Star Wars: Rogue Planet Read Online Free PDF Page B

diminishing patch. More eyes looked them over. The arch quivered as if with anticipation.
    “I’ll never be this stupid again,” Anakin said breathlessly as he attached the tanks to Obi-Wan’s wings.
    “Tell it to the Council,” Obi-Wan said. “I have no doubt that’s where we’ll both be, if we manage to accomplish six impossible things in the next two minutes.”
    The two worm segments vibrated in unison and hissed through the silicone like tugged ropes, proving themselves to be one long creature as they rose high overhead. More coils surrounded them: other, bigger worms. Obviously, the Jedi—Master and apprentice—looked tasty, and now a competition was under way. The segments whipped back and forth, striking the edges of the island. The froth flew up in hissing puffs, until there was hardly more remaining than an unwieldy plug.
    Anakin gripped Obi-Wan’s shoulder with one hand. “Obi-Wan, you are the greatest of all the Jedi,” he told him earnestly.
    Obi-Wan glared at his Padawan.
    “Could you give us just a little boost …,” Anakin pleaded. “You know, up and out?”
    Obi-Wan did, and Anakin lit off their jets at the very same instant.
    The jolt did not distract him from reaching out with outstretched fingers, grazing a curve of worm skin, and grabbing a scale. Somehow they lifted to the first shield and slipped into the updraft of a discharged canister. Spinning, knocked almost senseless, they were drawn up through a port.
    Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s small arms around his waist.
    “If that’s how it’s done …,” the boy said, and then something—was it his Padawan’s newfound skill at levitation?—lifted them through the next shield as if they lay in the palm of a giant hand.
    Obi-Wan Kenobi had never felt so close to such a powerful connection with the Force, not in Qui-Gon, nor Mace Windu. Not even in Yoda.
    “I think we’re going to make it!” Anakin said.

T he opportunities are endless,” Raith Sienar said as he walked along the factory parapet. Beside him strolled Commander Tarkin of the Republic Outland Regions Security Force. They might have been brothers. Both were in their early thirties. Both were thin and wiry, with high-arching bony brows, piercing blue eyes, aristocratic faces, and attitudes to match. And both wore robes of senatorial favor, showing extraordinary service to the senate over the past decade.
    “You’re speaking of the Republic?” Tarkin asked with more than a hint of disdain. His training—he came from an old and well-established military family—gave his voice a particular edge, both world-weary and amused.
    “Not at all,” Sienar said, smiling at his old friend. Beyond and below the parapet, four Advanced Project ships approached completion, black, sleek, smaller than previous models, and very fast indeed. “I haven’t received an interesting contract from the Republic for seven years.”
    “What about these?” Tarkin asked.
    “Private contracts with the Trade Federation, severalmining firms, others. Very lucrative, so long as I don’t sell my very best weapons to the wrong buyers. Every ship I make, I equip with weapons, as you doubtless know. Much more profitable that way, but tricky at times. So I keep the best in reserve … for my most generous customers.”
    Tarkin smiled at this answer. “Then I may have useful news for you,” he said. “I’ve just come from a secret meeting. Chancellor Palpatine has finally forced a stand-down over the Naboo incident. The Trade Federation security forces will soon be disbanded. In the next few months, they are to be assimilated into Republic forces and placed at the disposal of the senate. All will comply—even Outland Mining—or face a centralized and much more powerful military response.” Tarkin used a small hand scope to look over the details on the new ships. Each was twenty meters wide, with broad, flat cooling vanes terminating their wings. The compartments were compact, spherical, hardly