by Watson, Jude
Copyright © 2004 Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or TM. All rights reserved.
Cover art by Alicia Buelow and David Mattingly
Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.
ISBN 978-1-4847-1981-7
Visit www.starwars.com
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
Chapter One
He had chased after one man for years. He had found him. He had fought him. He had lost him and found him again. Each time, he had vowed that this encounter would be their last.
This time was no different. Obi-Wan Kenobi wanted a showdown with Granta Omega. Once and for all, he wanted to put a stop to a criminal he knew was dedicated to bringing down the Jedi Order. Deep in his heart, he knew the showdown was near.
But he also suspected that, like the others, it would not come in a manner of his own choosing.
Obi-Wan strode through the busy streets of the capital city of Falleen, Anakin Skywalker by his side. Siri Tachi and her apprentice, Ferus Olin, were only a step behind. They had landed on the planet only the day before. Obi-Wan was grateful to his friend Siri. She had pledged to help him bring Omega to justice, and so far she had traveled halfway around the galaxy, fought an army, and worn a dress in order to do it.
Now he felt responsible for her impatience. Siri believed that problems were solved by vivid action. If there was one thing she avoided, it was uncertainty.
Obi-Wan wasn’t crazy about it, either. They couldn’t pinpoint Omega’s location. Instead, they had to randomly search for clues to his whereabouts. They knew he was on Falleen. But they did not know where, or why.
He wished he did not have the feeling that Omega was always one step ahead. He wished that in his mind, the same scenario did not constantly revolve: He would burst into an empty room just in time to see a transport take off. Omega would have escaped again.
Obi-Wan glanced at his apprentice. He knew Anakin had no such doubts. Anakin did not consider the possibility of failure. He was not haunted by his defeats.
Other things haunted his Padawan. Things too deep for Anakin to share at one time.
Yet they worked so perfectly together now. Thoughts and feelings were shared, sometimes without speaking. There were times when Obi-Wan thought that the shadow he sensed within Anakin was gone. That the struggle to accept his role as the Chosen One had been conquered. That Anakin was at ease with where he was, and the gifts that had been given him. Obi-Wan hoped that was the case. Anakin had shared his feelings with his Master—and the release had changed him.
The Jedi moved carefully through the streets, staying in the middle of the crowds. They were dressed as space travelers, and they were careful not to attract attention. The walkways of the city were filled with beings from many worlds. The city was built on three levels, and every café, hostel, and multi-residence was packed.
Factories on Falleen were booming, and more were being built every day. In a quick survey, the Jedi had learned that most of the factories manufactured weapons. Jobs and opportunities were plentiful. Visitors from star systems all over the galaxy flocked to the small planet to make their fortunes.
But if the booming capital city made it easy for the Jedi to hide, it also made it easy for Granta Omega to conceal his activities. They had learned on the planet Romin that Omega was in league with the criminal scientist Jenna Zan Arbor. She had developed a secret drug, called the Zone of Self-Containment, which could make beings feel blissfully, if dangerously, content, leading them to forget their cares, or any need for taking action. They knew that she had not yet learned how to transmit the Zone to more than a few individuals at a time. Anakin himself had been under its influence for a short while.
The two criminals, along with the former dictator of Romin, Roy Teda, had plans to pull off a major criminal operation. The Jedi suspected they planned to use the Zone to do it. Zan Arbor had enlisted the help of a criminal gang, the Slams, to help them.
The Jedi knew that much. But that wasn’t enough.
They had followed Zan Arbor and Teda here, but Omega had managed to hide them well. So far they had kept a low profile and traveled through the streets and cafés, attempting to pick up some word about the criminals’ whereabouts. There was plenty of talk swirling about the best factories to work in, and who was hiring. Obi-Wan had contacted the Jedi Temple with the names of various corporations that owned factories on Falleen, but it would take some time before they could discover if any had ties to Omega. Weapons merchants often hid ownership of companies behind other companies, so that it was hard to trace who exactly owned what.
Which is exactly what Omega counts on, Obi-Wan thought.
“I’ve never seen this much security on a peaceful planet,” Anakin remarked, adjusting his hood as he walked.
It was true. Surveillance droids were everywhere. “They aren’t all official security droids,” Obi-Wan observed. He had studied the various droids over the past few hours, cataloging them in his mind. “As a matter of fact, most of them seem to be private droids. And they’re armed.”
“Omega?” Siri asked. Her blue eyes were keen. “Looking for us, perhaps.”
“Just as we are looking for him,” Ferus Olin said. “So we’re even.”
“Any ideas, Master?” Anakin asked him in a low tone. They had been walking through the streets for some time.
“That new factory we’ve heard of—Blackwater Systems,” Obi-Wan said. “Let’s head there. It was built quickly and already has a bad reputation among the Falleens. There are rumors that bribes were paid to the government to keep away inspectors.”
The factories were built just beyond the outskirts of the city. The Jedi hopped aboard a cloud bus to take them, blending in with the other passengers. They exited at the last stop.
Here the three grand pedestrian levels were narrow and squashed together, one on top of the other, so that a tall species would have trouble on the lower ones. Large factory complexes were built on ground level and rose into the sky. They knew that at night the factories belched their toxins into the sky. The Falleens called this area the Yellow District because a constant haze of that color hung in the sky.
The Jedi were now alone here on upper walkway, underneath the yellow sky. This was not an area anyone would stroll in, and it was in the middle of a factory shift, so the workers were inside. The Blackwater Factory was at the end of the long line, more than two kilometers from the last cloud-bus stop. It was colder here. The wind howled off the vast plains outside the city and carried a special bite, tasting of the vast ice sheets from the distant mountains.
The Blackwater Factory rose in their vision as they approached. It was windowless and completely fashioned from black durasteel and stone. One main building hulked on the site, with a wing flung out fro
m one side like a useless arm.
As he drew his cloak around him, Obi-Wan suddenly tensed. He saw one surveillance droid zoom into his line of vision. Another followed. These did not seem to be moving aimlessly. The Force surged to warn him.
“We’re being tracked,” he said to the others. “Move normally. Could be routine.”
“Up ahead,” Siri remarked, casually swinging her arms as she walked.
Ahead, a narrow alley led diagonally off the main walkway, running along the side of the main building. As they passed they darted inside and began to run. The droids would have to double back, and those few seconds could make a difference. The Jedi turned a corner, then another. They could sense rather than see that the droids were still in pursuit, but hadn’t been able to get a fix on them. The alley was narrow and twisted around, connecting the factory to various smaller outbuildings.
“What now?” Ferus asked. His voice was steady, even though he was running hard. Siri’s Padawan did not have Anakin’s great Force connection, but he made up for it with excellent physical training and a keen mind.
Anakin’s head cocked. “I hear something. This way.”
Following Anakin now, they ran through the maze. They passed gravsleds and durasteel bins marked as waste. They didn’t see any tiny creatures or birds here. No living thing would linger in this place if it didn’t have to.
Their race ended at a tall stone wall. Anakin stopped. Now the others could hear what he had detected so many twists and turns before. A crowd was on the other side of the wall.
The Jedi activated their cable launchers. Quickly they scaled the wall. The crowd was just ahead, focusing on a female Falleen who was speaking. Her voice rolled over the crowd.
They jumped down and quickly moved into the crowd for concealment. The two teams had doubled back during their run and were now standing outside the main gate of the factory. The Falleen female stood, hanging on to the gate with one hand to keep herself above the crowd while she spoke into a voice amplifier headset. She was tall for the species, with the distinctive gray-green color to her scales.
“…and we ask them, what are the wastes you produce, and what is your disposal system? And they tell us—”
“NOTHING,” the crowd shouted.
“And we ask them, what is the nature of the experiments you are conducting in your secret wing? And they tell us—”
“NOTHING!”
“And we ask them, what about the four workers over the past three months who have died without any reports being filed? And they tell us—”
“NOTHING!”
“And we ask them, when you have your products and your profits, what will you do for the citizens of Falleen? And we know the answer, don’t we?”
“NOTHING!” The crowd screamed the word.
“And will we do nothing, or will we demand what is our right to demand—a full accounting of what is made here?” the female Falleen shouted. “If our leaders will not make them obey our laws, we must! Are you with me?”
“YES!” the crowd shouted.
“Are you willing?”
“YES!”
“Are you ready to go in and find what we need?”
“YES!”
“Then come on!”
A small explosive charge went off. The Falleen female leaped to the ground. At first Obi-Wan thought she’d been hurt, but then it was obvious that she or one of her cohorts had set it off, for the gates swung open. With a cry, the crowd surged forward.
“We shouldn’t be in the middle of this,” Ferus said.
Anakin looked fascinated.
It didn’t matter if they should be there; they were caught. The crowd was ahead of them and behind them now. As it moved, they moved with it. And then ahead, Obi-Wan saw black objects fly out from the factory.
“Attack droids,” he shouted. “Take cover!”
The crowd panicked and moved backward like one great breaking wave. Then they turned and ran, back toward the walkways. The Jedi fought their way through the crowd, moving against them, toward the droids.
Obi-Wan watched the Falleen female. As soon as the droids had come, she had dropped from the gate. Instead of fleeing with the others, she ran along the outside of the gate. He knew she was heading toward the alleys. He saw her make a turn. In that direction, she would run straight into a wall.
Two of the droids peeled off and followed her.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan called. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Two
Anakin had seen the same thing as his Master, and he read Obi-Wan’s intention before it was fully formed. They needed to talk to the Falleen. Anakin looked around quickly. There was no one in sight, and no danger of blowing their cover.
He charged toward the droids, leaping and slashing, his lightsaber moving so fast that it was back in his belt before he hit the ground. The two droids lay in smoking ruin.
Grinning, Obi-Wan kept pace with him. “Nice work.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Siri and Ferus joined them. Racing now, the four Jedi turned a corner and saw the female Falleen futilely trying to scale the wall. She whirled and tensed when she heard their footsteps.
“We’re not with Blackwater,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “We were in the crowd.”
She nodded. “I’m afraid we’re trapped.”
“The droids tracking you crashed into each other,” Siri told her. “They’re destroyed.”
“There will be others,” the Falleen said. “The factory owners have my vitals. They can track me. If I were you, I wouldn’t stick with me. I’m afraid my back is literally to the wall.”
Anakin admired her bravery. She spoke coolly, but he could feel that inside she was terrified.
“The wall,” Obi-Wan said, “is not a problem.”
He strode forward and attached one end of his cable launcher to the Falleen’s utility belt. “Always be prepared,” he said. His tone was light, and Anakin knew he was trying to reassure her.
The Jedi moved forward. In a few seconds, they had activated their launchers and swung up and over the wall, Obi-Wan keeping the Falleen steady as they climbed. They dropped down on the other side.
The Falleen looked around. “I know a back way to the cloud-bus stop from here,” she said. “I’m Mazara, by the way.”
She gazed at them curiously.
“We arrived on Falleen recently,” Siri said. “Looking for jobs.”
“We’d better hurry,” Obi-Wan said. “It won’t take them long to look further.”
Mazara took them on a different path through the maze of alleys that ran behind the factories. They had to scale the locked gates between the properties, but they saw no new evidence of tracking droids.
Mazara waved at the surrounding plains as she walked. “This is why Falleen is so ideal for them,” she told them. “There is plenty of land outside our city. Transports can land and take off without being logged in. Waste can be dumped or offloaded onto orbiting platforms.” Her voice was full of disgust. “Not to mention that as Falleen, we don’t like to raise our voices. The population is growing distressed with the situation, but no one says anything. It is not ‘appropriate,’” she said, giving a wry twist to the word. “Believe me, I’m not an activist. I was a journalist, before I got fired for writing an article on Blackwater. Both our land and our skies are becoming dumping grounds. I’ve seen it happen to other worlds. I can’t watch it happen to my homeworld.”
“Why did you target Blackwater Systems?” Obi-Wan asked.
“They are the worst offenders,” Mazara answered. “The factory was built quickly, with little regard for basic safety practices. Enormous bribes were paid to inspectors to overlook violations that are part of the laws of Falleen. There have been several deaths at the facility and each time an investigation is done the result is the same—the worker was at fault.”
“Do you know who the owners are?”
Mazara sighed. “It is the usual game of company behind company. But thi
s muddle seems murkier than most. I’ve been investigating almost since they arrived, and I don’t have any answers. What I do know is that their security is extraordinary. Those attack droids are programmed to shoot blaster fire. Not to stun, to kill.”
Suddenly Mazara stopped and gave them a shrewd look. “Attack droids don’t usually crash into each other.”
“Yes, it’s an unusual sight,” Siri said.
She looked at them carefully. “I’ve traveled widely. I’ve seen enough to know you aren’t workers. You took those droids down, didn’t you?”
The Jedi said nothing, but Mazara nodded, as though they had confirmed her guess.
“You are Jedi,” she said.
“Why do you say that?” Obi-Wan asked.
“There is word on the street that those who identify Jedi will be paid for it,” she said. “Don’t worry, you can trust me. What are you doing on Falleen? Have you come to help us?”
“We’ve come to investigate several of your factories,” Siri said carefully.
“That will help us, no matter what your purpose,” Mazara said. “You can take word of what is happening back to the Galactic Senate.”
Anakin exchanged a quick glance with Obi-Wan. He knew that like him, his Master had his doubts that the Senate would be able to stop what was going on here. The Senate was roiled with its own problems as the new movement of Separatists was fraying old loyalties and creating new alliances. Very little legislation was being enacted, and petitions for help from many worlds were delayed by procedure.
“Have you heard of someone called Granta Omega?” Obi-Wan asked casually.
Mazara shook her head.
“How about Roy Teda?”
“Yes, of course, the deposed dictator of Romin. He’s here.” Mazara grimaced. “Falleen seems to attract the worst of the galaxy, these days.”
“Do you know where he is?” Siri asked.
“Of course. He’s staying in the kind of reclusive hotel reserved for the ultra-rich. I learned about it back in my investigative days.”
“Is he staying with anyone else?”
Mazara shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
