The droid waited to be sure both humans had done as he said, and then jumped over the side of the bridge, hooking one of his arms around the main support rope nearest him.
“Cut the support,” he said to Darsha.
Darsha understood what his plan was now. It was a bold one, she had to give him that. He and Pavan had ripped away enough of the detritus that coated the bridge’s webbing to render its supports unstable. When the Padawan’s lightsaber bit through the thick support cable, the section of the structure they were clinging to collapsed. As the three began falling, I-Five fired upward, his finger blasters striking the juncture of every remaining plate and the support rope they were clinging to. Their momentum increased, and suddenly they were past the tail of the taozin, swinging in a very long arc toward the opposite side of the chasm.
In the distance they heard the Sith shout—in rage, it sounded like—as they kept falling. After a second or two I-Five no longer had to shoot to separate the support cable from the bridge decking. Their weight and momentum ripped the strand away for them as they fell.
“If you can slow our acceleration,” the droid said to Darsha, “it will perhaps make this fall survivable.”
Darsha closed her eyes, knitting her brow in concentration, and reached out for the Force once more. After a few seconds she could feel their speed decrease.
I-Five said, “I calculate that we will reach the other side of the cavern in about—”
The trio hit the rock wall on the opposite side of the cavern. Even with Darsha’s use of the Force to slow them, the impact was considerable. Darsha gasped, the wind knocked out of her. She barely managed to keep her grip.
“Well, about now,” I-Five finished.
“Thanks,” Lorn managed, “for your accurate-as-usual timing.”
“You’re welcome.”
They’d made it across. Now all they had to do was climb up the cable.
As he fanned the vaporized webbing away from his vision with one gloved hand, Darth Maul saw his quarry jump over the side of the bridge and cut the support strand away, turning it into an escape route. For a moment the Sith apprentice stood absolutely still, realizing how he had been outwitted. He let his rage boil out of him in a frustrated shout. The Force-dampening energy of the taozin had prevented his sensing their escape until they were already gone. It was astounding, the amount of good fortune his prey were experiencing.
He was really going to enjoy completing this mission.
Just now, however, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Between the weight of the taozin and the dismantling by his quarry, the bridge was beginning to fall apart. The Sith jumped nimbly over to the remaining support cable and began to move toward the opposite side of the cavern. He could easily cross the remaining distance before his prey climbed up out of the chasm. His athletic skills and connection to the Force made the thin support rope seem as wide as a walkway.
But the taozin had other ideas. It wound around the remaining support cable, blocking his path. Its head—now below the cable—fired another stream of webbing up at him.
Again he vaporized the arcing reticulation. The creature attacked again, but in a different way this time, using its legs to vibrate the strand on which the Sith stood.
Darth Maul began to fall backwards, but he did not panic. He reached out, grabbing the support cable with his free hand, careful to keep his lightsaber away from it. He now hung directly in front of the creature, only a couple of meters away from its sharp mandibles.
He knew now that he wouldn’t be catching up to Pavan and the others within the next few minutes. He spun his lightsaber over in a perfect execution of Slashing Wampa and cut the remaining bridge support that he clung to. He and the taozin fell away in opposite directions, he slamming against the wall on the opposite side from the three fugitives while the taozin disappeared into the abyss.
Unfortunately, disposing of the creature had also disposed of his only route across the cavern. Darth Maul climbed up the support cable to the ledge from whence he had come.
He gritted his teeth. Even with the Force to aid him he could not leap across a chasm this wide. He would have to retrace his route back up to the surface, which was frustrating beyond bearing. He knew he would find them again. There was no place in the galaxy he could not follow them, and he would not fail, however long it took. But to be so close and to fail yet again—it enraged him.
They would pay for this in full.
Obi-Wan Kenobi shouldered through the doors of the Tusken Oasis and for a few seconds felt as though he had returned uplevels. The club was lavishly decorated and well-kept. Statues of beasts from various galactic mythologies intertwined in a lusty wall frieze that stretched around the big room, and photonic crystal fixtures glowed with multicolored lights, offsetting the overall darkness. The predominant color at the moment was blue, but as the Padawan watched, it cycled higher up the spectrum toward violet. A quartet of Bith musicians were playing something lively in the corner, their large, bulbous heads bobbing in time to a melody from their leader’s omni box.
Only after looking more closely at the patrons of the club was he reminded that he was still below levels in the Crimson Corridor. Gamorrean bodyguards carrying blasters mingled with their gambling clients, and many patrons without paid protection carried their own weapons. There was enough firepower in the room to start a small revolution.
As Obi-Wan let his senses ride the currents of the Force and expand into the club—feeling its pulse, so to speak—he sensed a wrongness, an out-of-step sequence. Something had happened here not too long ago, of that he was sure. He spotted a Twi’lek’s lekku wiggling over the heads of some of the patrons near the band, and for a moment he thought he’d found Anoon Bondara, but a closer look told him it was not the Jedi after all.
He moved toward the large bar at the back of the room and noticed that he was being watched. Several Rodians at the end of the bar followed him with their black, featureless gaze, snouts quivering. Each wore cut-down versions of Stalker armor suits and might as well have been stamped with the words Black Sun Enforcer. As he neared the back of the room a Kubaz crunching on still-wriggling insects from a bowl on the bar looked up, noticed the cowled figure approaching, and promptly hopped off his bar stool, heading for one of the exits.
The bartender was of a species that Obi-Wan did not recognize. Its dark blue head had no neck, instead flowing smoothly into large shoulders from which draped six muscular arms resembling serpents. At the end of each arm was a pair of digits. Two arms were currently mixing a large drink while another tapped information into a datapad. As Obi-Wan approached the bar, he saw the remaining three arms drop down below the level of the bar.
It didn’t take the skills of someone like Yoda to guess that a weapon was being readied down there. His source regarding the Hutt’s establishment had apparently been correct. He faced the bartender and slowly moved his hands up to slide back the cowl covering his face. The bartender looked at him with an expression that, on a human face, would have been called a scowl. “Whar’ ya wan’?” it croaked in thickly accented Basic.
“I’m looking for some information.”
“Don’ hav’ny,” the bartender rumbled, a fourth arm slithering furtively down under the bar to join the other three. Obi-Wan could feel the tension building.
Be in the moment; be aware only of the present.
He had heard Master Qui-Gon’s admonition so many times, it seemed almost as though his Jedi mentor was standing next to him. The Padawan knew that his tendency to look to the future sometimes blinded him to the present. In his current situation, he felt it prudent to take Qui-Gon’s advice.
Obi-Wan reached out with his mind and felt what could not be seen. The bartender was close to activating a blaster under the bar, which was pointed straight at the Padawan’s abdomen. The two Rodians had split up and were flanking him now, just out of lightsaber range. He could sense their weapons being readied, as well.
What were
they waiting for?
Then he noticed the bartender’s four eyes glance over at a tiny pair of crystals inset in the bar’s surface near the datapad, seemingly part of the design. One was lit; it glowed red. Near it was a green crystal, unlit. As he watched, the red crystal winked out and the green crystal lit up.
Events slowed and perception stretched then, as Obi-Wan Kenobi reached for the Force and his lightsaber simultaneously. He dropped flat to the floor as the bartender fired its weapon, sending pieces of the beautiful wooden bar exploding outward to shower the apprentice with splinters. He ignited his lightsaber and swung it up in a shallow arc, the superhot blade slicing almost without resistance through the bar and the blaster it concealed without touching the bartender’s prehensile limbs. He rose to his feet quickly, almost levitating with the aid of the Force, and continued the arc, twisting to face the Rodians, who had raised their weapons. He gestured, and one of the blasters leapt out of its surprised owner’s hand and seemingly flung itself across the room. His partner fired, a particle beam burst that was deflected by the cobalt-hued energy blade, sending its trajectory off into the ceiling somewhere. Obi-Wan gestured again, and the second Rodian’s blaster flew over to land at his feet.
All around him, the club’s habitués had stopped their gambling to watch, many dropping instinctively into defensive postures, weapons ready, or hiding behind their bodyguards. Sensing the immediate danger was over, they turned back to their games of sabacc, dejarik, and other pursuits.
Obi-Wan turned around and faced the bartender, his lightsaber already deactivated.
“Like I said—I just want some information. No trouble.”
Although he couldn’t read the being’s face, Obi-Wan noted that the color of the bartender’s head had altered to a much lighter shade of blue and that it seemed to be having trouble with its respiration. He sensed movement behind him: the Rodians were moving in again. He turned to face them.
“That’s enough, boys,” someone said. “Our Jedi guest isn’t here to cause a problem. Are you, friend? …”
“Kenobi. Obi-Wan Kenobi. And, as I mentioned to your bartender, all I’m looking for is information.” The Padawan turned to face the new arrival, who was a short, muscular human with a large braid of hair trailing down his back. There was an aura of power about him—not Force-related, just sheer animal prepotency.
“I’m looking for information, too, Jedi Kenobi,” the man said. “Perhaps we can help each other. My name is Dal Perhi.”
Perhi led Obi-Wan down a short flight of stairs and along a corridor, apologizing as they walked.
“Sorry about the rough stuff—but we had to be sure you really were a Jedi. The fact that you didn’t even have to harm any of our boys speaks for itself. The Jedi are known, after all, for valuing life.”
There was more than a touch of sarcasm to his tone. Obi-Wan smiled tightly.
“And the Black Sun are not. You realize if I hadn’t been a Jedi, I would likely be dead now.”
The gangster nodded. “As I said, a simple precaution. You’ll see why in a minute. Just part of doing business, Jedi Kenobi.”
“Are you taking me to see Yanth the Hutt?”
The gangster glanced at the Padawan. “Good guess.”
They reached the end of the corridor and passed through a pair of wide doors that looked as if they had been melted in the center. As they entered the room, Obi-Wan immediately noted several Gamorrean guards lying on the floor. He was no forensic specialist, but it seemed as though they had been shot with blasters. He stepped over a broken force pike and followed Perhi toward a large shape on the floor ahead.
He knelt down and examined the wound that had killed the Hutt. It looked almost as if it might have come from a lightsaber. That wasn’t possible, of course. It had to be a blaster burn.
He looked over at the Black Sun representative. Could it be that his organization was having one of its periodic in-fighting episodes? A coup in the making?
“I was hoping, Jedi Kenobi, that you might be able to shed a little light here. Isn’t there some—” Perhi gestured vaguely. “—mystic way you can tell who did this?”
It was interesting, Obi-Wan thought, the mythologies of various organizations. Among the Jedi there might well be those who wondered about the mysterious Black Sun, exaggerating their reach, their connections, their dangerousness. Certainly the opposite was true here. Perhi obviously felt there was some cabalistic way his Jedi guest could learn what had happened here.
“Give me a minute,” Obi-Wan said.
The gangster nodded and stepped back.
Obi-Wan knelt on the floor and allowed his senses to expand, meditating on the apparent events. The sense of corruption he’d felt before on the street came back strongly, as did the disturbances caused by many other beings—but it was all too muddled. Too much time had passed, too many people had been in and out. A Master such as Mace Windu could probably make sense of it—but Obi-Wan was not a Master. He wasn’t even a Jedi Knight yet.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Perhaps if I’d been here earlier—”
The gangster nodded. Obi-Wan sensed his disappointment, though Perhi hid it well. “Not your fault. Thanks anyway.”
Obi-Wan was surprised to find that he felt slightly relieved. After all, if he’d found it was Darsha or Master Bondara who had perpetrated this carnage … But in all probability it was not.
But who could it have been?
“No one saw who did this?” he asked Perhi.
“No. You’d think there’d be at least one witness, but everyone says they couldn’t get a good look at him, even when he ran right by them.”
Obi-Wan nodded. That could be the natural reticence to get involved usually found in people on the far side of the law—or in fear of retribution.
He walked toward the exit, followed by Perhi.
“Jedi Kenobi?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing one of you work until today. What you did up there in the bar—are all Jedi that good?”
Obi-Wan stopped and turned to face Perhi. “No, they’re not.”
The gangster seemed to relax slightly—but his expression changed as Obi-Wan continued.
“I’m only an apprentice. I have yet to take the Jedi trials. My Master is far more skilled than I. As a student, I’m afraid I’m a bit of a disappointment to him. In terms of fighting skills, I’m probably least among the Jedi.”
The Padawan had the satisfaction of watching the gangster pale slightly. Then he turned and left Yanth’s underground office, and the Tusken Oasis. With any luck, he had given Dal Perhi something to think about.
As he returned to the street, Obi-Wan mentally reviewed what he knew so far. Not much, unfortunately. He debated reporting back to the council, but decided to wait until he had something more than hearsay and supposition to offer. So far, all he knew for certain was that Darsha Assant had lost the informant she was assigned to protect. Her skyhopper had been gutted by a street gang, and her Master’s skycar had been destroyed after a supposed brawl with a cowled figure. He had seen the vehicles, but no body for the informant, no Darsha, and no Master Bondara.
Add to that the fact that a Black Sun vigo, Yanth the Hutt, had been killed by a cowled figure. There had been a sense of corruption pervading the location, similar to what he had experienced at the crash site of Bondara’s skycar.
Obi-Wan had two theories, which unfortunately were mutually contradictory. Theory number one: Darsha loses her informant to Black Sun attackers and trails them to the Tusken Oasis, where she is attacked and defeats an entire roomful of guards, along with Yanth the Hutt. She calls for help, and her Master comes to aid her. They flee and … vanish.
There were holes in that theory that he could fly a Dreadnought through. Darsha was good in a fight, but if she was that good, she would never have lost her informant in the first place. Also, it didn’t explain the sense of wrongness that lingered over the site of the skycar
crash and the murders.
Theory number two was that there was some other entity—most likely connected somehow with Black Sun—involved who had killed Yanth the Hutt and his bodyguards. Obi-Wan liked the second theory better for several reasons, not the least of which was that he didn’t want to believe any Jedi capable of the crimes he’d been investigating. But neither theory explained where Darsha and her Master were, or why they hadn’t been heard from for so long.
Obi-Wan sighed. He hadn’t exhausted all his leads yet. There was still the block of cubicles to investigate. He checked the address he had been given and started to walk. With any luck at all, he might learn something there that would shed some light on the entire mess.
No such luck.
At the site of the cubicle explosion Obi-Wan had learned some very interesting news—but it was news that served only to muddy the waters further. One of the local police investigating the incident had told him that Hath Monchar, the Neimoidian deputy viceroy of the Trade Federation, had been the tenant of the blasted cubicle, and that he, too, had been killed.
It seemed obvious that Black Sun was somehow mixed up in all this. There was no evidence anywhere to suggest that the crime cartel was in bed with the Trade Federation, but it was possible, certainly.
Too many questions, Obi-Wan thought. Too many questions, and not nearly enough answers.
There was light at the end of the tunnel.
Lorn, I-Five, and Darsha hurried toward it. They reached a doorway—the partially boarded-over entrance to another kiosk similar to the one by which they had entered the underground—and emerged into the tenebrous shadows of Coruscant’s Crimson Corridor section.
It was like stepping into bright sunlight compared to the labyrinth they’d been trapped in for so long.
Lorn breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken longer than they had expected to find a path back to the surface, involving several dead ends and retracing of their routes, but at least they had not suffered any further attacks by more underground denizens. Apparently the only Cthons on the other side of the bridge had been the ones in the taozin’s belly.
Star Wars: Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter Page 18
