The Cestus Deception Page 9

  mere business significance."

  "Ah," Snoil said. "I would expect some aspects of hive politics to

  survive. Expect complex, confusing social interactions, Master Jedi."

  Obi-Wan laughed. It was true: no longer was he a mere peacekeeper.

  Today he was an ambassador, an envoy from the central government.

  Like it or not, he would have to accept that role.

  The guards were near-human Kiffar, who immediately snapped to

  attention as the door opened and the ramp touched down. "Master

  Kenobi, it is my pleasure to welcome you to ChikatLik," the nearest

  guard said. "I've only just received word that the Regent is on parlay.

  Hive business. She returns tonight, and will meet with you tomorrow."

  Obi-Wan nodded sagely, and Snoil's eyestalks bobbed with pleasure.

  A band composed of assorted droid musicians blared a medley of

  melodic bleeps and hoots, doubtless the Cestian planetary anthem, as

  Obi-Wan, Snoil, and their astromech unit descended. The band next

  performed a passable rendition of the Republic's official anthem, "All

  Stars Burn as One." Once upon a time that song had quickened his

  blood, but for the last months Obi-Wan had begun to bristle whenever

  he heard it.

  After their rendition was complete, the Kiffar guard saluted again.

  "Thank you," Obi-Wan said, and Snoil's eyestalks ceased waving in

  accompaniment to the music. In truth, it had been stirring.

  "Welcome to Cestus. General Kenobi, Barrister Snoil."

  Obi-Wan nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant. I hope that all business

  can be completed quickly, that I might have an opportunity to appreciate

  the beauty of your world before I return home."

  The words flowed so smoothly that Obi-Wan laughed to himself.

  In truth, he might have made a passable politician. Peacemakers and

  power brokers had to meet to find common ground, and if he had

  chosen that path . . .

  With that thought in his mind, and a resultant half smile curling

  his lips, Obi-Wan allowed himself and Snoil to be escorted to a railway

  running above the free-flying transport lanes.

  "Few buildings on the planet's surface," Snoil asked. "Why?"

  "The natural caverns were easy to exploit for prison space, and

  safer from dust storms and raiding aboriginals. That was long ago."

  "And now?" Obi-Wan asked.

  "And now?" Their guide shrugged. "The plagues left a lot of hives

  empty. We just moved right in."

  As they followed the cart, a pair of droids carried their luggage

  from the ship and placed it in a separate cart, to follow them. Many

  of the buildings and structures were themselves imitations of stalactites

  and stalagmites, but there were flashes of different artistic or architectural

  movements as well, angular areas, evidence of a hundred

  different cultural influences.

  They approached a particularly large and beautiful expanse of

  carved rock wall. Only on a second look did it resolve into a building.

  "Our destination," the guard said.

  "What is it?" Obi-Wan said. It was almost a kilometer across, one

  of the largest city constructs Obi-Wan had seen on a Rim world, so

  enormous that at first he had mistaken it for an organic part of the

  overall structure.

  "The Grand ChikatLik was the first actual prison building built

  here," their guide said. "It was converted fifty years ago, and now

  serves as our finest hotel."

  He could see it all more clearly now: a few hundred years of constant

  rebuilding, one apartment and cubicle grafted onto another had

  been smoothed into an overall design that was somewhere between a

  kind of insect hive and a gigantic office complex, something that

  transcended either artificial or organic design. Impressive.

  Their cart zagged right, entered what appeared to be a lava tube,

  and emerged in the hotel lobby. The interior was quite literally cavernous,

  a lobby built around a luminous natural hot spring, lift tubes

  thrusting up through cascading shelves of frozen limestone.

  The silvery protocol droid concierge approached them, fairly shivering

  with excitement. "Welcome! You are now guests of the most

  luxurious hotel on Ord Cestus."

  Snoil's fleshy lips curled in appreciation. "After days on the shuttle,

  it's good to have a room, not a cabin," he squeaked.

  Two X'Ting attendants materialized just as their luggage cart appeared

  behind them. The X'Ting were dull gold, with oval bodies

  and thin, apparently spindly legs. "Show these two very special guests

  to their accommodations," the droid said. Perhaps fantasizing about

  generous tips from the distinguished guests, the attendants eagerly

  carried their luggage to droid carts, then guided the carts to the turbolifts.

  Obi-Wan noted that one of the X'Ting wore a name tag

  reading FIZZIK.

  The lifts rose along the cave's internal wall, rising rapidly but

  smoothly, then rotating so that the wall slid open to disclose a hallway.

  The X'Ting attendants unloaded their luggage and carried it into

  the suite. The droid bowed. "I hope that these lodgings will prove

  satisfactory, sirs."

  Obi-Wan found himself answering more to the attendants than

  the protocol droid. "I'm certain that they'll be fine."

  "You may wish to explore the city in the time before the lady

  arrives."

  "Very considerate. I'm certain we can entertain ourselves."

  The protocol droid left, motioning for Fizzik and the other

  X'Ting to leave with him, and they did.

  Doolb Snoil began to speak, but the Jedi raised a single finger, bidding

  him to silence. Their astromech began a sweep of the room as

  Obi-Wan unpacked, every motion slow and controlled.

  "Which room should I take?" Snoil asked.

  "Whichever has the better view," Obi-Wan said. "I remember you

  said you wanted to see the sights here . . ." He was prepared to continue

  in that vein, but fortunately their astromech unit beeped its "all

  clear" signal.

  "I believe it's safe. This room is free of any devices or eavesdropping

  scans. Our mech will tell us if this changes."

  "Thank the Broodmaster," Snoil said, wiping one of his brows. "I

  tell you honestly, Master Obi-Wan. I find this spying-about most

  uncomfortable."

  "You needn't worry about any of that," Obi-Wan said. "Just do

  your job, and I'll do mine."

  "And how do you see things proceeding?"

  "As we said before—" He sat near Snoil, putting his own thoughts

  in order as he tried to incorporate what he had seen and heard since

  landing. "—we go to court, and see what there is to be seen."

  "And if our entreaties are ignored?"

  "Then," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, "then things get tricky."

  15

  Kit Fisto, Nate, and his three brothers had arrived stealthily, making

  their initial surveillance of the Dashta Mountain region specified

  by their mysterious contact, Sheeka Tull. Tull had designated a cave

  hidden beneath an overhanging rock shelf, opening onto a broad, flat

  stone theater that could be used as an emergency landing zone, although

  for security, the main staging area was
located hundreds of

  meters downhill from the cave entrance.

  On first glance the cave looked ideal, but Kit entered gingerly, sensor

  tendrils tingling. The shaggy desiccated body of some fourlegged

  mammal half the size of a speeder bike lay just inside the cave.

  There were no immediately apparent wounds . . . had it simply

  crawled into the cave to die? He nudged the body aside and took another

  step forward. Nothing living to be seen. Side tunnels stretched

  off in multiple directions. Cave birds and some membranous reptilians

  flitted about overhead. Moss and old dusty webbing clotted

  some of the corners, but he found nothing alarming.

  "There might be something here," Nate said, coming up behind

  him.

  "Perhaps we should find another cave," CT-12/74 said. His nickname

  was Seefor.

  "Not until we make contact with Tull," Kit said.

  Here in the shelter of a craggy valley almost completely devoid of

  all but the simplest vegetation, they spent the first hours building

  their base camp and sleeping quarters, assembling sections of modular

  housing. They were so engrossed in their work that they barely

  noticed when the first of the cave spiders appeared.

  Kit cursed himself for not recognizing the webs or the ragged,

  furry, desiccated corpse for what they were, but when the first eightlegged

  monstrosity bounced out of the shadows to leap onto Sirty,

  the Nautolan moved instantly. The spider screamed as his lightsaber

  seared through a leg, then the trooper bucked it off, putting three

  shots into the beast before the body hit the ground.

  They hardly had time to congratulate themselves: six cave spiders

  of equal size crawled from the darkness.

  Kit ordered the troopers into perfect square formation, shoulder

  blasters at the ready as their eight-legged attackers emerged. Somewhere

  back in the caves was a nest, pure and simple, and they had responded

  to the challenge for their territory. No time to regret. This

  was action.

  A cascade of cave spider silk jetted toward the trooper diagonal

  from Kit. Nate. The trooper shoulder-rolled and came up to firing

  position, blasted the rocks above the spider's hiding place. As stones

  rained down on the unfortunate creature Nate rolled again and ran to

  one of the speeder bikes.

  Fleeing? Absurd. In the GAR's short, spectacular history, no

  trooper had ever shirked duty, fled a battle, or even disobeyed a superior's

  order. But—

  Immediately behind him a great shaggy eight-legged beast hissed

  and leapt. Kit pivoted, lightsaber singing. The spider bounded out of

  the way, landing in a crouch. It bounded again, spitting venom. Kit

  dodged to the side, lightsaber swatting one of the caustic greenish

  gobs, and the fluid erupted into searing steam. The rocks before

  them rustled, and a swarm of young spiders, no higher than Kit's

  knee, crawled out, their shining eyes hungry, envenomed fangs dripping.

  He glimpsed movement and turned to see a gigantic red female,

  half the size of a bantha, crouching in the shadows, watching, her

  glowing eyes fixed on him. A general, directing her troops.

  This Kit could understand. Well, as of the commencement of the

  Clone Wars Kit Fisto was a general as well, and he had his own

  troops. Come on! he snarled silently, irises expanding. He set his feet

  in a wider stance for balance, and waited.

  Nate's speeder bike started instantly. Under his expert hands it

  leapt off the cave floor and ran in a tight circle, buzzing the shadows,

  turning tight corners, drawing out the spiders. They spit silk and

  venom at him, and every time they did, his brothers below got a better

  fix. Incandescent laser bolts and the howling of Kit Fisto's

  lightsaber filled the cave as the spiders fought back, casting bizarre,

  distorted shadows against the walls. The arachnids jumped, leapt,

  and crept. They spit venom that burned through armor, and sticky

  silk that threatened to bind arms and legs together. But nothing they

  did broke the Geonosis Square, a tactic that maximized the impact of

  both aggressive and defensive fire.

  The trooper wove, using the speeder bike's maneuverability to confuse

  the spiders. Their eight-legged adversaries were quicker on the

  ground, but seemed baffled by this high-flying tactic. General Fisto

  gave a whistle so loud and high that it rattled Nate's ears at twenty

  meters. The other troopers broke for their speeders, and within moments

  the cave was filled with screaming, dipping, blasting speeder

  bikes.

  Nate laughed aloud, loving this moment. It was like being back

  with the selenome: You didn't know what you were messing with, did

  you?

  His laughter died as another row of arachnids crawled out of the

  top cavern. What in space—? They must have stumbled into the largest

  breeding ground in the entire mountains. This was the worst,

  what troopers called 10 percent, but it was too late to curse fate. Little

  to do now but fight.

  At least six of the large spiders, and dozens of the smaller ones, had

  perished in blasts, lightsaber strokes, and showers of falling rock

  before they retreated shrieking into the caves. The largest, the enormous

  red-furred female, protected the others as they fled.

  The troopers started to pursue, but the general raised his hands.

  "No!" he called. "They're broken. Let the brood go."

  The female locked eyes with the general. Surprisingly, she lowered

  her head as if making obeisance, then backed into the shadows and

  disappeared.

  The troopers landed their craft, peering into the darkness to

  be certain no mistake had been made before holstering their weapons.

  "Perimeter sensors up immediately" General Fisto said.

  "So we're staying here, sir?" Nate asked.

  General Fisto's answering smile was not pretty. "Might as well assume

  all these caves are spider-infested. At least we know this one is

  clear."

  "Besides that," Sirty whispered to Nate when General Fisto turned

  away, "we fought for it. It's ours."

  As the others set up in the cave, Kit Fisto carried his broadcasting

  unit a kilometer out to a completely desolate area with no line of

  sight to their new camp. There he triggered his beacon and sat in

  wait.

  After five seconds he turned it off. He waited five minutes, then

  broadcast for another five seconds, and set the automatic monitor to

  continue in like sequence: five minutes off, five seconds on.

  After an hour he heard an answering squeal in proper coded series.

  He turned off the monitor and waited.

  The sun was nearing the western horizon when a battered cargo

  ship appeared from the south. It flew in a slow, groaning circle and

  then settled toward the ground, frying the underbrush as it did. That

  thermal inefficiency implied an older model, and in merely adequate

  repair.

  The panel door opened and a ramp descended. Kit heard a bleeping

  sound, and then a human female appeared at the top.

  Kit had few standards by which to assess hu
man beauty. Based on

  her movements and posture, however, this female was in excellent

  physical condition, her unblemished black skin and lustrous short

  hair suggested a healthy immune system, and she seemed quite aware

  and alert. Good. They would need these qualities to successfully implement

  their plans.

  The woman studied Kit, her expression one of exasperation. "A

  Nautolan. Pretty far from an ocean, aren't you?"

  The Jedi was unamused. "I'm waiting," he said.

  She rolled her eyes. "No sense of humor. All right: Alderaan has

  three moons.'"

  " 'Demos Four but two,' " Kit replied without hesitation.

  She nodded as if he had confirmed more than identity. "Name's

  Sheeka Tull. I was told to expect you."

  "What precisely were you told?"

  She scuffed her toe across a line in the ground, raising a tiny plug

  of fine, dry dust. "They said if I helped you, certain things in my past

  would be forgotten. That right?" She looked back up at him, defiance

  sparkling in her eyes. He nodded, and she seemed relieved. "So.

  What do you need?"

  "What I need is a reliable contact. There were cave spiders."

  She shook her head. "There are spiders all through these mountains,

  but I didn't see any when I checked out that cave. Sorry."

  Kit locked eyes with her, a test of wills. Was she telling the truth?

  She was his contact, given by the Chancellor's most trusted tacticians.

  Trust was his only option. "Very well. I must speak to the anarchists

  known as Desert Wind," he said.

  "They took quite a beating last year," Sheeka Tull said. "What do

  you want with them?"

  "You have no need to know that," he replied.

  "No." Her eyes narrowed. "That is exactly what I need to know. If

  you won't tell me, I can't help you. I wouldn't dare."

  Kit watched her. If he had known her longer, he might have determined

  if she was telling the truth, or bluffing. A useful ability, but

  again, calibration was everything. He had to make a field decision,

  one that was tough no matter how he looked at it. "We need to create

  an effective force capable of sabotage and deception, in case the

  government needs to be overthrown."

  He knew that his words rocked her, but she hid her flinch very

  well. "Well. Thanks for the honesty."

  "You can take us to Desert Wind?"

  "No. But I can take you to the people who know them."