Star Wars - Cloak Of Deception

by James Luceno

  Activating his lightsaber, he shoved the glowing blade through the lock

  mechanism. The metal glowed red and instantly began to slag, tainting the air

  with biting odors. With a grating sound, the door slid into xs wall pocket.

  By then, Havac and his two confederates were on their feet, weapons in

  hand. A flurry of blaster bolts glanced from Qui - Gon's blade, which he held

  upraised and threw left and right in precise parries. The deflected bolt s

  blazed around the room, two of them wounding Havac's men and knocking them to

  the floor.

  Undiluted terror fumbled the blaster from Havac's grip. As it fell, Qui-

  Gon called the weapon to him with a Force summons and tucked it into the wide

  belt that cinched his tunic.

  Havac dropped back into his seat at the console, cowering in fear and

  raising his shaking hands above his head.

  Boiny and Cohl followed Qui-Gon into the booth.

  Cohl took stock of the situation and looked at Qui-Gon. "I'm glad I never

  had to go up against you people." "Cohl," Havac said in genuine amazement.

  Cohl made his eyes narrow. "Next time you'll know better, amateur."

  "Where is the remote that controls the battle droid?" Qui - Gon asked Havac.

  Havac adopted a look of innocent perplexity.

  "Remote? I don't know what you're talking about." Qui-Gon towered over

  him. "You infiltrated a droid into ^th the Trade Federation Directorate

  brought with them." He reached down and picked Havac out of his chair, holding

  him up against the booth's fixed window. "Where is the remote?" Havac clutched

  vainly at Qui-Gon's hand.

  "Enough! Put me down and I'll tell you!" Qui-Gon lowered him to the

  chair.

  "Our shooter has it," he said, biting out the words.

  "I know the one he means," Cohl said. "A sniper." Qui-Gon looked back at

  Havac. "Where is he?" "Out on the walkways," Havac mumbled, averting his eyes.

  Qui-Gon glanced at Cohl, making up his mind about something. "Are you

  well enough to remain with these three while your partner and I locate the

  shooter?" Cohl lowered himself into one of the chairs. "I think I can find it

  in me." Qui-Gon handed him Havac's blaster. He started to say something, but

  bit back his words and began again, gesturing to the two wounded men. "I'll

  send for medical attention." "There's no hurry," Cohl said.

  When Qui-Gon and Boiny had disappeared through the open doorway, Cohl

  stared balefully at Havac.

  The trumpeters paused briefly, then began the second modulating fanfare.

  The musicians were a stanza into the piece when a human page approached

  the Trade Federation rostrum and asked for Viceroy Gunray.

  The Kuati chair of the delegation directed the page to the far end of the

  directorate's curved table.

  With palpable apprehension, Gunray watched the page advance.

  "I'm sorry to intrude, Viceroy," the human began in Basic, loudly enough

  to be heard over the trumpets, "but apparently there is some problem with your

  shuttle. Eriadu Spaceport Control needs to speak with you at once." Gunray

  made his face long and stuck out his already prominent lower jaw. "Can't this

  wait until after the summit concludes?" The page shook his head. "I apologize,

  Viceroy, but this is a security matter. I assure you, it will require only a

  moment of your time." The Kuati chair, who had been monitoring the

  conversation, swung to face Gunray. "Go attend to the matter. If luck is with

  you, you won't have to endure Supreme Chancellor Valorum's opening remarks."

  Lott Dod came to his feet as Gunray was preparing to leave. "Should I remain

  in your absence, Viceroy?" Gunray thought about it for a moment, then shook

  his head. "Come with me. You are better at dealing with procedures and

  legalities than I am. But let us be quick about it, Senator, I don't wish to

  miss any more of the summit than I have to." A hundred meters above the floor

  of the summit hall, Qui-Gon and Boiny hurried through the network of walkways,

  gantries, and trusses that spanned the upper reaches of the building from wall

  to wall. The martial bellowing of the trumpets resounded off the curved walls,

  playing tricks with the sound. Sunlight, colored by the enormous ocular window

  in the center of the dome, poured in.

  Suspended by brackets from the ceiling, or cantilevered from the walls,

  the walkways had openwork floors and tubular handrails and were just wide

  enough for a human of normal size to pass through. At regular intervals,

  especially where walkways intersected, were balconies that permitted

  maintenance to be performed on speaker arrays or banks of spotlights.

  There were innumerable places where a lone shooter, armed with a remote

  or a blaster, might conceal himself.

  Qui-Gon and Boiny hadn't gone far before they encountered the first

  security agent, who raised a hand weapon as they approached and demanded to

  know what business they had there.

  Qui-Gon explained in as few words as possible, at the same time regarding

  the agent through the Force to determine if his demeanor of righteous

  authority was genuine.

  Disconcerted by Qui-Gon's revelations, the agent activated his comlink

  and notified every agent in the vicinity to recheck the documents of anyone in

  the walkways, whether their badges identified them as fellow agents or

  technicians. In the same breath, he ordered that all exits leading to the

  periphery corridor behind the media booths be sealed off.

  Within moments, Qui-Gon, Boiny, and the agent were joined by additional

  security personnel. Forming up into three groups, they fanned out into the

  walkways.

  Qui-Gon and Boiny angled away from the perimeter and out over the floor

  of the hall. Directly below them stood the two lines of trumpeters and

  drummers.

  They reached another intersection and split up.

  Stretching out with his feelings, Qui-Gon moved warily toward the next

  balcony.

  A security agent rushed into view, a blaster rifle cradled in his arms.

  "I received word over the comlink," he said. "There are two technicians

  on the next balcony.

  I suggest we start with them." The agent stepped aside to let Qui-Gon

  pass.

  Qui-Gon sprinted forward. But the Force drew him up short.

  He began to turn.

  Someone shouted, "Jedi!" Qui-Gon spun and saw Boiny running full-out

  toward him. The security agent was between them, the blaster rifle still

  angled across his chest.

  Boiny pointed to the agent. "That's--was The agent glanced at Qui-Gon.

  "He's with me," Qui-Gon started to say.

  The agent crouched and fired, hitting Boiny square in the chest and

  hurling him backwards on the walkway. Then he whirled on Qui-Gon, firing

  steadily.

  Qui-Gon unleashed his lightsaber. But the blaster bolts were delivered

  with such speed and precision that he was hard-pressed to deflect all of them.

  Two whizzed past his blade, grazing his left arm and right leg.

  He stumbled slightly.

  Drawn by the sounds of the blasterfire, a trio of agents raced into view

  from the same direction Boiny had come. Havac's shooter drew a second weapon

  from a shoul
der holster and unloaded on the agents, wounding two of them.

  Qui-Gon changed the cant of his blade to deflect bolts off to each side,

  rather than back at the shooter, for fear of hitting any of the

  reinforcements. By now the agents were returning fire, but showing little

  concern for Qui-Gon's predicament.

  The shooter was dazzlingly fast with his hands and body, dodging bolts

  and throwing himself from one side of the narrow walkway to the other,

  concealed body armor absorbing the few shots that did manage to find him.

  Qui-Gon leapt forward. Slashing horizontally with his blade, he severed

  two of the walkway's tubular vertical supports.

  Then he slashed downward to rend the struts that braced the platform.

  Abruptly both sections of the cleaved walkway tilted, sending Qui-Gon and

  Havac's shooter staggering toward each other and the increasing gap between

  the now dangling ends of the platform.

  A crazed yell tore from the shooter's throat.

  He slipped to the floor and began to slide along the grating, firing both

  weapons at Qui-Gon as he fell.

  Into the brief silence the musicians inserted between the second and

  final fanfares, came a rush of voices raised in panic.

  Seated stiffly at the center of the Coruscant delegation's rostrum,

  Valorum wasn't sure what had provoked the screams until he saw Sei Taria, with

  one hand pressed to her mouth, pointing toward the hall's ceiling.

  In the maze of walkways below the dome's oculus window, blaster bolts

  darted and crisscrossed in the tinted light. Others glanced from a

  lightsaber's green blade. Sparks showered down on the drummers and trumpeters

  like a benediction.

  Sei screamed.

  Jedi Masters Adi Gallia and Vergere rushed forward, their swords ignited.

  Then a figure plummeted from one of the walkways.

  From the Trade Federation's side of the hall, the chair of the

  directorate watched open-mouthed as a blaster fight erupted in the overhead

  trusses and gantries. On the floor, at the same time, three Jedi and several

  judicials were moving quickly if surreptitiously toward the directorate

  rostrum.

  The Kuati glanced between the ceiling and floor. Had the summit been

  engineered to trap the directorate? he asked himself. Would the Republic be so

  bold as to attack them in public?

  The security droids had gone from standing at attention to postures of

  readiness, crouching slightly, with arms crooked and left legs extended

  behind. They were programmed to answer to any or all of the directorate

  members--or at least relay a directorate member's commands to the central

  control computer on board the Trade Federation vessel--but the droids

  responded best to the Neimoidians.

  The Kuati chair looked around for Viceroy Gunray and realized that he

  hadn't returned. At a loss for what to do, he swung to one of his aides.

  "Activate the for ce field!" he ordered.

  The sounds of blasters and panic on the floor infiltrated the media booth

  Havac had secured.

  Seated in a chair with a hand weapon leveled at Havac, Cohl heard the

  holocam click on and saw Havac glance at it.

  "Am I correct in assuming that you intend to kill me?" Havac asked.

  "Killing is what you are good at, after all." "You're doing pretty good for a

  beginner, Havac." Havac snorted in disdain. "I'm prepared to die for the

  cause, Captain." "Maybe you are," Cohl said. "But I'm not going to give you

  that privilege. You're going to die for killing Rella. Besides, your cause is

  lost." Havac glanced at the cam again. "You think so?" Cohl gestured toward

  the transparisteel window.

  "You hear those blaster bolts? The Jedi found your shooter--the one

  controlling the droid. Valorum is out of danger. I never thought much of the

  plan anyway, seeing how Valorum is trying to dismantle the Trade Federation,

  the same as you are." Havac laughed shortly. "You failed to see the truth,

  Cohl. You really are too old for the game.

  What makes you think that we were ever after Valorum?" Cohl's grin

  straightened.

  Grimacing in pain, he pushed himself out of the chair and limped to the

  window. The blaster fight had thrown the hall into utter chaos. The members of

  the Trade Federation Directorate were standing behind their curved table,

  surrounded by their security droids, everyone safe inside a shimmering force

  field.

  Off to one side, a group of Jedi and judicials were closing on the

  Federation's rostrum.

  Cohl swung to Havac, his eyes blazing.

  "You're after the Trade Federation!" Havac couldn't restrain a triumphant

  smile.

  "It was just a matter of getting them to activate the force field." He

  indicated the devices that were aimed down at the hall. "The scanner detected

  the activation. The holocam is going to do the rest." "The remote," Cohl said,

  as if in a daze.

  He lunged for the cam, meeting Havac halfway.

  They slammed into each other and fell grappling to the floor of the

  booth. They rolled toward the door, each man fighting for superiority, the

  blaster between them, in the clutch of four hands.

  Cohl swung his elbow into Havac's face, knocking him sideways, then used

  Havac's momentum to pitch himself on top of Havac, pinning him to the floor

  with his knees.

  Havac squirmed, but held tightly to the blaster, triggering a bolt into

  Cohl's abdomen. Cohl fell partially back, then slumped forward, bringing all

  his weight to bear on the weapon and forcing it down into Havac's chest.

  With what little of his strength remained, Cohl squeezed out a final

  bolt.

  Dangling by one hand from the swaying walkway, Qui-Gon looked down at the

  floor of the hall.

  The trumpeters had stopped midfanfare and were scattering for cover,

  abandoning their horns as they ran. Everywhere else delegates were fleeing

  their seats, literally climbing over one another in a desperate attempt to

  escape.

  Valorum was on his feet, but completely encircled by Senate Guards and

  Jedi Knights.

  Saesee Tiin, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Obi-Wan had taken up positions in front of

  the Trade Federation rostrum, their lightsabers lifted to deflect fire from

  the droids.

  But the directorate members had raised their force field, which meant

  that no bolts could enter or leave the translucent energy shield.

  The thirteen droids reached over their right shoulders for the blaster

  rifles secured to their backpacks.

  The judicials loosed a storm of blaster bolts, which the force field

  simply consumed.

  Then, all at once, the droids pivoted through an ab-face.

  The members of the directorate mouthed commands and curses and began to

  back away from the curved table.

  The droids fired.

  As the Jedi and judicials watched helplessly, bolts tore into the table

  and chairs and into the flesh of the members, shaking them about and hurling

  them to all sides of the rostrum.

  The firing ceased as abruptly as it had started.

  For a moment, the droids stood with their cooling blasters, then they put

  them back over their s
houlders and turned to face the hall.

  Stunned by what he had witnessed, Qui-Gon clambered onto the shaky

  walkway and dropped cross-legged to the slanted floor, staring off into space.

  the inner circle The Nebula Front has largely disbanded," the judicial

  officer explained to Qui-Gon. "The few we've been able to track down contend

  that they knew nothing about Havac's plans for Eriadu.

  Some of them had never even met Havac, and assert that the name was

  applied routinely to almost everyone in the Front's militant faction. The

  Eriadu operation was conceived in great secrecy, in any case, since the

  militants were convinced that there was an informant among them." "The

  informant was one of the moderates," Qui-Gon amended. "It was through him that

  I learned about Cohl's designs to raid the Trade Federation freighter at

  Dorvalla, and, on Asmeru, about a clandestine operation Cohl was executing for

  Havac." The judicial, a thin, brown-haired woman with a personable manner,

  made note of Qui-Gon's remarks on a desktop datapad. It was just the two of

  them in a small cubicle in the Justice Department's cavernous headquarters on

  Coruscant. Almost a standard month had gone by since the assassinations.

  Deactivating the shield the members of the Trade Federation Directorate

  had thrown about themselves--unknowingly ushering in their own demise--had

  required a team of technicians, using a pair of field disrupters. The two

  Neimoidians who had survived the massacre, Viceroy Nute Gunray and Senator

  Lott Dod, had not protested when the same disrupters had been employed to

  dazzle the thirteen droids into states of guaranteed submission. Diplomatic

  privilege had permitted the Neimoidians to depart Eriadu without answering any

  questions.

  Supreme Chancellor Valorum had ordered the Justice Department to commence

  an immediate investigation, but the chief investigators had soon found

  themselves thwarted by Lieutenant Governor Tarkin.

  Tarkin insisted that, since Eriadu had failed to provide adequate

  security, the case should be handled by Eriaduan investigators. There was some

  concern that Tarkin, fearing retaliation by the Trade Federation, would seek

  to shift the blame to other parties. But, instead, he had simply impeded the

  investigation by allowing evidence and eyewitnesses to vanish. Ignored, the

  judicials Valorum had asked to remain behind on Eriadu had finally decamped.