Shadow Trap (9781484719787)
Page 1
Copyright © 2003 Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or TM. All rights reserved.
Cover art by Alicia Buelow and David Mattingly
Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.
ISBN 978-1-4847-1978-7
Visit www.starwars.com
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
Chapter One
Anakin Skywalker hated being between missions. As far as he was concerned, having free time was highly overrated. How many times could he perfect his Jung Ma movement in dulon training?
Countless times, his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, would say.
Anakin pulled his outer tunic over his head and tossed it on the grassy bank of the lake. He took three quick steps and dived into the clear, green water. Without a mission, he just felt aimless. There was much to do at the Temple, of course. Being a Jedi meant that training never stopped. Perfecting his battle mind, bettering his grasp of galactic politics—these were all necessary tasks between missions. Usually, Anakin tried to use his time at the Temple well. But this time…this time, all he wanted to do was swim.
He chose a time when the lake was deserted. For some reason, this was at midday, when most Jedi students were deep in study or training, and Jedi Knights were busy as well, perfecting the ideal battle skills that Anakin should have been perfecting.
All Anakin knew was that he could not wait to dive into the cool, green water. He felt his mind calm as he swam underwater, playing with the rays of light that penetrated beneath the surface. He and his Master were not communicating well. Ever since his mission to Andara, there had been distance between them. Obi-Wan had said he was deeply disappointed in him. Although it was not in the character of a Jedi to dwell on the past, Anakin remembered that comment like a knife in his heart. It haunted every moment of their time together.
In the past he had sometimes felt irritated at Obi-Wan’s corrections, his need to always show Anakin how he could have done something better, or more patiently, or more thoroughly. Now he missed them. He saw them now for what they were—a dedication to him, a need to help him be the best Jedi he could be.
Anakin broke the surface and shook off drops of water. He was close to the waterfall now, and he paused to feel the cool mist on his skin. With a few quick strokes he swam to the bank and hauled himself up to sit underneath the spray.
And, just like that, it happened.
The vision came, and the peaceful scene before him fell away. The rushing water became a rush of air so intense that it hurt his ears. Images came and went so quickly they were like pulses of light: a massive fleet at his command; a revolt of hundreds of slaves as they shouted his name; striding through the dusty streets of Mos Espa and reaching the door of his old home. The images stopped and froze only once. His mother’s face as he clasped her against him. He touched the slave cuffs at her wrists and they fell to the floor. He heard the clang.
And then there was an explosion of light and sorrow, and he knew he had lost Shmi, had lost, in fact, everyone he loved, including Obi-Wan.
The One Below remains below.
Suddenly Anakin felt the grass underneath his fingers, springy and soft. He heard the sound of the waterfall. The explosion of blinding light fractured and mellowed into the cool greens of the water.
It was the third time he had had the vision. Before, it had come late at night, when he was close to sleep. The first time it had been almost a dream. The second, it had been clear and sharp. But this time it was insistent. It seemed to cling to him like a sticky web he couldn’t escape.
What did it mean? Why did the vision of liberating slaves come to him? He hadn’t had that thought since he was a young boy on Tatooine. He often dwelled on his mother, of course, dreamed of freeing her from her harsh life. Yet this vision was so real. It felt as though he really had the power to do it. He saw now the difference between a dream and a vision.
Who was The One Below?
Anakin shook his head, watching as water droplets hit the skin of his forearm. He felt troubled and weary. Swimming every day wasn’t enough to clear his mind, calm his heart.
It was time to tell Obi-Wan about it.
On Andara, Obi-Wan had faulted him for acting without regard to his instructions. Anakin had known that a fellow Jedi Padawan, Ferus Olin, had disappeared. Instead of telling Obi-Wan, he had gone off with the group he was investigating. Anakin had thought that he would find Ferus by continuing with the mission. Obi-Wan had disagreed when he found out. Anakin had never seen him so angry. He had felt that Anakin had violated an essential core of trust between them.
It had not mattered at all that Ferus had been found safe, and that the mission had been successful.
It made no difference to the Jedi Council, either. Anakin had been asked to appear before the full Council and accept a reprimand, a serious failing for a Padawan. He and Obi-Wan had been on several missions since, but things between them weren’t the same. They had lost a rhythm Anakin had not been sure was there, until he had lost it.
Reluctantly, Anakin slipped back into his tunic with one hand and, with the other, contacted his Master on his comlink. Obi-Wan answered immediately.
“It’s Anakin. I need to speak to you about something. I don’t wish to interrupt you, but—”
“I’m in the Room of the Thousand Fountains.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, then.”
Anakin shoved his comlink back into his belt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt free to tease his Master, or the last time Obi-Wan had made a joke. Lately he’d begun to wonder if Obi-Wan still wanted him as his Padawan at all. It was not unheard of for a Master to step away. Unusual, yes, but not every pairing was the right one. It was considered no shame on the Padawan if a more appropriate Master was needed. But Anakin would feel the shame.
The Room of the Thousand Fountains wasn’t far from the lake. He hurried down the wooded trail. Illumination banks overhead created an impression of sunlight streaming through the green leaves. Anakin wished he could enjoy the peace that the Jedi found on these shores.
His Master was sitting on a favorite bench, his eyes closed. No doubt he was meditating or listening to the fountains that were often compared to the delicate chiming of bells.
Without opening his eyes, his Master spoke. “You sounded disturbed.”
Anakin sat next to him. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and sent him a penetrating glance. “I’ve had a vision,” Anakin said. “It’s come three times, and I need to make sense of it.”
“Visions do not always make sense.” Obi-Wan swung around to face Anakin. “Tell me about it.”
Anakin outlined the vision. It was still so clear in his head that he had no trouble remembering the details.
“The One Below remains below,” Obi-Wan murmured.
“Do you know what that means?”
Obi-Wan didn’t answer. “Yoda should hear about this.”
“Hear about w
hat, I wonder,” Yoda called, heading toward them and leaning on his gimer stick. “To find you, I come, Obi-Wan. Expecting a problem, I was not.”
Obi-Wan smiled as he rose. “Not a problem. A vision has been troubling Anakin.”
“A vision, you say?” Yoda swiveled to fix Anakin with a curious look. He settled himself on a rock and rested his hands on top of his stick, his posture for listening.
Once again, Anakin related the vision, leaving out his feelings about it. He knew that Yoda would want to know only the details.
Strangely, Yoda repeated the same thing that Obi-Wan had. “The One Below remains below,” he murmured.
“Do you know who that is, Master Yoda?” Anakin asked.
Yoda nodded slowly. “Know her well, I do. Master Yaddle, it is.”
“Master Yaddle was imprisoned for centuries on the world of Koda,” Obi-Wan explained. “The Kodans gave her that name, The One Below.”
Anakin nodded. He had known about Yaddle’s long imprisonment, but he had never heard that name. Yaddle was the same species as Yoda, and sat on the Jedi Council. She was a revered Jedi Master. He was surprised that she’d been a part of his vision.
“About to leave on a mission to Mawan, she is,” Yoda said. “A troubling one, I fear. Debated, we have, which Jedi team to send with her. The answer, perhaps your vision is.”
Anakin felt a rush of disappointment. He realized at that moment that he had been hoping that the vision meant he needed to travel to Tatooine. He had imagined that he would be able to step out of his dreams and free his mother in reality. “I thought perhaps the vision meant I could somehow help the slaves on Tatooine,” he said hesitantly.
Yoda and Obi-Wan both shook their heads.
“Careful you must be. Difficult to interpret, visions are,” Yoda said. “A map, a vision is not.”
Anakin hid his impatience. Wasn’t Yoda interpreting his vision for him, and telling him where he needed to go?
Obi-Wan sensed his confusion. “Visions of freeing slaves are not surprising,” he told Anakin. “That desire rests deep within you. It is natural that it would rise up in some form. To follow a vision literally is often a mistake.”
“But isn’t following Yaddle also literal?” Anakin asked.
Yoda made a slight gesture with his gimer stick, an acknowledgment of Anakin’s point. “A warning, the vision is.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Grave, the situation on Mawan has become.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “It is a sad situation. I knew the planet when it was thriving.”
“Open now, this world is,” Yoda said.
“Open?” Anakin asked.
“Mawan was torn apart by a civil war ten years ago,” Obi-Wan explained. “The planet was decimated by the conflict and was never able to set up a government afterward. The capital city completely lost its infrastructure—its roads deteriorated, its space lanes went unmonitored, and finally its power grid went down completely. Much of the housing was destroyed, too. A majority of the citizens were left jobless and homeless. Many moved to the country, but a famine devastated the population there. The absence of government, security, and hope left a void that criminal elements rushed in to fill. It’s now an open world, where anything can happen without fear of the law. Criminals from throughout the galaxy have set up operations there. There is no safety for the citizens.”
“Too busy, the Senate has been,” Yoda said. “But ignore Mawan, they can no longer. Ripples of evil, open worlds have. Affect the galaxy, they do. Asked the Senate has for a Jedi presence to help establish a provisional government committee. To have the trust of the Mawans, a diplomat we need.”
“A diplomat, yes, but also a warrior,” Obi-Wan remarked. “Someone who can convince the criminal gangs that it is in their best interest to leave the planet. I can see why you chose Yaddle.”
Yoda inclined his head. “Our most able diplomat, she is. Accomplished in the ways of the Force. But assistance she needs. Help her, you and your Padawan must, for important this mission is. As goes Mawan, so go other worlds. Growing in the galaxy, the dark side is.”
“We are ready, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin nodded. But he felt a dread he did not understand. Even hearing the name of the planet had created a sour feeling in his stomach. Usually a mission excited him, no matter how difficult or dangerous. Yet he knew that he did not want to go to Mawan.
Chapter Two
The Republic cruiser flew low over Mawan’s capital city of Naatan. Obi-Wan leaned closer to look out the cockpit window. The power grid was being fought over by the crimelords, and had been repeatedly damaged in successive raids and takeovers. Tonight the grid was down and the city was black. It rose out of the night like a dark shadow.
He had flown into Naatan at night before. Years ago, before the war. The city had glowed from kilometers above in space. The Mawans were fond of soft colors, which they used to filter the harsh light of their world. They used delicate rose lights to illuminate their streets and plazas at night, and from the air the city had glowed like a rare pink jewel.
He had always enjoyed his visits to Naatan. The city had been a thriving cosmopolitan center. It had been an important stop on the primary Core trade route, and the wealth of the city had spread to its parks, libraries, and schools.
As they flew lower, dipping down into an unused space lane, he could see that those parks were now black holes in the landscape, as painful as wounds. The schools were now in ruins, the libraries leveled. Obi-Wan saw broken windows, twisted gates, half-demolished cafés. Abandoned speeders left on the street. Everywhere he looked, Obi-Wan saw desolation. It wasn’t just the property, it was what the property represented—the ruin of so many lives, busy lives that had been lived in pleasant surroundings. Now those lives had been driven underground, and evil had moved into the vacuum.
“Gone underground,” Euraana Fall said. “The only ones who remain are part of the criminal gangs.” A native of Naatan, Euraana had the delicate, pale skin and blue veins that were prized by the Mawan. Mawans had two hearts and their blue veins lay close to their skin, a mark of beauty on the planet. Euraana’s grief showed in her shimmering gray eyes, but her voice was steady. “Most of the citizens live in the infrastructure tunnels. Before the Great Purge—what Mawans call the civil war—all of our goods were transported below the city, in tunnels, and airlifted to the surface. Our computer centers and control links are there, too. It’s what made the city so pleasant. For a busy city, we had little traffic.”
“Yes, it was a wonderful city to stroll in,” Obi-Wan said as the craft neared landing. “Your cafés and restaurants were always full of talk and music.”
“And our parks held the laughter of our children,” Euraana agreed, her gaze quietly sweeping over the city. “All gone.” She pointed in the distance. “There is the quarter where the crimelord Striker rules. He is known by that name because of the projectile pistols his gang used for their first raid. Strikers are not sophisticated weapons, but they won the battle. Now they are better armed, of course. He is reputed to have the most extensive weapons cache of all the crimelords.”
Obi-Wan leaned over to look at the quarter of the city that Euraana had indicated. Garish blue and green glowlights were hung from poles to cast their eerie light on the streets. Half-destroyed buildings were rebuilt with inexpensive, brightly colored plastoid materials. The replacements were slapped onto old buildings built of polished stone, making a tawdry contrast. This quarter did have a few beings in its streets, with state-of-the-art speeders sporting shiny paint and flashing lights moving through the streets and cafés full of beings. It was obvious that there was trading going on. The progress of their transport was watched with calculating eyes.
“What are they buying and selling?” Anakin asked.
Euraana shrugged. “Weapons. Spice. Illegal medicines they will sell to the unfortunates in the galaxy. Fortunes are being made down there. And those fortunes are built on the ashes of our civilization.”
Without air traffic guidelines, the Senate pilot didn’t need clearance or coordinates. The landing platforms for the city had all been destroyed. He set the cruiser down in a large courtyard of a formerly impressive living complex, carefully avoiding the rubble.
Obi-Wan watched Anakin as his Padawan grabbed his survival pack and waited with the others for the ramp to lower. Usually at the start of a new mission Anakin’s eyes were alive with curiosity. Obi-Wan had always appreciated how his Padawan threw himself into a new situation, using all of his senses to gather information. But Anakin’s expression looked shuttered.
He walked beside him as they exited the craft. “Any impressions?” He was always interested to hear what Anakin had picked up. The Force spoke to Anakin in a different way than anyone Obi-Wan had ever known.
Anakin shook his head. “Nothing to speak of. I feel the dark side of the Force, of course. That’s clear.”
“And to be expected,” Obi-Wan said. “What about your vision? Any connections?”
Anakin shook his head. “Nothing.”
There were shadows between them now. He could see them in the way Anakin held his shoulders, the way his eyes spoke. It wasn’t as though Anakin didn’t meet his gaze directly. But his gaze was like glass. Obi-Wan found himself sliding off it into uncertainty.
He knew he was partly responsible. Ever since Andara he had held himself back from his Padawan. His anger had gone, but it had been replaced with caution. He had wanted to give Anakin room, time to reflect without the pressure of his own opinions and interpretations. He knew he could be heavy-handed at times. He remembered Qui-Gon, how his own Master had sometimes withdrawn his focus on him and gone to a place Obi-Wan could not reach. It had sometimes left Obi-Wan feeling stranded, but it had forced him to come to terms with his own feelings. He wanted to do the same for Anakin. His Padawan was sixteen now. It was time for him to achieve a deeper connection to his core.