Star Wars - 210 - Jedi Prince 01 - The Glove of Darth Vader Read Online Free PDF Page A

arranging such a safari, Trioculus quickly changed the subject.
    "Have any more troops questioned my right to be the new Emperor?" he asked.
    "Some of the stormtroopers have been heard to complain, Lord Trioculus," replied Grand Moff Hissa.
    "I want their names," Trioculus boomed, exploding with anger. "Their treason shall be punished!"
    "Yes, your lordship." Grand Moff Hissa searched his mind for something new to report. "I also thought you should know that a salvage spaceship found what was thought to be a glove this morning. Unfortunately it turned out to be nothing but an old, rusted droid hand, floating in space in a cloud of hydrogen gas."
    "Don’t speak to me of droid hands, Hissa," said Trioculus, sneering. "My patience for this search is nearing an end."
    Shortly after they returned to Trioculus’s sleek black palace, a shipment of Whaladon meat was delivered to the palace kitchen. The delivery agent had come directly from the Kessel spaceport, where the meat had arrived in an Imperial carrack cruiser filled with cargo from the planet Calamari.
    The agent bowed before Grand Moff Hissa, who accepted the delivery papers.
    "I’ve also brought a message for Lord Trioculus from Captain Dunwell," said the delivery agent. He broke the seal on the small case he was carrying, took out a hologram disk, and handed it to Grand Moff Hissa, who in turn handed it over directly to Trioculus.
    "See that no one disturbs me while I find out what Captain Dunwell has to say," ordered the three-eyed ruler.
    Trioculus took the disk into one of his private chambers and inserted it into a holo-projector. Within moments the face of Captain Dunwell appeared as a holographic image, floating before him.
    Captain Dunwell had a short white beard and a reddish, leathery face. He wore a blue naval uniform with shiny buttons and rows of medals.
    "Dark Greetings, Lord Trioculus," he began. "Here, beneath the oceans of Calamari, I have made an astounding discovery. The Central Committee of Grand Moffs instructed me to contact you directly about this matter. As you may know, I have always been a loyal friend of the grand moffs. I urge you to come to see me on Calamari at once, at the Whaladon Processing Center. Your lordship will not be disappointed!" Beneath the oceans of Calamari, Leviathor, the huge, white leader of the Whaladons, swam to the newly created Whaladon graveyard. In just a few years the bones of so many Whaladons had been dumped there by Captain Dunwell’s Whaladon hunters that the sea floor in that region was now white.
    Leviathor beheld the jagged rim of a crater just beyond the seaweed forest. Even from afar he could hear the dreaded machines churning in the huge underwater building at the bottom of that crater. The building was known as the Whaladon Processing Center. Leviathor knew all too well that it was here where Captain Dunwell and his walrus-faced crew of Aqualish aliens killed the Whaladons that they captured. There were now many young Whaladons who had no mothers to nurse them. And there were many older Whaladons, who used to swim the oceans of Calamari freely, who now hid, fearing for their lives, in the darkness of undersea caves.
    Swishing his great tail fin, Leviathor felt an invisible fire burning within him as he remembered the many learned and wise Whaladons who were now gone forever. No longer would they teach or sing songs-there was nothing left of them but their bones. Leviathor knew he had to save his endangered species before it was too late.
    Just then a bright yellow light flashed behind Leviathor. He had been targeted. They were coming for him now!
    The mighty Whaladon turned in the water and saw the huge new vessel-the biggest Whaladon-hunting submarine ever built-tracking him, following him with his every dive. Leviathor raced for his life, his huge heart pounding fast.
    There was a roar behind him and the water swirled with foam. A great suction was pulling at his tail, suction as if from a