Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [30]
“Is the mechno-chair the same one I saw on Naboo?” Obi-Wan asked.
“We think so,” Dyne said. “But it has undergone some modifications in the years since. The self-destruct mechanism, for one, along with the self-defense gas.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Your hunch was right about it being the same one the Neimoidians have been using for years, and appears to have originally been developed by a Separatist researcher named Zan Arbor.”
“Zan Arbor,” Anakin said angrily. “The gas used on the Gungans at Ohma-D’un.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “No wonder you were able to sense it!”
Dyne glanced from Anakin to Obi-Wan. “The gas-emitter mechanism is identical to what you find in some of the Techno Union’s E-Five-Twenty-Two assassin droids.”
Obi-Wan stroked his chin in thought. “If Gunray has had the chair for fourteen years, then he could have been using it to contact Sidious during the Naboo crisis. If we could learn who manufactured the chair …”
Yoda laughed. “Ahead of Obi-Wan, the experts are,” he said to Anakin.
“We know who’s responsible for the chair’s Neimoidian engravings,” Dyne explained. “A Xi Charrian whose name I’m not even going to attempt to pronounce.”
“How do you know?” Anakin asked.
The analyst grinned. “Because he signed his work.”
* * *
Padmé parted company with Bail and the others in the Senate Plaza. She spied Captain Typho waving to her from the landing platform, and hastened toward their waiting speeder. The towering statues that graced the plaza seemed to stare down at her; the building had never seemed so enormous.
The brief meeting with Palpatine had left her flustered—but for all the wrong reasons. Though her every other thought was of Anakin, she had resolved to put him from her mind for the meeting; to focus on what was expected of her both as a public servant and concerned citizen of the Republic. And yet, despite her best intentions, Palpatine had brought Anakin to the fore.
Had Anakin confessed to him? she wondered. Had the Supreme Chancellor learned of their secret ceremony on Naboo, from Anakin or others?
A feeling of light-headedness forced her to slow her pace. The heat of the afternoon. The glare. The enormity of recent events …
She could feel Anakin at a great remove. He was thinking of her; she was certain of it. Images of him riffled through her mind. She paused at one that made her smile: their first dinner together on Tatooine. Qui-Gon reprimanding Jar Jar Binks for his uncouth behavior. Anakin sitting beside her. Shmi … Was she sitting opposite her? Wasn’t Shmi’s gaze fixed on her when Shmi said, referring to Anakin: He was meant to help you.
The truth didn’t matter.
That was the way she remembered it.
Protected by two squadrons of Trade Federation Vulture fighters, Nute Gunray’s organic-looking shuttle cut a blazing trail through the void of deep space, plasma bolts from a dozen Republic V-wings nipping at its upraised tail. The droid fighters were matching the twists and slaloms of the faster enemy ships, and the blaster cannons buried deep in the clefts of their narrow wings were spewing continuous cover fire.
From the bridge of the Trade Federation cruiser the Invisible Hand—flagship of the Confederacy fleet—General Grievous observed the whole mad dance.
To any other spectator it might appear that the viceroy was risking his wattled neck, but Grievous knew better. Late to arrive at the rendezvous because of his decision to detour to Cato Neimoidia, Gunray was putting on a show for the general’s benefit, attempting to make it seem that he had been chased to the Outer Rim when, in fact, he had undoubtedly allowed his hyperspace vectors to be plotted by Republic forces. Where common sense would have dictated using secret routes pioneered by and known only to members of the Trade Federation, the core ship the shuttle had launched from had adhered to standard hyperlanes in jumping from the inner systems.
More to the point, Gunray’s vessel was