by James Luceno
Fifty meters ahead of Mace in the tunnel, Shaak Ti held up her hand, motioning for him to stop. Angling his purple blade to the floor, Mace turned to relay the signal to the commandos behind him.
Shaak Ti’s whisper reached him through the Force: Movement ahead.
She gestured to the mouth of an intersecting tunnel just beyond where she stood, her profile limned blue by the glow of her raised lightsaber. Faint light spilled from the opening, as if someone with a handheld luma was approaching on foot.
Mace waved a signal to Commander Valiant, whose team moved forward stealthily, hugging the walls, their T-visor helmets allowing them to see in the dark.
Normally the probe droids would have the point, playing their lights and sensors across the dusty floor and tiled walls, sending data to Dyne and his team of analysts. Mace and Shaak Ti would ride in separate speeders behind the agents, intermingled with those of the commandos. Occasionally, however, the Jedi would assume the lead on foot for a couple of kilometers, usually in response to some anomaly discovered by the droids. Ventilation, such as it was, came courtesy of ancient blowers that did little more than drag in the sooty air from above, and illumination was provided by what the team brought with them.
They were deep below an area of The Works called the Grungeon Block. Encompassing twenty square kilometers, the block had originally been a production center for Serv-O-Droid, Huvicko, and Nebula Manufacturing, but it had fallen on hard times when its three principal clients had declared bankruptcy. Unable to attract new businesses, the developers who owned the Grungeon had allowed stratts and other vermin to overrun the stamping plants, and cashed out.
In the days since the raid, Mace’s team had searched nearly every nook and cranny of the confusion of tunnels and shafts that undermined the Grungeon and similar assembly areas. Ten kilometers into the tunnel that led to the LiMerge building’s sub-basement, a shaft had been found, leading to a deeper, older tunnel that also ran east toward the Senate District. In appearance the parallel tunnels were similar, save for the fact that the floor of the older one hosted an ancient mag-lev rail. The probe droids had discovered places along the rail where the accumulated decades of dust and debris had been blown away by the rapid passage of a repulsorlift vehicle of some sort. With no other clues to go on, the team had made the mag-lev tunnel the focus of the investigation.
Still, Mace felt that the team was on the right track.
An extensive search of the LiMerge building had revealed the remains of several Trang Robotics Duelist Elite droids that had been reduced to durasteel pieces by a lightsaber. Only Sidious, Dooku, or Sidious’s previous apprentice could have performed the amputations.
And there was more.
Shortly before Dooku had left the Jedi Order to return to his native Serenno—during the period when he had taken the title Count and had first gone public with his discontents about the Republic—he had been known to frequent a tavern called the Golden Cuff, which had been a watering hole for Senators, lobbyists, and aides. Analysts at the Temple were going through files of security cam holoimages thirteen years old, hoping to find images of Dooku and anyone he may have met with repeatedly.
Thus far, no images of Dooku had surfaced in the recordings that had survived. Even if images of Dooku’s tavern mates did surface, the Jedi had no means of identifying any of them as Darth Sidious, but the images could provide an additional starting point for further investigation.
By now Mace could hear movement and soft voices ahead.
Hardly a good tactic for hostiles intent on springing an ambush, but one never knew. He stretched out with his feelings, alert for diversions or clues he might have overlooked—obscured by the dark side, or owing to his own neglect.
Standing nearby, Valiant looked to Mace for the go signal.
When Mace nodded, Valiant said: “Light it up!”
Weapons raised, gas and fragmentation grenades enabled, the commandos sprinted into the intersecting tunnel, firing tracer bolts into the gloom.
Tight on their heels, Mace heard Valiant yell: “Down on the floor! Don’t move! I said, don’t move!”
More fire erupted, then several commando voices were shouting: “Stay still! Down on your faces! Hands up—all four of them!”
All four of them? Mace thought.
Edging through the commandos, he reached Valiant, whose BlasTech was aimed at a cowering crowd of thirty or so four-armed insectoid aliens, who were babbling in some language other than Basic, or speaking it with an accent so thick as to make their worlds unintelligible.
“Lower your weapons,” Mace told the commandos. “And someone bring that interpreter droid forward!”
Mace’s command was relayed down the line, and a moment later a highly polished silver protocol droid tottered into the tunnel, muttering to itself.
“I don’t understand how I’ve gone from serving the Separatists to serving the Republic. Did I undergo a partial memory wipe?”
“Consider yourself lucky,” one of the commandos said. “Now you’re on the side of the good guys.”
“Good guys, bad guys … who can tell anymore? What’s more, you won’t be so quick to say that should someone compel you to shift loyalties at a moment’s notice.”
“Droid!” Mace shouted.
“I do have a name, sir.”
Mace glanced at Valiant.
“TeeCee something or other,” the ARC said.
“Fine,” Mace said, grabbing hold of TC-16 and pointing him in the direction of the terrified aliens. “See if you can make sense of what these folk are saying.”
The droid listened to the babbling, responded in kind, and turned to face Mace. “They are Unets, General. Speaking their native language, which is called Une.”
Mace regarded the huddled, shivering group. “What are they doing down here?”
TC-16 listened, then said: “They say that they haven’t the slightest idea where they are, General. They arrived on Coruscant in a shipping container that was air-dropped at a decrepit landing platform some twenty kilometers from here. The personage who was to have guided them into the depths of the Uscru Sector stole all their credits and abandoned them in The Works.”
“Undocumented refugees,” Valiant said.
Mace frowned. The tunnels beneath the Grungeon Block held countless surprises.
“They almost got themselves killed.”
“Apparently that’s nothing new for them,” TC-16 said. “Their planet fell to the Separatists, the freighter they originally took passage on was attacked by pirates, several of them—”
“That’s enough,” Mace said. “Assure them that they’re not going to be harmed, and that we’ll see to it they reach a refugee camp.” He nodded to Valiant, who in turn told two of his troopers to carry out Mace’s command.
“Talk about your corridor ghouls,” Dyne said, eyeing the aliens as he approached Mace.
“Squatters, death stick runners, lost droids, now undocumented refugees …”
“Next it’ll be Cthons,” Dyne said, referring to the flesh-eating humanoids believed by many Coruscanti to inhabit the world’s underground.
Shaak Ti joined them. “These corridors are highways for people who want to enter central Coruscant illegally.”
Dyne sighed in disappointment. “Our chances for picking up Sidious’s trail decrease with each person who passes.”
“How far are we from the Senate District?” Shaak Ti asked.
“Within a couple of kilometers,” Dyne said. “We might think about going directly to the buildings LiMerge Power once owned in the city core, and see if we can’t work our way toward The Works from those.”
Mace considered the idea, then shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Mace waved everyone back into motion, then fell into step with Shaak Ti.
“Wild gundark chase?”
She nodded. “Only because our quarry is aware that we’re closing in on him. He failed to silence the ones Obi-Wan and Anaki
n searched out, and by now he knows that we’ve discovered his and Dooku’s den. It’s unlikely he will wait around for us to surprise him.”
“That’s true. But there’s much to gain from simply identifying him. If not here, then by means of something Obi-Wan and Anakin discover on Tythe.”
“Assuming there’s anything left after Dooku sterilizes the place. From everything we’ve seen, Sidious and Dooku don’t make many mistakes.”
The walked in silence for a long while. They were a kilometer closer to the outlying areas of the Senate District when Dyne called to them from behind.
Mace saw that the Intelligence analysts and commandos were gathered some twenty meters away. He and Shaak Ti had been so engrossed in their private thoughts that neither of them had noticed the probe droids stopping to investigate something. Joining the others, the Jedi watched the droids hover with clear purpose in front of a large niche in the tunnel wall.
Dyne’s handheld sensor needed only a moment to discover a small control panel that operated the niche’s sliding door.
The door concealed the entrance to a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
And all but hiding in plain sight: a repulsorlift speeder bike, semicircular in design, with an arc of concentric seat and a single steering handle.
Mace and Shaak Ti traded astonished looks.
“How did we miss seeing this?” she asked.
Mace’s brow furrowed. “The answer is in the question.”
As big as life, Palpatine’s holoimage spoke from atop a projector table in a private comlink lounge aboard the medical frigate. With R2-D2 standing off to one side of the transmission grid, Anakin hung on the Supreme Chancellor’s every word.
“Of course, the Council doesn’t understand,” Palpatine said. “Surely you don’t find that surprising.”
“They reject every suggestion I make—on principle, I’m beginning to think.”
“It’s obvious that you’re upset, Anakin, but you must be patient. Your time will come.”
“When, sir?”
Palpatine smiled lightly. “I can’t see into the future, my boy.”
Anakin’s face contorted. “What if I told you that I could?”
“I would believe you,” Palpatine said without pause. “Tell me what you see.”
“Coruscant.”
“Are we in danger?”
“I’m not certain. I just feel that I need to be there.”
Palpatine gazed away from the holocam. “I suppose I could invent some pretext …” His gaze returned to Anakin. “But is that wise?”
“I’m not the wise one. Ask anybody.”
“What does Master Kenobi say?”
“He’s the one who suggested I contact you,” Anakin said sharply.
“Really? But what does he think you should do?”
Anakin blew out his breath. “Obi-Wan is under the illusion that I can’t deny my destiny—no matter what I do.”
“Your former Master is wiser than you think, Anakin.”
“Yes, yes, and he is the only Jedi in a thousand years to have killed a Sith.”
Palpatine spread his hands. “That alone has to count for something. Though I’m at a loss to know precisely what.”
“Obi-Wan is wise. But he has no heart, sir. He sees everything in terms of the Force.”
“If you want advice about the Force, you must look to him, because I’m of no help.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want. I live in the Force, but I also live in the real world. I came from … the real world. Just as you said, I had the advantage of a normal childhood. Well, sort of.”
Palpatine waited until he was certain Anakin was finished. “My boy, I don’t know that it’s healthy to have a foot in each world. Soon you may have to make a choice.”
Anakin nodded. “I’m ready.”
Palpatine smiled again. “But back to the matter at hand. It sounds to me as if the recapture of Tythe could prove very important toward ending the war. I don’t understand all of it. The Jedi Council is being very secretive with me.”
Anakin fought the temptation to reveal everything about the search for Darth Sidious. He glanced at R2-D2, as if expecting commiseration, but the astromech only swiveled his dome, his processor status indicator flashing from blue to red.
Finally Anakin said: “I don’t know what to do, sir.”
Palpatine adopted a sympathetic expression. “It’s decided. I shall prevail upon the Council to order you back to the Core. No one needs further proof of how intrepid you are, or how committed you are to defeating our enemies.”
In time you will learn to trust your feelings; then you will be invincible.
Palpatine’s advice to him, three years earlier.
“No,” Anakin said in a rush. “No. Thank you, sir, but … I’m needed on Tythe. Dooku is there.”
I’m sorry, Padmé. I’m so, so sorry. I miss you so much—
“Yes,” Palpatine was saying. “Dooku is the key to everything just now. Despite all our victories in the inner systems … Do you suspect he and General Grievous may have some secret strategy?”
“If they do, Obi-Wan and I will defeat them before they can implement it.”
“The Republic counts on it.”
“Safeguard Coruscant, sir. Safeguard everyone there.”
“I will, my boy. And rest assured that I will call on you if I need you.”
Obi-Wan was in the MedStar’s docking bay, waiting for the shuttle that would take him to the light cruiser Integrity. His arms were folded across his chest, and his small rucksack was sitting on the deck.
“Did you get through to him?” he asked as Anakin and R2-D2 approached.
“Well, I spoke to him.”
“That’s what I meant. And?”
Anakin averted his gaze. “We both decided that my place is here, Master.” He sounded on the verge of tears.
Obi-Wan merely nodded. “For a moment I thought you were going to leave it to me to retake Tythe.”
Anakin looked at him. “I know better than that.”
“You don’t think I’m capable?” Obi-Wan asked around a forming grin.
“I know you’d be willing to die trying.”
“There is no trying—”
“Yes, there is,” Anakin cut him off. “And you’re living proof of it.”
Obi-Wan smiled, then glanced out the hold’s magcon transparency. “The shuttle’s coming.”
Anakin’s eyes tracked the approaching light. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” He still wasn’t smiling.
Obi-Wan closed his hand around Anakin’s upper right arm. “Anakin, let’s get Dooku and end this.”
Anakin swallowed and nodded. “If it’s meant to be, Master.”
With assistance from the probe droids, the discolored panels at the end of the corridor unlocked and parted. Brown robe swirling behind him and lightsaber in hand, Mace barreled through the doorway, with Shaak Ti and the commandos close behind.
By rote the troopers spread out, quickly and efficiently, but also unnecessarily.
“Surprise,” Shaak Ti said flatly. “Another corridor.”
“Another corridor closer,” Mace said, determined to put a good spin on it.
The tunnel the team had followed from the hidden niche had led them through a maze of twists, turns, forks, steep climbs, and sudden drops. For stretches the dark corridor had been wide enough to contain a speeder; then it grew so narrow that everyone had had to edge through. For two kilometers, walls, ceiling, and floor were damp from water that had trickled down through Coruscant’s layered surface. There, the prints of their prey had disappeared, but the probe droids had managed to pick up the trail farther along. Some of the prints were so recent and well preserved that Dyne had been able to calculate the human’s slipper size.
Human.
That much the droids had determined from smudged fingerprints found on the speeder bike’s steering grip and cushioned seat. The repulsorlift machine had also provided
the droids with fibers, hairs, and other detritus. Slowly, a portrait of Dooku’s unknown confederate was being compiled.
His eyes fixed on the display screen of his data processor, Captain Dyne ambled toward Mace and Shaak Ti.
“Master Jedi, our search is about to take us to a whole new level.”
Mace looked around the tunnel for signs of a concealed turbolift or staircase.
“Up or down?” Shaak Ti asked, equally bewildered.
Dyne glanced up, blinking at her. “I didn’t mean ‘new level’ in the literal sense.” He indicated the hovering probe droids, which were eager to have the team follow them east. “If the prints lead us far enough, we’re going to end up in the sub-basements of 500 Republica.”
Mace tracked the droids as they moved deeper into the corridor.
Five Hundred Republica: home to thousands of Coruscant’s wealthiest Senators, celebrities, shipping magnates, and media tycoons.
And one of them, very possibly a Sith Lord.
There was little the Confederacy or the Republic could add to the damage LiMerge Power had inflicted on Tythe generations earlier. From deep space, the surface—glimpsed through a pall of ash-gray clouds—looked as if it had been licked by a flare from its primary, or had had a brush with an enormous meteor. But Tythe’s scars owed to none of that. The planet had been spared everything but LiMerge itself, whose attempts to exploit Tythe’s abundant deposits of natural plasma had invoked a cataclysm of global proportions.
The three drifting hulks that had been Republic cruisers might have been caught up in the cataclysm but were, in fact, casualties of the Separatist attack, which had come swiftly and without quarter. Nimbused by what vacuum had drawn from their interiors, the scorched and lanced trio lazed midway between opposing battle groups of Separatist and Republic vessels.
“Just once I wish we could repay Dooku and Grievous in kind,” Anakin said over the tactical net, as Red Squadron dropped from the belly of the Integrity and rocketed toward Tythe.
“The fact that we don’t is what keeps us centered in the Force,” Obi-Wan said.
