Ambase smiled. “I would have been more surprised if Dooku had not recognized Nuru, and not just because Nuru is so distinctive.” Ambase returned his gaze to the window. “Eleven years ago, when I found the boy in an escape pod at the edge of Wild Space … Dooku was with me.”
“Dooku was still a Jedi then?”
“That’s right.”
The clone was about to ask another question when a clanking sound indicated the droids were about to reenter the chamber. Speaking in a rushed whisper, Ambase said, “You have to get us out of here.”
“I’m working on it, sir,” the clone replied, just as the droids walked in.
A heavy rain was falling as Count Dooku stepped out of his castle, a spired structure perched atop a mountain on the Bogden moon Kohlma. In one hand, Dooku carried Ambase’s utility belt. As he proceeded to the starship landing pads, a disc-shaped repulsorlift device traveled through the air above his head, projecting a thin energy shield to deflect the rain from his body.
Dooku walked past his own solar sailer, which rested on Landing Pad one, and also past the next pad, where a team of astromech droids was busily repairing a Kuat Corona-class transport. On the third landing pad was a MandalMotors Pursuer-class enforcement ship, a thick, wedge-shaped vessel attached to a distinctive port-side outrigger that housed a powerful maneuvering thruster cluster.
A man clad in gray-and-blue segmented blast-resistant armor stood motionless beside the enforcement ship, waiting for Dooku. The man had a long-barreled sniper rifle slung over one shoulder, a pair of blaster pistols in cross-draw holsters on his belt, and a jetpack secured across his back. The jetpack was armed with an antivehicle homing missile. The man’s head was completely obscured by a T-visored helmet, the distinctive mask of a Mandalorian Warrior.
Seeing the Mandalorian, Dooku was reminded of a meeting on Kohlma that had occurred over a decade earlier, when he had recruited Jango Fett as the template for the now-thriving clone army. As Dooku recalled, it had been raining then, too.
Without breaking his stride, Dooku pushed his cape back, moved his hand to a leather pouch at his belt, and released three small silver orbs into the air. The orbs made simultaneous popping sounds as they burst through Dooku’s personal energy field. Powered by miniature repulsorlift engines, each orb raced off in a different direction and rapidly ascended high into the rainy sky.
And then the orbs circled back, descending fast toward the Mandalorian. The armored man’s gloved hands whipped to his belt and seized his pistols just as one orb opened fire. He ignored the incoming stream of energy bolts that whizzed past his form as he fired a single shot, his pistol making a barely audible puff. The first orb shattered in midair.
The second orb fired from behind. The Mandalorian spun on his left foot and dropped to a crouch as he raised his other pistol. Energy bolts tore into the ground where he had just been standing as he returned fire with another single shot. The orb exploded.
The third orb scored a glancing hit on the Mandalorian’s shoulder plate as it sped straight toward him. The Mandalorian plunged his pistols back into their holsters, then reached for his rifle. Gripping the rifle’s barrel, he swung hard at the approaching orb. The rifle’s butt slammed into the orb, sending a spray of small metal bits across the landing pad.
“Impressive,” Dooku said as he came tо а stop before the Mandalorian. “You come highly recommended by your leader. I am graceful that he agreed to my request for assistance from the Death Watch, and I appreciate that you traveled to Kohlma so swiftly.”
The Mandalorian slung his rifle back over his shoulder. His name was Hudu Shiv, but he had no reason to make introductions. “The Death Watch Command said you have an assignment for me.” His low voice sounded like a restrained growl as it rattled through the filter of his helmet’s built-in speaker.
Dooku drew a compact holoprojector from his pocket. He activated holoprojector to display a three-dimensional imagine of a lead man with thinning hair. “Commissioner Langu Sommilor, a representative of Kynachi, is currently en route to a meeting with the Galactic Senate on Coruscant. My sources have informed me that Sommilor’s ship will be refueling at the main spaceport on Vaced in approximately six standard hours.” Dooku thumbed a switch on the holo projector, and the hologram of Sommilor was replaced by an image of Sommilor’s angular Suwantek Systems freighter. “Sommilor will rendezvous on Vaced with a Jedi who leads a squad of four Republic clone troopers.” Dooku thumbed the switch again, and the hologram of the ship was replaced by the image of a blue-skinned boy with red eyes. “This Jedi, Nuru Kungurama, has been assigned to escort Sommilor to Coruscant.”
Studying the hologram, Shiv said, “The Jedi is a child?”
“At any age, a Jedi is a Jedi,” Dooku said. Kungurama is not to be underestimated. He switched off the holoprojector and handed it to the warrior. “I have promised your leader that the day will soon come when the Death Watch will reclaim Mandalore from the cowards who have assumed power, and that you will have all the support of the Separatist forces. But for now, it is too soon to reveal the return of the Death Watch, or to allow the Galactic Senate to suspect a Mandalorian warrior is at large. Secrecy is essential to this assignment.”
The Mandalorian did not waste words. “Who do you want me to kill?”
Dooku smiled. He told the Mandalorian exactly what he wanted done on Vaced. As he spoke, he handed Ambase’s utility belt to the Mandalorian. When he was finished issuing instructions, he said, “Happy hunting.” And then he turned and began walking hack to his castle, taking his personal rain-deflector along with him.
The Mandalorian boarded his enforcement ship and sealed the hatch. Standing upon the airlock’s grated floor, he hit a wall switch to activate a ring of decontamination nozzles that instantly spray-cleaned and dried his armor. He proceeded to the cockpit. Seconds lately the ship’s engines ignited, sending a blast of steam into the rainfall behind the thrusters.
As the ship lifted off and ascended through the clouds, Shiv was confident that he would deliver death to Vaced.
Umbrag’s bulky Metalorn yacht dropped out of hyperspace at the outer edge of the Bilbringi system. The yacht's bow resembled a three-pronged fork. The rest of the vessel looked like a long box with blisters of automatic laser cannons. A moment after the yacht’s arrival, six immense drone barges also exited hyperspace to materialize just behind the yacht.
“Scanning now,” said one of the two droids at the navigational controls on the yacht’s bridge. “No sign of any enemy vessels.”
“Keep scanning for any vessels other than ours,” said Umbrag from behind his breath mask. Clad in an armored pressure suit, the green-skinned humanoid Skakoan pushed himself out of his command sew and moved beside the droid pilot. His beady eyes squinted behind his metal-rimmed goggles as he peered through the main viewport. “Just look at all those asteroids out there. Must be thousands of them.”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot droid said.
Umbrag scowled. “I had everything under control on Kynachi until that Jedi brat came along.”
“I know that you did, sir,” the droid said sympathetically.
“And then, after I’d seized that space station at the edge of Wild Space, I was attacked by pirates!”
“I remember, sir,” the droid said. “I was there, too.”
“Count Dooku has assured me that we won’t encounter any trouble at Bilbringi Depot, but I’m not taking any chances. The barges are carrying enough construction materials to build a small fleet of warships. The Techno Union can’t afford to lose them.”
“Of course not, sir.”
“I just wish Dooku had sent more than twelve battle droids on this assignment.”
“I do to, sir.”
“I don’t know why I should have to wait a full week for reinforcements. Still no sign of any other vessels?”
“No, sir.”
“Plot a course through the asteroid field.”
“Yes, sir.” The pilot extende
d an interface arm that he jacked into the yacht’s navi-computer while his metal fingers tapped at other controls. Turning to his copilot, he said, “Direct the barges to follow our lead, and set the laser cannons for stray asteroids.”
The copilot tapped at more controls. “Barges are set. Laser cannons ready.”
Umbrag said, “Take us in.”
The yacht moved into the asteroid field, trailed by the drone barges. As they headed toward the largest asteroid, two smaller asteroids with eccentric orbits tumbled toward the yacht. The laser cannons fired. As both asteroids were immediately reduced to space dust, the copilot cried out, “Take that, Republic dogs!”
The pilot droid looked at the copilot. “Those were asteroids, not Republic dogs.”
“I know,” said the copilot. “But if they had been Republic dogs, I would have liked to blow them up just like that, and—”
“Quiet!” Umbrag roared.
Several minutes later, the yacht and barges arrived at Bilbringi Depot. Umbrag peered through the viewport to see the cluster of landing pads, modular structures, and docking bays that clung to the surface of the enormous asteroid. Although bright lights illuminated the landing and docking areas and evidenced that at least some of the depot’s generators were running, there was no visible activity.
The pilot droid said, “The depot looks abandoned, sir.”
“No, not abandoned,” Umbrag said. “According to Count Dooku, it was, until recently, owned by a Hutt who donated it to the Separatist cause.”
“Really?” said the droid. “I’ve never heard of a Hutt donating anything to anyone.”
Umbrag sighed.
“Something wrong, sir?”
“I miss Kynachi,” Umbrag said sadly. Raising his gloved hand, he made a fist. “If I ever get ahold of that meddlesome Jedi, I’ll squeeze his neck until his blue head pops off.”
“Watch your head, kid!” Gunn said as Nuru entered the Hasty Harpy’s cockpit. “Better buckle up. We’re exiting hyperspace in five minutes.”
Nuru belted himself into the rear seat behind Gunn and Chatterbox. Outside the cockpit’s transparisteel windows, hyperspace appeared as a torrential cascade of brilliant lights. Gunn glanced back at Nuru and said, “When we leave hyperspace, we’ll be broadcasting a fake transponder code. We don’t want the Harpy to draw any unwanted attention in the Vaced system, so we’ll show up on sensors as a merchant vessel from Coruscant.”
“Sounds practical,” Nuru said. “I just wish we could have found the hidden transmitter before we reached Vaced.”
“Me too,” Gunn said. “I hope I get my hands on whoever planted it!”
If whoever planted it doesn’t get their hands on us first, Nuru thought. He watched Gunn and Chatterbox as they adjusted their instruments in preparation for the exit to real space. From what he could see, they appeared to have everything under control. But that’s what I thought before we wound up at the black hole.
A few minutes later, the cascade of hyperspace washed away from the cockpit’s view and was suddenly replaced by a starfield. Gunn checked the scopes, then tapped the controls to angle the Harpy toward the nearest planet, which was orbited by a single small moon. She said, “Welcome to the Vaced system.”
Nuru noticed a few small starships in the distance, moving to and from the planet Vaced. He said, “Gunn, can your scanners determine if any of those vessels belong to the Techno Union or other Separatist factions?”
Gunn examined another scope. “Readings indicate they’re just merchant ships and private cruisers.”
“How do you know they’re not using fake transponder codes like we are?”
“Kid, if they start shooting at us, I’ll shoot back, okay? Now just sit back and leave the flying to me. The sooner we land, the sooner we can find that transmitter, meet the commissioner from Kynachi, and be on our way tо Coruscant.” Looking at Chatterbox, she added, “Unless, of course, we find romance on Vaced, in which case we might stay awhile.”
Chatterbox muttered, “My heart’s all aflutter.”
Gunn chucked him in the shoulder. “You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do ya?!”
Nuru thought, Gunn and Chatterbox certainly aren’t behaving like sneaky saboteurs. Once again, he found himself questioning Sharp’s suspicions.
The Harpy was still traveling toward the green planet as another vessel dropped out of hyperspace into the Vaced system. The vessel was a MandalMotors Pursuer-class enforcement ship, and in its cockpit was the Mandalorian assassin Hudu Shiv.
CHAPTER 5
“Forget what I said about romance,” Lalo Gunn said as she led Chatterbox and Nuru Kungurama down the Hasty Harpy’s boarding tamp. “This place is a dump.”
Vaced Spaceport was a small sprawl of landing pads and a few ramshackle buildings, one of which appeared to be a trading post. Several workers and mechanics were visible. Nuru looked at the forested area beyond the spaceport. “I wouldn’t call it a dump, Captain Gunn. The planet is remarkably beautiful in its own way, and the spaceport has a quaint charm.”
Chatterbox, who was wearing a poncho to conceal his body armor, tapped Nuru’s shoulder. Nuru turned to see the clone glaring at him. “On second thought,” Nuru added hastily, “the forests are probably filled with vicious creatures, and I suspect the spaceport has limited amenities. I admit I know little of romance, but I doubt anyone would ever find it here.” He glanced at Chatterbox, who responded with an approving nod.
Gunn said, “Yeah? Well, you might change your tune about romance if you ever run into Veeren again.”
Veeren, also known as the Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo, an ambassador of the Chiss Ascendancy, was the first Chiss whom Nuru had ever met. Thinking of her, he felt his face flush a slightly deeper shade of blue.
“You don’t have to listen to me, kid,” Gunn continued. “But the way I see things, if you meet someone you like, you might as well tell them so. Otherwise, you might regret that you didn’t say something when you had the chance.”
Nuru was deciding whether he should respond to Gunn’s comment when he was distracted by an unusual rumbling sound chat came from beyond the spaceport’s perimeter. He said, “What’s that noise?”
“Swoops,” Gunn said. “Sounds like a bunch of ‘em.” She looked at Nuru and Chatterbox. “Don’t tell me you guys never heard of swoops before.”
Nuru cocked his head. Chatterbox shrugged.
Gunn sighed. “A swoop bike is basically a repulsorlift engine with a seat on it, usually for a single rider.”
Nuru said, “Like a speeder bike?”
“Bigger and faster. Way more powerful. Definitely not for kids.”
“I wasn’t thinking of riding one any time soon,” Nuru said. “We need to find the transmitter before Commissioner Sommilor arrives. I’ll be right back.”
Nuru went back up the Harpy’s boarding ramp. He found Breaker, Sharp, Knuckles, and Cleaver in the main hold. Like Chatterbox, the other clones were not wearing their helmets and had ponchos draped over their armor, and Cleaver had wriggled into a hooded robe. Nuru had instructed all the members of Breakout Squad to cover up because they did not want to attract any attention from the local population. To diminish the clones’ resemblance. Knuckles and Breaker wore different colored caps, and Sharp had a set of goggles strapped across his forehead.
Breaker said, “Is it all right for us to go outside, Commander?”
“Yes,” Nuru replied. “But we must exercise caution. Breaker, you and I will be lookouts while everyone else searches the hull for the transmitter.”
Sharp said, “Begging your pardon. Commander, but perhaps I should be a lookout? I have sharp eyesight. That’s how I got my nickname, you know.”
Nuru smiled politely as Sharp had mentioned the origin of his nickname more than once. “Thank you, Sharp, but finding the transmitter may require keen vision too.”
“As you wish, Commander,” Sharp replied.
Knuckles and Breaker walked out of
the hold with Cleaver right behind them. Sharp stepped beside Nuru and whispered, “Commander, are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me accompany you as a lookout? Until we identify the saboteur we shouldn’t take any—”
“I’ll be all right,” Nuru said. “I’m trusting you to keep those sharp eyes of yours on everyone else.”
“Very good, sir.”
Sharp and Nuru stepped outside. They found the others standing on the landing pad beside the Harpy. Knuckles stretched. “Feels good to breathe fresh air for a change, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does,” Breaker said.
“I wouldn’t know,” Cleaver added. “I don’t breathe.”
Knuckles cast a glance at Sharp and said, “I think some of us prefer filtered air, at least while sleeping. Isn’t that right, Sharp?” Knuckles laughed.
Sharp grinned and turned to Nuru. “Knuckles is just joking with me. I’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping with my helmet on. It helps muffle the noise of the Harpy’s engines.”
Knuckles said, “Every time I’ve ever fallen asleep while wearing my helmet, I wake up with a stiff neck.”
“Cut the chatter,” Gunn called out. “Let’s find that rotten transmitter.” She lowered an extendible maintenance ladder that stretched to the Harpy’s upper hull. Chatterbox and Cleaver followed Gunn up the ladder while Sharp and Knuckles began searching for the transmitter on the lower hull.
As Nuru and Breaker walked slowly around the ship, Breaker said, “Any idea what we might be looking out for, Commander?”
“Not really,” Nuru said as they walked past a neighboring landing pad where an Arcona mechanic with an anvil-shaped head was working on his courier ship. ” Anything resembling trouble, I guess.”
Breaker glanced over his shoulder to make sure the other members of Breakout Squad would not be able to hear him. He whispered, “Permission to speak freely, Commander?”
“Yes, of course.”
“It’s about the activation of the Harpy’s hyperspace transponder. The thing is, I’m certain I didn’t do it, sir. And it’s not exactly easy to switch it on accidentally.”
Star Wars - The Clone Wars - Secret Missions #3 - Duel at Shattered Rock Page 3