Star Wars_ Cloak Of Deception Part 6

Cerulean, with pouty red lips and eyelids, Taa had a huge oval face and a double chin the size of a bantha's feed bag. He was a Twi'lek of Rutian descent; his lekku head-tails, engorged with fat, hung like sated snakes to his ma.s.sive chest. His gaudy robe was the size of a tent. Prominently on display was his Lethan Twi'lek consort, nubile and high-cheekboned, her red body draped in bolts of pure shimmersilk.

A member of the Appropriations Committee, Taa was a vocal opponent of Valorum, since his spice-producing homeworld of Ryloth had, time and again, been denied favored-world status.

Taa's guests in the box included Senators Toonbuck Toora, Pa.s.scl Argente, Edcel Bar Gane, and Palpatine, along with two of Palpatine's personal aides, Kinman Doriana and Sate Pestage.

"Do you know why Valorum loves to attend the opera?" Taa asked in Basic, out of the corner of his huge mouth. "Because it's the only place on Coruscant where an entire audience will applaud him."

"And he does little more here than he does in the senate," Toora said.

"He merely observes the protocols and feigns interest." Fabulously wealthy, she was a hairy biped with a wide mouth, a triple-bearded chin, and beady eyes and a pug nose squeezed onto the bony ridge that capped her squat head.

"Valorum is toothless," Pa.s.sel Argente chimed in. A sallow - complexioned humanoid affiliated with the Corporate Alliance, he wore a black turban and bib that revealed only his face and the swirling horn that emerged from the crown of his head. "At a time when we need vigor, direction, unity, Valorum insists on taking the tried-and-true route. The route guaranteed not to upset the status quo."

"Much to our enjoyment," Toora murmured.

"But a confidential bow," Taa said, as he was maneuvering into the chair that had been specially made to conform to his girth. "To what could we possibly owe the honor?" Toora gestured in dismissal. "This nonsense about the Trade Federation's requests. Valorum needs all the support he can muster if he's to succeed in convincing us to enact taxation of the free trade zones."

"Then it is even more curious that he should acknowledge us," Taa remarked. He motioned broadly to other balconies. "There, all but in Valorum's lap, sit Senators Antilles, Horox Ryyder, Tendau Bendon... Any of them, more than worthy of a bow." Taa raised his fat hand in a wave when the group in the box realized that they were being observed.

"Then the gesture must have been solely for Senator Palpatine," Toora remarked meaningfully. "From what I hear, our delegate from Naboo has the Supreme Chancellor's ear." Taa turned to Palpatine. "Is that so, Senator?" Palpatine smiled lightly. "Not in the manner you imagine, I can a.s.sure you. The Supreme Chancellor met with me to solicit my opinion as to how taxation might be received by the outlying systems.

We spoke of little else. In any event, Valorum scarcely needs my support to see the proposal through. He is not as ineffectual as many seem to think."

"Nonsense," Taa said. "It will come down to partisanship-- a contest between the factions of Bail Antilles, and those who allow Ainlee Teem to speak for them. As ever, the Core worlds will stand with Valorum; the near colonies, against."

"He's going to polarize the senate further," Edcel Bar Gane opined in a sibilant voice.

Representing the world of Roona, Bar Gane had a bulbous head and eyes that narrowed and slanted upward at their outer corners.

Toora absorbed the remark without comment. Once more, she eyed Palpatine.

"I'm curious, Senator.

Just what did you tell Valorum, with regard to the impact of taxation on the outer systems?"

"Activate the balcony's noise cancellation feature, and I might be inclined to tell you," Palpatine said.

"Oh, do it, Taa," Toora enthused. "I so love intrigue." Taa flipped a switch on the balcony railing, activating a containment field that effectively sealed the box from audio surveillance. But Palpatine didn't speak until Sate Pestage--a trim human with pointed features and thinning black hair--had double-checked that the field was indeed functioning.

Pestage's actions impressed Argente. "Is everyone on Naboo as careful as you are, Senator?" Palpatine shrugged. "Consider it a personal flaw."

Argente nodded soberly. "I'll remember that."

"So tell us," Toora said, "is the Supreme Chancellor embarking on a dangerous course by taking on the Trade Federation?"

"The danger is that he sees only half the picture," Palpatine began.

"Though he would be the first to deny it, Valorum is essentially a bureaucrat at heart, just as his ancestors were.

He favors rules and procedure over direct action. He lacks judgment. The Valorum dynasty was largely responsible for granting the Trade Federation free rein decades ago. How do you think they acc.u.mulated their vast holdings?

Certainly not by favoring the outer systems. But by making gainful deals with the InterGalactic Bank Clan and corporations like TaggeCo. That this latest crisis should revolve around the Nebula Front is especially ironic, since Valorum's father had an opportunity to eradicate the group, and he failed, chastising them rather than disbanding them."

"You surprise me, Senator," Toora said.

"In a good way, I think. Do go on." Palpatine crossed his legs and sat tall in his chair. "The Supreme Chancellor fails to grasp that the future of the Republic very much depends on what occurs in the Mid and Outer Rims. As corrupt as Coruscant has become, the real corrosion--the sort that can eventually eat away at the center--always begins on the edges.

It progresses from the outside in.

"Unless Valorum does something to stay the tide, Coruscant itself will someday be a slave to those systems, unable to enact any legislation without their consent. Unless we placate them now, we'll be forced to bring them under central authority at some later date. They are the key to the survival of the Republic." Taa huffed. "Unless I misread you, you're saying that the Trade Federation is our link with those systems - comCoruscant's amba.s.sador, if you will--and that therefore we can't afford to alienate the Neimoidians and the rest."

"You are misreading me," Palpatine said firmly.

"The Trade Federation needs to be brought under control. Valorum is correct to push for taxation, because the Trade Federation already has too much influence in the outlying sectors. Desperate to conduct trade with the Core, hundreds of outer systems have joined the Federation as signatory members, yielding their rights to individual representation in the senate.

At the moment, the Neimoidians and their partners lack enough votes to block taxation. But in a year, in two years, they could have adequate backing to overrule the senate at every opportunity."

"Then you'll stand with Valorum, " Toora said.

"You'll support taxation."

"Not yet," Palpatine said carefully. "He views taxation as a means of punishing the Trade Federation and, at the same time, of enriching Coruscant--an approach that will alienate not only the Trade Federation members, but also the outlying systems. Before I cast Naboo's support with one side or the other, I want to see how the votes stack up. Just now, those who hold the middle ground stand to reap the most. Those who see all sides clearly will be in the best position to guide the Republic through this critical transition. If Valorum has sufficient support without the backing of my sector, so much the better. But I won't flinch in my obligation to do what is ultimately best for the general good."

"Spoken like a future party whip," Taa said, with a guffaw.

"Indeed," Argente said, in all seriousness.

Toora appraised Palpatine openly. "A few more questions, if you wouldn't mind." Palpatine gestured toward the stage. "While I'd be glad to discuss these matters at greater length, the performance is about to begin."

Outfitted in lackl.u.s.ter tunics and soft boots, the Jedi students stood in two opposing lines, two dozen lightsabers ignited in brilliant cast, raised in twice as many hands.

At a word from the lightsaber Master, the twelve students comprising one line took three backward steps in unison and set themselves in defensive postures--feet planted wide and lightsabers held straight out from their midsections.

Custom-built by each student, to suit hands of varying size and dexterousness, no two of the lightsabers were alike, though they did share some features in common: charging ports, blade projection plates, actuators, diatium power cells, and the rare and remarkable Adegan crystals that gave birth to the blade itself. There were few known materials in the galaxy that a lightsaber could not cut. Fully powered, and in the right hands, a lightsaber could cleave duracrete or burn its way slowly though a starship's durasteel blast doors.

At the next word from the Master, the second line set themselves in attack stances, giving their shoulders a quarter turn, lowering their center of gravity by bending slightly at the knees, and raising their lightsabers in two-fisted grips, as if to swat a pitched ball.

At the instructor's final word, the second line advanced in earnest. The students in the first line set their lightsabers to defend and, with ch.o.r.eographed precision, retreated purposefully as they allowed their opponents to hammer repeatedly at their elevated blades.

When the defenders had been driven halfway across the room, the lightsaber Master called the exercise to a halt and had the groups reverse positions.

Now it was those who had defended who attacked, the blades of light thrumming and grating riotously against one another, auras merging, filling the air of the training room with blinding flashes of illumination.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watched from an observation gallery set slightly above the room's padded floor, deep within the pyramid that was the Jedi Temple's towering base. The exercise had been going on all morning, but only a few of the students showed signs of fatigue.

"I can remember this like yesterday," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon quirked a smile. "It's a good deal of yesterdays for me, Padawan.

" Though separated by more than a score of years, they had both pa.s.sed their youths in the Temple, as was the case with all Jedi, whether students, Padawans, Jedi Knights, or Masters. The Force revealed itself in infancy, and most potential Jedi were residents of the Temple by the age of six months, either discovered on Coruscant or distant worlds by full-fledged Jedi, or delivered to the Temple by family members. Tests were frequently used to establish the relative vitality of the Force residing in candidates, but those tests didn't necessarily forecast where a candidate might end up; whether he or she, human or alien, might take up the lightsaber in defense of peace and justice, or pa.s.s a lifetime of service in the Agricultural Corps, helping to feed the galaxy's poor or deprived.

"As often as I trained, I always worried that I lacked the temperament to become a Padawan, let alone a Jedi Knight," Obi-Wan added. "I fought harder than anyone to mask my self-doubt." Qui-Gon glanced at him askance, his arms folded. "If you had fought a bit harder, Padawan, you surely would have remained in the Agricultural Corps. It was when you stopped trying so hard that you found your path."

"I couldn't keep my mind in the moment."

"And you still can't." Twelve years earlier, Obi-Wan had been a.s.signed to the Agricultural Corps on the planet Bandomeer, and it was there that he had formed a connection with Qui-Gon, whose previous Padawan had fallen to the dark side of the Force and left the Jedi Order. But despite the bond he and Qui-Gon had formed, there were times when he wondered if he had the makings of a Jedi Knight.

"How do I know that the Agricultural Corps wasn't my intended path, Master? Perhaps our meeting on Bandomeer was a fork in the path I shouldn't have taken." Qui-Gon finally turned to him. "There are many paths to take, Obi-Wan. Not all of us are fortunate enough to find the one with heart, the path the Force has set before us. What do you find when you search your feelings about the choices you have made?"

"I feel that I've found the right path, Master."

"I agree." Qui-Gon clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulders, then smiled as he turned to regard the students. "Even so, I think you would have made a good field hand." The students were kneeling in two rows, legs tucked underneath, with feet crossed behind them. The room was still, save for the sound of the lightsaber Master's bare feet adhering to the floor mat as he sauntered between the two rows, appraising each of his students.

A Twi'lek, with slender head-tails and a heavily muscled upper body, his name was Anoon Bondara, a duelist of unparalleled skill. Qui-Gon engaged him in matches at every opportunity. For a match with Bondara, no matter how brief, was more instructive than twenty contests against lesser opponents.

The lightsaber Master stopped in front of a female human student named Darsha a.s.sant, who happened also to be his Padawan. Bondara squatted down on his haunches to regard her at eye level.

"What were you thinking when you attacked?"

"What was I thinking, Master? "

"What was in your thoughts? What was your intent?"

"Merely to be as forceful as possible, Master."

"You wanted to win."

"Not to win, Master. I wanted to strike impeccably." Bondara made a face.

"Rid yourself of thinking.

Don't expect to win; don't expect to lose.

Expect nothing." Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon. "Now where have I heard that before?" Qui-Gon shushed him, without taking his eyes from Bondara, who was in motion once more.

"The lightsaber is not a weapon with which to vanquish foes or rivals,"

Bondara said. "With it, you destroy your own greed, anger, and folly. The forger and wielder of a lightsaber must live in such a manner as to represent the annihilation of anything that impedes the path of justice and peace." He stopped and glanced at everyone. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," They replied in one voice.

Bondara clapped his hands together loudly. "No, you don't.

You must learn to hold the lightsaber by loosening your grip on it. You must learn to advance rhythmically so that you will learn to produce formless rhythms. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," they replied.

"No, you don't." He scowled and sat down at the end of the rows. "I will tell you a story.

"A human, wrongly accused of a crime, was being transported by repulsorlift vehicle across the desert wastes of a remote world, to a prison, located even deeper in the wastes. Without warning, the vehicle experienced a malfunction directly over a pit that was, in fact, the huge and ravenous mouth of a creature that inhabited the wastes.

"The sudden malfunction catapulted the human's escorts down into the mucus-coated maw of the creature. The human was also thrown from his perch. But at the last instant he was able to grab on to the vehicle's landing strut. Not with hands, however-- for they were shackled in stun cuffs behind him-- but with his teeth.

"Shortly a caravan of travelers happened by.

Lost and hungry, the travelers inquired to know the whereabouts of the closest settlement, so they might replenish their meager stores.

"The human found himself in a quandary. By failing to respond, he understood that he might be sentencing the lost travelers to certain death in the sand wastes. But merely by opening his mouth and uttering a word, he would be sentencing himself to certain death in the digestive tract of the sand creature." Bondara paused. "Under such circ.u.mstances, what must the human do?" The students knew in advance that they were not likely to hear the answer from Anoon Bondara.

Getting to his feet, the lightsaber Master added, "I will hear your responses tomorrow." The students bowed at the waist and kept their foreheads to the mat until Bondara had left the room. Then they rose, eager to compare opinions of the training session, though not a one spoke of possible solutions to the instructor's thought-puzzle.

Qui-Gon tapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

"Come, Padawan, there's someone I wish to speak with." Obi-Wan trailed him down the steps and onto the soft floor. There, several Jedi Masters were conferring with their Padawans. Obi-Wan knew some of the Masters slightly, but the person Qui-Gon steered them toward was not someone he had ever met.

She was perhaps one of the most exotic women Obi-Wan had ever seen. Her eyes were oblique and widely s.p.a.ced, with large blue irises that seemed to favor her upper lids. Her nose was broad and flat, and her skin was the color of fruitwood.

"Obi-Wan, I want you to meet Master Luminara Unduli."

"Master Jinn," the woman said, taken by surprise, and inclining her head in a bow of respect.

Qui-Gon returned the gesture. "Luminara, this is Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi, my Padawan." She bowed her head to Obi-Wan, as well. Her face was triangular in shape, and the lower portion was tattooed in small diamond shapes that formed a vertical stripe from her lush, blue - black lower lip to the tip of her round chin. The backs of her hands also bore tattoos, atop each knuckle joint.

Qui-Gon's expression became serious.

"Luminara, Obi-Wan and I have had a recent encounter with someone who bears markings similar to yours."

"Arwen Cohl," Luminara said before Qui-Gon could go on. She smiled faintly. "Had I grown up on my homeworld and not in the Temple, I'm certain I would have heard tales of Arwen Cohl throughout my youth." She met Qui-Gon?ness curious gaze. "He was a freedom fighter, a hero to our people during a war fought with a neighboring world. He was a great warrior, and he made many sacrifices. But soon after our people won their freedom, he was accused of being a conspirator by the very people on whose side he had fought.

That was their way of a.s.suring that Cohl would not be elevated to the position of authority our people wished him to a.s.sume. He spent many years in prison, subjected to cruel punishments and harsh conditions, and those further hardened a man who already had been hardened by war.

"When he left those conditions--whichenough he escaped that awful place, with the help of some of his former confederates--he avenged himself on those who did him wrong, and he swore that he would have nothing more to do with the world that he had fought so hard to liberate.

"He became a mercenary, boasting openly that he would never make the mistakes he had once made. That he now understood the nature of the cosmos, and would always be one step ahead of those who would seek to bring him down, capture him, or in any way thwart him." Qui-Gon inhaled through his nose. "Did he bear any special grudge against the Trade Federation?" Luminara shook her head. "No more than anyone else in my home system. The Trade Federation brought us into the Republic, though they did so at the expense of my world's resources.

"In the beginning, Arwen Cohl would hire himself out only to those whose cause he felt was justified. But over time--noto doubt because of the blood he shed--he became nothing more than a pirate and a contract killer. He was said never to have betrayed a friend or an ally." She paused for a moment, then added, "It is regrettable that history will remember the criminal Cohl rather than the exemplary Cohl. I was sad to hear that he had perished at Dorvalla." When Qui-Gon didn't respond, Luminara asked, "Did he not?" Qui-Gon appeared preoccupied. "For now, I'll grant that he vanished at Dorvalla." Luminara nodded uncertainly.

"Whether Cohl is dead or alive, the matter is in the hands of the Judicial Department, is it not?" Again, Qui-Gon took a moment to respond.

"All that is certain is that Cohl's destiny is in hands other than mine."

c arbon scored and blistered by the explosion that had sundered the freighter, an arc of the Revenue's starboard hangar arm hung over Dorvalla's wan polar cap. Just outside the reach of the planet's shadow, the great curve of durasteel appeared to have been there forever.

Perpetual sunlight poured in through the main hangar portal--where the arm's hand might have been-- illuminating a shambles of cargo pods and barges.

Affixed like a barnacle to the inner hull, however, sat a lone battered shuttle. Inside the shuttle, and even the worse for wear, sat her crew of eight.

"I'm still waiting for that pardon you promised," Cohl said to Rella.