Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [372]
Kashyyyk would tell them all they needed to know, Vader thought.
I am something to be feared.
“Commanders, I want you to position your task forces to cover all major population centers.” A holomap eddied from a holoprojector outside the ring, detailing Kashyyyk and the tree-cites of Kachirho, Rwookrrorro, Kepitenochan, Okikuti, Chenachochan, and others. “Furthermore, I want Interdictor cruisers deployed to prevent any ships from jumping to hyperspace.”
“Admiral Vader,” one of the men said. “The Wookiees have no ranged weapons or planetary defense shields. Orbital bombardment would simplify matters greatly.”
Vader decided not to make an issue of the misplaced honorific. “Perhaps, Commander,” he said, “if this were an exercise in obliteration. But since it isn’t, we’ll adhere to my plan.”
“I’ve had some experience with the Wookiees,” another said. “They won’t be taken into captivity without a fight.”
“I fully expect a fight, Commander,” Vader said. “But I want as many as possible taken alive—males, females, and younglings. Order your troops to drive them from their tree-cities into open spaces. Then use whatever means are at our disposal to disarm and subdue them.”
“Kashyyyk hosts many merchants,” a third said, leadingly.
“Casualties of war, Commander.”
“Do you intend to occupy the planet?” the same asked.
“That is not my intention.”
“Excuse me, sir, but what, then, are we supposed to do with tens of thousands of Wookiee captives?”
Vader faced the one who had challenged him. “Herd them into containment and keep them contained until they have accepted their defeat. You will then receive further orders.”
“From whom?” the challenger said.
“From me, Commander.”
The officer folded his arms in mild defiance. “From you.”
“You seem to have a problem with that. Perhaps you wish to speak with the Emperor?”
The officer was quick to adopt a more military pose. “No, of course not … Lord Vader.”
Better and better, Vader thought.
“Where will you be, Lord Vader?” the first asked.
Vader looked at all of them before answering. “My task needn’t concern you. You have your orders. Now carry them out.”
Try as she might to convince herself that her actions were justified, that the clone army had become the enemy not only of the Jedi but also of democracy and freedom, Starstone couldn’t surrender herself fully to combat. Brought into being to serve the Republic, the troopers, like the Jedi, had fallen victim to Palpatine’s treachery. And now they were dying at the hands of those who had helped create them.
This is wrong, all wrong, she told herself.
And yet, clearly, the notion of tragic irony hadn’t been incorporated into the clones’ programming. The troopers were out to kill her. Only the flashing blue blade of her lightsaber stood between her and certain death.
The stormtroopers who had been the first to land were already dead, from blaster rounds, bowcaster quarrels, lightsaber slashes, blows from war clubs and the occasional giant, shaggy fist. But more and more Imperial craft were dropping from the wan sky—gunships, troop carriers, scores of two-person infantry support platforms. Worse, word had it that the incursion wasn’t confined to Kachirho, but was being repeated in tree-cites worldwide.
If the hearsay was true, then the Jedi weren’t the priority. The Empire was merely using their presence to justify a full-scale invasion. And the fact that Imperial forces were refraining from launching orbital bombardments told Starstone that the ultimate goal was something other than speciecide.
The troopers had been ordered not to amass high body counts, but to return with prisoners.
Starstone held herself accountable. Inevitable or not, she had furnished the Empire with grounds to invade. Forte and Kulka were wrong to have deferred to her lead. She was not a Master. She should have listened to Shryne.
The surround of towering