcenter were
usually the result of overindulgence in food or drink, or injuries sustained
on the scoopball courts, in air taxi accidents, or as the outcome of the
occasional honor duel. Rarely were delegates admitted because of illnesses,
and even more rarely as a consequence of an assassination attempt.
Palpatine held himself accountable.
He should have seen what was coming during the meeting with Havac. More
than once the young militant had stressed that Valorum needed to appreciate
just how dangerous the Nebula Front was. But Palpatine hadn't thought Havac
desperate enough to resort to assassination.
The fact that Havac was also a fool made him especially dangerous. Did he
actually believe that things would go better for the Nebula Front with someone
other than Valorum leading the senate?
Didn't he realize that Valorum was the Front's best hope for restraining
the Trade Federation, through taxation and other means? By attempting to kill
Valorum, Havac had not only reinforced the Federation's assertion that the
Nebula Front was a public menace, he had also given added weight to the
Neimoidians' demand for additional defensive weapons.
Havac would need to be reminded just who his enemies were.
Unless, of course, there was more to Havac than met the eye, Palpatine
told himself. Was Havac's pleasant but nondescript countenance masking a
cunning intellect?
Palpatine deliberated while Fordox and Antilles had their visit with
Valorum. He was still mulling it over when Sei Taria entered the waiting room
some time later.
Palpatine rose and nodded. "How good to see you, Sei. Are you all right?"
She mustered a warm smile. "I'm fine now, Senator. But it was terrible."
Palpatine adopted a grave look. "We will do all we can to protect the Supreme
Chancellor." "I know you will." "How is he?" She glanced at the door. "Eager
to see you." Armed guards flanked the door to Valorum's room--a windowless
corral of monitoring devices, overseen by a bipedal medical droid equipped
with servogrip pincers and a rebreatherlike vocabulator.
Valorum looked pale and grim, but he was sitting up in bed, his right
arm, from wrist to shoulder, encased in a soft tube filled with bacta. A
transparent, gelatinous fluid produced by an insectoid alien species, bacta
had the ability to promote rapid cell rejuvenation and healing, usually
without scarring. Palpatine often felt that the wondrous substance was as key
to the survival of the Republic as were the Jedi.
"Supreme Chancellor," he said, approaching the bed, "I came as soon as I
heard." Valorum made a gesture of dismissal with his left hand. "You shouldn't
have bothered. They're releasing me later today." He motioned Palpatine to a
chair. "Do you know what the guards did when they brought me in here?
They cleared every patient from the emergency room, then emptied this
entire floor, with scarcely a concern for the condition of the patients." "The
security was warranted," Palpatine said.
"Knowing you would be brought here if they failed, the assassins could
have stationed a second team in the admitting area." "Perhaps," Valorum
granted. "But I doubt the actions of my protectors earned me any new allies."
He frowned. "Worse, I have to suffer the transparent concern of delegates like
Orn Free Taa." "Even Senator Taa understands that the Republic needs you,"
Palpatine said.
"Nonsense. There are many who are qualified to fill my position. Bail
Antilles, Ainlee Teem... even you, Senator." Palpatine feigned a startled
expression.
"Hardly, Supreme Chancellor." Valorum grinned. "I couldn't help but note
how the delegates responded to you during the special session." "The Outer Rim
is desperate for voices. I'm merely one of many." Valorum shook his head.
"It's more than that." He paused briefly. "In any event, I want to thank you
for the message your aide delivered to the podium. But why didn't you inform
me in advance of your plan to propose a summit meeting?" Palpatine spread his
graceful hands. "It was a spur-of-the - moment decision. Something had to be
done before the taxation proposal went to committee, where it may have been
crushed out of hand." "A brilliant stroke." Valorum fell silent for a long
moment.
"The Judicial Department has advised me that my attackers are members of
the Nebula Front." "I've also heard." Valorum forced an exhale. "Now I see
what the Trade Federation is up against." Palpatine said nothing.
"But what was the Nebula Front's motive in attacking me? I'm doing what I
can to find a peaceful solution to all this." "Your efforts are obviously not
enough for them," Palpatine said.
"Are they so convinced that Antilles or Teem would act differently?"
Palpatine formed his response carefully.
"Senator Antilles thinks only of the Core Worlds. Doubtless he would
advocate a policy of nonintervention. As for Senator Teem, he would probably
bestow whatever the Trade Federation requests in the way of advanced weaponry
or additional franchises." Valorum thought about it. "Perhaps I was wrong in
ruling that the Nebula Front shouldn't be allowed to participate in the Eriadu
summit. I feared giving the impression that the Republic would be recognizing
them as a political entity.
Furthermore, I couldn't envision them sitting down at the same table with
the Neimoidians." Confusion clouded his eyes. "But what could they hope to
gain by having me killed?" Palpatine recalled Havac ranting about not being
invited to the summit.
We need a stronger Supreme Chancellor, Havac had said.
"I've been asking myself the same question," Palpatine replied. "But you
were right not to solicit their participation. They are dangerous--and
deluded." Valorum nodded. "We can't risk having them interfere at Eriadu. Too
much is at stake. The outlying systems must be encouraged to speak for
themselves, without fear of reprimand by the Trade Federation or reprisals by
the Nebula Front." Palpatine steepled his fingers in reflection, summoning
memories of the recent meeting with Havac, hearing again his every word...
"Perhaps it is time to ask the Jedi for help," he said at last.
Valorum regarded him for a long moment. "Yes, perhaps the Jedi would be
willing to intervene." He brightened somewhat. "Two of them helped thwart my
would-be assassins." "Indeed?" "The senate will have to sanction Jedi
involvement. Would you consider introducing the motion?" Palpatine smiled with
his eyes. "I would consider it a great honor, Supreme Chancellor." Leaving the
hospital docking platform behind, Sate Pestage accelerated into a midlevel
traffic lane, then, at each vertical exchange, began to ascend toward the
upper-tier thoroughfares, until he had entered a rarefied zone of limousines
and private skycars. Here, one seldom encountered a taxi, much less a delivery
craft, because those who resided in the heights owned their own vehicles, and
goods were delivered to the lower stories of the buildings and moved skyward
by turbolift.
Pestage kept climbing until he was in the uppermost lane. In that part of
Coruscant, the lane was restricted to skycars the mobile traffic scanners
could verify as enjoying diplomatic privilege, which Senator Palpatine's
vehicle did.
He piloted the car to the attached platform of a luxurious, kilometer-
high skyscraper and docked. From the car's luggage compartment, he retrieved
two expensive-looking bags. The larger was a square handheld piece; the other
was a sphere about the size of a sweetmelon, which fit snugly into a specially
designed shoulder bag.
Pestage carried both into the building's upper-tier lobby, where he was
scanned head to toe before being allowed to enter the turbolift that accessed
the penthouse. Once again, his employer's credentials opened many a door that
would otherwise have been locked to him. Few residents were about, and none
gave him a second look, trusting implicitly that anyone who had managed to get
into the building had every right to be there.
He rode the turbolift to the penthouse, which was owned by one of
Palpatine's peers in the senate, but was presently unoccupied, as the senator
had, only the previous day, embarked on a visit to her homeworld.
In the penthouse alcove, Pestage carried the bags to the entry and tapped
a code into a touchpad mounted on the wall. When the scanner asked for retinal
corroboration, he e ntered a second code, which essentially commanded the
scanner to cut short its usual security routine and simply open the suite.
The bypass code did the job, and the door pocketed itself into the wall.
Soft lighting came up as Pestage moved into the elegant front room.
Furniture and artwork attesting to the senator's refined taste were everywhere
in evidence. Pestage went directly to the terrace doors and stepped outside.
Traffic hummed below the tiled enclosure, and the lights of still-higher
buildings shone down on him. The air was ten degrees cooler than at midlevel,
and nowhere near as grimy. From the chest-high wall at the edge of the
terrace, Pestage could see clear to the Jedi Temple in one direction and the
Galactic Senate in the other.
But those weren't the views that interested him; only the view directly
across the cityscape canyon, into a mostly darkened penthouse of similar size.
Pestage set the two pieces of luggage on the floor and opened them. The
square one contained a computer, with a built-in display and keypad. The
second was a surveillance droid, black and round, with three antennae
projecting from its metallic pate and sides. Standing the computer on end,
Pestage positioned the droid alongside it.
The two devices conversed for a long moment, in a dialogue of beeps and
warbles. Then the surveillance droid levitated of its own accord and began to
float out into the canyon.
Pestage repositioned the computer so that he could monitor the flight of
the surveillance droid while he entered commands on the keyboard.
By then the black sphere had crossed the abyss and was hovering just
outside one of the penthouse's lighted rooms, and relaying color images back
to the computer's display screen. The small screen showed five Twi'lek
females, lounging together on comfortable furniture. One of the females was
Senator Orn Free Taa's red-skinned Lethan consort. The others may have been
lesser consorts, or simply friends of the Lethan, indulging in drink and
gossip while the fat-faced senator was off visiting Valorum at the medcenter.
Pestage was pleased. The females were so absorbed in debauched merriment
that they were unlikely to interfere with his business.
He instructed the surveillance droid to move to an unlighted window,
three rooms away, and go to infrared mode. A moment later the screen displayed
a close-up of Taa's computer terminal, which, while it was capable of
interfacing with distant systems, could not be accessed remotely.
Pestage did rapid input at the keyboard.
Pressing close to the window, the droid activated a laser and burned a
small hole in the sound-silencing and blasterproof pane--just large enough to
accommodate the computer interface arm that telescoped from its spherical
body. At the end of the arm's extensible rod was a magnetic lock, which the
droid inserted into the access port of Taa's system.
The computer booted up and asked for a passcode, which Pestage provided.
A novice operative might have thought to ask Senator Palpatine how he had
secured the passcode. But part of what made Pestage a true professional was
knowing when not to ask questions.
Taa's computer welcomed him inside.
Now it was simply a matter of slicing into the relevant files and
planting the bits of coded information Pestage had been given. Even so, the
infiltration was hardly routine. First of all, the data had to be untraceable,
and it had to be implanted in such a way that the computer would be convinced
that it had, in fact, discovered the data. Then the computer had to be
instructed to reveal the data--to flag it--only in response to specific
requests from Taa.
Most important, Taa himself would have to be persuaded that he had
uncovered data of such resounding import that he was compelled to shout it
from the rooftops.
At the center of the Jedi Temple's High Council spire was an enormous
holographic representation of the galaxy, which highlighted trouble spots and
locations of Jedi activity. The spherical projection changed in accordance
with signals received by a multifeed assembly located in the tower's summit
chamber, while a collimating disk located beneath the projection focused the
signal beams and sustained them through power fluctuations.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood on the circular walkway that surrounded the
holomap, waiting to be called before the members of the High Council.
Several other Jedi were about, studying the map or headed for one of the
three exterior contemplation balconies that overlooked the vast plain of
cityscape below the Temple. It was from the dawn-facing balcony that Qui-Gon
had had his first real look at Coruscant.
"This is the first time I've ever seen Coruscant singled out," Obi-Wan
remarked as he gazed up at the sphere, his elbows resting on the walkway
railing.
Qui-Gon glanced at the flashing spheroid that was Corus-cant, then
allowed his eyes to roam midway to the holomap's perimeter, where a second
spheroid was aglow.
Dorvalla.
"Coruscant should remain illuminated at all times," he started to say,
when yet another spheroid, at even greater remove than Dorvalla, began to
flash.
"Eriadu," Obi-Wan said, reading the graphic attached to it. He looked
questioningly at Qui-Gon.
"The site of the upcoming trade summit." "Whose idea was that, Master?"
Obi-Wan asked.
"Senator Palpatine," a baritone human voice said from behind them.
They turned to find Jorus C'baoth watching them.
An elder human Jedi Master, C'baoth had a chiseled face, white hair as
long as Qui-Gon's, and a beard three times as long.
"Palpatine represents Naboo," C'baoth added.
"Just the world for Qui-Gon," another human Jedi said from farther along
the walkway.
C'baoth nodded. "More indigenous species in one square kilometer than you
normally encounter on a hundred worlds." He smiled faintly. "I could easily
see Master Qui-Gon losing himself there." Before either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan
could respond, Adi Gal - lia entered the holomap room. "We're ready for you,
Qui-Gon," she announced.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan folded their arms, so that each hand disappeared into
the opposite sleeve of their cloaks, and followed Gallia to the turbolift that
accessed the summit chamber.
"Don't say anything, Padawan," Qui-Gon said quietly when they reached the
circular chamber.
"Simply listen and learn." Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master." Arch-topped
panes of transparisteel afforded unobstructed views in all directions. The
ceiling was also arched, and the lustrous floor was designed as a series of
concentric circles, inlaid with floral motifs.
Leaving Obi-Wan to wait by the turbolift, Qui-Gon advanced to the center
of the room and stood with his hands crossed in front of him.
To the right of the turbolift sat Depa Billaba, a slender near - human
female from Chalacta, who wore a mark of illumination between and slightly
above her eyes. Beside her was Eeth Koth, his face a jigsaw puzzle of lines,
and his hairless head studded with vestigial yellow horns of varying length.
Next came the long - necked Quermian, Yarael Poof; then Adi, Oppo
Rancisis, and Even Piell, a Lannik warrior whose face bore a puckered scar. To
Piell's left sat Yaddle, a female of Yoda's species; Saesee Tiin, an Iktotchi,
with downward-facing horns; Ki-Adi-Mundi, a strikingly tall humanoid from
Cerea; Yoda, in the red chair that cupped him; and Yoda's peer, Mace Windu, a
powerfully built, dark - complexioned human with a shaved skull. To Windu's
left, close to the opposite side of the turbolift entrance, sat Plo Koon.
Fingers interlocked, Mace Windu leaned forward in his seat to address
Qui-Gon. "We've just met with members of the Judicial Department, regarding
the attempted assassination of Supreme Chancellor Valorum. We're trusting that
you can shed additional light on what transpired at the Galactic Senate." Qui-
Gon nodded. "I trust that I can." Yoda glanced at Windu, then leveled his gaze
at Qui-Gon. "How came you to be at the senate, Qui-Gon? Alerted by your source
in the Nebula Front, were you?" "I'll answer that," Adi Gallia said. "I asked
Qui-Gon to ac company me to the Senate, to speak personally with Supreme
Chancellor Valorum." Windu regarded her with a frown. "For what purpose?" Adi
looked briefly to Qui-Gon.
"Qui-Gon has reason to believe that the Supreme Chancellor errs by
relying on worlds along the Rimma Trade Route to end terrorism in those
sectors." "Is this so, Qui-Gon?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.
Qui-Gon nodded. "The Nebula Front receives much of its funding from those
very worlds." "Knows much about the situation, Qui-Gon does," Yoda said with
false flattery. "Correct he was about Captain Cohl surviving the explosion at
Dorvalla." He paused. "Behind the attempted assassination attempt, is Cohl?"
"No, Master," Qui-Gon said. "Cohl is on the run. Furthermore, I'm not
persuaded that the Nebula Front actually wished to harm the Supreme
Chancellor." Yoda's expression hardened. "Shot him, they did. Traced by
documentation to their secret base in the Senex sector, they were." "Too
easily, Master," Qui-Gon said, holding his ground. "The signs were far too
obvious." "Terrorists they are. Not soldiers." Windu looked at Yoda, then at
Qui-Gon. "You've obviously given thought to this.
Continue." "The assassins aimed their bolts at Supreme Chancellor
Valorum's guards. I believe that the bolt t hat grazed him was inadvertent. The
escape was also unconvincing. And since they must have known in advance that
there was little chance of all of them getting away, why would they carry
documentation?" "Unlike Captain Cohl, eh, Qui-Gon?" Qui-Gon nodded. "He would
not have been so careless." Yoda brought his right forefinger to his mouth.
"Plan this he did--from afar. Seek out your Bith contact in the Nebula Front,
you must." Qui-Gon turned to him. "I'll do that, Master.
Still, why would the Front target the Supreme Chancellor, when he has
finally taken a stand against the Trade Federation?" "Answer your own
question," Windu said.
Qui-Gon took a breath and gave his head a quick shake. "I'm not certain,
Masters. But I fear that the Nebula Front has something even more treacherous
in mind." Hyphens of angry light streaking past her to all sides, the Hawk-Bat
fled the surface of a green planet, graced by two small, close-set, and
heavily cratered moons.
Her ardent pursuers were a trio of slender-bodied vessels, Coruscant red
from stem to stern, with blunt bows, a trio of large, drum-shaped sublight
thrusters, and multiple pairs of turbolaser batteries.
In the gunship's cramped bridge, Boiny studied the console's
authenticator displays.
"Corellian space cruisers, Captain!
Gaining fast! Estimated time before they overtake us is--was "I don't
want to know," Cohl said from the captain's chair, as an explosion pitched the
ship roughly to port. "Blasted Judicial Department!
Don't they have better things to do?" "Apparently not, Captain," Boiny
rejoined.
Cohl swiveled away from the forward viewports to regard Rella, who had
the controls. "How soon before we can make the jump to lightspeed?" She shot
him an angry look. "The navicomputer is holding out on us." Cohl glanced at
Boiny. "Persuade it." The Rodian staggered across the cockpit and slammed his
hand against the navicomputer.
"That'll do it," Rella said, relieved.
Another bolt rocked the ship.
"Route power to the rear deflectors," Cohl ordered.
"I'm on it, Captain," Boiny said, as he strapped back into his chair.
Rella turned slightly to Cohl. "You know, not everyone thrives on close
calls." He laughed theatrically. "This from someone who claims that an escape
isn't worthwhile unless it's narrow?" "That was the old me. The new me has
different ideas about what's fun and what isn't." "Then you'd better stow the
new you until we hit clear space." Stung in the tail, the Hawk-Bat shuddered
as she rolled to one side.
"Where are those jump coordinates?" Cohl snapped.
"Coming up now," Rella assured him. "It's time we put this sector behind
us, Cohl. Every one of our hideouts is under surveillance." "And just where
are we supposed to go?" "I don't care if we go live with the Hutts. I just
know it's gotten too hot for us here." Cohl grimaced. "Don't tell me you'd
work for those bloated worms." "Who said anything about working?" "What about
our retiring in high style?" "Right about now, I'll settle for retiring, plain
and simple." Cohl shook his head. "That's not the way I planned it. Besides, I
don't like the idea of getting chased out of my own hunting ground." "Even
when it's clear you've become the prey?" Cohl watched Rella for a long moment.
"You're serious, aren't you? You're thinking of quitting this tour." She bit
her lip and nodded. "Unless you decide to come to your senses, Cohl. We're too
old for this. I want to make good on some of the promises we made ourselves,
before it's too late." He thought about it, then laughed. "You won't walk.
You know you'd miss me and come looking for me." Rella showed him a sad
look. "You're still thinking of the old me, Cohl." He glanced at Boiny. "Am I
right or wrong about her looking for me?" The Rodian ducked his crested head.
"Don't get me in the middle of this. I'm only good at following orders." Cohl
shook his head at Rella. "Our first fight." "Wrong, Cohl. Our last." She
reached for the throttle. "Making the jump to hyperspace." With laser bolts
still nipping at her, the Hawk-Bat surged forward. The stars elongated, and
the gunship blinked from view.
In the greeting room of his office in the Galactic Senate, Valorum
slipped into his veda cloth robe and regarded his image in an elaborately
framed mirror. His right arm was almost healed, and instead of the cumbersome
tube, a soft case was in place, concealed within the ample sleeve of his
overcloak.
A pair of Senate Guards flanked the door, facing into the room, but
Valorum ignored them as he prepared for the imminent arrival of Jedi Masters
Mace Windu and Yoda.
The Valorum dynasty had long hoped that one of its offspring might be
strong in the Force, but, by all accounts, it appeared that the Force just
wasn't in Valorum blood. That regrettable absence, however, hadn't stopped
Finis Valorum from revering the Jedi. As an entitled youth on Coruscant and on
other Core worlds, he had passed countless hours with the family chronicles,
devouring accounts of his ancestors' dealings with the order- - often with
Jedi Knights and Masters of legendary status. The tales had only firmed a
belief developed early on that, even if he couldn't be a Jedi, he could at
least model his life after them, behaving as if the Force were his ally, and
devoting himself to upholding peace and justice at all times.
But the Republic Valorum had inherited had afforded him few opportunities
to foster peace or justice. Weakened by greed and corruption, the senate had
become a tool for widening the rift between rich and poor, and bolstering the
ambitions of the privileged and influential. Try as he might to remain
faithful to his ideals, Valorum had found himself foiled by delegates fattened
on bribes or enslaved to self-interest. Why serve the common good when it was
more profitable to serve the Commerce Guild, the Techno Union, the Corporate
Alliance, or the Trade Federation?
Whether for personal reasons or in exchange for trade favors for their
home systems, more than half the senate's delegates answered to the powerful
corporations, which, in return, asked only that certain motions be quashed, or
others be supported.
Time and again Valorum was made to appear weak by being overruled, and
that perceived weakness had made those who should have known better consider
him to be ineffectual.
Ineptitude, of course, was the unexpressed goal of the corruptors
themselves. Where a weak leader would have been replaced, and a strong one
counterproductive, one who had simply given up the fight was seen as the best
of all possible solutions.
The rueful middle ground had been Valorum's domain for too many years,
until recently, when senators like Bail Antilles, Horox Ryyder, Palpatine, and
a few others had begun to rally round, pledging their support to help end
corruption--or, at the very least, to keep it in check. Many thought that the
current crisis involving the Trade Federation would be a testing ground for
what lay ahead. Valorum hoped only that he could spend the fi-nal years of his
term in office doing right by everyone, in true service to peace and justice.
That was why the Nebula Front had to be contained.
Normally the Jedi were not asked to intervene in trade disputes, but the
attempt on Valorum's life had had less to do with trade than with preserving
law and order. Because the Jedi answered to the Supreme Chancellor and the
Judicial Department, their assistance could now be solicited, and in that
sense, the assassination attempt had been a blessing in disguise.
Valorum could not recall an instance where they had refused to serve, in
any case. On occasion, though, dealing with them had made Valorum feel as if
he were contracting with a power even greater than that enjoyed by the various
trade consortiums or the Republic.
Ten thousand strong, their collective strength was such that they could
rule the Republic if they so wished--if their dedication to peace was any less
demonstrably earnest. Although the Republic government funded the order, at
times there seemed to exist an added price for their support--a sense that
they might one day come to Valorum and demand that the favors they had
rendered be returned tenfold. Although Valorum couldn't imagine what they
might ask for that either he or the Republic could provide. While the Jedi
operated in the world, they were at once outside it, living within the Force,
as if it were a separate reality.
It sometimes seemed to Valorum that the Jedi behaved as if the Force
ruled the ordinary world, and that the role of the Jedi was to behave in such
a way that a balance between good and evil, light and dark, was forever
preserved--lest the scales tip one way or the other, opening a portal for the
dark to come streaming in, or for allowing the light to blind everyone to some
greater truth.
Two thousand years earlier, the Jedi had faced a menacing threat to
continuing peace, in the form of the Sith Lords and their armies of dark-side
apprentices.
Founded by a fallen Jedi, the Sith believed that power disavowed was
power squandered. In place of justice for all, they sought single-minded
authority. Agitation and conflict were thought to be more crucial to
transformation than was gradual understanding.
Fortunately, dark power was not easily harnessed, and over the course of
a thousand years, the Sith had ultimately destroyed themselves.
Valorum heard the guards snap to attentio n as the greeting room opened
and Sei Taria entered, followed by the two Jedi Masters.
Dignified in his hooded robe, linen-white tunic, and knee-high brown
boots, Mace Windu seemed to fill the room. But it was the slight and enigmatic
Yoda, in well-seasoned and less-tailored robes, who took up the most space.
"Masters Windu and Yoda," Valorum said warmly. "Thank you for coming."
Yoda regarded him for a moment, then smiled lightly. "Restored, you are."
Valorum touched his right forearm beneath the cloak.
"Nearly. If the assassin had been a better shot..." Windu and Yoda traded
meaningful looks.
"How may the Jedi be of service, Supreme Chancellor?" Windu asked.
Valorum motioned to chairs in the sitting area.
"Won't you be seated?" Windu sat tall and straight, with his feet flat on
the floor. Yoda considered sitting, then paced to the center of the room,
tapping the floor with his cane.
"Think better in motion, I do." Valorum dismissed Sei Taria and the two
guards and sat down opposite Windu, where he could watch Yoda, as well.
"I trust you've heard that the assassins have been identified as members
of the Nebula Front." Valorum waited for Windu's nod before continuing.
"The few that managed to escape were traced to Asmeru, a world on the
edge of the Senex sector." Leaning toward the table that separated him from
Windu, Valorum activated a holoprojector. In a cone of translucent blue light,
a star map took shape. Valorum indicated a cluster of star systems.
"The Senex is an autonomous sector, ruled by a line of fiercely self-
reliant royal houses. The Republic respects the independence of the Senex
worlds, and has no interest in meddling in the affairs of those worlds--given
especially my recent request that worlds along the nearby Rimma Trade Route
unite to curtail terrorism in their sector of space. However, when affairs
there reach across the stars to affect Coruscant, we cannot stand idly by."
Valorum switched off the holoprojector.
"I have communicated with the rulers of Houses Vandron and Elegin, who
hold sway over Asmeru and other systems in that part of the Senex sector.
They deny granting the Nebula Front safe haven. Rather, they contend that
the terrorists seized Asmeru from a scant indigenous population, and have been
using the planet as a base of operations for raids against ships plying the
Rimma Trade Route and Corellian Trade Spine. Wishing to avoid becoming targets
of the Nebula Front, Houses Vandron and Elegin have essentially ignored
activities on Asmeru." "Until now," Windu interjected.
Valorum nodded. "They have agreed to help us in our effort to contain the
Nebula Front on Asmeru until the Eriadu trade summit concludes." Yoda frowned.
"Breeders of slaves, they are.
No better than those who make up the Nebula Front." Valorum acknowledged
it with a fatigued sigh.
"It's true. Slavery is what has prevented the Senex sector from trading
openly with the Republic.
The possibility of trade is what prompts their willingness to help us."
Windu's eyebrows beetled. "What help are the Senex Houses offering?"
"Logistical support. Owing to a nearby gravitic sink, as well as to space
mines sown by the Nebula Front, Asmeru is not easily approached. House Vandron
has offered to guide us in." Windu considered it. "You wish us to accompany
the Judicial Department cruisers." "Yes," Valorum said flatly. "Should you
consent, I will petition the senate for authorization. But allow me to
explain. This operation is not designed to be a show of force, nor an attempt
at retaliation for what happened here. I propose to dispatch two cruisers,
carrying thirty judicials, along with as many Jedi as you see fit to include.
"For all we know, those responsible for the attempt on my life could be
members of a radical faction.
The rest may know nothing of the assassination plot.
Nevertheless, I don't want them disrupting the Eriadu summit. I also wish
to learn what they hoped to accomplish by assassinating me. If their actions
sprang from not being included in the trade summit, then I want them to know
that I am willing to meet with them, as soon as they agree to desist in
attacking Trade Federation vessels. If they are unwilling to enact a truce,
the Trade Federation will likely be given consent to increase their already
substantial arsenal of weapons." Windu glanced at Yoda before replying. "And
if our attempt to communicate these things to those in charge is rebuffed?"
Valorum frowned. "Then I would ask that the Jedi see to it that no one
involved with the Nebula Front leaves Asmeru. They are to be contained there
until further notice." Windu stroked his smooth chin. "You could be sending
your judicials into a trap." "We have to take that risk," Valorum said
sternly, then softened his voice to add, "We should at least attempt to
negotiate before deciding on desperate measures." He looked from Windu to
Yoda, and back again.
Yoda stopped moving to gaze unsympathetically at Valorum. "Want to see
this conflict resolved, we do." Windu interlocked his fingers and leaned
forward in his chair. "The Trade Federation should not be granted additional
weaponry. Defensive or otherwise, weapons are not the way to settle this. Such
actions will lead only to further escalation." "I agree," Valorum said sadly.
"And I wish it was that simple. But the Trade Federation is deeply entrenched
in Republic politics." "At war with yourself, you are," Yoda remarked.
"Caught up in your own conflict." Chagrined by the remark, Valorum shook
his head from side to side. "These matters require great delicacy, and deals
of a sort I am loathe to make." Windu firmed his lips. "We will consider what
help we could lend at Asmeru." Valorum was disappointed. "Thank you, Master
Windu. I would also request that you consider providing security at the Eriadu
summit. No one, I fear, is safe." Windu nodded, stood up, and walked to the
door.
Yoda turned to Valorum before leaving.
"Confer we will, and inform you of our decision." Docking rings linked by
a rigid cofferdam, the Hawk-But and a modified CloakShape orbited drab Asmeru
in deeply shadowed concert.
"To be honest, I didn't expect you to come back," Havac was telling
Captain Cohl in the forward compartment of the gunship.
Cohl sniffed. "To be honest, I didn't expect to come back." Havac's
partner, Cindar, made a show of glancing around the compartment. "Where's your
first mate, Captain?" "She walked," Cohl said.
Havac regarded him for a moment. "And you didn't walk with her? Why not?"
"My business," Cohl snapped.
Cindar couldn't suppress a smug grin. "You came back because you couldn't
resist the credits, and she could." Cohl gave his head a smart shake. "It's
not the credits that brought me back. It's the life." He laughed bitterly.
"How does someone like me retire? What do I know about farming?" He slapped
the blaster on his hip. "This is what I know. This is how I am." Havac swapped
satisfied looks with Cindar.
"Then we're even more pleased to have you back aboard, Captain." Cohl
planted his elbows on the table. "Then make it worth the trip." Havac nodded.
"Maybe you haven't heard, but Supreme Chancellor Valorum intends to press for
taxation of the free trade zones. If the proposal meets with Senate approval,
the Trade Federation stands to see a lot of its profits end up on Coruscant.
All well and good, if the Neimoidians would agree to take it on the chin, but
they won't. They'll try to offset the taxes by raising the costs for shipping
with them. Without anyone else to ship with, the outlying systems will have no
choice but to pay whatever the Federation demands. Worlds that refuse to play
by the new rules will be overlooked, and their markets will collapse."
"Competition will get cutthroat," Cindar added.
"Especially hard for worlds desperate to do trade with the Core. There'll
be credits galore for anyone willing to take advantage of the situation." Cohl
gazed at the two of them and smirked.
"What's all that got to do with me? I couldn't care less what happens to
either side." Havac's gaze narrowed. "Disinterest is exactly what this job
calls for, since our goal is to change the rules." Cohl waited.
"We want you to assemble a team of spotters, trackers, and weapons
experts," Havac said.
"They have to be highly skilled, and they should share your penchant for
impartiality. But I don't want to use professionals. I don't want to take the
chance of their being under surveillance already, or first-choice suspects
after the fact." "You're looking for assassins," Cohl said.
"We're not asking you to be involved in the act," Cindar said. "Only the
delivery. In case you need to soothe your conscience any, think of the team as
a shipment of weapons." Cohl's upper lip curled. "I'll let you know when my
conscience needs soothing. Who's the target?" "Supreme Chancellor Valorem,"
Havac said carefully.
"We want to strike during the trade summit on Eriadu," Cindar elaborated.
Cohl stared at them in amusement. "This is the major job you promised?"
Cindar spread his huge hands. "Your assured retirement, Captain." Cohl shook
his head and laughed. "Who put this bright idea in your head, Havac?" Havac
stiffened. "We're receiving help from a powerful outside agency, sympathetic
to our cause." "The same one who told you about the shipment of aurodium."
"The less you know, the better," Cindar warned.
Cohl laughed again. "Secret information, huh?" Havac's forehe ad wrinkled
in concern. "You don't think the job can be done?" Cohl shrugged. "Anyone can
be killed." "Then why are you hesitant?" Cohl blew out his breath in scorn.
"You two must take me for a furbog trader. Just because I've been chased up
and down the Rimma and all over this sector doesn't mean I don't keep an ear
to the background noise. You tried to kill Valorum on Coruscant, and you
rumbled the job.
Now you're turning to me, which you should have done in the first place."
Cindar returned the sneer. "You weren't interested, remember? You were bent on
a life of moisture farming on Tatooine." "Besides, we didn't fumble anything,"
Havac said.
"We thought we could scare Valorum into inviting the Nebula Front to
attend the summit. He didn't bite, so now we mean to finish the job on Eriadu.
" Cindar grinned malevolently. "We're going to ruin his summit in a way no one
will soon forget." Cohl scratched at his beard. "For what? So Valorum won't
tax the free trade zones?
How does that help the Nebula Front or the outlying systems?" "I thought
you weren't interested in politics," Havac said.
"Pure curiosity." "All right," Havac allowed. "Without taxation, no
worlds have to worry about increased costs. As for the Trade Federation, we'll
continue to deal with them in our own way." Cohl was unconvinced. "You're
going to cultivate a crop of new enemies, Havac--including the Jedi, if I know
anything about anything. But I guess you're not paying me to think." "Exactly,
" Cindar made clear. "Suppose you let us worry about the backlash." "Fine with
me," Cohl said. "But let's talk about Eriadu. Because of what you pulled on
Coruscant, security is going to be extra tight. No matter what you were trying
to do, you've already undermined yourvs." "All the more reason to gather a
highly skilled team," Havac agreed.
Cohl put his hands on the table. "I'll need a new ship. The Hawk-Bat is
too well known." "Done," Cindar promised. "What else?" Cohl considered it
briefly. "I don't suppose you could do anything about keeping the Jedi clear
of my trajectory?" Havac smiled. "As a matter of fact, Captain, I can
practically guarantee that the Jedi are going to be busy elsewhere." the
outlying systems Edging into jaded sunlight around the curve of a tiny moon,
two diplomatic cruisers closed on pale-brown Asmeru. In front and to either
side of the crimson Corellian ships flew a dark escort of Tikiar fighters,
resembling beaked and taloned predatory birds. Lagging behind, still in the
shadow of the moon, came a pair of colossal dreadnaughts with fanged bows and
elegantly finned sterns, prickly with weapons and bearing the royal crest of
House Vandron.
Light-years distant, etched into the star-strewn backdrop, loomed an
immense spiral of light, attenuating toward a center of utter blackness.
Qui-Gon regarded the crazed sky from the cockpit of the trailing cruiser.
Obi-Wan stood beside him, peering between the forward seats for a better view.
The female pilot and male copilot wore the tight-fitting blue uniforms of the
Judicial Department.
"Coming up on the minefield," the pilot said while her hands were busy
making adjustments to the instruments.
A scattering of glinting cylinders caught Qui-Gon's eye.
"I might have mistaken them for asteroids," the copilot said.
Obi-Wan leaned toward him. "Things are not always what they appear to be.
" Qui-Gon shot him a disapproving glance.
"Remember that when we are on the surface, Padawan," he said quietly.
Obi-Wan bit back a retort and nodded.
"Yes, Master." The copilot called up a magnified view of one of the
mines. "Command detonated," he said over his shoulder to Qui-Gon. "They can
probably be triggered by the terrorists' sentry ships or from down below." As
Qui-Gon was considering it, a female voice issued from the cockpit
annunciators.
"Prominence, this is Ecliptic.
Our escort advises that we raise deflector shields and hold fast to our
course. Long-range scans show three fighter craft on the far side of the
minefield. We have high confidence that they are aware of us." Qui-Gon touched
Obi-Wan on the shoulder.
"It's time we rejoined the others in the salon pod." They left the
cramped cockpit and walked aft down a narrow corridor that passed directly
through the navigator's station, the communications station, and the crew
lounge. The corridor terminated at a turbolift, which they rode to the lower
deck. Then they walked forward through the salon pod's vestibule and into the
roomy pod itself.
Nuzzled beneath the cruiser's abrupt bow and forward sensor array, the
cone-shaped pods were interchangeable and capable of providing customized
atmospheres.
In emergency situations, they could be jettisoned and employed as escape
vehicles. This one featured port and starboard viewports and a large circular
table, with a holoprojector at its center.
"We're negotiating the minefield," Qui-Gon said.
"Indeed we are," Jedi Knight Ki-Adi-Mundi said from the starboard
viewport.
He had a smooth, elongated skull and a piercing gaze. His chin sported a
long tuft of gray hair; his upper lip, dangling gray mustachios that matched
his thick eyebrows.
"Worried your young Padawan appears, Qui-Gon," Yaddle remarked from her
seat at the table. "The minefield is it, or other concerns?" Qui-Gon almost
smiled. "That's his normal look of foreboding. When he's actually worried, you
can see steam escaping his ears." "Yes," Yaddle said. "Watch him train I did.
Saw the steam." "I'm not worried, Masters," Obi-Wan said good-naturedly. "I'm
only thinking forward." He waited for Qui-Gon to offer some piece of wisdom
regarding the living Force, but for once his Master kept silent.
"Right you are to think forward, Padawan," Yaddle told him. "Deal lightly
with matters of consequence, and decisively with those of little consequence.
Difficult it is to face a crisis and solve it gently, if not resolved
beforehand you are, for uncertainty will impede your efforts. When comes the
time, thinking forward allows you to deal lightly." Her big eyes shifted to
favor Qui-Gon.
"Agree do you, Qui-Gon?" He bowed his head. "As you say, Master."
Diagonally across the table from Yaddle, Saesee Tiin glanced up and smiled, as
if reading Qui-Gon's thoughts. Next to him, and as small in stature as Yaddle,
sat Vergere, a female Fosh, and the former apprentice of Thracia Cho Leem, who
had left the Jedi Order several years earlier. Vergere's trim torso was
covered with short feathers of varied color. Her slightly concave face was
slant-eyed, wide-mouthed, delicately whiskered, and bracketed by willowy ears
and twin antennae. A pair of reverse-articulated legs and splayed feet
propelled her.
Alongside Vergere stood Depa Billaba, the hood of her brown cloak raised
over her head.
The voice of the Prominence's pilot crackled from the pod's speakers.
"Master Tiin, incoming transmission from our escort." Qui-Gon stepped closer
to the table.
Shortly, the image of an aristocratic human male appeared above the
holoprojector.
"Esteemed members of the Jedi Order," the man began. "On behalf of Lord
Crueya and Lady Theala of House Vandron, it is our honor to welcome you to the
Senex sector. We apologize for the circuitous route we have been obliged to
follow, and likewise for the precautions circumstances have obliged us to
exercise. Tidal forces and orbital weapons make for an uncommonly hazardous
mix." He smiled thinly. "Be that as it may, we trust that you will not judge
the Senex sector by what you are likely to encounter on Asmeru. The planet
once supported great cities and grand palaces, but all those fell victim to
sudden climatic change. The current population is comprised of Ossan slaves
created on the Vandron world of Karfeddion, but banished here owing to defects
of one sort or another. Bred for agricultural work, the slaves have managed to
make a life for themselves, though we doubt that you will find them especially
welcoming. That might have been the case with the members of the Nebula Front,
as well, but for their superior weapons." "Charming," Depa said, just loudly
enough to be heard by her comrades.
"We're sorry we can't be of more assistance at this time," the human
added. "Perhaps when the present crisis is resolved, the Senex Houses and the
Republic can meet to discuss matters of mutual concern and benefit." The
miniature figure disappeared, leaving the seven Jedi to trade looks of
misgiving.
"And not yet midway through the minefield are we," Yaddle said.
The comm chimed again.
"Communication from Asmeru downside," the pilot announced. "Nebula Front
sentry ships are presenting no overt threat, but House Vandron fighters have
dispersed to remove themselves from any possible action." Through the port
viewport Qui-Gon could see the sleek Tikiars peeling gracefully away from the
Prominence.
When he turned back to the table, a leathery-skinned humanoid with a
barbarous twist to his mouth stood in the holoprojector's cone of blue light.
His face was deeply pitted and his features were large.
His skull was shaved, save for a braided topknot that fell to his
shoulders. Qui-Gon thought that he was getting his first glimpse of one of
Asmeru's banished slaves, until the humanoid spoke.
"Republic cruisers, identify yourvs or risk being fired on." Saesee Tiin
positioned himself for the holocam and spoke for the Jedi, his cowl lowered to
reveal his tight, shiny face and downward-facing horns. "We are members of a
diplomatic mission dispatched by Coruscant." "This is not Republic space,
Jedi. You have no authority here." "We acknowledge that," Tiin replied in a
calm voice. "But we have prevailed upon the rulers of this sector to guide us
to Asmeru for the purpose of opening negotiations with the Nebula Front." The
humanoid showed his teeth. "The Nebula Front's grievances are with the Trade
Federation, not Coruscant--and we can settle those in our own fashion. What's
more, we know full well how the Jedi "negotiate." his Tiin leaned toward the
holocam pickup, narrowing already narrow eyes. "Then let me provide you with a
reason. Coruscant has grievances with the Nebula Front when they make an
attempt on the life of a Republic dignitary." The humanoid blinked in apparent
bafflement. "Your meaning escapes me, Jedi. Whose life was threatened?" "The
life of Supreme Chancellor Valorum." Concern tugged at the humanoid's gross
features. "Your guides have misled you. As I said, we have no issue with the
Republic." "Some of the assassins were tracked to Asmeru," Tiin pressed.
"They may have been tracked here, but we know nothing of their actions."
Tiin pressed his point. "I propose that someone in a position of command come
aboard and speak with us." The humanoid scoffed. "You must be space happy."
"Then will you allow us to come to the surface and speak with you?" "Do we
have a choice in the matter?" "No, not really." "I thought as much," the
humanoid said. "How many Jedi are you?" "Seven." "And how many judicials?"
"Perhaps twenty." The humanoid turned to discuss the matter with someone out
of view. "As a gesture of good faith, leave one of your cruisers in orbit,
along with most of the Judicial force," he replied at last. "Two of our
CloakShapes will usher the other cruiser down." Tiin glanced at Yaddle, then
Billaba, both of whom nodded. He swung back to the holocam pickup. "We await
your escort." "Is there anyone here who feels confident about this?" Vergere
asked while the cruiser was descending through the thin clouds that barely
masked Asmeru's wrinkled surface. When no one responded to the delicate,
feathered Jedi's question, she shook her disproportionately large head. "Just
as I feared." Qui-Gon glanced meaningfully at Obi-Wan.
The two of them left the pod and retraced their steps to the cockpit. By
the time they arrived, features of the landscape were coming into view ice-
capped mountain ranges; arid plateaus; steep and intricately terraced
hillsides, pale-green with crops, climbing above ribbons of racing black
water.
"What should we do in the event of trouble, Master?" Obi - Wan asked
quietly.
Qui-Gon's gaze didn't leave the cockpit viewport. "In a rainstorm, you
try to keep dry by hurrying for shelter. But you get soaked regardless." "It's
better to conclude beforehand that you're going to get wet," Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon nodded.
The ruins of an ancient city of quarried stone appeared on the horizon--
monolithic monuments, rectangular platforms, and stepped pyramids, silhouetted
against the sky, as if they were a range of hills. Directly below, enormous
geometric shapes and animistic symbols had been etched into the perpetually
thirsty ground. The city was bounded by walls made of cyclopean boulders,
assembled in the shape of lightning bolts.
Surrounding the ruins spread a maze of primitive dwellings built of mud
and sun-baked clay.
Tiny figures could be glimpsed moving along dirt roadways, some of them
in wheeled wagons, and others driving herds of long-haired pack animals, as
large as banthas. To the north, an expansive lake dotted with rocky islands
stretched across the creased terrain like a spill of liquid jet.
"There's the landing area," the pilot said.
She directed Qui-Gon's attention to a large plaza at the center of the
ruins, as wide as the hangar arm of a Trade Federation freighter and twice as
long. Bordered on all four sides by flat - faced pyramids, the plaza was large
enough to accommodate a flotilla of cruisers.
"Prominence, this is Ecliptic" the same female voice said in haste over
the cockpit speakers. "Our scanners have detected five unidentified vessels
emerging from Asmeru's dark side. House Vandron's Tikiars and Dreadnaughts are
leaving orbit." Qui-Gon glanced sharply at the pilot. "It's a trap, Captain.
Order the Ecliptic to get clear." "Ecliptic," the pilot started to say, when a
long burst of static issued from the cockpit speakers. Then the female voice
returned, her words shot through with alarm.
"'Prominence, they're detonating the mines! We can't maneuver!
Unidentified ships closing. Four starfighters and a Tempest - class
gunship." Obi-Wan shot Qui-Gon a wide-eyed look.
"The Hawk-Bat!" "We'll know soon enough." A prolonged screech erupted
from the speakers. At the same time, the Prominence began to shudder
violently.
"We're being pulled in," the pilot said in astonishment.
She and the copilot began to struggle with the controls.
Qui - Gon pressed his face to the cool transparisteel viewport. A rec
tangular opening had appeared in the inclined face of one of the plaza
pyramids, revealing the telltale grid of a tractor beam.
"It's a commercial array," Qui-Gon said. "Can we break away?" "We can
try," the pilot said.
"We could also end up blowing out the sublight drives," Obi-Wan thought
to point out.
The copilot opened a channel to the communications station. "Send a burst
transmission to Coruscant, alerting them to our situation." Below, the flat
roof of a sprawling building was parting like a curtain. The barrel of a
weapon elevated into view.
"Ion cannon," the pilot said through gritted teeth.
Qui-Gon squatted down next to her. "Our visit was clearly anticipated,
Captain." Abruptly, she pivoted to the controls that ena4 the salon pod
ejection system. "Master, tell your comrades to exit the salon pod. There may
yet be a way out of this." Qui-Gon glanced out the viewport. One of the escort
Cloak - Shapes had altered vector to move in front of the cruiser. The landing
area was directly ahead, only a few kilometers distant. "There are ways,
Captain. But not the one you have in mind." "Do as I say," she snapped.
Qui-Gon hesitated, then leaned toward the intercom pickup. "Master Tiin,
evacuate the salon pod immediately." "Why, Qui-Gon?" "There's no time to
explain. Hurry." The pilot waited for confirmation that the pod was empty.
Then she triggered the pod's separator charges. The cruiser's bow tipped up as
the magnoclamps below the cockpit blew, and the pod broke away from the
fuselage.
All but immune to the effects of the tractor beam because of its small
size, the pod rocketed ahead of the decelerating cruiser, its self-contained
jets flaring, but its course dictated by the Prominence's captain.
The pilot of the CloakShape flying point couldn't have known what hit
him.
Rammed forcefully in the tail by the pod, the fighter lurched forward,
then veered violently to one side.
The pilot tried to correct, but the repulsorlift engine had been fatally
damaged, and the small craft was out of control. Belching intermittent puffs
of white smoke and a stream of viscous fluids, the CloakShape tipped up onto
its right stabilizer, then began a corkscrewing plummet toward the city's
central plaza.
The pilot leaned forward to track the fighter, her right hand clenched.
"Stay on target," she urged the fighter. "Stay on target..." The CloakShape
slammed nose first into the sloping face of the pyramid that housed the
tractor beam, and blew to pieces. Narrowly missed, the grid held for a moment,
then sparks began to gambol across the invisible perimeter of its deflector
shield.
"That's all we needed!" the pilot said.
She fed full power to the tri-thrusters, and was just starting her climb
when the cruiser jerked to a halt, then was released, only to be jerked
motionless once more.
"You damaged it, Captain," Qui-Gon said, "but you didn't kill it." The
pilot's continued efforts to pull away succeeded only in throwing the cruiser
into a dizzying horizontal spin. Still half in the grip of the dazed grid, the
Prominence slued sharply to starboard, flying over the plaza and headed
straight for the city's northernmost pyramid.
Qui-Gon was certain that they were go ing to hit the structure head-on,
but at the last moment, the cruiser surged upward. Even so, the tail struck
the pyramid's upper platform, shearing off the central and starboard
thrusters.
At the same instant, the ion cannon opened fire.
Energy pulsed from the weapon's reciprocating barrels, finding soft spots
in the belly of the ship.
Charges leapt about the deflector shield, forking like lightning, then
encasing the ship in a scintillating web of blue light.
All shipboard systems failed.
Silence reigned for a split second, then sporadic power returned. The
cruiser commenced a rapid, diagonal glide, held aloft by its sole remaining
engine.
Lambent with late sunlight, the black lake expanded below.
"And I thought you were just being figurative about getting wet, Master,"
Obi-Wan said as he looked around for something to hold on to.
The Prominence skimmed the surface of the lake, then bellied into the
water and began to hydroplane toward the center. The cruiser was on a
collision course with one of the rocky islands, until its blunt bow dropped,
and the lake robbed it of forward momentum. It came to a shuddering stop in
turbulent water, then listed to its damaged side and slowly began to sink.
By then the seven Jedi and the few judicials aboard had gathered at the
starboard docking ring airlock.
Blowing the hatch, they eased down into the frigid water and started to
swim for the nearest island, which rose in a jumble of wind - and water -
smoothed boulders to a height of one hundred or so meters.
First to reach shore, Qui-Gon launched himself to dry land, landing on
his feet on a narrow stretch of rocky beach. Waves generated by the cruiser's
plunge crashed around his ankles. He used his hands to sluice some of the
water out of his long hair and beard. Then he emptied his boots, plucked his
soaked tunic away from his chest, and slipped into the cloak he had held above
the waves while swimming. Unclipping his lightsaber, he acti vated the blade
and swept it in front of him.
Satisfied that the weapon hadn't been damaged, he switched it off and
reclipped it to his broad leather belt.
He inhaled deeply, but didn't come close to filling his lungs with
oxygen. The high-altitude air was thin; the sky, an inverted bowl of the
deepest blue, was seemingly supported on the ice - white shoulders of mountain
ranges that ringed the horizon.
As - meru's sun was a huge red smear on the western horizon. The
temperature was falling fast, and certainly would be below freezing by sunset.
To the south, the sky was streaked with the contrails of ships rocketing
down the planet's gravity well, no doubt headed for the landing area. Qui-Gon
wondered briefly which one of them might be the Hawk-Bat.
He turned his back to the lake and let his gaze wander up over the
lifeless rocks. Assembled by hand rather than nature, the island was itself a
pyramid, with the ruins of ancient structures surmounting it.
To both sides of Qui-Gon, Jedi and judicials were beginning to climb from
the lake, their waterlogged tunics and uniforms weighing them down.
Following Qui-Gon's lead, Obi-Wan sprang from the water, landing atop one
of the smaller rocks. Vergere floated in like a water fowl until she reached
the stony beach, then she called on her powerful reverse-articulated legs to
catapult her ashore. Saesee Tiin's big hands cut through the waves like
flippers. Yaddle rode in atop Ki-Adi-Mundi's broad shoulders, her short arms
wrapped around his tall head, and her topknot of golden-brown hair plastered
to her green skull.
Close by, Depa Billaba stepped gracefully to the beach, as if emerging
from a warm bath.
Three hundred meters away, the dorsal hull of the Prominence was still
visible above the waterline. Giant air bubbles broke the surface of the lake
and popped loudly.
Everyone was a bit stunned. With a fractured arm, the cruiser's pilot was
the most seriously injured. In obvious pain, she made her way over to Qui-Gon,
breathless when she reached him.
"I thought we could break free," she said, by way of apology.
"Don't condemn your actions just yet," Qui-Gon replied. "Nothing happens
by chance." The pilot nodded and looked at Saesee Tiin.
"Was it House Vandron that betrayed us?" The Iktotchi folded his arms
across his massive chest. "That has little bearing on our present situation."
He glanced at Yaddle. "The question is, what do we do next?" "An immediate
answer, that question begs," the small Jedi replied, "as company we're about
to have." Qui-Gon followed her gaze. Several vessels were approaching from the
lake's south shore.
Obi-Wan reached to unclip his lightsaber, but Qui-Gon restrained him with
a look. "There's always time for that. Just now we need to assess where we
stand." Obi-Wan glanced around. "On an island, in the middle of a lake, with
adversaries on the approach, Master." "Wasn't it you who said that things are
not always what they appear to be?" Obi-Wan frowned. "I stand corrected." Qui-
Gon touched him on the shoulder and nodded his chin to the others. "There's no
sense making ourselves easy targets." Drawing on the Force, and taking the
judicials with them, the Jedi vaulted and bounded up into the boulders.
From higher up, they had a better vantage from which to see just what was
approaching. Driven by repulsorlifts, the vessels were as gruesomely fanciful
as the spaceships of House Vandron. Some had upturned animistic prows and
ribcage gunwales; others had elaborately raised sterns, carved with ghastly
visages. All were equipped with mounted repeating blasters.
The bestial flotilla came to a hovering halt just short of the island,
weapons traversing the shore. Each vessel carried a crew of humans, Weequays,
Rodians, Bith, Sullustans, and others, many of them layered in heavy garments,
gloves, and headpieces that covered noses and mouths.
Standing in the bow of the lead craft, a tall human unwound the colorful
scarf that masked his lower face and cupped his hands to his mouth.
"For what it's worth, Jedi, we had planned on providing you with a
warmer, and certainly drier, welcome." Saesee Tiin, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Qui-Gon
showed themselves. "The same warm welcome you provided our other cruiser?"
Tiin said.
The human had the boat brought about to face Tiin.
"In attempting to flee, your other cruiser struck several mines and was
destroyed. We had no intentions of firing on it." "What are your intentions
here?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.
"First, to declare that we are dismayed that the Jedi would oppose free
trade in the outlying systems, by choosing to side with the Trade Federation."
"We have taken no sides," Tiin said gruffly. "Our sole aim is to resolve this
crisis before it intensifies into open warfare. That, too, is the goal of
Supreme Chancellor Valorum, who is anything but your enemy is this matter."
"We had nothing to do with the assassination attempt," someone in one of the
other boats shouted.
The terrorists" spokesman whirled angrily to the source of the outburst,
then regained his composure. "If Valorum is not our enemy, why was the Nebula
Front excluded from the Eriadu summit?" "If you will agree to meet with the
Supreme Chancellor, he will explain his reasons." The human shook his head at
Tiin. "That's not good enough. The conference will unite the Trade Federation
and the Commerce Guild against us. We demand that Valorum cancel the summit."
"Is that what this is about?" Qui-Gon asked, gesturing broadly. "You intend to
hold us hostage while you issue your demands?" The human spread his gloved
hands. "What are the chances of Valorum listening to us otherwise, Jedi?" Tiin
responded to it. "And should the supreme chancellor refuse to listen to you
now?" "Then the blood of however many of you die here will be on Valorum's
hands," the man said after a long moment.
He continued before any of the Jedi could respond.
"All of us are aware of your abilities. We're not yet desperate enough to
attempt to take you by force.
We know that you can probably survive on this pile of rocks for as long
as you wish, even without adequate food and water. But that is also acceptable
to us. For the moment, the fact that you are stranded here is all that
matters. It is our hope, however, that you will come to your senses and allow
us to imprison you in a style more in keeping with that which you are
accustomed." Night passed slowly.
Warming themselves through the Force, the Jedi huddled on the stone floor
of the island's ruined summit temple, with the judicials pressed in among
them. Glow sticks provided light when they needed it, and food tablets
provided some sustenance. But there was no water, even from the lake, because
of its dangerously high salinity.
Vergere tucked her legs beneath her and sat as if roosting. Yaddle pulled
her delicate robes around her and slipped easily into a trance state.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Depa Billaba, KiAdiMundi, and Saesee Tiin took turns at
guard duty.
Lifeless as the island was, the Force was strong there, in the lingering
presence of the ancients who had assembled it.
Through trapezoidal windows in the temple walls, dawn cast long red
shadows into the room. When everyone was awake, Yaddle and Depa Billaba got
right down to business.
"By now, Coruscant has learned of our predicament," Billaba said. "I'm
certain that the Supreme Chancellor will not delay the Eriadu summit. But he
may dispatch more judicials to Asmeru." "A conflict that guarantees," Yaddle
said.
"Lost already is the Ecliptic, presumably with all hands. Now, additional
deaths in the offing are. A better way to resolve this there is." It was not
the first time in her 476 years that the tiny Jedi had been imprisoned.
According to legend, she had ascended to the rank of Master as a result of
having spent more than a hundred years in an underground prison on Koba.
"The Nebula Front can't hope to gain anything by holding us here," Qui-
Gon said with patent suspicion. "Surely they know that we were able to
communicate with Coruscant before we crashed." "Perhaps they don't think that
way," Ki-Adi-Mundi suggested. "Perhaps strategy of that sort doesn't come into
play." Qui-Gon looked at him. "But it does. I've already seen it in action."
"Explain it to you Cohl will, when finally you confront him," Yaddle said.
"Until that time, resolve to yield or fight we must." Vergere's willowy ears
pricked up. She glanced knowingly at Qui-Gon, then cut her oblique eyes to the
doorless portal that led to the temple's adjoining room. Qui-Gon listened
intently for a moment, then he and Ki-Adi-Mundi stood up and moved silently to
either side of the gaping opening.
Yaddle, Depa, and Vergere began to converse again, as if nothing were
amiss. Suddenly, Qui-Gon and KiAdiMundi reached into the doorway, tugging into
the scant sunlight a humanoid who looked as if he, or perhaps she, had risen
from the ground itself. The being's thick skin was certainly impervious to
wind, snow, or high-altitude solar radiation. Its four hands and bare feet
were configured for digging and scooping, and its back was built for carrying
loads. Eyes clearly capable of seeing in the dark were prominent in a mere
suggestion of a face, lacking ears or nose, with a mouth barely suited to
speech.
Held in the grip of the two Jedi, the biped began to babble nervously in
an unknown tongue.
Depa got to her feet. "He speaks the traders tongue of the Senex sector
Houses," she said.
Yaddle nodded. "One of their allegedly flawed bioengineered slaves, he
is." The slave continued to speak, his gaze riveted on Depa.
She listened, then smiled gently and touched his shoulder. "It seems
there's an alternative we hadn't considered," she told everyone. "This one is
offering to help us escape." Qui-Gon spoke to the slave. "By what method?"
Depa translated the reply. "By taking the route he took to reach us." The
slave motioned to the adjoining room. Qui-Gon and Obi - Wan lighted two glow
sticks and ducked through the doorway. In the room's rear wall, a hinged stone
door, a meter thick, was ajar.
"Explored this place during the night, did you not?" Yaddle asked from
behind them.
"We did, Master," Obi-Wan said.
She shook her head in rebuke. "Careless, you are." The slave said
something to Depa.
"This one says that this temple and the city are linked by underground
tunnels. Some of the tunnels lead to the structures that surround the main
plaza--the landing platform. Apparently, the plaza is lightly guarded, and
this one believes that we could easily seize the starfighters parked there."
Yaddle's eyes narrowed somewhat. "Clearly what we are meant to do," she said.
"Less certain, I am, about our chances of leaving Asmeru." Tiin nodded
decisively. "We'll defer any decision until that option is in hand." In single
file they moved through the hidden doorway into a cold and dank corridor. At
the bottom of a steep flight of stairs, two more slaves, all but identical to
the first, were waiting. Oily black and acrid smoke curled from the torches
they carried.
The wide tunnel beyond the stairway was constructed of un - mortared but
precisely cut stones, some of which were perfectly curved to form vaulted
supports.
Shifts in the land had wrought damage to the ancients' work. Lake water
dripped through formerly solid joints and puddled on the stone floor. In
several places, the walls were entirely encrusted in salt.
Depa continued to converse with the slave as they began to descend
beneath the shallow lake.
"When the Nebula Front first arrived on Asmeru, they asked the slaves for
shelter, and made no demands of them," she explained. "But the later arrivals-
-the members this one calls "the soldiers"--forced the slaves to surrender
their homes and provide food. The soldiers are as cruel as the Senex Lords,
and they frequently clash with the Front's more nonviolent founders about how
things should be done. Fortunately, there are few commanding soldiers onworld
just now." "Few soldiers," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan.
"That's odd." "How so, Master?" "Where are they, while we are here?" The
tunnel began to angle up and the dripping ceased, indicating that they had
reached the mainland. Smaller tunnels branched off in all directions, and
there were visible signs that the passageways were used on a regular basis for
moving about the ancient city.
Crude sconces were affixed to the walls, and the edges of stones at the
tunnel intersections had been polished to a gloss by the caresses of countless
hands.
"We're close to the landing platform," Depa announced quietly.
The central tunnel debouched into a large rectangular cavern, with
stairways leading up at the center of each wall. Depa pointed to the nearest
one.
"This will take us into the northern pyramid. The starfighters are parked
near the structure that houses the tractor beam generator." "That's a good
distance away," Qui-Gon said.
Depa nodded. "Most of the guards are quartered in the tractor beam
pyramid. We're certain to encounter resistance." The slave led them up the
stairs and guided them through a series of small rooms to a massive portal
that looked out on the plaza. Several CloakShapes could be seen, along with
the Hawk - Bat, resting on a trio of landing pads.
In the middle distance, a few armed guards traded remarks in Basic.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan led everyone but the slaves out into the plaza, most
of which lay in deep morning shadow. They weren't even halfway to the closest
starfighter when a voice called out.
"I'm glad to see that you've decided to join us." Seven lightsabers
igniting in a rush, the Jedi formed a protective circle, with their energy
blades poised for deflection. At the center of the circle, the judicials
crouched with drawn blasters.
The human who had spoken to them from the hover vessel stepped out onto
the balcony of a palatial structure that overlooked the plaza. Then, to all
sides of the plaza, appeared Nebula Front soldiers brandishing all styles of
blaster weapons.
Behind the terrorists gathered a curious but wary audience of slaves.
"Again, we are betrayed," Ki-Adi-Mundi said.
Depa looked back at the pyramid doorway.
Quaking with primitive fear, the three slaves were being shoved forward
by two armed terrorists.
"Only by our predictability," she said.
"Master, who is our enemy here?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.
Qui-Gon shook his head. "I've been wondering that since Dorvalla,
Padawan. There is more to all this than we know." The terrorists' spokesman
followed an exterior stairway down into the plaza, where he was joined by a
second member--a Bith.
Obi-Wan glanced briefly at Qui-Gon.
"Master, isn't that--was "Quiet, Padawan," Qui-Gon cut him off.
The human and the Bith stopped while they were still some distance from
the ominous circle the Jedi had formed.
"We have two choices here," the human began. "Of course, we could fight.
Ultimately, you would certainly emerge the victors.
But some of you might die in the process, and those who don't will be
forced to kill all of us. Or--was He paused briefly. his-comwe could all lower
our weapons." Qui-Gon looked to Yaddle and Tiin, who nodded curtly and
deactivated their lightsabers. At a signal from the spokesman, the terrorists
began to holster their blasters. Qui-Gon and the other Jedi followed suit,
dousing their lightsaber blades but keeping the hilts at ready.
"I'm delighted that we could reach an understanding," the human said in
what sounded like genuine relief.
Qui-Gon's gaze roamed over the terrorists in front of him. "Where is
Captain Cohl?" He asked after a moment.
The question took the human off his guard. "Ah, of course," he replied,
after a moment. "You recognized his ship." "Where is he?" Qui-Gon repeated.
The human shook his head. "I'm sorry to report that Captain Cohl is no
longer with us. I believe he retired. But back to matters at hand, do we have
a truce here?" "A temporary one, at best," Tiin cautioned.
"One piece of business first," the terrorist said, then turned to the
soldiers who had herded the three slaves into the plaza.
Without warning, blasters discharged and the slaves fell to the ground.
Depa broke from the circle and hurried over to them, going down on one knee as
she reached the slave who had guided them out of the pyramid. She touched the
slave's neck, then glanced up at Yaddle and gave her head a mournful shake.
"That's what happens to traitors," the human was shouting to the slaves
who had gathered round the plaza.
Qui-Gon exchanged brief looks with Yaddle and Tiin.
Seven lightsabers reignited.
"We're annulling the truce," Tiin announced.
The hologram showed a diplomatic cruiser attempting to maneuver through a
field of asteroidlike space mines, grazing one then another, and another,
losing pieces of itself with each encounter, and in the end vanishing in a
brief-lived tempest of expanding fire.
"That was the Ecliptic" Valorum explained to Senators Bail Antilles,
Horox Ryyder, and Palpatine, in his office in the Republic Executive Building.
"The images were relayed to Coruscant by the Famulus, one of the ships of
House Vandron that led our mission into the Senex sector. All twenty judicials
aboard the Ecliptic are presumed dead." Valorum switched off the holoprojector
and lowered himself into his soft chair.
"Has there been further word from the Prominence?"" Antilles asked.
Valorum shook his head. "We know only that those aboard- - seven Jedi and
five judicials--survived the crash. By now they could be in captivity." "Is
there any evidence to suggest that House Vandron was involved in this?"
Senator Ryyder asked.
He was exceptionally tall, even for an Anx, with a long, bearded head
that rose like a mountain spire from his curved neck. His skin was a
variegated yellow-green, and his fingers were elongated spindles.
He favored bright red robes, with high round collars.
"No evidence whatever, " Valorum said. "Lord Crueya maintains that the
commanders of their ships were ordered beforehand to avoid engagement, no
matter what occurred." "I don't accept that for a moment," Antilles said.
Valorum blew out his breath. "I'm not certain that I do, either. Master
Yoda was right about the rulers of the Senex. They are no better than the
Nebula Front terrorists." "Has the Front issued any demands?" Palpatine asked
mildly.
"Not yet. But I suspect we can sense what's coming demands that the
Trade Federation be disbanded, or that the Republic guarantee reduced tariffs
for the outlying systems. I will not consent to those, but, if nothing else,
we should at least postpone the trade summit until this crisis is settled." "I
respectfully disagree," Palpatine said.
"I'm certain that is precisely what the Nebula Front wishes us to do."
Valorum's forehead furrowed. "They could be holding the survivors hostage,
Senator. And I'm responsible for having sent them into danger." "All the more
reason to stand firm." Palpatine glanced around the room. "Supreme Chancellor,
if I may say so, the moment is ripe to demonstrate the far-reaching authority
of the Republic, and thus ensure Senate approval of taxation of the trade
routes. Moreover, with the Nebula Front eliminated, the Trade Federation will
be more inclined to accept taxation." Valorum frowned at him. "Need I remind
you that the Senex sector is not Republic space?
Sending additional forces to As - meru would constitute a violation of
Senex sovereignty. The senate would never sanction such action." Palpatine
remained calm. "Again, I beg to disagree. The senate will sanction it because
Republic interests are at stake." Again he glanced at Antilles and Ryyder.
"Assuming for the moment that the Jedi have failed in their diplomatic
mission, the Nebula Front is free to disrupt the Eriadu summit, and thus
broaden the existing conflict to include not only the Trade Federation, but
also the Commerce Guild and the Corporate Alliance. Supreme Chancellor, you
yourself said that the summit should, under no circumstances, be jeopardized.
That was your paramount reason for dispatching the Jedi to Asmeru." "Yes,"
Valorum conceded, "you're right." "And what of the Senex Houses?" Ryyder asked
Palpatine.
"They will support whatever actions we take, if only on the chance that
we will rescind the restrictions that have prevented them from trading
directly with the Republic." Valorum considered Palpatine's remarks, then
shook his head. "Even if we are successful in securing Senate approval to
proceed as you suggest, a show of force at Asmeru could provoke the Nebula
Front to kill their hostages." Palpatine smiled tolerantly. "Supreme
Chancellor, the hostages are Jedi Knights." "Even Jedi can be killed,"
Antilles argued.
"Then perhaps we should leave it to the Jedi High Council to decide a
course of action." Valorum stretched the baggy skin under his eyes.
"I concur. I will attend to the matter personally." The lean air of the
plateau was sibilant with the hiss of laser bolts, resonant with the thrum of
lightsabers, energized by detonations of artificial light.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ki-Adi-Mundi stood with their backs pressed to one
another, deflecting a hail of blaster bolts the terrorists poured into the
plaza. The blades of their lightsabers - comgreen, blue, and purple--moved
faster than the eye could follow, blazing bright as novas as they sent the
bolts caroming from the ancient stone walls and ricocheting off the sloping
faces of the pyramids.
Elsewhere, standing tall on her extended legs, Vergere led a fleet
assault up the staircase of an adjacent structure, her gleaming emerald blade
raised above her downy head. Two of the judicials followed in her long stride,
discharging their weapons as they ran.
Not far away, Saesee Tiin led another pair of judicials in a charge
against a half a dozen terrorists entrenched in a narrow alley between two of
the pyramids, his blade a blur of cobalt as it parried bolts and sent blasters
flying from outstretched hands.
Yaddle and Depa remained with the injured cruiser captain near the
entrance to the northern pyramid.
Pinned down by a torrent of fire from the summit of the ion cannon
bunker, they swung and windmilled their lightsabers, repulsing bolts as if in
some crazed sports contest.
Most of the slaves had scattered with the first bolts fired after the
brutal execution of the three who had helped the Jedi. But several of the
bioengineered bipeds were being used as living shields.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ki-Adi-Mundi began to work their way deeper into
the plaza, intent on reaching the grounded CloakShape fighters, or perhaps
even the gunship, before any of the terrorists could get to the crafts.
Qui-Gon advanced with determination, scarcely aware of the thrum of his
blade, or the chaotic fusillade of blaster bolts. His mind turned with each
and every action of his adversaries, whirling right, left, or wherever needed.
He left no traces of himself in any particular place or direction, focusing
only on what lay ahead, with the past smoothing out behind him like the wake
of a settling boat.
He remained subtle and imperceptible, invisible in his detachment, never
lingering to watch, or clinging to thoughts of what he might have done.
Wounded by deflected bolts, terrorists fell in his path, though he had
yet to meet any of them head-on, and by the looks of things wouldn't. Already
they were retreating fast for the fighters.
"If they launch, we'll really have our hands full," he told Obi-Wan in a
moment of quiet.
Then a new sound whipped up the frigid air.
Around the sharp edge of the southern pyramid came two of the
repulsorlift vessels the Jedi had last seen on the lake.
Bolts from the crafts' repeating blasters lanced into the plaza,
carbonizing the cut stones where they hit. In unison, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan
leapt for cover, while Ki-Adi-Mundi parried a stream of fire that nearly spun
him completely around.
The vessels came about for another run, firing wildly.
Momentarily overwhelmed, the trio of Jedi were forced to fall back. Qui-
Gon saw that Vergere's and Tiin's teams were also being driven back down the
steps and into the plaza. First to hit level ground, Vergere directed the
judicials to race for the shelter of the northern pyramid, but only one of the
men made it. The other was cut down by fire from a nearby tower.
The two judicials who had fought beside Tiin were wounded. The Iktotchi
carried one of them under his left arm, while he continued to divert bolts
with the lightsaber clutched in his right hand. The other judicial scampered
backwards, covering their retreat amid a storm of fire from the gunboats.
In a blur of motion, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hurried to Tiin's aid, spinning
and leaping in the face of the onslaught.
The gunboats had completed their pass and were swooping in for another
strafing run. At a nod from Qui-Gon, he and Obi - Wan leapt ten meters into
the air with their swords raised, ripping the repulsorlift engine from the
lead craft.
Sparks showered down on them as they landed and rolled for cover.
Overhead, the gunboat careened out of control and struck the upper story of
the palace, exploding into white-hot fragments and loosing an avalanche of
stone onto the plaza.
Tiin and the judicials reached the safety of the pyramid entrance just
ahead of the rockslide.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed them inside, as bolts from the second
gunboat's repeater blaster rained against the portal's engraved columns and
monolithic lintel.
Yaddle and the others were massed in the rear of the corridor.
Flattened against the wall, Qui-Gon peered into the plaza. "We have to
get to the fighters." "If we have to, we will," Tiin said.
Obi-Wan nodded at Qui-Gon and reactivated his blade.
Lightsabers raised, they charged back into the plaza.
The High Council Chamber felt empty without the three Masters who had
accompanied Vergere, Qui-Gon, and his Pada - wan to Asmeru. Now it was Yoda
who stood at the center of the inlaid mosaic floor, pacing while Mace Windu
and the others discussed what was to be done.
"Even without word from the Prominence, we can't assume that the ship was
destroyed, or that any who were aboard have been killed," Windu was saying.
"Everything I feel about the situation tells me that Yaddle and the others are
alive." "Alive, she is," Yoda said. "The others, too. But in grave danger,
they are." "That supports the Nebula Front's claim that they're holding a
dozen hostages," Adi Gallia said. "They're demanding that the Eriadu summit be
cancelled." "Valorum must not give in to them," Oppo Rancisis cautioned.
"He isn't going to acquiesce to the demands," Windu assured everyone.
"He's aware that by doing so he would only lessen the chances for ratification
of the taxation proposal." "The Nebula Front is not the important concern
here," Yarael Poof said. "It is the Trade Federation that matters." Yoda
turned to the long-necked Master.
"Thought to be less important, the Nebula Front is.
But directing this, they are. Directing all of this." He paced through a
circle, then stopped. "Moving us around like pieces on a hologame board."
"Then we need to finish the game," Even Piell said with conviction.
Windu nodded. "I assured Supreme Chancellor Valorum that there was no
need for him to deliver an apology in person. We agreed to intervene in this
matter. Therefore, this is as much our responsibility as it is his." "Too
little thought, we gave this," Yoda said pensively. "Un - revealed forces at
work." He glanced at Windu. "Clouded, this is. Muddled by motives difficult to
perceive." Windu interlocked his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.
"The senate has promised the Supreme Chancellor whatever authority he needs to
deal with the crisis. But we cannot leave the decision to him." Yoda nodded.
"Focused on the trade summit, he is." "The Judicial Department has also been
given expanded authority," Windu continued. "They advocate dispatching
additional forces from Eriadu, which is only a jump from Asmeru's location in
the Senex sector." "The judicials are on Eriadu to safeguard Supreme
Chancellor Valorum and the delegates," Gallia said.
"The Judicial Department feels certain that they have enough personnel
there to deal with both situations." "Do we have any assurances that the Senex
Houses will stay out of this?" Poof asked.
"We could offer them a deal," Piell said. "They have long wanted to trade
with the Republic, but have been shunned because of continued violations of
the Rights of Sentience. If we offer to arbitrate an accord between them and
the Republic, I'm certain they would agree to overlook any territorial
infringements that arise from the situation at Asmeru." Yoda gazed at the
floor and shook his head back and forth. "Deeper and darker and murkier this
becomes." He looked up at Windu. "How many Jedi on Eriadu?" "Twenty." "Send
ten to Asmeru with the judicials to help Master Tiin and the others," Yoda
said in a troubled voice. "Pay our debts when they come due, we will." Windu
nodded somberly.
"May the Force be with them," Gallia said for everyone.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Tiin, and Ki-Adi-Mundi surged from the pyramid
entrance, engaging the terrorists that had driven them back. A quarter of the
way across the immense plaza, the Jedi spread out in a wedge formation, their
constantly moving blades fending off blaster bolts loosed from ahead and to
either side. Behind the energy barrier fashioned by the lightsabers, Yaddle,
Depa, Vergere, and two of the judicials raced out to divert fire from the
rear.
The point of the wedge, Qui-Gon advanced steadily into the fray, whirling
and crouching, his green blade sonorous as it sent bolts arching every which
way.
Terrorists fell wounded from the surrounding stairways, balconies, and
rooftops, but none of them fled.
"You will have to kill All of us, the spokesman had said.
Unexpectedly, the unrelenting blasterfire began to taper off. Qui-Gon
took a moment to look around, realizing in a rush that the terrorists were
suddenly directing fire toward the heavily bulwarked perimeter of the plaza.
With eerie, tremolo war cries, hundreds of slaves charged into the plaza
from the deep alleys separating the pyramids. Lacking anything in the way of
shields, they brandished stone axes and knives, spears fashioned from the
wooden handles of tools, and whatever other implements they had managed to
sharpen or provide with an edge.
Blaster bolts felled them by the score, but still they came, resolved to
overthrow the outsiders who had robbed them of what little freedom and dignity
they possessed.
Qui-Gon grasped that the uprising had to have been in the works for some
time. But determination alone wasn't going to win the day against blasters.
He and Obi-Wan pressed their attack, Vergere off to one side of them,
leaping high into the air and returning to the ground with her lightsaber
slashing.
Caught between the rebelling slaves and the Jedi, the terrorists gathered
in two lines, one to handle each front.
A second surprise gave Qui-Gon pause.
Some of the terrorists were succumbing to blasterfire. It seemed
improbable that the slaves had somehow managed to reconfigure blasters to suit
their fingerless hands.
Then he saw where the fire was coming from.
Advancing in leap-frog fashion came a contingent of terrorists, led by
the Bith who had been Qui-Gon's informant.
Events of the day had splintered the Nebula Front into two factions the
militants responsible for the attack on Valorum, and the moderates who had for
so many years restricted themselves to nonviolent actions against the Trade
Federation.
The militants clearly hadn't anticipated insurrection by their own
confederates. All at once the race for the grounded Cloak - Shape fighters
became more desperate than ever.
One of the starfighters was already lifting off on repulsorlift power.
Realizing what was occurring below, the pilot wheeled the craft through a half
turn and opened up with the forward laser cannons. Each hyphen of raw energy
decimated the opposition.
Stone blasted from the encompassing structures, and lightning-bolt walls
whizzed through the air like shrapnel, tearing into ^th who had managed to
flee the fatal energy beams themselves.
Qui-Gon understood that the one starfighter could turn the tide of
battle--not only against the alliance of slaves and moderates, but also
against the Jedi.
Even as he was thinking it, the hovering CloakShape began to rotate
toward the Jedi's side of the battle arena. The wingtip lasers had swung into
view, poised to fire, when without warning the starfighter exploded. Pieces of
its angled wings slammed against the face of the tractor beam grid, and its
flaming fuselage spun down into the plaza.
Qui-Gon glanced up from where he had flattened himself to the ground. The
landing platform was littered with white-hot wreckage, small bits of which had
burned holes in his cloak.
His eyes searched the plaza for signs of the weapon that had brought down
the ship, only to grasp that the devastating bolt hadn't come from any
downside emplacement.
It had come from above.
A crimson and white craft streaked overhead, so close that it rattled
Qui-Gon's teeth.
"Judicial Lancet," Obi-Wan said when the sound of the starfighter's
passing had roared through.
White veins in the blue dome of the sky told Qui-Gon that other ships
were coming down the well.
He swung back to regard Depa and the judicials, one of whom was speaking
into his wrist comm. Sensing Qui-Gon's gaze on him, the judicial looked up and
raised his left fist in a sign of confidence.
Qui-Gon raised his gaze to the sky. From the south, a Corellian cruiser
was on the approach.
The sight of the descending fighters didn't deter the radicals from
continuing their fight for the CloakShapes, however. Three more starfighters
lifted out of the plaza. But rather than waste time pouring fire against the
slaves, the ships rocketed off to the east, with a pair Lancets in close
pursuit. A fourth Cloak - Shape whirred noisily to life, managing, during its
reeling ascent, to take out an incoming Lancet.
Off to Qui-Gon's left, the ion cannon pulsed. Dazed by a direct hit,
another Lancet rolled over on its back and dived silently toward the parched
ground. Shortly, an explosion boiled high into the air behind the southern
pyramid.
The cannon continued to send darts of disabling fire skyward, but the
alliance of slaves and moderates were already storming the emplacement. A
dozen warriors fell to the charge, but the rest persevered, lobbing thermal
grenades from where they hunkered behind a toppled monument.
A moment later the gun emplacement belched a column of howling fire and
collapsed in on itself.
The ongoing turmoil in the plaza had prevented the cruiser from landing.
While it hovered at the level of the pyramid summits, hatches opened in the
underside of the ship and twenty or more figures rappeled down on monofilament
cables. Half of them were armed with blasters, and the rest with glowing
lightsabers.
The battle raged furiously for several more minutes. Then, hemmed in on
all sides, the militants began to surrender their weapons and drop to their
knees. Captives of the slaves, other groups were marched into the plaza with
hands raised above their heads.
Tiin, Depa Billaba, and some of the Jedi reinforcements started to
meander through the devastation, gathering up weapons and tending to the
wounded. Qui-Gon saw Yaddle standing at the entrance to the northern pyramid,
shaking her head in dismay.
He and Obi-Wan set out to find the Bith.
Shortly, he saw Obi-Wan waving him over to the southwest corner of the
plaza.
Qui-Gon clipped his lightsaber to his belt and broke into a jog. He knew
before he arrived that calamity was waiting.
The Bith was curled on his side, his long-fingered hands pressed to a
blackened hole in his midsection.
Qui-Gon went down on one knee beside him.
"I tried to contact you on Coruscant," the black-eyed alien began in a
weak voice. "But after what happened at Dorvalla, Havac and the others
suspected that there was an informant among them." "Havac?" Qui-Gon said. "Is
he the one who had the slaves executed?" The Bith shook his large head. "He's
just a lieutenant. Havac is the leader. But he's not onworld--many of the
militants aren't." He paused to take a breath. "They've undone everything we
tried to do. They've turned this into a war with the Trade Federation, and now
the Republic." "It's over," Qui-Gon said. "You've deposed them. Save your
strength, friend." The Bith clamped his hand on Qui-Gon's forearm.
"It's not over. They have something dreadful planned." "Where?" Obi-Wan
asked. "When?" The Bith turned Part way to him. "I don't know.
The plan was kept secret from most of us. But I know that it involves
Captain Cohl..." The Bith's words trailed off. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's gaze on
him. At the same time, all light fled the alien's eyes.
"He's dead, Master," Obi-Wan said.
"Jedi," someone said from behind Qui-Gon. The speaker was a Nikto
humanoid, flat-faced and horned.
"I don't mean to intrude, but your friend was my friend, as well." Qui-
Gon stood up. "What do you know about this plan involving the one he called
Havac and Captain Cohl?" "I know that it had something to do with Karfeddion."
"Karfeddion?" Obi-Wan repeated, while he showed the Nikto his most
disapproving gaze.
"The homeworld of House Vandron," Qui-Gon said. "Deep in the Senex." He
turned back to the humanoid. "Your name?" "Cindar." "Do you know this Havac on
sight?" "I do." Qui-Gon considered something, then said, "Come with us." He
led the way to where Tiin, Yaddle, and some of the others were gathered in the
plaza.
"There's no time to sort all this out," Tiin was saying, gesturing
broadly to ruination. "The High Council and the Judicial Department have
ordered us to leave the Senex sector as quickly as possible." "We need to make
one stop first," Qui-Gon interrupted. "At Karfeddion." Tiin stared at him,
awaiting an explanation.
"Cohl is executing another plan." Qui-Gon indicated Cindar. "This one is
going to help us pick up Cohl's trail." Tiin and Yaddle traded brief glances.
"Cohl is no longer working for the Front," Tiin said. "We all heard as much."
"The plan has been a closely guarded secret.
Someone named Havac is behind it. We must go to Karfeddion." "Impossible,
Qui-Gon," Yaddle said, shaking her head back and forth. "Leave the Senex, we
must." Qui-Gon squared his shoulders. "Then my Padawan and I will go." Obi-
Wan's jaw dropped slightly.
"Not in any of our ships, Qui-Gon," Tiin said in challenge.
Qui-Gon glanced around. "Then we'll use the Hawk-Bat." "Making this
personal, you are," Yaddle said.
"Defying a direct order from the High Council, you'll be." Qui-Gon didn't
argue the point. "My duty is to the Force, Master." Yaddle studied him for a
long moment. "To what end, Qui - Gon? To what end?" The holobanner glowing
through the t'bac smoke in the cantina read the tipsy mynock welcomes the
karfeddion skull CRACKERS. A smashball team, the Skull Crackers were known
throughout the Senex for their blatant disregard for the rules of play and for
the lives of their opponents. A boisterous dozen of the local heroes were
gathered in a corner of the Tipsy Mynock, raising flagons of fermented drink
to one another and whomever happened by, growing more inebriated by the
minute, and fairly itching to cause trouble of a major sort.
A few booths away, Cohl and Boiny sat with a hulking human who might have
been a member of the Skull Crackers- - had he been a few centimeters shorter
and a lot less dangerous looking.
A pleasant-looking humanoid female bred on one of the Karfeddion slave
farms placed a tall shot of bright-yellow liquid in front of Cohl's guest, who
downed the notoriously strong drink in one swallow.
"Thanks, Captain," the human said genuinely, wiping his mouth with the
back of his hand. "It's not often I get a taste of the real article." Cohl
appraised Lope, as the man called himself, from across the table that
separated them. The fact that Lope could handle himself in a brawl was beyond
dispute.
But the Eriadu operation would not turn on brute strength, but on a
combination of skill and intelligence.
Of course, situations could arise in the most carefully designed
scenarios when it came down to muscle. But Cohl still wasn't convinced that
Lope was suited to handle even that eventuality.
"What's your specialty?" he asked after a moment.
Lope planted his elbows on the table.
"Vibroblade, stun baton, nerve pick. But I can also handle a blaster--
BlasTechs, Merr-Sonns, Czerkas..." "But you prefer in-close work." Lope
shrugged. "When it comes right down to it, yeah, I guess I do. Why, what's the
job, Captain?" Cohl shook his head. "I can't tell you that unless I decide to
bring you aboard." Lope nodded. "I understand. But I'd sure like to hire on
with you, Captain. They don't come any better than you." Cohl ignored the
flattery. "Where have you worked?" "Up and down the Corellian Trade Spine,
mostly. I did a stint in the Stark Conflict.
I'd still be in the Core, if I didn't have a price on my head for a bit
of wet work I did on Sacorria." "Are you wanted anywhere else?" "Only there,
Captain." Cohl was mildly encouraged. Lope was typical of the outlaws that
fled to the outlying systems, but he wasn't a professional.
"You have any problem working with aliens, Lope?" Lope glanced briefly at
Boiny. "Not Rodians. Why, you've got others on your crew?" "A Gotal." Lope
stroked his stubbled jaw. "Gotal, huh?
I can work with those." A sudden commotion erupted at the entrance to the
cantina, and four large and mean-looking humans shouldered their way to the
bar. Cohl thought they might be members of the Skull Crackers or some rival
team, until the largest among them climbed up onto the bar and fired a blaster
bolt into the ceiling.
"Lope, I know you're in here somewhere," he shouted while plaster dust
drifted down around him and he scanned the tables and booths. "Where are you,
you double-dealing slime?" Cohl glanced from the man at the bar to Lope.
"Friend of yours?" "Not for long," Lope said, getting to his feet and waving
his arm. "Right here, Pezzle." Pezzle squinted in Lope's direction, then
jumped down from the bar and began to shove and barrel his way through the
crowd, his cohorts following in his wake.
"You're a no-good cheat," he said as soon as he reached the booth. "You
figured you could walk out without paying us, is that it?" Cohl watched Lope
take in everything at a glance Pezzle's raised weapon, the position of the
other three men, how far their hands were from their blasters.
"You weren't worth paying," Lope said flatly.
"You only took care of one of them, and you left me to clean up after
you." Cohl and Boiny started to slide out of the booth, but Lope put his hand
on Cohl's shoulder. "Don't leave, Captain. This won't take a minute.
Maybe you could consider it an audition." "All right," Cohl told him,
settling back down.
Customers in the adjacent booths weren't as confident as Cohl. Climbing
over seats and whatever else stood in their way, they began to scramble out of
the line of fire.
Sweating profusely, Pezzle gulped and found his voice. "You'll pay now,"
he said, flinging spittle from his thick lips.
Cohl never saw Lope's blaster leave its holster.
He saw the blur of Lope's right hand, he heard several weapons discharge,
and the next thing he knew, Pezzle and his trio were piled in a heap on the
floor.
His smoking blaster still in hand, Lope regarded Cohl expectantly.
"You'll do," Cohl said, nodding his head.
Karfeddion Spaceport was a sprawl of docking bays, repair shops, and
cantinas even seedier than the Tipsy Mynock. Nodding to the several members of
Docking Bay 331 "s maintenance crew, Cohl, Boiny, and Lope closed on the
battered freighter the Nebula Front had provided.
"What happened to the Hawk-Bat, Captain?" Lope asked as he gazed
uncertainly at the ship.
"Too well known for where we're headed," Cohl said.
Cohl introduced Lope to the pair of humans who were standing at the foot
of the freighter's boarding ramp.
"Captain," one of them said in a scratchy voice, "some dame is waiting
for you in the forward compartment." "Who? "Cohl said.
"She wouldn't say." Cohl and Boiny traded looks. "Maybe it's that bounty
hunter you were searching for," the Rodian suggested.
"I've got another idea," Cohl said, without elaborating.
"You don't think--was "Who else could it be? The only thing I can't
figure is how she found me." "Maybe she attached a tracker to some part of you
before she left," Boiny suggested.
They left Lope and the others to get acquainted and climbed the ramp.
"Did I tell you she would miss me?" Cohl asked over his shoulder as soon
as he had stepped into the forward hold.
Rella was sitting in Cohl's chair, with her long legs crossed.
"You're right, Cohl," she said. "I couldn't stay away--but not for the
reasons you think." Her outfit of tunic, trousers, capelet, and cowl was made
of a silvery metallic fiber that shimmered as she moved.
"By the look of you, I'd say you've been dipping too deeply into your
retirement fund, and you need the credits." She scowled at him. "Is it safe to
talk in here?" Cohl nodded to Boiny, who ena4 the cabin's security system.
"I've been hearing rumors that you're putting together a new crew," Rella
said when Cohl sat down.
He shrugged. "What else could I do after you walked out on me?" She
didn't even crack a smile. "The way I hear it, you're in the market for
lookouts and second-rate exterminators--like that brute you just brought in."
"Tough jobs call for tough personnel." Rella looked him in the eye. "What have
you gotten yourself into, Cohl? Be straight with me--for old times" sake."
Cohl considered it, then said, "It's an execution." She nodded knowingly.
"Who's the target?" "Valorum--on Eriadu." Rella seemed to shrink in the chair,
as if her worst fears had been realized. "You can't do this, Cohl." He laughed
shortly. "You're welcome to watch." "Listen to me," she started to say.
"What, you bought yourself some scruples to go along with the new outfit-
-the new you?" "Scruples? Don't insult me, Cohl." "Then what is it about
Valorum?" She shook her head. "It's not about Valorum.
It's about you--your reputation. Without even trying, I found out that
you'd been to Belsavis, Malastare, Clak'dor, and Yetoom. How hard do you think
it's going to be for anyone else to track you? And I don't mean thugs looking
to hire on with you. I'm talking about judicials or Jedi." "I appreciate the
warning, Rella, but it won't matter now. I've got everyone I need. Unless, of
course, you want to sign aboard." She held his gaze. "I do." He blinked.
"No, I'm not kidding you, Cohl," she said.
All at once Cohl grew serious and reached for her hands. "Listen, kid, I
appreciate your finding me, but this operation isn't something you want to get
involved in." She appraised him. "I don't get it. A minute ago you were acting
like you had the galaxy by the tail." "Bluster, Rella, pure and simple." "Are
you saying you wish you hadn't taken the job on?" "Maybe I'm just feeling my
age, but, yeah, I should have stepped out of the life when I could. I mean,
moisture farming can't be all that difficult to learn, right? And there'll
still be exciting times..." Rella smiled broadly. "Of course there'll be
exciting times, Cohl. Just drop this thing. You can walk away right now." He
shook his head. "I gave my word. I have to at least see this through." Rella
studied him for a moment, then forced an exhale. "All the more reason for me
to tag along.
If you can't look out for yourself, then I'll have to do it for you."
world of rugged landmasses and slender seas, slate-gray Eriadu had long sought
to be the Coruscant of the Outer Rim. That goal had been furthered by dint of
Eriadu's choice location in the heart of the Seswenna sector, at the
intersection of the Rimma Trade Route and the Hydian Way.
But where Coruscant had confined most of its factories and foundries to
specific areas, industry held sway over all Eriadu, fouling air, land, and sea
with unrelenting outpourings of toxic by-products. Worse, while the planet was
prosperous compared to its neighbors, Eriadu's legislators remained more
interested in unbridled growth than in investing in the atmosphere scrubbers,
aquifer purifiers, and waste disposal systems that made Coruscant livable.
The planet's principal city was in the southern hemisphere. A thriving
seaport that had grown up around the mouth of a major river, it spread almost
one hundred kilometers inland, sprawling along the shores of a finger-shaped
bay to the west, and creeping up and over the once thickly forested hills that
rose at its back.
From the rear of the energy-shielded, repulsorlift limousine that had
swept him past crowds of demonstrators at Eriadu Spaceport, Valorum surmised
that the city must have been a scenic wonder, once upon a time.
Now it was a gloomy warren of tiled domes, narrow alleyways, lofty arches
and towers, and open-air marketplaces, thronged with turbaned merchants,
veiled women, bearded men drawing on the spouts of bubbling waterpipes, and
six-legged beasts of burden, heaped with trade goods, vying for space with
rusting landspeeders and aged repulsorsleds.
Valorum couldn't help thinking of Eriadu as a dusty and forlorn flip side
of Theed, the capital city of Naboo.
The din of voices and vehicles was nearly enough to overwhelm the tinted,
sound-cancellation windows of his limousine, though many of the city's streets
had been cleared for his passing. Traffic had been diverted, and security
personnel and droids were stationed at nearly every intersection. Citizens
were allowed to watch from the narrow sidewalks, but anyone caught peering
from an upper-story window or overhead walkway risked being shot by judicial
snipers stationed on the rooftops and riding in speeders above the Coruscant
delegation hovercade.
Earlier, Valorum had learned that several decoy convoys had been
dispatched from the spaceport, and that the route his hover - cade was
following through the city had been altered at the last moment, to thwart
premeditated attacks.
To the protective force of judicials, Senate Guards, and security droids,
he was known in code as "The Goods." After the decision to send half the
supplemental force of Jedi Knights to Asmeru, to deal with the crisis there,
the security detail chiefs had demanded that Valorum submit to wearing a
temporary locator implant, so that they would know where he was at all times.
It was ironic that he should find himself in the spotlight, when the
whole idea behind the trade summit had been to focus attention on the Outer
Rim worlds. Still, he was glad that he had had sense enough to listen to
Senator Palpatine about going through with the summit as planned, despite what
was occurring in the Senex sector.
An added irony was that the Valorum family had played a part in fouling
Eriadu's atmosphere, as well as in cooking it, courtesy of the enormous balls
of flame that spewed periodically from the factory stacks that dominated the
outskirts of the city.
The family's contribution was a space vessel construction and shipping
concern, based in orbit and in several downside facilities. In terms of
output, the company wasn't in the same league as TaggeCo and the other giant
corporations, and in terms of transport it was no match for Duro Shipping, let
alone the Trade Federation. But thanks in part to the Valorum name, the
company had never failed to show a profit.
Valorum's onworld relatives had offered their stately homes and mansions
for use during his visit, but once again he had followed a suggestion by
Senator Palpatine, that he stay at the home of the sector's lieutenant
governor, who was an acquaintance of Palpatine's.
The lieutenant governor's name was Wilhuff Tarkin, and his compound was
said to overlook the artificially blue waters of the bay.
Tarkin was rumored to be an ambitious man, with grandiose ideas, and, in
that, his manse by the sea did not disappoint.
Equal in size to those of Valorum's wealthy cousins on Eriadu, the house
was an ostentatious blend of Core Classic and Mid Rim Ornate, which declared
itself with huge, domed enclosures, gilded columns, and stone floors polished
to a liquid sheen.
There was, however, something impersonal about the great, high-ceilinged
rooms and stately colonnades. It was as if the costly furnishings and framed
artwork were there merely for show, when what the owner actually preferred was
the antiseptic gleam of a space-worthy freighter.
Valorum was ushered into the manse by a surround of Senate Guards. Also
under escort, walked Sei Taria and a dozen members of the Coruscant delegation
to the summit. Trailing them came Adi Gallia and three other Jedi, who had
assented to Valorum's request that they be as unobtrusive as possible.
Once inside, the guards allowed Valorum a bit of breathing room, but that
was only because every guest and every droid servant had been scanned, well in
advance of his arrival. The house itself had been gone over top to bottom by
the security detail, who had turned part of the estate into theirthe tactical
command and control headquarters. Snipers roosted in the trees and on the
parapets, and gunships patrolled the offshore waters.
Testament to the priorities of Eriadu's leaders, Seswenna Hall, where the
summit was to take place, was an even more elaborate structure. A dome of
enormous dimensions, it crowned a high mount at the center of the city and
rose in mosaic splendor to a height of some two hundred meters.
Valorum had expected to be feted, but he had not been prepared for so
sizable a gathering. With Sei Taria at his side, he was announced to a
ballroom filled with dignitaries representing worlds throughout the Mid and
Outer Rims. From Sullust, Malastare, Ryloth, and Bespin they had come; few of
them enamored with Valorum, but all of them eager to be heard on the matter of
taxation of the free trade zones.
"Supreme Chancellor Valorum," the man who had made it all happen said,
"Eriadu is honored to receive you." Lieutenant Governor Tarkin was a wiry man,
with intense blue eyes, sunken cheeks, and an expressionless mouth. His brow
was high and bony, and his taut face seemed to reveal the size and shape of
every bone beneath. Already receding at the temples, his black hair was combed
straight back and meticulously cut. He stood tall and straight as a military
officer and projected an air of aristocratic officiousness.
Valorum recalled hearing that Tarkin, in fact, had served in the military
when Eriadu was part of what had then been known as the Outland Regions.
"Did Senator Palpatine arrive with you?" Tarkin asked.
"He had some lingering business to attend to on Coruscant," Valorum
replied. "But I'm certain that the Naboo delegation will arrive in time for
the summit's opening remarks." Tarkin appraised Valorum openly as they stepped
down into the ballroom, the crowd parting before them.
"It's a rare occasion when anyone involved in Republic politics leaves
Coruscant," Tarkin continued. "Something of a prison, isn't it?
Should duty ever call for me to be confined to one place, I will at least
demand that I have ample space around me." He waved his thin arms through a
broad circle.
Valorum forced a smile. "The trip was short and pleasant." "Yes, but for
you to leave the Core, and to come here..
. It's nothing less than extraordinary." "Nothing less than necessary,"
Valorum said.
Tarkin arched a brow as he turned slightly.
"Necessary perhaps, but certainly unprecedented. And I believe it speaks
strongly of your desire to do what is best and right for the outlying systems.
" He lowered his voice to add, "I trust you weren't distressed by the riots."
Valorum frowned. "I observed no riots. There was a crowd of protestors at the
spaceport, but--was "Ah, yes. Of course, you couldn't have seen the rioters,
because your convoy was rerouted at the last instant." Valorum wasn't sure how
he was meant to respond.
"May I say how disquieted we were to learn of the recent attempt on your
life, Supreme Chancellor. But then, I suppose we all have our local troubles.
Ryloth has its smugglers, King Veruna of Naboo has his detractors, and Eriadu
has the Trade Federation and the possibility of taxation of the trade routes."
Valorum was aware of some of the less-than-welcoming looks he was receiving
from Tarkin's guests. "News of the assassination attempt doesn't appear to
have granted me much sympathy in this room." Tarkin gestured in dismissal.
"Our fears regarding taxation revolve around the potential for increased
corruption, as is ever the case when additional layers of bureaucracy are
positioned between those with power and those without.
"But that doesn't mean we favor separatism, or encourage open rebellion.
Like other worlds along the Rimma, Eriadu has many Nebula Front supporters,
but I am not one of them, nor are any of those in the governor's
administration. Threats of insurrection must be met with strong, centralized
power. One must seize the moment, and strike." Tarkin lightened his diatribe
with a self-deprecating laugh. "Forgive the ravings of a lowly lieutenant
governor, Supreme Chancellor. Moreover, I realize that it is hardly the
Republic's way to answer violence with violence." "I would have thought the
same, until recently," someone nearby interjected.
Disdain and provocation mixed in the genteel, feminine voice, and the
speaker was every centimeter a lady, from the train of her priceless gown to
her dazzlingly jeweled tiara.
Tarkin smiled thinly as he offered his crooked arm to the heavyset woman
and introduced her.
"Supreme Chancellor Valorum, it is my pleasure to present Lady Theala
Vandron, of the Senex sector." Taken off his guard, a flushed Valorum nodded
his head in a courtly bow. "Lady Vandron," he said without emotion.
"It may interest you to know, Supreme Chancellor, that the hostage
situation on Asmeru has been, shall we say, resolved." "Asmeru?" Tarkin said.
"What's this?" Valorum quickly regained his composure. "The Republic
dispatched a peace delegation of judicials and Jedi to confront agents of the
Nebula Front based there." Tarkin looked at him askance. "Confront or contain?
" "Whichever was deemed appropriate." Tarkin's face lit up in revelation. "So
that's why several judicials and Jedi were called away from Eriadu. Well,
either way, it appears that our policies are perhaps not so antithetical,
after all, Supreme Chancellor." "On the heels of an assassination attempt, the
Supreme Chancellor takes direct action in non-Republic space," Lady Vandron
said, looking at Tarkin. "We are obliged to commend him on his willingness to
venture so far from home in such difficult times." Valorum accepted the left-
handed compliment with wellborn reserve. "Rest assured, madam, and Lieutenant
Governor Tarkin, that Coruscant is in good hands." While Valorum didn't enjoy
universal support even on Coruscant, his absence was felt, especially in the
governmental district, where there was a hint of mischief in the air.
The members of the Galactic Senate awarded themselves liberal leave while
the trade summit was in progress. But a diligent few reported to their offices
in the senate building, if only to catch up on work.
Bail Antilles was one of them.
He had spent the morning drafting a proposal that would ease the trading
tension between his native Alderaan and neighboring Delaya. When he broke for
lunch, he had nothing more on his mind than a tall glass of Gizer ale at his
favorite restaurant near the Courts Building. But politics foiled his plan, in
the form of Senator Orn Free Taa, who intercepted him in the senate's most
public of corridors.
The corpulent blue Twi'lek was riding a hoversled.
"May I glide beside you for a moment, Senator Antilles?" he asked.
Antilles made a gesture of acceptance. "What is it?" he said, plainly
annoyed.
"To come directly to the point, some rather interesting data has found
its way to me. I thought to bring it to the attention of Senator Palpatine,
but he suggested that you, as chair of the Internal Activities Committee, were
the one to whom I should speak." Antilles started to protest, then sighed in
resignation. "Go ahead, Senator." Taa's thick head-tails quivered slightly in
anticipation. "As you know, I've recently been appointed to the Allocations
Committee, and in that capacity I have been delving into precedents and
legalities for Supreme Chancellor Valorum's proposed taxation of the free
trade zones. Clearly, such taxation will have unanticipated consequences and
ramifications, but we're hoping to impede corruption by imagining scenarios of
what is likely to occur, should the proposal pass muster in the Senate." "I'm
certain you are," Antilles muttered.
Taa took the sarcasm in stride. "The Supreme Chancellor has stated his
wish that a percentage of those revenues garnered through taxation of the
trade routes - comfor all intents and purposes, taxation of the Trade
Federation--butevery allocated for social and technological aid to worlds in
the Mid and Outer Rim that may be adversely affected by taxation.
"This, however, presents a dilemma. If the motion is ratified and the
Trade Federation is forced to surrender some of its hold on the space lanes,
many smaller shipping concerns stand to profit--not only as a result of a
newly fashioned competitive market, but also from those tax revenues earmarked
for outer system development." Antilles allowed his puzzlement to show. "I'm
not sure I see the dilemma." "Well, then, permit me to illustrate a specific
case. The Allocations Committee database conducted a search for Outer Rim
corporations poised to benefit from taxation, and crosschecked the results of
the search with data on file with the Appropriations Committee, of which I am
also a member. Out of the compiled list of thousands of corporations, one
concern was singled out A shipping concern based on Eriadu that has received
a sudden and, may I add, substantial inflow of capital." "That doesn't
surprise me," Antilles said.
"Investors with their noses to the air are doing the same thing your
committee is doing, except that they're looking for financial opportunities."
"Exactly," Taa said. "Investor speculation.
But in this case the dilemma arises from the fact that the concern is
owned by relatives of Supreme Chancellor Valorum." Antilles came to a halt and
turned to the hovering Twi'lek.
Taa showed the palms of his big hands. "Let me make per fectly clear that
I am not suggesting impropriety on the part of the Supreme Chancellor. I'm
certain he is aware that anyone with privileged information about legislative
proposals or construction contracts and the like is constrained by Statute
435, Sub - statute 1759 of the Amended Proprieties Bill, to refrain from
profiting by such knowledge, by investment or other means." Antilles narrowed
his eyes. "But you are suggesting something by not suggesting it." Taa shook
his head. "I merely find it curious that the Supreme Chancellor has not
brought this seeming conflict of interest to the attention of the senate. I'm
confident that the dilemma will disappear once we have determined the origin
of the investment and are satisfied that there is no link between those
investors and Supreme Chancellor Valorum himself." "Have you learned anything?
" Antilles asked.
"That's the other peculiar thing," Taa said. "The deeper I dig for the
source, the more dead ends I encounter. It's almost as if someone doesn't wish
to have it known where or with whom the investment originated. My lack of
success is partially explained by the fact that I lack the necessary clearance
to access the relevant financial files. Access of the sort to which I refer
requires someone of high standing. Someone, well, like yourself." Antilles
stared at him. "I assume that you've collected the pertinent data, Senator."
Taa restrained a smile. "As a matter of fact, I happen to have a copy with me.
" He proffered a data holocron.
Antilles took it. "I'll see what I can find out." The commandeered Hawk-
Bat streaked toward Karfeddion, a mottled green semicircle filling the
gunship's forward viewports. In the slung cockpit, Qui-Gon sat at the
controls. Dressed in a poncho, scarf, and boots borrowed from Asmeru, he
looked every part a member of the Nebula Front.
Obi-Wan stood behind the copilot's chair, shrugging out of his brown
cloak.
"Put your robes there," Qui-Gon said, gesturing to the empty navigator's
chair. "Along with your lightsaber." Obi-Wan froze. "My lightsaber?" "Once we
land, we want to be sure to give the wrong impression." Obi-Wan thought about
it for a moment, then nodded uncertainly and unclipped the c ylinder from his
belt.
Setting the lightsaber down, he eased back into the copilot's chair.
"Master, did we take the right action on Asmeru?" he asked, breaking a
prolonged silence.
"Could the violence have been avoided, as Master Yaddle wished?" "What
can be avoided, whose end is purposed by the Force?" Obi-Wan fell silent for
another long moment.
"Is it dangerous to give too much thought to the dark side?" "I keep my
gaze fixed on the light, Padawan. But to answer your question Thought and
action are very different things." "But how can we be certain our thoughts
don't color our actions? The path we walk is at times so narrow." Qui-Gon put
the Hawk-Bat on autopilot and swung to face his apprentice.
"Shall I tell you how Yoda explained it to me when I was even younger
than you are?" "Yes, Master." Qui-Gon gazed out the viewport while he spoke.
"On distant Generis stands an especially dark, dense, and near impenetrable
growth of sallap trees. For many generations it was necessary to travel a long
distance around the forest to reach the glorious deep-water lake on the far
side. But then a Sith Lord thought to blaze a trail directly through the
trees, in the hope of providing a quicker route to the lake.
"As you might imagine, only a few have taken both routes and lived to
tell of their experiences. But all agree that while the path through that dark
wood is shorter, it actually fails to arrive at the lake.
Whereas the path that skirts the forest, though long and arduous, not
only arrives at the shore, but is, in itself, a destination." Without glancing
at Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon asked, "On As - meru, did you venture into t dark wood, or
did you remain in the light, with the Force as your companion and ally?" "I
had no destination in mind, other than to follow where the Force led me."
"Then you have the answer." Obi-Wan swung to face the starfield. "The Sith
were before Master Yoda's time, were they not, Master?" Qui-Gon came close to
smiling. "Nothing was before Yoda's time, Padawan." Obi-Wan turned to glance
toward the gunship's forward cabin. "Master, about Cindar--was "No, I don't
trust him at all." "Then why have we come to Karfeddion?" "We have to begin
somewhere, Obi-Wan. In time, even Cindar's lies will betray his true
intentions." "In time for us to prevent Captain Cohl from doing whatever Havac
has tasked him to do?" "That, I can't say, Padawan." Just then, Cindar
wandered forward, his gaze falling on the discarded Jedi robes and
lightsabers.
"Won't you feel naked without them?" Obi-Wan swung away from the console
to face him.
"We want to be certain to give the wrong impression." "That's good
planning," the Nikto said.
"Especially since I'm new to Karfeddion myself, and haven't an idea where
to begin looking for Cohl or Havac." Qui-Gon glanced at him. "Don't concern
yourself about that. I suspect we've already made a beginning." With the
gunship grounded in the docking bay, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Cindar descended
the boarding ramp and set out to make inquiries at some of the disreputable
cantinas and tap - cafs that surrounded the spaceport. They weren't twenty
meters from the ship when a pair of maintenance technicians intercepted them
at the exit to the street.
"Hawk-Bat, right?" the taller of the two said to Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon looked the man in the eye. "Who's asking?" "No offense, Captain,"
the other said, showing his grease - stained hands in a mollifying gesture.
"We just wanted to tell you that you just missed him." Obi-Wan started to
say something, but thought better of it.
"We just missed him?" "Launched a couple of hours back," the tall one
replied, "with a full complement of crew in a beat-up Corellian freighter."
"Oh, that ship," Qui-Gon said.
The shorter tech adopted a conspiratorial look.
"Are you three part of this Eriadu business?" "What do you think?" Qui-
Gon said rhetorically.
The two techs traded meaningful glances. "You wouldn't by chance need a
couple of spare hands, would you, Captain?" the taller one asked.
Qui-Gon pretended to assess them. "I've no need for technicians. What are
your other talents?" "Same as the ones Cohl was flying with, Captain," the
tall one said with increasing assurance. "Light and heavy arms, melee weapons,
explosives, you name it." "Small wars and revolutions," the other enthused.
Qui-Gon nodded. "I'll pass the word along to Captain Cohl." The taller
one nudged his partner in anticipation.
"Much appreciated, Captain." "Can you tell us what's planned?" the other
asked.
"Just so we know how to prepare?" Qui-Gon shook his head firmly.
The taller man frowned. "We understand. It's only that we heard it was
extermination work." Qui-Gon said nothing in a blank-faced definite way.
"Well, you know where to find us, Captain," the short one said.
Qui-Gon let them take a few steps toward the exit before he called out.
"By the way, was Havac with him?" The question clearly puzzled them.
"Don't know the name, Captain," the shorter of the pair said. "Just Cohl,
his Rodian sidekick, and the ones Cohl had hired." The other man grinned
broadly. "And the woman." Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. "So she was there, too.
" The tall one laughed shortly. "If looks could kill, eh, Captain?" Qui-Gon
didn't so much as glance at Obi-Wan until the pair had left the docking bay.
But by that time, Cindar had already made his move.
"You're one lucky fellow," the humanoid said, holding his blaster where
he could cover both of them.
"Not from where I'm standing," Qui-Gon said.
"You weren't meant to hear any of that," Cindar went on. "I didn't know
anything about Cohl's coming to Karfeddion." "So this was just to keep us away
from Eriadu." Cindar sneered. "Yeah, and this is as far as it goes, Jedi. Too
bad you left your lightsabers on board." Qui-Gon folded his arms. "We had to
make you feel confident about drawing your blaster and revealing yourself."
"Huh?" Obi-Wan threw a small sound toward the ship, and Cindar whirled. When
he spun back to the two Jedi, they had moved.
Spying Obi-Wan ten meters to his right, Cindar triggered a bolt, but Qui-
Gon called on the Force to shove Cindar's blaster hand, and the bolt went
wild. At the same instant, Obi-Wan leapt over Cindar's head, landing directly
behind him.
Cindar spun on his heel, prepared to fire.
Obi-Wan swept his right leg through a forward circle, knocking the
blaster from Cindar's hand.
Crouching suddenly, he whirled one foot, kicking Cindar's legs out from
under him.
The thickset humanoid fell hard on his side, but sprang nimbly to his
feet and began to advance, throwing combinations of punches and kicks, which
Obi-Wan blocked with his raised forearms and knees.
Frustrated, Cindar threw his arms around Obi-Wan in a front-facing hug,
only to end up hugging himself when Obi-Wan made himself slender and dropped
out of the embrace. Off - balanced, Cindar staggered forward and crashed into
one of the Hawk-Bafs landing struts.
Obi-Wan leapt and landed.
Cindar charged--but with hidden purpose.
Anticipating Obi-Wan's next leap, Cindar stopped short, then threw a
powerful roundhouse kick. Tagged in the torso as he was landing, Obi-Wan moved
with the force of the blow, cartwheeling to one side, and landing square on
both feet, facing Cindar. The humanoid charged once more, catching the impact
of Obi-Wan's abrupt back flip, full in the jaw.
Cindar blundered backwards into the same strut.
Evading Obi-Wan's follow-up blows with bobs and twists, he squatted and
made a sudden grab for Obi-Wan's right ankle. But Obi - Wan distanced himself
by executing another back flip.
The momentary lapse in the fighting was all Cindar needed. From an ankle
holster he drew a hold-out blaster.
The first bolt nicked Obi-Wan's right leg and sent him down on one knee.
Qui-Gon appeared out of nowhere to drive him out of the path of the next bolt.
Compact packets of energized light ripped through the docking bay, glancing
off the walls and ceiling.
Cindar tried to track the Jedi, but they moved too quickly for him. His
next blasts caromed from the underside of the HawkBat and recoiled crazily
from the floor.
Then the firing ceased.
Standing rigidly in front of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, Cindar's gaze was
unfocused and his mouth a rictus of surprise. When he toppled facedown, they
saw the burn of a blaster bolt that had ricocheted into the center of his
back.
Qui-Gon went to him and checked for signs of life. "He's told us all he
can." Obi-Wan picked himself up from the floor, favoring his sound leg. "What
now, Master?" he asked.
Qui-Gon nodded to the Hawk-Bat.
"We race Captain Cohl to Eriadu." "Karfeddion?" Yoda said in puzzlement.
"Off on another quest, is he?" Saesee Tiin glanced at Yaddle before replying.
"None other than the quest that has preoccupied him for the past month."
Yoda touched his forefinger to his lips, closed his eyes, and shook his head
in dismay. "Again, Captain Cohl." Eleven of the twelve members of the Jedi
Council were gathered in their high tower, with the sun disappearing around
the western curve of Coruscant in an eruption of color. Adi Gallia's chair was
empty.
"It's not like Qui-Gon to defy the express wishes of the Council and the
Supreme Chancellor," Plo Koon said.
Yoda's eyes snapped opened and he raised his cane. "No.
Like Qui-Gon, this is. Always forward, the Living Force. Adjust to Qui-
Gon's actions, the fu ture will." He shook his head again.
"The only real danger is if he does anything to further a rift between
the Republic and the Senex sector," Oppo Rancisis said. "I fear that the
events on Asmeru have already placed Supreme Chancellor Valorum in an awkward
position." "At a critical time," Even Piell added.
"Vandron and the other Senex noble houses could point to Asmeru as an
example of the Republic's disregard for self-governing sectors. Valorum's goal
of fostering trust in the Republic among the outlying systems would be
subverted." Mace Windu had his mouth open to reply when KiAdiMundi emerged
from the turbolift.
"I'm sorry to intrude, Master Windu," the Cerean said. "But we have
received an urgent communication from Qui-Gon Jinn." "What is the
transmission?" Mace Windu asked.
"He and Obi-Wan are bound for Eriadu in the Hawk-Bat." Yoda made his eyes
wide in theatrical surprise.
"Become Captain Cohl, Qui-Gon has!" As a trading port, Eriadu was
accustomed to seeing its polluted skies filled with vessels. The trade summit,
however, set a new record for traffic, both below and high in orbit.
Among the thousands of ships anchored above the planet's bright side was
a run-down Corellian freighter, the current object of interest of a heavily
armed picket ship bearing the emblem of Eriadu Customs and Immigration.
Between the picket and the freighter moved a small single-winged craft, twice
the size of a standard starfighter.
Rella and Boiny watched the craft approach from one of the freighter's
starboard viewports. Dressed alike in knee-high boots, bloused trousers,
vests, and soft caps with short brims, they might have been veteran spacers.
"We'll play this by the numbers," Rella said.
"Customs officials aren't trained to be nasty, they're born that way."
She glanced at Boiny.
"Want to go over any of it again?" The Rodian shook his head. "I'll
follow your lead." They went to the starboard airlock and waited for it to
cycle. Shortly, three humans in flashy uniforms came aboard, accompanied by a
mean-tempered saurian quadruped fitted with an electronic collar. The beast's
tongue flicked from its slash of mouth, licking the air.
Nearly as tall as Rella, the chief inspector was a slender, light -
complexioned woman. Her blond hair was pulled severely back and woven into a
long braid behind her head.
"Take Chack aft and work your way forward," she ordered her two
companions. "Let him take his time. Tag anything that gets his attention, and
we'll deal with it separately." The two customs agents and their sniffer
headed for the rear of the ship. The chief watched them go, then followed
Rella and Boiny into the freighter's forward cabin.
"Your shipping manifest," she demanded, extending her right hand to
Rella.
Rella prized a data card from the breast pocket of her vest and slapped
it into the woman's palm. The chief inserted the card into a portable reader
and studied the device's small display screen.
From aft came a sudden growling sound. The chief looked over her
shoulder.
"Your sniffer must have gotten a whiff of our galley," Boiny said
jocularly.
The woman's stern expression didn't waver. "I can't make sense of this,"
she said after a moment, motioning to the reader's display screen with the
backs of her fingertips. She eyed Rella with suspicion.
"What, exactly, is your cargo, Captain?" Rella leveled a blaster at her.
"Trouble." The woman's eyes widened. Noises behind her prompted her to glance
over her shoulder once more. Two robust humans and a Gotal answered her
obvious surprise with pernicious grins.
"We're holding the other two aft," Lope said. "The animal's dead." "Good
work," Rella said, deftly disarming the chief.
Pressing the blaster to the woman's ribs, she steered her toward the
freighter's communication suite.
"I want you to raise your ship," Rella said while they walked. "Tell
whoever's in charge that you've discovered a load of contraband, and that you
need the entire inspection crew over here on the quick." The woman tried to
turn out of Rella's grip, but Rella only tightened her hold and shoved her
down into the chair at the control console.
"Do it," Rella warned.
The woman hesitated, then complied, resignedly.
"The entire crew?" someone on the picket ship asked in disbelief. "Is it
that bad?" "It's that bad," the chief said toward the console pickup.
Rella switched off the feed and took a step back to appraise the chief.
"I'm going to need your uniform." The woman stared at her. "My uniform?" Rella
patted her on the shoulder. "That's a good girl." She swung back to Boiny and
the others.
"Position yourvs at the airlock and be ready to receive company." The
mercenaries ena4 their blasters and hurried off.
Not fifteen minutes later, and now wearing the chief's uniform, Rella
entered the bridge of the picket ship and swept her eyes over the instruments.
Boiny's charge, the chief, followed, her wrists sporting stun cuffs and the
rest of her clothed in Rella's spacer garb.
Boiny motioned the woman into the copilot's chair, then pressed his
sucker-tipped forefinger to a communications bead in his right ear.
"Lope wants to know what he should do with the inspection team," he said
to Rella.
She answered while continuing to study the instruments.
"Tell him to secure them in the aft hold of the freighter." She eased
into the pilot's chair and adjusted it to her liking. Drab Eriadu filled the
forward viewport. Rella switched on the communications array and swiveled to
face the chief.
"Send a message that you're bringing a load of confiscated cargo down the
well. Say that you want the cargo transferred to the customs building for
immediate inspection, and to have hoversleds standing by to meet you." The
woman smirked. "That's against procedure. They won't do it." Rella smiled.
"Thanks for the warning. But they will do it this time, because the people in
the customs building are on my team." She gave it a moment to register.
"Glare at me all you want, chief, but you're going to do it eventually."
The woman bent toward the audio pickup, clearly hoping that Rella would be
proved wrong. But after listening to the transmission, the voice on the other
end replied, "We'll have the hoversleds waiting." The chief continued to
glower at Rella. "You think no one knows we boarded your ship?" "I'm aware of
that," Rella said. "But we don't need all day to accomplish what we came here
to do." She fastened the chief's seat harness in such a way that the woman
could scarcely move. Then she accepted an adhesive strip from Boiny and
plastered it over the chief's mouth.
"You sit tight for a while," Rella said, squatting to eye level with the
woman. "We won't be long." She and Boiny went aft to the picket's small rear
compartment. Cohl and the mercenaries were already there, pressed in among a
half-dozen two-meter-tall cargo tubes that had been conveyed from the
freighter.
All of them were wearing rebreathers and extravehicular suits, with
armorply vests beneath.
"Is this necessary?" one of the humans was asking Cohl, gesturing to the
upright cargo tubes.
"I suppose you'd rather blast your way through customs, is that it?" "No,
Captain," the man answered sullenly.
"It's just that I don't like tight spots." Cohl laughed ruefully. "Get
used to it. It's going to be nothing but tight spots from this point on.
Now, in you go." Reluctantly the man opened the cargo tube's narrow hatch
and squeezed inside. "It's like a coffin in here!" "Then just be happy you're
still alive," Cohl said, securing the door from the outside.
With similar aversion, the others began to secrete themselves.
"You, too, Cohl," Rella said.
"Wish I could be joining you, Captain," Boiny said with a smile.
Cohl scowled. "You're lucky there was a Rodian on the inspection team, or
I'd have you sharing a canister with Lope." He turned to Rella. "I don't know
exactly how we would have pulled this off without your help." She narrowed her
eyes at him. "Save it, Cohl. I just want to get us out of it in one piece." He
stepped into the canister. "Seriously. I don't deserve you." "That's the first
true thing you've said. But that's just who I am." She reached into the
canister to fasten the collar of Cohl's space suit. "We can't have you
catching a chill." Cohl grinned at her.
She sealed the cargo tube and looked at Boiny.
"Ready the ship to leave orbit." As promised, a half-dozen hoversleds
were on hand to meet the customs ship when it touched down at Eriadu's
overtaxed spaceport.
Now fettered only by stun cuffs, the chief was the first to step from the
picket's hatch. She took one look at the humanoid and alien operators of the
hoversleds and inhaled sharply.
"Who are you people?" She asked in utter dismay.
"You don't really want to know that," Rella said from just behind her.
She nodded to Boiny, who placed a small styrette to the chief's neck and
injected her with a measure of clear fluid. Instantly, the woman slumped back
into Boiny's arms.
"Stow her in one of the empty cargo canisters," Rella said. "We'll take
her with us for safekeeping." She hopped down onto one of the hoversleds. "We
have to work fast," she cautioned Havac's downside contingent of terrorists.
"It won't be long before the freighter is discovered and searched." Rella rode
one of the repulsorlift flatbeds to the picket's aft hatch, which was already
open. There, she leapt into the rear compartment and rapped her knuckles
against the matte surface of Cohl's container.
"Not much longer," she said quietly.
When the coffinlike canisters had been loaded, the flotilla of hoversleds
moved across the spaceport's duracrete apron to the customs warehouse, where
more of Havac's terrorists were guarding the roll-away doors.
To all sides, ships were arriving and launching.
Closer to the spaceport terminals, passengers were disembarking from the
shuttles that had carried them from transports anchored in orbit. PK and
protocol droids were everywhere, as were teams of security agents, waiting to
hustle diplomats and dignitaries through immigration. Massed along the
spaceport's stun-fenced perimeter, mobs of demonstrators were declaring their
discontent, with chanted slogans and crudely lettered signs.
The hoversleds streamed into the warehouse in single file, the roll-away
doors closing behind them. At once, the humanoid and alien pilots began to
unseal the canisters, which opened with a hiss of escaping atmosphere.
Cohl climbed from his coffin, pulled off his rebreather, and jumped to
the sawdust-covered floor, gazing around expectantly. The place smelled of
spacecraft exhaust and hydrocarbons.
"Punctual, as ever, Captain," Havac said, as he and a group of his
cohorts emerged from behind a palisade of stacked cargo bins. Sporting a
colorful headcloth and scarf that left only his eyes exposed, the Nebula Front
militant started for the now motionless sleds, coming to an abrupt halt when
he saw Rella.
"I thought you'd retired." "I had a memory lapse," she told him. "But I'm
about to get over it." Havac appraised the gathered mercenaries and turned to
Cohl. "Will they follow orders?" "If you feed them regularly," Cohl said.
"What do we do with this one?" Lope asked, indicating the still-
unconscious customs chief.
"Leave her there," Havac answered. "We'll take care of her." He swung
back to Cohl.
"Captain, if you'll follow me, we can conclude your part in this." "That
suits me fine," Cohl said.
Havac glanced at Lope and the others. "The rest of you wait here. I'll
brief you when I return." I n a restricted area of the spaceport, Adi Gallia
met Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as they stepped from the sharp-nosed shuttle that had
brought them downside.
"The High Council's favorite Jedi," Adi said as Qui-Gon approached, his
long hair and brown cloak stirred by the wind. "I half expected you and your
loyal Padawan to come bolting overhead in Captain Cohl's gunship." "We left
the Hawk-Bat in orbit," Qui-Gon replied without humor. "What's the situation
here?" "Master Tiin, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Vergere, and some of the others are on
their way from Coruscant." Qui-Gon planted his hands on his hips. "Did you ask
security to run a check on Corellian freighters?" Adi gave him a long-
suffering look. "Do you know how many Corellian freighters are in orbit just
now? Unless you can provide a registry or a drive signature of some sort,
there's little anyone can do. As it is, it will take customs and security a
week to search every vessel." "What about Captain Cohl?" Adi shook her head,
the tails of her tight-fitting bonnet whipping about her handsome features.
"No one fitting Cohl's description has passed through Eriadu immigration."
"Could we have arrived first, Master?" Obi-Wan asked. "The Hawk-Bat is about
the fastest ship I've ever flown in." Adi waited for Qui-Gon's response, which
was to shake his head negatively.
"Cohl is here somewhere. I can feel him." The three of them glanced
around, reaching out with the Force.
"There is so much disturbance just now, it's difficult to focus on any
one thing," Adi said after a long moment.
Determination quickened Qui-Gon's gaze. "We must prevail on the Supreme
Chancellor to allow us to take the place of his Senate Guards. It's our best
hope." Havac led the way down a long corridor. Against one wall were slumped a
dozen or so bound, gagged, and blindfolded customs agents, who voiced muffled
exclamations of fury as Cohl, Rella, and Boiny passed. Havac continued on to a
room that housed the warehouse's small power plant.
He opened the door and gestured everyone inside.
Flickering overhead fixtures illuminated a clamorous generator, along
with scores of unopened shipping crates. The room reeked of lubricants and
liquid fuel.
Havac's demeanor changed as soon as he shut the door behind him. He
unwound the cloth scarf that concealed his face and threw it to the floor.
Cohl regarded him curiously. "What's gotten you so jumpy, Havac?" "You,"
Havac seethed. "You've nearly ruined everything!" Cohl swapped brief looks
with his comrades, then said, "What are you babbling about?" Havac fought to
compose himself. "The Jedi learned that you've been hiring assassins, and that
you're planning something for Eriadu. Your likeness is all over the
Holoationet!" "Again, the Jedi." Cohl narrowed his gaze at Havac. "I thought
you and Cindar were supposed to keep them occupied." "We did our part. We
lured the Jedi to Asmeru, and we managed to lure even more of them away from
Eriadu. But you, you left a trail any amateur could follow, and now Cindar's
dead because of it." "You'll forgive me if I don't sob," Cohl said flatly.
Havac ignored the remark and began to pace the floor. "I've been forced
to modify the entire plan. If it wasn't for the help of our advisor - - was
"Take it easy, Havac," Cohl cut him off.
"You're going to give yourself a stroke." Havac came to a halt behind
Rella and aimed his forefinger at Cohl. "I'm going to have to use the ones you
delivered to fashion a diversion." Cohl's features warped into a mask of
acrimony. "I can't allow that, Havac. I didn't deliver them here to be killed.
They trust me." "Content yourself that they'll die rich, Captain.
What's more, I don't care what you think you can and cannot allow. I
won't have you interfering in this." Cohl laughed shortly. "You're going to
stop me?" He turned and started for the door.
"Stay where you are!" Havac made a sudden grab for Rella's blaster. She
tried to turn away, but wasn't in time. Havac threw his left forearm around
her neck and pressed the blaster to the side of her head.
Cohl stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly toward him. Boiny was
about as far from Havac as he was, but neither of them risked a move.
"You haven't got the stomach for this kind of work, Havac," Cohl said in
a controlled voice.
"Put the blaster down and let her go." Havac only tightened his choke
hold on Rella. She clamped her hands on his forearm.
"You said it yourself, Captain anyone can be killed.
I'll do it if you try to leave. I swear, I'll do it." Cohl glanced at
Boiny before replying. "Havac, think it through. You're the brains, remember?
You hired us to be the brawn." Havac's face was red with fury and panic; he
was trembling from head to foot. "You underestimate me.
You always have." "All right," Cohl said. "Maybe I have. That still
doesn't mean--was "I'm sorry it has to be this way," Havac interrupted. "But
when it comes to safeguarding the interests of the Outer Rim, people like you
and Rella and me are expendable. Our advisor prefers as few loose ends as
possible, in any case." The door opened and two of Havac's confederates
entered the room with blasters raised.
Cohl saw the sorrow in Rella's dark, beautiful eyes. "Oh, Cohl," she said
in a sad, quiet voice.
Abruptly, Havac turned his blaster and fired.
The bolt whizzed past Rella's head, hitting Cohl in the chest.
A second bolt struck the wall behind Cohl and glanced off into the room.
Twisting to one side, Cohl threw himself at the two men by the door, dropping
both with a body block.
At the same instant, Rella bent her right leg, raising her foot into
Havac's groin. He stumbled backwards, gasping for breath, but managed to hold
on to the blaster. Boiny hurled himself at Rella, intent on driving her to the
floor, but Havac began to fire wildly, catching Rella in the neck and Boiny in
the side of the head.
Wrestling with the two men he had knocked down, Cohl heard the blaster
bolts and saw Rella collapse in a heap. Sudden rage rushed to his aid in
ripping a blaster from one of the men and killing him with a shot to the face.
The other man rolled and came to his feet in a crouch, loosing a volley of
bolts at Cohl.
Cohl felt intense heat sear his thigh, abdomen, and forehead. He flew
back against the wall and slid slowly to the floor, the blaster slipping from
his grip.
Across the room a groan escaped Boiny, and he turned over onto his back,
blood oozing from his head.
Through half-closed eyes Cohl stared at Rella.
A single tear moved in fits and starts down her right cheek to her
jawline. Cohl extended his right hand toward her, only to have it fall to his
side, like dead weight.
"Havac," he said weakly, before his head fell to his chest.
His back pressed to the wall, a quaking Havac dropped Rella's blaster, as
if he had just realized he was holding it. He gazed wide-eyed at his comrade.
"Is--is she dead?" Keeping his blaster ready, the human went first to
Rella, then to Boiny, and finally to Cohl. "Yes - comand these two are well on
the way. What should we do with them?" Havac swallowed audibly. "The
authorities are hunting for Captain Cohl," he stammered.
"Perhaps we should let them fi nd him." "And the others--the ones Cohl
brought?" Havac considered it briefly. Then he retrieved the scarf he had
thrown to the floor and began to wind it around his lower face.
"They know me only as Havac," he said, and moved for the door.
A uniformed detachment of Eriadu security guards escorted Qui-Gon, Obi-
Wan, and Adi Gallia to the heavily guarded door of the Supreme Chancellor's
temporary quarters in the majestic home of Lieutenant Governor Tarkin.
Sei Taria led them the rest of the way.
"I never got to thank you personally for your actions at the Senate,"
Valorum said to Qui-Gon.
"If it wasn't for you and Master Gallia, I might not be standing here
today." Qui-Gon nodded in respect and acknowledgment.
"The Force was with you that day, Supreme Chancellor.
But we're not satisfied that the threat has been removed. There is reason
to believe that the assault in the plaza was contrived to lure Republic law
enforcement to the Senex sector, and thus distract us from a similar plan the
Nebula Front hopes to execute on Eriadu." Valorum beetled his thick brows. "A
strike against me here would undermine what little support the Nebula Front
currently enjoys in the Outer Rim." "The Nebula Front has no more faith in the
Republic than it does in the coalition of outlying worlds," Qui-Gon replied
calmly but firmly.
"By attacking you here, the Front may be hoping to induce the Republic to
forsake any interest in the free trade zones, and lay the ground work for a
separatist movement in the Outer Rim." He compressed his lips. "I know that it
defies all reason, Supreme Chancellor, but the Nebula Front appears to have
abandoned reason." Valorum paced away from Qui-Gon, then whirled around. "Then
it's up to me to convince the delegates of the outlying sectors to loosen the
yoke the Nebula Front and Trade Federation have thrown about them." "Supreme
Chancellor," Adi interjected, "will you at least consider postponing your
opening remarks until we've had a chance to uncover the Nebula Front's plan?
It's possible that assassins have already managed to penetrate Eriadu
security." Valorum shook his head. "I won't hear of it.
At this late stage, any change to the proceedings would be interpreted as
weakness or hesitancy." He glanced at the three Jedi. "I'm sorry. I realize
that you have my best interests in mind. But for the sake of the Republic, I
can't allow you to interfere." Adi bowed her head. "We will honor your wishes,
Supreme Chancellor." The three Jedi turned and exited the room.
No sooner did the door close behind them than Qui-Gon said, "We must go
directly to the site of the summit and see what we can learn." If the attack
on Valorum didn't make him the focus of this summit, Asmeru certainly did,"
Senator Bor Gracus of Sluis Van was telling Palpatine as they moved in step
with the slow flow of other delegates toward Eriadu Spaceport's immigration
scanners.
Human or alien, almost everyone was draped in robes and capes of the
finest cloth, including Palpatine and his temporary companion in the snaking
line, who were dressed alike in richly adorned cloaks with roomy sleeves and
high double collars.
Sate Pestage and Kinman Doriana, also dressed alike in black cloaks,
followed closely behind Palpatine.
"Gossip to which I've been privy suggests many of the Core and Inner Rim
delegates are whispering that the Supreme Chancellor's actions at Asmeru were
a bald attempt to curry favor with the Trade Federation." Gracus was a stout
human with protruding eyes and a putty nose. His homeworld boasted a small but
flourishing shipyard.
As with other worlds along and in close proximity to the Rimma Trade
Route, Sluis Van viewed its future import as preordained.
"Gossip is valuable only if it is accurate, Senator," Palpatine said
after a moment.
"Supreme Chancellor Valorum is scarcely an advocate of unfair trade
policies." "Unfair, you say? I didn't hear you stand up and cheer when Valorum
made his speech championing the advantages of taxation of the free trade
zones." "That doesn't mean that I think otherwise," Palpatine said in a
composed voice. "But, like you, my station compels me to echo the voice of
those I represent, and, at present, Naboo remains undecided." Gracus gave him
a sidelong glance. "King Veruna is undecided, you mean to say." "His troubles
are on the rise, to be sure. Our regent is too enmeshed in scandal to give
much thought to what lies ahead for Naboo. He forgets that our world relies on
the Trade Federation for much of its industrial imports, in addition to some
of its food.
Naboo risks as much, if not more than any other outlying system in
actively opposing the Trade Federation. It was only after much discussion and
debate that I convinced King Veruna of the importance of my attending this
summit." "You are most judicious, Senator," Gracus said, in a way that mixed
mild annoyance with admiration. "You answer my question without actually
answering it. You prop Valorum, and yet you don't." When it was evident that
Palpatine wasn't going to reply, Gracus added, "It is my understanding that
you briefed the Supreme Chancellor on the subject of dispatching an armed
force to Asmeru." "A diplomatic delegation," Palpatine amended.
"Call it what you will, you can't change what happened there.
And you can't deny that what happened there doesn't smell more of might
than right." Palpatine gestured in dismissal. "The details of the incident are
sketchy at best, Senator.
What's more, you are ignoring the fact that, by trying to kill the
Supreme Chancellor, the Nebula Front made themselves Republic business." "So
Valorum claims," Gracus demurred.
"The delegation came under almost immediate attack, and responded
accordingly," Palpatine said.
Gracus sniffed in derision. "The professed justification. Valorum used
the incident to launch a preemptive strike, eliminating the Nebula Front's
ability to disrupt the summit, and at the same time inveigling the Trade
Federation into accepting taxation.
"And I suspect that he had other reasons, as well. Everyone anticipated
the Senex Houses to protest the violation of their territory, but they have
been very silent thus far. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that a deal has
been struck between Valorum and House Vandron. Should House Vandron agree not
to protest what happened at Asmeru, the senate--or at least Valorum- - will
agree to overlook House Vandron's continuing Rights of Sentience violations
and lift the restrictions that have made it impossible for the Senex to trade
with Republic worlds." "Whether slavery or spice smuggling, the Core Worlds
take little interest in the injustices that plague the Outer Rim," Palpatine
said in a world-weary voice. "Violations notwithstanding, the Republic would
gladly trade with the Senex, if the Senex had something of value to offer. If
that wasn't the case, the Trade Federation would have been disbanded long ago.
But, in fact, the Neimoidians and the rest have set themselves up as
irreplaceable, because of what they transport to the Core." Gracus appeared
flustered. "Nevertheless," he sputtered, "the Outer Rim worlds are now in
turmoil. Even those who don't openly support the Nebula Front are decrying the
fact that the Republic took it upon itself to intercede at Asmeru." Palpatine
summoned an ambiguous smile.
"I'm certain that the Supreme Chancellor will ease everyone's concerns
when he addresses the delegates." "And we'll all be eager to hear what he has
to say," Gracus replied contemptuously, "since with one hand he seeks to
punish the Trade Federation with taxation, while with the other he strokes
them by eradicating the Federation's most dangerous antagonist." Palpatine's
seeming good humor didn't falter.
"One must make adjustments as necessary. Despite assiduous planning, not
everything can be foreseen." A faraway look came into his eyes. "The landscape
we inhabit is an everchanging one, Senator. One moment we are in the light;
the next we are in the dark, left to find our own way through.
If events could truly be divined--if one were to be granted such awesome
power--then perhaps the future could be directed along one line or another.
But until then, we stumble through, groping blindly for the truth." Gracus
snorted. "Perhaps you should consider placing your name in nomination for high
office, Senator." Palpatine brushed the remark aside. "I'm content to play my
small part behind the scenes." "For the moment, I suspect," Gracus said, as
Palpatine hurried ahead of him in the line.
bar Nute Gunray's red eyes meandered over the line of delegates waiting
to be scanned by Eriadu's primitive scanning devices. His gaze fell on two
human senators--one rotund and plebeian; the other, straight-backed and
refined--engaged in what appeared to be a spirited exchange. He looked down
from his mechno - chair at Senator Lott Dod.
"Who is the human in the blue cloak--there, speaking with the pudgy one?"
Dod followed the viceroy's raised forefinger.
"Senator Palpatine of Naboo." "A friend of ours?" Dod shook his head
dubiously. "He gives all indication of holding to a middle course, Viceroy.
Although I heard that he encouraged Valorum to send judicials to the
Senex sector." "A potential friend, then," Gunray said.
"Soon enough, we will know where everyone stands." Behind them, squatting
on the duracrete, was the shuttle that had carried them to the surface, an
organic-lookin g ship, with a quartet of clawed and segmented landing gear, a
pair of generator vents that resembled eyespots, and a rear deflector shield
assembly that rose from the ship's flat body like a raised tail.
Gunray and Dod wore robes, mantles, and headdresses- - crimson and
cordovan for the viceroy; deep purple and lavender for the senator.
Fore and aft and to both sides of them marched security droids, their
blaster rifles mounted behind their right shoulders. The droids constituted
the Neimoidians' reply to Eriadu's offer to provide protection. In addition,
the Trade Federation Directorate had insisted that a small shield generator be
installed in that section of the summit hall assigned to them.
A mere glance at the protestors who stood five-deep along the perimeter
of the spaceport facilities told Gunray that the members of the directorate
had made a prudent decision- - despite the ridicule to which they had been
subjected by their peers in the Galactic Senate.
The directorate's other six, shielded by Eriadu security agents, led the
Trade Federation cortege as they neared the terminal. At the head of the line
walked the Federation's four human directors - comtwo from Kuat, one from
Balmorra, and the other from Filve. And behind them came the directorate's
Gran and Sullustan members, all wearing costly tunics and caplets, though a
far cry from the extravagant ones affected by Gunray and Dod.
"Can we take this Asmeru business as a sign that Valorum is secretly in
our camp?" the Sullustan was asking the Gran.
"Not unless Valorum surprises everyone here by withdrawing his taxation
proposal," the Gran replied.
"My attorneys assure me that the Republic has no legal right to tax the
free trade zones," Gunray said in Basic, from atop his ambulatory throne.
One of the humans from Kuat looked over his shoulder at the Neimoidian
and laughed. "The Republic will do as it wishes, Viceroy. You're a fool to
believe otherwise. Valorum is as much our adversary as ever." Gunray suffered
the humiliation in silence. What, he wondered, would the Kuati have made of
Darth Sidious's assertion that Valorum was the Trade Federation's strongest
ally in the senate? Would the Kuati have been so quick to taunt and scoff?
Gunray doubted it.
The arrogant human and the others knew nothing of the covert deal Gunray
had struck with the Sith Lord.
They viewed the Neimoidians' continuing purchases of upgraded droid
weaponry as wasteful, and symptomatic of the Neimoidians' increasing sense of
paranoia. But they rarely contested the expenditures, since the weapons
afforded the fleet an added measure of protection. Similarly, they knew
nothing of Sidious's plan for the Trade Federation to extend its reach beyond
the outlying systems to the galactic rim itself.
And yet, Gunray was anxious.
The Sith Lord had communicated with him only once since arranging the
meeting between the Neimoidians and the Baktoid and Haor Chall arms merchants.
The communication had been brief and one-sided, with Sidious stressing the
importance of Gunray's attending the trade summit, and assuring him, as ever,
that everything was going according to plan.
"The way to defeat Valorum," the other Kuati was saying, "is to persuade
our signatory members that they gain nothing by decamping and seeking
individual representation in the senate." "Even if that requires offering them
lucrative trade incentives," the Sullustan added.
"But our profits," Gunray blurted, despite his best efforts to control
himself.
"The Republic taxes will have to be absorbed by the outlying systems,"
the directorate officer from Balmorra said. "There is simply no other way."
"And if the taxes are too exorbitant for the outlying systems to absorb?" the
Gran asked.
"Our share of the market will be lost. This could very well cripple us."
This time Gunray managed to stifle himself.
It is all a charade, Sidious had said.
Taxation is but a minor obstacle in our path to greater glory. Allow your
counterparts in the directorate to say and do as they wish. But refrain from
offering any response--especially at the summit itself.
Our path, Gunray thought.
But had he entered into a true partnership, or one in which Sidious would
emerge as the Neimoidians' overlord? How long could a Sith Lord content
himself with mere economic power? And what was likely to become of Viceroy
Nute Gunray once Darth Sidious set his sights on a target more worthy of his
dark expertise?
Already Deputy Viceroy Hath Monchar and Commander Dofine had aired their
separate misgivings about the alliance- - scarcely realizing that the
partnership had as much been forced on Gunray as offered to him.
The Sith Lord had promised that he would communicate with Gunray once
more before the summit began. Perhaps, the viceroy hoped, all would then be
revealed.
Havac and his cohort returned to the main room of the customs warehouse,
and the distant rumble of spacecraft launches. The five mercenaries Cohl had
assembled were sitting on the edges of the repulsorsleds that had borne them
to the warehouse.
From the jittery way Havac moved, Lope knew that something unexpected had
taken place. He jumped off the hovering sled to gaze down the corridor that
led to the rear of the building.
"Where's Captain Cohl?" he asked Havac.
Above the scarf that swathed his face, Havac's eyes narrowed as he swung
to face him. "Cohl went out the back way. But he sends his luck." Before
anyone else could raise questions, he asked Lope, "What's your preferred
weapon?" Lope took a second look down the corridor, then returned to the
sleds. "Blades--of any length." Havac turned to one of the other humans.
"Yours?" he asked, in an increasingly confident voice.
"Sniper rifles." Havac glanced at the Gotal.
"I'm not a shooter. I'm a lookout." Havac studied the remaining pair of
humans--a brutish - looking man and an equally rough-cut woman.
"No preferences," the man grunted.
"The same," the woman said.
Havac took a portable holoprojector from his pocket and set it atop an
alloy cargo crate. Everyone gathered round as an image of a Classic-era
building with a domed roof took shape in the cone of light.
"The site of the trade summit," Havac said, as the image began to rotate,
showing tall, slender towers at each corner, and four principal entrances.
"The main hall is a rotunda, similar in design to the Galactic Senate, but on
a much smaller scale and without the detachable balconies." Havac called up a
panoramic view of the interior.
"True to their exaggerated sense of self-importance, the Eriadu
delegation has placed itself at the center of the hall. The Coruscant
delegation will occupy east-side tiers of seats--here- - with the members of
the Trade Federation Directorate in west - side tiers. Delegations
representing the Core Worlds, the Inner Rim, and the outlying systems will be
dispersed throughout the rest of the hall.
"In the event of trouble, the Trade Federation Directorate will be able
to activate a force field. But Valorum's delegation is deliberately
unshielded, as a show of good faith." The sniper scrutinized the image for a
moment.
"Valorum is going to be a difficult target--even from the highest tier in
the rotunda." "You'll be higher than that," Havac said. "The upper por-tion of
the hall is a maze of maintenance walkways and gantries, along with booths
designated for media personnel." "We'd have a better chance of hitting Valorum
before he enters the building," Lope said.
"Perhaps," Havac conceded. "But the plan hinges on our ability to
infiltrate the summit and do the job there." "Four entrances," the sniper
said. "Which one is Valorum coming through?" Havac shook his head. "Unknown.
The route to the summit hall won't be revealed until the last possible
instant, and we don't have anyone close enough to him to provide us with that
data. That's why we need a spotter team on the outside." Havac conjured
another image from the holoprojector, showing the older quarter of the city,
where the summits of innumerable buildings merged into an extensive range of
rounded rooftops and elegant towers.
"Eriadu security is trying to keep the rooftops clear, but there aren't
enough repulsorlift vehicles to provide steady surveillance, especially in
areas like this, where the roofs are all interconnected.
Instead, security is flying sweeps at regular intervals, concentrating
their efforts on the buildings adjacent to the summit hall." Havac indicated
one of the domed rooftops. "From here, there's a decent view of the four
boulevards that lead to the summit hall's separate entrances. The spotters--
was He pointed to Lope, the Gotal, and the woman. his-comw have just enough
time to position yourvs on the roof between air sweeps. Access to the roof is
through a safe house we maintain on Eriadu. The safe house will also serve as
our rendezvous point after we're finished, or should something unforeseen
occur beforehand. Valorum's hovercade will be easy to spot. As soon as you've
ascertained the route, you'll communicate that information to the rest of us."
"Where will you be?" Lope demanded to know.
Havac turned to him. "The shooters will already be inside the hall, up in
the walkways." "That'll be the first place security will look," the sniper
groused. "I want something extra if I'm expected to hang myself out to dry."
Havac shook his head. "You'll receive the same as everyone else. We all have
important parts to play in this." "Havac's right," Lope said. "If you don't
like being the shooter, I'll take your place, and you take the rooftop
surveillance. I don't like heights, anyway." The sniper glared at Lope. "I
didn't say I wouldn't do it. I'm only asking how I'm supposed to get to the
walkways." Havac motioned one of his alien confederates forward.
The Nikto placed a suitcase atop the same crate that supported the
holoprojector and opened it. Havac lifted a jacket from the suitcase and
handed it to the sniper.
"This will identify you as Eriadu security," he explained. "I'll provide
you with the necessary documentation later. The point is, you'll be in the
summit hall before any of the delegations arrive.
Once we've learned which entrance Valorum is coming through, you'll get
into whatever position you deem best." The sniper folded the uniform jacket
over his arm.
"When do I take the shot?" "The proceedings will commence with a series
of three prolonged trumpet fanfares," Havac went on.
"Plan to fire at the start of the third fanfare." "Valorum will already
be in his seat?" Havac nodded, as he brought back the image of the interior of
the hall. "He will. But you're going to place your first bolt here." The
sniper stared at the spot on the summit hall floor Havac had indicated, then
gazed in puzzlement at Havac. "I don't get it.
Who's going to be there?" "No one." "No one," the sniper repeated, then
began to shake his head. "I don't know where you're going with this, but I've
got a reputation to uphold, and when I'm hired to shoot, I don't miss." Havac
grumbled beneath his scarf. "All right, so choose a target. Wound someone."
Lope stepped forward. "I thought we had a target- - Valorum." Havac confirmed
it with a nod and glanced at everyone.
"But I don't want any of you doing the actual shooting." While Lope and
the rest were trading looks, Havac deactivated the holoprojector and set it
aside. At the same time, a pair of Bith began to open the alloy crate the
device had been sitting on, and slid from it a boxlike tangle of alloy limbs
and a long cylinder of head.
"Meet the most important member of our team," Havac said. "Built
specially for us by the same company that supplies the Trade Federation with
its security droids." Taking a small remote control from his pocket, he
entered a code into the touchpad, and a battle droid unfolded into an upright
posture, its arms at its side and a blaster rifle mounted alongside its
backpack. The Nikto pried a restraining bolt from the chest plastron of the
alm-two-meter-tall droid and stepped to the side.
The restraining bolt hit the floor and rolled beneath the closest
repulsorsled.
Havac keved in another code.
Instantly, the droid reached over its shoulder for the blaster rifle.
With matching speed, the mercenaries reacted by adopting defensive positions
and drawing their own weapons.
"Settle down," Havac said loudly, gesturing with his hands.
Again, he keyed the remote. When the battle droid had returned the rifle
to its mounting, Havac began to circle it.
"It's harmless," he assured everyone, "unless I tell it to be otherwise."
The Gotal was the only one who hadn't reholstered his weapon. "I can't work
with a droid," he said angrily. "Their energy waves overload my senses."
"You're not going to have to work with it," Havac said.
"It's also going to be inside the hall." Lope and the sniper swapped
concerned glances.
"Who's leading him in?" Lope asked.
"The Trade Federation." The sniper worked his square jaw. "Are you
telling me that the droid is the actual shooter?" Havac nodded.
"Then why do you have me shooting at the floor?" "Because your bolt is
going to touch off a chain of events that will allow our alloy teammate here
to execute his commands." Havac regarded the droid.
"It doesn't need a control computer. But it does need to perceive a
threat before it can be tasked." Lope started shaking his head. "You want this
to end up looking like it was the Trade Federation that killed Valorum." The
rest of the mercenaries stared at Havac.
"You object to that?" "Captain Cohl said that this was going to be a
straight forward job," the sniper protested. "He didn't say anything about the
Trade Federation." "Captain Cohl wasn't briefed on the full extent of the
plan," Havac replied coolly.
"There was no point risking a leak." Lope forced a short laugh. "I guess
we can appreciate that, Havac. But the fact is, if word gets out that we
helped set up the Trade Federation..." "They've got a longer reach than the
Republic, Havac," the sniper took over. "They'll have every bounty hunter from
Coruscant to Tatooine after us.
And I, for one, don't want to have to spend the rest of my days hiding in
a hole somewhere." Havac showed everyone a stony look. "Let's be clear about
this. We're going to have to outwit Eriadu security, Republic judicials, and
Jedi Knights just to pull this off. And, sure, you might have to buy off some
bounty hunters when we're done. But all that means is simply living up to your
reputations. If any of you don't think you're up to that, now is the time to
say so." Lope glanced at the sniper, then at the Gotal, then at Havac's
several human and alien confederates, and back at the sniper again.
"It's settled?" Havac asked, breaking the long silence.
Lope nodded. "Just one more question, Havac. Where will you be during all
this?" "Where I can watch over all of you," he said, and let it go at that.
From the tile mosaic floor of the summit hall, Qui-Gon peered up at the
tiers of seats, the banks of ornate, arch-topped windows, and, high overhead,
the media booths and maintenance walkways.
He rotated through a full circle, his gaze taking in groups of droids
inspecting the hall's several hundred video monitors, and teams of judicials
and security personnel moving through the tiers with leashed beasts that
sniffed, tasted, and probed the stale air.
In that quarter of the hall designated for the Coruscant delegation,
Masters Tiin and Ki-Adi-Mundi were snaking among the seats, open to the
slightest disturbances in the Force.
Elsewhere in the rotunda, Adi Gallia and Vergere were doing the same,
stretching out with their feelings, in the hope of discovering some indication
of what Havac and Cohl's assassins had planned for the summit.
Agape in four directions, and perforated by its many windows, the hall
was a security nightmare.
Worse, Eriadu had decreed the summit open not only to delegates, but also
to Holoationet reporters, assorted dignitaries and veterans groups, musicians,
corporate representatives, and just about anyone with a modicum of authority
or influence. So many diverse species were expected to attend--each with their
individual entourages of aides, attendants, translators, and security guards--
that it was going to be near impossible to determine who was legitimate and
who wasn't.
Qui-Gon turned through another circle. The Eriadu delegation had granted
itself the center of the floor, with Supreme Chancellor Valorum to their left,
and the Trade Federation Directorate to their right. The Commerce Guild and
the Techno Union had an arc of seats between the two, buffered by delegations
from the Core and the outlying systems.
Qui-Gon's eyes were drawn once more to the overhead walkways and
gantries, many of which supported arrays of spotlights and acoustic devices.
Snipers could be placed almost at will, he told himself. Assas-sins
without regard for their own lives could inflict incalculable injury.
"Do you sense anything, Master?" Obi-Wan asked from behind him.
"Only that we are fighting something unseen, Obi-Wan. Each time we draw
close to identifying our adversary, it subverts and evades us." "Then it isn't
Captain Cohl?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "There is an organizing hand at work
here--one that moves Cohl about as effortlessly as it moves us." "Not this
Havac." Qui-Gon pondered it momentarily, then shook his head again. "It has no
name that I know, Padawan.
Perhaps the mystery owes to nothing more than my inability to see beyond
the moment. What do you feel?" Obi-Wan's expression became serious. "I feel
that we're close to resolving this, Master." Qui-Gon touched him on the
shoulder. "That's comforting to hear." Adi Gallia and Vergere stepped down to
the first tier to speak with them.
"Security assures us that the entry scanners are capable of detecting
explosives, along with weapons--regardless of their composition," Adi said.
"Guards will be stationed on the floor of the hall, and circulating up
top, along the walkways.
Security units and other droids will provide continuous surveillance of
the roof areas." "That may hamper Cohl from initiating an attack here," Qui-
Gon replied, "but what about outside the hall?" "The Supreme Chancellor's
route will be determined wascomputer, at the last moment." "I'd rather that
the route be by skycar to the rooftop pad." Adi shook her head negatively.
"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. He insists on arriving by ground-effect vehicle. We'll
have to trust in the same precautions that safeguarded him on the route from
the spaceport to Lieutenant Governor Tarkin's compound." "Qui-Gon!" Master
Tiin called out suddenly.
Qui-Gon turned to find him and Ki-Adi-Mundi hurrying across the floor
toward them.
"Captain Cohl's freighter has been found," Tiin continued. "The Corellian
freighter. Ten customs agents were found tied up in the rear cabin." Qui-Gon
and Obi-Wan swapped brief looks. "How do they know it's the one Cohl piloted
here?" "The navicomputer indicates that the ship jumped to Eriadu from
Karfeddion space," Ki-Adi-Mundi explained.
"Cohl must have piloted the customs agents' ship to the surface," Qui-Gon
surmised.
Tiin nodded as he came to a halt in front of Qui-Gon. "The customs ship
has been located at the spaceport." "We should see for ourselves," Obi-Wan
said in a rush. Then he stopped himself and regarded Tiin.
"What prompted anyone to conduct a search of the freighter?" Tiin
appeared to have anticipated the question, along with Qui-Gon's look of wary
concern.
"The authorities received an anonymous lead." c ohl's eyelids fluttered,
then snapped open.
Boiny's blood - smeared face swam unfocused in his gaze. He felt
nauseated and wired. He knew that he should be in great pain, but he was only
vaguely aware of his body. Boiny had obviously dosed him with pain blockers.
Cohl tasted blood in his mouth, and something else--the syrupy astringency of
bacta.
Boiny's features began to sharpen and come into focus.
A blaster bolt had burned a deep furrow in the left side of the Rodian's
greenish skull. The wound glistened with freshly applied bacta, but Cohl
doubted that the miracle substance would prevail.
His memory made a hurried return. He gave a start and tried to sit up.
"Wait, Captain," Boiny said. His voice was weak and raspy. "Rest for a
moment." Cohl paid him no mind. He pushed himself upright, and immediately
fell face first to the hard floor. He heard the tip of his nose crack and felt
a trickle of blood course down over his mustache and drip onto his lower lip.
He began to drag himself across the floor, to where Rella's body lay
unmoving--unmoving and cold when he stretched out his hand and grazed her face
with his fingertips.
Boiny was suddenly beside him again.
"She's dead, Captain," he said, anguished.
"By the time I came to, there was nothing I could do." Cohl crawled the
final meter to Rella. He threw his right arm over her shoulders, tugging her
to him and weeping quietly for a long moment.
"You had to come back," he said quietly, between sobs.
Then he rolled over and glared at Boiny.
"You should have let me die." Boiny had clearly anticipated his rage.
"If you were close to dying, I might have been able to do that." He
tugged Cohl's ragged shirt aside to expose the thick armorply garment beneath.
"The vest absorbed most of the charge, but you have internal injuries." He
glanced at Cohl's tattered left thigh, then leaned over to examine his
forehead.
"I did the best I could with your other wounds." Cohl raised his hand to
his head. The bolt from Rella's blaster had burned away all the hair on the
right side of his head and left a wound every bit as deep and ragged as the
one that trenched Boiny's skull.
"Where'd you find--was "An emergency medkit in a cabinet by the door.
The bacta patches are a couple of months expired, but they probably have
enough potency to sustain us for a while." Cohl passed the back of his hand
under his nose, then took a stuttering breath. "Your head..." "Fractured, as
well as burned. But I gave myself a healthy measure of the pain blockers I fed
you. I came close to overdosing myself. But at least I'm seeing only one of
you now." Cohl managed to sit up. Glancing around the room, he spied the man
he had killed lying faceup on the floor, exactly where the blaster had dropped
him. Otherwise, the room was empty. He looked back at Boiny.
"Why didn't they finish us?" "This wasn't supposed to happen. I figure
that Havac panicked." Cohl thought about it for a moment. "No. The Jedi are on
to us. He wants us to be found." He paused briefly, then added, "But he isn't
fool enough to believe I'd keep quiet about this mission, out of some
misguided sense of honor." "I'll wager that he's counting on the fact that you
won't betray Lope and the others." Cohl nodded slowly. "Havac read me right.
But he's going to regret not killing me when he had the chance." With visible
effort, he raised himself up on his uninjured right knee. "Are any of them
still in the warehouse?" "Only the customs agents secured in the corridor. The
cargo bay is deserted." Cohl extended his arm to the Rodian. "Help me up." He
winced as Boiny tugged him to his feet.
Gingerly, he planted his left foot on the floor and nearly collapsed.
"I'm going to need a crutch." "I'll fix you up with something," Boiny
said.
Cohl balanced on his good leg. He thought his heart might burst if he
looked at Rella again, but he forced his gaze downward nevertheless.
"Some of us were born to be betrayed," he whispered.
"I can't make

up to you, Rella. But I can try with everything I've got left to avenge
you." Supported on the crutch the Rodian had fashioned from a length of pipe
and a cloth-padded brace of plasteel, Cohl followed Boiny out into the
corridor. The bound and blindfolded customs agents were scarcely aware of them
as they moved stealthily toward the warehouse's spaceport entrance. The female
agent whose uniform Rella had taken remained unconscious from the shot Boiny
had given her aboard the ship.
The front room was loud with the noise of launches and landings, despite
the roll-away doors being closed. The repulsorsleds were still hovering a
meter off the sawdust-strewn floor, and everything else was much as Cohl
remembered it.
Boiny studied the room for a moment, then walked to the center of the
floor, two meters from the lead sled.
"There was a cargo crate here." Cohl eyed the telltale marks in the
sawdust.
"Too large for a weapon's crate." Looking around, the two of them spotted
the portable holoprojector at the same time. It was resting on the retracted
landing strut of one of the sleds. Boiny reached it first. Setting it atop the
sled, he activated it. Cohl limped over as the device was beginning to cycle
through its stored images.
"The summit hall," he said, in response to the 3-D image of the majestic
dome-roofed building, and the mount it crowned.
Boiny allowed the images to cycle again, pausing the device when it
displayed a remote view of the wooded mount, and the four broad avenues that
terminated at the hall.
"The vantage from the cluster of rooftops we saw earlier," Boiny said,
already initiating a reverse scan through the images. "Havac could be planning
to attack Valorum before he arrives at the summit." Cohl tugged at what was
left of his beard while he considered it. He gestured to the holoprojector.
"He didn't forget to take this.
He wanted it to be found--just the way he wanted us to be found."
Abruptly, Boiny ducked down beneath one of the repulsorsleds. "Here's
something he probably doesn't expect to be found," he said as he was standing
up.
Cohl narrowed his eyes at the stubby metallic cylinder Boiny showed him.
"A restraining bolt?" "But an uncommon variety." Boiny brought the bolt to eye
level. "Similar to the ones we fired into the security droids aboard the
Revenue, but altered to suit a more advanced droid. Maybe a combat model."
"Havac has a droid," Cohl said, mostly to himself. His eyes searched the
floor. "Could that be what was in the crate? Or is this one restraining bolt
of a bunch?" Boiny adopted a skeptical look. "The Nebula Front employing
droids? That can't be right." He regarded the bolt again. "One thing is
certain, Captain. This bolt has already been in a droid. I can see the
impressions left by whatever tool pried it out." Cohl took the bolt and
clenched his hand around it.
"I warned Havac that someone in the Nebula Front had informed the
Judicial Department about our plans to attack the Revenue.
Suppose he decided to take extra precautions when planning this
operation." Cohl looked at Boiny. "Havac said that the Front had lured the
Jedi to Asmeru. That could mean that the attempt on Valorum's life on
Coruscant was a ruse, designed to divert attention from Eriadu." "Right,"
Boiny said uncertainly.
Cohl glanced at the holoprojector. "Havac leaves us and the holoprojector
to be discovered by the authorities..." He grinned wickedly. "I'm not sure how
Havac plans to do it, Boiny. But I think I know what he's planning to do."
"Captain?" the Rodian said in confusion.
Cohl shoved the restraining bolt into his breast pocket and began to limp
toward the corridor.
Boiny followed him, gesturing back to the holoprojector. "Shouldn't I at
least delete this thing?" Cohl shook his head. "Hide it in plain sight, just
as Havac did. The only way we're going to get to him is by making sure that
everyone else keeps chasing their own tails." Outside the front entrance to
Lieutenant Governor Tarkin's palatial residence, Valorum, Sei Taria, and the
rest of the Coruscant delegation waited for their caravan of repulsorlift
vehicles to arrive.
Fashionable tunics and brocaded cloaks were once again the order of the
day, except in the case of security personnel, who were nearly as numerous as
the diplomats.
"I trust that your stay with us has been pleasant," Tarkin was saying to
Valorum.
"Very pleasant," Valorum replied. "Permit me to extend the same courtesy
to you, should you ever visit Coruscant." Tarkin smiled without showing his
teeth. "I hope, Supreme Chancello r, that Coruscant will one day be a second
home to me. All the Core, in fact, from Coruscant to Alderaan." "I'm certain
it will." The captain of the Senate Guard detail approached with a durashcct
in hand. In place of the customary ceremonial rifle, a state-of-the-art
blaster was slung over his shoulder.
"We have the hovercade route, Supreme Chancellor." "May I have a look at
it?" Tarkin asked.
The guard looked to Valorum for permission.
"Let him see it." Tarkin perused the durasheet. "A bit circuitous--
perhaps needlessly so. But we should have no problem arriving at the summit
hall by the appointed time." He glanced down the long drive that led to the
mansion. "The governor should be here momentarily. Then we can all depart."
Tarkin was about to add something, when a landspeeder leapt into view, making
fast for where he and Valorum were standing.
"What now?" Tarkin asked as the two-seater pulled up to the house and
came to a halt.
Absent their Jedi cloaks, Adi Gallia and Saesee Tiin climbed from the
hovering vehicle and made straight for Valorum. Tiin did the talking.
"Supreme Chancellor, there is a problem. We have confirmation that
assassins contracted by the Nebula Front have breached Eriadu security. Qui-
Gon Jinn and several other Jedi have gone to the spaceport, in the hope of
intercepting them." "The danger is no longer conjectural, Supreme Chancellor,"
Adi said earnestly.
Valorum's forehead wrinkled in apprehension. "I want them found," he said
at last. "I will not have the summit interrupted." Tiin and Adi nodded. "Will
you now consent to our accompanying you!" Tiin asked.
"No," Valorum said flatly. "Appearances must be maintained." Adi looked
hard at him. "Then will you at least agree to keeping your vehicle's force
field ena4?" "I absolutely insist on it," Tarkin interjected. "It is Eriadu's
obligation to assure that no harm comes to you." With obvious reluctance,
Valorum nodded.
"Until we've reached the grounds of the summit hall." His face blushed
with sudden anger, Tarkin swung to a group of Eriadu security guards, who were
standing behind him. "See to it that the streets are cleared.
Arrest anyone you have cause to suspect. Don't concern yourvs with
legalities. Take whatever steps are necessary." Eriadu security agents were
already on the scene by the time Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Vergere, and Ki-Adi-Mundi
reached the customs warehouse.
One human agent was aiming a scanning device at several repulsorsleds
parked just inside the entrance, still supporting a dozen tall and narrow
cargo containers, whose opened hatches revealed them to be empty. Elsewhere in
the large space, a group of infuriated customs agents were being interrogated.
The uniformed human commander of the security detail entered from a dimly
lighted corridor. Behind him moved two green-scaled and chitin-sheathed
insectoid bipeds, with large black eyes, short ridged snouts, and toothless
mouths.
Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan's jaw go slack.
"Verpine," he explained. "Organs in the chest enable the species to
communicate by means of radio waves. But they can also speak and understand
Basic, with the assistance of translator devices. Their keen senses make them
brilliant at detail work." "Verpine," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head in
wonder.
Seeing the four Jedi, the commander approached, while the pair of aliens
set about scrutinizing the sawdust-covered floor.
Qui-Gon introduced himself and the others.
"We have two dead humans in the rear room," the commander said, after
giving Vergere the same look Obi-Wan had given the Verpine trackers. "One
male, one female, each dead of blaster bolts fired at close range, but from
different weapons.
Carbon scoring on the floor and walls indicate a full-scale blaster
fight. Blood spots show that at least one of the combatants who got away was a
Rodian. Bacta patches, synthflesh, and who knows what else is missing from the
room's medkit. We're waiting for results on finger - and handprint analysis."
"Captain Cohl's partner is a Rodian," Qui-Gon said.
The commander made note of it on a datapad, then pointed to the group of
customs agents. "They were taken by surprise by no less than eight heavily
armed assailants, most of them human, but at least four Nikto and a couple of
Bith.
"After the surprise raid, they were stashed in the corridor, so they
can't provide much in the way of additional information. But the woman, there,
is chief officer of the customs ship the terrorists commandeered.
She identified the dead female in the back room as captain of the
Corellian freighter she boarded.
She's still a bit dazed from a knockout injection, but she says she also
saw a Rodian, and she thinks she remembers seeing a Gotal and a couple of
human males.
"Everyone appears to have left the warehouse through a rear door that
opens onto the spaceport service road. We're assuming that they're piloting
skimmers or landspeeders." The commander stepped toward the center of the room
and gestured broadly. "Everything here is just as we found it, except that
little piece of hardware, which we discovered beneath one of the sleds." Qui-
Gon and the other Jedi followed his finger to a portable holoprojector,
sitting atop a cargo crate.
"Whatever else he is, Cohl is not careless," Qui-Gon said.
"Deliberate is the way we're reading it, too.
But even professionals have been known to make mistakes." The commander
walked over to the holoprojector. He was about to activate it, when one of his
assistants intruded.
"Commander, the Verpine say that there are signs of well over a dozen
men, several of whom arrived inside these tall containers. At some point, most
of them gathered around what must have been a crate, just over here, perhaps
to observe whatever images the holoprojector contains. Among them was a Gotal,
who also arrived inside one of the containers. Bits of fur were found inside
the second-to-last container, and also on the floor there, in large amounts."
"A tussle?" the commander asked.
"Could be, sir. Gotals have a tendency to shed when they're taken by
surprise or frightened." "What would have frightened him?" "No telling, sir."
The commander glanced up from his datapad. "Anything else?" "The prints
leading down the corridor and back.
One pair is certainly Rodian. The blood in the rear room explains why the
Rodian was walking unsteadily when he returned to this room. The one who
accompanied him back here wasn't doing very well either, judging by the fact
that he was supporting the left side of himself on a crutch, improvised from a
length of pipe. Footprints of the two walking wounded are all over this room.
The Rodian retrieved something from underneath one of the hoversleds, but we
can't be sure what that was--unless it was the holoprojector. Evidence
suggests that the pair left by the rear door, same as the others, but they
were on foot, at least until they reached the pub-trans booth on the corner."
The commander finished his note taking and looked at Qui - Gon. "All this give
you any insights?" "Captain Cohl, the Rodian, and the woman must have been
ambushed in the rear room." "Ambushed? By Havac?" Qui-Gon nodded.
"Havac thought all three were dead?" "No, he expected us to find Cohl and
the Rodian alive." "Why would he risk that?" the commander asked.
Qui-Gon looked at him. "Because he wants to throw us off the scent." The
commander scratched his head in thought.
Obi-Wan slid the holoprojector toward him.
"Let's see what we find in here." L ope peered through the small doorway
that led to the roof of the Nebula Front's safe house in the southern part of
the city. A security craft made a low pass from the south, continuing on in
the direction of the summit hall.
"Right on schedule," he told the five human and alien terrorists
crouching on the stairs below him.
"We have ten minutes." The Gotal squeezed by him and scampered out onto
the roof, his ringed horns twitching as they monitored the hazy air for
portents.
Five meters from the doorway, the Gotal flashed Lope an all - clear sign
and disappeared behind the first of the many domed rooftops they would need to
traverse before attaining a clear view of the summit hall.
Lope and the rest hurried outside, rounding the same dome that now
concealed the Gotal. On his hip, Lope wore a sheathed vibroblade, and on his
wrist, a rocket launcher. The others carried both in-close weapons and
blasters.
Beyond the first dome, the expanse of interconnected roofs was a terrain
of spherical hills and steep peaks, cut through with shallow ravines and
washes.
Octagonal towers, slender steeples, and antenna arrays rose above the
domes like isolated trees.
The diverse domes resembled the knobbed lids of giant cook pots. Some
buildings were topped by long barrel vaults, and others with hip roofs,
covered with tile or slate. Small houses with tiny windows graced the few
level sections.
With the Gotal at point, they began to move at a steady clip, worming
through tight meanders, negotiating precipitous ledges, and leaping to
adjacent rooftops. Their mimetic suits allowed them to blend with the gray
roof tiles, reddish bricks, and acid - rain-stained domes.
They scaled a tall roof and dropped down into a hollow formed by a
quartet of contiguous domes. Then they edged around a massive cupola that gave
them their first unobstructed view of the summit hall. East of the domed
building was a range of high hills, shrouded in particle-laden haze. Far to
the north, a broad river emptied itself into a slender projection of the sea.
A long stretch of flat roof ran all the way to the final dome, below
which two streets joined to become a broad boulevard that arrived ultimately
at the summit hall mount.
They were halfway across the flat roof when sounds of a commotion reached
them from street level. Forging through his fear of heights, Lope crawled to
the edge of the roof and looked down over the low retaining wall.
Squads of riot-control security troops were rerouting ground traffic and
dispersing bystanders who had gathered for a glimpse of whatever dignitaries
might pass by.
In a building across the street, people drew curtains over their windows
or pulled shutters closed. From slowly cruising landspeeders, announcements
blared in half a dozen languages, threatening dire consequences for anyone
caught on the rooftops or found loitering in restricted areas around the
summit hall.
Lope saw a hovercade approaching from the south and waved for one of
Havac's men to join him at the wall. The convoy of ten repulsorlift vehicles
was being escorted by as many speeder bikes piloted by helmeted police.
Havac's man trained electrobinoculars on the fifth vehicle in line.
"Valorum," he uttered in a hushed voice. "Eriadu's governor and lieutenant
governor are with him." Lope asked for the electrobinoculars.
"Your boss should have listened to reason and let us hit Valorum here."
He patted the rocket launcher strapped to his right wrist. "One shot with this
and the job would be done." Havac's confederate took back the
electrobinoculars. "For the moment, Havac's your boss, too. Besides, Valorum's
riding under the protection of an energy shield. Now, get on the comlink and
inform the team at the summit hall that the target will be arriving through
the south gate." Lope crawled back to where the others were waiting, and
removed a small comlink from his pocket.
"Valorum's right below us," he explained.
He activated the comlink and keyed in the number Havac had given him, but
all he got for his efforts was an earful of static. "You need to get above
some of these antenna arrays," the Gotal suggested. "Try from the top of the
big dome." Lope nodded. Jogging in a crouch to the base of the dome, he began
his ascent. But he was just short of the ornamented summit when he heard
engine noise behind him. Over his shoulder, he saw three airspeeders
approaching rapidly from the direction of the summit hall.
He slid down the dome and hurried back to the others. "Hover patrol
headed our way." The woman Cohl had hired glanced at her wrist timer. "It's
too soon for them to be making another sweep." Everyone hunkered down as the
blunt-nosed hovers sped overhead. But the trio of vehicles went only a short
distance before coming about for a second pass.
"They spotted us," the Gotal said.
Lope armed the rocket launcher. "We can remedy that." Raising his right
forearm, he fixed his sights on the lead vehicle.
From the passenger seat of an airspeeder, all of Eriadu City looked the
same. That, at least, was Qui-Gon's considered opinion after more than an hour
of searching the city from above for the location of the roofscape image
stored in Havac's holoprojector.
Bisected by a slow-moving, muddy river, the city was a confusion of
domes, interior courtyards, and precarious towers, cleaved by narrow streets
and a few broad avenues. Dwellings were built on top of one another in
haphazard fashion, sprouting annexes here and additional levels there,
extending from the bay clear to the barricade of hills at the city's back.
It was little wonder that none of the security officers had been able to
identify the span of roofs Havac's holoprojector had singled out. When a quick
study of 2-D maps had only complicated matters, copies of the stored image had
been fed into the terrain - following computers of three airspeeders, in the
hope that a series of overflights would allow the computers to match the image
to an actual roofscape. But flights to the north and to the east of the summit
hall had failed to yield even a possible match.
Qui-Gon continued to believe that Havac had wanted the holoprojector to
be found, but he wasn't willing to take the chance that Havac's leaving the
device behind hadn't constituted a genuine oversight.
Just now the trio of airspeeders was approximately two kilometers south
of the summit hall.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were passengers in the lead vehicle, trailed by Ki-
Adi-Mundi and Vergere in the second, and two judicials in the third.
Gazing down over the speeder's starboard gunwale, Qui - Gon thought he
glimpsed movement on one of the rooftops. But when he shielded his eyes with
the edge of his hand and looked again, all he saw was what might have been
heat shimmer at the base of a slender brick tower.
He reached out through the Force.
At the same instant the speeder's terrain-following computer began to
chirp repeatedly, indicating that it had matched the image. The computer's
screen displayed the stored image superimposed on the roofscape directly
below. Pivoting in his seat, Qui-Gon saw Ki-Adi-Mundi wave a sign of
acknowledgment that the computer of the second airspeeder has also discovered
the match.
The Eriadu security officer at the controls banked the airspeeder through
a sweeping turn and was headed back toward the stretch of roofs when the
craft's threat assessor suddenly added its voice to the steady chirping of the
terrain-following computer.
"Missile lock!" the pilot said in astonishment.
Obi-Wan leaned over the side of the craft and pointed to something below.
"There, Master!" Qui-Gon caught sight of the small rocket and realized at once
that it had been launched from the base of the tower, just where he had
detected movement moments earlier.
The pilot dropped the airspeeder into an abrupt dive, prepared to execute
another maneuver should the missile home in on them, but the rocket stayed
true to its original course. Narrowly missing the rear of the craft, it
exploded high overhead, raining shrapnel on the airspeeder, which came about
and shot for the source of the fire.
"Movement below," the pilot said, glancing at one of the scanner
displays. "I count six figures." Obi-Wan raised himself out of his seat. "I
don't see anyone." "Mimetic suits," Qui-Gon said. He swung to the pilot. "Find
a place to set us down." Another rocket streaked into the sky, detonating
between the second and third airspeeders.
"Targets are headed south," the pilot said.
Qui-Gon let his eyes roam over the varied domes and high roofs. Emerging
from a narrow cleft between two domes, three humans came briefly into view,
only to disappear against a background of roof tiles.
The pilot steered the airspeeder for the top of a long barrel vault and
let the craft settle down.
Blaster bolts began to whiz past the fuselage and ricochet erratically
from the vault's arched walls.
Lightsabers ignited, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan leapt over the gunwales. Hitting
the vault, they somersaulted through the air for the flat area below. Some
distance behind, KiAdiMundi, Vergere, and the two judicials hit the roof
running.
In a blur of motion, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bolted to the end of the flat
roof, wound between several domes, and covered a length of sheer ledge without
a moment's hesitation. Side by side, and with blaster bolts darting beneath
them, they hopped across an interior courtyard and continued the chase without
breaking stride.
The terrorists were retreating deeper into the sinuous topography. Qui-
Gon pursued a pair of fleetingly visible figures, ultimately bounding far
ahead of them. With lightsaber raised, he waited for them to rush directly
into his path.
Is bar bar His green blade hissed and thrummed as it sliced through the
air, deflecting a dozen blaster bolts--along with a hurled blaster to top it
off. Perceiving the direction of the pair's revised retreat, Qui-Gon dropped
both of them with a Force push.
The two judicials arrived in time to pounce on the terrorists, before
their mimetic suits had a chance to reenergize.
Sensing something behind him, Qui-Gon whirled, but not quickly enough. A
meter-long vibroblade secured to the fist of a nearly indiscernible assailant
pierced the right side of his brown cloak, just missing his ribs. Qui-Gon spun
through a full turn, slashing diagonally with his lightsaber and halving the
vibroblade.
The terrorist scampered to the center of the roof, where the brick wall
of a small dwelling afforded him better camouflage, and drew a blaster.
Qui-Gon rushed forward, evading blaster bolts, then moving in to grapple
hand to hand with a human of similar size.
A hail of bolts tore past Qui-Gon's left ear as he threw his quarry to
the roof. Two more bolts singed his long hair in their passing. He leapt to
the right and rolled for cover. Drawing on the Force, he coaxed a slate tile
loose from the dwelling's peaked roof. The tile slipped from the grasp of its
fasteners, shot spinning through space, and clipped the terrorist in the side
of the head, felling him instantly.
Qui-Gon rushed in, grabbing a handful of the mimetic suit and tearing it
from the man's prone body. Its circuitry interrupted, the suit failed and the
wearer became visibl e.
Qui-Gon determined that the terrorist would be unconscious long enough
for the judicials to find him.
Off to his left, he spied Vergere leaping from dome to dome, as if she
were wearing a rocket pack. Following after her, he saw that the Fosh and Ki-
Adi-Mundi were closing on a Gotal, whose mimetic suit couldn't camouflage the
trail of shed fur he was leaving.
He glanced around for Obi-Wan and found him standing at the base of a
large dome, atop a wall that enclosed a deep courtyard. Qui-Gon was headed
toward him, when he spied an indistinct shape sliding down the steep curve of
the dome. The shape collided with Obi-Wan and sent him flailing over the edge
of the building.
Qui-Gon dashed forward, holding his lightsaber at hip level, then
flicking the blade upward when he reached the spot where he predicted the
terrorist would land.
A pained cry rang out, and a right arm flashed into visibility and went
sailing over the edge of the roof. Disa4, the mimetic suit phased out,
revealing a howling human female, down on her knees, her left hand gripped on
what remained of her severed right arm.
Qui-Gon rushed to the wall, hoping to find that Obi-Wan had found a soft
spot to land. Instead, an airspeeder rose out of the courtyard, with Obi-Wan
clinging by one hand to the craft's aft starboard stabilizer.
The airspeeder gently deposited Obi-Wan on the roof next to Qui-Gon.
Nearby, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Vergere, the two judicials, and a couple of Eriadu
security officers were securing the six terrorists that had been captured.
Neither Havac nor Cohl were among them.
"That was quite a stunt, Padawan," Qui-Gon said.
"I guess you would rather have found me dangling by my teeth, Master."
Qui-Gon showed him a perplexed look.
"The thought-puzzle Master Anoon Bondara put to his students on the day
we spoke with Luminara," Obi-Wan explained. "About the man dangling by his
teeth from the strut of a skimmer over a treacherous pit." "I remember now,"
Qui-Gon said, with sudden interest.
Obi-Wan blew out his breath. "After much though, I decided that the
skimmer is meant to be the Force, and that the pit represents the dangers that
await any of us who stray from the path." "And what of the lost travelers who
asked for help?" "Well, on the one hand, travelers--even when they've lost
their way--should know better than to ask questions of a man dangling by his
teeth over a treacherous pit. But, more important, the travelers were merely
distractions that the man should ignore, if he is to remain in the Force."
"Distractions," Qui-Gon murmured.
He thought back to the attempt on Valorum's life, the events on Asmeru,
and the evidence that had been discovered in the customs warehouse.
Qui-Gon clapped Obi-Wan on both shoulders. "You've helped me see
something that has been eluding me." He glanced at the half-dozen terrorists.
"There's little more we can do here. Hurry now, Padawan, Havac's scheme is
afoot." "Where are we going, Master?" "Where we were meant to go from the
beginning." The scene outside the south entrance to the summit hall was
chaotic, with mobs of onlookers and security personnel milling about, and
media reporters jostling for close-ups with their holocams and recorders.
Cordons of body-armored police fought to keep the masses from pressing too
close, as vehicles ranging from the most primitive to the most luxurious
conveyed delegates to the porte cochere that hooded the entrance. Judicials
circulated through the crowd, trying not to be obvious, despite the
communicator beads in their ears and the sophisticated comlinks on their
wrists, while Jedi Knights, with their brown cloaks and belt-mounted
lightsabers, made themselves all too obvious.
"I don't see a hope of getting inside," Boiny said to Cohl, at the
leading edge of the crowd.
"Even if we managed to reach the door, we'd never be able to slip any
hardware past the weapons scanners." The two of them were wearing loose-
fitting robes, sandals, and turbans that concealed their head wounds.
Cohl had found himself an actual crutch made of a lightweight alloy, but
he was weaker than when he and the Rodian had made their hasty departure from
the customs warehouse. Both were surviving on bacta patches and periodic
injections of pain blockers.
Cohl gazed up at the summit hall. In addition to the security guards
posted at the entrance, there were sharpshooters in the towers that stood at
the corners of the enormous building.
"Let's have a look at some of the other entrances," he said, quietly and
short of breath.
They began a circular zigzag around the grounds.
The west and north entrances were no less crowded or confused, but the
east entrance wasn't nearly as mobbed, or as well guarded.
Waiting to be admitted were administrative aides and freelance
translators, protocol and service droids, an ensemble of drummers and
trumpeters sporting tall helmets and garish uniforms, and mixed-species groups
representing the Rights of Sentience League and the Association of Free Trade
Worlds, among others.
"Strictly second-tier attendees," Boiny remarked.
"Our kind of folks." Cohl nodded with his chin, indicating that they
should saunter down the long line.
Part way along, announcing themselves with a colorful banner, waited a
hundred or so veterans of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict. A brief though bloody
conflict that had erupted twelve years earlier, it had been fought largely on
worlds where bacta was scarce or too expensive.
Consequently, many of the veterans, human and alien alike, still showed
gruesome scars, patches of horribly puckered or wrinkled flesh, and missing
limbs or tails. Paralyzed as a result of disrupter fire or electromagnetic
detonations, a few were confined to repulsorlift chairs and sleds.
It was the latter group that caught Cohl's attention.
"I think we've found our way inside," he told Boiny.
Centered in the 180-457ree arc of tiered seats that separated the
Coruscant delegation from the Trade Federation Directorate, Senator Palpatine
sat with Sate Pestage, Kinman Doriana, and others, in the section designated
for the Naboo system.
Palpatine had angled himself to the left, in order to watch the seven
members of the directorate assume their seats. Flanking the four humans, the
Sullustan, the Gran, and the Neimoidian, contingents of security droids stood
with blaster rifles affixed to their squarish backpacks, like skeletal
sentinels of death.
Palpatine was so engrossed that he failed to observe the approach of
Senator Orn Free Taa, despite the fact that the bloated Rutian Twi'lek had
arrived by means of a repulsorlift chair, with his retinue of attaches and
aides trailing behind him like servants.
"An impressive showing," Taa said to Palpatine, glancing around the
resplendent hall as he lowered his chair to the floor. "Delegates from
Sullust, Clak'dor, the Senex sector, Malastare, Falleen, Bothawui... Why even
some of the Hutt worlds are represented." Taa paused to track Palpatine's gaze
to the Trade Federation section. "Ah, the objects of everyone's fascination."
"Assuredly," Palpatine said in a distracted way.
"How like the directorate to bring droids--though I suppose it makes
little difference whether one chooses Jedi Knights or droids. I have heard,
however, that the directorate also insisted on a shield projector." "Yes, I
heard the same." Taa regarded Palpatine for a long moment.
"Senator, permit me to say that you seem somewhat preoccupied." Palpatine
finally swiveled in his chair to face Taa. "In point of fact, I have just
received some rather distressing news from my home system. It seems that
Naboo's King Veruna has abdicated the throne." Taa's massive head-tails
twitched. "I...
I must confess, Senator, that I don't know whether to feel sorry or glad
for you. But where exactly does this leave you, in any case? Is there some
danger of your being recalled?" "That remains to be seen," Palpatine said.
"Naboo will have an acting regent until elections are held." "Who is in
the running to replace Veruna?" "That, too, remains to be seen." "Dare I
inquire as to your hope?" Palpatine shrugged lightly. "Only for someone
enthusiastic about opening Naboo to the galaxy.
Someone less--how shall I put it? - - traditional than Veruna." A glint
came into Taa's eyes. "Or more easily persuaded perhaps?" Before Palpatine
could respond, a swell of agitation began to sweep through the hall. To all
sides, heads were turning toward the south entrance.
Shortly, Supreme Chancellor Valorum and the rest of the Coruscant
delegation appeared.
The hall responded with extended if merely cordial applause.
"He arrives," Taa said, as Valorum was being escorted to his seat. "But
who is that with him? I recognize the sector governor, but not the lean and
hungry-looking one beside him." "Lieutenant Governor Tarkin," Palpatine
replied, while clapping his hands.
"Ah, yes--Tarkin. A bit of a throwback, isn't he? Very militant and
authoritarian." "Power can turn even the meekest of bureaucrats into a raging
manka cat." "Just so, just so. And speaking of that, Senator," Taa added in a
conspiratorial tone, "do you recall the information I brought to your
attention a while back, regarding Valorum family holdings here on Eriadu?"
"Vaguely. Something about a shipping company, wasn't it?" Taa nodded. "As you
know, many small concerns are poised to see their market status considerably
advanced as a result of Valorum's taxation proposal, and also as a consequence
of investments from Core worlds, like Ralltiir and Kuat, who are ever on the
alert for opportunities." "What does all that have to do with Valorum's
holdings?" Palpatine asked mildly.
was It appears that said shipping company has recently received a
significant inflow of capital, and yet the Supreme Chancellor failed to inform
appropriate parties in the senate. Naturally, I began to wonder if he was even
aware that someone had invested so heavily in the family business, and just
who it was that had invested." "It wouldn't be like Supreme Chancellor Valorum
to conceal something of that nature." "Initially, I believed the same. My
assumption was that if it could be determined that the funds had indeed come
from investment speculators who had no direct ties to Valorum, then--despite
all outward appearances--noto breach of protocol or propriety had occurred.
But when I endeavored to establish as much, I kept finding myself beset with
obstacles, dead ends, and ambiguous leads. As you yourself suggested, I
resorted to turning the matter over to Senator Antilles, who has the necessary
leverage to pry into ^th areas to which I was denied." "Has Senator Antilles
made any progress?" Taa lowered his voice another notch. "What I have to tell
you is hardly equivalent to your revelation about King Veruna, but, in fact, I
have just learned that Antilles was successful in tracing the origin of the
funds to what he at first thought was a venture capital consortium, but which,
in fact, appears to be a fraudulent bank account, set up expressly for
channeling illicitly gained funds to areas of special interest." Palpatine
stared at him. "By special interests, I assume you refer to those senators who
are receiving kickbacks from various organizations, criminal and otherwise."
"Precisely." "But you have yet to learn where the funds originated." "We are
getting close, and the closer we get, the more potentially embarrassing this
could be for the Supreme Chancellor." "I'd appreciate being kept fully
informed." Taa smiled. "We'll make no announcement without consulting you."
Palpatine and Taa turned to watch Valorum waving to the crowd, which responded
with a second round of gracious applause.
"This is the Supreme Chancellor's moment," Palpatine said. "We shouldn't
spoil it with gossip." Taa was chagrined. "Please accept my apologies,
Senator. It was never my intention to spoil the moment." He glanced to his
left.
"I'll leave that to the Trade Federation." Viceroy Nute Gunray felt as if
everyone's eyes were on him, despite the fact that it was Valorum who had the
hall's undivided attention.
Gunray's own eyes, however, were on the battle droid that had been
delivered into his care only moments before he and the members of the
directorate had left their temporary quarters for the summit.
Indistinguishable from the dozen other droids providing pro tection for
the directorate--save for a blush of yellow markings- - the new addition stood
just to Gunray's right, at the leading edge of the detachment on that side of
the Trade Federation rostrum.
Gunray had barely had time to settle into his quarters on Eriadu when the
Sith Lord, faithful to his word, had appeared, by means of the holoprojector
Sidious had sent him months earlier. Although on this occasion the image was
so distinct, so free of the usual noise and static, that Gunray might have
almost believed that Sidious was on Eriadu or some neighboring world, rather
than concealed in whatever manner of fathomless den from which he worked his
dark magic.
Some strangers will be coming to give you an additional droid, Sidious
had said, a battle droid. You are not to question them, nor the purpose of the
droid itself. You will simply instruct the droid to join the others you
brought to Eriadu. It will respond to your commands.
Gunray had been feverish with questions, but he had managed to restrain
himself when the strangers arrived at his quarters with the boxed battle
droid. He hadn't even informed Lott Dod of the communication, even when the
senator--alone among the Trade Federation delegation--had casually remarked
that he could have sworn that they had arrived on Eriadu with only twelve
droids.
The shipping manifest would bear that out, of course. But considering
that the Trade Federation enjoyed diplomatic status, it was improbable that
Eriadu customs would raise a concern when the delegation returned to the
spaceport with the extra droid in tow.
It was the second of the Sith Lord's directives that continued to prey on
Gunray's thoughts, in any case, and was the cause of his present disquiet.
Even now he saw that the ensemble of musicians were assembling on the
floor, in preparation of trumpeting the fanfares that would inaugurate the
summit.
It was only a matter of minutes.
Gunray made note of where Lott Dod was seated.
Discreetly, he mopped away some of the perspiration that beaded his face,
and he tried to calm himself.
Mostly, however, he counted down the minutes in silence.
From the padded seat of a repulsorlift chair Boiny had helped him
commandeer from an oblivious veteran of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict, Cohl
gazed across the summit hall to where the Trade Federation delegation had an
area to itself, opposite Supreme Chancellor Valorum and the Coruscant bunch.
His vision was unfocused and narrowed to a tunnel, and his body was racked
with pain, despite the injections Boiny had been administering with increasing
frequency.
Cohl's seeming and actual nurse, the Rodian stood behind him, training a
small pair of electrobinoculars on the Trade Federation's complement of
thirteen droids.
"Only one of them is missing a restraining bolt," Boiny said, close to
Cohl's left ear. "The droid with the yellow blazes on its head and midsection.
Just to the Neimoidian's right, at the head of the line on that side of the
rostrum." Cohl put the electrobinoculars to his eyes.
"I've got him," he said weakly. Then he began to scan the immense hall
with the glasses. "Havac's somewhere in here, probably with a remote control
in hand." Boiny glanced around. "It's possible that the droid has been
programmed to respond to a certain event, or at a specific time. But even if
Havac has a remote, it won't necessarily have to operate by line of sight. He
could be anywhere in the hall, or outside it." Cohl shook his head. "Havac's
the type who needs to watch this happen. He planned it. It's his show."
Boiny's gaze continued to wander over the tiers of seats. "He can't be in the
delegate's section.
And I doubt he plays the trumpet--was Abruptly, Cohl looked over his
shoulder at the Rodian. "What was Havac before he turned to terrorism, Boiny--
before he joined the Nebula Front?" Boiny thought about it. "Some kind of
holomaker, right?" "A documentary holomaker. A freelance media correspondent."
In concert they raised their eyes to the media booths high overhead.
Fresh from the rooftop chase, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan joined Saesee Tiin and
Adi Gallia on the floor of the hall, just inside the north entrance. Valorum
was seated to the right and above them; the Trade Federation Directorate, to
the left. In front of them, the members of the Eriadu delegation were taking
their places in the stands that had been erected in the center of the hall.
Below the stands, a group of drummers and trumpeters were tuning their
instruments.
The air was charged with excitement.
"The six we captured maintain that they've never heard of Cohl or Havac,"
Qui-Gon explained to the other Jedi, "and that they don't know anything about
an assassination attempt." "Then what were they doing on the roof, armed and
dangerous, and firing on you with a rocket launcher?" "They claim to be a band
of thieves, who thought they could take advantage of the disorder surrounding
the summit by breaking into the Seswenna Sector Bank." "Did you tell them
about the roofscape image found in the holoprojector?" Tiin asked.
"There was no point. They might have been hoping to assault the Supreme
Chancellor's hovercade from the roof, but I think they were simply there to
distract us. That's what Cohl and Havac have been doing from the start, as far
back as the incident at the Galactic Senate.
"Even if any of the six eventually admit to having been hired by Cohl,
they could continue to claim that robbery was their intent. None were carrying
documentation, so we don't even know who they are or what worlds they hail
from. Eriadu security is running their likenesses and retinal prints, but,
assuming Cohl gathered them from distant worlds, it could be weeks before any
matches are discovered." "Then we have nothing more to go on," Adi said.
"Only that the rest of Havac's assassins are somewhere in this hall."
"There have been no incidents at the entrances," Tiin said. "No one has been
arrested." "That means nothing," Qui-Gon said. "For experts like Cohl and
Havac, this hall is as permeable as a Podrace finale. They would have no
trouble getting inside." Tiin compressed his thin lips. "The only thing we can
do is be prepared to defend the Supreme Chancellor." Qui-Gon glanced in
Valorum's direction.
"Will he permit us to get any closer to him?" "No," Adi said. "He gave
explicit orders that he doesn't want the proceedings disrupted--notor does he
want us by his side. He wants the Jedi to be seen as impartial in this trade
dispute." "Nevertheless, we can't stand here, waiting for something to happen,
" Tiin growled. "We should divide and look around; locate the trouble before
the trouble finds Valorum." Obi-Wan, who had been standing quietly throughout
the exchange, noticed a familiar look come into Qui-Gon's eye. It was as if
Qui-Gon's gaze was fixed on some invisible presence the living Force had
highlighted.
"What is it, Master?" he asked quietly.
"I can feel him, Padawan." "Havac?" "Cohl." The tiny, dingy booth
assigned to the Eriadu Free HoloDaily consisted of a couple of rigid chairs, a
control console of dust - covered flatscreen displays and holoprojector pads,
and a large single-pane window that looked out on the hall.
Havac stood by the window, staring down at the mostly seated crowd while
he mounted a holocam in its stand. Behind him, and armed with blasters they
had secreted in the summit hall weeks earlier, sat two of his human
confederates. One of them wore a wrist comm.
When Havac had trained the holocam on the Trade Federation's arc of
seats, he attached a scanner to the cam head. Then he aimed the device, which
resembled a directional microphone, toward the trumpeters on the floor of the
hall.
"Any word from the spotter team?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Not a chirp," the man with the comlink replied. "And Valorum has been
here for over ten minutes.
What do you think happened?" "The likely explanation is that they were
discovered." "Why do you say that?" Havac turned to face the pair. "Because I
notified the authorities about Cohl's freighter, and left the holoprojector
behind to be found." He waited for smiles of revelation, but when none
appeared, he added, "It was the only way to ensure that the authorities would
be kept occupied while we went about our business here." "Then Cohl has also
been found--or his corpse, at any rate," the one with the comlink said.
The other man looked doubtful. "Suppose, as you say, the spotters have
been found out, and they decide to cut a deal by telling what they know--
credits or no credits." Havac shrugged theatrically. "They know me as Havac,
and no "Havac" has been cleared by security to attend the summit. The credit
transfers to Cohl's hired hands can't be traced directly to us. The safe house
will be empty by the time they lead the authorities to it. We'll be long gone
from Eriadu before anyone is able to assemble all the pieces of the puzzle."
Clearly meant to restore confidence, Havac's discourse failed to have the
intended effect.
If anything, the two men looked even more skeptical than before.
"Is our shooter in place?" Havac asked impatiently.
"Out on the walkway--just waiting for the music to begin." "What do you
want us to do with him afterward?" the one with the comlink asked.
Havac considered it. "He's a misfit with a counterfeit identity badge and
a blaster, who has just fired at the delegates. You'll be a public hero if you
kill him--or at least see to it that he falls from the walkway." "No loose
ends," the same one said.
"As few as possible." Back on his alloy crutches, but still wearing a
small flag fastened to the front of his robe that identified him as a veteran
of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict, Cohl hobbled from the turbolift that had
carried him and Boiny to the hall's main pedestrian level. From here it was
possible to ascend to the perimeter walkways that accessed the media and
security booths in the upper reaches of the domed building.
They were headed for the array of lifts when a voice called out behind
them.
"Captain Cohl." Cohl didn't stop until the stranger repeated the call,
then he maneuvered himself through a resigned turn. Ten meters down the
corridor stood a tall, long-haired, and bearded Jedi, displaying a green-
bladed lightsaber.
"This just isn't our day," Boiny muttered.
Cohl heard the characteristic snap and hiss of another lightsaber and
glanced over his shoulder. The second Jedi was a clean-shaven young man,
wearing the thin braid of a Padawan.
"We've been looking forward to meeting you since Dor - valla," the older
one said.
Cohl and Boiny swapped looks of surprised dismay.
"You were the ones in the diplomatic Lancet," Cohl said.
"You led us a merry chase, Captain." Cohl snorted and shook his head.
"Well, you found us now. And you can put your glow sticks away.
We're unarmed." Qui-Gon merely pointed the lightsaber toward the floor as
he approached. "I congratulate you on surviving the destruction of the
Revenue." Cohl sagged on his crutches. "A lot of good it did me, Jedi. My
partner and I are shot to pieces." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan regarded them through
the Force, and understood that Cohl wasn't lying. Both he and the Rodian were
seriously injured.
"How did you find out about the Dorvalla operation, anyway?" Cohl asked.
"A member of the Nebula Front," Qui-Gon said. "Now dead." "So there was
an informant. I guess Havac was right to have been secretive about this one."
"We're eager to meet Havac, as well," Obi-Wan said.
Cohl looked at him. "You'd do better to destroy the droid Havac
infiltrated into the summit." "Droid?" the Jedi said in unison.
"A battle droid," Cohl elaborated.
"It's right up there with the rest of the directorate's droids. We figure
Havac plans to have the droid kill Valorum." "That's impossible," Qui-Gon
said. "Battle droids can't act without a cue from a central control computer."
"Havac's is one of Baktoid's new and improved models," Boiny said. "A
commander. More of a freethinker. It only needs to be tasked, by voice command
or remote signal, and it's capable of swaying the droids around it." Obi-Wan's
jaw dropped slightly. "Are you saying that instead of one assassin, there are
a potential dozen?" "Thirteen, actually," Boiny replied.
"It still can't initiate an act like that on its own," Qui-Gon insisted.
"That's where Havac comes in. He's the one with the remote." Qui-Gon
stepped toward Cohl. "Where is he?" "I have some idea." "Tell me what you
know, and let me handle this.
Obi-Wan will escort you and your partner to medical attention--and into
custody." Cohl shook his head. "If you want Havac, we go together, Jedi, or
not at all." He canted his head to Boiny. "Besides, we're the only ones who
can identify him." Qui-Gon didn't even have to think about it. He glanced at
Obi-Wan. "Padawan, report back to Master Tiin and the others. Quickly." "But,
Master--was "Go, Padawan. Now." Obi-Wan showed him a tight-lipped nod and spun
on his boot heels.
Qui-Gon watched his apprentice rush off, then he deactivated his
lightsaber and put one arm under Cohl's trembling shoulder.
"Lean on me, Captain." w ith ten drummers setting the tempo, twice as
many horn players raised their long instruments to their mouths and trumpeted
the first of the three prolonged fanfares.
By then Obi-Wan had reached Tiin and the other Jedi.
"It's the droids," he began in a sally of words.
Tiin had him slow down and repeat everything he and Qui - Gon had learned
from Cohl. Then the Iktotchi turned to Adi, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Vergere, and the
rest.
"Position yourvs as close to Valorum as possible," he instructed Adi and
Vergere.
"Obi-Wan, Ki, and I will be near the Trade Federation rostrum. The rest
of you, disperse to deflect blasterfire. Be unassuming but prepared." "Master
Tiin, do you think the Trade Federation suspects what's in their midst?" Obi-
Wan asked as they set out across the floor of the hall.
"They couldn't. They are aggressive only when it comes to commerce.
However this Havac infiltrated the droid among the others, it had to have been
done without the knowledge of the directorate members." "Should we order the
delegation to remove the droids, Master?" Ki-Adi-Mundi replied. "Whoever is
watching may decide to trigger the droids into action. If that happens, it
could appear that we posed a threat, prompting the droids to respond with
blasterfire.
If there was time, we could get someone aboard the Trade Federation
freighter to shut down the central control computer." "Have you fought these
droids before, Master Tiin?" "I know only that they're not very accurate,
Padawan." Obi-Wan frowned as he ran. "With thirteen of them firing, that may
not matter." Not even a quarter of the way around the upper level corridor
that accessed the media booths, Boiny spied Havac through a small
transparisteel panel set high in the door.
Leaving Cohl to stand on his own, Qui-Gon pressed his back to the
corridor wall. "How many of them are in there?" he asked the Rodian.
"Havac and maybe two other humans--seated to the right of the door." Qui-
Gon nodded to the door release lever. "Try it." Gingerly, Boiny placed his
hand on the lever.
"Locked." He glanced at the touchpad mounted on the wall. "I can probably
slice--was "I have a quicker way," Qui-Gon interrupted.
Activating his lightsaber, he shoved the glowing blade through the lock
mechanism. The metal glowed red and instantly began to slag, tainting the air
with biting odors. With a grating sound, the door slid into xs wall pocket.
By then, Havac and his two confederates were on their feet, weapons in
hand. A flurry of blaster bolts glanced from Qui - Gon's blade, which he held
upraised and threw left and right in precise parries. The deflected bolt s
blazed around the room, two of them wounding Havac's men and knocking them to
the floor.
Undiluted terror fumbled the blaster from Havac's grip. As it fell, Qui-
Gon called the weapon to him with a Force summons and tucked it into the wide
belt that cinched his tunic.
Havac dropped back into his seat at the console, cowering in fear and
raising his shaking hands above his head.
Boiny and Cohl followed Qui-Gon into the booth.
Cohl took stock of the situation and looked at Qui-Gon. "I'm glad I never
had to go up against you people." "Cohl," Havac said in genuine amazement.
Cohl made his eyes narrow. "Next time you'll know better, amateur."
"Where is the remote that controls the battle droid?" Qui - Gon asked Havac.
Havac adopted a look of innocent perplexity.
"Remote? I don't know what you're talking about." Qui-Gon towered over
him. "You infiltrated a droid into ^th the Trade Federation Directorate
brought with them." He reached down and picked Havac out of his chair, holding
him up against the booth's fixed window. "Where is the remote?" Havac clutched
vainly at Qui-Gon's hand.
"Enough! Put me down and I'll tell you!" Qui-Gon lowered him to the
chair.
"Our shooter has it," he said, biting out the words.
"I know the one he means," Cohl said. "A sniper." Qui-Gon looked back at
Havac. "Where is he?" "Out on the walkways," Havac mumbled, averting his eyes.
Qui-Gon glanced at Cohl, making up his mind about something. "Are you
well enough to remain with these three while your partner and I locate the
shooter?" Cohl lowered himself into one of the chairs. "I think I can find it
in me." Qui-Gon handed him Havac's blaster. He started to say something, but
bit back his words and began again, gesturing to the two wounded men. "I'll
send for medical attention." "There's no hurry," Cohl said.
When Qui-Gon and Boiny had disappeared through the open doorway, Cohl
stared balefully at Havac.
The trumpeters paused briefly, then began the second modulating fanfare.
The musicians were a stanza into the piece when a human page approached
the Trade Federation rostrum and asked for Viceroy Gunray.
The Kuati chair of the delegation directed the page to the far end of the
directorate's curved table.
With palpable apprehension, Gunray watched the page advance.
"I'm sorry to intrude, Viceroy," the human began in Basic, loudly enough
to be heard over the trumpets, "but apparently there is some problem with your
shuttle. Eriadu Spaceport Control needs to speak with you at once." Gunray
made his face long and stuck out his already prominent lower jaw. "Can't this
wait until after the summit concludes?" The page shook his head. "I apologize,
Viceroy, but this is a security matter. I assure you, it will require only a
moment of your time." The Kuati chair, who had been monitoring the
conversation, swung to face Gunray. "Go attend to the matter. If luck is with
you, you won't have to endure Supreme Chancellor Valorum's opening remarks."
Lott Dod came to his feet as Gunray was preparing to leave. "Should I remain
in your absence, Viceroy?" Gunray thought about it for a moment, then shook
his head. "Come with me. You are better at dealing with procedures and
legalities than I am. But let us be quick about it, Senator, I don't wish to
miss any more of the summit than I have to." A hundred meters above the floor
of the summit hall, Qui-Gon and Boiny hurried through the network of walkways,
gantries, and trusses that spanned the upper reaches of the building from wall
to wall. The martial bellowing of the trumpets resounded off the curved walls,
playing tricks with the sound. Sunlight, colored by the enormous ocular window
in the center of the dome, poured in.
Suspended by brackets from the ceiling, or cantilevered from the walls,
the walkways had openwork floors and tubular handrails and were just wide
enough for a human of normal size to pass through. At regular intervals,
especially where walkways intersected, were balconies that permitted
maintenance to be performed on speaker arrays or banks of spotlights.
There were innumerable places where a lone shooter, armed with a remote
or a blaster, might conceal himself.
Qui-Gon and Boiny hadn't gone far before they encountered the first
security agent, who raised a hand weapon as they approached and demanded to
know what business they had there.
Qui-Gon explained in as few words as possible, at the same time regarding
the agent through the Force to determine if his demeanor of righteous
authority was genuine.
Disconcerted by Qui-Gon's revelations, the agent activated his comlink
and notified every agent in the vicinity to recheck the documents of anyone in
the walkways, whether their badges identified them as fellow agents or
technicians. In the same breath, he ordered that all exits leading to the
periphery corridor behind the media booths be sealed off.
Within moments, Qui-Gon, Boiny, and the agent were joined by additional
security personnel. Forming up into three groups, they fanned out into the
walkways.
Qui-Gon and Boiny angled away from the perimeter and out over the floor
of the hall. Directly below them stood the two lines of trumpeters and
drummers.
They reached another intersection and split up.
Stretching out with his feelings, Qui-Gon moved warily toward the next
balcony.
A security agent rushed into view, a blaster rifle cradled in his arms.
"I received word over the comlink," he said. "There are two technicians
on the next balcony.
I suggest we start with them." The agent stepped aside to let Qui-Gon
pass.
Qui-Gon sprinted forward. But the Force drew him up short.
He began to turn.
Someone shouted, "Jedi!" Qui-Gon spun and saw Boiny running full-out
toward him. The security agent was between them, the blaster rifle still
angled across his chest.
Boiny pointed to the agent. "That's--was The agent glanced at Qui-Gon.
"He's with me," Qui-Gon started to say.
The agent crouched and fired, hitting Boiny square in the chest and
hurling him backwards on the walkway. Then he whirled on Qui-Gon, firing
steadily.
Qui-Gon unleashed his lightsaber. But the blaster bolts were delivered
with such speed and precision that he was hard-pressed to deflect all of them.
Two whizzed past his blade, grazing his left arm and right leg.
He stumbled slightly.
Drawn by the sounds of the blasterfire, a trio of agents raced into view
from the same direction Boiny had come. Havac's shooter drew a second weapon
from a shoulder holster and unloaded on the agents, wounding two of them.
Qui-Gon changed the cant of his blade to deflect bolts off to each side,
rather than back at the shooter, for fear of hitting any of the
reinforcements. By now the agents were returning fire, but showing little
concern for Qui-Gon's predicament.
The shooter was dazzlingly fast with his hands and body, dodging bolts
and throwing himself from one side of the narrow walkway to the other,
concealed body armor absorbing the few shots that did manage to find him.
Qui-Gon leapt forward. Slashing horizontally with his blade, he severed
two of the walkway's tubular vertical supports.
Then he slashed downward to rend the struts that braced the platform.
Abruptly both sections of the cleaved walkway tilted, sending Qui-Gon and
Havac's shooter staggering toward each other and the increasing gap between
the now dangling ends of the platform.
A crazed yell tore from the shooter's throat.
He slipped to the floor and began to slide along the grating, firing both
weapons at Qui-Gon as he fell.
Into the brief silence the musicians inserted between the second and
final fanfares, came a rush of voices raised in panic.
Seated stiffly at the center of the Coruscant delegation's rostrum,
Valorum wasn't sure what had provoked the screams until he saw Sei Taria, with
one hand pressed to her mouth, pointing toward the hall's ceiling.
In the maze of walkways below the dome's oculus window, blaster bolts
darted and crisscrossed in the tinted light. Others glanced from a
lightsaber's green blade. Sparks showered down on the drummers and trumpeters
like a benediction.
Sei screamed.
Jedi Masters Adi Gallia and Vergere rushed forward, their swords ignited.
Then a figure plummeted from one of the walkways.
From the Trade Federation's side of the hall, the chair of the
directorate watched open-mouthed as a blaster fight erupted in the overhead
trusses and gantries. On the floor, at the same time, three Jedi and several
judicials were moving quickly if surreptitiously toward the directorate
rostrum.
The Kuati glanced between the ceiling and floor. Had the summit been
engineered to trap the directorate? he asked himself. Would the Republic be so
bold as to attack them in public?
The security droids had gone from standing at attention to postures of
readiness, crouching slightly, with arms crooked and left legs extended
behind. They were programmed to answer to any or all of the directorate
members--or at least relay a directorate member's commands to the central
control computer on board the Trade Federation vessel--but the droids
responded best to the Neimoidians.
The Kuati chair looked around for Viceroy Gunray and realized that he
hadn't returned. At a loss for what to do, he swung to one of his aides.
"Activate the for ce field!" he ordered.
The sounds of blasters and panic on the floor infiltrated the media booth
Havac had secured.
Seated in a chair with a hand weapon leveled at Havac, Cohl heard the
holocam click on and saw Havac glance at it.
"Am I correct in assuming that you intend to kill me?" Havac asked.
"Killing is what you are good at, after all." "You're doing pretty good for a
beginner, Havac." Havac snorted in disdain. "I'm prepared to die for the
cause, Captain." "Maybe you are," Cohl said. "But I'm not going to give you
that privilege. You're going to die for killing Rella. Besides, your cause is
lost." Havac glanced at the cam again. "You think so?" Cohl gestured toward
the transparisteel window.
"You hear those blaster bolts? The Jedi found your shooter--the one
controlling the droid. Valorum is out of danger. I never thought much of the
plan anyway, seeing how Valorum is trying to dismantle the Trade Federation,
the same as you are." Havac laughed shortly. "You failed to see the truth,
Cohl. You really are too old for the game.
What makes you think that we were ever after Valorum?" Cohl's grin
straightened.
Grimacing in pain, he pushed himself out of the chair and limped to the
window. The blaster fight had thrown the hall into utter chaos. The members of
the Trade Federation Directorate were standing behind their curved table,
surrounded by their security droids, everyone safe inside a shimmering force
field.
Off to one side, a group of Jedi and judicials were closing on the
Federation's rostrum.
Cohl swung to Havac, his eyes blazing.
"You're after the Trade Federation!" Havac couldn't restrain a triumphant
smile.
"It was just a matter of getting them to activate the force field." He
indicated the devices that were aimed down at the hall. "The scanner detected
the activation. The holocam is going to do the rest." "The remote," Cohl said,
as if in a daze.
He lunged for the cam, meeting Havac halfway.
They slammed into each other and fell grappling to the floor of the
booth. They rolled toward the door, each man fighting for superiority, the
blaster between them, in the clutch of four hands.
Cohl swung his elbow into Havac's face, knocking him sideways, then used
Havac's momentum to pitch himself on top of Havac, pinning him to the floor
with his knees.
Havac squirmed, but held tightly to the blaster, triggering a bolt into
Cohl's abdomen. Cohl fell partially back, then slumped forward, bringing all
his weight to bear on the weapon and forcing it down into Havac's chest.
With what little of his strength remained, Cohl squeezed out a final
bolt.
Dangling by one hand from the swaying walkway, Qui-Gon looked down at the
floor of the hall.
The trumpeters had stopped midfanfare and were scattering for cover,
abandoning their horns as they ran. Everywhere else delegates were fleeing
their seats, literally climbing over one another in a desperate attempt to
escape.
Valorum was on his feet, but completely encircled by Senate Guards and
Jedi Knights.
Saesee Tiin, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Obi-Wan had taken up positions in front of
the Trade Federation rostrum, their lightsabers lifted to deflect fire from
the droids.
But the directorate members had raised their force field, which meant
that no bolts could enter or leave the translucent energy shield.
The thirteen droids reached over their right shoulders for the blaster
rifles secured to their backpacks.
The judicials loosed a storm of blaster bolts, which the force field
simply consumed.
Then, all at once, the droids pivoted through an ab-face.
The members of the directorate mouthed commands and curses and began to
back away from the curved table.
The droids fired.
As the Jedi and judicials watched helplessly, bolts tore into the table
and chairs and into the flesh of the members, shaking them about and hurling
them to all sides of the rostrum.
The firing ceased as abruptly as it had started.
For a moment, the droids stood with their cooling blasters, then they put
them back over their shoulders and turned to face the hall.
Stunned by what he had witnessed, Qui-Gon clambered onto the shaky
walkway and dropped cross-legged to the slanted floor, staring off into space.
the inner circle The Nebula Front has largely disbanded," the judicial
officer explained to Qui-Gon. "The few we've been able to track down contend
that they knew nothing about Havac's plans for Eriadu.
Some of them had never even met Havac, and assert that the name was
applied routinely to almost everyone in the Front's militant faction. The
Eriadu operation was conceived in great secrecy, in any case, since the
militants were convinced that there was an informant among them." "The
informant was one of the moderates," Qui-Gon amended. "It was through him that
I learned about Cohl's designs to raid the Trade Federation freighter at
Dorvalla, and, on Asmeru, about a clandestine operation Cohl was executing for
Havac." The judicial, a thin, brown-haired woman with a personable manner,
made note of Qui-Gon's remarks on a desktop datapad. It was just the two of
them in a small cubicle in the Justice Department's cavernous headquarters on
Coruscant. Almost a standard month had gone by since the assassinations.
Deactivating the shield the members of the Trade Federation Directorate
had thrown about themselves--unknowingly ushering in their own demise--had
required a team of technicians, using a pair of field disrupters. The two
Neimoidians who had survived the massacre, Viceroy Nute Gunray and Senator
Lott Dod, had not protested when the same disrupters had been employed to
dazzle the thirteen droids into states of guaranteed submission. Diplomatic
privilege had permitted the Neimoidians to depart Eriadu without answering any
questions.
Supreme Chancellor Valorum had ordered the Justice Department to commence
an immediate investigation, but the chief investigators had soon found
themselves thwarted by Lieutenant Governor Tarkin.
Tarkin insisted that, since Eriadu had failed to provide adequate
security, the case should be handled by Eriaduan investigators. There was some
concern that Tarkin, fearing retaliation by the Trade Federation, would seek
to shift the blame to other parties. But, instead, he had simply impeded the
investigation by allowing evidence and eyewitnesses to vanish. Ignored, the
judicials Valorum had asked to remain behind on Eriadu had finally decamped.
Qui-Gon had tried to stay abreast of developments in the case, but the
chief investigator who served as liaison with the Eriaduan team had only just
returned to Coruscant.
"Havac turns out to have been Eriaduan," the judicial officer continued.
"His real name was Eru Matalis, a media correspondent and holodocumentarian,
with a long-standing grudge against the Trade Federation. At some point he
became the leader of the Nebula Front's cell on Eriadu, and rose through the
ranks to a command position in the organization.
"A search of the safe house the Nebula Front maintained in Eriadu City
revealed that the Front had contacts in all quarters of government and law
enforcement, and presumably knew as much as anyone about security for the
trade summit. Evidently, Havac--Matalis--used his contacts to obtain security
badges, uniforms, and documentation for the assassins Cohl had hired, and
perhaps arranged to have weapons concealed inside the hall, prior to the
summit itself." "The operation must have been planned as soon as the trade
summit was announced," Qui-Gon said.
"Or soon after the attack on the Supreme Chancellor, here on Coruscant. I
don't suppose we'll ever know whether that attack was genuine, or designed
from the start to sidetrack us from what was being set in motion on Eriadu."
"Not unless Cohl or Havac learn to speak from beyond the grave," the judicial
said.
"What of the assassins who were captured?" "Everyone in custody upholds
that Valorum was the target- - even the two who you discovered with Havac in
the media booth. As they tell it, Havac's goal was to make it appear that the
Trade Federation's droids had killed Valorum, at the behest of the
directorate. That would have led to the dismantlement of the Federation, which
is what the Nebula Front wanted all along.
"We considered the possibility that something went wrong with the droids'
programming, and that the attack on the directorate was a mistake. But Baktoid
provided ample proof that that could not have happened." "Could Baktoid have
been involved in abetting Havac?" "They vehemently deny any involvement. In
fact, their technicians helped us analyze the battle droid--the so-called
commander--which was found to contain a mechanism that allowed it to be
controlled independently of the central control computer, but only for a brief
period. Havac's holocam prompted the commander to act, and the twelve other
droids followed the commander's lead. As soon as the central control computer
realized what was occurring in the summit hall, it shut down all of them."
Qui-Gon considered it for a moment. "Havac must have had help getting the
droid into Trade Federation hands." "Absolutely," the judicial said, nodding.
"But diplomatic privilege has prevented us from learning all that we wish to
know. For example, Eriadu Spaceport records show that the directorate arrived
with only twelve droids. So the thirteenth--the assassin- - had to have been
acquired while the delegation was on the surface.
"Gunray, the new commanding viceroy of the entire Trade Federation,
alleges--through his lawyers, at any rate--that someone on the directorate
must have accepted or introduced the droid. Senator Lott Dod claims that when
he drew Gunray's attention to the extra droid, the viceroy appeared to be
every bit as puzzled as Dod was." "What about the message that took Gunray and
Dod from the summit hall?" "Legitimate--as far as can be determined. A plasma
leak was detected in the engines of the Neimoidians' shuttle. The leak touched
off scanners at the spaceport, and someone at the spaceport contacted security
at the summit hall. The problem is, we haven't been able to learn the identity
of whoever it was that contacted security. Viceroy Gunray insists that the
comlink the page led him to was inactive when he reached it.
The page has verified this. By the time Gunray and Dod were headed back
to their seats, the violence had already broken out, and security agents
restrained them from reentering the hall." The judicial shook her head in
exasperation. "It all comes down to Havac." Qui-Gon folded his arms across his
chest and nodded, though not convincingly. "So it would appear." "It's a
pleasure to see you again, Senator Palpatine," the exquisite figure in the
holoprojector field said. "I look forward to the day when we can meet again in
person." "I do, as well, Your Majesty," Palpatine said, bowing his head in a
gesture of respect.
The figure sat in a round-backed throne, with a towering arch-topped
window at her back, and, to either side, massive columns of native stone. Her
low voice was as composed as her posture; the words emerged from her painted
lips with scant inflection.
She had a slight figure and a lovely, feminine face. She was remarkably
solemn for one so young.
It was clear that she took her responsibilities with the utmost
seriousness.
Her birth name was Padme Naberrie. But she would henceforth be known as
Queen Amidala, the newly elected ruler of Naboo.
Palpatine was receiving the communication in his apartment, high in the
craglike tower that was 500 Republica, in one of Cor - uscant's oldest and
most prestigious precincts. The walls and floor were as red as Amidala's
throne, with objects of art adorning every niche and corner.
He could imagine his own ghostly likeness hovering above the composite
holoprojector in the floor of the Advisory Council chambers in Naboo's Theed
Palace.
"Senator, I wanted to advise you about something, which has only now been
revealed to me. King Veruna is dead." "Dead, Your Majesty?" Palpatine frowned
in apparent disquiet. "Of course, I was aware that he had gone into hiding
following his abdication. But I understood that he was in good health." "He
was in good health, Senator," Amidala said in a low monotone. "His death has
been ruled "accidental," but much mystery surrounds it." Even at fourteen
years of age, she was not the youngest monarch ever elected to the throne, but
she was certainly one of the most conventional, in dress and bearing.
She was sheathed head to foot in a wide-shouldered red gown, whose ample
cuffs were trimmed with potolli fur. The gown's narrow bib was embroidered in
priceless thread. Painted white, her face sat in the notch of a deep collar
that not only bracketed her fine features, but also became part of an
elaborate jeweled headpiece that flared behind her head. Her thumbnails were
accented with white polish, and each cheekbone with a red, stylized beauty
mark. A traditional "scar of remembrance" bisected her lower lip, which,
unlike its red mate, was also painted white. Five handmaidens stood behind
her, dressed in hooded burgundy gowns.
"I wish you to meet our new chief of security, Senator," Amidala said,
gesturing to someone out of view. "Captain Panaka." A clean-shaven man with
light-brown skin moved into the holofield. Humorless-looking, he was dressed
in a leather jerkin and matching command cap.
Panaka may have been recently appointed, but he was not new to the court,
since Panaka had served for a time under his predecessor, Captain Magneta.
"Because King Veruna died under suspicious circumstances," Amidala said,
"Captain Panaka feels that additional security is required for all of us,
including you, Senator." Palpatine looked surprised, even entertained by the
notion. "I hardly think that's necessary on Coruscant, Your Majesty. The only
danger here comes from having to fraternize with other senators, and somehow
remain immune to the greed that plagues the Galactic Senate." The queen
returned to the holofield. "What about the recent troubles between the Trade
Federation and the Nebula Front terrorists, Senator?" Palpatine shook his head
in disapproval. "That sorry incident only pointed out how ineffectual the
Republic has become at mediating such conflicts. Too many in the Senate place
their own needs above the needs of the Republic." "What will become of
Chancellor Valorum's proposal to tax the free trade zones?" "I feel certain
that the Supreme Chancellor will pursue the matter." "How will you vote,
Senator, should the matter reach a vote?" "How would you have me vote, Your
Majesty?" Amidala thought before replying. "My responsibility is to the people
of Naboo. I would very much like to establish good relations with Chancellor
Valorum, but Naboo can scarcely afford to become embroiled in a dispute that
pits the Republic against the Trade Federation. I will abide by your decision
on the matter, Senator." Palpatine inclined his head. "Then I will weigh the
matter carefully, and vote according to what is ultimately best for Naboo and
the Republic." Valorum stood at the tall windows, gazing out on the cityscape.
"The last time we met here, it was to discuss the Trade Federation's
request for protection from terrorists," he said, "and in the months since,
the situation has only intensified. When I reflect on the sequence of events
that have brought us to this dark place, I find myself at a loss. If someone
had tried to tell me months ago that we were headed here, I wouldn't have
heeded the warning, because I wouldn't have considered it possible." Senator
Palpatine said nothing. He waited for Valorum to turn from the view.
"Out of respect for what occurred at the summit, I have deferred bringing
the motion for taxation before the senate. But I am under pressure to resolve
the matter once and for all--from those who support it, as well as those who
oppose it." Valorum pivoted to face Palpatine. "You, perhaps more than anyone,
know the climate of the senate.
Did the assassinations create sympathy for the Trade Federation, to the
point where we won't be able to gather sufficient support for taxation?" "On
the contrary," Palpatine said. "What happened on Eriadu only reinforced
everyone's fears that we are entering violent times, and that the conflict
between the Trade Federation and the Nebula Front could be a sign of greater
tragedies to come.
"What's more, with the profit-driven Neimoidians now helming the Trade
Federation, tension is likely to increase in the outlying systems. Your plan
to redirect revenue to the Outer Rim is praiseworthy, and is something that
should be put into effect. Many worlds and struggling concerns stand to profit
from such a move. Market competition will eventually temper the reach of the
Trade Federation, without need for the Republic to intervene, beyond taxation.
" Valorum nodded. "And what of the Trade Federation's request for additional
defenses? Even with the Nebula Front eliminated as a threat, the Neimoidians
will want permission to augment their army." "That's true," Palpatine said
slowly. "As an accommodation, if nothing else, we should at least consider
allowing the Trade Federation to take whatever steps are necessary to
safeguard their vessels.
The breakup of the Nebula Front does not preclude the possibility of
further acts of terrorism, launched by whatever groups rise up next." Valorum
regarded Palpatine. "Will we have Naboo's vote?" Palpatine sighed with
purpose. "Unfortunately, Queen Amidala is not prepared to support taxation, as
Naboo still relies on the Trade Federation for many essential imports. She is
young and inexperienced in such matters, but eager to learn." He fixed his
gaze on Valorum. "However, I will continue to do all in my power to work
behind the scenes.
I feel certain that we will be able to rally the votes needed." Valorum
smiled in gratitude. "For all the support you have shown me, my friend, I
trust that you will take on faith that, should need ever arise, I would do all
within my power to render aid to Naboo." "Thank you, Supreme Chancellor. As
you say, I will take you at your word." T he public corridors of the Galactic
Senate overflowed with Holoationet correspondents, well-wishers, and the more
civic-minded of Coruscant's citizens.
Flanked by Senate Guards, a rejuvenated Valorum moved slowly through the
principal corridor, trading dignified nods with senators and ignoring
questions hurled by the media reporters.
"Supreme Chancellor, did you ever for a moment doubt that the taxation
proposal would be ratified?" a Twi'lek correspondent asked.
Sei Taria answered for him.
"The issue has been controversial from the start. But everyone involved
remained confident that the proposal would pass, once all parties had an
opportunity to be heard." An attractive human fema le shouldered her way to the
front of the crowd. "Considering what happened at the trade summit, do you
still feel that all parties were heard?" Again Sei Taria intervened.
"While tragedy compelled us to abbreviate the summit, much was
accomplished on Eriadu. Those who were denied an opportunity to speak were
given ample time to voice their opinions here, when the discussions continued.
" "Discussions or debates, Supreme Chancellor?" Valorum waved his hand in
dismissal.
"Do you feel that taxation strikes a blow for the rights of the outlying
systems?" "The outlying systems will surely benefit," Taria replied. "But all
worlds stand to gain as a result of this historic action. Contrary to the
claims of many a would-be political pundit, the passage of this bill
demonstrates clearly that the senate has not grown too unwieldy or apathetic
to act for the common good." Another human correspondent shoved his way
forward. "Would you consider this to be the high point of your administration?
" Taria held up her hands. "Later today, the office of the Supreme Chancellor
will issue a statement.
Until that time, there will be no further questions." The correspondents
grumbled, but ultimately fell silent and stepped aside, as Valorum's
contingent of advisers and guards steered him toward the turbolift that
accessed his private chambers.
Once there, he removed his outer cloak, sat heavily into his chair, and
loosed a prolonged exhale.
"Thank you for running interference," he told Taria when the two of them
were alone in the office.
She smiled and took a seat opposite him. "We should issue a statement as
quickly as possible. Do you want to compose something now?" Valorum frowned,
then got to his feet and walked to the center of the room, his hands clasped
behind his back.
Taria activated the record function of her wrist comlink.
"For too long a time the senate has been bogged down by policies and
procedures," Valorum began after a moment. "But today we managed to sidestep
that bureaucratic morass. We have succeeded in overcoming our inertia, by
setting aside petty squabbles and self-interest, and by banding together to
strike a blow for the Republic itself. In this, we have reaffirmed our
mandate, and refound our way.
"While we are honored to have introduced this historic proposal, victory
would not have been possible without the tireless efforts of several good and
proper delegates. We shall refrain from going into the matter of how the vote
was carried. But we do want to say that we owe much gratitude to delegates
like--was Valorum cut short his remarks when a tone issued from the office
door. When Sei Taria opened the door, two Senate Guards conducted Alderaanian
Senator Bail Antilles into the room. In his right hand, the chair of the
Internal Activities Committee held a legal-looking piece of durasheet.
"Supreme Chancellor, I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of raw tidings on
a day that should be devoted to celebration," Antilles said, extending the
durasheet to Valorum. "But this document constitutes official notification
that you are hereby requested to appear before the Supreme Court to answer
allegations of corruption and illegal enrichment." Valorum blinked in
stupefaction. He couldn't make sense of what he had just heard. This had to be
a mistake, or a joke in very poor taste. His heart thudded against his
breastbone, and he grew short of breath. He stared at the durasheet he had
accepted, then glared at Antilles.
"I demand to know the meaning of this." Antilles compressed his lips.
"Again, I apologize, Supreme Chancellor. But that is all I am permitted to say
about the matter at this time." V alorum was surrounded not by Senate Guards
but by lawyers when he finally appeared before the Supreme Court almost two
weeks later. During that time his legal team had managed to discover that the
basis for the allegations was an investment made in Valorum Shipping, on
Eriadu.
Beyond that, Valorum was in the dark.
The Supreme Court convened in closed session in the Galactic Courts of
Justice Building, an enormous edifice of pointed arches, tall decorative
spires, and elaborate statuary, located in the so-called Plains of Coruscant,
not far from the Jedi Temple.
Valorum and his lawyers were seated at a long table opposite the twelve
robed figures who comprised the judiciary council. Bail Antilles and the
members of the Internal Activities Committee sat perpendicular to the bench.
The chief justice spoke, addressing Valorum.
"Supreme Chancellor, we appreciate that you elected to appear before us,
without being subpoenaed by writ." "We are given to understand that this is an
informal inquest," one of the lawyers said in Valorum's stead.
"Your presumption is correct." The judge looked to Antilles, who stood
and spoke from his place at the committee's table.
"Your Honors, Supreme Chancellor Valorum," he began. "Just two weeks ago
the senate met in special session to vote on a motion introduced by Supreme
Chancellor Valorum, calling for a tax to be levied on all shipping and other
mercantile activities in what were formerly known as the free trade zones of
the outlying systems.
"An amendment to the original proposal directed that a percentage of all
revenues collected by the Republic would be redistributed among the outlying
systems, for purposes of social welfare and technological advancement. Many
business concerns located in those systems have already begun to reap the
benefits of the amendment, in the form of venture capital bestowed by
investors, here in the Core. One of those concerns is Valorum Shipping and
Transport, of Eriadu, which has received an enormous sum, for a company that
has shown only marginal profits over the past several standard years."
Valorum's lawyer interrupted.
"With all due respect, Senator Antilles, Supreme Chancellor Valorum was
not made aware of the investment in Valorum Shipping until last week.
Regardless, while it's true that the company bears the Valorum name, and that
the Supreme Chancellor is a member of the board of directors, he does not
participate in company operations, or involve himself with each and every
commonplace business transaction.
"More important, Your Honors, since when does it violate Republic law for
a company to profit, based on merit alone? In the case of Valorum Shipping, it
strikes me as good business sense for investors to be drawn to concerns owned
by prominent public figures. It's not as if the Supreme Chancellor actively
solicited investments. Furthermore, the Supreme Chancellor, as required by
law, has made full disclosure of all his holdings, and his record, with regard
to earnings and taxes, is spotless." The twelve judges looked at Antilles, who
was still frowning when the lawyer finished speaking.
"If I may be allowed to continue. The Internal Activities Committee does
not take issue with any of the statements made by the Supreme Chancellor's
legal representative. In fact, when this matter was first brought to our
attention, we proceeded under the assumption that no infringement of protocol
had occurred. However..." Antilles let the word dangle for a long moment
before continuing.
"Subsequent investigation has shown that the contribution to Valorum
Shipping did not originate with a consortium or venture capital group. Rather,
the revenue was drawn from a blind account, and moved to Eriadu through a
Coruscant bank of dubious reputation. I use the term moved advisedly, Your
Honors, since the investment was tendered in the form of hard assets."
Valorum's lawyers regarded one another in puzzlement. "Of what sort?" the
spokesman asked Antilles.
"Aurodium ingots." Blood drained from Valorum's face, and a stir went
through the room. Valorum and his lawyers conferred for a moment, before the
spokesman replied.
"Your Honors, we acknowledge that the investment begins to sound, shall
we say, less than forthright.
Nevertheless, Senator Antilles has yet to demonstrate exactly how this
matter relates to the Supreme Chancellor." Antilles's expression made clear
that he had been waiting for just this moment. He gazed at Valorum while he
delivered his finishing stroke.
"What the Internal Activities Committee finds most interesting, and
questionable, is that the value of the aurodium--and indeed the quantity--
corresponds exactly to a cache of ingots reported missing by the Trade
Federation, following an attack on one of their vessels, the Revenue, in the
Dorvalla system, several months ago." Hushed conversations erupted throughout
the room, as Antilles stepped out from behind the table and approached the
bench.
"Your Honors, this is not an indictment. The committee merely wishes to
be reassured that the Supreme Chancellor did not have a hidden agenda in
supporting taxation, as part of a scheme to enrich his own holdings in the
outlying systems. The committee also wishes to be reassured that the aurodium
in question did, in fact, disappear from the Revenue, and was not simply
transferred to Valorum Shipping, to seal a clandestine partnership existing
between the Supreme Chancellor and the Trade Federation." Senator Palpatine
was one of a hundred or more senators who had been invited to Orn Free Taa's
lavish penthouse for an evening of exceptional food and extravagant drink.
What had been touted as an occasion, however, had all the under currents of a
conclave; and where outsiders assumed that its purpose was to celebrate
Valorum's seeming victory in the Senate, it was instead intended to cheer his
recent reversal of fortune.
On the largest of the penthouse's many terraces, the blue - skinned
Twi'lek host was holding forth for an audience of senators, who hung on his
every word.
"Of course we knew about the alleged improprieties. But it was necessary
to delay mention of the scandal to ensure that the tax proposal would be
ratified, which wouldn't have been the case had Valorum been weakened
beforehand." Taa shook his head and fat lekku. "No, by waiting to reveal the
allegations, and by supporting Valorum, we managed to turn what might have
been perceived as an instance of ordinary corruption into what hints at a
nefarious plot that threatens the stability of the very Republic." "But is
there actually anything to the accusations?" Quarren Senator Tikkes asked, his
facial tentacles quivering in prospect.
Taa's enormous shoulders heaved in a shrug of indifference. "There is the
aurodium, and there is the appearance of deceit. What else matters?" "If it is
true, then Valorum has become a danger to the general good," Mot Not Rab
remarked.
Tikkes affirmed that with an enthusiastic nod. "I say we shake him,
before worse days endure." Others nodded in agreement, muttering among
themselves.
"Patience, patience," Taa advised in a soothing voice. "Baseless or not,
the allegations have essentially crippled Valorum. We need only to rid
ourselves of those senators who have buoyed him in the past, enabling him to
remain afloat despite our best attempts to sink him. Besides, there may yet be
some advantage to keeping him high and dry." "What advantage?" the senator
from Rodia asked.
"With his influence further eroded, and the Justice Department stripped
of some of its former authority, commissions will have to be appointed to
render judgments and decisions he would ordinarily make. The power of the
courts will increase. But cases will invariably take longer than ever to
resolve. And yet Valorum will continue to suffer the blame." "Unless a strong
vice chancellor is appointed," the Rodian thought to point out.
"We must not let that happen," Taa said firmly.
"We need a consummate bureaucrat to serve as vice chancellor." He leaned
toward his circle of conspirators. "Senator Palpatine has suggested that we do
our best to install the Chagrian--Mas Amedda." "But Amedda is rumored to be
well disposed to the Trade Federation," Tikkes said in disbelief.
"All the better, all the better." Taa was gleeful. "What matters is that
the more fanatical he is about procedure, the more he stifles Valorum's
ability to act." "To what final end?" Mot Not Rab asked.
"Why, to Valorum's final end," Taa said. "And when that time comes, we
will elect a leader with fire in his veins." "Bail Antilles is already
campaigning," the Rodian said.
"As is Ainlee Teem of Malastare," Tikkes added.
Taa noticed Palpatine standing by the terrace doors, engaged in deep
conversation with the senators from Fondor and Eriadu.
"I propose that we consider nominating Palpatine," he said, gesturing
discreetly.
Tikkes and the rest glanced at the tall senator from Naboo.
"Palpatine would never accept the nomination," the Quar - ren said. "He
considers himself a supporting player." Taa narrowed his eyes. "Then we must
convince him.
Think what it would mean to the outlying systems if someone from other
than a Core world was elected Supreme Chancellor. There might finally be
equality for all species. He can restore order, if anyone can. He has the
right combination of selflessness and quiet power. And don't let yourvs be
fooled there is a strong hand concealed within those loose sleeves.
He cares deeply about the integrity of the Republic, and he will do
whatever is needed to enforce the laws." Tikkes was dubious. "Then we will not
be able to play him as we have Valorum." "That's the beauty of it," Taa said.
"We won't have to, because he thinks like one of us." I n all the years she
had known him, Adi Gallia had never seen Valorum so despondent. He could be
moody at times, and unjustly hard on himself, but the allegations of
corruption had tipped him into a dark place from which he could not surface.
In the month since she had seen him last, he appeared to have aged a year.
"The aurodium was the Nebula Front's final stab at me," he was telling
her. "The terrorists were determined to take me down, along with the Trade
Federation Directorate. That has to be the explanation. And do you know why my
family members on Eriadu said nothing of the aurodium? Because they felt
slighted that I had chosen to accept the hospitality of Lieutenant Governor
Tarkin, who, it seems, has been something of a nemesis for them. I did so only
as a courtesy to Senator Palpatine, who now feels that he played a guilty part
in this whole wretched affair." Adi was about to reply, but Valorum didn't
give her the chance.
"Although I ask myself if certain senators weren't involved.
Those who would sooner see me disgraced than simply dis - empowered." Adi
had come to his office in the senate, which had become a place of purposeful
whisperings and innuendo. The entire climate of the senate had changed--and
Valorum felt responsible.
"It will only be a matter of time before you are exonerated," Adi tried
to reassure him.
He shook his head. "Few are interested in seeing me exonerated--the
media, least of all. And with the terrorist Havac dead, there is no one to say
with certainty that the Trade Federation wasn't trying to buy my influence."
"If that was the case, why would you have pushed so hard to tax the trade
routes? The tax alone is proof of your honesty." Valorum's weak smile belied
his sense of hopelessness. "My critics have an explanation.
To offset the tax, revenue that goes to the outlying systems will simply
find its way back into the deep pockets of the Neimoidians' robes." "It's all
conjectural," Adi said. "It will disappear." Valorum scarcely heard her.
"I don't care what they say about me personally.
But now, all that I have accomplished in the senate is in question. I am
made to answer to Mas Amedda, who is so consumed with procedure that no new
legislation will pass. Yet more commissions and committees will come
inffbbing, and with them, expanded opportunities for graft and corruption."
Valorum fell quiet for a long moment, shaking his head back and forth.
"The assassinations on Eriadu, and now this scandal, will have wide-
ranging consequences. It has already been made clear to me that the Jedi are
not to become involved in trade disputes, without the express consent of the
senate.
"But worst of all, is the disservice I have done the Republic. The
citizenry take its cue from the head of state--even when that one has become
little more than an ineffectual figurehead.
"I looked for the causes of corruption and found myself to blame. Did I
conveniently forget all the deals I struck with malicious beings? Did I
conveniently forget that I, too, had been corrupted?" He put his elbows on the
desk and pressed his fingertips to his temples, keeping his gaze downward.
"I had a terrible dream last night, that seemed as much a reflection of
my present circumstance as a vision of the future. In it, I felt myself
besieged by nebulous forces, by wraiths of one sort or another. Something was
reaching for me out of the blackness, to crush me in its grip." "Terrible, but
only a dream," Adi said. "Not a vision." Valorum managed to summon the same
weak smile when he looked up at her.
"If only I had more supporters like you and Senator Palpatine." "Better a
few faithful supporters, than a wealth of false friends," Adi said. "Perhaps
you can find some solace in that." In the High Council tower of the Jedi
Temple, the eleven Masters listened to Adi recount her meeting with Valorum.
As ever, Yoda was in motion, walking about with his gimer stick cane, and,
because of the part they had played in the events, Qui - Gon and Obi-Wan were
present.
"The Supreme Chancellor is correct about one thing," Mace Windu said.
"The aurodium could only have come from Havac. Cohl delivered the stolen
ingots to him, then Havac set up the blind account and saw to it that the
aurodium was invested in Valorum Shipping." "But why?" Yarael Poof asked.
"By suggesting collusion, Havac hoped to bring down both the Supreme
Chancellor and the Trade Federation." "Valorum, perhaps," Depa Billaba said.
"But the Neimoidi - ans have much of the senate on their payroll. The Trade
Federation hasn't been touched by the scandal." "Indeed they haven't," Oppo
Rancisis agreed. "Too little thought we gave these events," Yoda said. "All of
us." Yaddle turned to face Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, who were standing outside the
Masters' circle. "You two flying here, flying "there, chasing clues... If
stopped for a moment to listen to the His unifying Force, see what was coming
you might have." "I did what I had to do, Masters," Qui-Gon said, without
apology. Yoda loosed a prolonged sigh. "Blame you, we don't, Qui-Gon. But
exasperate us, you do." Qui-Gon inclined his head in a bow.
"This scandal wasn't the sole work of the Nebula Front," Adi said. "The
Supreme Chancellor has other enemies - comhidden enemies, plotting against
him. Trying to maneuver him into a positi on where he will err gravely, and be
voted out of office or be forced to resign." "To be replaced by the likes of
Bail Antilles or Ainlee Teem," Saesee Tiin muttered.
Windu nodded. "He has been too trusting." "Too naive," Even Piell
remarked harshly.
Yoda paced, then stopped. "Help him, we must--in secret, if need be." "We
must heed the will of the Force in this matter," Windu said. "We must be open
to ways to counter the treacherous vor-tex into wh the Republic has been
drawn. Perhaps we can help Valorum get wind of events before his enemies have
an opportunity to stack those events against him." "He senses perilous times
ahead," Adi said.
"As if some darkness has been awakened, intent on spreading itself across
the galaxy." Yaddle broke the long silence.
"Tipping the balance is." Yoda looked at her. "Tipping, yes. But from
troubled times to untroubled, or from bad times to worse?" Windu steepled his
fingers in front of his face.
"And what unknown hand is doing the tipping?" Darth Sidious visited Nute
Gunray and his advisers by hologram, on the bridge of the Trade Federation
freighter Saak'ak, bar bar known, in Basic, as the Profiteer.
"Congratulations on your promotion, Viceroy," the Sith Lord rasped, in a
manner that made derision sound like a compliment.
"Thank you, my Lord," Gunray was quick to respond. "We did not imagine,
when you said you would convince our competitors in the directorate, that you
would..." "That I would what, Viceroy? Perhaps you imagined that I would act
with greater subtlety, is that it? Now there is no one to stand in your way of
acquiring an army or directing the future course of the Trade Federation."
Hath Monchar, Rune Haako, and Commander Daultay Dofine looked at Gunray in
stark apprehension.
"I meant no offense, my Lord," he stammered.
Sidious was briefly quiet. If only they could see his eyes, they might
have had a hint of what he was thinking.
"Soon I will be taking steps to eliminate some of your other competitors,
" he intoned a moment later. "But that does not concern you. Instead, I want
you to devote your energies to becoming familiar with the capabilities of your
newly acquired toys--your battle droids, and starfighters, and landing craft.
Have Baktoid and Haor Chall Engineering been filling your orders on schedule?"
"They have, my Lord," Gunray said. "Though at exorbitant cost." "Don't try my
patience with talk of credits, Viceroy," Sidious warned. "There is more at
stake than the health of your financial accounts." Gunray was close to
trembling. "What would you have us do, my Lord?" "We are going to put your new
army to the test." Gunray and Hath Monchar exchanged fearful glances.
"A test?" Monchar said.
Sidious seemed to gaze at him for an uncomfortably long time. "I suspect
that you are hardly thrilled by the senate's sanction of taxation of the trade
routes," he said at last.
Gunray nodded. "The senate has no right." "Of course not. And what better
way to demonstrate your displeasure than through a trade blockade." "Of
Eriadu," Gunray said eagerly. "Because of what happened--was "Eriadu would
respond with force, Viceroy. We don't want a war. We want an embargo." "Which
world shall it be?" Monchar said.
"I suggest we strike at the homeworld of the senator who was most
responsible for championing the taxation bill Naboo." "Naboo?" Haako said in
genuine bewilderment.
Sidious nodded. "Senator Palpatine is adept at dissembling his real
nature. You scarcely realize how much damage he has already caused." "But
would such a blockade be legal?" Gunray asked. "Valorum will never sit still
for it." "I have a surprise in store for feeble-tempered Valorum," Sidious
promised. "What's more, the scandal surrounding the Supreme Chancellor has led
many senators to rethink the taxation legislation. Few will grumble about a
trade embargo of a world so distant from the Core." Monchar stepped forward.
"And what of the Jedi?" "They are already constrained from interfering." "But
if they do, my Lord?" Gunray said.
"We will not be subtle in dealing with them." Gunray bowed his head.
"Once again, we place ourselves in your hands." Sidious smiled faintly. "As I
told you once before, Viceroy, you serve yourvs best when you serve me."