by James Luceno
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 Lagar
d 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
