Chapter Thirty-Eight: Split Up

As Bail Organa and his staff poured into their hotel suite, the senator breathed a deep sigh of relief. The night was over, and they'd done it. He'd survived the party, and his crew had survived the heist. Snatching a bottle of whiskey off the counter as he moved through the suite's living room, Bail settled into one of the plush chairs and allowed himself to sink into it.

"Well, that didn't quite go as planned," Padmé said, as she barged in, pulling off her boots and collapsing onto the couch. Leaning back and propping her feet up on the coffee table, she exhaled slowly.

"Where the hell's Windu?" Ellis asked as she sat down beside Padmé, drink already in hand.

"Mace Windu is with you?"

At the sound of this unexpected voice, Padmé shot to her feet and spun around, holdout blaster in hand. Standing in the doorframe of Bail's bedroom was a lavender-skinned Twi'lek wearing a collared button-down shirt and tweed jacket.

"It's fine, Padmé!" Bail exclaimed, sitting up in his seat. "She's a friend. And a Jedi."

"And a what?" his head of security barked, her blaster wavering not an inch.

"Padmé. Gun?"

"Oh," she muttered, lowering the sidearm. "Sorry. I just . . . gods, you couldn't have mentioned it?"

"Let she who is without secret Jedi friends cast the first stone. And besides, she wasn't with us until"—he stopped to check the chronometer on his wrist—"two hours ago."

Stepping forward, Tyyria nodded at Padmé and took a seat next to Bail. "We're all on the same side. Trust me, I have no love for the Chancellor. Now, what was this about Mace Windu being with—"

"Nox," said a new voice. Bail glanced at the doorway and saw Padmé's Jedi filling it. Well, not quite filling—something about his appearance was off, as though he'd somehow shrunk a few inches. With uncharacteristic hesitancy, he stepped into the suite and took up a position just inside, making no move to sit down. "Can't say I expected to see you here. Thought you preferred libraries to fieldwork."

"It's been a little bit of both," confessed Tyyria, tilting her head to adjust the position of her lekku.

A sudden light of comprehension dawned in Padmé's eyes. "You're the one we kept seeing in the library."

The Twi'lek nodded. "I expect I was there for the same reasons you were."

"Looking into our fine fascist friend? Yep, that's about the size of it." Padmé resumed her position on the couch, sliding her blaster back into its holster.

"Tyyria's joined our little endeavor," Bail explained, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees as he recounted the evening's events to the heist crew. He'd expected the tale of his botched speech to summon a bit more amusement—Raymus and Ellis chuckled, but all Padmé managed was a strained smile. Windu remained emotionless, not that that was a surprise. "So Tyyria managed to buy some time talking to him," Bail finished. "Evidently it was enough."

"Well, welcome aboard," Padmé said to the Twi'lek with a polite, almost distracted nod. "Appreciate it." Pleasantries done, she turned to glance at her droid. "I guess now's as good a time as any, Liz. Wanna run through what you've found?"

Liz—who had been standing against one of the hotel suite's walls, silently processing data—stepped forward to join the rest of the room's occupants. Her eyes, Bail was relieved to note, were sapphire blue—the last thing they needed was for her to get particularly belligerent and so something rash with the information. "I finished indexing the data while you wrapped up at the banquet, then began running a search for anything pertaining to the planet Telos IV—the CIS-held world where the current governor of Theed province, one of Palpatine's former staff members, still appears to possess a profitable farm."

The droid took another step into the center of the living room, stopping just short of the coffee table, and held out a hand. From the hand, a blue-tinged holographic image materialized over the table—first of the entire galaxy, then of the northern Outer Rim, then the Telos system itself.

"Telos IV is home to a rather large orbital space facility, once used to terraform the planet and make it into a suitable agro-world," Liz explained. "Based on the financial transactions and communication data we extracted, it appears this orbital station is now being used by the CIS as a shipyard. Monthly payments from the governor to a corporation on Telos—indicated in the finance transfer memos as being for farm upkeep—match an encrypted payment schedule buried in the data cache. That payment schedule appears to be intended to finance construction of something called 'Lancer.'"

"Wait, Lancer?" Padmé interrupted, her eyes wide. "You mean the Crust Buster we blew up? I thought they built that thing at their main shipyard above Sluis Van."

They did," Bail added. "Republic Intelligence is all but certain of it."

"Don't tell me they're building another one," Raymus muttered.

"Built another one," Liz interrupted. "That payment schedule I mentioned only ran until a few weeks ago. I have to assume that whatever they were building is finished now."

A palpable chill fell over the room. "The first one was the biggest leg up the Confederacy has gotten for the entire war," Kazan said, his voice nearly choked with horror. "If they have another one finished . . ."

With a burst of throat-clearing, Windu took a step closer to the conversation. "We can worry about the superweapon later. For now, I want to know if we got what we came here for."

Ellis looked at him as though he'd slapped her. "What the hell are you talking about?" the Clawdite asked. "You mean you're not concerned about—"

"Can we pin this on Palpatine?" the Jedi asked, raising his voice above her protest. "This obviously nails the governor, but that's not why I came here. Do we have actionable proof that the Chancellor is tied to these transactions?"

The droid's eyes snapped red. "Windu, if you think I found a flashing sign with the words 'Palpatine is guilty' you've got another thought coming."

"I just can't imagine him doing something like this," Raymus said, shaking his head. "To exploit the war for his personal benefit, sure, but to finance city killers—"

A sudden, horrible realization dawned on Bail. "Wait. Liz, zoom the map back out. The galactic north portion of the Outer Rim . . ." He trailed off, waiting for the droid to do so. As the projection of the Telos system shrank and the northern Outer Rim came into view, the senator's stomach began to sink. "Highlight the hyperlanes." Travel routes began to glow, connecting the blinking dots of planetary systems like a great spider's web. One in particular stood out. A straight line containing only three jumps that connected Telos . . .

. . . and Serenno.

"That can't be a coincidence," Padmé said—her voice was shaky, and as Bail glanced at her he could tell she was struggling to keep it together. "The Confederacy has to know we have a diplomatic envoy there. Palpatine's declaration of sending them was very . . . public."

Bail shook his head, trying to will away the reality that was setting in. "Attacking a diplomatic summit is insane. The CIS hasn't done anything like it."

"Yet," came another voice—Tyyria's. The Twi'lek Jedi was strangely serene. "But deploying their new weapon of mass destruction in such a manner would make quite a statement to other worlds seeking to join the Republic."

"No one said it wasn't smart," Padmé snapped. "That doesn't mean I have to be okay with it."

She rose to her feet, turning to face Liz. "Call Anakin. Now." The droid nodded, and the holographic galaxy map faded away.

"Calling," she said, strangely devoid of any emotion. After what felt like an eternity of silence, the droid spoke again. "The call will be audio only. Connecting you now."

Anakin Skywalker's distorted voice emerged from Liz's vocabulator. "Well, this is a nice surprise. You would not believe the day I'm having—"

"Shut up and listen to me, Anakin. There is a gods-damned Crust Buster three systems away from you."

"A Lancer station? Yeah, we know. We found data about it, Obi-Wan already left for the construction site. He's gonna disable it."

Bail was seized with a perverse urge to laugh, thinking back to what had happened when Obi-Wan last attempted such a thing. Well, I've got two Jedi on my side to help him now if things go south instead of just Qui-Gon. I suppose that's something. Then he glanced at Padmé, and the look on her face shut down any hysterical humor he might have seen in the situation.

For one of the first times he'd known her, she looked genuinely afraid.

Outwardly, she had gone white. Her voice, however, she kept mostly calm, seemingly through sheer force of will. "Construction site? Anakin, no, this is a completely operational Lancer station."

Static came across the comm line for several seconds. Finally, Anakin spoke, though his tone of voice was quiet and shaky. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Obi-Wan really went by himself?"

". . . yeah. Yeah he did."

Exhaling slowly, Padmé clenched her fists. "Okay, when did he leave?"

"Maybe twenty minutes ago, I—"

The sound coming from Liz's mouth abruptly ceased.

"Gods damn it, call him back," Padmé barked at the droid.

"A please would be nice," growled Liz. A few seconds passed; then, "No luck."

"What do you mean?" Padmé snapped.

"The call was interrupted as soon as it was routed to the Aurora system's communications node. There wasn't even an attempt at an uplink." The droid's crimson eyes slowly faded to blue, her voice shrinking into timidity. "Oh dear."

"What do you mean, 'Oh dear'?" Ellis asked, her own voice full of foreboding.

"If I'm unable to access the node at all, that means either we're having problems on our end or . . . or it's been shut down or destroyed."

For a second that seemed to hang there for several minutes, no one moved. Then, jumping to her feet, Bail's head of security moved to grab her boots. "Okay, you absolute idiots," she muttered under her breath. "Help is coming whether you want it or not."

Bail looked up at Padmé and raised an eyebrow. "What help do you plan on sending, exactly?"

"I'm going after him," she replied, stepping around the coffee table and marching toward the door. Spinning around, she jabbed a finger in Tyyria's direction. "And you're coming with me."

Tyyria's eyes widened in surprise. "Surely General Kenobi can take care of himself?"

"You don't know him like we do," Liz said, her eyes still blue—it wasn't a jab but worry.

"If he had a Star Destroyer, sure," said Padmé, bending down to pull her boots on. "Alone against a whole space station that he doesn't know is operational? He's gonna need help. So, again"—she looked up and pointed at Tyyria—"you're coming with me."

"No, she's not," Windu said, stepping into Padmé's line of sight. "I am."

"Windu," she hissed, "get out of my way."

Windu had hardly been cordial for most of the trip, but the sudden animosity between him and Padmé—who'd been getting along with him better than anyone—was completely inexplicable. Nor, Bail could see, was he the only one who felt that way; Ellis, Kazan, and Raymus looked similarly bewildered. What the hell happened between the vault robbery and his entrance up here?

"Look," the Jedi said to her, "you're pissed, I understand that. But no offense, Nox is not up for this job."

"And you are?"

With the air of someone trying his hardest not to roll his eyes, Windu turned to Tyyria. "Nox, do you even have a lightsaber?"

The Twi'lek's smooth demeanor cracked just a little; she looked at the carpet as she answered, "Well, um, when I went on field duty I borrowed one from the Temple armory."

Padmé shot back, in a tone so blusteringly confident that Bail knew she was actually very concerned by this news, "So what? She's got the Force, that's better than a laser sword anyway."

"Amidala—"

"Windu, you are OUT."

Okay, this has gone on long enough. Bail cleared his throat; after Padmé had turned back around to look at him, he said, "Look, I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, but Raymus and the rest of us should go fire up the Sundered Heart if we're going to be rendezvousing with the Spice Dancer and going on a rescue mission."

"Bail, you're not going." She turned to regard Raymus, Kazan, and Ellis, all of whom had risen from their seats as if ready to walk out the door after her. "Me, Tyyria, Liz, that's it."

Usually when she told him what to do, Bail didn't think twice about it—it was just who she was. After all, she even gave Obi-Wan, an actual general, orders. But lingering embarrassment from his earlier speech and the looming dread that welled in him every moment—for Obi-Wan, for Serenno, for their own situation—were mingling into a throbbing case of irritability. "The hell I'm not," he snapped back. "I just helped you break into a secure vault to try to get dirt on a fellow politician, you really think going on a rescue mission against the people we're currently at war with is going to make my situation any worse?"

"I think that bringing in a ship as big as the Sundered Heart is stupid as hell. Our only shot at this is to sneak in and get him off."

"Okay," Ellis said, "so we all go in your ship, then. We can all be of use, and if you end up needing more than three people—"

"And it's not just that," Padmé continued, her tone maddeningly superior. "Think about how it looks if you just flee the system for an unknown location right after Palpatine discovers the vault was broken into, Bail. We already failed to dig up anything concrete on him—but that means the situation is just the same as it was. You drawing attention now is only gonna make things worse."

"So my head of security is giving me orders now," he said, his voice rising. "I've known Obi-Wan longer than you have—"

"So do what you know he'd want you to do, Bail. Go back to Coruscant. Keep your head down."

Bail opened his mouth to shoot back a half-formed retort, but Padmé evidently didn't have the inclination or the time to argue further. "Come on, guys," she said, and then half-ran out of the room and into the hallway beyond.

Liz loped after her owner with mechanical clanking. Tyyria stood there, looking unsure; the tips of her lekku twitched restlessly.

Sighing, Bail waved his hand. "Go. Just go. And thanks for the help."

The Twi'lek shot Bail an apologetic look. "It was good to meet you, Senator Organa. I hope the next time is under better circumstances." With that, she hastily exited the suite.

Bail considered running after them, but it was pointless. Padmé, he knew, was right.

"Welp," Ellis said, lowering herself back onto the couch, "we seem to have lost all our Jedi friends."

Indeed—as Bail looked around the suite, Windu was nowhere to be seen. Good bloody riddance.

"We are, it would seem, back to square one," he said, his voice straining for calm. Leaning forward, he poured himself a new glass of whiskey. "I suppose we should check the holonet, see if anything is being said about the vault robbery."

Kazan frowned, his grizzled face somewhat incredulous. "All due respect, sir, but shouldn't we be reporting the Lancer station above Telos?"

"We'll have to hope Obi-Wan already did," replied the senator. He took a gulp of whiskey; it soured on his tongue and slid down his throat like oil. "Padmé was right. We have to keep our heads down."

"But sir—" Raymus said tentatively.

Bail exploded.

"DAMN it, Antilles, do you think I don't know how much of a coward that makes me sound like?" he shouted, flinging his glass to the carpet. "But think about how it looks for a minute. After a vault is robbed at an event that I've now firmly tied myself to, I suddenly start raving to the military that I somehow know a crustbuster is floating above Telos? What happens if they ask for proof?"

Looking down at the pool of whiskey that was now soaking into the carpet, he felt his cheeks flush red but didn't stop. "Either I refuse to tell them and look like a lunatic—the man who started the Clone Wars going off again—or I tell them and then get promptly thrown in jail and tried for treason, along with the rest of you. And if Palpatine is tied to this—which we have absolutely no proof of, in case that didn't get through to you—he won't be in the pardoning mood."

"So what do we do?" Ellis asked quietly.

Bail bent down to pick up the glass, the sudden burst of furious energy he'd had already spent. I, for one, rage at the people who just risked their necks while I was making speeches at a party. Nothing else to do. "We wait out the rest of tonight," he said aloud, "and we go back to Coruscant. No more digging into the Chancellor's past, no wild stories about superweapons.

"And we hope to god that Padmé and the others get the job done."

As Mace Windu walked down the street, breathing in the cool night air, he ran his fingers over the metal cylinder he carried in his sleeve. It wasn't his lightsaber—it was the inhaler.

His hand was trembling just the faintest bit—he wanted more than anything else to just jam the thing into his nostril, to get some relief from the fire in his nerves for just a few hours, to dim the latticework of shatterpoints running through his head. But he couldn't, not now.

There was work to do.

He'd have to hitch a ride offplanet—stealing a ship wouldn't work, not so soon after a very public vault robbery. But that could wait. Palpatine, he knew, wouldn't be returning to Coruscant so soon, not after what had just happened under his nose. He'd stay here, in Theed, for the first few days of the investigation, looking for answers.

And Mace needed answers of his own.

The Telos information was a start. Amidala's droid had said there were no concrete links between the Chancellor and those Lancer transactions, but Mace didn't need numbers. Palpatine's knot of crystal sang through the Force—the shatterpoint was so huge it was almost as if the Jedi's entire existence was shot through with cracks.

What Mace had learned in that vault had changed things. He and the Chancellor were now tied, directly.

Mace Windu was a shatterpoint himself, now. And the galaxy hung in the balance.

So after Palpatine had left Theed, Mace wouldn't go back to Coruscant—not right away. First, he had a visit to pay. He needed some advice.

From an old master.

Republic Archives: Agro-worlds

Agro-worlds are planets whose entire landmass is devoted to large scale farming operations in order to support the food needs of a sector of space. Though farming is done in some scale on habitable garden worlds, many settled sectors consist mostly of worlds not suitable for agriculture. In those instances, the Senate Committee on Agriculture (or equivalent body, if the sector of space is independent of the Republic) selects a planet to serve as the region's agro-world. Parcels on an agro-world are divided up among a number of farmers or corporations so that no individual controls a majority of the agro-worlds output; this amount of leverage over a sector's food supply is considered dangerous, hence the regulation.

When an agro-world is needed but no planets are suitable, one is created—massive terraforming stations are used to transform hostile ecosystems into ones suitable for large scale food growth. This is a significant undertaking costing large amounts of both time and money—thus, disrupting an agro-world terraforming operation carries harsh penalties. Much like major population centers, agro-worlds often employ planetary shields. The types of shields used above agro-worlds function not only as a defense mechanism, but as a method of climate control.

As hydroponics technologies have advanced, settled worlds across the galaxy have come to rely less on the food exports of agro-worlds. Crops grown on roaming space stations can supply nutrients to even the harshest of planets. In response, some agro-worlds have shifted to growing luxury exports—crops that do not grow well in hydroponics labs—and supplying them to the galaxy's wealthier citizens. Despite the waning need for agro-worlds, they remain heavily regulated by the Senate Committee on Agriculture. In the interest of preserving an agro-world's ecosystem, several technologies are outright banned planetside, and each world is subject to a strict limit on its population.