Jedi Apprentice 18: The Threat Within (звёздные войны)

by Джуд Уотсон

  At the School for the Learning, kids were brainwashed to believe things that were not true, and difficult or ill children were locked away — for good. Vorzyd 4 was certainly not the only place where kids were discouraged from developing their own ideas. For the second time that morning Obi-Wan felt grateful that his Master was allowing him the freedom to determine the course of this mission. To try to solve a problem on his own, in his own way. He did not want to let himself or Qui-Gon down, and he felt more determined than ever to make his plan work.

  Obi-Wan turned a corner and peered into a small, square portal.

  Inside was an austere room. Grath and a few other kids from the previous night's meeting were inside, sitting on sleep couches. The room appeared to be an infirmary, but none of the kids inside looked sick.

  In fact, they were all sitting up and chatting animatedly.

  Obi-Wan stepped closer to the portal, hoping to get a better look and possibly hear what the kids were saying. But just then the door slid open and an adult Vorzydiak entered the room. Right away the kids all lay back, feigning weakness and sleep. The adult looked each student over carefully, standing over Grath for a particularly long time. Then, apparently satisfied, she turned and left the room.

  No sooner had the door closed than the kids sat up again and began to talk. One of them jumped to her feet, using hand gestures to emphasize her point. Obi-Wan recognized her as the girl who had spotted him outside the meeting the night before.

  It looked like the kids were planning something, and Obi-Wan wanted in on it.

  Moving away from the portal, Obi-Wan focused on his body temperature.

  Soon he began to feel warmth tingling through his limbs — he had given himself a fever. A Vorzydiak fever, he hoped.

  Making his way around the side of the building, Obi-Wan found the door to the infirmary, opened it, and stepped inside.

  "The button!" someone shouted.

  "Quick!" yelled another voice.

  "The door!"

  After a moment of confusion, Obi-Wan understood. The kids wanted him to keep the door open — they obviously couldn't get out from the inside. By pressing a button, Obi-Wan was able to keep the door from closing. The four kids leaped off their sleep couches and charged out into the sun's light.

  "What happened to Tray?" Grath asked, turning toward Obi-Wan.

  Obi-Wan shrugged, hoping it would be enough of a response.

  "Well, I'm glad someone came to let us out," the hand-gesture girl said. "It was getting hard to convince the medic that we were actually ill.

  " "Come on," Grath said, looking around. "Let's get out of here before someone sees us."

  As the kids ran down a duracrete walkway away from the schoolspace, their conversation continued.

  "I think we should try to get more kids out of class next time," one of the kids — a younger boy — said. "Trainer Nalo is so obsessed with his instructuals he would barely notice."

  "We can't risk being discovered," a girl replied. Obi-Wan thought she was the shuttle driver from the night before, but wasn't entirely sure.

  By now the group was a fair distance from the schoolspace, and they slowed to a quick Vorzydiak walk.

  "This new plan is complicated enough without getting more Freelies involved in implementing it," Grath explained. "We need them to focus on their part of the plan — getting the rule-following kids to think differently, too."

  Grath stopped and turned toward the boy. "But it's good to keep thinking ahead, Flip," he added.

  Grath smiled at the boy, and Flip beamed. He obviously looked up to the Freelie leader.

  Grath ran a few steps and spun around, still moving backward. "To work, then?" he called with a smile.

  The group erupted into giggles and broke into a run after their leader. Obi-Wan felt a surge of energy as he hurried to catch up.

  Chapter 9

  Drab hexagonal buildings whizzed past the windows as Qui-Gon's shuttle made its way back to the city workspace. The view was uninspiring, and Qui-Gon's thoughts drifted back to Obi-Wan.

  Qui-Gon had waited outside Port's dwelling and watched his Padawan board the shuttle to the schoolspace. He hadn't meant to spy on the boy, but something had held him there. As he watched Obi-Wan confidently board the shuttle, secure in his skills and his plan, Qui-Gon felt the same pang of emotion he'd felt the night before.

  The feeling was new to him, and so unfamiliar that it made him uneasy. He was not sure why he was reluctant to let Obi-Wan take charge of the mission on his own. Was it because he was afraid of losing him, or because he was worried about the boy's safety? "Production Sector seven," a voice droned.

  Qui-Gon was startled to hear his stop — and grateful for the announcement. There were no other landmarks to help him find his way back to the Multycorp office he'd visited the day before. Exiting the shuttle behind several other laborers, Qui-Gon cleared his mind. He needed to focus on the mission at hand.

  All around him swarms of Vorzydiaks hurried to get to their stations.

  Qui-Gon wondered how the Vorzydiaks maintained their enthusiasm for work.

  They seemed to be in a great hurry to get to work, almost a frenzy.

  Thinking about how he would stall the chairman, Qui-Gon boarded the turbolift for the twenty-fourth floor. But long before he reached the chairman's office he sensed that something was wrong. It suddenly dawned on him that the Vorzydiaks leaving the shuttle were agitated about more than simply getting to work.

  The turbolift doors opened on the twenty-fourth floor. As he stepped out, Qui-Gon was met by a disturbing scene — and sound.

  A low insectoid drone — much more unnerving than the one he'd heard the evening before — bounced off the walls and filled the room. Laborers rocked back and forth in their chairs like confused children, mumbling to themselves.

  Inside the meeting room, Chairman Port circled the large table. His antennae flailed and his eyes looked larger than normal. When Qui-Gon entered, the chairman nearly pounced on him.

  "At last," he said, his voice quite a bit higher than usual. "There has been another attack. We must contact Vorzyd 5. Now!"

  "In time," Qui-Gon said calmly. "First tell me what has happened."

  "It is awful," the chairman said, walking faster and faster around the table. "The worst casualty yet. The central operations computer. It controls the whole grid! It is down. We are all down."

  Qui-Gon thought the chairman might burst into tears — or an unintelligible droning buzz. He had to calm down the leader. Without Port's help it would be impossible to keep the rest of the Vorzydiaks from losing it.

  Qui-Gon strode to the opposite side of the room and stood in the chairman's path. Port stopped circling.

  "First tell me where the central operations computer is," Qui-Gon said firmly. "Then I have work for you to do."

  The chairman looked up at the tall Jedi. Qui-Gon saw something shift on his face, as if he suddenly knew he had to get a hold of himself. But he wasn't sure that the chairman knew how.

  "Yes, yes, yes," Chairman Port said. "We must make our way back to work. To work." His antennae seemed to slow a bit.

  "The operations computer?" Qui-Gon repeated.

  "In the sub-basement. Take the turbolift to level S-one."

  Qui-Gon nodded. "Contact the technicians and let them know I am coming. And when you have done that you must assign tasks to the laborers.

  Contact the managers. Keep everyone busy until the computers are back on- line. It doesn't matter what they do. Just make sure they are safe and busy. It is your job." Qui-Gon emphasized this last word.

  The chairman nodded. He seemed relieved to have an assignment, and Qui-Gon hoped that simple tasks would calm the other Vorzydiaks as well.

  But he had no time to wait and see.

  Confused laborers flooded the turbolift. Several of them were rocking back and forth. Others were holding their ears. Rather than force his way through the bewildered crowd, Qui-Gon headed for the stairs and st
arted down.

  By the time he got to the twenty-third floor Qui-Gon understood why so many of the Vorzydiaks were trying to block out the noise. The computers on the twenty-third floor were emitting high-pitched whines as they turned themselves on and off. He imagined that the sound was much worse for the Vorzydiaks, who had sensitive ears. To him the sound was irritating and chaotic. But he listened carefully long enough to realize that it was not random.

  The chaos grew worse the farther Qui-Gon descended. On Assembly eight the machines on the line were also turning on and off and emitting high- pitched tones. The laborers were completely unable to cope. They stood against the walls, twitching, while gooey food product oozed onto the conveyor and then the floor.

  Receiving four was no better. Huge vats that needed to be positioned under the receiving pipes had stalled. Grain was spilling out, making small mountains all over the wing, as well as a slippery hazard for the baffled Vorzydiaks. Several fallen laborers flailed on the floor while others watched in horror, too confused to offer help.

  Qui-Gon shook his head. The Vorzydiaks' helplessness when things did not go as planned was extreme. He could not remember when he had last seen such rigid thinking. In the life of a Jedi, things seldom went according to plan. Thinking on your feet was a Jedi necessity.

  At last Qui-Gon reached the sub-basement. There were fewer Vorzydiaks on this floor, so Qui-Gon could make out more clearly the intonations of the machines — the tones and rhythms. Stopping for a moment to listen, Qui- Gon almost laughed out loud. He stopped himself when he heard a cry. For the Vorzydiaks this was no laughing matter.

  Qui-Gon ran down the duracrete passage to find a female Vorzydiak standing in a large room filled with circuits. Some of them were shorting out, and the poor worker gazed at them in horror, her arms moving jerkily up and down. She clearly did not know what to do.

  Qui-Gon would have liked to have calmed the poor woman, but he knew he would be the most help if he could get to central operations. Turning on his heel, he made his way back down the passage.

  The tech at the large terminal was madly pushing buttons, but the readout continued to flash. He jumped when he saw Qui-Gon, though it was clear he had been expecting him.

  "Nothing is broken," he squealed. "There is no electrical or mechanical failure. It is not logical."

  "It is not mechanical failure," Qui-Gon agreed. "But there is a logic to it. Your computer is playing music. It is conducting the machines in this building to play a specific tune."

  "A what?" The tech stopped pushing buttons long enough to stare at Qui-Gon.

  "Someone has been playing with your system," Qui-Gon explained. "Your computer is making music."

  The tech looked disgusted. "That is just like Vorzyd 5. They like playing games. That is all they do," he snarled. "Playing prevents productivity."

  Qui-Gon was silent as he helped the tech find and remove the erroneous command. Once they knew what they were looking for, it did not take long. And once the command was removed, the resonant tones in the building stopped.

  There was near silence in the sub-basement when Qui-Gon heard a familiar scream. Leaving the tech, he ran down the hall. The Vorzydiak woman he'd seen earlier was still shrieking, but her arms and feelers were still. She appeared to be paralyzed with fear.

  Qui-Gon had thought that the circuits were tied into the computer system. He'd assumed that when the computer problem was resolved, the circuits would stop shorting.

  He had been wrong.

  Looking closer, Qui-Gon saw that he was standing in front of the circuits for the entire city workspace. This was the grid Port had been talking about. The circuit on the grid that marked this office building was okay. But there had been a chain reaction, and circuits all over the workspace were blowing out in waves. The woman next to him pointed at the next hex of the grid set to go.

  "This is the children's hospital," she whimpered. "It cannot lose power."

  With nothing to go on but instinct, Qui-Gon raced back to the central operations computer. If he could override the network shutdown and flush the system, he might be able to stop the chain reaction. If he couldn't, this prank would result in more than chaos.

  It would result in death.

  Chapter 10

  Obi-Wan jogged a few steps behind Grath and the rest of the kids. He was certain that one of the girls, Pel, was the one who had caught him in his "bathrobe" the night before. Fortunately she didn't appear to be suspicious of him now.

  The other girl, Nania, had a familiar-sounding voice. She must have been driving the shuttle Obi-Wan had hitched a ride on. But so far nobody had openly recognized him.

  Obi-Wan kept waiting for one of them to ask him who he was and why he was following them. But they never did. Grath's initial acceptance of him seemed to be all that was needed. Either that, or the Freelies were such a big group that they were used to not knowing one another.

  It didn't matter as long as the students continued to let Obi-Wan tag along. The more time he spent with them, the easier it would be to gain their trust. And the easier it would be to eventually convince them to do the right thing.

  Though he longed to know where they were going, Obi-Wan didn't want to risk blowing his cover by asking any questions. It would be better to listen. Unfortunately, nobody was saying much.

  About a kilometer away from the school, the small band of Freelies turned in to a refuse facility. Flip and Nania began pulling scrap off a huge pile and tossing it aside. Obi-Wan wasn't sure what to do.

  Wondering if the next prank involved garbage, he reached over to grab a piece of trash himself. Then Nania pulled a large piece of wreckage off the pile and Obi-Wan spotted something familiar underneath. It was the back of the shuttle he'd ridden last night. Apparently the Freelies kept it stashed here.

  "Hop in," Flip said, gesturing to the panel door. The kids piled in.

  Nania took the pilot's seat and the repulsorlifts roared to life, dislodging debris from the viewscreen.

  "Hold on," Nania said over her shoulder. With a lurch and a shudder the small craft broke free of the garbage pile and zoomed out of the facility.

  Flip, who obviously hadn't been holding on tight enough, landed in Grath's lap.

  "So what do you think they're doing in the Multycorp offices right now?" he asked, grinning at the older boy.

  Grath pushed Flip off him with a laugh. "I don't know," he said slyly. "Dancing?"

  Obi-Wan didn't get the joke, but he laughed along with the rest of the kids. When the laughter had faded Grath spoke again.

  "But they won't be dancing tomorrow. Tomorrow they'll be walking."

  Grath sounded serious, and the mood in the shuttle changed. The group was clearly ready to get to the business at hand. Whatever that business was.

  There was not much light in the back of the craft, and Obi-Wan had to hang on to keep from being hurled about by Nania's erratic driving. As he braced himself for the next turn he suddenly noticed something he'd missed before. The shuttle's entire hull was lined with small, homemade explosives.

  With a final gut-wrenching turn, Nania brought the maintenance shuttle to a stop inside a transport shuttle bay. Grath, Flip, Pel, and Nania grabbed armloads of the explosives and piled out of the maintenance craft. Despite his misgivings, Obi-Wan picked up several explosives and followed.

  "Pel, Nania, you two cover the east wing. We'll do the west," Grath directed.

  Obi-Wan watched uneasily as Grath crawled underneath one of the shuttles with the explosives. He needed to find out what they were doing and he needed to do it now. It looked like Grath and Flip were attaching the explosives to the undersides of the passenger compartments. Were they planning to blow up the crafts with passengers inside?

  "So, I forget, when do we trigger these?" Obi-Wan tried to sound casual as he climbed under the shuttle next to Grath and began to fiddle with one of the devices.

  Grath gave Obi-Wan a strange look. "Don't worry. Nobody will be hurt.


  That's one of our rules, remember? We're hiding the explosives so nobody sees them during the evening ride. Then tonight, when the shuttles are back in the bay, we'll trigger them by remote. So tomorrow, when everyone is ready to go to work, well… they won't have their usual transportation, will they?" A smile spread across Grath's face, but Obi-Wan was too concerned with all that could go wrong to smile back. This plan was dangerous, far more dangerous than changing numbers on a datascreen or giving computer systems false commands.