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Auszug
Galaxies: The Ruins of Dantooine
A light rain misted the hillside. Other than that slight patter, the only sound disturbing the evening was the sudden cry of the peko peko. The large, blueskinned reptavian’s pitiful squawk carried across the still lake before stopping as suddenly as it had begun.
“The tusk-cats must be hunting,” Inquisitor Loam Redge said quietly to himself, smiling at the idea of the sleek, fawn-colored beasts circling the Retreat. Peko pekos weren’t the only thing that the large predators could kill; simply the opening course.
The cloaked human stood alone on the stone balcony overlooking the placid lake and the hills beyond. For the last few moments, he had watched the final glow of the setting sun turn the world a brief, shimmering pink. As soon as the molten ball had disappeared, though, the sky had turned several shades of gray, from dirty white to steel. The colors layered themselves one on top of the other, so it was impossible to discern where one began and another ended. And then the rains had come.
With a parting glance toward the twinkling lights of Moenia off to the east, the Inquisitor returned inside, where he brushed at his cloaks furiously, as
though their exposure to the abrupt shower had somehow sullied them. He smoothed back his rich brown hair and stood with his spine at ramrod attention.
No one knew how old the Inquisitor was, and Redge preferred it remain that way. There were precious few secrets in the Empire, and he liked to keep as many as he could.
Inquisitor Loam Redge was one of those rare individuals who derived great pleasure from his work. Finding those sensitive to the Force, torturing them, and destroying them were his topmost priorities, and they also gave him the greatest joy. He was very good at his vocation, and he always looked as though he was enjoying a private joke when he was at his busiest. This twisted happiness had, over time, etched its mark on his face in the
form of the faintest crinkles near the outer edges of his dirt-colored eyes. Other than that, his face was mostly unlined. He might have been thirty, he might have been fifty.
When he was satisfied that he looked properly groomed, Inquisitor Redge moved out into the hallway. He padded silently across the plush, goldtrimmed maroon carpeting that lined the walkway. It was so thick, he barely heard the MSE-6 that almost scurried past his feet. The tiny, black, rectangular droids littered the Emperor’s Retreat, as they did so many of the Imperial starships and ground installations throughout the galaxy. When the struggling company Rebaxan Columni had found itself facing imminent bankruptcy, it had offered the Empire a cut-rate deal on millions of them. Because the navy was extremely short on droids, it accepted. Now the Empire was crawling with the little automatons.
The small droid stopped a few feet beyond the Inquisitor and extended its heavy manipulator arm, clutching a rag. It scrubbed feverishly at some unseen smudge on the tan marble wall. Redge studied the droid for a moment as it buffed the already highly polished surface before slightly raising his cloaks up and moving past it. He found that the mechanism reminded him vaguely of a type of small vermin, and it disturbed him slightly.
There was no one else in the corridor, and he continued to revel in the quiet luxury of Emperor Palpatine’s Retreat on Naboo. The Emperor’s homeworld was calmly green, with areas of dense swamps broken up by rolling plains and verdant hills. Redge found the view soothing and knew that Emperor Palpatine had chosen the location for just that effect, not because of any maudlin sense of homeworld loyalty. While he had traveled to Theed, Moenia, Kaadara, Dee’ja Peak, and most of the smaller cities on the relatively peaceful planet, Inquisitor Redge had not yet ventured into the streams and canals that honeycombed the interior core of the planet. He had heard from a reliable source that it was possible for one to travel throughout the whole of Naboo and never once stick a head above ground. At some point, he would have to explore the passageways himself, or send a trusted associate in his place. There was no way of knowing just what or who might be hiding down there. Naboo might be a haven not just for artists and architects, but for other, less desirable sorts as well.
Since establishing the Retreat, the Emperor had had little trouble planetside and seen no sign of the Rebellion, as far as Redge was aware. And Redge made it his business to know. Queen Kylantha had pledged and proven her loyalty many times over to Palpatine. But it irked the Inquisitor that she had not bothered to dissolve the Naboo Royal Advisory Council or to impose any real changes on the democratic structure of the government. If she were truly that loyal, then why hadn’t she made the simple and overt gesture of disbanding the mock administration? Was it simply for her vanity, so that she could retain her empty title, or was there more to it? These questions nagged at the Inquisitor during the darkest hours of the night.
Rounding a corner, Redge arrived at the entrance of a cavernous, domed antechamber, large enoughto hold several garrisons comfortably. Like the hallway that led up to it, the chamber was composed entirely of mottled pink-and-tan marble. Hanging along the walls and from the curved ceiling were banners of maroon and gold, like the rugs that carpeted the myriad hallways in the Retreat. Cylindrical gold lamps hung down, casting shining puddles of light on the polished floor. Along the far wall, two of the Emperor’s personal guards, draped entirely in crimson, stood as sentries by the door the Inquisitor knew led to the Emperor’s inner sanctum. Like avenging spirits, the guards remained steadfast in their duty, not moving a muscle. However, the vast chamber was not entirely devoid of movement.
Along the curved wall, near a small computer terminal, two stormtroopers stood. Unlike Redge, these troopers were relaxed in their stance. One eaned casually against the wall—no easy feat, given the fact that he was clad from head to toe in sparkling white armor. His colleague held only a slightly more militaristic pose. Neither man faced Redge, so both were unaware of his presence. Gliding over slightly, the Inquisitor could just hear their clipped conversation.
“I tell you,” the one against the wall squawked to the other, “if they haven’t started building a new one yet, they’re not going to.”
“It’s only been about a year,” the other replied with more static in his response, his transmitter clearly in need of some attention. “Equipment that awesome takes time to repair.”
“I’m telling you,” the first argued, “that if they haven’t repaired or replaced the Death Star by now, they won’t. And that should tell you something.”
“What do you mean?” his comrade responded, and even Redge could hear the unease in the man’s mechanized voice.
The first stormtrooper shifted his stance slightly. “I’ve heard rumors that the Rebellion is growing, becoming more powerful. If they could take out a
weapon as great as the Death Star, there’s no telling just how strong they really are. I think the Emperor is hiding that from us.” His voice had dropped surprisingly low, considering he had to speak through a transmitter. “I think he’s hiding many things.” “Talk like that will get you killed,” his friend warned him.
“Or worse,” Redge added in a gentle, melodic voice.
Both troopers turned suddenly, clearly caught off guard. That was the technique that Redge enjoyed the most: knock an opponent off balance and strike while he was teetering.
“Sir, I-I didn’t know you were here,” the first stammered.
“Obviously,” Redge replied easily, enjoying the man’s apparent discomfort. He decided to let him squirm a moment longer and so remained silent,
forcing the trooper to try to dig his way out of his shallow grave.
“I’m sorry, sir, I meant no disservice. I was just explaining my concerns to—”
“Don’t bother trying to explain anything to me, soldier,” Redge interrupted coldly. “I know exactly what you were trying to explain to your ‘friend’
here.” He nodded to the other man. “You feel our Emperor is keeping things from you, keeping you in the dark, so to speak?”
“It’s just that—”
“It’s just nothing,” Redge warned him darkly, his facade of pleasantness a memory. “You know all that you need to know and nothing more or less,
like the rest of us. To serve the Emperor is to trust in him completely and question nothing.”
The stormtroopers remained silent, and the Inquisitor knew they were both too frightened to speak. That fear warmed his cold heart. The corners of his thin lips twitched in growing pleasure. He relaxed his stance ever so slightly.
“But,” he graciously allowed, “you do make a good point in your own simplistic fashion.”
“Sir?” the second soldier asked, and Redge knew they were fishing for anything to redeem themselves.
“The war is far from over,” he admitted. “We do have the strength and the power to crush the Rebels; that much is obvious. However, the Rebels
are devious, and like fanned rawls they have hidden themselves well and fashioned nests and lairs at the highest levels of power. Only when we drive them out and exterminate those hidden in our midst will victory truly be ours,” Redge explained, momentarily caught up in his own fervor.
But before he could pursue the discussion further, he felt an almost imperceptible change in the air pressure of the chamber. The wiry hairs on his
arms rose, and Redge knew the Emperor’s door had slid open.
He turned his back on the two stormtroopers, their presence completely inconsequential now, and watched as a black figure separated himself from
the impenetrable shadows of the doorway. As the stark figure moved forward, Redge felt his stomach turn and experienced a moment of vertigo. Sensitive as he was to the Force, the Inquisitor was nearly overwhelmed by the power of the man moving toward him.
The giant figure was covered from head to toe in obsidian armor. On his chest plate, a series of devices blinked blue and red, in time with his breathing and his heartbeat. His face was covered by a grotesque, helmeted breath mask that resembled the skull of some dark god. He moved wiftly yet deliberately toward the Inquisitor, his black cape billowing behind him. He looked like nothing so much as a winged bird of prey.
Redge vaguely saw, from the corner of his eyes, that the troopers snapped even straighter at the ominous presence than they had for him. He didn’t
notice much more as he sank gracefully to one knee in a deep, obsequious bow.
“My Lord Vader,” he whispered with just the right amount of reverence.
“Rise, Inquisitor,” Lord Vader ordered in a deep, rich voice, his orders punctuated by his unmistakable mechanized breathing. “Rise and walk with me.”
Redge rose as gracefully as he had knelt and resisted the urge to shake out his cloaks yet again, refusing to appear foppish before a Dark Lord of the
Sith. He stretched his back even straighter, but still had to look up at the Sith Lord who stood two meters tall. Before he moved with Vader, however, he turned to face the two soldiers.
“Since you both have so much free time on your hands to reflect, I will see about relocating you to a post that you will undoubtedly find more . . . challenging,” he told them. “Perhaps something in the Hoth system,” he mused. “I don’t believe we have sent many satellites out there yet. Report to your garrison commander for new orders. Your tour of duty here is now over.” With that, he turned and marched alongside Lord Vader, briefly contemplating what hellish location they would eventually be dispatched to.
After a few moments of silence that were distinctly uncomfortable for Redge, he addressed the dark shadow. “Yes, my lord?”
“The Emperor wishes to know how you are progressing,” Lord Vader demanded.
Redge struggled to keep his equilibrium. The dark power of the Force rolled off Vader in crashing waves.
“Inquisitor?” the distorted voice demanded, and Redge knew he would not ask the question a second time.
“My lord,” he began, “I understand the seriousness surrounding the nature of the mission.”
“Do you? I am honored that you agree with me,” Vader replied. Redge thought he could almost hear the sarcasm in the Sith Lord’s voice.
“I only meant, Lord Vader, that I fully comprehend my role in this.”
“Do you, Inquisitor?” Vader asked him, stopping just before both men reached another hallway. Only Vader’s mechanized breathing could be heard
echoing in the antechamber. Redge was momentarily at a loss for how to proceed. Darth Vader was the only creature that ever inspired this effect in the Inquisitor.
“Do you truly know what it will mean,” the Sith Lord eventually continued, “if the holocron should return to the Rebels’ hands?”
Redge swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord, I think I can appreciate what should happen. If the Rebels manage to retrieve that device—with, among other
things, its list of high-level Rebel sympathizers—and activate those spies, the Empire could very well crumble from within.”
Vader regarded him stonily before he raised a gauntleted finger to point accusingly at the Inquisitor. “What are you doing about it?” he demanded.
“Lord Vader, I have my best operative on the trail of this item even as we speak. I have trained this agent for many years, and I believe there is no one better suited for the mission. We will not fail,” he promised, barely hiding the quaver in his voice.
Vader stared a moment longer and then turned to walk down the hallway, his heavy footfalls muffled by the thick pile of the carpets. The Inquisitor hastened his step to keep up.
“The Death Star incident will never occur again,” Vader told Redge. The Inquisitor knew the Sith Lord was not really sharing a confidence with him as much as he was simply thinking aloud. However, he did nothing to interrupt Vader, awed as he was in the moment.
“The fact that those plans slipped through our fingers and reached the cursed Rebels . . .” Vader’s voice trailed away and he tightened the fingers of
his left hand.
As he did so, Redge felt a pressure build up around his heart. His breathing grew more rapid, and black spots began to dance around the corners of his vision. He slowed his pace and vaguely sawthat Vader was continuing on, unaware that he had lost his stricken companion. Redge placed a hand
against his chest. He felt as if a fambaa were settled atop it. His head swam. Then, as abruptly as the pressure began, it disappeared. He rested one hand against the marble wall and tried to catch his breath before trotting weakly after Vader, who had not paused in his march.
“Inquisitor?” Vader demanded.
“Y-yes, my lord?” Redge stammered, barely recovered from Vader’s unconscious assault.
“Your best agent, you say?”
“Yes, Lord Vader,” Redge said, his voice growing stronger with every passing moment. “This agent will not fail.”
Darth Vader turned and stared at Redge once more. “Inquisitor, you should know full well that that there is no such thing as failure within the Empire. I suggest you remember that.” He raised a finger and shook it once, ominously, toward the Inquisitor and then turned and left. The hiss of his automated breathing faded as he marched down the length of the passageway. Only when Redge was no longer in the presence of the Sith Lord did he realize that he had been holding his own breath. He let it out slowly.
Redge turned from the hallway and walked over to an alcove with a view of the Emperor’s personal shuttle, an AT-ST standing guard nearby. He leaned his head against the cool marble wall and sighed. His thoughts drifted from the holocron to his operative and back to Vader’s barely oncealed death threat. He understood only too well how much was riding on the success of this mission. Redge sighed and continued to stare out into the night. The rain fell harder.
Together they wound their way around the labyrinth that was the base and made their way to the second floor. There, near what Dusque thought might be a large-style holoprojector, was the woman in white. There were a few others in the room, but most were busy, taking readings or communicating with other troops stationed elsewhere. The only other person in the room was a young man who looked only slightly older than the eager sentry by the gates.
With blond hair streaked by the sun, he was obviously someone who had spent his few years outdoors. He was dressed simply enough in a shirt and trousers, but a strange, cylindrical device swung from the belt at his hip. She didn't recognize the technology, and that puzzled her, because she prided herself in knowing all the latest equipment. When she looked up, she realized that his sky-blue eyes were staring intensely at her. There was something ancient about those eyes, and she shivered, although she wasn't cold. She broke away from his gaze when she heard the woman address Finn.
"I'm so glad you're both here and safe," the small woman said sincerely. Dusque thought her eyes looked warm and comforting. "When Han reported that you had been shot down, we feared the worst."
"How is he?" Finn asked, and Dusque heard a hard tone in his question. The woman did, as well.
"Don't worry, Finn," she said, laying a comforting hand on his forearm. "Han's fine. It was a near thing, but he and Chewie escaped the Imperial fighters. I don't know how he does it," she added with a chuckle, "but that bucket of bolts he calls a ship got him away again." She was silent for a moment and Dusque thought she sensed more than just comradelike concern for the dashing pilot.
"I cannot say how glad I am that you are all right," the woman continued, addressing Dusque.
"Thank you," she replied and, after a brief hesitation, asked, "Who are you?"
The petite woman and Finn exchanged a short glance between them. "You didn't tell her?" she asked Finn.
"No point in it until we got here," he answered, "if we got here at all."
"Finn and I have known each other for more years than I care to name. I am Leia Organa," she introduced herself. "I'm sorry, I wish we had more time, but we don't."
"I understand," Dusque replied. She thought that she knew the name from somewhere, but she wasn't sure. "Can you still use me?" she asked. "Since the Empire executed my friend, I might no longer be in good standing with them. And all this will have been for nothing."
Leia nodded. "We heard about what happened to Tendau. I'm sorry," she added, and Dusque was touched by her sympathy. Leia was a military leader, but she clearly had not lost sight of her compassion, or the awareness that it was real people who perished, not numbers on a datapad.
"We weren't able to discover why a warrant was issued for him but, fortunately, none has been issued for you," Leia went on.
"So her cover is still valid?" Finn asked.
"Yes," Leia replied. She faced Dusque. "Because of your background in xenobiology and your title as an Imperial bioengineer, no one will question why you would explore such a relatively unpopulated planet. You can move about without arousing too much suspicion. That's why we needed someone in your position, with your impressive abilities. No one less would do. And because of your personal history," she continued, "I hoped that you would be willing to help us."
Dusque was suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. Finn had said much the same thing to her when they had first met, but she had not understood; she had been unable to see past her own insecurities. Now, seeing the large number of people Leia commanded, she understood. If all the Princess had needed was a body or someone of moderate ability, she had ample supply right here in the hidden base. But Leia had asked for her. She was momentarily speechless.
"Judging by what it took for you to get here, I don't think I'm wrong in my presumption," Leia added.
The choice was truly before Dusque, and she knew her answer would change everything. It was a chance to make a real difference. And there would be no going back. For the first time in her life, Dusque felt no fear.
"I want to help," she answered.
Leia studied her appraisingly, then nodded curtly. "Good," she said without fanfare. "Your superiors don't know where you are, do they?"
Dusque shook her head. "I didn't report in because I didn't want to give them any idea where I was, especially if there was a chance I might be wanted."
"Safe thinking," Leia said approvingly.
"And don't worry," Dusque added, flushed with pleasure at the compliment, "I haven't been off their radar long enough for them to be concerned yet."
Leia nodded. "That's good. Now," she said, all business again. "The list we need to recover is on Dantooine."
Dusque heard Finn let out a deep breath and she wondered why he had been holding it the whole time. Probably afraid I was going to back out, she thought.
"We had a base there for some time," Leia explained, "until someone betrayed us. Fortunately, we were able to evacuate the entire complex in under a day. In that haste, however, we were forced to abandon and destroy some supplies and information. This list of contacts and sympathizers was encoded into a holocron by several different agents, some of whom are no longer alive. No one person has ever known all the names in order to protect the contacts -- this holocron is the only place all these names appear together. Several Rebels were able to hide the holocron within the ruins of an ancient Jedi temple for safekeeping just days before Alderaan was destroyed." She paused, and a shadow crossed her face. "These are dark times for us."
Dusque suddenly remembered where she had heard of Leia before. She was a former Senator -- and Princess, if memory served -- from Alderaan. Dusque looked at her thoughtfully. Here was a woman who had lost everything, faced overwhelming tragedy, and found the strength to continue and to persevere.
"We need to retrieve that list before the Empire does," Leia continued after a moment's silence.
"We know now that the Empire is aware of the list and has sent agents after it. Time is of the essence.
"I want you two to find the holocron and bring it back to me here. If you aren't able to return with it safely, then destroy it. Don't even risk transmitting the information back to us. Better those named remain anonymous and alive than fall into the hands of the Empire."
Dusque looked at Finn and then back at Leia. "We can do it," she promised the petite powerhouse. "We won't fail you."
"There's an exploration shuttle waiting for you at the other end of the base. There's no more time," Leia finished. "You need to leave now."
As Dusque and Finn left the chamber, Leia quietly breathed, "May the Force be with you."
When the two had left, Leia sighed deeply. She hoped that they would be successful. The holocron was a vital piece in the effort to overthrow the Emperor and restore freedom to the galaxy. If nothing else, the people represented on that list deserved their safety and their lives. But she also realized that she might have just sent another two people to their doom.
She turned and saw Luke. "Why were you so quiet?" she asked. He appeared deep in thought, and she moved closer to him and lay a delicate hand over his. "What is it? Do you sense something?" She found herself trembling slightly with concern.
His burgeoning powers both frightened and intrigued her.
Luke had a faraway look in his eyes. When he finally spoke, it was as if from a great distance. "I don't know exactly," he said, "but I have a bad feeling about this." And then he grew silent.
Leia wondered just what her newest recruit and one of her oldest allies were flying into.
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