Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [131]
Tarkin considered that. Yes. While his anger at her deception had not abated, there were more important things at stake here than one prisoner’s life or death. Vader was right. She might be useful as a decoy.
“Best you go and personally deal with this, Lord Vader.”
DOCKING BAY 2037, DEATH STAR
Vader stalked into the bay as a lieutenant and several stormtroopers exited the captured freighter. The lieutenant said, “There’s no one on board, sir. According to the log, the crew abandoned ship right after takeoff. It must be a decoy, sir; several of the escape pods have been jettisoned.”
Vader nodded. “Did you find any droids?”
“No, sir. If there were any on board, they must also have been jettisoned.”
“Send a scanning crew aboard—I want every part of this ship checked.”
“Yes, sir.”
Vader was about to speak again when he felt a ripple in the Force. It was fleeting, too brief to grasp before it flitted away, but startling. Almost to himself, he said, “I sense something. A … presence I’ve not felt since—” He stopped. No. He must be mistaken. It could not be, after all these years …
Abruptly, he turned away. If the plans were on the ship, they would be found; if not, then the ship was of no importance. As for that tingle in the Force … well, if it was indeed generated by who he thought it might be, then no doubt the man responsible had sensed Vader as well.
If Obi-Wan Kenobi was really aboard the Death Star, then it was inevitable that they would meet. The Force would draw them together as surely as opposite particles in a vacuum.
61
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES, DECK 106, DEATH STAR
“Odd,” P-RC3 said.
Atour looked up. “What?”
The droid turned away from the monitor, its data display reflecting from its blue durasteel chassis. “Someone has just accessed the main computer in a forward bay command office.”
“And this is unusual because …?”
“The access is via droid interface plug.”
“Which was put there for droids, if I am not mistaken,” Atour said. “So?”
“The accessor is requesting information on the location of terminals controlling a tractor beam recently used to capture a ship suspected of being a Rebel freighter.”
Atour frowned. “Who would do that? Is the tractor generator in need of repair?”
“Not that I can determine.”
“And why are you bringing this to my attention?”
“I have flagged operating systems to report unusual events for your protection, sir.”
“Hmm. Is there a security cam in that office?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you access it?”
“Not without the security codes.”
“Oh, those. Here.” Atour tapped a ten-digit number into the computer console.
“Having that code is illegal,” P-RC3 said. “You could be arrested for it.”
“That would likely be the least of my crimes. Access the cam.”
The droid turned back to the terminal. “I have visual only. No sound.”
“A pixel is worth a thousand bytes—and isn’t that a strange saying to be coming out of the mouth of an archivist?”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. The cam. Put it on my terminal.”
The holo over Atour’s desk lit. What he saw was the interior of a command office in which were standing two stormtroopers, their helmets removed. They seemed unremarkable, although their haircuts were a bit long for regulation status. There were others as well who were not so unremarkable: a golden protocol droid, an astromech unit, a Wookiee with a bowcaster, and a balding and bearded older human in a hooded cloak with the cowl pulled back. Atour realized with slight surprise that the old man was dressed in the vestments of a Jedi Knight.
There were also the bodies of two Imperial troopers lying on the deck.
It appeared from their attitude that the humans were listening to the protocol droid. Then after a moment, the humans started talking to each other.
“Persee, can you lip-read?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Tell me what they are saying.”
Persee watched the image for a moment. “The oldest one just said to the