Around the office lay piles of proposals, design studies, regular progress reports, charts of optimized parameters that the scientist administrator required in hardcopy. His clerks studied these reports, then wrote their own reports summarizing them and referencing still further documents. Daala didn’t believe the administrator read any of them.
Tol Sivron swiveled his chair to look at her with a bored expression. “News? We haven’t had any news in a decade.”
Sivron was a Twi’lek, pasty-faced and hairless, with two whiplike head-tails that dangled from his skull. The tentacles fell over his shoulders like two skinless blood-eels sucking the back of his cranium. Sivron’s close-set piglike eyes and mouthful of jagged teeth heightened Daala’s disgust. Twi’leks were generally a disreputable lot, slinking around with smugglers and acting as henchmen for crime lords like Jabba the Hutt. Though Daala rarely questioned Grand Moff Tarkin’s decisions, she didn’t understand how Tol Sivron had obtained his position here.
“Well, we have news today. We captured three prisoners who blundered into the Maw in a stolen Imperial shuttle. We have put them all through deep questioning, and I see no reason to doubt the veracity of this information, as unpleasant as it may seem.”
“So what is this unpleasant information?”
Daala kept her face absolutely rigid. “The Emperor is dead, the Rebels have won. A few warlords tried to put the Empire back together, but they merely caused years of civil war. A new Republic is now the primary government in the galaxy.”
Sivron sat up in shock. In a nervous gesture his head-tails coiled behind his neck. “But how could that happen? With our Death Star design—”
“Grand Moff Tarkin built one Death Star, but the Rebels managed to steal the plans, and somehow they discovered a flaw, a thermal-exhaust port that allowed one small fighter access to the reactor core. The Rebels destroyed the Death Star and killed Tarkin.”
“I’ll assign a team to look over the plans so we can correct this flaw!” Sivron said, a matter of pride to him. “At once!”
“How is that going to help anything now?” Daala snapped. “Tarkin had Bevel Lemelisk with him on the outside. After the first Death Star was destroyed, the Emperor himself asked Lemelisk to design a larger model, this time eliminating the known flaw. The second Death Star was still under construction when the Rebels destroyed it.”
Sivron scowled, as if trying to figure out how he could solve a problem already several years old. As the years stretched out with no word from outside, Sivron had sent self-destructing drones through the fiery walls of the Maw, carrying coded transmission bursts, updates for Tarkin. Daala had strict orders not to leave Maw Installation, and so they waited. And waited.
Daala’s primary mistake had been overestimating the abilities of her mentor, Tarkin. She had graduated from the Imperial military academy on Carida, one of the toughest training grounds for military service in the Empire. She had excelled in every curriculum, defeated many warriors in single combat, used her strategic skills to wipe out entire armies in war games.
But because she was a woman, and because female officers were extremely rare in Imperial military service, the Caridan academy assigned Daala to difficult, thankless jobs, while they promoted the less talented men—men she herself had bested time and again—into positions of authority.
Out of frustration Daala had created a false persona in the computer networks, a pseudonym under which she could make suggestions that would be listened to. After a handful of these truly radical ideas paid off, Moff Tarkin had come to Carida to find this brilliant new tactician—but his detective work had uncovered Daala instead.
Luckily, Tarkin was more innovative and open-minded than the Emperor. He quietly reassigned Daala to his personal staff, took her to the Outer Rim territories on his fleet of Star Destroyers, and let her work with him.
They became lovers, two like minds, hard in spirit and unforgiving. Though he was older than she, Tarkin had a power and a charisma that Daala admired. Gaunt and tireless in his quiet viciousness, he had a self-confidence so great that he did not flinch even in the presence of Darth Vader.
To keep Daala hidden, Grand Moff Tarkin gave her four Star Destroyers and charged her with the task of guarding Maw Installation. But now that she had obtained new information from the captives, everything was changed. Everything.
Sivron stared at her with anger glowing in his eyes. “Where are these captives now?”
“In detention cells on board the Gorgon. They are recuperating from the … rigors of interrogation.”
“What if someone comes looking for them?” He turned to glance out the transparisteel window on his office wall.
“They were escapees from the spice-mining operation on Kessel. They had no idea where they were going. They’ll be presumed lost in the Maw—I myself can’t understand how they survived the passage through the cluster in the first place.”
“Why didn’t you just dispose of them?” Sivron asked.
Daala maintained her patience with an effort. This was yet another example of Twi’lek shortsightedness. “Because they are the only link with the outside we’ve had in a decade. Qwi Xux has already requested an interview with the prisoners to ask them for details about the actual Death Star. We may need to pump them for further information—before we decide what to do next.”
Sivron blinked his piggish eyes. “What to do? What do you mean? What is there to do?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “We can take the new Sun Crusher and destroy the New Republic system by system.” She stared at him with her green eyes, not blinking.
The Twi’lek squirmed. “But the Sun Crusher isn’t finished yet. We still have tests to run, reports to file—”
“You have been procrastinating for two years. You are behind schedule thanks to your bureaucracy and ineptness. Grand Moff Tarkin is not coming back, and you no longer have an excuse to delay. I need the weapon now, and I’m going to take it.”
Her mind kept replaying the words Tarkin had told her while inspecting the Kuat Drive Yards. I am giving you enough power to turn any planet to slag. And with the newly designed Sun Crusher weapon, she could bring the New Republic to its knees.
“If Solo is telling the truth,” Daala said, “then my fleet could be the most powerful remnant of the Imperial Navy.” She picked up one of Tol Sivron’s small models. “We can’t just wait here any longer. Now it’s our turn to show them what we can do.”
20
The Caridan ambassador arrived with his entourage on the recently repaired west landing platform, far from the Imperial Palace. His diplomatic shuttle looked like a glossy black beetle, bristling with weapons that had been remotely neutralized before the ship was allowed to approach Coruscant.
On the landing platform Leia waited to greet Ambassador Furgan with a full contingent of New Republic honor guard. The wind picked up, blowing around the tall buildings, as if trying to push the Caridan delegation back in the direction it had come. She wore her formal government robes as well as rank insignia for the Alliance forces.
Carida, with its powerful military training center, was one of the most important strongholds still loyal to the Empire. If she could crack open negotiations with them, her coup would not be soon forgotten. But the Caridan system was going to be a tough jewel-fruit to crack, especially with a rude and icy ambassador like Furgan.
The shuttle’s hatch hissed open as the denser air of Carida rushed out. Two stormtroopers marched down the ramp, shouldering ceremonial blaster rifles equipped with bayonets. Their white armor gleamed from meticulous polishing. They moved like droids, walking off the ramp and stepping to either side, then freezing in position as a second pair of stormtroopers followed them down and waited at the end of the ramp.
Ambassador Furgan strode down, stubby-legged and self-important, as if to ceremonial music. His uniform was spattered with more badges, insignia, and ribbons than any person could possibly have earned in a lifetime.
After two more stormtrooper officers followed the ambassador down, Furgan drew a deep breath, looking into the distance and ignoring Leia. “Ah, the air of Imperial Center.” He turned toward the waiting reception committee, beetling his thick brows. “Smells a bit sour now, though. The taint of rebellion.”
Leia disregarded the comment. “Welcome to Coruscant, Ambassador Furgan. I am Minister of State Leia Organa Solo.”
“Yes, yes,” Furgan said impatiently. “After Mon Mothma’s words about the extreme importance of Carida, I expected her to send more than a minor official to greet me. A slap in the face.”
Leia had to fall back on some of Luke’s tempercontrolling exercises, a Jedi mind-blanking technique that allowed her to quell the surge of anger. “I see you have not taken the time to familiarize yourself with the structure of our government, Ambassador. Though Mon Mothma is the New Republic’s Chief of State, the Cabinet is the actual governing body, of which the Minister of State and my subordinate diplomatic corps comprise perhaps the most important arm.”
Leia stopped herself, angry with Furgan for goading her, and angry with herself for letting him manipulate her into petty games. Mon Mothma had instructed her to extend every diplomatic courtesy to the ambassador. She wished Han or Luke were there beside her.
“Mon Mothma has a great many other duties, but she has arranged for a brief face-to-face meeting with you later in the day,” Leia said. “Until then, would you like me to show you to your quarters? Some refreshment, perhaps, after your journey?”
Furgan’s eyes looked like small, overripe berries as he directed his gaze at her. “My bodyguards will go to my quarters first. They will sweep every inch of the rooms, every appliance, every wall and floor to remove hidden listening devices or assassination tools. The remaining guards will be with me at every moment. They will provide my food and drink from our own supplies to ensure against any possibility of poisoning.”
Leia was appalled at his insinuation. She stopped herself from insisting that Furgan’s actions were not necessary, since that would no doubt play directly into his hands. Instead, she showed him a small indulgent smile. “Of course, if such things make you feel more comfortable.…”
“In the meantime,” Furgan said, “I would like an immediate tour of the Imperial Palace. Arrange one. I came on a pilgrimage to see my Emperor’s home and to pay my respects.”
Leia hesitated. “We hadn’t planned on—”
Furgan held up a hand. Beside him the stormtroopers snapped even more stiffly to attention. The ambassador took one step closer to Leia, as if trying to look intimidating. “Nevertheless, you will arrange it.”
That afternoon Mon Mothma stood in the dimmed audience chamber, waiting at the base of the holoprojector’s controls. Though she had a thousand other duties to attend to, Carida seemed the likeliest flash point of resistance to New Republic stability. She had made it clear to Leia that she considered her sacrifice of time an investment to avert a possible war.
Without moving Mon Mothma seemed to fill the room with her quiet, commanding presence. Leia never ceased admiring her subtle but undeniable power, which Mon Mothma managed to exhibit even without Jedi training.
Leia followed Ambassador Furgan as he strode down the ramp to the base of the holoprojector. Grumpy, he looked behind him to where his stormtrooper bodyguards waited at the entrance to the chamber. Furgan had refused to leave them behind, and Mon Mothma had refused to let even disarmed Imperial stormtroopers near her. The power play had been brief and sharp, but in the end Mon Mothma allowed the stormtroopers to wait within sight of the ambassador, though outside the chamber.
But she had also won a seemingly minor concession. Mon Mothma required the stormtroopers to remove their helmets while they remained in her presence. The soldiers stood unmasked, holding the skull-like helmets under their arms, revealed to be humans, young cadets dressed in armor but with their anonymity taken away.
“Stand right there, Ambassador Furgan,” she said without formally greeting him. “I would like to show you something.”
The holoprojector shimmered, and the known galaxy filled the room, billions of star-specks flung in swirling arms throughout the enclosed chamber. The lights automatically dimmed as the sea-spray of stars came into focus. At the doorway the stormtroopers craned their necks to stare up at the huge image. On the chamber floor both Mon Mothma and Ambassador Furgan seemed insignificant.
“This is our galaxy,” Mon Mothma said. “We have meticulously plotted every recorded system. These stars”—she waved her hand, and a wash of blue spangled across the arms of the galaxy—“have already sworn their allegiance to the New Republic. Others have remained neutral, though not unfriendly to our cause.” A sprinkling of green appeared among the stars.
“The darkened area is what remains of the Ssi Ruuk Imperium.” She indicated a splotch covering a portion of one spiral arm. “We have not yet fully explored their worlds, though it has been seven years since Imperial and Alliance forces joined hands at Bakura to drive out the invaders.
“Finally,” Mon Mothma said, “we know of these systems that still remain loyal to the fallen Empire.” A much smaller splash of red dusted the image, concentrated primarily toward the galactic core, from which the resurrected Emperor had launched his forces. “As you can see, your support is dwindling rapidly.”
Furgan did not seem impressed. “Anyone can paint dots on a map.”
Inwardly outraged, Leia marveled at the quiet way Mon Mothma handled the situation. Her voice did not grow louder; she merely looked at him with her calm, deep eyes. “You are welcome to speak to any of the ambassadors from these worlds to confirm their allegiances.”
“Ambassadors can be bribed as easily as colors can be changed on a projection map.”
This time Mon Mothma’s voice grew just a bit brittle. “There are no bribes that can change the facts, Ambassador Furgan.”
“If that is the case, then sometimes the facts themselves must be changed.”
Leia could not keep herself from rolling her eyes. In a way this was amusing, but it seemed like a waste of time. Furgan was as unchangable as a man frozen in carbonite.
The entire planetary surface of Coruscant had been covered with layer upon layer of buildings, rebuilt, demolished, and rebuilt again. Galactic governments changed over the millennia, but Coruscant had always been the center of politics.
The complex construction patterns and towering metal and transparisteel pinnacles made weather difficult to predict. Occasionally, unexpected storms coalesced out of water evaporating from millions of exhaust vents, condensing and rising from the skyscraper forests, making small squalls that dumped rain down upon the hard surfaces of the buildings.
As the various diplomats gathered in the Skydome Botanical Gardens for Ambassador Furgan’s reception, a sudden flurry of raindrops pattered down on the transparent panes, masking the bright curtains of Coruscant’s aurora.
In the distance, near the horizon, the rebuilt Imperial Palace stood like a cobbled-together cathedral and pyramid, showing signs of many different eras. Leia had not wanted Furgan’s reception to be held in any place that recalled the fallen Emperor’s opulence and grandeur.
The Skydome Botanical Gardens rested on the level roof of an isolated skyscraper. Constructed by an Old Republic philanthropist who had grown rich by establishing the Galactic News Service, the giant terrarium was a carefully tended place with compartmentalized environments to house and display otherwise extinct or exotic flora from various systems in the galaxy.
Leia arrived with Threepio and her two children in tow just as the rain began to fall against the transparent ceiling. As Leia stepped through the door, she held herself defensively, her justifications on the tip of her tongue. She knew the presence of the twins might cause a stir at a stuffy diplomatic reception, but she did not care.
Throughout the day Furgan had pushed her around, complaining, demanding, acting generally rude. Leia had given up all of her time
with the twins to be with the ambassador, and she decided that it was no longer worth the misery. She might be an important Cabinet member in the New Republic, but she was also a mother, still trying to adapt to the new demands on her time. In her quarters while changing clothes for the reception, Leia had felt her simmering resentment come to a boil. If she was going to be gone all the time anyway, she might as well have left Jacen and Jaina with Winter!
Besides, Threepio accompanied them, and he was a protocol droid. He could watch the twins and also help out with the fine points of the reception and translation if need be.
Since Han had disappeared, she was worried to the point of nausea much of the time. Luke and Lando had sent no word yet. She needed to have some stable point in her life. Leia almost hoped someone would challenge her about bringing the twins, so she could lash out.
When she passed through the door, Furgan’s stormtrooper goons stopped her. The still-helmetless stormtroopers looked uncomfortable at meeting her eye to eye, but they stood firmly in her path. Behind them an equal number of New Republic guards stood at attention, watching the stormtroopers.
“What is the problem”—she glanced at the stormtrooper’s insignia and deliberately misread it—“Lieutenant?”
“Captain,” he corrected. “We’re checking everyone. A precaution against assassins.”
“Assassins?” she said, deciding to be amused rather than upset. “I see.”
One of the stormtroopers removed a handheld scanner and played it over Leia’s body, testing for hidden weapons. Leia icily submitted to the scan. “This is for the ambassador’s safety,” he said. He looked disapprovingly at Jacen and Jaina. “We weren’t informed there would be children attending.”
“Are you afraid one of them is going to murder Ambassador Furgan?” Leia stared at the man’s naked, pale face, scowling until he flinched. “That doesn’t say much for your skills as a bodyguard, does it, Captain?” His flustered fidgeting was worth any amount of inconvenience he might cause her, Leia thought.
Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy I: Jedi Search Page 23
