own more measured response might well have proven less effective.
On their way out they passed a knot of troopers, all carved from the
same rock, all with the same broad shoulders and shielded faces,
the same military bearing and polish. With surprising tenderness they
cared for their defeated brother, and Obi-Wan wondered . . .
The Nautolan's tendrils lifted and Kit turned, seeming to read his
mind. "Obi-Wan?"
"For a moment I wondered if I had met him before."
"And?"
"And I realized how foolish that thought was."
"Foolish?" Kit asked.
"Yes. I've met every one of them."
True enough. Yet watching them caring for one of their own as if
none of the witnesses existed, he wondered if he, or any outsider,
really knew them at all.
3
T,he Chancellor's briefing room was as tall as four Wookiees, its
marble ceiling supported by massive duracrete pillars. Its vast bay
window peered out on Coruscant's magnificent skyline: the Bonadan
embassy and revolving Skysitter Restaurant were directly across the
avenue. The dense duracrete forest conveyed a sense of grandeur that
impressed dignitaries from the Outer Rim but always left Obi-Wan
wondering if something more productive might have been done with
the space.
At the moment a cluster of scaled and emerald-eyed Kuati dignitaries
busily exchanged formal pleasantries and good-byes with
the Chancellor and his robed assistants. The two Jedi stood in a corner
of the room as the ambassadors executed elaborate ceremonial
bows.
As they waited, Obi-Wan noted that Kit seemed a bit ill at ease.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly. "Did the droid come too close
for comfort?" In truth, he could not remember Kit ever seeming
other than utterly self-possessed.
"My life does not revolve around comfort," the Nautolan said.
"Still... it was, as I've heard humans say, a 'close shave.' "
And strangely, even those words told Obi-Wan how challenging
20 STAR WARS: THE CESTUS DECEPTION
the JK had been. That last statement was as revelatory as the Nautolan
Jedi had ever been.
As the diplomats exited the room, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine
finally addressed them, his broad, strong forehead creased with worry,
lips drawn into a thin, tight line.
"My pardon for the inconvenience and mystery, my friends," he
said. "I hope that you will shortly understand the need for both."
"Chancellor," Obi-Wan said, in no mood for formal pleasantries.
"Are you prepared to share this 'Jedi Killer's' secret with us?"
The Chancellor winced. "I admit to being mystified. Even our
lowest citizens would not find such a vulgar appellation amusing."
After a pause for thought, he continued. "In the interest of providing
context, please indulge a digression." Palpatine waved them toward a
pair of chairs. The Chancellor sat at his great desk, rectangles of light
and shadow dividing his face into quadrants. He turned to the shorthaired
female technician, who had silently entered the room while
the Chancellor spoke. "Lido Shan?"
"With pleasure, sir," she said. "When this device first came to our
attention, our first priority was to determine exactly how it performs
in such an unusual manner. Ordinary scans showed little of note in
the inner workings, save for a completely shielded central processor
unit."
"Naturally, that processor was the focus of your investigations,"
Obi-Wan said.
"Naturally," Lido Shan replied, allowing her pale lips to curl into a
smile. "Opening the processor invalidates the warranty, but we
thought it worth the risk."
Kit canted his head. "And what did you find?"
"Please," Lido Shan said, imitating the Chancellor's tendency for
oblique discourse. "In time. Let us begin with an assessment based
on its displayed skills." She paused, gathering herself. "The JK is a
Force-sensitive bio-droid of a type previously considered impossible.
For much of the last year, they've been sold throughout the galaxy.
Even at inflated prices, they sell faster than they can be manufactured."
"Force-sensitive?" Kit scoffed. "Absurd! Why haven't we seen these
droids before?"
"Because," she replied, "they are the most exclusive, expensive personal
security droids available."
"And exactly what is this cost?" Kit asked.
"Eighty thousand credits." Shan gestured, and a hologram maze of
droid circuitry blossomed in the air around her. She ran her hands
along the internal structure, tracing various features, then took a deep
breath.
"And now," she said finally, "we come to the heart of the matter.
The secret of their success is a unique living circuit design incorporating
organics into the core processor, allowing greater empathy
with the owners and superior tactical aggression toward intruders."
"Living circuits?" Kit asked.
Lido Shan seemed to match the Nautolan's ability at unblinking
attention, but Obi-Wan watched as a yellowish mucosa filmed her
eyes and then swiftly dissolved. "The processor is actually a lifesupport
unit for a creature of unknown origin."
The hologram flickered, darkened. A coiled, snakelike, eyeless
image appeared. A comparison scale suggested that the creature was
the size of Obi-Wan's clenched fist. "And this gives the droid its special
qualities?" he asked.
"Yes," Lido Shan said. "We believe so. We made a direct request
for information from the manufacturers, but they refuse to discuss
their secrets."
"And this manufacturer is . . . ?"
"Cestus Cybernetics. Are you familiar with Ord Cestus?"
Obi-Wan scanned his memory. "The homeworld of Baktoid
Armor?"
"Excellent," the Supreme Chancellor said.
Lido Shan nodded. "Our Cestian contacts tell us that the animal is
called a dashta eel. This dashta appears to be nonsentient, which in
some ways is even more amazing, representing the first nonsentient
creature ever found with a profound level of... well, of Force sensitivity."
22 STAR WARS: THE CESTUS DECEPTION
"Dashta eels?" Obi-Wan glanced at Kit, who shook his head.
"Possibly natives of Cestus's Dashta Mountain range," the Chancellor
said. "Combined with the JK's unique armament, they give
the droid an anticipatory advantage in combat. We have tested it
with a variety of opponents, and you, Master Fisto, are the first to
prevail."
Kit bowed fractionally, the only sign of his acknowledgment or
pleasure.
"For that reason," the Chancellor said, "Master Fisto's thoughts
would be invaluable."
Kit Fisto pursed his lips for a moment, as if reluctant to give an unconsidered
answer. "Life will always have greater Force-harmony
than any machine," he said. "However . . ."
However indeed. The Nautolan's swift, worried glance revealed
the rest of his thoughts as clearly as a shout.
"When did these Jedi Killers first appear on the market?" Kit
asked.
began. Extensive Trade Federation contracts created a boom on Cestus,
which subcontracted for the Baktoid Armor Workshop. After
the Batde of Naboo, the Trade Federation distanced itself from the
workshop, creating economic chaos. Financially desperate, Cestus
turned to the Republic and requested our help. We made a substantial
order—" He winced. "—but unfortunately we were spread too
thin economically, and payment was not prompt. More chaos resulted.
We may have misjudged the importance of this small planet.
Lido Shan," he said. "Speak of the Gabonnas."
Lido Shan sighed. "As soon as the war began, we placed certain
highly important technical parts on restriction. Among these were
Gabonna memory crystals, used by Ord Cestus in the manufacture
of high-end Cesta security droids, its most famous nonmilitary product
prior to the introduction of the JK line."
"And how did that lead to the current situation?" Obi-Wan asked.
"With the restrictions," Shan said, "Cestus's rather delicate economic
balance shifted to the negative. Gabonnas are the only memory
STEVEN BARNES 23
crystals fast enough to power a class five personal security droid." She
said this flatly, perhaps supposing it to be common knowledge. "Most
battle droids are class four, and can run on less extreme hardware."
The Chancellor shook his graying head. "Cestus was . . . unlucky,
and perhaps foolish to place so many of its cocoons in one hutch."
"I see," Obi-Wan said.
Kit Fisto spoke for both of them. "So . . . the situation is quite unstable.
Cestus no longer trusts us."
The Chancellor nodded. "You are doubly tasked, my Jedi friends. I
have consulted with the Senate and the Jedi Council and we agree
that you are to contact the Cestian Regent, one G'Mai Duris. Regain
her trust by taking any necessary steps to preserve their existing social
order. We must bring them back into the fold and stem the flow
of these obscene Jedi Killers." His mouth twisted, as if merely speaking
those last words left a bad taste.
"So," Obi-Wan said, attempting to mentally reconstruct the time
line. "To the Cestians, the Republic has twice caused economic
chaos. I assume they appealed to the Trade Council?"
"Indeed, and we tried to reach a compromise, even offering another,
more lucrative military contract."
"And?" Kit asked.
"Negotiations collapsed."
"Because?"
"We were told that payment would have to be in advance." The
Chancellor's face grew long. "This we cannot do on a contract of
such magnitude."
"Perhaps it is merely my ignorance of commerce," Kit growled,
"but surely the Cestians know they flirt with disaster. How can the
sale of a few thousand droids be worth such risk?" He leaned forward,
his dark eyes swirling with intensity. "Explain."
Lido Shan closed her own eyes for a moment, and then spoke.
"The JKs themselves represent only a fraction of Cestus's total economic
picture. But they've become fashionable, high-status objects,
increasing the value of their entire product line."
"Of course, there are additional problems," Palpatine admitted.
"The lower-class population, which of course constitutes ninetyfive
percent of Cestus, is descended from . . . how do I say this
delicately?" He pondered, and then abandoned the effort to be politically
correct. "They are descended from uncivilized aboriginals and
criminals, and inherited their forebears' unfortunate antisocial tendencies.
The wealthiest families, and duly elected government, might
well be thrown into turmoil and collapse if a proper solution is not
found."
Obi-Wan nodded to himself, thinking that there was much left
unsaid here. "Why is the situation so severe?"
"Because Cestus is a relatively barren world, which cannot support
its current population without importing soil nutrients, food, medicines,
and supplies. Every drop of water consumed by an offworlder
must be carefully processed."
"I see."
"So. The first JKs appeared on the market, priced at a premium.
This was noted, but was hardly something to be alarmed by. And
then a second piece of intelligence reached us."
"That being?" Kit asked.
"That the Confederacy had made an offer to buy thousands of
these security droids. Perhaps tens of thousands."
Obi-Wan was stunned. "Has Count Dooku access to such wealth?"
"Apparently," Palpatine said with obvious regret.
Kit Fisto's black eyes narrowed. "I'd assumed that such bioconstructs
could not be mass-produced."
"We'd made that assumption as well, Master Fisto. Apparently, we
were wrong. We don't know how, but we know why."
"They will be used as battle droids," Kit said.
Battle droids. Obi-Wan winced. "How can this be allowed? Certainly
selling military ordnance to the Separatists is forbidden."
"Yes," Lido Shan said. "But there are no laws against selling security
droids to individual planets in the Confederacy, which is, technically
speaking, all Cestus is actually doing. It's irrelevant that the
JKs can be converted into lethal implements merely by substituting
memory crystals."
Obi-Wan hoped that his face concealed his thoughts, because his
most primary emotion was dismay. The idea of bio-droids being
converted to death machines was alarming. Such devices might even
nullify the slight precognitive advantage enjoyed by Jedi in combat.
It could not be allowed.
"We've learned that Count Dooku offered to supply Cestus with
its own Gabonnas, allowing the assembly lines to resume production.
He also offered to supply technology allowing Cestus to streamline
and increase production of droids and dashta eels."
"Cloning?"
"Yes. The rumors suggest superiority to Kaminoan technology.
Techniques that create endless colonies of living neural tissue, allowing
their factories to production-line a process that was once quite
exclusive and expensive."
"Those who place profit above freedom," Kit said, "generally end
with neither." He paused, sensor tendrils waving gently. Perhaps, like
Obi-Wan, he envisioned a battle against thousands of machines,
each as dangerous as the metal opponent battled on the sands of
T'Chuk coliseum. A terrifying wave of precognitive juggernauts.
The Chancellor seemed encouraged that they so swiftly grasped
the situation. Indeed, to Obi-Wan's way of thinking, it was the
Chancellor himself who barely understood the difficulties ahead.
Wise in politics he might be, but Palpatine was still a novice in the
ways of the Force.
Obi-Wan found himself thinking aloud. "It might take a special
decree to deny Cestus the right to manufacture and sell these droids."
"And meanwhile," Kit said, "the galaxy waits, and watches."
"Indeed," the Chancellor said. The light from the overhead window
divided his face. "If the Trade Council dominates precious little
C
estus, we will seem like bullying thugs. Before things deteriorate to
that level, I, the Senate, and the Jedi Council, insist we try diplomacy."
"With a lightsaber?" Kit asked.
The palest of smiles crossed the Chancellor's face. "Hopefully, it
won't come to that. My friends, you will travel to Ord Cestus and
begin formal discussions. But the negotiations cover your other purpose:
to convince Cestus, and through them the other interested star
systems, that Count Dooku is too dangerous to deal with."
"And our resources, sir?" Kit asked.
And now, finally, the Chancellor's smile grew certain and strong.
"The best of the best."
4
T,hree hundred kilometers below, the ocean was quiet. From this
peaceful vantage point, one would never guess that within those
watery depths courageous soldiers were fighting, striving, slaying.
Dying.
A steady stream of single-person capsules erupted from the sides
of the troop transport ships, blazing their fiery trails down through
the atmosphere. Within the transports, corridors surged with unending
streams of uniformed troopers. The hallways buzzed with activity,
like blood vessels bursting with living cells. The troopers wore
not blast armor but flexible black depthsuits. They ran in perfect
order and rhythm, knees high and heads erect, heading toward their
rendezvous with danger, perhaps death. Each stood exactly 1.78 meters
in height, with short black hair and piercing brown eyes. Their
skin was pale bronze, with darker variations among those who had
spent more time in the sun. Every face was identical, heavy eyebrows
and blunt noses prominent above strong narrow mouths.
Clones troopers, every one.
A few were not common troopers, although at the moment few
outsiders could have told them apart. These were the Advance Recon
Commandos. Representing a tiny fraction of the total clones grown
in the Kamino cloning labs, the ARC troopers were the deadliest soldiers
ever created.
Contrary to popular belief, even a standard trooper was not merely
a mindless shock troop or laser cannon fodder. Trained in a wide spectrum
of general military disciplines ranging from hand-to-hand combat
to emergency medical techniques, they were also graded from
basic soldier to commander based upon field performance. Theoretically,
all troopers were equal, but experience and tiny variations in initial
cloning conditions inevitably made some more equal than others.
The Cestus Deception Page 3