The Phantom Menace (5 page)

“I want destroyer droids up here at once!” Nute Gunray screamed, watching as one of the Jedi began cutting through the bridge door with his lightsaber. He felt his throat tighten and his skin begin to crawl. “Close the blast doors! Now!”

One after another, the blast doors began to shut and seal with hissing sounds. The crew stood transfixed as on the viewscreen the Jedi continued their attack, lightsabers cutting at the massive doors, melting away the steelcrete like soft butter. Mutters of disbelief were heard, and Nute screamed at them to be silent. Sparks showered off the blast door under attack by the Jedi, and a red spot appeared at its center where the larger man plunged his lightsaber into the metal almost up to its hilt.

The viewscreen suddenly went blank. At the center of the door, the metal began to turn molten and drop away.

“They’re still coming,” Rune Haako whispered, gathering his robes as he backed away further.

Viceroy Nute Gunray said nothing in response.
Impossible!
he was thinking.
Impossible!

Qui-Gon was hammering at the blast door with every ounce of strength he possessed, determined to break through to the treacherous Neimoidians, when his instincts warned him of danger from another quarter.

“Obi-Wan!” he shouted to his companion, who wheeled toward him at once. “Destroyer droids!”

The younger Jedi nodded, smiling. “Offhand, I’d say this mission is past the negotiation stage.”

In the hallway just beyond the area in which the Jedi fought, ten destroyer droids rolled into view. They resembled gleaming metal wheels as they rounded a corner, smooth and silent in their approach. One by one they began to unfold, releasing tripods of spidery legs and stunted arms into which laser guns had been built. Crooked spines unlimbered, and the droids rose to a standing position, armored heads cocked forward. They were wicked-looking and deadly, and they were built for one purpose only.

Skittering around the final corner to the bridge entry, they triggered their laser guns, filling the open area with a deadly crossfire. When the lasers went still, the destroyer droids advanced, searching for their prey.

But the anteway was empty, and the Jedi Knights were gone.

On the bridge, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako watched the viewscreen flicker back to life. The destroyer droids were reverting to their wheeled forms, spinning away across the entry and down the hallway, clearly in pursuit of the Jedi.

“We have them on the run,” Rune Haako breathed, scarcely able to believe their good fortune.

Nute Gunray said nothing, thinking that their escape had been entirely too close. It was ridiculous that they should be fighting Jedi Knights in any event. This was a matter of commerce, not of politics. The Trade Federation was fully justified in resisting the Republic Senate’s foolish decision to impose a tax on trade routes when there was no basis in law for doing so. That the Neimoidians had found an ally to stand with them in this matter, to advise them on imposing a blockade and forcing a withdrawal of sanctions, was no cause for calling in the Jedi.

He hunched his shoulders and made a fuss over straightening his robes to disguise his shaking.

He was distracted suddenly by a call from the communications center behind him. “Sir, a transmission from the city of Theed on Naboo.”

The viewscreen to the planet flickered to life, and a woman’s face appeared. She was young, beautiful, and serene. An applied beauty mark of deepest crimson split her lower lip, and a golden headdress framed her powdery-white
face. She stared out at the Neimoidians from the screen as if she were so far above and beyond them as to be unapproachable.

“It’s Queen Amidala herself,” Rune Haako whispered, just out of holocam view.

Nute Gunray nodded, moving closer. “At last we’re getting results,” he whispered back.

He moved to where he could be seen by the Queen. Cloaked in her ceremonial robes, Amidala sat on her throne, an ornate chair on a raised dais fronted by a low, flat-surfaced divider. The Queen was surrounded by five handmaidens, all of them cloaked and hooded in crimson. Her gaze was steady and direct as it took in the viceroy’s leathery countenance.

“The Trade Federation is pleased you have chosen to come before us, Your Highness,” he began smoothly.

“You will not be so pleased when you hear what I have to say, Viceroy,” she said flatly, cutting him short. “Your trade boycott is ended.”

Nute fought down his shock, regained his composure, and smirked at Rune. “Really, Your Highness? I was not aware—”

“I have word that the Senate is finally voting on the matter,” she continued, ignoring him.

“I take it you know the outcome already, then.” Nute felt a measure of uncertainty take hold. “I wonder why they bother to vote at all.”

Amidala leaned forward slightly, and the Neimoidian could see the fire in her brown eyes. “I have had enough of pretense, Viceroy. I am aware that the supreme chancellor’s ambassadors are with you now, and that you have been commanded to reach a settlement. What is it to be?”

Nute Gunray felt a deep hole open in his waning confidence. “I know nothing about any ambassadors. You must be mistaken.”

There was a flicker of surprise on the Queen’s face as she studied the viceroy carefully. “Beware, Viceroy,” she said softly. “The Federation has gone too far this time.”

Nute shook his head quickly, drawing himself up in a defensive posture. “Your Highness, we would never do anything in defiance of the Senate’s will. You assume too much.”

Amidala sat motionless, brown eyes fixed on him—as if she could see the truth he was trying to hide, as if he were made of glass. “We shall see,” she said softly.

The viewscreen went blank. Nute Gunray drew a long breath and exhaled slowly, not caring much for how this woman made him feel.

“She’s right,” Rune Haako said at his elbow. “The Senate will never let—”

Nute lifted one hand to cut him short. “It’s too late now. The invasion is under way.”

Rune Haako was silent for a moment. “Do you think she suspects an attack?”

The viceroy wheeled away. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to take any chances. We must move quickly to disrupt all communications down there until we’re finished!”

In the main hangar bay of the ship, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi crouched silently in the opening of a large circulation vent that overlooked six massive double-winged Federation landing ships surrounded by a vast array of transports. The transports were large boot-shaped vehicles with bulbous noses. The doors that formed those noses gaped open, racks were extended, and thousands
of sleek silvery shapes were marching inside in perfect formation to be secured.

“Battle droids,” Qui-Gon said softly. There was surprise and dismay in his deep voice.

“It’s an invasion army,” Obi-Wan said.

They continued to watch for a time, taking in the scene, counting transports and droids as they filled the half-dozen landing craft, taking measure of the size of the army.

“It’s an odd play for the Federation,” Qui-Gon observed. “We’ve got to warn the Naboo and contact Chancellor Valorum.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “We’d best do it somewhere besides here.”

His mentor glanced at him. “Maybe we can hitch a ride with our friends down there.”

“It’s the least they can do after the way they’ve treated us so far.” Obi-Wan pursed his lips. “You were right about one thing, Master. The negotiations were short.”

Qui-Gon Jinn smiled and beckoned him ahead.

A
twilight that was misty and seemed perpetual lay in silvery gray layers over the green lushness of Naboo as the Federation landing ships descended out of the black infinity of space to settle slowly planetward. One set of three moved away from the others, dropping silently through clouds that hung still and endless across the world’s emerald surface. Ghostlike as they passed through the haze, double wings shaped like a giant
I
, they materialized one by one near a vast, murky swamp. As they gently landed next to the dark waters and clumps of trees and grasses, their metal bodies parted to allow the bulbous-nosed transports to offload onto the surface and begin forming up.

Some distance away from the closest of the landing craft, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s head broke the swamp’s still waters. A quick breath, and he was gone again. He surfaced once more, farther away, and this time took a moment to look back at the invasion force. Dozens of transports filled with battle droids and tanks were moving into place in front of the landing craft. Some hovered
above the swamp’s waters. Some had found purchase on dry ground.

Far to his left, he caught sight of a shadowy form running through the mist and trees. Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan took another deep breath, submerged swiftly, and began to swim.

Qui-Gon Jinn slipped wraithlike through the swamp, listening to the sounds of heavy rustling and snapping branches behind him as the Trade Federation transports began to advance. Mixed with the deeper, heavier whine of the transport engines was the higher pitched buzzing of STAPs—single trooper aerial platforms—small, individually piloted mobile gun units used to transport battle droids as scouts for the main army. The STAPs whipped above the watery terrain of Naboo, fleeting shadows as they surged in front of the larger transports.

Animals of all shapes and sizes began to scatter from their places of concealment, racing past Qui-Gon in search of safety. Ikopi, fulumpasets, motts, peko pekos—the names recalled themselves instantly to the Jedi Master from his preparation for this journey. Dodging the frightened creatures stampeding around him, he cast about for Obi-Wan, then picked up his pace as the dark shadow of a transport appeared out of the mist directly behind him.

He was running out of firm ground and searching for a way past a large lake when he saw a strange froglike creature before him. It was squatting in the water, its rubbery body crouched over a shell it had just pried open, its long tongue licking out the insides with a quick whipping movement, its throat swallowing. Casting aside the empty shell, it rose to face Qui-Gon, its long, flat ears dangling from its amphibious head in broad
flaps, its ducklike snout working thoughtfully around whatever delicacy it had removed from the shell. Eyes that protruded from the top of its head blinked in confusion, taking in Qui-Gon and the animals about him, then seeing clearly for the first time the massive shadow from which they fled.

“Oh, oh,” the creature muttered, the syllables clouded, but recognizable.

Qui-Gon broke left past the strange creature, anxious to get out of the path of the approaching transport. The creature dropped the shell, eyes wide and frantic, and grabbed onto Qui-Gon’s robes.

“Hep me, hep me!” it cried plaintively, rubbery face contorting in shock and desperation.

“Let go!” Qui-Gon snapped, trying in vain to break free.

The transport thundered toward them, skimming the surface of the swamp, flattening grasses and stirring up water spouts in the wake of its passing. It bore down on Qui-Gon as he fought to break free of the creature that clung to him, dragging it sideways in a futile effort to escape.

Finally, with the transport only meters away and looming over him like a building about to topple, the Jedi Master pushed the creature into the shallow water and sprawled facedown on top of it. The Trade Federation transport passed over them in a wash of sound and shocked air, the vibrations hammering into their prone forms, flattening them into the mire.

When it was safely past, Qui-Gon pulled himself out of the mud and took a deep, welcome breath. The strange creature rose with him, still clinging to his arm, cloudy water dripping from its flat-billed face. It gave a quick glance after the departing transport, then threw itself on Qui-Gon, hugging him ecstatically.

“Oh boi, oh boi!” it gasped with a high-pitched, warbled sound. “I love yous, love yous forever!”

The creature began kissing him.

“Let go!” Qui-Gon huffed. “Are you brainless? You almost got us killed!”

The creature looked offended. “Brainless? I speak!”

“The ability to speak does not make you intelligent!” Qui-Gon was having none of it. “Now let go of me and get out of here!”

He freed himself from the creature and began to move off, glancing around uneasily as the high-pitched buzz of STAPs sounded in the distance.

The creature hesitated, then began trailing after him. “No, no, me stay wit you! Me stay! Jar Jar be loyal, humble Gungan servant. Be yous friend, me.”

The Jedi Master barely glanced at him, watching the shadows, searching now for Obi-Wan. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. Better be off with you.”

Jar Jar the Gungan splashed after him, billed mouth working, arms waving. “Oh, bot tis necessary! Tis demanded by da Guds. Tis life debt. Me know dis, sure as name be Jar Jar Binks!”

The swamp reverberated with the sound of STAP engines, and now two of the gun platforms burst from the mist, bearing down on a fleeing Obi-Wan Kenobi, battle droid drivers wheeling their speeders to the attack.

Qui-Gon pulled free his lightsaber, motioning Jar Jar away. “I have no time for this now—”