A Death in the Force
“I’ve just received a comm from the Queen of Naboo.” Silas came into the chamber quickly.
The Foundation had been meeting with Garm Bel Iblis, an ex-senator who was leading a makeshift coalition against the new Empire. Rumor spreading over the HoloNet suggested that the Senate had been dissolved because of the destruction of one of the Emperor’s projects: a super space station. Thankfully the station had been destroyed by a large strike force before its focusing array could be brought online. Little more detail could be discerned from the fuzzy vidfeed that had been circulating the ‘net until the Imperial Censure Act had been brought about.
“Queen Apailana has asked for my presence in Theed as soon as possible. It involves the Jedi refuge that she has established. She says it’s urgent. I will be going. It is your choice, but I would appreciate any accompaniment. Feen will be joining me.”
With a swagger in his hips, Eli walked over to the Twi’lek. “So, Feen, I hear there’s limited berth on The Qoo. My compartment...”
“Stow it, no tail. It hasn’t been that bad of a season, nor am I shopping economy-class right now,” she replied.
Winking, the soldier blew a kiss to her and backed off. The new mechanic for the Foundation put a very firm grip on Eli’s shoulder. “Qoren wishes to speak. You give up too easily. You do not act as a fighter, but a charlatan.” Qoren had been suggesting possible repairs on Almas to Master Don. A firm believer in using organic resources in lieu of fabricated ones, Qoren usually came off as gruff and overly formal.
Turning his back on the mechanic, Eli waved away the insult as he walked towards The Qoo. “Let’s get the ship ready to go.”
We shall see how long the gods’ blessings rest on this friend of the jeedai, Qoren thought to himself. Will you make a suitable sacrifice?
The transport exited hyperspace approaching Naboo’s orbit. The Foundation was directed to a private landing pad at the royal palace, forgoing any travel through the city of Theed. They flew past Province-class bulk cruisers, very similar to the one that General Grievous had used when the Foundation had met on his ship. These ships looked like they had once belonged to the Banking Clan but had since been conscripted into the Nabooian navy.
The Qoo landed without much delay, but an unsettling clank resounded over the landing pad as the dome closed off any thought of a quick escape. Filing down the landing walkway, the Foundation was greeted by a squad of the royal guard. In the lead was an armored Gungan. The Wanderer stepped out from the Foundation’s ranks and grabbed the Gungan for a hearty handshake. “We’re glad to be here and we offer any help that we can, Queen Apailana.”
A disapproving glance crossed Silas’ face as he grunted and ever so slightly shook his head at the Wanderer. “Oh, my apologies,” said the Wanderer as he bowed low with his arms outspread to the Gungan.
“Meesa Cap’n Tarsos. Meesa the cap’n of d’ guardsa,” replied the armored Gungan.
A sheepish Wanderer was replaced by a concerned Master Silas. “What happened to Captain Typho?”
“Meesa his replacement. Meesa be guardin’ the Queensa now. Rightsa dis’ waysa.’” The Foundation followed him down a corridor that lead into the giant receiving room of the queen. “Weesa be havin’ Masta Seelas an’ d’ guest anboombas.” The child-queen, resplendent in white face make-up with red highlights, glanced up.
“Thank you, Captain Tarsos. You are dismissed. Leave the room and guard the doors,” the queen replied to the announcement. As the guards left the room, Silas closed in on the queen’s desk. The queen considered him with pale eyes.
“I have grave news, Master Jedi. The other Jedi are no more. The Empire discovered our refuge here on Naboo and attacked. They searched through Theed and collected groups of people for mass execution. Many were your fellow protectors of peace.”
Jedi Master Don Erudite joined his counterpart’s side. Silas seemed stricken by the news; Don probed the queen’s senses lightly in the Force and discovered that she was indeed telling the truth, albeit very reservedly. The queen continued. “They were herded into Royal Square and fired upon by legions of Imperial stormtroopers. Their corpses were guarded, left in the coastal sun to rot. A man by the name of Special Inquisitor Beel oversaw the entire operation.”
At the mention of the name, the Wanderer recoiled slightly. A flash in his brain revealed a shadowy figure standing in the entryway of his family’s ranch. Another explosion displayed the silhouette watching as bodies were burned on the Dantari plains. A new scene was depicted of this black haze laughing as blood mixed with blasterfire on elegant cobblestone. He could hear the roar of a nearby ocean.
“Whoa! What happened to the AgriCorp? The ExplorCorp?” interjected Lance.
“They are gone as well. It is as if their holograms were projecting, and now there is nothing but static.” Lance’s metallic arms creaked under the pressure exerted upon them. A familiar look crossed Nuget’s eyes as his chin became as steel as the rest of his body. “The governor rests in critical condition at the royal clinic. And...” As the queen started to say this, for the first time she became noticeably distraught.
“Why didn’t floppy ears get this place ready for an attack? What kind of captain of the guard is this Tarsos guy, anyways?” demanded Eli.
“He is merely a replacement. Captain Typho was strapped onto the palace dome and left to the elements.”
Qoren could not believe this. Deep in his heart he knew that the soldiers under Typho’s command should have been sacrificed. In no way could the Destroyer be satisfied with Typho’s domain if he was left to die a Shamed One’s death. He could never understand the jeedai’s way of mercy in a galaxy that let warriors die in such a manner. Someone would pay. Qoren turned and almost reached for his amphistaff as a secret door opened from the queen’s chambers. Qoren pivoted to meet the intruder.
A dark-skinned man in a gray naval uniform strode in, black boots clacking on the marble of the palace floor. The Wanderer readied his Senate rifle, a reminder of friends passed on. Hands crossed behind his back in the image of formality, the Imperial officer marched towards the Foundation. Eli noticed the queen pulling her hand away from a secret switch on her desk.
“I’m current on the HoloNews. How can we help you, admiral?” Eli glanced at the insignias on the man’s chest. “Or should I say moff? Most impressive.”
“Are you responsible for the executions?” questioned Don, a twinge of Force seeping through his words.
“Chimel Sector is mine to command, but no. I am Moff Panaka.” No hand was extended as a greeting. “Typho was a good man. Naboo is missing one of its most loyal sons.”
“I am deeply grieved.”
“I have been given an order from Coruscant to report directly to Beel Acton if I have any information or contact involving the Foundation.”
“So, will you?”
“I have other plans. We will use the resources, including my flagship, to rip the scales off of the colo claw fish. I will report that I have captured you and, when Beel arrives, you will dispatch him.”
Lance chuckled to himself. “No offense, Moff Panaka, but I don’t think he would believe that you apprehended three Jedi.”
“No offense taken. But I have been tracking his recent endeavors. He is not a rational man; he is ruled by his passions.”
Eli added, “He did resurrect an ancient plague to wipe out a planet just to get at us, I might add.”
“Agreed. I don’t want to sound like a nay-sayer, but we need a better plan,” Don stated.
Qoren studied the group incredulously. “Qoren wishes to speak. You say this man attacked your religion, yes? Put me in a room with him and he will die a slow, purifying death.” His slotted lips lingered on the word purifying. As he said this, he considered the Gungans and how they might be shaped.
“Why are you taking the risk, Moff Panaka?” asked Don.
“My innocent nephew was strapped to the top of this dome. I want to bring honor to Typho’s death. I fear that with the death of the Senate so dies the luxury of indecision.”
“Would you be able to maintain influence in this sector?”
“More importantly, will your people be safe after the trap is sprung? We’ve brought enough pain already into people’s lives,” added the Wanderer.
“Qoren wishes to speak. I could deceive as a bounty hunter. This Beel Acton will not recognize me.”
“True, true,” replied the Wanderer. “That may save Moff Panaka.”
“And my initial offer still stands.”
Don replied, “He’s done. Either way, he’s done. There’s no way that a failure to protect the High Inquisitor would be forgiven. Join us. We are forming a coalition of systems.” Don waved his hand. “Tell me if you have intentions to turn us in.”
“I do not have intentions to turn you in,” replied Panaka. “I do not like the idea of someone else staging the trap. I especially don’t like fighting on-planet. My ship is a more controlled arena. I am interested in your coalition, though. Let me speak to bel Iblis.”
Unnerved by Moff Panaka’s knowledge, but wanting his assistance, Don handed over the comm frequency to reach bel Iblis. Panaka stated, “We’ll be back.” Queen Apailana and the moff walked towards the queen’s chambers to conference over the HoloNet with General Garm bel Iblis, the Foundation’s benefactor.
Eli broke the silence. “We could put sleeper troops on Panaka’s flagship. Keep those people on while his real troops are ‘evacuated’ during an alarm.”
“That could work. Then we could dress up a protocol droid in Beel’s clothing, piloting a shuttle, and then blast the shuttle,” said Don. Eli did not know whether the Jedi scholar was serious or not.
The Foundation waited in the hangar bay of Moff Panaka’s flagship wearing loose-fitting stun-cuffs. This had not been the first time that the group had been smuggled into a battlefield. Along for assistance was a technician that Eli only called ‘Dr. Matt Gleasnor’. The plan was simple: communications in the hangar bay would be jammed, the blast doors would shut, and weapons would be retrieved from a cargo crate. Dr. Matt Gleasnor would be dressed as an officer to act as a temporary liaison. As Eli reviewed the objectives, the yellow warning lights signaled that a craft was landing.
The shuttle eased itself into the bay, landing gear slowly deploying as steam gusted from vents below. The gangplank lowered amidst the steam; five shadowy figures disembarked. Three of them were clad in bestial armor, lightsaber hilts at their sides. The fourth was a well-muscled Nikto that appeared poised to strike. In the lead was a tall man with flowing, golden hair. “Where is Panaka?”
Dr. Matt Gleasnor shuffled forward. “Occupied.”
“The Special Inquisitor visits and he does not grace me with his presence? The Emperor will be most displeased.”
As the conversation started, a feline shadow stalked its prey. One of the armored Force-users, a Jensaari, shrieked in pain as he grabbed his back. Mashi wielded two full sets of extended claws. In the distraction, Dr. Matt Gleasnor shrieked as he ran to open the crate containing the weapons. Eli mustered enough agility to grab his blaster pistols and, mid-step, turn and fire on another of the Jensaari. The armored figured ducked to the side.
The clang of Lance’s feet echoed in the hangar bay. His two arms split to become four swirling, metallic blurs. All cosmetic subtlety was gone. The Force brought three sabers activated into his metallic grasps as he ignited his fourth saber. His arms continued spinning, traces of molten steel lines bubbling up from the floor. The stun-cuffs clattered to the ground.
“What is this? Some kind of Jedi joke? Go home, Padawans!” taunted Beel Acton, the blonde assailant. His voice rose to an indiscernible roar, blue veins rising to the surface of his skin as he screamed. The amulet on his chest began to glow. Shockwaves rippled through the air, plowing into Master Don’s chest.
Don spread his feet to a rooted stance and lifted his hands above his head. The Wanderer sensed his intentions through the Force and joined him. Acton’s shuttle began to shake. Suddenly, sounds of creaking metal and breaking transparisteel could be heard as the shuttle toppled over. The enemy rolled out of the way, only one Jensaari sustaining significant injuries. “Try escaping in that,” noted Don.
Escape. Refuge. Hopeless. The Wanderer could see the mocking face, standing in the doorway of his ranch. He shouted, “The Dark Man brings his justice!” He reached out and clenched his fist, knuckles whitening. The Nikto, swordmaster Zine Kinehay, clutched his right eye in shock. He could hear the Force closing in around him. He moved to silence the threat.
As Zine ran towards the Wanderer, Qoren punched the Nikto in the head. Whether he was caught off-guard, or whether it was an expertly-placed punch, Zine crumpled to the ground. Qoren drew what appeared to be a piece of coral shaped like a dagger. “The tisasi tests your peace.” He plunged the blade up to the hilt into the temple of the Nikto. Maybe these jeedai are not such worthy sacrifices. They cannot be god-blessed. I am not impressed.
Lance continued his four-pronged onslaught. Saber strikes punctuated his every word. “You...are...not...my...master!” A mottled blue and red lashed out at Beel.
The blonde duelist barely managed to fend off the attacks. Sparking sabers locked with Lance’s, he closed face-to-face within spitting range. The heat of the sabers and the exertion of combat brought droplets of sweat to Lance’s brow. Beel leaned in even further and whispered, “My turn.”
Sabers came at Lance from all angles; a Jensaari had double-teamed him. The Jensaari’s saber made contact. Lance grimaced as the thud of the damage impacted his cybernetic arm. Don responded by Force pushing the Jensaari away from Lance. Another of the armored warriors attacked Silas while attempting to flank Lance. The Wanderer ran, quickdrew his Senate rifle, and fired point-blank into the Jensaari. The armor now displayed a scorch mark, but the warrior continued fighting.
A loud snarl could be heard as Mashi jumped over everyone to close in on a Jensaari that was approaching Silas. Using this to his advantage, Eli fired a well-placed shot at Beel’s head. A non-Force-user would be on the ground, but Acton raised his gloved hand as he dissipated the blast. The energy was absorbed into his body.
In an all-out attempt, Lance used all of his connection to the Force to score a critical hit on the Special Inquisitor. The energy of Lance’s blade seemed to go through Beel without stopping. Lance waited for a body part to fall, but Beel stayed standing and intact. He pivoted, driving his saber into the back of Lance. Lance called out to the Force to dissipate the energy, but it was silent. He crumpled to the ground.
“No!” cried out Eli. A wave pummeled Eli in the chest, originating from Beel’s amulet.
Silas greeted the oncoming Jensaari with an effortless slash. The armor cracked and the Jensaari fell. The Wanderer struck through the Force at another of the Jensaari. The bestial warrior staggered minimally, turning to attack Mashi. This was received by a flurry of claws. Only one Jensaari and his inquisitorial charge remained.
Eli aimed his SoroSuub sporting blaster and fired. An expert hit dropped Beel. Eli walked up to him and unloaded another round into Beel Acton’s head. Silas finished up the last of the Jensaari.
The Foundation made preparations to depart. Dr. Matt Gleasnor was able to get to Lance in time, stabilizing his condition. The Wanderer walked past some of the techs working on the ships. A comm unit was playing a song that he was sure Imperial propaganda censors would not tolerate. As he started to whistle, he recognized where he had heard the song before. “Hey! Is that Angry Dantari Rontos?”
The techs gave him an anxious glare. “It is. Why?”
“I wrote that! That’s my song!”
“Sure, buddy.”
While the Wanderer tried to convince himself that he was not imagining this, Jedi Master Silas looked on from a distance. Deep in thought, one concern kept at the forefront of his thoughts. We dispensed justice today, but at what cost? Have we become our own Empire?
Wednesday, July 5, 2006