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Chapter 30

My Game is Deeper

Raindrops sizzled on Aayla's saber, finally drawing the Sentinel's attention. He flicked two fingers and it deactivated, causing Aayla to gasp.

"Don't point that at me," said the mechanized voice. "It's exceedingly rude." With Force-assisted hearing, everyone registered sirens in the distance. The Sentinel called his cloak from the pile of corpses, placing it on his shoulders. He said, "That will be the constable. We'll continue this elsewhere."

Only Padme and Coda joined Obi-Wan in the cargo hold. He reclined in his chair, but inside he was coiled, ready to meet any threat from the Sentinel.

The black figure remained still. He'd shown very rare power in dispatching the Novas. A power, Obi-Wan feared, that exceeded his own.

"You're trained in the Force," Obi-Wan said. "Are you Jedi—or Sith?"

The Sentinel's vocoder garbled his sneer. "What a childish question. Would a Jedi kill as I do? Would a Sith protect innocents? Your dogma creates what it prophesies: a war between light and dark. And you conscript us all to battle."

"A battle I will win," Obi-Wan said.

"You speak like Adi Gallia." The name froze in the air, bewildering Obi-Wan. It was Gallia's vacant seat that he took on the Council. The Sentinel added with scorn, "My illustrious master."

He tapped his mask. It folded in on itself, unveiling the man beneath. His chiseled face was devoid of emotion. An arcane nose, between empty blue eyes, was slightly crooked from an unaddressed break. His cutting stare dared recognition.

"Brummel..." Obi-Wan whispered.

Brummel Carde: Gallia's protege. He was no longer the padawan she'd lovingly guided. His moral core was a maw, starkly contrasting the boy she'd lauded.

"Gallia—where—?"

"The Red Death took her," Brummel said easily. "You can hold your condolences. That was a lifetime ago."

Padme cut to the heart of things: "You were trapped by the quarantine. What were you doing here?"

"Too many worlds were defecting to the Sith. It terrified Windu. He sent us to monitor planets that were likely to change sides." His eyes darkened, and he added, "Mareth was ripe, given your crusade."

She flinched at the inference, arms pulled to her sides.

Coda asked, "Are you the only one left?"

His breath caught like he was only now aware of her. He swiveled his head with a haunted stare. "I'm alone," Brummel said.

"Not anymore," Obi-Wan countered.

"I don't care about your war. Win it yourself."

"The war will come here," Obi-Wan warned. "You'll be dead or a slave."

"I'll see it's the former. That suits me just fine."

Padme's patience was breaking. She was two seconds from blasting that look off his face. "Who do you think you are? The last man with honor? You're a common killer."

Brummel chuckled sardonically. "Oh, I have no honor. I'm thoroughly despicable. When I close my eyes, I hear more screams than you can possibly imagine." He snarled at her judgment. "Do you ever look in your own soul, Senator Amidala?"

Coda preempted Padme, her gentle brogue salving the tension: "Sir," she murmured, like a mom sings lullabies, "please just hear them out."

The Sentinel blinked, demeanor unchanged. But he sauntered from the corner to the center of the room, so that faint light hit his face where there'd only been shadows.

Obi-Wan was right about one thing: he didn't like being out of the action.

Padme removed her glimmering blouse. In light of her terrible reputation, standing out was a problem. So she searched for a plain top.

"Padme—"

She whirled to find Obi-Wan standing in the doorway. His breath had left him. His mouth slightly parted. His eyes were fixed on her floral bra, sparkling with gems, and on the pale plain of her stomach exposed to the air. Blood rushed to his face and to other places.

It took everything in Padme not to shake with excitement. Suddenly Obi-Wan's appreciation made her feel bold. "Can I help you, Master Jedi?"

His hypnosis broke. Mortified, he turned away. "I apologize. I shouldn't have entered without asking."

"It's only a problem if you didn't like it," Padme found herself saying. Wait—where did that come from? Her cheeks pinked with embarrassment.

A jumble of thoughts warred within Obi-Wan. They were overlayed on the image of Padme undressed. Her perfect proportions, her impossible smoothness. "It wasn't unpleasing," he admitted.

Padme's belly fluttered. What was she doing? Girlish adrenaline was forced down for decorum. She grabbed her shirt, pulled it over her head. "It's my fault," she said mildly. "I should have locked the door."

Obi-Wan turned to face her. He put her glorious image out of his mind. "I checked the database," he went on to his point. "Brummel was reported MIA ten years ago, along with Adi Gallia." He watched her reaction but gleaned nothing from it. "About what he said..."

Padme remembered (barely) getting word of the quarantine. And how swiftly she had moved to other business of the day. It was suddenly troubling how little it burdened her. "I made the right decision," she said more to herself than him. "But he watched his master die. And 600 million others. He's allowed to hate me."

"You are thoroughly unhateable," Obi-Wan said.

Padme cracked a smile. "You keep thinking that, Obi-Wan."

He met her expression, before turning to the door. He was halfway through the threshold when Padme's voice stopped him. "The Force is with us?"

Obi-Wan grinned. "Always."

Brummel's worry-lined face completely enthralled her. Looking away proved futile. Perhaps it was pitiful: Coda's reverence. But her exaltation did not embarrass her.

Brummel burned, and froze, and killed. He was reaper of the souls who'd themselves reaped souls, and his own was wounded so others needn't be. This was the beauty of the lonely Sentinel.

She didn't know why he changed his mind. Why he was helping Obi-Wan. She wished to credit herself, but this was likely delusion.

The Memory Master's facility was beneath an old factory. Behind a holographic wall was an elevator leading down.

Obi-Wan's ears popped as they descended. "You're doing the right thing."

Brummel said, "Your faith is unshakable. I think I envy it."

"Faith grows in the company of others."

"It dies there also."

Empathy squeezed Coda's throat so her words were said softly: "Two hearts broken heal faster together."

"Some wounds are forever," the Sentinel said.

The elevator doors parted with a whoosh.

A narrow corridor led to the facility. Obi-Wan noted the lights, made to approximate sun. Ahead were glass doors marking entrance to a lab. The sound of machines—along with a voice—carried to the corridor.

Obi-Wan's trepidation was smashed by his urgency. He entered the laboratory—inconceivably sprawling, and he assumed one of many. Waiting to greet him was a Kelbrian male.

Little was known of this mysterious species. But his visage was striking. He had veiny tentacles like a Twi'lek's, but they were short and hairy. Two bony ridges bracketed his eyes. He had small, thin ears, barely distinguished from surrounding flesh. Limitless warmth sluiced from his eyes.

"Hello, Doctor," Brummel said.

The Memory Master happily gasped, "Oh! Greetings and salutations! I wasn't expecting you again. And you brought company!"

Obi-Wan said, "We're sorry to intrude."

"Nonsense! Please—join me," grinned the Master. Obi-Wan traded looks with Padme. The strange man addressed Coda: "It's good to see you again, Miss Prosper."

"We've never met."

His smile wavered. "Perhaps I'm remembering seeing you on the news."

The lab was a spooky simulacrum of a Sith facility. Dozens of computers—old but refitted—were set to monitor sundry experiments. Tables filled the lab for surgery or dissection.

Obi-Wan peered into a tank at a heaving aquatic. Electrodes were fixed all over its body. The Master proudly explained, "It's a Burokian eel. I have a theory their toxins promote memory retention."

He turned to face Padme. "I presume you know who I am. Or at least what I do. I used to have a name. But I so rarely see people, I decided to give it up."

His jocund tone aroused her to anger. "I didn't think you were real," Padme remembered. "I didn't think one man could create this evil."

The Master squinted from hurt. He cleared his throat and consciously relaxed it. "Evil?"

"What else do you call a system that strips people's identity?"

His cheeks hollowed and his voice was low. "Every system—including the Republic's—takes something irreplaceable. Every moment you earn a credit is precious time lost to your family. My evil system has kept peace for two centuries. How's yours doing?"

Padme winced again. Everyone in the galaxy seemed to know where to hit her.

The warm glow returned to the Kelbrian's face. "I'm sure you didn't come here for a lively debate..."

"I need your help with a tracker," Brummel said.

"Another Black Nova?"

"An archaeologist: Logan Brace."

"And your friends here...?" Brummel stared at him. The Master sighed, "Very well, young man. But you are going to owe me one." He moved to a console and entered the search. In moments, he exclaimed, "Ah-ha! Logan Brace. Your man in the flesh."

Brummel studied the GPS. The lines marking the location weren't solid but dotted. "That's outside the city. They just started construction there."

"It's certainly discrete," Padme stated.

Coda snapped her fingers at Obi-Wan. "Okay, Jedi. We know where he is. Do Jedi things."

Time, indeed, was of the essence. Obi-Wan threw a quick look at the Kelbrian scientist. "Thank you."

"The pleasure's entirely mine. Good luck—with—whatever you're doing."

The Master tracked their footfalls from the lab to the elevator. Soon he heard the lift ascend and then vanish. He wished they'd stayed longer. He found Obi-Wan intriguing.

A door behind him slid open. "Were you listening, General?"

The Young General snarled, cinching his cloak. The black rimming his eyes was darker than ink. His back was hunched and his stance weakly. Yet from his frailty came some dark power.

"Call me by my real name," the General demanded.

"Forgive me... Emperor Sidious."

"Where is he?" Wrath demanded.

Demic said, "He knows he can't escape. He's prepared to fight us."

"He's prepared to fight me," Vader corrected, before tapping his comlink: "General Grievous, report your status."

A voice crackled back: "The bridge is secure. The Invisible Hand was destroyed. Several vessels are attempting to dock."

"Hold them off as long as you can. I have to find Sidious."

After a pause, the droid-man said: "Deck 15: one life sign registered."

"You have served me well, Grievous. I will remember it," Vader said.

The hanger doors closed. Their voices disappeared. The Young General counted to thirty, before rising from the floor inside Sidious' escape vessel. Where was the emperor? Everything was ready. Engines were go and stealth armor was active.

The Young General jerked back as a hologram appeared. It was Emperor Sidious, shimmering blue-black like an oil-filled ocean.

"General," said the hologram—clearly a recording, "if you are receiving this message, it means I'm soon to be dead. My contingency plan relies on you. Travel to the planet Mareth. I've provided you coordinates to a scientist's laboratory. He will know what to do." Sidious lifted his hood, wearing a fatherly smile that was nearly in his eyes. "I need you, son."

The General sank in his chair, completely befuddled. The emperor's request didn't make sense. But one thing was clear: if he didn't leave now, he would surely die. Vader knew he was favored by Sidious.

His jaw tightened. He took the controls.

There was only one path. It led to Mareth.

The stealth armor of his vessel allowed him to land near the city without being seen.

Entering Cuimhn was simple. He swiped a guard's pass key to access the patrol tower. From there, it was easy to sneak through.

He followed Sidious' coordinates to an old factory. Behind a holographic wall, he found an elevator leading down to the facility.

Standing in the laboratory was a happy Kelbrian. The General frowned at his lack of reaction: "I'm here on behalf of Emperor Sidious."

"Of course you are!" The Master bellowed.

"What is this place?"

"It's where I invented memory transfer," said the wistful scientist. "But that was a long time ago. As you might imagine, I've had many more breakthroughs."

He walked through a side door and the General followed. Another lab: this one smaller. A young woman lay comatose in a hospital bed. Tubes and wires connected her to various machines. The General recognized the beep of a respirator.

"This is Emily," the Master said with a hint of sadness. "She was my favorite receptacle. It was, truthfully, difficult to assign her this fate."

"What fate?" the General demanded.

The Master fussed with her hair, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Emperor Sidious asked me to make a complete copy of all of his memories. I said it was impossible." He gave a god-like grin, marveling at himself. "Eventually, of course, I unlocked the secret. I made it real."

The Master showed him a scan—presumably Emily's—revealing brain activity where there should be none. "Every day for twelve years, the emperor's brain has transmitted a complete map of his synaptic pathways... to be stored by sweet Emily."

The Young General blanched. "Are you saying you 'backed up' the emperor's brain?"

"Essentially, yes."

He staggered to the wall. The contents of the General's stomach threatened a return trip. Sidious—alive. Alive yet not. His emperor lived, and his emperor was dead. "So, what—you'll wake her up now? She'll be Darth Sidious?"

"No, Emily's brain was a caretaker. A temporary stop. The emperor's memories must be transferred into a conscious person."

"Me," the General whispered.

"You'll keep your own memories," the Master assured him. "His will simply be added."

The General shut his eyes. He wasn't sure what scared him more: accepting Vader as emperor or giving himself to Sidious. Only one of those choices would allow him to live. But it wouldn't be the life he knew right now. "Will I still be me... or will I be him?"

"Perhaps both. Maybe neither. I leave that to your god."

A cold feeling of inevitability rolled through the General's limbs. He swallowed, nodded, and turned his head at Emily. "For the empire."

It's like standing at a cliff edge, looking down at a dark valley, and having sold your soul to it. The moment of collection should come when you're old. When nothing remains, and you're a burden to others instead of commanding them. But it's not always so.

Behind you is blackness, the dragon who authored it. Dreadful talons fall on your shoulders. And a voice like dying fire whispers in your ear, "You have served your purpose. And it's a glorious purpose."

"I know," you tell the dragon.

The dragon screams and you're falling. Falling, falling, falling. No matter how far you fall—forever will the dragon scream scream scream.

The Young General was relegated to a corner of his own mind, never to voice a thought again. He'd never know what his sacrifice achieved, how it changed irrevocably the course of the galaxy. Because for the Young General's soul, there was quiet, and dark, and nothing else.

"Are you going to warn them?" The Master asked.

Sidious studied his reflection with a mingy smile. Perhaps now he could take a woman without her secretly weeping. "No," he told The Master.

"Why?"

"Because I do not trust them with the secret of my... rebirth. Maul would kill me to win favor with Vader. It is the way of the Sith." He'd gravely misjudged Vader's ambition. A mistake he'd redress. He purred icily, "I leave Maul and Kenobi to decide the better man. My game is deeper."

He felt the saber in his knee. Bone and sinew disintegrated by its burning plasma. Logan's screams rebounded from the walls, becoming hysterical laughter. Blood gushed from a gash on his head. Half his teeth lay around him.

"There are three layers of skin in the human body," said Darth Maul. "I'll expose them all, one by one..."

Logan forced a bloody smile. "Good—tell me what's underneath," he slurred. "I've always wondered..."

"What do you think you're protecting—or whom? Is it worth this pain?" The design of cognators was highly inconvenient. A memory could not be harvested without its owner's consent. Maul's only hope was to break him.

"Kill him," Coleman Trebor demanded. "We'll find another way."

"You will learn patience," Maul replied. "Everyone has a breaking point. That his is impressive means nothing."

Logan spit a loose tooth in the Zabrak's face. The dark lord smiled, raising his saber. "The first layer is the epidermis. In light of your constitution, we'll move straight to the second..."

Few people knew of the tunnels beneath Cuimhn. Relics of an old government, they appeared highly unstable, and the foulness of the air reinforced their archaism. Skeletons lay about, filling tattered clothes, pre-blaster technology scattered around. Mice skittered by their feet, squealing obnoxiously.

Obi-Wan couldn't know the strength of the Sith force. That's why he ordered "all hands on deck." The entire crew was with him in the tunnels.

Julian watched Aayla out of the corner of his eye.

She growled, "What do you want?"

"Making sure you're all right," Julian said.

"I'm fine."

"I don't see how you could be. I'm certainly not."

"You are not a Jedi." She said this easily, but it held no meaning. Julian understood now who the Jedi were: condemned souls, trying simply to die before the dark overwhelmed them.

"Quite right," said the doctor.

Palmer and Quinn were walking with Obi-Wan.

"I hope you're ready," said Palmer, "because you weren't on Halm. Vader had you at his mercy. You're lucky to be alive."

Obi-Wan rankled, "Your bleakness is getting old."

An acerbic laugh answered the charge. "One should be what they are. Surely you realize I'm alive for a reason."

"Indeed," Quinn grunted. "You deserted your brothers."

"'Brothers,'" mocked Palmer. "I never had brothers; I had obligations. You know what those are? A weight on your neck."

"Then why are you here?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"Because I value being free. I won't live in a galaxy run by Sidious." For once, Obi-Wan believed him, agreed even. He dreamt of living decades with Padme, fearing not a heavy hand would disrupt his happiness.

Brummel led them through the tunnels. Coda was determined to disrupt his sullenness: "So... you come here a lot?"

"You're very talkative," Brummel said.

"And you quiet. Somewhere between the two of us, there lies a normal person." Her megawatt smile drove away his gaze. She removed it to soothe him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"If you must."

"You really dislike Obi-Wan. What'd he do? Seems nice enough to me."

Coda glimpsed the tribulation behind Brummel's eyes. The Sentinel said, "He serves a religion that's about to be extinct. And he refuses to see it."

Padme watched them discreetly. There was more to Brummel's acridity than she yet understood. Obi-Wan barely remembered him, but somehow the vigilante believed they had history. She didn't like not knowing. And she didn't like the way Coda seemed to hang on his words.

"I still think he's nice," Coda said brightly.

The wind rifled his cloak as he squatted on the ridge. Obi-Wan glassed the construction site through his binoculars. Latticed metal made the frame of an eighty-story tower. Temporary grate served as floors. Neither interior nor exterior walls were in place.

He turned to ground-level, increased magnification. In the eerie red glow of a double-bladed saber, six figures surrounded a mutilated man. The night was too black to make out more.

He gave Padme his binoculars. "Right where he told us."

She asked, "Can we handle six of them?"

"If we all play our part. But Logan's right in the middle. We'll have to get him clear."

Brummel brushed past Coda, who deemed it comfort. He placed his thumb at the center of his belt. "I'll handle that part," and he shimmered to nothingness—before quickly reappearing.

"A cloaking device," Obi-Wan marveled.

"I was in the engineering corps. It comes in handy."

Obi-Wan turned to his crew. The Jedi were ready, while Padme and Julian looked unnatural holding guns. Coda gripped hers like a filthy rag. These weren't soldiers. But tonight they had to be.

He spoke slowly for emphasis: "We need him. This cannot go wrong."

Landon said, "I got your back, boss. We'll get it done."

Aayla clenched her teeth, unseen by Obi-Wan. He pulled lightly on his beard, saying, "We need a—"

"Wait for my cue," Brummel said before vanishing.

"—plan."

His override sequence breached the lock as planned. The ramp retracted, allowing him entry. Sidious ascended into the Dawn Tangent.

The Nabooan interior was instantly familiar. Before leaving the Republic, he'd ridden ships of this model between home and Coruscant. "Home." Such a frivolous word.

Sidious strolled the corridor to the main computer room. R2-D2 whirled with a scream. A metal flap opened. An appendage sprang out. Electricity gathered, ready to blast.

"Diagnostic mode," Sidious said. The appendage receded. The metal flap closed. R2's red eye began to glow green.

Sidious cackled at the docile droid. "It is good to see you... my little saboteur."