somehow knew about it. I had no recourse but to turn it over to him."
Expecting rebuke or worse, Dofine hung his head in shame as he trailed the
mechno-chair. But the viceroy surprised him.
"The lives of you and your crew were at stake." "Just so, Excellency."
"Then stand tall, Commander Dofine," Gunray said.
"For what has happened today may well prove a boon for the Trade
Federation, and a blessing for all Neimoidians." "A boon, Viceroy?" Gunray
nodded. "I order you to assume command of the Acquisitor.
Recall the starfighters and withdraw the freighter from combat." "Cohl is
headed back to the freighter," Obi-Wan said from the controls of the Judicial
Department starfighter. "Could he have tricked the freighter into abandoni ng
its cargo, even though it wasn't in jeopardy?" "I doubt it," Qui-Gon said. He
pressed his face close to the Lancet's transparisteel canopy. "All of Gobi's
support ships- - even the corvette--are distancing themselves from the
Revenue.His""" "It's true, Master. Even the Aequisitor is under way." "Then
we're safe in concluding that the freighter is marked for destruction. And
yet, Captain Cohl is speeding toward it." "As we are, Master," Obi-Wan thought
to point out.
"What could Cohl have in mind?" Qui-Gon asked himself aloud. "He's not a
man to undertake desperate acts, Obi-Wan, let alone suicidal ones." "The
shuttle isn't decelerating or changing course. Cohl is shooting straight for
the starboard hangar arm." "Just where we started." Obi-Wan's brow began to
furrow in concern.
"Master, we're getting awfully close. If the freighter is truly marked
for destruction..." "I realize that, Padawan. Perhaps Captain Cohl is merely
testing us." Obi-Wan waited a long moment before he allowed concern to show in
his voice. "Master?" Qui-Gon watched the shuttle angle down toward the center
of the circle that was the Revenue.
Stretching out with his feelings, he did not like what he found.
"Abort the pursuit, Obi-Wan," he said suddenly. "Quickly!" Obi-Wan fed
full power to the Lancet's drives and pulled the yoke sharply toward him. At
full boost, the ship climbed in a long loop away from the freighter.
Suddenly, the Revenue exploded. In the Lancet's cockpit, 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 massive 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 hyperspace.
"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 lustrous 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 principal 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 cummerbund. 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
d
esperate 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 compassionate 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 assaulted 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 assassins 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 harassment, 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 reassessed 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
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 hyperspace 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 assume the
burden of taxation by paying more for Trade Federation services." He paused
briefly. "I would be compelled to act with utmost circumspection." Valorum
merely nodded.
"That much said," Palpatine was quick to add, "rest assured 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
spacious 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 assaults 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 harassing them, and I know that you're opposed to doing that."
Valorum confirmed it with a determined nod. "The Republic hasn't had a