Jedi Search

by Kevin J. Anderson

  not counting the weapons designers in Maw Installation itself. She did not

  want to waste them.

  She glanced up and down the hangar, her molten-metal hair trailing behind

  her. Inside an electromagnetic cage that shielded the entire vessel,

  technicians scoured the battered Imperial shuttle Endor that had been

  brought in by the new captives. Endor--what kind of name was that? She had

  never heard the term before. The technicians would be checking for service

  markings, locator beacons, and course-log files.

  For a moment Daala considered taking the battered shuttle itself down to Tol

  Sivron, the chief scientist of Maw Installation; the effect would probably

  shock him into paying attention to her for once. But that would be a

  childish gesture. She let the technicians continue their work and chose

  instead the Imperial shuttle Edict.

  "I can pilot this myself," she said to her bodyguards. "Leave me." On the

  flight down she wanted time alone. She knew what Sivron would say on hearing

  the news, but this time she would not let him get away with it.

  The bodyguards dropped back and to the side as Daala stepped up the ramp

  into the shuttle. She moved with quick, habitual movements, powering up the

  engines, running through the automated checklist. She mounted the headset

  nodes to her temple and to her ear, listening to her course vector as she

  raised the Edict from its pad and arrowed it out through the magnetic

  shields that closed off the hangar bay from the vacuum of space.

  Surrounding her was the colorful, deadly shell of gases swirling into the

  endless gullets of black holes. Below hung Maw Installation itself, a

  cluster of planetoids crammed at the exact center of the gravitational

  island. The surfaces of the barren rocks touched in some places, grinding

  together. Immense bridges and bands held the asteroids in place. Access

  tubes and transit rails connected the cluster of drifting rocks.

  Under Grand Moff Tarkin's direction Imperial constructors had ferried the

  rocks across space and through the obstacle course into the Maw. The insides

  of the asteroids were hollowed out into habitation chambers, laboratory

  areas, prototype assembly bays, and meeting halls.

  If we present the citizens with a weapon so powerful, so immense as to defy

  all conceivable attack against it, a weapon invulnerable and invincible in

  battle, that shall become the symbol for the Empire. Daala had read a draft

  of the communiqué Tarkin had sent to the Emperor, urging the creation of

  superweapons. We may need only a handful of these weapons to subjugate

  thousands of worlds, each containing millions upon millions of beings. Such

  a weapon must have force great enough to dispatch an entire system, and the

  fear it shall inspire will be great enough for you to rule the galaxy

  unchallenged.

  After getting permission for his scheme, Tarkin had used his new authority

  as Grand Moff to put together this super-secret think-tank installation,

  where he could isolate the most brilliant scientists and theoreticians,

  giving them orders to develop new weapons for the Emperor. Since Tarkin took

  credit for everything without citing his sources, the Emperor himself did

  not know of the installation's existence.

  The workers and architects who built the place had boarded a return ship,

  thinking their job finished, but Daala had reprogrammed their navicomputers

  herself with an incorrect course out of the Maw. Instead of flying to their

  freedom, they had plunged straight into the mouth of a black hole. No loose

  ends.

  The secret of Maw Installation had been protected. After Tol Sivron and his

  teams proved the initial concept of the Death Star, Grand Moff Tarkin had

  taken one of the Installation's top scientists, Bevel Lemelisk, to the Outer

  Rim to oversee actual construction of the first production-model Death Star.

  Tarkin's last words to the Maw scientists had been a challenge: "Good. Now

  create an even more powerful weapon. Surpassing the Death Star may seem

  inconceivable, but we must maintain our superiority, we must maintain a

  sense of fear among the citizens of the Empire. The Death Star is terrible.

  Think of something worse. That is your reason for existence."

  Tarkin gave them nine years to develop his next-generation ultimate weapon.

  And now, since Tarkin was dead and no one else knew Maw Installation even

  existed--Daala could make her own decisions, plan her own course of action.

  Finally reaching the small gravity field of the central administrative

  asteroid, Daala secured the shuttle Edict in the docking bay. She stood

  beside her shuttle, breathing deeply of the dusty, exhaust-laden air and

  already wishing she could be back on the gleaming and sterile decks of the

  Gorgon. She would deal with Tol Sivron quickly, then return.

  A contingent of stormtroopers assigned to ground duty bustled to assist her.

  "Follow me," she said. A show of force would smother any protests from the

  scientist administrator.

  She did not announce her arrival but strode directly through the anterooms,

  startling the various clerks and administrative assistants. The

  stormtroopers stood at attention. The clerks stared at them, then slowly

  took their seats again and refrained from making any outbursts.

  "Tol Sivron, I need to speak with you," Daala said, entering his office. "I

  have some important news."

  The scientist administrator's office was cluttered, but with all the wrong

  things. More a bureaucrat than a scientist, Tol Sivron required the

  theoreticians and designers to build concept models and tiny prototypes of

  their ideas, which Sivron left on shelves, on furniture, in alcoves. Daala

  guessed that Sivron played with them as toys during dull moments.

  Around the office lay piles of proposals, design studies, regular progress

  reports, charts of optimized parameters that the scientist administrator

  required in hardcopy. His clerks studied these reports, then wrote their own

  reports summarizing them and referencing still further documents. Daala

  didn't believe the administrator read any of them.

  "Tol Sivron swiveled his chair to look at her with a bored expression.

  "News? We haven't had any news in a decade."

  Sivron was a Twi'lek, pasty-faced and hairless, with two whip-like

  head-tails that dangled from his skull. The tentacles fell over his

  shoulders like two skinless blood-eels sucking the back of his cranium.

  Sivron's close-set pig-like eyes and mouthful of jagged teeth heightened

  Daala's disgust. Twi'leks were generally a disreputable lot, slinking around

  with smugglers and acting as henchmen for crime lords like Jabba the Hutt.

  Though Daala rarely questioned Grand Moff Tarkin's decisions, she didn't

  understand how Tol Sivron had obtained his position here.

  "Well, we have news today. We captured three prisoners who blundered into

  the Maw in a stolen Imperial shuttle. We have put them all through deep

  questioning, and I see no reason to doubt the veracity of this information,

  as unpleasant as it may seem."

  "So what is this unpleasant information?"

  Daala kept her face absolutely rig
id. "The Emperor is dead, the Rebels have

  won. A few warlords tried to put the Empire back together, but they merely

  caused years of civil war. A new Republic is now the primary government in

  the galaxy."

  Sivron sat up in shock. In a nervous gesture his head-tails coiled behind

  his neck. "But how could that happen? With our Death Star design--''

  'Grand Moff Tarkin built one Death Star, but the Rebels managed to steal the

  plans, and somehow they discovered a flaw, a thermal-exhaust port that

  allowed one small fighter access to the reactor core. The Rebels destroyed

  the Death Star and killed Tarkin."

  "I'll assign a team to look over the plans so we can correct this flaw!"

  Sivron said, a matter of pride to him. "At once!"

  "How is that going to help anything now?" Daala snapped. "Tarkin had Bevel

  Lemelisk with him on the outside. After the first Death Star was destroyed,

  the Emperor himself asked Lemelisk to design a larger model, this time

  eliminating the known flaw. The second Death Star was still under

  construction when the Rebels destroyed it."

  Sivron scowled, as if trying to figure out how he could solve a problem

  already several years old. As the years stretched out with no word from

  outside, Sivron had sent self-destructing drones through the fiery walls of

  the Maw, carrying coded transmission bursts, updates for Tarkin. Daala had

  strict orders not to leave Maw Installation, and so they waited. And waited.

  Daala's primary mistake had been overestimating the abilities of her mentor,

  Tarkin. She had graduated from the Imperial military academy on Carida, one

  of the toughest training grounds for military service in the Empire. She had

  excelled in every curriculum, defeated many warriors in single combat, used

  her strategic skills to wipe out entire armies in war games.

  But because she was a woman, and because female officers were extremely rare

  in Imperial military service, the Caridan academy assigned Daala to

  difficult, thankless jobs, while they promoted the less talented men--men

  she herself had bested time and again--into positions of authority.

  Out of frustration Daala had created a false persona in the computer

  networks, a pseudonym under which she could make suggestions that would be

  listened to. After a handful of these truly radical ideas paid off, Moff

  Tarkin had come to Carida to find this brilliant new tactician -comb his

  detective work had uncovered Daala instead.

  Luckily, Tarkin was more innovative and open-minded than the Emperor. He

  quietly reassigned Daala to his personal staff, took her to the Outer Rim

  territories on his fleet of Star Destroyers, and let her work with him.

  They became lovers, two like minds, hard in spirit and unforgiving. Though

  he was older than she, Tarkin had a power and a charisma that Daala admired.

  Gaunt and tireless in his quiet viciousness, he had a self-confidence so

  great that he did not flinch even in the presence of Darth Vader.

  To keep Daala hidden, Grand Moff Tarkin gave her four Star Destroyers and

  charged her with the task of guarding Maw Installation. But now that she had

  obtained new information from the captives, everything was changed.

  Everything.

  Sivron stared at her with anger glowing in his eyes. "Where are these

  captives now?"

  "In detention cells on board the Gorgon. They are recuperating from the

  ...rigors of interrogation."

  "What if someone comes looking for them?" He turned to glance out the

  transparisteel window on his office wall.

  "They were escapees from the spice-mining operation on Kessel. They had no

  idea where they were going. They'll be presumed lost in the Maw--I myself

  can't understand how they survived the passage through the cluster in the

  first place."

  "Why didn't you just dispose of them?" Sivron asked.

  Daala maintained her patience with an effort. This was yet another example

  of Twi'lek shortsightedness. "Because they are the only link with the

  outside we've had in a decade. Qwi Xux has already requested an interview

  with the prisoners to ask them for details about the actual Death Star. We

  may need to pump them for further information--before we decide what to do

  next."

  Sivron blinked his piggish eyes. "What to do? What do you mean? What is

  there to do?"

  She crossed her arms over her chest. "We can take the new Sun Crusher and

  destroy the New Republic system by system." She stared at him with her green

  eyes, not blinking.

  The Twi'lek squirmed. "But the Sun Crusher isn't finished yet. We still have

  tests to run, reports to file--''

  'You have been procrastinating for two years. You are behind schedule thanks

  to your bureaucracy and ineptness. Grand Moff Tarkin is not coming back, and

  you no longer have an excuse to delay. I need the weapon now, and I'm going

  to take it."

  Her mind kept replaying the words Tarkin had told her while inspecting the

  Kuat Drive Yards. I am giving you enough power to turn any planet to slag.

  And with the newly designed Sun Crusher weapon, she could bring the New

  Republic to its knees.

  "If Solo is telling the truth," Daala said, "then my fleet could be the most

  powerful remnant of the Imperial Navy." She picked up one of Tol Sivron's

  small models. "We can't just wait here any longer. Now it's our turn to show

  them what we can do."

  The Caridan ambassador arrived with his entourage on the recently repaired

  west landing platform, far from the Imperial Palace. His diplomatic shuttle

  looked like a glossy black beetle, bristling with weapons that had been

  remotely neutralized before the ship was allowed to approach Coruscant.

  On the landing platform Leia waited to greet Ambassador Furgan with a full

  contingent of New Republic honor guard. The wind picked up, blowing around

  the tall buildings, as if trying to push the Caridan delegation back in the

  direction it had come. She wore her formal government robes as well as rank

  insignia for the Alliance forces.

  Carida, with its powerful military training center, was one of the most

  important strongholds still loyal to the Empire. If she could crack open

  negotiations with them, her coup would not be soon forgotten. But the

  Caridan system was going to be a tough jewel-fruit to crack, especially with

  a rude and icy ambassador like Furgan.

  The shuttle's hatch hissed open as the denser air of Carida rushed out. Two

  stormtroopers marched down the ramp, shouldering ceremonial blaster rifles

  equipped with bayonets. Their white armor gleamed from meticulous polishing.

  They moved like droids, walking off the ramp and stepping to either side,

  then freezing in position as a second pair of stormtroopers followed them

  down and waited at the end of the ramp.

  Ambassador Furgan strode down, stubby-legged and self-important, as if to

  ceremonial music. His uniform was spattered with more badges, insignia, and

  ribbons than any person could possibly have earned in a lifetime.

  After two more stormtrooper officers followed the ambassador down, Furgan

  drew a deep breath, looking into the distance and ignoring Leia. />
  "Ah, the air of Imperial Center." He turned toward the waiting reception

  committee, beetling his thick brows. "Smells a bit sour now, though. The

  taint of rebellion."

  Leia disregarded the comment. "Welcome to Coruscant, Ambassador Furgan. I am

  Minister of State Leia Organa Solo."

  "Yes, yes," Furgan said impatiently. "After Mon Mothma's words about the

  extreme importance of Carida, I expected her to send more than a minor

  official to greet me. A slap in the face."

  Leia had to fall back on some of Luke's temper-controlling exercises, a Jedi

  mind-blanking technique that allowed her to quell the surge of anger. "I see

  you have not taken the time to familiarize yourself with the structure of

  our government, Ambassador. Though Mon Mothma is the New Republic's Chief of

  State, the Cabinet is the actual governing body, of which the Minister of

  State and my subordinate diplomatic corps comprise perhaps the most

  important arm."

  Leia stopped herself, angry with Furgan for goading her, and angry with

  herself for letting him manipulate her into petty games. Mon Mothma had

  instructed her to extend every diplomatic courtesy to the ambassador. She

  wished Han or Luke were there beside her.

  "Mon Mothma has a great many other duties, but she has arranged for a brief

  face-to-face meeting with you later in the day," Leia said. "Until then,

  would you like me to show you to your quarters? Some refreshment, perhaps,

  after your journey?"

  Furgan's eyes looked like small, overripe berries as he directed his gaze at