Murder In The Senate (Universe Undone #1)
The Galaxy is on the edge of chaos as Darth Plagueis’ conspiracy emerges into the open, heralding the return of the Sith and a terrible galactic conflict, after a shocking murder in the Senate...
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Quinlan Vos, Jedi Knight (Kiffar male)
Aayla Secura, Jedi Padawan (Twi’lek female)
Tholme, Jedi Spymaster (Human male)
Tatooine – 32 BBY
“I’ll be glad to leave: it’s hotter than the Bright Lands.” Aayla Secura flicked her lekku, shaking off another cloud of Tatooine sand and flicking it with an irritated push of the Force to the other side of the dwelling she and her master, Quinlan Vos, had taken for the duration of their stay in Mos Espa. “I don’t care for this city very much.”
“Believe me, there are worse places. You’re lucky you never saw Mos Eisley.” Master Vos threw off his hood and sat opposite his padawan. “You have done well Aayla, the information we’ve gathered on Gardulla the Hutt’s operations will be invaluable. Master Tholme will be pleased.”
“I’m glad it hasn’t been for nothing…”
“Something troubles you?”
She nodded gingerly. “Master, the other day, are you sure it was him?”
“Quite certain.”
The young Jedi padawan frowned. “But why didn’t he recognise us? Master Gui-Gon is supposed to be a great Jedi; how could he not sense you in the Force?”
Quinlan nodded. “Shrouding your presence in the Force is a rare talent, and one most Jedi seldom – or ever – have cause to use. The type of assignment Jedi like Gui-Gon or my friend Obi-Wan get, you want to make your presence known immediately: the arrival of a Jedi ambassador, or a Jedi warrior… they rely on a certain degree of boldness. Our work is quite different. But even then, there are few reasons these days a Jedi would need to conceal his presence from another Force user.”
Aayla nodded thoughtfully. “Because all Force sensitives are members of the Order already? Or the AgriCorps?”
“Not all, but most,” Vos replied, becoming distracted by a sudden, insistent beeping. “That isn’t good…” he mumbled.
“No, we don’t have an update scheduled for two days,” Aayla replied, her brow furrowed and the end of her lekku twitching in concern. “It must be serious to break contact protocol.”
Vos picked up the comm unit and a small blue silhouette appeared; a gaunt man in a black robe, dark hair arranged in a neat plait behind him. “Master Tholme, what is the matter…?”
It did not require a Jedi’s heightened power of discernment to see that something was terribly wrong, and that the Jedi spymaster was deeply concerned. “Quinlan, you’re being recalled. Immediately.”
“But Master, our operation on Tatooine… We need two more weeks to complete the roll-up of the spice smuggling ring…”
“No. I’m sorry. You must return to Coruscant. A senator has been murdered.”
Vos frowned. “Which Senator?”
“The Senator for Naboo: Senator Palpatine.”
***
The two Jedi had loaded the Barloz freighter they’d taken for their mission within an hour of Tholme’s message, and Vos sat in silence studying the latest news read-outs from the Jedi Temple. They’d been in a communication blackout, and news was slow to reach these barren depths of the Outer Rim.
“Palpatine was expected to become Chancellor, it seems we’ve missed quite a lot of political news while we’ve been out here: Valorum has been voted out of office, there is some trade dispute over Naboo… no, a blockade… I didn’t realise how badly Gui-Gon must have needed help. By the Force, we’ve only been gone twenty cycles.”
“It sounds like we’d better get back then,” Aayla replied. “The dockmaster has given us a green light.”
“Great,” Vos replied, jumping into the pilot seat. “Have the Nav Computer beginning plotting our course as soon as we clear the planet.”
“Yes master.”
The freighter lurched off the ground and with an immense effort the beaten-up old craft surged forwards, pushing the Jedi back into their seats. Mos Espa vanished beneath them, and soon all of Tatooine was behind.
“Master, we have something on scanners. Two contacts, closing fast.”
“Sithspit. Gardulla.” Vos punched energy into the rear shields and activated the weapons system.
“You intend to fight them?”
“This old Nav Computer is still powering up, we have no choice. Keep us on this course to the Nav Buoy, I’m going down to the gunwale.”
Vos charged out of the cockpit and climbed the ladder to the top gun position. He sat and threw on the harness, and by the time he had he could make out a clear reading on sensors: two C-73 Trackers, 50 klicks and closing.
“Aayla,” he barked into the internal comm, “Bank us to port!”
The ship complied, belatedly, and by the time it had the lead craft had fallen well within the gun sights. Vos adjusted the position, closed his eyes, and squeezed the trigger. Four lances of blaster fire surged forwards, clipping the fighter and sending it into a tailspin. There was a cloud of debris, a blur of fire and then a flash as the pilot ejected.
“Now straighten us up!”
The second C-73 strafed across the Jedi freighter.
“Our shields are down to 65%,” Aayla reported, recovering the freighter’s previous trajectory, knocked off course by the impact. “But the Nav Computer has nearly calculated our jump.”
“How far from the Nav Buoy?”
“Still 20 klicks! He’s coming back around!”
Vos could sense the enemy pilot, drawing closer, his greed for the prize he’d been promised, closer… He span the gun around just as the fighter crossed his view, and before he’d seen it, Vos’ Force-attuned senses has compelled him to fire. The C-73 split apart, the fuselage streaking across his view and briefly outshining the distant twin suns.
“Okay, we’re all clear.” Vos climbed out of the chair and returned to the cockpit.
“Jump coordinates ready.”
“Get us out of here.”
Aayla pushed the central hyperspeed control forward, and the ship slipped away into the whirling blue vortex of hyperspace.
***
By the time the battered old freighter reached Coruscant the HoloNet was bursting with conspiracy, speculation and outright paranoia. The Jedi listened in horror once they’d reverted to realspace as they transited from the outer Coruscant navigation zone into the inner planetary system and through the immense web of Skyhooks, and squadrons of Republic Judicial Forces making their presence unusually well-known.
“I’ve never seen so many of those large cruisers,” Vos said, pointing out a trio of red Dreadnaught-class warships.
“Incoming vessel, this is Coruscant Flight Control, hold your position and await inspection,” a voice came over the comm.
“Inspection? We’re on urgent Jedi business, we must get to the surface,” Vos replied.
“Negative. No ships in or out without sensor scan. Standby.”
“Won’t do Control, we need to land now. Contact the Jedi Temple on this frequency.” He punched in the sequence for Tholme’s personal Jedi intelligence directorate.
“Standby,” the voice came back, sharp and displeased.
Vos raised an eyebrow, “I guess he’s been saying this all day.”
Aayla nodded, but she was growing distinctly uneasy. “Something is wrong, all of this is wrong.”
Her master nodded. “I sense it too.” The whole planet felt clouded in darkness, as if something long hidden had burst into the open, a molten eruption of some sinister force, shrouding the heart of the Republic.
“Freighter, this is Control. You’ve been authorised for priority landing. I’m sending coordinates.”
“Thank you Control.” Vos put the ship into a descent, and they hurtled past lines of stalled traffic, from luxury yachts to tramp freighters, senators to spice smugglers, all stuck in the line together.
When the Jedi Temple finally came into view the sun was setting, and the Temple’s central spire cast a deep shadow, and thence they turned into the traffic line, far quieter than usual, in fact almost empty, approaching the Capitol.
They landed and were greeted immediately by a pair of grim-faced Senate Guards, a Coruscant Police officer, and at the centre Vos’ old master, Tholme. He nodded grimly and beckoned Vos to one side, barely acknowledging young Aayla.
“Quinlan, it’s good to see you. You made it off Tatooine alright?”
Vos shrugged. “More or less, a couple of Gardulla’s enforcers decided to take a punt on us. They didn’t fare well.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Tell me Tholme, what’s wrong?”
“It’s worse than you know. It’s how he was killed: Palpatine was murdered with a lightsaber.”
To be continued, in Issue #2: The Triumph of Darth Plagueis.
Well, that certainly puts a kink in the timeline. Looking forward to the next issue.