The Cestus Deception Read online

  THE CESTUS

  DECEPTION

  STEVEN BARNES

  BALLANTINE BOOKS • NEW YORK

  Star Wars: The Cestus Deception is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents

  either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A Del Rey® Book

  The Random House Publishing Group

  Copyright © 2004 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated.

  All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing Group,

  a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by

  Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of

  Random House, Inc.

  www.starwars.com

  www.delreydigital.com

  The Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this title is available from the Library of

  Congress.

  ISBN 0-345-45897-4

  Text design by Susan Turner

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition: June 2004

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For my new son, Jason Kai Due-Barnes.

  Welcome to life, sweetheart.

  D R A M A T I S P E R S O N A E

  CORUSCANT GROUP

  Obi-Wan Kenobi; Jedi Knight (male human)

  KitFisto; Jedi Master (male Nautolan)

  Doolb Snoil; barrister (male Vippit of Nal Hutta)

  Admiral Arikakon Baraka; supercruiser commander (male Mon

  Calamari)

  Lido Shan; technician (humanoid)

  CLONE COMMANDOS

  A-98, "Nate"; ARC Trooper, recruitment and command

  CT-X270, "Xutoo"; pilot

  CT-36/732, "Sirty"; logistics

  CT-44/444, "Forry"; physical training

  CT-12/74, "Seefor"; communications

  CESTIANS

  Trillot; gang leader (male/female X'Ting)

  Fizzik; broodmate of Trillot (male X'Ting)

  Sheeka Tull; pilot (female human)

  Resta Shug Hai; Desert Wind member (female X'Ting)

  ThakVal Zsing; leader of Desert Wind (male human)

  Brother Nicos Fate (male X'Ting)

  Skot OnSon; Desert Wind member (male human)

  FIVE FAMILIES OF CESTUS CYBERNETICS

  Debbikin; research (male human)

  Lady Por'Ten; energy (female human)

  Kefka; manufacturing (male humanoid)

  Llitishi; sales and marketing (male Wroonian)

  Caiza Quill; mining (male X'Ting)

  CESTUS COURT

  C'MaiDun's; Regent (female X'Ting)

  SharShar; Regent Duris's assistant (female Zeetsa)

  CONFEDERATION

  Count Dooku; leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems

  (male human)

  Commander AsajjVentress; Commander of the Separatist Army

  (female humanoid)

  THE CESTUS

  DECEPTION

  V O L U M E 5 3 1 N U M B E R 4 6

  H 0 L 0 N E T N E W S

  1 3 : 3 . 7

  Baktoid Closes Down

  Five More Plants

  TERMIN, METALORN—In a statement issued to shareholders, Baktoid

  Armor Workshop confirmed that it will close down five more plants in

  the Inner Rim and Colonies as a direct result of Republic regulations

  that have hindered its battle droid program.

  Baktoid plants on Foundry, Ord Cestus, Telti, Balmorra, and Ord Lithone

  will close by month's end. An estimated 12.5 million employees

  will be laid off as a result.

  Legislation passed by the Senate eight years ago forced the disbanding

  of the Trade Federation's security forces, the largest single consumer

  of Baktoid's combat automata and vehicles. Further licensing

  restrictions on the sale of battle droids made the purchase of such

  hardware prohibitively expensive for most of Baktoid's clientele ...

  1

  For half a millennium Coruscant had glittered, a golden-towered

  centerpiece to the Republic's galactic crown. Its bridges and arched

  solaria harked back to ages past, when no leader's words seemed too

  grand, no skyscraper too spectacular, and titanic civic sprawls boldly

  proclaimed the rational mind's conquest of the cosmos.

  With the coming of the Clone Wars, some believed such glorious

  days were past. Whether the news holos spoke of victory or defeat, it

  was all too easy to imagine flaming ships spiraling to their doom beneath

  distant skies, the clash of vast armies, the death of uncounted

  and uncountable dreams. It was almost impossible not to wonder if

  one day war's ravening maw might not envelop this, the Republic's

  jeweled locus. This was a time when the word city symbolized not

  achievement, but vulnerability. Not haven, but havoc.

  But despite those fears, Coruscant's billions of citizens kept faith

  and continued about their myriad lives. A flock of hook-beaked

  thrantcills flew in perfect diamond formation through Coruscant's

  placid, pale blue sky. For a hundred thousand standard years they had

  winged south for the winter, and might for yet another. Their flat

  black eyes had watched civilization force Coruscant's animal life into

  inexorable retreat. The planet's former masters now scavenged in

  her duracrete canyons, their natural habitats replaced with artificial

  marshes and permacrete forests. This, others argued, was a time of

  marvels and marvelous beings from a hundred thousand different

  worlds. This was a time for optimism, for dreams, and for unbridled

  ambition.

  A time of opportunity, for those with vision to see.

  The red-and-white disk of a two-passenger Limulus-class transport

  sliced through Coruscant's cloud-mantle. In the morning sun it

  glittered like a sliver of silvered ice. Spiral-dancing to inaudible

  music, it had detached its hyperdrive ring in orbit, slipping through

  wispy clouds to land with a shush as gentle as a kiss. Its smooth, glassy

  side rippled. A rectangular outline appeared and then slid up. A tall,

  bearded man wrapped in a brown robe stepped into the doorway and

  hopped down, followed by a second, clean-shaven passenger.

  The bearded man's name was Obi-Wan Kenobi. For more years

  than he cared to count, Obi-Wan had been one of the most renowned

  Jedi Knights in the entire Republic. The second, a startlingly

  intense younger man with fine brown hair, was named Anakin Skywalker.

  Although not yet a full Jedi Knight, he was already famed as

  one of the galaxy's most powerful warriors.

  For thirty-six hours the two had juggled flying and navigational

  duties, using their Jedi skills to hold their needs for sleep and sustenance

  to a minimum. Obi-Wan was tired, irritable, famished, and

  felt as if someone had poured sand into his joints. Anakin, he noticed,

  seemed fresh and ready for action.

  The recuperative powers of youth, Obi-Wan thought ruefully.

  Only an emergency directive from Supreme Chancellor Palpatine

  himself could have
summoned the two from their assignment on

  Forscan VI.

  "Well, Master," Anakin said. "I suppose this is where we part company."

  "I'm not certain what this is about," the older man replied, "but

  your time will be well spent studying at the Temple."

  Obi-Wan and Anakin continued down the skywalk. Far beneath

  them the city streets buzzed with traffic, the walkways and groundlevel

  construction occasionally interrupted by wisps of cloud or stray

  thrantcills. The web of streets and bridges behind and below them

  was dazzling, but Obi-Wan noticed the beauty little more than he

  had the height, the fatigue, or the hunger. At the moment, his mind

  was occupied by other, more urgent concerns.

  As if his Padawan could read his thoughts, Anakin spoke. "I hope

  you're not still annoyed with me, Master."

  There it was, another reference to Anakin's rash actions on Forscan

  VI. Forscan VI was a colony planet at the edge of the Cron drift, currently

  unaffiliated with either Republic or Confederacy. Elite Separatist

  infiltration agents had set up a training camp on Forscan, their

  "exercises" playing havoc with the settlers. The most delicate aspect

  of the counteroperation was repelling those agents without ever letting

  the colonists know that outsiders had assisted them. Tricky.

  Dangerous.

  "No," Obi-Wan said. "We contained the situation. My approach is

  more . . . measured. But you displayed your usual initiative. You

  weren't disobeying a direct order, so . . . we'll mark it down to creative

  problem solving, and leave it at that."

  Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. Powerful bonds of love and mutual

  respect connected the two men, but in times past Anakin's impulsiveness

  had tested those bonds sorely. Still, there was little doubt

  that the Padawan would receive Obi-Wan's highest recommendations.

  Years of observation had forced Obi-Wan to grant that

  Anakin's seeming impetuosity was in fact a deep and profound understanding

  of superior skills.

  "You were right," Anakin said, as if Obi-Wan's mild answer gave

  him permission to admit his own errors. "Those mountains were impassable.

  Confederacy reinforcements would have bogged down in

  the ice storm, but I couldn't take the chance. There were too many

  lives at stake."

  "It takes maturity to admit an error," Obi-Wan said. "I think we

  can keep these thoughts between us. My report will reflect admiration

  for your initiative."

  The two comrades faced, and gripped each other's forearms.

  Obi-Wan had no children, and likely never would. But the unity of

  Padawan and Master was as deep as any parent-child bond, and in

  some ways deeper still. "Good luck," Anakin said. "Give my regards

  to Chancellor Palpatine."

  A hovercar slid in next to the walkway, and Anakin hopped

  aboard, disappearing into the sky traffic without a backward glance.

  Obi-Wan shook his head. The boy would be fine. Had to be fine. If

  a Jedi as gifted as Anakin could not rise above youthful hubris, what

  hope was there for the rest of them?

  But meanwhile there was a more immediate matter to consider.

  Why exactly had he been called back to Coruscant? Certainly it must

  be an emergency, but what kind of emergency . . . ?

  The appointed meeting place was the T'Chuk sporting arena, a

  tiered shell with seating for half a million thronging spectators. Here

  chin-bret, Coruscant's most popular spectator sport, was played before

  hundreds of thousands of cheering fans. Today, however, no expert

  chin-bretier leapt in graceful arcs across the sand; no pikers

  vaulted about returning serves. No cerulean-vested goalkeepers

  veered like mad demicots, hoisting their team's torch aloft. Today the

  vast stadium was empty, cleared and sequestered, hosting a very different

  sort of gathering.

  As he emerged from the echoing length of pedestrian tunnel, Obi-

  Wan scanned the tiered stands. Most of the rows were as empty as a

  Tatooine desertscape, but a few dozen witnesses were gathered in the

  box-seat section. He recognized a scattering of high-level elected officials,

  some important but ordinarily reclusive bureaucrats, a few

  people from the technical branches, and even some clone troopers.

  Instinct and experience suggested that this was a war council.

  Over time the Clone Wars' initial chaos had settled into a tidal

  rhythm; loyalties declared, alliances formed. The galaxy was too vast

  for war to touch all its myriad shores, but at any given time battles

  raged on a hundred different worlds. While that number represented

  an insignificant fraction of the billions of star systems swirling about

  the galaxy, due to long-standing alliances and partnerships, what

  happened to millions of living beings had the potential to affect trillions.

  Already kingdoms, nations, and families had been ravaged by the

  wars. As the numbers grew and weapons inevitably became more

  and more powerful, devastation might well spiral out of control, offsetting

  the countless eons of struggle that had finally birthed a

  galaxywide union. The labor of a thousand generations, vanished?

  Never!

  Lines had been drawn: Separatists on the one side, and the Republic

  on the other. For Obi-Wan as well as many others, that line

  was drawn with his own life's blood. The Republic would stand, or

  Obi-Wan and every Jedi who had ever strode the Temple's halls

  would fall. It was a simple equation.

  And in simplicity there was both clarity and strength.

  2

  T'Chuk arena's sand-covered floor was empty save for a pale, slender

  humanoid female. She wore a white technician's cloak, and her

  black hair was cropped short. She stood tinkering with a gleaming

  chrome hourglass-shaped construct that Obi-Wan found a bit puzzling:

  it looked more like an edgy work of art, a Mavinian clusterwedding

  organ, or perhaps a Juzzian colony marker, than anything

  dangerous enough to concern a Jedi. Rows of narrow pointed legs at

  the base were the only apparent means of locomotion.

  What in the thousand worlds was this about?

  The technician fiddled with the device, running various wires from

  it to a pod at her waist. Perhaps it was some sort of advanced med

  droid?

  The audience grew increasingly restless as she detached the wires,

  then turned and addressed them.

  "My name is Lido Shan, and I thank you for your patience," she

  said, ignoring their obvious lack of same. "I believe that our first

  demonstration is ready for your graces." Shan gave a little bow and

  swept her hand toward the gleaming construct. "I present the

  JK-thirteen. To demonstrate its prowess, we have selected a Confederacy

  destroyer droid, captured on Geonosis and reconstructed to

  original manufacturer specifications."

  The JK stood chest-high with a glassy finish, aesthetically pleasing

  in ways few droids ever managed. A child's toy, a museum display,

  a conversation piece, some fragile and delicate bit of electronics,

  perhaps. On the other hand, the black, wheel-like destroyer droid />
  looked comparatively primitive, battered and patched, but still as

  menacing as a wounded acklay.

  With a hiss of compressing and decompressing hydraulics, the destroyer

  droid rolled forward, crunching the sand into tread ridges as

  it did. The JK model hunched down, gleaming, but in a strange way

  seemed oddly helpless. It seemed almost to quiver as it crouched. The

  impression of helplessness was reinforced by the size differential: the

  JK was perhaps half the battle droid's mass.

  At first Obi-Wan wondered if he was simply to witness another

  demonstration of destroyer droid power and efficiency. Hardly necessary:

  he still carried scars from the blasted things. No, that was an

  absurd assumption: Palpatine couldn't possibly have summoned him

  from Forscan for so mundane a purpose. In the next instant the destroyer

  droid rolled within five meters of the JK, and all questions

  were answered.

  In a single moment the JK divided into segments, assuming a

  spiderlike configuration. In that instant its pose seemed less of a

  cowering leaf eater than one of those cunning creatures that mime

  helplessness to lure their prey into range.

  The destroyer droid spat red fire at its adversary. The sand rippled

  as the JK projected not a single force field, but a series of rotating energy

  disks that absorbed the blasts with ease. That was a surprise:

  typically a machine required less sophistication to deflect energy than

  to absorb it. This display implied some kind of advanced capacitance

  or grounding technology. The attacking droid continued its rain of

  fire, unable to comprehend that its pure-power approach had proved

  inefficient.

  Like most machines, it was powerful but stupid.

  Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. Something . . . something unusual was

  happening. The JK sprouted tentacles from the sides and top, tendrils

  snaking out so swiftly that the destroyer droid had not the

  slightest chance of evasion. Now Obi-Wan, and indeed most of the

  witnesses, leaned toward the action as the war droid struggled helplessly

  in the JK's tentacled grip. Initially the tendrils were thick and

  ropy. Even as he watched they grew thinner, and then thinner still,

  webbing the attacker with fibers that finally reduced to an almost invisible

  fineness.

  The tendrils chewed into the destroyer droid s casing like hundreds

  of silk-thin fibersaws. The droid finally seemed to comprehend

  its peril and commenced a desperate struggle, emitting disturbingly