by Jude Watson
Ferus glanced over his shoulder. “There’s an airbus—”
Clive pushed the skyhopper violently to the right, passing underneath the bus by centimeters. “I saw it!” he said defensively when Ferus gave him an incredulous look.
“Watch out for the—”
“I’ve got it,” Clive said, diving down almost to the surface. “Woo, this is fun!”
“The seeker—”
“Oh, right.” Clive yanked the controls and zoomed down an alley. He looked up. “Got some room overhead—”
“There’s not enough room!” Ferus saw only a tiny bit of sky between a cluster of towers overhead.
Clive hit the engines, and the skyhopper zoomed up several kilometers in an instant. They passed through the space between the buildings, so close that the skyhopper scraped against the building. The vehicle shuddered, but Clive only went faster. They seemed to pop out of the space like a cork. Ferus could swear he saw the paint peeling off the hull of the skyhopper.
Below them, the seeker crashed into the side of one of the towers. It flamed out and dropped.
“Told you there was room!” Clive chortled.
He zoomed even higher, until they were in the upper atmosphere.
“Where to, sir?” he asked.
“The Hundred Seventh district,” Ferus answered. “And step on it.”
“Music to my ears,” Clive said.
In an office in the Senate complex on Coruscant, a slender man clothed in black hit the control for his datapad. It rose from the center of his polished desk and he tilted the screen at the precise angle for viewing.
Senator Sano Sauro was impatient, but anyone peeking into his office would never know it. He sat composedly at his desk, his hands tightly folded in front of him. He hated to be kept waiting, and Bog Divinian was keeping him waiting. It was tiresome to have such a sloppy partner, but Bog had his uses.
He turned and looked at the artifact that hung suspended in a cube of transparisteel. He allowed himself to feel a surge of satisfaction at the battered object, a broken lightsaber hilt from a fallen Jedi. The Duro who sold it to him told him it had belonged to Mace Windu himself, but Sauro had no way to verify that. It just pleased him to imagine it.
He had hated the Jedi all his life. Their privilege, their arrogance. He’d brought one of them to trial—that odious boy, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had later become such an important general. He was dead now, too.
And Sauro was alive. Older, but still in excellent shape, thanks to careful attention to his diet and visits to spas every six months. Not for him to accept the decrepitude of old human age.
He was now one of the most powerful Senators in the Emperor’s inner circle, a confidant and an advisor. They had formed their alliance years ago, after his attempted takeover of the Chancellor’s position. Palpatine had called him into his office after the debacle, when so many Senators had been slaughtered. Sauro had planned just how to wiggle out of responsibility. He’d blamed the assassination attempt on Granta Omega, of course, a conspirator who had gone much farther than he claimed to have known. He had expected censure from the Chancellor, perhaps an arrest, though there was no hard evidence. Instead, Sauro had been offered a deputy position. It was clear, Palpatine had said, that Sauro knew the uses of power. He would give him a platform to exercise that gift.
And he had.
Behind the scenes, he had bribed, punished, flattered, and manipulated. Now he was the unseen power behind Palpatine. The Emperor had been hideously scarred after the assassination attempt by the Jedi Mace Windu, but Sauro did not underestimate him. His personal power had not diminished.
The problem was his new enforcer. Darth Vader had appeared out of nowhere. Sauro felt him like an electrojabber in his side. Vader was standing between him and the Emperor, and he couldn’t have that.
Vader was consolidating his power, planet by planet, system by system. He was bringing governments in line. Already his name was spoken with fear.
Sauro didn’t know where Vader had come from, but he knew he wasn’t a politician. He didn’t know how to maneuver his way through powerful blocs and strategic alliances. In the end, that would bring him down. He was just a thug.
Palpatine needed someone with elegance and subtlety. Someone like him.
Sauro believed in careful plotting. He didn’t act in haste. He needed to outmaneuver Vader, but it would take time. It might take years. He would wait. If Vader was proving to be the Emperor’s enforcer, Sauro would be the Emperor’s strategist. Eventually he would demonstrate to Palpatine that he should be his second in command, not Vader.
The trick was to find out what he needed to do to impress Palpatine. He had to go above and beyond what he’d done in the past. He had to anticipate. Not answer the needs of yesterday, but the needs of tomorrow.
He was good at that.
His comlink signaled at last. The miniaturized hologram of Bog beamed onto his desk.
Bog bowed. “Everything is going according to plan, good friend.”
“And what does that mean?” Sauro asked. Bog was always vague. He seemed to think that if he wasn’t pinned down, he could be seen as marvelously efficient.
“The Jedi is under surveillance. The sensor tag adhered to his boot as he stepped forward to greet me, just as I’d planned. Unfortunately a seeker droid tracking him—because I believe in backup—met an unfortunate accident. Smashed into a building. The traffic in the space lanes is unruly because of this situation—”
“You idiot, it smashed into a building because the Jedi wanted it to,” Sauro said. “It wasn’t an accident. If you’ve got a sensor in his boot, what do you need a seeker for? He’ll spot it no matter what it does. Just track him with the sensor. Where is he?”
“In the Hundred Seventh District. It’s in the northwest area of the city—”
“I don’t care where it is—I want to know if he’s found anything!”
“Hard to know,” Bog said.
“It’s your job to know,” Sauro said irritably. “Find out.”
He cut the communication abruptly. He’d have to monitor Bog more closely. Sauro himself didn’t get where he was today by underestimating a Jedi, even a failed Jedi like Ferus Olin.
He swung his datapad closer. He tapped on the keys. He was taking no chances. He doubted that Ferus Olin was following the Emperor’s orders without his own plan.
Sauro placed a secret code in his files. A neat booby trap. If someone tried unauthorized access, he’d know it immediately.
No one must be allowed to interfere with his plans.
Wil and Amie dropped Solace, Trever, and Oryon off on a bluff overlooking the Imperial hangar and adjacent landing platform. Due to the large number of vehicles and troops needed for the garrison, it had been built on the outskirts of Ussa, on an empty plain that stretched toward the foothills. Solace, Oryon, and Trever lay flat, watching the traffic below.
“If we can get to the holding pen for the airspeeder transports, we can go in that hangar door,” Solace said. “It’s not being used that much.”
To Trever, it looked as though it was being used every few minutes. Leave it to a Jedi to say something was easy when it was so clearly impossible.
Solace gave him one of her rare smiles. “I can see you doubt me.”
“I never argue with you or Ferus,” Trever said. “What’s the point?”
“Good philosophy.” Solace slipped her liquid cable out of her utility belt. “Ready?”
Oryon nodded. “I’ll take Trever.”
Great. The next thing Trever knew, he was hanging on to the strong broad back of Oryon and falling through thin air, the wind whistling past his ears. They landed on the ground with a bump. They were concealed here by boulders, and they quickly snaked through them until they were close to the hangar door.
Two stormtroopers were conferring near the entry. After a moment, they both turned to walk inside.
Now, Solace signaled.
She ran across the few meters of open gr
ound. Trever followed, expecting at any moment to be blasted into oblivion. But they reached the safety of the wall. Solace peered around the corner into the interior of the hangar.
She signaled, and slipped inside. Trever followed. The hangar was connected to docking bays that ran the length of the structure. Arcs of durasteel rods held the plastoid retractable roof in place. They stood behind an equipment loader and scanned the space.
The place was mainly staffed by Class Five labor droids. Binary load lifters were busy with cargo. Freight droids moved smaller durasteel bins filled with weapons. Battle droids handled the security.
“This is why they won,” Oryon said. “Look at this place. They’re so efficient they can build this in no time at all.”
“They cut corners, though,” Solace said. “Antiquated docking system, no fuel lines to individual hangar bays.”
Oryon gazed overhead. “No automated fire protection.”
“Why bother? They can afford to lose droids and stormtroopers.”
“We need to get to a dataport,” Oryon said.
“It’s best if they don’t know we broke in,” Solace said. “I could take out the droids, but…”
“What we need is a diversion,” Trever said.
“Sure,” Oryon agreed. “But what?”
Trever glanced around the hangar. A group of labor droids was using a welding tool to fix a battered speeder. The sparks flew as they busily wheeled about. Next to them was a fuel storage bin and a parked gravsled. A power droid was nearby, its generator humming as it recharged several smaller freight droids.
“Give me thirty seconds,” Trever said.
Ducking around speeders and ships for cover, he raced toward the droids. When he got within tossing distance of the fuel storage bins, he reached into his utility belt. Carefully modifying an alpha charge, he lobbed it toward the first bin. The tiny explosion was covered by the noise of the hangar.
The charge blew a small hole in the fuel container. The fuel began to dribble out. It formed a small stream that snaked toward the sparking tool. Trever backed up slowly, then dashed toward Solace and Oryon.
He felt the explosion at his back. It lifted him through the air and slammed him down on the permacrete. He felt his breath leave his body.
“Galactic,” he breathed. He rolled over and took cover.
Droids converged by the fire. With no automatic fire protection equipment or hoses, they had to scuttle back and forth between the fire stations and the blaze. The labor droids turned to monitor the situation, but the confusion overwhelmed them.
Oryon was already moving, leaping toward the dataport. Solace moved to guard him in case he was spotted. Trever decided to stay where he was. He watched Oryon’s fingers fly over the datakeys.
Something alerted him, a flicker at the corner of his vision. It was a security droid, trying to get a fix on his position. Trever reached for a charge in his belt, but Solace had already seen the droid. She leaped up to slash it in two with her lightsaber.
And just like that, they were spotted.
Security droids wheeled and advanced, firing at them. Oryon raced from the dataport, Solace covering his retreat with her lightsaber. She moved like wind and water, with no trace of effort. Her lightsaber was a revolving circle of light. Trever waited, knowing that Oryon and Solace would come for him.
They did, running quickly, Oryon’s blaster firing, Solace’s lightsaber arcing and moving. Trever tossed a few half alpha-charges and then ran.
Solace motioned to them and they charged into a small shuttle. Oryon jumped behind the controls. Trever leaped for the laser cannon. He blasted away at the droids as Oryon fired up the engines and they zoomed out of the hangar and shot up into the atmosphere. In moments, the landing platform was a spot on the surface of the planet. A thin trail of gray smoke marked where the fire was.
“So much for not attracting attention,” Oryon said.
“Can’t be helped,” Solace answered. “Did you get any information?”
“Not enough,” Oryon said. “The ship’s location is coded, and I didn’t have enough time to break it. I did learn something interesting, though—the ship is the pet project of a Senator named Sano Sauro. There’s a direct comlinkage between his office and the vehicle.”
“Never heard of him,” Solace said. “I stay away from Senate politics.”
“He’s in the Emperor’s inner circle,” Oryon said. “A nasty piece of work. Maybe Keets and Curran can help us from their end.”
“I’ll send them the information,” Solace said, taking out her comlink.
“Sorry I couldn’t get more,” Oryon said.
Trever looked around the cabin. “No sweat. At least we got a nice ship.”
“There’s nothing more we can do at the moment,” Solace said. “We’ll have to play hide-and-seek with the Empire for a while. We’ll see what Curran and Keets can come up with.”
The atmosphere at Dex’s hideout was tense. Dexter Jettster had finally left Curran and Keets alone in the study, unable to put up with their bickering. They were going through information sheets on any link between Samaria and either the Senate or the Empire, and it was rough going. There was plenty of information to study, but no links that stood out. The search was wearing on both Keets’s and Curran’s nerves. They both needed to be doing something, and this felt like a waste of time.
After Solace finished her brief request, Curran shut off the comlink. He fixed Keets with his sharp, penetrating gaze. His nose twitched.
“What did I do now?” Keets threw a wadded-up paper from a muja muffin on top of the pile of durasheets on his table. He brushed the crumbs off his tunic.
“We almost missed that communication. The comlink should be available at all times.”
“I handed it to you!”
“After a search. You lost it under that pile.”
“True. But I found it again. You never give me enough credit.” Keets grinned at Curran. “You want the rest of my muffin?”
“I don’t…want…the rest of your muffin.” Curran articulated each word. “I want you to be responsible.”
“I keep telling you, don’t say that word while I’m in the room. What did they say?” Keets asked.
Curran sighed. He sat down carefully in a chair after brushing off some crumbs. “They couldn’t locate the ship, but they did discover an interesting connection. Sano Sauro is in comlink touch with the ship.”
Keets whistled. “That is interesting. It’s our Bog Divinian link. He’s a protégé of Sauro’s. Do you think they’re cooking up something on Samaria?”
“No doubt. If we can find out what, we might be able to help Ferus and get some crucial information to Solace and Oryon as well.”
Keets looked at his messy table. “I knew there was a reason I was going through these senatorial records. Every time Divinian, that pompous son of a bantha, makes a move, Sauro is somewhere in the background.”
“Sauro plucked him out of obscurity and brought him back to the government,” Curran said. He smoothed the fur on his cheeks with his hands, a gesture he made when he was thinking hard. “He’s risen fast. But Divinian is nothing more than a hack. Why would Sauro need a hack?”
Keets gestured at the pile of durasheets, sending half of them shooting off the table. “Bantha Bog isn’t his only hack. He’s got plenty more.” Keets thought a moment as he gazed at the pile on the floor. “At first I thought Sauro just didn’t have good judgment. His protégés are the emptiest heads you’ve ever seen. Find a being, male or female, who’s been raised with wealth and hasn’t done a thing with it, shove them into positions of power…”
“And then control their every move,” Curran said. “You’re really the one with the power, not them.”
“He’s personally handpicked Imperial advisors to at least ten planets in the Core that I know about,” Keets said.
“But how does this help us with Samaria?”
“It doesn’t…yet,” Keets said. “But it�
��s brilliant, if you go in for that evil mastermind sort of thing. Sauro has managed to ingratiate himself into Palpatine’s inner circle. Now he’s consolidating his power outside of it. I’d bet he’s going to butt heads—or should I say helmet—with Vader eventually.”
Dexter Jettster stuck his big head in the room. Two of his hands gestured at them. “Have you two stopped going at each other like a pair of nek battle dogs or have you found something?”
“Just a plot to take over the galaxy,” Keets said.
Curran blew out a short breath, ruffling his facial fur. “Sano Sauro is handpicking Imperial advisors and sending them to strategic planets in the Core Worlds. He’s also set up a ship called the True Justice, a kind of traveling courtroom for political prisoners. That’s where Roan and Dona are being held.”
“Good—finding them is the first step.” Dex stroked his chin with one of his four hands. “Setting up a system to try political prisoners is a smart move. That would give him access to any information on resistance movements.”
“And he’s a special advisor to the new academy where they’re starting to train pilots and officers,” Keets said. “He’s got a finger in a lot of nasty Imperial pies.”
“In another few years, he’ll have planetary rulers and officers loyal to him, as well as all the Senators he has in his pocket,” Curran said.
“The question is, does Palpatine know what he’s up to?” Keets asked.
“Might know, might not care,” Dex said shrewdly. “He’ll let Vader handle Sauro if he has to get rid of him. In the meantime, he’s helping the Empire. But how does this help our friends?”
“We know he’s in constant communication with the True Justice,” Keets said. “So at least we can send the coordinates to Solace.”
“Break into his files at the Senate?” Dex asked. “The two of you are well known there. You got away with it once, but sneaking into a senatorial office will be harder. Zackery is still in charge of security.”
“Zackery! My old friend,” Keets said. “We had many a tussle when I was a reporter. I got thrown out of the Senate building by him more times than I can count.”
