The Cestus Deception

by Steven Barnes

  "Yes. I was raised from infancy within the Temple's walls. There

  was certainly a moment when I made a formal decision to become a

  Jedi Knight, but in fact my feet were placed on that path before I

  could walk."

  "Weren't you too young to make a decision like that?"

  Obi-Wan considered the question carefully. Was there any way

  that the boy he had been could have known what his present life

  would be? All of the dangers, the travails? Or the wonders? What

  would that boy have thought, had he known?

  He answered with deliberation. "If I had made that choice with my

  head, perhaps."

  "Your heart?"

  "Some might say," Obi-Wan replied. "But truth is that we sense

  the Force with our whole bodies. Every part of me knew that this

  would be my destiny. I knew I would not have the joys and comforts

  accorded normal folk. Even at that early age, I accepted that fact."

  Obi-Wan reached a hand out to the clone, clasped his shoulder. "I

  made that choice."

  "That choice was made for me," Jangotat said.

  So they were on opposite sides of a divide: one a man who had forsaken

  all the normal trappings of life for an existence of service and

  adventure. The other, a replaceable cog in a faceless army, chosen before

  birth, poured into a mold that he was uniquely suited to fill.

  Had Obi-Wan made the choice, or had his midi-chlorians? In the

  final analysis had either he or Jangotat had any real choice at a l l . . . ?

  Did anyone?

  72

  Shadows arced in silent pantomime against the cave wall, fueled

  by a roaring scrap-wood fire. As Obi-Wan scanned the assembled

  members of Desert Wind, he thought that all over the galaxy,

  throughout all ages past, courageous beings of a thousand breeds had

  held conclave in such caves, before such fires, for similar reasons.

  "We face tremendous obstacles," he began.

  "But we done all right," Resta said.

  "It's true. And at a cost. And the cost is rising. We cannot afford

  it."

  "How did this happen?" OnSon brushed his long blond hair back

  from his forehead, exposing a crescent moon of a scar. "We've worked

  so hard . . ."

  Obi-Wan was troubled to hear the pain in that young voice. "It's

  true," he replied. "And the fault is not in you. You have given your

  blood and sweat to us in full measure. We've failed you." Kit Fisto

  stared into the embers impassively. Obi-Wan wished he could guess

  what his friend was thinking.

  The men and women, perhaps thinking that the Jedi was preparing

  to leave them, protested vocally. "No!" OnSon said. "Without

  you we would never have struck so hard and deep. This hasn't been

  for nothing!"

  "No," Kit Fisto said. "It has not. But we have been thwarted at

  every turn, and we believe that there are additional factors of which

  we are unaware."

  "What factors?" Resta growled.

  "Information has reached the government, gathered either through

  spies or devices, or traitors, or ..." And here his voice trailed off as he

  sank deeper into his thoughts.

  "Or what?"

  "Or someone who is both knowledgeable and ruthless. Someone

  who is able to . . ." His voice trailed off again. The spark of an intuitive

  flash stirred in his mind. That flash had first arisen during a deep

  meditation early that morning, while the rest of the camp was asleep.

  During his trance, he had sensed that there was a connection. During

  his stay on Cestus he had brushed auras with someone . . . or something

  . . . that had become a vital factor in this whole situation. But

  he had been behind the curve continuously since he had arrived.

  Everything had been perfect, and y e t . . .

  He shook himself out of his self-induced trance and continued.

  "Everything that has happened has thrown our plans out of sequence,

  and as a result we are fairly certain that Supreme Chancellor

  Palpatine will soon have a supercruiser here to threaten Duris. If the

  situation has not progressed by that time, there is a very real possibility

  that they will begin a bombardment that leads to total war." He

  paused to give time for his words to sink in. "If that happens everyone

  loses."

  "What can we do?" Skot OnSon asked.

  "I have an idea," the Jedi replied, "that might end this conflict

  without another shot fired, and without crashing the entire economy.

  It's dangerous, but it just might work."

  In the days since Fizzik had joined his sister Trillot's organization,

  advancement had been rapid. It seemed that the gangster

  trusted nothing so much as blood relations. Fizzik found himself

  carrying out missions of greater and greater importance, but never

  allowed himself to forget how quickly his shift in fortunes could

  change. So when Fizzik was sent east to the Jantos trading post to

  meet with the Jedi, he was understandably anxious..

  "So," Fizzik said, "what do you want?" His nerves twitched in this

  place. If his sister had wished him assassinated, the mission profile

  might have looked very similar.

  "I seek to make a purchase," Obi-Wan said.

  "And what precisely is it that you desire?"

  "A class six Baktoid radiation suit."

  "And to what use would you put such a suit?"

  "That is my affair."

  Fizzik peered into the bearded Jedi's blue eyes, wishing he were

  better at reading human facial expressions. This was a dangerous

  piece of information to carry. He knew that the Jedi were causing

  chaos in the industrial complexes, and anyone who aided or abetted

  sabotage could be executed.

  A radiation suit. Had he once heard rumor of a control system

  protected by a reactor? Possibly, but one never knew how trustworthy

  such rumors were. What was this Jedi up to?

  But Fizzik kept his thoughts to himself, stood, and bowed. His

  was not to reason why. His was merely to serve his sister until he

  found a more desirable berth.

  Which, considering the deteriorating conditions hereabout, might

  not be found on Cestus at all.

  "And you trust this Trillot?" Kit asked after Obi-Wan returned.

  "She's given me everything I asked. Spoken truthfully in every way

  I can check. Our sources on Coruscant trust her." He sighed.

  "I notice you don't say that you trust her," Kit observed.

  "I have a plan," Obi-Wan said. "And it needs Trillot. And I am

  willing to take the risk. Trillot once spoke of a hidden control station,

  protected by a radiation field. It would be very expensive to obtain

  protection, but if I had it, I could enter the Cestus reactor complex

  and shut down Clandes's entire production line without causing extreme

  damage to the infrastructure. I think that that might do it."

  "And then, sir?" Forry asked.

  "We could call off the bombardment, and negotiate."

  "But how much money have we raised from our raids?" OnSon

  asked. "Wasn't it supposed to be a survivors' fund?"

  "If this doesn't work, there won't be enough survivors left to divide

  a credit," he said. "Our priorities have changed."
/>
  The worst part was the waiting. For a signal from Trillot. For a signal

  from the fleet. From the outlying farms, vulnerable to reprisals

  from the Cestian security forces.

  Waiting was always bad, but Obi-Wan used some of that time to

  spar with Jangotat. The trooper seemed to have an insatiable appetite

  for Jedi combat, and as long as he remembered the ARC's limitations,

  Obi-Wan was inclined to share a bit more knowledge with

  him.

  With Obi-Wan's permission, Jangotat demonstrated his understanding

  of the Jedi Flow drills until he was sopping with sweat.

  "Well?" Jangotat said, and then added, "General?"

  Obi-Wan tilted his head sideways, realizing that they had somehow

  wandered into a very odd relationship. "You're doing well.

  Remember when you find a knot of tension in your body—don't

  power through it. Relax, let it melt. Breathe into it. Your flesh remembers

  every pain, emotional or physical, you have ever suffered,"

  Obi-Wan said. "It is trying to protect you. Pain and fear compete

  with skill and awareness."

  "General Fisto said that thoughts and fears are like boulders, and

  the Force is the river rushing between them. Most people grow so

  clogged with pains and regrets that the water can no longer flow

  from the mountain to the sea."

  Obi-Wan laughed. "Very good. Much of Jedi training is designed

  to remove those obstructions."

  "But General Fisto warned that I could never learn to be as good

  as a Jedi," Jangotat said.

  Obi-Wan's voice was gentle. "The joy in life comes not from

  surpassing another's gifts, but in fully manifesting our own."

  Jangotat weighed those words, then apparently decided that practice

  was better than analysis and spent another grueling hour wrenching

  his body into exotic shapes and surges, finding the deep wells of

  fear, and resentment, and loneliness locked in his muscles, releasing

  them. One meter, one moment at a time, Jangotat was finding his

  way to the sea.

  74

  Admiral Arikakon Baraka was in a foul mood. He had been

  forced to take part in the clone training exercise, and now he followed

  orders that were taking him far afield from the Separatist

  hunt, bringing the Nexu to a planet called Cestus. By the time he finished

  threatening this Rim world, the rest of the fleet would have already

  engaged in some major battle, and the glory would belong to

  others.

  This was no way to gain promotion, or the approval of his ancestors,

  which he craved even more.

  Nonetheless, Baraka monitored the navigation routes, commanded

  his men, ran drills on all critical systems, and prepared to do his job.

  He would grind these Cestians to dust, then head back for the major

  battle sure to take place somewhere in the Borleias drift.

  Only one thing stood between him and glory.

  And soon, there would be nothing at all.

  The speeder bikes purred to Obi-Wans touch, ready for the last

  leg of this adventure. Kit addressed the clone commandos as he finished

  packing his bags.

  "Suspend all operations," the Nautolan said. "There must be no

  chance that any of you fall into enemy hands. Your bodies would be

  incontrovertible evidence against the Republic, paraded to the Thousand

  Worlds as evidence of Palpatine's treachery. Unless you hear directly

  from us, if we do not return, try beaming another message

  through Resta's farm. Signal Admiral Baraka to pick you up. Unless

  you receive a direct order do not leave this camp. Is that understood?"

  The troopers glanced at each other uneasily. "Isn't it possible that

  we could launch a rescue if you run into trouble, General Kenobi?"

  Obi-Wan managed a confident nod. "Do not leave this camp except

  under direct orders, am I clear?"

  The troopers nodded, and the Jedi headed out into a strong headwind.

  The sandstorm continued to build as they traveled north toward

  ChikatLik. At times Obi-Wan looked behind him and couldn't see

  Kit's speeder; he had to trust that his companion was there.

  Just as he could see no sure solution to the situation at hand, but

  needed to have faith that such an answer did, indeed, exist.

  "We have the credits you requested. Where is our suit?" It had

  taken an entire day to make their way back into ChikatLik, and Obi-

  Wan's nerves were badly frayed. This was an unforeseen additional

  complication.

  Trillot tittered. "There is nothing on this planet more highly protected

  than those suits. My nest is raided periodically—if it was

  found here, no legal defense or explanation would suffice."

  Plausible enough, b u t . . .

  Obi-Wan noted her discomfort, and suddenly he sensed danger

  around him. "Well then, where is it?" What was wrong? All the

  words were right, and y e t . . . and y e t . . .

  "Follow me to my personal turbolift," Trillot said. "I will take you

  to the dock myself. Where are the credits?"

  "Half now," Kit said, laying a satchel on the table before him. His

  dark, unblinking eyes never left their hostess. "And half after we have

  our suit. Fair?"

  "Of course," Trillot replied.

  Obi-Wan and Kit followed Trillot to the lift platform. They entered

  and the door closed behind them. As they descended, Kit

  turned to Trillot, his huge dark eyes reflecting the dim light. "I have

  heard of you, and am glad for this opportunity to meet. If there is difficulty,

  I promise you we'll never meet again."

  "I think we will have no further business" was the gangster's pious

  reply.

  When the lift stopped, they were in a freighter-size hive cavern

  beneath the main city. As far as the eye could see, thousands upon

  thousands of deserted hive cubicles stretched around the walls. Obi-

  Wan smelled water: a subterranean lake, perhaps a river. The dock

  was surrounded with stacks of unopened crates. A hive converted to

  a smuggler's lair, Obi-Wan thought. Smuggling goods through subterranean

  rivers? Ingenious. But...

  "Be cautious," Obi-Wan said as they stepped out.

  "An unneeded warning," Kit replied.

  A third voice entered the conversation. "And a belated one." Instantly,

  a shimmering circle of light sizzled the air around Obi-Wan.

  He recognized it instantly: a Xythan force shield. A snare.

  "A new security device created by Cestus Cybernetics. It absorbs

  and returns all energy. Feel free to use your lightsaber."

  Obi-Wan knew that last voice. Suddenly, and with shocking clarity,

  all that had happened in the last days made terrible, and possibly terminal

  sense. "Asajj Ventress," he said.

  She appeared out of the shadows, but it was not shadows alone

  that had protected her. In each hand she held a glowing red lightsaber

  with curved handles.

  A dozen young X'Ting emerged from the boxes around her. Males,

  barely out of their adolescence, judging by the light rings of fur around

  their necks. They swaggered and postured, but they were callow.

  "You have perfected the Quy'Tek meditations, Adept," he said.

  "You can shi
eld your Force."

  "From fools, yes," she said, and smiled. "Go ahead—use your lightsabers.

  The field will draw power from them."

  "And those?"

  Trillot crept around the edge of the energy field. She seemed like a

  vex caught between two reeks. "They are loyal to the hive," she said.

  "She has no love for you, Trillot," Obi-Wan said.

  "And even less for you, I think." The gangster tittered.

  Ventress turned to the gangster. "You may leave now, Trillot. Your

  protocol droid will translate my orders to the X'Ting."

  Trillot went back up the turbolift as swiftly as it would move her.

  Ventress smiled. "I knew, in the end, I would defeat you."

  "You call this a fair fight?" The acid in Obi-Wan's voice did nothing

  to mask the lethal fury building within him. Now he understood

  all the death, all the critical failures since his arrival on Cestus. All

  attempts to bring this matter to a peaceful conclusion had been

  thwarted by this bald-pated witch, and the confusion he had felt

  until this moment was wiped away completely.

  "No," she said calmly. "I call it victory."

  Commander Baraka's supercruiser emerged from hyperspace and

  moved into position over Cestus. A swift scan revealed no defenses

  capable of resisting a ship of the Nexus class, so he approached without

  haste, taking this opportunity to put his crew through a series of

  attack drills.

  Until ten hours passed, or they received a coded message, there was

  little to be done.

  Cestus lay before them, a world of wealth without warriors to protect

  it. They now needed only a message from the surface, or one

  from the Supreme Chancellor. It was just a matter of time.

  When the cruiser entered the system, alarm ripped through

  ChikatLik like a whirlwind. Everyone knew someone who had heard

  the rumor that the city was to be destroyed. Thousands left the city

  in the first three hours, a stream of refugees that clotted the skylanes

  and roadways.

  G'Mai Duris went on the air, promising her citizens that the vessel

  was only there to protect the Republic's interests. Since Cestus

  was a friend of the Republic, how could anyone think harm would

  come to them? The fact that this broadcast was also sent to every

  major star system along the Rim missed no one.

  Quietly, leaders of the Five Families made excuses and slipped

  away to their private haven beneath Kibo Lake. To most Cestians, it