Book 0 - The Dark Lord Trilogy

by James Luceno

  Mace made it emphatic. “We’re not rogues.”

  Palpatine spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “Of course you’re not. Nothing could be farther from the truth. But, as I say … Well, if nothing else, the Senate at least needs to believe that it is being kept informed—particularly in light of the extraordinary powers it has granted this office.” He sat straighter in the chair. “Not a day passes that I am not subjected to suspicion, accusations, suggestions of ulterior motive. And, I will tell you, the suspicions do not end here, in this office. They extend to the role of the Jedi in the war. Master Jedi, we cannot, under any circumstances, be perceived as being in collusion.”

  Yoda frowned. “In collusion we must be, if victory the goal remains.”

  Palpatine smiled tolerantly. “Master Yoda, far be it from me to lecture someone of your vast experience on the nature of politics. But the truth of the matter is that with the war now exiled to the Outer Rim, we must be judicious about the campaigns we undertake, and about the targets to which we assign our forces. If a lasting peace is ever to be achieved when this madness concludes, each and every act from this point forward must be handled with utmost delicacy.” He shook his head. “Many worlds, loyal to the Republic, circumstance forced us to sacrifice. Others that joined the Separatists may wish to return to the Republic. These aren’t matters with which I wish to burden the Jedi. But they are the province of this office, and I need to place them first and foremost.”

  “The lessons learned from a thousand years of serving the Republic aren’t entirely lost on us,” Mace said strongly. “The Jedi Council is fully aware of such concerns.”

  Palpatine took the rebuke in stride. “Excellent. Then we can move on to other matters.”

  Mace and Yoda waited.

  “May I inquire as to how the Jedi learned of Grievous’s plan to attack Belderone?”

  “A hyperwave transceiver that belonged to Viceroy Gunray was seized at Cato Neimoidia,” Mace explained. “The device allowed Intelligence to decipher the Separatist code. A message transmitted by General Grievous to Viceroy Gunray regarding Belderone was monitored, and we acted on it.”

  Palpatine was staring at him in disbelief. “We have the ability to listen in on Separatist transmissions?”

  “Unlikely,” Yoda said. “After Belderone.”

  Palpatine considered it, then frowned. “For Belderone you forfeited the ability to continue monitoring the Separatists.” He took a breath, and the frown ebbed. “Had I been included in this matter, I would have made the same choice. But I must add, Master Jedi, that I am greatly displeased about having been circumvented. Why wasn’t I told? Am I to infer from this that you no longer trust me?”

  “No,” Yoda almost barked. “But into this office, come and go many. Our own counsel we kept.”

  Palpatine’s face took on sudden color. “And yet you continue to place full trust in those around you? Do you realize how some might respond to that, when many of your Order have deliberately absented themselves from the war, and some have even gone over to the Separatist side?”

  “A decade old, such reproaches are, Supreme Chancellor.”

  “I fear you delude yourself in this instance, Master Yoda, if you believe that the passage of time makes those ‘reproaches’ any less valid to your critics.”

  This is getting out of control, Mace thought. He calmed himself before speaking.

  “There’s a more important reason for your not being informed about the transceiver.”

  Now Palpatine waited.

  “It contained a stored message—a message transmitted to Viceroy Gunray from Darth Sidious.”

  Palpatine’s broad forehead wrinkled in uncertainty. “Sidious. I know the name …”

  “Dooku’s Sith Master, Sidious is. Learned of him on Geonosis, Master Kenobi did. But eluded us, proof of him has.”

  “Now I recall,” Palpatine said. “Obi-Wan was told that this Sidious had somehow infiltrated the Senate.”

  “Dismissed that, we have. But lying about Sidious, Dooku wasn’t.”

  Palpatine swiveled his chair toward the room’s immense curved window, the panorama of Coruscant. “Another Sith.” Turning back to Yoda, he said: “Forgive me, but why is this of such great concern?”

  “Carefully balanced this war has been. Republic victories, Separatist victories … In prolonging it, a part the Sith may play.”

  Again, Palpatine paused to consider Yoda’s words. “I think I begin to understand the reasons for your secrecy. The Jedi are attempting to expose Sidious.”

  “In pursuit of clues, we are.”

  “Might the capture of Sidious end the war?”

  “Hasten the end,” Mace said.

  Palpatine nodded in finality. “Then I trust that you will accept my apologies. Do whatever you must to hunt Sidious down.”

  When the Xi Charrian said it was an asteroid mining operation, I wasn’t picturing an actual asteroid,” Obi-Wan said from the copilot’s seat of the Republic cruiser.

  “It was TeeCee-Sixteen who told us that,” Anakin said. “Maybe something was lost in translation.”

  The protocol droid had been sent to Coruscant for further debriefing by Republic Intelligence; R2-D2 was on Belderone, where technicians were seeing to damages he had sustained during the battle there. Obi-Wan and Anakin had the old white ship to themselves, and had exchanged their Jedi robes for outfits more suitable to itinerant spacers.

  Named for the asteroid belt in which it was prominent, the Escarte Commerce Guild facility orbited between massive, multi-mooned gas giants in an otherwise uninhabited star system two hyperspace jumps from Belderone, on the Rimward side of the Perlemian Trade Route. Oblate when mining operations had commenced twenty years earlier, Escarte was now a concave hemisphere, heavily cratered by the forces of nature and the gargantuan labor droids of the Commerce Guild. Satisfied that every bit of ore had been extracted from Escarte, the guild had converted the asteroid’s consequent quarries, tunnels, and shafts into processing centers and field offices. State-of-the-art tractor beam technology allowed the guild to capture small asteroids and draw them directly into the facility, rather than have to use tugs or engage in on-site mining. In many ways Escarte was the ore-mining equivalent of the Tibanna-gas-mining facilities that floated in the dense atmosphere of Bespin, far across the stars.

  Unfriendly space, the belt was defended by Commerce Guild corvettes and fleet patrol craft modeled on the Geonosian starfighter. Regardless, Republic Intelligence had managed to insert one of its agents onto Escarte. Obi-Wan and Anakin hadn’t been told when or even if they were going to make contact with the agent, but moments before leaving Belderone they had been informed that Thal K’sar—the Bith artisan who allegedly had designed the hyperwave transceiver and holoprojector for Gunray’s mechno-chair—had been arrested, on charges yet to be learned.

  An alert chime sounded from the cruiser’s instrument console.

  “Escarte,” Anakin said. “Demanding that we identify ourselves and state our intent.”

  “We’re freelance merchants in search of work,” Obi-Wan reminded him.

  Anakin activated the comm and said as much into the microphone.

  “Corellian cruiser,” a husky voice returned, “negative on your request to dock. Escarte has no job openings. Suggest you try Ansion or Ord Mantell.”

  Obi-Wan’s gaze drifted to the viewport. Off to starboard, a corvette was coming about.

  “Intercept vector,” Anakin said. “Any last-minute instructions, Master?”

  “Yes: stick to the plan. Our best hope for getting close to K’sar is to get ourselves arrested.”

  Anakin grinned. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Hang on.”

  Obi-Wan already was, and so was able to remain more or less upright in the chair as Anakin firewalled the thrusters and threw the cruiser into a hard turn—not away from the corvette, but aimed directly toward it.

  The console chimed another alert.

  “They’re w
arning us away, Anakin.”

  Anakin kept the cruiser on course. “Quick flyby. Our way of saying we’re not happy about being turned away.”

  “No lasers.”

  “Promise. We’re just going to buzz them.”

  Obi-Wan watched the corvette grow larger in the viewport. The console continued to chime, in escalating alerts. An instant later, two turbolaser beams streaked across the cruiser’s bow.

  Obi-Wan clenched his hands on the chair armrests. “They’re not amused.”

  “We’ll just have to try harder.”

  Dropping the cruiser’s nose, Anakin increased speed. He seemed bent on maneuvering directly under the corvette, but at the last moment he pulled back on the control yoke, taking the cruiser through a spiraling, high-boost climb. A fusillade from the corvette’s forward batteries narrowly missed clipping the ship’s tail.

  “Enough plausibility,” Obi-Wan said. “Level out and signal that we’re complying.”

  “Master, you are not taking our assignment seriously enough. If we make it too easy for them, they’ll suspect we’re up to something.”

  Obi-Wan saw that two patrol craft were rushing in to join the pursuit. With flashes of scarlet light racing alongside, Anakin whipped the cruiser through a teeth-rattling bank and shot for the thick of the asteroid belt.

  “The only thing worse than being your wingmate is being your passenger!”

  Anakin had the ship tipped to one side, intent on weaving it through a cluster of rocks, when a laser bolt struck the closest asteroid. Rubble from the explosion peppered the cruiser’s shields, but the console displays confirmed Obi-Wan’s hunch that no damage had been done.

  Anakin took a firm grip on the control yoke and yanked the cruiser into a turn. The patrol craft clung doggedly, angling to outflank the larger ship, but Anakin kept cheating the turn tighter and tighter, forcing the fighters to break off. The cruiser had no sooner realigned itself than it gave a sudden lurch, snapping Obi-Wan and Anakin back into their seats, then forward into the console. Anakin reached over his head to make adjustments, and the cruiser raced forward once more, only to freeze, then tremble.

  Obi-Wan scanned the displays. “Are we hit?”

  “No.”

  “Asteroid?”

  “Not that, either.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve come to your senses and decided to surrender?”

  Anakin showed him a long-suffering look. “Tractor beam.”

  “From Escarte? Impossible. We’re much too far away.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Anakin’s hands flew across the instruments, shutting down some systems and activating others.

  “Don’t try to fight it, Anakin. This ship won’t hold together.”

  A deep shudder from the bowels of the cruiser reinforced his words.

  Anakin clenched his jaw, then let his hands fall to his sides.

  “Look at it this way,” Obi-Wan said, as the cruiser was being drawn toward the distant facility. “At least you made them work for it.”

  Gentle with the cruiser, the tractor beam had deposited it in a guild-made crater that was now a docking bay. Ordered out of the ship, Obi-Wan and Anakin stood at the foot of the boarding ramp with their hands clamped on top of their heads. Uniformed Neimoidians and Gossams surrounded the cruiser, and a security team comprising humans, Geonosians, and battle droids was marching toward them.

  “Not exactly the warm welcome we received on Charros Four,” Obi-Wan said.

  Anakin nodded slightly. “Almost makes me nostalgic for the Xi Charrians.”

  “Keep your hands where we can see them!” the human chief of the security detail shouted as he stepped onto the landing platform. “Make no sudden moves!”

  “Such drama,” Anakin said.

  “No mind tricks,” Obi-Wan cautioned.

  “Spoilsport.”

  The light-complected, blond security officer was as tall as Anakin and wider in the shoulders. A Commerce Guild badge affixed to the collar of his gray uniform showed him to be a captain in the Escarte Guard. He brought the security detail to a halt when everyone was still three meters from the boarding ramp. At his signal, the Geonosians spread out to both sides, brandishing wide-muzzled sonic blasters.

  The captain looked Obi-Wan and Anakin up and down, then circled them once, hands clasped behind his back. Eyeing the ship, he said, “I haven’t seen one of these in a while. But judging by the retrofitted cannons, I’d have to guess you’re not ambassadors of goodwill.”

  “Let’s just say we’ve been forced to adapt to the times,” Obi-Wan said.

  The captain scowled at him. “What’s your business in this sector?”

  “We were hoping to find freelance work,” Anakin said.

  “You were informed otherwise. Why create problems for yourselves by harassing one of our corvettes?”

  “We felt that you’d been impolite—when all we wanted was to introduce ourselves.”

  The captain almost laughed. “Then this has all been a misunderstanding?”

  “Exactly,” Obi-Wan said.

  The captain shook his head in amusement. “In that case we’d be glad to show you around—starting with the detention level!” He swung to two other humans in the detail. “Stun-cuff these comedians and search them for concealed weapons.”

  “Can’t we simply pay a fine and be on our way?” Obi-Wan asked as the magnetic cuffs snapped into place around his wrists.

  “Tell it to the judiciary.”

  Frisks completed, the two humans stepped away. “They’re clean.”

  The captain nodded. “That’s one thing in their favor. Search the ship and impound anything of value. And alert detention that I have two for containment.” Drawing a blaster from his hip holster, he motioned Obi-Wan and Anakin toward the turbolifts.

  The crater docking bay was accessed by several corridors, some unchanged since the days they had served as mining tunnels, others reinforced by plasteel girders and dressed up with ferrocrete panels. It was apparent also that some of the turbolifts were housed in former mine shafts.

  The captain indicated an unoccupied lift and followed Obi-Wan and Anakin inside. When two Gossams hurried for the same lift, he waved them away. As soon as the door closed, he lowered his weapon and spoke with a sudden urgency.

  “We have to make this quick.”

  “You’re Travale,” Obi-Wan said, using the code name he had been furnished.

  “Things have gotten more complicated with the Bith. He’s slated for execution.”

  Anakin’s eyebrows met in a V. “What did he do, murder someone?”

  “Some sort of accounting error.”

  “Execution seems a rather harsh penalty,” Obi-Wan said.

  “Escarte Judiciary claims it wants to make an example of him. But it’s clear the charges were trumped up.” Travale paused. “Could have something to do with your being here to see him.”

  Travale hadn’t been given the reason, but Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgment. “If he’s expecting to die, he may not feel inclined to talk to us.”

  “My thought, too,” Travale said. “But maybe if you could break him out …”

  “You could arrange that?” Anakin said.

  “I can try.”

  The turbolift car came to a rest and the door slid open.

  “Welcome to the detention level,” Travale said, back in character, and shoving Obi-Wan out into the anteroom beyond. Behind a semicircle of consoles stood five surly nonhumans—tusked and bald-domed Quara Aqualish—wearing Commerce Guild uniforms and sporting heavy sidearms.

  “Show our two guests to cell four-eight-one-six,” Travale told the sergeant among them.

  “Already occupied by the Bith—K’sar.”

  “Misery loves company,” Travale said.

  Executing a crisp about-face, he returned to the turbolift. Emerged from the enclosure of display screens, a four-eyed Aqualish led Obi-Wan and Anakin into a narrow corridor lined with detentio
n cells. Thirty meters along he stopped to enter a code into a wall-mounted touch pad, and the bloodstained door to 4816 slid open.

  Square and squalid, it contained neither cots nor refresher.

  The smell of waste was almost overpowering.

  “Word of warning,” the Aqualish said in Basic, “the quality of the cuisine is surpassed only by the cleanliness of the accommodations.”

  “Then we’ll hope to be released before lunch,” Obi-Wan said.

  Thal K’sar was slumped in a corner, his long-fingered hands cuffed in front of him. Slender even for a Bith, he was well dressed and seemingly unharmed. Obi-Wan recalled that he had been arrested only the previous day.

  K’sar glanced up, but didn’t return Obi-Wan’s nod of greeting.

  “Some fix,” Anakin said loudly when the cell sealed. “Good job back there.”

  Obi-Wan played along. “You didn’t help matters any by flooring that security guard.”

  “Ah, she had it coming.”

  Anakin ambled over to where K’sar was huddled.

  “What landed you in here?” he asked.

  Though surprised to hear his own language spoken by a human, K’sar kept silent. When Anakin made a second attempt, the Bith said in Basic, “It’s none of your concern. Please leave me alone.”

  Anakin shrugged and joined Obi-Wan on the far side of the room.

  “Patience,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

  Backs pressed to the filthy wall, the two of them sank down onto their haunches.

  Less than a standard hour had passed when they heard voices in the corridor. The door grated open, revealing Travale and two Aqualish security officers. Without a word, the aliens standing to either side of Travale grabbed him by the arms and hurled him headlong into the cell.

  Obi-Wan caught him before he hit the floor.

  “Another unexpected development?”

  Travale was cuffed, and rattled. “My cover’s blown,” he said quietly. “Don’t know how, or by whom.”

  Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan. “No coincidence.”

  “Someone is onto us.” Obi-Wan left it at that.

  “Now what?”

  “Where you able to arrange anything?” Obi-Wan asked Travale.