Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (30 page)

A
S CRASH LANDINGS WENT
, she’d lived through worse.

“Still,” Taria remarked, just to hear the sound of her own voice, “I’m pretty sure I can die happy without living through any more.”

The Techno Union ship’s buckled cockpit was rapidly filling with smoke, sparks and little flames dancing over the main console and above her head. She coughed, the taste of burned circuits and melting plastoid acrid on her tongue.

Time to go.

The body Senator Organa had supplied for this ruse was strapped into the copilot’s seat. It was a Special Ops and that was all she knew. Working fast, closing her mind to the implications, Taria unstrapped the dead woman and shifted her across to the pilot’s seat. Briefly, she rested a hand on the dark, lolling head.

Thank you. I don’t know how you really died, but your sacrifice is appreciated and won’t be forgotten. At least not by me
.

This close to Lantibba City and Durd’s Separatist troops, it wasn’t safe to use the Force. All it would take was one dark side sensitive and the plan would be blown. And even though she was about to destroy the ship she wasn’t prepared to use her lightsaber, either. The mark of its blade was simply too distinctive. That meant using brute strength to open the damaged hatch—and she had quite a lot less of that, these days.

Spurred on by the growing cockpit fire, she kicked and shoved and bashed her way to relative safety.

“
Stang!
”

Folded onto her hands and knees, bruised, and bleeding from scrapes on her left cheek and the back of her right hand, she took a few precious seconds to catch her breath. There was dirt and grass beneath her, empty sky overhead. In the distance she could just make out the first, faint wailings of an emergency response vehicle.

“Right,” she muttered. “Now it’s
really
time to go.”

Staggering to her feet, she tightened the strap of the satchel slung over her chest and looked around. There—northeast—there was the city, right where her personal nav beacon said it would be. The spaceport’s lights gleamed and glittered in the darkness, almost pretty. By her best guess it was some fifteen klicks away—a nice, brisk jog. Breathing deeply again, clearing her disease-damaged lungs of smoke, she patted her lightsaber once, a little ritual of reassurance, then unzipped the security pocket on the thigh of her bodysuit and pulled out a remote detonator.

The wailing siren was much closer now.

Swiftly backing away from the crashed ship, Taria thumbed the remote. A warning tremor rippled through the Force as its signal triggered the untraceable explosive charges designed to complete the crash landing’s artistic effect.

Light and sound erupted together as the two mini bombs exploded. She felt heat caress her stinging face, felt the released energy snap through her flesh and bones. The ground shuddered. The air roared. The Techno Union ship leapt, then broke apart.

She nodded approvingly, and put the remote back in its pocket. “Nice work, Senator. Very nice indeed.”

Flirting with danger, she waited a moment longer and watched the flashing lights of the approaching emergency responder. Only one vehicle?

Now that’s just lazy
.

But it made her life easier, so she wasn’t about to complain. Just before the crash team arrived on the scene she retreated farther into the night’s shadows, melted into the Force and used its light to show her the fastest, safest way to the city. The temptation to touch Obi-Wan’s mind was a torment, but she resisted. Without knowing exactly where he was, or what kind of trouble he’d landed himself in, she could easily do more harm than good.

“But don’t worry,
eskaba,
” she promised him, lightly running. “I’m here now—all you have to do is hold on.”

“I’
M SO SORRY
, M
ISTRESS
P
ADMÉ, BUT THE DIRECTOR OF
B
AGRILA
Industries is unable to take your comm.”

Sighing, Padmé pinched the bridge of her nose.
Another one. And now I’m running out of names and favors
. “All right, Threepio. Who’s next on the list?”

“The Yylti Corporation, Mistress,” said See-Threepio. “But it’s half a standard hour before they can be contacted.”

“Fine. While I’m waiting, you can bring me another caf.”

“Oh,” said the droid. “Mistress Padmé, are you sure that’s wise?”

Right now there was more caf than blood running through her veins. She should change her mind, but—“Just bring it, Threepio.”

As the droid withdrew, she turned back to the living room’s picture window to watch the rain falling in sheets upon the city. Lacy tatters of light gray cloud drifted between the buildings. This high above street level it was easy to believe there
was
no street level, that she floated in a luxurious balloon free of all ties to common ground—or reality.

I wonder if it’s raining on Lanteeb
.

Fear for Anakin stabbed through her. The latest comm from Yoda wasn’t encouraging.
Unbroken the blockade remains, Senator
. Even as she called in every favor owed to her, she’d begged Palpatine to relent and authorize more GAR ships to help Admiral Yularen and Master Windu.

But Palpatine remained obdurate. The situation was delicate, he claimed. There were wheels within wheels, precariously spinning. For the first time in her life she was angry with him. Disappointed. For the first time in their long friendship she thought he’d let her down.

We owe Anakin and Obi-Wan our homeworld. What does it say about us if we refuse to repay that debt?

Though they still had no antidote to the bioweapon, Queen Jamillia had courageously promised two squadrons of pilots. It was the best she could do, given that Naboo wasn’t a militarized society. But Palpatine was Supreme Chancellor, the ultimate commander of the GAR.

He can’t be putting politics above our friends’ lives. He just can’t
.

But what else was she supposed to think?

“Here,” said Bail, walking up behind her. To save time and minimize complications they were both working out of her apartment. “Your caf—which by rights I should tip down the sink. How many mugs does this make since lunch? Four?”

“Five,” Padmé admitted with a rueful smile, and faced him. “But who’s counting?”

He handed her the steaming mug. “Your protocol droid. It’s in the kitchen ready to blow a circuit relay fretting over you.”

“I’m fine.”

Bail gave her a sharp look. “No, you’re not.”
No, I’m not
. But there was no use dwelling on it. “So, where are we up to?”

Because he knew her so well, he didn’t bother arguing. “I’m waiting on two return comms,” he said, retreating to the arm of the nearest chair. “But I’m not hopeful about either.”

“What about Brentaal?”

“Brentaal’s promised us three heavy-armored Dreadnaughts
—if
we can guarantee them protection against the bioweapon.” Bail scowled. “Brentaal, Anaxes, the Ch’zimi-kho Conglomerate—everyone’s singing the same song, Padmé.
Of course we’ll help—once there’s an antidote.
”

“We can’t really blame them, Bail,” she said, and took a sip of caf to hide her distress. “After Chandrila, everyone’s terrified of a reprisal attack.”

“Which of course was the point.” Bail perched on the arm of the nearest chair. “I just spoke to Tryn.”

“How’s he holding up?”

He shook his head. “He’s not. He says he’s at a total dead end. I’ve never seen him so upset, Padmé. I wish—”

“You had no choice,” she said gently. “He’s one of the best in his field and the only man you could trust. You had to get him involved.”

“I know,” he said, and ran a hand down his tired face. “But this is hurting him. Badly.”

He was so despondent. It wasn’t like him. “You can’t think about that, Bail. We have to focus on coordinating the civilian fleet.”

“Well, that sounds fine in theory,” he retorted, glaring, “except that without an antidote there won’t
be
one! Thirty Naboo starfighters is an escort, not a fleet!”

“I know,” she said, after a moment. “I’m sorry. Please, let’s not fight. I’ve still got people to comm. Have you?”

Sliding off the chair, Bail nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not giving up.”

“Of course you’re not. And neither am I. Bail, we’re going to make this happen.”

He wanted to believe her.
Stang, I want to believe me
. But after nine straight hours of prevarications and outright refusals, belief was in ever-diminishing supply.

“Go on,” she said. “Get back to your list, and let me get back to mine.”

Alone again, she turned to stare at the rain.

I’m doing my best, Anakin. Don’t give up hope yet
.

* * *

B
ANT’ENA STOOD BEHIND
her lab bench, trying not to feel the burning pain in her face where Durd had struck her three times because he didn’t like what she’d said. There was blood in her mouth, warm and metallic. He’d loosened some teeth, too. It didn’t matter. All she cared about now was getting in his way. Tripping him up and making him fail.

Diverted from beating her further by Colonel Barev, the Neimoidian was lurching around the lab in a rage, comlink clutched in one fat, sweating hand.

“What do you mean
crash-landed?
What do you mean there’s nothing left but a charred body? You told me this agent had urgent information for me and was safely past the GAR battle group! And now you’re saying the agent’s
dead
and I can’t have the message?
Barev—
”

Whatever the colonel was saying, it did nothing to soothe Durd’s escalating fury. He was being denied what he wanted, the one thing he could not tolerate.

“Barev, shut up!” he shouted. “I’m not interested in your excuses! Tell me about the Jedi! Is that village siege broken yet? Are they on their way here to me?”

More buzzing from Barev provoked an incoherent shriek from Durd.

“I don’t care anymore, you stupid human! This madness has gone on long enough. Empty every last ammunition store on the planet and send it to that village along with every droid you have left, even the SBDs. I want those Jedi in my compound within a day! Do you hear me, Barev? Do what I tell you or I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

Bant’ena wanted to weep. Anakin and Master Kenobi were still safe and Grievous hadn’t defeated the Jedi fleet.

All I have to do is play for more time—and ruin Durd’s precious bioweapon, just in case the Jedi fail
.

Durd threw his comlink down on another bench and turned back to her, menacing. “Well?”

It wasn’t hard to look scared. She was scared, even though he no longer had the power to truly hurt her. She stopped fighting the tears, because they pleased him, and let her hands tremble as she picked up her datapad.

“General, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m trying. But what you’re asking me to do—virtually remake the formula—it’s
difficult
. You know how long it took to perfect it in the first place. Now you want me to start over. It means rebalancing the central matrix, it means—”

He struck her again, so hard this time that she nearly blacked out. “
I don’t care!
” he bellowed. “Do what I ask or I’ll bring those puling little bloodsacs here and peel them while you watch!”

He had to believe the threat terrified her. He couldn’t suspect she knew her nephews were safe. So she groveled at his feet, sobbing, and begged for their lives.

He kicked her. “Get up,
get up
, your promises mean
nothing
. I want
results
. I want to test my new formula
tonight.
”

Tonight was too soon. She was nowhere near close to reworking the weapon so it would kill on initial release—and then render itself inert after three minutes’ contact with oxygen. It had to be three minutes, even though a lot of people could die in that short space of time. She couldn’t risk him discovering her duplicity.

Wincing, letting Durd see and hear her pain, Bant’ena clawed to her feet. “General, I will do what you want, I
swear
I will. But by tonight? I don’t think—”

He thrust his flat, moist face into hers. “I don’t care what you think. I want my new formula and I’m locking you in here until I get it.” He stepped back. “Since I can’t trust Barev out of my sight, I’m returning to the spaceport. You’ve got until morning, Doctor. If you don’t have something for me then…”

“You can’t leave.” she said. “What if there’s a problem? What if I need you to—”

He shoved her. “The only thing you need is a miracle. I suggest you start working on one. Don’t forget—those little pink bloodsacs’ lives are depending on you.”

The door closed and locked behind him. Spitting out blood, smearing her mouth clean on her sleeve, Bant’ena stared at it. Then she banished the pain and got back to work.

H
OURS PASSED
. Day dragged into night. Durd didn’t return—which was fine by her. She’d only protested to fool him. It was easier to concentrate when he wasn’t pacing and bellowing and knocking her around. No food was brought to her, but that didn’t matter. There wasn’t time to eat. She needed every minute, every
second
, to sabotage her own creation.

When she heard the clunking in the air vent over her head, for a moment she thought she was dreaming. And then the vent’s grille kicked out, landing with a clatter on the lab’s floor, and a lithely muscular human woman in a dust-smeared black bodysuit landed lightly on the balls of her feet beside it.

“Bant’ena Fhernan? I’m Taria Damsin.”

A silver-hilted lightsaber was belted at the woman’s hip. Bant’ena backed up till her legs bumped her lab stool, then sat. “You’re a Jedi.”

“That’s right,” said the woman, flicking her long, blue-green braid off her shoulder. “Doctor, I know this is a surprise but I need you to focus.”

But that was easier said than done. “How did you
find
me? How did you get
in
here?”

“Like you said, I’m a Jedi.” The woman grinned. There was dried blood on her cheek and one hand. “We’re sneaky.”

“Please, don’t—”

“Fine. The
very
short explanation is that your mother made sure we got your message, and thanks to the embedded code in the recording we were able to pinpoint your exact location. Because of my… previous experience… I was chosen to infiltrate the planet and this facility.”

Dazed, Bant’ena shook her head. “Oh. I see.”

“I like your mother, by the way,” the woman added, brushing dust from her bodysuit. “She’s feisty.”

Really?
And then some instinct pricked her. “You’re the Jedi who rescued her.”

Another grin. “There were two of us, actually.”

Bant’ena couldn’t breathe for a moment. “Thank you,” she said at last, her voice rough. “But—you’re not here to rescue me. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than happy to rescue you, Doctor,” said the Jedi. “But first I need to blow up this compound and every last particle of that weapon you invented.”

“You’re serious?” she said blankly.

“After Chandrila?” said the Jedi, her face twisting. “Absolutely.”

Oh, Chandrila
. “I’m sorry for that,” she whispered. “So sorry.”

Taria Damsin looked at her in silence, her tawny-golden eyes very cool. “Are you? Then what say you prove it by answering my questions. Where is the bioweapon stockpiled? How many droids and Sep officers do I have to go through to get there? Where’s our dear friend Lok Durd? And last—but not least—where are Obi-Wan and Anakin? I thought I’d rescue them, too, since I’m here.”

Heart thumping, Bant’ena stared at the exotic woman in front of her. “You mean that? You can rescue them?”

“I never say what I don’t mean, Doctor,” said the Jedi, and glanced at the lab’s ceiling. “Quite a way above our heads there’s a Republic battle group waiting for my signal. Once I’ve done what I came here to do they’ll mop up the Seps while I go after Masters Kenobi and Skywalker. From what I can gather they’re in a bit of hot water.”

Anakin
. So solemn and trusting, so compassionate. Life had made him older than his years. Suffering, too. She’d seen that in him. Felt it. And she’d betrayed him—to his death, if Durd had his way.

“How are you going to blow up the compound?”

The Jedi patted the small satchel slung across her chest. “I have explosives here that will do the trick nicely. I’ve already seeded most of the air vents. Now I just need to take care of your lab and wherever the bioweapon’s stored.”

Just like that? How… efficient
. “I see,” she said, her mouth dry. “But look—about Anakin and Master Kenobi? They’ve been hiding in a mining village called Torbel. It’s somewhere southwest of Lantibba. Hours away. But Durd found them and now they’re out of time. He’s sending more droids and ammunition to break through their defenses. Master Damsin, he’s determined to hand them over to Count Dooku.”

“Really?” said Taria Damsin, her voice soft. “Well. We’ll see about that.”

Bant’ena looked at her. Like Anakin, like Master Kenobi, this woman was surrounded by an aura of
otherness
, a quality that set her apart from normal beings. There was power in her, a great coiled spring of it. The lab’s chemical-tainted air seemed to vibrate in her presence. And like Anakin, and Master Kenobi, she inpsired an instinctive trust.

If she says she can rescue them, then I believe her. But right now she has to leave
.

“Master Damsin.”
What am I doing? What am I doing?
“You must know my life is over. I created a weapon that killed thousands of innocent beings. I’m a mass murderer.”

“Yes—from a certain point of view you are,” Taria said slowly. “But not by choice.”

Bant’ena shook her head. “That’s not true. That’s a story people like me tell ourselves so we’re not the villain. I
did
have a choice, and I chose the lives of my family and friends over the lives of strangers.”

Something softened in Taria’s gaze. “Most people would.”

“I can’t speak for most people,” she said. “I can only answer for myself.” Her heart was pounding. She felt cold and ill.
But I have to. I have to
. “Leave the explosives with me. I’ll prime this lab and the bioweapon production and storage units, I swear. I’ll see this compound reduced to a smoking crater. You find Anakin and Master Kenobi. Get them off this forsaken planet. And please, tell them I’m sorry.”

“Bant’ena—” Taria frowned. “No. We can both get out of here once the explosives are set.”

“No. We can’t.” She touched the collar around her neck. “If I cross the compound’s perimeter this will kill me.”

“Then I’ll get it off you.”

Bant’ena smiled. “There’s no time. Besides—how often do we get the chance to put right our worst mistake?”

A long silence, then Taria tugged the satchel over her head, opened it, and pulled out a small black sphere.

“Each charge is self-contained, with a polybond grip,” she said briskly. Her bruised face was a mask, all emotion locked behind it. “They’ll stick to anything. Use two in here, the rest on the bioweapons. The charge will vaporize the toxin.” She unzipped a pocket in her bodysuit and pulled out a remote. “This is the detonator. See the toggle here? Press it once, then press it again and hold it down. Detonation occurs five seconds later.” The mask slipped, then, and she caught her breath. “Bant’ena—”

She held out her hand—and saw with pride it was perfectly steady. “That sounds quite straightforward, Master Damsin. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Taria dropped the charge back into the satchel, then handed it and the detonator to her. “Is Durd in the compound?”

The satchel was quite heavy, the detonator surprisingly light. “No. He’s gone to harass Colonel Barev—the Separatist liaison officer. They’ve been quite at odds, lately, what with one thing and another.”

Taria grimaced. “Stang. I was hoping—”

“It’s for the best,” she said. “His absence will make it much easier for me to do this. Without him here the facility is practically deserted. He took his personal droid with him and sent the compound’s remaining battle droids after Anakin and Master Kenobi.”

“All right,” said Taria. Her tawny eyes had gone dark. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“You won’t reach Torbel in time without a fast groundcar. You’ll find one parked around the right side of the building. If you wait until this place explodes, you should be able to steal it without attracting attention.”

Taria smiled. “Seems feisty is the Fhernan women’s trademark.”

Mother
. “Taria—”

“Don’t worry,” the Jedi said, her voice shaking. “Mata Fhernan will know what kind of daughter she had.”

Tears blurred Bant’ena’s vision, but only briefly. “I need one last thing from you. Durd’s locked me in here. Can you—”

“Sure I can,” said Taria, and with a wave of her hand opened the lab door. “There you are.”

Bant’ena clasped her arm. “Thank you. Now go and save Anakin and Master Kenobi.”

With a nod, and a half smile, Taria leapt up to the air vent. Wriggled her way in through the open grille and was gone.

Bant’ena placed two charges in the lab, then tipped the rest down her shirt, buttoned her lab coat to hide the bulge and slipped the detonator into her pocket. Then she let herself out of the lab and hurried along the empty corridor toward the weapon’s production complex and the storage unit.

For the first time in a long time she felt… utterly free.