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 space 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 assaults 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 circumstances 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
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 harassment. 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 wing
s.
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." "Destroying
a freighter is certainly one way to delay it," Rancisis said.
Qui-Gon glanced at him. "Gobi's actions were something new." "Then what
drove the Nebula Front to escalate the violence?" Gallia asked.
Qui-Gon sensed that she was asking as much for the sake of the council as
for Supreme Chancellor Valorum, with whom she had close ties. "My contact
claims that the Nebula Front has grown a radical wing, and it is those
militants who contracted with Captain Cohl. The Bith and many others were
opposed to employing mercenaries, but the militants have assumed command of
the organization." Yoda rubbed his chin in thought. "After the aurodium
ingots, were they not?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "Frankly, Master, I'm not sure
if I accept the Federation's claim." "You have reason to doubt it?" Koon
asked.
"It's a question of method. The Trade Federation concedes a preoccupation
with safeguarding their cargos.
Why, then, would they entrust a shipment of aurodium to a poorly defended
freighter like the Revenue, when the more heavily armed Acquisitor was only a
star system away?" "A point, he has," Yoda said.
"I consider the reason obvious," Rancisis disagreed. "The Trade
Federation falsely assumed that no one would suspect the Revenue of harboring
such wealth." "The question is of little consequence," Gallia said. "The use
of mercenaries like Cohl signals the beginning of a coordinated campaign to
counter the Trade Federation's droid defenses by force, and ultimately to
overthrow Trade Federation influence in the outlying systems." "Fortunately,
Captain Cohl is no longer a concern," Plo Koon remarked.
Yoda adopted a wide-eyed look. "Concern Qui-Gon, Cohl does." Qui-Gon felt
the council's close scrutiny.
"I don't believe that he perished with the freighter," he said at last.
"You were there, were you not?" Rancisis asked.
"Saw it with his own eyes, he did," Yoda said, with a twinkle in his eye.
Qui-Gon compressed his lips. "Cohl planned for every eventuality. He
wouldn't have piloted his craft into an explosion just to evade pursuit."
"Then why didn't you capture him as you hoped to do?" Rancisis asked.
Qui-Gon planted his hands on his hips, thumbs pointed behind him. "As
Master Gallia has said, Cohl is only the beginning. My Padawan and I attached
a tracking device to Cohl's ship, in the hope of tracking it to the Nebula
Front's current base, which could be on one of the Rimma worlds that support
the terrorists. After the explosion, the tracker failed to return a signal."
Gallia stared at him for a moment. "You searched for Cohl, Qui-Gon?" "Obi-Wan
and I found no signs of his shuttle.
For all we know, he rode the leading edge of the explosion right down
Dorvalla's gravity well." "You have informed the Judicial Department of your
suspicions?" Rancisis asked.
"Some of Cohl's better-known haunts are under surveillance," Gallia
answered for Qui-Gon.
Koon left his chair to stand alongside Qui-Gon. "Captain Cohl may be the
best of his ilk, but there are many more like him, just as heartless, just as
rapacious. The Nebula Front militants will have no trouble finding eager
replacements." Rancisis nodded gravely. "This is something we need to watch
closely." Yoda crossed the room, shaking his head back and forth. "Avoid a
conflict with the Nebula Front, we must. Speak for many, they do. Compromise
us, they will." "I agree," Rancisis said. "We can't afford to take sides."
"But we have to take sides," Qui-Gon blurted.
"I'm not an ally of the Trade Federation. But acts of terrorism by the
Nebula Front won't be limited to freighters. Innocent beings will be
endangered." Everyone fell silent, except for Yoda.
"A true Knight, Qui-Gon is," he said, with a note of gentle rebuke.
"Forever on his own quest." small, humid world disdained by an aging sun,
ationei - moidia was a place to be avoided--even by Neimoidians. Instead of
profiting from its relative proximity to self-reliant Corellia and
industrialized Kuat, Neimoidia had actually suffered for its placement, having
been passed over, time and again, by the fraternity of Core worlds. That
heritage of being shunned had informed Neimoidian society.
Scorn had imparted to the species a conviction that progress came to only
those who proved themselves not merely capable but predatory. Reaching the top
of the food chain required that the bodies of the weak be used as stepping-
stones. Once the summit was attained, it was held by seizing whatever
resources were available and preventing others from grabbing them.
Those tenets were frequently offered as explanation as to how and why the
Neimoidians had risen so rapidly to the fore of the Trade Federation, whose
signature was callousness.
Neimoidia's most able typically left home at an early age, opting for
lives of itinerant trading aboard the vessels of the Trade Federation fleet.
As a result, Neimoidia was scarcely populated by the weakest of the species,
who tended to the planet's vast insect hives, fungus farms, and beetle
hatcheries.
Viceroy Nute Gunray shared with his fellow self-exiles a peculiar
distaste for his homeworld.
But circumstance had demanded that he meet with the members of his Inner
Circle in a location that guaranteed protection from the prying eyes of
Coruscant. And in that sense, Neimoidia provided the best possible sanctuary.
The problem inherent in returning home was that one couldn't escape
recalling--on some level of cellular memory- - the seven formative years
Neimoidians spent as puny, pale, wriggling grubs, in competition with every
other grub for survival and the chance to mature into red-eyed, noseless,
fish-lipped, and decidedly distrustful adults.
Adults, like Gunray, at any rate, who swathed their bodies in the finest
raiment credits could buy, and who rarely, if ever, looked back.
The viceroy gave himself over to momentary reflection on such matters
while the mechno-chair carried him to the meeting place, through cavernous
halls of finely cut stone that mimicked the early hives, and past row after
row of protocol droids standing at attention on both sides.
His ultimate destination was a dark, dank grotto, the antithesis of the
gleaming bridges of Trade Federation freighters. On display were several
examples of exotic flora left to fend for themselves in capturing what
moisture they could from the stuffy air. The arching walls were graced with
the twin emblems of piety and power the Spherical Flame and the garhai--the
armored fish that symbolized obedience and dedication to enlightened