Catalyst

by James Luceno

  “Any word from Admiral Utu?”

  “She’s hoping to be able to send two Star Destroyers from Telos.”

  “Hoping.”

  “Apparently our assets are widely scattered at the moment.”

  Tarkin nodded, climbed the few stairs to the bridge walkway, and moved to the forward viewports to gaze on blue-and-brown Salient II.

  No one had been expecting Salient simply to roll over, but the system’s immediate shift to a war footing was surprising and unsettling, and was likely the result of the government having been forewarned. The idea had been to gain a toehold on the Zerpen moon and expand slowly into the system once the inner worlds had accepted occupation. It puzzled Tarkin that the same smugglers who had been instrumental in delivering worlds like Samovar and Wadi Raffa into his grip would suddenly change sides and attempt to compromise the Empire’s strategy. Unless…

  Tarkin allowed his thoughts to collect rather than follow a particular path.

  Unless Krennic had engineered the reversal in order to keep him stalled at Salient—knowing full well that retreat would set a precedent that the Empire could be forced by autonomous systems to back down.

  A chime from the comm broke his musings and he returned to the command pit, where a one-quarter holopresence of Salient’s avian commander had taken shape above the holoprojector.

  “We know that the insurgents have made planetfall,” Tarkin said without preamble. “Are you now prepared to surrender them to our custody?”

  “We decline to do so, Moff Tarkin, as they will be crucial to exposing the Empire’s subterfuge. Be that as it may, our leadership remains intent on finding a diplomatic solution to this deadlock.”

  “The time for that has passed,” Tarkin said.

  “Salient Two’s ambassador wishes to know if you would be willing to receive him aboard your ship.”

  Tarkin gave quick thought to several possible scenarios. If the ambassador could be persuaded to capitulate, then perhaps Salient II could substitute for the toehold Tarkin had hoped to establish at Epiphany.

  “Tell him he has my permission to come up.”

  “His shuttle is already in flight, Moff Tarkin, having anticipated that you would be open to exploring alternatives to open warfare.”

  “Sir,” the XO said from behind Tarkin, “we have the consular vessel on course.”

  Again Tarkin climbed the stairs and stood for a moment at the viewports, waiting for the ship to ascend into the light of Salient’s red dwarf. On spying the glint of starlight, Tarkin swung to his executive officer.

  “Hail the ship. Order the pilot to hold and await further instructions.”

  Tarkin waited.

  “Sir, no response from the consular vessel. And something else: a slight delay in communications. Almost an echo.”

  Tarkin squinted at the distant speck of light. “Scan the ship for life-forms.”

  The response came quickly.

  “Negative for life-forms, sir. It appears to be a drone. Possibly a ticking bomb.”

  “Engage the forward tractor beam to hold it fast,” Tarkin started to say when alerts sounded from a separate duty station in the pits.

  “Sir, three warships emerging from Salient’s dark side.”

  Tarkin traded knowing glances with the XO.

  “A deliberate provocation?” the officer asked.

  Tarkin narrowed his eyes. Salient was determined to go down fighting.

  “Ready the in-close batteries,” he ordered. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when the Empire has to be provoked into taking preemptive action.”

  —

  “Congratulations are in order,” Mas Amedda said, the blue Chagrian’s holopresence larger than life above the holotable in Krennic’s Geonosis quarters.

  Krennic inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Preliminary results indicate that the energy released during the test-fire had the destructive power of the combined batteries of a qaz-class Star Destroyer.”

  “An encouraging beginning,” the grand vizier said. “This is Galen Erso’s doing?”

  “Only in discovering how to conjure necessary power from the kyber crystals,” Krennic said, playing to the holocam. “Credit for the rest—the lasers and such—goes to my team.”

  Amedda tipped his horned head. “I’ll grant that you were right about Erso all along.”

  “I never had any doubts, Vizier.”

  “The Emperor has been apprised, and is most pleased. He has also approved your promotion to full commander.”

  Krennic restrained a smile. “His pleasure is reward enough—all that one could hope for—but I gladly accept the provisional promotion as well.”

  Amedda’s lethorns stirred. “Provisional?”

  “I maintain that rear admiral is a more fitting rank.”

  “You have conducted a successful test-fire, Commander. I suggest you now build the actual battle station weapon.”

  “Of course, Vizier.” Krennic paused, then said: “Any further news regarding Moff Tarkin?”

  Amedda scowled. “He remains embroiled at Salient.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Krennic said, shaking his head. “I was anticipating his help with the next phase of the project.”

  “So were we, Commander. I will keep you updated.”

  Krennic waited for the holopresence to disappear before he allowed himself to smile. He had hoped to kill two birds with one stone—rid himself of Obitt and entrap Tarkin—and so he had.

  There was an art to learning what individuals were made of, to analyzing how they were put together, and then—when the moment was right—lining them up just so and driving the point home, breaking them along predicted lines; faceting them like one of Galen’s kybers. Obitt one way, Tarkin the other.

  Once Krennic learned that Has Obitt had taken Lyra and Nari to the worlds he had helped ruin, he realized that he had lost the Dressellian to some sort of crisis of conscience; but also that he could be used in a more far-reaching plan. The chance that he would turn tail when offered the mission to Salient was great, but Krennic had gambled that Obitt would instead seek to redeem himself by coming to Salient’s rescue. Obitt had even gone a step further by enlisting the aid of some of his disgruntled fellow smugglers.

  As for Tarkin, Krennic needed only to review the man’s personal history to devise an appropriate trap—his war record, his brutal actions in the Western Reaches, his missions with Darth Vader. Tarkin had proved himself incapable of retreating, of displaying the slightest sign of weakness. The tack he would take at Salient was obvious; and now ensnared there, he was no threat to Krennic’s position in the battle station project. Perhaps even his relationship with the Emperor had suffered.

  That left only one person who still needed to be broken.

  —

  On the destruction of the consular vessel, which was in fact an explosive drone, the trio of Salient warships had taken the fight to the Executrix. The Star Destroyer had responded with fusillades of its own, but the initial battle had raged for standard hours before the enemy cruisers had repositioned closer to Salient II. The Star Destroyer’s shields had withstood the assault, but Tarkin had ordered the commander to keep the ship out of range of the massive turbolaser batteries planetside—at least until reinforcements from Telos arrived.

  What was meant to have been a simple incursion had become a full-fledged battle.

  Taken off his guard, Tarkin was willing to admit to himself that he had underestimated Orson Krennic, who was certainly the chief architect of the mess in which Tarkin found himself. He had also learned in passing that Krennic had managed to add another insignia square to his tunic, probably resulting from some measure of success in developing the battle station’s primary weapon.

  For Tarkin, the shenanigans at Salient offered further proof that Krennic was unsuited to supervise the project, and that realization was forcing him to reconsider the timing of the moves he would need to make to assume command—project setbacks and delays notwithsta
nding.

  First, however, he was going to have to extricate himself from Salient.

  —

  Intent on giving Galen space, Lyra had returned to their Central District apartment, ostensibly to get Jyn started on classes in kinesthetics and tumbling. Their mutual admissions hadn’t really cleared the air, but at least they were back to speaking. She didn’t fully understand why the efforts on Malpaz—the practical use of Galen’s research—had been classified top-secret, but with would-be insurgents still lurking about, she could accept that maybe there was a need for extreme security.

  After class, Lyra had taken Jyn to a rooftop park of grass and trees and kids’ attractions to work off some additional energy and recover from the fit she had pitched on being denied a silly little toy a Rodian merchant was hawking. From here Lyra could just see the spires of the former Jedi Temple, and it pained her to know that a massive remodeling project was under way there. She was catching her own breath on a bench when she heard her name called and turned to see Orson striding toward her, in white tunic, black trousers and boots, and a brimmed command cap.

  “Lyra!”

  Too surprised to speak, she returned an awkward wave. It wasn’t impossible for beings to bump into each other on Coruscant, even as crowded as it was, but chance meetings usually didn’t occur in the middle of the Central District.

  “Galen told me that you sometimes take the child here in the afternoon,” Orson said by way of explanation. He raised his hand to point to an immense building adjacent to the park. “My office is just up there on the ninety-first floor. I saw you two and thought I’d come over to say hello.” His eyes roamed the playground. “Where is she? I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  The thought of Orson watching them from his Imperial aerie sent a chill through her, but she didn’t let it show. “No, of course not. Jyn’s at the swings.”

  Orson followed her motion. “Still homeschooling her, or are you thinking about enrolling her?”

  “We haven’t decided,” Lyra managed to get out before Jyn hurried over to them.

  “Can I go on the grav-slip now?”

  “Only if you promise to take turns this time,” Lyra said, adding as Jyn ran off: “And no pushing!”

  Orson tracked her, his upper lip curled in what seemed disapproval. “She’s feisty.”

  “That she is.”

  “And growing up fast.” He fell silent for a moment, then said: “Have you readjusted from your journey to Alpinn?”

  “Finally, yes. Did you have any questions about my report?”

  “Your notes were flawless. It’s a shame you didn’t find any true kybers.”

  “I know. Even so, I hope the Empire will be gentle with Alpinn. It really deserves Legacy status.”

  “I’m certain that the right decision will be made.” Krennic paused, then said: “Samovar and Wadi Raffa weren’t as fortunate.”

  Lyra gaped at him, unsure if she was angrier about his knowing or the way he had decided to let her know. “You don’t miss a trick, do you, Orson? Did you hear it from Has—your spy?”

  “Actually, Captain Obitt neglected to mention the side trips. But he didn’t have to. Visits to Imperial facilities are closely monitored. A scanner managed to grab the signature of his ship, despite his attempts to outwit it.”

  “He didn’t mention anything to me or Nari about doing that.”

  “You wouldn’t have tried to hide your tracks?”

  “Why would we? Those worlds aren’t off limits. Or are they?”

  Orson shook his head. “Not the space around them. So you did nothing wrong.”

  Lyra showed him a livid frown. “I don’t need you to tell me that, Orson.”

  His calm, calculating tone held. “Can I ask, though, about what prompted you to veer from your itinerary?”

  Lyra considered the question before answering. “Nari told me that a couple of worlds she had surveyed were being exploited for resources. I wanted to see for myself.”

  “Not a pretty sight.”

  “That’s something of an understatement, Orson. Why isn’t the media reporting on any of it?”

  “Do you really think anyone would care about a couple of remote worlds? What’s more, everything being done on those worlds is in service to the needs of Celestial Power.”

  “Some might care. I care. Nari cares. Even Has seemed to care.”

  “Has cared,” Krennic repeated, plainly amused by the idea.

  “Is that funny?”

  “Not really. He’s always had a soft streak.”

  Done with the ride, Jyn hurried back to say: “Mama, I’m hungry.”

  “You’ll have to wait until Orson and I are finished talking.”

  The little girl shook her head in defiance.

  Lyra took a candy bar from her bag and gave it to her. “Don’t eat while you’re on any of the rides.”

  “Okay.”

  She waited for Jyn to leave, then turned slightly in Krennic’s direction. “Orson, you didn’t leave your lofty office just to say hello. What’s on your mind?”

  Krennic deliberated for a moment. “Can I assume you discussed your unscheduled stops with Galen?”

  “Why do I get the impression you already know the answer?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  Lyra forced a breath. “I told him, and he pretty much dismissed it. Use up one, save a dozen others, that sort of thing. As you say, to serve the needs of Celestial Power.”

  “I think it’s called seeing the bigger picture.”

  Lyra shrugged. “I suppose on some level the Empire is doing what has to be done.”

  “On every level.”

  Lyra smiled without humor. “Galen told me about the clandestine voyage the two of you took to Malpaz.”

  Krennic narrowed his eyes but recovered quickly. “Clandestine? There was nothing secret about it.” He smiled. “It’s not as if we did anything wrong.”

  “Except that I wasn’t supposed to know.”

  “Strictly speaking, yes, but I never expected that he would withhold the information from you.”

  “We try not to keep things from each other, Orson.”

  “Were you at all relieved to know that attempts are being made to put Galen’s research to practical use?”

  “To be honest, I was surprised.”

  “And relieved?”

  She laughed shortly. “Orson, I feel like you’re cross-examining me.”

  He swallowed what he had in mind to say when Jyn returned, her face a mess.

  “Are we done?” Lyra asked him.

  “Just one more thing. As a friend I need to remind you that Galen’s work suffers when his environment becomes stressful.”

  Shock widened her eyes. “Are you going to lecture me on how I should behave around Galen, what we can and can’t discuss?”

  “I’m merely suggesting that you take into consideration the demands of the research and the importance of his being able to focus.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “You think I don’t understand that?” She waited a beat, then said: “So now that you’ve told me as a friend, is there anything you want to add as an Imperial officer?”

  He flashed the briefest smile. “Officially it is incumbent on me to emphasize that Galen is involved in work that is critical to the security of the Empire, as well as caution you that continued interference could result in difficulties for you and your family.”

  Lyra covered her mouth with her hand. “Orson, how do you think Galen would react if he learned about this little chat?”

  “I’m certain he would understand.”

  “He might, or he just might feel cornered. He’s his own person, in any case, and whatever stress I introduce isn’t going to cripple his concentration or interfere with his work.”

  Krennic made his lips a thin line and nodded repeatedly. “Obviously you underestimate your value to him. Which may be for the best.” He stood and straightened his tunic. “Nice speaking to
you, Lyra. Bye-bye, Jyn.”

  Watching him leave, Lyra put her arm around her daughter and pulled her close.

  EFFORTS HAD BEEN MADE BY Coruscanti who cared about such things to preserve some of the structures the B’ankora had built and lived in for more than fifty generations. In the rush to relocate the species’ sole survivors and complete the construction of the Celestial Power facility, the request to create a museum had been denied. Regardless, some of the B’ankora’s original paths remained, winding through gardened parcels, around landscaped areas, and past totemic sculptures and geometric assemblies of wood and stone. Since he rarely ventured outdoors, the paths were new to Galen, and he followed them without really taking notice, his feet and legs merely carrying him along. Neither was he aware of the day’s heat, the slight breeze tousling his long unkempt hair, the tiers of horizontal traffic above him, the faint roar of the city-planet. Ten thousand beings might have been observing him from the surrounding monads and arcologies, but he gave them no thought. He moved somnambulantly.

  Orson was still celebrating the fact that the power yield of the altered kyber crystals had been amplified beyond any of his team members’ expectations, and in accordance with Galen’s calculations and prediction. When, however, Galen had asked for holo-footage of the test results and details regarding construction of the containment devices and storage capacitors, Orson had said that all that was still pending security clearance. Galen’s request for information about the subsequent energy applications had met with the same specious, or at least equivocal, response.

  At a right-angle bend in one of the pathways was a B’ankora sculpture of their sun symbol, seemingly floating at the summit of a tall column: a large disk from the perimeter of which radiated squiggly arms of various lengths, all of them ending in arrowhead shapes.

  Contemplating the amalgam of stone and exotic woods, Galen felt as if he were confronting an exteriorization of his consciousness, and the scattered concerns that were bedeviling him.