Star Wars: Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader

by James Luceno

  This was what the Empire would be, he thought. A contest among men intent on clawing their way to the top, to sit at Sidious’s feet.

  “The Emperor requested it,” Vader said finally.

  Tarkin pursed his thin lips. “I suppose we can attribute that to the Emperor’s astute ability to bring like-minded beings together.”

  “Or pit them against one another.”

  Tarkin adopted a more sober look. “That, too, Lord Vader.”

  With a mind as sharp as his cheekbones, Tarkin had risen quickly through the ranks of Palpatine’s newly formed staff of political and military elite, among whom naked ambition was highly prized. So much so that a new honorific had been created for Tarkin and ambitious men like him: Moff.

  Vader had met him once before, aboard a Venator-class Star Destroyer, at the remote location where the Emperor’s secret weapon was under construction. Vader, still new to his suit then; awkward, uncertain, between worlds.

  Tarkin perched himself on the edge of his desk and smiled thinly. “Perhaps between the two of us, we can determine the reason the Emperor arranged this rendezvous.”

  Vader crossed his gloved hands in front of him. “I suspect that you know more about the purpose of this meeting than I do, Moff Tarkin.”

  Tarkin’s smile disappeared, and in its place came a look of sharp attentiveness. “Surely you can guess, my friend.”

  “Kashyyyk.”

  “Bravo.”

  Tarkin activated a holoplate that sat atop his desk. In the cone of blue light that rose from it, a bruised transport of military design could be seen moving through a cordon of Imperial corvettes.

  “This was recorded approximately ten hours ago, local, at the Kashyyyk system checkpoint. As you may have already guessed, the transport belongs to the Jedi. It appears to be a civilian model, but it isn’t. It was hijacked on Dellalt some weeks ago, and was the object of a pursuit that ended in the destruction of several Imperial starfighters. We have, however, been successful at tracking its movements ever since.”

  “You’ve been tracking them,” Vader said in genuine surprise. “Was the Emperor apprised of this?”

  Tarkin smiled again. “Lord Vader, the Emperor is apprised of everything.”

  But his apprentice isn’t, Vader thought.

  “I ordered our checkpoint personnel to ignore the obvious fact that the transport’s signature has been altered,” Tarkin continued, “and to ignore, as well, the fact that whatever codes the transport furnished were likely to be counterfeit.”

  “Why weren’t the Jedi simply taken into custody at the checkpoint?”

  “We had our reasons, Lord Vader. Or perhaps I should say that the Emperor had his.”

  “They are on Kashyyyk now?”

  Tarkin stopped the holoimage and nodded. “We thought they might be refused entry. Apparently, however, someone aboard the ship is familiar with Kashyyyk’s trading protocols.”

  Vader considered it for a moment. “You said that you had your reasons for clearing the transport through the checkpoint.”

  “Yes, I’m coming to that,” Tarkin said, standing to his full height and beginning to pace in front of the desk. “I realize that you of all people require no assistance in … bringing the fugitive Jedi to justice. But I want to lay out a somewhat broader plan for your consideration. Should you accept the proposition, I’m in a position to provide you with whatever ships, personnel, and matériel you think necessary.”

  “What is the proposition, Moff Tarkin?”

  Tarkin came to a stop and turned fully to Vader. “Simply this. The Jedi are your priority, as they should be. Certainly the Empire can’t permit potential insurgents to run around loose. But—” He raised a bony forefinger. “—my plan allows for the Empire to profit even more substantially from your undertaking.”

  Reactivating the holoprojector, Tarkin turned his attention to an image of the Emperor’s moonlet-size secret project, orbitally anchored at its deep-space retreat. Vader had learned that the Emperor had placed Tarkin in charge of supervising certain aspects of construction.

  Clearly, though, Tarkin was angling for more.

  “How does my hunt for a few rogue Jedi figure into your scheme regarding the Emperor’s weapon?” Vader asked.

  “My ‘scheme,’ ” Tarkin said, with a short laugh. “All right, then. Here’s the truth of it. The project is already far behind schedule. It has been beset with engineering problems, delays in shipments, the unreliability of contractors, and, most important, a shortage of skilled laborers.” He stared at Vader. “You must understand, Lord Vader, I wish nothing more than to please the Emperor.”

  This is Sidious’s real power, Vader thought. The ability to make others wish nothing more than to please him.

  “I accept that at face value,” he said at last.

  Tarkin studied him. “You would be willing to help me achieve this goal?”

  “I see a possibility.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Tarkin nodded in a way that came close to being a bow of respect. “Then, my friend, our real partnership is just beginning.”

  They’re interested in knowing why you’re so interested in knowing whether any Jedi were here during the battle,” Cudgel explained to Starstone and the others while the quartet of armed Wookiees glared down at them.

  “Idle curiosity,” Filli said, which only succeeded in eliciting rumbling growls from the four.

  “They’re not buying it,” Cudgel said needlessly.

  Starstone gazed up into the wide bronzium muzzles of weapons she suspected she would need the Force to heft, let alone fire. Peripherally she was aware that the confrontation had begun to draw the attention of other landing parties. Humans and aliens alike were suddenly interrupting their transactions with liaison staffers and Wookiees, and turning toward the transport.

  Quickly she made up her mind to risk everything by simply telling the truth.

  “We’re Jedi,” she said just loud enough to be heard.

  From the way the Wookiees tilted their enormous shaggy heads, she grasped instantly that they had understood her. They kept their exotic weapons enabled and raised, but at the same time their expressions of wariness softened somewhat.

  One of them brayed a remark to Cudgel.

  Cudgel stroked his long beard. “Now, that’s even harder to swallow than the idle-curiosity explanation, don’t you think? I mean, considering the fact that the Jedi were wiped out.”

  The same Wookiee lowed and gobbled, and, again, Cudgel nodded, then centered his gaze on Starstone.

  “Maybe if you’d said that you were a Jedi, then all of us on the happy side of these blasters would be convinced. But—” He counted heads. “—you can’t be telling me all eight of you are Jedi. Seven anyway, ’cause I know Filli’s almost as far from being a Jedi as it gets.”

  “I meant me,” Starstone said. “I’m a Jedi.”

  “So it’s just you, then?”

  “She’s lying,” Siadem Forte said before she could respond.

  Two of the Wookiees snarled in plain displeasure.

  Cudgel looked from Forte to Starstone. “Lying? See, now you have everyone really confused, ’cause we always thought of the Jedi as truth tellers.”

  The Wookiees spoke among themselves, then one of them barked an outpouring at Cudgel.

  “Guania, here, points out that you arrive in a military transport. You look as though you can handle yourselves. You start asking questions about Jedi … He’s thinking that you might be bounty hunters.”

  Starstone shook her head back and forth. “Check the transport. Under the navicomputer console, you’ll find six lightsabers—”

  “Means nothing,” Cudgel cut in. “You could have taken them off your quarries, just the way General Grievous did.”

  “Then how do we prove it?” Starstone said. “What do you want us to do, perform Force tricks?”

  The Wookiees issued a yodeling warning.

  Cudgel lowered his voice to say: “In
the unlikely event that you are Jedi, that might not be such a good idea out here in the open.”

  Starstone forced an exhale, and looked up at the Wookiees. “We know that Masters Yoda, Luminara Unduli, and Quinlan Vos were here with brigades of troopers.” When she saw in their deep brown eyes that she had their full attention, she continued. “We’ve risked a lot to come here. But we know that Master Yoda had good relations with you, and we’re hoping that still counts for something.”

  The Wookiees didn’t actually lower their weapons, but they did disable them. One of them lowed to Cudgel, who said: “Lachichuk suggests we continue this conversation in Kachirho.”

  Starstone asked Filli and Deran to remain with the ship; then she, Forte, Kulka, and the others began to follow Cudgel and the Wookiees toward the gargantuan wroshyr that stood at the center of Kachirho tree-city. No sooner had they left the landing platform than Cudgel’s attitude changed.

  “I heard that none of you survived,” he said to Starstone as they walked.

  “It’s beginning to look like we’re the only ones,” she said sadly. Putting the edge of her hand to her brow, she gazed up at the huge balconies that tiered the tree, some of which showed evidence of recent damage.

  “Do you know if any Jedi died here?”

  Cudgel shook his head. “The Wookiees haven’t told me anything. For a while it looked like Kashyyyk was going to have its own garrison of clone troopers, but after the Sep droids and war machines shut down, the troopers decamped. Ever since, the Wookiees have been making good use of everything that was left behind.”

  “For weapons?”

  “You bet, for weapons. Seps or no, they’ve still got enemies—species that want to exploit them.”

  Cudgel led everyone into the hollowed base of the tree, and finally to a turbolift that accessed Kachirho’s upper levels.

  Similar to everything she had seen since leaving the landing platform, the turbolift was an ingenious blend of wood and alloy, the technology that drove it artfully concealed. And at each tier, her astonishment only increased. In addition to the exterior platforms that grew like burls from the bole, the tree contained vast interior rooms, with shimmering parquet floors and curved walls inset with wooden and alloy mosaics. There didn’t seem to be a straight line anywhere, and everywhere Starstone looked she saw Wookiees engaged in building, carving, sanding … as devoted to their work as Jedi had been in fashioning the Temple. Except the Wookiees hadn’t enslaved themselves to symmetry or order; rather, they allowed their creations to emerge naturally from the wood. In fact, they seemed to invite a certain kind of imperfection—some detail to which the eye would be drawn, setting off an entire wall panel, or an expanse of floor.

  Covered walkways and bridges crisscrossed the tree’s interior shaft, and irregular openings brought verdant Kashyyyk inside. At every turn, every staircase spiral or turbolift stop, exterior views of the lake, the forest, and the sheer cliffs were framed by finely worked apertures and clefts. What Kachirho lacked in color, it made up for in luster and deep patina.

  Fifty or so meters above the lake, the Jedi were ushered into a kind of central control room, which looked out over the glinting water and was perhaps the purest example yet of the Wookiees’ ability to combine organic and high-tech elements. Console display screens and holoprojectors showed views of the landing platform, as well as loading operations in orbit.

  There, their escorts exchanged muted growls and snorts, snuffs and rumbles, with two others, one of whom was certainly the tallest Wookiee Starstone had seen.

  “This is Chewbacca,” Cudgel said, introducing the shorter of the pair, “and this is one of Kachirho’s war chiefs, Tarfful.”

  Starstone introduced herself and the rest of the Jedi, then lowered herself onto a beautifully carved stool built for human-size beings. Similar stools were rushed into the room, along with soft seat cushions and plates of food.

  While all this was going on, Tarfful and Chewbacca were being briefed by Lachichuk. Bronzium bands gathered the chieftain’s long hair into rope-thick tassels that fell to his belted waist. The shoulder straps of his baldric joined at an ornate pectoral. Chewbacca, whose black fur was cinnamon-tipped and nowhere near as long as Tarfful’s, wore a simple baldric Starstone thought might double as an ammunition bandolier.

  When everyone was seated and the Wookiees had finished conversing, Cudgel said: “Chieftain Tarfful understands and applauds the courage you’ve shown in coming to Kashyyyk, but it grieves him to report that he has nothing but sad tidings for you.”

  “They’re … dead?” Starstone asked.

  “Master Vos was presumed killed by fire from a tank,” Cudgel explained, “Master Unduli by blasterfire.”

  “And Master Yoda?” she asked quietly.

  Tarfful and Chewbacca fell into a long conversation—almost a debate—before expressing themselves to Cudgel, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “Apparently, Yoda escaped Kashyyyk in an evacuation pod. Chewbacca, here, says he carried Yoda on his shoulders to the pod.”

  Starstone came to her feet, nearly tipping over a platter of food. “He’s alive?”

  “He could be,” Cudgel said after a moment. “After the last of the clone troopers left, the Wookiees searched local space for the pod, but no distress-beacon transmissions were picked up.”

  “Was the pod hyperspace-capable?”

  Cudgel shook his head.

  “But it could have been retrieved by a passing ship.”

  The Wookiees conversed.

  Cudgel listened attentively. “There’s a chance it was.”

  Starstone looked at Tarfful. “What makes you think so?”

  Cudgel ran his hand over his mouth. “Wookiee Senator Yarua reported that rumors circulating in the Senate claim Yoda led an attack on Emperor Palpatine in the Senate Rotunda itself.”

  “And?”

  “Same rumor has it he was killed.”

  “Master Yoda doesn’t lose,” Siadem Forte said from his stool.

  Cudgel returned a sympathetic nod. “Lots of us used to say that about the Jedi.”

  Starstone broke the silence that descended on the control room. “If Master Yoda is alive, then there’s hope for all of us. He’ll find us before we find him.”

  She felt renewed; hopeful once more.

  “Tarfful asks what you plan to do now,” Cudgel said.

  “I suppose we’ll continue our search,” Starstone said. “Master Kenobi was on Utapau, and has yet to be heard from.”

  Tarfful issued what sounded like a sustained groan.

  “He is honored to offer you safe haven on Kashyyyk, if you wish. The Wookiees can make it appear that you are valued customers.”

  “You would do that for us?” Starstone asked Tarfful.

  His response was plaintive.

  “The Wookiees owe the Jedi a great debt,” Cudgel translated. “And debts are always honored.”

  A signal sounded from one of the consoles, and Cudgel and the Wookiees gathered around an inset screen. The human’s expression was grave when he swung to the Jedi.

  “An Imperial troop carrier is descending to the Kachirho platform.”

  Starstone’s face lost color. “We shouldn’t have come here,” she said suddenly. “We’ve endangered all of you!”

  By the time Cudgel returned to the landing platform the situation was already veering out of control. Blaster rifles raised and faced off with more than one hundred very indignant Wookiees, two squads of stormtroopers were deployed around the carrier that had delivered them to Kachirho, perhaps half a kilometer from where the Jedi transport was parked.

  “Or are you going to tell us that your weapons are all the permission you need?” a human liaison staffer was saying to the troopers’ commander as Cudgel hurried in.

  The officer’s armor was marked with green, and he wore a short campaign skirt. His sidearm was still holstered, but his enhanced voice was filled with menace. “Authorization was granted by Sector Th
ree Command and Control. If you have any complaints, take them up with the regional governor.”

  “Commander,” Cudgel said in a deferential tone, “how may I be of service?”

  The officer gestured broadly to the gathered Wookiees. “Only if you can get these beasts to answer my questions.”

  High-decibel snarls and furious roars rose from the crowd.

  “You might want to find a more politic way to refer to Kashyyyk’s indigenes, Commander.”

  From behind the T-visored helmet, the trooper said: “I’m not here to be diplomatic. Let them howl all they want.” He gazed at Cudgel. “Identify yourself.”

  “I’m known as Cudgel, far and wide.”

  “What are your duties here?”

  “I assist with commerce. I can probably set you up with a nice selection of product, if you’re interested.”

  “What would we want with wood?”

  “What, you don’t have campfires?”

  The crowd woofed with laughter.

  The commander put his gloved right hand on his blaster. “There’ll be fires soon enough—Cudgel. Right where you can see them.”

  “I’m not sure I take your meaning, Commander.”

  The officer adjusted his stance, readying himself for action. “Kashyyyk is harboring enemies of the Empire.”

  Cudgel shook his head. “If there are enemies of the Empire here, the Wookiees are unaware of them.”

  “There are Jedi here.”

  “You mean you actually missed a few?”

  The commander raised his left hand and poked Cudgel hard in the chest. “Either they are surrendered to us immediately, or we take this place apart, beginning with you.” At the commander’s wave, the stormtroopers began to spread out. “Search the landing area and the tree-city! All non-indigenes are to be seized and brought here!”

  The Wookiees loosed a chorus of earsplitting yowls.

  Cudgel backed out of range of the commander’s armored fist. “They don’t like it when people track dirt in.”

  Drawing his sidearm, the commander said: “I’m done with you.”

  But the words had scarcely left the officer’s helmet enunciator when a Wookiee raced forward, knocking the blaster from his hand and hurling him into the troop carrier with such force that the commander’s forearm and elbow armor remained in the Wookiee’s grip.