Part 4 (1/2)
Suddenly, the Revenue exploded. In the Lancet's c.o.c.kpit, 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 ma.s.sive 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 s.h.i.+p'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 hypers.p.a.ce.
”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 l.u.s.trous domes, knife-edged spires, and terraced superstructures that climbed to the sky. The taller buildings resembled outsize rockets.h.i.+ps 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 princ.i.p.al 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 c.u.mmerbund. 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 desperate 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 compa.s.sionate 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 a.s.saulted 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 a.s.sa.s.sins 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 hara.s.sment, 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 rea.s.sessed 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 s.h.i.+mmersilk 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 leaders.h.i.+p. 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.”