Rogue Planet (star wars)

by Greg Bear

  It had not happened yet, but Obi-Wan was certain that someday soon the danger would come not from boyish energy adventurous hijinks, but from a misapplication of the Force.

  Perhaps that was what caused him unease.

  Perhaps not.

  He drew himself into an alert meditative state. For the last couple of years, Obi-Wan had tried to cut down on his need to sleep. While all of the Jedi he knew slept, he had heard that some did not. He was certain that meditative alertness performed all the functions of sleep, and would give him time to examine his own thoughts at their deepest levels, to maintain vigilance.

  You do not trust yourself yet, Jedi. You do not trust your unconscious connection to the Force.

  Obi-Wan turned his head and looked around the darkened cabin. That had sounded like Qui-Gon Jinn speaking, yet he had heard nothing. Nor had the boy made a sound.

  Strange that this did not disturb Obi-Wan more.

  "No, Master, I do not," Obi-Wan said to the empty air. "That is my strength."

  Qui-Gon would have debated that point fiercely. But there was no reply.

  Chapter 11

  Sienar tried to focus on his mount and ignore the seethe of concerns that had occupied him since his last encounter with Tarkin.

  The animal, a gray-blue trith prancer, trotted on six graceful legs around Sienar's private arena, responding to his faintest ankle tap or tug on upward-jutting shoulder bones. A trith prancer's back formed a natural saddle-if the genetic manipulation of a thousand generations could be considered natural. Sienar's animals-he owned three prancers-were the finest money could buy, another luxury he was reluctant to put at risk. Too soft, too attacked, too inflexible!

  Nevertheless, Sienar rode and tried to enjoy himself.

  He pulled back gently, and the trith rose up on its two rear pairs of legs, pawing the air elegantly. It emitted musical fluting noises that thrilled Sienar to his core. Once, he could have ridden a trith across open prairie for days and been perfectly happy- happy, that is, until another spacecraft design occurred to him.

  Now it was likely he would be neither riding nor designing for some months. Tarkin seemed to think he could alter Sienar's life, intrude into his business affairs, threaten him, and dine opulently from his table of secrets.

  The difficulty was, Tarkin was probably correct: buried in this morass of obligation and coercion was a real opportunity. Still, Tarkin himself was likely to benefit the most from Sienar's participation.

  He spun his animal around and pushed with his ankles to get it to gallop on two rear sets of legs. This was a difficult behavior, and Sienar was proud of how well his animals performed. They had won many prizes at competitions on several planets.

  A commotion broke out near the wide double door to the arena. Security droids backed into the arena, gesturing frantically. Sienar quickly dismounted and hid behind the trith, staring over the smooth fur of its back.

  Tarkin walked between the droids, ignoring their warnings. Astonishingly, he carried a Senate-grade ionic disruptor, which rendered security droids harmless.

  Sienar smiled grimly and walked around the trith, which blew out its breath in some alarm at the stranger. Fortunately, Tarkin had come this time without his Blood Carver.

  "Good morning, Raith," Tarkin called out cheerfully. "I need to view this Sekotan ship of yours. Now."

  "By all means," Sienar said pleasantly. "Next time, you should give me some warning. Not all of my security droids are vulnerable to disruptors, you know. It's good I anticipated your rudeness. . and programmed them to recognize you. Otherwise they would have shot you as soon as you passed through that door."

  Tarkin looked over his shoulder and paled slightly. "I see," he said, putting away the disruptor. "No harm done."

  "Not this time," Sienar muttered.

  Sienar had kept two of his old factory sites in the ancient depths of the capital city, long after he had moved all operations to fancier locations. The rent was cheap, and any curious intruders could be disposed of with little legal difficulty. In fact, this was where he posted most of his offworld and noncompliant security droids, the finest money could smuggle. They took orders only from Sienar.

  As guards, droids were fine. Their wits could not be dulled by boredom.

  Tarkin followed, for the first time visibly nervous. His own security droids seemed small and inconsequential beside the large, heavily armored silver machines that guarded the remains of the Sekotan ship in its dark, dry, cavernous hangar.

  "Just this hulk cost me a hundred million credits," Sienar said, switching on a few key lights around the echoing hangar. "As you can see, it's not in very good shape."

  Tarkin walked around the scabrous hulk in its shimmering refrigeration field. The once-graceful curves had subsided into a wrinkled, deflated mass, despite deep-freezing and less obvious efforts at preservation.

  "It's biological," Tarkin observed, nose wrinkling.

  "I thought you would have known that already."

  "I didn't think it was. . this organic," he said. "I had been told the ships were in some sense alive, but. . Not much use when dead, are they?"

  "A curiosity, like some preserved deep-sea monstrosity, rarely seen," Sienar said. "As for understanding its capabilities, well, there's not much left to analyze."

  "I have some images," Tarkin said. "Ships in outlying ports, taking on fuel."

  "And nutrients, no doubt," Sienar said. He probably had seen the same images.

  "Is it plant, or animal?"

  "Neither. It cannot reproduce by itself. No cellular structure, dense and varied tissues that can incorporate both metals and a variety of high-strength, heat-resistant polymers… A marvel. But without its owner, it quickly dies, and quickly decays."

  "Reminiscent of Gungan technology on Naboo, perhaps?" Tarkin suggested.

  "Perhaps," Sienar said. "Perhaps not. The Gungans manufacture their ships from organic matter, but the ships are not themselves alive. This. . seems to be very different. Before your generous offer, I was looking for an owner willing to allow me access to a fully functioning Sekotan ship. So far, however, there are no takers. It seems secrecy is part of the contract, and betrayal could end an owner's relationship with his vessel. This was the best I could do."

  "I see," Tarkin said. "I chose the right man for this mission, Raith. I had a feeling you'd be up on all this."

  "Now that you've seen my expensive but disappointing prize," Raith said, "can I offer you some breakfast? It's late, and I haven't had time to dine."

  "No, thank you," Tarkin said. "I have many more visits to make today. Keep your schedule open, my friend. Something could happen at any minute."

  "Of course," Raith said. My time is yours, Tarkin. I am patient.

  Chapter 12

  Obi-Wan paused on the way to the bridge and leaned into the small cubicle where the food-kin, the small crablike creatures, made their homes when they were not working. Anakin sat on a small stool in a circle of food-kin. His brow was knit in concentration.

  He looked up at Obi-Wan. "I can't decide whether I like this or not," he said.

  "Like what?"

  "This arrangement they have with Charza. They seem to revere him, but he eats them."

  "I would trust their feelings rather than your own, in this case," Obi-Wan said.

  Anakin was not convinced. "I don't feel comfortable around Charza."

  "He's an honorable being," Obi-Wan said.

  Anakin stood, his waterproof boots splashing. The food- kin backed away, clattering their claws. "I understand a lot of what they're saying. They're smart, for being so small. They tell me they're proud that Charza only eats them."

  "Eating food or being food-simply matters of timing and luck," Obi-Wan said, perhaps a little too lightly. He admired the discipline and self-sacrifice he saw in the crew of the Star Sea Flower. "We're due for a briefing from Charza in a few minutes. And we'll be making our first emergence from hyperspace in an hour."

  Anak
in snapped his fingernails in farewell to the little food-kin and sloshed out of the cubicle to join Obi-Wan in the central corridor. "You just like the arrangement because they obey orders without question," he said.

  Obi-Wan drew himself up, indignant. "It's deeper than that," he said. "Surely you sense the underlying structure here."

  "Of course," Anakin said, walking ahead of him. They passed a fall of freshened seawater. It slid down a wall from a duct near the ceiling, filled with tiny shelled creatures no bigger than a fingertip. Three food-kin lined up beside the base of the fall, where it dropped into a pool and was carried away behind the bulkhead. They fished busily with their claws and ate ravenously.

  Just beyond the fall, the Padawan and his master entered the pilothouse. Charza Kwinn was surrounded by a host of helpers and kin. Obi-Wan had not seen them all together before. The sight was impressive. There did not seem a square centimeter of the bridge's equipment that was not attended by several creatures, ranging in size from the food- kin, about as broad as his hand, to meter-long replicas of Charza himself.

  Charza sat on his backless couch waving tools clutched in his spikes. The bristles of his "head" scrubbed against the upper curve of the foot, making a loud, rhythmic sound like ocean breakers striking a shore.

  Charza stopped when he noticed his passengers had arrived. The food-kin clacked in disappointment. Apparently, Charza had been singing to them. He shifted his bristles slightly around his spiracles to imitate human speech.

  "Welcome. The quarters are comfortable?"

  "Quite," Obi-Wan said.

  "I'll tell you more now about this place you go to. First, size. Zonama Sekot is nine thousand salt pans broad, that is, in Republic measure…" He conferred with one of his smaller duplicates. "Eleven thousand kilometers. Its star system is a triple, in a hidden region of the Gardaji Rift, surrounded by great dust clouds. Two stars, a red giant and a white dwarf, orbit close to each other. Zonama Sekot circles the third star, a bright yellow sun, which orbits much farther out, several light-months distant. It is almost impossible to find if you don't know the way."

  Charza paused as two food-kin enthusiastically offered themselves for his breakfast. He waved his head gently back and forth, and they retreated in apparent disappointment. "Their biological clocks chime," Charza explained. "Must eat them before the day is over, or their children spoil. But I am so full now!"

  Obi-Wan observed Anakin's reaction. Charza was perhaps not the most appropriate father figure for the boy to puzzle over at this time in his life.

  "Now," Charza said, leaning to one side and pulling two heavy, parallel levers, "we come out of hyperspace."

  The forward ports opened again. The strange display outside collapsed to a dazzling point. With a sharp lurch, the stars returned-the stars, and the distinctive flaming red and purple pinwheel that dominated the skies of Zonama Sekot.

  "Wow," Anakin said, eyes wide. The display was stunning, Perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen. "Where's our Planet?" the boy asked eagerly.

  "Zonama Sekot's sun is behind us," Charza said. "These two spectacular dancers, the red giant and the white dwarf, with their long spiral tail, are its companions."

  The pinwheel began as a ribbon of starstuff pulled from the red giant. It then curled around the white dwarf, which flung it outward in interwoven braids of ionized gas.

  "You can see Zonama Sekot itself… it is that tiny green point just ahead." Charza grabbed a long rod with his bristles and tapped it on the port. "There. See?"

  "I see it," Anakin said.

  The little food-kin scrambled for a better view and cluttered in admiration. Two perched on Anakin's shoulders. A smaller fringed wormlike creature curled around one of the boy's legs and made contented gurgling sounds.

  "They do not bother you?" Charza asked Anakin.

  "They're fine," Anakin said.

  "They feel you are safe," Charza said approvingly. "You have a rare attraction for them!" He swung his couch around and played some of his spikes over another instrument panel. The green planet was already as wide as a thumb tip held at arm's length. "When I came to Zonama Sekot last, I released Vergere on a mountain plateau high in the northern hemisphere, near the pole. I fervently hope she is still alive."

  "It is believed she is alive," Obi-Wan said.

  "Perhaps," Charza said with a chuffing of his bristles. "There are no pirates here, no commerce centers-indeed, the only inhabited planet for many light-years is Zonama Sekot. But Zonama Sekot is very close to the edge of the galaxy. Beyond this point, there is much that is not known. Anything could happen."

  "The edge of the galaxy!" Anakin said, still entranced by the picture. "We could be the first beings to go beyond the edge!" He looked at Obi-Wan. "If we wanted to."

  "There are still frontiers," Obi-Wan agreed, "and that is a comforting thought."

  "Why comforting?" Charza asked. "Empty places without friends are not good!"

  Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. "The unknown is a place where we can discover who we truly are."

  Anakin regarded his master with some surprise.

  "So Qui-Gon taught me," Obi-Wan concluded, drawing the long sleeves of his robe in over his booted knees.

  "Zonama Sekot itself is not empty," Charza said. "There are beings there, not native to the planet. They arrived many years ago, not known how long. But they invite guests only recently, mostly rich buyers from worlds that do not owe strong allegiance to the Republic or trade with the Trade Federation. I will show you a picture now that Vergere sent to my ship before I left the system."

  Charza chuffed orders to a cluster of food-kin perched on one console. They danced on buttons and tugged levers, and a viewer swung into place.

  "Best for humans," Charza murmured, and the food-kin ad justed the colorful but blurry image. It floated in the middle of the bridge, suddenly sharpened and took on motion. Obi-Wan and Anakin leaned forward and stared. An intensely green landscape, viewed at sunset, spread before them. The scale of treelike growths that filled most of the image was not immediately apparent until Anakin spotted a structure in the lower left, a kind of balcony with what looked like humans standing on it. Then it became apparent that the trees were easily five or six hundred meters tall, and that the great green domes of foliage in the upper right were easily hundreds of meters across. Green was the dominant color, but the foliage was also rich with gold, blue, purple, and red.

  "They do not look like trees," Obi-Wan commented.

  "Not trees," Charza said. "Not trees at all. Vergere called them boras."

  The planet's yellow sun, setting in a golden haze between the ranks of huge growths, was not the only light in the sky. The vast pinwheel of red and purple gas covered all they could see of the northern sky beyond the boras.

  "That is all I know," Charza continued. "I dropped off Vergere, then waited until I was dismissed, and returned to orbit. There was no message to retrieve her, so I departed, as she had ordered. At that time, I detected six ships of known types in the region. All were private craft, I think belonging to customers of the shipbuilders on Zonama Sekot."

  "You did well, Charza," Obi-Wan said, getting to his feet. "Perhaps nothing is amiss."

  "She may be alive," Charza said, "but I do not think all is well."

  "Your instinct?"

  Charza burred and lifted his head to the ceiling, then twisted around to regard them with all of his eyes. "Simple observation. Where one Jedi travels alone, perhaps no cause for alarm. Where a Jedi falls silent, and other Jedi follow. . mishap and adventure!"

  Chapter 13

  Tarkin marched ahead of Raith Sienar down the tunnel toward the waiting shuttle. "There is no time to lose," Tarkin shouted over his shoulder. "They've emerged from hyperspace, and we've received the tracker signal. We have less than an hour before you must join your squadron and leave Coruscant."

  Sienar clutched his travel bag and passed last-minute instructions to his protocol droid, which followed at a quic
k if lurching pace a few steps behind.

  "Come on, man!" Tarkin shouted.

  Sienar handed the droid the last thing he had packed earlier that morning: a small disk containing special instructions should he not return.

  The droid halted at the embarkation slip and gestured a formal good-bye as Sienar joined Tarkin inside the well- appointed shuttle lounge. The hatch slid shut with an ear- popping hiss, and the shuttle immediately pulled from its tower berth and punched through a clear space in the traffic lanes.