Part 3 (1/2)

”I'm not exactly a stranger to the Temple's cyberlabs, Anakin.”

”I know that. But Artoo can run the diagnostic.” He beckoned for the droid to join him at the mechno-chair.

”Anakin,” Obi-Wan started to say.

”Really, sirs, I must protest,” TC-16 interrupted, hurrying behind R2-D2.

”These items remain the property of Viceroy Gunray and other members of his party.”

”You don't have a say in the matter,” Anakin said. R2-D2 trilled and hooted at the battered protocol droid. The two had been bickering since R2- D2's arrival a short time earlier.

”I'm fully aware that my circuits are corroded,” TC-16 said. ”As for my posture, there's little I can do about that until my pelvic joint is serviced. You astromechs think very highly of yourselves, just because you can pilot starfighters.”

”Don't pay Artoo any mind, TeeCee,” Anakin said. ”He's been spoiled by another protocol droid. Haven't you, Artoo?”

Artoo toodled a response, extended his computer interface arm, and inserted the magnetic tip into an output socket in the chair.

”Anakin!” Obi-Wan said sharply. Anakin stood up and joined Obi-Wan on the launch platform. Obi-Wan was pointing to a blinking light that was growing larger by the second in the night sky. ”Do you see that? That is very likely the s.h.i.+p we're waiting for. And the Intelligence officers aboard are not going to take kindly to our sticking our noses in their business.”

”Sirs,” TC-16 said from behind them.

”Not now,” Obi-Wan said. R2-D2 began to loose a long series of whistles, chirps, and chitters. ”If and when they give the okay,” Obi-Wan went on, ”then feel free to dissect the entire chair, if that's your objective.”

”That's not my objective, Master.”

”Maybe Qui-Gon should have left you at Watto's junk shop.”

”You don't mean that, Master.”

”Of course not. But I know how you love to tinker with things.”

”Sirs - - ”

”Keep quiet, TeeCee,” Anakin said. R2-D2 honked and razzed, though as if from a distance. ”And you, too, Artoo.” Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder, and his jaw dropped.

”Where's the mechno-chair?” Anakin swung around and scanned the bay.

”Where's Artoo?”

”I've been trying to tell you, sirs,” TC-16 said, gesturing toward the launching bay's ruined iris hatch. ”The chair walked away - - taking your high-thinking little droid with it!” Obi-Wan stared at Anakin in bewilderment. ”Well, it couldn't have gotten far on foot, Master.”

They rushed into the corridor, saw that it was deserted in both directions, and began searching the rooms that adjoined the bay. A prolonged electronic squeal brought both of them back into the main corridor.

”That's Artoo,” Anakin said. ”Either that, or TeeCee has developed a talent for mimicry.” The protocol droid following behind, they hurried into a compact data room, where they saw R2-D2 with his interface arm still jacked into the chair, and the gripper of his grasping arm clamped to the bar handle of a storage cabinet. Stretched to its full extent, a computer interface cable now connected the mechno-chair to a control console of some sort. The chair's talon-like feet were in constant motion, attempting to gain purchase on the smooth floor in an effort to propel the chair closer to the console.

”What's it doing?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin made his face long and shook his head. ”Recharging itself?”

”Never seen such tenacity in a mechno-chair.” R2-D2 chattered and wheezed. ”What's Artoo saying?” Obi-Wan asked TC-16.

”He's saying, sir, that the mechno-chair has just armed itself to self-destruct!” Anakin made a mad dash for the console.

”Artoo, unplug yourself!” Obi-Wan shouted. ”Anakin, get away from that thing!”

Anakin's fingers were already busy undoing leads that linked the holoprojector unit to the chair. ”Can't, Master. Now we know there's something stored in this chair no one wants us to see.” Obi-Wan glanced worriedly at R2- D2. ”How much time, Artoo?”

TC-16 translated the astromech's response. ”Seconds, sir!”

Obi-Wan rushed to Anakin's side. ”There isn't time, Anakin. Besides, it could be rigged to detonate if tampered with.”

”Almost there, Master...”

”You'll deactivate us in the process!” Obi-Wan sensed a disturbance in the Force. Without thinking, he pulled Anakin to the floor an instant before the chair shot a stream of white vapor into the s.p.a.ce Anakin had occupied. Coughing, Obi-Wan covered his mouth and nose with the wide sleeve of his robe.

”Poison gas! Good bet it's the same one Gunray tried to use on Qui-Gon and me at Naboo.”

”Thank you, Master,” Anakin said. ”What's that make it, twenty-five to thirty-seven?”

”Thirty-six - - if you've any interest in accuracy.” Anakin studied the chair for a moment. ”We have to take the chance.” Before Obi-Wan could even think about stopping him, Anakin had leaned forward and wrenched the interface cable from the control console. R2-D2 yowled, and TC-16 moaned in distress. A web of blue energy gamboled around the chair and the console, knocking Anakin onto his backside. At the same time, a high-resolution blue hologram projected from the chair's holoplate. R2-D2 mewled in alarm.

And to the meter-high figure in the hooded cloak, the unmistakable voice of Viceroy Nute Gunray was saying: ”Yes, yes, of course. Trust that I will see to it personally, my Lord Sidious.”

10.

These days, an appointment with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was not something to be taken lightly - - even for a member of the so-called Loyalist Committee.

Appointment? More an audience. Bail Organa had just arrived on Coruscant, and was still wearing the deep blue cloak, ruffle-collared s.h.i.+rt, and knee-high black boots his wife had laid out for him for the trip from Alderaan. He had been away from the galactic capital for only a standard month, and could scarcely believe the disturbing changes that had taken place during his short absence. Alderaan never seemed more a paradise, a sanctuary. Just thinking about his beautiful blue-and-white homeworld made Bail yearn to be there, yearn for the company of his loving wife.

”I'm going to need to see further identification,” the clone trooper stationed at the landing platform's Homeworld Security checkpoint told him. Bail motioned to the identichip he had already slotted in the scanner.

”It's all there, Sergeant. I'm a member in good standing of the Republic Senate.” The helmeted noncom glanced at the display screen, then looked down at Bail. ”So it says. But I'm still going to need to see further identification.”

Bail sighed in exasperation and fished into the breast pocket of his brocaded tunic for his credit chip. The new Coruscant, he thought.

Faceless, blaster-wielding soldiers on the shuttle landing platforms, in the plazas, arrayed in front of banks, hotels, theaters, wherever beings gathered or mingled. Scanning the crowds, stopping anyone who fit the current possible terrorist profile, conducting searches of individuals, belongings, residences.

Not on a whim, because the cloned troopers didn't operate like that. They answered merely to their training, and the duties they performed were for the good of the Republic. One heard rumors about antiwar demonstrations being put down by force; of disappearances and seizures of private property. Proof of such abuses of power rarely surfaced, and was quickly discredited. The omnipresence of the soldiers seemed to bother Bail more than it did his few friends on Coruscant or his peers in the Senate. He had tried to attribute his agitation to the fact that he hailed from pacific Alderaan, but that explained only some of it. What bothered him most was the ease with which the majority of Coruscanti had acclimated to the changes.

Their willingness - - almost an eagerness - - to surrender personal freedoms in the name of security. And a false security, at that. For while Coruscant seemed far from the war, it was also at the center of it.

Now, three years into a conflict that might have been ended as abruptly as it had begun, every new security measure was taken in stride.

Except, of course, by members of those species most closely a.s.sociated with the Separatist agenda - - Geonosians, Muuns, Neimoidians, Gossams, and the rest - - many of whom had been ostracized or forced to flee the capital. Having lived for so long in fear and ignorance, few Coruscanti stopped to question what was really going on. Least of all the Senate itself, which was so busy modifying the Const.i.tution that it had completely abandoned its role as a balancing arm of the government.

Before the war, widespread corruption had stifled the legislative process. Bills languished, measures sat for years without being addressed, votes were protested and subjected to endless recounts...