state.
“We got the initial report of it last night,” Norch said, raising his voice even louder over the baked-dry wind. “Independent long-range hauler on its way through the Outer Rim picked up on an unfamiliar heat signature. They thought it was a distress signal. But when they landed they saw this.”
And with a gesture no doubt intended to be dramatic, he turned to the tent and flung back the flap, allowing Trace inside.
Trace ducked under the polyskin, glad to be out of the wind, and stopped, looking down. The crater was still smoking, but he could see the wreckage piled up inside, perhaps one hundred meters down, where it had punched a hole and permanently altered the landscape. Peering down into it, he was aware of the lieutenant watching him intently with a sense of barely reserved judgment, until he was no longer able to contain himself.
“Well?” Norch asked. “What do you make of it?”
“It’s a Sith warship, obviously. The five engine pods, the boxy design …”
The lieutenant shook his head. “With all due respect, you mistake my meaning. We’re
aware
that it’s a Sith warship. We saw our share of them in the sacking of Coruscant.” And then, puffing inside his uniform:“The question is what caused it to crash here on Geonosis, and whether its arrival here ought to be considered an act of deliberate aggression.”
“Why would you assume that?” Trace asked.
Norch narrowed his eyes as if reassessing the Jedi Knight’s trustworthiness. “The Republic has been evaluating this planet as a possible defense stronghold in the Arkanis sector—that’s strictly confidential, of course.”
“And?”
“And when I contacted the Jedi Council, they informed me that you were in possession of certain telemetric abilities that might clarify our enemy’s underlying intent.”
“That’s true.”
“Well, in any case.” Now Norch was giving him the Full Scowl—out of impatience or the simple exertion of shouting out over the flapping tent, Trace couldn’t be sure. At last the lieutenant cleared his throat and found some speck out on the horizon to stare at. “It was my personal understanding that upon arriving here, you would use your particular, ah … abilities to assist us in our investigation.”
“And it was
my
understanding,” Trace said, “that I would be given complete authority here to perform my investigation, without any outside interference.” He was still looking down into the great smoking hole, at the warship and the colossal planetary bullet wound that its impact had created. It was even deeper than he’d initially suspected, and he could already hear the subtle, lethal whisper of escaping pressure.
“What exactly do you want from me?”
Trace looked up at him. “Get your men and clear out.”
“From the tent?”
“From the planet.”
One eyebrow arched up, a trick the lieutenant had been saving until now: “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s not safe.”
“We’ve already reinforced the ground around the site for a kilometer in every direction—”
“I’m not talking about the ground.” Trace allowed his voice to become slightly sharper. “Do you hear that hissing sound? The warship struck a subterranean gas deposit, a big one by the sound of it, and the underground gases here on Geonosis are notoriously unstable. If it sublimates while your men are around, you won’t
have
men anymore.”
“Listen here. I’m in charge, and—”
“Then you’d do well to listen to what
this
man says,” a new voice cut in.
Trace turned to see a female Republic officer, perhaps in her early thirties, dark-haired, and attractive, smiling at him. From Norch’s salute, she clearly outranked him, but she didn’t even acknowledge the response.
“Rojo Trace? I’m Captain Tekla Ansgar. Welcome.” Her pale blue eyes glimmered at him, sharp and confident. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I certainly hope you won’t judge your experience here on the basis of one
“We got the initial report of it last night,” Norch said, raising his voice even louder over the baked-dry wind. “Independent long-range hauler on its way through the Outer Rim picked up on an unfamiliar heat signature. They thought it was a distress signal. But when they landed they saw this.”
And with a gesture no doubt intended to be dramatic, he turned to the tent and flung back the flap, allowing Trace inside.
Trace ducked under the polyskin, glad to be out of the wind, and stopped, looking down. The crater was still smoking, but he could see the wreckage piled up inside, perhaps one hundred meters down, where it had punched a hole and permanently altered the landscape. Peering down into it, he was aware of the lieutenant watching him intently with a sense of barely reserved judgment, until he was no longer able to contain himself.
“Well?” Norch asked. “What do you make of it?”
“It’s a Sith warship, obviously. The five engine pods, the boxy design …”
The lieutenant shook his head. “With all due respect, you mistake my meaning. We’re
aware
that it’s a Sith warship. We saw our share of them in the sacking of Coruscant.” And then, puffing inside his uniform:“The question is what caused it to crash here on Geonosis, and whether its arrival here ought to be considered an act of deliberate aggression.”
“Why would you assume that?” Trace asked.
Norch narrowed his eyes as if reassessing the Jedi Knight’s trustworthiness. “The Republic has been evaluating this planet as a possible defense stronghold in the Arkanis sector—that’s strictly confidential, of course.”
“And?”
“And when I contacted the Jedi Council, they informed me that you were in possession of certain telemetric abilities that might clarify our enemy’s underlying intent.”
“That’s true.”
“Well, in any case.” Now Norch was giving him the Full Scowl—out of impatience or the simple exertion of shouting out over the flapping tent, Trace couldn’t be sure. At last the lieutenant cleared his throat and found some speck out on the horizon to stare at. “It was my personal understanding that upon arriving here, you would use your particular, ah … abilities to assist us in our investigation.”
“And it was
my
understanding,” Trace said, “that I would be given complete authority here to perform my investigation, without any outside interference.” He was still looking down into the great smoking hole, at the warship and the colossal planetary bullet wound that its impact had created. It was even deeper than he’d initially suspected, and he could already hear the subtle, lethal whisper of escaping pressure.
“What exactly do you want from me?”
Trace looked up at him. “Get your men and clear out.”
“From the tent?”
“From the planet.”
One eyebrow arched up, a trick the lieutenant had been saving until now: “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s not safe.”
“We’ve already reinforced the ground around the site for a kilometer in every direction—”
“I’m not talking about the ground.” Trace allowed his voice to become slightly sharper. “Do you hear that hissing sound? The warship struck a subterranean gas deposit, a big one by the sound of it, and the underground gases here on Geonosis are notoriously unstable. If it sublimates while your men are around, you won’t
have
men anymore.”
“Listen here. I’m in charge, and—”
“Then you’d do well to listen to what
this
man says,” a new voice cut in.
Trace turned to see a female Republic officer, perhaps in her early thirties, dark-haired, and attractive, smiling at him. From Norch’s salute, she clearly outranked him, but she didn’t even acknowledge the response.
“Rojo Trace? I’m Captain Tekla Ansgar. Welcome.” Her pale blue eyes glimmered at him, sharp and confident. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I certainly hope you won’t judge your experience here on the basis of one
Similar Books
