Covalent Bonds

Chapter 23

"Kaer Orbital Platform is free of the dwarf spider droids, Drakas reported." Obi-Wan said to Siri. It was getting less and less odd to him to view reports from Jedi killed in battle, their exhausted words coming from blue strained faces even as he remembered them from better times in Temple refectories or salles.

He numbered Drakas among his slight acquaintances, someone he recalled as dropping his yellow lightsaber while sparring and laughing boisterously at himself. A Twi'lek whose sense of humor had fled during the war, because the somber face that Obi-Wan turned into a blue frazzle with the off button held only the fatigue all Jedi felt at the end of a long campaign. Obi-Wan sighed and used his portentous voice to lighten the mood. "Or ... so he said."

It failed to get a smile out of Siri. "Another droid factory. Maybe there is something different about this one, something other than Olanet's, which was large with no distinguishing features whatsoever." Except for the sonic screamers. And the droids' faster than normal retreat. Mmmm.

"Ready to debark? Here come the Tunroths." The Tunroths approached the shuttle like the hunters they were, surrounding it, weapons held steadily in brawny arms. The nostrils atop their broad heads fluttered as if to scent whoever was inside and their occasional grunts and snarls were amplified by the external microphone that Siri tapped into use. She paused, filling herself with confidence, knowing she could get their cooperation. The Assemblage of Three will deal with us. That's them. Three Tunroth advanced from the loose grouping. Their sacred klirun bows held one deadly caros arrow each, tipped no doubt with the drug known as talar. Siri and Obi-Wan could become live captives quickly if she did not defuse the situation. She had to gain their trust. She switched the microphone to 'output' as she projected their images in front of the Tunroth through an outboard holoemitter used in situations similar to this. Guarded negotiations. Siri cleared her throat.

"Aaaarghhuh. Uhhhhggggnjedimrrrrowwwllll. Hhhhhurrrmmmmmgl. Lllooorft?" I'll feel this in my vocal cords for hours.

The gnarled Assemblage of Three conferred among themselves. Then the most stooped of the three stepped forward. "I am Eldest. I alone speak Basic. Come on down to us." She knew where the ramp was and waited until Obi-Wan and Siri stood beside her. "You speak to us in our tongue, Jedi."

Siri spread her hand to her, third and fourth fingers split. After a moment, Eldest placed her left hand's second thumb on Siri's pinkie, her first thumb on Siri's own, the remaining middle fin-like finger resting in the notch formed by Siri's split grip. The Tunroth's hand dwarfed Siri's as the two regarded each other. Then Eldest smiled and Siri relaxed. "We visit your peaceful colony, Eldest, but we will leave it to take our place in the war outside. We need a favor and we -- I -- will buy it from you."

Obi-Wan started. Buy? What with? He knew the Tunroth were hunters, having a way of life that glorified the hunt to a spiritual level. Whatever form of payment Siri could offer would not be trinkets or credits, not that they had many onboard.

"Tell me the favor first, Jedi." Eldest placed her recurved weapon on her bowed back and the rest of her group did likewise. Obi-Wan instinctively moved back-to-back with Siri as the tall grasses parted and even more Tunroth walked unhurriedly towards them until sixty hunters surrounded them. Eldest made a noise through her slitted nostrils atop her occiput that might have been a laugh. "You smell peaceful. Don't be afraid." Obi-Wan had taken a sonic shower that morning and wondered what Eldest meant by that remark. Siri has made first contact well. I'll let her do the talking.

Siri took a deep breath, squeezed her hands into tight fists pressed together and made the ritual knock to her forehead. "We plead to conceal our craft from Separatist hunters. My partner and I will return as soon as we can to this place, this blind, if you allow the favor. He and I will use our smaller and stealthier craft to creep close to our quarry unnoticed." They don't need to know about our extra-vehicular activity. I don't remember how planet-bound they are, exactly. We might seem even more foreign if they realize we'll be in space without a spaceship.

Eldest surveyed their craft, shining in the afternoon sun. "It will be a great deal of work, but a large enough herd of nerfs may camouflage your vehicle."

Siri snorted. "Well, regular nerfs, yes, but you have Grizmallt nerfs, now don't you? Not much hair on them to hide -- "

Siri, don't insult their choice of breeding stock! That's an insult to any rancher on any planet! Obi-Wan bowed deeply to Eldest. "What my partner means to say, Eldest, is that whatever help you can offer, we'll accept. I don't know much about nerfs, but would their mere herd movements not camouflage any survey from probe droids or scanning from a spacecraft? Hide a solid outline of a structure by blurring it, so to speak?" And if the enemy becomes suspicious enough to send in organics, then nothing will have worked anyway.

Siri was able to put aside her ego the moment it became an obstacle to completing a mission. "Their milling and jumping and their antlers' bobbing, yes, Obi-Wan. Good point." Siri nodded at him and then at Eldest. "Your price for this favor, Eldest?"

"Should I grant it, it will involve nerfs. They will be driven here to that "-- she jerked her chipped chin-horns at a log corral perhaps a half-kilometer away -- "for their evening grain supplement." Eldest gestured to her snaggle-toothed maw and made her almost-laugh sound again. "Grain is about all I can handle myself in these later years of mine." She straightened as much as she could. "Come to the corral when the sun touches the top of the farthest hill and be prepared to buy your favor. We of Tunroth Colonial Valley will be there, Jedi." Eldest snarled at her patient hunters and all moved in the direction of the corral. Eldest paused enough to say over her bent shoulder, "Lose the cloak. And the lightsaber."

Siri handed her lightsaber to Obi-Wan, offering the usual Jedi protocol. "Obi-Wan, I give you permission to touch my lightsaber." He clipped it to his belt as she shucked her cloak, rolled it into a ball and tossed it by the ramp. "Come on, let's go."

"Right now? Don't you want to research what this 'price' might entail?"

She was already three steps ahead of him, following the Tunroths' long strides. "It will involve nerfs, Obi-Wan, shearing them, butchering them, herding them, milking them, I don't know what. And I don't need to know whatever else it may be. I'm ready for anything." Obi-Wan followed more slowly. She's like Anakin. Stars help us.

At more or less the time Eldest had indicated, three hundred nerfs of the Grizmallt variety bleated and trod the dirt of the corral to puffs of dust. They looked hungry and slightly ridiculous to Obi-Wan, because his idea of a nerf involved fluffy wool and a placid personality. These nerfs had little tufts of hair on the end of a short tail and another bit on a small hump at the withers, leaving the rest of their rangy bodies covered in a short slick coat of straight hair. They sported sharp split hooves and sharper-looking antlers. Occasionally they butted each other and as the afternoon lengthened into evening and they did not get their accustomed grain, their tempers worsened. He could not imagine what Siri was supposed to do with one. The entire scene reminded him of his term of employment as Qui-Gon's young spy when he had just turned into his teenhood. Working as a butcher to eviscerate enormous animals, drenched in gore day after day, he completed his mission successfully but the memory of that week revolted him. There's not much to shear, so I guess it will be subduing one and turning it into nerf chops. Ugh.

They're between one and two meters tall. They can't be too much to handle. From her perch beside Obi-Wan on the corral's splintery top rail, she challenged Eldest, whose physical limitations kept her on the ground. "Eldest, a fair hunt for a novice like me needs daylight. It's going fast. What would you have me do?"

"See that one, the one with the bell around its neck? That's Sweetbud, my counterpart in age and decrepitude in this herd. I want you to ride her over to me. That is the price." Eldest no longer held her bow, but nevertheless exuded power of a weathered, implacable sort. She poked Siri's behind with one large hand and Siri jumped down into the corral.

"I'll do it. Stay here by this knothole." Obi-Wan just knew that there was more to Sweetbud than met the eye, because as Siri approached the graying beast, Sweetbud managed to sidle inside a small group of bleating nerfs, always keeping them between herself and the approaching Jedi. When Siri grew impatient and used the Force to nudge the antlered barrier aside, Sweetbud bounded like a youngling to the farther side of the corral, jumping on the backs of the herd that she led to and from grazing grounds. She turned a baleful eye on Siri from next to the single gate. "I don't have time for this," Siri muttered and Force-leaped to the creature's side. Sweetbud lowered her antlers and pawed the ground.

"Not going easy, eh?" Siri concentrated and Sweetbud's eyes bulged as she strained to get away, but Siri had the upper hand. Sweetbud managed to give her bell a tiny shake before she stilled completely. Siri mounted the bony back, grimacing, and held onto the tufted hump with one hand and a worn antler with the other. "Forward." Sweetbud's stubbornness was strong for a nonsentient, though at last the suggestion took hold and she advanced through the herd that Siri kicked a path through, Sweetbud's hooves tromping step by trembling step to where Eldest waited. When a quivering nose poked through the knothole and Eldest scratched it, Siri looked up at Obi-Wan's broad smile. "Not a word," she said. She knew she looked comical with her wild hair and her legs held far forward to avoid dragging on the ground.

Eldest gave Sweetbud a dismissive pat and Siri took the hint. She clambered away from Sweetbud as she released her hold for the dismount, pressing a dirty hand to her back that popped a little with the strain. Sweetbud jabbed at Siri with a sideways butt and then trotted back to her minions, head held high, pride restored.An hour later, the entire herd bedded itself down by the Corellian Star shuttle and some adventurous nerfs jumped to the top of the craft, their hooves skittering on the slickness as their natural agility allowed them to mount the highest peak of shiny metal. When they had settled down for the night, not a sharp edge of the ship's outline could be seen. Grunting and farting nerfs ruminated next to and atop the shuttle's metallic splendor. By the next day, the shine and shape would be camouflaged by movement. "And by other, nastier things," thought Obi-Wan as he straddled his speeder bike and adjusted its fuel valve. The second mini-shuttle would have just enough room for the swoops -- no, speeder bikes -- and the two Jedi. Siri finished the ritual farewell mutual shoving contest with Eldest and joined him. "They're all right with keeping the herd close to the ship. And I was all right, too."

"Fair is fair, Siri. You did well to think of this, because I had only one idea and that was for securing our mini-shuttle to the Orbital Platform's communications array before we go extra-vehicular into the platform itself." He indicated her speeder bike. "I adjusted the fuel for you. I knew you'd be sore."

Siri rubbed her backside. "So true, so true." She gave a cheerful grin in Eldest's direction and waved. "The old battlenerf. 'Price' indeed. I'll feel this tomorrow, too."

"I'd be willing to do a Force laying on of hands, Siri -- "

"Nope, not unless it gets unbearable. Which it won't. I'll tend to it myself, some Force massage while we're in flight ... um, never mind. Ready?"

"Up to the array and then out." Obi-Wan and Siri turned their speeder bikes on low and trundled them into the hatch. They did a triple check of the vac suits hanging inside and took off for their mission of investigation of an orbital platform that should have no organic energy signatures coming from it, but did.

Meanwhile, back on Serenno ...

"Our facility is successful in starting the seed crystals, Milord Dooku. The end product will be more quickly grown than any clone, and will have the advantage of being tied to your Force signature, should you so wish it." If Grievous could have hyperventilated, he would have done so as Dooku's dark gaze filtered through to him across parsecs of dead space. The blue image of the Kaleesh wavered even more than usual. This is your test, DisCount Dooku. I hope you studied for it.

Seated before his comm station and awaiting another intriguing exclusive JediNow auction announcement, Dooku stroked his short beard. "This was not mentioned before." Grievous is thinking for himself about the Force. This could be dangerous. "And this would be to our advantage, why?"

Grievous dilated his pupils to roundness behind his mask to convey candor. He doubted that Dooku could see it, but still ... "Your presence is the heart and soul of the Separatist movement, Milord. In the unlikely event of your incapacity" -- or death -- "the crystal armies would come to a complete halt. The cause that we both support would be null. The cessation of our noble efforts would be" -- dramatic pause -- "symbolic of a grand cause that the galaxy was not ready for, was unworthy to accept." Show me you can think beyond yourself. Show me that you approach the foresight of Milord Sidious. Pass this test and I'll continue working for and with you. Fail, and we'll see if four lightsabers can whittle away one, even if it is wielded by a Dark Lord.

Tempting. Dooku found the entire idea romantic and un-Jedi-like and it appealed to his sense of self-gratification. If he were tied to the droids in the Force, his death or removal from the war scene through mishap would collapse the Separatists' forces. Leaders like Gunray and Shu Mai and the rest would scramble for supremacy, their mercenaries would default to the highest bidder and the Separatist dream of seceding from the Republic would fail. His own dream of a Sith army would fail. He considered the fact that he would not be around to see any of it. Why should it matter to him?

You're wavering. A little nudge, then ... "Milord? Is the transmission defective, your staff has been negligent before -- "

"This takes some thought, Grievous. You don't know the Force, you wouldn't comprehend me. Wait." Presumptuous thing. Dooku considered the failure of all his ideals, his dearly held dreams of a Sith army enforcing them, an entire galaxy filled with beauty that would meet only his standards. Then he remembered Sidious, whose concealed scheme of Skywalker's puling self serving the Sith in some capacity as Chosen One Dooku had given some thought to in the two years since Sidious' demise. The planning that his Master had done had ignored Sidious' own fate in the greater interest of the Sith. Could he not do the same, should he not attempt to do better as an aristocrat than had a mere member of the bourgeoisie like Palpatine? Yes. He would choose to serve the greater evil.

"You may not tie me in any way to these creations of yours. I forbid it."

He passed the test. Remarkable. "By your command, Milord."

TBC

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