The fact that the Sheathipede shuttle had managed to thread its way through a storm of turbolaser bolts and dock in the core ship's port-side command tower was no guarantee of safety. Indeed, while everyone was filing down the shuttle's tongue-like boarding ramp, the core ship was still being pummeled by fire from Republic warships.

First to set foot on deck, Viceroy Nute Gunray, attired in blood-red robes and sporting a tall, helmet-like miter, asked for a situation report from one of the gogglewearing technicians who was waiting in the docking bay.

"Even now coordinates for the jump to lightspeed are being calculated, Viceroy," the nearest one said. "A matter of moments and we will be well away from Cato Neimoidia. Your peers on the Council of Separatists await us in the Outer Rim."

Behind Gunray walked settlement officer Rune Haako, wearing a crested skullcap; and behind Haako, various financial, legal, and diplomatic officers, each wearing a distinctive headpiece. Droids were already beginning to unload the possessions-the treasures-for which Gunray had risked so much. He called Haako aside while the others were exiting the sterile docking bay.

"Your lucky that we could use those bombers to distract the Republic fleet" Haako spoke at last. "If our signals were jammed..."

"What matters now is that we're onboard" Gunray replied at last, turning to face the aid who was at his side from the beginning. Since the Stark Hyperspace War, and Naboo and-

The vessel was rocked by a massive explosion. Turbolaser fire was slamming into their ship at increasingly powerful volleys. They needed to escape and fast. But that meant leaving Cato Nemoidia behind. It meant surrendering his home planet to the Galactic Republic, the very entity he was trying to defeat with his armies of battle droids. What would happen once he left?

"Do you think there will be a chance to return and reclaim what we had to leave behind?"

"Not a chance," puckered Haako said flatly . "Our purse worlds now belong to the Republic. Our only hope is to find sanctuary in the Outer Rim. Otherwise, this ship will have to serve as our home-and perhaps our final resting place!"

Sadness crept into Gunray's red orbs."But my collections, my keepsakes…"

"Your most cherished items accompany you," Haako said, gesturing to the containers already piled at the foot of the boarding ramp. "More important, we escaped with our lives. Another instant and the Jedi would have had us. You saw how close they were."

Nodding grimly, he recalled how close he was to getting destroyed in the escape attempt. He remembered with vivid detail the sight he saw minutes before. The yellow streaked starfighter, and the pilot who flew right in front of his shuttle. The way the pilot's eyes stared into him for a brief moment, a fierce gaze that struck through the viewport directly into Gunray's hardened heart. Gunray was sure that the pilot would return to strike him down. He felt as if he knew the pilot somehow, somewhere, but he couldn't recall the name. All he knew was that he was thankful to escape his grasp.

Gunray allowed a second nod of agreement. "You warned me."

"I did."

"Count Dooku will help us find new worlds to settle when the war is won" Gunray spoke aloud with a voice that was surprisingly confident.

"If the war is won, you mean" Haako replied. "The Republic seems keen on driving us from the galaxy. There might be nothing left for us except the expansion regions."

Gunray made a dismissive gesture with his fat fingers. "Temporary setbacks. The Republic has yet to see the face of its real enemy."

Haako hunched slightly at the reference and lowered his voice into a whisper. "But is even he enough, Nute?" he asked quietly.

Not caring about formalities, Gunray said nothing. Although he had been asking himself the same question for the past several weeks, he was yet to deduce a comforting answer. One thing was clear: the glory days of the Trade Federation had come to an untimely end. Ironically, the individual most responsible for that bright burning-for the rise of Nute Gunray himself-was the same individual who had repeatedly betrayed him, and to whom Gunray and the other Separatists were now forced to look for salvation.

The Sith Lord, Darth Sidious.

There at Dorvalla and Eriadu, manipulating events to shunt power and influence to the Neimoidians; there at Naboo, ordering a blockade of the planet, the murder of Jedi, assassination of the Queen… a debacle for the Trade Federation. Years of attempts by the Republic to try to convict Gunray and his chief officers, to break the hold the Trade Federation enjoyed on galactic shipping. But not once during that time of public disgrace did Gunray mention the role Sidious had played.

Out of fear?

Certainly.

But also because he had sensed that Sidious had not abandoned him completely. Rather, the Dark Lord was somehow seeing to it that the trials never came to fruition, that no lasting verdicts were rendered or punishments handed down. As the Separatist movement gained strength, threatening the security of ships and shipments in the far sectors, the Trade Federation had actually been able to increase the size of its standing army of battle droids by dealing directly with foundry worlds, such as Geonosis and Hypori. Making the most of the Republic's sudden instability, lucrative deals had been arranged between the Trade Federation and the Corporate Alliance, the InterGalactic Banking Clan, the Techno Union, the Commerce Guild, and other corporate entities.

It was during the final trial that Gunray had been approached by Count Dooku, who had promised that all would ultimately turn out well for the Trade Federation. In a moment of weakness, Gunray had revealed the truth about his dealings with Darth Sidious. Dooku has listened attentively; had promised to bring the matter to the attention of the Jedi Council, though he himself had left the Order some years earlier. Gunray had mixed feelings about Dooku's purpose in creating a Separatist movement, chiefly because corruption in the Republic Senate had so often worked to the Trade Federation's advantage. But if Dooku's Confederacy of Independent Systems could eliminate even some of the bribes and kickbacks commonplace in galactic trade, then so much the better.

By and by Dooku's real aims had been made clear: he was less interested in providing an alternative to the Republic than he was in bringing the Republic to its knees-through the use of force if necessary. In much the same way that the Trade Federation had amassed an army right under the nose of Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum, Dooku-in plain sight-was seeing to it that Baktoid Armor Workshops was supplying weapons to any corporations that agreed to ally with him.

Regardless, Gunray had resisted offers to throw his full support to the Separatists-not when there were still profits to be made in countless Republic star systems. Playing a game of his own, teasing Dooku along, he had informed Dooku that a precondition to their entering into any exclusive arrangement was the death of former Naboo Queen Padme Amidala, who had foiled Gunray on two occasions, and had been the loudest opposition voice at his trials.

Dooku had hired a bounty hunter to oversee the business, but two attempts at assassinating Senator Amidala had failed. Then came Geonosis. But just when Gunray finally had Amidala in his grasp-on trial, no less, for espionage-Dooku had equivocated, refusing to have Amidala killed outright, and not lifting a hand against the Jedi until some two hundred of them had showed up with a clone army the Republic had grown in secret! That day had provided Gunray with the first in what would be a series of narrow escapes. Hurrying to the catacombs with Dooku at their side, Gunray and Haako had barely managed to flee the embattled surface and recall what core ships and droid carriers remained.

By then, though, it was too late for anyone to resign from Dooku's Confederacy. The war was begun, and it was Dooku's turn for revelations: he, too, was Sith, and his Master was none other than Sidious!

Whether a replacement for the fearsome Darth Maul, or a Sith even during his years in the Jedi Order, Gunray didn't care to know. What mattered was simply that Nute Gunray was right back where he had been so many years earlier: in service to forces over which he had no control whatsoever. It's not as if he could turn the battle droids on Sidious. He didn't even know where Sidious was.

When the war had been going well, the issue of whom he served had been scarcely a problem. Trade had continued, and the Trade Federation had continued in the black. For a time it appeared that Sidious and Dooku's dreams of toppling the Republic might succeed after all. But they found themselves facing a worthy opponent in the person of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine-also from Naboo-who had never much impressed Gunray, but who had managed through a combination of charm and artfulness not only to remain in power long past his term of office, but also, in conjunction with the Jedi, to conduct the war. Slowly, the wheel began to turn, as one Separatist world after another was retaken by the Republic, and now Viceroy Nute Gunray himself had been driven from the Core.

A tragedy for the Trade Federation; a tragedy, he feared, for the entire Neimoidian species. They could seize the Outer Rim, of course, but that was hardly a solution if it meant be driven out by the Republic.

He gazed at the few possessions he had been able to gather: his costly robes and miters, resplendent jewelry, priceless works of art-

A sudden chill laddered up his laddered up his spine. His bulging forehead and lower jaw tingled in dread. Eyes protruding from his mottled gray face, he swung to Rune Haako. "The chair! Where is the chair?"

Haako stared at him, not recognizing what he was in a frenzy about.

"The mechno-chair!" Gunray said. "It's not here anywhere!"

Now Haako's eyes widened in apprehension. "Surely we couldn't have overlooked it."

Gunray paced worriedly, trying to recall when and where he had last seen the device. "I'm certain that I had it moved to the launching bay. Yes, yes, I remember seeing it there! But in the rush to launch-"

The Jedi appeared. The other Jedi, with the black dreadlocks and painted brow below his eyes. The Jedi forced him to retreat in a hurry, leaving the chair behind.

"But you armed it to self-destruct," Haako said in an attempt to be reassuring. "Tell me you armed it!"

Gunray stared at him. "I thought you had armed it."

Haako gestured to himself. "I don't even know the sequence codes!"

Gunray fell silent for a moment. "Haako, what if they should decide to tamper with it? If they find out anything meaningful from the chair that would be the end of this!" Gunray cried out in alarm. "I didn't fund a war against the Republic so we could beaten in by a piece of equipment!"

Haako's broad slash of mouth twitched with worry as Gunray ranted with increasing alarm. Trying to be reasonable, he placed a hand on Gunray's shoulder. "Without the codes, what could they possibly gain from it?"

Realizing he was making a scene and that there were both droids and aides watching him, Gunray calmed himself and lowered his voice. "You're right. Of course, you're right." Gunray tried to convince himself that this was truth. It was just a mechnochair, after all; finely wrought, but just a walking chair. A walking chair equipped with a hyperwave transceiver. A hyperwave transceiver given to him fourteen years ago by-

"What if he should learn that we left it behind?" Gunray rasped.

"Sidious," Haako said softly.

"What? No," Gunray barked back. "Not Sidious!"

"Count Dooku, you mean?"

"Are you brain-dead?" Gunray fairly screeched. "Grievous! What if Grievous should find out?"

Supreme Commander of the droid armies, General Grievous had been San Hill and Poggle the Lesser's gift to Dooku. Once merely a barbaric living being; now a cyborg monstrosity, devoted to death and destruction. Already the butcher of entire populations; the devastator of countless worlds-

"Viceroy, it's not too late," Haako said suddenly. "We can communicate with the chair from here. We just need to lock onto its frequency and send a command."

"Can we arm it to self-destruct?"

Haako shook his head negatively. "But we might be able to instruct it to arm itself." A technician intercepted them while they were hurrying toward a communications console.

"Viceroy, our shields are holding but they are being drained. We are prepared to make the jump to lightspeed."

"You will do no such thing!" Gunray cried. "Not until I give the order!"

"But, Viceroy, our vessel can only withstand so much bombardment."

"Bombardment is the least of our concerns!"

"Hurry," Haako insisted, "we haven't much time!"

Gunray rushed to join him at the console. "Say nothing of this to anyone, our lives might very well depend on it" he warned. "Not even Darth Sidious."

Sickle-footed, humpbacked, incised with intricate designs, the mechno-chair sat in the launching bay of the now seized fortress, amid a heap of equally exquisite belongings left by the fleeing Neimoidians. Plo Koon was circling it, right hand caressing his breathing mask. "I think I've seen chairs like this before."

Squatting alongside it, Vos looked up at him. "Where?"

Plo Koon stopped. "Long ago, back in the Stark Hyperspace conflict. Back when we were working alongside the Trade Federation I believe I saw a chair like this. They were used to relay information between fleet commanders and coordinate strategies."

Vos shook his head. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

Plo Koon glanced at the Kiffu with a slightly raised eyebrow. "It is strange to remember when we were just rising Jedi Knights. One way or another, we were wrapped up in conflicts. Perhaps some things never change. That said, the design of the holoprojector plate is curious. I'd never seen one quite like it."

On the far side of the spacious bay, up on its deployed landing pads, sat Plo Koon's Delta 7 Aethersprite-class Jedi starfighter. The Jedi master had since called for it, believing that he might be forced to return to combat. R4-F5, his personal astromech droid stood nearby, communing with TC-16. Commander Wolfe and the rest of the Wolfpack were elsewhere in the palace, "mopping up," as the clones liked to say.

Vos examined the chair's holoprojector without touching it. An oval of ribbed alloy, it was equipped with a pair of dorsal sockets sized to accept data cells of some sort. "It is unusual. If we crack them open, these cells could contain valuable messages in storage."

"All the more reason to leave it be until someone from Intelligence can have a look at it."

Vos frowned. "That could take a while, and this might be sensitive information. Perhaps the Jedi should see it first." Plo Koon folded his arms and regarded him, considering what course to take.

"We have to be careful about what we do next" Plo Koon spoke, his tone indicating that they should be proceeding cautiously. The wrong move could be very costly to the Republic. If there were vital secrets as Vos suggested, losing access to them would be very unwise.

"For all we know, the cells could be programmed to erase themselves" Vos added, beginning to tanker with the chairs systems.

"Do you see any evidence of that?" Plo Koon inquired.

No, but-"

"Then we're better off waiting until we can run a proper diagnostic" Plo Koon said at last. "The council should be allowed to view these files."

Vos grimaced at their mentioning, but he quickly hid it from Plo Koon's gaze. "With respect, Master Plo, what do you know about running diagnostics?"

"More than you may suspect," Plo Koon replied. If the Kel Dor was capable of showing off a grin to the Kiffu, he would be.

"Okay, but can't your droid run the diagnostic?"Vos pressed. He beckoned for the droid to join him at the mechno-chair. R4 turned to his master for confirmation. Plo Koon rubbed his hands over his breathing mask. As much as he wanted to do this inquiry by the book, he understood that Vos had a point. This wasn't just being rebellious for the sake of it and it certainly wasn't the dark side clouding his judgement. Like himself, Vos understood the direness of the Jedi's plight. The war was getting grimmer each day. If taking risks could speed the process of returning to peace, it was a risk worth taking. He finally signaled for his astromech to do what Vos asked. However, he was sure to let Vos know that his mind was considering all outcomes.

"Vos," Plo Koon warned. "We're rushing into this and we don't have any support. If something goes wrong, it will be up to us to answer for our decisions."

"Really, sirs, I must protest," TC-16 interrupted, hurrying behind R4-F5. "These items remain the property of Viceroy Gunray and other members of his party. You do not have permission to access his personnel files."

"You don't have a say in the matter," Vos said. "The Republic has seized all of Gunray's assets and we will do as we please."

R4-F5 trilled and hooted at the battered protocol droid. The two had been bickering since R4-F5's arrival a short time earlier.

"I'm fully aware that my circuits are corroded," TC-16 said. "As for my posture, there's little I can do about that until my pelvic joint is serviced. You astromechs think very highly of yourselves, just because you can pilot starfighters."

"Don't pay Arfour any mind, TeeCee," Plo Koon said. "He's taken up the habits of another astromech. Isn't that right?"

Arfour toodled a response, extended his computer interface arm, and inserted the magnetic tip into an output socket in the chair.

Vos stood up and joined Plo Koon on the launch platform. Plo Koon was pointing to a blinking light that was growing larger by the second in the night sky. "Do you see that? The Intelligence officers aboard are not going to take kindly to our sticking our noses in their business."

"You mean the Chancellor's business?" Vos pressed.

"Perhaps." Plo Koon replied gravely.

"Sirs," TC-16 said from behind them. "I'm afraid I must inform you-

"You cannot interfere," Plo Koon said, leaving no room for discussion. R4-F5 began to loose a long series of whistles, chirps, and chitters. Before the Jedi could respond, Plo Koon's comm link came alive and the Kel Dor turned his attention to the incoming transmision. "Yes?"

"Master Plo, I'm afraid I carry bad tidings" rang the voice of Obi Wan Kenobi. "General Skywalker was unable to apprehend Nute Gunray and the Trade Federation is attempting to escape. We're trying to disable their ships but progress is slow and we're running out of time."

"Unfortunate" Plo Koon replied. "We believe we may have a lead on Gunray. A strange mechno-chair has been left behind."

"I'm sorry, you said a chair?" Obi Wan asked. "That's not very reassuring.

"Indeed. However, Quinlan Vos believes that it may contain prized information of Separatist secrets" Plo Koon clarified. There was a long pause before Obi Wan continued.

"That seems unlikely."

"Doesn't mean it's impossible" Vos added, chiming in. "We don't exactly have anything else."

"Sirs-" TC-16 cried out.

"Keep quiet, TeeCee," Vos said. R4-F5 honked and razzed, though as if from a distance. "And you, too, Arfour-" Vos glanced over his shoulder, and his jaw dropped.

"Where's the mechno-chair?" Vos swung around and scanned the bay.

"Where's Arfour?" Plo Koon followed.

"What's going on now?" Obi Wan asked over the receiving end. "I don't follow any of this, I'm afraid."

"I've been trying to tell you, sirs," TC-16 said, gesturing toward the launching bay's ruined iris hatch. "The chair walked away-taking your high-thinking little droid with it!"

Plo Koon stared at Vos in bewilderment before looking to his comm link. "Master Kenobi we have a problem. Pleasure talking to you."

"Wait-"Obi Wan called out before Plo Koon ceased transmission.

"Well, it couldn't have gotten far on foot" Vos spoke with mixed confidence. They rushed into the corridor, saw that it was deserted in both directions, and began searching the rooms that adjoined the ba . A prolonged electronic squeal brought both of them back into the main corridor.
"That's Arfour," Plo Koon spoke aloud before turning to the protocol droid. "Either that, or our robotic friend has developed a talent for mimicry."

Together, they hurried into a compact data room, where they saw R4-F5 with his interface arm still jacked into the chair, and the gripper of his grasping arm clamped to the bar handle of a storage cabinet. Stretched to its full extent, a computer interface cable now connected the mechno-chair to a control console of some sort. The chair's talon-like feet were in constant motion, attempting to gain purchase on the smooth floor in an effort to propel the chair closer to the console.

"What's it doing?" Plo Koon asked.

Vos made his face long and shook his head. "Recharging itself?"

"Never seen such tenacity in a mechno-chair" Plo Koon asked with amazement. "Or any droid for that matter." R4-F5 chattered and wheezed. The handle to the storage closet broke free and the astromech fell on its side helplessly. "What's Arfour saying?" Plo Koon asked TC-16.

"He's saying, sir, that the mechno-chair has just armed itself to self-destruct!"

Vos made a mad dash for the console, trying to help R4-F5 break away from the now suicidal chair.

"Vos, get away from that thing!"Plo Koon yelled.

Vos's fingers were already busy undoing leads that linked the holoprojector unit to the chair. "Not a chance. Now we know there's something stored in this chair no one wants us to see." Plo-Koon glanced worriedly at R4-F5. "How much time, Arfour?"When the protocol droid replied that only seconds remained, Plo Koon rushed to Vos' side. Too many Jedi had died in this war for Vos to die so unceremoniously.

"We're out of time! You might trigger the explosion yourself!"

"Almost there, Master Plo…"

Plo Koon sensed a disturbance in the Force. Without thinking, he pulled Vos to the floor an instant before the chair shot a stream of white vapor into the space the Kiffu had occupied. Plo Koon realized, almost ironically, that he was safe from such a defense. However, Vos was not.

"Poison gas! Might paralyze or even kill you."

"Thank you, Master Plo," Vos said with gratitude. "I guess I got carried away." Vos studied the chair for a moment.

"Allow me" Plo Koon spoke, stepping forward. "It seems the designer of this chair didn't take Kel Dors into account when designing security measures."

Plo Koon leaned forward and wrenched the interface cable from the control console, drawing on the force for strength. The gas didn't get through his breathing mask, designed to be effective in all environments, even if those included toxic ones.

As long as it wasn't dislodged that was, the Jedi thought quickly.

A web of blue energy gamboled around the chair and the console, knocking Plo Koon onto his backside. At the same time, a high-resolution blue hologram projected from the chair's holoplate. R4-F5 mewled in alarm at his master's fate. And to the meter-high figure in the hooded cloak, the unmistakable voice of Viceroy Nute Gunray was saying: "Yes, yes, of course. Trust that I will see to it personally, my Lord Sidious."