Star Wars - Cloak Of Deception Read online

  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

  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 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