The Cestus Deception

Home > Other > The Cestus Deception > Page 34
The Cestus Deception Page 34

by Steven Barnes


  Oh, yes, Quill had smirked, claiming that the person about

  to enter the throne room represented an answer to their problems,

  but Duris had been a political animal long enough to know that most

  solutions were just future problems in a pretty cocoon.

  Nonetheless she straightened her back, expanding to her full height

  and breadth in her throne chair, and nodded to her assistant to allow

  the guest entrance.

  Her heart beat faster, although there was nothing on her painted

  face to betray it. And she knew that the newcomer would feel her

  heartbeat, even from a distance.

  She was afraid.

  The woman who entered the room walked like a military officer,

  but with that same unnatural lightness Duris had noted in Kenobi. It

  bespoke severe physical and mental training, a sinuous quality simultaneously

  enviable and somehow terrifying. The Jedi had displayed

  the same refined motion, the same absolute and intimidating focus,

  but through it had also projected decency and wisdom, a profound

  respect for life and spirit.

  Those qualities were missing from this creature. Her dark eyes

  peered out of her pale, shaven, tattooed skull and saw... what? What

  deep, cold spaces between the stars did this one call home?

  The woman made the deepest, most arrogant bow Duris had ever

  seen in her life. "Commander Asajj Ventress, at your service," she

  said. "I crave but a single minute of your valuable time."

  "No more?"

  "No more. I am no politician. My business is with your manufacturing

  concerns."

  "The business of Cestus is business," Duris replied.

  Ventress might not have heard her at all. "I am trade ambassador

  from Count Dooku and your allies in the Confederacy of Independent

  Systems."

  "Allies?" Duris asked with mock surprise. "We have no political aspirations.

  We do have customers, of course, whom we cherish highly."

  She tried to filter the stress from her voice, and was not completely

  successful.

  Ventress cocked her head slightly sideways, her pale lips curling into

  a contemptuous smile. "You do not entirely welcome my presence."

  Duris forced her own lips into her most formal, neutral expression,

  and her voice to do the same. "Of late, I have had reason to be cautious

  whom I trust. But I wouldn't want you to think I number you

  among the untrustworthy."

  Ventress's mouth twisted. Duris sensed that the offworlder had not

  merely detected the evasion, but actually enjoyed it.

  "I see. Yes." Ventress lowered her head, and remained silent. At

  first Duris assumed that Ventress would speak. After a full minute

  passed the Regent realized that the woman was waiting for her.

  Whoever spoke next would be in the weaker position, but Duris

  could see no polite way to avoid it.

  "Tell me, Commander Ventress," she said carefully. "I understand

  that you have been here on Cestus for a number of days."

  "Do you?" she said without raising her eyes.

  "Perhaps you were enjoying our fabled hospitality."

  Stepping softly, Ventress circled the throne, until she stood behind

  Duris. "Was I?" The other eyes in the chamber were glued to this

  woman who walked among them with such authority, such apparent

  disregard for their protocol. Yet none dared show offense.

  The tattooed woman leaned forward from behind Duris. Her face

  was just at the Regent's velvet-padded shoulder. Duris could smell

  the woman's breath. It was cloyingly sweet, like cake batter.

  "I fear I have little time for entertainments. There are mighty

  deeds to be done. The galaxy is in foment."

  "What brings you here?" Duris asked.

  "I wish merely to ensure that our orders progress smoothly. I

  understand that the Clandes factory will be shut down for some

  days."

  "I assure you we can accelerate the repair process. Perhaps seventytwo

  hours . . ."

  "Yes, yes," Ventress whispered, and then continued to circle. "My

  Master and I would appreciate that greatly. But there is another matter.

  You may think that you have information that would cripple

  Cestus Cybernetics. Some small matter of a two-hundred-year-old

  contract, obtained under false pretenses. Might this be true?"

  Duris dared not lie. "Perhaps."

  "Yes. A two-edged sword, that. If you bring this before the Senate,

  I promise the Supreme Chancellor would use it to shut down the factories

  as fully as any bombardment. Your hive would suffer, I promise

  you. And more than that—you, personally, would bear the brunt

  of Count Dooku's wrath."

  Duris nodded silently.

  "I'm certain threats are superfluous," Ventress continued. "But Lady

  Duris . . . if there is anything that I can do to help, please do not hesitate.

  Count Dooku and General Grievous have powerful resources,

  and empathize with your struggle against a corrupt, repressive Republic.

  Together, we can do great things." She paused. "Great . . .

  things." She smiled. "That is, for now, my only message. With your

  permission, I leave."

  Commander Asajj Ventress backed out of the chamber, bowing,

  her eyes half lidded, almost reptilian.

  When the doors closed behind her, Duris exhaled a long, sour, infinitely

  relieved breath. Her entire body felt like a coiled spring. The

  woman made her flesh crawl. Clearly, Asajj Ventress was more lethal

  than Master Kenobi. Duris was certain deceit had not come naturally

  to the Jedi. This creature had no such compunctions. No shame, no

  fear. No mercy, either.

  In fact, as little mercy as the ship that had blown Obi-Wan from

  the sky.

  With painful clarity Duris could visualize, actually see, five generations

  of Cestian social progress sliding into oblivion, and there

  seemed nothing she could do about it.

  Her assistant Shar Shar rolled closer. "The rest of the council is

  ready to meet, ma'am. Are you . . ."

  Duris was still lost in her speculations. The timing of this woman's

  arrival was no accident. Had Ventress landed before or after Obi-

  Wan? And were their efforts coordinated or mutually antagonistic?

  Surely she was aware of Kenobi's presence, but had he been aware of

  her...}

  "Ma'am?" asked Shar Shar, her skin purpling in anxiety.

  "Yes?"

  "Are you ready?"

  Duris nodded. In the air around her, a dozen holoscreens blossomed.

  Smooth-pated marketing and sales executive Llitishi spoke

  first. "Regent Duris. The fraudulent kidnapping is clear evidence of

  the Republic's intention to interfere in Cestus's sovereign affairs. It is

  time for us to strike. We must find these rebels and their collaborators,

  and show the Republic that we will never bend the knee."

  Duris ached for his naivete. "And who then will our friends be?

  Can you imagine that the Confederacy sent its spies to help us only?

  We stand in the shadows of two giants, each of whom uses honeyed

  words to attract us. Each of whom would destroy us rather than see

  us fall into the other camp."

  Executive Llitishi seemed reluc
tant to agree. "That is not necessarily

  true—"

  "Ah," G'Mai Duris said. "And with which of our sons and daughters

  are you willing to gamble?"

  And to that question, he had no answer at all.

  The rest of the meeting did not go well, although there were

  stories of rebels caught, and sabotage averted. But the death toll had

  now passed thirty. The fires of wrath generally proved easier to ignite

  than extinguish. Cestus's security forces would hunt these saboteurs

  down, but a sinking sensation deep within her bones told Duris that

  this would hardly be the end of her troubles.

  Too clearly, she remembered her experiences with Obi-Wan

  Kenobi. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had first opined that there

  might be no solution to her problems. With every passing hour, she

  began to believe that she had been more prescient than she could

  ever have imagined.

  66

  As G'Mai Duris's court and cabinet were disturbed by the goings-

  on, both hive and criminal contingent were in similar turmoil.

  Gambling and drug revenues dried up as ChikatLik, fearing the

  coming of war, began to hoard resources. All of Trillot's varied businesses

  were at risk, and she had begun to feel the pinch.

  But it was more than a pinch that she felt as Ventress returned to

  her den and presented herself. As always, the offworlder carried herself

  as if her humanoid form were a mask. This was pure predator in

  every word and action. This one lived to kill.

  "I am a simple woman," Trillot said, "who cannot claim to understand

  all of the meanings and machinations. But it seems to me that

  no one can truly say how this will end. Begging your pardon, of

  course, Commander."

  "For once, you are correct," Ventress said. "No one can know how

  this ends—with one exception." When she spoke there was an odd

  passion in her voice that Trillot had not heard before.

  "And who, or what, is that?"

  Ventress narrowed her eyes, and her pale cheeks colored. "Count

  Dooku foretold it, and I have seen it. Whatever else happens, Obi-

  Wan Kenobi and I will meet again. On Queyta I promised Kenobi I

  would kill him. My Master wants him alive. So: he will leave Cestus

  in bondage, or he will rest beneath its sands."

  There was a flush in her face that Trillot recognized. It was lust.

  No mere physical passion, although a nameless, fleshly hunger burned

  within her. It was like lust turned inside out, and it burned inside this

  strange woman like a fire she could not extinguish.

  The two strange and powerful offworlders were on a collision

  course, and she prayed not to be between them. When such giants

  clashed, small folk such as Trillot could be utterly destroyed.

  On the other hand, however, in times such as this even small people

  could make large profits . . .

  67

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "Shhh," Sheeka Tull replied.

  For most of an hour they had trod uneven ground. Jangotat had

  long since lost track of direction, so many twists and turns had they

  taken. Two thicknesses of cloth covered his eyes, then a sack was

  pulled down over his head. Triple protection. Why was a blindfold so

  critically important? He had been promised a surprise, then told that

  he could only enjoy it if he allowed himself to be blindfolded. A secret,

  you see.

  He had accepted the blindfold, then Sheeka and Brother Fate spun

  him in a circle. When he stopped he felt the wind blowing against his

  skin and made an educated guess as to the direction he now faced.

  When they began to lead him up the side of a hill, he had to forget

  such thoughts and concentrate on not taking a bone-breaking spill.

  After perhaps fifteen minutes of climbing, the air chilled, the

  ground leveled, and he guessed that they had entered a cave. Even

  then the blindfold did not come off: they twisted and turned through

  the cave, over treacherous footing and with strange watery echoes

  tinkling in the distance.

  For almost another hour they walked over uneven ground. Twice

  he heard falling water, and cool misty sprays moistened the backs of

  his hands. Then they began to climb down a series of steps chipped

  into the stone.

  For a long moment he merely stood there, wondering what it was

  that she wanted him to do. But she didn't say anything at all. Finally,

  feeling a bit frustrated in his solitary darkness, he said "What?," immediately

  embarrassed by the single syllable's inadequacy.

  His hands fumbled at his blindfold.

  "No," Sheeka said. Her own cool fingers took his, moved them

  down.

  "Why not?"

  "I don't want you to use your ordinary senses," she said. "Your eyes,

  or your ears."

  Confusion warred with a powerful and unaccustomed urge to

  please her. Not so odd, perhaps. She had saved his life and proven a

  stout comrade.

  "What do you expect me to do?"

  "Use your heart," she said. "Tell me, what do you feel?"

  He stopped, and thought. Despite the warnings, he concentrated

  on ambient sound and sensation. He heard the faint shush of rippling

  water, and the distant sound of falling droplets echoing in the

  darkness. He felt the uneven ground beneath his feet, and . . .

  "Air, moving against my skin," he said.

  Her voice sounded a bit frustrated, but still calm. "No. Deeper. Not

  your senses. Your heart"

  "I hear water—"

  "No! Stop using your ears. What do you fee/? In here." She placed

  her hand over his heart. He sighed deeply, feeling her palm's warmth

  as if it seeped into and beneath his ribs.

  Suddenly he had the urge to believe that she was not merely playing

  some kind of game with him. There was something there, if only

  he could find it.

  "I feel... warm."

  "Where?"

  "Inside," he answered. He tried to follow up with more words, but

  they wouldn't form. Then he noticed that the blindfold-induced false

  midnight was no longer totally black. Inchoate shapes formed within

  it, as if faces watched him, judging him. He couldn't quite distinguish

  them, but they seemed not like pictures, even dimensional pictures.

  They were more like squirming shapes pushing through a flat elastic

  surface. Rounded faces, with empty eyes. He had the sense that he

  knew this form, knew this creature, but couldn't be certain where he

  had come to know it, or under what circumstances . . .

  "It feels like floating on a golden current," he heard himself say.

  "I'm half asleep, but totally awake at the same time."

  "Yes."

  "I . . . oh!" He had started to speak again, but then his throat

  seemed filled with dust. Now speckles of light twinkled in the darkness.

  They were followed by shadowy forms flowing together, then

  separating, then together again . . .

  His legs wavered, buckled. A remnant of his injuries? He went

  down to his hands and knees, then felt her hands on his shoulders. It

  took a few moments to catch his breath. Then he stood again and

  dropped his arms to his
sides, fingers flexing and unflexing, breathing

  shallow and high. Trembling, feeling as if he were about to burst,

  he raised his hands to the blindfold, then hesitated. "Sheeka?" he

  asked unsteadily.

  "Yes," she said. Not a question. The single word was calming. He

  removed the sack from his head and untied the blindfold.

  The cave roof was low but glowed with warmth and dull orange

  light. The radiance originated beneath the surface of a water pool

  that rippled with a steady heartbeat rhythm.

  The ceiling dripped with stalactites, and the walls glowed as if they

  had been polished by hand. The very ground beneath them pulsed

  with a soft and persistent radiance, reflected back from waterfalls of

  frozen stone.

  He coughed, realizing that he had momentarily forgotten to

  breathe.

  A dozen eels floated at the surface, vast milky eyes studying them.

  That strange light seemed to come from within them, so that from

  time to time their skin appeared almost translucent. Jangotat could

  actually see the bones and organs suspended within.

  Blind.

  "What is this place?" he asked, realizing that some part of him already

  knew the answer to that question.

  "This is where the eels come to meet us."

  "The dashta eels?" He knew little of them save the briefings of the

  Jedi. He knew that they were integral to the JK machines. "The living

  component of the bio-droids? We thought they came from the

  Dashta Mountains."

  "No," she said quietly. "Both mountains and eels are named for Kilaphor

  Dashta, the first explorer to map both mountains and the

  Zantay caves, four centuries ago. They were holy to the X'Ting for

  thousands of years, but withdrew to the caves when the hive began its

  conquest of Cestus."

  "These look larger than the eels we've seen," he protested.

  "Those are the young, prior to sexual differentiation."

  The water rippled with their gentle wavering. One of them swam

  in a lazy circle and then returned. Their blind eyes studied him.

  Why?

  Sheeka was still talking, although she must have realized that his

  mind had been captured by the sight before him. "Cestus is honeycombed

  with passages, underwater rivers, and pools. Not even the

  X'Ting know the location of the dashta eels' home nest. As far as we

  know this is the last remaining place where they interact with other

  species. It was here that they brought us the first fungus spores."

 

‹ Prev