Star Wars_ Cloak Of Deception Part 4

Suddenly, the Revenue exploded. In the Lancet's c.o.c.kpit, it was as if someone had draped a bright white curtain over the canopy. The small craft received a punch in the tail that sent it rocking forward, riding the crest of the detonation wave. Great hunks of molten durasteel streaked like comets to all sides. The Lancet shook to the breaking point, systems shorting out with showers of sparks, and displays showing nothing but noise before they darkened.

Glancing over his shoulder, Obi-Wan watched the Revenue burst into sections, the ma.s.sive hangar arms making brief, fist - first contact, then rolling off to opposite sides, as two loosed crescents.

The centersphere and bridge tower spun away from the destroyed acceleration compensator stalk and what was left of the ship's trio of gaping exhaust ports.

Some distance away the Acquisitor was moving for the safety of Dorvalla's dark side.

Cohl's corvette and two of the support starfighters streaked away from the planet and made the jump to hypers.p.a.ce.

"Dorvalla is either about to gain a moonlet or fall victim to a devastating meteor," Obi-Wan said when he could.

"I fear the latter," Qui-Gon said. "Contact Coruscant. Inform the Reconciliation Council that Dorvalla needs immediate emergency relief."

"I'll try, Master." Obi-Wan began to flip switches on the console, hoping that at least some of the communications systems had survived the electronic storm that had accompanied the explosion.

"Is there any sign of Cohl's shuttle?" Obi-Wan glanced at the display screen. "No signal from the tracking device." Qui-Gon didn't reply.

"Master, I know Cohl hated the Trade Federation. But could he have cared so little about his own life?" Qui-Gon took a long moment to respond.

"What are the sixth and seventh Rules of Engagement, Padawan?" Obi-Wan tried to recall them. "The sixth is, Understand the dark and light in all things."

"That is the fifth rule." Obi-Wan thought again. "Exercise caution, even in trivial matters."

"That is the eighth."

"Learn to see accurately."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, "that is the sixth. And the seventh?" Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm sorry, Master. I cannot recall it."

"Open your eyes to what is not evident." Obi-Wan considered it. "Then this isn't the end of it."

"Hardly, young Padawan. I sense instead a menacing beginning." CORUSCANT r The four walls of Finis Valorum's office, at the summit of the governmental district's stateliest if not most statuesque edifice, were made of transparisteel, paneled by structural members into a continuous band of regular and inverted triangles.

The city-planet that was Coruscant--was Scintillant Orb,"

"Jewel of the Core," choked heart of the Galactic Republic--spread to all sides in a welter of l.u.s.trous domes, knife-edged spires, and terraced superstructures that climbed to the sky. The taller buildings resembled outsize rocketships that had never left their launch pads, or the wind-eroded lava tors of long-dead volcanoes. Some of the domes were flattened hemispheres perched on cylindrical bases, while others had the look of shallow, hand-thrown ceramic bowls with finialed lids.

Striations of magnetically guided sky traffic moved swiftly above the cityscape--streams of transports, air buses, taxis, and limousines, coursing between the tall spires and over the measureless chasms like schools of exotic fish.

Instead of feeding, however, they were the feeders, distributing the galaxy's wealth among the greedy trillion to whom Coruscant was home.

As often as Valorum had beheld the view--which was to say, nearly every day of his now seven years as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic--he had yet to grow indifferent to the spectacle of Coruscant. As worlds went, it was neither large nor especially rugged, but history had transformed it into a uniquely vertical place, a vertical experience more common to ocean than atmospheric life.

Valorum's princ.i.p.al office was located in the lower level of the Galactic Senate dome, but he was generally so swamped by requests and business there that he reserved this lofty perch for meetings of a more private nature.

Pale hands clasped at his back, he stood at the bank of transparisteel windows that faced the dawn, though daybreak was hours behind him. He wore a magenta tunic that was high - collared and double-breasted, with matching trousers and a wide c.u.mmerbund. Southern light, polarized by the transparisteel panels, flooded the room. But Valorum's sole guest had taken a seat well out of the light's reach.

"I fear, Supreme Chancellor, that we face a monumental challenge,"

Senator Palpatine was saying from the shadows. "Frayed at its far-flung borders and hollowed at its very heart by corruption, the Republic is in grave danger of unraveling.

Order is needed, directives that will restore balance. Even the most desperate remedies should not be overlooked." Although such opinions had become the common sentiment, Palpatine's words pierced Valorum like a sword. The fact that he knew them to be true made them all the more difficult to hear. He turned his back to the view and returned to his desk, where he sat heavily into his padded chair.

Aging with distinction, Valorum had a receding cap of shorn silver hair, pouches under piercing blue eyes, and dark, bushy brows. His stern features and deep voice belied a compa.s.sionate spirit and questing intellect. But as the latest in the line of a political dynasty that stretched back thousands of years--a dynasty many thought weakened by its uncommon longevity--he had never been fully successful at overcoming an innate patrician aloofness.

"Where have we gone wrong?" he asked in a firm but sad voice. "How did we manage to miss the portents along the way?" Palpatine showed him an understanding look. "The fault is not in ourselves, Supreme Chancellor.

The fault lies in the outlying star systems, and the civil strife iniquity has engendered there." His voice was carefully modulated, occasionally world - weary, seemingly immune to anger or alarm. "This most recent situation at Dorvalla, for example." Valorum nodded soberly.

"The Judicial Department has requested that I meet with them later today, so they can brief me on the latest developments."

"Perhaps I could save you the trouble, Supreme Chancellor. As least in terms of what I've been hearing in the senate."

"Rumor or facts?"

"A bit of both, I suspect. The senate is filled with delegates who interpret matters as they will, regardless of facts." Palpatine paused, as if to gather his thoughts.

Prominent in a kind if somewhat doughy face were his heavy - lidded, watery blue eyes and rudder of a nose. Red hair that had lost its youth he wore in the provincial style of the outlying systems: combed back from his high forehead but left thick and long behind his low-set ears. In dress, too, he demonstrated singular allegiance to his home system, favoring embroidered tunics with V-shaped double collars and outmoded cloaks of quilted fabric.

A sectorial senator representing the outlying world of Na - boo, along with thirty-six other inhabited planets, Palpatine had earned a reputation for integrity and frankness that had set him high in the hearts of many of his senatorial peers. As he had made clear to Valorum in numerous meetings, both public and private, he was more interested in doing whatever needed to be done than in blind obedience to the rules and regulations that had made the senate such a tangle of procedures.

"As the Judicial Department is certain to tell you," he began at last, "the mercenaries who a.s.saulted and destroyed the Trade Federation vessel Revenue were in the employ of the Nebula Front terrorist group. It seems likely that they gained access to the freighter with the complicity of dockworkers at Dorvalla. How the Nebula Front learned that the freighter was carrying a fortune in aurodium ingots has yet to be established. But clearly the Nebula Front planned to use the aurodium to finance additional acts of terrorism directed against the Trade Federation, and perhaps against Republic colonies in the Outer Rim."

"Planned?" Valorum said.

"All indications are that Captain Cohl and his team of a.s.sa.s.sins perished in the explosion that destroyed the Revenue.

But the incident has had wide-ranging repercussions, nevertheless."

"I'm well aware of some of those," Valorum said, with a note of disgust.

"As a result of continuing raids and hara.s.sment, the Trade Federation plans to demand Republic intervention, or, failing that, senate approval to further augment their droid contingent." Palpatine made his lips a thin line and nodded.

"I must confess, Supreme Chancellor, that my first instinct was to refuse their requests out of hand. The Trade Federation is already too powerful- -in wealth and in military might. However, I've since rea.s.sessed my position." Valorum regarded him with interest. "I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts."

"Well, to begin with, the Trade Federation is made up of entrepreneurs, not warriors. The Neimoidians, especially, are cowards in any theater other than commerce. So granting them permission to enlarge their droid defenses-- slightly, at any rate-- doesn't concern me unduly. More important, there may be some advantage to doing so." Valorum interlocked his fingers and leaned forward.

"What possible advantage?" Palpatine took a breath. "In exchange for honoring their requests for intervention and additional defenses, the senate would be in a position to demand that all trade in the outlying systems would henceforth be subject to Republic taxation." Valorum sat back in his chair, clearly disappointed. "We've been through all this before, Senator. You and I both know that a majority of the senate has no interest in what happens in the outer systems, much less in the free trade zones. But they do care about what happens to the Trade Federation."

"Yes, because the shimmersilk pockets of many a senatorial robe are being lined with graft from the Neimoidians." Valorum snorted. "Self-indulgence is the order of the day."

"Undeniably so, Supreme Chancellor," Palpatine said tolerantly. "But that, in itself, is no reason to allow the practice to continue."

"Of course not," Valorum said. "For both my terms of office I have sought to end the corruption that plagues the senate, and to unravel the knot of policies and procedures that thwart us. We enact legislation, only to find that we cannot implement it. The committees proliferate like viruses, without leadership. No fewer than twenty committees are needed just to determine the decor of the senate corridors.

"The Trade Federation has prospered by taking advantage of the very bureaucracy we've created.

Grievances brought against the Federation languish in the courts, while commissions belabor each and every aspect. It's little wonder that Dorvalla and many of the worlds along the Rimma Trade Route support terrorist groups like the Nebula Front.

"But taxation isn't likely to solve anything. In fact, such a move could prompt the Trade Federation to abandon the outlying systems entirely, in favor of more lucrative markets closer to the Core."

"Thus depriving Coruscant and its neighbors of important outer system resources and luxury goods," Palpatine interjected, seemingly by rote.

"Certainly the Neimoidians will see taxation as a betrayal, if for no other reason than the Trade Federation blazed many of the hypers.p.a.ce routes that link the Core to the outlying systems. Regardless, this could be the opportunity many of us have waited for--the chance to exercise senate control over those very trade routes." Valorum mulled it over briefly. "It could be political suicide."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that, Supreme Chancellor. Proponents of taxation would suffer merciless attacks from the Commerce Guild, the Techno Union, and the rest of the shipping conglomerates awarded franchises to operate in the free trade zones. But it is the appropriate measure." Valorum shook his head slowly, then got to his feet and moved to the windows.

"Nothing would cheer me more than getting the upper hand on the Trade Federation."

"Then now is the time to act," Palpatine said.

Valorum kept his gaze fixed on the distant towers. "I could count on your support?" Palpatine rose and joined him at the view.

"Let me be frank about that. My position as representative of an outlying sector places me in an awkward situation. Make no mistake about it, Supreme Chancellor, I stand with you in advocating central control and taxation. But Naboo and other outlying systems will undoubtedly be forced to a.s.sume the burden of taxation by paying more for Trade Federation services." He paused briefly. "I would be compelled to act with utmost circ.u.mspection." Valorum merely nodded.

"That much said," Palpatine was quick to add, "rest a.s.sured that I would do all in my power to rally senate support for taxation." Valorum turned slightly in Palpatine's direction and smiled lightly. "As always, I'm grateful for your counsel, Senator. Particularly now, what with troubles erupting in your home system." Palpatine sighed with purpose. "Sadly, King Veruna finds himself enmeshed in a scandal.

While he and I have never seen eye to eye with regard to expanding Naboo's influence in the Republic, I am concerned for him, for his predicament has not only cast a pall over Naboo, but also over many neighboring worlds." Valorum clasped his hands behind his back and paced to the center of the s.p.a.cious room. When he swung to face Palpatine, his expression made clear that his thoughts had returned to issues of wider concern.

"Is it conceivable that the Trade Federation would accept taxation in exchange for a loosening of the defense restraints we have placed them under?" Palpatine steepled his long fingers and brought them to his chin.

"Merchandise--of whatever nature--is precious to the Neimoidians. The continuing a.s.saults on their vessels by pirates and terrorists have made them desperate. They will rail against taxation, but in the end they will tolerate it. Our only other option would be to take direct action against the groups that are hara.s.sing them, and I know that you're opposed to doing that." Valorum confirmed it with a determined nod. "The Republic hasn't had a standing military in generations, and I certainly won't be the person to reinstate one. Coruscant must remain a place where groups can come together to find peaceful solutions to conflicts." He took a breath. "A better course would be to allow the Trade Federation adequate protection to defend itself against acts of terrorism. After all, the Judicial Department can't very well suggest the Jedi dedicate themselves to solving the Neimoidians' problems."

"No," Palpatine said. "The judicials and the Jedi Knights have more important matters to attend to than keeping the s.p.a.ce lanes safe for commerce."

"At least some constants remain," Valorum mused. "Just think where we might be without the Jedi."

"I can only imagine." Valorum advanced a few steps and laid his hands on Palpatine's shoulders. "You're a good friend, Senator." Palpatine returned the gesture. "My interests are the interests of the Republic, Supreme Chancellor." caret Diu Sheathed from pole to pole in duracrete, plasteel, and a thousand other impervious materials, Coruscant seemed invulnerable to the vagaries of time or a.s.saults by any would-be agents of entropy.

It was said that a person could live out his entire life on Coruscant without once leaving the building he called home. And that even if someone devoted his life to exploring as much of Coruscant as possible, he would scarcely be able to take in a few square kilometers; that he would be better off trying to visit all the far-flung worlds of the Republic.

The planet's original surface was so long forgotten and so seldom visited that it had become an underworld of mythic dimension, whose denizens actually boasted of the fact that their subterranean realm hadn't seen the sun in twenty-five thousand standard years.

Closer to the sky, however, where the air was continually scrubbed and giant mirrors lit the floor of shallower canyons, wealth and privilege ruled.

Here, kilometers above the murky depths, resided those who fashioned their own rarified atmospheres; who moved about by private skylimo, and watched the diffuse sun set blazing red around the curve of the planet; and who ventured below the two-kilometer level only to conduct transactions of a sinister sort, or to visit the statuary-studded squares that fronted those landmark structures whose sublime architecture hadn't been razed, buried, or walled in by mediocrity.

One such landmark was the Jedi Temple.

A kilometer-high truncated pyramid crowned by five elegant towers, it soared above its surroundings, purposefully isolated from the babble of Coruscant's overlapping electromagnetic fields, and holding forth against the blight of modernization. Below it stretched a plain of rooftops, skybridges, and aerial thoroughfares that had conspired to create a mosaic of sumptuous geometries--colossal spirals and concentricities, crosses and triangles, quilts and diamonds--great mandalas aimed at the stars, or perhaps the temporal complements of the constellations to be found there.

At once, though, there was something comforting and forbidding about the Temple. For while it was a constant reminder of an older, less complicated world, the Temple was also somewhat austere and unapproachable, off-limits to tourists or any whose desire to visit was inspired by mere curiosity.

The design of the Temple was said to be symbolic of the Padawan's path to enlightenment--to unity with the Force, through fealty to the Jedi Codes.

But the design artfully concealed a secondary and more practical purpose, in that the quincunx of towers - comfour oriented to the cardinal directions, with a taller one rising from the center--were whiskered with antennae and transmitters that kept the Jedi abreast of circ.u.mstances and crises throughout the galaxy they served.

Thus had contemplation and social responsibility been given equal voice.

Nowhere in the Temple was that wedding of purposes more evident than in the elevated chamber of the Reconciliation Council. Like the High Council Chamber, at the summit of an adjacent tower, the room was circular, with an arched ceiling and tall windows all around. But, less formal, it lacked the ring of seats occupied only by the twelve members of the High Council, who presided over matters of momentous concern.

Qui-Gon Jinn had been back on Coruscant for three standard days before the Reconciliation Council had asked him to appear before it. During that time, he had done little more than meditate, peruse ancient texts, pace the Temple's dimly lighted hallways, or engage in lightsaber training sessions with other Jedi Knights and Padawans.

Through acquaintances employed in the Galactic Senate, he had been apprised of the Trade Federation's requests for Republic intervention in repressing acts of terrorism, and for permission to augment their droid defenses, in the face of continuing hara.s.sment. Although those requests were nothing new, Qui - Gon had been surprised to learn of the Trade Federation's claim that Captain Cohl, in addition to destroying the Revenue, had made off with a secret cache of aurodium ingots, rumored to be worth billions of credits.

The revelation was much on his mind as he went before the members of the Reconciliation Council, unaware that they, too, were interested in discussing the incident at Dorvalla.

Many held the opinion that Qui-Gon would have been seated on the council, if not for his penchant for bending the rules and following his own instincts--even when those instincts conflicted with the combined wisdom of the council members. This had not endeared him to his loftier peers.

In fact, rather than treat him like a peer, they viewed his unwillingness to amend his ways and accept a seat on the council as a further sign of his incorrigibility.

The Reconciliation Council was made up of five members-- though rarely the same five--and today there were only four on hand: Jedi Masters Plo Koon, Oppo Rancisis, Adi Gallia, and Yoda.

Qui-Gon fielded their questions from the center of the room, where he would have been permitted to sit but had elected to stand.

"How knew you, Qui-Gon, of Captain Cohl's designs on the Revenue, eh?"

Yoda asked as he paced the polished-stone floor, supported by his gimer stick cane.

"I have a contact in the Nebula Front," Qui-Gon replied.

Yoda stopped moving to regard him. "A contact, you say?"

"A Bith," Qui-Gon said. "He made contact with me on Mala - stare, and later apprised me of Cohl's plan to attack the Revenue at Dorvalla. On Dorvalla, I was able to learn that Cohl had altered a cargo pod to suit his ends. Obi-Wan and I did the same." Yoda shook his head back and forth in seeming astonishment. "News, this is. One of Qui-Gon's many surprises." An ancient and diminutive alien--a patriarch, of sorts--Yoda had an almost human face, with large knowing eyes, a small nose, and a thin-lipped mouth. But most similarities to the human species ended there, for he was green from hairless crown to triple-digited feet, and his ears were large and pointed, extending from the sides of his wizened head like small wings.

A senior member of the High Council, he was something of a trickster, who preferred to teach by means of thought-puzzles and conundrums, rather than by lecture and recitation.

Yoda and Qui-Gon had a long-standing relationship, but Yoda was one of those who sometimes took issue with Qui - Gon's focus on the living Force over the unifying Force. As Qui-Gon explained it, he was simply built that way. Even in lightsaber training, he rarely entered into a match with a strategy in mind. Instead he allowed himself to improvise, and to alter his technique according to the demands of the moment--even when the longer view might have helped him.

"Qui-Gon," Adi Gallia said, "we were given to understand that the Nebula Front had hired Captain Cohl. What was your contact's purpose in sabotaging an operation the Nebula Front itself had sanctioned?" She was a young and handsome human woman from Corellia, with exotic eyes, a long slender neck, and full lips. Tall and dark-complexioned, she wore a tight-fitting skullcap, from which dangled eight tails, resembling seed pods.

Qui-Gon turned to her. "The operation was not sanctioned. That's why my Padawan and I were there." Yoda lifted his gimer stick to point at Qui-Gon. "Explain this, you must." Qui-Gon folded his thick arms across his chest.

"The Nebula Front speaks for many worlds in the Mid and Outer Rims, which contest the prohibitive practices and strong-arm tactics of the Trade Federation. Some of those worlds were originally colonized by species who fled the civilized repression of the Core. Fiercely independent, they want no part of the Republic. And yet, in order to trade, they are forced to do business with consortiums like the Federation.

Worlds that have attempted to ship with other enterprises have found themselves cut off from trade entirely."

"The Nebula Front may have laudable goals, but their methods are ruthless," Oppo Rancisis commented, breaking a brief silence.

A scion of royalty from Thisspias, he had red-rimmed eyes and a tiny mouth in a large head that was otherwise covered entirely by dense white hair--piled high at the crown, and extending from his hidden chin in a long beard.

"Go on, Qui-Gon," Plo Koon told him from beneath the mask he was forced to wear in oxygen-rich environments. Like Rancisis, Koon had a keen mind for military strategy.

Qui-Gon tipped his head in a bow of acknowledgment. "Without trying to justify the actions of the Nebula Front, I will say that they tried to reason with the Trade federation before turning to acts of terrorism.

Where they might have financed their operations by smuggling spice for the Hutts, they refused to deal with any species that condoned slavery.

Even when they finally did turn to violence, they restricted their actions to interfering with Trade Federation shipments or delaying their vessels whenever possible."