Shadow Trap (9781484719787)

by Watson, Jude

  He looked at her with a sidelong glance and saw how sharply she was watching the crowd. Her gaze slowly dropped, and suddenly, she stood and leaped. The strength and power of the leap surprised him. She landed only centimeters away from him and Obi-Wan.

  “Spies!” she cried, her blaster leveled at Obi-Wan’s chest. “Surround them!”

  Chapter Four

  Feeana’s quick action didn’t extend to her troops. A leader with a headset sputtered toward them, trying to corral others to follow. Anakin knew that his Master could have foiled them in seconds, but he waited for them to approach. Soon they were surrounded by twenty members of Feeana’s gang, and twenty blasters were pointed in their direction.

  Anakin glanced at his Master. Obi-Wan said nothing. His gaze was calm and watchful. Anakin knew his Master’s strategy usually centered on waiting. Obi-Wan could strike faster than any Jedi he knew, but he could also wait longer than any Jedi should have to, in Anakin’s opinion. Especially when a blaster was pointed at his heart.

  Still, he was an apprentice, and his job was to follow his Master’s lead.

  “You’re from Decca’s gang,” Feeana said. “Don’t bother denying it.”

  Feeana whirled toward Swanny and Rorq, who were both backing away with careful steps.

  “Swanny and Rorq brought them,” she said.

  Immediately, ten of the twenty blasters turned on Swanny and Rorq.

  “Whoa,” Swanny said, holding up two hands while Rorq bared his teeth in a nervous grin. “We just walked in at the same time.”

  “Never saw them before in our lives,” Rorq said through clenched teeth.

  “We’re not spies,” Obi-Wan said. “We’re Jedi. We’re here for diplomacy, not battles.”

  “Prove it,” Feeana sneered.

  Only by a small expression did Obi-Wan reveal how annoyed he was at the request. He put out a hand, and Feeana’s headset flew off her head and directly into his grasp.

  Obi-Wan spoke crisply into the headset. “Cancel all orders. Take a vacation.”

  The gang members looked at one another. The leader of the group, who was wearing a comlink headpiece, put a hand to his ear, as if unable to quite believe that Obi-Wan had just given an order.

  Anakin could hear confused exclamations and questions faintly coming from the headpiece in Obi-Wan’s hand. He suppressed his grin.

  Feeana tilted her head in a short nod of appreciation. “Okay, you’re a Jedi. Now, can I have my comlink back? They’re hard to come by.”

  Obi-Wan tossed it to her. Feeana spoke into it. “Hold your positions until further notice.” She glanced at the Jedi. “So you’re here for diplomacy. Let’s talk.”

  Feeana led the way to a corner. She pulled up a durasteel bin and overturned another for a makeshift seating area. Then she motioned to the Jedi to sit down. She looked at Obi-Wan expectantly.

  “The Senate has sent a Provisional Government Committee for Mawan,” Obi-Wan said. “They are aboveground right now. Senate security forces are expected within a matter of days.”

  “In other words, they’re finally going to do something,” Feeana said.

  “Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “Mawan cannot remain an open world. After the crimelords are put out of business, the Senate will arrange for a transfer of power to the Mawans.”

  Feeana put her hands on her hips. “So what do you want from me?”

  “We hope that the crimelords will voluntarily either dissolve their gangs or move off-planet,” Obi-Wan said. “Your choice. There’s no other.”

  “And what do I get?” Feeana asked.

  “You get to avoid going up against the Jedi and an extremely well-armed security force,” Obi-Wan said.

  Feeana gave him a shrewd look. “You’ll have to come up with something better than that, Jedi. Surely you know that deals have high stakes when one side has nothing to lose.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want?” Obi-Wan suggested. “It will save time.”

  Anakin admired his Master’s cool. Obi-Wan seemed to know what Feeana was thinking. He himself had no idea.

  “Amnesty,” Feeana said. “I’m a native Mawan. I don’t want to go off-planet. I’m not really a crimelord. Think of me as a thief who does well. And you tell me what other choice I had. Because of the greedy leadership of my government, I lost my home. I was forced underground. At first, I stole to feed my family. Then I stole to feed other families. Then I needed a cut of what I stole in order to keep stealing. Then I needed a few others to help. Before I knew it I had a gang. I supply the Mawans with what they need to survive. Without me they’d be at the mercy of Decca and Striker. At least I am loyal to Mawan. I am a Mawan first, a criminal second. Amnesty shouldn’t be hard to give.”

  “I think that can be arranged,” Obi-Wan agreed. “What else?”

  “A promise,” Feeana said. “No doubt this Provisional Committee will be involved in setting up the Mawan government. Insiders will get the best jobs. I want to be part of that group.”

  “A moment,” Obi-Wan said. He stepped away to activate his comlink. Anakin watched as he spoke quietly into it. Then he returned and nodded at Feeana. “Your request is granted. And in return, you are expected to move to the surface with your group to serve as a temporary security force while the Provisional Committee works on getting control of the power grid.”

  “Hold that comlink,” Feeana said. “I’m not doing anything until I’m sure you’re going to succeed.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands,” Obi-Wan said. “You have to earn your amnesty by proving your loyalty to your homeworld. Didn’t you just say you were a Mawan first, or am I mistaken? And if I were you, I’d want to make a generous gesture that will win you support later.”

  He held her gaze. Anakin watched the battle of wills. He had no doubt who would win.

  “All right,” Feeana agreed at last. “I’ll do it.”

  She moved off to speak into her comlink. Anakin let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  “One down,” he murmured to Obi-Wan.

  Obi-Wan gazed after Feeana. “Maybe. We’ll have to move fast to keep her loyalty. If she feels we might lose control of Naatan, she’ll go back on the deal. We have to neutralize Decca and Striker, and fast.”

  Chapter Five

  Swanny and Rorq rushed across the hall. “My friend, that was a sweet thing to watch,” Swanny congratulated him. “You stared down Feeana and won. If I had a hat, it would be off to you.”

  “Excellent diplomacy,” Rorq echoed in a gush of obvious flattery. “I learned a lot just watching you.”

  “Thanks,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Your support means a lot.”

  “Anytime,” Swanny assured him.

  “Particularly for the part where you pretended not to know us,” Obi-Wan added.

  “What can I say?” Swanny said. “My survival mechanism just kicked in. I run on instinct. Can’t control it. I want to be brave, but something happens, and I open my mouth and a womp weasel starts talking. Nothing personal.”

  “Sure,” Obi-Wan said. “But you owe me one.”

  Swanny and Rorq looked nervous. “And what would that ‘one’ be?” Swanny asked cautiously.

  “Help us infiltrate Decca’s camp,” Obi-Wan said. “That means you come, too. If I know Hutts, we won’t be able to bargain the way we did with Feeana. Decca won’t willingly agree to vacate the planet. We’ll have to find the flaw in her organization, some way to smash it, or at least make things too difficult for her to stick around. That means we have to get right in the middle of things and see how they’re done.”

  “We can certainly give you the location of Decca’s camp,” Swanny said. “That is no problem.”

  “And your awesome Jedi skills would no doubt allow you to smuggle yourself in,” Rorq added helpfully.

  Obi-Wan just waited.

  “I can see that you are looking for more from us,” Swanny said.

  “Which you already
promised,” Obi-Wan said. “Unless you’d like to take this up with the Provisional Committee.”

  “Noooo,” Swanny said, drawing the word out. “Don’t think I’d want to do that. Maybe there is a way to get you inside. There’s a revel tonight.”

  “A revel?” Anakin asked.

  “Decca won a skirmish today with Striker,” Swanny said. “She always throws a big party so her gang can celebrate. Food, drink, music…and that’s where Rorq and I come in. I just have one question.”

  Obi-Wan and Anakin waited.

  “Can you sing?” Swanny asked.

  The band was called Swanny and the Rooters. Swanny told the Jedi that they had played at many of Decca’s revels. If they showed up at this one, Decca would assume that someone from her gang had booked them. They would be taking a chance, but not a very big one.

  Obi-Wan and Anakin had to take the place of the other two band members. Swanny handed Obi-Wan a vioflute and Anakin a keyboard.

  “Just fake it,” he told them. “I’m so good no one will notice you can’t play.”

  They set up in a corner of the vast substation while swaggering beings from all over the galaxy chugged flameouts while feasting on meat and pastries. A Whipid, his fur matted with sweat and chunks of food, handed two mugs of grog to a Kamarian, who rested one on his tusk and downed the other.

  “Fun crowd,” Anakin muttered to Obi-Wan.

  “Just what I was thinking,” Obi-Wan said through his teeth. He settled onto a stool, resting the vioflute uneasily against his shoulder. It had been surprisingly easy to crash the party—but that didn’t mean the rest would be easy.

  Anakin sat next to him, holding his handheld keyboard. He would have to pretend to play it. Swanny and Rorq needed backup singers, however.

  “Just a few ‘whee-whoas’ on the choruses,” Swanny swiveled around to tell them. “No solos or anything. You can follow along, can’t you?”

  “Of course,” Obi-Wan assured him.

  Swanny and Rorq ripped into a lively song, and Anakin’s foot began to tap. He was surprised to find that they were good musicians.

  Swanny winked at him. “Wastewater is my life, but music is a close second.”

  Decca the Hutt entered the room and heaved her enormous bulk onto a repulsorlift platform obviously crafted for her, large and low and festooned with shimmersilk pillows. Her lieutenants surrounded her, jockeying for position as she settled herself in. There were three, one of them a Kamarian who sat at her right, obviously her most trusted assistant. His two tails waved as he leaned over to speak directly in her ear.

  “I wish we could hear what he’s saying,” Obi-Wan murmured, pretending to pluck the strings on his vioflute.

  “Sing,” Swanny hissed as he and Rorq swung into the chorus.

  Anakin began to hum the backup, and beside him, Obi-Wan joined in. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan could not manage to find the melody. Swanny shot him a horrified look.

  “Uh, not so loud,” he hissed. “Maybe you shouldn’t sing, after all.”

  Anakin hid his smile. He was glad his Master wasn’t good at everything.

  “Look in the corner behind Decca,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin under his breath. “There’s a bank of datapads. I wonder if we could get close enough to take a look at what’s on them.”

  “If she keeps downing those flameouts, we might,” Anakin said.

  “Notice how she’s listening to the Kamarian, while the Ranat tries to get closer.”

  Anakin watched. The Kamarian adjusted the pillows for Decca with his four arms while he spoke. He had Decca’s full attention. It was almost comical the way the meter-tall Ranat tried to nestle into the folds of Decca’s fat in order to hear what was being said.

  Anakin wasn’t sure what conclusions to draw from what he saw. But he knew that later his Master would ask him about his observations, so he watched carefully as Decca conferred and nodded. Then he slowly gazed around the room, noting the side tunnels and the placement of guards. He estimated there must be at least forty gang members at the party, which meant there were others on the surface and serving as guards. But how many? No doubt during their break they would be able to mingle in the crowd.

  Decca signaled to Swanny, and he stopped playing. Decca held out her huge arms. Her flesh trembled. The substation fell silent.

  “We hear the Jedi have arrived on Mawan with a Provisional Committee from the Senate,” Decca pronounced. “Foolish beings—they think they can get rid of us.”

  The gang soldiers laughed and pounded the hilts of their blaster rifles on the floor.

  “They will regret coming up against Decca the Hutt. I vow to you today, no committee will blast me off this planet!” Decca suddenly stood, her flesh waving. “Tell the galaxy—Decca will never retreat!”

  “Well, I didn’t think diplomacy would work for Decca, anyway,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Let’s mingle. We’ll look for an opening to get to that datapad bank.”

  Anakin had been hoping for a chance to hit the food table. His last meal had been a protein pack on the transport. What his teachers at the Temple had seemed to leave out of their lessons was that on missions, you never got enough food. He placed his keyboard on the floor.

  At that moment, an explosion blew them both off their stools. Smoke filled the substation. The ping of blaster fire suddenly filled the air.

  “Stay down!” Obi-Wan shouted to Anakin. “We’re under attack!”

  Chapter Six

  The smoke was so thick and acrid that Obi-Wan’s eyes streamed tears. All he could glimpse through the haze was the blur of movement and the flash of blaster fire. Hoarse shouting and battle cries almost smothered the sound of Swanny shouting, “Whoa, show’s over!”

  He leaned closer to Anakin. “This could be an opportunity for us,” he said rapidly. “No doubt Decca has an escape plan for just this kind of attack. She’ll take off and we might be able to get to those datapads. Use the Force to guide you through the smoke.”

  Keeping his head low, he threw himself into the brawl. Decca’s gang members were literally fighting blind, their eyes screwed shut and streaming tears. This didn’t stop them from firing their weapons, however. Blaster fire pinged and ricocheted around the room. Obi-Wan glided through the forest of arms and legs, allowing the Force to tell him when to raise his lightsaber to deflect fire. He sensed that the rival gang was moving steadily toward Decca, trying to get to her before she escaped. Obi-Wan had no doubt that Striker was behind the attack, most likely in retaliation for Decca’s victory earlier that day.

  The barrage of fire was constant, shrieking by his ears and filling the room with more sparks and heat. Electrojabbers waved in the air, and he saw one land by accident on another member of Decca’s gang who was firing his blaster rifle in the air. The gang member went down, his legs paralyzed for a good two hours or more. He managed to drag himself away from a Phlog who was stomping toward the blaster fire, swinging a vibroax. Screams and battle cries filled the air.

  It was a demonstration of sloppy fighting, Obi-Wan judged. Decca’s gang might be large and fierce, but it certainly wasn’t organized. Striker’s soldiers were more efficient, moving slowly but surely toward the corner where Decca had been. Now the smoke was so thick it was impossible to tell where she had gone.

  A panicked voice panted by his ear. “Wherever you’re going, take me with you.”

  “Swanny, what are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked, whirling his lightsaber to deflect a sudden barrage of blaster fire. “Stay by the band platform, you’ll be safe there.”

  “Are you kidding? There is no band platform. Some Phlog stepped on it on the way to Striker’s gang.”

  “We’re sunk,” Rorq said, suddenly appearing as he crawled up to Obi-Wan. “You’ve got to get us out of here.”

  Obi-Wan looked down at them, exasperated. The Force surged, and he quickly whirled around to slice an electrojabber in half, held by a Decca gang member who had mistaken him for an enemy.

  He had to get to those dat
apads. He couldn’t do that and protect Swanny and Rorq.

  Obi-Wan leaped closer to Swanny, protecting him from a sudden barrage of fire from a repeating blaster. The fire was fast and furious. Obi-Wan had to twirl his lightsaber in a continuous motion. He called out to the Force, using it to slow down time so that he could see each individual blaster shot. Where was Anakin?

  As if his thought had conjured him, Anakin appeared through the smoke. His lightsaber held high and constantly moving, he was leaping toward the repeating blaster, which some enterprising members of Striker’s gang had set up against the wall.

  Anakin hit the repeating blaster with both feet, using the split second between the blasts to make his strike. The blaster flew off its supports. Anakin came down, slicing the weapon in two.

  Then he snaked his way back to Obi-Wan.

  “Get Swanny and Rorq to safety,” Obi-Wan shouted above the din. “I’m going to get to those records. As soon as they’re safe, follow me.” There was no time to come up with another plan. The smoke rolled toward him, and he plunged into it.

  Instantly his eyes began to tear again, and he felt the smoke in his lungs, making his breathing difficult. He fought his way forward. Even in this smoke, it would be hard to hide a Hutt.

  He had to step over the bodies of the dead and wounded. Obi-Wan tasted smoke and death in his mouth. He felt tiredness seep into his bones. Greed had that effect on him. He could better understand the Mawans, who had fought for ideas, than those who worked for the crimelords. Stamping out greed was impossible; controlling it was a never-ending task. His job would never be finished. In the middle of a battle such as this, a great tide of weariness could wash over him at the thought.

  His battle mind had slipped. That wasn’t good. Obi-Wan wrenched back his concentration. Suddenly the bank of datapads burst into flame. They had been hit by a grenade.

  Obi-Wan stopped to consider what to do next. But he didn’t have time to change his direction. A percussive force almost blasted him off his feet. The floor rose to meet him and he fell on one knee, his ears ringing. The size of the blast told him that it had been caused by a thermal detonator. More smoke filled the air, and he could hear screams and cries.